Watching My Wife’s Public Encounters: A Complicated Role

It had been a few weeks since our shopping center adventure, and my husband, Martin, seemed eager to try it again. This time, however, I was less enthusiastic, especially since he was excited about the possibility of watching someone pick me up and having sex with them while he watched.

“I just want to see you do something exciting,” he said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Something that will turn me on.” I tried to explain to him why this particular idea didn’t sit well with me, but he wouldn’t drop the subject.

Days turned into weeks, and Martin continued to ask me to dress up for him and go out to dinner. He loved watching the waiters try to take our order while looking down my top. One evening, a waitress even gave me the once-over, and Martin was absolutely thrilled. I have to admit, it was a bit of a turn-on for me as well.

But all of this seemed to reignite Martin’s interest in our shopping center escapade. He brought it up one Friday night after a particularly intense session on the couch, in the shower, and finally in bed. I realized that he wasn’t going to let it go, and I thought the best course of action was to agree to play along, but only for his sexual gratification.

Saturday morning, Martin disappeared into the bedroom, and I suspected what he was doing. He had pulled out my “whore outfit,” as he called it, and I put it on, sans underwear, and did my makeup. When I emerged, he was already hard, and he said we would do the same thing as last time.

“Just pretend to window shop, and I’ll watch,” he said, his eyes fixed on me. I did my best to make him think I was excited, even pinching my nipples to get them erect. We drove to the shopping center, and Martin went in first, sitting down in the food court. I took a deep breath and followed about 10 minutes later.

As I walked through the crowded corridors, I noticed that guys were giving me the once-over. I had to smile when I saw one woman punch her partner, who was too distracted by me to watch where he was going. Martin had said we would be there for about half an hour, and as the clock ticked down, I started to think about how he would react when we got home.

It had been over 30 minutes, and I looked across at Martin, nodding to say, “Let’s go home.” That’s when this guy sidled up to me. “Hi there, are you available?” he asked, his eyes scanning me up and down. I suppose, with my boobs half exposed and a skirt barely covering my ass, I did look like a hooker.

“Sure, honey,” I said, “I’ll give you a hand job for $50.” He handed me a folded-up $50 note, and I told him we could go to the undercover carpark to find a quiet spot. He agreed, and we headed off. I glanced back, and Martin was following us.

We walked down the stairs and went to a corner at the back of the carpark. Martin was lurking just out of sight, and I could see him watching us. My “customer” unzipped his pants, exposing his cock, and I was surprised – he was both longer and thicker than Martin. I reached out and began to stroke it, and he moaned, fondling my breasts.

At this point, I was feeling my pussy twitching, and I realized I was getting turned on. My “customer” said, “I’ll give you the extra $50,” and I knew he was upping the ante. I squatted down and began to lick and suck him, and he grabbed my head, fucking my mouth. I was gagging and sputtering, but he was groaning.

As suddenly as he started, he stopped, pulling up and slipping his hand under my skirt. I was wearing no underwear, and he slipped two fingers into my pussy. “Oh, yes, you’re ready,” he said, pushing me face-down onto the car bonnet. He thrust his cock into my already-soaked pussy, pounding me hard and fast.

“Yes, bitch, this is where I get my $100 worth,” he grunted, and I moaned, saying, “Me too, honey, do your worst.” He moved hard and fast, easing off and then hard and fast again, and I was enjoying it.

Finally, he gave a deep groan, pushing his cock all the way into me and unloading. I gave a moan of satisfaction as he pulled out, and my “customer” laughed, saying, “That was so good, honey, I’d love to fuck that juicy cunt of yours again next time.”

Martin waited until my “customer” was out of sight before appearing, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the car. We drove home in silence, and I was concerned – did he realize I enjoyed it, and was he annoyed?

When we got home, Martin was still silent, and I started to get worried. I went and had a shower, and then put my “whore clothes” back on. When I walked into the lounge, Martin was sitting on the couch, scowling at me.

“You enjoyed fucking that guy, didn’t you?” he thundered, and I replied, “Yes, I did, because I knew you were watching me, and I knew I was doing what you wanted.”

I then spread my legs and began rubbing my clit, saying, “I didn’t cum for him, but I will cum for you, my darling.” And minutes later, I moaned as I did indeed cum.

Then I smiled and said, “I did what you wanted, now come and apologize to my pussy.” Martin just smiled, saying, “I love you, baby,” and he first licked me to another orgasm and then dragged me onto the floor, having his way with me.

From that day on, Martin never suggested we do the shopping center thing again, and I never mentioned how much I enjoyed being fucked like a whore. I guess the secret to a happy marriage is not always saying things that don’t really need to be said.