by Bart Tracer
The panties she wore were obscene. And they were glorious! A micro-thong, I think that’s the right term for them. They were miniscule, barely enough fabric to serve as an eyepatch! It wasn’t the first time I had seen my wife in a thong, but none of those had ever been so tiny. As I stared, I noticed the shiny black wisps of pubic hair that curled out from under both edges of the thong.
My eyes traveled back up her body to her face, and I saw her blush. She knew exactly what I had seen. “Looks like I’ll have to do a little trimming,” she said simply, biting her lip.
“Turn around. Turn around,” Monique urged. “Show him the best part!”
Smiling shyly Jenny obeyed, turning 180 degrees to allow me a view of her backside. Monique had been right. This was most definitely the best part!
If her thong had looked small from the front, it was almost nonexistent from the rear! Instead of a back, it had a single, thin string that ran through the crack of her ass. The twin cheeks of her butt were totally bare, practically begging to be squeezed and spanked. But, as beautiful as her ass was, it was her stockings that stole the show!
They were fishnet, finely woven and a deep, jet black. A thin band of tiny butterflies encircled her thin ankles before rising in a meandering line up the backs of her toned legs to their broad, lacy tops, flying ever upwards, drawing your eye steadily higher from her towering heels to that gorgeous little ass of hers.
“Oooh,” I breathed, unable to tear my eyes away from my wife’s legs.
“You like, no? She is, how you say? ‘Magnifique’, no?”
“Y…yes! Beautiful!”
Jenny turned her head and peered back at me over her shoulder, her green eyes sparkling at our compliments.
Giving a sharp nod, Monique released Jenny to return to the changing room, then spun around and stalked off toward the racks. I watched her select one piece after another, draping them carefully over her arm. Before Jenny was finished undressing, she was back.
Without so much as a pause, she threw open the curtain and stepped inside. Before the curtain closed again, I saw my wife’s pale, naked body in the dim light of the changing room.
More whispering. More giggling. Rustling fabric, followed by a smacking sound that seemed oddly familiar. Oh my God! I did know that sound! It was the sound of two people kissing! My heart beat faster as I strained my ears to hear what was going on behind that curtain.
Jenny and Monique! Kissing! Holy shit! As soon as the idea burst into my consciousness, the sound stopped. Then, there were more whispers and more giggling. My God! What were they doing?
I thought about peeking. The curtain was right there, no more than 4 feet from me. All I had to do was take two steps forward and ease the fabric to the side. Then I would know. And yet, I didn’t peek. In a way, I guess I liked not being able to see what was going on behind that soft barrier.
In my mind’s eye, I could see them writhing against one another. I imagined Monique fingering my wife, kissing her neck, her bare tits, working her way lower and lower to tongue her dripping slit. My dick felt like it was on fire!
I was being an idiot, I told myself, shaking my head at how ridiculous I was being. Jenny wasn’t into girls. But no sooner had that thought formed than I had to admit that up until recently there had been a lot of things I would’ve claimed my wife wasn’t into. Maybe Jenny did like girls, too. My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of Monique clearing her throat, and then the curtains opened.
This time, Jenny wore a bodysuit. It was dark purple and see-through, with an old-fashioned lace pattern that lent it an air of sophisticated elegance. Strategically placed scrolls swirled around her breasts, terminating in two dark acanthus fronds that just concealed her hard little nipples. The crotch was open and her pink nether lips were visible, peeking shyly through the small, hemmed hole.
She looked breathtaking. Simultaneously classy and slutty. Monique gave her a smiling nod, then went back to the racks while I watched my wife’s exquisite derriere retreat into the changing room again.
Of one thing I was certain: Monique was very, very good at what she did! The two outfits she had selected for Jenny so far were the epitome of sexy, much better than the ones we had been considering. And so, I decided to step back and let her do her thing. I was not disappointed.
Over the course of the next hour, Monique dressed my wife in more than a dozen outfits that would have given a dead man a boner. And each time, she accompanied Jen into the changing room.
I would have given my right leg to be able to see what was beyond the curtain, while at the same time delighting in the suspense of not knowing. I could hear them talking softly, laughing. My imagination kicked into overdrive and I began to wonder if the erection now tenting my pants would ever subside.
The last outfit seemed to take particularly long. This time, there was no giggling, just a low, indistinct murmuring. Then, suddenly, I heard my wife give a sharp gasp, then moan softly. After that, things behind the curtain were silent, save for the rustling of clothes and the distinctive tearing sound of a zipper being zipped up.
In the end, Jenny decided on five different outfits, each one sexier than the last, and we made our way toward the cash register at the front of the store. Monique and Jenny talked happily in hushed tones like two women who had known each other for years. I tramped along behind them, arms laden with lacy undergarments.
It wasn’t until Monique began to ring up the stack of items I placed on the counter that it suddenly hit me that I was paying for lingerie for my wife to wear for someone else. These things were for Scott and Jamaal, not me. God, how dirty! I felt a little shiver of excitement run through me at the thought.
The final total was exorbitant, and I hoped that I hid my shock well as I handed her my credit card.
“Merci!” she smiled, swiping the card through the reader and handing it back to me. With a conspiratorial wink, she said, “I am certain her lovers will be very pleased with what you have purchased.”
My eyes instinctively darted to Jen. What the fuck?! Had she told her?! But the confused look I found there told me that she was just as surprised as I.
“No. No. Monsieur,” Monique said. “Your wife has not betrayed your trust. But I have been doing this for many years now, and I have learned a few things. A woman who buys lingerie for her husband to enjoy always comes in alone. Without fail. After all, it is meant as a surprise, is it not?
“But when a husband and a wife come in together to shop for nice things… Well, that woman is always… ‘shared’, shall we say? And her husband wishes her to look her best for the other man.”
Oh God! She knew! I felt the heat rise in my cheeks as the humiliation washed over me. Avoiding her eyes, I concentrated on putting my credit card back into my wallet.
“Please, monsieur,” she said softly, placing a hand on mine. “Do not be embarrassed. My own husband was much the same. It is a beautiful thing that you allow your wife. Besides, is not a flower so sweet and pretty made to be enjoyed by men?” she gestured toward Jenny, whose cheeks were as red as mine, and pressed a business card into my hand. “Please give me a call if there’s anything else I can do for you, anything at all.” She gave Jenny a wink over my shoulder.
“Thank you,” my wife whispered, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor in front of her.
“No. No. Thank you! I have enjoyed meeting you very much. Perhaps we will see each other again while you are here!”
“Um, yeah. Maybe!” I muttered, reaching for my wife’s hand. I felt her slender fingers tremble. She lifted her chin and muttered a quick goodbye to Monique, and their eyes seem to linger on each other’s as we slipped through the door.
Chapter 6
“God! That Monique is a mind reader. I can’t believe she knew what we were doing!” Jenny giggled, shaking her head. She scooped up a handful of bubbles and blew them playfully across the tub at me. Her breath caused a fresh wave of lilac to waft over me.
We were back at t
he hotel, trying out our suite’s heart-shaped pool for the first time since our arrival. I had wanted to jump Jenny’s bones as soon as we got through the door. Our experience at Midnight Treasures had me turned on like never before. I had practically dragged her into the bedroom, kissing her and tugging at her clothing, but she had rebuffed me gently. She wanted to be fresh for her ‘date’, she had told me with a grin as she wriggled away from me. Besides, she hadn’t had anything to eat yet.
After lunch, Jenny had modeled her new purchases for me again. This time, I had taken several dozen pictures of her with my phone. That way, she could get a better idea of just what she looked like. Jenny had really put on a show, sticking her ass out and giving the camera her most smoldering look. By the time we had gone through all of her outfits, I was once again hard as a rock.
Ultimately, we had narrowed it down to either the bodysuit or the red bustier. I liked the sheer aspect of the catsuit, whereas Jenny was drawn to the feminine elegance of the bustier. She had won me over when she pulled the miniscule pair of panties that went with it out of the bag. Fuck, they were tiny!
Once the decision was made, we had set about putting the others away. Again, I found myself pondering the import of what had taken place today, the fact that I had actually purchased lingerie for her to wear for someone else. And just like earlier, the idea had made me giddy with excitement.
It was late afternoon now, the yellow rays of sunlight streaming in through the windows of our suite increasing their angle with each passing minute of the dying day. Time to start getting ready for tonight’s main event. Jenny’s lingerie was laid out carefully on the bedspread, her heels arranged neatly at the foot of the bed. A dress would cover the bustier, making her presentable until we arrived at the boys’ hotel.
With everything prepared, I had drawn us both a bath, and we sat in the hot water, engulfed in a blanket of fragrant white bubbles. We were talking about tonight, about her outfit and what the evening might hold, when Jen turned the conversation to Monique.
“Yeah, she had us pegged. And your face,” she continued with a smile, stretching a perfectly formed leg up above the bubbles and running her foot along my chest, “I didn’t even know your face could turn that red,” Jenny laughed, throwing her head back in mirth. “I am certain her lovers will be very pleased,” she said, sticking her nose in the air and mimicking Monique’s French accent.
In spite of the blush I could feel returning to my cheeks, I couldn’t help but laugh at how corny she sounded. Jenny’s attempt to sound like Monique was pitiful, but also oddly endearing. “I don’t know, Jen,” I retorted. “You looked pretty fucking red yourself.”
She snorted. “Yeah! I’ll bet. It’s not every day you get outed as an adulteress!”
Adulteress. The word caused my breath to catch in my throat. It was true, though. That’s exactly what she was. A woman who fucked men other than her husband. Only, in contrast to most of those women, her husband knew all about it.
So, where did that leave me, the husband who not only knew about his wife’s extramarital activities, but actively encouraged them? If she was an adulteress, what did that make me? A cuckold. The answer burst into my mind with the force of a cannon shot. I was a cuckold.
Jenny’s cuckold. Wow! That word carried so many connotations. But before I could begin unraveling just what this new epiphany meant for us, Jenny spoke again.
“So, I sort of have a little favor to ask you.”
“A favor? Sure. What do you need?”
“Well, you know the new panties I’ll be wearing tonight?”
“Yeah.” A warm memory of the tiny scrap of fabric popped into my head. “I remember them quite well.”
She smiled impishly, sweeping the bubbles aside. I could see her dark pussy beneath the water. “Well, like I said in the store. I’m going to need a little trim if they’re going to look good. And, you’ve always wanted me to shave down there,” her eyes darted toward her crotch, then back up to mine. “Sooo….”
I swallowed hard, feeling my cock come to life. Since we had met, I had begged my wife to shave her pussy, but to no avail. She had steadfastly refused, insisting that that wasn’t something respectable, married women did. Was this conversation going where I hoped it was? “Yeah,” I said. My breathing was just a hair quicker than it had been a moment ago. “Baby, are you going to shave your pussy?”
“Well, actually, I thought it might be kind of nice if you did that for me. You know, prepare me for them?”
“Um. Sure!” I said, practically panting. There was something deeply erotic about her twisting of my fantasy like this. At long last, I was to be allowed to shave her bare, but not for my own enjoyment. Oh no! I would be readying her for her lovers! But in a strange way, the humiliation of that fact only added to my excitement. “All of it?” I croaked.
“Mm hmm. I thought it would be kind of fun.”
Beneath the water, I watched her hand playing lazily with her bush, her slender fingers raking through the dark hair. My dick was now well on its way to getting hard.
“Okay. Just let me grab a razor.” I started to get up, but she pushed me back down with her foot.
“I already have one, Ken,” she smiled, reaching behind her and bringing out a can of shaving cream and a pink lady’s razor. She rose to her knees and came across the tub to me, kissing my lips as she pressed the razor into my hand. Placing the shaving cream on the edge of the tub next to me, she brought her lips to my ear and whispered, “Do a good job, honey. I want to be nice and smooth for the guys tonight!”
Boing!! My cock was as hard as a fireplace poker. It was a delicious tease, and she knew just how to play it. Fuck, it turned me on, the idea of shaving her for them, preparing my wife to take their cocks! Jenny gave my dick a playful squeeze, then leaned back and rose to her feet before me.
The soapy water ran down her pale body in thin, sudsy rivulets, her wet skin glistening in the light from the vanity mirror. She was a vision of beauty, with her flat abs and twin little titties jutting out defiantly from her chest. For just a moment, I stared, drinking in her beauty, before she reminded me of the task at hand by clearing her throat.
She glanced down toward the strip of hair between her legs, then back up at me. I nodded, laying the razor on the edge of the tub. Taking up the can of shaving cream, I shook it briefly, then squirted a dollop into my left hand. She yelped when I brought my hand to her crotch. “Whoa! That’s cold!”
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“No. It’s okay. It was just unexpected, that’s all.”
I spread the shaving cream along the thin strip of hair that had adorned her pussy for as long as I had known her, working it in down to the roots. Satisfied, I reached for the razor. I stretched the skin with my thumb and forefinger, then made a long, smooth pass down her mound. An inch of skin emerged.
Jenny sighed and giggled softly. “That tickles!”
Smiling, I dunked the razor into the warm water, clearing away the long hairs that stuck between the blades. Another pass, another inch of creamy white skin. I worked my way down to the little hood that hid her clitoris. Jenny shifted her weight and, placing both hands on my shoulders, lifted a foot to the edge of the tube, opening herself to me, so that I could shave around her labia.
Suddenly, I remembered I had something to ask her. I looked up at her, my mouth open to speak. I was surprised to find her eyes closed. She was chewing on her lips while a satisfied little smile turned up the corners of her mouth. Jenny was obviously enjoying the attention I was lavishing on her nether regions. She looked so hot, I momentarily forgot what I was going to ask.
I closed my mouth and blinked, staring at her for a moment. Then it came back to me, the question that had been gnawing at the back of my mind all afternoon: Just what had happened between my wife and Monique in the changing room?
“Earlier, when we were shopping,” I began.
“Mm hmm,” she cooed.
“You and Monique spen
t a lot of time in the changing room.”
“Mm hmm.” My wife still hadn’t opened her eyes, but her smile had broadened to now encompass her entire face. I watched as a hint of red rose to her cheeks.
I drew a finger along the lips of her pussy and was pleased to see her mouth open slightly. She gave a quiet little sigh. “And from the sounds of things, you two seemed to be getting along pretty well. I mean, it sounded like you were…”
“Like we were what, Ken?” Jenny murmured. Her eyes opened lazily and she looked down at me. Her hand came up my neck to tousle my hair. “What is it you want to ask me, Ken?” she smiled.
“Well… I mean… What were you guys doing in there? It sounded like you were kissing.”
Her eyes sparkled with a devilish light, her cheeks now a warm red. “Oh? Is that what it sounded like?” She cocked an eyebrow expectantly.
“Kinda. So, were you? Kissing, I mean?”
Jennifer bent at the waist and put her lips to my ear. “Oh yes,” she whispered. “We kissed. Among other things. It’s not the first time I’ve been with a woman.” She shrugged and planted a kiss on my forehead, then straightened up and nodded toward her half-shaved crotch. “And if you do a good job here, maybe I’ll tell you all about it. But first things first!”
God! I thought as I dunked the razor into the warm water in front of me, it hadn’t been just my imagination! Jenny and Monique really had kissed! And apparently it wasn’t the first time she’d fooled around with another woman! Oh my God! I had so many questions.
When I met her eyes, her look that told me that she was through with this conversation. I would get no more information from her now. With a nod, I lifted the razor once more and went to work.
Working methodically, I carefully cleared away every last vestige of hair from her pussy. When I was finished, I splashed her crotch with water. She looked shockingly different with no hair down there, like a stranger. My dick throbbed under the water.
“There we go. All done,” I proclaimed, laying the razor aside.
