"John, where are you hun? I want to show you my new outfit." Carrie called, the soft creak of the carpeted stairs signaling her approach.
I scrambled backwards onto the bed, flinging my pants and shirt onto the floor and frantically grabbed the TV remote, flipping it on just seconds before she walked through the bedroom door. It came on blaringly loud of course, scaring the crap out of me. My head jerked towards my wife with what I'm sure was a look of utter, flustered guilt. On some level, I was also aware that the head of my cock was leaking a few stubborn residual drops of cum into my underwear. No doubt there was a fairly incriminating wet spot forming in them. I tried to non-chalantly pull the covers over them.
"I – I was just about to climb into bed, hun" I tried, working hard to look calm and composed.
Carrie's eyebrows pursed a little, as she glanced over at the screeching tires on the television which was apparently set up to cure the deaf. I quickly tried to turn it down, instead changing the channel followed by pulling up the on-screen menu. 'Get a grip you fucking clod" my mind shouted as I finally found the volume and watched the yellow portion of the graphic level dissolve into white. There. Better.
Carrie was still looking at me like I was wearing moose antlers.
"Are you OK?" she ventured, slowly entering the room, eyes still on me while gently lowering her bags to the floor.
It was at this point that I noticed that my normally pretty-but-average-mom looking wife was looking...well...very hot in what was obviously a new outfit. She'd also done something with her hair. Her usually shoulder length brown hair now had streaks of blond in it, and had been trimmed to be a bit shorter, framing her pretty face. This surprised me for some reason. I'd forgotten how attractive my wife really was. Of course, most of the time I'd seen her over the past decade, she was in sweat pants with little or no makeup on. But we were married, and so there was really no need to dress up for each other anymore, right? Again, my mind reeled a little bit: where the hell had I been the past 10 years?
My eyes continued downward, taking in her heavy 36-D breasts, which were well displayed by the new white, stretch top that wrapped them and presented them auspiciously beneath the plunging neckline. My gaze was drawn to the shadow between them, the whole effect accentuating a tan I'd never really noticed she had. From the waist down, she had bought a pair of black, tight Capri's. Had she lost weight? She was never fat by any means, but...
"Hun?" she repeated, her voice jangling me back to consciousness. "Are you spaced or what?" She had this look of half alarm, half irritation and half condescension. Wait. That was too many halves. "JOHN!" she barked. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Nothing" I bleated. "I...I was just...just trying to get the volume down on the TV." I set down the remote on the bed beside me. "You...you look amazing sweetheart" I recovered. Nice work, Johnny boy. Her eyebrows continued to signal suspicion, but they gradually began to lift and the look started to dissipate.
"You think?" she smiled, a bit uncertainly.
"Absolutely, sweetheart. Wow!" I added, enthusiastically.
Carrie smiled freely now, her face lighting up, eyes dancing. "Really?" she twirled, showing me her backside, her ass nicely framed by her new attire. Wait a second. Something was missing. Where...where were her panty lines...?
"Niiiice" I growled. "I'd better get in shape" I smirked "or my hottie wife's going to be too much for me!"
My wife beamed, obviously pleased with her new outfit, and my response. She bit her lip and sauntered over to the bed.
"You might be too late!" she teased. "A lot of guys were checking me out tonight!" she added, sitting down beside me, one leg over the side, the other pulled up underneath her as she leaned forward towards me. I looked down her top. Not bad. Actually very "not bad".
"Really" I responded, eyebrows raising.
"Un-huh!" she smiled, eyes half-lidded. "I had one young guy at the check out in one store that just stood there and stared at my boobs while I was writing my check! I looked up and caught him and he didn't even blink." Her hand reached over and started tracing a line across the top of the sheet that I had hastily pulled up over my moist jockeys.
"And you liked that did you?" I managed, looking down now with a feeling of utter horror as I realized my dick was becoming erect again. I also knew that the "top of the tent" probably looked like I had had a small accident. How was I going to explain that? I instinctively grabbed her hand, which was starting to push the sheet down. She looked up at me inquisitively. I pulled it up to my mouth and kissed it.
The questioning look faded and her devilish little grin reappeared. "Mmmm...I did. It was kind of nice to get checked out for a change."
"Oh, I think you get more looks than you know, hun." I replied, kissing her fingers.
"Well...I don't know. I've been feeling kind of dumpy lately, especially with my own daughter looking so much better than me" she pouted, peering into my eyes. Think quick, Johnny. She's looking for a crack. Don't move, buddy, don't even flinch. Be Mount Rushmore.
