#oblivious husband

Alison was always getting caught up in one cause or another. Her husband, Mark, tried to be supportive, but she sometimes went overboard. One morning, she told him she was going to be at a protest in the city, near Mark’s office.

At lunchtime, Mark decided to see if he could find her in the protest. Just as he arrived, the police were beginning to make arrests. He saw a small, petite woman in bodypaint being handcuffed. When she turned, he could see it was his wife.

He rushed over and called her name, telling the officers it was his wife. She motioned for him to back off, as if she were proud to be arrested for the cause. One of the officers held him back and told Mark he could pick her up at central booking.

“Where are your clothes?” Mark shouted to his wife. He had no idea why she was naked or wearing bodypaint. She couldn’t hear or didn’t answer and was quickly hurried away by the cops.

One of the other protesters got Mark’s attention and explained that they were protesting clothing manufacturers exploiting natural resources. She seemed to think the arrest was no big deal.

“They just like to harrass us,” the woman told him. “A lot of times, they don’t even make a record of the arrest,” she said, which prompted her to launch into a longwinded conspiracy theory about the police.

Mark tried to find Alison at central booking, but got the runaround. She wasn’t answering her phone and Mark had no way to contact her, so, after several hours, he headed home to wait for her. She was already there.

“Oh, the cops let me go,” she said, having washed off all of her bodypaint, she was wearing loose fitting clothes, watching documentaries about hemp. “You don’t have to worry, I’ve been arrested tons of times,” she said casually. “Never been booked yet,” she added proudly.

“How is thay even possible?!?” Mark asked, shocked at her revelation and how calm she was about it.

“Well, usually it’s just one cop,” she said. “They’re pretty young, the ones they send to cover the protests. Once we’re in the car, usually a blowjob is all it takes.” Before Mark could react, she chuckled unnervingly. “But these boys today were a lot more work. I think the big one fucked me three times! Glad I got his number,” she added. “He was the one who gave me the ride home,” she said, as if that answered her husband’s astonished stare.

“Rachel…is that what you’re wearing?“ her husband asked. “I know we’re on vacation, but…”

“Oh, don’t be such a prude, Tom,” she answered. “People here put tits on the front page of the paper,” she said.  “I went topless at the beach today and the world didn’t end.” In fact, Rachel’s self esteem got quite a boost from the attention she received from the foreign men.  “It’s already dark out,” she added as a final rationalization. “Come on, we don’t want to miss our reservation.”

Tom insisted she bring a jacket, but once they were on the street and she got her first look from one of the hot young French boys, the jacket came off.  She felt exhilarated walking around the seaside town practically naked as all the young men snuck a peek or even stared openly. “If only the girls in the PTA could see me now,” she thought to herself.

After dinner, Rachel told her husband she wanted to go for a stroll and do some window shopping. The truth was, she wanted to be seen a little more.  Tom found a street performer and stopped to admire the act. “I need to find a bathroom,” Rachel told him, “I’ll find you later,” she said as her husband waived her off.

She approached a young, handsome man who was on his phone and asked if he knew where the bathroom was. Although the man didn’t speak much English, he could tell this woman wanted attention more than directions. “This way, I show,” he said leading Rachel down a side street.

When they reached the dead end, she turned around a little confused. “You want this?” he asked, grabbing his bulging cock through his pants.

“No, I uh…” Rachel hesitated.

The man stepped aside to let her pass, but she didn’t move. “Okay. Go,” he said. Rachel stood there failing to not look at the stranger’s chest and down to the man’s bulge.

“Yes or non?” the man asked. He took her hand and put it on his chest under his thin cotton shirt. “You like this, yes?”

Rachel’s heart was racing as she felt her head nod up and down. She found her free hand on the man’s crotch, fumbling with his zipper as their lips met. In a heartbeat, Rachel’s skirt was over her hips and she was leaning over a pile of boxes as the stranger’s cock filled her from behind.

Twenty minutes later, Rachel staggered out of the side street alone. The stranger’s cum was still dripping down her leg when she found her husband, still admiring the street performer’s act. Only when they were back at the hotel did he notice that his wife’s panties were also missing.  “She must have been really drunk when she used the bathroom,” he reasoned. “That would explain why she could barely walk all night.”