For all of you who hate cuckold stories, please don't read this story, you won't like it. Whilst the male character isn't 'cuckolded' (humiliated), he does watch his wife enjoy having sex with other men.
If you want 10" cocks, women who orgasm in 10 seconds flat, simultaneous orgasms or gallons of cum then I'm sorry, but this is not the right story for you. I like to write about ordinary people with ordinary sexual appetites in slightly out of the ordinary situations. I try to keep the plot lines as near to reality as I can.
I try to keep the sex as true to my own experience as possible. I love to write about kissing, stroking, how sex feels and sex as an encounter which involves all the senses. I do like to 'get dirty' but only in the height of my character's arousal. All my stories have my own experience in them, but generally they are not autobiographical.
Everyone in this story is over 18.
Constructive feedback welcome. I am from UK, so UK spelling applies. Thank you for reading my story.
Act 1 -- Girl's night out.
I was in a black London Taxi on my way home in the pouring rain. A dark, wet and miserable London night. I had enjoyed the Hen party. Maria, a 'twenty-something' from in my office was the bride to be. The theme for the party was schoolgirls; we had started in a pub and ended up in the private dining room of a Chinese restaurant.
Like most hen nights it had been a raucous night. Everywhere we went we attracted attention. Apart from the shouting and laughing there was, of course, our outfits. I was very proud, that at my age, that I was turning as many heads as the young girls who made up most of the hen party. I was wearing a tartan wraparound skirt and whilst it wasn't as short as some of the girls, it was short enough, about mid-thigh. I was wearing knee length sheer black socks as well as a black lacey G-string (not that anyone could see it). I had a white shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal the curves of my tits without putting them completely on show and a school tie undone enough to flap in front of my cleavage hiding it and drawing attention to it at the same time.
I am of Greek heritage and so have black hair, full lips and big brown eyes. Oh, and I'm not very tall. In keeping with my schoolgirl look I didn't have much makeup on, just a bit of mascara and some shinny lip gloss. The only jewellery I had on (apart from a wedding ring) were some cheap big, silver hooped earrings. My long black hair was done up in two ponytails with some lime green scrunchies.
About the only non-schoolgirl item of clothing were some black stilettos. Oh yes......... I was turning heads.
I was talking to the cab driver when I realised that every time I bent forward, he was 'copping an eyeful of my cleavage'. I smiled inside. Oh yes, I still had it. He had asked me about the food in the restaurant and whether I could recommend it. He kept asking me to repeat because (he said) the glass division between us was making it difficult to hear me. I know he had a microphone and speaker system, all he really wanted was for me to lean forward. I smiled inside and obliged. Yes.... I still had it.
I teased him a bit about the night. Told him about the male strippers and the antics of the girls. He asked me if I got involved and I replied coyly 'maybe a little because I didn't want to be a party pooper.' I told him how some of the girls had gone to a night club on the prowl to find a man for the night. He asked me why I had not gone, and I told him I was very happily married and a bit older than the rest of the party, so I had made my excuses and left.
I wouldn't say I was prick teasing him, but I certainly enjoyed the attention, it was making me a little horny. and I made the most of it. As we turned into our street, I smiled to myself again. I still had it. I could still get most men to give me a second look, chat me up etc. If Bob was up, I was looking forward to sex.
Act 2- Boy's night in
The front of the house was in darkness and none of Bob's friends' cars were parked outside. Good, I thought, they've gone home, and I would have Bob to myself. I opened the door and was taking my shoes off on the front door mat, when the lounge door opened, and Bob came out.
"Hi Babe, had a good time?"
I heard his friends laugh at a joke in our lounge and a pang of disappointment shot through me. "Yes, it was good fun."
"You are home early."
"The girls went on the prowl for men. Ian and Mike still here?" I didn't wait for a reply. "I'm off to bed."
"Don't be daft. Come and have a drink with us, the football [soccer in USA] has finished and we are having a few beers. I said they could both stay the night, OK?"
"Of course, that's fine but I don't want to come in dressed like this."
"It's exactly why I want you to come in."
"Bob!!! I don't think I should be parading myself to your mates in our front room." Of course, I was thrilled at the prospect of more showing off but a girl needs to play a little hard to get.
"That's exactly why you should come in and say hello. You can't let a great costume like that go to waste. Oh, and put those shoes back on!"
I smiled and reluctantly (well, not really reluctantly) complied. As I walked into our lounge Bob's two friends Ian and Mike were sitting on one of our 2-seater sofas separated by a coffee table from another 2-seater sofa. It's a cosy room ideal for intimate chatting.
"Wow, Maddy, I think I've died and gone to heaven," Mike said in his usual 'jack the lad' way. He rather fancies himself as a ladies' man but always out of earshot of his wife. Around her he plays the attentive husband. I've never been all that comfortable around him as he is either drooling over me (when she isn't there) or hardly speaking to me (when she is). Still, it takes all sorts.
Ian, Bob's best mate, is much more of a gentleman. I smiled at Mike and then looked at Ian. "Hi boys." Ian was definitely looking at my cleavage and his mouth was slightly open. "Ian talk to the face, the tits aren't listening!" Everyone laughed but as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I had gone too far. It was boys' night in so I'm sure the banter was flowing but Ian, the gentleman, has always had a soft spot for me, and now I had embarrassed him. He went as red as beetroot and looked at the floor. Which made Bob and Mike roar with laughter, making the situation ten times worse.
Poor Ian; There I was in my stilettos, short skirt, gaping shirt..... dressed to attract attention. I had spent the night enjoying sexually charged attention and when one of the nicest men I know pays me the compliment of appreciating my body, I embarrass him in front of his mates. That must have stung, I know he fancies me; he admitted it to Bob one drunken night. I had metaphorically slapped him, but I couldn't take it back and I sat down next to Bob. As I sat, I tried to pull my skirt down as far as I could and I sort of perched on the edge of the seat, legs sideways, to avoid giving Ian and Mike a view up my skirt. I figured I had done enough damage for one night.
"I will go and get you a wine," Bob jumped up leaving me alone with Ian and Mike. Mike was unusually quiet; I think he was using all of his brain power to mentally undress me as I could feel his eyes traverse every inch of me. I started to feel good about myself again, but I really wanted to make it up with Ian. I made small talk with him; at last, he looked up and smiled. As he looked up, he couldn't help pausing on my cleavage. My smile broadened; I wanted to give him permission. More than that, I wanted him to examine every inch of me. I wanted to arouse him, partly to say sorry and partly because I fancied him.
Bob came back in the room and handed me a chilled glass of Sancerre. "Sit back Maddy, you don't look comfortable." He was right, I wasn't particularly, but if I sat back, I would reveal more of my thighs which felt wrong, having embarrassed Ian. I paused, but eventually sat back. I knew it would be more comfortable. I also knew Ian and Mike would be able to see further up my thighs, but I doubted they could see my knickers.
We continued with small talk between the four of us. Mike and Ian were obviously distracted. Mike was focused on my looking as far up my skirt as he could. Ian's eyes seem to dance all over me although my cleavage and thighs were sites of special interest for him. I revelled in it. My shoulders moved back as I pushed my chest out, I adjusted my hair. I was preening for them. I did everything to point their gaze to my physical attributes. I was enjoying being looked at, I was enjoying turning these men on. The words that passed between us were completely asexual, but the non-verbal communication was all sex, sex and more sex. The temperature was rising and all of us were 'going with the flow."
"So how was the party," Ian asked.
"Yes good." Selfishly, I wanted to conversation to stay on inconsequential chat, so the boys could be focused on my body. I loved the idea that our mouths were all talking rubbish while our heads were almost completely focused on sex; sex with me.
