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by GemsHubby » Thu Nov 16, 2017 2:32 pm
THE PRELIMINARIES
“I know I am crazy, but I am crazy for you. Don’t judge me for wanting to live a crazy life at your side.” – Daniel
“A girl should be two things: classy and fabulous” – Coco Chanel
"I don't know who invented high heels, but all women owe him a lot.” – Marilyn Monroe
My husband had been insisting a lot lately. To say the truth, I do not know if I was sick of it or if I found it funny and maybe even exciting. He wanted me to have an affair with another man. He assured me that he would be ok with me having a lover, as long as I would inform him about everything. As far as I could tell, it was the typical sequence of things a wannabe cuckold would tell his wife. But I would lie to you if I did not admit that the mere fantasy had already spiced up our sexual life: if sufficed that I would tell him about this or the other guy flirting with me at work and he would become very aroused. Afterwards in bed we would tell each other stories about how another man would make love to me, while Daniel would silently watch. Thanks to this little incentive we no longer fucked less than a married couple. Apparently Daniel had rediscovered again his interest in me and I had to admit that those fantasies excited me too. But this was not the only effect. We also started talking much more than we used to, sharing more of our lives with each other. Sometimes I would tease him and tell him that I was ready to make his dreams come true - not for me, but just for him - and this turned him on and made him happy for a while. It is curious how the fantasy of an infidelity had united us more, while the standard behavior would have been a divorce. But for me this was still just a fantasy, a game to keep my husband happy: I did not think I would we capable of doing it actually and I really did not want to do it at all.
But my husband is extremely stubborn. He was used to think that just by insisting, he can get what he wants. And that is when one day I was so fed up with his continuous proposals and the pressure he was putting on me, that I accepted to play. I wanted to finish this off once and for all. It was just too exhausting having to hear the same things once and again. And I thought that anyway, my husband would back off in the last moment, when his jealousy would win the match against his cuckold desires. I warned him that one thing was a fantasy, but a totally different thing was seeing me really flirt with other men or even letting them hug me. What he thought as exciting would finally turn into disagreeable and he would intervene and end the hypothetical affair before it had actually really begun. Or so I thought. But he replied that the only way of knowing it was trying it. And that is when I made the mistake of agreeing with his logic.
That is how it happened that we agreed to go to a disco. He would leave me allone, watching from afar how I tried to hook up. The bastard even said that maybe the reasons why I was always shying off were, that I was frightened of not being capable of hooking up. How did he dare to say that I was no longer able to compete with other women? Was he saying that I was too old? Maybe it was about time showing him who the “Great Gema” was! To be frank, I have to admit that I was not just annoyed with him. Although I tried to resist, every time I thought of hooking up with another man I felt a tingling inside me. I had a slight, prickly feeling in my sex, but that was something I would never admit to him (as I could barely admit it to myself). Even so, I had totally discarded the possibility of getting into the bed with another man. Therefore, we agreed that I would just try to hook up with a man I found attractive (naive as I was, I thought that to be almost impossible, as in my heart and in my head, I had only space for my husband). I would let this hypothetical man invite me to a drink and would maybe even dance with him, if he was pleasant. Eventually, I would let him feel me out a bit. At maximum, I would let him kiss me. But that was it, nothing more! I was still convinced that the latest at this point, my husband would intervene and stop the game.
- You should be clear about this being a onetime thing. It will be once and I will never repeat it! And of course, I will not meet with this person a second time. No follow up dates! I will give him a false name and false telephone number. I hope to satisfy your sick fantasy or yours with it. I definitely don’t want to hear again anything about it afterwards. Do we have an agreement then?
Of course I would not go to just any disco and be surrounded by rednecks. We were middle class, but for something like this to happen, I wanted certain glamour. Daniel was delighted and accepted. He proposed that we should go to a high class disco called Gabana, situated in the luxurious district of Salamanca in Madrid.
I usually did not like to throw away our money and I prioritized our household economy and saving money for future needs. But this time I proposed myself to give my husband a lesson, so that he would stop with this fantasy once and for all. He wanted to have a hotwife, but that would cost some money. If not because of jealousy, I would make him retreat by making him aware of the associated costs. That lifestyle was not going to be cheap. If I was going to be a hotwife, I was going to be it for good.
- Daniel, you know that one cannot go to Gabana dressed normally and I don’t seem to have anything appropriate in my wardrobe. If you want to go through with this, we have to make it the right way. But you better prepare your credit card, because it ain’t going to be cheap: You are going to take me to the shops on Serrano street and you are going to do it without complains. Are we good?
In reality, I didn’t like at all wasting money like this. Both of us were working and we both knew the sacrifice that it took to save a bit of money. But my pride had been hurt and even though the money we were going to spend in this endeavor was both his and mine, I felt like this was an investment he had to make in me, if he really wanted to go ahead. If we were going to play, we were going to use real cards here.
No sooner said and done! The next day we went shopping on the luxurious street Serrano. Everything was beautiful, but also ridiculously expensive.
- This is what it entails having a hotwife. But if you want, you can still back off.
I knew that my husband Daniel was a saver and I expected his reaction to be in line with my suggestion. His reply however was different than what I had presumed.
- What’s up Darling? You don’t dare to test for real how attractive you are? Are you afraid of finding out? Flirtations at work are one thing; that happens in an environment of trust and knowing that it’s only played. But here we are talking about really hooking up. I believe you are scared…
Bastard! How could he dare? But was it possible that he was right after all? I didn’t miss on compliments at work, but he was correct in that hooking up with a stranger was something completely different. When I was younger, I had plenty of pretenders. Even so, I had been a good girl and I had had only two boyfriends. Well, two boyfriends and another guy I kissed, but only once. I tried to analyze my feelings. Yes, maybe my husband was right and I was afraid of not being attractive enough any longer. I didn’t like having to admit this possibility to myself, but I definitely was not going to admit it to him. I swallowed and continued shopping as if I hadn’t heard him. He just had managed to madden me and now I was free of remorse for shopping unnecessary and expensive things.
We visited several shops, but came out of them the same way we had entered them: empty-handed. To be truthful, I didn’t even know what exactly I was looking for. How did I want to dress for that party? Elegant of course. And sexy. I wanted to be found attractive at first sight, I wanted to incite the guys, but at the same time, I didn’t want to draw too much attention. I was nearly drowning in a sea of doubts and contradictions. My hands flew over the hangers, stopping randomly to separate some garments and investigate the ones that for any reason had caught my eye. Most of the times I just discarded them immediately, but sometimes I took them off the hanger to inspect them in detail. There really wasn’t any pattern in my doing, there wasn’t any explanation why I was interested and that piece but not in the other or why I ended up dropping all of them. There weren’t any rational criteria; I myself didn’t know what I wanted. But then, when I was just going to put it back, one of the dresses I had hanged off provoked a comment from my husband. It was black and short, but not too short, with a generous cleavage, but sufficiently demure to avoid showing the bra underneath.
- You will look great in this dress, with a push-up bra like the ones you use to wear.
What? Was he eventually implying that my tits were hanging down? Was it this what he had just insinuated? Damned bastard!
I did as if I hadn’t heard him and put that dress back onto the hanger and continued my search for the ideal one. I stopped at another black dress. But this time, when I took it out, I protected it with my back from my husband’s view. I didn’t want him to look at it and mouth any of his stupid comments. This dress was a bit scandalous, too much for my taste. It definitely wasn’t what I was looking for, but I suddenly had the idea of using it to play my husband.
Since some time - always because he insisted - I had accepted of putting on something extra sexy when I was going shopping with my husband where nobody knew us or when we were taking a walk far away from our town. But for Daniel it was never enough: when I was wearing a blouse, he always insisted on unbuttoning it a bit more. When I had to crouch down, he wanted me to rather bend down my waist, leaving my ass high for any innocent bystander to see. He not only loved to watch me, but he was especially delighted in observing the reactions of other men. Some other times when we were walking through a lonely corridor or when he saw a dark corner, he would take the opportunity to kiss me and grope me. Sometimes he would even lift my skirt a bit, just enough for my cheeks to show underneath. At the beginning I resisted, but time after time I started to like this little game of his, even up to the point where it was me who would take the initiative. All women like to be admired and love to know that they are attractive and that men would devour us with their eyes. If there is something that makes us back out, it’s not the reaction of men but of women. Yes, we are hypocrites: we love it but we criticize our own kind for it.
I decided that I wanted to try the dress - not because I had any intention of buying it and wearing it to the disco, but just to tease my husband and take a little revenge on him. I wanted to change the dynamics of day, when all what he said seemed to leave me defenseless and without any possibility to counter. I wanted to surprise him, leave him with a gaping mouth and make him feel insecure. I wanted to win this dialectical battle, that was raging today between us.
Once in the fitting room, I was happy to find out that the dress was living up to its promises. In reality it was even more scandalous than what I initially expected: it showed more than what it hid! Again, it was a short black dress. The cut was not too short, just above the mid of my thighs. The cloth was chiffon-like. It folded at the front, falling down and leaving a generous cleavage. But the real attraction was, that it didn’t cover at all my back. It was very sexy, but it came with a problem: I couldn’t wear any bra underneath it. And I hated agreeing with my husband on this: with that cleavage I would really benefit from a push-up bra, that positioned my breasts where they should be. But obviously I wasn’t going to admit it. This meant that if I wanted to wear it and show it to my husband in the shop, I had to remove my bra. My back would just look too horrible with this dress and a bra. I then realized that the chiffon-like cloth was partially see-through. Fortunately at the height of my breast the cloth folded, creating a double layer, which prevented my naked tits to be seen underneath. I imagined how Daniel would gape, when he saw me coming out of the changing room like this. To compensate, he would need to close his mouth for the rest of the day and be silent. With that thought in mind, I decided that I would walk through the shop in that attire, just to tease him a bit more. I undressed and slipped into the dress. Indeed, the cloth was very light and was barely noticeable on my skin. I had the feeling of being naked. I looked in the mirror: yes, I was really sexy. I almost didn’t recognize myself. Daniel would be gobsmacked. Suddenly, I realized that my white panties would see-through the cloth. Obviously white panties didn’t match with a black dress, even less if they were made of cotton. Back at home, I had just thought of being comfortable when I had put my cotton panties on. I didn’t think of trying a dress like this. I couldn’t wear them if I didn’t want to risk spoiling the whole effect I was pursuing. I sighed. Too bad, it had all been a waste of time, but in any case, I wasn’t really thinking of buying it.
- Darling, here are some push-up bras, like the ones you like. Look, they have a low shelf. I think they would match fine with the dress you showed me.
Again commenting about my tits! Was he going to create me a complex today? Damned imbecile! Yes, it was true, I mostly only used bras with plenty of filling. But I did not do it because I really needed it, I just did it to improve a bit. Those are the little tricks we women use, regardless of whether we need it or not. And I did not need it, my breasts were splendid! They were natural, unlike those silicon-inflated tits. They were ok for my age, with their natural defects and virtues. What did he have to complain about, this dumb-ass?
I was already undressing when I suddenly stopped. He would soon find out! My pride was hurt and a woman hurt in her feminine pride was more dangerous than a hungry lioness. I looked myself in the eyes in the mirror, searching to reaffirm myself. Yes, I had to do it, it was necessary! The white panties thing was easy to fix. I just had to lift the dress and slip down my legs my cotton panties. Suddenly, with my panties at my feet and wearing this suggestive dress, I felt that I looked like a slut. I blushed at the thought and almost recoiled, but in the very last instant I gave myself a push and stepped out of the fitting room. The dress wasn’t tasteless, it was sexy and Daniel deserved a lesson. I made an effort to look confident and sketched out an impish smile. He was going to eat those words!
- You are not thinking of wearing that dress, darling, do you?
I knew it, I had won! It was too daring for him. He didn’t approve that I wore it to the disco. The guys would devour me with their gazes. Finally his jealousy would win over his morbid fascination and he would succumb. He was close to desist in his immoral fantasy of seeing me with other men. Victory at last!
- Why not? - I replied with an innocent, but yet naughty tone.
- No, it’s nothing. It’s just that you can’t wear a bra underneath the dress. It’s visible and that’s not nice. You would need to go braless.
His tone was dry, emotionless, like a forensic during an autopsy, limiting himself to the cold facts. If he had said it at least with some irony or if he had smiled, it would have been less grave, but this way…
Damned imbecile! Just when I thought I was going to have a great time shopping and seeing his sour face! And instead, it was him who was driving me up a wall. Again my tits! What problem did they have? NONE! Ok, I admit it: I no longer had the breasts of a twenty-year-old and maybe they were sagging a tiny little bit… something normal for my age. I said A TINY LITTLE BIT. I was in great shape for my age, much better than the majority of women. Why was he insinuating that I wasn’t able to go anywhere without my push-up bra? Oh, he was going to see, this moron!
That’s when I took the decision. This was going to be my dress! If I was going to succeed, I was going to do it without tricks, au naturel so to speak. He was finally going to find out who the Great Gema was! And if I finally decided to let someone fondle me, the better without bra, it would be easier without it. I was sure that this was going to be a vision my husband would not be able to bear, regardless of how much it excited him.
I was absorbed in my own thoughts, when I realized that I was still wearing the bra. Indeed, I had to look ridiculous with it: a tasteless white bra under a skimpy black dress, showing my underwear at the front and at the back. I couldn’t explain myself how I could have forgotten to take it off, especially since I didn’t do that mistake with my panties. Was it possible that my subconscious had made me forget it because of some complex I was not ready to admit? If that was the case, it was time to change it! That was not any longer about him, it was about me now.
I smirked at his comment, but I didn’t reply. I turned my back to him and with some contortions I was able to take off the bra underneath my dress. I let it fall to the ground for him to pick it up. I wasn’t planning on wearing it again. I did as if nothing had happened and continued shopping in the store with the sexy dress on. What I needed now was a pair of high-heeled sandals. I approached the store window, where I believed I had seen one when I had entered the shop. It was about seven in the evening of a beautiful and shiny April day. The sun had begun to fall and its rays were penetrating almost horizontally through the window. I was in direct sunlight and that made the dress to see-through more than normal. Fortunately I had taken off my old-style cotton white panties or I really would have looked ridiculous. But of course, this way… I tried to drive away these thoughts. I didn’t want to think about what could be seen underneath the cloth. This dress was obviously thought for the nightlife, but there I was, in plain daylight, with a mix of anger, embarrassment and arousal, that just augmented my determination. It was the desperate run of a madwoman.
Having reached that point, there was no turning back. I looked for my husband and while I scanned the store with my eyes, I saw out of the corner of my eye a young couple. My eyes didn’t continue the preprogrammed scan. Instead, they moved back to the handsome young man that was looking at me. There was admiration in his face and my instinctive reaction was to blush. Fortunately it didn’t take me long to recover and to gather together the entire valor that was left inside me and I smiled back at him. I looked him in the eyes until he looked away. I turned back to the store window and found the high-heeled sandals I had been looking for. I liked that they had a light appearance, which was matching with the vaporous dress. They attached themselves to the feet with some cords that went a little up the leg. This gave them an erotic touch, in my opinion.
- I would like to try these sandals, please. - I said to the shopkeeper.
- Oh, I am so sorry. - answered the women. - The ones in the store window are the last ones I have. But you can take them if you want.
They were almost on the ground, behind some kind of hoarding and I was forced to bend over it to reach them. I possibly should have asked the shopgirl, but I wanted to minimize contact with her. She was the typical snob of a posh store. And for the time being I also preferred ignoring my husband, since I didn’t want to hear any of his stupid comments. As a consequence, I had no other solution than to bend over the hoarding myself. As I was stretching and already touching them with my fingers, I saw an older man looking at me from the other side of the store window. He was standing on the Street and his eyes and mouth resembled that of three big Os. The dress sported a big cleavage and I believe that the man was looking at my bare tits. I hadn’t thought of it, I was accustomed to my bra, which protected me most of the times from unwanted looks. I was very embarrassed, but it was already too late. What was done was done. I was starting to feel fed-up with this day, on which everything seemed to have been carefully prepared to drive me around the bend. Suddenly, a previously unknown impetus of mischief invaded me: I decided that I was going to make my own rules going forward from now on. I took my time inspecting the sandals before I grabbed them, letting the older guy enjoy the looks.
I felt strange; I had never before acted that way. I had sometimes done similar things with my husband, but that always had been because he had incited me. I had never done something like this on my own initiative, at least not to that extend. And I had never shown that much. Compared to that, all what my husband and I had done were innocent games.
I was probably too absorbed in my own thoughts, still clouded by the anger Daniel had caused. I didn’t realize how short that dress really was, until I felt a light breeze on my buttocks. I was still bending forward. Suddenly I realized that I must have been showing my ass. But not only my ass, because… I wasn’t wearing any panties! How embarrassing! This really wasn’t my plan at all. I straighten quickly and looked around, trying to find out if anyone had seen me. I thought seeing the clerk quickly looking away. The handsome guy however continued looking at me. This time it was him who had the smile on his face and he apparently wasn’t willing to look away. My hands instinctively rushed towards my back, trying to cover up, as if it made any sense, now that I was standing straight and that the dress was back to its place. Suddenly, his girlfriend kicked him. She seemed mad at him. She grabbed his arm and pulled him away.
My face was burning: I was red like a tomato. I felt disgraced. What a day! I gave up and steered towards a bench where I could sit down to put on the sandals. I asked my husband to help me taking off my shoes. He kneeled down with one knee and took my left foot. I that moment I felt naughty again and I opened a bit my legs, so that he could see my naked sex. At that point, I really didn’t care any longer if anyone else could see me: everybody had already seen everything. For a moment he was stunned. Then he lifted his chin and looked at me with a question in his eyes. We had never gone so far with this game, as I had always shied away when he had tried to expose me. It was one thing to quickly flash a tit, but an entirely different thing to show my most private parts. But I had already showed them involuntarily, there was nothing to hide at this point. I bent forward so that I could touch my ankles and did as if I was verifying the fastening straps of the sandals, letting my husband purposely take a look at my cleavage. I sensed his confusion growing. That was it! Finally I had caught him off-guard. For the first time during the day I was starting to have some fun!
Daniel helped me to stand up and I took some steps in the shop to test the comfort of the sandals. They were quite high-heeled, but nevertheless they were comfortable. I walked around a bit more to corroborate my initial sensations. It was important to make sure that they stayed comfortable. There was no better way of killing a party than wearing some shoes that are killing you. The high heels made it somewhat difficult for me to walk and I felt clumsy, but I hoped that it would become better with some practice. As I was concentrating on my sandals, I suddenly heard a noise, as if someone had been slapped. I turned around, just in time to see how the girl was tugging by his arm her boyfriend out of the shop, while he had his hand on his left cheek. An angry expression was painted on her face.
I went back to the dressing room to change back into my clothes. I finished, stepped out and gave the new dress and sandals to my husband. - Pay! - I told him. I didn’t say more; I didn’t even ask him if liked it. It was my decision; that should suffice. Likewise, I wasn’t going to ask him at the disco if he liked this or that man to make his sinful fantasies come true. I was the one who was going to do the whole effort and therefore it would be my decision. {Do you really just do it to please him?} My inner voice was questioning me, but I hurried up to assure her that this was the sole reason, although to be frank, I wasn’t completely sure of it. I was daydreaming when I closed the shop’s door behind me and I didn’t initially notice that an older, small-built man was watching me. It took me a while until I realized that it was the same man I had previously offered a glimpse into my generous cleavage and maybe even a bit more than intended. He no longer had his mouth opened wide, but his eyes still were. That’s when I suddenly became aware of what he was staring at: he was looking at my breasts. I was wondering why he was doing it, as I now was dressed completely normal: black jacket, white blouse and a short skirt.
By normal I mean that I wasn’t dressing especially provocative. If you are going shopping on Serrano Street, you cannot wear a dull outfit, if you want the snobbish clerks to attend you. You have to appear a bit posh, but even so, the shopgirls seem to have a sixth sense which tells them that one doesn’t really belong there. Well, the thing was that it was hot outside and I had my jacket open. The blouse fortunately wasn’t see-through. I already had had enough of see-through clothing for the whole week. However, I wasn’t wearing any bra now. To tease my husband and make a stand, I had promised myself, that I wasn’t going to wear the bra for the rest of the day. But my nipples where standing out erect. Hold on… they were erect? Yes, no doubt about it! I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but my body was betraying me: the whole scene in the shop had turned me on.
- What was that shit about, inside the shop? - Daniel had walked out of the shop behind me with a puzzled look.
- You didn’t like it? Wasn’t that what you have always wanted? - I blurted out.
- Well yes, but so all of the sudden… I am not exactly accustomed to that kind of delights. I am not complaining, but I think you need to explain what’s gotten into you! Again, I absolutely don’t mind, but I am confused. I can’t believe what I just saw.
You see? That’s how men think: zero sensibility! They don’t even realize what they say when they talk. How was it possible that he hadn’t even realized that he had hurt me with his comments? How could he possibly be so egocentric?
- What I believe is happening is, that you are starting to get cold feed. You are starting to see the danger and now you are no longer sure that you really want this. You are commencing to see the bull with its horns running towards you. You didn’t think me able to do it, but now I have finally surprised you! I bet that you are now thinking about how to step back and cool down this stupid cuckolding fantasy of yours.
We were talking loud and the old man was hearing everything. I didn’t care. Without giving my husband the opportunity to reply, I turned around and started to walk firmly to the next shop on the street. I still had to buy proper lingerie for the dress. Well, actually some sexy panties would be sufficient, as I wasn’t going to wear anything more underneath. Maybe I was walking too fast, or maybe my husband was still frozen in place, thinking about what I had said. In any case, he wasn’t walking on my side and I didn’t want to turn around and check upon him. I continued on my pace until I found a nice lingerie store. When I was opening the door, Daniel finally managed to catch up and we walked in together.
The store had many lingerie sets, most of them very precious and sexy, but I had something specific in mind. It didn’t take me long to find a black thong with a sheer front. See-through dress, sheer underwear… no doubt that was a perfect fit. I wanted my husband to ask me about why I had chosen the see-through panties. Maybe I was ready to show them to someone? Would I go that far or even further? I wanted the doubts to corrode him. I wasn’t going to make this cuckoldry thing too easy for him. In fact, Daniel was strangely pensive since we had entered the store. Usually, seeing so much lingerie together, he would become excited and would have taken the opportunity to comment how nicely this or that other set would look on my skin. But this time he was silent. But that was a good thing: I had already heard enough from him for the day.
I also ended up buying two pairs of lace stockings, one pair for use with a garter belt, which I also bought, and another with an elastic band that would hold itself. The ones for the garter belt had a seam in the back. That’s something my husband had always fantasized about, be we hadn’t been able to find it in any regular store. Also garter belts seemed to elude the normal stores, which was the reason I ended up buying these things, even though I wasn’t going to wear them with the dress: it was far too short for this and the sensuality it inspired was due to showing a generous amount of naked skin. Even though things on Serrano Street weren’t cheap, I wanted to demonstrate to Daniel that hotwifing would involve some additional expenses, so that maybe he would think twice about continuing with his intentions. I even thought of adding a wonderful bra to the bill, but it was too obvious that it wasn’t suitable for that dress. And I also didn’t want to give my husband the opportunity to comment again about bras and tits.
That night I didn’t sleep well. Although I was tired because of the shopping (yes, even we women get tired or this!), I couldn’t get out of my head what we were preparing to do. I was going to hook up with another man! Oh my God, how could I have accepted my husband’s indecent proposition. And the dress I had bought on impulse… I was going to be half naked! I would enter the disco and people would point at me and laugh at me! But it was already too late: my pride wouldn’t let me back off or even chose a different dress; I had to go through with it. Horrible thoughts were chasing my mind, until I finally was so fatigued that I felt asleep.
The following days I didn’t sleep well and oftentimes I was suffering from tachycardia. I had a crawling sensation in my stomach and I had no appetite. Also Daniel was behaving strangely. He was excessively affectionate with me, anticipating most of my needs and taking care of everything. I wasn’t used to it, but of course, I wasn’t going to complain. That was my charming prince I had dreamed of! But that wasn’t really all about; there was something else, something more profound. I don’t know how to express it, but I thought I could feel something strange. Or maybe it was just my imagination and it was just me. That was plausible, given the state of my unruly emotions.
Finally Saturday arrived! I woke up just to find out that Daniel had already prepared breakfast and had even brought it to our bedroom. There was freshly pressed orange juice, coffee and toast with marmalade. While I was eating, he told me that today I shouldn’t need to worry about anything. This was going to be my grand day and he wanted me to enjoy it completely. He gave me a kiss on a cheek, looked into my eyes and said “I love you”. Sometimes my husband could be very sweet and today was one of these days. He walked towards the bedroom door, but before leaving he turned around and said: - You have a date at noon at the hairdresser to get your hair done and also for waxing. Enjoy and relax! - So he said and walked away. But before leaving, he went into the bathroom. I could hear how the bathtub was filling. Usually I depilated myself. I had never gone to a beautician for this. I finished my breakfast and went into the bathroom. The bathtub was filled with hot water and there were candles around it. Very romantic! I was frankly surprised: we had been married for more than a decade and in all that time he had never done this. Musing about his strange but adorable behavior, I stepped into the bath.
I entered the beauty shop, not knowing what to tell exactly the beautician. I had a date to wax, but was it going to be just the legs, or maybe a Brazilian or even everything? Maybe my husband had already given the appropriate instructions? It was my first time and I was a bit embarrassed. I gathered my strength and decided that if I was going to do it, I would do it the best possible way. Without considering what my husband could have told the beautician, I asked her for a complete waxing. She acknowledged, took me to a room at the rear and asked me to undress. If I had worn a tank top, I could have left it on, but I was instead wearing a t-shirt and I had to take it off to have my armpits waxed. I had previously decided not to wear a bra for the remaining of the week, until my grand night at the disco, to prove to my husband (or to myself?) that my breasts were fine the way they were. As a consequence, I was going to be topless in front of the beautician. But since I had asked for a complete waxing, I guess this was going to be the least of my problems. Have I commented before, that I didn’t like to exhibit myself? Yeah, not even in front of other girls. It might seem contradictory in light of the recent events, but that was my true nature (or at least the education I had received during my infancy). The most recent events were solely due to becoming less self-conscious thanks to Daniel’s little games and because he had managed to make me angry the day at the shop. So there I was, naked on the gurney, waiting for the beautician.
- Ready?
- Does the waxing hurt a lot? You know, down there...
- Don’t worry, just relax.
Ok, so the theme for the day seemed to be “relax”. How often had I already heard it today?
The beautician started applying wax to my most intimate parts. I am not into ladies: I am one hundred percent heterosexual, but I have to confess that I thought I was starting to get a tiny bit excited while she was waxing my parts. Most likely that was because since I had accepted going to the disco and hooking up with another man, my husband hadn’t made love to me. Instead, he had been taking any opportunity to tease and excite me. I guess this was some kind of strategy to have my hormones running high for that night. And there was the proof that he had actually succeeded!
- Ouch! - Bye-bye excitement, that had hurt.
Gosh, what we women do to look beautiful for men. I really didn’t know why I was doing this. I absolutely had no intention going so far. Not today, not tomorrow. Never. I had to make it clear to my husband, so that he could tune his expectations for my “grand night”.
- Now the rear part. Please put yourself on all fours on the gurney.
- Also the a…
- Yes, that’s what’s usually done for a complete waxing. Just relax, don’t worry.
And that’s how I ended up in a quite humiliating position: kneeling on the gurney, with my buttocks pointing upwards and with a woman touching my anus and producing inside me an ocean of contradictory sensations, which oscillated from pain to excitement, while I was daydreaming about what I had decided that was not going to happen that night
My wife's blog: gemaesposacaliente.blogspot.com