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Devil in the Red Dress

Looking back, it was my fault she bought that red dress. Although in my defence I could hardly say no and it started off harmlessly enough. What happened after that, well, it is amazing what can set people off.

It had been a torturous day of being dragged from one hot, stuffy, overcrowded shop into another. I was nursing what seemed to be the world's largest hangover and had just about exhausted my limited repertoire of "it looks lovely dear" and "how lovely" comments. My mouth was dry and my head was throbbing. I am not sure at what point in my life seven pints of lager had changed from a warm-up to a battering by a London bus. The noise and bustle of the shop was wearing me down. How could people stand to be in these places? The walk through the perfume department had damn near killed me. I was planning petty and dark revenge on the next rude teenager to elbow past me when she finally picked the dress from one of the endless racks and asked me if she should try it on, a hopeful look on her pretty little face.

"Why not dear," I mumbled, praying that she had found something she liked and would mercifully end this torture yet dreading the inevitable twenty minute wait while she tried the dress on. I would probably pass out and have my lifeless body trampled by the horde. This was before she tried one size up, one down and three in different colours.

I shuffled around the shop for a couple of minutes my eyes roaming over the ranks of bovine shoppers mindlessly shuffling clothes along the racks.

I collapsed into 'the husband chair' and was lowering my head into my hands when she twirled out of the changing rooms, her face beaming. The sight of her knocked my breath away. She had skipped out of the room barefoot, her small pale feet pattering against the marble floor. She was wearing a bright red strapless summer dress that ended about two inches above her knee. My wife is a small woman, only just reaching five one -- but she has been blessed with a fairly decent pair of breasts, which, due to her size, appear almost a little too large for her and make her appear a little unreal, almost cartoonish, like a teenage fantasy of what a woman should look like. Her catalogue-model face, with soft blue eyes, shoulder length, raven hair and full, thick lips accentuate the image further. I am a very lucky man.

I felt luckier still as I watched her dance up to me, swishing the ends of her dress in her hand. I noticed that it was slightly too small for her, the top riding adventurously low over her bosom and showing off an unheard of level of cleavage- at least for her. I also realised, with glee, that she was bra-less and the only way she could counter the glorious cleavage was by hiking the dress up and exposing more of her toned, shapely legs.

"What do you think?" she asked me hopefully, twisting to see the back of the dress in the mirror.

"Very nice, very nice indeed," I replied.

"Hmm, I'm not sure," she said, biting her lip. My heart sank. "This is the last one they have and I think it is a little small."

"Rubbish," I said, probably too quickly "you look great."

"You don't think it is too racy?," she asked, pulling a face and pushing her tits together to examine the effect.

Desire flared though me and I stepped in front of her, grabbed her by the ass and drew her in for a deep, passionate kiss. We had not kissed like that for an eternity. My wife's eyes bulged wide and she felt my hand tighten on her ass and she felt my rock hard cock straining against the front of my trousers pressed against her belly. Sad to say it, but passion like this was fairly out of character for Katie -- she was usually way too conservative for public displays, yet strangely, she was kissing back and not pulling away. Here, in the middle of a busy shop with her in that dress. My eyes popped open in surprise as I felt her warm tongue dart into my mouth. She broke the kiss but stayed pressed against me, grinning lazily. My heart, already racing, nearly stopped as she casually dropped her left hand down and squeezed my straining member.

"Mmmm way too racy," she whispered. My hand roved over her ass and I suddenly realised.

"You are not wearing any knickers!" I quietly exclaimed, incredulous.

"Nope, I don't like the line they make-- this is a commando dress," she said easily, mischief in her eyes as she pulled away. "But it's too expensive; I'll have to put it back."

"Don't you dare," I commanded as she slipped back towards the dressing room. "I'll buy it for you, on one condition."

She looked at me with her innocent eyes, "And what might that be?"

"You wear it home," I dared, "Just slip on your shoes, and let's go."

She looked at me for a long moment, her eyes a deeper blue. I feared the strange spell had been broken and I had pushed too far. I was about to retreat and crack a lame joke when she suddenly turned.

"Okay then," she said as she sauntered back to the cubicle, swaying her hips. A few moments later she was back, her jeans and woolly jumper in a neat pile, with her matching bra and knickers piled conspicuously on top.

My hangover forgotten, we stood in the queue to pay, my wife looking for all the world like she had stepped out of one of the wall posters of pouting models that surrounded us. I tried to keep my jaw off the floor. She held her pile of cloths in front of her in two hands, with her small bag dangling from her elbow. My idiot drooling was interrupted by a sudden and random fit of practical thinking. How do you buy a dress that you are wearing? As I pondered this a mechanical voice directed us to our till. I followed as Katie sashayed up to the counter. The assistant was a young spiky haired man, probably a student working through the summer. He reached out to the pile of clothes that my wife put on the counter, picking up her knickers and looking over it for a tag to scan. My wife smiled up to him as a look of confusion crossed his face.

"Oh, sorry, I should have said -- I just need a bag for those clothes, they were what I was wearing before. It is this dress that I am buying." She said with a girlish giggle.

"Oh...Okay.... uuuh, do you have the tag?" the boy asked, going a deep red and trying to nonchalantly replace my wife's panties on the pile.

I expected Katie to hand over the removed tag but, incredibly, she just shook her head.

"No -- I couldn't get it off," she said with a mock whine. " I can reach over and scan it," she said earnestly.

The boy looked dumbfounded as my wife, quick as a flash, bent over the counter and folded over the top left section of her dress to expose the coded tag, exposing scandalous amounts of flesh. Amazing as this was, I missed most of it as I was more transfixed with how her dress slid up her (bare!) ass, stopping agonizingly short of her perfect cheeks. Katie had bent herself so far over on the counter her feet were off the ground as she balanced on the corner. The boy fumbled about with the scanner, clearly flustered, and finally removed it from its holder. He quickly scanned it across the exposed tag, the red laser of the scanner bright against my wife's pale breasts.

The machine failed to beep.

"Um, sorry, I'll have to try again," he stammered quickly as he waved the again scanner across Katie's chest . Katie flicked her left left into the air as she leaned further into the counter trying to get closer. He was eventually forced to press the scanner against her chest hard before it would finally scan. I am certain that the long line behind me were as hypnotised by the struggle as I was. Katie smiled sweetly at him and thanked him for packing her clothes. I have no idea how much it cost me as I paid in a daze, not able to believe that my shy, prudish, wife had all but told a total stranger that she was a flimsy red dress away from naked and had all but flashed him her tits.

As she walked out she hitched the dress a little higher, to try and keep a decent amount of bosom actually inside the dress and giving me, and the staring assistant, a great view as the dress rose.

I walked behind her is silence for a while, listening to the clip, clop of her heel as we made our way through the shopping centre and towards our car . At one point she turned and rose on her tiptoes.

"Enjoying the show?" she whispered huskily.

"Fuck you are a sexy bitch," I responded, wondering how she would respond to being called a bitch. I was worried she might snap out of this at any time and was determined to see where the line would be drawn. She smirked and walked on, her ass shaking bordering on the obscene.

We had parked on the 6th floor of the multi-story and had to take the lift up, which unsurprisingly turned out to be packed. I backed away into a corner and my wife followed, leaning back into me as people packed in around us, many of them giving surprised glances at Katie, unsure what to make of her. As the doors closed, I suddenly felt Katie's hands fold behind her and wrap around my achingly stiff member from the outside of my trousers. I struggled to stifle a load moan as she gently and covertly rubbed my cock with her small hands. The numbers slowly lit up on the elevator.

As her hands were behind her back, her chest was thrust forward, her bra-less breasts straining against the dress. In my covert delirium I noticed an old man trying to stare at her chest from the corner of his eye, his fat wife oblivious beside him. At the third floor all but two people left. As the last of the leaving people filtered out, Katie spun around and brought her mouth up for another lingering kiss. The couple that remained averted their eyes, coughed and shuffled their shoes. I am fairly sure I caught the man trying to catch a glimpse of the action off the reflective metal. Perhaps out of embarrassment, they left on the 4th floor. At the hiss of the doors closing Katie launched herself into me for another kiss, her hand making a solid fist around my trouser covered cock. My hands were everywhere, eventually drawing her up into my body and snaking my fingers up her dress and feeling the hot wetness of her cunt. She let out a long moan and pumped my cock with her fist. The light for the 5th floor lit up, and mercifully the doors did not open. I pushed my fingers deep into her and she threw her head back in pleasure then aggressively explored my mouth with her velvet tongue. Her hand slid between my belt and she was about to reach down when the lift chimed for the 6th floor and began to slide open.

Panicked, Katie whirled, trying to compose herself, tripped and fell into the burly arms of our neighbour John who caught her with a surprised look on his face.

"Whoa, you alright there love?" he asked, not recognising her.

Katie laughed and clumsily extracted herself from his arms.

"Jesus John, you scared me to death!" she replied, her hand on her forehead in a dramatic pose.

"Katie?" John asked, his eyes going wide "My god, I didn't recognise you," he said, looking her up and down.

"Yes, yes -- we have just been shopping," Katie mumbled, suddenly blushing.

"Oh, well. Great luck catching you two," he blustered, trying to bulldoze the awkwardness, "I tried calling earlier -- My eldest Eric is back from Iraq and we have been having a bit of a do at ours. Most people will probably have gone down to the pub by now, but it would be great if he could meet you guys -- I'll be back there in about an hour, just picking up some more meat," he finished as we traded places and he pressed the button for the shopping floor.

"We'll see you there," I asserted, hoping the quick agreement would let us leave faster. I was not sure how much longer I could exist without my cock stuffed up my wife.

"Well, see you then," he said, giving Katie another not-quite celibate glance as the lift finally closed.

I practically ran to the car, desperate to get home and fuck. As I came up to the drivers side, I found that Katie had followed me, rather than jump in the passenger side. She grabbed my hand and turned me into a kiss in the open door of the car. After a long and lingering kiss she moved her mouth to my ear.

"Is your big cock up to fucking me right here?" she asked.

Before I could respond she dropped to her knees, another huge surprise. She looked up to me with her blue eyes.

"I want to taste you," she said as she pulled my trousers over my iron hard shaft, my cock bouncing obscenely in her face. "I bet that boy is dreaming of me doing this to him," she said as she wrapped her small hand around my manhood. "I bet he is in the bathroom, right now, wanking over the thought of my mouth sliding up his teenage cock."

She pumped me twice and then engulfed me into her small hot mouth. Bliss does not come close. My raven headed goddess, on her knees in a grubby car-park, sucking desperately on my meat. I arched back and groaned in pleasure, my hands running though the back of her hair. She moaned, her hand snaking between her legs. She looked up into my eyes and forced her mouth down until I was deep in her throat. I was beyond amazed. This was the woman who had given me a total of five blowjobs in six years of marriage. I groaned loudly sucked on my balls, wanking my slick shaft with her hand. After a few minutes of pure heaven, she abruptly stood up, her hand still gripped tight on my meat.

She opened the back door of our saloon and crawled in, head first. She looked back over her shoulder and pulled the dress up and over her hips, exposing her pussy to me. She arched her back and begged in a sultry voice that was not her own.

"I need your cum in me, please, please give it to me."

I stepped out of my trousers and lined up my cock against her moist, perfect pussy. I ran my length against her, coating myself in her wetness then swiftly impaled her. Her cunt was on fire, tight and silky. She cried out as I entered balls deep.

"Yeessssssssss, fuck me," she groaned.

I rammed into her like a wild animal, my balls slapping wildly against her. How we were not arrested is beyond me. Katie was blabbering nonsense, lost in passion and cumming repeatedly. Finally my self control gave.

"I'm cummmming!" I bellowed.

"Yessss baby, cum in me! Fill me up!" she cried as her hand reached back and kneaded my balls. I poured into her, a huge, earth shattering load. I pulled out, panting and delirious, not believing my ears. Was my prim wife really saying this?

"Oh, yes baby, yes....let me clean you." Like a flash she swivelled around and wrapped her lips around my slick cock. She licked it like an ice-cream, not missing a drop of my cum as she worshiped my cock.

"Oh yessss baby,it tastes soooo good....yesss," she moaned, as I shuddered in pure joy as I watched this amazing woman lick me clean. Finally, as my cock shrank, she looked up at me and we both started laughing. I shook my head.

"Lord woman, what has got into you?" I asked her.

She grinned devilishly at me, dipped a finger into her pussy and slowly, dramatically licked it clearn "From the taste, grade A baby batter," she quipped, wriggling her hips and pulled the dress back over her waist, "And it is going to be inside me all day."

"My god, you are one sexy woman," I marvelled

"Come on stud, let's get home so I can clean up -- then we can go to this BBQ you have inflicted on me."

"Why don't you go in this dress?" I asked her, a shadow of an idea forming in my perverted head.She laughed again and looked me straight in the eye. After a short pause she said:

"Why not?"

END OF PART ONE

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