Chapter 4: Her First Taste

After the workers left the park, I went to my wife’s side. She’d climaxed without full release, leaving her in a state of intense, unsatisfied craving, her eyes smoldering with lust. I took her back to the hotel to rest. Watching her squirm with pent-up desire, I was itching to whip out my cock and fuck her hard to sate her thirst. But then it struck me—this was a golden opportunity to dive deeper into our spandex rules. She was curled up on the bed, hugging her legs. I sat beside her and said, “This fire raging in you wasn’t started by me, so it’s not my place to put it out. That wouldn’t be fair to the guys who lit it—they’re the ones who deserve to reap this sweet reward.” She tilted her head, gazing at me. Soon, it clicked for her too: our deal wasn’t just about chasing thrills. Slipping on those shiny leggings meant owning the responsibility—fulfilling the fantasies of anyone drawn to them, while savoring the delicious fallout of every steamy consequence.

I asked what she wanted to do. She stayed quiet for a moment, then uncrossed her arms and stretched her legs out flat. Those sexy, shimmering navy-blue beauties glowed before me. She silently stroked her thighs, and I knew she was teetering on the edge, just needing a nudge. I asked if she wanted to find those guys tonight and keep the agreement going. After a pause, she gave a quiet nod. I told her to rest up for the night ahead. After dinner, we hashed out the plan. Since she’d be meeting those workers, she’d almost certainly get fucked hard, so we set the time for two hours and told her to skip the panties. Like the afternoon, she could decide whether to keep the leggings on once time was up.

Freshly showered, she headed out. Night had draped the park in shadows, the streetlights casting a dim yellow haze. The daytime bustle was gone. We arrived together, then split up. I hid in the tree line, watching her stroll down a wooded path. Her navy blue spandex leggings gleamed seductively under the lights, clinging to her long legs and tracing every curve. The hem of her yellow dress swayed with each step, a teasing veil over her gorgeous thighs. Her pace was hesitant, laced with nerves, but the lamplight caught the eager glint in her eyes.

Under a streetlamp stood the boldest worker from earlier—the one who’d swiped his neighbor’s leggings, clearly obsessed with them. I figured we might even get along. In the light, I sized him up: tall, brawny, dark-skinned, radiating raw energy. No doubt he was packing a thick cock, primed and waiting for my wife. When he spotted her, he waved wildly, his voice dripping with excitement, “Hey, beauty, over here!” His shout cut through the still night, startling her. She jogged over with quick, shy steps.

His hungry eyes raked over her, locking onto those shiny legs—especially her feet, fully encased in spandex, a detail from earlier that drove him wild. He grinned, “My buddies bet you wouldn’t show. They laughed when I said I’d wait here, said I’m obsessed with leggings.” His thrill was palpable. “You kept me waiting, gorgeous—I’ve been here since six. You’re late, so you owe me big time.”

She dipped her head, fingers fidgeting with the spandex on her ass, the blue sheen dancing under her touch. “Sorry I made you wait so long...” she murmured, her voice soft and shy yet edged with resolve. I knew she was reciting our deal in her mind, those leggings like a spell, unleashing her buried cravings.

His rough hand landed on her shoulder, guiding her deeper into the woods. “No one’ll bother us here. I’m gonna have some fun with you, you little slut.” His fingers trailed down her back, making her shiver. His tone oozed obsession—like the leggings weren’t just fabric but a treasure he couldn’t resist. She stayed quiet, following along, occasionally glancing back as if searching for me. I held my breath, trailing them silently. When they stopped at a bench, I ducked behind a tree, close enough to hear their ragged breathing.

He eased her onto the bench, then crouched eagerly, peeling off her shoes. Cradling one foot, he rubbed it slowly. “Fuck, your feet are sexy. This afternoon, I nearly lost it—almost came all over your legs.” He pressed his face to her calf, rough fingers kneading her sole through the spandex, savoring its glossy tightness. Her legs went weak, and she whimpered, “You ... go easy...” Her cheeks flushed red, her voice a faint buzz, too timid to resist.