Written by Julian

Fact
28 Mar 2010


The old man who had asked my wife, Fiona, to do a striptease as her clothes were auctioned, was a retired banker who still used his military title- he had been a major in one of the Guards regiments. We didn’t talk much about going to stay at his farmhouse and then on to the country show until a few days before the weekend in question. Fiona does not have a full time job and spend most of her time flitting around seeing friends. The major had asked us to post him a photo of Fiona, dressed as elegantly as possible. Luckily we had one of her at another wedding, wearing a beautiful satin skirt suit.

I was very busy at my job in the City, but as the weekend approached I found it hard to concentrate on my high powered job. I also found myself spending rather a lot of time in the toilet masturbating.

The show was on a Saturday and we had to travel down on the Friday night. I told my wife that she would have to have another dress to put on after the auction, as she could not wander around in her bra, panties, stockings and suspender belt. She said she had a little white dress that she could slip on.

I was too sexually excited to discuss any further details and left it to her. Having taken the Friday off, we packed the Mercedes estate the night before and left our Home Counties village just after the rush hour. My wife packed a range of elegant clothes, stockings and exquisite undies. She wore tight blue jeans and a tight top that showed off her black bra for the journey. Her blonde hair was tied back in a chignon and she was well made up, as always, with bright red glossy lipstick accentuating her full lips. The jeans really showed off her slender legs and thighs, drawing attention to the sexy flat pussy space between her legs. Men always stared at her there when she went out in jeans. If they had known she was completely smooth there, with very small labia, they would have been even more excited.

The journey was uneventful and we arrived at the major’s farmhouse easily in the afternoon. He gave us both a hearty welcome. There was another old man with him who, we were told, was his general handyman. He took our suitcases into the house and up to our rooms. I could not help noticing that both men were openly staring at my wife’s crotch and breasts. I could tell Fiona was embarrassed because she was blushing.

After a pleasant meal and plenty of wine, the major drove us into the village. We were taken to the village show ground. It was a big field opposite the manor house. There were two show jumping rings and all sorts of little sideshows. We were taken to see the men putting the finishing touches to the little stage where Fiona would stand and strip in front of the crowds as her clothes were auctioned. The work was being done by three big ugly bald headed middle-aged men. They were obviously manual workers because of their bulging muscles. Huge beer guts bulging out of their sweaty vests also suggested that they drank a lot of beer. The stage had been well made, with steps leading up to a stage which was around six feet by eight feet. Guardrails had been attached behind it and there was a big sign. Much to our surprise, the photo we had sent to the major had been blown up to poster size and put on placard. Words had been added. The words said: ‘See this fine lady strip today at 3pm. Her clothes will be auctioned and she will strip for the highest bidder.’

The major introduced us to the three men. They only seemed to have eyes for Fiona. Like the major, they were fixated by her crotch and the sight of her black bra full of her 34d breasts- on view through her flimsy white blouse. My prick was swelling up at the sight of these brutes ogling my wife. I glimpsed at the men’s crotches. They were only wearing shorts and it was obvious they were having dirty thoughts about my pretty wife. Their bulging crotches and brutal faces looked so mean. They were such a complete contrast to my size 8 wife’s flat little crotch and pretty big blue eyed made up face.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I missed some of the conversation between the three men, the major and my wife. But they were telling her what the plan was for tomorrow. There was a caravan behind the little stage and a wooden walkway had been constructed so that Fiona would be able to walk from the caravan in her five inch yellow high heels. She tended to wear very high heels, as she is only five feet tall. I noticed the men spoke with broad rustic voices and their English was clearly of limited vocabulary. In a rather crude way, they told Fiona how much they were looking forward to tomorrow’s show.

As we left the show ground, I looked back to see the men watching us, no doubt enjoying the sway of Fiona’s pert little bottom and visible panty line through her tight blue jeans. My prick was so hard. I knew I had to fuck her bald little slit and squeeze her breasts as soon as possible. So when the major asked us if we would like to visit the village pub, I said that Fiona and I would prefer an early night. He smiled knowingly and said; ‘Yes, yes of course, understand perfectly old boy.’


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