A Loving Wife's Story Ch. 03

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, lost in jumble of fantasy and reality that made no sense at all. I simply did not know at that moment, as I wiped my pussy clean, where my mind was. There was no rush of feeling like a slut. There was something more telling and mysterious at work. Our game had taken me to a new level of possibility I didn't fully understand, but looked upon with a deep siesure of fascination and expectancy. Because I knew this was something I would have to work out, and carefully analyze and explain to my husband. The signal of sexual readiness in the smiles the man and I exchanged, my teasing him with my ass. The inexplicable motive in my slipping my panties off and putting them in my purse before returning back to the lounge.

The first time in my life I had ever done that - walked any where in public without panties underneath my clothes. I felt naked, and the feeling was delicious. The handsome man at the bar was turned my way, as though he had kept constant vigil to see me return. I looked steadily at him as I walked his way. Could he see I had no panties on? Did the fabric outline my "camel toe", the curve of my hips and the crease between the twin globes of my ass? I imagined so, and the way he sipped his drink and eyed my tits and stomach and crotch in a steady gaze made me think he knew I had removed my panties as a gesture of appreciation for his captivated interest in me as a woman, a beautiful, vibrant, sexual woman. A married woman walking toward him with the sultry rythems of a self contained slut and whore. I was flooded with a rush of confidence and power, and juices in my cunt. Maybe that was why the smile I gave the man as I walked past him was so warm and accessible.

Maybe that was why I gave a pointed look at his crotch as he sat spread on the stool, his shoes hooked on the circular base of the bar stool. Was there a clear outline of cock and balls bulging under his pants? Nothing particularly noticeable I could see. No male equivilent of the female "camel toe." But I knew only too well how men could surprise. How very little indication of penis size confined in pants can engorge to astonishing length and girth. Anyway, I still had in my mind that image flash as I sat on the commode, of his cock big and high and proud and forceful entering me. That image flash must have transferred from my head to his mind, for the man was suddenly frozen in wide eyed wonder that I had given a prolonged look at his crotch.

"What's that big smile all about?" Jamie said.

"Because I love being a woman." I said. And smiled at him and kissed his lips. My man. The booth seat felt distinctly different under my panty free bottom.

"Woman you certainly are. The woman I love."

"Do you like that we came here tonight? To play with the memories of my whore night?"

"Yes. I do. You were a wicked girl. Now you are a mature woman and love being one. I love you for both reasons, and I am proud of you for both."

I felt like my body was melting on the seat, all from the heat of my husband's love and his pride in my being a woman evolved from a college girl who was a whore for a night in that very same bar.

The waitress suddenly appeared and sat two fresh drinks on our table. "Compliments of the gentleman at the bar." She said, and left.

Jamie and I both looked at the bar and saw the handsome man raise his glass to us in salutation. Jamie was genuinely puzzled. "Why would he do that?" He said.

"Maybe he wants us to invite him to join us." I said. And in that instant our night out, my slutty liberation, my removing my panties, my flash fantasy of the man fucking me was balanced on a razor edge. A part of me wanted Jamie to invite him over, to see what would unfold. Another part shrank from the realization I had gone too far. My smile for the man, my brief but unmistakable display of sexual accessibility, removing my panties in the rest room, twitching my ass just for him.

"Does he indeed?" Jamie said. "Is that the way it works nowdays?"

"That's my guess." I said.

"Do you want me to invite him over?"

For a moment I was frozen by indecision and sole responsibility. The electric exctement of possibility streaked in my stomach... what would happen if I said yes, invite him over? I was primed to explore. But Jamie wasn't. He was tagging along behind me in my revival of whore night memories. He did not fully know the extent of my feelings of sexual liberation that night, the sexual signals I had given to the man at the bar who had sent us drinks to signal his wonder if we were that type of couple wanting a threesome, my removing my panties to feel naked as I walk back past him. My husband was not completely with me. I understood things he wasn't aware of.

"Good looking as he is, no, I don't think so." I said. "I'm ready to get out of here. Go home and fuck your brains out."

To be continued...