deny that I don't like a man's or men's attention, because I do. All my life I've always enjoyed dressing more provocative than most and I relish in any fervor my figure, looks or my attire draws from the opposite sex. Where-as some women might feel uncomfortable if a man ogles them, I am the opposite. If I know a man is watching me, I might, and usually will actually flash a little more leg, or,,, while grocery shopping, I'll bend over and linger an exxxtra long time looking at a bottom shelf item knowing my skirt is riding high and revealing more than it should.When I was young and in my teens, I was considered a tease, and I was! That suited me fine and I liked it that way, because unlike my girlfriends, I didn't have to put out in order to be desirable to the guys, but I sure enjoyed knowing that they wanted me more than the girls that had given in to their desires. 

Perhaps, in order for you to create a mental image of me, now would be the best time to describe myself. I am a long legged 5'3" natural brunette with blue eyes and weigh between 105-110 lbs. My measurements are 36,23,36 with a C cup and I'm one that's lucky enough to have all my proportions in all the right places. I'm considered very attractive and am often referred to, or likened as, drop-dead gorgeous, stunning, ravishing, sensual, etc. A seemingly conceited description of myself, but not really, seeing the similes are as men have described me and not as how I see myself. Although it would be nice to say that whether it's at work, shopping, the bar, or just out and about in general etc, men are always hitting on me and trying to get me to go out with them, but that wouldn't be an entirely truthful or an accurate statement. Yes, It does happen quite often but by those that are bolder or more confident than most but generaly speaking men tend to be withdrawn and shy in approaching me. When Mike and I were first married and the bolder ones would try to connect with me, I would have nothing to do with it.

All went as expected as a normal married couple for a few years, but slowly my husband started suggesting things in a subtle way. One night after we had made love for the second time and we were laying there recuperating he said, 
" I had this weird dream last night."
Naturally I asked him what it was and he described,

 " we were at a party and when it was time to leave, you were nowhere to be found. I looked everywhere but I still couldn't find you. I went to get our coats from the bedroom where we'd left them and when I entered, I saw you there being felt up by a stranger. He had you up against the wall, groping your breasts and pushing your skirt up. I was so upset seeing the two of you like that, but I couldn't move. It was like I was paralyzed and even though I was in the same room, you weren't able to see me. It was like I wasn't there! You kept telling him stop it!, but he wouldn't stop. I wanted to help but I couldn't. I don't remember how it came about but all of a sudden you were both naked on the bed and you weren't fighting his advances anymore. Just as he was spreading your legs I woke up. What a crazy dream!"

I felt disgusted when I heard the details of his dream and told him so. He replied "Gosh, Mandy,  it's only a dream! I can't help or control what I dream." How could I argue with that? After all, everyone has dreams that don't make sense. Although I agreed with his point I was somewhat skeptical , seeing he was hard again and so shortly after making love for the second time. That had never happened before. 

A few weeks later, and very nonchalantly, he would bring the dream back up and say something like,
"Boy! you remember that dream I told you about? I keep thinking about it and you looked so sexy up against the wall. I can't help it, but I get hard every time I think about it." Although it still bothered me hearing him say that, I wasn't as digusted as when he first described it to me. By now I'd had time to think and I rationalized that it was a fantasy. Much the same as some of my fantasies. No big deal. If it excited him and enhanced our love making then I could accept it.

It wasn't long afterwards that as we were making love and as I was staring my climax, Mike would whisper in my ear " so? would you like it if a man other than me was inside you right now?" or " Do you have any idea how many men would want to be me and be where I am right now?" He never carried on. He just made subtle suggestions and soon I was enjoying hearing his naughty thoughts as I came to orgasm. No harm in that. It was only fantasy, wasn't it? Yes, I started to wonder If he would really enjoy it if it really was to happen And found myself fantasizing a fantasy that had never crossed my mind before. 

Over time, and when we were at the bar together, I started to get the feeling that should a man make moves on me, Mike wouldn't be upset by it or wouldn't care if they did.  If a man would come over to our table and ask me if I'd like to dance with him, Mike would say,
" It's up to her, I don't mind."

That type of answer sort of annoyed me and even if I didn't really feel like dancing I would do so anyways, just to get away and calm down a bit so that I wouldn't get into an argument with him over how easily he passed me out.

On one occasion in particular when I returned to our table, after dancing with a man that kept trying to pull me in very to him, I asked Mike,
" what if that guy had made advances towards me while I was waltzing with him?"
Mike shrugged it off and said,
"I doubt that! This a public place and he knows you are with me."

I don't know really remember why or when I changed from a loving wife to a flirtatious one. Perhaps it was because I wanted to prove Mike wrong about what some men would do, public or not, or perhaps it was when I wondered if he might eventually get jealous, but change I did!

Over time I found myself flirting more and more, and waltzing closer and closer with the men that asked me to dance with them. Mike never got jealous. Naturally, with me waltzing in tighter to my dancing partners as I now tended to do and with the effects of the liquor, atmosphere and flashing lights, it was only a matter of time before a hand, whether accidentally or not, would brush against one of my breasts or would ride down the hollow of my back and work its way down further until it was on my butt.

Initially, when that happen, I'd make an effort to stop them. Eventually, especially once I knew Mike had seen the other's antics and never said anything, I stopped rejecting their advances. Subsequently I found myself dancing in a very intimate manner and now that I didn't place any restrictions on my dancing partner's hands, it would usually result in an erection being pressed up against my leg. Prior, if I got the feeling Mike didn't care, I would have felt repulsed. Now, I found that it stirred me inside. I couldn't control that. It must be nature, because it certainly wasn't with any intent on my part.

I remember the first time things went much further. As usual, once we arrived at the bar, Mike put his name up on the challenge board at the pool tables. Just as so many times before, once his turn came to play, he'd be gone and leave me sitting by myself. As it turned out, Mike's first game was against Steve and Mike beat him. That's how Steve ended up sitting at my table with me. Mike had invited Steve to sit at our table seeing he was by himself. While Steve waited for his turn to play pool again, we got the chance to talk and get to know each other some.He had a wonderful sense of humor and had me laughing most of the night. When Steve's turn would come to play pool again, I found myself feeling disappointed that he had to leave. I wished that he would loose, just so that he would be back quick and make me laugh some more. Mike was on a roll and winning all his games. Steve was back at my table within minutes. Mike only lost two games in three or four hours, and that's the only time he was at the table with Steve and I. While Mike was gone, Steve and I had a great time talking and dancing. About half an hour before the bar was to close Mike finally a game and when he came over to the table he asked Steve if he'd like to play some pool at our house. Mike rationalized leaving, seeing he wouldn't get another turn at the pool tables before the bar closed. Mike had been playing for two beers per game and I could hear he was very drunk.We all left and as I drove to our house, Steve followed in his car.

After a few games of pool at our house , Mike started to become rude and abusive towards Steve. He was saying things like,
" Hell man, you are the shits. Mandy doesn't play pool and she could beat you."
I was so embarrassed. and said so. I kept apologizing for the way Mike was acting and Steve said
" that's OK, he's pretty drunk I'm sure he doesn't mean it."
After about three games, Steve said he didn't want to play for a bit, and that it was too boring for me.
"Well!" Mike said,
"OK, fine! You two can sit and talk. I'm going to lay down. I'll be back later."
As he was heading up the stairs, he looked over at me and slurred,
" you can entertain him for a while."

Steve and I sat talking, having a few drinks and listening to music for about fifteen minutes.At one point he asked if I wanted to play some pool, but I declined, reminding him I didn't play pool. He then said,
"you dance, would you like to dance?"
I laughed at that, and replied,
"Yes, I'd love to."

We moved into each others arms, as we had done at the bar. It shouldn't have felt any different, but as our bodies moved together I instantly became aware of Steve's hardness that was pressing up against my leg. We had only just started to dance, and I remember thinking

"He's already got an erection! Even before, I'm in his arms!"

I had felt the same thing at the bar, but there it hadn't occurred right from the onset. At the bar it had felt sexy, now it felt sensual. Also, unlike at the bar where he had only one arm around my waist, now, both of his arms encircled me. In hindsight I suppose I shouldn't have allowed him to do that but that night it felt right. Actually, I was getting bit drunk myself and even though I had a feeling that this might go much further than just dancing, I didn't want to do anything to stifle the feelings Steve was arousing within me. We danced to a couple of songs, and the whole time I kept thinking Mike was going to come back downstairs at any second. About this time, Steve needed to use the washroom and while he did, I slipped upstairs to check on Mike. He was laying on our bed, snoring and seemed out cold. Knowing Mike, and how deep he slept when drunk, I felt he was likely out for the night.

I returned back downstairs and when Steve came out of the washroom, we started to dance again. Half way through the song, his hands were lower than they had been all night. I pulled them up once or twice, but soon, I relented and didn't stop him.The skirt I was wearing wasn't long, but I became aware that Steve was somehow making it shorter and getting it to ride higher and higher by the chill on my skin as it became exposed to the basement's air. I just didn't realize how high! That is, until I felt the cool basement air on my buttocks. The next thing I remember happening was his fingers slipping inside the top edge of my pantyhose. Never having a man do that to me, it caused me to reflexively pull away from his touch. By doing so, it caused me to move my pelvis in closer to him. Now we were moving as one. I can't say dancing, because we really weren't moving our feet. We were just sort of swaying to the music. I felt so guilty, but yet so good. The good was stronger. I didn't stop him. His fingers continued their journey down until they were moving down into the top of my panties as well. His hands were SO warm! As Steve's hands kept moving further down, my natural reflexes continuously caused me to move away from his advances, resulting in my pelvis moving forward further and up tighter yet up against his erection. The further his hands slid down, the more compressed I ended up against him. I remember thinking how long his penis felt, up against my leg. Much longer than Mike's. Soon, my hose and panties were half way off my buttocks and both of his hands were caressing my cheeks.

About that time, the music ended. I had to change the disc. I went over to the stereo and while I was bending forward to change the disc, Steve came up behind me and reached around me, cupping my breasts. I could feel his manhood pressing against my cheeks. I don't know how I managed to get the new disc in. The music started again, but he didn't release me. He just started swaying and grinding his erection into my tush . I joined in to his movements. The tank top I had on didn't cushion any feelings. He rubbed my nipples with his thumbs and started kissing my neck. I'm SO ticklish in my neck. He chuckled when I curled my head so as to try to stop him from kissing me there. Releasing one hand from my breasts, he reached down, lifted my skirt, and slipped it into my hose and panties, but from the front this time! That scared me. A strange man going there but I didn't stop him.  I was so wet now and I didn't want him to get yucky. Isn't that crazy! The thoughts that run through ones mind.

As his hand slid down, so did I. My natural reflexes and my conscious as a faithful wife were still working, so I involuntarily tried to avoid his advances by moving down also. Doing so made me settle to the floor but eventually I ran out of room to move further away from his touch. Once I was on my knees, his hand found me and moved in between my legs. Somehow Steve urged me down onto my stomach and we ended up laying down, right in front of the stereo. His body followed mine and he ended up laying on top of me. I was glad that he was behind me, so I didn't have to look at him. I kept my eyes closed, and relished in the way his hands were fervidly exploring my body.Now that I had nowhere left to go to avoid his advances , Steve wasted no time in working his fingers into my vagina. As his fingers worked deeper into me, it felt much the same as if I was rubbing my own breasts, and entering myself with my fingers as I do when I masturbate. Steve moaned a sound of approval when I reached down between my legs, covered his hand with mine and partnered my fingers with his as they were probing inside me. Yes! I could pretend that I was masturbating myself but, there was that bulge though! Pushing against my rear. It felt SO good. Better than I thought it would, or, that it should have, to a faithful wife.

By now my hose and panties were down past my hips and my skirt bunched at my waist.Breaking momentarily, he moved his body down and using the hand that had been between my legs, proceeded to push my hose and panties to my knees, my calves and then off my feet. I thought, "My goodness, he has long arms", seeing his upper hand never left my nipples.I also thought "I wonder if his penis is as long as his arms." Realizing this was heading much further than just petting, my conscious started to intervene and I said,
" NO, I can't do this. It's just not right!"
to which he replied, in a surprised and disappointed tone,
" You want me to stop?"
My guilt feelings said yes, but the feeling I was experiencing said no. I whispered,
" NO "
He asked,
" are you sure? "
I responded,
"yes I'm sure,,,don't stop."

Once my panties and hose left me, his hand rejoined mine again between my legs. His head was now right by my tush and he started to lick, kiss and softly bite my ass. Oh My! Not even my husband had ever done this! It felt "SO" good. Here's me, a virgin to everyone else but Mike, laying on the floor of our basement, getting my ass licked. Steve's tongue kept going deeper between my cheeks. It felt so strange. It felt so good. My heart was racing now. My mind and thoughts rushing. The lower Steve kissed, licked, and nibbled, the further my legs spread almost as if they had a mind of their own. Then it happened, the best, yet most embarrassing thing. Steve started to kiss and lick my bud. This went beyond naughty. It was pure lust. I could feel my stomach muscles beginning to involuntarily spasm. My vaginal secretions were actually running off my legs and making the carpet wet beneath me. His tongue and fingers seemed to be working as one. As his fingers probed deeper into my vagina, his tongue did likewise into my anus. Slowly but surely he managed to move deeper into me until finally his lips were pressed up tight against me.I started to shudder and felt my contractions intensifying in my abdomen, I knew I was coming to climax.

He must have sensed I was climaxing because he slid his body up onto me, pulled off my tank top and proceeded to poke and push his member against my anus.
I whispered,
" NO you can't! You don't have a condom on."
he replied
" I have one on."

I reached down , felt him, and sure enough he had one on! He had put one on when he went to the washroom! Steve must love Greek, but I wouldn't let him. I couldn't let him! It was bad enough that I was about to become an unfaithful wife, never mind being sodomized.

Without thinking and almost in a compensatory way, I guided him into my vagina. He didn't complain and as he pushed his penis into me I could feel him spreading tissue deep inside me that my husband had never been able to do. Even when I thought he was fully in me, his length moved deeper yet! I must have gasped or moaned, because he voiced,
"shhhhhh."

As he started thrusting, I could hear the slap, slap, sound as his pelvis met my buttocks and the squishing sounds of my wetness as he moved in and out of me. It's a good thing I was right by the stereo, so that I could reach out and turn up the volume to cover up the noises we were making. I started to climax after 6 or 8 thrusts and I held my face in the carpet in order to try and muffle my squeals of delight. Steve came to orgasm after 20-30 thrusts, just about the time that I was reaching my peak. After Steve was spent and once his breathing became somewhat more controlled, he whispered in my ear,
"Here, let me clean you up."

He then rolled me over, spread my legs and buried his face between them. Ever so gently, he licked and lapped up my pussy's nectar. I almost got caught up in the new sensations he was stirring up inside me, but just about that time the Cd ended and my mind rushed back to the thought of my Mike sleeping upstairs. I whispered,
" we should get dressed now."

While we were cleaning up and dressing I thought God!, What if Mike had woken and he had come downstairs as we were making it! I got Steve to leave as quickly as possible and no sooner was he gone, that all the guilt feelings rushed into my mind.

The next day,Sunday, I was hung over and SO, SO depressed. I kept going to the washroom to have a cry. Mike kept asking me,
" what's wrong."
I held out saying,
" Nothing."
I held out until mid afternoon and then I broke down and told him,
" something happened last night."
He calmly replied,
" I know. I was watching you from the top of the stairs."
I screamed at him,
" you're not mad, or jealous?"
He replied,
" No, not at all. I came two times watching you. The first time just after you changed the music, and the second time as you were gasping and moaning. I'm not mad, or jealous. I'm so turned on and I love you."

I told him he deserved that. Letting me flirt and him being so rude to Steve. He laughed and said,
"I knew Steve was hot for you. He couldn't take his eyes off you all night. As for being rude, if he liked me he probably wouldn't have seduced you"

So there it is. That's how it started. Even though I didn't let Mike touch me for weeks after that, eventually the anger and guilt subsided, leaving only the memories of the excitement I experienced that night.Within a month, I found myself fantasizing and yearning for those feelings again. Six weeks later I repeated with another man.Once again experienced guilt and depression afterward but the recovery period was much shorter this time.Within a year, I ended up going out every Friday or Saturday night looking to bring home a new guest to please Mike's voyeurism and my lust.

That was several years ago, and since then, when we go out together, I tell prospective guests my husband is my brother from out of town and staying over for the weekend. Other times, he stays home and I go out with my girlfriend, and then bring the man home. I phone before I come home and let him know I have company. He hides in the spare bedroom.

I'm so glad that the Steve was so sweet and such a good lover. If he would have been a dud, I wouldn't be sharing my experiences now.

Steve was fantastic, but he's not the best, and thinking back, knowing what I know now, I'm saddened that I rushed my him out of the door as I did. I never got to savor his taste. If I could do it all over again, we would have showered together, cuddled on the couch, and I would have made sure we satisfied each other orally.

Perhaps? one day I will meet up with him again and then I can make up for my nervousness that first time.