The wine bar in between shows he said, 'I should tell you to take your panties off.'
'You should just tell me to do what you want.' (I had grown little tired of encouraging my hub).
My non-Dom husband-partner look me in the eye and said, 'Take off your panties.' I moved to raise up and go to the bathroom, 'No...Stay here. Take them off here at the table.'
My eyes widened. I looked around me at the late afternoon clientele. I glanced around the ceiling to find the security cameras..one, two...no three!
My cheeks flushed with a slight panic encouraged by the white wine I had sipped. The heat of the day hung glistening between my breasts. The tingle in my cunt was instant. Nervous and excited. Surprised that my husband would be so comfortable with his own embarrassment of showing my slut in public. After all this was the man who told me to close my legs when I wore no panties to a dinner with him last summer.
I squirmed in my seat, pulling the sheer material from my round arse. Looking up at the cameras, I was convinced the wait staff would be over to throw me out while my panties were around my knees or ankles. I was instantly wet and hard-nippled. Little bullets in my bra. Breathless and excited at the thought of spending the rest of the evening like this. We had booked three shows. Three shows I had to get through without tripping over my dress flying up above my head and exposing my bare arse. I was glad I had chosen not to wear very high heels, I knew we'd be doing a lot of walking and I don't often suffer for fashion these days. These days I like to suffer for other things :)
As the night wore on the brush of my dress against my bare bottom was intoxicating. I watched the burlesque shows cheered and whoop-hooed as was expected. Those lovely curvaceous breasts and milky white skin, plump hips, and bright wide smiles. I grew wetter as the night wore on fascinated with the curves, bumps and gyrations of the burlesque beauties and stimulated by the brush of my dress and breeze flowing to my wetness. He made sure I remembered how vulnerable I was. His hand frequently skirting my arse, tugging my dress up a little occasionally to make me gasp with the thought that he may choose to expose me at any minute. He knew I would hate that, fear it, he knew how to keep me on edge..this non-Dom husband of mine.
The evening was a great success, sparkles and glitter and spangles, feathers and corsets and nipples. We drove home at 2 in the morning. I lay on the bed, legs apart for him to see...
"mmm.. you are very wet aren't you? A glistening and wet...good girl."
His fingers traced my slick wetness as he took advantage of his little slut-wet girl turned on by those burlesque beauties.
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