Testing the Limits

"And, if I saw you in a bar," he said. "I guess I couldn't help noticing that your breasts are really sexy too. It's pretty hard not to look."

As he said it, both he and John stared openly at her tits. Marisa felt excitement run through her body. This certainly wasn't the first time her body attracted the attention from someone other than her husband, but she couldn't remember it ever being this explicit. And it was happening right in front of her husband, who didn't seem to have any objections.

"You don't have to worry about not looking," she said, talking to Oliver but looking at her husband to study his reaction. "My husband doesn't mind if you look at my tits."

"I do not mind at all honey. He's right - it is hard not to stare at them."

Both Marisa and Oliver looked at him to see if he was being serious. If John actually had any reservations, he hid them well. Marisa thought he looked quite pleased actually. Was he just happy that he was proving his lack of jealousy, or was there more to this?

Oliver shrugged his shoulders as if to say very well then. He returned his gaze to her chest, taking in the sight of Marisa's sensuous cleavage. He lingered but not very long. Marisa could tell that he didn't want to be rude, even though he had been given a free-card to stare as much as he liked. One of the reasons why she appreciated Oliver was that he was one of John's more tactful friends, but now it was interfering with her scheme. She decided she was going to make it hard for him not to look.

Acting like her neck was sore, she moved her head around a few times, rubbing her neck as she circled it. She arched her back, pushing her chest out to give her spectators an inviting view of her tits. She tilted her head backwards and closed her eyes, knowing full well that both her husband and his friend were staring.

"Is something wrong with your back honey?" John said.

Opening her eyes, she could see he had a knowing smirk on his face. He wasn't meeting her eyes though. Both men were transfixed on her chest, and she could tell there was increasing lust in their gazes. She peaked down on her chest and noticed that the top of her areolas had become visible, their pinkish brown color contrasting against the pale skin of her breasts. Her first instinct was to cover up, but she felt a thrill run through her body. She held the pose as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

"My shoulders are bit sore," she said as she straightened her back, allowing the dress to again cover enough of her breasts to hide her areolas.

"Do you want a massage?" John asked.

"Yeah, that might be nice." Her husband's question was open-ended in terms of who would do it, and she decided to use this opportunity to keep pushing his limits. "Do you mind massaging my shoulders, Oliver?"

"Of course not. If that's OK..."

"Absolutely, go for it," John interrupted him.

"Come on Oliver, let's do it in the living room," she said. "We have more comfy chairs there. Perhaps you can clear the table in the meantime, honey?"

John sneered at her, showing that he knew what she was up to. By moving her massage into a different room, she was testing whether her husband was equally endorsing when he couldn't actually see what was happening.

"Sure thing, darling," he said.

Marisa gave her husband a peck on the cheek as she got up and headed towards the living room. "Thanks honey." Oliver was slow to follow her, and she heard her husband reassuring him it was OK.

"Go ahead my friend. I'll be out soon."

Marisa took her seat in one of the lounge chairs in the living room, eager for her massage. She felt excited and was looking forward to having Oliver's hands on her body. A massage is harmless, but given the innuendo of the night so far, nothing felt completely innocent. She relaxed in the chair, anticipating Oliver's touch. She was soon rewarded as he began running his fingers along her neck. He wasn't pushing hard, at times merely caressing her skin. A slight moan escaped her mouth and she was surprised at how sensual it sounded. She could hear noises from the kitchen as her husband was rushing to finish up. She repeated her moan, this time loud enough to make sure her husband would hear.

Oliver shifted his focus down to her shoulders, circling his thumbs as he moved over her skin. Marisa purred. She enjoyed a good massage on any day, but there was more to this. She was sure Oliver felt the same, and she noticed how his strokes often were more of a gentle touch. As he moved further out over her shoulders, she felt his fingers brushing along the hem of the straps of her dress and occasionally wander in beneath them. She suspected it wasn't by accident.

The entrance to the living room wasn't in her field of vision, but she still heard her husband entering.

"Wow, that was quick," she said. "Did you already finish up in the kitchen?"

"No, not quite. I just wanted to bring you your wine."

"If I didn't know any better, I would have guessed you wanted an excuse to check up on us," she said tauntingly as she accepted the glass from her husband's hand. Oliver stopped rubbing her shoulders as she took a sip.

"Please, go on," she said as she put the glass down on the coffee table before her. She sighed deeply as Oliver began where he left off, working his way out along her shoulders.

"Does it make you relax, honey," John asked.

She didn't feel brave enough to admit that it was actually starting to make her horny. The smirk on her husband's face made her think that he already knew, and yet he didn't seem to object. That meant she had to push it further.

"It feels great," she said. "But these straps are in the way."

Staring straight into her husband's eyes, she crossed her arms and slowly lowered the straps of her dress. She didn't stop until the dress was low enough to show the top of her white lace bra. Looking down, she saw that her areolas were again showing. She had chosen the bra with the most push-up support, but it was really a size too small for her these days. She briefly regretted her decision, but the excitement of her exposure washed away any trace of hesitation.

She was pleased to feel Oliver's hand on her again. As he continued his delightful strokes, she unwaveringly looked at her husband with her eyebrows raised. His wife was sitting there with her dress pulled down, enjoying the touch of another man, and he still didn't show any signs that he wanted to deter the situation. Either he was actually speaking the truth about his lack of jealousy, or he was a far better actor than she had expected.

"Weren't you going to finish up in the kitchen, honey?" she said, feeling slightly annoyed that she wasn't able to disprove his claim.

"I guess I was."

As he turned to leave, she noticed for the first time tonight that his face gave away a hint of sheepishness. Was he finally starting to buckle? But why would it matter if he was standing right next to them or was in the adjacent room? Did he think she couldn't be trusted if he wasn't there to oversee the events? That didn't sound likely. Or was it Oliver's loyalty he doubted? That also appeared implausible given that he had sent Oliver to deliver her wine while she was in the bath earlier. In fact, John had consistently urged his friend to play along as the pawn of this game.

Her trail of deduction was interrupted as she suddenly became more aware of Oliver's hands on her body. He had worked his way out to the edge of her shoulders and was now starting to move back again. This time his hands were focusing more on the front, his fingers tracing the outline of her clavicle bones and slowly working their way further down. Inch by inch, he worked his way further down her chest. As he reached the top of her breasts, he stopped his advances, but made no attempt to move away. Instead he kept caressing the upper parts of her chest. She felt like he was teasing her, and it was having a clear effect on her. If he was to continue further down, she probably wouldn't have the willpower to dissuade him. Would her husband still approve of that?

As if he knew she was thinking about him, he again appeared in the living room. Taking a seat opposite Marisa, he raised his glass to toast her. As she reached for her glass, she felt hindered by the straps of her dress around her arms. Pulling them up didn't even enter her mind. Instead, she pulled the straps completely off her arms. Acting as if there was nothing to it, she yanked down the dress to her hips.

"You don't object, do you?" she said to her husband as she picked up her glass to honor his toast. He smiled slyly and shook his head.

"Certainly not," he replied and to emphasize his words, he got up and dimmed the lights, creating a suiting atmosphere for them. "I want you to be comfortable."

The fact that she couldn't call bullshit on his claim annoyed her, but she was also pleased. It meant she got to push further in the search for his limits, something she was more than happy to do in her increasingly aroused state.

"You heard him," she said and leaned back in her chair again, pretending that there was nothing unusual about her sitting there with her breasts just barely covered by her bra. "Please carry on."

This prompted Oliver to return his hands to her chest. John's presence seemed to encourage rather than deter him as he moved slightly further down her chest to a point where he undeniably was touching her breasts. Marisa was getting more and more turned on and her heaving chest was giving that away to all in the room. Looking down, she realized that Oliver's position behind her was giving him a great view, and it was getting increasingly better. As her chest moved with his hands, her tits were gradually rising up from her bra and she could tell that it was just a matter of time before her nipples would appear. Her husband was looking at her tits too, and must have noticed her bra progressing downward. And yet, he only observed it happening. She felt her breath increase, excited about the prospect of getting further exposed.

But just before her nipples were about to make their appearance, she was disappointed to feel Oliver removing his hands. He still appeared to be uncertain about the rules, worried that exposing her tits would be pushing their hospitality too far. The rules were unclear to Marisa as well, but nothing in her husband's expression hinted that he was relieved his friend had stopped touching his wife. Wherever John's limits were, she hadn't reached them and she knew she had to continue her pursuit.

"Mmm... that was amazing," she said and made no attempt to cover up. "Now I'm glad my plans got changed tonight. Your hands felt so good."

"Beats going out dancing with your friends huh?" her husband asked.

"I love dancing, but this was way more rewarding," she admitted.

"Glad it made you relax," Oliver said and took a seat in the couch to sip his wine. Marisa pretended not to notice the way his eyes were drawn to her chest.

"Do you go out dancing much then?" he continued. Marisa thought he probably was trying to change the subject, but his question sounded very much like the sort of thing a man would ask a woman he just met and was attempting to sound interested in her.

"Not as much as would like to," she said. "What about yourself?"

"Oh, I'm not that much of a dancer, especially not recently. Kate didn't like it at all, and well... Going out on my own was out of the question."

"But now you don't have to worry about that anymore," Marisa said. "And since my husband doesn't care if I dance with other men, perhaps you want to practice your moves a bit. Can you put something on that's good for dancing, honey?"

She didn't even care to check her husband's reaction. Given his approval before, there was no way he was going to object to this. She stood up and was about to get ready to dance by pulling up her dress, but was interrupted by her husband.

"You're not getting shy, are you honey?"

She looked at him quizzically. Was he challenging her now?

"Of course not," she said. "And you of course don't mind if your wife dances around in just her bra, am I right?"

Her husband merely smirked as he grabbed the tablet off the table to change the music. He picked an upbeat tune that he knew she liked to dance to, and she marched over to Oliver with her hand extended.

"Come on, show me your moves."

Oliver appeared somewhat reluctant, but he didn't put up a fight. The two of them started dancing, mostly without even touching, but occasionally they grabbed hands and did a bit of a twirl. The more Marisa got into it, the more she started swaying her body, and she could feel her breast shaking, causing the bra to drop. Soon the inevitable happened, and she felt one of her nipples peeking out.

"Oops!" she exclaimed and quickly grabbed the bra to pull it up. It was however only a token attempt to protect her modesty, and as she continued to dance she had to repeat the action over and over again. She let out a giggle or little shriek every time, perfectly aware that it drew more attention to her breasts, and Oliver couldn't keep his eyes off them. She loved teasing him like this, giving him just a glimpse before covering up again. Growing increasingly bold, she started dancing wither her hands in the air, thereby prolonging the time between her nipples poking out and her covering up. She mostly danced with her back towards her husband, but she made a point to occasionally turn around and let him see what she was up to. He appeared most amused as he quietly sipped his wine, watching his wife struggling to keep her tits in her bra.

As the song came to an end, she was giggling furiously.

"So, is this what you think happens when I go out dancing," she mocked her husband.

"No, not really, but..."

"But you wouldn't mind, yada, yada, yada," she interrupted him. "But then you don't mind if I keep dancing with your friend here, right?"

"Of course not. Anything to make you happy my dear," he replied and put on another song, this time a slow one.

"Looks like the DJ is changing the mood," she said. Without giving Oliver a chance to react, she snugged up on him, wrapping her arms around his neck. If her husband was challenging her to get more physical with his friend, she wasn't going to back down. Oliver seemed a bit uncertain where to put his hands, but found a spot just above her ass that the dress still covered.

Marisa however wouldn't allow it to be that innocent. She was still destined to push her husband's limits, and felt it was time to step it up a notch.

"Let me get that out of the way for you," she said grabbed on to the dress. Without hesitation, she pulled it down over her ass in one swift motion. She had to bend her knees slightly to lower it even further, and as it fell to the floor, she stepped out of it and returned her arms around Oliver's neck.

She started swaying to the music and Oliver didn't have much choice but to play along, placing his hands on her naked waist. She rocked her hips back and forth to make the palms move against her skin. With her back against her husband, she was taunting him with her ass, the white thong she was wearing treating him to a nearly unobstructed view. Dancing in just her bra, panties and high heels made her feel very coquette, especially since both men in the room were fully dressed in their pants and shirts.

"Don't worry, my husband doesn't care if you let your hands wander a bit," she whispered loud enough so that John would hear. "Isn't that right, honey?" she added without even looking at him.

"No, there is no need to hold back on my behalf," he said. "It's my wife's limits you have to worry about."

There he was again, provoking her to step it up even further. He must have known she wasn't going to back down, especially since it was obvious she was enjoying Oliver's attention. Her husband was admittedly showing no sign of jealousy, but it was becoming clear that his actions weren't just motivated by an inclination to prove this point. Nevertheless, if he wasn't giving any hints for her to hold back, then why should she?

"Oh, my limits are very liberal," she said. "Given that I've stripped down to my underwear for you, it only seems fair to allow your hands to explore a bit, right?"

Slowly, Oliver moved his hands up and down her back. Firm but sensitive, his touch made her shiver, hungry for more. As his caresses lingered above the lining of her panties, she reached behind her and grabbed his hands. She smiled up at him as she guided his hands down to the higher parts of her cheeks. Taunting Oliver's hands and her husband's eyes, she started swaying her ass seductively. Oliver couldn't resist this invite, and he quickly got bolder. His hands roamed over her ass, and soon he was passionately groping her cheeks. She heard his breath get heavier.

Feeling that she had to see her husband's reaction, Marisa turned around and started grinding her ass against Oliver. John was staring at her with his lips slightly parted. He was holding his wine glass, but seemed oblivious to anything but the scene he was watching.

"Still nothing?" she said, and bit her bottom lip. Her husband merely shook his head, mesmerized by what he was witnessing.

Oliver's hands were starting to explore her front, one hand caressing her stomach just above her panties as the other one continued upwards. The two of them swayed rhythmically to the music as his hands wandered. Reaching the bottom of her bra cups, he diverted and returned downwards along her side to her hips. She pressed back against him, and became aware of the effect that her body was having on him. He was hard and she felt him pressing against her ass. For brief moment, she thought that things were getting out of hand and she should stop it, but that idea was quickly vanished by the floods of excitement rushing through her body. She was massaging Oliver's erection with her ass, and she loved it. It felt so naughty, so forbidden... And yet it wasn't. It was happening right before her husband's eyes.

The next time Oliver's hand wandered up her stomach towards her chest, she reached up around his neck behind her and tilted her backwards against his shoulder.

"Go on," she urged him.

Slowly, as if making sure he wasn't misunderstanding her directions, he started grasping against the cup of her bra, the touch merely noticeable through the fabric. Ensured that he wasn't overstepping her boundaries, he cupped one of her tits in his hands, and gently squeezed it. Even though he was only touching her through her bra, it still made her pant heavily. His other hand traveled up her body to her free breast, and before long, he was eagerly massaging her tits. She could barely grasp that this was happening, especially right before her husband. Looking at him, she could see that he was a bit shocked by what he was seeing, but there was certainly no hint that he wanted her stop. Quite the opposite.

As the song came to an end, no one appeared to know what to do. Without the music, some of the trance was broken. As if only now realizing where his hands were, Oliver lowered them from Marisa's breasts. John fumbled as he picked up the tablet. Preoccupied with watching his half naked wife getting felt up by his friend, he hadn't thought to prepare a new song for them. He was now rushing to find one.

But before he could turn it on, Oliver's phone went off. Marisa giggled as she felt it vibrating against her ass.

"I better take this," Oliver said and excused himself. Marisa smiled as she watched him walking outside, trying to conceal his erection.

"So..." she said as she sat down on the lounge table before her husband. "I must admit that there seems to be some truth to your claim."