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Plan C, Phase 05

We know that many folks have been waiting some time for this next installment. We hope you find it worth the wait. These stories demand a particular taste, and we've loved hearing from those of you who share ours and believe that the mind is the most sensual organ of all.

This time, we're back in Loving Wives, as that is the place that we've found many similar stories that we like best. Again, for people who are bothered by these sorts of thing, we'll point out that there might be elements or at least hints of voyeurism, cheating, mild submission, sharing and other naughty things in these stories. If you're turned off by any of that, or looking for totally instant gratification, you should probably stop reading now.

You'll have to find out for yourself, but we can say that at its heart this story is about a very loving couple.

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Phase 05

Sarah walked down the hotel hallway toward the rendezvous that she had established the previous night. It was 6:32 by her watch. She wasn't surprised by what she saw when she turned into the small foyer, but she was newly impressed by what could be accomplished with a bit of planning followed by careful execution.

Seated at the two chairs facing out toward her were her husband and Mr. X. As she entered the space, they rose automatically -- natural gentlemen. She took a seat and waved them to sit down -- it was hard to accomplish that gesture without appearing imperious, she mused. Mr. X sat immediately, but her husband seemed completely discombobulated, frozen in an awkward half-stand, half-sit.

"It looks like this space has been double-booked, honey", he started out -- fumbling to fire a preemptory round of bonhomie at the other man in the alcove, who he must have already sensed was not likely to be there by accident. "It looks like we'll need to find another location to..." His half-sentence mated perfectly with the awkwardness of his posture.

Her heart softened to him, as it always did. "This is exactly the right location, Cedric. Sit down, and I'll explain."

He sat.

"I owe both of you an explanation. This will be inescapably difficult, so best to just get down to it. Let's start with introductions."

She turned to the stranger in the room.

"Let's just call you 'Mr. X'. As must be obvious now, the man seated to your left is my husband Cedric. We have been married for many years and have several children. Ours is a strong, dynamic, loving relationship -- and if it weren't, I can assure you that you wouldn't be here, and I'd never even consider what I'm about to propose."

Mr. X nodded uncomfortably at Cedric. Cedric looked back, his face now frozen in an awkward half-smile, half-grimace.

"Cedric, Mr. X is a man who I -- ." For the first time in the last twenty-four hours she felt herself struggling for words. "Well, 'met' implies something it shouldn't, and 'interacted with' sounds too impersonal, so let's say 'first became exposed to' -- last night."

"I've already given Mr. X a set of ground-rules. Are those still clear?"

Mr. X nodded.

She turned back to her husband.

"Now, to you, my dear. You and I are embarking on an experiment. As with any well designed experiment, this one has a set of protocols designed to ensure the integrity of the results. So I must also ask you to consider a set of ground-rules: First, only talk when I ask you a direct question, or to request clarification. Second, do not take any action without my asking you to do so. Third, whatever happens stays between the three of us. Fourth, if at any point you decide that you want this experiment to stop, say so. I will respect that and we need never speak of these things again."

She paused for his consideration, studying his face closely. It held traces of confusion, nervousness, and even anger, but dominating all of that was the devotion and trust she knew he felt for her.

"Agreed?"

"Yes, agreed." And then with a sigh he said, "Anyway, I'd die of curiosity if I didn't find out what you had cooked up in that dangerously pretty head of yours."

"Good. Now, it may be difficult for you, but I need you to listen to this next part with an open mind."

"What I've done, dear, is brought one of our mutual fantasies to life. Perhaps that was wrong, in which case -- well, I will be truly, deeply sorry, and will spend a good part of the next year making it up to you. But I know you very well, and I wouldn't have taken the risk I did if I didn't think you'd come to love me more because of it."

She noted in his posture a waning of aggression and a waxing of interest.

"The fantasies I have in mind are the ones in which I expose myself to a stranger."

"And", she said deliberately, gazing into his eyes, "that's exactly what I did last night. I showed the man sitting next to you my panties."

She could see the flood of sexual arousal wash over her husband as she spoke those words -- and a look close to awe come over his face as he processed what she had done. Yes, there was still confusion and worry in his face, but she now knew that the gamble had paid out.

"I first did that in a bar full of strangers, feigning an accidental exposure."

"Then later, to entice him to follow me here, I did it again, making sure that he saw that it was no accident."

"Then, finally, where we are sitting right now, I spread my legs open and showed my panties to him alone."

She watched, fascinated, at the effect her words were having on her husband. As she spoke, she could see a pronounced tent forming within his soft wool trousers.

"But more than that. I also... I showed him my pussy, Cedric."

As she uttered these words, they both realized simultaneously that this statement could not be left without some response. Her husband had to say something, had to defend his territory, least he fall into the tiresome role of cuckold. She knew that neither of them wanted that. He spoke now.

"You shouldn't have done that, Sarah -- not without at least talking to me first." It came out more understated than expected. And then -- wonder of wonders -- he began to laugh, and she found herself laughing with him, as they shared the sudden realization of how ridiculous his demand for consultation on just this one key point really was: "Sure honey, you're welcome to show your underwear to complete strangers, but I forbid you from showing the contents of said underwear without my prior consent."

Mr. X looked on in mild astonishment. For a few moments, he became the third wheel in a conversation that revealed a deep and lasting intimacy between the other two people in the room.

"I thought that doing that -- showing him my pussy -- was also a risk work taking. I thought it necessary to continue to get to where we are now. The real question is, are you sorry that I did that? Are you sorry that I showed him my pussy?"

He sat for a few moments, quite still. "I'm surprised to find that I can't say with certainty that I am."

She looked at him intently, a bit of cold calculation in her eyes. "Well, I am now going to prove to you that you wouldn't have been sorry. Because I'm going to do the same thing now, with you here. You'll have every opportunity to stop me, and then you will no longer be able to claim that you would have 'preferred that I didn't'."

And she began to raise the hem of her loose-fitting skirt up her thighs. She kept her legs together as she did so, so that this time there wasn't the opportunity to get a peek between her legs. This way whatever she did would be for the simultaneous benefit of both of her observers.

She kept pulling the skirt up, up and up, until the line of the hem reached seven or eight inches below her waist. She looked at her husband, who looked at her, at the other man in the room, back at her, and then gently nodded.

She raised her skirt further then; very, very slowly now; and the bottom corner of the triangle of her panties came into view. She stopped for a moment and looked at both men in turn -- saw the hard evidence of their excitement struggling against the confines of their pants.

She continued to pull her skirt up, slowly, so very slowly, revealing millimetre after millimetre of the fabric of her panties. Those panties contrasted very nicely with her french blue skirt and pale legs, she mused.

Even when her panties were fully revealed, she continued to pull her skirt up, until it was gathered up above her panties, until both men could see her soft naked belly resting above their small elastic waistband.

"Jesus", her husband said with a whispered, achy groan. "I can't believe you're actually doing this, Sarah."

She gave him a warning look and put her index finger to her lips. Then she brought that same finger down in a graceful arc to the middle of her panties, running it down into the small gap formed between her legs and the bottom of her panties, and pressing into the flesh surrounding her clit. Pressing it hard, indulging her need to relieve some of the pressure that had been building up down there. God, she felt so horny. She'd never felt so much need. She felt an intense urge to throw her legs open, pull her panties aside and shove her fingers into her pussy right then and there.

But no, not yet. Every step in her plan was a step that must be taken. There could be no short-cuts, no giving in to the lure of instant gratification.

"Do you like this, baby?" She asked. "Do you like me sitting here exposing my panties in a hotel hallway, letting a complete stranger stare at them?"

He sat there, still stunned. She pushed further, loving the feeling of power that saying these words was giving her.

"Do you like having him see me touch myself?"

He mumbled something barely audible.

"Well, do you?"

He still seemed at a loss for words.

And now she let her tone take on a more commanding, almost mocking tone.

"Do you want me to touch myself more? Do you want me to spread my legs and rub my pussy? Or should we just forget the whole thing and go upstairs and fuck?"

Finally, he answered her.

"No", he said. "No, keep going. Do what you're going to do. What you've obviously been planning to do anyway."

So she spread her legs, not indecently, but enough that you could see the area of her panties that her pussy hid behind.

She'd chosen her panties not because they were her most sexy pair, or even because they played into the Innocent-Mother-I'd-Like-to-Fuck fantasies of her husband, but after careful consideration and experimentation. She'd spent part of the early afternoon in her hotel room pouring a capful of water on to each pair of her panties, looking for the colour that would best highlight any moisture. That colour turned out to be pale grey. The fabric of course was cotton, which would quickly wick the lubricating juice from between her lips up to where it could be seen. Now she could see that her planning had paid off. As she spread her legs blotches of wetness stood out clearly from her panties.

Her voice took on an even more teasing air.

"Do you like that? Do you like seeing how wet this makes me? Do you want me to tell Mr. X just how dirty I can be, while I provide a live demonstration?"

"Yes. You should tell him. Tell him what a dirty slut you are."

"I'm a slut, am I? You should know, I guess. You've seen me be a slut for you many times before, haven't you? But I've never been a slut for anyone else before. Now I am."

Then she turned to Mr. X.

"Do you like this? Do you like seeing my wet panties?"

He nodded.

"Of course you do. You'd like to see my pussy, see how wet it is, wouldn't you?"

He nodded more vigorously.

"But it isn't my pussy, it's my cunt. Because that's what a slut's pussy is called, isn't it?"

She wondered if this was all moving too hard, too fast. Perhaps they should have built up to this over a series of more gradual steps -- say, a little internet chat with a lucky stranger as a kind of a warm up exercise. But that seemed so pale in comparison to what she was doing right now. This was so much more intense than she could imagine that sort of impersonal, anonymous activity ever being.

God, she was getting off on talking to a stranger like this. The dirty talk turned her on almost as much as what she was doing. She had become completely consumed by her need to be seen now. Nothing could have stopped her at this moment -- even had her husband objected, she had to admit to herself.

She yanked her panties aside.

"There it is. You like that? Is that what you wanted to see? My hairy wet cunt lips? See how puffy and full they are? See how excited I am showing myself to you? I should stick my fingers in between them, huh? What would that make me?"

Yesterday, Mr. X had refused the opportunity to go along with her self-characterization, remaining the perfect gentleman. But her actions and talk had had its intended effect, pulling him in to the spirit of things.

"You'd be a slut, that's true. It would be hard for anyone to deny it."

"Well then, I guess I'll have to live with that." And she thrust two of her fingers in between her lips, burying them as far as they would go. Oh god, she had been craving that feeling!

"Should I touch my clit? Do you want to see me rub my nasty little clit for you?"

"Yes, yes."

"Oh yes, you liked it when I touched my pussy for you yesterday, didn't you?" She said this looking at her husband, getting off on the effect her words were having on him.

She licked the index finger of her other hand, brought her other hand down to her pussy, spread the surrounding skin apart and began to rub her clit quickly, almost painfully. She was actually squirming with lust now, and her panties were getting in the way. So she put her hands into their waistband, lifted her ass up, and thrust them down around her ankles. Then she spread her legs again and began going at herself in earnest.

This was moving along a bit too quickly, she thought. She was so overcome with lust and felt almost out of control. She toyed with the idea of allowing herself an orgasm, just to get through the next few steps without losing her sense of judgement. But she knew from experience that the experience of one massive, shattering orgasm was worth waiting for. She slowed her pace a bit and gathered herself.

"Come over here. Come over her and take a good close look."

Mr. X actually got on to the floor and half-crawled over to her, just to avoid breaking his intense gaze on the space between her legs. He came up to just a meter from her. She continued to move her fingers in and out of her pussy.

"Closer. I want you to be able to smell me."

He crawled further forward and moved his head right between her legs. Then closer, just a hand-width or so away from her pussy, close enough to see the tiniest fold and detail. She stopped stroking now.

"Should I spread my lips for you? Should I let you see the inside my cunt?"

"Please. Yes, please."

She grasped her inner lips between her index fingers and pulled them apart. She now set there in the hotel foyer with her legs splayed open and her pussy exposed as lewdly as it could possibly be to someone whose name she did not even know. After an eternity of seconds, she released her lips, leaving them puffy and slightly gapped.

Now she turned to her husband again.

"Are you going to let him touch it? Will you let this stranger put his fingers on your wife's precious pussy?"

"You said you were a slut, and you're doing a damn good job proving it to us." He turned to Mr. X and said in a kind of lustful snarl, "be my guest."

Mr. X reached out almost tentatively.

"That's it, put your finger on my pussy lips."

He touched her then, and the touch was electric. Not so much the feeling, as the fact of it. She wanted him to shove his finger into her, but she held her resolve firm.

"OK, please take your hand away now."

Then she asked her husband the next question.

"You let him touch me, are you going to let him taste me too? Do you want this stranger's lips on my cunt?"

"Yes. Yes, I want to see that."

She put her hands on either side of Mr. X's head and gently guided it forward until his mouth was nearly on her lips.

"Do it. Lick my pussy slit."

And then she felt that delicious sensation; a tongue sliding up her lips and back down, but this time a tongue that she wasn't used to. She was amazed at how different it felt. Not better, not really worse, just... different.

Then she pushed his face away. She gestured for him to return to his seat. The three of them sat then for a quiet minute or two, collecting themselves, flush with excitement, confounded by the sexual energy that had just been unleashed.

She bent over in her seat, reached down and gathered her panties from between her ankles and slid them up her legs and back around her waist. Then she stood and did her best to smooth out her very ruffled skirt.

"Now, I am going to retire to our room. If either of you gentleman would care to join me, you would be most welcome."

And with that, she turned and walked back up the hallway.

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