A Dish Served Cold - Part I
Posted 17 January 2009
Note: Due to its considerable length, this post has now been split into two parts to provide a natural break for the reader.
I'm sure it hasn't escaped your attention that I basically have three favourite colours for my clothing and footwear: black, black and of course, black. Several correspondents have pointed this out to me in the past, and I have never offered any excuses or apologies - I love black clothing, especially shiny black clothing.
I do actually wear leather and rubber in colours other than black quite often, and you've seen one such occasion in the Whip Sister post when I dressed in red for the very special evening when Alison viewed some of my video library for the first time. You've seen the tight blue latex dress I wore to a London nightclub (see The Object Of My Desire) and I also own (for example) a short maroon patent leather skirt and an even shorter light grey leather miniskirt which I memorably wore to work a couple of times a few years ago. No doubt you'd like to see these, but I no longer intend to post pictures of many of the outfits I wear outside the house as I believe this will allow me greater freedom to enjoy myself in public without being instantly recognised.
This is especially true of my club wear, and I have several latex dresses in colours other than black. In the video capture below you can see me in a red side-laced latex dress that I have worn at a nightclub on two separate occasions (both times with my friends Chris and Nick together). I've decided to 'retire' this dress because it's just a little too awkward to wear in public. The side lacing is very sexy and guys love it, but it also means that I can't wear any panties. The dress is so short that I can only really pose in it (dancing is out of the question) and even when I'm just walking the rubber will slowly ride higher up my legs. I also have to be extremely careful when I sit down, making sure I keep my legs together and then sitting at a sideward angle. It's very exciting to wear but it's a little too restricting and I'll have plenty of uses for it in private. The thing I will miss most from not wearing this dress to clubs is being fondled by my two escorts in the back of Martin's car when my husband drives us home after my night out, but I have plenty of other outfits that provide similar enjoyment.
The second capture below shows me wearing the same dress coupled with thigh boots, a combination I wore for Matt one Saturday night when we played one of our role-playing games. We went somewhere where I could do some prick teasing, with Matt later pretending to pick me up. It's great fun to do this and a huge turn on too, but that particular excursion got very hot indeed and it was that night that I had my boots licked in a public place for the first time - not in daylight as I had always dreamed, but nevertheless there were several witnesses to the scene. What started as a joke based on a comment I made to a guy who had been admiring my boots turned into a genuine act of homage, and it was an unforgettable experience.
Even though I like wearing these different colours (especially in the summer), there's no question that black really does it for guys, particularly in the case of skirts and long gloves. The reaction I get when wearing black leather is markedly different from the one men give me when I'm wearing any other colour. Undoubtedly a big factor in this is that the contours of my garter straps are so obvious as the light reflects off a black leather skirt, and also we all know that such clothing has powerful sexual connotations. Sure, such skirts can be highly fashionable, but they're also often the chosen uniform of sluts and hookers. A short black leather skirt, particularly one with a full silver zip, sends a very powerful subliminal message to men and no other colour comes close to having the same effect.
In my case this creates a sort of positive feedback loop. Men get turned on when they look at me and when I see that I get visibly hot and take risks, which makes men even more turned on, which makes me... well, you get the drift. After years of witnessing this I've reached the stage where just wrapping a black leather skirt around me and zipping it up is enough to start making me wet, no doubt because of the subconscious association with making men hard. It's probably the reason why I spend an inordinate amount of time in front of the mirror running my hands up and down my suspenders, pressing very hard as I do so in an effort to accentuate them through the leather. With a couple of the very tight unlined styles I own you can actually see the impression of the metal suspender clasps and rubber fasteners when I later take the skirt off and hang it.
Since I feel sexiest in black, that's the primary colour of my underwear too, and when I dress for sex I'm not so much trying to turn my lover on as turning myself on. In fact it's reached the stage where I could not enjoy sex in any way whatsoever if I were naked. The very thought leaves me quite numb. You already know that I very often sleep in fetish underwear, and although I always shower at least once every day without clothes on, I also regularly take a long hot bath while wearing rubber, purely for pleasure.
Surprisingly, for a long time it never really occurred to me that some men would prefer it if I wore 'softer' underwear rather than the shiny black fabrics that excite me. I don't particularly like many of the harsh, poorly made fetish styles that are out there, but I've always felt that my own underwear has a certain femininity about it. However it was only when I really started being more upfront with my clients in the last few months before I finished work that I gained a better insight into what men fantasised about seeing me wearing.
You may recall that one of the techniques I used with my clients once I'd decided that I was prepared to have sex with them was to absently steer the conversation towards buying underwear for their wife or partner - perhaps as a Christmas or birthday present - and then manoeuvring things so that the client would either be tempted to see what I was wearing under my business suit or even buy some sexy underwear for me. Although most men find this an acutely embarrassing subject to talk about, I always broached this almost as an aside and after that I was very laid back and open about it. Although I can't say I ever managed to fully overcome the innate inhibition that men feel when discussing such issues, I did manage to glean a great deal from these exchanges and I soon learned that having a woman like me wearing a rubber quarter cup bra or leather suspender belt wasn't top of the list of turn-ons.
As a consequence of this I backed off from revealing my love of fetish fabrics and in the four months or so before I finished work I began to wear some of the white or cream satin underwear I already owned (with me it has to be shiny, even if it's not black). However I just didn't get anything like the kick out of this that I do when I'm in latex, leather or PVC. It didn't seem anything like as erotic, especially since I was only wearing flesh coloured stockings rather than the much more provocative seamed black ones. I felt as though I was dressing to turn the guy on rather than dressing to turn us both on, and I didn't leave a business meeting in the same state of arousal as when I was wearing my fetish underwear.
Hopefully from this preamble you will understand why I just can't get a buzz out of playing Little Bo Peep in the bedroom or out of the house. I've come to realise that it's not enough to merely make cocks hard. My own pleasure is equally important, and so what I wear has to excite me as much as it excites men. It has to make me hot, and prissy, pastel, lacy underwear generally doesn't do it for me. It feels almost alien, whereas the shiny black wardrobe I wear most days, even as I sleep, feels as though it's a part of me. It's what I am; it's truly Maria's second skin.
It's somewhat ironic therefore that one of the most memorable moments I have had over the past two years occurred while I was wearing white underwear and not my preferred fetish black. For several months I'd been seeing a new lover, Michael, and this relationship was proving to be highly exciting because he's another man who takes great pleasure in displaying me in public as a prelude to having sex. I won't be discussing the backgrounds of most of my male friends because there isn't much of interest to tell you, but Michael is an exception. In order for me to put into context what happened that remarkable day last year when I went to see him, let me go back to the time when I first met him so you can see how our relationship developed.
[You'll have to forgive me if I confuse you with names sometimes. Martin, Matt, Michael... I can imagine there are moments when you can't remember who is who. However, try to see it from my point of view. I have to mentally associate the diary name to a person I know by another name on a daily basis, and I can only do that if the name I give to a man fits his looks and character. Consequently I don't just pick them out of a hat - every name has some sort of trigger that enables me to 'see' the person in my head as I write. For reasons I won't go into, the name 'Michael' fits this man better than any other I can think of.]
Back in 2007, primarily as a result of a suggestion from Alison, it had become a requirement of mine that my existing lovers introduce me to or put forward names of other men I might want to get involved with. There were rewards based on results, something that added significant spice to my lifestyle. Unless a guy has been involved in some sort of swinging group (and that's not someone I'm particularly keen on meeting) there's realistically no sure fire way of knowing whether he's got the requisites to satisfy my demanding standards. However I think it's true to say that my lovers tend to share certain characteristics that give a good indication of what to look out for in other men. Aside from the obvious physical traits such as height, physique and looks, the sort of men I'm after are highly self-confident, competitive, arrogant, and often somewhat vain. They are also very successful in attracting younger women and they like such women to be dressed enticingly when they go out together in public - in other words a pure trophy doll. It's even better if they have no qualms about cheating on an existing partner.
Now, I'm sure you may be thinking that despite their physical attractiveness such guys don't sound particularly appealing, but I have no intention of sharing my life with these men or even becoming close to them. I just want them to play with me and I also want them to enjoy knowing that they're giving a prick-obsessed slut wife something that her husband can't. If they're not going to revel in the fact that they're fucking a very attractive hot-for-cock adulteress for free when hundreds of other guys would pay good money to do her then I don't want to know them. I've already got Matt as my perfect male and I don't need another like him.
I had picked up my first three well-endowed alphas fairly quickly, but I was eager for more and was beginning to realise that it might be a lot harder to find new candidates than I'd hoped. I therefore became very intrigued about Michael just from the initial description of him when one of my existing friends, Andy, brought his name up for discussion over dinner one evening at a restaurant. Andy told me that Michael had been married for over twenty years and he had openly enjoyed affairs on several occasions with much younger girls, mostly assistants at his practice (I won't say exactly what he does, but think doctor, dentist, eye specialist etc. and you're along the right lines). It sounded as though his wife Emily was well aware of her husband's infidelity, but like so many wives she endured it for the sake of family and financial security. By general consensus she was attractive and stylish but she was quite different from the sort of girl her husband was known to get involved with outside his marriage.
However there was one additional bit of information about Michael that particularly interested me. It came through a comment that had been made to Andy by a new girl he had started seeing (I have no objection to my lovers seeing other women, but I have strict rules on health aspects that I won't be discussing in the diary). Andy is actually slightly younger than me, but he knew Michael well through a sporting club membership. The girl he was seeing, who was only in her late twenties, had previously dated Michael several times and in conversation Andy had asked her what she saw in such an older guy. The girl jokingly counted off the reasons on her fingers: "Well, he's got a lot of money, a fabulous car, he's good-looking, he's in great shape, he dresses well, and..." ...and then she went a little red in the face and gave an embarrassed giggle as she tried to gather the right words. "...and there's another thing about him that I like which is also why I like you." Andy didn't pursue that remark because he figured he knew exactly what she meant, and my own parsing of her words was precisely the same as his.
Just two weeks later I was introduced to Michael for the first time when Andy arranged to meet him at a lunchtime venue for a couple of drinks. Michael had no idea that my intent was to get a first impression of him with a view to maybe forming a closer relationship, but it became clear within just a few minutes that he was very interested in what he was looking at. I was wearing the full prick-teasing ensemble and frankly it's no surprise whatsoever when a man reacts to me in this way. I acted quite normally with no fluttering eyelids and sexy looks - nothing that could be construed in any way as a come-on to him. I just let my clothes, face and body movements do the talking. I regularly looked away as if studying something across the room, and when I looked back I could see Michael's eyes flick upwards from my fishnet stockings and short skirt which he had clearly been studying during my apparent distraction. I'm sure it didn't take long for the fantasies to start swimming in his head.
I immediately picked up the signals of attraction because I know them so well, but I'm sure to anyone else observing the scene Michael's outward demeanour suggested nothing but polite respect towards someone he had only just met. I found his confidence and natural air of authority appealing, as was his rather dry sense of humour. Combine these traits with his looks and physical presence and it was quite understandable why he had such allure to women. What was most enticing from my point of view was that he didn't blatantly ogle me or lay it on thick with the gushing compliments. He was classily cool even though I knew that he was drinking in every bit of me.
I later had confirmation that my judgement was correct. I went to the ladies room for five minutes or so and that was plenty of time for Michael to reveal his thoughts to Andy as I guessed he would.
"Wow, she's absolutely stunning. Where the heck did you find her?"
"Well, I met her through my brother Nick. She's been out with him several times and she asked to meet me one day."
"She's wearing a wedding ring though. Is she separated or something?"
"No, she's still living with her husband."
"Really? Yet you say she went out with your brother? And she goes out with you dressed like that? I can't take my eyes off those bloody suspenders she's wearing."
"Yeah, they're awesome aren't they? You should see the stuff she wears sometimes - you just wouldn't believe it."
"Well, try me. What sort of stuff?"
"Oh, all sorts of things. Short leather skirts. Over-the-knee boots with really high heels. I've also been to a nightclub with her and she's worn a PVC dress and really long matching gloves - right up above the elbow. She looked so bloody hot..."
"So, I mean, are you... you know... what's the score? Is she more than just a friend?"
"I don't think I can really answer that Mike. It's kind of an unusual relationship. She might not want me to discuss it."
"Oh come on you can't say that! 'Unusual relationship'...what am I meant to conclude from that?"
"Conclude what you like... I just don't think I should say any more, that's all."
"And her husband's okay with her seeing you? Does he know she goes out dressed in a short tight skirt and fishnet stockings when she's with you?"
"Yeah, he knows."
"And he's okay with it?"
"Hmm... well, sort of. I can't say any more than that really."
"Well, all I can say is that you're one lucky boy if you're getting to play with that. I don't think I've ever seen a woman dressed so upfront and yet look so cool about it. You're surely not trying to kid me that she's all innocent about the effect she creates. You can see her stocking tops when she crosses her legs. She must know what she's doing."
"Oh yeah, she knows alright. She gets off on it big time."
"I hope she didn't think I was talking down to her when I first sat down. I didn't realise how bright she was. What does she do for a living?"
"Well, she's not working at the moment. She used to be with H---------, mainly corporate tax work. She's very smart, but I think she got bored with it all and just packed it in a while back. Her husband's very well off, so she doesn't need to work."
"So what's she looking to do now?"
"I don't think she's looking to do anything. She's enjoying life too much."
"Yeah, she's got everything hasn't she? You've actually made me quite jealous. I'll be thinking about those damn suspenders all afternoon."
"Hmm, well I'll be feeling them in a while... oops, I never said that."
"Jesus, Andy, stop it. You brought her here to show her off didn't you?"
"Yup, I'm afraid so."
"I'll get you back for that. But thanks anyway, and if you ever want to show her off again, give me a call."
Of course I'll never know for sure exactly what was said between Andy and Michael that day. The two had known each other for a long time but it wasn't a close friendship and I have no reason to doubt that Andy's account was accurate.
I very much enjoyed that short encounter and also later hearing Andy's recollection of Michael's comments. It wouldn't have really mattered if things hadn't progressed any further because I still got a huge kick out of parading myself and then being assessed behind my back. It was also exciting to tell Martin about it - discussing openly how Michael looked at me, what he thought of me, and how I was attracted enough to want to take things further with him. Despite everything that my husband has witnessed so far, I know that it's still hard for him to deal with the reality of his wife wanting yet another man. That conflict in him will never lessen.
I got Andy to contact Michael again only a week later.
"Hi Mike, I just thought I'd let you know I'll be in The Cellar at lunchtime tomorrow, probably around 1pm. Maria's coming with me..."
"Oh no, I don't whether I could stand looking at her again. It's taken me a week to recover from last time."
"Well, I know she'll be disappointed if you don't come down and say hello. I think she rather enjoyed meeting you."
"Oh I'm sure she did, but only because she got off on displaying herself."
"Hmm, I think you'll find her interest goes quite a bit deeper than that..."
"Oh?... Andy, what exactly is this? You ring me up out of the blue and get me to see her and now she wants to see me again? Are you trying to set me up or something? She's not some sort of prozzie is she?"
"What? Don't be ridiculous. Look, I'll be quite straight with you. She doesn't go chasing anything in trousers and she isn't into one-night stands, but she does like to have a number of men friends, if you get what I mean. It's nothing serious, there are no ties, it's just fun and games. She knows you've seen younger women before Mike - that's not exactly a secret is it? She likes that... and believe me, if Maria's interested in you, you don't know how lucky you are."
"Well, she may be stunning to look at, but I'm not sure I like the idea of becoming some sort of pet project for a bored, oversexed prick teaser who's also seeing other men as well. Quite frankly, you make her sound like a complete tramp."
"Okay, if that's how you feel then I'm not going to twist your arm about it. I mean, I agree... she's a complete nympho, there's no doubt about it. But she's got style and class Mike, and she's so clued up on what guys like. The things she wears and does... it just blows my mind sometimes. I've actually spanked her in front of her husband and she came while I did it."
"...and that's nothing. Seriously, it's nothing compared to some of the things I've done with her. She's absolute sex on legs."
"Damn, I wish you hadn't told me that."
"Yeah, well I've said more than I ought. You should take her out for dinner. I guarantee she'd accept and I'm sure she'd tell you her story. If you don't find it riveting then there's something wrong with you. You don't have to go any further, do you?"
Andy told me there was quite a pause at that point before Michael responded.
"Okay, fair enough... give me her number and I'll think about it. I won't be there tomorrow though."
Andy and I went to the bar as planned just in case Michael changed his mind, but he didn't show. I wasn't irritated or upset at anything that had been said, and I even liked the 'tramp' comment - it's not as if it isn't true is it? As for Andy's unplanned revelation that he had spanked me in front of Martin... boy, did I get off on hearing that he'd said it, and also Michael's stunned response. Wonderful stuff.
I had no great expectations about Michael contacting me and within a couple of days it had completely slipped my mind. It had been great fun just making the initial play itself. However, on the following Sunday evening Michael called me, just four days since Andy had spoken to him. That immediately told me how much I had been on his mind.
I was in our main lounge when I took the call on my mobile phone, and as soon as I heard Michael's voice I experienced that thrilling ripple of pleasure that I always get when I know I'm about to have a new man. I was fairly sure where things would lead if he asked me out, even if it only ended up being the briefest of relationships.
"Er, hello, Maria?"
"It's Michael S---------. I met you the other week when you were with Andy C--------. He gave me your number."
"Oh hi, Michael... how are you? What can I do for you?"
I was lying with my feet up on the sofa tapping away on my laptop and Martin was sitting in an armchair opposite me reading a book. By that time it wasn't unusual for me to get a phone call at any time of day from Matt or other men, and indulging in phone sex in front of my husband had become an important part of my lifestyle. It's one of the reasons why you'll find me sexily dressed at almost any time of day. If I'd been wearing an old housecoat and a pair of slippers that evening all the eroticism of the moment would have been lost. Instead I was still wearing the short pleated skirt and cream blouse I'd been out in that afternoon, and needless to say my underwear could only be described as exotic. Only my shoes were missing and they were lying on the floor beside me (yes, believe it or not I do take them off at times). While still speaking to Michael I put my laptop to one side, switched hands with my phone, and unzipped my glossy PVC panties to give access to my pussy. It was gloriously exciting.
Michael didn't waste any time in getting to the point:
"I don't know whether Andy mentioned the phone conversation we had the other day... your name came up."
"Yes, he did say you'd discussed one or two things about me. He wouldn't tell me exactly what he said to you, but I understand he told you that I was looking forward to meeting you again. I was sorry when you didn't show up the following day."
"Yes, well I can assure you I did consider coming down, and I've been thinking about what Andy told me too. He said you might be interested in going out for dinner some time... I wondered if you'd be available later this week?"
"Er, yes, I'd be very interested. That would be lovely. Let me just have a look in my diary... see what I'm doing..."
I had already started caressing myself and at that point I glanced over at Martin with a look that showed him just how turned on I was. "Wank!!" I silently mouthed in command.
Martin unzipped himself and took out his prick. He was already hard, which shows just how much these short exchanges stimulate him despite the anguish they later cause. His cock is actually a decent length despite all I say sometimes, but the lack of girth and his inability to maintain an erection for long in front of me make it very easy for both Alison and I to constantly chide and belittle him for his deficiencies. In any case I only have to look at a picture of me fellating one of my lovers to have my contempt for my spouse's pencil dick reinforced.
"Right," I said as Martin pathetically started beating away in front of me, "let me see. Fridays are always a problem I'm afraid, and I'm out this Saturday... but Wednesday or Thursday would be good. Otherwise next week some time?"
"Thursday would be great," Michael said, sounding very pleased. "I'm not sure where we should go... I don't know where you live."
"Anywhere near you on the motorway side would be fine," I said. "Somewhere out of town is probably best. Would it be a problem for you being fairly close to home?"
"Not really," he said, and he sounded quite nonchalant about it. "I know a place in Steadington, just beyond Melbourne. It's fairly quiet during the week. I could book a table there if that's okay with you. Say eight o'clock?"
"Yes, that sounds fine."
"Okay, I'll fix it up tomorrow and I'll call you back to confirm."
"Okay, thank you. And thanks for contacting me Michael. I'll be very much looking forward to seeing you."
"Yeah, likewise. Bye Maria."
As soon as the line went dead I practically threw my phone to one side and started working on myself with both hands. I was completely delirious.
"Oh God, baby, another cock to suck. More cum to drink. I'm going to wear my black leather skirt for him and he's going to put his hands up it and finger my pussy until his hands are dripping. I'm going to get his cock out and wank it until it sprays all over me. And you're going to clean it all up. Think about that cum-soaked leather Martin. He's going to make me come and come and come. Oh yes, Michael... Michael... please put your cock in my arse. Bugger me hard, baby. Ass fuck me 'til I scream. Fill me up with hot spunk! Come on, Martin, wank it harder. Come on, I want to see you come all over your trousers and the carpet. Think what Michael's going to do to me. Think about his prick going up me... come on, see if you can ejaculate while it's still hard this time... yes, that's it, that's it, think about it... another hard prick for my collection. Another man who's had your slut wife. Come on then... yes, yes... go on then, milk yourself... don't try and catch it... that's it, that's it... yes, everywhere... keep spraying... keep spraying... yes, oh yes, YES,YES, oh Michael, you're making me come! Yes, here it is... YES! YES! Aaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!"
I still find it somewhat embarrassing to write out dialogue like that, but the loss of control and the words of passion are a pretty accurate (albeit condensed) reflection of how I react when I approach climax at such moments. It doesn't quite fit with the cool domina image does it? And I can assure you that my language isn't as graphic at most other times. I very rarely swear on a casual basis, and never in public company.
Michael confirmed the restaurant booking the following day and gave me the directions to get there. I could hardly wait for Thursday to arrive, and the fact that I still experience such a high level of anticipation when seeing a new man for the first time is very encouraging. I used to worry that this sort of excitement would wane over time, but it hasn't happened so far and I'm fairly confident that it never will. I'll play out such an evening in much the same way as that first time I cuckolded Martin and the discussion of my marriage and lifestyle tends to tread the same ground each time, but I don't tire of revealing such shocking things about myself to a mesmerized new suitor. It's all part of the fantasy web I have spun around me - a form of ritualistic foreplay that must surely be close to unique.
A vital part of that ritual occurred on the Wednesday evening when my husband polished my favourite rear-zipped leather skirt. Martin's cleaning of my leather in preparation for me wearing it for another man is no perfunctory exercise. It didn't matter one jot that the material was already highly polished and shiny; it all had to be meticulously reworked again, and during the hour it took my obedient spouse to complete this task I periodically checked his work, punishing him with a few quick strokes of my crop if I found any fault (which of course I always do).
Normally Martin will have to polish my leather underwear as well, but for the evening with Michael he only had to clean a leather suspender belt. I had decided to wear a latex bra and I wouldn't be wearing any panties, not so much by choice but because on an initial date I knew my prospective lover would get off on the discovery that I had gone to see him with my pussy fully exposed. I don't mind going out without panties on if I'm not going to have full sex with a man, but it's a different story when I'll be having intercourse. I like zipped panties most of all because I can have sex while still wearing them, and I've yet to show you the bespoke zipped bra and briefs set that I've owned for a number of years now. These are lined with leather on the inside, and because it would be so difficult to replace such garments they require exquisite care (unfortunately the gentleman who made them for me is no longer able to repair and add to my leather collection). In the case of the bra such custom lining is largely decorative, although I do like the feel of the smooth leather against my breasts. However the lining in the briefs is functional as well as sensual because it prevents the inside of the hide from becoming soaked and thus ruining it over time. There's a huge bonus too - one the great thrills I will never cease to enjoy is making my husband lick the insides of my leather briefs clean after I return home from having sex with another man.
By that Wednesday night Martin was feeling the full frustration of this impending encounter. After he had ejaculated at my behest on the Sunday night I immediately put him into chastity, using one of the popular plastic devices that can be worn under day clothes (many of you will know which sort I mean, but I'm not mentioning product names). I don't normally lock my husband into one of these for protracted periods, but this was largely for my own benefit. I think a guy's prick looks pitiful when imprisoned like this and just seeing it makes me yearn for a real man. In those few days I released Martin from chastity when I was there to police his conduct, but whenever he wasn't in my presence he was locked up. It's very unusual for him to go several days without ejaculation, and he must have been quite desperate by the time I went out for dinner later in the week.
I don't need to talk you step by step through the meal I had with Michael on the Thursday night. His choice of venue was as good as I could have wished for, although if anything the place was a little too quiet and so I didn't get to display myself to as many onlookers as I would have liked. We did get to choose a very private table however and only on a few occasions did we have to lower our voices to avoid being overheard. I was dressed to kill that evening and I could tell Michael was bowled over as soon as he set eyes on me. He wasn't afraid to openly comment on my outfit either.
"Maria, I can't believe you go out with your suspenders showing like that. And as for what's around your neck..."
Oh, this is going to be fun, I immediately thought. I love it when men can't help saying what they're thinking.
"Does it embarrass you?" I responded with the hint of a smile.
"No," he said flatly, and I could see he meant it. "I think it's unbelievably horny and I just wish I'd picked a busier place to take you to."
That comment broke the ice very nicely, and throughout the dinner we spoke quite candidly to each other. I didn't go into meticulous detail, especially regarding the identities of the men I was seeing. Apart from Matt and Gerald, the men I'm involved with are only told as much as I feel they need to know about my life and their fellow actors; that way there's only so much they can reveal to others if I ever split with them and they decide to make life difficult for me. Michael got the general story - the first few entries of Maria's Diary in particular but minus the BDSM aspects, something that my lovers don't need to know about until they actually get to participate in those games. I also felt it would be unwise to reveal that I had enjoyed sex with more than one lover at the same time in front of Martin. The key point I tried to get over throughout the evening was that I want men I am involved with to show my husband that they are better lovers, and enjoy doing so.
I tailored my mode of conversation to the recipient of my words, and here I was dealing with a very confident alpha male who clearly had designs on having me. Men like Michael aren't just predators, they also like to prove that they're the best. They want to beat other men. Many of you would find my manner that night very intimidating and my disloyalty to Martin almost reprehensible, but a man who wants to be my lover shouldn't blink at my selfish disregard for my partner, nor my desire to humiliate him. He should relish the thought of crushing another male's self-esteem.
Michael was left in no doubt that the pursuit of sex in itself isn't the primary motivation for what I do. I think I explained it as best as I could, and I was encouraged by the increasing desire I could see in his eyes. It's frustratingly impossible for me to explain with written words why I'm able to capture men like this. You have to see the face over candlelight and hear the diction. Gerald says that it's the combination of my voice and articulation that finally breaks any resistance to me because the stereotype image that my clothing initially places in men's minds is shattered when I speak. A highly educated, very well spoken and intelligent sex doll? Where can you buy one of those?
We talked almost exclusively about me. If Michael had wanted to talk about himself and his marriage then fine, I'd have been more than happy to listen, but it's not something I will push on an occasion like this because the last thing I want is for a potential lover to start dwelling on his family life and possibly experience pangs of guilt as a consequence. I was certainly intrigued about Michael's marital situation because in some ways it seemed similar to my own and I wondered whether his wife Emily got some sort of sexual kick out of her husband's infidelity, unlikely as it seemed (one of my great ambitions is to humiliate a wife by first disciplining her and then having sex with her husband in front of her). There was no way I could realistically bring up this subject though, and at the end of the evening I wasn't a great deal wiser about Michael's home life or indeed his sex life.
By the time we finished our coffee there was no doubt in my mind that Michael wanted more. It was written on his every expression and confirmed by his comments. Such certainty allows me to have my moment of theatre, and not only does this save any further beating around the bush but it also makes such an evening doubly memorable, both for myself and for my companion. I doubt Michael will ever forget the words, nor the totally unembarrassed delivery of them.
"Michael, the black leather opera gloves that are sitting on the back of my chair are the most expensive ones I own. I call them my 'masturbation gloves'. When we leave I'd like to show you how I use them on a man."
He was momentarily stunned but he quickly recovered, and he looked me right in the eyes when he replied.
"That sounds very appealing indeed. Yes, I'd very much like you to show me."
I gave a small smile and looked down at my hand which was idly playing with an unused dessert spoon.
"Does that thought make you nice and hard for me?" I asked.
"You've been making me hard all evening," he returned without any hesitation. "Very hard."
I looked up again and I'm sure he must have seen how desperately I wanted him.
"Good," I said. "Shall we get the bill?"
Interlude - Dressing For Sex With Michael
You probably recollect that I never showed images of me dressing on that unforgettable night when I cuckolded Martin for the first time (see A Night To Remember). Instead I showed some captures from video that had been taken in the daytime to give an idea of what the leather skirt I wore looked like.
The video cameras I use don't pick up things well in poor lighting conditions, and that includes the sort of lighting that I have in my bedroom and other rooms in the house. Also the lights tend to shine downwards and don't fall directly on to the clothes I am wearing. As a consequence, video shot at night is riddled with unwanted artefacts, blotchy colour, and weird shadows. In the main this doesn't bother me because I only need the captures for my offline diary and it's the actions that I'm concerned about rather than the look of my clothing. However, for my staged video shoots and the images I show in the online diary I need the light to be better so I normally film things in the daytime.
I video myself virtually every day, although I don't tend to keep the output for long; I just take a few captures for my diary and then reuse the tape once I've got what I want (I intend to purchase a hard drive recorder in the near future - that will save me a great deal of time). On special occasions though I won't overwrite the tape and I'll also archive the full video file. That night when I went out with Michael for the first time certainly qualified as a keeper, and I've decided to show some images from this session as it gives another glimpse of what my husband sees when I'm dressing for sex with another man.
This is the important part of why I'm showing this imagery. It's not in any way breathtaking or original, but as you look at the pictures try to imagine that you're in Martin's position, assisting and filming your wife as she prepares to make herself as attractive as possible to a man you haven't even met before. When I'm dressing on evenings like this the one thing on my mind is the sex I'm going to be having, and I make comments to Martin which aren't necessarily designed to antagonise him. I merely say what I'm thinking, almost as if it's to myself, but needless to say such words can be deeply disturbing to a devoted and loving partner.
We all know that my husband gets off on me seeing other men, but the excitement he experiences in the build up to an occasion like this is very much interlaced with strong feelings of jealousy and inferiority once the actual dressing starts. Quite often he'll suddenly blurt out something like: "Oh God, Maria, I can't believe you're going out to see someone looking like that. You look incredible. I wish I was good enough for you, I really do. I want to have you again just like you are now." I of course love to see this loss of control in him and the anguish I've provoked, and I also enjoy explaining to him why I couldn't for a moment contemplate having full sex with someone so deficient. "If you were good enough I wouldn't need to go out would I?"
So, despite the shortcomings of my night video shoots, here are a few captures of me dressing for Michael with some accompanying commentary. Once again I can only apologise for having to ruin the pictures by blurring them. I can't begin to express my frustration at having to obscure my face because this is such a vital part of my attractiveness to men. This is especially true in the following set of captures where it would be best for you to see for yourself what Martin is having to say goodbye to when I leave him to be with another man. Often I'll select a picture which captures my features perfectly, and then the slightest bit of blurring distorts my face so much that I have no choice but to add severe blur instead. I'm sure you've noticed though that I will occasionally only minimally blur a picture to give you a better idea of what I look like without definitively showing me. It's ironic really that the concern I originally had at being recognised by people who know me is gradually lessening, only to be replaced by a cautious determination to avoid being recognised by someone who has read my diary. Much as it pains me to hide my face, I know it's the sensible thing to do.
Make up: I invariably put my stockings and suspenders on first, and then my shoes or boots. It may seem odd that I put my footwear on so early, something that many women won't do until they are about to leave the house, but I feel the eroticism immediately when I put on my high heels and the additional height I get serves to emphasise Martin's lesser status and deepen his feelings of inadequacy. Quite often during early preparation like this I'll take one of the shoes off again and pleasure myself lightly with the heel for a minute or two.
In the image on the right you can see me lipsticking my nipples for Michael. This is something I do regularly when I go out, almost without thinking. I don't paint them a fiery bright red and my intention isn't really to change the colouring - I just know men like the taste as they suck a lipsticked nipple, and it's a big turn on for them as well when they realise what I've done.
Make up and stimulation: I spend a good deal of time putting my lipstick on as my mouth is obviously a key focal point for any man I'm out with. I don't tend to use liner all that often, but I think I've got the art of creating a look that encourages men to think of me sucking prick. Certainly guys seem to spend as much time looking at my mouth as they do my breasts and legs, though I suppose it helps when the person they're looking at is very much obsessed with fellating big pricks. Matt always laughs when I pout for cock, and he's not the only one who has pointed out to me that I do this. It's actually unconscious on my part.
The top photo on the far right shows me wearing a rubber 'O' ring collar and chain with tweezer clamps attached to my nipples, and the shot below shows a closer view of a clamped teat. I actually wore these to the restaurant, although I didn't have the clamps attached to my nipples at that point. When the upper capture was taken I was stimulating myself, and if I hadn't cropped the picture near my waist you'd see the black dildo that I was playing with at that moment. I didn't bring myself to orgasm - it was just another way of increasing my yearning for my date's prick.
Any guesses as to what I'm doing in the photo where I'm facing away from the camera? I'll let you work that one out yourself.
Bra and gloves: I've now put on my latex bra and black leather opera gloves. Once again it must seem odd to you that I wore my gloves at this point, but once my hair and make up is done then most of the work for me is over. It's Martin who dresses me from this point onwards, and since I had temporarily uncaged him for this preparatory session I now wanted to intermittantly stroke his cock with my gloves and taunt him about how they would soon be giving a full masturbation to my new lover if everything went to plan.
This is one of my favourite bras, although it's glossiness is lost in these pictures. It's properly underwired and it's intentionally a little too small for me, causing my breasts to spill out over the top of the cups, an effect that really does it for men. Women would no doubt tut-tut at the creasing of the skin it causes near the armpit, but the name of the game is making pricks hard, not winning a fashion contest.
Note how I'm posing for the camera even though at the time I had no expectation of anyone other than myself and Martin seeing the results. I do this in every video session, and it's a great way to practise the moves and positions I will later use in public. You can never know enough about how to excite men with your body, and I'm still learning.
Shining my rubber: Here Martin is glossing my bra with latex polish, giving it an extra bit of shine that will enable the material to be properly seen through my lace top. This particular duty is probably somewhat redundant as this bra is always kept in a shiny state, but making my husband attend to me in this way is a vital part of the cuckold experience. Not only is he watching his wife dress, but he's instrumental in making her as alluring as possible to her lover.
Notice the marked height difference between us. Martin is not particularly short, standing almost five feet ten in his shoes, but I'm sure you can see from these shots why it was always a problem for me to go out in my super high heels and boots with my husband accompanying me. Since he also is ten years my senior it must have looked to others as if I were a piece of fluff he was dangling on his arm, and possibly a paid for one as well. In the early days I would find myself unconsciously moving my weight to one side on a bent leg, trying to lower myself to reduce the height differential, but that of course ruined the confident, dominant aura I was trying to project.
Forget prick size, on height alone Martin is simply inadequate for me, and these pictures demonstrate that perfectly. I'm standing around six feet two in these courts and it's wonderful to have a boyfriend like Matt who is still taller than me when I'm towering above those around us. We look perfect for each other and I could never go back to the days when I went to a nightclub with my husband by my side.
Final pre-skirt preparation: On the left you can see Martin giving my leather suspender belt one last quick polish. If you think the height difference between us is stark, it gets ridiculous when you look at where our waists are. I'm very lucky to have such long legs, and with five or six inch heels on I begin to take on the exaggerated proportions that fantasy artists use for their females. Not only do men find this intimidating but a lot of women I know do too. They get embarrassed and disheartened about their own body when I'm standing with them, and I can't say I don't enjoy creating such dissatisfaction and envy within them.
On the right Martin is kissing my suspender belt before giving me a light tonguing to moisten me for Michael's attentions. This is another completely superfluous task as the dildo play I indulged in earlier has more than prepared me for the night's activities (and the last thing I need when I'm gagging for cock and wearing no panties is to get myself even wetter). It's a very important cuckold humiliation though, and one I nearly always insist upon. If you've read through my diary from the very start and still don't understand why I require my husband to do this then either I'm hopeless at explaining things or you're simply never going to get what this is all about.
The Leather Skirt: Martin zips me into my favourite black leather skirt for public wear. I now use this on a first date with any new lover, and it never lets me down. Not only are my suspenders fabulously prominent but as I've noted before it's the perfect groping skirt - not so long to make things difficult but not so short that a guy hasn't got to work for his reward. On a few occasions I've worn this skirt in public with a dildo harness, and the strapping underneath is totally obvious. Men must wonder what the heck I'm wearing... if only they knew the truth.
If you think I'm looking in an odd direction on some of these shots it's because I'm studying myself in the wall mirror. Quite often these days I'll simply ignore Martin - not willfully, but simply because I'm thinking more about how my date will view me and whether there is anything about my appearance that needs extra work. In the moments when I do become aware of my husband the thought that normally strikes me is how incongruous we are as a pair. Yeah, yeah, I know looks shouldn't matter, but I'm afraid when I'm dressed like this then they matter an awful lot. Looking at my husband makes me we want a tall, powerful, big-cocked stud more than ever.
Suspender check: In this picture and the one below Martin is checking each of my garters in turn, making sure they are aligned properly and are not covered by one of the skirt seams which would lessen their prominence.
I would have gone to the restaurant just like this if I thought I could get away with it. I love the busty look from the bra and the tight hugging fit of the skirt. I would have guys creaming in their shorts if I walked past them in such a state of dress, and I have gone out like this with Matt before. But I didn't know Michael and I didn't know the place where we would be dining, so discretion became the better part of valour, particularly as I was wearing a rubber collar with a chain hanging from it. Hmm, Maria showing some prudence? Yes, it does happen occasionally.
Skirt shine: Here I'm checking the look of the skirt for myself. I've overlaid a picture that was taken in daylight to show how poorly the camera picks up the shine of the skirt in low lighting conditions. I can assure you that Martin's work the night before had made the leather almost as glossy as the laced pencil skirt in the overlay shot, but you'd never know it from these images.
Looking at the overlay you can probably appreciate why I like to go out during the daytime in one of my leather skirts. It's difficult to miss me, and I often wonder whether men who have spotted me in the distance as I'm walking ahead of them almost break into a run to get a better eyeful of the tasty goodies I've laid out for them.
When I first purchase such a skirt I concentrate on its styling, and provided the leather is good quality I don't worry about the level of shine. My husband will then spend hour upon hour polishing a new skirt to create the mirror effect that I like. Some really plain skirts can be made to look amazing if you work at them long enough, but few women ever bother. I'm totally elitist about this I'm afraid - I hate to see plain, short, dumpy women wearing poor quality leather skirts. They give women like me a bad name and they undermine what is one of the great totems of erotica. A leather skirt is a sex symbol and should only be worn by those who can handle the look. On the day I get to power a law will be passed requiring women to hold a licence to wear such a garment in public (and that's just for starters - there'll soon be another statute on the books that gives a leather princess the right to demand at any time and in any place that some random man masturbates himself and ejaculates over her skirt).
Oh, and in case you're wondering... yes, there are two grovelling slaves on the end of those leather leads. Pathetic small-dicked wimps.
The lace jacket top: If I'd have known at the time that these pictures were going to feature in one of my diary posts then this lacy jacket top is one of the last I would have picked. That's not because it wasn't right for the occasion, but simply because the camera gives a very false impression of how the outfit worked and what it was designed to achieve.
By the time I met Michael I'd become quite experienced at this sort of seduction. With Matt I'd just worn the skirt, stockings and suspenders, but I'd come to realise that most of this is hidden from a guy while we're eating dinner. Consequently I was now enticing men in additional ways, and the combination of what I wore for Michael sent several messages to him despite being quite dressy at first glance. The skirt, stockings etc. simply said 'sex'. These will turn on almost any guy because such clothing talks directly to his primitive sexual instincts. The rubber bra says 'kink', but I couldn't wear it too openly so it was modestly disguised beneath a lace top. To someone sitting as close as Michael though the rubber would be easily discernable and he'd very quickly realise what I had on. The gloves say 'class' and are intended to offset the upfront nature of the other items. Finally the collar and chain spell bondage and domination, and for an alpha like Michael this is interpreted as Maria being his cock slut - a girl who can be tethered and spanked and fucked whenever he feels like it. Of course Michael might never admit that such base longings entered his head, and quite possibly they didn't at a conscious level. Beneath the surface though such a simple BDSM message will almost certainly have aroused some subliminal desire to dominate me.
Unfortunately you can't see this in any of these shots and instead it looks as though the top hides the shine of both the skirt and the bra. Also you can't see how much cleavage I was showing that night. Michael had an absolute eyeful of breast to look at as we talked and ate, and he eventually succumbed to the 'dancing eyes' phenomenon I've spoken of before. You'll just have to trust me when I say that the outfit pressed all the right buttons on him, and I imagine if you sat a few feet opposite me over dinner you'd find yourself getting just as excited at what you were looking at.
Collar and chain:There's no way that my rubber collar with its 'O' ring and dangling silver chain could be interpreted as jewellery, so Michael likely understood that I was sending him some sort of message. The nipple tweezers on the end of the chain were tucked out of sight into my bra, but I don't think it was any great surprise to him when he learned of their existence. It's the sort of reaction I got from Michael when he discovered what the chain was for that makes wearing such an item so enjoyable. I now have a number of restraints that I use discreetly in public to turn on a companion and I'll perhaps be showing and discussing some more of these in due course, although I have to be careful nowadays because I don't want to be recognised while wearing items that are outwardly visible.
Final departure: At least these shots, which were taken outside under our security lighting, show the outfit a little better and you can see the bra reflecting through the lace. Even so, they're full of artefacts and as such they're still poor quality. Once again you cannot see the cleavage effect and Martin agrees that these photos don't properly capture the look of the outfit. Ah well, maybe another time.
These are some of the last few frames of video that were filmed before I left to see my prospective new lover. I didn't punish my spouse that night because I wasn't having intercourse with Michael, but when I'm going to see a man who I know is going to fuck me then I will often give my husband a fairly severe caning or whipping out of doors as I'm about to get into my car. It gives me the extra turn on that leaves my pussy in the ideal state to receive a large prick and I've never been unwilling or unable to take every inch that my date has to offer.
Still, one can always dream...
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