It was a rough day. It was mid-summer, the air conditioning at work was at its usual inadequate temperature setting and my new boss was a real SOB. He was the type of person who, if he was drowning in a swimming pool, people would toss him an anchor. I trudged in, only half remembering an invitation to an early dinner party to which my wife had accepted an invitation.
I walked into my house, ready to drop into a chair and have a cold drink. Turning the corner from the front door into the living room, there was my wife, Valerie. She was 5' 6" tall, 125 pounds and 34A-28-36. She was wearing a stunning new outfit: a then-current fashion white halter-top dress, white hosiery and white three-inch high heels. She had foot surgery just three months before and no one expected her to be able to wear high heels again. Her makeup was very nice. Her eyeshadow emphasized her brilliant blue eyes and her lips were very red. The dress itself had a circle skirt and was knee length. Under it was a rather stiff and quite rustling white sixty-yard petticoat. My wife looked like an eighteen-year-old virgin bride.
She approached me and put her arms around me and French kissed me quite passionately. She was wearing Chanel No. 5 perfume, my favorite. As she pressed herself against me, I noticed that she was not wearing a bra. Being a 34A, she really did not need to wear one but I had never known my wife to go in public braless unless she was wearing a bathing suit.
"Mmm, something is missing," I whispered in her ear, half joking, as I pushed against her left breast with my right hand.
She kissed me again and responded, "That is not the only thing that is missing," as her left hand rubbed against my crotch, unzipped my pants and reached in grabbing my expanding cock with a fervor I hadn't felt since our honeymoon thirteen years before.
Her perfume was intoxicating. I held her quite close to me. We kissed again and my hand reached under her dress. I ran it up her leg. I discovered that she was wearing a pair of stockings with a garter belt and no panties! I didn't even know that she knew what stockings were, since she had always worn pantyhose. She had never gone without panties even in private except during sex or when she was bathing.
She handed me a camera. "Take my picture." She never wanted her picture to be taken when she dressed up for me before.
"Walk down the hall towards me." She did that and I took a photo. I took another of her sitting on the floor and one of her standing. I jokingly asked her, "Can I take one of you lying on the floor masturbating?"
She said, "No. I still have to take the film in for developing." This was long before the time of the digital camera. "But I will pose for you."
That stunned me. My sweet wife had always refused to do more than the occasional portrait. She walked to the center of the room and sat down. First, she lay back on the carpet, then she spread her legs pulling her dress up to her waist. She was quite exposed. She then moved her right hand over to her vagina and inserted her middle finger into her pussy.