There was a party after the last performance of the amateur show, in which my fifty something petite blonde wife, Evelyn, stripped to pink satin undies, stockings and suspenders. The sight would have been even more erotic if she had also taken off the lace and satin full slip, but the outline of her panties and suspenders was clear to see through her clinging slip, as were her obviously aroused big nipples. With her blue satin dress back on for the party, she still looked a stunner. Genorous use of quality perfume also added to her allure. I struggled to get near her, as men danced around, making small talk over drink s and looking down her cleavage. I should have made more of an effort, but watched from a distance. This was the village hall and all the great and good were there. But I well know that it is the so called good who get most of the pleasure. Just now, the pleasure was all mine, watching the play’s slimey director approaching her, with his champagne glass gripped firmly in hand.‘Evelyn, you were magnificent. Did you ever think of going professional?’ He gushed. If she had not been wearing so much make up, we all might have seen her blush. From my vantage point, and also sipping champagne, my prick twitched as he hugged her against him then kissed her full red painted lips and patted her satin covered womanly bottom. Back home in our bedroom, I watched lustfully as Evelyn let her blue satin dress rustle down her black stockinged and very slim legs, so then to stand before me in all of her pink satin and lace finery. She was about to sit down at her dressing table where she would let down her hair from the French pleat then remove jewelery her make up. I only let her get as far as letting down her gleaming long blonde hair before I was up off the bed and grabbing her firmly around her waist, pulled her off her seat, then one hand on her bottom, the other mangling her hair, I leant down, pushing my tongue between her pouting lips before lifting her and throwing her on our King size bed. Defensively, she clamped her black stockinged legs fast together, trapping the skirt of her pink satin slip between thgem, showing trhe perfect pussy mound that I knew to be so girlishly bald and vulnerable, protected only by rather provocative fine satin and lace lingerie. Soon I had her trim thighs apart, slip pulled up, pantie bulge and stocking tops all on view to excitement, along with the memory of all the disgusting words the local ruffians said about her, while watching her glamorous striptease. So mauling her breasts through pink satin, and pulling her pink panties to one side, I fumbling to release my bursting cock, fingers opening her up, then I was in, pounding her hard, my fly zip was grazing my cock and maybe grazing her, but I cared only for my pleasure at the thought of her having sex with lower class men, men who would just use her, make her cum very hard and tell others what a good fuck she is. As I fucked her, I told started telling her what I had heard and what I was thinking. Suddenly she was moaning, thrusting back at me, skinny white little arms and hands flailing wide open, up and down on the bed cover. We both came together. I had hoped that with that fuck, my dirty thoughts about her would go away. But they did not. And so later that night we talked about her stripping in front of half the village, how they all knew what she wore under her fine clothes and how so many of the men wanted to fuck her hard. Just talking about it again made us both need to fuck. Still the dirty thoughts and words would not go away. Then just before she went to sleep, still in make up and lingerie, exhausted and speaking in a whisper, she said: ‘You know I will do anything to please you.’ Then she felt my hardening prick, before adding: ‘I know what you want. It’s O.K, I understand.’