As I said earlier there was always teasing and flirting, plus I always dressed to please in the tightest most provocative clothes which some would describe as slutty. None of this bothered me as I was blessed with the breasts that men seem to adore, continually staring at them or trying to paw at them at every opportunity. I can’t deny that it did arouse me that men found me sexually attractive and it doesn’t seem to bother my husband in the slightest. With my large firm breasts, my narrow waist, my tight buns and my long slender legs, I would ensure that these assets would be portrayed in the best way possible, which would always be the sluttiest clothes. I’d recently discovered the joys of stockings and garters, witnessing the obvious effect on my husband but also enjoying the effect they would have on my dance partners as they felt the protrusion of the garter straps when their hands wandered during our dance. This particular night I was wearing a very tight zip up shiny black. ‘Stand up,’ he commanded. Slowly she turned and got off the sofa. Her hand went to her sore cheeks. She had enjoyed the kiss, even with the pain of the mask cutting into her. Now she wondered what he was going to do. ‘Turn around,’ he ordered. She turned, facing the fireplace. Looking back at the painting of the handsome man. She wondered if there were the same. If so, why was he wearing that mask, when he looked like that. She gasped as she felt his fingers at the back of her dress, slowly undoing the buttons. She got that feeling in her stomach again. She knew that he was going to take off her dress. Maybe take off her undergarments too. Then what would he do? She had heard stories from married women about sex, but never figured she would experience it until she was married. She wasn’t married. And she knew enough that if this man had sex with her, she would never be married. ‘Turn around.’ he said in a husky voice. She turned around, and his hands came up, his fingers running.
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