Written by Alistair

11 Jun 2010

My wife tilted her head, looking very coy and demure from the picture window. She leant back on the banister, gripping it with both of her slender arms outstretched. The posture caused her legs to part slightly, stretching the suspenders tautly over her slender thighs, her white satin and lace negligee draping open to give a good view of her size 8 figure, dressed in only stark white satin fronted open bottom girdle, satin panties and white lacy bra. Her pert little 32d breasts jutted out from her slight little body. Her silk stocking tops looked delicious. The girdle really showed of her womanly hips and accentuated her 24 inch waist. The tight vee of her satin panties peeped out from under the open bottom girdle, marking out the bin men’s target area- my wife’s bald, tight and juicy little pussy slit. We had discussed her being forced, during sex, and the thought always made her cum hard..

For a moment the four dustmen, including the driver, stood just staring at the bottom of our sloping drive, staring up at the big picture window where my wife’s exposure was illuminated by the crystal chandelier hanging in our hallway. I studied them carefully, imagining what they were thinking and stroking my hard cock through my silk pyjamas. Fiona looked so virginal in white satin undies, negligee and undies.

Three of the men were fat and middle aged, wearing dirty council overalls and high visibility vests. One of them was much younger, barely twenty and obviously Pakistani judging by his nose and colouring. The young Pakistani was looking inside our wheelie bin. I saw him lift out a Moet Champagne bottle. It was one of several that I had put in there after a recent dinner party. We had a lot of parties in the lane because we were set away from other houses.

The young Pakistani called to his colleagues, waving the bottle and they all laughed. Then one of them, a fat little man in his fifties started walking up the drive towards our door. The closer he got the more of Fiona he saw. She whispered to me that she had better come back in the bedroom and hide. ‘No, stay there.’ I barked, out of control with sexual excitement. I watched from the bedroom window as he approached our front door, looking up and ogling my size 8 forty-year-old blonde wife.

Time seemed to stand still before we heard to rapid blasts on the doorbell. ‘I wonder what he wants. He may be going to complain or something. I knew we should not have done this.’ She said, turning her head toward me in the bedroom. At that moment, glanced back at the other three bin men to notice that all three had moved closer and were taking pictures of Fiona on their mobile phones. It was my turn to be alarmed. I had not thought of that. They could go back to their depot and tell their boss and we would be shamed and laughing stocks.

‘Oh my God’ my wife said, turning her gaze back to the large picture window through which she was displayed. She didn’t wait for my permission before running for cover in our master bedroom. ‘You had better go down and see what they want.’ She said, panic in her voice. I glanced at her vulnerable body, and sexy undies and exquisite white satin and lace negligee. Then I said, ‘No, I think if we are in trouble, you will be the one to get us out of it.’ ‘Oh god no, I can’t go down dressed like this.’ She whimpered. Her blushes were obvious in spite of her make up and rouged cheeks. Her lips were painted with very red glossy lipstick. They looked so full and succulent; her very white teeth were perfect. I imagined her sucking all of the bin men’s fat dirty cocks before they shoved them up her bald little pussy slit. ‘You can and you’ll have to. Just do it and I will buy you that BMW sports car? Do whatever they want.’

Visibly trembling, Fiona teetered to the stairs, on her very high white patent leather high heels, just as the doorbell was rung again. Her undies and stocking tops were clearly visible through her ankle length expensive satin and lace negligee. This time it was six rapid bursts and I noticed that all of the bin men had moved closer to the door. The young Pakistani was still holding on to the Champagne bottle.