18-10-2019, 08:42 AM
"Honey, you know how I have been trying to convince you to dress more, uh, provocatively when we go out?" asked Milton, gulping with nervousness as he addressed his wife, Sophie.
"Um, yes. But you know I'm not that kind of woman, dear," said Sophie softly, looking down at her tea as she stirred it.
"But you have such a sexy body," urged Milton. "You should show it off more. Look, I stopped by the mall and bought you a tube dress to try on." He held up a shopping bag toward his wife.
"Oh, god, are you serious?" giggled Sophie, bowing her head to avoid her husband's inquiring gaze and pushing the hair behind her ear. "You know I'm too shy to wear some sexy dress in public."
"Look, can't you just do it for me, darling?" pleaded Milton, his cock stiffening at the idea of his meek wife strutting around in this revealing outfit.
Sophie peeked at her husband and laughed nervously, "I'll try it on, but I won't promise to wear it out to the bar tonight," she said, taking the bag from her husband and scurrying off to the bedroom.
Milton followed her down the hall but wasn't surprised when his wife shut and locked the bedroom door behind her. She was a remarkably modest women and didn't like for Milton to watch her change. He paced back and forth in the hall while she dressed, his palms sweating and his penis quivering at the thought of Sophie's curves barely contained by the tight dress.
"Oh this will never do, Milton," called Sophie through the locked door. "It's too tight."
"Let me see," said Milton, practically jumping up and down with anticipation.
"I don't even have a strapless bra to wear with it," complained Sophie.
"Let me see," repeating Milton.
"I feel slutty," whimpered Sophie in a small voice.
Just open the door, honey, please," pleaded Milton. He waited for a moment, with his ear to the door, but he heard nothing. Finally there was a click as Sophie unlocked the door and he rushed into the room. "My God, you look amazing," he gushed as he admired Sophie's hourglass figure. She wasn't wearing a bra and her large breasts seemed on the verge of spilling out of the top of the snug black dress at any moment. The dress clung to her curves, perfectly outlining her narrow waist and wide hips and was so short that it just barely covered her crotch, leaving her shapely legs entirely exposed. Sophie was blushing furiously and alternated between tugging the top of the dress up to keep her boobs in check and then tugging at the hem to keep her crotch from peeking out.
"Oh this is just impossible," gasped Sophie in exasperation. "I don't have a bra to go with this and my boobs are going to pop out any second," she complained, pushing her heavy framed glasses back up her nose.
"Please honey, you look simply delectable," begged Milton, getting down on his knees dramatically. "This has been a real fantasy of mine for a long time. To show the world how gorgeous my meek and nerdy wife really is."
"Hey, who are you calling a nerd? I thought you were trying to butter me up," said Sophie, taking her husband's face in her hands, and looking down at him tenderly.
Milton said nothing and just gazed up at his wife with hope in his eyes.
"Oh jeez, not the puppy dog eyes," said Sophie, covering her face. "Ok, ok, I will do it for you. But we need to go someplace quiet and dark," she said giggling in confusion.
"I know just the place," exclaimed Milton, jumping to his feet. "That little Roadhouse bar down by the freeway. No one will know us there."
"Ew, I don't know," said Sophie with hesitation. "That place seems a little run down."
"I stopped in there once with some fellows from work. It was very, uh, rustic. There were hardly any people in there. And the beer was cheap."
"Ok, I know this is important for you, but if I feel too uncomfortable, I want to leave right away, ok?" asked Sophie. She gulped with anxiety at the thought of going out in public in this skimpy dress. She felt practically naked and it filled her stomach with butterflies.
"Absolutely, whatever you say," said Milton eagerly as they headed out to the car.
When they arrived at the Roadhouse bar, the gravel parking lot was overflowing with Harley Davidsons.
"Whoa, look at all these motorcycles," said Sophie with trepidation. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Um, yeah, I don't know," said Milton as he parked the car. "It looks like a biker convention."
They sat for a moment watching the unsavory crowd milling in and out of the bar. They were mostly grizzled men in beaten up leather jackets, all with a skeleton logos on the back. But there was an occasional women amongst them, looking haggard and smoking cigarettes. One of the women noticed Milton and Sophie sitting in their car and approached them with a ragged smile.
Sophie rolled down her window as the woman approached.
"Whatsa matter, you two? Afraid to come in?" asked the woman with a grin that revealed some missing teeth. She had bags under her eyes and her breath stunk of beer and tobacco. "Don't be nervous. We might look rough, but we are just as harmless as kittens." Then the women noticed Sophie's dress and she whistled with surprising lewdness. "Ooo, girl, look at those ta-tas. Ha, ha. Come on in, the boys will get a big kick out of you in that little black dress, I'll tell you what."
"That's what I'm afraid of," admitted Sophie, tugging self-consciously at the top of her dress.
"Oh, don't worry, I will take care of you, pudding. Just stick with me," said the woman, opening the car door for Sophie and helping her out with a bawdy wink. "I know all these old boys and they won't lay a finger on you without your say so."
"Um, thank you," said Sophie, looking back over her shoulder as her husband quickly climbed out of the car and scampered after them.
"They call me Buttercup, what's your name, sweetie?" asked the woman as she locked arms with Sophie and headed toward the entrance of the bar.
The dilapidated woman sported a leather jacket with the ubiquitous skeleton, a short denim skirt, and cowboy boots. She crunched across the uneven gravel of the parking lot casually, providing support to Sophie who teetered along beside her in unfamiliar heels.
"I'm Sophie, and this is my husband, Milton," said Sophie, as Milton caught up with them breathlessly.
Buttercup pursed her thin, dry lips and tutted at Milton, taking in his pink polo shirt, dockers, and hair plastered to one side. "Hrmph, the boys won't like him much," she muttered to Sophie.
Sophie gave Buttercup a look of concern and didn't notice that all the bikers by the entrance had stopped to stared at her.
"What's up, hot stuff?" asked one huge bearded, bear of a man, leering at Sophie and ignoring Milton entirely. Milton felt his arms pits growing damp with fear at the sight of this huge rough man accosting his wife and was relieved when Buttercup intervened.
"Put it back in your pants, there, Tiny," snapped Buttercup sharply. "Sophie here is my pal and I am takin' her straight to Rogan."
Tiny's pals guffawed loudly and slapped him on the back as he cringed under Buttercup's tongue lashing. Milton felt his relief draining away as he considered her words. "Err, wait, who is Rogan?" he asked.
"Rogan is the boss of these mutts," said Buttercup, putting her nose in the air as she led the nervous couple through the crowded bar, pushing through clumps of big, sweaty bikers. "He is just going to eat. Sophie. Up," she cackled. Milton realized that as worn-down as the woman looked, she probably was no older than he or Sophie.
All the men stopped and ogled Sophie as she passed by with her jiggling, unconstrained boobs and she kept tugging awkwardly at the top of her dress, her head bowed meekly, afraid to make eye contact. Milton was starting to have second thoughts about this whole experiment. When he fantasized about showing his wife off to other men, he always pictured nice, upper class professional men like himself, not these rough, poorly dressed motorcycle hooligans. In fact, Milton didn't even feel safe here amongst these animals and stuck close to Buttercup's side for protection since she seemed to have some power over them.
"Go get us some beers and make your yourself useful, Myron," said Buttercup to Milton dismissively.
"It's, uh, Milton, actually," said Milton raising a finger in objection. But Buttercup just ignored him and hustled his wife away through the crowd. He and a couple of other men stopped to stare at Sophie's round buttocks, snugly encased in her tight dress.
"Look at that sweet, sweet, ass," said one wiry biker to Milton, clapping him on the shoulder roughly.
"Yes, that's my wife," said Milton. "So you might want to be a bit more respectful."
"Har, har, respectful, huh," laughed the thin man in Milton's face. "Well if you are tapping that ass, then I guess you deserve a bit of respect, cheers," said the man, holding up his beer in a salute before taking a long sloppy draught.
"Um, yes. But you know I'm not that kind of woman, dear," said Sophie softly, looking down at her tea as she stirred it.
"But you have such a sexy body," urged Milton. "You should show it off more. Look, I stopped by the mall and bought you a tube dress to try on." He held up a shopping bag toward his wife.
"Oh, god, are you serious?" giggled Sophie, bowing her head to avoid her husband's inquiring gaze and pushing the hair behind her ear. "You know I'm too shy to wear some sexy dress in public."
"Look, can't you just do it for me, darling?" pleaded Milton, his cock stiffening at the idea of his meek wife strutting around in this revealing outfit.
Sophie peeked at her husband and laughed nervously, "I'll try it on, but I won't promise to wear it out to the bar tonight," she said, taking the bag from her husband and scurrying off to the bedroom.
Milton followed her down the hall but wasn't surprised when his wife shut and locked the bedroom door behind her. She was a remarkably modest women and didn't like for Milton to watch her change. He paced back and forth in the hall while she dressed, his palms sweating and his penis quivering at the thought of Sophie's curves barely contained by the tight dress.
"Oh this will never do, Milton," called Sophie through the locked door. "It's too tight."
"Let me see," said Milton, practically jumping up and down with anticipation.
"I don't even have a strapless bra to wear with it," complained Sophie.
"Let me see," repeating Milton.
"I feel slutty," whimpered Sophie in a small voice.
Just open the door, honey, please," pleaded Milton. He waited for a moment, with his ear to the door, but he heard nothing. Finally there was a click as Sophie unlocked the door and he rushed into the room. "My God, you look amazing," he gushed as he admired Sophie's hourglass figure. She wasn't wearing a bra and her large breasts seemed on the verge of spilling out of the top of the snug black dress at any moment. The dress clung to her curves, perfectly outlining her narrow waist and wide hips and was so short that it just barely covered her crotch, leaving her shapely legs entirely exposed. Sophie was blushing furiously and alternated between tugging the top of the dress up to keep her boobs in check and then tugging at the hem to keep her crotch from peeking out.
"Oh this is just impossible," gasped Sophie in exasperation. "I don't have a bra to go with this and my boobs are going to pop out any second," she complained, pushing her heavy framed glasses back up her nose.
"Please honey, you look simply delectable," begged Milton, getting down on his knees dramatically. "This has been a real fantasy of mine for a long time. To show the world how gorgeous my meek and nerdy wife really is."
"Hey, who are you calling a nerd? I thought you were trying to butter me up," said Sophie, taking her husband's face in her hands, and looking down at him tenderly.
Milton said nothing and just gazed up at his wife with hope in his eyes.
"Oh jeez, not the puppy dog eyes," said Sophie, covering her face. "Ok, ok, I will do it for you. But we need to go someplace quiet and dark," she said giggling in confusion.
"I know just the place," exclaimed Milton, jumping to his feet. "That little Roadhouse bar down by the freeway. No one will know us there."
"Ew, I don't know," said Sophie with hesitation. "That place seems a little run down."
"I stopped in there once with some fellows from work. It was very, uh, rustic. There were hardly any people in there. And the beer was cheap."
"Ok, I know this is important for you, but if I feel too uncomfortable, I want to leave right away, ok?" asked Sophie. She gulped with anxiety at the thought of going out in public in this skimpy dress. She felt practically naked and it filled her stomach with butterflies.
"Absolutely, whatever you say," said Milton eagerly as they headed out to the car.
When they arrived at the Roadhouse bar, the gravel parking lot was overflowing with Harley Davidsons.
"Whoa, look at all these motorcycles," said Sophie with trepidation. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Um, yeah, I don't know," said Milton as he parked the car. "It looks like a biker convention."
They sat for a moment watching the unsavory crowd milling in and out of the bar. They were mostly grizzled men in beaten up leather jackets, all with a skeleton logos on the back. But there was an occasional women amongst them, looking haggard and smoking cigarettes. One of the women noticed Milton and Sophie sitting in their car and approached them with a ragged smile.
Sophie rolled down her window as the woman approached.
"Whatsa matter, you two? Afraid to come in?" asked the woman with a grin that revealed some missing teeth. She had bags under her eyes and her breath stunk of beer and tobacco. "Don't be nervous. We might look rough, but we are just as harmless as kittens." Then the women noticed Sophie's dress and she whistled with surprising lewdness. "Ooo, girl, look at those ta-tas. Ha, ha. Come on in, the boys will get a big kick out of you in that little black dress, I'll tell you what."
"That's what I'm afraid of," admitted Sophie, tugging self-consciously at the top of her dress.
"Oh, don't worry, I will take care of you, pudding. Just stick with me," said the woman, opening the car door for Sophie and helping her out with a bawdy wink. "I know all these old boys and they won't lay a finger on you without your say so."
"Um, thank you," said Sophie, looking back over her shoulder as her husband quickly climbed out of the car and scampered after them.
"They call me Buttercup, what's your name, sweetie?" asked the woman as she locked arms with Sophie and headed toward the entrance of the bar.
The dilapidated woman sported a leather jacket with the ubiquitous skeleton, a short denim skirt, and cowboy boots. She crunched across the uneven gravel of the parking lot casually, providing support to Sophie who teetered along beside her in unfamiliar heels.
"I'm Sophie, and this is my husband, Milton," said Sophie, as Milton caught up with them breathlessly.
Buttercup pursed her thin, dry lips and tutted at Milton, taking in his pink polo shirt, dockers, and hair plastered to one side. "Hrmph, the boys won't like him much," she muttered to Sophie.
Sophie gave Buttercup a look of concern and didn't notice that all the bikers by the entrance had stopped to stared at her.
"What's up, hot stuff?" asked one huge bearded, bear of a man, leering at Sophie and ignoring Milton entirely. Milton felt his arms pits growing damp with fear at the sight of this huge rough man accosting his wife and was relieved when Buttercup intervened.
"Put it back in your pants, there, Tiny," snapped Buttercup sharply. "Sophie here is my pal and I am takin' her straight to Rogan."
Tiny's pals guffawed loudly and slapped him on the back as he cringed under Buttercup's tongue lashing. Milton felt his relief draining away as he considered her words. "Err, wait, who is Rogan?" he asked.
"Rogan is the boss of these mutts," said Buttercup, putting her nose in the air as she led the nervous couple through the crowded bar, pushing through clumps of big, sweaty bikers. "He is just going to eat. Sophie. Up," she cackled. Milton realized that as worn-down as the woman looked, she probably was no older than he or Sophie.
All the men stopped and ogled Sophie as she passed by with her jiggling, unconstrained boobs and she kept tugging awkwardly at the top of her dress, her head bowed meekly, afraid to make eye contact. Milton was starting to have second thoughts about this whole experiment. When he fantasized about showing his wife off to other men, he always pictured nice, upper class professional men like himself, not these rough, poorly dressed motorcycle hooligans. In fact, Milton didn't even feel safe here amongst these animals and stuck close to Buttercup's side for protection since she seemed to have some power over them.
"Go get us some beers and make your yourself useful, Myron," said Buttercup to Milton dismissively.
"It's, uh, Milton, actually," said Milton raising a finger in objection. But Buttercup just ignored him and hustled his wife away through the crowd. He and a couple of other men stopped to stare at Sophie's round buttocks, snugly encased in her tight dress.
"Look at that sweet, sweet, ass," said one wiry biker to Milton, clapping him on the shoulder roughly.
"Yes, that's my wife," said Milton. "So you might want to be a bit more respectful."
"Har, har, respectful, huh," laughed the thin man in Milton's face. "Well if you are tapping that ass, then I guess you deserve a bit of respect, cheers," said the man, holding up his beer in a salute before taking a long sloppy draught.
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