A married couple's excursion into ever wilder sexual adventures.
A message from Jayne - if you have read Part 1 ignore this message.
After being married for over twenty years we had done most of the usual husband and wife stuff. Lots of vanilla sex in the early days, a little experimentation as time went on, some great relationship building but also some disillusionment then drifting apart and sex between us becoming rather mechanical and often boring. But then luckily, we found something new, something different, we found marital escapades and it totally revitalised our marriage.
It all began when Kevin took a photo of me topless asleep in our garden and we had 'finger sex' in a chauffeur driven car. After those events we got even more adventurous.
Slut Nights
I am not sure how or when it began but we had both started using dirty language as we made love. Being naked or just in my underwear in his arms kissing, I loved hearing my husband tell me what he was going to do to me. I thrilled to telling him to get his big cock further up my cunt and hearing him say what a great arse and tits I had. Name calling had also moved on and now I liked being called his slut, his tart and his bitch. Going further, I also liked dressing up for him or, more accurately perhaps, dressing down for him as more often than not that meant leaving my bra and or my panties, off or wearing more overtly sexy underwear or outfits though I didn't go as far as crotchless knickers or half-cup bras showing my nipples!
Being fairly heavily breasted I only very rarely went braless and until we started these escapades, I had never gone commando. But now I did and I found it, what can I say, uplifting maybe, I certainly enjoyed it.
Seeing a dress in a shop window gave me an idea and immediately I knew that Kevin would go for it big time. Several times he'd asked me to dress more sluttish by wearing very low-cut tops or ridiculously short for my age skirts. He often asked if I was wearing knickers which, of course, until recently I was and a couple of times he'd asked me to take them off when we were out at a restaurant or bar. And, inevitably I suppose, he talked me into going braless a few times which when you are carrying around D going on DD cup boobs is not the most sensible of dress options. For some reason, he liked seeing men ogle my tits and the bumps made by my nipples that even when not aroused are rather prominent. And I can't say that I didn't like the attention, because I did.
He often used terms like. 'My slut,' and 'You really can be a slut can't you?' especially when he had his hand up my skirt in a place where it was rather public.
So, I was thinking as I waited patiently for him to return from a business trip to Germany, why don't I be his slut when he gets home. That's why I ordered online a similar dress to the one in the window.
I felt so excited a day or so later when I unpacked the dress and stood before my full-length mirror in the small almost square entrance hall. I undressed and stood there naked just wearing heels which have become my obsession holding the skimpy dress in front of me and imagining what it would be like to wear such an outrageously sexy garment in public.
It was made from a thin, black material that was slightly shiny and felt lovely against my skin. It had a halter neckline that plunged deeply between each of my boobs with a tie on the back of my neck. I could imagine Kevin undoing that and pulling the merest slithers of material that covered each areola and nipple away from them. I knew that we would both so enjoy that. As we would the view before the neckline was undone because the material was thin enough that even unaroused my always rather prominent nipples made quite a show. As I modelled it to myself, I knew that shortly I would masturbate and that Kevin would want to photograph me in it and removing it and probably when masturbating as well! Our photographic sessions had become more frequent and had moved on.
So, I slipped it on, God it was so flimsy.
It was somewhat unflatteringly tight across my tummy and thus my slight 'mumtum' was rather emphasised. That was a shame but couldn't be avoided and was, I hoped, compensated for by being, hopefully, erotically tight across both my hips and my bottom. The skirt part ended about a foot above my left knee with the scalloped hem being cut at an angle so on my right leg it came down to about six inches above my knee. Both the cut of the halter neck and the shortness of the skirt meant that not only would I be 'flashing' a lot of flesh but also that I could not wear a bra or stockings or tights, but then in such a dress who would want to!
Seeing myself in the mirror I felt that I looked appropriately sluttish so, effectively right up Kevin's street! It would be a perfect outfit, I thought, to wear for the first shots of one of our now regular photo sessions where I would gradually strip off as he took shots of me for us to perve over later.
"Fucking hell Jay what the bloody hell is that?" he asked when he came into the lounge where I was standing wearing my new 'slutdress.'
"Don't you like it Kev?"
"Don't be daft of course I like it, you look er, um well fucking sluttish."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No it's brilliant, come here," he went on dropping his bag on the couch.
Then I was in his arms deep kissing him. I felt him grasping the hem of the dress and pulling it up and his hands sliding up my legs to grip and squeeze both bare cheeks. Bunching the dress around my waist he continued squeezing and fondling my bottom with one hand as the other pulled at the front of the dress and eased my tits out. Kissing and licking both in turn he pulled my thong down a little and away from my lips uncovering them and my entire pussy and clit.
"You really are a dirty bitch, aren't you?" he growled into my ear. "You're so fucking wet."
"And what the fuck's that make you?" I replied entering into the dirty talk that we both enjoyed and got turned on by. "Remember what you did in that car on the way home? And I'm not a bitch that's for sure. Maybe a cunt then like what you finger-fucked in the car," I said as he turned me around so I was facing away from him.
"Yes, maybe a cunt, yes a cunt Jay, just like the cunt I'm going to fuck right now," he went on pushing me towards a table and bending me over it going on to say. "Just thank your lucky stars I want to fuck a cunt tonight and not a big ass," as he pressed hard on my back squashing my bare breasts against the cold surface of the table.
"Fuck off you prick I don't have a big ass."
"No, but it is a very fuckable ass and next time I fuck you I'm going to fuck it," he said as I felt his cock pressing against my lips. He knew full well that I was not very keen on being fucked up there.
"No way, not a fucking chance that was the one and only time."
"You reckon, do you?"
"I know, not reckon," I retorted feeling the head of his dick opening me up.
"Then slut you'll have to change your fucking mind won't you," he muttered just as he shoved his cock right up me so that I felt his balls slap against my clit. And then like that he fucked me hard, fast and dirty just as we both wanted and needed.
"Phew that was something love," I said smiling at him after he pulled out of me and I straightened up from being face down on the table, turned and kissed him.
"Enjoy it?" he asked as I went to roll my dress down.
"No leave it, stay like that as we have a drink."
"What like this?" I said surprised at what he was suggesting.
"Yes, you look great like a real slut, check yourself in the mirror."
Walking over to the full-length, loft mirror by the front door I saw that he was watching my every step. As I reached the mirror, he came up behind me and fondled my ass as he whispered. "See what I mean?"
I did and I'm ashamed to say that what I saw in the mirror turned me on. It was almost as if the reflection was not me but someone else.
The neck of my dress was beneath my breasts. The skirt of the dress was bunched around my waist and the thong was down around my upper thighs so that my newly bald, pubic mound with my glistening lips was on show. And to complete the gorgeously, sordid reflection, my legs were bare and shapelier with my feet being in the strappy heels.
Again, I went to pull the neck of the dress up but he stopped me and said. "Stay like that until we go to bed."
"Why?" I asked rather unnecessarily.
