I met the man who would become my husband at a masked charity ball. The attendees all wore fancy dress from the mid-1800s: the men in long tailed coats and ruffled shirts and cravats, the women in high-waist flowing gowns that exposed much of their cleavages. And mine exposed my rather full breasts to their utmost.
All the single men, and many of the married men, vied for my attention, and for obvious good reasons. I'm five foot eight, with auburn hair that falls well past my shoulders and barely covers my nipples when I'm naked: although, that night, I had it up, exposing my long slender neck. My grey-green eyes complimented my hair color.
Not to mention my voluptuous build; 36DD-28-38. I looked nothing like the no-hipped, sporty women that most of the men had on their arms. One could say I was built for comfort and not for speed.
At the last minute, my date had dumped me for.... well....you guessed it.... a tall, slender blonde with long legs. I couldn't really fault him: she was still lovelier than most the other women here. And....she was his wife!
Devon, a tall, dashing man with long, curly brown hair, had been standing off by the bar eyeing me for a couple of hours before he finally approached and asked for a dance. I was tired, at this point, but something in his manner compelled me to give him the dance.
While slender, and not seemingly muscular, he had an air of power, strength, and irresistibility to him that drew me to him as much as my breasts had drawn him to me. He also had a warm smile that melted my heart.
After the dance, we retired to a small table where he ordered wine for us. I noticed he looked at my breasts only briefly: he mostly looked in my eyes as we talked.
"I don't mind if you stare," I teased. "That is why I'm showing show much."
He laughed, and said, "Every woman here is showing as much décolletage as they can. And while I admire your charms greatly, I can't help but wonder if what's lower might pleasantly reflect what I see above."
He laughed again as I blushed: he'd practically asked to see me naked! And....I was greatly impressed that he knew what décolletage meant!
We danced a few more dances, then the ball was ending. As he walked me to my cab, he asked if he could call me sometime. When I said yes, he removed his mask and kissed me lightly. He was more handsome than I'd imagined!
Over the next few months, we dated frequently: dinner, movies, opera, etc. Devon was always the consummate gentleman, never pushing me towards the bedroom. I finally decided to give myself to him.
We were at a foreign film festival, his arm around my shoulders, when I guided his hand inside my low-cut blouse. I whispered I wanted him to play with my breasts, and he readily complied. His masterful manipulation of my nipples soon had me on the brink of orgasm without even touching anywhere between my legs!
After the date, he walked me to my door. You couldn't see my porch clearly from the street, so, I made my move. As he kissed me, I worked his zipper down and freed his cock: it was long and thick. I knelt and started sucking him hungrily. It had been months since I'd had a cock in my mouth.
Devon stopped me, and asked, "would you mind being naked while you suck me?"
I shrugged, and soon my clothes were in a pile on the porch. I felt incredibly decadent as I sucked a fully clothed man while being undressed. And, there was a slight risk of being seen. I had never felt so aroused!
He leaned back against my porch rail as I took as much of him as possible into my mouth. It wasn't long before he filled my mouth with his copious load. I swallowed some, but most dribbled down my chin onto my breasts.
He pulled me back up to kiss me and ran his hands along my naked body. I tingled under his caresses and readily accepted when he offered to return the favor. I only hoped no one on the street saw me this way.
I invited him in and took him straight to my bedroom. And, boy, did he return the favor. He licked and ate me to several powerful orgasms! He confessed he really loved eating a woman and could do so for hours, so, I let him.
He explored every inch of my body with his mouth that night, and the weeks to come. While he enjoyed my breasts, he paid particular attention to my bottom, kissing and nibbling all of it. He spread my cheeks and paused when he saw the tattoo encircling my anus– Spit First!
"Yes, I love anal", I replied to his question.
Devon ran his tongue all along my rim and stuck it inside: he was the first to eat my ass, and he ate it as thoroughly as he'd eaten my pussy! This man was definitely a keeper!
We spent the rest of the night, and most of the next day in bed as I let him take me in every opening as often as he desired!
But the attraction was more than just sexual: Devon is a kind and caring individual. He is extremely witty and often brought me to tears making me laugh. He always treated me with respect. I was the most important person in his life!
And he was a hard worker. He was, and still is, active in charity work, and generous with his money to people in need. And he is my best friend!
When he proposed, I didn't have to think: I said yes immediately.
We continued going to the masked balls: I only danced with him. I could see the hatred in the eyes of other women and the desire in the eyes of their dates, but I was for Devon, and Devon only.
Devon would frequently ask my fantasies, to which I usually replied, "I'm living mine every day!"
He knew early on in our relationship that I was an exhibitionist: I am very proud of my body and dressed to show it off in social situations. I also dressed provocatively around the house, but it wasn't always 'For His Eyes, Only'.
Under his persistent petering, I finally admitted I was aroused by feelings of helplessness. That someone else controlled my destiny.
To play on these feelings, a few years back, we started going to adult Halloween parties, many of them on the risqué side. The first time he was Marc Antony and I was a very scantily clad Cleopatra. The next year, he was a Roman gladiator decked out in leather and I was his slave girl, again wearing next to nothing.
Last year, I went as a school girl, wearing a short plaid skirt that barely covered my ruffled panties. I also wore thigh high stockings and black high heels. He went as a head master for the school. After we returned home, he pulled me across his lap, pulled down my panties and proceeded to swat me with a wooden ruler. I was bright red across my bottom before we retired to our bedroom.
This year, we were going to a story book themed party, although as more erotic variations of the characters. I was clueless as to my character: Devon said he would surprise me, and surprise me he did! I'm off most Fridays and was off the Friday of the party. I was still in the dark: I didn't even know who was throwing the party!
I woke the morning of the party and found a couple of packages on the chair in our room.
A note attached read, "Tonight, you will be Red Riding Hood, and I will be the Wolf. Please follow all the enclosed instructions. A limo will come for you at 7. I will meet you at the party."
