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From: "tony anthony" <tonytony3@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Bolero, A Wife Sharing Story by Tonytony3  (1/4)
Date: Fri, 24 May 2002 16:10:02 -0400
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Bolero, 1/4

all rights reserved by tonytony3@hotmail.com. Not to be reposted without 
prior permission.

An earlier version of this story was called Voyeur's Wife. This rewrite has 
been improved and is probably worth a re-read.

The new title, Bolero, was suggested by a friend. She said the story builds 
in intensity like Ravel's Bolero does. I hope you agree.


* * * * *

Barbara and Tom were childhood sweethearts, got married in grad school 7 
years ago. They have no kids, two fast track careers, with his in 
technology, hers in academia.

This is her story.

About 2 months ago Tom and I arranged to meet for dinner, starting our night 
out with a drink at the Four Seasons. I got there 15 minutes early, and the 
stress of the day as will as my ever so middle class white wine released 
inhibitions enough for me to get involved in a conversation with a guy 
sitting nearby.

A half hour later I noticed my husband standing in the doorway.

I waved him over, introduced the guy, and in a couple of minutes the two of 
us went to dinner.

"How long were you waiting there by the door?"

"About 20 minutes."

"Well, why didn't you come over, for heaven's sake."

"It looked like you were having a good time, and I liked watching."

"Oh."

I realized this went on before with him. We dropped the subject and had a 
nice evening.

On the drive home Tom asked "Did that guy - was his name Bill? - try to date 
you?"

"No, we were just talking."

We talked about other things for the rest of the drive, but I began worrying 
that he thought I might be appearing too available to strangers, and that 
was just not the fact. I like everything about my husband and being married 
to him. It's the most important part of my life.

A couple of weeks later we made another date for a Friday night dinner in 
town, with the meeting place set for the Sheraton hotel. I thought Tom was 
late, until he appeared from the back of the bar.

"What were you doing, I was waiting for 15 minutes."

"I just like looking at you."

"Were you waiting to see if anyone tried to talk to me, or something?"

"I confess."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do. But it's kind of exciting watching you talk to guys in 
places like this, I guess maybe I'm a bit of a voyeur."

"Well, that's different". I was happy that it wasn't a trust thing after 
all.

Late at night the next week we were holding each other in bed - that's one 
of the best parts of being married, I think - and talking.

I brought up his bothersome behavior. "Tom, how come you try to watch 
strangers talking to me?"

I had my arm over his when I asked that - there was nothing going on, just a 
married couple in bed, being comfortable with each other.

But I felt his penis stir. "I guess it's because I think you are beautiful, 
and I like knowing other guys think you are, too."

Well, that's kind of an odd compliment. "They may not think that at all, 
they may be just trying to make conversation, or maybe make a date, or even 
pick me up."

His penis stirred more. "Maybe that would be OK, too."

Now I was beginning to understand something new about my husband. I took the 
hand he had on my hip, and moved it to my crotch, then grabbed his cock - it 
was erect, now.

"Barbara, you're getting all warm!"

"Tom, you're getting all stiff."

We put the stiffness and warmness together, and made love.

That's not quite true. We fucked.

And talked, too, during the less active moments..

"Let me be sure I understand. You get turned on when you think about guys 
trying to pick me up."

He responded both physically and verbally: "Yeah."

"Well, I've heard of men like you. You're some kind of voyeur."

"Yeah, maybe."

"I don't think guys are interested in picking up married women like me, 
honey. In a way it is kind of nice having someone pay that kind of attention 
to me, it's sort of flattering - not that I don't want to be married, or 
anything."

"Uh, you like that?"

"Sort of. It would be nice if a guy tried to date me, or even try to pick me 
when we're out like that. It sure doesn't happen at Babson, or when we're 
out together, or out with our friends. Everyone knows we're a couple."

His movements became more urgent.

"Uh, would you like to go out to see if something like that would happen on 
purpose, instead of accidentally, like when you're waiting for me, like last 
time?"

His body was telling me it's something he was interested in, that's for 
sure. He was offering me a license to flirt! No, he was encouraging me to. I 
thought that would be a different role for me, a change from the 
professional one at work, or the married one with Tom. Why not?

I replied "Sure, so long as we wind up here."

The sex we were having continued with more excitement than usual.

The next day Tom came home from work - it was Friday - and told me he found 
out the Marriett in Newton was a place where singles our age went. "Let's go 
there! You can pretend to be single, or at least available, for a while."

This was moving from an idea to action faster than I would have imagined. 
Somehow we decided to do it. We had a silent drive along Rt. 128: I felt a 
bit like I was being driven to my execution. Well, it excited my husband. 
And me.

The hotel lounge was mobbed. It looked like most everyone stayed at the bar, 
and guys approached women, talked to them, danced, and tried to make dates. 
Or make them, to be more honest.

We parted at the entrance, and I went to the bar, feeling uncertain, in 
strange waters, a bit like a lamb being lead to the slaughter. After all, I 
had seriously dated only one man in my life, and married him. This was very 
new stuff. In a while a couple of guys talked to me. One danced with me a 
few times. I saw Tom watching, and that made me both a little more 
comfortable, and flirtatious. I once saw him dancing with a nice looking 
woman.

A couple of hours went by, then Tom asked me to dance, too. We did, and used 
that as an excuse to leave together, not that anyone was keeping score, or 
watching.

We talked on the way home. "I saw that guy dancing with you. Did he try 
anything?"

"No, it was just a dance. He was a proper gentleman. You know, up until 
today everyone who danced with me knew us as a couple. These guys didn't 
know that, they thought I was available. That was an odd feeling. What about 
that girl you picked up?"


"She came over and asked me to dance."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Honey, things have changed since we were single. She liked to dance really 
close, and when I held her I was sure she wasn't wearing a bra, and I didn't 
feel any panties seam either."

"Hey, tell me more, oh husband with the wondering hands."

"Well, I could feel the heat from her groin through my pants, and I got a 
hard on, and she knew it. But she didn't back away, either, She liked to 
grind her pelvis against me."

We got home, and got to bed. I wasn't happy. "Tom, I'm upset. The deal was 
you were supposed to be watching me, not flirting or grinding your cock into 
someone. I feel insecure, and I don't like this game."

He was apologetic. "Watching you was the deal, and to be honest about it, 
that was the best part. The other was a fringe benefit. I'd rather watch, 
anyhow. If we ever go there again I promise to just watch, OK?"

"Well, just so long as you kept that thing" - I grabbed at his cock - "in 
your pants until you get home."

He then used that thing the way I wanted him to. When I asked him while we 
made love, he promised that he wasn't thinking about the woman he danced 
with, but about me. Later I learned - you will, too - it wasn't only about 
me!

The next Wednesday evening Tom asked - begged - me to go out and "play" 
again Friday, and I agreed. I confess to daydreaming about some pick up 
scenarios, wondering how I'd act, what might happen. What started off as 
almost unthinkable outcomes (would I really let someone kiss me thinking I 
was single) by Friday seemed OK and even fun. I told Tom a little about my 
daydreaming - flirting, being kissed - and was rewarded with some pretty 
turned on sex.

Tom, on the other hand, didn't say much about his own ideas, he just 
encouraged me with mine. He did insist on this: "If you kiss, you gotta 
tell."

Friday we had an early dinner so we could go out play 'See who tries 
('tries' was the operative word in my mind) to pick up Barbara'.

I pulled out a pretty silk dark print dress that buttoned all the way down 
the front, a matching half slip, panty hose, and a pretty bra. Tom got out a 
casual outfit - camel hair jacket, chinos, white opened collar shirt.

"How do I look?"

"Barbara, you look great."

He took me in his arms, kissed me. He already had an erection, and I was 
pretty hot, too.

"Honey, can I make a suggestion?"

"Sure."

"You do look wonderful, but you look like you're going out with your 
husband."

"Uh, I guess that's an old habit, but I do like this dress!"

"Yeah, but. . . Look, try something for me, OK?"

"Try what?"

"Try it without your bra."

"What???"

"Go on."

The idea did excite me. Tom must have been planning this suggestion all 
week. Well, no one would know me there. I went to the bath room, and came 
out two minutes later. I'm not very busty, so it wasn't uncomfortable.

"Any better?"

He held me again. "Much nicer. How does it feel to you?"

"Well, my breasts keep moving against the dress, like they do when I'm 
wearing a negligee, so it stimulates my nipples and they stand up. And I 
like the feeling of being kind of almost naked, and of your hands on my 
back: it feels very sexy. I do like it."

He held me at arm's length, and sure enough, my nipples were poking at the 
dress.

"I think that looks wonderful!"

"Maybe, but I don't like being that exposed, honey. I'm glad it's pretty 
dark in the lounge. Do you have any more good ideas, or can we go? If we 
don't go soon I'm just going to grab you by the cock and take you to bed", I 
said. Actually, that seemed like a good idea, and a lot safer than the 
alternative.

"Maybe one more idea."

"Tom, you have an evil gleam in your eye. Now what?"

"Remember the woman I danced with?"

"Yes."

"She was very sexy."

"You told me that before. Tell me why."

"Well, when I held her like this when we were dancing" he demonstrated, "and 
I moved my hand like this", he moved it low on my back, "I just felt 
softness, and not the kind of hard feeling that an ass wrapped in panty hose 
has."

"You mean you want me to go bare assed under this dress?"

"Honey, your legs are tanned and smooth, and great looking. You don't need 
panty hose. I'd get an erection every time someone was near you, and I 
guarantee a reaction from anyone who slow dances with you. Yeah, go bare 
assed. Are you willing? I'll bet anything if a guy has a slow dance with you 
you'll feel him get hard, just because he's holding you."

"You didn't just get this idea, did you?"

"No."

He wants me to be sexy! I was so hot, so aroused, and I wanted to please 
Tom, too, so I just sat on the sofa, kicked off my shoes, stood, peeled off 
the hose, put on my shoes, and moved into his arms.

"Try that."

He did, and his erection told me just how much he approved.

"Maybe you should come to bed with me now", he said.

I thought about that. It was safe, it would be fun, but now I was excited 
too, and feeling wicked, daring. So, I took his hand and pulled him to the 
door. It was only partly teasing when I said "Not a chance. Now, we are 
going out! I want some other men to see me, and maybe hold me, and dance 
with me while I'm dressed like this. Maybe I'll get someone as excited as 
you are."

I thought Tom would insist on staying home, but instead he agreed. "Yeah, 
let's go. I'd really like to see that too". I was learning something new 
about this man!

I pulled on a jacket because I did feel very exposed dressed as I was, and 
off we went. We caught the after work crowd. The lounge was dark so it was 
OK - just barely OK - when Tom insisted I check my coat. I did, took a deep 
breath, and went in. I danced with 5 different guys. I liked looking at 
their faces when we danced, especially when they discovered no bra strap 
across my back, and then, how every one found a reason, while we were 
dancing, to let their hands drift across my waist, and feel the slip waist 
band, but no lower seams, only softness. What a feeling of power and control 
that was. After a while I rejected most invitations, except from one nice 
guy. I knew he was aroused - that was clear - and he sure thought I was. He 
.did enough exploring to have figured out just what I was and wasn't 
wearing. Not that he was grabby, but there were casual brushes, and touches. 
He wasn't bashful about holding me tightly while we danced, and when our 
bodies touched, he made sure his arousal was obvious. I remembered what Tom 
told me about the woman he danced with, so during slow dances I managed to 
miss his lead a few times, and that caused - surprise - a little accidental 
pelvis bumping. If felt very strange, feeling him through the fabric of my 
dress. I thought, after an hour or so, he had read by touch every label on 
every garment I was wearing- all two of them. He wasn't being grabby, either 
- no hand on my leg (by now I was sitting at a small table with him) or ass 
grabbing, but casual touches. He didn't even try to kiss me, and that was a 
disappointment - I wanted my daydreams to be filled. He did make some 
interesting suggestions, though.

Tom spent his time at the bar, watching. He wasn't being subtle, but the 
room was crowded enough so I don't think anyone noticed. I did notice that 
he talked to a woman a couple of times, but never danced with her. He was 
keeping his part of the deal.

After a while I figured I did enough flirting, and Tom should have had 
enough as a fledgling voyeur. I was horny and wanted to get in bed with my 
husband. I got my coat, walked out, and got in our car. A few minutes later 
Tom got in the driver's side.

"Wow. Honey, you looked great. You had that guy so turned on I think he had 
to go to the men's room to masturbate. It was wonderful. I'm surprised he 
didn't ask you out. I can't wait to get you home." He started the engine. I 
turned to face Tom, and said "He didn't ask me for a date, but he did ask me 
to get some air with him, in his car."

Tom put the car back in park. "He did? Did you want to go? Do you want to go 
back in to him?"

"He said he was going to leave just after I did, so I can't go back to him. 
I didn't know if I should go with him, or even if I wanted to, without 
talking to you a lot about it, first. I didn't know how you'd take it. Maybe 
I should have gone. I told him I didn't know him well enough to get in his 
car with him so he asked what about my car? That way he said I'd be in 
control."

"Stop, you're going to make me come without touching me! It sounds like he's 
a smooth operator. But this is a small car." We came in our bench seat old 
fogie Olds. "Not much could happen here, maybe some kissing and making out, 
that's all, and that would be all right."

"Are you crazy? There's a lot of room in this car!"

"Not enough."

He was wrong about that. "Let me show you what could happen," I said.

I lifted up the center armrest, and had Tom recline his seat a bit, and tilt 
the steering wheel up.

"This could have happened."

I pulled him across the seat, and kissed him, tongue all over the place.

I said "I think he'd want to do that. I would want him to. I hoped somebody 
would kiss me like that tonight. He'd know that would be the only reason for 
me bringing him here. What do you think about that?"

"That would be all right with me I'd want that to happen."

"Oh, you would? What about this?"

I turned my back to him, got my feet on the seat near the door, knees up, 
and leaned backwards, into his arms. It was a very comfortable position for 
me. I had an arm around Tom's neck. He had his left hand on the steering 
wheel, so it was holding me up, and his right was around my waist.

"Oh - oh, there's more room here than I thought" he admitted.

"Would you want your wife to be in someone else's arms, like this?"

"Oh, yeah. I dream about that! I'd love it."

"I'm going to pretend you're him. This would probably happen." I pulled him 
toward me, lifted up to meet him, and we kissed again. We were acting more 
like teenagers than a thirty something married couple.

I asked my husband "Should your wife do that, too?"

He whispered "Yes. I'd like that, I want you to do that".

I knew he was getting really excited. So was I.

"Maybe I'd do this, too" I said, and took the hand he had on my waist, 
brought it to my lips, kissed it, brought a finger into my mouth, and kissed 
and sucked on it a bit, too. That always got to Tom.

Tom said "Oh yeah, That would drive him crazy."

"You may think I'm awful, honey, but then I'd do this." I took that hand, 
and moved it from my mouth, along my cheek, and neck, to my breast.

Tom could feel my nipple through the dress, erect.

"The only reason for not wearing a bra is so someone could feel me like 
that," I told Tom.

"Ahhhh, yes, make him do that, too!"

I was really letting my imagination run wild, feeling sexy, and pretending 
Tom was someone else.

After a few more minutes. . .

"I'd have to tell him I liked that. Maybe, if he was nice. . ."

"Oh, he'd be nice," Tom interrupted as I took his hand from my left breast, 
and moved it to the neckline of my dress. He was looking down at me.

I guided his hand to the buttons, opened the first couple. ". . . I'd ask 
him to help with this."

"You'd do that??? I'd want you to, but I thought you'd get mad."

"He wouldn't be able to touch me if I was all buttoned up, would he?"

Tom never had trouble with my dresses, but he fumbled now.

Finally, when it was opened far enough - almost to my waist - I said ". . . 
I would want him to touch my skin. . ." I took his hand and slipped it under 
my dress. ". . .I think he'd want to, don't you?"

A minute passed.

He was silent, eyes closed, but his hand moved over my breast. I closed my 
eyes, imagining it was someone else, and it was even more exciting. I found 
I put my hand, outside the dress, over his, holding him to me. "Well, would 
it be OK with you if I let him touch me like that?"

"Yes, I want him to play with your tits."

Now he was cupping and fondling my breast. My nipple was so tight, and I 
could feel myself getting wet. Another few minutes passed.

"If you were he, I'd tell you I was getting very excited. Would it be all 
right with you if I did this?"

I took the open front of the dress and pulled it to the side, exposing my 
breast, and looked down at his hand holding me, rolling and twisting my 
nipple between his fingers.

"Yes, let him see your tits, too."

"Should I. .. ." I said, and pulled his hand away, pulled his head towards 
my chest, and lifted up until his mouth found my nipple.

I held him that way - not that he wasn't willing - for a couple of minutes.

"What do you think of your wife now?"

"I think you're wonderful, and he'd think you were terrific!"

"Do you really want me to let someone kiss my breasts, Tom?"

"Mmmm."

"Maybe, if he was really nice. . ." I took his hand and moved it down, 
across my lap, up my leg over my dress to my knee, and then down until it 
was touching my skin on my calf, midway between my knee and ankle.

"Do you think I should tell him both me and my husband want him to touch 
me?"

"Yes," he mumbled -- well, his mouth was full.

His hand was just stroking my leg, so I said "Don't be shy, stranger", put 
my hand on his wrist, and started it towards my knee. Tom's hand went under 
the dress and slip, and then, once at my knee, down along the inside of my 
thigh.



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