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Ian (again)

Suzanne James bounded athletically up the remaining stairs to the first floor (what the Americans would call the second floor), her husband Ian in hot pursuit. Suzanne was very slightly drunk after the wine they had shared with Ian's friend and colleague, John. The high she had been on since receiving the invitation to meet the decision makers behind an important selection for promotion involving her husband Ian, had continued through the arrival of their friend John. Even the news that he too was in the running for the important promotion chance had not dampened her spirits. Suzanne was the only one to know of the candidacy of her husband.

She still wore the skimpy nightdress that she had donned after satisfying her besotted husband earlier that afternoon, although now she also wore the thin housecoat she had used for the sake of decency when John had arrived with his news. Now, as she climbed the stairs, she stripped this unnecessary outer layer from herself and threw it down behind her, where it tangled momentarily with the progress of her chasing husband.

As she ran into the bedroom, Suzanne pulled the thin nightie over her head, before throwing herself, laughing and excited, naked on the marital bed.

Her legs and arms flapped and tangled briefly as she settled on the bed, where she eventually came to rest on her back, her arms by her side, and one long leg folded over the other. As Ian, her husband, paused at the doorway to their bedroom, that is how he saw her, naked and vulnerable, smiling and panting, eyes bright with excitement, a vision of loveliness and innocence, exposed on their Queen-sized bed.

Ian's breath caught in his throat as he gazed at her. Once again, he marvelled at the luck that had made her his. He was well aware of the envy and admiration that was often visible in the eyes of his friends and colleagues, of the way that they looked at his beautiful wife. He had recently started to enjoy the excitement that they enjoyed when they saw her, and moments before, he had deliberately held her silhouetted in the front door, exposed to his friend John by the backlight of the house lights as his friend returned to his own house and family.

Now he gazed at her again. She was looking expectantly at him, her eyes candle bright with the love, pride and excitement that she felt towards him. Her teeth sparkling in her smile and her blond hair cast about her on the pillow. Her arms were pressed down at her side, and despite the modicum of modesty, the slightly crossed legs, one over the other, her neatly trimmed bush drew his eyes from the long, slender tapering of her waist to the "V" of her groin. Her skin was clear and dry, well tanned from her sessions at the sun studio, and he knew he loved her above all other things.

He stayed in the doorway as he stripped off his t-shirt and shorts, before he strode towards her, his erection swaying in front of him, like the bow light on a sailing yacht in a choppy sea. As she watched him undress, her eyes shone with an even fiercer light, and her legs involuntarily uncrossed at his approach.

At the side of the bed, he leaned over and took her right nipple in his mouth, sucking it in and causing it to erect between his lips. Suzanne moaned in appreciation, and reached up with her right arm to pull his head closer to her breast. Ian drank in her scent, and thought - not of her - but of the excitement he had seen in his friend's eye. Ian turned his head, her nipple still firmly grasped in his mouth, and looked along her flat stomach towards the neat blond landing strip of her pubis.

Ho loved his young wife; the way she looked; the way she smelled; the way she walked, talked, laughed, cried, loved, felt, blushed, came, smiled, dressed; everything about her was a delight and a mystery to him. Owning her, being her other half, coming home to her in the evening or in the morning, made him happy. He remembered the joy he felt sometimes, after a night shift, when he came home, tired but happy, early on a Sunday morning, the rest of the world barely awake. He would stop and buy her flowers, sneak into their house before anyone awoke, and take her a cup of tea and the flowers to their bed. After waking her gently, and giving her time to adjust to his presence, he would make love to her and feel like he felt now; that she was an essential part of his being.

Ian released her nipple from his mouth, and dragged his tongue down the slope of her lower breast, across the gentle curve of her rib cage, past her oval belly button and the flat plain of her lower stomach. Here his tongue dried from the absorption of her sparse blond pubic hair, and he wetted it in his mouth, interrupting the passage of his devotion, before continuing into the folds of her sex.

She shivered as he reached her intimate corners, parting her legs to allow his familiar access, inviting his attention, and drawing her arms over her face as she submitted to the familiar, but ever-exciting administrations of his tongue and lips.

Ian swung his body round, parting her legs even further to make his access easier. He settled between her legs and lapped momentarily at her erupting sex. As the petals of her sex opened, and her hard button presented itself to his mouth, he sucked it in with his soft lips, feeling her softer inner lips with his tongue, before letting the same tongue run over her excited bud.

This was both familiar and exciting. He knew her body, knew what he was capable of calling from it, and he expertly stimulated her as she continued to moisten and open beneath him. Suzanne thought of nothing except the feelings she was experiencing. Ian was aware of his own hardness, pressed against the bed, and of his own devotion and submission to the needs of his wife.

He allowed his lips to be drawn further south, from her bud to her folds, and beyond. She raised her knees in Pavlovian reaction to his stimulation, moving her hands down to grasp her own knees and draw them up, and automatically raising her butt to his access. His tongue and lips pulled away from her sex, and turned to the delicate rose of her arse; first licking it, and then stiffening and probing it; his ultimate act of submission to her. Her hands tightened behind her knees, accepting his taboo token, opening herself to him.

And so Ian found himself, as so often before, adoring her body in the way he felt most comfortable. Alternating between Suzanne's ass and her sex, wanting to draw himself into her, simply worshipping his wife. He felt her body start to stiffen as her excitement mounted; felt one of her hands reach down to grasp the top of his head and pull him into her; felt her back arch, and her head throw back as she approached her climax, and her hip movements slowed, and her hand pressed his face ever harder against her as she came, and blessed his worship and sacrifice for her with her own release.

Then he felt her body slowly relax, and he caught his breath, between sucking and nibbling at her lips, and making her quiver with the aftershock of her orgasm.

They subsided. She relaxed, then instantly awoke as he repeatedly nibbled at her. He recovering his breath, proud of his achievement, hard cock pressed between his body and the bed. Delighting at the responses from her as he teased and tormented her in her afterglow.

Eventually, after several more minutes of intimate nibbling, and shuddering response from Suzanne, Ian raised himself from her and crawled above her, bringing his stiff cock to press against her receptive sex. He felt the initial pressure of resistance as he probed her lips, followed by the warm, moist welcoming of her vagina as she accepted him into her.

Her eyes opened as he entered her, and sparkled again with the satisfied look of love as she smiled up at him, feeling him filling her belly with his eager cock. Now as he looked down into her face, he felt again the pride and excitement that she brought out in him. As he started to slowly stroke into and out of her body, he watched her face, and found his thoughts returning to his fantasies about his friends seeing her like this, this exact view.

His lust rose with the fantasy, feeding it, and for the first time he felt the need to share some of his wanton thoughts with her.

"You look fabulous," he whispered to her, "I am so proud of you."

He wanted to find the words to make her aware of his feelings, for her to know how he felt when he saw his friend eyeing her with lust and excitement and envy, but he was struggling to think of the appropriate opening, scared of how she might react to these secret thoughts and fantasies. As he continued his gentle lovemaking, staring into his wife's eyes, he searched for what to say.

"I love to look good for you," she whispered back, "and I'm sure that John didn't mind me being in my nightie when he arrived."

Ian's cock actually surged at her words. He felt saliva begin to well up in his mouth he was so excited at the opportunity she had presented to him. It was as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. As he stroked deeply into her, he took the chance.

"I'm sure he would have been happier if you hadn't covered yourself with your gown." He managed to say, waiting expectantly and nervously for her reaction.

"I'm sure that he would have been too," she smiled at him, "but you wouldn't want him to see me in just my nightie would you?" she teased. "My nightie on its own would have left me virtually naked for him."

Suzanne felt the surge in his cock this time, and recognised the effect her words were having on him. Now, recognising he would never have a better opening, Ian took the plunge:

"He saw you in just your nightie when I first opened the door," he managed to say. His heart felt like it was in his throat; he was so excited. Suzanne closed her eyes, and remembered that the door from the kitchen to the hall had been open when Ian had answered the front door. She blushed quickly at the thought, but realised John would only have seen her back.

Ian continued, stroking rhythmically into and out of her, "And then he saw you through the door to the study, when you were clearing away the dishes." This time Suzanne really blushed at the thought. The nightie was short and virtually transparent, he would have been able to clearly see her body, naked beneath it.

Now he had started, Ian found it difficult to stop, "I would love for him to see you naked," he stuttered in his excitement, "I was so disappointed when you brought the wine in wearing that robe, I so wanted him to see how beautiful you really are."

Suzanne recognised how this subject was exciting him, and despite being slightly shocked, wanted to play along with the fantasy, "So, you actually want me to display myself to your friends do you?"

Ian could hardly believe his luck, nor contain his spiralling lust. "Yes!" he managed to croak, his pulse now racing at the possibility. "If an opportunity comes again, I would like you to let yourself be seen. I would like John to see all of you. And I'd like him to know that you know he's seen you, and that you liked him seeing."

Ian was amazed at the speed at which this fantasy was progressing. For her part, Suzanne was surprised that Ian was so specific - it sounded like he actually wanted John, specifically, to see her in that way. She wasn't sure if she liked the way this was developing, but there was no question that she liked the effect it was having on Ian. He felt bigger inside her than ever before, and she recognised that he was showing all the signs of approaching his orgasm.

"Tell me you will do it," Ian begged, "tell me that you will really let John see you naked, pleeeaase?" he groaned as he pushed himself ever deeper into her.

Suzanne recognised his need. As she wrapped her long legs around him and pulled him deeper into her with her heels, she responded, "I will do it," she said, "I will arrange for John to see me naked. I'll let him see my breasts and my ass, I'll let him see my pussy." As she spoke the words, she felt Ian's excitement, felt his thrusts speed up, felt him swell inside her. His breath was now coming in grunts, and his eyes were tightly clenched shut as he imagined John seeing his own wife in all her glory, imagined his beautiful wife deliberately exposing herself to his friend.

Suzanne continued feeding his fantasy, "and I'll let him know that I know he is looking. I'll turn and smile at him so he knows that I know he is looking. Ngggnnng" she felt his deep thrust into her. "And every time we meet in public.uhnnn, afterwards, oh yes, he'll remember, mmmmnnn, looking at me, remember seeing me, aaaaagggh, naked."

As she spoke, between her own groans and utterances, she felt Ian respond to her words, pushing harder into her, tensing the muscles of his buttocks at the depth of his invasion into her, and then quickly withdrawing before stabbing himself deeply into her again.

"Oh yes, oh God!" Ian cried as he started to come. Suzanne pushed back against him, surprising herself with the passion she felt. She was amazed to recognise that the talk about exhibiting herself was also adding to her own excitement. As she felt the first splashes of Ian's intense orgasm inside her, she squeezed herself against him, trapping him inside her, and experiencing her own orgasm building within. So it was that, as Ian's deflating cock twitched inside her, it brought Suzanne to a pulsing orgasm of her own.

Ian collapsed on top of Suzanne, his breath coming in pants from his exertions, his brow studded with sweat beads, and his entire body shaking from the intensity of his release. Suzanne reached around him and pulled him to her as she tried to keep him inside her for another minute or two, her vulva contracting and relaxing in spasms from her own continuing orgasm.

Eventually, Ian slipped from her, and rolled exhaustedly from her, ending up lying on his back beside her on the bed. Suzanne turned towards him, gazed down at his flaccid cock, moist with their joint secretions, and contentedly reached her arm across his chest, snuggling up to her lover and husband. It was in this position that Ian slipped into sleep; but Suzanne remained awake, thinking about her own reaction to her husband's newly revealed fantasy.


As Ian slept peacefully beside her, Suzanne wondered about what had just happened. Her husband had actually admitted that he wanted her to expose herself to his best friend. Ok, it was in the heat of passion, but it had clearly been extremely exiting to him. She had never known him so . so what? she wondered. So "uncontrolled" she realised. He had been completely lost in the image of the fantasy.

And what about her? What about her own surprising reaction to this revelation? She knew that talking about it in the midst of their lovemaking had affected her, had turned her on. Her own excitement and reaction had not been simply a response to the extra vigour and strength she had felt in her husband as she played to his fantasy. She realised that the fantasy itself had affected her. She was both surprised and puzzled at her own reaction.

Suzanne had spent her whole adult life maintaining the modesty and decorum expected of a respectable young, and later married, woman. Why should the idea of displaying herself to other men than her husband suddenly become an exciting proposition?

As she lay there cuddling her husband, Suzanne tried to imagine scenarios where the fantasy might become reality. She found it difficult to think of a set of circumstances where she could be naked in front of John, and she tried and discarded several ideas before a reasonable thought presented itself. As she was thinking, she convinced herself that she was going down this route purely to try to understand her own peculiar reaction. Whatever happened, she could never just deliberately expose herself to John without there being some kind of pretext to hide behind.

She imagined John being in the house, maybe working with Ian in the study. She would be in the upstairs bathroom, showering or bathing; in any event, naked. Maybe she would need to come downstairs for something, wrapped in a towel. The idea was developing. When she was sure that John was watching her, through the door into the kitchen, she could "accidentally" let the towel drop.

As she thought through and replayed this scenario several times in her head, she was again surprised to feel her own excitement rising once more. She imagined herself, in the kitchen, John staring at her through the open door, the towel in a heap at her feet, and her entire body exposed to his excited gaze.

Than she imagined John, later, replaying the incident in his own head, thinking of her nakedness as he played with himself. Her excitement continued to rise.

She imagined the immediate aftershock; John attempting to look away, but unable to take his eyes of her; herself, frozen in time, slow to react and cover up, allowing him plenty of time to drink in the view of her. And then she invented the piece de resistance, the crowning glory. She imagined picking up the towel and walking from the kitchen into the hall, and past the other open door in the study. She imagined walking past the open door, still naked and carrying her towel, and turning to look at John, and smiling at him; deliberately letting him know that she wanted him to see her. As she played this little fantasy in her mind several times, she became aware of her own hand between her legs, her fingers skilfully stimulating herself, feeling the sticky residue from the lovemaking with Ian, and feel a new wave of moisture from her renewed excitement adding to it. She closed her eyes and saw John watching her through the open study door, his eyes following her every move as she slowly and deliberately walked up the stairs, naked, her eyes never leaving his.

And then she came, again, with that picture in her mind. And she knew that she wanted to do it. She knew that she wanted John, every time he met her afterwards, to remember that she had deliberately let him see her naked. She wanted him to be able to see her on social occasions, dressed, but able to know exactly what she looked like beneath her clothes. She wanted John to think about her when he masturbated. She wanted him to imagine making love to her when he was with his own wife. She wanted his desire.

As she settled down to sleep after her orgasm died away, she knew that she would make Ian's fantasy come true. She had a plan, and she had the desire. Now she wanted to do it; for Ian; for John; but mostly for herself.

Suzanne and Ian slept like the contented and sated lovers they were, dreaming their own dreams, hardly moving in their bed, their bodies intertwined, until the alarm went off the next morning. be continued...
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