Slipping Into Depravity Ch 01

By Eve St. Albert

I suppose I should start at the beginning, how we got into this mess.

I met my wife Kayley when we were both a few years out from University. I was a couple of years older, I'd finished my degree, found a job, and was a rising star, making good money in Systems Design. Kayley had done the admin route, but found a solid firm that appreciated her. I don't even remember now, how we bumped into one another. It just felt like one day we were at the same party, saw each other across the room, smiled and that was it.

I was tall, rangy and hung, with short dark hair. Kayley was a redhead, bottle unfortunately, so the carpet didn't match the drapes, so we kept the floor polished, if you know what I mean. She had this willowy build, not the biggest breasts but perky and a dancer's grace. There was something about the way she moved, I loved watching her. She had this sensual grace.

Neither of us were virgins, we'd both racked up our body counts, Kayley had started in high school, me in University. It was the usual thing, random opportunistic oral sex, drunk one-night stands and shameful misjudgments, some dating things that went all the way quickly but petered out, and a few semi-long-term things. Neither of us got emotionally involved, neither of us got too wild.

In hindsight, we missed a bunch of opportunities. I almost ended up with a Domme. Kayley turned down a chance to go to an orgy. Things like that. The thing is, that as wild and enticing as possibilities are, if you're on your own, it's a bit intimidating. If you don't have the right person as your wing man, or wing woman... you don't. You heard about people disappearing, or waking up in a bathtub of ice cubes with one kidney, or date rape, or just fucked up things.

But when we finally hooked up, it was magic. Our first night together, we climbed each other like monkey bars, sweat drenched, hot, hard, wet, we couldn't get enough. We tasted, touched, licked, my cock just wouldn't go down, and we took full advantage. I fucked her up the ass, and didn't even realize it was virgin territory.

Those were the first months; we fucked like monkeys. We watched porn. We danced. We laughed. We licked every part of each other, in every location indoors. We couldn't get enough. She dressed to make me hard, and all I had to do to make her wet was look at her. There was a sense of excitement, of wild possibility, of everything being open and available.

So of course, we'd fuck it up.

One night, we were out at a bar. Not a usual haunt, we were exploring different venues. I had to go to the can, there was a line up. It took a while.

When I finally did my business and got back out, I spied Kayley, sitting at the bar, a man chatting her up.

Intrigued, I stopped, waiting back, near the hall leading to the bathrooms, up against the wall. It wasn't a big place; I had a clear view. Neither of them noticed me.

Kayley was wearing her red dress, one with a modest slit up the side, that showed off her curves. It was just the casual side of sexy. She sat with her legs crossed, swinging her upper calf. She was smiling and nodding at her new suitor, some suit with a hundred-dollar haircut and capped teeth. As he moved, he was careful to let his cuff slide up to expose his Apple Watch. She glanced at it, but didn't remark. He leaned in to say something, she leaned toward him, and then she laughed. He stroked her arm.

She sparkled. In that moment, she just sparkled, like she was radiant. I was enthralled, she was so beautiful, so vivacious, so full of life. I was hard, watching her flirt with a complete stranger, but then she made me hard constantly. Mainly, it was exciting.

Is this what we look like when we're together, I wondered? Just smiling and laughing, leaning into each other. This is seeing her sparkle from the outside. It was amazing.

I started forward.

Kayley looked up and almost jumped when she saw me coming, but the smile she gave me was pure love. Her companion turned to look.

"Sam," she said, "this is Roger, he was keeping me company while I waited."

Roger turned around and looked me up and down. He wasn't particularly pleased to see me, but he was smart enough not to let it show. I could practically read his mind. His chance of scoring with this hottie evaporated the minute I showed up.

I had this fleeting thought; I wondered how good he thought his chances had been. In some hypothetical world where Kayley and I weren't together, did he really think he'd go home with her?

"That's really nice of him," I said. "I didn't realize I was that long."

She smiled brilliantly; the room seemed to light up.

"You weren't, but Roger was such a gentleman, he volunteered."

Definitely an operator, I thought. Hustling, on the make. She told him she had a boyfriend, and he figured it was just a bluff and moved in.

"That's nice of him," I smiled. "Keeping my seat for me."

Roger got the message.

"It was great," he grinned. "But I got to get moving."

We watched him cruise away, on the alert for any other single woman. He spotted a middle-aged woman further down the bar and zeroed in.

Slipping into his seat, I leaned in and our lips locked, our tongues flicking against each other. I laid my hand on her knee as she uncrossed her legs and casually slid my fingers half way up her thigh under her dress. She rested her hand on my thigh.

"Happy to see me?" she teased.

"Definitely."

"It's mutual."

I nodded.

"So, Roger?"

"He just appeared and started talking to me," she said.

"Hitting on you?"

"He was working up to it, but not there yet," she replied. "Don't worry, I would have shot him down."

"Hopefully," I joked, "not on my account."

"I only get wet for you," she said.

A flicker of nervousness crossed her face.

"You're not annoyed, are you? Jealous?"

My eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"No!" I said. "Not at all. You can talk to anyone you like. Friends. Girlfriends. Random guys that flirt. No, it's cool!"

"Are you sure... that last?"

"I'm sorry," I said. "I love you too much to be jealous."

"I went out with this guy in college," she said. "Jealous type. He got worse and worse."

I shrugged.

"That's not me." I assured her. I didn't want her ever to worry. "You know, I watched you guys for a minute, once I came out of the bathroom. And you know what? You looked so beautiful, so radiant, with that guy flirting with you. You were glowing, he was smiling. It just looked... nice. You know what I thought, as I was watching you?"

Whatever flicker of caution and nervousness I'd seen in her faded away, and that made me glad. I always wanted her happy and unconstrained, absolutely free. She was breathtaking that way.

"What?"

"I looked at you, relaxed, smiling, flirting, and it was like I was seeing us from the outside. I was just blown away by how amazing you were, just watching it from outside, not being part of it. You're wonderful."

She laughed and blushed.

"Were you hard?"

Where had that come from?

"I'm always hard for you," I said. "But yes, I found it arousing to watch you flirt."

"Not even a little jealous that it wasn't you?"

"Not even a bit. It was exciting."

Of course, we both knew absolutely that nothing could have ever happened with Roger. That made it safe, and it made it safe for us to talk again.

"Can I tell you a little secret?" she whispered. Her eyes sparkled.

I leaned in so she could whisper in my ear over the bar noise, taking the opportunity to slip my hand up her dress.

"Of course."

"it was a little exciting... Maybe not exciting... fun? I kind of enjoyed Roger sitting down and just hitting on me."

"Cool."

She wasn't finished.

"It was weird," she whispered. "Normally, it's creepy. You're alone in the bar, some rando puts the moves on you. It always put me off. Some of my girlfriends, right into it. But not me. There was always something... just unnerving."

"Yeah."

"But I knew you were here, and you'd be out shortly. I knew I was safe, so I could just relax... and it was fun."

She giggled.

"Were you wet?" I whispered.

"Silly boy," she said and licked my ear, "I was already wet."

Suddenly, I was twice as hard. I took her wrist.

"Let's go someplace and fuck!"

Kayley squealed in pure delight. Like giggling children, we scurried from the bar back to my car. We only made it halfway home, before we pulled into a parkade and made out in the back seat, ricking the car wildly and steaming up the windows.

%%%

We continued to fuck like bunnies. We'd call each other from work and talk dirty, and then race home. One day I took a long lunch hour; to sneak over to her workplace and I ate her out in the copy room. Another time, she jerked me off at the back of a crowded Starbucks with a newspaper on my lap.

There was something though, about the encounter with Roger. It liberated her, it freed her from any subliminal concern about jealousy. One day, I caught her checking out a hot guy, and then she noticed me watching her. I just smiled and nodded, and she beamed happily. Without ever speaking, we gave each other guy to appreciate hot guys and girls. Suddenly, we were pointing out abs, breasts and ass, long hair, or luscious features.

One day at a park, we were sprawled out on a blanket, and a frisbee player ran past in a tank top.

"I'd hit that!" she whispered, and we both broke into laughter.

Roger slipped back into conversation. One night, as I fucked her, my cock ramming in and out of her drenched, tight pussy, I whispered in her ear.

"Aren't you sorry you didn't go home with Roger?"

Her gale of laughter tightened her body so much her pussy clamped like a vise and she squirted me out like toothpaste. I rammed back in, we wrestled and rolled around, giggling and laughing.

Another evening after finishing making love, she turned and whispered lovingly in my ear, "I'm not finished yet, do you think Roger is available."

We both howled.

We had a private joke, sometimes, walking into a bar or a venue or any new place, one of us would say "Do you think Roger's here?"

But also, in my mind, sometimes I imagined him fucking her, his cock in place of mine, her legs wrapped around his hips as he thrust deep. I imagined her kneeling in front of him, taking his cock in her mouth. His semen dripping from her pussy. It wasn't an obsession by any means, just a daydream, a might have been from some other silly universe.

%%%

"Do you think Roger's here," Kayley asked me, as we head into this neighborhood tavern. There was a bar band playing covers we liked, so we decided to try it out.

"Probably not," I replied. "But you know, there's other fish in the sea. Maybe there's another hot guy I could watch you flirt with."

"You'd watch me flirt?"

"Fuck yes! You're so hot when you flirt!"

"When I flirt with you, you mean?"

"When you flirt with anyone, you are a goddess!"

"You'd watch that?"

"I'd love it."

She slowed and stopped in front of the bar; her expression mischievous.

"You'd be able to handle it?"

"I'd have a raging boner," I said. "You flirt with anyone you want, as long as you come home with me."

"I like the sound of that," she mused. "Yes."

"Yes?" I said, I was intrigued.

"Tell you what," she said. "Let me go in first. You come in after, find a spot to watch me. We'll see if someone hits on me. I'll flirt. When you're ready, just come over, and I go home with you."

I smiled.

"I'll warn you though," I said. "I might be so fucking hard."

She laughed.

"I guarantee I'll be so fucking wet."

Just like that, I was rigid.

&&&

Kayley was already sitting at the bar on a stool when I walked in. The bar was less than half full. Kayley was still sitting alone. Her gaze passed over me as I wandered in, we exchanged the barest nods. I took a seat at the table where I could have a good view.

God, she was gorgeous. She was wearing a short dress that showed off her legs, white boots and a push-up bra really accentuated her bosom.

A moment later, a blowsy blonde sat next to me, cleavage spilling out of her tight top.

"Anyone sitting here?" She asked, not waiting for an answer. Her hand slid onto my knee. "I'm Amy," she announced, "come here often."

From the corner of my eye, I could see Kayley giggling.

Eventually, about ten minutes later, an older bearded guy, Colin, approached Kayley to offer to buy her a drink. Kayley smiled and accepted, inviting him to join her. She shifted in her seat, her long legs scissoring.

Amy turned out to be far more handsy than Colin, which Kayley thoroughly enjoyed. The only downside was our companions made it a little difficult to watch the show. At one point, Colin spotted Kayley watching Amy thrust her breasts in my face.

After an hour, we both excused ourselves, our companions too sweet to let down harshly. We made our way home, and spent the night laughing and having wild sex.

&&&

This was our new game. We'd pick a bar and Kayley would troll for admirers. We'd go in separately, I'd find someplace with a good vantage point, Kayley would dress up sexy - tight jeans, short skirts, tank tops, dresses, she was always magnetic, with red hair, red lips and high heels completing the ensemble.

She was never alone for long. Before too long, a suitor would appear, offering a drink, asking to sit, or just moving in.

She'd sparkle.

It was always someone different. Someone old, or young, tall or short. Some heavy, morbidly overweight businessman, or some sleazy hustler. She always smiled, radiant, engaging. Unfailingly polite. Some moved on, dismissed. Others hung in.

I loved watching her, and the thing I loved most was her enjoying herself. When she seemed bored or annoyed, I'd move in, without waiting for a signal.

Other times, she'd seem charmed, and I'd hang back, enjoying her glow. Watching her flashing smile, or her laugh. The way she'd lean forward to give a view of cleavage, or blush at some compliment or proposition, or touch a hand or arm if she was particularly into it.

I liked watching the men as well, some of them careful and polite, others eager and bold, stealing glimpses of her cleavage or legs when they thought she wasn't looking, pretending to laugh when she did.

I learned to spot the ones who genuinely enjoyed her company when she was on, and the ones who were merely desperate to get laid.

In the end, I'd always collect her, and we'd usually head home, for hot sex, tearing clothes off, climbing each other. Sometimes we wouldn't make it home, pulling into some alley or quiet spot where we'd climb into the back seats for some wild consummation.

We'd talk about them, sometimes on the ride back, sometimes after sex. Kayley was always wonderful, discussing almost every man who flirted with her with warmth and compassion, enjoying their company, and seeing something worthwhile in most of them. Even the ones that hadn't been sexually interesting.

As to the ones that did, she often surprised me.

"Maybe I should have gone home with him," she mused, talking about a tall skinny artist type, who'd turned out to be a comic book collector.

"Him?" I teased. "Should I have let you?"

"Maybe," she said. "He was passionate, you know. Just loved his thing, I think he was over the moon that a woman was interested. And he was kind, you could see it in him, and gentle. Like a poet."

Another time.

"Oh just raw muscle," she said. "Not a brain in his head. You look at him and wonder what it would be like to ride that pony."

Some were suave, some were sleazy, I guess they pressed different buttons in different ways.

"I really enjoyed talking to him," she said, "because he was enjoying it so much. I mean, a fat, lonely old salesman, puffing his way through life, stuck overnight in a strange city. And suddenly, he's having this really great conversation with this hottie."

"He was just happy," she finished. "And happy is infectious."

"You should have gone back to his hotel with him," I said. "I would have waited."

She laughed and hit me with a pillow, and we rolled around the bed.

One of the things I loved about it, is that it made her sexier. It made her feel sexier. Two people can be in love and have crazy sex all the time, but you're seeing each other constantly, you're seeing each other at breakfast and tired from work. Sometimes it takes the edge off your special sexiness together.

But when we played with this, she'd blossom. She just let her sexiness out, and she let herself feel it. She indulged it. She wore lingerie and jewelry, make up and bright lipstick, heels. We bought her fishnet, stockings and tops. Tight skirts, push up bras, demi-cups, see through tops, transparent panels in fabric, or strategically placed cuts. She'd model for me, as we experimented with looks, sometimes classy, sometimes goth or punk, sometimes sleazy and sometimes so cheap that men made offers.

I loved seeing her like this, sometimes I'd go in first, and wait and watch as she made her entrance and half the men in the room would check her out. She'd take her seat, pretending not to notice, but I could feel her pleasure, I could literally feel her sparkle.

We tried different places, enjoying the effect.

But in the end, no matter who she flirted with or smiled at, I'd always appear, and she'd always gracefully excuse herself and come home with me.

I suppose we should have known it wouldn't stop there, and that sooner or later, she'd be claimed.

%%%

This bar was nothing special. I wouldn't call it a dive bar, but if it wasn't it just barely missed that mark. It hovered on the edges of the seedy side of town, its exterior nondescript.

We really only decided to try it because we'd driven past it a dozen times of the preceding months.

'Have we been in there?" Kayley asked, as we passed by. The sign said 'Paddy's" in old fashioned neon.

She was wearing a satin dress with neck line plunging to her navel, opera gloves and costume jewelry. We'd just come from this retro place, all red velvet, leather and brass, where an older gentleman had spent half an hour talking about Frank Sinatra and Sammy Davis Jr, who it had turned out, were both bisexual, all the while staring at her hard nipples and managing to cop a feel.

Oh yes, we'd progressed to the part where she enjoyed being felt up. The right men, sufficiently charming or arousing, if they were bold enough, might be rewarded with an intimate kiss, perhaps fingertips along an erection, a furtive hand beneath folds of fabric to cup bare breast or tease a nipple, even a hand along the inside of her thigh, never quite reaching, but exciting.

I watched it all, and together after, we'd tease and laugh and relive it, recreating certain moments, pressing to completion.

"I don't think so," I said. "It doesn't look like anything much. Seems like a neighborhood bar, probably regular patrons, local."

She shrugged.

"Might be fun," she said. "Let's check it out."

I nodded.

That night, she straddled me, riding slowly, while telling me insane stories about Sammy Davis Jr. deep throating Marilyn Chamber's boyfriend, while I pulled her nipples so hard they were distended. When she came, she squirted all over me.

###

"What do you think? Leather skirt?" She held it up.

She was wearing fishnet stockings, a favorite of mine, with a black garter belt, and red lace panties. An open cup bra, lifted her breasts and pushed her nipples forward.

"Or maybe the miniskirt?"

Fuck, I loved it when she dressed up. I was hard already.

"The leather skirt, definitely, it works with the stockings. The miniskirt is too short for them."

She nodded, shimmying into them. Nonchalantly, she selected a lace tank top that didn't show much cleavage but bared her midriff and clung like a second skin, and a mesh pullover that covered her but didn't hide much of anything.