Written by Daniel

Erotic
19 Oct 2004


My wife Suzie loves her job. She loves the people she works with. And by all accounts, they love her.

After all, she's a very sexy girl - 31 years old, 5'9" tall - long(constantly tanned)legs - very trim and slim. But her main assets are definitely her beautiful sculted facial features. (She is so God damn pretty!) And her perfectly sculted natural 34C breasts. She would win every wet T-shirt competition on the planet if she had the confidence to enter them! I've felt like the luckiest man in the world for the last six years.

I've always thought she doesn't know just how drop-dead gorgeous she actually is, so I've always felt amazing walking into a room with her on my arm. But, it seems she does know.

Every man looks at her with wanting eyes, and then must be thinking, "Lucky guy", as they catch sight of me by her side. We have actually discussed and mooted the fantasy of her attractiveness to other men when we're in the bedroom. We’ve had very hot, crazy sex while she tells me about her fantasy of being a waitress at a stag-night, and that she’s the centre of attention whilst serving drinks to the men from a tray. The Strip-o-gram Girl has failed to turn up, so they flirt big-time with her and then ask her to remove one item of clothing every time she returns with a fresh tray of drinks... and they will pay her £50 cash for every tray.

In the fantasy, she tells me that she decides to do it. She first takes off her mini-skirt, then she slips off her black bra (but she leaves her lacy see-through top on). This scenario continues, with cheers at every entrance, until she is just down to her little black tie-sided thong and it’s just the tall glasses on the tray that are covering her naked breasts. As the men take their drinks her breasts are slowly exposed to them.

I know she loves to feel desired, and loves to be wanted by other men. And this is her perfect fantasy. She can be a real flirt when she’s had a few drinks. But, more importantly, she can be a slut in the bedroom with me later on. I've asked her how she feels about fantasies turning into realities. And she’s always said she enjoys imagining things she’s wanted to happen. "Wanted to happen? Wow!" I thought.

She recently informed me of a party at her work. (A Summer Celebration Party!) as it was named. It was a 'Big Thank You Beano' for all the hard work put in by the staff over the years. It was also to be a 'Sixties Party' - because that was the decade in which the company was formed.

She said, "I'm going as the hippiest chick in the company."

I thought, "Great! I love a good flower-power and open love bash" The times we've been to these kind of parties in the past - they've always turned into pot-fuelled semi-orgies. Must be the costumes and the 'anything goes mind-set attitude' I suppose?

Anyway, I decided would go as a Frank Zappa look-a-like. Long haired wig; big moustache; kaftan type shirt etc. You know the sort of thing.

A couple of days later I asked Suzie what she planned to wear to Saturday's party, and said I would help her out with any 'extra props' she might need. In the past, I've made over-sized cardboard stirrups for her, a devil's trident and even a coconut bra when she went to a mate of mine's party as an Hawaiian hoola girl. She said, "Thank you. That's really sweet, but I've already got it all worked out".

I thought, "Okay... fine. Do your own thing." And that is exactly what she had in mind.

Because, when I asked her if going as Frank Zappa would be cool, she looked very puzzled. "Why would I go as Frank Zappa?" she said. "Not you", I said, "Me of course."

At this point she told me that I wasn't actually invited and that the party was ONLY for the staff.

I quietly mused to myself, "Oh.. those staff who think she's a babe and a half?"

No wonder she’d commented that I was 'sweet' offering to help her with her costume?

I had to ask her what she was planning to wear as it was driving me insane. Was she going to go topless with just a fake daisy taped to each nipple? (It's what her friend Sarah had worn to the last 60's party we went to - and she managed to have every man at the party in the palm of her hand!) Or worse, would she just paint the daisies on?

God! I had to know!

Eventually, she told me she was wearing a sixties 'sparkly dress' she had got from a friend's costume hire company. Phew! That didn’t seem so bad.

To cut to the chase... on the day of the party she spent hours grabbing images off the web, making sure her make-up was just like Jean Shrimpton’s - straightening her hair like Twiggy’s - And her sex appeal like nothing else! When she eventually wandered into the living room (and waited for the cab she’d apparently booked), she looked stunning! She was wearing a dress that was only made up of silver disks about the size of fifty-pence pieces linked together with silver thread. It was fabulous, but also, extremely revealing! The gaps between were bigger than the disks.

It was obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and it wasn’t so also obvious that she was wearing a very small silver thong. It was T-string style at the back and not much more at the front by all accounts. I said how wonderful she looked, and then asked if she didn’t think that her outfit was a bit too revealing for a ‘company do’? She looked puzzled, and replied with, “They love me, and my bosses have told me to give the clients a treat. The guys from our major client are always commenting on me, so I am just doing my bit of P.R.... okay?”

“So clients are there too?” I asked “I thought it was just staff?”

“Clients are more important than staff at these kind of parties! You know that”, she blasted.

I asked her to lift her dress a bit (about TWO inches) and show me her panties. Amazingly, she willingly obliged. The small triangle of fake chain-mail material only JUST covered her beautiful pussy.

I’d never seen them before, so I asked where she’d got them from. Did they come with the costume? I enquired. Her answer got me so hot I could hardly contain myself.

She said so confidently, “No... I made them myself especially”.

So... she’d made a pair of silver panties with just the amount of cover at the front to make it legal (no more coverage than a flared packet of cigarettes), and only fine chains at the back and side? She looked knickerless from the back!

What was going on? I thought.

With that the taxi arrived. She stood up; kissed me on the ‘cheek’ and went for the door. I said urgently, “When will you be back?”

Glancing back, she said, “Umm... I wouldn’t wait up. Bye darling!”

I’d just watched my gorgeous, sexy wife, Suzie walk out the door wearing nothing more than a few silver disks strung together and a link chain affair holding a sliver of silver fabric covering her pussy?

And she was about to go into a pit of drunken male clients who she can’t be rude to?

It suddenly dawned on me.... This was her fantasy coming true!

I reassured myself that her fantasy had never gone as far as total nudity and full-on sex with anybody. But, of course, that was just fantasy. Could the reality be worse?

I opened a bottle of wine. And drank it pretty quickly. I sat pondering for a while, thinking about all the possible scenarios - These young client guys thinking that Suzie was suddenly another perk or a less-subtle bung? She couldn’t tell them to ‘Fuck off and leave my arse alone!” could she? I had some more wine. I then decided I doubted her intentions and rang the hotel where the party was being held. I asked whether there was room booked in the name of Suzie Morgan. They said that there wasn’t, but there was one booked in the name Miss S. Morgan. It had been booked by her bosses. Not her.

‘MISS’ Suzie Morgan!, I thought. Damn cheek!

And it was an Excelsior Suite at that!

What was going to go on? I kept thinking.

I left it for quite a few hours and decided to go down to the hotel.

I arrived there at 12.15am.

The party was still in full swing. A few guys were outside waiting for cabs being very amorous with some mini-skirted girls and seemed very drunk. I decided to wander into reception and headed towards the party’s throng. Immediately, I was accosted by two burly minders who asked me for my invitation. “No invite... No entry!” they said.

I thought, “Shit” But without hesitation, I said that, ‘I’m a mini-cab for a Suzie Morgan’...

“Brilliant!” I thought. “Genius!” Not so...

The two hench-men responded almost in unison that Suzie was busy and won’t be leaving for some time... if at all. “You must have got a duff booking, mate” they said.

I asked them to check with reception. One of them went away and returned two minutes later and told me that Suzie was entertaining clients in her suite and hadn’t ordered a mini-cab. It must be a mistake.

I was shaking. I was gutted. I wanted to see my wife. I tried her mobile - it was turned off.

I felt sick. I didn’t want to raid her room and find her parading around or, even worse, shagging someone.

So I went home.

Of course, I drank some more wine and with mixed emotions, eventually fell into a deep sleep.

I was awoken by Suzie coming into the bedroom at 8.30am the next morning.

I said, “You’re late back...”

“This is early. Anyway, I’m going to have a shower”, She stated.

“But your hair’s wet, you must have just had one?” I shouted

“I have... but that was with two men so I need another one”

I waited for her to come out of the shower before I got the full story.

TO BE CONTINUED