This is my first story on Reddit, I’ve gone back and forth on whether or not to post this half of the story. I’ve gotten pretty far on this one, should I publish a part 2? If I don’t get any answers, I’ll just figure it wasn’t meant to be and just let the story hang and not work on it anymore. Since it’s unfinished, is there a direction I should go?
~@~@~Pushing Her Limits~@~@~
“I’ll bet the Rangers do beat the Mighty Ducks,” I say confidently.
“I think you’re crazy, there’s no way the Rangers will beat the Ducks,” Susan says as the points a red nailed finger at me. “The Ducks look fantastic this year and they’ve already beaten the Rangers once, so why wouldn’t they do it again?”
“Because it’s hockey, darling. Anything can happen on any particular night.”
She’s always been a big hockey fan, but I had no idea she felt this confident about it. She also seemed oddly aggressive as well. I start to wonder how far I could push her with her confidence. “Want to make a little wager? If you’re so damn sure that the Ducks are going to win, let’s make a little bet.”
I get a sideways look from her, you can see the gears turning in her head as to what I had in mind. “Exactly what do you have in mind, Ryan?”
I can see that she’s beginning to look worried, but I smile and say, “How about slave for a day for the loser? No holds barred, anything either wants, no questions.”
“Are you sure you want to clean and paint the house, I could also use a nice foot rub and I’m sure my mother needs some stuff done around the house as well,” she says, giving me a sly look – knowing full well that’s not what I had in mind.
“Sure, if that’s what you want to use me for. I’ve got something else in mind for what I win, but you can use me for household chores.”
“Oh, it’s going to be like THAT, is it?”
“Yep, sure is. You know I’m pretty shallow…”
“Yes… yes you are. I’m going to make you PAY!”
“I’m looking forward to it, Susan. Me winning, that is.”
* * *
The big night comes up and we head out to the local sports bar to watch it. The game comes on and we’re both cheering and booing at the small TV they have the game on. Neither team is local, so we get funny looks from the other patrons of the bar. Half the fun of watching hockey with her is watching her jump around, making her breasts jiggle when she gets excited.
Susan’s a curvy brunette, in her mid 40’s, she gets a lot of looks because of those curves. When we first married, almost 25 years ago, she was rail-thin – little B cups and virtually no ass to speak of. Since the kids were born, she grew a magnificent set of double D cup breasts and a round, firm ass to match. She’s still as conservative as ever, I have to beg to get her to shave her pussy, but she does do it on special occasions, mostly on my birthday and on father’s day. Everything about her says conservative, right down to her dressing habits. Jeans and maybe a t-shirt. Which also matches having sex in bed with her, conservative. She’s been ok with me bringing toys into the bedroom, but she rarely initiates sex and doesn’t go beyond the standard missionary and doggie style that often. If the Rangers win, that’ll change….
The game ends up going to overtime and I see the shocked look on her face as the Rangers win in a final shoot-out. It looks as though the realization that it’s going to be a long weekend for her. I just look at her with a wry grin, saying nothing.
“So,” she says, “wanna get this over with this weekend?”
“Don’t make any plans, you’ll be busy most of the day,” I say… grinning ear to ear. “No holds barred, correct?”
“We did make that bet, didn’t we,” she looks down as she forces the words out. She almost looks as though she wants to kick a little dirt with her toe, but can’t because we’re in a bar.
“Yep, we sure did. But I’ll give you a little leeway, I’ll give you one chance to opt out of something that you don’t want to do. You’d better use that once chance wisely, you never know when something else might come up.”
“You do know that’d never let you wimp out of anything, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I know… but I’m a kinder, gentler person than you.”
“HA! I know that’s crap, you’re so full of it. What time do you want to get this done with on Saturday?”
“Well, Susan… let’s start this at 4 pm on Saturday. That’ll give you all day to screw around and do stuff you want to do before the real fun begins.”
“Fine. You’re not going to let me get out of this, are you?”
“Would you let ME get out of it?”
“No. I guess we’ll see what a bastard you are this weekend, won’t we?”
“Yep.”
* * *
Saturday rolls around and she disappears shopping with her friends for the morning. She doesn’t see too worried that morning, I think she thinks that I’ll forget about our little wager. I haven’t. As soon as she leaves, I head out to do a little shopping of my own. She thinks she’s going to be wearing whatever she wants, I have a different idea….
That afternoon, she finally shows back up at the house, bearing a few bags and looks generally exhausted. She tries sneaking by me while I watch tv in the living room. I “subtly” cough a little, getting a backwards glance. She wanders off to the bedroom and I let her hide, until 4 pm rolls around. I get off the couch and wander into the bedroom where I see her trying on the clothes she’s purchased today.
“Ready to get this boat floatin’?” I say eagerly.
“We’re still going to go through with this, are we? I was hoping you would have forgotten.”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Better go take a shower, we’ve got a busy evening. And…”
“Let me guess, I have to shave ‘down there’ don’t I?”
“You got it, babe.”
She shrugs her shoulders and disappears into her bathroom. I wander into mine and take a quick shower, shaving and doing some man-scaping. I’ve got a strange problem with pubic hair and I typically keep mine pretty short, a practice I wish I could push on to Susan. She never did like shaving down there, she says it itches but likes the feel of it. I used to suggest she get waxed, but she laughs and asks me if I want some guy to tear the fur off of my Johnson. I tell her no, but I’d let a woman do it. That usually ends the conversation dead in its tracks.
About 45 minutes later, I hear the bathroom door open, and she walks out, hair done and wearing a thin black nightgown. She poses seductively by the door, looking at me, reaching up and cupping a breast, massaging a nipple with the end of one of her red painted nails. “How’s this for you, Ryan?”
“Let me see… get ready for inspection, slave.”
She stands upright as I walk over and run my hands up and down her sides, feeling her curves. I Notice she’s got underwear on almost immediately, and pull her nightgown up enough to expose them and I hook my thumbs into them and pull them out, slightly. “Off,” I say.
She reaches down a slides the underwear down and I notice that they’re g-strings, not the usual granny panties she normally wears. I don’t remember seeing them before, so I realize that she bought them today. Pity, I think… she’s going to get 2 minutes of use out of them, and those 2 minutes are over. I step back, looking at her full breasts heaving up and down, waiting for me to say something, but I just stand there, looking at her. After a bit, she starts to fidget and I tell her, “now the nightgown.”
Dutifully, she wriggles out of the nightgown and stands before me, completely naked. Her large breasts, tipped by pink, half dollar sized, erect nipples heave slowly as she stands before me. Continuing the inspection, I look down at her freshly shaven pussy. I walk up to her and put my hand down to cup it a little. Its completely smooth and she’s wet. Very wet. I run my hand up and down it, pushing my finger into the wetness, rubbing her clit a little. I hear a little sigh as she asks, “is it good enough?”
“Speak when spoken to, slave. For the insolence, get on the bed and masturbate for me.”
Shocked, she looks at me briefly as she dutifully gets on the bed, face up, and legs spread out so I can watch her. She reaches down to her pussy and starts to slowly rub it, paying close attention to her clit. I watch for a few minutes, which seem like hours, I’d like nothing better than to hop on her, pushing my thick cock into her soaking wet pussy. But, I wait.
“That’s enough,” I say after about 5 minutes. “Get over here on your knees.”
She gets up, slides off the bed and gets in front of me, on her knees. I love how she looks up at me, those big green eyes looking up at me. I do what comes naturally, I start to unzip my pants. “Service me,” I say.
She leans into my now exposed cock and grabs it with her hand, guiding it to her waiting mouth and starts to slowly run her tongue up and down the shaft of it. The sensation is almost maddening as I try and control the wave of cum waiting for its release. She must have been thinking about technique, I think… she works the head of my cock, popping it in and out of her mouth with a little popping and slurping noise, nearly pushing me to the edge several times. I put my hand on top of her head and start to slide my cock in and out of her willing mouth, pushing as much as I can into her, almost as if I was fucking her. I can hear her moan a little and I pull my cock out and step back a little. “Let’s get ready to go, we’ve got a busy night.”
“We’re going somewhere? I thought we were going to stay in?”
“I’ve picked out your clothes, by the way. Remember, you can use one ‘wimp’ for the night, I would suggest you not use it now.”
“Uh oh,” she says as I nod towards a chair where I had laid out her clothes for the night. During the day while she was out, I ran out to one of the local clubwear stores and purchased some items for her. I had found a white t-shirt that said “SLUT” across the front of it, a pair of daisy dukes, and a pair of 6 inch black leather stilettos. “Where’s the rest of it?” She asks.
“This is it. Put it on.”
“This isn’t enough to wear, people will be able to see my nipples!”
“You can always choose to use your wimp now, of course.”
Fearing the worst, she sighs and begins dressing, starting with the Daisy Dukes. As she bends over to pick them up, I can see her pussy, parting her ass cheeks ever so slightly. They fit her perfectly, they barely cover the crease below her perfectly sculpted ass. The t shirt fits her well as well, her nipples can just be barely seen outside the fabric, if she would have had anything but perfectly pink nipples, it would have almost been cause for indecent exposure. When she’s done putting the t shirt on, she does a little “ta da” movement as she spins around, making me smile a little.
Shortly after, she sits down into the chair to put her new shoes on, bending over to get them on, giving me a nice, long look at her ample cleavage. I didn’t realize the shirt was cut so low when I bought it, bad for her, good for everyone else. Where I’m taking her, she’ll be noticed. A lot. After she finished with her shoes, she stands up and I give her a once over look and nod approvingly. She looks fantastic. I grab her by the hand and we head to the car.
* * *
Out in the car, I ask her, “So, how do you feel?”
“Naked. Like I’m going to get arrested, naked,” she mutters.
“Good, then you’re dressed right.”
“We’re not going in public, are we?”
“Yep. You’re going to be a hit, trust me.”
“What if I decide to wimp out on that one?”
“It’s your choice, but you only get one, remember?”
“I remember, damn it. I just feel so naked. No bra, no panties, a t shirt that’s BARELY legal and a pair of shorts that barely cover my ass. So, pretty much… I’m naked.”
In the dead of summer, it’s still light out for a little bit. I’d better make the best of it. I’d hate to waste the daylight and her present state of dress. “The next car we go by, I want you to flash him. Get right up next to him and lift your shirt.”
“I can’t do that!”
“Sure you can. Just lift your shirt and get it over with. Or… you can use your special ‘wimp powers’ and get out of it. Just remember, the night is still young.”
On the two lane road we’re on, we see a car up in the distance and we start to close on it, slowly. It takes about five minutes to get up to it, and from the rear we can tell its got a middle aged, partly balding man and he’s alone. Perfect, I think. “Here’s your chance, get ready” I tell her.
“I can’t! He’ll call the cops!”
“He won’t call the cops, you’ll probably make his night.”
“I can’t do it, I’m going to use my wimp.”
“Ok, if you want to. But you won’t have a way out later.”
“I’ll take my chances then. It can’t be much worse, can it?”
I grin at her as we pass the car she was supposed to flash. The guy has no idea what he just missed. It was kind of fortunate because sooner than I had guessed, we finally reach where we were headed: a bar on the other end of town which is known for being a swinger’s hangout. We pull unceremoniously into the parking lot just as the sun drops below the horizon and the lights in the parking lot come on. She looks petrified. And rightfully so, the night IS young and she’s mine to do whatever I want…
* * *
She’s visibly nervous as we walk through the front door of the bar and pause to survey our surroundings. It’s a lot more crowded here than I would have suspected this early in the evening, probably a dozen couples, and about 6 to 8 single men, half of the crowd is within 20 feet of the bar, dispersed fairly evenly. There’s a bar at the far end of the club, about a dozen tables with chairs around them and a dance floor with a few couples dancing. The music isn’t up as loud as I’d suspected it would be, and it feels quite comfortable here. I point out a table not far from the bar and we head over. I look over and her and watch her breasts sway, pushing the letters “SLUT” back and forth. She looks fantastic and completely edible. We sit down.
The waitress comes by, she’s not wearing much more than Susan is. She does have a bra on and of course, her t shirt doesn’t say, “SLUT” in big, pink letters. We order some drinks and the waitress winks at Susan before she wanders off. I look over at her and she’s blushing, visibly. If there’s one thing I know about her, is that when she’s worked up, she develops a blush, on her chest. And this was one of those times. From her neck down to her impressive cleavage, all red.
“There’s a lot of people here, aren’t there?” I say.
“Yes there are, way more than I had thought you’d subject me to.”
“There’s more here than I thought. Oh well, we’re here.”
“Yeah, we’re here.”
I look up and see that the waitress, Claire (as noted by her nametag) was back with our drinks. Susan had ordered a rum and coke and I had ordered a beer. We pay Claire and tip her fairly well to make sure she comes back, often. She smiles at both of us and saunters off to another table. “Well, drink up!”
Susan grabs her drink and tosses back half of it in nearly one gulp and then gets a funny look on her face. “Oh my, this is more than half alcohol!”
Knowing full well that my wife of 25 years is a lightweight, I grin and let out a little laugh. “That’ll loosen things up a little, won’t it?” I take a drink of my beer and survey the rest of the bar.
There’s a couple standing at the bar, looking directly as us. The wife of the couple is a statuesque blonde, about 5’7” and has the versatile “little black dress” on, showing off her thin, lithe body. I’d give a year’s life to see her dancing on the dance floor, she moved like she could limbo. Her husband with a bit more nondescript, button up shirt, jeans, and was certainly the athletic type.
I scan the room for Claire, find her and nod. She nods back, seems as though I’ve gotten her attention. I look back at Susan, who has already plowed through most of her drink and looked like she was having a pretty good time by the way she was swaying back and forth to the music they were playing. Claire arrives and I ask her to get my wife another drink. Claire puts her hand gently on Susan’s shoulder and as she leaves, is met with a friendly, over the shoulder smile.
As our waitress wanders off, I lean over to Susan and say, “Why don’t you give that tall blonde at the bar a wink?”
“Why?” She asks.
“Because it’d be nice to make eye contact before you go over there and flirt with them.”
“Uh, ok,” Susan says… unsure of herself… get getting a little more in the mood with a little social lubrication. She looks up at the blonde, who looks back at her, squinting her eyes a little in the process. Susan, with the smartass feeling coming out, gives the blonde an over exaggerated wink, putting more body into it than is necessary. The blonde returns the wink with a nearly comical wink, making me and her husband smile. I think we’ve succeeded in making contact at this point.
By this time, Claire has returned with Susan’s drink and I pay and tip her accordingly. “Thanks, sweetheart,” she says running her hand across my wife’s shoulder, lingering a little at the end. You could tell she was interested, but I had my wife one bigger and better things, the couple at the bar.
I look over at Susan and motion her over to the couple at the bar, she grimaces a little and says to me, “What the hell am I supposed to say?” She takes a big drink of her rum and coke.
“You’ll think of something, go flirt with them.”
Susan gets up and wanders over to the blonde and starts talking to both of them, I have no idea what they’re saying, but it looks like they’re getting over quite well. After a few minutes, I wander over to see what’s going on and before I even get there, Susan grabs my hand and says, “Let’s go dance!” We head to the dance floor with the other couple and start dancing.
Susan by this time is more than amply lubricated and is shaking her ass all over the dance floor, her large breasts almost swinging to the point of coming out of her shirt. I pull her into me by the ass and pull her shirt down enough for a nipple to expose itself. Susan quickly pulls her shirt back up and gives me a dirty look. I lean into her and say, “Slave, remember?” I get a little bit of a frowny face and she goes back to dancing.
The blonde seems to be really getting into it and comes over and starts dancing with Susan a little, they exchange looks a little and I lean over to her and say, “touch her a little, on the hips.” Susan reluctantly dances over closer to the blonde and backs into the blonde, causing them to spoon a little and Susan reaches back and draws the blonde in my the hips. After a few minutes of grinding, Susan dances back over close to me and I whisper, “Good… let’s get out of here. We’ve got more places to go.”
“Damn,” she says as we head back to the table, finish our drinks and head for the door. Leaving the couple on the dance floor. We wave as we exit and hit the parking lot, on our way to our next destination of the night.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/6pzbgp/pushing_her_limits_hotwife_mc
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