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I really didn't want to go out, not for another dull meal in another dull restaurant, just like we do week after week, but he insisted and at least it gave me an opportunity to wear the new dress he bought me. I say he bought me, but I chose it. Left up to him I'd be wearing cardigans and Sunday school dresses.

You see my husband doesn't like me wearing stuff that shows off my body, he's scared I'll get too much male attention. But a girl like me needs to feel sexy, to know that guys are looking at me, wanting me, fantasising about me, even if they have no chance of ever having me, after all I am married.

I slide the red satin over me and admire myself in the mirror. I love the way it clings to my body, caressing my skin so smoothly over my slender waist and curved hips, how the halter neck pushes up my big firm breasts into a deep cleavage, and the slit from the waist allows a tantalising glimpse of long stocking clad leg with every step right from the upper thigh. At least if he can't make me feel sexy my dress certainly will.

I heard the blast of the horn from the impatient taxi driver and after a disapproving shake of my husband's head we headed on the short, silent journey to the restaurant. Once there the helpful waiter showed us to our table. As I strode confidently by his side, high heels clicking rhythmically on the tiled floor I could already sense the admiring ...

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stories in "adultery"   |   all stories by "BadGurl"