Out of the blue one day my wife, Marcie, asked, "Do you think we should have a baby?" I avoided answering, giving her a chance to get it off her chest. She had been thinking about it, but wasn't sure she wanted to be a mommy.
The truth is that I wasn't too crazy about having a child, but I didn't want to lose my sexy wife. After 6 years of marriage, she was still the hottest woman I could imagine. Almost every time we made love it ended with her screaming and flailing her legs in abandon as the weight of my hips sank deep into her belly and my thrusts ended in uncontrollable spasms of my cum squirting deep inside her pussy.
Up until recently, I think ours had been a pretty normal relationship. Sometimes she would parade around the house in a G-string and push-up bra if she wanted to arouse me. Seeing her thighs and boobs giggling always turns me on! Sometimes she would say, "Were you looking at me, you pervert!" or "I love the feel of your eyes on my body," and pretty soon we would be going at like a couple dogs.
Then there were times I would wear just boxers so she could see my raging hard on and that usually led her to take pity on me and gnaw on my boner till we both got so excited she would submit to me on the floor in the living room or bent over the kitchen counter.
Up until recently, the height of our sex play was a weekend about two years ago. For her birthday I gave her a fishnet, full length body stocking. I was especially excited about giving her this thing since the shop where I bought it featured live, private models. While I was shopping at the lingerie store, I asked the mature, well-endowed lady clerk how these things fit on women. She chuckled and ushered me into one of their fitting rooms along with a full-bodied black model who was about the same size as Marcie and who smelled of sweat.
In the small changing room, somehow the model managed to remove almost all her clothes despite the cramped quarters, leaving only a fire engine red G-string on . . . out of modesty, I suppose. It was hot in that little changing room and her cinnamon skin glistened with perspiration. As you can imagine, I got pretty excited by the sight of her body and the smell of her sweat, and I proceeded to unbuckle my belt.
She put her hand on mine to stop me and said mechanically, "I'm sorry, sir, but store policy requires customers to remain fully clothed at all times. This is not a brothel. I can't stop you from touching me, however, and I do work for tips."
Somehow, I managed to cop some wonderful feels of a breast, her belly and a buttock while she concentrated on putting the purple body stocking on. I can't imagine how she did it without breaking the fragile strings, with my eager hands all over her and in that tiny space, but she did and the sight of her was breathtaking, standing there just inches from me.
In that same mechanical voice, she asked, "OK, cowboy, do you want to see me walk in it so you can get a better idea about how it will look on your wife?" Needless to say, I replied in the affirmative and she took me out into the store where she swaggered in her pumps around the clothing racks and past the sex toys. My eyes were glued to her as were the eyes of three other men who were shopping at the time. I could see by their open mouths that they couldn't believe their luck to see this amazing vision in the store.
The lady clerk came up beside me and placed her hand lightly at the small of my back and asked, "So, do you think your wife would look good in that?"
Needless to say, the sale was completed, a tip paid, and I was filled with the memory of seeing the black model in this flimsy piece of "clothing" that I was now taking home to my own wife. For the next three days I was on cloud nine with the anticipation of seeing my wife's body filling out the same article. For some reason, I was intent on the thought of the model's sweat being being soaked into the fishnet strings as my wife wore it.
I gave Marcie her gift Friday night when we got back from her birthday dinner. "You actually want to see me wearing this?" she asked incredulously. "I can't even figure out how to get it on me?" I showed her what I had learned by watching the model put it on. She thanked me with a kiss and set the box aside. I was a little disappointed that she was not as excited about it as I was, so I sat down to watch some television.
Half an hour or so later, she passed between me and the television, wearing only her smallest black bikini with the purple body stocking over it. It made her look tied reminding me of a roped steer I saw once in a rodeo. I was absorbed by the show on TV, but couldn't keep from leering at my wife's lewd display and remembering the model's curves that filled out that same outfit just three days earlier. Marcie went into the kitchen. I could hear her putting dishes away and imagine her reaching and bending as she took dishes out of the dishwasher and put them up in the cabinets or down under the stove.
She passed between me and the television several times. Each time I saw her strutting around, I got more excited remembering that black woman who was just a baby step away from being a whore. I started to fantasize about Marcie walking around the lingerie shop dressed like this, pretending to be nearly a whore herself. I know what a passionate nature Marcie has, and I found it difficult to think she could restrain herself in front of the four of us men as well as the prim model had.
I imagined I could smell the model's sweat on the neon purple body stocking as I got up and took Marcie in my arms. She seemed to melt into a long, loving kiss with me. The bikini was one of my favorites since the top just barely covered her nipples and I was pretty sure that I knew of at least two men in her past that had managed to talk her out of the bottoms and onto their cocks. One was the sadist who had dumped her just before I met her.
She seemed to be giving herself to me entirely with that long kiss, not knowing about the thoughts running through my head of the black model's glistening skin and about my passion for her "come fuck me" bikini. I took her right there standing up in front of the TV somehow getting my cock through the strings of the body stocking and getting the tiny, tight bikini bottom down far enough to relieve my throbbing penis in her pussy. Her cunt was very wet, but so tight that I came in less than a minute. I felt terribly ashamed since I usually try to please her before letting go of my load.
