"Happy?", commented my wife. She tossed them in the back, and then began to button her skirt back up.
"Hold on there. I didn't say anything about buttoning back up. In fact, finish unbuttoning your skirt."
Marilyn's eyes opened wide at that. It wasn't the first time we had done this, but up until now it had always been late at night when we were alone, or maybe taking a parents vacation. She reversed course and undid all the buttons on the skirt, and laid it open, so that she was now naked from the waist down, except for her high heeled sandals.
"Now, lose the camisole. That's what you have under your top, right? A camisole?"
Marilyn turned back to look at me, but I just gave her a serious expression and nodded. "I can't do that! People will see!"
"Not my problem.", I told her.
Marilyn gave me a dirty look, but then pulled her peasant blouse top up from her waist, and above her boobs, and then pulled her arms out of the sleeves, leaving it around her neck. She repeated this with the camisole, then managed to put her arms back in the sleeves of the blouse, pull it down, and then pull the camisole up and through the top of the blouse and over her head. That went behind her. "Happy now?"
"We are only just getting started!", I told her. I looked her over closely as we stopped at a light. She looked pretty good there! Marilyn blushed as I inspected her. The peasant top wasn't sheer or tight but it was obvious she was naked beneath it, and her nipples were beginning to stiffen.
As we started up again, I said, "Now begin to touch yourself." She looked at me oddly at that, and I nodded. "Go ahead, you know what to do." Marilyn stiffened slightly as she slipped her hands between her legs. Her back arched slightly as her body began to respond. "Now, I want you to tell me what all the ladies were saying was the Carl Buckman Experience."
"That's cheating!"
"That's market research! We need to make sure that your experience is different!" I smiled over at her. "Be explicit. Be very explicit!" I reached over with my right hand and tweaked a nipple through her blouse; Marilyn moaned and arched her back in response. I pulled my hand back and said, again, "Tell me!"
"You're mean!", she answered. It was difficult for Marilyn to talk about such things to me. I would often tease her when we were making love, and my wife was perfectly content to writhe and moan beneath me, but not happy when I made her tell me her fantasies or desires. Still, she would when sufficiently prodded, and I kept prodding her.
It always astonishes me that women will talk among themselves about stuff that if a guy talked to them about, would have them calling the cops! It seemed that what most of the ladies at the table had mentioned to Marilyn had to do with one of two topics, my willingness to eat them out (which for quite a few of them was something completely new) and the fact that I knew so many different positions. In retrospect, I wasn't surprised, since that sort of thing only comes with practice, and let's face it, I had a hell of a lot more experience than they did back then.
I also tormented Marilyn during the drive by frustrating her. After a few minutes, when I sensed she was getting close to orgasm, I said, "Stop! Put your hands on the dashboard!"
Marilyn stopped and turned her head. "What? What are you doing?"
"I said to stop!", Marilyn was still playing with herself, so I reached out and tugged her hands away. "Now, behave and stop."
Her eyes widened and she gave me an angry look. "You are just plain mean!"
I laughed at that. By then we were on the Harrisburg Expressway driving north. After about five minutes, I relented. Reaching over, I flicked her nipple through her top and said, "Back to work!"
She groaned, and put her fingers back on her clit, slumping down and spreading her legs wide. There was a definite aroma of her musk in the car. I kept driving north, past our normal exit to Hereford, and Marilyn was out of it; she never noticed. A mile or so later I ordered her to stop. I heard a half muttered, "Bastard!", from her.
When we hit the Pennsylvania line I allowed her to start again. Marilyn hissed at me, but put her hands back between her legs, and asked, "Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise!" To me, too, since I wasn't sure what I was up to, not at all! I just wanted to do something memorable for her. I kept letting her touch herself for a few minutes, and then stopping her until we hit the outskirts of York, and an idea came to me. I pulled off the highway and said, "Put your skirt back on." Marilyn hurriedly moved to comply, but I stopped her after a moment. "No, only button the top four buttons." I pulled into a small strip mall that had a drug store.
I parked outside the drug store and said, "Now, you are to go in there and buy a home enema kit."
Marilyn's eyes widened to the point of panic. "I can't go in there dressed this way!"
"You can and you will! Give me a break. Nobody here knows you or cares. You could wander in there in a string bikini with a sign around your neck saying 'Rent me!' and nobody would care. Now, get out of the car and do it. Do you have any money in your purse?"
Marilyn groaned and rolled her eyes. "Yes!"
"Then go, and don't think you can cheat. I'll be watching!"
I did, too. I got out of the 380 about a minute after Marilyn went into the store, and followed her surreptitiously through the store, and watched her find an enema kit and take it up to the counter. As I told her, nobody cared or noticed. I followed her out to the car, and let her back in. The bag went into the back, and I ordered her to undo her skirt again.
I think some of Marilyn's nervousness was about what the enema kit signified to her. Anal sex was something we did on occasion, and while Marilyn certainly enjoyed it, it was also something terribly taboo to her.
From the drug store, we drove to Harrisburg, with me alternating allowing her to touch herself with not touching herself, and I drove to an industrial part of town, and pulled into the parking lot of an adult video store. "Now, we are going in together.", I told her. "Only button the top two buttons on the skirt."
"Just two?", she asked weakly.
I gave her a big grin. "Don't complain or I might make it just one!"
It was late, but the store was still open. I led her inside, and Marilyn was very nervous. I expect she thought that white slavers were about to descend upon us and whisk her off to parts unknown. She clung to my arm as we went inside. I had been here once before, to buy a vibrator for her. It was about what you would expect, simple industrial concrete block construction (cheap), no windows (nothing to break when the natives rioted), and nondescript. Inside were several aisles with various toys, videos, and magazines, all sexual in nature.
Marilyn had never been in an adult store before, and it was all I could do not to laugh at her. From behind her, I leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Your custom tailored Carl Buckman Experience involves you leaving your comfort zone and exploring what you are capable of. I'll bet you've never seen a place like this before." Marilyn couldn't even answer, but simply shook her head. I prodded her and we started going down the aisles.
Marilyn's eyes were as wide as a five-year-old's on Christmas morning. There were things in that store she had never heard of before. I kept up the torment, asking her what she thought of different vibrators, did she want a large one or a small one, long or wide. I had already determined to simply have her pick a vibrator and a movie, and then have her go to the counter and pay for them herself.