There's little more my wife can do to arouse me than to put herself on display at my request. When I met her, she was wearing a crop top so short that she couldn't raise her arms without it lifting up over her seemingly always erect nipples. I knew this was the case because late that night she was spreading her arms high and wide against the side of a delivery van while I was discovering that there wasn't any underwear at all under her short denim skirt. Her attire was a constant source of contention with boyfriends, until me. They were forever forbidding her to wear see through tops and dresses with fronts open down to her waist. "You look like a whore," was the reoccurring line. So, she would wear button front and zip up outfits that would slowly come undone as the night went on. Bras would end up in the bathroom trash can. Several left her for her dressing habits alone, sometimes with her cheek stinging and insults ringing in her ears. But she didn't cheat on a steady and wasn't taking money; some guys just don't have the courage to take advantage of what they've got.
I told her that when we're out on the town there's no restrictions to what she wears. Oh my, what masturbation material she's supplied. Sometimes she's subtle. The deep cowl neck blouse that looks moderate until she leans over the jewelry counter, car window, or spare change can and shows everything to the shocked but highly interested viewer. Where am I in all this? Acting like everything's regular, but I'm loving the bug eyed choked up responses as the men try to maintain their poise and catch every second of the view. What do they see? A pair of tan natural breasts that fill a margarita glass and, usually, two upright nipples.
Seeing that we were on the same page, the inner fold-out section you could say, we came up with more and more show-off opportunities. We worked clothes stores. My Cherrie would come out of the dressing rooms wearing unbuttoned dresses and vests and sweaters cut down to the belly that weren't meant to be worn without an undergarment. I'd drift over to the men's clothes and she'd need to come find me for "an opinion," passing men with her arms back as an invitation to look and enjoy. Macy's told her that she couldn't wear store clothes outside of the dressing rooms for "security" reasons. We took to hip used stores like "Buffalo Exchange" in San Francisco where nobody minds seeing skin. She'd come out of their dressing rooms modeling nothing but a mini skirt, holding her hands over her breasts and slipping between a couple of "dudes" with skateboards about half her age, who then proceeded to have more interest in T shirts than they ever had before while following her every move.
I asked Cherrie if she wanted to have sex with any of the men she was teasing. A few, she said, but mostly she would love to suck them to the point of coming and then walk away. "You're a nasty girl," I told her. "How about letting another man have you just once while I watch or join in? Knowing that he'll be craving you for months to come." This got her interest. "Go crazy on them and leave them forever wanting more."
It wasn't difficult to find willing participants. A man would complement her in front of me and I'd make the offer. Sometimes Cherrie would seduce them in the next room, the man not knowing that I was watching. Usually they looked at me like I was nuts not keeping her all to myself, but no one complained about getting his hands on her. We put an ad in the "alternative" personals for men to screw my wife while I watched. Had we charged $500 a piece we could have taken the year off; there were 127 men that responded from a two week classified. We sent pictures to most of them of Cherrie arching her back in a wet T shirt. We then chose candidates based on their normally remote chances at getting to enjoy a woman like Cherrie without paying a lot of money. We chose an overweight eighteen year old who she sucked dry. Next came a married man in his fifties who said his wife wouldn't have sex with him anymore; after two hours of keeping him on edge he came with such force I thought he was going to pass out. He still sends a letter every week or so begging for another round.
I started joining in. I found that I liked stretching her out and pinning her arms, even though she would offer her body in any position we requested. A couple of the guys got noticeably amped up when I held her down for them. One guy started pinching her nipples until she cried out, checked my non-response, and did it again. This got me thinking.
I asked Cherrie if I could rape her with another man. My plan was to call an unused man from the classified list, meet him at a bar where Cherrie would enter, have a drink and leave. She would then walk into the woods where we'd pounce on her and give her a rough fuck. Cherrie was quiet for a moment, but I knew she was intrigued. We had already roll played a rape, just the two of us and she relished being the safe victim. She said as long as I was there... My accomplice and I watched from opposite ends of the bar as she entered in a red nylon dress that just stretched over her butt with an oval cut-out in the front from her neck to her navel. My guess is that everyone in there thought she was a hooker. She had a drink and a cigarette, made a "phone call," and left fast. Cherrie said that she was terrified walking the few blocks to the woods, afraid that other men would follow her. I slipped out the back with the other guy and we took a shortcut to the other side of the woods where we jumped her. She struggled admirably. We threatened her, punched her once in the stomach, held her mouth, and took turns. After so much build-up, it was amazing how short the rape was. I gave the man her torn dress as souvenir and returned fifteen minutes later with a robe and found her curled up under a bush. She just wanted to be cuddled back in our hotel room and I worried that this night had been too scary for her, but she insisted the next day that she had been very excited and was really most worried about other men who might find her. "I'm getting off on this too, darling," put my mind at ease.
We tried a reversal of sorts where I picked up another woman to join us, but I could see the shift in Cherrie from the start. The woman was in her late twenties at most, about ten years younger than Cherrie. She was at least a cup-size bigger in the chest than my wife, large surgically perfect breasts that dwarfed Cherrie's little handfuls. Even though I didn't think she was any sexier than my girl, our third party saw Cherrie's insecurity and took it to her with comments like, "Let me show you how your man likes it" and "Every man wants a younger model now and then." I could have given more attention to Cherrie, but I wanted to take advantage of our guest. Cherrie was hugging and kissing my back while I was wrapped around the other. Had I saved my cum for Cherrie, it might have been enough. Our third party gave me a long wet kiss at the door and flipped a victorious smile at Cherrie who looked six inches shorter than her real five-foot nine. With the phone number of our new friend in my hand, I gave my girl a long hug. "I'll do anything you want with other men, if you give me that phone number." I handed over the slip of paper and she swallowed it right there.
I've told you all these things so that when you read the following story, you won't think that this was some isolated incident perpetrated on an unwilling partner. Cherrie didn't verbalize boundaries. She knows that I love her and don't want to lose her or see her get seriously hurt. Still, the greater the risk, the greater the rush. I imagined a number of scenarios with my vulnerable Cherrie at the center and an ever increasing amount of dangerous unknowns. Can a woman really write a consensual "blank check"?
"Take all your clothes off." Cherrie hesitated for effect and then pulled her cut-off shirt over her head. I kept my eyes on the road for the most part; we were almost there. I took her top and threw it in the back seat floor. Her mini-skirt and panties followed. She arched her back and smoothed her hand over her belly. I stopped the car and she straightened, looking around for a sign of what came next. We were parked on a back street of light industry on a warm Friday summer evening after all the businesses had closed. Nobody visible in the twilight. One other parked car a quarter-mile off was the only sign of life.
"Am I going to reward some hard working man for staying late in the office?" I didn't answer her question, just looked her slender body up and down, noticing the slight signs of age in her dimpled thighs and first face wrinkles, not that this slowed my erection down. We were parked parallel to a short drive-way that disappeared between two buildings.
"Down that alley to the right are a small parking area and a dumpster. Behind the dumpster is a brown bag with your instructions for the evening. Walk there naked. Stop in view at the end of the alley and make sure no one is there. Once you walk out of sight, I'm driving off." Cherrie's lips twitched and her eyes searched mine. I knew her heart was racing.
"Do you love me?"
I leaned over and kissed her. "More than all other women combined." She started to get out and I pulled her back. "Do exactly as the instructions say. You're alone and naked."
"Even if I'm scared to death?"
.... There is more of this story ...