About us:

My name is Irene. I am a rather typical wife and mother, living in Barcelona, Spain with my husband Oscar and our two daughters. Objectively speaking, I am attractive and look considerably younger than my forty-two years of age. I am five-foot three inches tall with large brown eyes, and reddish-brown hair that comes to my shoulders. I have maintained a shapely figure that still can turn a few heads on the street as well as at the office where I work. I have been told that I have an engaging smile, and a subtle, sensual demeanor that is often viewed as flirtatious.

I have full breasts with very sensitive and usually very erect nipples, a flat waist and a nice round bottom. I am not hard on the eyes.

Oscar is an attractive man with a nice physique; however, over the years he has put on a few pounds. He is not fat; just not as toned and muscular as he once was. Nonetheless, I love him and am attracted to him. He and I have a good marriage, and an acceptable sex life. We have been married thirteen years.

I had only been intimate with one man; my husband. Oscar took my virginity shortly after we started dating. It never occurred to me to even consider sleeping with other men. I was and still am in love with my husband, and I fully intended to remain faithful to him for my entire life.

Prior to six months ago, we would make love two or three times a month. Our lovemaking was pleasant but not overly exciting. Having been raised Catholic, my upbringing had successfully imprinted in me the bizarre notion that not only was sex outside of marriage a mortal sin, but even within the sanctity of marriage, good girls did it as an obligation to their husbands, not for their own pleasure. On a rational level, I know that is a ridiculous belief; nonetheless, until recently, this deep seated core belief haunted my subconscious. Yes, I was somewhat inhibited by guilt and shame of my own carnal desires, so I repressed much of my libido. 

 Thus, during our lovemaking, I would rarely achieve an orgasm. Oscar would mount me in the missionary position, and I would caress him while he slid his erection in and out of me. It was pleasant and intimate, and I enjoyed doing this for him, but seldom did I respond sufficiently to approach my own climax.

I think the fact that Oscar could not drive me to orgasm himself on a regular basis was a terrible blow to his ego, and led him to look for other ways to satisfy me.

I tried to assure him that the tenderness and intimacy we shared were more than adequate. I tried to assure him that he was taking care of all of my needs, but still I think he felt inadequate.

Truthfully, I would masturbate once or twice a week to satisfy my own sexual needs. But I could never share that fact with Oscar. I suspected that he masturbated in the shower as well, but I would never confront him about it either.

Looking back, it is a shame we did not share this little secret as I think it would have drawn us closer to each other and would have added some variety and spice to our sex life. But not to worry, I was soon to learn that it is never too late to add a great deal of variety, spice and excitement to one's sex life.

When fully erect, Oscar was four and half to five inches long, and about an inch and a quarter in thickness. Since Oscar was the only man with whom I had been intimate, I did not have any basis to judge his erection. I really never gave much thought about what a longer or thicker penis might feel like; until very recently that is.

Oscar's birthday

It was Thursday night, about six months ago, when I walked into our bedroom to find a large gift-wrapped box lying on my side of the bed.

"Oscar, what is this?" I inquired. I was not expecting any gifts.

"It's a little present for you. I would like you to wear this on our date tomorrow night."

"Oh, honey, that's so sweet. But it is your birthday. You shouldn't be giving me gifts for your birthday."

"Actually, seeing you wear this is a gift for me."

I looked at him, puzzled, not quite understanding how an outfit for me was a gift for him.

He nodded towards the box and said, "Open it. Try it on."

I opened the box to find a beige silk blouse, a dark brown wrap-around skirt, and a pair of brown pumps. 

"Try them on," he instructed.

I stripped to my bra and panties as Oscar watched, and donned the new outfit. It fit perfectly; however, it was far more revealing than anything I owned. The silk blouse was very low cut and quite diaphanous. You could clearly see my bra through the thin silky material. And the plunging neck line was lower that the top of my bra.

The skirt had a slit running up the front reaching nearly to my crotch. It flared open as I walked, revealing my entire upper thigh.

I am conservative by nature, in my conduct, demeanor and dress. I was simply not comfortable dressing in a manner others would call 'sexy', so this outfit caught me by surprise; however, I did not want to appear ungrateful for the gift.

"Honey, I can't wear this out tomorrow. You can see right through this blouse. Everyone will see my bra. I'd be too embarrassed."

"Irene, I don't want you to wear a bra with this. No panties either," he said calmly, without emotion.

All I could do was look at him in disbelief. Surely, he was not serious. I searched for some grin, some indication that he was joking; that he knew how absurd this request was. But I saw no sign that Oscar was kidding. He seriously wanted to take me out to a bar or club dressed this way, with my nipples exposed and my vagina barely hidden beneath the slit of the skirt.

"Honey, I couldn't. I'd be mortified if anyone we knew saw me dressed like this," I continued to protest.

"Irene, before you say no, at least model it for me. Take off your bra and panties, and put on the blouse, skirt and pumps."

I knew I was not going to wear this outfit in public, but I saw little harm in modeling it for my husband in the privacy of our bedroom.

Since it was his birthday, I decided to be as seductive as possible with my show.

"Should I change here, or go into the bathroom?" I asked coyly.

"Oh, definitely change here, where I can watch," he responded with a slight edge to his voice. "There are so many things I would like to watch you do."

"There are? Such as?" I asked, as I reached under the skirt and slowly removed my panties. I folded them neatly and handed them to him, "Would you hold these for me? You know I'm naked under this skirt now?"

"I know you are."

I then slowly unbuttoned my blouse, removed it, unhooked my bra, and handed it to Oscar, "Can I trust you to keep track of my under-garments tonight?"

Before putting the beige silk blouse back on, I sat on the edge of the bed, topless, and strapped up the pumps that Oscar had bought for me. As I buckled the straps around my ankles, I looked at my husband as seductively as I could and inquired rhetorically, "You like seeing me like this, don't you?"

"Oh, god yes."

I stood up and put the silk blouse on over my naked breasts. My nipples were fully erect. I glanced in the mirror as I buttoned the blouse, and was taken aback at how exposed I was.

"Oscar, you can see straight through this blouse. You can see my areolas as plainly as if I was not wearing a blouse. Oh my god, what would people think if they saw me like this? There is no way I could go out in public like this!"

My nipples looked like firm little pebbles under the beige material.

"Irene, you look gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. You would have every man in the place drooling - and hard."

The fact that Oscar seemed to want other men to look at me, and to get aroused in doing so, surprised and confused me. "You're not serious? You wouldn't really take me out to a club or bar dressed like this, would you?"

"Irene, I would love to take you out and show you off a bit. You are so beautiful. I want others to see how very beautiful and sexy you are. I like thinking of you being naughty."

"What kind of naughty things to you imagine me doing?" I asked. I was intrigued by Oscar's new found interest in my appearance.

Oscar walked up behind me; holding his cocktail in his left hand, he turned me facing the mirror over my dresser. He then reached over my should to cup my right breast in his right hand.

"Oh, some very naughty things indeed. I like thinking about you being naughty."

 I expected him to say something about watching me masturbate in front of him. Oscar had previously indicated that the thought of a woman playing with herself was terribly arousing. I decided that as a very special birthday present for my husband, tomorrow night, after dinner and dancing and after having some wine to lower my inhibitions, perhaps I would try to masturbate while he watched, if that was his secret fantasy.

But I soon learned that I did not know my husband nearly as well as I thought I did. What Oscar revealed to me next shocked me.

Oscar took a long sip of his drink and then continued, "Irene, I imagine taking you to a club, dressed exactly like you are now, and allowing the men to dance with you, to get you drunk and get you all wound up for me."

I felt his penis throbbing against my back as he talked. This scenario clearly excited him.

 My head started spinning. Did he just tell me he wanted to use other men for foreplay? Surely, he was jesting - or testing me! 

"Oscar, I could never do that. I don't want to dance with other men. I want you to wind me up, not some stranger in a bar." I paused for a moment to gather my thoughts. "And what if we ran into someone we knew? What if one of our friends, or someone you or I work with saw me dressed like this, dancing with other men?"

I saw Oscar smile a bit. I realized that he inferred from my last comment that I was considering doing this.

"Irene, we would go across town, somewhere none of our friends would go. We'd go somewhere that tourists frequent, so the people who we would meet, who you would meet, would be people who are here on holiday."

I began to realize he was serious. He really wanted me to dress like this and to dance with other men. I also realized something else that shocked me; I could feel my pulse in my clitoris and I was lubricating as we talked about this absurd scenario. Without any panties on to absorb my secretions, my inner thighs were becoming wet as my juices seeped out of my vagina, which was now 'alert'.

It had been years since I felt my vagina 'wake up' on its own and start to lubricate without any manual stimulation. The fact that I was responding to the thought of being exposed and passed around on a dance floor confused and scared me. Perhaps I was not as nice and pure as I liked to believe I was?

"Oscar, I just couldn't bring myself to do something like that, even if you really want me to," I argued, "but I must admit, the scenario is exciting. And where could you take me where we would not risk seeing our friends?"

Oscar's face started to beam.

A large smile formed as he realized that I was considering this fantasy.

"We'd take a taxi to the W Hotel. The disco floor would be perfect for you to dance and tease other men all night."

The W Hotel was actually the hotel Vela. It was on the other side of town, and was a favorite hangout of European and American tourists. The crowd would be slightly younger than Oscar and me, but we would fit in nicely.

"Oscar, this is a bad idea. And I'd be too embarrassed - and you are the only man I want to dance with." I looked in the mirror, and could see the expression on his face sadden a bit. "Why would you want me to dress like this, and have other men dance with me?"

"I told you, I think you are the most beautiful woman in the world, and I want other men to see it too. And for them to desire what I have." Oscar stopped briefly. I continued to feel his penis throbbing and pulsing against my back; he was aroused thinking about me doing this. He took another drink of his cocktail, and continued, "And I want to see you get aroused as these men fawn over you, lust after you, and desire you."

"What if they got 'fresh' on the dance floor? What if they tried to feel me up or grind into me? They might, you know."

"Oh I fully expect that they would. I know they would."

"What would you expect me to do then?"

I am ashamed to admit this, but the thought of doing this was gaining some appeal. I had never dated a lot of boys before I met Oscar. I was woefully inexperienced. I never really had any experiences where I really felt sexy and desirable. The image that was dancing in my head made me feel just that, sexy and desirable, and oh-so-very naughty. 

"I'd expect you to let them feel you a little bit, to tease them. I would want you to allow them to think they had a chance with you that night. I'd want you to let them grind into you. Maybe even reach down for a second and feel how big you think they were."

Oh my god! I felt like a shot of adrenaline just pulsed through my erect clitoris when my husband suggested I feel another man's erect penis to see how big he is! I almost moaned at the thought of doing so, and I could now feel my lubrication seeping out of me.

"And what would you be doing while these strangers were feeling up your wife and grinding their erections into her on the dance floor? Would you be dancing with other women and feeling them up, too?"

My tone revealed a level of jealousy and irritation that caught me by surprise. I certainly did not want my husband feeling and grinding on other women on the dance floor. I was honestly confused by the fact that he wanted other men touching me.

"Of course not. I'd be sitting at the bar, or at a table, enjoying the show, watching these guys wind you up for me. I'd be so proud of you, knowing that these guys wanted you so badly, but also knowing that at the end of the evening you were coming home with me. And knowing that when we got home I was going to get the most wonderful birthday present ever... to make love with my beautiful wife."

I felt a bit dizzy trying to process all this. I felt a level of anxiety as I tried to assess what Oscar was proposing. Was this a test, or a trick? Was Oscar setting a trap to test my loyalty or fidelity? I simply did not know.

"What if you got jealous? What if you saw this young guy feeling me up, and you got mad? Mad at him, or worse, mad at me? Especially, if I was responding to his touch."

"Irene, I promise you, I won't get mad. I will think you are so hot, so beautiful, so sexy. I will be grateful to you for doing this. I know you'll be doing this for me, and I won't get mad."

"I still think this is a bad idea," I said in protest, but clearly my opposition was lessening.

"Well, think about it, okay?"

I simply nodded my head.

Oscar turned me around, looked me over from head to toe, and said, "My god, you are a beautiful and sexy woman."

He kissed me deeply, slowly running his right hand up the front slit of my skirt to my erect clitoris. I moaned when he found the erect little nubbins. I was far more sensitive than normal.

Oscar broke the kiss for a moment, "Irene, you are so wet down here! This arouses you too, doesn't it?"

I looked to the floor, ashamed of my arousal, and I nodded and said, "I guess it does a little bit."

Oscar laid me down on the bed and climbed between my legs, but rather than position himself to mount me, he crawled between my legs and continued to touch me with his fingers. He was exploring the outer folds of my vagina, gently caressing my rigid clitoris. I cannot remember being so aroused, so wet and open.

I flung my head backward in abandon as I allowed my husband to touch my vagina. I reached forward and placed my hand on the side of his head, caressing his head as he explored the outer folds of my vagina.

In my highly aroused state, I knew that I wanted Oscar to touch me there. I knew that it felt good, very good. I wanted him to penetrate me with his fingers. I wanted him to finger-fuck his shy little wife.

I lifted my bottom off the bed, spreading my legs wide and trying to encourage my husband to penetrate me with his fingers, but he continued to tease my clitoris and open me with only the very tips of his fingers. 

I spread my legs, allowing my husband to ‘study’, my wet, dilated vagina.

Oscar pushed my legs wide apart as he looked up inside me. I could feel my vaginal juices slowly leaking from me. I wondered, 'Could Oscar could see the wetness seeping from my opening? Could he see how wet and aroused he had made me? Did he know how close I was to cumming at that instant?'

 I moaned and allowed him to study my open vagina. I caught the slightest scent of my arousal. Kneeling in front of me, with his face inches from my vagina, I knew Oscar had to smell the distinct scent of my arousal now.

 His fingers found my opening and he inserted his middle finger inside me. The penetration felt strangely peculiar, but very pleasurable. I say peculiar because I felt more open than normal.

“Oh, Oscar, oh my god,” was all I could say as I clutched the pillows on the bed. "Oscar, try a second finger," I pleaded wantonly.

He started to edge a second finger inside my dilated pussy. His second finger hurt slightly, and stretched me open. I felt very full.

“Do you like this? Do you like what I am doing to you?” Oscar asked as his index and middle fingers slowly entered my expanding vaginal opening.

“Oh god, Oscar, I am so full. You have two fingers inside of me.”

"Would you let some stranger finger you this way while I watched?"

"Oh, Oscar, do you want me to? Do you want to see another man stick his fingers inside your wife's tight vagina?"

"Irene, I would be so turned on seeing you cum while another man fingered you."

The very thought of some stranger sticking his hand in my vagina was pushing me closer to the edge. I knew I wasn't going to last long tonight.

 He reached deeper inside me and explored my inner womb with his two digits. My legs were splayed wide open, my hips arched forward accepting this intrusion into my womanhood from my husband.

Oscar’s two fingers had stretched me open, and I was enjoying his repeated probing of my vagina. His fingers curled upward and discovered a spot on the front of my uterine wall. This was an erogenous spot that I later discovered it was my g-spot.

“Oh my god, Oscar… oh god, right there… oh shit,” I hissed as I lifted my bottom off the bed, arching forward to force his fingers deeper inside me, forcing him to touch me on this very sensitive and erotic spot.

I reached down and grabbed my husband's wrist, and tried to push his hand deeper inside me. I began to rock my hips in a frenzy. I could feel something building deep inside me… something intensely pleasurable.

I was losing all control of my movements as my orgasm started to build. Obviously, the talk about exposing me to other men, and having them dance with me and feel me up had aroused both Oscar and me.

I humped wildly against his fingers and hand. “Oh god, Oscar… don’t stop… please… oh god… right there… oh fuck…”

I moaned loudly as I completely lost control of myself.

 Oscar, sensing my impending orgasm started fingering me with a violent abandon. He plunged his fingers deep inside me. pressing firmly against my uterine wall.

"Irene, tell me that you'll dance with other men tomorrow... that you'll let them touch you."

All I could do was moan, but Oscar wanted me to say it.

"Tell me you'll do it, Irene. Tell me!" he commanded me to speak.

I moaned more loudly, bucking my hips as my husband fucked my dilated vagina with his fingers. I was so close.

Oscar spread his fingers to stretch me open further. He withdrew his fingers only to suddenly plunge them back inside his naughty wife. He was punishing my swollen pussy, forcing me closer and closer to orgasm.

"Tell me you'll let them touch your breasts and vagina... tell me you'll let them finger you. Tell me."

Oscar's words were creating an image in my mind that was pushing me over the edge.

"Do you want me to let them? You want to see strangers finger-fuck me?" I panted.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want."

"Oh god, Oscar, yes, if you want... yes, I'll let them touch me..."

Merely saying those words pushed me over the edge. I started to climax. I felt the first spasm crash across me. I reached up and grabbed my nipples, squeezing them tightly between my thumbs and forefingers as my orgasm overtook me. I was arching my back, my buttocks off the couch, pushing forward to meet my husband's digital thrusts.

My lubrication was flowing out of my dilated vagina, dripping down the crack of my ass. My aroused scent was now filling the room.

“Oh god… I’m there… oh, don’t stop… deeper…oh please... deeper… oh shit!” I screamed as I bucked my hips as wave upon wave of pleasure overtook me.

This orgasm rocked my core as pleasurable spasms crashed across my abdomen.

After the third wave of spasms overtook me, I needed to stop. I was exhausted. My belly ached. I was dizzy, and felt like I might actually pass out.

“Oscar, you need to stop. You need to let me come down,” I begged. But before I could get him to stop, a fourth wave of pleasure crashed over me.

I grunted incoherently as my entire body quivered with pleasurable convulsions. I felt like I might faint.

"Tell me that you'll dance with other men tomorrow. Tell me you'll let them touch you... promise me," Oscar insisted.

"Oh god, I promise! I'll do whatever you ask..." my moans were barely coherent.

 Once the fourth orgasmic wave had passed over me, I grabbed my husband’s wrist and held it still. “Oscar, I need to stop, please…I cannot take any more,” I pleaded.

 Oscar stopped this massive assault on my gaping pussy, but left his fingers inside me for a moment, wiggling them slightly as I lay back, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.

My mind raced. What had I just agreed to do?

 Coming soon: Irene's Story - Chapter Two: We Visit Hotel Vela