Safely ensconced in my chair, and having checked that the coast was completely clear, I took another look. Wow, did she look good. The bra pushed up her small breasts to great effect and the panties were so tiny they almost weren’t there. Not so much a thong as a g-string.
[Gemma]: What do you think? Think he’ll like something like this?
Good God. My wife was out shopping for lingerie to impress a man who wasn’t me. My erection was straining against the confines of my pants.
[Michael]: Can’t see how he couldn’t! You look amazing!
But that wasn’t it. Next up she sent me a picture of herself wearing a bright red bra and thong lined with white lace. Kind of Christmassy, I thought, but again seriously hot.
[Michael]: Does he have a thing for Santa’s little helpers?
[Gemma]: Har har.
Then she sent me a selfie in which she was wearing a white lace bodysuit that really flaunted her figure to nice effect. Then, a pink set of lingerie with black lace trim. There was an orange satin set, there was a pink and lilac lace set. There was a sheer black babydoll that left very little to the imagination. There was even a black leather set that made her look a little scary.
She spent all morning trying on underwear at various stores in the Westfield mall at Shepherd’s Bush, and eventually settled on a fancy bra and thong in deep crimson lace, along with matching garter belt and stockings. I couldn’t believe it—I’d never seen her in stockings before this. She’d never worn anything like this for me.
[Gemma]: I love shopping for underwear with you! Xxx
[Michael]: You never wear anything like this when you’re trying to seduce me!
[Gemma]: That’s because I don’t usually have to try very much to seduce you :-P
[Michael]: You realize you won’t have to try all that hard to seduce your date either?
In the afternoon she was trying on dresses, sending me pictures of sexy little numbers that showed off lots of thigh and even some cleavage here and there, leaving me seriously hot under the collar. More than once that afternoon I had colleagues asking if I was all right. I said I thought I might have a fever coming on.
Finally, Gemma settled on a little white dress that was nicely sculpted to her curves and although her neckline was fairly conservative, most of her thighs were on show, to the point where I wondered if her racy underwear might show if she wasn’t careful, particularly those stocking tops.
[Michael]: You never wore a dress when you were dating me! It was always jeans and a t-shirt from what I remember.
[Gemma]: This is a little different, I think. You know the TV show is paying for all this, right? Plus, I’m dating a guy who has already seen me naked, so... :-)
[Michael]: You know that means you don’t need to do anything more to impress him, right?
[Gemma]: I have to make sure, don’t I? My husband wants me to sleep with this guy... ;-)
[Michael]: Your husband only wants you to sleep with this guy if you want to yourself.
[Gemma]: I know. My husband is very good at figuring out what I want :-P
Once she had her wardrobe figured out, then Gemma moved on to the spa, where she was doing God knew what to get ready for the date, but it took the rest of the afternoon and the TV show was paying for it all anyway.
*
She was upstairs getting ready to go out by the time I returned home. I was presented with the alluring scent of a brand new perfume as soon as I entered the front door, and it had my senses—and my nerves—jangling like crazy, even before I laid eyes on her.
And there she was, upstairs, wearing her crimson lingerie, standing in front of the full mirror as she drew a pair of sheer stockings up her legs and into position.
‘Hey. Will you help me with my stockings?’
‘Sure.’
And here was me, a quivering frame of pure lust, going to her, kneeling at her feet to help her hook her stockings up to the garters hanging from her garter belt. Wow—she looked incredible. In her expensive underwear, she was now less girl-next-door and more movie star.
‘You look amazing,’ I said, breathing her in as I assisted. I had to do everything in my power to keep my hands off her, except where she directed.
‘Thank you,’ she grinned. ‘You know I could have dressed up like this for you—you only had to ask.’
‘I didn’t think it was an option,’ I said, truthfully.
‘You do know it’s not disrespecting me as a woman to tell me what turns you on, right?’ she laughed. ‘I mean... it’s kind of essential for a good marriage, don’t you think?’
‘Well I know that now,’ I chuckled.
‘I could call Aaron and cancel...’ she offered, stepping over me as I knelt there so that her pussy was right above my face. That close, I could detect the scent of arousal, even if it was largely covered by her perfume.
‘No,’ I said, stroking her lace-covered pussy gently with my nose and lips. ‘That’s an even bigger turn-on.’
She giggled as I pressed my face up against her, inhaling her wicked scent. ‘You’re crazy, you know that?’
‘I might be,’ I nodded. She stepped away, over toward the wardrobe where her new dress was hanging.
‘You really never thought about any of this before I did the show?’
I pulled myself up, and now went to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face. It wasn’t exactly as effective as a cold shower, but it helped me calm down.
‘No,’ I said. ‘But I think if you’d asked me before... even a few years back... if you could go on a date with someone... I probably would have let you.’
‘And enjoyed it?’
‘And enjoyed it.’
I tried to pee, and after the splash of cold water in the face, I was just about able to—watching her squeezing into that dress through the mirror above the sink and the toilet.
‘Why do you think that is?’ she asked. ‘Why do you think you enjoy the thought of it?’
‘Because I like the thought of you enjoying yourself. Having fun. And you’ll have a lot of fun... you know... banging someone new.’
‘‘Banging’?’ she giggled, and now came through to the bathroom, not caring that I was still finishing up using the facilities.
‘I think you’re really excited,’ I said.
‘I am,’ she agreed, leaning over the sink to begin applying her makeup. I closed the toilet lid and then flushed, sitting down there to take in a close-up view of her in that dress. It really did only just cover the tops of her stockings.
‘Well, that’s what excites me,’ I explained. ‘And the more excited you get, the more excited I get.’
‘That’s really how it feels?’
‘That’s how it feels. Really.’
‘You’re really not jealous it’s someone else making me excited?’
‘A little... but I kind of like it.’
‘You are crazy.’
‘Very probably.’
She stopped and looked at me straight in the eye, ‘And when he touches me... when he puts his hands all over me... when he kisses me... you’re not going to be hurting, are you?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think so. Really.’
‘And when we get naked?’
I grinned. ‘You already did that.’
‘In private, though. You know, as a precursor to...’
‘Sex,’ I nodded. ‘Well, I’m not going to be there.’
‘No, but...’
‘It’s not going to hurt,’ I insisted. I was hard again. She reached down and touched it, and it set her off giggling again.
My heart was racing again, pumping hard. It didn’t stop, either, as I watched her apply the kind of fuck-me lipstick she had never worn out with me, and the kind of killer high heels I’d never laid eyes on in her company.
She looked so classy, I’m not kidding. I always thought seeing a woman wearing fancy lingerie, stockings and garters, would seem somehow trashy—but my view had entirely been shaped b
y pornography. It seemed so luxurious wrapped around my pretty wife, so elegant, so sharp, and oh so sophisticated. It was devastating to me that she was wearing it for another man—and yet at the same time thrilling like nothing else.
‘So he doesn’t know you’re married,’ I reminded her while escorting her downstairs to the front door.
‘No.’
‘Is it going to stay that way?’
‘I think so. Easier that way, don’t you think?’
‘I suppose so. You just have to make sure he doesn’t get the idea that you might want to settle down with him long-term.’
‘I’ll tell him I’m just looking for a little no-strings-attached fun,’ she grinned as I opened the front door for her.
‘You think he’ll buy it?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s a dating show where you start out naked. It’s hardly the best way to find your soulmate, is it?’
‘I suppose so,’ I said, pulling her in for a slightly awkward hug—I didn’t want to mess up her dress.
She also didn’t want to mess up her makeup, so it was air kisses only on the way out.
‘Don’t want to smudge the lipstick,’ she grinned.
Then she paused—almost as though giving me one final chance to stop her from going.
‘Have fun, Cupcake’ I said. ‘I love you.’
‘Thanks,’ she smiled sweetly, then turned on her heels and tottered toward the waiting taxi. ‘Love you too!’
Eight
Hibernation—that’s the best word I could use to describe how I dealt with the curious experience of my wife going on a hot date with another man. As soon as she was gone, I slipped out into the night and swung by our local supermarket to load up on beer and snacks, then I went back to our apartment and sealed myself inside a warm bedroom, cocooning myself in sheets and blankets before clinging to the remote control and flicking on Netflix.
I was watching that new Ozark show, which was pretty good. As Gemma started sending me text messages, much if not most of my attention was on the show—but then, for Gemma, things started out fairly tame.
[Gemma]: It’s a little phony to start with! They’re filming us to make it look like a date, but it’s kind of like we’re actors.
[Michael]: don’t tell me they’ve given you a script!
[Gemma]: ;-) Not quite, but almost! They had to shoot Aaron sitting at the table in the bar waiting for me. Then they had to shoot me walking into the bar, then it was Aaron watching me come in, and the two of us greeting each other...
[Gemma]: And we have to wait ages for them to set up each shot.
[Michael]: Nice. Did you get it all done in one take?
[Gemma]: Had to do the entrance bit twice because some waiter walked in through the middle the first time!
[Michael]: So you’re done with the filming now?
[Gemma]: Not quite. They’re setting up for small talk at the table. Feels like we’re interviewing each other on TV.
[Michael]: Hope it gets better!
The beauty of TV, huh. It all kind of looks natural when you see it on the screen, but what you sometimes forget on these dating shows is that there is a camera present—and the show has to get the right shots to carry the necessary story forward, even if the people involved are ‘real’.
Nevertheless, as I waited in my bedroom cocoon, the stilted nature of the start of Gemma’s date actually helped calm me down, quelling some of the tremors inside me. While there was a film crew present, nothing much was going to happen.
An hour later, though, things started to slowly pick up.
[Gemma]: The camera crew has gone. Time for the real date to begin! We’re heading to a different bar so it’s more like our proper date, not the fake one.
[Michael]: Aaron’s okay with you texting?
[Gemma]: I’ve told him I’m letting my best friend know where I am! In case he’s dangerous! He understands... quite sweet really.
She was out on her own with another man. My mind was already starting to spin. What did she mean by that last bit? That going on the date was ‘quite sweet’ or that Aaron himself was ‘quite sweet’? Well, I supposed I wanted her to like him. She’d told me she would be making sure he understood this was all about no-strings-attached fun. I think as I waited for her, my one real fear was that she liked him so much she would leave me for him—and yet while my unconscious mind felt that was strongly possible, my conscious mind could hold my paranoia in check. Gemma wasn’t like that.
I knew I just had to relax, and try to focus on the positives of this experience.
[Gemma]: We’re in the Hotshots bar, FYI. On Dean Street. He’s gone to get drinks. Everything okay your end?
[Michael]: Everything’s fine. Is it weird you’ve both already seen each other naked?
[Gemma]: Actually it’s kind of nice. Seems like there’s less pressure somehow. It’s like, we both know we’re attracted to each other already.
[Michael]: Well have fun, keep me updated!
[Gemma]: Of course! Love you honey xxx
Early in the date I kept calm by telling myself that nothing was going to happen for a while—it wasn’t even 9pm yet. They were just getting started. I did find myself re-examining my feelings—asking myself over and over if I was really all right with this, if I was kidding myself that it was okay that my wife was in seduction mode with a younger guy.
It was comforting to think that it was still early, even though ninety minutes passed until she texted me again. Toward the end of that ninety minutes, it began to feel less early in the date. My nerves were starting to fire up once again.
Then:
[Gemma]: We’re going to a late night restaurant for a little food. Seems kind of random, but I like not knowing what’s going to happen.
[Michael]: Enjoying yourself?
[Gemma]: Oh, yes. We might have kissed a little already.
Suddenly my hard-on was back, and in full force. Reading and re-reading her message, my heart was also beating at a furious pace. Wow. It was like I’d never read anything hotter—and yet it was hardly explicit. Just a few words about a kiss, but a kiss involving my wife. And someone else.
I wanted to find out all about it—and yet I didn’t want to interfere in her date, I didn’t want to encourage her to spend her time texting instead of chatting with Aaron.
[Michael]: Good kisser?
[Gemma]: It was so nice. Kind of weird, realizing it wasn’t you. Kind of extra hot because it seemed so naughty that it wasn’t you. Does that make you mad?
[Michael]: Not mad. Hard as a rock :-P
[Gemma]: Mmm I like that mental image. Got to get back to him. Love you xx
I had a million questions, but I was glad she was getting back to it. I could ask her when she got home. For now, I had the powerful image in my mind of my wife kissing someone else. I mean, I had to imagine it of course, but even imagining it was powerful enough. Thinking about her laughing at something he said, maybe. Gazing into his eyes, her face turning lustful, serious. The two of them moving in toward each other, lips crushing against lips, hands moving to cradle each other’s heads.
Her next text came after a forty-five minute break.
[Gemma]: Another bar, another kiss. You really sure this is what you want, honey?
I fired straight back with:
[Michael]: This is what I want. You having fun and being naughty. You like making out with him, huh?
[Gemma]: He’s a very strong, fit guy but he’s gentle at kissing. So sweet. And he smells nice.
[Michael]: So I take it you’d be happy sleeping with him? ;-)
[Gemma]: Oh yes. But I could stop if you’re not having a good time, honey. You would tell me, right?
[Michael]: I would. But I’m fine. You enjoy yourself, sweetheart. The more you do, the more I do.
[Gemma]: Love you xxx
Now it was moving on toward ten o’clock, and it wasn’t out of the realms of possibility that Aaron might ask Gemma back to his place. It was increasin
gly difficult for me to keep calm, but I had to try.
With Gemma getting back to her date, I found I’d missed various parts of the Netflix show I’d been watching. I had to rewind, find my place again. Even then, my thoughts were with my wife and her date, I wasn’t absorbing enough of the TV show to figure out what was going on.
She was kissing him. Right at that moment. I could sense it. I even predicted that after a drink or two they would be hopping along to another bar—because as I remembered from my dating days, the casual bar crawl provides ample opportunity for the increasingly inebriated to pause in doorways and make out some more.
Sure enough, 30 minutes further on, another text:
[Gemma]: Would you believe it another bar! We might have stopped off in a little park and spent some time on a park bench talking about how best to kiss each other ;-)
[Michael]: Nice.
[Gemma]: He’s figured out I’m wearing stockings, BTW
[Michael]: I bet he has.
[Gemma]: And I’ve figured out his thingy is just as nice when it’s hard ;-)
[Michael]: His ‘thingy’? :-D
[Gemma]: His penis. His dick. His schlong. What do you want to call it? :-P
[Michael]: Whatever you like. Cock? Thingy if you prefer
[Gemma]: I like cock.
[Michael]: I’ll say.
[Gemma] you know what I mean!
[Michael]: So you been touching his already?
[Gemma]: I might have brushed my hand over it a few times accidentally.
[Michael]: Hot :-P And I’ll bet he’s accidentally slipped his hand up your dress a few times ;-)
[Gemma]: Maybe a little ;-) gotta go xxx
This was crazy hot. I could sit there in my bed, alone, and imagine myself right in the middle of Gemma’s date. In fact, the way she told it in her text messages, I had the strangest ability to picture myself as being on a first date with her instead of Aaron. It was me smiling at her and receiving her pretty smiles in return. It was me complimenting her, flirting with her, making her blush and stirring her to flirt back outrageously. It was me making the occasional suggestive comment or joke to her, and it was me she was delivering suggestive comments back to herself. I was casually touching her thigh—maybe stroking her a little, trailing my fingers up her leg feeling the wicked texture of thin nylon mesh, slipping under the hem of her skirt to explore up to the tops of her stockings—not Aaron. I was risking a quick brush of the back of my fingers over the hot lace panel of her panties. And meanwhile her hands were subtly wandering up my own thigh, dancing over the hardness beneath my pants. I was taking advantage of the shadows to steal a quick kiss from her en route to the next bar—and having her melt into me and throw caution to the wind with some passionate, hungry making out.
A Wife on Show Page 7