Cuckolding story

Over The Years

by Gary

05/26/2016 21:39 in oral


Over the years, I've often asked Jane to wear revealing clothes when we went out, I'm something of a voyeur and I like to look at other men's wives, and even more, I enjoy others looking at her. She was more than willing to do it on the right occasion in the early years of our marriage, but as the years passed she became a little more self-conscious and rather less daring. She just became less and less comfortable dressing that way, and we had got to the point where I could sense if I pushed she would resent me asking, so I backed off. She would still dress sexily, but not provocatively. She was still happy to go out minus her knickers on occasion, or more likely remove them during the evening after a glass or two of wine, and if I was very lucky, I might even be rewarded by her sitting in such a way that some lucky guy or couple might just possibly catch a glimpse. She just didn't want to be too obvious in her general dress sense.

To prevent our sex life becoming routine we look at porn together from time to time, as most couples do. On lucky occasions, I'd be watching TV in the evening, and Jane would appear out of the blue dressed in a tiny see-through top and ultra-short flared mini skirt from her younger days. She would take my hand and lead me to the bedroom, tantalisingly swinging her bare bottom, blatantly displaying her wet pussy at eye level as I followed her up the stairs. A short but furiously glorious fuck would follow. Other times during foreplay, we explore our fantasies, including my favourites: Jane dressing like a tart, Jane flashing, Jane with another man. She enjoys it too, but always makes it clear that it is fine as a bedroom fantasy, but that, like my request to wear the miniskirt and no knickers out, it is never ever going to happen.

Whilst I still loved the idea of her going out in skimpy outfits, I set my sights on a lesser goal. In the run up to her birthday, in addition to a proper present, I secretly bought her three dresses and a couple of skirts for very little from charity shops. The skirts were very short, the dresses long but very, very flimsy, the reason, of course, that I had chosen them. Whilst she was away for a few days, I washed them, ironed where needed, and wrapped them up carefully and crafted a note which I included inside the wrapping on top of the clothes. On the morning of her birthday, I gave her the parcel as an "extra" birthday present with strict instructions that she was only to open after I left for work. In the note I had written:

"Darling, Happy Birthday again...

Before you panic I am not asking you to go out dressed in these.

However I would love it if you would wear the one or two you like best from time to time at home when it's just you and me (they came from charity shops so if you don't like one of them it doesn't matter, and remember, obviously I bought them without you trying them on, but they are all your size! They have all been washed here by me).

I would like you to wear them for more than five minutes, i.e. more than just for me to follow you up the stairs to bed. The idea of you pottering around the house all day, or out in the garden in just a dress, sandals some perfume and a smile is one hell of a turn on!

I know you can do it! And I know when you do do it, you will enjoy it too!

All my love XXX"


Her birthday was on a Friday and we had three couples coming around that evening for a dinner party. I got delayed, partly because of work, and partly because she sent me an e-mail just as I was packing up, asking me to get two more bottles of Pimms and some other stuff on my way home. So I arrived just as the first couple arrived and there was no chance for the two of us to discuss my special present. She did tell everyone about all her other present, but not surprisingly no mention of the 'special'. I had a little peek, and it was clear she had opened the box, as I could see the wrapping paper in the recycling, though no sign of the accompanying note. I spent the evening wondering if I was OK or in deep shit. Jane seemed fine in front of everyone but I knew that didn't mean much. I could find that the moment we were alone, I could be for it. I wasn't sure.

The party went on late and we all had a good time. As it was her birthday, when we were done, I told her to go on up to bed and I'd do all the clearing and cleaning up. I wondered if - hoped - she might come down in one the dresses or skirts, but as I worked away, she didn't reappear. Normally, after a late bash we would just do the minimum of clearing up together and finish off the following morning, but I didn't want her to come down in the morning to the mess so I cleared everything away, did the hand washing up including all of the glasses and the pans and dried everything and put it away, the rest went in the dishwasher. I even swept and mopped the kitchen floor. When I finally went upstairs she was fast asleep!

The following morning, I awoke to find that Jane was already up, and I could hear sounds of her downstairs emptying the dishwasher. She was humming away to herself, which sounded promising; at least she didn't sound as if she was cross. I jumped in the shower and slipped on some shorts and a polo shirt; it was going to be another warm sunny day. As soon as I got downstairs, I realised that my tactics had worked a treat! Jane was wearing perhaps the flimsiest of the dresses I had given her, a pair of low-heeled summer sandals, nice perfume, and an innocent smile, her hair looking lovely up in a ponytail. The dress was thin enough for me to be absolutely sure she had nothing on underneath, and I could not keep my face straight; I was grinning like a Cheshire cat. She was clearly enjoying the response, but deliberately acted as if she hadn't noticed, as if there was nothing unusual going on, and neither of us said anything as we went about the typical Saturday morning duties.

As she walked through the open French windows with the brightness flooding in the view was exquisite. She was cheerful and flirty, and I couldn't resist the odd pat and squeeze of her bum, which she seemed to enjoy. There is something intoxicating about feeling a woman's bottom through her ultra-thin sun dress when you know she doesn't have any undies on! However, I was careful to avoid letting it lead to an immediate dash for the bedroom. I wanted to savour the experience and make it last; I did not just want a quick wham, bam, thank you ma'am! She went with the mood too, moving around with an unmistakable shimmy in her walk. What I really enjoyed was after the first half hour or so, she obviously became much more relaxed and comfortable, and my fears, that having done just enough, she would change back into her normal clothes, subsided. We just got on with what we needed to do. As neither of us had specifically mentioned the way she was dressed, I teasingly told her that somehow, for some odd reason I couldn't fathom, the weekend chores didn't seem half as bad!

Finally, we spoke about her dress, both laughing, me admitting that I loved it, her asking how she looked. It was clear that she also liked the way she looked, which was wonderful. She laughed again, saying she was surprised I hadn't jumped her bones. I explained that I wanted it to be a slow burner, and told her not to doubt how it would end! She did put me on my mark, reminding me exactly where she stood; she wasn't going out dressed like that under any circumstances, and if that was in my mind, I could forget it! I'd expected that and was ready. I simply reiterated what I had said in my note, that I didn't expect her to, that I got a lot of pleasure from her dressed like that, even if it was just for me around the house. We carried on, Jane more and more relaxed and in a happy mood as we ticked the jobs off one by one.

Later, teasingly, she asked me what would happen if someone knocked on the door. I played the game and said that I suppose she would have to decide, and perhaps it would depend on who it was, and maybe she could give the postman a thrill (though in reality we both knew he just leaves the mail in the post box outside). She smiled, holding the hem of her dress provocatively and striking a sexy and exaggerated pose.

"You would be happy for 'the right person' to see me like this?'

A bit sheepishly I replied, "You know I would, that and more. It's a hell of a turn on."

Jane smiled, teasingly. "That and more hey? You old perv! Come on; stop salivating and back to work!"

And the chatter moved on to other things.

As I said, having her dressed like that made doing the chores so much more fun! I mowed the lawn, and she did some stuff in the garden - just light work - and then we vacuumed downstairs, etc. She would catch me looking at her, dramatically role her eyes, shake her head, and tut tut, but was smiling at the same time. Late morning, we took a break from the job list for a cup of tea, chatting away together whilst each of us checked our Facebook and e-mails etc, just as we would normally do on a Saturday morning. I could see Jane typing away, and then saw a couple of her comments pop up against various photos or comments posted by mutual friends on Facebook. It was just routine stuff. We discussed the posts in that odd way you do when you are sat side by side both on Facebook and have many of the same friends and are talking electronically, sometimes even to each other's comments, whilst also idly chatting away in the real world.

Finally we went back to work, just doing a few more odds and ends and some paperwork. We were pegging out the washing together when the doorbell rang. I expected Jane to sprint off up the stairs in flight like a hare, but to my surprise she carried on pegging, and asked me see who was at the door. Now I was genuinely surprised. The stairs go up right by the front door, so once I opened the door she was sort of trapped in terms of disappearing up to change unseen, and of course we had no idea who was at the door. It could have been anyone, from the postman to a friend that we would automatically invite in, to family, although they would normally always call first, as they didn't live that close by.

When I opened the door, it was the husband of one of the couples who had been at the dinner party the previous evening. Apparently, during dinner he had mentioned that he had accidentally cut through the cable of his hedge trimmer, which was annoying as he intended to make the most of the good weather and do his hedge on the Saturday whilst his wife went into town. Jane had said that he was welcome to borrow our trimmer. I either hadn't heard the conversation, quite possible as I was orchestrating the food and drinks etc all evening, or had forgotten it. He obviously hadn't forgotten, and he had come round to collect it. I could have simply walked back out of the front door with him and down to the garage door to get the trimmer, but sort of stood there wondering whether I should do that, or if I dare invite him in.

Before I could make up my mind Jane, who had walked into the kitchen as I answered the door, shouted, asking who it was. I told her, pulse racing as I ushered him in, wondering what on earth she would do, whether she would even appear. He and I both turned to her voice as she walked back inside the room with a cheery:

"Hiya Jacques, I'll put the coffee on."

My heart skipped a beat. With the sun behind her just for a brief moment she might nearly as well have been naked, because you could see everything. I don't mean just in silhouette. I mean you could actually see her body, including the small neat dark triangle between her legs. I was aware of a sharp intake of breath from our friend. Jane seemed oblivious and, to my amazement, not the least self-conscious, as I explained what Jacques had called round for. At that point, I still wasn't aware of the conversation the previous night. She didn't seem at all surprised either, turning to me to explain:

"Yes I know, I told him it was convenient if he wanted to pop round to collect the trimmer when we chatted earlier on Facebook."

While the implications of her words were sinking in, she simply carried on and put the kettle on, and started to make the coffee. She was seemingly oblivious of the show she was putting on, and of the effect she was having, chattering away about the previous evening while she held us spellbound.

Jacques was most definitely getting an eyeful. Whilst not quite as blatant as the moment when Jane had passed from the sunlight into the house and had the light behind her, the dress was still at least partly transparent. It was loose and floaty, and her unrestrained breasts jiggled enticingly and visibly through the fabric as she reached for the coffee jar and sorted cups out and poured the water. Once she had made our teas and his coffee, we all followed her into the garden. Once again, we had that glorious moment when we were inside the house and she was stepping through the French windows ahead of us. I hung back so Jacques got an uninterrupted view for that brief moment as she stepped through the doorframe. The bright sunlight illuminated all, and the dress appeared to be nothing more than gossamer.

We sat out in the garden and I marvelled at my wife, chatting away as naturally as ever while we both ogled her breasts, erect nipples and areola, almost embarrassingly visible through the thin fabric. The fabric wasn't just thin, the dress was loose too. Jane had placed her cup of tea on the grass next to her chair. Each time she leaned over to pick it up, the top of her dress gaped open, and we were treated to the unfettered sight of her breasts for a second or two.

I think Jacques was surprised and at first a little worried about looking, his glances furtive. When nobody said anything about her state of dress, bit by bit he assumed it was OK to look, indeed it would have been hard not to. After five minutes, he couldn't keep his eyes off her, and neither could I! By the end of his coffee, he wasn't even trying to hide his interest.

At one point, for a very brief moment, and without breaking the conversation Jane lifted each foot in turn to push the sandal back strap down over each heel and slip off her sandals. It all looked very natural, but from where he was sitting I'm absolutely sure he must have gotten a very brief, split second but direct and unimpeded glimpse of her bare pussy! She sat there, legs stretched, talking about working on her tan. As she sat back, luxuriating in the sunshine, she hitched the hem of her skirt way up her thighs. It was only just covering what it ought. I knew she had to be doing it deliberately. My cock was hard, and I saw Jane glance down at my crotch and smile; she knew full well the effect she was having.

Eventually, perhaps twenty minutes later, Jacques, rather reluctantly I felt, departed. I couldn't help noticing he had an impressive hard on, a point not missed by my wife, either! After thanking Jane for the excellent coffee his final words were a promise to bring the trimmer back in an hour or so. The moment the door closed, I tried to drag Jane upstairs, but she was having none of it.

"No, no, you said we must wait, so wait we shall! Well...did you like him looking at me like that? He ogled me like I was some bit of available skirt!"

I could only grin like an idiot, and we both looked down at the tent in my shorts. Eventually, I managed to find my voice.

"Actually, I was amazed you didn't bolt upstairs when the doorbell rang... but then, I didn't know you'd chatted with him this morning on Facebook, did I?"

Jane just grinned.

"You didn't run because you knew it was him at the door!"

Looking impish, she nodded. Without a word, she reached for her laptop and turned it so I could see the various conversations open at the bottom of her Facebook page. There were a few conversation boxes open. Each of the couples had sent similar messages of thanks and reiterating happy birthday. In Jacques case their conversation was short:

"Hi Jane (and James), thanks for dinner last night. We had a great time. Giselle is off to damage my credit card, but said to say thanks, too. Hope you enjoyed your birthday!"

"Thanks, for the pressie. Glad you both enjoyed it. No shopping for you, then?"

"Ha-ha, no, gardening"

"Do you still want to borrow the hedge trimmer?"

"Dunno if I will get that far. Maybe later in the day if I need it, or even next week?"

"James says now would be a better time to drop round and collect it. Come and have coffee"

"Um, OK then, if I may... see you in twenty minutes/half an hour?"

"Yup, come soon as you can. James will be delighted. Me too."

"Ta, that would be lovely! See you both soon."

I read it, realising what she had done, my heart rate skyrocketing. Arriving casually and catching her dressed like that was one thing...but being very explicitly encouraged to come round as soon as possible by your friend's wife, and turning up to find her dressed like that was quite another! I wondered what thoughts must have swirled around in his head. He knew she knew he was on his way, and she still chose to let him see her dressed like that. I was genuinely startled and surprised. Referring to her word about me being delighted, I shot back,

"I never said that. I didn't even know you were talking to him!"

"Whoops, did you mind?"

I didn't answer that question, still not done with my thoughts. "So you not only knew he was coming round, you asked him to come round now?"

I looked up from the screen; she had a sexy devilish grin, and sort of shrugged.

"Ah ha. Thought you'd like it"

"God you know I do, you minx!"

Now it was her turn to grin like a Cheshire cat. I asked her if she realized just how much he had seen; she smiled and said of course she knew. Then she leaned forward and slid her hand up the inside of my shorts and gripped my erection and squeezed it, at the same time as she whispered in my ear:

"Now you have had your 'special' present for MY birthday, now I want MY 'special' birthday present."

I looked at her quizzically. "I want you to have an early lunch, and then go out in the car for the afternoon."

"Where are we going?"

"Not we, you. And anywhere you want."

I looked at her even more quizzically and she reached for me and gave me a deep French kiss, still gripping my erection. Then she carried on where she had left off.

"So when he comes back to return the hedge trimmer, he can find me here alone, abandoned." She paused for a second. "And have his wicked way with me." With that she deep French kissed me again, her hand working my erection. She broke the kiss to speak. "Jacques is going to fuck the living daylights out of me".Over the years, I've often asked Jane to wear revealing clothes when we went out, I'm something of a voyeur and I like to look at other men's wives, and even more, I enjoy others looking at her. She was more than willing to do it on the right occasion in the early years of our marriage, but as the years passed she became a little more self-conscious and rather less daring. She just became less and less comfortable dressing that way, and we had got to the point where I could sense if I pushed she would resent me asking, so I backed off. She would still dress sexily, but not provocatively. She was still happy to go out minus her knickers on occasion, or more likely remove them during the evening after a glass or two of wine, and if I was very lucky, I might even be rewarded by her sitting in such a way that some lucky guy or couple might just possibly catch a glimpse. She just didn't want to be too obvious in her general dress sense.

To prevent our sex life becoming routine we look at porn together from time to time, as most couples do. On lucky occasions, I'd be watching TV in the evening, and Jane would appear out of the blue dressed in a tiny see-through top and ultra-short flared mini skirt from her younger days. She would take my hand and lead me to the bedroom, tantalisingly swinging her bare bottom, blatantly displaying her wet pussy at eye level as I followed her up the stairs. A short but furiously glorious fuck would follow. Other times during foreplay, we explore our fantasies, including my favourites: Jane dressing like a tart, Jane flashing, Jane with another man. She enjoys it too, but always makes it clear that it is fine as a bedroom fantasy, but that, like my request to wear the miniskirt and no knickers out, it is never ever going to happen.

Whilst I still loved the idea of her going out in skimpy outfits, I set my sights on a lesser goal. In the run up to her birthday, in addition to a proper present, I secretly bought her three dresses and a couple of skirts for very little from charity shops. The skirts were very short, the dresses long but very, very flimsy, the reason, of course, that I had chosen them. Whilst she was away for a few days, I washed them, ironed where needed, and wrapped them up carefully and crafted a note which I included inside the wrapping on top of the clothes. On the morning of her birthday, I gave her the parcel as an "extra" birthday present with strict instructions that she was only to open after I left for work. In the note I had written:

"Darling, Happy Birthday again...

Before you panic I am not asking you to go out dressed in these.

However I would love it if you would wear the one or two you like best from time to time at home when it's just you and me (they came from charity shops so if you don't like one of them it doesn't matter, and remember, obviously I bought them without you trying them on, but they are all your size! They have all been washed here by me).

I would like you to wear them for more than five minutes, i.e. more than just for me to follow you up the stairs to bed. The idea of you pottering around the house all day, or out in the garden in just a dress, sandals some perfume and a smile is one hell of a turn on!

I know you can do it! And I know when you do do it, you will enjoy it too!

All my love XXX"


Her birthday was on a Friday and we had three couples coming around that evening for a dinner party. I got delayed, partly because of work, and partly because she sent me an e-mail just as I was packing up, asking me to get two more bottles of Pimms and some other stuff on my way home. So I arrived just as the first couple arrived and there was no chance for the two of us to discuss my special present. She did tell everyone about all her other present, but not surprisingly no mention of the 'special'. I had a little peek, and it was clear she had opened the box, as I could see the wrapping paper in the recycling, though no sign of the accompanying note. I spent the evening wondering if I was OK or in deep shit. Jane seemed fine in front of everyone but I knew that didn't mean much. I could find that the moment we were alone, I could be for it. I wasn't sure.

The party went on late and we all had a good time. As it was her birthday, when we were done, I told her to go on up to bed and I'd do all the clearing and cleaning up. I wondered if - hoped - she might come down in one the dresses or skirts, but as I worked away, she didn't reappear. Normally, after a late bash we would just do the minimum of clearing up together and finish off the following morning, but I didn't want her to come down in the morning to the mess so I cleared everything away, did the hand washing up including all of the glasses and the pans and dried everything and put it away, the rest went in the dishwasher. I even swept and mopped the kitchen floor. When I finally went upstairs she was fast asleep!

The following morning, I awoke to find that Jane was already up, and I could hear sounds of her downstairs emptying the dishwasher. She was humming away to herself, which sounded promising; at least she didn't sound as if she was cross. I jumped in the shower and slipped on some shorts and a polo shirt; it was going to be another warm sunny day. As soon as I got downstairs, I realised that my tactics had worked a treat! Jane was wearing perhaps the flimsiest of the dresses I had given her, a pair of low-heeled summer sandals, nice perfume, and an innocent smile, her hair looking lovely up in a ponytail. The dress was thin enough for me to be absolutely sure she had nothing on underneath, and I could not keep my face straight; I was grinning like a Cheshire cat. She was clearly enjoying the response, but deliberately acted as if she hadn't noticed, as if there was nothing unusual going on, and neither of us said anything as we went about the typical Saturday morning duties.

As she walked through the open French windows with the brightness flooding in the view was exquisite. She was cheerful and flirty, and I couldn't resist the odd pat and squeeze of her bum, which she seemed to enjoy. There is something intoxicating about feeling a woman's bottom through her ultra-thin sun dress when you know she doesn't have any undies on! However, I was careful to avoid letting it lead to an immediate dash for the bedroom. I wanted to savour the experience and make it last; I did not just want a quick wham, bam, thank you ma'am! She went with the mood too, moving around with an unmistakable shimmy in her walk. What I really enjoyed was after the first half hour or so, she obviously became much more relaxed and comfortable, and my fears, that having done just enough, she would change back into her normal clothes, subsided. We just got on with what we needed to do. As neither of us had specifically mentioned the way she was dressed, I teasingly told her that somehow, for some odd reason I couldn't fathom, the weekend chores didn't seem half as bad!

Finally, we spoke about her dress, both laughing, me admitting that I loved it, her asking how she looked. It was clear that she also liked the way she looked, which was wonderful. She laughed again, saying she was surprised I hadn't jumped her bones. I explained that I wanted it to be a slow burner, and told her not to doubt how it would end! She did put me on my mark, reminding me exactly where she stood; she wasn't going out dressed like that under any circumstances, and if that was in my mind, I could forget it! I'd expected that and was ready. I simply reiterated what I had said in my note, that I didn't expect her to, that I got a lot of pleasure from her dressed like that, even if it was just for me around the house. We carried on, Jane more and more relaxed and in a happy mood as we ticked the jobs off one by one.

Later, teasingly, she asked me what would happen if someone knocked on the door. I played the game and said that I suppose she would have to decide, and perhaps it would depend on who it was, and maybe she could give the postman a thrill (though in reality we both knew he just leaves the mail in the post box outside). She smiled, holding the hem of her dress provocatively and striking a sexy and exaggerated pose.

"You would be happy for 'the right person' to see me like this?'

A bit sheepishly I replied, "You know I would, that and more. It's a hell of a turn on."

Jane smiled, teasingly. "That and more hey? You old perv! Come on; stop salivating and back to work!"

And the chatter moved on to other things.

As I said, having her dressed like that made doing the chores so much more fun! I mowed the lawn, and she did some stuff in the garden - just light work - and then we vacuumed downstairs, etc. She would catch me looking at her, dramatically role her eyes, shake her head, and tut tut, but was smiling at the same time. Late morning, we took a break from the job list for a cup of tea, chatting away together whilst each of us checked our Facebook and e-mails etc, just as we would normally do on a Saturday morning. I could see Jane typing away, and then saw a couple of her comments pop up against various photos or comments posted by mutual friends on Facebook. It was just routine stuff. We discussed the posts in that odd way you do when you are sat side by side both on Facebook and have many of the same friends and are talking electronically, sometimes even to each other's comments, whilst also idly chatting away in the real world.

Finally we went back to work, just doing a few more odds and ends and some paperwork. We were pegging out the washing together when the doorbell rang. I expected Jane to sprint off up the stairs in flight like a hare, but to my surprise she carried on pegging, and asked me see who was at the door. Now I was genuinely surprised. The stairs go up right by the front door, so once I opened the door she was sort of trapped in terms of disappearing up to change unseen, and of course we had no idea who was at the door. It could have been anyone, from the postman to a friend that we would automatically invite in, to family, although they would normally always call first, as they didn't live that close by.

When I opened the door, it was the husband of one of the couples who had been at the dinner party the previous evening. Apparently, during dinner he had mentioned that he had accidentally cut through the cable of his hedge trimmer, which was annoying as he intended to make the most of the good weather and do his hedge on the Saturday whilst his wife went into town. Jane had said that he was welcome to borrow our trimmer. I either hadn't heard the conversation, quite possible as I was orchestrating the food and drinks etc all evening, or had forgotten it. He obviously hadn't forgotten, and he had come round to collect it. I could have simply walked back out of the front door with him and down to the garage door to get the trimmer, but sort of stood there wondering whether I should do that, or if I dare invite him in.

Before I could make up my mind Jane, who had walked into the kitchen as I answered the door, shouted, asking who it was. I told her, pulse racing as I ushered him in, wondering what on earth she would do, whether she would even appear. He and I both turned to her voice as she walked back inside the room with a cheery:

"Hiya Jacques, I'll put the coffee on."

My heart skipped a beat. With the sun behind her just for a brief moment she might nearly as well have been naked, because you could see everything. I don't mean just in silhouette. I mean you could actually see her body, including the small neat dark triangle between her legs. I was aware of a sharp intake of breath from our friend. Jane seemed oblivious and, to my amazement, not the least self-conscious, as I explained what Jacques had called round for. At that point, I still wasn't aware of the conversation the previous night. She didn't seem at all surprised either, turning to me to explain:

"Yes I know, I told him it was convenient if he wanted to pop round to collect the trimmer when we chatted earlier on Facebook."

While the implications of her words were sinking in, she simply carried on and put the kettle on, and started to make the coffee. She was seemingly oblivious of the show she was putting on, and of the effect she was having, chattering away about the previous evening while she held us spellbound.

Jacques was most definitely getting an eyeful. Whilst not quite as blatant as the moment when Jane had passed from the sunlight into the house and had the light behind her, the dress was still at least partly transparent. It was loose and floaty, and her unrestrained breasts jiggled enticingly and visibly through the fabric as she reached for the coffee jar and sorted cups out and poured the water. Once she had made our teas and his coffee, we all followed her into the garden. Once again, we had that glorious moment when we were inside the house and she was stepping through the French windows ahead of us. I hung back so Jacques got an uninterrupted view for that brief moment as she stepped through the doorframe. The bright sunlight illuminated all, and the dress appeared to be nothing more than gossamer.

We sat out in the garden and I marvelled at my wife, chatting away as naturally as ever while we both ogled her breasts, erect nipples and areola, almost embarrassingly visible through the thin fabric. The fabric wasn't just thin, the dress was loose too. Jane had placed her cup of tea on the grass next to her chair. Each time she leaned over to pick it up, the top of her dress gaped open, and we were treated to the unfettered sight of her breasts for a second or two.

I think Jacques was surprised and at first a little worried about looking, his glances furtive. When nobody said anything about her state of dress, bit by bit he assumed it was OK to look, indeed it would have been hard not to. After five minutes, he couldn't keep his eyes off her, and neither could I! By the end of his coffee, he wasn't even trying to hide his interest.

At one point, for a very brief moment, and without breaking the conversation Jane lifted each foot in turn to push the sandal back strap down over each heel and slip off her sandals. It all looked very natural, but from where he was sitting I'm absolutely sure he must have gotten a very brief, split second but direct and unimpeded glimpse of her bare pussy! She sat there, legs stretched, talking about working on her tan. As she sat back, luxuriating in the sunshine, she hitched the hem of her skirt way up her thighs. It was only just covering what it ought. I knew she had to be doing it deliberately. My cock was hard, and I saw Jane glance down at my crotch and smile; she knew full well the effect she was having.

Eventually, perhaps twenty minutes later, Jacques, rather reluctantly I felt, departed. I couldn't help noticing he had an impressive hard on, a point not missed by my wife, either! After thanking Jane for the excellent coffee his final words were a promise to bring the trimmer back in an hour or so. The moment the door closed, I tried to drag Jane upstairs, but she was having none of it.

"No, no, you said we must wait, so wait we shall! Well...did you like him looking at me like that? He ogled me like I was some bit of available skirt!"

I could only grin like an idiot, and we both looked down at the tent in my shorts. Eventually, I managed to find my voice.

"Actually, I was amazed you didn't bolt upstairs when the doorbell rang... but then, I didn't know you'd chatted with him this morning on Facebook, did I?"

Jane just grinned.

"You didn't run because you knew it was him at the door!"

Looking impish, she nodded. Without a word, she reached for her laptop and turned it so I could see the various conversations open at the bottom of her Facebook page. There were a few conversation boxes open. Each of the couples had sent similar messages of thanks and reiterating happy birthday. In Jacques case their conversation was short:

"Hi Jane (and James), thanks for dinner last night. We had a great time. Giselle is off to damage my credit card, but said to say thanks, too. Hope you enjoyed your birthday!"

"Thanks, for the pressie. Glad you both enjoyed it. No shopping for you, then?"

"Ha-ha, no, gardening"

"Do you still want to borrow the hedge trimmer?"

"Dunno if I will get that far. Maybe later in the day if I need it, or even next week?"

"James says now would be a better time to drop round and collect it. Come and have coffee"

"Um, OK then, if I may... see you in twenty minutes/half an hour?"

"Yup, come soon as you can. James will be delighted. Me too."

"Ta, that would be lovely! See you both soon."

I read it, realising what she had done, my heart rate skyrocketing. Arriving casually and catching her dressed like that was one thing...but being very explicitly encouraged to come round as soon as possible by your friend's wife, and turning up to find her dressed like that was quite another! I wondered what thoughts must have swirled around in his head. He knew she knew he was on his way, and she still chose to let him see her dressed like that. I was genuinely startled and surprised. Referring to her word about me being delighted, I shot back,

"I never said that. I didn't even know you were talking to him!"

"Whoops, did you mind?"

I didn't answer that question, still not done with my thoughts. "So you not only knew he was coming round, you asked him to come round now?"

I looked up from the screen; she had a sexy devilish grin, and sort of shrugged.

"Ah ha. Thought you'd like it"

"God you know I do, you minx!"

Now it was her turn to grin like a Cheshire cat. I asked her if she realized just how much he had seen; she smiled and said of course she knew. Then she leaned forward and slid her hand up the inside of my shorts and gripped my erection and squeezed it, at the same time as she whispered in my ear:

"Now you have had your 'special' present for MY birthday, now I want MY 'special' birthday present."

I looked at her quizzically. "I want you to have an early lunch, and then go out in the car for the afternoon."

"Where are we going?"

"Not we, you. And anywhere you want."

I looked at her even more quizzically and she reached for me and gave me a deep French kiss, still gripping my erection. Then she carried on where she had left off.

"So when he comes back to return the hedge trimmer, he can find me here alone, abandoned." She paused for a second. "And have his wicked way with me." With that she deep French kissed me again, her hand working my erection. She broke the kiss to speak. "Jacques is going to fuck the living daylights out of me".


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