This is a true story. All events are accurate. Names, however, were changed. We have wonderful neighbors. . .
My name is Diane. My husband of 25 years, Allen, and I lounged back in the hot tub in this sunny warm winter destination. It seemed strange to be in a hot tub in this warm place; but the water was warm, not hot. The weather was cool, and overcast. Drinks were flowing. People splashed and played in the pool next to us, the waiters and waitresses behind the bar were only feet away. They made their rounds to bring drinks. Life was quite relaxing. Shortly, Jean and Mark, our neighbors, slipped into the hot tub. They have been married the same amount of years. We were vacationing with them.
I have never seen Jean so relaxed and receptive to her husband. The two always seem to be playing a game of cat and mouse. Mark frequently makes comments about how he hopes to be getting "some," or he will try to flip up her skirt. At all of these overtures, Jean just rolls her eyes. This time was different.
Jean and Mark are tall thin people. Mark is around 6 feet, average looking, lean build. Jean is around 5' 7." She has a beautiful set of C+ breasts, is slim and willowy, and has a nice tight butt. As soon as Jean slipped in, she flashed her boobs to her husband, and then to waiters and waitresses. I wasn't necessarily shocked at this behavior, but was definitely surprised. She started posing for her husband, who was giving her directions on how to pose. It wasn't long before I was showing my boobs. They are a pert B cup. My husband and I are equally average height and average looking. Jean kept swimming over to me, and sitting on my lap. I started feeling her boobs. Man, they felt terrific. She felt mine, we each sucked on the each other's nipples; her tongue soft and gentle on my nipples. Then I would swim over to her and she would feel my boobs. Allen started feeling her up, but Mark was only interested in Jean. We enjoyed each other's company for about 3 hours, and finally had to exit to get ready for dinner. If memory serves me correctly, my husband and I had some hot, loud sex that night in our hotel room. And I mean to the point that Allen was concern about how vocal I was.
Other than making sure we were all OK with the hot tub episode, we really didn't discuss it. I mean it happened, we all enjoyed it, we are all grown ups, enough said.
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It was a Friday night happy hour several months later when things went further. At this point I should explain that I am my husband's collared submissive, and have been for about 2 years. We have been experimenting with BDSM since we started dating. This has progressed to a satisfactory Dominant/submissive relationship complete with his demand that I suck his cock every morning, and pretty much whenever he desires. On this Friday evening I was told to wear my collar, along with a short jean skirt, button down shirt, thigh highs and a skimpy shelf bra; no panties. I have a love/hate relationship with my collar. Whenever I am told to put it on, it is a major head trip. I feel horny, submissive, embarrassed, and erotic all at once. My husband becomes my Dom. People tend to stare at this silver collar with a D ring hanging from it, increasing my submissive horniness. He assures me that if people are into that lifestyle, then they know it is a collar, big deal; except that it is me people look at. Again, this is the turn on. I knew the collar would stay on the entire weekend, and running errands during the weekend was going to make me even more nervous and very aware of how submissive I am. The nipple nooses ensnaring my nipples, made them erect. They stood out even more because of the skimpy shelf bra. With the light weight sweater and collar, I felt quite the naughty slut. My pussy was wet, and nothing was even happening. As often is requested, I had to kneel down, and suck his cock before we left to join Jean and Mark.
"Hey, Diane is wearing a skirt." Mark nodded his approval as we entered the bar. He is very appreciative, as most men are, of women in skirts. He added, "and I see you are wearing your kinky necklace. I like it." I don't know how much Mark and Jean know about the BDSM lifestyle. This comment from Mark, for some reason, made my heart skip a few beats, and my pussy tingle. I cast my eyes down, and mumbled something incoherent, and unmemorable. Talk and drinks and eating ensued.
All the time I am wondering, "What do they know?" Of course it didn't help that Allen was continually running his hands up and down my thighs, and under my skirt, and Mark was peeking under the table trying to see what was going on. Jean didn't seem to mind. She seemed amused by it. After happy hour, we all piled over to our house.
During the course of the night, Allen kept running his hands under my shirt. I only mildly opposed these advances, because I really wanted him to do more. He must have picked up on this, because he eventually just took my shirt off. I was sitting in our kitchen with my breasts exposed, and everyone else was dressed. This has been a fantasy of mine; to be exposed for the submissive slut I am. He then began flipping up my skirt, somewhat exposing my shaved and naked pussy. I held my breath at this point; part of me wanting him to expose me, and part of me dreading it.
The moment passed when Mark exclaimed, "Whoa! Way to go Allen."
As Jean reached over to touch my bra, she said, "Ooh I like that bra, where did you get it?"
"Somewhere on line, I can send you the link if you want."
"Sure. Don't those nooses hurt?"
"Diane's nipples can take a lot of abuse." Allen said.
