Sandy was a straight arrow, a church-going mother of two who kept her sexual urges under control until, that is, a chance encounter with a sexy man changed everything. Then, like a fine bottle of champagne, she was uncorked, letting her pent up pressure explode.
That night, the night after my first time with Doug, I tossed and turned, fingering myself and making myself crazy. I had never done this before—ever—but I woke up Mick in the middle of the night and started to give him a blow job. While I was taking his cock down my throat, I was trying to decide if I would let him come or if I would be selfish and climb on top. Much to my amazement, I felt my orgasm building with every lick that I gave him, so I decided to finish the job. I heard him moan, “Oh, God, Sandy.” I felt his legs tremble. He put his hand on the back of my head and pushed it down on his prick, blasting my mouth with jism. I came! I came so hard just because his excitement had fueled my own. God, it felt so good.
Afterwards, when I snuggled up against him, crazy thoughts entered my head, and I decided to see if I could make myself orgasm in everyday settings. After breakfast and after Mick left for work, I sat on the couch and watched my girls playing on the rug. I took one of the pillows off the couch and jammed it up between my thighs and starting rocking back and forth. I thought of Mick coming in my mouth and Doug fucking me, imagining that both things were happening at the same time. My most intense orgasm ever just tore through me, making my body red hot and my thighs soaking wet. I knew then that I couldn’t get enough sex and I was actually very disappointed that I had to wait until Tuesday to see Doug again. That’s when I decided that I—who knew so little about sex—would have to take the upper hand with Mick.
The girls normally ran out of steam around ten and that’s when I was able to shower. Just washing my pubic hair was an erotic experience, especially when I let my fingers slip in and out of my pussy. I chose my outfit for the day carefully—a light yellow tee shirt and dark tan shorts—and prepared for the afternoon. Around one, I bundled the girls into their car seats and headed for the mall. Oh, the looks I got pushing the stroller!
There were very few men shopping, of course, and most of them were just being dragged along by their wives, but every one of them seemed to be trying to sneak looks at me, and I liked that. My first stop was a woman’s clothing store that specialized in sexy clothing. I bought a very tight red cotton top that plunged in the middle with two buttons that held the two halves together. Even though I was crammed in a changing room with a double stroller, I undid them to see how revealing it would be. It was very revealing, so it was a keeper.
Then I tried on a white satin top that sort of hung on my body. It was not see-through or anything like that, but for some reason my nipples created perfect bumps in the fabric. It was a keeper, too. Finally I tried on a black mesh pullover top that allowed my nipples to be seen, but you had to look very hard. I expected that Mick and whoever would be looking very, very hard. I grabbed a Kelly green top of the same type and a navy blue top and tossed them into the shopping bag.
I thought I was done shopping until I passed a store that catered to teenage girls. I saw a white tank top that was so flimsy the mannequin’s nipples showed through, two halter tops that bulged on the sides for a perfect side view of a girl’s tits, a couple pair of shorts that would let butt cheeks show, two very short skirts, and a short-short sundress. I bought them all! I also bought a cute white miniskirt with a pink flower pattern and matching top. It was a bit young for me, but I liked the way I looked in it, and I thought Mick—or Doug—would, as well.
Last but not least, or maybe least, I bought some thong panties. I had never worn them before, and Mick called them butt floss, but the idea of just a small strand of material covering my puckered hole thrilled me.
As soon as I got home, I started making phone calls for babysitters. That was easy—my in-laws would spend all their time with the girls if they could, and they agreed to pick them up and take them to their place. My heart was pounding as I waited for Mick to get home.
“We’re going out to dinner tonight,” I said. “I got your parents to sit for the girls. I bought some new outfits and I want you to pick one.” He was like—um, okay.
I tried the satin top first, combined with a miniskirt. Mick’s eyes bulged out of his head and he said, “That one.”
I giggled and said, “You haven’t seen them all yet.” Then a crazy thought hit me. “If you want to see more, get naked and stroke your cock.”
He looked at me in total shock, but, without saying a word, pulled off his pants, lay down, and started to stroke his already stiff prick. I went through every outfit, moving slow, sometimes just wearing a top and sometimes just a bottom. When I came wearing just the red button down top and nothing else, Mick groaned and shot streams of jism on his chest and stomach. “That one,” he gasped. “When my folks come, though, just button it up.”
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