Misc. Erotica A Hotwife Adventure in the Indian Ocean

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6: THE REAL THING Part 1
The next morning, Shweta was up bright and early, taking a shower. I sat up and wiped the sleep from my eyes, taking a moment to absorb the events of the night before while I listened to the water in the bathroom.
I was about to get up and get in there with her, and already I was anticipating the feel of her body beneath my hands, but the water gave a final loud splash and I was too late.
Shweta opened the door a moment later. “Good morning,” she said.
She kissed me and sat on my lap. “I need to go into town… isn’t there a little town here? With shops?”
“Shopping?” I said, and there was no way to hide the slight annoyance in my voice. I kissed her quickly, though, and turned it into a joke. “Anything for my sweet princess,” I said.
Shweta rolled her eyes. “The reason,” she said, placing her hands on my shoulders and leaned forward to chew on my earlobe, sending a chill through me, ‘is because I need a new swimsuit.” She leaned back and smiled at me. “You stretched that one out. And I thought I would get a new dress. Something… I don’t know, a little sexier than my sundress.”
She grinned when she felt my cock throb under her thigh.
Then she hopped off and moved around the bed to the wardrobe where her clothes were hung neatly. “Hurry, get ready,” she said. “I think it’s a haul to get in there.”
We were boored, also, so we had to take a raft to get in to the island. I hopped out of bed.
“Your wish is my command!”
The Island of Fushifaru was the typical Maldivian Island: a cluster of  resorts with storefronts built into them to sell clothing, handbags, and jewelry to all the wealthy women who preferred to spend the day in town than bonefishing on choppy seas with their husbands.
Sahil and Junaid, as a matter of fact, were planning to spend the entire day fly-fishing from the bow of the boat. This was the one time in my life that shopping seemed infinitely better than a day on the water.
I enjoyed walking around with Shweta in the salty Maldivian air, the warm sun on our backs and the excitement between us tingling in our fingertips as we held hands. It had been a long time – such a long time – since that kind of spark had existed between us, since we had held hands and felt really connected. Shweta was light, carefree, excited: she had some of the same energy I remembered in her from long ago. She was wearing a white top, it was a backless net top, and she was wearing a green trouser at the bottom. That trouser was complementing her ass perfectly. Every other person was admiring her.





We were striking out at the cluster of shops, finding only tawdry club dresses or too-innocent sundresses. We took a time out to have a fish dinner at a small hotel with a lovely patio leading down to a pretty beach. Shweta kicked off her shoes and played with my feet under the table.
“There’s only one shop left,” she complained. “I really wanted to find something.”
She was smiling at me.
I wanted to tell Shweta that she was beautiful and dangerously seductive no matter what she wore, but I couldn’t quite find the words. I was so excited about the prospects ahead of us that evening, so enamored of her flirtatious, animated personality and the way it was lighting up her face, that I just smiled.
After our lazy lunch, we tried the last shop.
I found the black dress tucked away among some red lingerie.. I had actually been imagining Shweta in something red, and thinking more about lingerie, so at first I pulled it out to get it out of the way.
The dress had been a little rolled up, and it unfurled when I took it out. The fabric was a strange semi transparent material that looked transparent with light coming through one side, and then opaque if I held it the other way.
I was playing with the material like this when Shweta saw me. “That’s scandalous,” she said.
But she came over and took the hanger from me and held the dress up.
She replaced it on the rack with a strange smile. “I couldn’t wear that.”
Now that I could see the dress in full, as it hung on the rack, it looked very sexy. The neck hung low, and slits came up on either side of it.
I took it off the rack again. “You know how you were asking me,” I said, holding the dress up against Shweta’s sundress, “how to get the conversation going with Sahil?”
Shweta looked down at the dress and made a noise through her nose. “Sure,” she said, pushing it away, “but this is… it wouldn’t look good on me anyway. That’s a dress for models and… I don’t know.”
“This dress is actually very flattering to many women,” said a sales clerk, appearing out of thin air. She was an attractive, almost Asian-looking woman with black hair to the middle of her waist. “You should try it, it’s even your size. Everyone who tries it is always very pleased with it.”
Shweta let her mouth hang open. “Oh, I know it won’t look good,” she said, shaking her head.
The woman smiled and winked at her. “Everyone who bought this dress said the same thing to me. It is like a magical dress. You should give it a try. If I’m wrong you can have twenty-percent off anything else in the store.”
Shweta laughed.
I pushed the dress at her. “Oh, just try it,” I said. “I like twenty percent off.”
The woman smiled, but like someone who knew she had already won the game. The price tag flipped over and I saw that if her gamble paid off, we’d be dropping quite the load of cash here on something that could likely be folded up and tucked into a wallet, but no matter.
Shweta shrugged. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll do it. Just to prove you wrong.”
She trounced away to the changing room.
“Oh my God,” Shweta said from behind the curtain. She sounded truly distressed. The curtain hooks screeched across the bar as Shweta threw them open. “It is a magic dress,” she said.
My jaw dropped.




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Inside the transparent and not-transparent fabric, which shimmered enough to stop all the light from going through it, Shweta’s figure was like a silhouette. It was both tight against her skin and a little loose, and at the bottom, it swung easily and seductively around her legs. The two slits came to the middle of her ass.
If the material had not been very heavy with the weight of the real little chunks of metal sewn into it, the dress might have come across as trashy. Instead, it was incredibly sexy, and Shweta looked perfect in it.
“It’s really expensive,” she said, holding the tag in her fingers. Dress price was 150 dollars. “But it.. I think it looks really good.”
“You look incredibly sexy,” I said.
The sexiest I had ever seen her.
“We also have same dress in red colour,” said the woman, who appeared from nowhere again, agreed. She folded her arms across her chest. “If u buy both I can  give you ten percent discount,” she said.
“We’ll take it,” I agreed.
She winked and turned toward the cash register. I took the opportunity to slide my hands up and under the fabric of the dress. I was searching for her underwear, to slide my finger over the silky fabric before she disappeared into the changing room.
I raised my eyebrows when my fingers kept going and I found nothing but the smooth curves of her pussy lips, a tiny droplet of wetness on the front of them, that smeared as my thumb went over it.
Shweta shrugged, and wriggled free of my hands. “My underwear are white,” she said. “It looked bad.” She shut the curtain. “Besides,” she said. “That’s how I plan to wear it.”
My gut started to simmer, sending a wave of pleasure through my limbs and my other… extremities. “WOW,” I said under my breath.
We shopped around for a little longer, but in the end, we decided there was no real need for anything to highlight the dress. Shweta found an ice-blue swimsuit, and she tried it on for me. It was delightful, and maybe it would have caused an uproar inside of me if I had seen it before the dress, but I couldn’t get the sight of her in the black dress out of my mind.
“We should probably get back,” I said, around four.
Shweta agreed, and we strolled back to where we had left the raft at the marina. Shweta relaxed while I got the boat out and onto the sea. She looked very pretty in the afternoon light, her faint tan against her back, which was nothing to sneeze at. I smiled at her.
This was the moment, the one moment, where my heart took a sudden plunge, and not in a good way. Did I really want my sweet wife, the woman who was smiling back at me in her cream-colored sundress, defiled by some stranger? A big, strong stranger, who would probably fill her pussy up with so much cock she would never be satisfied by me again? This was a fantasy for me, but would it turn sour if we actually did it?