I had permission even before we got married. Fool around if I want, just tell him about it. He’s never encouraged it really, just tolerated it. It’s not cheating if I tell him, he always says.
He’d take me out on weekends to bars and clubs knowing I’d spend most of the night talking and dancing with strangers. He’d watch from the distance of the beer garden or the pool table. I’d cosy up to men.
I’d position myself so he had a good view. I wanted him to watch. I wanted everyone to watch, but especially him. He’d just smile and return to his game.
Strange guys putting their hands on. Putting my hands on them. Exploring the shape of their erections through their pants. Grinding my ass against them song after song. Sitting on laps and batting my eyelids.
The men would paw at my chest, grab my ass and thighs. Some would slip a hand between my legs, expecting me to stop them or react somehow. I’d let them, of course. I wanted their hands on me. I wanted them to want me. I made them hard with excitement and I loved doing it.