Exposing Kat

My wife has always had an exhibitionist tendency, probably left over fromhigh school days when we had sex in risky places out of necessity. She isa gorgeous redhead, a true redhead with pale skin, freckled where the sunhas licked its infrequent rays, and a lush growth of shocking red-orangehair at the base of her belly. Her exhibitionism was mild, though, andwhat happened one afternoon far exceeded her limits. Or would have, hadshe known. One late afternoon we had had a couple of glasses of wine while sitting inthe shade in the backyard. She had on a thin cotton print dress that lefta lot of breast-top and shoulder bare, and reached down well below herknees. She called it her "lucky dress" because it showed her body to suchadvantage that she invariably got lucky when she wore it. She eschewedunderwear of any sort, so was bare beneath. When she would stand with theslanting rays of the sun behind her, I could see a perfect outline of hernude form beneath the light dress, and her hair glowed in beautiful redhighlights. She was in quite a mood -- the wine had apparently gone right to her head. She walked up right in front of me and reached down to grab the hem of herdress. Slowly, she twitched it up her legs, to her knees, then higher,revealing smooth pale thighs. She quickly flashed a glimpse of red furthat grew still higher, then turned. She sawed the hem of her lucky dressback and forth across her rear, swaying her hips to an unheard rythmn. Inch by inch, her bare bottom came into view, like a full moon peeking frombehind slow- moving clouds. It was then that I noticed a movement in the bushes behind her. There wassomeone there, watching! I was so surprised that I didn't say anything forthe moment it took to recognize him as a young man who jogged by our houseevery morning. I was even more surprised when I saw what he was doing. His jogging shorts were down, but he was up -- way up -- his exposed penisstanding at attention in a most needy fashion. There are a lot of reasons I should have done something, of course, but atthat moment, the tableux hit me with such an erotic charge that I wasparalyzed. It was my sweet little redheaded wife that had brought thisyoung man's cock to such an impressive erection. If I had seen the shadowyoutline of her bare body, so had he. If the jiggle of her breasts beneaththe thin fabric of her dress had caused my member to twich, it had had thesame effect on his. For a moment, the thought crossed my mind that shewould enjoy seeing this young man's long, thick penis hard just for her,but I quickly rejected the idea. Her first impulse would be rational andproper -- she would run from a peeping tom in the bushes. The quiltydecision had already been made for her, though. Such a wildly pervertedopportunity might never come again. I would have my wife give a show thatthis young man would never forget, nor would I. I turned my attention back to my wife's performance -- the internaldebate, if you can call such a one-sided argument a debate, had lasted onlya second. She had bent forward to give me a fairly complete view of herbreasts hanging down below her neckline. She was also unknowingly givingthe stranger a good view of her rear end; probably even a tantalizingglimpse of slick pink flesh between fringes of red hair. I stood up and gently spun her around so that the front of her body nowfaced away from me -- toward the unseen eyes I knew were drinking in thesight of her. She turned her head to look at me over her shoulder, herexpression playful. My hands moved over her body toward her breasts. Hernaked throat was a long, pale curve as she tilted her head back to receivea kiss. I massaged her breasts under her dress, pushing them into swellsof lightly-freckled flesh above the low-cut collar. Nipples stiffened under my attentions, neither revealed nor hidden by the thin material. Then one hand moved down, across the curve of her belly, leaving one breastpushed up into prominance. She pushed her hips backwards against me,wriggling against the stiffness she found. Our kiss broke with a slightgasp from her lips. Eyes closed, tongue moistening lips, a smile playingon the corners of her mouth. The hem of her dress was gathered by fingers playing along the front ofher thighs. Cloth gave way to a touch of smooth skin, then eye followedhand as I pulled her hem higher, exposing her thighs. Fingers felt thetickle of her pubic hair before its orange-red glory was unveiled. Nowboth hands pulled upward at her hem, and the richly-colored trianglebetween her thighs was seen set against the pale planes and curves of bellyand hips. She put her feet a little further apart, opening her thighs toattentions that were not nearly so private as she thought. More than my finger dipped into the fleshy cleft half-hidden by her pubichair. My wife's secret places were also being touched by a stranger'seyes. He witnessed and shared her rising excitement as I stroked the stifflittle bud that sought my fingertip. He heard her soft moan of pleasure. Little by little, he was plundering her sexual secrets, filling hispounding blood with memories of how she looked, how she sounded. Memoriesthat would bring both stiffness and relief in years to come. I continued stroking my wife while I pulled her dress up with my otherhand. Now she was completely naked except for a temporary bundle of fabricacross her breasts. Her trim waist, the lazy eye of her belly button, thecurves of her hips, and now, far below the fair skin of her exposed abdomen, the shock of red-orange hair beneath my hand, were all of itdisplayed for the pleasure of not one man, but two, not only her husband,but a young stranger. In the watcher's imagination, the swollen tip of hispenis was feeling the slippery gully between the fringes of red fur. Itwas his stiff member that rubbed pleasurably against the near-nakedredhead's clitoris, not my finger. With a final upward tug, her breasts popped free. She helped pull thedress up over her head, impatient to get rid of it. Her red-gold curlswere tousled in the wake, curling invitingly over bare shoulders andteasing her throat in tickling wisps. I began rubbing her up in earnest now, while pinching first one nipple,then the other with my other hand. She threw her head back and moved her body to encourage attentions both above and below her waist. Her breastswere thrust out, nipples pointing more upward than straight ahead, and herhips twitched foward obscenely under my hand. She was breathing hard now,her hands absently touching my hands and herself: smoothing down her hips,pulling her hair, as if they moved without conscious thought. Every bit oferectile tissue in her body was perked up and begging for attention --which it received, and roughly. I knew that it would take little more for her to favor our unseen audiencewith an orgasm. Reaching down, I jammed a finger into the wetness insideof her, while my other hand abandoned nipple for clitoris. Her breasts jiggled forcefully under the movements of my hands between her legs. Mywife was a portrait of lust in cream and coral colors, all curves andsoftness and desperate motion, straining toward the inevitable explosion ofpleasure deep within her hips. Suddenly, she came. A gasp was cut off deep in her throat, and her muscles tensed. For a longfive seconds, there was only a breathless tremor. I'm sure our observerthought her frozen since he was unable to feel the lust tremble beneath hishands. But then she pitched her head forward, and drew in a loud,shuddering breath. Her body jerked as it was wracked by spasms of pleasureexploding outward from her lower belly. She expelled her breath in a longgroan of physical satisfaction. I mercilessly continued to work the sensitive parts between her clenched thighs, as aftershocks -- each amini-climax in itself -- caused her to catch her breath and moan, catch andmoan, each catch accompanied by a foward jerk of her hips against my hands,and each moan by a gyrating retreat into the luxurious sensation of sexualpleasure. Looking over her shoulder, I was shocked to see the stranger had steppedfoward in his eagerness. Not so openly that he would have been seen forsure, and my wife was certainly not being observant. Yet I could see him,eyes fixed on my naked wife, his shorts down almost to his knees, strokinghis large cock. To avoid any chance of my wife seeing him, I spun her around roughly. Shehung her arms loosely around my neck and pressed against me, and my handsfound her buttocks. I occupied her attention with a kiss, but my ownattention was on our not-so- unseen observer. He had actually taken a stepout from cover, watching my hands massage my wife's rear. I parted herfleshy cheeks, and she cocked her hips back, unwittingly exposing herselfto him. He took a step toward her, the purple head of his cock, thoughdistant, pointed directly at the sexual parts which glistened invitingly. I gripped her more tightly so she wouldn't turn around, and the thoughtstruck me that he was going to just step up and plunge that long slab ofmeat right into her. My eyes widened, and I shook my head. He hesitated,as if coming to his senses, but then, with one more glance at my wife'sspread ass and the the dual promises of pleasure it revealed, he half-closed his eyes and shot a long spurt of semen. Propelled withyouthful vigor, it shot several feet toward my wife, but, fortunately, fellshort of actually hitting her. Again and again, his fist pumped longsquirts of white hot pleasure from the dark opening at the tip of his cock-- he was that close that I could see it. I was sorry that my wife was missing the sight. If I could take a certain guilty pleasure in watching the young man ejaculate so forcefully, I was sure my wife would have beeneven more delighted, especially if she could have appreciated the fact thatit was she and she alone who had inspired such lust. After an orgasm that appeared to be almost as intense as my wife's, theyoung stranger, with a blend of worry, guilt, and satisfaction on his face,mouthed a silent "thank you" and disappeared with rustle back into thebushes. "What was that?" my wife whispered, giving a startled look over her shoulder. She snatched her dress from the ground and held it in front ofher as she peered into the bushes. There was something pathetically funny about that modest gesture, and I had to give a guilty laugh. "Probably just a squirrel," I soothed, leaving her to wonder what I foundso funny about that. The episode had left me more excited than I could recall in many years, though, and I quickly led her inside to bed. So vigorous and satisfying was our lovemaking that it was hard to feel too guilty afterwards.