One Day Sunday by debee part 1
“Cute,” I said of the girl in the ad. My wife eyed me with mock jealousy. We were in bed having our Sunday coffee, me with the sports page, her flipping through a fashion chick magazine. She paused at the page.
“You think she’s cute?”
“Her? Well sure. But I meant her top. Her top is cute.”
“Hmm. What makes you think so?”
“Oh,” I studied the picture, “I like the simplicity, I guess. Good color for her too, with her eyes, hair.”
She flipped through more of her magazine. “What about her?”
“Her, or her dress?”
“Her dress. Sexy?”
“If you like slutty, I suppose. I mean who wears a cocktail dress like that in the afternoon? She looks like a hooker”
“Really, you are so adorable sometimes.” She leaned over and gave me a long wet kiss.
“Mmmmm,” I sighed when I caught my breath. “So, what’s so adorable?”
“You. After 12 years you still surprise me sometimes. First of all, guys usually like slutty. Anytime. And guys don’t say “tops” for girls’ tops, they say “shirts”, and when they do notice girls’ clothes, they notice things like spike heels or hot mini skirts. Not “simple tops” that “goes well with her hair.” Not straight guys anyway. You’re not going gay on me are you?” she kidded.
“Let me show you how gay,” I said as I rolled over on top of her.
“Mmmm” she purred. “Our friend has perked up again. But we’ve had enough for today. I’m jumping in the shower.” I watched her as she stood and peeled down her panties.
“And after 12 years you’ve still got it. Wow.” She giggled and through her undies at me as she stepped in the adjoining bathroom. As I listened to the sound of the shower I absentmindedly picked up the magazine and thumbed through the glossy ads. I was still doing so when she emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, naked and toweling her short cropped hair
“See anything you like?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah,” I leered, ogling her.
“Thanks, but not me, silly. In your chick mag. Any “cute tops,” she quoted with her fingers. “Can I wear your boxers today?” she asked without waiting for a response. “I want those.” She leaned down and tugged at my waistband.
“Sure.” I lifted my butt off the bed so she could slide my boxer briefs down my legs. “Burrrr,” I playfully shivered.
My wife chuckled. “You can wear these.” She winked as she retrieved her pink bikini panties still laying on the bed and tossed them at me again. She pulled up my shorts and found my “wife beater” next to the bed and pulled it over her head. No bra.
“These teeny things?” I teased, picking up the panties, “keep me warm?”
“I’ll bet they could keep you warm another way,” she grinned looking at my still stiff cock. It was my turn to chuckle as I headed for my shower.
I pondered under the hot water about my wife’s morning antics with her magazine comments and her playful suggestion of trading underwear. I came out of the bathroom strangely horny and was ready to suggest to her that we crawl back under the sheets. But I found her already dressed. She was at the mirror applying a bit of lipstick. I saw her underwear still on the bed, thought “what the hell,” and slipped them on. They did feel rather nice. As I glanced up I noticed my wife watching me in the mirror. We smiled at each other.
As I pulled up my Levis, she suddenly announced, “I’m going shopping. I need some new clothes.” This was unusual for her and I was rather surprised. She really is more of a “manlike” shopper. Strictly an “as needed” person when it comes to clothes. “Want to come?”
“Oh, yeah, right,” I said sarcastically. She knew how I felt about such expeditions. “Besides, I gotta game on the tube.”
“A game? Come with. Please. Oh pleasepleaseplease,” she pouted. “I’ll make it worth your while,” she said coyly. “And I want your help. Your advice, what with your good taste in women’s fashion,” she playfully added.
What’s a guy to do?
As my wife drove to the mall, she was talkative. She chatted happily about her friends and my friends and relationship gossip, best places to get low-cal lunch, quality make-up, fashion. Girl talk. Stuff she knows I hate. But her mood was infectious and engaging, and I soon found myself gabbing away with enthusiasm on these silly subjects. By the time we parked, my chipper mood matched hers. “I’m so happy I came. This is fun,” I chirped.
“Me too,” and she kissed me softly and long. She squeezed my hand and gave it a tug. “Let’s go!” she said and we almost skipped into the mall.
Now at what point did I realize what she was up to? So far nothing particularly or overtly kinky had been done or said. While our 12 year old sex life wasn’t exactly wild, neither was it pure vanilla. We had our share of toys, fooled around with bdsm, that kind of thing. A little, mild cross dressing was new, but not startling. And clearly, since the morning we both enjoyed wearing each others’ ”things” underneath.
But when did I know she was going to go farther? And sooner, rather than later? Was she turned on by the thought? Or, as she noticed my hard cock earlier, was my wife doing this for me? Or did knowing it turned the other on, turn us both on?
These thoughts came later, slowly seeping up from my subconscious. For now I cheerfully followed her, taking up again our fun, girl talk chatter. At first we window shopped and browsed, zipping into the smaller shops and boutiques, noting sales and specials. We offered each other our opinion on cute styles and best colors, what one could wear with what, and to what. We looked at everything from skinny jeans, to skirts, tops, shoes, jewelry, accessories. Just looked. Looked and chatted.
Once we walked by a perfume counter. “I like this one” my wife said, and she sprayed a touch on her wrist. But instead of rubbing her wrists together she rubbed her wrist on mine and then held it to her nose and sniffed. Then she offered my wrist to me. “Pretty, huh?”
I’m not a perfume man and she knows it. Nonetheless I heard myself saying “That smells so good!” more enthusiastically than I meant. She wanted to hear it, and we both knew it. She rewarded me with a smile and another soft, wet kiss.
“Come on. Let’s get lunch,” she said.
She chose a nice-ish place, but busy. I watched surprised and amused as she tipped her way in, and I followed them to a fairly secluded table.
“Pig,” my wife said as we sat down. “I knew there was a table. Nice place though, I like it. I hear their salads are very good, which I think you will stick with, though I’m pretty starved. A small dinner steak sounds perfect. How do your panties feel?” This last, as the waitress came up. “Hi,” my wife continued on to the girl. “First, drinks. Scotch and water for me and,” looking at me, “a glass of chardonnay for you, I think. And we are ready to order. I’ll have the 6 ounce steak with sautéed potatoes and you’ll have the house salad, Hun.”
“Dressing?” the waitress asked looking at me.
“The honey mustard, on the side,” my wife said. I smiled and nodded.
Over drinks, she said, “No really? How do they feel? Bikinis aren’t for everyone, They can ride up or slip down… maybe boy cut. Ooh, how about a thong? Thongs are –“
“They feel very… pretty,” I interrupted. “How about yours. They’ve taken you over, it seems.”
She laughed. “You liked that little role play? Me taking charge, telling you what to do, deciding everything for you? I know I did.”
I watched her finish her scotch and signal the waitress. I looked levelly over my wine glass and said softly, “Yes, dear, I liked it.”
“I know. Still hard? Your ‘lil guy down there, Hun? In your ‘lil pink panties? I’ll have another,” she said to the waitress standing behind me. “You better nurse that wine, Hun. You know how silly you get after one,” and she patted my hand patronizingly.
When the girl left, I whispered, “I think she heard your ‘panties’ remark.”
“Twice. As was my intent.” My wife laughed again and her eyes sparkled. “Do you like her knowing?” she asked.
“Not sure,” I said honestly taking a sip of wine. “Do you like her knowing?”
She studied me for a moment before saying “Oh, yes.”
“Then so do I,” I said, again honestly.
“I wish our food would come,” she said with impatience. “Now that we’ve scoped the sales, there’s some things I’m dying to get.”
At our first stop my wife said, to me, “I want to get some jeans. They’re 2 for 1 here. I like those skinny low riders.” She was pawing through several stacks on the shelf, when a young sales clerk came over.
“Hi, I’m Julie. Can I help you find anything today?” she asked my wife.
Now I have asked myself those questions. When did I know what she was up to? How far was she going to go. So far nothing much had really happened. A little suggestive, kinky talk between us, the panty talk in front of a server. Pretty innocent, really.
“Thanks, Julie. Yes you can. I’m looking through the 4’s and 5’s in these stretch low riders, but I can’t find the length.”
“What length are you looking for?” the girl asked.
Time stopped as my wife looked carefully at me from my waist to the floor. She turned back to the clerk and said, “Well at least a double long I should think. What do you think, Julie?”
Despite my sense that things could lead to a moment like this, I felt my entire body flush. This was it. I could save my situation by saying, “Oh, you’re so funny. If you don’t need me, I’m finding a lounge with the game on.” But I didn’t say that. I didn’t say anything. I just stood there and let Julie visually size me up. My heart was thumping.
“Double L at least. We do carry a triple in this brand as well,” Julie said. I don’t see them out here either, but there should be some in the back. A four, a five, in double and triple long. Anything else while I’m back there?” she asked, now looking at both of us. Was that a small smile or a suppressed smirk?
“No, that will start us for now,” my wife said pleasantly.
“Then I’ll be right back and set you up with a room,” Julie said now looking directly at me. She turned and went.
“She’s going to set you up with a room.” She pinched my butt, giggled and kissed my ear. “I love the sequins on the back, don’t you Hun?”
I was beyond the point of return in this game we were playing.