40. Wife's POV [Part 2]

NOTE: This fictional story features only adult characters (18+) and portrays consensual interactions throughout.


My heart kept thudding as I looked down at the first top in my hands. Just holding it made my fingers twitch. It was so small. Barely anything, really — two little patches of fabric joined by thin strings that would barely cling to my tits.

It took a few seconds to figure out where each strap went. The fabric barely covered my nipples, my entire tits except the nipple clearly visible no matter how I adjusted it. The moment I looked in the mirror, my breath went fast and hot. My skin, flushed. My breasts, pushed up and out. My stomach flat and naked. I looked… indecent. Like a woman asking to be stared at.

I didn't even get a second to breathe properly before Lina's voice came from outside the curtain.

"How's it looking in there?"

I hesitated. "S-Small."

She chuckled. "Let me see."

"No—"

But she didn't wait. She pulled the curtain aside just enough to peek, then whistled low.

"Damn. Look at those tits. That top's barely holding on." Her grin widened as her eyes moved over me. "You wear that outside, men would crash their bikes just trying to stare."

I instinctively crossed my arms, trying to hide myself. But even then, my cleavage bulged between my forearms.

She laughed. "Don't cover it. Own it. You look hot."

My body was burning like somebody threw me into a volcano. But she didn't stop.

"Imagine walking down the street like that. Just casually. Every eye locked on your chest. You'd feel it, wouldn't you? That thrill? That power?"

Her words seeping into me like slow poison. I turned back to the mirror once she pulled the curtain closed again. My breath caught as I stared at my reflection. I moved my arms away. My nipples strained beneath the fabric, hard and visible. I raised one hand, slowly brushing the side of my breast with trembling fingers. The way it jiggled, the way my skin felt so sensitive already—I shouldn't have touched myself like that, but I couldn't stop.

I reached for the next one. A pink tank top. So small, I thought it was a child's size at first. Lina had passed it to me with a wicked grin and said, "This one's for giving the perverts something to enjoy when you're walking to the market."

I shouldn't have even considered putting it on.

But I did.

It stretched tight over my chest, tightly pressed. The fabric was so thin, I could clearly make out the shape of my nipples pressing against it. No bra, no padding. Just me—raw and visible. The cut was high enough to expose my midriff and low enough that any quick movement might flash the entire bottom of my breasts.

I stared at myself in the mirror and exhaled slowly.

Lina peeked in again, instantly lighting up. "Holy shit. That's perfect. Every guy you pass would stare straight at your tits in that."

I blushed. "It's too much."

"No," she said, stepping inside again, circling slowly. "It's just enough. Just enough to make them imagine sliding a hand up from your stomach, slipping a thumb under the top, lifting it higher inch by inch…"

She leaned in near my ear, her voice playful, sultry. "You'd act innocent. Pretend you didn't notice the way they looked at you. But deep down, you'd love it. You'd feel alive, wouldn't you?"

I turned slightly, my hand brushing my stomach. Her words wrapped around my thoughts like a slow, pulsing heat. I imagined it—walking down the street, the stares, the glances, the growing tension in the air. Being seen. Wanted. Desired.

"Now try bending forward a little," she said.

"What?"

"Just try it."

I hesitated, then bent down in front of the mirror. The neckline dipped low, the thin fabric pulling tighter. If someone were standing in front of me… they'd see everything.

Lina grinned. "Told you. Those perverts wouldn't even blink. They'd eat you up with their eyes."

I stood straight, flushed and panting lightly. This wasn't normal. I was just trying on clothes. But my body was reacting like I was in bed.

I turned around, and reached for the skirt. That ridiculously short skirt she said was "for my husband." I pulled it up over my hips. It was so tight, I had to pull hard just to get it into place. It hugged everything, squeezing my waist, clinging to my ass.

But it was short. So short that when I turned to look behind me, I could see the bottom curve of my buttcheeks peeking out.

"Holy shit," I whispered.

"You got it on?" Lina called.

"Y-Yeah…"

"Let me see."

I didn't say anything, but the curtain pulled again anyway. Her eyes widened.

"Oh my God." She stepped in a little. "Turn around."

I hesitated, then turned slowly. Her low whistle returned.

"Your ass looks amazing in that. Like, genuinely—men would die to get a handful of that. You know that, right?"

She leaned against the mirror, eyes fixed on my exposed area. "You walk by in that, and you'll hear the smack in their minds before they even think it. You'd feel them watching you. Wanting to grab it. And you'd pretend not to notice. That's what makes it hot."

I was breathing faster. The mirror was fogging slightly with my breath. I turned again, looking over my shoulder at my own ass. She wasn't lying. It looked obscene. Barely covered. Tight. I gave a tiny twist at the hips, just to see how much it bounced.

Lina licked her lips. "Now imagine your husband walking behind you in this. And every guy around thinking, how the fuck did he get her? Makes you wet just picturing it, huh?"

She wasn't wrong. My pulse getting out of control between my legs. I could feel it building. A pressure that made me lick my lower lip.

I reached for the next outfit—if it could be called that. A mesh slip, transparent and delicate. There was no hiding in this. Every inch of me would be visible, from the hardened peaks of my nipples to my pussy.

As I pulled it over my head and let it settle on my skin, I looked in the mirror again. My whole body was on display. I turned. Twisted. Bent slightly.

The air itself felt hot.

Lina peeked again, and this time she didn't even try to hide her grin.

"See?" she said softly. "That's what a beautiful body's for. Letting the world enjoy it. Feeling them hunger for you."

She was speaking so casually, but every word sank deep. My nipples were so hard they ached. My fingers twitched at my sides, itching to touch more.

And inside, something was shifting. Breaking. A thrill that no longer scared me. A fire that wanted to be fed.

I stared at myself longer, pressing a palm gently to my breast. It felt electric.

Her voice returned, soft, low.

"Feels good, doesn't it? Knowing they'd all be watching. That they'd want you."

I didn't answer.

I couldn't.

Because she was right.

And I was already dripping.

The next piece in the pile was a top barely bigger than a bra, paired with a thong. A proper one. Thin waistband, string back. Not the kind of thing you accidentally wear—it was designed to show skin. Deliberately slutty.

I slid the thong up my legs, hesitating as I reached my hips. It barely covered me. I turned in front of the mirror and my stomach twisted. My entire ass was out. Entirely. Round, soft, delicious.

The top clung tightly across my chest, pushing everything up. My nipples were visible through the thin fabric. I looked like a woman on the cover of a trashy magazine. One of those women.

"Ready?" Lina's voice teased again.

I should've said no.

Instead, I opened the curtain.

Her eyes dropped to my waist instantly.

"Well, fuck, girl."

She walked a slow circle around me, openly staring.

"I'd spank that ass if it were legal. Look at it.

I swallowed hard, heat flooding down my neck.

"You ever worn a thong before?" she asked, tilting her head.

"N-No…"

She grinned. "You should. A body like yours was made for them. The way your cheeks bounce with every step… Men wouldn't survive."

I turned back to the mirror, and I hated that she was right. The way the string vanished between the roundness of my ass, the way my skin looked so soft and bare—I felt humiliated. But I also felt… hot. My body betrayed me with every heartbeat, warmth spreading between my legs like a quiet confession.

The next item was almost a relief. Tight jeans and a crop top. At least I'd worn something like it before, right?

Wrong.

The jeans were skin-tight. Once I pulled them on, I realized just how dirty they were. They wrapped around my hips like a second skin, pressing into my crotch so clearly I could see the shape of it. When I turned around, the denim clung so tightly to my ass that the outline of each cheek was visible. There was no room to breathe in them—just curves and tension.

Lina peeked in again and raised her eyebrows.

"God damn," she murmured.

She stepped closer. "That's not an ass you ignore. That's an ass you chase down the street for."

She laughed, and I couldn't help but glance at myself in the mirror again. Was she right? Would people really stare at me like that? Want me?

Last outfit. A bikini.

A tiny black one.

The top lifted and squeezed my breasts, making them look fuller, heavier. The bottoms were low. So low I had to swallow before pulling them into place. I looked vulgar. Like a whore who was getting ready to shoot a porn video.

I stepped out.

Lina stared, and then broke into a wicked smile.

"Jesus Christ. You're walking sin, you know that?"

I tried to cover myself, failing miserably.

"You ever been to a beach like this?" she asked.

I shook my head, cheeks burning.

She leaned in close, whispering near my ear. "You wear this, men won't be swimming. They'll be jerking off in their heads the moment you walk by."

I quietly listened to every word of her. My body trembling with arousal.

When I finally changed back into my normal clothes, my body still pulsed with heat. My thighs were sticky. My heart was racing.

Lina leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, watching me calmly.

"So," she said, "you gonna buy them?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it. The words wouldn't come.

Then, finally, I mumbled, "I-I guess. They're… not bad."

She smiled. Not the teasing one she'd worn before. This one was knowing. Like she'd already seen the ending to a game I never participated in.

I paid, heart thudding as the cashier bagged the items. The plastic rustled like it was whispering my secrets aloud.

When I got home, I slipped the bag straight to the bottom of the closet. Behind boxes. Beneath old clothes.

I wasn't ready to show them to him yet.

Not yet.

But maybe… one day.

Maybe, little by little, I'd take them out.

One piece at a time.


Let me know if you enjoyed this chapter. Next chapter tomorrow