The Bikini
My wife, Erica, is a beautiful woman. Physically, she is drop-dead gorgeous. She is a large, statuesque woman, 5'10", 135 pounds and voluptuous curves in all the right places. Her measurements are 38-24-36. She has sandy hair and soft, freckled skin. Her green eyes are amazing. Her hair is long, reaching her butt. I love her with all my heart and would do anything for her. She likes to go to the beach, and always wears bikinis. As you can imagine, she attracts a lot of interest. I belong to the school of eat your hearts out, guys! I am 5'8", slender, dark hair and eyes and weigh 130 pounds, soaking wet.
We do occasionally have a little problem with beach bullies thinking that I must be her little brother or her gay friend. Occasionally, one or two guys of the Muscle Beach variety will actually come up and suggest that she needs to ditch me and have some fun with them. I do know some martial arts so I am not afraid of physical combat, but not eager to engage. She has always been able to handle these situations with 'the look'. Her eyes grow cold, and 'the look' says it all, 'Drop dead, mother fucker'. About ten seconds of the look is as much as it ever takes to turn brashness into retreat. I heard one guy say as they walked away, "Did you see her eyes change color?" I've never seen her eyes change color, and I can say with certainty, I never want to be the recipient of 'the look'. Backing her up is the fact that I met her in martial arts class, and we're pretty near equal in that regard. We both have brown belts, just in case 'the look' doesn't solve the problem.
I would say we have a great physical relationship. We still do it almost every day and often twice, or even more on the weekends. There is story that if you keep a jar of beans and put one bean in every time you have sex the first year; then every time you have sex afterward, you take one out: according to the story, you will never empty the jar. Erica and I would have emptied the jar early in the second year, if not sooner.
Not only do I love her to death, but she is my best friend, so we are really tight. We occasionally socialize, but we're both happy to just hang out together. Sometimes we play a game, or watch a movie, but mostly we just live together and enjoy that. Sometimes I see her dripping wet body when she gets out of the shower, and I just can't believe that I have this vision of loveliness all to myself.
Some women occasionally like to shop for outfits; they want to go the whole nine yards and buy underwear, skirt, blouse, jacket, shoes, and purse. It's not that way with Erica; she likes to buy bikinis. Even though they're expensive, they don't take up much closet space, and Erica looks absolutely fantastic when she wears one. She likes to get them a little tight and a little small: 'Eat your hearts out, guys!'
One Saturday morning, after sleeping late, and enjoying our usual Saturday morning sex, we decided to go out for brunch. As we left the restaurant, she told me she would like to go to the mall. This is her way of saying that she wants to buy a new bikini. I already told you how I feel about her; if she wanted to buy twenty bikinis and a full outfit, it would be fine by me. It would only take a month or two for our bank account to recover.
The mall is quite large filled hundreds of small shops and at least seven or eight big store anchors. Almost all of the small shops have glass fronts. There is a swimwear shop on the second floor that Erica likes. She usually tries on a few bikinis, as in ten or twelve, before selecting one. Of course, she changes in one of the dressing rooms, but then she models each bikini for me, before we select one. By the fifth or sixth bikini, a small crowd usually gathers outside the window to watch the show. She does the whole model think, putting one hand on her cocked hip, and then the other. Then turning and looking over her shoulder. Then walking in front of me, and then repeating before she returns to the dressing room for another try on. On the first pass, we usually cut the field down to three or four, and then make our selection after her second pass. While she was putting her shorts and tank top back on, I paid for our selection, and bag in hand, we headed for the exit.
By now, her audience had dispersed. Just before we reached the escalator, a fellow came over to us and asked if we had a minute. We paused and I could tell that Erica was about ten seconds from giving him 'the look'. However, this guy was not at all threatening, and was actually in between us in height, with a build similar to my own.
"I saw your wife modeling swimsuits, and I thought you guys might be interested in my product. It's actually a procedure, but as a model, or potential model, I thought you might be willing to spend a few minutes to learn more about it."
"I don't think so," Erica informed him.
"The introduction will only take a few minutes, although I don't think this is the right place for it. Do you guys live near here?"
"Yes," Erica said with a little edge in her voice. I could tell that this guy was only about five seconds away from getting 'the look'.
"I would like to explain the first step to you in the privacy of your home," he continued. "However, if, at any time, you want to go no further, you just say 'No' and I'm gone, 'Poof', just like that."
Erica replied, "Any time we say 'no', you're out of here?"
"Exactly," he replied.
"No," I said."
He replied, "Thank you for your time. Sorry for any inconvenience." He turned on his heel and headed away.
"Wait!" Erica called.
He stopped and turned around; a questioning look on his face.
"Give me a minute with my husband," she explained.
"He seems like a nice enough guy, Johnny," Erica told me. "I don't mind him drinking one of our beers. I'm mildly curious about what he has to say."
"It's okay with me," I said. "He does seem to take 'No' seriously."
"You can follow us," Erica told him.
He quickly retraced his steps. "Hi! I'm Mike Jacobsen," as he proffered his hand.
"I'm Johnny," as I shook his hand.
"I'm Erica," as she shook his hand.
"I'll follow you to your car; then I'll go get mine if that's all right," he suggested.
When we reached our car, I suggested that we take him to his car. He clambered into the back seat and directed us to his car. It was a similar make and model to us, but his was lime green, while ours were maroon.
"If we're going on the freeway, it might be better for one of you to ride with me," he suggested.
"I can ride with him," Erica said. I was okay with that, because I knew Erica could take care of herself, if he stepped out of line.
It didn't seem to be a problem. They were never out of sight of my rear-view mirror. I could see them talking, but it seemed to be just idle chit chat. At our house, I parked in the garage; he pulled in behind me. I closed the garage and the three of us headed for the front door.
"Your wife invited me to have a beer," he informed me, "fortunately I can drink and talk at the same time!"I looked at Erica and she was smiling at his humor. Inside our living room, he sat on the couch, while I sat in my favorite recliner chair. Erica went to the kitchen and returned with three beers.
She sat in her favorite chair which was an unusual combination of rocking and overstuffed. We all sipped our beers.
He began, "This is the procedure for our process. I will explain the next step, in this case, the first step. You can discuss it among yourselves if you want to continue. If one of you says, 'No', it's over and I will quickly leave."
"Who will be taking these steps?" Erica asked.
"The first step is for you alone, since you are the model," Mike explained. "Subsequent steps will involve Johnny or myself."
"Okay, begin!" she said.
"Okay, step one is pretty simple," Mike told us. "Erica will do a model walk to the end of the room, do a few poses, like you did in the store, and then walk to the other end of the room, do a few poses and then return to the middle of the room."
Erica looked over at me and we exchanged 'no big deal' looks. She stood up and began her model walk. She is such a beautiful woman. It was exciting for me to watch, and it must have been exciting for Mike. I wondered if it was exciting for Erica, but she gave no visible indication. When she returned to the center of the room, she sat down and waited for the explanation of the next step.
Mike described it, "This is a little bit of a test of your self-confidence and composure. It's really pretty much the same as the last step except that you only wear your bra and panties. You actually won't be showing anything that you didn't show in the swimwear shop."
Erica looked at me, questioningly. "I don't know," she said. "What do you think, Johnny?"
"I don't know, either," I admitted. "Don't do anything you're not comfortable with!"
She stood up, kicked off her sandals, and pulled her tank top over her head. Her strapless bra covered her nipples and the underside of her boobs, but left the tops fully exposed. She unfastened her shorts, and let them drop to the floor kicking them over to where her tank top and shoes lay. I was glad she had bikini panties on, rather than a thong. She had some thong undies but rarely wore them. Both the bra and panties did little to hide her voluptuous curves. Going away from me I watched her hips wiggle. Coming toward me, I watched her boobs wiggle. I noticed that Mike was intently watching her, also. What can I say, she was a beautiful woman with an elegant way of carrying herself. When she finished her walk, she sat down and awaited the next explanation.
"This is where it becomes a little challenging," Mike told us. "Again, you will give us the runway walk, but this time you will be topless, Erica."
"I can't do that, can I, Johnny?" she asked me.
