A Game of Teasing

I was having breakfast Friday morning when my wife, Mary, walked into the kitchen, her heels loudly click-clacking on the tiled floor, making me look up in surprise. I watched her pour herself a cup of coffee, then sit down at the other side of the kitchen table.

"Should I be worried?" I asked when our eyes met.

I didn't know if she thought I would not notice the subtle changes in her dressing over the last few days. She always dressed conservatively, especially for work, wearing grey midi skirts or pants, simple white blouses and ballet flats with pantyhose. I thought it was a smart business look, but that had changed, and seeing her dressed for work, wearing her 4cm black pumps that she had only worn on special occasions, beige nylons, a black pencil skirt that exposed her knees, not to mention the frilly blouse I began to wonder why. I could see that she had applied more makeup than she used to, although it wasn't over-the-top sexy, it was obvious to anyone who knew her. To be honest, over the years, I wished she would dress sexier and show off her beauty instead of hiding it, but for her, modesty was the norm, so I had to ask the question.

"Worried about what?" She replied.

"Worried about our marriage?"

"Why would you worry about our marriage?"

"I don't know. Maybe the way you dress lately."

"Oh, that's got nothing to do with our marriage. You don't think I cheat on you, do you?"

"Well, now you say it..."

"Don't be daft! I would never cheat on you, not even think of it."

"Then what's going on?"

"I should have told you, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Don't get worked up, David. It's really nothing. A couple of months ago, a young lad called Jimmy started to work in the warehouse. He is a bit full of himself, thinks he is a ladies' man, and flirts with all the women in the office. We just brush him off and laugh about it."

"You never mentioned him."

"Umm, I guess not. Nevertheless, Julie came up with the idea of putting money in a jar, and the one who he asked out first would take the money. We all put in our 20s and, more or less, try to be the winner. A couple of the girls have gone out somewhat, but none of us wanted to overdo it and cause trouble at home. So far, he has not made a move on any of us."

"Isn't everyone in the office married?"

"Yes, they are, but it is just harmless fun. None of us has any intention to step out on our husbands."

"Good to hear, but what happens if he asks one of you out?"

"She will have to have a drink with him, then she can collect the money, and it is over."

"Isn't that a step too far? How will any one of you explain that to the husband?"

"I guess it is, but, well, Julie said to make it more exciting the winner has to have a drink with him before she can collect the money. I wasn't sure about it, but the girls agreed, and after some persuasion, I relented too. She suggested we all have a drink on that day after work so the husband of the winner will not get suspicious."

"So, you started to dress a bit sexier to get his attention?"

"I suppose you can say that, but I had no success. I noticed that he does check out the legs of the girls, so I thought, I might just show a little bit more while the others decided on showing more cleavage."

"I see. I have to go now, but we'll talk about it more tonight," I said, putting my empty cup in the dishwasher.

"Okay, have a great day. Love you."

"Love you too," I said, kissing her cheek on my way out, but then stopping at the door, I looked back and said, "And good luck with your seduction."

I wasn't sure why I encouraged her in their behaviour. I trusted my wife, even though she did not tell me about their little game, it was too weird not to be true. The day passed slowly, and I could not shake the thought of her teasing a young lad in the office. Somehow the thought was exciting, but at the same time, I felt a jealous churn in my guts, and that confused me. Was teasing okay? I guess so. Was it cheating? No, not really, but what if she went further, kissing him, touching him, even fucking him? I kept asking myself, and every time, the immediate answer was divorce, then maybe, not sure, definitely, she would not do that to us, to me. By the time it was knock-off time, my mind wasn't any clearer about what I could accept and what not, but I knew I had a chance to get her dress sexier, even though it came with a huge risk. At dinner time, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervous jealousy knowing what I wanted to say, I broached the subject.

"I have no objection to you teasing the lad," I said, looking at her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am. In fact, I will help you in your endeavour."

"Really?" She looked at me, surprised.

"Yes. But I want you to keep me in the loop. No secrets."

"Sure, no secrets, I promise."

"We'll go shopping on Saturday to get the right stuff for your success."

"Now, you are teasing me, aren't you?"

"Why would I do that? You said he steals glances at your legs, so obviously he is a so-called 'leg man'. We'll focus on that. Right now, you don't have the right clothing to fully show off your legs."

"I see."

And that we did. We bought 3 pairs of shoes, half a dozen fully fashioned stockings, miniskirts in different styles, short dresses and lingerie. I knew I was not completely honest with her and used this opportunity to steer her towards buying clothes she would have never considered. She was kinda reluctant at times when I suggested an item, but I managed to persuade her, hence the sexy lingerie too. That was only for us, but I told her she had to feel sexy and confident, not just look the part. Came Monday morning, I heard her heels click-clacking on the kitchen tiles.

"Do you like?" she asked, pirouetting in front of me.

"You will get his attention. Mark my words."

"I hope so. I want to beat the girls."

"How do you feel dressed like that?"

She was wearing her new, black, 8 cm stiletto pumps, fully fashioned Cuban-heeled stockings, a tight black skirt that just covered the welts of her stockings and a white blouse with a plunging neckline. I assumed she might have had one of the new lingerie sets under her clothing as well since she was wearing stockings. She walked over to my side of the table with her cuppa and sat beside me, crossing her legs. Her skirt hiked up on her thighs, showing the welts of her stockings.

"A bit nervous and excited at the same time, to be honest. I know you always wanted me to dress like this. Are you not worried other men will like what they see?" She said, smiling.

"No, not until they become handsy."

"Okay, so I won't have to be worried about a raging, jealous husband when I leave the house?"

"No, you don't as long as your actions pass the husband test," I said, and standing up, I kissed her cheek.

"I am glad."

"Have a great day, sexy," I said, looking back from the door, then walked out of the kitchen and the house.

It was about eleven o'clock when I got a text message from her. 'It's working. He followed me around the warehouse, and when he came to the office, he ignored all the other girls and stood beside my desk, stealing glances at my legs. He complimented my look several times while we spoke,' she texted. 'Who wouldn't, you sexy slut?' I replied, shocking myself as I had never called her a slut before. When I realised that I called her a slut I became worried, expecting her wrath, but instead, she sent me a thumbs up and a smiling emoji.

That night and the next few nights, we had wild sex. Seeing her dressed so sexy, and the thought of the young lad lusting after my wife turned me on in ways I did not expect. I could not keep my hands off her and my cock out of her. She was eager too and told me dressing so sexy made her feel so much more desirable, and she felt her body was on fire. She wore a different outfit every day, all accentuating her gorgeous legs, and she kept telling me Jimmy took every opportunity to check her out, compliment her, and she began to return his flirting. I wasn't sure about the flirting bit, but I guessed that was part of the girls' game and would stop once he asked one of them out.

Thursday night, arriving home, I saw the excitement in her eyes. Sitting at the kitchen table, she was fidgety, so I asked.

"What's going on? I can see on your face you want to tell me something."

"He asked me out," she blurted out.

"I never doubted he would."

"He asked me to have a drink with him on Friday night. I told him I would think about it. What should I say?"

I felt a jealous twitch in my guts, hearing my wife asking if she could accept his invitation. Until that moment, it was just a possibility, something we talked about, a game I had become part of. The thought of the lad lusting after my wife turned me on, and that I could not deny. I knew I was playing with fire, knew what the lad aimed for, but I did trust my wife. I did trust she would not let it get out of hand and cause problems in our marriage. Going too far would be a deal-breaker.

"I am okay with it, just remember the husband test," I blurted out.

"Are you sure?" she asked demurely.

"Yes, you are one step away from winning. Don't blow it now."

She got up and sat on my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck as she kissed me passionately.

"I will always pass the husband test. You are the best husband anyone can have, David," she said, kissing me passionately.

Came Friday morning, she walked into the kitchen wearing one of her new summer dresses. It was long enough to just cover the welts of her beige stockings while showing off ample cleavage. She had her 8 centimetre, strappy, stiletto sandals on her feet, displaying her red toenails in their glory. She looked hot and sexy, my heart skipped a beat, and I felt a jealous pang knowing she dressed for the lad.

"Do you think it is okay?" She asked, turning a full circle on her heels.

"Yes. Damn, you look hot."

"Glad you like. I hope Jimmy will like it too."

"I am sure you will give him a hard time."

"Do I give you a hard time?" She asked and sat beside me.

"Yes, you do. It's going to be difficult to focus on work today."

"I am sure you will manage," she said and squeezed my cock.

"I have to go," I said, and standing up, I kissed her.

"Remember I will be late tonight, David."

"How can I forget that you have a date?"

"I love you, Babe."

"I love you too, sexy slut," I said and walked out of the kitchen and house.

The day dragged on, I could hardly focus on anything work-related as the mix of excitement and jealousy swirled around in my mind and guts. Several times I thought I should text her and call it off, but I didn't. This was the first time we did not text each other all day since she had told me about their game. At 5 o'clock, just as I was about to leave the office, my phone pinged, indicating a message from my wife. 'I will be later than expected. After I told Jimmy I would have a drink with him, he actually booked a table at Night Owl. He had not told me his intention, and I only found out when he popped into the office before leaving work. I hope you are still okay with it. Love ya!' She wrote.

I wasn't convinced if I was okay with it, but I typed, 'No problem. Enjoy your date, hotwife.' Why I said hotwife, I wasn't sure. Arriving home, I had a strange feeling knowing my wife was not going to come through the door in five minutes for the first time in forever, instead, she is out with a man, having dinner, on a date. It was a long night, at least for me, waiting and wondering, even though she was home by 10 o'clock.

"I am home," I heard her voice from the corridor, then the familiar sounds of her heels on the hard floor. "Your hotwife is here."

"Hi," I said nervously.

She came into the living room and plopped down on the couch beside me, kissing my cheek.

"How are you, Babe?"

"I, I don't know. It was a strange night, knowing you were out with another man."

"Would you do something for me?"

"Sure. What is it?"

"Take me to bed, make love to me. I want to feel my man's love, his arms around me."

"I can do that."

She straddled my legs, wrapping her arms around my neck, and feverishly kissed me the way she had not kissed me for years. Our tongues fought with each other, my hand found its way to the back of her head, fingers entwined in her hair as our tongues made love. Breaking the kiss, she stood up and slowly took her dress off, smiling as it slipped off her body. She stepped out of it and walked out of the room. I watched her until she disappeared from my view, then I followed her to our bedroom. When I entered, she was lying on her back, looking at the ceiling. Approaching, I quickly disrobed and stood beside the bed.

"You have been a bad girl today, haven't you?" I asked, surprising myself and her.

"Yes, I have," she said, slowly turning her eyes towards me.

"You had a date with the young lad from the office, didn't you?" I said, dragging my fingers from her toes up on her leg en route for her pussy.

"Yes, I did."

"Did you enjoy your date?"

"Yes, I did. I am sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I was not supposed to enjoy it, but he was so nice."

"Was he, now?"

"Yes. Can you forgive me?"

"I don't know, that depends," I said, gliding my finger over the fabric of her sheer red panties, her mounds.

"OH!"

"Your panties are very damp."

"I am sorry. I could not help it."

"Really? I am intrigued. Tell me what happened."

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes, everything. Did he drive you there?"

"No. He was waiting for me in the parking lot."

"Did he now?" I said, caressing her pussy over her damp panties.

"Uhh, that feels good, Babe. Arriving, I parked my car, and I was about to text you when someone knocked on my window. I turned my head to look at who it was and met his smiling, youthful face. He opened my door and..."

"Quite the gentleman."

"Suddenly, his gaze went from my eyes to my legs. I followed his gaze and saw my dress had ridden up so much, it not only exposed the welts of my stockings but also my thighs above them. When I tried to pull the hem of my dress down, he said not to do that and put his hand on mine to stop me. I looked at him and whispered, 'okay'."

"So, your legs were exposed to his eyes in ways no wife should ever do?" I said and pressed on her clit.

"Yes, I am sorry."

"Did he see your panties, too?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Okay, what happened next?"

"Well, he offered his hand to help me out of the car. I felt my dress riding up even higher, but I did not dare to look, but he did."

"So he did see these panties after all, and if he did then he clearly saw the outline of your pussy, your large, pink labias," I said, gently rubbing the back of my fingers over them.

"I guess so. I am sorry."

"You guess?"

"Well, I know. He said he loved my sheer panties and the view."

As she said that I hooked my fingers into the waistband of her panties, nudged them off her arse, and guided them down her legs. I pushed her legs apart and lay between them, with my face only centimetres from her pussy.

"I knew you were a shameless slut. So what happened next?"

"He led me to the restaurant, never letting my hand slip from his."

"Hmmm, that was touching, but I can live with that."

"Sorry, Babe, but it gets worse. I hope you will be okay with it."

"Continue," I said, softly kissing her mounds.

"Ughhh, that's so nice, Babe. In the restaurant, we were led to a booth. I slid in, taking my seat, but instead of sitting opposite me, he sat beside me, forcing me to slide further in. We looked at the menu, and after the waiter had left with our orders, he took my hand in his and told me he never thought a beautiful woman like me would accept his invitation. I asked him why he asked me and not someone his age. Uhh, uhh, keep doing that," she said as I ran my tongue over her slit and sucked on her labia.

"I will if you keep talking."

"He said he had always been attracted to older, mature women like me and dreamt of dating one someday. Mmmm, yes, yesss, there," she moaned when my tongue found her clit.

"Keep talking."

"Eat my pussy, Babe. So good."

"I said keep talking."

"Sorry. I asked him why he asked me out. He said ever since he had met me, he was attracted to me but did not have the confidence to do so, and I was married. But when I began to dress sexier and flirted back, he felt he might have a chance. I asked him if me being married yet accepting his invitation didn't bother him. He said it didn't, if everything was alright in my marriage, I would not be sitting opposite him on a Friday night. We had a lovely meal, and we got to know each other a bit. After ordering our dessert, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and kissed my cheek. I turned my head towards him, and he kissed me again, but this time on my lips. I was so shocked I did not react. He lingered for a while before pulling away. I turned away feeling mixed emotions. I knew it was wrong, but I liked the feel of his lips on mine."

"You kissed him, you slut," I said, swirling my tongue around her clit in every which way.

"Uuuugh, fuck!" She exclaimed. "I didn't kiss him. I didn't touch him. I am a good wife. Ughhhh! He kissed me! Mmmmm, keep doing that. He did, he did."

"A kiss is a kiss, and you said you liked it. So what else did you do?"

"No, I am a good wife. Oh god, keep going, eat my pussy. He, he used his other hand to turn my face towards him and told me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. None of the other women came close to me. I asked if he really meant it. He smiled and softly kissed me again. My mind was screaming to stop, but my lips parted for him. His tongue immediately found its way into my mouth, and we pashed."

"I knew it. I knew you were slut," I said, diving back onto her clit.

"Uuuugh, fuck, yesss," she squealed, placing her hands on my head. "Yes, I kissed him, I kissed him and loved it. He put his hand on my stocking-clad thighs, his fingers sliding under my skirt. I should have stopped him, I know, but I didn't, I couldn't. I wanted his fingers to touch me, and when they did, I moaned in our kiss. My body responded, my pussy moistened, and he brought me close to an orgasm, but the waiter interrupted us when he brought out our dessert. He told us to tone it down or he would have to ask us to leave. Eat my cunt, yesss. Make me cum! Fuck, yessss!"

She wrapped her legs around my shoulders, grabbed my hair, forcing me on her pussy, not letting me catch my breath as my tongue swirled around her clit. In a few seconds, I felt her body convulse, her words became shrieks as her orgasm washed over her. I slowed down but kept licking her clit until she calmed down.

"Come, fuck me, Babe. Fuck your slut wife. Please."

I slid up on her body, guiding my cock to the entrance of her womanhood and slowly eased the head in. She moaned and wrapped her legs around my torso, pulling me into her deeper.

"Yes, I love your cock. Fuck your slut, your hotwife."

"Is there anything else you want to tell me?" I whispered into her ear, slowly thrusting into her.

"We left the restaurant, his arm around my waist, holding me tight. I didn't object and rested my head on his shoulder while walking to my car. I unlocked the doors and reached for the door handle, but he grabbed my hand and spun me around, pushing me up against the car. I knew what he wanted and told him he was a naughty boy, and I was a married woman. He said I might be married, but I was in his arms, not in my husband's, and with that, he kissed me tentatively while pinning my hands to the car beside my head. I could see the wanting in his eyes. He wanted me, Babe, he wanted your old lady."

"Yes, he wanted to fuck you," I grunted.

"Yes, I asked him what he wanted. He told me he wanted to make love to me, to fuck me, to feel my gorgeous legs wrapped around his body, then he kissed me with passion, and I returned his kiss. I kissed him, Babe. I did, I kissed him with passion and desire. He let my hands go, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as he pulled me into him. When I felt his hands on my arse, his cock pressed against me I thought about what he had said, and my pussy quivered."

"You fucking slut," I grunted and stiffened as my cock began to flex in her belly deep inside, unloading my spunk.

"I had to get away while I still had the will to resist the lad. I told him he could always dream, slipped out of his clasp and got into my car. He watched me as I drove away."

Exhausted, confused, I rolled off her and lay on my back beside her. 'Why was I turned on so much when what she had done did not pass the husband test?' I asked myself as my foggy mind began to clear, and the reality of what she had said started to sink in. She turned to me, resting her arm and leg over my body.

"We will talk in the morning, but let's get some sleep first," she said.

"Yeah, we do that."

"I love you, David."

"I love you, too, Mary," I said, and we drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

The next morning, I woke up with trepidation. 'What have we done? What she had done did not pass the husband test. I led her to do it, even encouraged her. Was it worth it?' I walked into the kitchen not knowing how she felt or what she thought. She was sitting at the table, phone in her hand. 'Is she chatting with the lad?' was my immediate thought.

"Good morning," I greeted her and poured myself a coffee.

"Good morning. How did you sleep?" She said, putting the phone down.

"I slept okay. How about you?

"The best sleep in a long time. I had a great night, Babe."

"I suppose you did."

"You don't seem to be very sure right now."

"I am conflicted."

"Didn't you enjoy last night? Enjoy me telling you my story. You were so turned on," she said, getting another cup of coffee, then she straddled my legs, facing me.

"Yeah, but I think we went too far."

"Did we? I did not hear you complain when I told you I was a slut wife. You seemed like you enjoyed hearing my story," she said, putting her cup on the table, and she kissed me tentatively.

"I cannot deny I was turned on when I should not have been."

"It's okay, Babe. I know thinking of me as your hotwife turns you on, and that's okay."

"No, it is not."

"Yes, if we only keep doing what we have done, it is okay."

"I don't want you to kiss another man or him to touch you."

"None of what I said last night actually happened. We went across to the bar from work, only the girls from the office, we had a few drinks, and I visited my parents," she said and pashed me.

"None of it? You made it up?"

"Yup. I told you I would never cheat on you."

"What about your game and Jimmy?"

"That is true as far as asking one of us out, but not the having a drink with him. I made that up."

"But why?"

"I saw your search history and read a few of your hotwife stories, and that gave me an idea," she said and got off my lap.

I sat there stunned, not knowing what to think. I did like to read hotwife stories and had imagined men lusting after my wife, but that was just a fantasy, one man's fantasy. 'Was she telling me the truth or was my fantasy a good excuse to cheat on me?' I asked myself. 'She must have been telling me the truth, her parents would verify it so easily. Was she counting on that I would not ask? Maybe'. Her voice shook me out of my thoughts.

"But if you want me to be your hotwife, just say so. After what you did to me last night, I am willing," she said and disappeared from my view.