Surprised By The Thrill

What follows is true, and it is my first public account of this experience. I am submitting it in hopes that others will share their advice and experiences with me. It was my desire to better understand my feelings about this experience that led me to the Internet and, ultimately, to this site. So, here's my story . . .

Last month my husband John and I left the kids at his parents' home in order to get away for a rare night alone. We booked a room at a downtown hotel and planned an evening of clubbing and dancing -- things we rarely, if ever, get to do anymore.

I was excited about our night of freedom and made it a point to dress as sexy as possible. Waiting for John to get home from work, I spent a few hours selecting my clothes, listening to music and sipping chardonnay. Earlier in the day I had visited the salon to ensure that my nails and hair were perfect for the occasion.

Sorting through my closet, I finally selected a short black skirt that falls nicely about my slender hips and ass, and coupled it with a matching black-and-white jacket. The jacket is one of my favorites, but not one I can wear to work. It fits snugly and has a zipper running from the plunging v-neck to the waist. I wore nothing underneath -- just those two items and my black pumps.

With the help of the wine, I was feeling good about my appearance and made it a point to walk out to the mailbox as my neighbor Jim was parking in the adjacent driveway. His attention confirmed that I no longer looked like the housewife next door.

When John got home, I poured a glass of wine for the road and we were soon on our way to a midtown club where live music is complemented by a very classy atmosphere. The place is a good fit for us, as most of the patrons are professionals in their 30s and 40s, and it was pulsating with energy on this Saturday night.

We took to the dance floor a few times but mostly enjoyed watching people from our high-top table near the bar. I was relaxed and feeling warm from the dancing and wine, and John and I were flirtatiously talking about what we would like to do later at the hotel. Sitting close to hear me over the music, he teased me by tugging at the zipper on my jacket -- first an inch, then another. Before too long, the zipper was open almost to my tummy. I was feeling pretty buzzed and just played along with him, knowing that if I leaned forward slightly he could see my firm, bare breasts from his vantage point beside me. When I sat back in my chair, the fabric fell close to my chest so that nothing was exposed.

After a while, John excused himself and went to the bar to get two more glasses of wine. As he waited for service, an attractive man of about 45 passed by and struck up a conversation with me. He was on the other side of the table and the music was loud, so I instinctively leaned across to hear him. In doing so, the panels of my jacket opened enough to afford him a clear view of my bare chest. It took a few seconds for it to dawn on me that my breasts were exposed to this man standing opposite me. My first instinct was to pull back, but it was clear his attention was already drawn to my erect nipples. I completely surprised myself by continuing to lean forward, even as I felt my chest and face blushing. "You are very beautiful, you know," he said, sensing my discomfort.

Now I have to confess that it was an exhilarating feeling to expose my breasts to this guy. My heart was pounding and my head was spinning from a dangerous mixture of alcohol and hormones. I was nearly overcome by the confused feelings welling up inside me . . . danger, vulnerability, guilt, sensuality. Still, I struggled to act as nonchalant as possible, not wanting him to know I was aware of how much of me he could see.

Glancing toward the bar, I saw John holding two glasses and smiling. Instead of returning to our table, he just stood watching, knowing full well what was happening between me and the stranger. After what seemed like an eternity, he walked over slowly and took his seat beside me. My new friend seemed a little embarrassed at this point, and hurriedly disappeared into the crowded room.

John and I had the best sex of our lives that night. It was an awakening of long-suppressed exhibitionist desires, and I've ever felt so attractive or desirable. More than once since that evening I have found myself doing subtly revealing things just to get the attention of men and recapture that feeling.

Am I alone? Do other "conservative," stable women have this desire to be the object of a total stranger's desire?