My next step was to actually convey to her how I liked that other guys hit on her.

I did this subtly, by telling her that SHE should be flattered that other guys hit on her.

What I did was combine my previous tactic of pointing the attention she drew AND the fact that guys hit on her.

I then drew a corrolary between guys still hitting on her and drew the conclusion that this must mean that she was still attractive to other guys.

She objected, stating that in her mind she was overweight (not true) and that she was old (she's 49 but could easily pass for 35).

The proof was in the pudding. I told her that it was purposeless to tell me how she felt about herself as this was driven by the looks she got from men who looked at her and (in some cases) tried to chat to her or even seduce her.

This process took a while to instill. The idea was to make her realise she was still attractive first, then to show her that this had nothing to with how she felt but everything about how other men perceived her.

The realization took a while to set in.

After about three months she mentioned with some surprise that, indeed, she had started to pay attention to how other guys looked at her. Not all but some. She had, for instance, done a presentation in a board meeting and accidentally dropped her pointer. Not thinking about fellow board members she had casually bent over to pick it up. Wearing jeans, her male fellow directors had received the full force treat of a red lace thing sticking out above her jeans. She realised what she had done almost immediately and then made a special note to see how the men on the board looked when she came up. She told me she was thrilled to see at least three of the men seemed enthralled by the spectacle of her whale tail with red thong, sticking out above low jeans and a part of her pale round bottom sticking out.

At a shopping center she pointed to me that men were looking at her bum.

At the gym she noticed some of the guys openly staring at her bum in bum scrunch leggings.

We went on a hiking walk where she wore another pair of tight fitting bum scrunch leggings. On the walk, almost to a man, men stared at her backside and a few even greeted her despite my presence. In one incident I stopped to take a photo of a stream and some flowers. A 35+ black couple walked past me to where my wife was casually ambling along. I sneaked a look at him. He was talking to his partner, and audibly trailled off his apparent animated prior discussion and gawked open mouthed at her bum. His partner looked and became visibly annoyed with him.

She has an aethetic for wearing 1950s style dresses. With her new push up bras she wore under a low cut version of such a dress she went tohave a chat to the head of their legal department. He is a distinguished, married black man in his 40s. She walked to his side of the desk and leaned forward to discuss phrases in contract with him. When she looked up to see what he thought, she saw he was staring openly at her cleavage and had actually not heard a word she said.

On another occasion we went to afrmer's market frequented by black professionals and upcoming businessmen. I told her to find us a seat in the open seated spaces while I went to the stalls to order food. I then ordered and (thethe food took about ten minutes to prepare) sneaked back to see her. She was wearing sunglasses, a wide brimmed hat to protect her pale skin from the sun, a tight form fitting top that accentuated her thin waist and a pair of tight bum scrunching yoga pants. Men were literally staring at her. Some walked by and then walked by again to get a proper look. One came to sit and talk to her although a wave of the wedding ring saw him off. When I returned she said to me that men were around her like bees around a honey pot.

On another occasion a drunken director of the holding company that owns her company, casually told her that he would like nothing more than to bend her over his car's bonnet in the parking lot pull her dress up and take her.

She and I had a chat one night in bed. She told me she had noticed what I said to be true.

It made her uncomfortable that other men viewed her as a sex object and she especially felt uncomfortable about how I felt about it.

This is where I started a bit of confession time.

I told her I was thrilled by the idea that she was an object of desire for other men. It made me hard for her. It made me hard to think that other men stared at her with hungry lust and I got to get into bed with her, lay naked next to her, and got to squish and knead and hold and spank that ass they so desired.

This surprised her.

Really?

No, why... they got to look and I got to have a hot woman on my side.

Was I not jealous?

No, I knew her. I loved her, she had my children, I trusted her, we had walked a long path together. Our relationship, our marriage, was stable enough to handle attention she got from men, as long as it stayed within the realms of decency and decorum and didn't threaten our bond and our marriage I was okay with this.

This she readily agreed with.

But she said she felt as though she had discovered a part of her she never knew existed and she was flattered by what was happening.

I told her it was always there, but she chose not to pay attention.

I said that she should make peace with it and flaunt it a bit. It would help her confidence.

She would think about it.

I decided to look at clothing websites which suited her aesthetic and send her photos of clothes I thought she would look good in. I made a special effort to look for clothes she would look smokinghot in. Clothes that would enhance her shape and show it off.

She was unsure, but I went ahead and bought some anyway. Jeans that were high waisted (she had never worn such since the 1980s because she thought the b80s look as ugly) and butt lifting... called "curve" jeans. I got her cargo workman's pants that sat tight over her butt and loose round her legs, and had were made of a stretch material. 

I bought tight form fitting tops to accentuate her waist.

And 1950's style dresses to match, with a high waist, a tight top part and a part that clung to her hips and bum and flared below to below her knees (she'd never wear short dresses). For a secret for me, I bought booty shorts to slouch around with at home.

I bought tighter yoga a pants with butt scrunches in, I got tight forming leggings, I got her tight form hugging gym tops.

I basically transformed her wardrobe.

Telling her my fantasies came next, but first, I unleashed this new look girl on the world.