Excerpted from: “Exhibitionist Wife Tales”
“In the 1600s it was fairly commonplace for women to bare their breasts in public. The fashions were initiated by court members and Queens, then replicated by ordinary women, and common prostitutes. 17th century fashion, rather than demeaning women, could be empowering. The extremely low cut dresses were designed to encourage men to look but not to touch. They empowered some women to use their sexuality.”
–Historian Angela McShane Jones from the University of Warwick http://www2.warwick.ac.uk/newsandevents/pressreleases/ne1000000086551/
My wife Claire was a nerd. I mean, so am I. I am not complaining. But it was starting to bother HER, as I found out one night when she had a friend of hers over for dinner.
“Maria, I need to get a makeover,” sighed Claire, tugging at her limp brown bob. “I’m sick of my look.”
“Oh, come on, I think you look cute,” replied Maria. “You dress really classic and preppy.”
I agreed, Claire had on a nice pink button down shirt, a grey cardigan and tan khakis. Very prep. She even had her Sperrys on.
Claire pushed her horn-rimmed glasses back up her nose. “Well, guys don’t really pay much attention to me.”
“Why do you want guys to pay attention to you all of a sudden?” I asked. I didn’t want to come across as the jealous type, but you know, it was on my mind.
Claire rolled her eyes. “Please, Jared. I think it’s perfectly natural for a woman to want to get a LITTLE attention from other men. Even if she IS married.”
“Oh, I agree, honey,” said Maria, patting Claire’s hand to soothe her. “Jared, you have to understand. This society puts a lot of emphasis on a woman’s looks. So if men don’t look at her, she feels invalidated.”
“It doesn’t sound very feminist when you put it like that,” said Claire with a worried expression.
“Well, you really won’t like my solution then,” laughed Maria. “You need to show more skin, girl.”
“More skin?” asked Claire skeptically.
“Like a short skirt with a low cut blouse,” suggested Maria. “You have a nice body. Show it off a little. Guys will take notice for sure.”
“See, I’m not totally comfortable with that,” I said, feeling a little jealous now in spite of myself.
“Me neither,” admitted Claire. “I never felt that short skirts fit my style or my personality.”
“Look, you have a goal, which is to have more men pay attention to you. I offered a solution with a high probability of success. You can take my advice or ignore it. It’s up to you,” said Maria reasonably. She picked up her plate and started to help clear the table.
“Do you think more guys would look at me if I wore more revealing clothing, Jared?” my wife asked me. She seemed genuinely skeptical about that.
“Um, yes, probably. But I’m not sure you would want that sort of attention.” I said.
“Oh, I’m not worried about catcalls or wolf whistles or whatever they are called,” said my wife confidently. “I think I can handle myself pretty well around misogynists. I will give them a piece of my mind. But I want to do this empirically. I will wear progressively shorter skirts and record the number of smiles I get from men on the street and at social events. It will be a little Quantified Self project!” I did mention that Claire was a nerd, didn’t I?
“Uh, ok,” I said. I was feeling some trepidation about this little project. But once Claire had an experiment that interested her, there was no stopping her, so I kept my mouth shut.
To establish a baseline, Claire carried a click counter in her pocket and clicked it once each time a strange man smiled at her on the street while she dressed in her normal conservative clothing. She determined that she only got about one smile per day on average from strangers. So she decided to wear just a modest knee length skirt with stockings and a button down blouse with two buttons open, revealing some of her collarbone, but no cleavage. We were both surprised when the number of smiles jumped to three per day immediately
“Just a little tweak like that to my fashion shouldn’t have resulted in such a big jump in average smiles,” said Claire, scratching her head in confusion. “I was expecting to have to learn about makeup, get contact lenses, maybe redo my hairstyle. But just revealing my body a little bit more garnered a lot more attention. Definitely a nonlinear result.”
“I guess Maria was right,” I said. I was feeling comfortable with this experiment so far.
“Ok, well, I guess it’s time to shorten the skirt even further and display some cleavage,” said my wife. She was taking a purely clinical approach, designing her wardrobe to maximize male attention. But I gulped nervously when she showed me her next outfit.
Claire was wearing a short skirt that only went halfway down her thigh, without stockings, and she wore a very tight blouse with four buttons undone, exposing her cleavage. I was admiring the pale orbs of her boobs in her push up bra and they were giving me an erection.
“Hmm, you seem to be enjoying this outfit. Do you think other men will notice?”
“Uh, yes, I think so,” I said. “Maybe I should go with you on this test run to discourage harassment.”
“No, that would spoil the test conditions. We would need to redo the baseline and long skirt tests since I assume men are less likely to smile at a wife when her husband is around,” scolded Claire. “Don’t worry, I’m not running around the streets naked or anything. I’ll be fine.”
That evening when Claire got home from work she was beside herself, simply ecstatic. “Unbelievable results, Jared. Amazing. I counted AT LEAST ten smiles today, possibly more that I wasn’t counting since I was so flustered from all the attention. Several men said hello to me and tried to make small talk, and one fellow even invited me out for coffee!”
“Uh, that great that you are getting such good results, dear,” I said, my stomach fluttering with jealousy. “I assume you turned down the coffee date of course.”
Claire cocked her head and gave me a strange look. “No, I didn’t turn down the date. Why would I? It’s only coffee after all.”
“But you told him you were married, right?” I asked nervously.
Claire avoided my gaze. “Well, it didn’t come up actually. I mean I couldn’t think of a polite way to slip that in.” She smiled at me with some chagrin. “But of course I will mention that when we go out tomorrow.”
“Isn’t it a little improper for a married to go on a date with a strange man?” I asked. I know I sounded whiney, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Am I making you jealous? Don’t you trust me?” laughed my wife. “Beside, he seemed like a really nice, normal professional guy. He works in finance. It’s just a friendly date. Nothing to worry about. Enough about that. These experimental results are simply amazing to me. The more skin I show, the more attention I get. Maria was amazingly prescient. Tomorrow I am going to increase the exposure and see what happens.”
“Well, I mean, you already wore a pretty short skirt today, how much shorter can you get?” I asked uncomfortably.
“Oh, I stopped at a store that specializes in revealing clothes. It’s mostly for younger women, but I found some things in my size. I’ll show you.” After a few minutes spent changing, my wife came out in a micro mini skirt that barely covered her crotch and a tiny halter top that exposed her midriffs and barely kept her boobs from spilling out.
My eyes practically popped out of my head and I had to readjust my pants to accommodate my sudden erection.
“Claire, come on, that looks like a bad halloween costume,” I gasped.
“It’s considered a nightclub outfit, I understand,” she said pedantically. “Anyway, that’s beside the point. I recognize that I risk alienating other women somewhat with this outfit, but all the women at my job know about my experiment and they think it’s wonderful, so they shouldn’t be too offended. And I want to test the upper bound of the attention scale. I am assuming that I will start to see some negative effects such as catcalls or harassment of some kind. And I actually think the smiles and positive attention will level off with such an inappropriate outfit. Men will probably find it off putting or intimidating, don’t you think?”
“I, I don’t know,” I said, unconsciously adjusting my boner as I looked at my nerdy wife dressed like a club slut. She did look insanely hot in that little outfit with her long shapely legs, flat belly and big round boobs hanging out. But then I remembered her date. “But wait, won’t you be sending this coffee date fellow the wrong signals?”
Claire blushed slightly at the thought. “Um, yes, well, perhaps. I will just explain the experiment to him. That should clarify everything, along with me telling him about being married and all.”
“Uh, huh,” I said.
“Wait, do you have an erection? What’s that bulge in your pants?” asked my wife with interest.
“What? No, I mean, yes, well, the outfit is pretty arousing,” I admitted.
“Ooh, I like that,” she cooed, coming to kneel before me and unzipping my fly casually. “I wonder if other men will react to this outfit the same way tomorrow?” she asked. But I wasn’t paying attention as she took my member into her mouth and started sucking it for me. I put my hand on her head and pictured her strutting around half-naked while strange men popped boners for her on the street and I nearly came right there and then. She could tell I was getting close, so she quickly pulled off her panties and lay flat on her back, spreading her legs so that I could mount her. Her miniscule skirt posed no barrier and I was on her and inside her quite easily, humping away on the kitchen floor while she clasped me and moaned in pleasure.
I thought about her showing this outfit to her coffee date and what easy access to sexual intercourse the outfit provided and I started cumming right away, spurting my load deep inside my wife. She sighed with slight disappointment that I came so soon, but finished herself off by rubbing her clitoris. “Well, perhaps I should wear this outfit for YOU more often,” she laughed. “We never have such spontaneous sex.”
“Yes I would like that,” I admitted. But I still harbored misgivings about her wearing that outfit in public.
The next day, Claire was wearing her slutty club outfit, letting it all hang out and was ready to head out to work when I stopped her.
“Claire, aren’t you embarrassed at all to wear that provocative nightclub clothing out on the street in broad daylight?” I asked her with concern. My own pulse was pounding madly at the very thought of it.
“You know, I’m more exhilarated than anything else. It’s like an adrenaline rush. I wasn’t expecting such positive results from the previous two outfits, and I am wondering where it will top off. And frankly, I really enjoy all the attention. It’s really satisfying to have so many men smile and pay attention to me when I’ve been ignored for so many years.”
She made a good point, so I just kissed her and wished her a good day. Then I checked out her ass as she walked down the path and I got another erection.
Later that day Claire texted me to give me an update:
Claire: Astounding results! Losing track of smiles, easier to count men NOT smiling.
I didn’t know what to say. I was feeling some shame and some jealousy, but I didn’t want to spoil Claire’s buoyant mood.
Me: Well you certainly do look sexy.
I didn’t hear from Claire for several hours and I was starting to get worried. I hoped she wasn’t being attacked.
Claire: getting a lot of propositions, mostly good natured, might need to add another category to track these.
Me: What, sexual propositions?
And that was all. Nothing for a while. I wanted to text something snarky like “I assume you are turning them down.” But I refrained and tried to keep my cool. The idea of all these strange men coming up to my nerdy wife and asking her to have sex with them while they ogled her half-naked body bothered me somewhat. I had mixed emotions.
On the one hand, of course I was a little embarrassed that someone we knew might see Claire running around in public dressed so indecently. Then again, I was jealous of the other guys trying to bed her, but also it was sort of arousing in a strange way. Finally, I thought it was just funny how my analytical wife would be carefully counting each proposition to later record and chart the results of her wardrobe experiment in a spreadsheet.
Claire really was an innocent in all this. She really never appreciated how attractive men found her. She had a just a touch of Asperger’s Syndrome, so she was a little slow on picking up social cues. But I trusted her implicitly. She was more of a scientist than a harlot. Or so I thought, I hadn’t accounted for the idea that she might be BOTH: a scientific harlot.
Around dinner time, I got another ominous text from Claire:
Claire: Going to miss dinner tonight. Having drinks with some fellows I met today. Better grab your own meal.
That bothered me. My wife didn’t handle her liquor well and I didn’t like the idea of a drunk and uninhibited Claire, half-naked and surrounded by the sort of aggressive guys that could get a married woman to have drinks with them on such short notice.
Me: Maybe I should join you?
Claire: No need, I’ll be fine. We are having fun! I’ll tell you everything later.
Me: I think I really should join you.
But Claire didn’t reply. Maybe she couldn’t hear the chime of her message notification in the loud bar? I tried calling her, but her phone just rang and rang before going to voicemail. The more I thought about my wife getting drunk in a slutty outfit with some strange men, the less I liked the idea. She might need to start new categories for number of gropes, boobs vs butt.
Luckily I recalled that Claire and I had setup a location sharing app some time ago. We never ended up using it much since we usually just kept in touch via text, but here was a perfect use case. I fired up the app and saw that my wife, or her phone at least, was at a fancy boutique hotel in San Francisco. I sure hoped she was in the hotel bar with these guys and not in a room. But then I realized how silly that was. My wife wouldn’t go have group sex in a hotel room with a bunch of strangers after just a couple of drinks… would she?
I hurried to the car to drive down to this hotel just in case. The traffic was typically terrible and it took me almost 45 minutes to get to the hotel. I hoped that Claire wouldn’t be mad at me showing up unannounced like this, but then again, I HAD texted her first.
I found my wife right away. She was at a standing table in the hotel bar area with two well dressed professionals. One guy was sitting on a bar stool behind my wife with his arms wrapped around her and she was leaning back against him for support. They were having a very animated conversation and I could see from across the room that my poor wife was sauced up already.
“Omigod! Jared!” called my wife when she saw me. She waved wildly for me to come over, but didn’t break free of the strange fellow’s embrace. “Honey, honey!”, she blubbered excitedly as I approached. “This is Thomas and Randy,” she said, gesturing to her new friends.
Thomas was the guy hugging my wife and he didn’t bother releasing her when I arrived, he just reached out one hand to shake mine while keeping his other arm wrapped possessively around my woman, his hand on her bare belly.
“Nice to meet you,” said Thomas. I put on a forced smile and shook his hand, and nearly cried out at his crushing grip.
Randy just waved and said hello. I tried to make light of the fact that Thomas was embracing my wife.
“So, you two seem to be getting along well,” I said, rubbing my mangled hand ruefully and gesturing to Thomas’s arm around my wife.
“Oh, yeah, I was telling Thomas how I have a slight case of Asperger’s and that research is coming out that shows how we Aspies might be oxytocin deficient, so he agreed to hug me,” she said innocently. “You know, to boost oxytocin.”
“Anything to help out a new friend,” said Thomas, nuzzling Claire’s neck while rubbing her exposed midriff with the palm of his hand. It seemed like an especially sensual act and my stomach went cold at the sight.
“Mmm, oxytocin,” she moaned in pleasure. She was really drunk and didn’t seem to realize how inappropriately she was acting.
“Ah ha,” I said awkwardly, not sure of what to say. It would have seemed rude to just pull her out of his grasp.
“Claire was just telling us about her experiment results,” put in Randy, trying to draw my attention. “Seems like a success so far.”
“Oh my gosh!” blurted my wife, pulling her head forward away from Thomas’ nuzzling and slapping both her hands on the table drunkenly. “Jared! Things went so AMAZING! I mean, I need to wear a GoPro and life-log this experiment going forward. I just couldn’t keep track of all the interactions.” She pulled out a handful of business cards from her purse. “Look how many men gave me their cards today.”
“Wow,” I said, impressed and intimidated by the pile of cards.
“And I couldn’t count the smiles I got, twenty maybe thirty. I lost track,” she said, her eyes bright with excitement and alcohol. I glanced down to see Thomas squeezing my wife’s soft hips with relish and gave him a frown of displeasure, but he and my wife ignored that.
“Weren’t there any, uh, negative incidents?” I asked with annoyance.
“Not really,” she said. “Let me check my notes.” She pulled her phone out of her purse. “Hmm, yes, well the one black delivery man told me he wanted to lick me all over.” Thomas and Randy broke out laughing. “But he said it in a nice way.”
“In a nice way?” I asked confused.
“I mean I didn’t feel afraid or anything. I just thought it was funny,” explained my wife. “I think there is a whole socioeconomic angle to be explored here. The lower class men definitely have a more direct proposition style. But upper middle class men like Thomas and Randy here just asked me out for drinks but didn’t explicitly ask to have sex with me.”
“I would like to have sex with you of course,” said Thomas, squeezing my wife’s sides for emphasis. He looked at me inquisitively. “If that’s an option.”
“Ha, ha, oh Thomas,” giggled my wife, snuggling up against him comfortably. “You’re silly. But seriously, I never really thought through the class differences in mating strategies.”
“Mating strategies?” I asked, growing pale.
“Oh, yes, yes,” shouted my wife, slapping the table again. She was so drunk. It wasn’t like her to make so much noise. “See, I worked it out this afternoon during lunch with Simon, by showing more skin I am triggering mating strategies in the men around me which isn’t what I predicted when I was trying to get more attention. The funny thing is that women didn’t punish me for it. A lot of women smiled at me and the women at work thought my outfit was simply hilarious.” She was babbling a mile a minute and I could barely keep up. Thomas and Randy chuckled.
“Which mating strategies are you most susceptible to?” asked Randy with a leer.
“You find physical touch arousing, right?” asked Thomas, tracing circle around my wife’s navel delicately.
“Wait, wait, first of all, who is Simon?” I asked, holding up my hands.
“Um, hold on, Thomas is distracting me too much,” said my wife. She grabbed Thomas’s hand and pushed it flat against her belly and held it there. “Uh, Simon. Yes, Simon and I were supposed to have coffee today, but it sort of turned into a lunch. He got kind of excited when he saw my outfit.”
“You told him you were married, right?” I asked impatiently.
“Yes, and he didn’t seem to think that would be a problem,” said my wife. “He was really fascinated by my experiment and wants to go on another date to discuss it. I might let him come along during the next phase.”
“He doesn’t think it’s a problem to ask another man’s wife out on dates?” I croaked, my voice cracking. This experiment was getting a little out of hand.
“I certainly don’t see a problem with it,” said Thomas, rubbing my wife’s navel affectionately. “As long as everyone involved agrees to it.”
“I’m not sure I feel comfortable having my wife going on dates with other men,” I said. I could feel my chest growing tight with anxiety at the thought.
“Well, I don’t see why not, but we can talk about that later. Let me tell you about the next phase of the experiment,” said my wife excitedly. “See, I was explaining to Simon how I wanted to find out what the upper bound of attention I might receive was and that I figured I must have hit the maximum since I couldn’t picture an outfit that was much more revealing than this.” She gestured down to her half naked body and I noticed Randy eyeing her up and down. Then I turned around and realized that every guy that passed my wife in the bar was smiling and some were even waving at her. “But then Simon pointed out that between the 15th and 17th centuries in Europe, it was quite common for women to wear these extreme décolletage dresses that exposed their entire breasts. Even the aristocracy. Everyone, from whores to queens.”
“Must have been a wonderful time to be alive,” laughed Randy, ogling my wife’s chest.
I felt my face growing hot as the idea sunk in. “Surely you aren’t suggesting…”
“I looked it up, and technically, full nudity is banned but toplessness wouldn’t be illegal in San Francisco,” said my wife, pointing a finger at me that wavered side to side since she was so inebriated.
“But I mean, you can’t just walk around topless,” I choked, my heart was pounding in my ears. I needed to figure out a way to extract my wife from Thomas’ grip and get her home to sober her up. This was crazy talk.
“You know, it’s funny, but I’m starting to realize that these social conventions are totally arbitrary,” said my wife, waving her arms wildly. “I mean why do women even have to cover their mammary glands in the first place? Because of some puritan beliefs that are no longer relevant?”
“I agree, you should pull out your boobs right now. Set yourself free,” coaxed Randy, giving Thomas a knowing wink.
“See, yes, Randy gets what I’m saying. He wants to see my boobs. Why shouldn’t I show him?” asked my wife. And she pulled her top open impetuously, exposing her hard pink nipples.
“Holy shit!” I gasped. “Claire, you are drunk, you don’t know what you are doing!” I reached forward to try to cover her, but she pushed me away impatiently. “Stop it, Jared, you are over-reacting. Watch how much attention I get from this. Take my clicker and count the smiles. This is for science!” My wife handed me her click counter and then adjusted her big white breasts so that her top supported them from beneath and made them jut out suggestively. I nearly shit myself as Randy leered at her bare bosom.
“Nice rack,” he said.
“Look, look, guys are smiling,” my wife told me pointing around in all directions. “Add a few to the clicker.” I glanced around and of course nearly everyone in the place was staring at my wife in amazement. And most of them were smiling and laughing too, both men and women. I felt humiliated.
“I am NOTdoing this,” I said, turning back to my wife. Thomas had his hands on my wife’s bare breasts and was pinching her nipples and kissing her ear.
“Hey, stop that!” I shouted, pulling one of his hands away while he continued to fondle my woman with his other hand. “That’s my wife you are feeling up, buddy!”
“Maybe we should ask Claire what she wants, pal,” he shot back insolently. “She’s her own woman, after all.”
“Oh, dear, yes, maybe you should stop,” panted my wife, clearly aroused and enjoying his attention. “I don’t want my husband to get upset.”
“Well, ok,” he said regretfully as he withdrew his hands and put them back on her stomach.
“I mean, I mean,” I stammered, clenching my fists. I was struggling not to punch this guy. “How can you say it like that? As though you only want him to stop for MY sake. If I wasn’t around, would you just let him feel you up like that?”
“Honey, just, you are getting all worked up,” said Claire with a frown. “I mean you aren’t even working the clicker. There must have been a dozen smiles you missed.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shouted, pulling at my hair.
“Look around, everyone is smiling,” said Randy. “Here, give me the clicker if you don’t care about gathering data. You can’t manage what you can’t measure, we always say in business.” He took the clicker away from me and started pointing around the room, trying to count the smiles.
“Wazzup!” said a tall black man slapping me on the shoulder as he and his two buddies joined us at the table. “You folks look like you know how to party. Who is this pretty lady with the nice ta-tas on display?”
“Hi, I’m Claire,” said my wife brightly, offering her hand to the stranger to shake as though it were perfectly normal for her naked tits to be hanging out.
“Ohh, baby,” laughed the man. “I’m Jaybird, and this is ShyShy and Baby Mooch. You just lettin’ it ALL hang out huh, baby?”
“It’s an experiment,” she told him with a grin. Jaybird and his pals broke out laughing.
I could smell Jaybird’s BO and I wrinkled my nose in disgust.
“Um, we were sort of having a private conversation here,” I told him with annoyance.
Jaybird looked down at me with mild disdain. “Nobody asked you, white boy, you can run along,” he said, waving his hand at me in dismissal.
“That’s my wife, I’ll have you know,” I said pointing to Claire indignantly.
“If that’s so, then why you let this other white boy finger her in front of everybody?” asked Jaybird with a laugh, pointing at Thomas.
I looked over in shock and sure enough, Thomas had his hand down the front of my wife’s skirt and her head was thrown back in ecstasy as he touched her privates.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I snapped yanking Thomas’ hand away from my wife’s pussy. “Come on, Claire, we are getting out of here.” I grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her away from Thomas forcefully while the black guys all laughed and hooted. “Put your goddamn boobs away, this is getting ridiculous.”
“Ok, ok, sorry,” yelped my wife, coming to her senses somewhat. “I guess we got a little carried away.” She scooped her boobs back inside her top clumsily.
“Come on, let’s go,” I said. I tugged on her arm angrily.
“Wait, wait, I need my cards,” she said, pulling away from me so that she could gather up the cards of her suitors.
“You can have my card too, baby,” said Jaybird offering my wife a scrap of paper with his number which she accepted gratefully.
“And yeah, Thomas, it was so much fun hanging out with you and Randy,” she said, shaking Thomas’s hand vigorously. “I’ve got your contact info, let’s get together again sometime.”
“Yeah, leave your husband at home next time,” he said, shooting me a dirty look.
“That’s it, come on,” I insisted, dragging my drunken wife away.
“Jeez, you are just, you are never like this,” squawked my wife as I hustled her out of the bar. A bellhop whistled at her in her slutty top and micro mini skirt and Claire gave him a friendly wave.
“You can’t just let strange men finger your vagina in front of me,” I hissed under my breath as I handed the ticket to the valet. I had to clear my throat for him to take it because he was too busy checking out my wife’s body.
“Technically he was just rubbing my clitoris,” she slurred.
The valet laughed lecherously.
“Hi,” Claire said, turning to him with a drunken smile.
“Hello, pretty lady,” he said, looking brazenly at my wife’s boobs and exposed navel.
“Ahem!” I said.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. Bring 235 up,” he said into his walkie-talkie. “So, did you have a nice time tonight?”
“I did, but my husband got mad about it,” she said with a pout.
“Oh well, he’ll forgive you, I’m sure,” he said, giving my wife a wink.
“Yes, I think so,” she agreed, clinging to my arm to keep from falling over.
“Ok, let’s go,” I snapped as the car pulled up. The valet held the door open for my wife and checked out her ass as she tumbled into the vehicle.
“I can’t believe you,” I fumed as I drove us home. “You are acting like a harlot. Exposing your breasts, letting some stranger finger your clitoris.”
“Thomas is hardly a stranger,” scoffed my wife. She stopped chuckling when I glared at her. “Ok, ok, maybe I got a little tipsy. But you know, this is a new thing for me. I’m not used to all these guys showing interest in me. I need to recalibrate a little bit.”
“We’ll discuss this when you are sober,” I said through gritted teeth. We drove in silence for a few minutes, my anger and frustration bubbling inside me until I heard Claire start to snore next to me and realized that she had dozed right off. My heart melted a little bit because she looked so innocent with her glasses falling half off her face as she sat slumped over, snoozing in the passenger seat beside me.
The following day poor Claire had a terrible hangover and called in sick to work. Then she went back to bed and slept in until noon. I came home from work myself to check on her and found her at the kitchen table in her bathrobe with her head down on the kitchen table and a cup of coffee in her hand.
“You look miserable, you little minx,” I said, pouring myself a cup.
“I really need to remember that I can’t handle my liquor,” she agreed with a groan, lifting her head slowly to take a sip of coffee.
“You really made a spectacle of yourself last night,” I said, shaking my head. “I guess you realize now that after a certain threshold of exposure, all male attention will be strictly sexual in nature.”
“Well, I do think that showing more of my body starts to trigger mating strategies from men, but I don’t actually see a problem with that,” she said, sitting up very very slowly. “Women like to look at exposed female bodies too. I’m amazed at how much I have been underestimating how much attention men direct at potential sex partners. I’ve been deluded my whole life. It’s almost as though men won’t even look at a woman that they wouldn’t consider having sex with. So if you make them think about sex, then you can engage with them socially. But then we can still have a totally platonic relationship. I mean, I explained to Simon that I was married, and he was fine with that.”
“Well that guy Thomas wasn’t keeping it platonic last night,” I objected. Was Claire trying to say that she was going to continue this crazy experiment?
“Why just because he rubbed my button a little bit?” chuckled Claire. She got a far away look in her eye as she recalled the events of last night and a devious little smile spread on her face. “That was fun actually.”
“But not platonic!” I insisted in frustration.
“Well no, I guess not entirely, but it was certainly harmless and playful,” she said. “I mean, I am enjoying sort of broadening the scope of interactions with other men. Showing off my body a little bit opens up all sorts of connections with other people that I was totally unaware were available.”
I felt my heart skip a beat. “Are you saying you want to carry on this experiment?” I asked her coldly.
“Definitely,” she said. “I want to try walking around topless next, wearing a GoPro so that I don’t have to count the interactions in real time and can just refer back to the video. I told Simon I would let him come along. You should come along too.”
“You are going to walk around in public with your boobs literally hanging out in broad daylight?” I gasped. “Have you lost your mind? I thought you were just drunk last night.”
“Jared, come on, look at the results I’ve had so far. My goal is to get more attention. Each time I have reduced the amount of clothing and increased the amount of skin I display, I have gotten much larger marginal increases in attention than I had been expecting. I want to find the upper limit. Will walking around topless get me even MORE attention? Or will there be negative backlashes that will make it not worth it?”
“And you are willing to flout any sense of common decency to see how much attention you can get?” I asked in dismay. I spread my hands pleadingly to my wife.
“I feel that I’ve literally been starved for attention, Jared,” she shouted, slapping her hand on the table and startling me. “Starved! No one looks at me normally. Ever! How do you think that makes me feel after a while? Huh? I feel like I don’t fucking exist sometimes! Oh! My head! Don’t make me shout like that. Give me some ibuprofen,” she cried.
I rushed to get my wife the ibuprofen from the cupboard as she put her head back down on the table. I handed it over contritely.
“So you would really walk around topless to get more attention?” I asked softly.
“I mean, maybe, now and then,” admitted my poor neglected wife, swallowing her pills with a gulp of coffee. “This IS the Bay Area, Jared. It’s not completely unheard of around here. This is probably the most liberal place in the country.”
“And are you really going to go out on dates with all these guys you meet wearing these revealing outfits?” I asked plaintively.
“Sure, why not?” she asked with a shrug of her shoulders. She pushed her glasses up her nose and looked at me innocently.
“Even that guy Thomas who felt you up last night?” I asked, my face growing hotter again.
“I LIKE Thomas, he’s fun!” exclaimed my wife. “Sure, we got a little carried away last night, but we were just horsing around.”
“At what point does horsing around become cheating on your husband, Claire?” I asked. I poked a finger into my palm for emphasis.
“Cheating!” she scoffed. “Come on, I’m not CHEATING on you. You know what I’m doing. I’m not running around behind your back.”
I just rubbed my face in confusion. “I don’t like it,” I said.
“Well, you will get used to the idea,” she said absently, checking her phone. “I told Simon I would meet him at the Ferry Building today at 3pm. Come meet us at the Public Market for my first topless experiment. You’ll see, it will be fun!”
“Unbelievable,” I said, shaking my head. But I sure didn’t want my wife strutting around topless alone with a stranger. Who knows what mischief she might get into?
At 3pm I found my wife talking to a short bald business man in an extremely expensive looking suit, who I assumed was Simon. She was wearing a half-cup bra that barely covered her nipples but had paired it with her more modest mini skirt that went halfway down her thigh and a pair of dark stockings. Guy were already staring at her exposed cleavage and smiling. She just smiled and waved at them, sometimes shaking hands and accepting business cards from interested strangers. Simon stood by with his arm around my wife’s waist, smiling benevolently at the men who were hitting on her.
I didn’t like how these other men were wrapping their arms around my own wife all the time. Simon noticed me coming before Claire did and he rushed forward to shake my hand. This time I was prepared for a crushing handshake and tried to return it, but Simon’s grip was stronger and my hand crumpled in his.
“Ahh, you must be Jared, so excellent to meet you,” said Simon, releasing my aching hand from his vice-like grip.
“Hi honey,” said Claire distractedly as she waved to another male passerby who was eyeing her up and down.
“You are just wearing the bra?” I asked, intimidated by how many men were gazing at my wife’s exposed bosom. “Aren’t you the least bit embarrassed to be out here like that?”
“Why Claire has nothing to be embarrassed about,” clucked Simon, putting his arm around my wife’s waist possessively. “She looks marvelous. You know in the 1600’s women would commonly bare their entire breasts…”
“I heard about that already,” I snapped, raising a hand to forestall a lecture on the historically erotic outfits of England.
“Actually, I think the gradual build up over the past few weeks of showing more and more skin and getting more and more positive re-enforcement has really lowered my inhibitions about exposing my body,” said my wife as she casually pulled down the first the left cup and then the right cup of her bra, fully exposing both of her breasts but leaving the bra underneath to provide support and make them jut out provocatively.
“Nice!” commented Simon, his eyes fixed on my wife’s gorgeous white breasts.
“Do you like them, Simon?” she asked, pinching her pink nipples to make them harder.
“Oh, yes,” he said. “Very much.”
“My god, Claire, you did that so casually,” I gasped looking around in trepidation as people started to point and stare at my bare-chested wife in her nerdy glasses.
Claire shrugged. “Like I said, lowered inhibition through positive conditioning. Let’s see what kinds of reactions I get. I’ve got the GoPro here on my belt recording the whole scene.” She patted the little camera at her waist which I hadn’t noticed before.
I had been afraid that the cops would come running up and demand my wife cover herself. Or maybe that a crowd of people would surround us, shouting and jeering. But this WAS San Francisco, so while quite a few people were staring, no one really made a huge deal out of my wife walking around topless.
“A lot of guys are smiling, but not many are approaching me to make small talk or ask me on dates,” complained Claire after we had walked back and forth once through the market area. “I think they are scared off by you two chaperones. Why don’t you two go grab a cup of coffee and let me try to meet some new fellows?”
“Uh, ok,” I agreed and Simon and I headed over to the Blue Bottle stand to grab a cup.
“Your wife is really an amazing lady,” said Simon, watching my wife carefully.
“Uh, yeah, I know,” I said in annoyance as I received my coffee from the barista.
“Oh, look, already the guys are swarming around her,” he laughed, pointing.
Sure enough, a group of frat boy types, preppy guys in their twenties had surrounded my wife and were taking turns getting pictures arm in arm with her. She laughed and went along with the whole thing. Collecting numbers from each of the guys before they parted ways, waving and shouting how much they loved her. Then Claire strolled off and was out of sight for a while.
“So, yes, I look forward to bedding your wife, I hope you don’t mind,” said Simon rather stuffily.
I nearly gagged on my coffee. “What are you talking about?” I demanded.
“Come now, we are both men of the world,” he said, slapping my thigh. “Your wife is walking around topless in a public market, my boy. She is playing the field.”
“She’s just trying to get a little more attention from other men is all,” I said, feeling stupid while I repeated her storyline. “This is all an experiment. She just wants platonic friendships.”
Simon smirked at me with disdain. “Don’t be a fool, Jared. She is definitely experimenting, but she isn’t looking for platonic friends. She wants sex. She told me what happened with Thomas the other night.”
“They were just horsing around,” I croaked, but my pits were growing damp as I realized what a fool I have been.
“You know they have another date planned for Friday, don’t you?” he asked. “Thomas is going to try to fuck her of course.”
“I didn’t know about that date on Friday,” I admitted. “But she said her relationship with Thomas wasn’t serious.”
“No, it’s not serious, that’s probably true,” he admitted. “I mean, I’m married myself. I’m not looking for a long term relationship. I just want to fuck her a few times.”
“Look, you aren’t going to fuck my wife, so get that idea out of your head,” I said. I pointed a shaky finger at Simon, but I felt my nerve slipping and my gut was clenched with jealousy. How could I have let her deceive me like this?
“She already admitted that she would be open to sucking my cock, Jared,” said Simon smugly.
“I don’t believe you,” I said. But I did. I believed him.
“Uh, oh, something’s up,” he said, pointing his finger and jumping out of his chair.
I turned to look and saw an older black man dressed in a filthy coverall talking to my wife. He was either homeless or very very poor and she looked a little distressed. I didn’t understand why until I noticed that he had one hand inside his coveralls and appeared to be jerking himself off as he ogled Claire’s bare breasts.
Simon ran over ahead of me and I had to hurry to catch up with him.
“Oh yeah, baby, yeah, them’s good titties,” groaned the black bum as he spanked his monkey inside his coveralls. He must have a huge cock because he was pitching quite a tent.
“Um, thank you,” said Claire, unsure of how to handle the situation. “I’m glad you like them, I guess. Oh gosh, look, here is my friend Simon and my husband, Jared.” Her face radiated relief. “Fellows, JJ here was just admiring my breasts but I sort of feel weird about whatever it is he is doing there inside his coveralls.”
“Jesus, man, what do you think you are doing? Get out of here!” shouted Simon, taking charge of the situation before I had a chance.
“You wanna see what I’m doing? Do ya? You think I’m being a pervert or something? It ain’t true. I’ll show ya,” shouted the black man. He pulled down his zipper, opening the front of his coveralls, revealing a massive black erection. It was fringed with white curly pubes and his two big balls hanging down were clearly visible.
Claire gasped in shock at the sight of it and struggled to get her boobs pushed back into her bra. “Wow, that’s very flattering but…”
“That’s ok, baby, I’m almost done,” he cackled and he gave his big black cock a final squeeze before shooting a spurt of cum in my wife’s direction. Simon thought fast and pulled my wife out of the way while the old bum shot his load all over the floor where my wife had been just a moment before. Security guards appeared immediately and carried the man out, kicking and shouting the whole time.
“Police brutality!” shouted the old pervert. “Black lives matter!” A crowd gathered to watch him while Simon ushered my wife over to a nearby wine bar. He sat down next to her at a table near the back and I took the seat across from them.
“Well, the natives are restless,” said my wife, clearly dazed. “These black men have poor impulse control.”
“Now honey, don’t be racist,” I chided.
“I’m sorry but it’s true, black guys don’t have as many sexual inhibitions. That’s what’s sort of charming about them, actually. Also, did you see the size of that old guy’s penis? It was HUGE!” My wife gasped. “I think I need a glass of wine to calm my nerves.”
The server came over and we ordered a bottle of Rose for the table.
Simon took a newspaper off a nearby table and put in his lap, fussing around with it for a few minutes.
Claire glanced down at his lap with strange expression as she continued. “I don’t think I’m going to go around topless again any time soon,” she said, adjusting her breasts to make sure her half-cup bra was concealing them as well as it could. “It’s just too extreme. Men can’t handle it. Those frat boys were really rude and wouldn’t stop grabbing my boobs.”
I sighed with relief, “Well, good. You were trying to find the threshold condition where fewer clothes stopped resulting in better results and it looks like you found it.”
“That’s true,” she admitted. “Though guys do seem to like me in just the bra.” She shook her boobs back and forth in her skimpy bra and all the men seated around us took notice.
“Oh, yeah, that’s nice,” agreed Simon. There was a suspicious rustling in his lap. “Could you maybe just pull it down a little bit so I can see the nipples?” he asked her politely.
“Oh, gosh,” said my wife, looking around nervously. “I don’t know. I don’t want to cause a scene again.”
“Yeah, Simon, that’s kind of inappropriate,” I complained as the wine arrived.
My wife drank her glass in just a few gulps and I watched her fill another glass nervously.
“Claire, you better take it easy,” I warned.
“I’ll be fine, I just need to calm down a bit,” she said. “Walking around topless was pretty intense.”
“Come on, Claire, this is a fancy place, no freaks are going to come over and try to cum on you here. Just pull the bra down a tiny bit and let some of the nips show,” he coaxed. He was really rustling that newspaper a lot in his lap.
Claire sighed and looked around again as she acquiesced and pulled each cup down just an inch so the tops of her pink nipples were showing.
“Oh, nice, can I touch them?” he asked, sweat beading on his forehead.
“I guess so,” she said downing her second wine. “Just a little.”
“Claire!” I objected as Simon lecherously reached over with one hand and stroked the top of my wife’s exposed cleavage and then reached down the front of her bra and pinched each of her nipples. A young couple sitting across from us stared in shock as this guy felt up my wife and Claire shrugged awkwardly at them.
“Some guys just like boobs, I guess,” she told the woman, and they broke out in nervous laughter.
“Will you stop fondling my wife’s breasts, please Simon?” I hissed. My face was getting hot, but my penis was growing hard at the sight of this stranger pinching my wife’s nipples in public while she joked about it with other patrons.
“No, I will not,” Simon said simply. At this point the rustling in his lap was getting quite loud.
“My god, Simon, what are you doing under that newspaper?” my wife asked. She pushed her hair behind her ear and peered at Simon’s lap. I glanced down too and saw that he was pitching a tent under the newspaper.
“Here, I’ll show you,” he grunted. And he grabbed my wife’s hand and put it under the newspaper.
“Oh my god,” shrieked my wife. She pulled her hand away hastily. “Simon, you are terrible! Jared, he’s unzipped his fly and pulled his penis out under there!”
“Simon, get a hold of yourself,” I hissed, looking around nervously as the couple across from us observed us closely and whispered to each other.
“There is nothing to be afraid of Claire, come on,” said Simon, snatching my wife’s hand again and putting it back under the newspaper in his lap.
“Oh, my god, I can’t believe you,” whispered my wife. But the little harlot left her hand in Simon’s lap as she looked around the room with gritted teeth. She avoided looking at the couple across from us who were giggling as they realized what was going on. I looked under the table and saw my wife’s hand moving up and down under the paper, jerking Simon off right in front of me.
“Claire, are you touching his PENIS?” I gasped, my own cock growing rock hard at the realization.
“Um, a little bit,” she admitted. He cheeks were growing flushed with arousal. “He’s really hard.”
“I don’t want to know about that,” I snapped.
“Get down and suck it,” grunted Simon, his face slick with sweat and his breathing coming faster and faster.
“Simon, I can’t do that,” said my wife, looking at me guiltily.
“I already told your husband that you agreed to suck my penis,” panted Simon as my wife continued to stroke his dick under the newspaper in his lap and the couple across from us watched in fascination.
“That’s her husband across from her?” gasped the young woman of the couple, but she blushed and averted her eyes when I glared at her.
“Claire, you can’t just jerk off another man right in front of me like this,” I said, tapping the table for emphasis. “I don’t want to make a scene, but I will if you force me to.”
“Don’t make a scene, dear, please,” complained my wife. She turned toward Simon slightly so she could get a better grip on his dick and was rearranging the paper so no one could see what she was doing. “I’ve already been through one humiliating incident.”
“But this is humiliating for ME,” I whined. “Please tell me that you didn’t agree to suck Simon’s dick.”
“Well, I mean, I LIKE Simon,” my wife said, looking at the bald man in the fancy suit and touching his cheek with her hand as she continued to masturbate him. “I like doing favors for my friends.”
“A blowjob is a favor?” I yelped. The couple next to us laughed and I glared at them again until they shut up.
“Sure, why not?” asked Claire, biting her lip. “Men have needs…”
“Can you stop talking about it and just suck it for, chrissake?” demanded Simon. “I’m gonna cum any second.”
“Ohh, jeez,” sighed my wife looking around one last time. “Hold on, honey, don’t watch,” she told me and she bent over and put her head down in Simon’s lap. He carefully held the newspaper up with one hand to hide what she was doing and then reached down into her bra with the other hand so he could feel her boob while my wife sucked him off.
My wife’s head was bobbing up and down in his lap and Simon’s eyes were rolling back in his head when the manager came over to our table. She was an older Irish woman with bright red hair, wearing a skirt suit. She watched my wife sucking off Simon at the table in shock and her pale complexion went even whiter. “Erm, is everything OK here folks?” she asked shakily.
“I think she’s got everything under control,” laughed the woman across from us.
The manager turned to look at the couple across from us but they just shrugged and turned their attention back to their wine.
Just then Simon groaned loudly and my wife made a choking sound and sat up quickly, the boob that Simon had been groping had popped out of her bra. Claire looked up at the mortified manager with chagrin, and wiped some of Simon’s cum from her chin with her napkin.
The manager gestured mutely at Claire’s exposed tit and Claire said, “Oops,” and tucked it back into her bra.
“Miss, you really can’t DO that sort of thing in a public restaurant like this,” said the manager. “I mean, it’s just not decent.”
“I was just, um,” said my wife, trying to come up with an excuse.
“I saw what you were doing,” said the manager, pointing a finger at my wife. “And I saw you earlier with your tits out, too.”
“Yeah, that was probably a bad idea,” admitted my wife. She looked up at the manager contritely.
The Irish woman looked down at my apologetic wife and sighed. “Ach, miss, I’ve been a wild one in my day. Lord only knows. Here, wash the taste of his sputum from your mouth and try to keep your mouth off of any more knobs until you get well away from here, will ya?” And the manager graciously poured my wife another glass of wine and walked away, shaking her head.
“Well she was nice,” said Simon, lifting a glass to my wife. “To an amazing blowjob!”
My wife toasted with him and giggled as she drank her wine and my blood boiled with jealousy and my erection stiffened as I watched her swallowing down Simon’s semen.
“I’m out of here,” I said in frustration and I struggled to push down my erection so it wouldn’t show as I stood up to leave.
“Jared, please, don’t be like that,” cried my wife. She chased after me as I limped away trying to hide the tent I was pitching in my pants. I couldn’t understand why I was so aroused. “We were only playing. Nothing serious.”
“Just a blowjob, that’s all!” I shouted so the whole wine bar could hear me as I ran out.
“Right, just a blowjob,” laughed my wife struggling to hold her boobs in place as she dashed after me.
She caught up with me just as I was getting into a cab and she lept in beside me. “Don’t be mad, darling,” she begged, showering me with kisses. I tried to push her away, but she was insistent. “You know I love only you,” she said, wrapping her arms around me.
“You’ve been a terrible slut,” I pouted.
“I know, I know, I’ve been very naughty, please forgive – hey! What’s this hardon doing?” she asked. “You are hard as a rock, Jared.”
“No sex in my cab, please,” said the Indian driver.
“Shush you,” scolded my wife. “Jared, you have a blistering erection. What’s the meaning of this? Did you actually get aroused by watching me suck Simon’s penis in there? I think you must have!”
“NO! No, how can you say that?” I said. I was really embarrassed, but my wife had a hold of my rod and wouldn’t let go.
“I think you liked it! Amazing,” she said, shaking her head as she kneaded my erection through my slacks. “No wonder you didn’t interfere and you let me carry on this experiment even when I went way over the top. You are getting off on this too.”
“Simon told me you have a date with Thomas,” I groaned, my arousal reaching a peak as my wife pinched and rubbed my hard dick. “He said this whole experiment has been about you trying to find new lovers.”
“Well, it didn’t start OUT that way,” she said, unzipping my fly and pulling out my cock.
“Hey, I said no sex in the cab!” squawked the cabbie. “I’m not cleaning up your mess!”
“Just keep your eyes on the road, we aren’t doing anything back here,” said my wife as she kicked off her shoes and slipped her stockings and panties off.
“I see you, I see what you are doing, you hussy,” warned the irate cabbie.
“Shh,” she told him as she straddled me and lowered herself down onto my stiff cock. We both sighed with satisfaction as my boner speared into her hot wet pussy. She started bouncing up and down on my dick. “Yeah, once I realized how many guys would offer to have sex with me if I dressed a little more slutty, well, I sort of got intrigued.” She was panting as she moved up and down and the cabbie was cursing under his breath. We were on the Bay Bridge and he couldn’t exactly pull over and kick us out. “I’m really relieved that you seem to be into it too. I didn’t want to do anything behind your back.”
“I’m not into anything,” I lied, gripping her round ass cheeks as I prepared to cum inside her.
“Oh, yeah, oh yeah, you are,” she moaned. “I’m gonna let Thomas fuck the shit out of me. Preferably somewhere public so you can watch. Exhibitionism is hot. Ugh, I’m cumming just thinking about it.” My nerdy wife shuddered in climax as she pictured herself getting violated in public by her lover while I watched.
“You people are SICK!” complained the driver, watching us intently in the rearview mirror.
“Oh shit,” I said. “Ok, ok, you win. I wanna watch Thomas fuck you,” I groaned and then I spurted load after load of hot cum up inside my wife where Thomas would soon be shooting his own seed. “I guess I’m a pervert,” I admitted sadly.
“No, no, my experiment has been a wild success. I’m going to get all the attention I need from now on,” laughed my wife as she kissed my mouth. I could see the sweat glistening on the cabby’s brow as he watched my wife’s bare ass in the rearview mirror and I said nothing more.
Gustav Jorgenson’s cuckold stories:
NEW! Slut Wife, Happy Life: Naughty Wife Tales, also avaailabe as an audiobook.
Exhibitionist Wife Tales: 15 stories of wives cheating in public
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