My Husband Made Me Enjoy Being Watched

My name is Vera. I’ve been married to Mauro for years, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned by his side, it’s that desire changes shape when you dare to look at yourself without lying. We always had an intense sex life, with no routine, eager to try new things and with the kind of trust that lets you say what turns you on without lowering your voice.

He was always very visual. He loved choosing my clothes, opening my closet, taking out a tight dress and telling me with a crooked smile that tonight he wanted to see how my ass looked as I walked. I laughed and pretended to be shy, but the truth was that I liked feeling desired by him even before he touched me.

It all started with private photos. One afternoon he convinced me to pose for him in front of the mirror, first in a short dress, then without panties, and finally pulling my pussy lips apart with two fingers while he told me which angle he liked best. Seeing his face, hearing the way he breathed, noticing the hard bulge in his pants while he photographed me pushed me toward territory that embarrassed me at first.

Then came a profile on a site where adult couples uploaded content and commented on one another. I hesitated for a long time before agreeing, but in the end I gave in on one condition: no showing my face. Mauro kept his word, and we started with pictures of my legs, my ass in a thong, my tits barely covered by an open blouse.

What threw me off weren’t the images, but the comments. Men and couples saying how much they’d like to see me walk in front of them, suck my pussy, spread my cheeks and fuck my ass until I was left trembling. It was filthy, direct, shameless. And contrary to what I myself expected, instead of offending me, it made me wet.

Mauro noticed immediately. All it took was for him to read a couple of messages aloud and I’d end up with my legs spread on the bed, letting him slide two fingers inside me while he whispered that all those strangers were jerking off thinking about my body. Every time he said it, my pussy tightened by itself around his fingers.

In time, it moved out into the street. Nothing illegal, nothing outrageous, just the game of choosing clothes that drew enough attention for the stares to weigh on me. A very tight dress. A short skirt. Pants that marked my ass obscenely. He enjoyed watching people look at me, and I began to enjoy knowing they were looking at me.

What hadn’t happened yet was my admitting it out loud.

That night, I did.

It was our anniversary, and we left our daughter with my sister so we could go out alone. Mauro was waiting for me in the living room with two glasses and a box on the sofa. When I opened it, I found a black dress clinging to my body, short and open in the back. There were also thin high heels and a tiny pair of panties, almost symbolic.

“I want you to put this on,” he said. “And I want you to tell me the truth all night.”

I dressed slowly while he watched me from the bedroom doorway. When I came out, he approached from behind, held me by the waist and turned me around in front of the mirror. The dress hugged my ass like a second skin. Every step made the hem ride a little higher.

“Now you look like the woman who drives me crazy,” he murmured in my ear. “Refined, elegant, and with an ass that’s asking for trouble.”

I felt heat rise through my chest. He slid a hand between my thighs, moved aside the tiny bit of fabric from my panties and smiled when he felt how wet I was.

“We haven’t even left and you’re already wet.”

“Because you know exactly what you’re doing,” I answered, a mixture of reproach and desire in my voice.

We went to a bar with low lights, soft music and small tables. There were couples, men alone and a group of friends near the hallway leading to the bathroom. From the moment I walked in, I felt several eyes following me. It wasn’t my imagination: I felt them slide down my neck, pause at my tits, fix shamelessly on my legs and, above all, on my ass.

Mauro enjoyed it almost more than I did. Every time I got up for another drink or to go to the bathroom, he held me by the wrist for a second, looked me up and down and let go with a half smile that lit me up inside. He knew what the others were seeing. He knew what he was provoking.

After the second drink, he leaned across the table.

“The table on the right hasn’t taken its eyes off you.”

I glanced over. They were two adult men, well dressed, both clearly focused on me. One was dark-haired, with a short beard. The other had light hair, more serious, but his eyes were just as fixed on me. As soon as I met their gaze, neither of them looked away.

“They’re undressing you with their eyes,” Mauro said.

I squeezed my thighs together under the table.

“I know.”

“And do you like it?”

I took a second to answer. Then another. Finally I said it.

“Yes. I like it.”

He didn’t speak. He merely lifted his glass to his mouth and smiled like someone who had just heard exactly what he’d been expecting.

A while later he told me to go to the bathroom alone. He would go first, he said, so he wouldn’t take attention away from me. I understood the game immediately and, although my stomach trembled a little, I agreed. I watched him get up, move between the tables and disappear down the hallway. I waited a few more seconds, then stood.

I immediately felt the dress pulling at my hips and knew the hem had ridden up. I didn’t pull it down. I walked slowly, letting my heels set the pace, feeling the weight of the stares on my back and my ass. As I passed the two men’s table, the dark-haired one spoke to me in a low voice, but loud enough for me to hear.

“You shouldn’t walk alone in that dress.”

I barely looked at him without stopping.

“I shouldn’t?”

“No. I’d take you straight to a bed to see you without it.”

A lash of heat rose from my pussy to my throat. I didn’t answer. I entered the bathroom, closed the door of a stall and put my hand between my legs. I was soaked. My fingers sank between my lips and I let out a silent gasp when I felt how swollen I was. I touched my clit for a moment, just enough to hold on, because if I kept going a little longer I was going to come right there.

When I returned, Mauro was already sitting there with an expression that said he’d seen nothing and everything. I sat across from him with my legs held tightly together. He looked at me and understood instantly.

“What did he say to you?”

I repeated it word for word. His jaw tightened, not from jealousy but from arousal. He slipped his hand beneath the table and squeezed the inside of my thigh.

“Fuck, it turns me on so much when they talk to you like that and you come back with that face of a wet slut.”

His hand moved higher. He brushed the tiny fabric of my panties and felt the mess.

“You’re dripping.”

“It’s not my fault.”

“Yes, it is. Because you love it.”

I didn’t deny it. Instead, I spread my legs a little farther so he could touch me better. His fingers moved the fabric aside and caressed my pussy slowly, deliberately, while I pretended to look at the bottle on the table. He squeezed my clit just enough to make me bite my lip.

“I want to leave now,” I told him.

“That’s what I thought.”

We paid and left the bar without hurrying, but as soon as we turned the corner we both walked faster. We didn’t want to go home. We entered a nearby hotel, one of those that rented rooms by the hour without asking questions. The elevator seemed endless. Mauro had one hand on the back of my neck and the other gripping my waist as if he were restraining weeks of pent-up desire.

The moment he closed the bedroom door, he threw me against it and kissed me with such force that he left me breathless. I answered in kind, pushing my tongue into his mouth until I felt his moan. I began opening his pants with desperate hands, but he caught my wrist.

“First, talk,” he said. “Tell me what happened out there.”

I looked at him, panting.

“It made me really hot to be watched.”

“More.”

“I loved being desired in front of you.”

“More.”

I felt the blush and the wetness throbbing between my legs at the same time.

“I liked feeling exposed. I liked them seeing my ass, imagining what they’d do to me. I liked being the woman everyone wanted to fuck with their eyes.”

He exhaled through his nose and kissed me again, harder. This time he turned me around, pushed me until I was bent over the bed and yanked my dress up to my waist. My panties disappeared down my legs before I realized it. The cool air struck my pussy, hot and open.

“That’s better,” he murmured. “Now I’m going to fuck the exhibitionist I brought to the bar.”

He spread my cheeks with his hands and hissed when he saw how soaked I was. I felt his saliva first, then the tip of his tongue moving over me from bottom to top. My whole body shuddered. Mauro didn’t lick gently when he was like this. He opened my pussy lips with his fingers and pushed his tongue deep inside, broad and noisy, as if he wanted to drink up all the wetness I’d been building since the first drink.

“Fuck, look at you,” he said against my skin. “It’s like they kept you on the edge all night.”

“You kept me there,” I answered, and almost screamed when he sucked my clit.

He began alternating long licks with direct sucking, sliding two fingers inside me at the same time. I pushed my ass toward his mouth, desperate, feeling his fingers going in and out coated in my own juices. He curled them inside me and made me see stars.

“That’s it, slut,” he told me. “Move. Fuck yourself on my hand if you’re so desperate.”

And I did. I moved against his fingers and his mouth without any shame, moaning louder and louder. When he felt my orgasm approaching, he stopped abruptly. I let out a hoarse protest and he gave one of my cheeks a sharp slap.

“No. Not yet. I want to see you ask for it.”

He turned me over and left me sitting on the edge of the bed. He pulled out his cock, thick and completely hard, and rested it against my lips. I looked at it for a second before opening my mouth. I began slowly, running my tongue along it from the base to the tip, tasting the salty fluid already gathering there. Mauro held my hair without roughness, but firmly.

“Suck it like you were thinking about in the bathroom,” he ordered.

That completely undid me. I took it deeper, letting it hit the back of my throat, moving up and down with real hunger. I sucked the head, ran my tongue over the frenulum, spat on it a little to make it slide better, then swallowed it again as far as I could. He panted, whispered obscenities in my ear and reminded me of the two men at the bar.

“I bet they wanted to see you like this,” he growled. “On your knees, mouth full, swallowing cock like a hungry slut.”

I moaned without letting go. The sound vibrated around his cock and made him grip my hair tighter.

“But this mouth is mine. This throat is mine. This wet slut is mine.”

I sucked him until I felt him tremble, but he pulled me away again before he came. He was determined to prolong everything, and I could no longer think clearly. I only wanted him inside me. I climbed onto the bed and got on all fours without him asking.

“That’s what I wanted to see,” he said behind me.

The tip of his cock brushed my pussy entrance, teased it for barely a second and then pushed in with one long, deep, wet thrust. A cry escaped me. Mauro grabbed my hips and began fucking me with hard thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before burying himself in me again. The sound of our bodies slamming together filled the room.

“That’s how they wanted to see you,” he said through his teeth. “Dress hiked up, spread open, letting yourself take cock.”

I nodded, unable to form words. Each thrust shook my tits, made the bed creak and turned me on even more. My pussy was so wet that his cock slid in and out with a thick, obscene sound that drove me crazy. Mauro took me by the throat from in front, not squeezing too hard, just lifting my torso so he could fuck me at the angle that destroys me.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

He drove into me so deeply that he nearly tore the word from my mouth as a moan.

“That exposing yourself turned you on.”

“Yes,” I panted. “Yes, it turned me on.”

“Clearer.”

“It turned me on to be watched. It turned me on to feel that they wanted to fuck me.”

He answered by fucking me even harder, both reward and punishment at once. I was already close to orgasm when he pulled out of my pussy abruptly. Before I could protest, he spread my cheeks and I felt his tongue again, this time lower down. A shudder ran all the way up my spine.

“Mauro...”

“Relax and spread wider.”

He licked my ass slowly at first, wetting the area, drawing circles with his tongue, alternating with kisses on my cheeks and one hand sliding two fingers into my pussy. The combination left me trembling. It wasn’t the first time we’d played there, but I had never let him go all the way in without holding back. That night, however, I was overwhelmed by desire and the thrill of it.

“I want to fuck your ass,” he said in a low, wet voice. “I want to make you come like that while you remember those stares.”

I was so open in body and mind that the answer came out by itself.

“Do it.”

“I want to hear you say it properly.”

I gripped the sheets.

“Fuck my ass.”

He spat between my cheeks, coated his cock with my own fluids and pressed the tip against my anal opening. The first advance burned. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Mauro didn’t rush. He pushed a little, waited, withdrew just slightly and pressed again. I felt the ring give way millimeter by millimeter around him.

“That’s it,” he told me. “Let me in.”

There was burning, yes, but beneath that burning was a dirty, dense pleasure that was making my pussy even hotter. I brought one hand between my legs and began rubbing my clit while he advanced. When half his cock was already inside me, I let out a long moan, more animal than human.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he growled. “Look at you. Getting your ass fucked and touching yourself like a pig.”

That made me squeeze my clit harder. He finished entering with one slow, deep push, burying himself completely. I felt the total stretch, the complete invasion, and had to bite the pillow. Mauro stayed still for a moment, breathing hard behind me, letting me adjust to feeling him whole inside my ass.

“Can you take it?”

I turned my sweaty, wrecked face slightly toward him.

“Yes. Move.”

The first thrust was short. The second was too. By the third, he was moving in and out with a longer stroke, and the initial pain had turned into a brutal jolt that made me wet the hand I was using to touch my pussy. Mauro gripped my hips hard and found a deep, steady, devastating rhythm.

“This is how I wanted to leave you,” he said. “With your ass properly fucked for teasing people. So you remember who really opens you up.”

“Yes... yes... don’t stop...”

“They could all look, but I’m the one who fills you.”

Each word entered me like another thrust. I masturbated without stopping, trapped between the pressure of his cock in my ass and the increasingly violent trembling of the orgasm building inside me. Mauro began pounding me harder, all the way in, making my hips smack against his pelvis with a dry, repeated sound.

“Tell me where you want my cum.”

I couldn’t pretend to be shy. Not that night.

“In my ass,” I panted. “Come in my ass.”

He gave a hoarse laugh and slapped me hard.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He increased the pace even more. I wasn’t moaning anymore; I was screaming. I masturbated furiously, my dress still bunched around my waist, one sandal having slipped off my foot and my hair sticking to my neck with sweat. I felt used in the most delicious way possible.

My orgasm exploded all at once. My pussy contracted empty-handed while I came trembling over my fingers, and my ass tightened around his cock in involuntary spasms. Mauro swore, drove into me twice more and came inside me with a deep groan, emptying hot and in pulses. I clearly felt him fill me.

He remained buried for a few seconds, breathing heavily, his hands still gripping my hips. Then he slowly pulled out. A shiver crossed my entire body. I fell onto my side on the bed, exhausted, still experiencing small spasms between my legs.

Mauro lay down beside me and brushed my hair away from my face. He had that satisfied yet hungry expression he gets when he feels that something between us has changed forever.

“Well,” he murmured. “You can’t say you don’t like it anymore.”

I laughed, still not fully recovered from the lack of air.

“No. I can’t.”

He leaned over and kissed me with a tenderness that contrasted obscenely with everything that had come before. That mixture is one of the things that binds me most tightly to him: he can tell me the filthiest things while he fucks me and, a minute later, look at me as if I were his favorite place in the world.

We stayed embraced for a while, in no hurry. I could still feel my ass tender and his hot cum inside me, and far from making me uncomfortable, it turned me on again. I realized that the real change hadn’t been the clothes or the looks at the bar. It had been finally admitting that I wanted to be seen and desired, and that sharing this with my husband made me even more his.

Sometimes you discover yourself precisely when you stop pretending to be ashamed.

From that night on, the game between us changed. It was no longer just him teasing me with tight clothes or filthy comments in my ear. Now I sought it out too, asking him which dress he wanted me to wear, whispering before we went out whether he wanted people to look at me a lot or too much that night.

And whenever I feel a gaze fixed on my ass as I walk in front of him, I feel that same heat beneath my skin. I already know what comes next. I already know how those nights end.

They end with me spread open, panting, soaked, enjoying without guilt being watched and having him be the man who fucks me after every exhibition.