by Lexi Archer
The last outfit, though, it was just right. I could feel something special about it as I slipped it on. As I inspected myself in the mirror I realized that it looked fucking hot. Really fucking hot!
The image was only partially ruined by my panties getting in the way. It was hard for a thong outfit to look completely appropriate when I had on a pair of bright pink sparkly panties underneath, but I definitely wasn't going to try something like this on without any underwear. For one that would be a disservice to whoever tried it on after me if I decided I didn't want the thing, but mostly I was creeped out by the idea that other people who tried it on might not have extended future shoppers the same courtesy. So it was underwear all the way until I could get this home and run it through the wash.
"How's it going in there?" Brad asked.
"I think I found the one!" I said.
"Do I get to see?" he asked.
"That depends, is anyone else out there?"
"The coast is clear babe," Brad said.
I don't know why I trusted him. Sure he was my husband, and sure usually I believed him, but I also didn't take into account his obsession. I didn't take into account his overriding desire to show me off to other men.
I guess I figured I'd be safe in a changing area of all places, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. The changing rooms opened onto what I could only describe as a viewing area with a big couch that was arranged in a semicircle where presumably men could wait on their ladies to pop out and show off any outfits they were trying on. That area had been deserted when we first arrived, but when I stepped out I was surprised to see another guy sitting there on the other side of that couch. Looking up at me with his jaw dropping as he stared.
The guy looked to be in college, or maybe a little older. I heard a door open down the way and another girl came out. I looked over and saw a college hottie. The kind of girl who looked like she worked out, and she was wearing a bikini. She looked over to me and smiled, but she didn't have a hint of the embarrassment I was feeling as her boyfriend, at least I assumed it was her boyfriend, checked me out. She didn't even seem annoyed that he was being so brazen about checking me out. Kids these days! I blushed and moved to go back into the changing room, only Brad was on his feet and following me.
"What are you doing?" I hissed as he slipped into the changing room behind me.
I wasn't exactly upset that he was in here. Not exactly. I was more annoyed than anything else. Annoyed that he'd set me up like that. Annoyed that he let me walk out there and let that guy get an eyeful. Only from the grin on his face it looked like he knew exactly what he was doing. Yeah, he seemed pretty damn proud of himself. Pretty damn proud of what he'd just done.
And as he moved forward, as he wrapped his arms around me, as he pressed against me again like he had outside in the store before we came back here, he seemed pretty damn turned on by what he'd just done as well. Once more I felt his cock nestling against my ass, and I felt all of my anger melt away as he pressed against me. As he started subtly grinding against me.
Sure it was ruined just a little by having those panties on rather than just the thong, but still. It was pretty hot feeling him getting so hot and bothered rubbing against me.
"What do you think you're doing?" I asked. "Those people are still out there! They know you're in here with me!"
"So?"
"So this is embarrassing!"
He leaned down and started kissing along the top of my head. One of his hands snaked around to my front. To my exposed stomach. He moved up and then his hand moved under that impossibly thin material. He started to caress my tits. To tweak my nipples and the play with them which just served to make me wet down below.
I frowned. Well, even with my panties on I was definitely going to have to buy this outfit now. There was no way I was going to put it back on the shelf after I got turned on in the thing.
"Did you see the look on that guy's face? He was stunned when you walked out there wearing this thing!"
I shook my head. "I'm not so sure about that. Did you see the girl he was with?"
"Oh I saw her all right," Brad said. "And she didn't hold a candle to you baby."
I rolled my eyes. "I know you're contractually obligated to say you think I'm hotter than other women thanks to the ring on your finger," I said. "But you don't need to blow smoke up my ass. I'm already going along with this fantasy of yours, after all."
Brad angled me so I was looking into the changing room mirror. He stared at me. Stared into my eyes as his other hand moved down and inside my panties. As his finger grazed against my clit which caused me to squeeze my eyes shut and let out a gasp. A gasp that I prayed wasn't too terribly loud, considering there were other people in here. Considering they could definitely hear what was going on in here!
Damn it. Why did my husband have to pick now of all times to do this?
"My fantasy?" he muttered into my ear as his finger slipped inside me. I was so wet, so turned on, that he had absolutely no trouble doing so. I gasped again, reaching out and putting a hand against the mirror to steady myself. I was losing control. I was giving over to the pleasure. To the feeling of him invading my body. Damn. It wasn't fair that he could do this to me!
"Yes, your fantasy," I gasped.
Electric shocks were running through me. He was only fingering my pussy. He was barely grazing my clit with one of his fingers, and yet it was setting me on fire. It was like a lightning storm going off in my body. I felt like one of those clouds you'd occasionally see just before a thunderstorm with the lightning roiling and flashing inside, only instead of lightning it was pleasure. It was pure orgasmic bliss.
"That's funny," he said. "Because I could've sworn this was your fantasy we were talking about here."
I squeezed my eyes shut and took in a deep breath. I had to take in a deep breath to let out the moan that came next. I was getting to the point that I didn't even care if other people heard. I was getting to the point where my exhibitionist streak, the part of me that got off when he was showing me off for other people, started to take hold. I figured if they wanted to listen in then they could listen in. That guy could have a little bit of an audio track to go along with the visual eyeful he'd just gotten.
I opened my eyes. Locked them with Brad who was standing behind me. I smiled.
"You're being naughty," I said.
"Close your eyes," he said.
I blinked, but I did what he asked. Meanwhile his hands continued that delicious motion in between my legs. He would move his finger up inside me, and then pull out almost to the point of leaving my body entirely, taking a moment to rub my clit and sending electric fire dancing through my body before he plunged back inside me. It was driving me wild. It was insane. It felt so goddamned good! My mouth fell open. My breath was coming in ragged gasps. I was no longer in control of myself.
No, I was flying up, up, up and I was dancing to the strings that were attached directly to my clit and being expertly manipulated by my sexy husband.
"I thought you were the one who imagined Michael coming up behind you while you were wearing this outfit," he said. "Maybe not even Michael? Just a sexy black stud. Moving his hands down. Running them all over your body like this. Filling you with his finger. A finger that's nice and thick. Maybe as big as your husband's cock?"
I gasped. I didn't know where this was coming from, but I sure as fuck enjoyed it. I was going wild. I was losing control. I had to move another hand up against the mirror to hold on for dear life as I went weak in the knees. As I was in very real danger of collapsing.
It felt like the only thing holding me up was my husband's hand between my legs. Was his finger expertly moving in and out of my body. Over and over he continued that forbidden dance. Again and again I found myself gasping. God this was so intense. This was so great! And where did he come up with all of this dirty talk?
"Imagine I'm him. That I'm taking you. Taking you from your husband. Feeling your body for the first time.
Looking down at your petite white body and thinking about all the things I want to do to you…"
Fuck! There it was. Without thinking I clamped my legs down on his hand. I started to shudder as the orgasm washed over me. And let me tell you, it was one hell of an intense orgasm. It felt like my entire body was in danger of collapsing. It felt as though I was going to completely lose it. And I realized that I was moaning. It was quiet, apparently my subconscious had the ability to at least hang on that much, but there was no doubt in my mind that anyone hanging out in the changing room area, like maybe that couple we'd just seen out there, that guy who was staring at me wide-eyed when I came out in the lingerie, would be able to hear us.
And I found myself thinking about that. Thinking about that guy staring at me. Thinking about Michael coming up behind me and feeling me like this. Suddenly it wasn't my husband's cock that was nestled in between my ass cheeks. Grinding against me. No, it was Michael doing that. It was Michael pressing against me. It was his fingers moving up inside me. It was a muscular black man who was feeling me up and causing this indescribable pleasure.
I figured that would be it. I figured that I would have a little bit of orgasmic bliss here in the changing room and Brad would be content. We'd buy the outfit and I could fantasize about using it. Or at least I could hope that I got to use it. I still wasn't entirely sure Michael would go along with this whole thing.
Of course that wasn't it. No, not by a long shot. It appeared that Brad wasn't done at all. No, he just kept going, kept moving into territory that drove me absolutely wild. That set off an even bigger explosion.
"Of course it's not Michael we're talking about here, is it?" he asked.
I gasped again. I couldn't believe he was doing this. I couldn't believe he was going there. I told him about my fantasy, and at the same time I was still ashamed of it. Maybe it was because I was ashamed, because it was so wrong, because it was so naughty, that it was such a turn on in the first place. Whatever it was, that just set off a fresh wave of explosions.
Sure this had happened last night when we were fucking, but that was when we were fucking. I'd never gotten this worked up when he was just fingering me, and yet here we were. Here I was feeling this orgasmic bliss.
"No, Michael is nice and safe, isn't he? He's my coworker, got a good job. You're thinking of someone else, aren't you baby? Something a little darker? A little more dangerous?"
Oh God. Oh fuck. I was moaning uncontrollably now. If that other couple was still in here then they were getting one hell of a show. One hell of a show indeed. I couldn't believe he was doing this. I couldn't believe he was taking advantage of my fantasy like this. More than anything, I couldn't believe I was actually living this fantasy in some way. In some weird, convoluted, and completely fucked up way!
"Fuck!" I hissed, and then the final explosion came.
I squeezed my eyes shut and I leaned forward. I saw stars dancing from a combination of the orgasmic pleasure that was coursing through my body and from my head slamming against the mirror. Only I didn't really have time to think about that. No, all I could think about was how intense this was. How incredible it was. How wrong this fantasy was, and in a way that's what made it so damn right!
I was wavering. I was trying to keep it under control, trying to keep it to a point that they wouldn't be able to hear me at the front of the store and maybe potentially call the cops, but then again I suppose in a store like this they were probably used to that. Either way, it was one hell of an incredible feeling. It was so naughty, thinking about cheating on my husband. Thinking about finally fulfilling this fantasy. Thinking about how hot it would be to step out and be the naughty girl he'd always wanted me to be!
Finally it started to subside. I started to come down from that incredible feeling, though I didn't want to. No, all I wanted was to ride that incredible pleasure. Ride it out for the rest of my life. But it wasn't to be. I opened my eyes. I saw a red spot on my forehead where I'd slammed against the mirror. Hell, I saw a spot on the mirror where I'd hit it.
I pulled away. I managed to rearrange myself, though it wasn't too difficult considering there was so little material to rearrange in the first place. I looked myself up and down in the mirror, and I tried to imagine what it would be like as Michael looked at me. As he saw me for the first time wearing this lingerie. Acting like a complete and total slut.
Damn. At this point I didn't even know if he was going to go along with it! And yet I hoped. I so desperately hoped. I suppose we could always find another guy if he wasn't into it, but something about the way he'd been acting at the party the night before told me that he was going to be more than happy to partake in our naughty little fantasy.
I looked over to my husband who was standing behind me. He still had his fingers buried in me, though he pulled those out and moved his fingers to his mouth. Sucked on them. It looked like he was enjoying the most delicious taste in the world.
I wondered if he'd still feel the same way after another man had been inside me. After another man had fucked me. Had taken me from him.
My experiences with my husband ran the gauntlet. There wasn't much we hadn't tried, sexually speaking. I'd tried to be adventurous. I figured my husband was my partner in crime, and that being married shouldn't be the end of our sex life which seemed to be what so many people thought when they tied the knot. No, it was just the beginning.
I figured that was the best way to go about it considering he was the only man I'd really been with. Sure I'd made out with other guys before. There were fumbling encounters back in school where guys felt me up. Maybe got inside my bra. But for all intents and purposes Brad was really the only guy I'd ever truly been with. And that's part of the reason why the idea of getting with another man, really and truly letting another man take me in every way possible, was so exciting. Why it sent a fresh wave of arousal straight through my body down to my pussy as I thought about it.
I smiled at Brad. He smiled back. "I think this outfit will do nicely."
He grinned. "I'm inclined to agree," he said. "I just hope nobody heard us out there!"
I turned around and pressed against him. Pulled him against me and looked up at him. Moved up to kiss his lips. Those lips that were lined with my own juices, but I didn't care.
I pulled away. "You're a lying son-of-a-bitch!"
"Hey!" he said, his eyes going wide. "I thought you liked my mom!"
I sighed and shook my head. Rolled my eyes. Then turned around to look myself up and down in this outfit again. It was scandalous. Far more scandalous than almost anything I'd ever worn before. In short, it was perfect.
Brad seemed to agree from the way he came up behind me. From the way his rock hard cock nestled in between my ass cheeks pressing against me, making me think we were going to have some more fun later on.
"I just hope Michael actually decides to go along with it," Brad muttered.
I blinked at the echo of my own thoughts. Yeah, I hoped he was going to go along with it too. My husband was going to have one hell of an awkward conversation explaining this fantasy to him. Then again, if Brad really wanted our fantasy fulfilled, I suppose that was just part of the price of admission.
I just hoped Michael's desire for me overwhelmed what he might think of the actual fantasy scenario we were asking him to act out.
7: Recruiting
"So what's up with the impromptu lunch meeting man?" Michael asked.
I looked down at my steak and thought about that. I looked back up to Michael. To be honest I suddenly felt more than a little awkward. Suddenly for all of the reassuring I'd done with Megan I found myself realizing just how ridiculous this fantasy sounded.
It's not just that I was going to be asking another man to have sex with my wife. No, it was exactly what fantasy scenario she had in mind that was so ridiculous. Hey, I went to college. I got a business degree instead of the creative writing degree that Megan did so it's not like I took some of the bleeding heart classes she did,
but I still took the survey courses. I was still aware because of my time searching out the particular flavors of my own fantasy that there were some pretty crazy things out there. Some pretty borderline racist things out there, when they didn't go completely over the line into racist territory.
And I just wasn't sure how Michael would react. It's not something that had ever come up between us before. He was just another guy. A friend. One of my best friends at work, and a guy I could always rely on.
How would he react to me bringing up a fantasy where the main draw, for my wife at least, was the color of his skin? I mean it was also that he was a handsome man. I'm sure if he was balding and overweight with an ugly mug she wouldn't be as interested in fulfilling the fantasy with him, but still. I couldn't deny the fact that he was black was one of the big draws for her.
I didn't give a fuck. All I cared about was that I got to see another man with my wife, but still. It was touchy. And now that I was here, now that I was in the moment, I was a little worried.
Which probably accounted for why we were at this expensive restaurant. A little bit of guilt and the hope that a good steak and a stiff drink would help grease the wheels, as it were. That was also why we were off in a secluded corner. Better if he didn't react as well as I was hoping he would.
"Is something wrong?" Michael asked. "I'm not getting fired, am I? Did somebody hear about that stuff at the party last Friday? Did somebody smell it?"
I chuckled and shook my head. That was getting so close to the fantasy that Megan had spun out for me. Maybe that was partly where she got the idea, the way he'd just pulled that joint out like it was nothing. But again, that went back to some assumptions, to some stereotypes, that I was suddenly uncomfortable bringing up.
I also had to chuckle because it was so ridiculous. Here he was worried that he was going to get fired because I was acting weird. Acting nervous. But that couldn't be farther from the truth. I was about to make him an offer that he probably couldn't refuse, and yet he was panicking. It was kind of funny, if you looked at it from the outside. If you weren't me sitting here in a chair right in front of him squirming because of what I was about to say.
