Angela is waiting for me when I get home from work and she is dressed like a total vamp. Short, tight red dress, sweeping neckline, high heels and seamed stockings.
"I went shopping. Do you like it?"
Do I like her get up she asks? Of course I do. I kiss her deeply, run my hand up under her skirt and find a pair of French knickers. I rub my fingers across the crotch and find them soaked. What is a man to do? I swivel her around, bend her over the couch facing the big TV and the almost as big mirror newly added so she can see herself being fucked. I slide the crotch of the knickers aside and start stroking her clit, causing her to moan. I grab her hair and pull her hair up so she is looking directly at the big mirror and seeing herself bent over waiting to be fucked.
"A simple yes or no would have been sufficient!"
"I am not finished with my appraisal, slut!"
Six months ago this would have gotten me into serious trouble, now it seems to excite her.
"Yes. I am a slut. Fuck me."
Which is what I do, hard and fast. We both watch the action in the big mirror. It is, I must tell you very exciting so I don't last very long. Having dumped a good load of cum in her pussy, I help her stand up.
"What prompted this shopping expedition? Which I must tell you is a definitely good, sexy addition to your hotwife ensemble. Do you have something or someone in mind?"
She hesitates for a moment.
"Oops!" I think to myself. New territory in sight.
"I want to go to a pick up bar, apparently alone. You arrive after me, pick me up and before we leave, I take my new French knickers off in public. For your information, I expected the sort of reception I have just got so I bought two pairs, just in case one pair got soiled before we went out."
She runs a finger under her dress, brings it out covered in our sex juice and licks it off her finger.
"Good thing I did isn't it?"
"You want to do that tonight? Now?"
"Yes. You can buy me dinner before you get to fuck me in the rest rooms."
"All planned out I see."
"Yes. I will now go and wash myself, change into a clean pair of French knickers and you will get dressed really sexily so I can fall for you all over again."
She pauses as she walks into the bathroom.
"Oh, and by the way. I wondered how you managed to meet me at the lift when my first hotwife fuck was finished, so I went looking and I found your tiny muted cell phone. I also found the sounds you recorded with it. Bad man, but very sexy. I will have it with me tonight so we have a recording of our pick up. Naughty man. You really should have told me."
She closes the bathroom door before I can respond.
====
It is an hour later we are outside a dimly lit bar known for pick ups. I drop Angela and go to look for a parking. It takes longer than I expect so I am twenty minutes behind her. The bar is really dim and I take a moment to locate her sitting at a table in a corner. I start to walk over only to find that she is not alone. A burly man with hair that hangs down to the middle of his back is sitting close her, one arm draped across her shoulders, his fingers are gently probing at the top of her dress apparently trying to ease her top down. She does not appear to be objecting too much and the top is already slightly lower than I remember it being when I dropped her off. When she sees me she glances at the man next to her and then at me, raises one eyebrow. She is so obviously enjoying the action that I nod and veer away to the bar, buy myself a drink and position myself so that I can follow the action. I can't help wondering just how far she is going to go. I get feeling she may go all the way, that is OK by me and my cock agrees by stiffening up at the possibilities presenting themselves. I switch on my cell receiver, plug in the ear phone and listen to them talking.
"You married?" The big man is trying to distracted her while easing her top down.
"Yes."
"And does he know you are playing the slut tonight?"
"What makes you think I am a slut?"
"You are dressed like a slut and you are in a pick-up bar alone. Take you a bet you don't have panties on."
"Yes, I do. French knickers. They cover me nicely so you cannot get those naughty fingers of yours into my sweet little pussy."
She opens her legs slightly.
"Go on. Feel. Expensive silk French knickers. And my husband pays for them. To stop bad men like you from taking advantage of me."
His hand moves down her body, between her legs and then up under her dress.
"Sexy aren't they? And keeping you out."
"Fuck You are wet!"
"Ooh, stop pushing my knickers to one side. You are so bad." So saying, she spreads her legs just a little more.
I can hear her sighing softly.
"Ah, you are so bad and so good. I need your fingers on my clit.
The man keeps rubbing.
"Wait! Wait! WAIT! Take your hand away."
He doesn't move.
"Take your hand away or I shall scream."
"Jesus woman, you want me and now you stop me. What are you thinking."
"Take your hand off my pussy."
Reluctantly he pulls his hand away, starts to move away.
"Wait!"
"What now?"
Angela reaches under her skirt and slides the French knickers down, over her thighs, past her knees, and lifts her foot up with the knickers dangling free. The guy takes them off her shoe and sniffs them.
"Fuck. You smell so good. And now you are a slut. No panties."
"Gimme my knickers back." She takes them and pushes them into her purse.
"Now. Where were we? You were going to buy me a drink, when you get back..."
She doesn't finish the sentence. As he gets up to get her a drink, she grabs his sleeve.
"Go check the rest rooms? We may need them after this drink."