Glamour Shots, Chapter 8 free porn video

Things settled back into a routine after that; we both woke up the next day with a slight hangover – more from sexual satiation than from the alcohol, I think - but quickly got it together and made our respective ways to our jobs. Alli had a dog that she’d been talking about bringing home, one to replace our trusted old buddy, Sammy, a sweet, gentle, intelligent old black Lab that had died about a month prior to my birthday at the ripe old age of fifteen – or a hundred-and-five, in dog years. I wasn’t sure that I was ready for another dog just yet, still grieving for Sammy, but one of the hazards of her running her shelter is that, while she seems to love every animal that comes to them, every now and then there is one that just wriggles its way in and steals her heart.

Sammy had been one such, an older dog when Alli got him, who was dropped off at the shelter because his owner had passed away and nobody in the family wanted him; their loss, as in the five-plus years that we were privileged to share his company he proved to be a wonderful friend and companion and a total sweetheart. He had been their furry public relations expert at the shelter for about six months before he came to live with us permanently, staying in the front reception area all day and greeting every prospective adoptive parent with his gentle nature, wagging tail and a huge grin. Fortunately for us, most people were looking for a younger animal, and his trips home to sleep at our house eventually turned into full-time residence. By the time that he died he had become part of the family, and he was still sorely missed, his empty bed leaving a big hole in our lives. Now Alli wanted to introduce me to someone new. We’ll see. Sammy will be a tough act to follow.

The only other thing on our less-than-impressive social calendar, that I was aware of, was Charlie’s Halloween party. Technically it was our company Halloween party but we were having it at Charlie’s house, as we did with the majority of our get-togethers; hence, Charlie’s Halloween party. My birthday on October 22nd had fallen on a Thursday, making this one of those ideal party years when Halloween, October 31st, actually fell on the weekend - in this case a Saturday, obviously - so the party was to be the Saturday night of the week following my birthday.

I hesitate to mention Charlie’s Halloween party because, on the surface, I did not think it particularly germane to the story of Alli’s photo session or the ensuing events related directly to that particular episode in our lives, but I have come to realize that there were signs there that I should have seen, signs that were not only a harbinger of things to come, but also a revelation of how her simple and innocent quest for a birthday present for me had subtly altered her perceptions and her personality. With that in mind, here goes:

There was a tendency to have our parties and things at Charlie’s for the simple reason that his house was best-suited for it; it was in a somewhat central location, making it more or less equally accessible for all; it was big and seemed almost designed for social events, with an extra large kitchen and a family/dining/living room area with a very open floor plan; he had a large deck, patio and pool area out back - and, while the pool would not be an option for a party so late in the year, the large hot tub, deck, and patio most assuredly would.

In addition, the lots in his neighborhood were large and fairly private, nothing less than one acre, with the homes set well back from the street, most of them well-screened from the neighbors by generous serpentine berms and plantings of trees and shrubs. The biggest thing though was the fact that Charlie loves to entertain. Larger parties like this he would have catered (with Louis and I providing generous and eager financial support in lieu of holding the parties at our homes), while for smaller and more intimate get-togethers he would often do the cooking himself, or have a lady that has cooked and helped him for years with various social events do it. Charlie is actually a very good cook and loves to dabble in gourmet foods, but Margaret is better.

Margaret has been with Charlie forever, outlasting all three of his wives; she helps him as needed with cooking (and small-scale parties, as mentioned), does his cleaning and housekeeping, and probably knows him better than anyone but his doctor should be required to know him. She’s somewhere between forty=five and seventy-five – your guess is as good as mine – and with her abrupt mannerisms, stern countenance, and German accent comes across as sort of a Teutonic version of Genghis Khan until you get to know her better, at which point you find out that she’s actually much more like Attila the Hun. The two of them get along great in a relationship that is strictly platonic and often acerbic; she deals with his often crude and abrasive personality by giving it right back to him three-fold, and often threatens to wait until he’s sleeping and geld him. She’s more than able to hold her own in the face of his overbearing personality, and Charlie loves it. It’s an odd friendship, but it seems to work for them. And, as I mentioned, she’s a great cook. I suppose that can offset a lot of personality issues.

I’d left Allison in charge of coming up with Halloween costume ideas for us, knowing that she would have fun with it and take the opportunity to let her creative juices flow, but I was still feeling some slight trepidation for what she might come up with. I’m a fairly repressed person I guess you’d say, and the ability to don a costume and publicly become someone – or something – else, setting all of my inhibitions aside and “going with the flow” is not an ability I possess; in other words, I feel somewhat silly and self-conscious doing the whole costume party thing – and the more outlandish the costume, the sillier I feel. Nonetheless, as a partner in the firm I was committed to attending our company party, but I remained hopeful that we could make an appearance, shake a few hands, have a couple drinks, chat around the room a bit, and make an early exit. I should have known better.

That Saturday morning, the day of the party, the day started off clear and sunny, warm, but with a slight breeze and the crispness of fall definitely in the air. I was working in the yard, trimming back some overgrown junipers and trying not to jump out of my shoes when I startled a huge bull snake that was coiled up against the foundation of our house. Actually I’m not sure who was more startled, me or him, but as he reared up defensively and hissed at me I backed off, more than willing to leave that harmless but very efficient mouse-catcher to his own business while I worked elsewhere. A short time later, as I was putting the clippers back in the garage, Allison pulled into the driveway and stopped.

She had gone to the shelter that morning, Saturday being their busiest adoption day, to help with greeting people and matching them up with pets – and then with filling out all of the various paperwork necessary for adoption when somebody found a good match. She had also picked up our costumes while she was out and about, from the local costume rental shop, and grabbed a few groceries from the local farmer’s market.

And she had brought Ruby home with her. Ruby was the dog she wanted me to meet. They had kept her there at the kennel for several extra days for observation and to see if her owners might show up; she had been found as a stray and brought to them, malnourished and skinny, her coat dirty and matted, and her collar so much too tight that it was cutting into her skin. She’d had no tags or ID of any type, but her warm brown eyes and gentle nature had won the hearts of everyone she met – most of all, my wife’s. Allison had been talking about her for over a week, and now it was my opportunity to meet her, and to see if we clicked.

Alli got out of her truck and walked around it to open the passenger door, and when she did Ruby jumped gracefully out of the cab and stood beside her. She was of no discernible breed – or at least nothing I was familiar with, although a Gordon Setter had clearly made a generous genetic contribution somewhere along the line – but whatever various and sundry other breeds had contributed to her unique DNA had been kind enough to donate only their best genes; she was gorgeous! Medium-sized, about a two-thirds scale Golden Retriever in size and form, as well as in the shape of her ears, her long brush of a tail, and her noble head, but that was where the similarities ended.

She was somewhat smaller than a setter or a retriever, and rather than the color of a Golden, Ruby was jet black above, the long, silky fur on her back, shoulders, and head glistening like onyx in the sunlight, but ruby-red below, her legs, chest, neck, and the lower part of her face and muzzle all the deep, rich mahogany color of an Irish Setter, or the lower parts of a Gordon Setter – save for one brilliant white star right in the middle of her chest. She was, physically, one of the most beautiful dogs I’d ever seen, and now, standing with Alli – tightly pressed against her legs, actually – she regarded me soberly with her deep, soulful brown eyes, her tongue lolling, taking my measure for a moment before her full, brushy tail made a couple of slow, tentative sweeps.

To appear less intimidating, I kneeled before speaking softly to her. “Well hi, pretty girl! Are you going to come say hello?”

She looked up at Alli as though seeking approval, and when Alli nodded she walked slowly across to me. To my surprise, when she got within about a foot of me she sat down and offered me her right front paw; I laughed. “Oh, I see! We’re going to shake hands first; I had no idea we were going to be so formal!” I looked at Alli. “Did you teach her that just to charm me?”

She shook her head, smiling. “I’ve never seen her do that before!”

I gently took the proffered paw in my hand and shook it, and then kept my hand extended so that she could begin the sniff test. She did so, snuffling and nuzzling for a moment, and then she stood and began to give me a thorough once-over with her nose, gathering information the best way dogs know how. It was encouraging that her tail was wagging more freely now. Allison, watching from a distance while Ruby and I got acquainted, said “We’ve been calling her Ruby, but we have no idea what her real name is. If you want to name her something else, I’m sure she’d learn it pretty quickly. She seems really smart.”

I shook my head. “No, Ruby fits her very well, with all of that shiny red fur. Damn, she’s really pretty!”

“Well, I thought so; I was hoping you would too.”

“Yeah, and she seems really nice, so calm; I’m glad she’s not one of those dogs that bounces around brainlessly, looking for attention.” I bent to ruffle her ears and scratch her neck, and she wriggled with pleasure.

Alli said “Let me grab our costumes out of the truck, and then we can take her inside to look around. Oh, and be a little careful around her neck; the sores where her collar was cutting into her are still healing.”

She was right; I could still feel a few small scabbed areas on Ruby’s neck. “I’m amazed nobody came to claim her.”

Allison was just emerging from the truck with two huge white plastic bags. “Well, we ran all the usual lost and found ads and all, with pictures, and put up flyers at the stores around town, but nobody showed. Just as well, or I would have been reaming them about that collar, and how nearly starved she was – and the ticks in her ears.”

“You never know, babe, she may have run away from somebody that was just passing through or something – or maybe someone dumped her. But maybe it will be like Sammy, and their loss will be our gain.”

“I hope you like her, I’d hate to have to take her back to the shelter. Here, take one of these bags.” I did, and we went inside, holding the door so that Ruby could look in, which she did, before looking up at us for approval before entering.

I laughed. “Well, I can tell right off the bat that she has better manners than Charlie – but then, who doesn’t? Go on in, girl, it’s OK.” She trotted in and began to explore our house. One weird thing I noticed was that after each individual room she would come back and check to see that we were still there before going on to the next new space; I got the sense that she needed reassurance that we were not going to abandon her in this strange place, and that she took some comfort in knowing where we were at all times.

We watched her for several minutes as she busily sniffed everything, and then Alli held up the bag she was carrying. “Well, should we go try on our costumes?”

“I guess.” If she sensed how underwhelming my enthusiasm was, she didn’t mention it. We made our way up to our bedroom, Ruby following closely. Upstairs, with a whole new set of rooms to explore, she set off again, but again she came back and checked on us before each new exploration. Finally, satisfied that she knew her new place well enough, she joined us in our bedroom.

She explored for a minute, finally stopping in front of Sammy’s bed, which was on the floor on my side of the bed, beneath the windows. She sniffed it while I watched her, my emotions in turmoil, and then she looked at me. “Yeah, girl, that was Sammy’s bed - and he loved it, but he’s gone now, kiddo.” She tilted her head to the side and stared at me as I spoke, not understanding, but seeming to know that every word was somehow important. “Go ahead, girl, you can try it out; Sammy wouldn’t mind. In fact, I think he’d be happy that somebody was still enjoying his bed.”

She stepped into the bed very tentatively before scratching at the faux-shearling cover a couple of time, fluffing. She then turned two circles clockwise, one back counter-clockwise, and laid down facing us, a happy grin on her face and her brown eyes shining. It was, her whole routine, very similar to what Sammy had always done. She looked at us.

I looked at her.

Alli looked at her.

I looked at Alli.

Alli looked back at me.

We both looked at Ruby.

Ruby looked back at us with her big silly grin and gave one soft woof of approval, her brushy tail flopping gently. And, just like that, all three of us knew she was home, and that we had a new family member.

Alli sighed happily. “Well, that was fairly painless. I’m so glad you like her.”

“Yeah, she’s really sweet, and so pretty.” Even to me my voice sounded a little husky, and for some reason my eyes chose that moment to start watering.

Alli looked at me. “Are you crying?”

“No. No, I think my allergies are just kicking up a little; those damn junipers out front were full of dust and pollen and shit.”

She came over and wrapped her arms around me. “You don’t have allergies. You’re just a big softy, you know that?”

“Yeah, well…I suppose as long as I never give you a reason to call me that during sex I’m doing OK, huh?”

She laughed. “You never have yet! Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Mmm-hmm, told me and showed me – but don’t let that stop you from doing so again.”

She nestled against me; it felt very nice. “Mmm! I sure do love you.”

“I love you too.” I motioned toward the shopping bags on the bed. “So tell me, my love, what are we going to be for Halloween this year?”

She released me and turned. “We…” she emphasized and stretched the word out, as if it had several “e’s” in it rather than just one “We-e-e-e…are going to be cats!”

“Cats, huh? Do you think that’s a good idea?”

She frowned, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you bring a new dog home, and she’s still trying to get adjusted to her new environment, and the first thing we’re going to do is dress up like two giant, scary-ass cats? I could be wrong, but that doesn’t seem like a great idea to me!”

Alli gasped, laughing. “Oh my god, I never even thought of that! Do you really think she’d be freaked out?”

“I don’t know; I would. Hell, I don’t even like clowns, much less giant scary cats.”

“Well, these aren’t really like ‘cats’ cats – I mean, you know, not realistic. These are costumes like the cats in the Broadway show ‘Cats’, that kind of costume.”

“Oh, well, yeah, those should be adequately terrifying for her! If I recall correctly, those are mostly a matter of wearing tights and some furry hood thing with ears. Alli, even I don’t want to see myself in tights; subjecting the poor dog to that sight could be grounds for animal cruelty charges.”

Alli laughed. “Oh stop it! You’re in good shape; you’ll look just fine in the tights.”

“No, you’ll look fine in tights – as a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure you’ll look spectacular. I’ll look like a guy that should have known better.” I had taken Alli to see the travelling Broadway production of “Cats” when it had played in Denver, for our anniversary. She had very much wanted to see it and had talked about it at length when she found out it was going to be in Denver, only a few hours from us. I hadn’t really been all that enthused, but I knew she’d love it – and, in truth, I had enjoyed it very much.

I had pulled a few strings and gotten us seats in one of the boxes at the amazing Buell Theatre at the Denver Center for the Performing Arts – at a premium price of course, but they were great seats. We had actually ended up sharing the box with a Denver Bronco’s linebacker and his wife, which surprised me – I mean, sure, I’d expect to see a quarterback, or maybe a wide receiver or a kicker at a Broadway musical, but an NFL linebacker? What a paradigm shift that had felt like!

I’d also reserved a room at the venerable Brown Palace Hotel, a Denver landmark, so that we could make a nice weekend of it, and when I'd mentioned that it was our anniversary they gave us a free upgrade to a premium suite. Talk about a classy place with great people and fabulous service – and good food! Alli still talks about it, so I know I scored some major points - not to mention that I got to enjoy a wonderful weekend with a fascinating and beautiful woman.

Clearly it had made a lasting impression on her, because I know she must have gone to some thought and trouble to arrange for costumes like those in the show! She dug around in the bags and pulled out two sets of tights. (Leotards? Whatever, there were two pieces in each set, and I could tell by their diminutive shriveled up size that they were going to be skin-tight, if they fit at all.) One set was gray with striped markings and the other brownish-tan and sort of mottled. In addition, there were two fur stole/collar sort of a things with furry hoods with the ears on them, a bunch of different makeup, leg warmers, fingerless black gloves, and several other unidentifiable things. It all looked very involved to me!

She handed me the brownish-tan set of tights. “Here, try these on.”

I looked at them like they might be something toxic. “Alli, come on! You can’t be serious.”

“Don’t be such a big baby! Everyone is going to be in costume – that’s sort of the whole idea of a costume party, right? It will be fun!”

“We obviously define fun very differently. Alli, I’ve never worn a set of tights in my life…and I sort of had a goal of keeping it that way.”

“You’ve worn long underwear though, right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Same thing.”

“No, it’s not. You wear pants over long underwear. Can I wear pants over these? I could live with that.”

She chose to ignore me, but had started stripping out of her clothes while we argued. Watching her strip seemed far more important than putting on tights. When she was peeled down all the way to her tiny bikini-style panties she started to struggle into her costume, looking over at me. “Well, get with it! We have to figure out all this other stuff and then later I’ve got to read over the directions for the makeup to do our faces.”

“Makeup too? This just keeps getting better.” I pulled my t-shirt off over my head. “What about the dog?”

“David, she’s watching us. If she sees us putting the costumes on she’ll be fine – it’s not like we’re going to suddenly leap out of a closet at her in full scary-cat mode.”

“Well yeah, but we just met. I don’t want her seeing me naked. We hardly know each other!”

“Quit stalling.”

I finally did, surrendering to the inevitable, and stripped down to my knit boxers. I tugged on the tight shirt, which was sort of like a long-sleeved t-shirt except out of a thinner, stretchier material; it fit like a second skin, which simply caused me to dread the pants even more.

I looked at Allison, who was donning the top of her costume. Hers was a long-sleeved leotard (as she informed me) which apparently means that it covers the entire torso from crotch to shoulders; she had to pull it on over her feet and tug it up to her waist, then stretch it out to get her arms into the sleeves before asking me to zip it up the back. It also fit like a second skin, but in her case that was a good thing. Plus, her nipples were readily apparent, a look I always enjoy.

We both set about trying on the bottom portions of our costumes, which were like thin, ultra-tight, ultra stretchy long johns - except that I apparently was not to be allowed to wear pants over them, a horrible error in judgment in my opinion. Once we had struggled into them, my expectations were confirmed; she looked as spectacular as I had anticipated she would, while my trepidation about my own appearance proved to be well-founded. “Well, you look great, all sleek, lithe, and sexy; I, on the other hand, look fairly lumpy.”

She looked at me and laughed. “Well no wonder! You can’t wear boxer shorts under tights! Did you really think that was going to work?”

“How the hell would I know? I’ve never worn tights before – as I mentioned, a record I was hoping to carry to my grave. So what do guys wear under them?”

“Nothing, usually.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that. I can see your panty lines too, just a little.” I could, but only because the leg openings of the leotard and her panties didn’t line up exactly.

“I know; I left them on for the fitting, but I’ll either go without or wear a thong for the party.”

“Could I wear a thong under mine?”

“Probably, but you don’t own a thong.”

“Good point. I could wear one of yours.”

She laughed again. “Wearing women’s underwear! You’re really starting to get into this whole costume thing now, aren’t you?!” She shook her head, still laughing. “Sweetheart, there are two problems with that plan; first, your waist is a lot bigger than mine, so they wouldn’t fit, and second, the crotch of my thongs are designed to cover, not contain. You’d need the pouch kind or your parts would be hanging out the sides.”

“Oh. Well, it was just a thought.” I was sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging the tights off my legs. That chore accomplished, I stripped out of my boxers and tugged the tights back on again. I stood in front of the mirror; I was definitely less lumpy…except for one certain area. “I don’t think I can go to a party like this – not with all the people I work with.” I glanced at Ruby, who had been quietly watching this whole scene unfold; she was clearly laughing at me, her pretty face split by a huge grin. “Hey! No laughing from the peanut gallery!” She just wagged her tail happily.

Alli chuckled as she did her best sinuous, slinky cat-walk over to me. “Speaking of peanut galleries, I like what these things do for yours!” She cupped her hand over my clearly defined genitalia, stroking my peanuts with her fingertips. OK, so maybe there was one good thing about tights.

“Mmm. I do like that part – but seriously, babe, I can’t go looking like this. Is there some other part of the costume that covers all this?”

“No, I don’t think so. I suppose we could go to the store and buy you a thong.”

“Or a codpiece, maybe.” I turned sideways. My cock had grown larger under Alli’s touch, the bulging ridge of it much more conspicuous, but it still wasn’t what you would call impressive. “I don’t remember the guys in the play having this problem – but then again, they didn’t have you fondling them.”

She laughed. “Too bad – I would have if they’d asked! We could shop for a codpiece, I guess; where do you suppose we should go for that?”

“I don’t know. ‘Codpieces ‘R’ Us’, maybe?”

“I don’t think there’s one of those at the mall. Wait, I have an idea!” She went to my dresser and pulled out a balled-up pair of socks, which she then crammed down the front of my pants. “There, how’s that?”

I looked in the mirror. “Perfect! Now when all of my friends and coworkers see me they won’t be staring at Mini-Me; they’ll all be worried about my hernia or tumor instead! Why didn’t I think of that?”

She laughed, and then proceeded to stuff a couple more pairs of socks into my pants, arranging two of them low like overgrown testicles and stretching the other pair out into an elongated shape to mimic a penile bulge, angled upward against my stomach. I looked at her handiwork and laughed. “Very nice! I was afraid you were going to leave them all balled up so it would look like I was smuggling potatoes, but instead you’ve created the man of your dreams.”

“Mmm, well, you would have all the ladies ogling you all night – and maybe a couple of the guys.”

“That’s a truly horrifying thought. But seriously, babe, what am I supposed to do here? I can’t be flashing my peas and carrots all night, not with this crowd.”

She looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Carrots? More than one?”

“You’re not addressing the problem.”

“I guess I could go to the store and buy you a thong while you finish working outside. You’ll still have that adorable bulge, of course, but the thong should help smooth it out some – at least enough to keep them guessing whether you’re circumcised or not, unlike now.”

I de-socked my pants as she spoke, once again leaving my clearly circumcised cock showing through the thin fabric. “Not a perfect solution, but it will have to do I guess. See if they have a padded one, OK?”

She smiled. “Trying to gild the lily, are we?”

“No, trying to hide the lily. I suppose if it raised expectations a bit it would be OK though – you know Charlie will be wearing something that shows off his bulge, he always does. I swear that guy is an exhibitionist, but since his is bigger than mine I don’t want to get into a contest with him.” This would be our sixth annual Halloween party, and at each the costumes had gotten a little more “adult-oriented” and more risqué than the previous year; the only constant was that Charlie wore something that accentuated his bulge. He was – as Marci had noted after he’d flashed her - fairly well-hung, and he seemed inordinately proud of the fact.

Alli laughed at my concerns. “Oh that’s just silly! Nobody is going to be doing any comparison tests – especially after everyone has a few drinks and gets a little loosened up. You’re worrying about nothing!”

“Yeah, well you haven’t heard the women around that office and the way they talk about men. They could make a longshoreman blush. And if you think Charlie showing off his stuff is accidental, you’re seriously delusional.”

She shrugged. “Charlie is Charlie. I feel sure he knows exactly what he’s doing…until he gets a few drinks in him, and then he just gets worse.”

I seriously did think he had some strong exhibitionist tendencies though, partly because of him flashing Marci the way he had and partly because of his Halloween costumes that always showed his package to best advantage, but also because of his behavior back when we used to play racquetball together; after a game, in the locker room and showers, he would wander around naked, towel around his shoulders, for an inordinately long time. He was often still nude by the time I was fully showered, dried, dressed, and ready to go.

The other thing he would do, when he would talk to someone - whether it was me or anybody else - is he would put his foot up on the bench alongside of whoever he was talking to so that his cock and balls were about eighteen inches or so from your face while you were putting on socks or shoes. I assumed it was some sort of primitive male dominance thing that he had simply never evolved beyond. It was very disconcerting and made everyone uncomfortable, I think, but as a result I knew more about Charlie’s genitals than I had ever wanted to know; his cock, flaccid (the only condition in which I had ever seen it, thank god!) was almost as long as mine was when I was erect – about six inches, give or take, but considerably thicker. In fact his cock was built much like him, stout, thick, and bulldog-like. Still, seeing him up close enough to count the veins in his penis or to watch his big fat balls hop up and down in his sack when he laughed is not something anyone should have to experience, most especially another guy! I think I may have been scarred for life by the ordeal.

But enough about Charlie and his flagrant displays of his genitalia! Alli and I agreed that maybe some form of thong or some such thing would be suitable for me to wear beneath the tights, perhaps enough camouflage to ease my self-consciousness a bit anyhow, so she headed off to the mall to see what she could find and I headed back out to the yard to finish my chores. Ruby accompanied me, and I was very pleased to find that she was willing to stay close by and not wander off, and that she was attentive and responsive to voice commands. Whoever had lost or abandoned her had lost what was shaping up to be a very good dog!

I soon came to realize that she simply enjoyed watching people work, probably her way of gloating about which of us really had the better life. I looked at her. “Dogs life my ass, huh girl? We should all be so lucky!” We talked and got to know each other a little better over the next hour or two – petting or playing with her from time to time giving me an excuse to take frequent breaks – and by the time Alli got home we were best buds and I was in the shower, with Ruby laying in front of the sink waiting for me. I knew Alli was home when I heard Ruby run out to give her an enthusiastic greeting, and before long they both walked into the bathroom where I was showering. “Hey, I found something that I think is going to work – you’ll never guess where!”

I shook my head and rubbed the water out of my eyes. “Not at ‘Codpieces ‘R’ Us’, I assume?”

She laughed. “No, actually it was at ‘Thongs ‘R’ Us’ – except they call it Fredrick’s of Hollywood.”

I groaned. “Oh, tell me you didn’t! They have such weird, ridiculous stuff.”

“Well, yeah, but this was kind of one of those occasions that called for something ridiculous, right? Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it!”

I finished in the shower, then got out and began to dry off. Alli stepped in and did my back for me, taking the opportunity to goose me a bit and to reach between my legs and grab me a time or two. It was apparent that she was in a very playful mood, which I thought boded well for a fun evening and a good party. She then reached into her Fredrick’s bag and held up a tiny piece of leopard-spotted fabric. I looked at it skeptically. “What the hell is that supposed to be?”

She smiled. “It’s a thong, just like we talked about.”

“Seems kind of tiny.”

“Well, yes, more or less by definition they always are. Do you want to try it on?”

“Not particularly.”

“Well too bad; you’re going to anyway!”

I took it from her and looked at it. “Why leopard spots?”

“Well, we’re going to be cats, so I thought it sort of tied into all that – plus, it’s sexy! You’ll have that whole Tarzan vibe going on.”

“You Jane?”

She laughed. “Me Jane. Try it on!”

There was something there that I wasn’t figuring out. “Where is the little strappy thing that runs up my butt crack?”

She laughed again. “I didn’t think you’d like that style so I bought one that’s just a pouch; I got one of the other kind too, in case you don’t like this one.”

“Super. How’s this supposed to work?”

“It’s pretty self-explanatory, isn’t it? All there is to it is the waist band and a pouch to hold your valuables.”

“Uh-huh, great. Who dreamed up something like this?”

“Probably a woman – the same way men design all of the weird sexy things you want us women to wear. Just put it on.”

I slid the waistband over my feet and pulled it up, which was a strange experience in itself; there was really nothing to pull up except an elastic band, nothing around or between my legs. Once positioned, I grasped the pouch, which had elastic all the way around the edge, and stretched it over my junk, tucking the stretchy edges up into my crotch around the perimeter of the region. I looked down at myself. “Well, that looks suitably ridiculous. I guess as long as I’m wearing something over it I’ll be OK…”

“I think it looks sexy, but you did it wrong. Here, let me try…” She reached into the pouch and tugged my scrotum front and center, and then tucked my penis down over my balls to create a well-rounded and ridged bulge in the pouch, with everything biased to the front rather than down between my legs; she was right, it did look better, sort of like all those men’s underwear ads.

I looked in the mirror. “Huh! Who knew I had all that?”

She laughed. “See what a little creative packaging can do for you? Hey, buddy, it looks like you’re stretching that pouch a little!”

She was right; I could feel myself getting hard, no doubt due to her fondling me as she did the repackaging shuffle. “I can’t help it, it’s a conditioned response; you should know, since you’re the one who conditioned me.”

“I wasn’t complaining.”

“Okay then – hey, you know, this brings up a question. What if I get hard at the party while I’m wearing this crazy thing?”

Alli shrugged. “I wouldn’t sweat it. That whole pouchy thing is sort of a one-size-fits-all deal, so I’m sure they designed it to contain guys much bigger than you.” I looked at her, and she seemed to suddenly realize how that had sounded. “And much smaller, too, of course; the point is, I don’t think you have to worry about it popping off of you.”

“Uh-huh. Nice recovery, by the way; you’re quick on your feet.”

“You knew what I meant. Here, try the other one on, see which you prefer.”

I stripped out of the pouch and stood there naked with my cock at half-mast while she cut the tags off the other little thong/g-string thing – which was also made of the same leopard-spotted fabric. Apparently she’d been in a very leopardy mood. She tossed it to me when she finished, and I tried to figure out which end was up. She took it from me and twisted it around. “Here, it goes like this, with the wide part of the pouch front and center. This is what they call a pushup thong, by the way.”

“I wasn’t planning on doing any push-ups.”

She smiled. “Don’t be obtuse. It’s extra tight and padded at the back so that it pushes all the good stuff forward and up, where it displays better. Same concept as a pushup bra except singular instead of plural.”

“Swell. It all sounds horribly uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure it will be; try it on.”

I did, and wasn’t particularly delighted with the resulting look – until Alli again reached in and rearranged the wares for better display purposes. I looked in the mirror, turning one way and then the other. “Huh! Not too bad, I guess. Where did you learn to do that whole arranging of genitals thing, by the way?”

“Oh, I filled in for the girl that works the fitting rooms there at the store while she went to lunch. I had to help all the guys get their junk arranged just right so it would look good. It’s called salesmanship, moving the product. It was a challenge though – some of the guys were so well-hung they would barely fit in these things!”

“No wonder you were gone so long. I bet they didn’t even have to pay you for doing that job, right?”

“Not a dime – I took it out in trade, I guess you could say.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I figured. Did you put an application in, just in case the job opens up on a permanent basis?”

“How did you know?”

“Well, I know what a horny wench you are, so it just sort of follows…”

“Hey! I’m not a wench!”

I laughed. “I can’t help but notice that you didn’t deny the ‘horny’ part.”

She shrugged. “Some things are just too obvious to try to deny. So what do you think? Which one do you prefer?”

“Well, this one would be good except for that thing up the back.” I tugged at the little string that was lodged in my butt crack. “It sort of feels like a full-time wedgie, which really isn’t something I’ve ever longed for.”

Alli laughed. “Now you know what us women put up with to be sexy for you guys! You do get used to it eventually.”

“I’m not sure I want to. Kind of makes me wonder why my dentist is such a big proponent of flossing.”

She laughed again. “Dummy, that’s not the kind of flossing your dentist is talking about; now if your proctologist tell you to floss, that’s different!”

“Ahh, my mistake! Well, I don’t know; which one do you think would be best?”

“Well, I like what this pushup one does for your bulge – very impressive – but then the little pouch is really cute on you too, like a little goody bag, and knowing you were totally bare-assed under your tights would be fun. You decide.”

“I have mixed feelings - the strongest of which says don’t do either and just stay home.”

“Not an option. While you’re pouch-pondering, do you want to see what I bought for me?”

“I thought you went shopping for me.” I had to tease her; I’d known full well that she’d find something she couldn’t live without!

“Well…I saw this and I thought you’d like it, so I guess in a way I was shopping for you.” She held up a small hanger bearing a very cute – and vey tiny – set of underwear, a thong and a very small bra, also in leopard print but with a bit of black lace added - to make them more feminine, I suppose, although I’m not sure that was possible.

“I’m starting to sense a theme with the whole leopard thing. Having a little jungle fever today, are we?”

“You don’t like it?”

I shook my head. “No, I love it! Trust me, I’d far rather see you in tiny little leopard things than me in tiny little leopard things. Are you going to try those on for me?”

“I thought you’d never ask!”

It occurred to me that never was a long time, considering I’d first laid eyes on the things only seconds earlier, but I didn’t say anything. Instead I opted to watch her strip out of her clothes – always a fascinating spectacle – and into the little bra and panties, another enjoyable facet of this very fascinating spectator sport. Once she was fully dressed – such as it is – in the little leopard set, I gave her a loud and appreciative wolf whistle. “Wow! Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout!”

Ruby chose that exact moment to run over and jam her nose into my crotch, racking my balls a bit higher than they already were in my little leopard pushup thingy! “Ow, hey! What was that for?” I cupped my hands over myself so that she wouldn’t take a second shot at me.

Alli was laughing. “You whistled – I think she thought you wanted her.”

I ruffled her ears – Ruby’s, not Alli’s. “Ah! Sorry, girl, my fault. That whistle was for the other woman in my life! It may take us awhile to get all of our signals worked out, Ruby girl, but I’m sure we will. Just a little advance notice though; when you see me and your mommy wiggling around real close together and making funny sounds it is definitely not a signal for you to run over and jam that cold nose of yours in my ass, okay?” She wagged her tail agreeably. Or perhaps cunningly, I really had no way to tell.

Alli was watching us, a smile on her face. “I’m really glad that you two have hit it off so well. So what about my purchases; good thing or bad?”

“On you, great; on me…well, let’s just say that the jury is still out. Are you planning to wear that under your costume tonight?”

She nodded. “The bottom part, not the bra. The straps and lace and all would show through too much.”

The straps she was talking about were two very skinny little cords that ran over her shoulders and about an inch-wide flat one across her back. It hooked in the front, between her breasts. The lace was a thin strip of black that ruffled across from the low inner to the upper and outer curve of her breasts, right across her nipples, which were half exposed by the very low cut of the bra cups. Clearly this was also a pushup contraption, because her boobs were pushed together and up, emphasizing cleavage and thrusting her nipples out proudly…or at least the upper half of her areola, which was all I could see of them. The whole thing was very tiny, but yes, it would show through her very tight, thin leotard.

“So you’re actually going to go braless tonight?”

She shrugged. “I don’t see that I have a lot of choice if I want it to look right.”

“That’s not like you. If I know you, your nipples will be hard about ninety percent of the time. You’ll make Charlie’s night…and mine, and probably most of the other guys.”

“Don’t embarrass me and make me self-conscious about it, okay? Besides, that fur stole/collar/vest thingy probably hangs down enough to cover most of me. That part, anyway.”

I’d forgotten about the upper part of the costume, which, as it turned out, consisted of a furry piece that covered the shoulders and upper torso pretty completely. The hood with its little ears turned out to be an integral part of that piece rather than separate as I had envisioned. Ali pulled hers over her head and arranged the cape portion of it (for lack of a better word) on her shoulders; it did hang down just about to her breasts, although it did not really cover them. It also hung down to the middle of her back, and covered her shoulders and the upper six inches or so of her arms. She tied the strings beneath her chin and tucked the loose ends inside, and then turned and faced me.

I chuckled. “You look cute as hell – you could just go like that.”

She laughed. “Oh sure, in just my bra and thong, with my butt hanging out.”

“Babe, one thing your butt does not do is hang! It sits right up there where it’s supposed to be, firm and proud. I’d go with ‘sticking out’, if you want to describe what it would be doing. Trust me; you’d be a smash hit.”

She smiled to let me know she appreciated the compliment, and then threw me the cape and hood portion of my own costume. “Here, try yours!”

I copied the steps she’d gone through and then stood ready for inspection. She looked me over. “Mmm, meow, handsome! You can be my tomcat anytime!”

I crossed the room and took her in my arms. “I could be your tomcat now. Feel like howling a little?”

“That’s wolves.”

“What?”

“Wolves howl, cats yowl.”

“I’ve got a hardon that’s testing the endurance of this little pouch – and probably wet-spotting it too – and you’re discussing semantics. Why don’t we see if I can make you howl and yowl?”

“We both know that you could, but we need to get ready for the party.”

I squeezed her bare butt. “We have time.” She was pressing tightly to me, rubbing her stomach against my hard cock in its stretchy little pouch. I felt pretty sure I could talk her into it.

“I need to do a little trimming down below if I’m going to wear this thong. I noticed that I have a few curls showing.”

“Nobody is going to see that through your tights – hell, with the leotard part underneath you’ll have two layers over your thong, unlike me with just one.”

“Well… that’s true I guess.” She hesitated. “But what if we decide to stay late and go in the hot tub this year instead of bailing out earlier, like we usually do?”