Written by Wifewatcher

3 Oct 2010

For ages I'd been encouraging Zoe to show a bit more of her pert nipples on her perfect 34B breasts; they really are the perfect little handful. Zoe is 39, a keen runner and tight in all the right places.

Anyway, last night, I managed to convince her, after 6 months, to wear her quarter bra when we went out. She'd been OK with this indoors, where I'd often confessed in her ear that I was turned on by men looking at her breasts - this always resulted in her coming loudly whilst I pumped her like a stranger fucking a whore. She was very shy of the idea before, but something has now changed.

She wore a nice tight white shirt over the top, with tight black skinny-jeans and certainly looked the picture. Like many of us readers and writers on here, I loved the conflict between the jealousy, arousal and anxiety we feel as our hot wife is getting ready to go out. Being men we know what other men will want to fuck, and she certainly looked the part.

After a nice dinner with me and the waiters staring at her nipples, which were readily visible and seemed to be asking to be touched by all who were looking, we headed for a bar. I was rock hard by now, and quietly terrified of presenting her to all the hot young men prowling for some action. Inside it was overheating, and Zoe undid another button on her shirt to reveal sweat running down her chest to the tips of her nipples. This make her shirt almost seethrough just where her nipples pertly advertised themselves.

I bought a drink and popped to the loo - I was so hard I sprayed the wall. When I returned Zoe was already being hawked by a strong looking guy called Martin who had recently landscaped our garden. They seemed a little over familiar for my liking but it was too late now. He was very close to her, and my usually demure Zoe seemed to be purposefully pushing her chest out. The evening went on, we had a dance on the small dancefloor and headed home in the cab slightly worse for wear.

As we stumbled into bed I queried Zoe's closeness to Martin. She explained he'd often been in the kitchen talking to her when she'd made him a cup of tea and they'd been quite friendly for the week he was working on the garden. I found myself getting a rediculously stiff cock and this didn't go unnoticed by Zoe.

With a slightly nervous, quivering voice, she said "I've been meaning to tell you something for ages. But I need to know whether you mean your fantasies or whether you just want to get off on the idea rather than the reality?"

I nearly came at the question. "I definitely mean my fantasies", I replied.

Let me know if you want to know more!