The 40th Birthday Present - Chapter One free porn video

The 40th birthday party - Chapter one The office Annabelle was sweet, but she was beginning to demand too much. Now she wanted me to go down on her! "Listen," I said "My wife is the only person that gets that treatment from me. You know what I like, so hurry up, we haven't got all day." "It would be nice if you treated me like a lady just the once, instead of some sort of common slut." "If the shoe fits..." "What's that supposed to mean?" "I didn't ask you to come into my office in your first week and blow me, now did I?" "No, but you didn't complain." "Of course not honey, you have one of the best mouths I have been lucky enough to fill." "So... how about coming back to my place tonight, we'll do something long and slow." "Can't, it's my birthday remember. Samantha never misses my birthday." "I suppose she'll have a nice, candlelit dinner for two set up?" "That's right." "Don't tell me you enjoy that." At that point my secretary buzzed to tell me that my next appointment was waiting. "Sorry Annabelle, but we've missed the opportunity. You should use your mouth for what it is best, instead of speaking so much." The home "Hi Samantha, I'm home." "Happy 39th birthday handsome, did you enjoy your day?" "Usual stuff, thanks for the Hip Flask, it'll be wonderful in some of the meetings I attend!" I turned into our living room and there was Samantha, stretching out on the couch. She never fails to get my blood going. Despite us being married for almost 20 years, she was still gorgeous. Her luscious red hair fell to her shoulders and she had obviously put time into getting the wild look just right tonight. As always, her make-up was perfect. For tonight's mood, she had more on than normal, but this was my birthday and she knew that I enjoyed her acting the slut. As my eyes slid down her body, her perfect 38C breasts were held - well, almost - by a tiny, quarter cup bra. If only she would wear a corset... Not that she needed one. A 26" waist and 36" hips were wonderful. Just for tonight she had worn the stockings that I got her for Christmas. It only took seven months for her to wear them. "Those boots are new, gorgeous, where did you get them?" I asked her. "A little shop near Victoria the last time I was in London." "You never cease to surprise me, you know that?" "I try honey, I try. Now come over here for your REAL birthday present." Needless to say I was over there in a flash. With no room on the couch to sit, I knelt beside her as we tangled arms and searched each other's mouth. I was so desperate after Annabelle had been promising so much and failed to deliver. Fumbling at my trousers, she stopped and said, "Let me do that." "But, you..." "Shhhushhh," she purred. "This is my treat, so you keep quiet and let me treat the birthday boy." "Hurry up then!" "OK, that's it," she snapped at me. "Time for your mouth to be covered". With this she took of her pants, stuffed them in my mouth and used my Hermes tie to keep it in place. Obviously I could have taken it off, but this was part of our game. She knew that I liked to surrender control occasionally, hence this was my birthday treat. I sometimes wished she would do it more than once a year though. She stood up and pushed her wonderful mound towards me. As I was still kneeling, it was just below my face level, so I reached around her with my arms and bent forward to smell. "Not so fast darling, this year is going to be better than last," she purred, pushing me away. She then took my jacket off, unbuttoned my shirt and stepped behind me. "Give me your hands," she demanded. Now here was an interesting change of direction - as well as tone. This sounds good. I put my hands up to her. "Not there, stupid. Behind your back." I lowered my hands, put them behind my back and felt the cold steel on both wrists as the cuffs were clicked on. My erection was really screaming now. "Stand up," she demanded. I struggled to my feet - and I do mean struggled. I'd never been cuffed before. She knelt before me looking lovingly into my eyes. What a woman. If only she could do this more often. Her hands unclipped my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my trousers, then slid them down to the floor. All the time she looked up at me with those green eyes like ponds. When I met her when she was fourteen, it was those eyes that took me into her soul. Still looking at me, she undid my shoes, lifting each leg in turn and removing the shoe, sock and trouser leg. Her hands came up to my chest and gently caressed my chest before she began to dig her nails in. Slowly they were forced in as she brought her hands lower. I wanted to keep my stomach muscles out for these nails, but as they reached just below my belly button, I reacted backwards. Instantly, one of her hands was behind me with the nails dug deep into the small of my back. As soon as I reacted to that, her other hand was digging into my stomach. If I hadn't had her panties in my mouth I would have gasped. Both hands then raked down to the top of my pants and pulled them down so fast that I hadn't realised they were around my feet until she lifted my leg to remove them. As I looked down, I noticed the weal down my stomach where she had used her nail. Then I felt it burn. That sensuous slow burn that lets you know something has happened, but doesn't hurt that much. Especially when a beautiful, red-headed, hot-blooded 38 year old lady is knelt in front of you. I was beginning to think that paradise had arrived when she stood up. "Don't go anywhere," she cooed. She walked out of the room, leaving me with a ferocious snake leaping from my loins. After a few minutes, the sting was beginning to disappear. I would have asked her where she was, but obviously couldn't speak. I didn't want to follow her as she clearly had a plan. This was wonderful. After almost twenty minutes, her voice called out. "Dinner's ready. Come and get it." My snake was now a worm, but began to look lively again as I staggered through to the dining room. As I walked in, there was a magnificent sight. Samantha had changed. She was now wearing an apron. A very long apron that covered her body from neck to ankle. It was red PVC. I almost missed the apron though because she had her back to me and all she had on under the apron was a red suspender belt and red stockings. I briefly wondered where she got them from, but naturally couldn't ask. She was bent over the table in front of me with her legs ever so slightly apart. The boots had gone and in their place was a pair of red Patent courts that must have had 5 or 6 inch heels. The snake was back, so I leapt forward and was just about to attempt an entry when she stood up. "Not yet, handsome, the dinner will get spoilt." Who cares about dinner in a situation like this? Well, Samantha clearly did. "You are sitting here tonight." She pointed to the head of the table. We normally only used this room when we had visitors and I always sat in that chair hence I wasn't surprised. As I moved towards the chair, she overtook me and pulled it out. I sat down. My wrists were beginning to hurt, so I brought my hands up my back a little. "If you promise to let me tie your wrists with much nicer ribbon, I'll uncuff you. Do you promise?" I nodded eagerly. She undid the cuffs and took each hand in turn. After rubbing the wrists gently, she wrapped a thick-ish ribbon round each and then secured each hand to opposite sides of the back support. I felt her stand up behind me, but did not expect the blindfold. Now I was a bit concerned. Next I felt one of the ribbons go round my ankle and connect to the chair leg. Then the other one. "Your starter will be two seconds." With that I heard her walk away. A few seconds later, she was back. "I know your mouth will be dry when I take my panties out, but DON'T lick your lips," She undid the tie very slowly, pulled out her panties and waited. Not licking my lips was the hardest thing I'd had to do all day. I felt a touch on my lower lip - or did I? There it was again on my upper lip. Again. A little more wetness this time... Then some more... And more... God, this was so sensual, where did she find out how to do this? She continued until my lips were very wet, then suddenly her mouth covered mine entirely and her tongue filled my mouth with such force she had to hold the back of my head to stop me from going backwards! As fast as it started, she was gone. Next thing I knew, she was beside me, whispering, "This is your favourite starter, smoked salmon. As you can't feed yourself, I promise to take care of you. Open your mouth." It was already open, but opened wider anticipating something. I couldn't have cared if it was mushy peas. This was the most erotic meal that I have ever had. Every piece was placed gently in my mouth, including wine, coffee, mints and a Drambuie. I still don't know if she ate, but she whispered encouragement constantly. After each course - and in between if it seemed like I was dribbling a bit - she licked all round my mouth, inside and out, around the lips, sometimes all over my visible face. "I'll be back in a minute," she breezed and was gone. My snake had remained a snake throughout the meal, but I could feel the worm taking over again. I had no idea of time as I couldn't see a clock, but I heard some soothing music come from the lounge soon after she was gone. The first I realised she was back was when her mouth had my worm! Then I felt her hair fall over my thighs as my worm began to become a snake again. I tried to move towards her, but felt her nails dig into my thighs as a warning. Sitting still with a mouth around my happy helmet was an experience I'd had before, but not with my wife! She very slowly began to suck. My erection began to strain, as she seemed to be trying to suck every drop of my blood into her mouth. I began to moan and she stopped instantly. Next thing I knew her pants were back in my mouth and tied in place. Another long gap, then gently I felt her hands touching parts of my body. This seemed to go on for hours until she dug all ten nails deep into my lower back. I arched forward and her mouth surrounded me. Her nails raked lower and dug deep into my buttocks as her mouth worked wonders on my erection. She sucked, nibbled, licked, caressed, chewed (or so it seemed!) until I could take no more. As soon as I felt my jet approaching she was gone. It didn't stop my sperm shooting out though and for several seconds - although it felt much longer - I sat shackled to the chair bucking against my restraints. Some time later, one of these impregnated tissues was being wiped around my loins and thighs. Then a towel was used to dry me. Gentle caresses began again and the snake began to appear. The ribbons were untied from the chair, but tied together behind my back. The leg cuffs were removed from the chair, but tied together. She helped me to my feet and guided me through to our bedroom. All the time, her hands were gently caressing my body. I was lain on the bed face up and felt her get on the bed beside me. She hadn't touched my snake, but it was ready and willing. I felt her over me although she had stopped touching. Her hand held my snake and I felt the touch of her lower lips brush the top of my helmet. Ever so slowly, she slid onto me, moving off if I moved in any way. I soon got the message and was lying still. Eventually I was completely inside her. Her movements were so slow as to be almost not noticed at first. Then she speeded up. Next she slowed down. Speed... Slow... I could hear her breathing. She had never been like this before. It was almost as though she was losing control - something she NEVER did. This time the speed went on and on and I could feel myself getting close. She obviously sensed this and her nails dug deep into my soft belly, just above my loins. That stopped me! She was riding me as if it was the most important thing in the world to her. When she came it was with such intensity that I appeared incidental. She thrashed about all over me with her nails digging in every where - except my face thankfully. She pulled my hair as I ejaculated into her. Still she continued. This was beginning to hurt seriously. Then slowly she subsided. She lay on top of me, covering my chest with kisses. After several minutes she moved. My discomfort was severe by this stage and I was desperate when she didn't untie me. I had rolled onto my side when I felt her hand with the tissues again. This time she wasn't so gentle and after cleaning me up she took the cuffs off my legs and smoothed some cream around my ankles. Next she pushed me onto my front, undid the ribbon and again put cream on. Then she was gone. I took the blindfold and gag off, blinked at the light and saw it was past midnight. I had some serious work to do for the meeting with the MD tomorrow, so switched back to my work head. As I went into the lounge, I caught sight of her in the kitchen with the TV on. She was back to her old self with the frumpy cotton T-shirt style nightwear that is such a turn-off. Not wanting to let go of the experience, I went into the kitchen and stood behind her on the stool. I put my arms around her and she brushed me off. "Is that it till next year then?" I asked, "Of course not darling, but I am tired now and really want to see this programme I recorded earlier. You know the girls will all be talking about it tomorrow." I looked at the TV. Coronation Street. Time for work. The next day Annabelle was waiting in my office when I arrived at 7.45. "You look like shit," she said. "I feel worse than that. Didn't finish this report until 4.15 this morning." "Have you slept?" "No." "Let me get you something to help." I was powerless to resist. This was important. My next career move rested on the MD thinking this was worth pursuing. Annabelle came back into my office with a coffee and a couple of pills. "What are they?" I asked. "Just some pick me ups that I use occasionally." What the hell, I thought, as I swallowed them with a large swig of coffee. "What time is the meeting?" she asked. "8.15" "Time for your early morning treat then." She slowly slipped to the floor and unzipped my trousers. This was our usual routine before meetings. Her career was at risk as much as mine with this meeting and it wasn't long before her skilled mouth and fingers had me on the brink. As usual, she stopped before taking me over the edge. As usual, she looked straight into my eyes as she swallowed every drop. What a slut, I thought. What a beautiful, willing slut. After the meeting, I phoned Samantha. She was back to her usual, brisk self on the phone. Gone was the gorgeous, sultry voice and back was Madam Efficiency. "How did it go?" she asked. "Fantastic, he's taken everything on board and given us full budget control. You know what this means, don't you?" "Yes, more time away from home with that marketing manager." "Come on honey, surely you're pleased for me? He has agreed to the profit share that will set us up for life if everything comes off. We can then move to Australia as you've always wanted." "We'll see. Don't count your chickens, etc." "I won't dear." See you later. "Didn't sound too impressed, did she," Annabelle stated. "Why don't you leave her? We could be so good for each other." I didn't answer, so she continued. "What have you to lose now? Is the birthday that good, it's worth waiting for each year?" "Ouch!" I said. "Below the belt." "Well, what's keeping you with her? She can't have kids now and all she seems to do is belittle your work. Come home with me tonight." "I'll come, but I won't stay. I need someone that understands how important this is." She smiled, bent down and kissed me, then left the room. The wife's colleague About 3.30 the phone rang. "Hi honey, how's your day been?" Samantha asked. "Couldn't get better, although I'll probably have to work late." "Oh good, I'm glad. Listen I've been feeling a bit rough so I'm leaving early. I told Jane that if you were working late you could take her home. What time will you finish?" That's all I needed. Mousey little Jane as chaperone. "Don't know yet, this is a difficult one to push forward." "OK, Jane will drop in when she finishes here. Bye." Shit, shit, shit I thought. Why is she so inconsiderate? Why can't every night be like last night? Why can't one night each week be like last night? Or one per month? Per quarter? I dialled her extension. "Annabelle, I've got to take a rain check tonight. Jane is coming over for a lift home." "Tell her we're going to a dinner meeting with clients after you drop her off." "Samantha won't believe that. She knows my diary inside out." "Explain it's just come up because of today's meeting. I need you as much as you need me tonight." That was something I didn't want to hear. Although I complain about Samantha, I could never leave her. We've been through too much together. All the same I needed someone that understood! "OK I'll straighten it out with Jane." When Jane arrived at 6.30 I explained that Annabelle and I had a dinner appointment and I'd drop her off as promised. She offered to get a taxi, but Samantha would nag non-stop if I let her, so I insisted. On the journey to Jane's, talk was small (as always), until Jane said, "You know Samantha knows what is going on with you two." This startled me. "Sorry, what did you say?" "I said, Samantha knows what you and Annabelle are doing." "I don't think this is any of your business, Jane." "But it is. As I work with Samantha, her depression affects me and although I've only met you twice before, you don't strike me as the type to throw everything away for a child like Annabelle." I didn't answer. "Samantha has proof that you two have been together. She also doesn't want to lose you. If you leave her though, she will sue you for everything you have and we both know that's a lot less than she has - or Annabelle." "So what are you saying to me?" "Dump Annabelle now or you'll be up in court next month. Do you think Annabelle will stay with you if you can't provide the fancy dinners, clothes and shows? Obviously she can afford them, but it is nice for a guy to do the providing." Again, I didn't answer. "Samantha is not aware that I am talking to you and believe me I would rather you left her." "Why?" "I find Samantha a MOST attractive woman and would find it difficult not to ask her out if she was available. As you are aware, she is my boss and I am worried that she would be so turned off at the prospect that we could not work together. In other words, you are a 'comfort zone' for me." The rest of the journey passed in silence. I went to Annabelle's house. She let me in and asked, "Why the long face? I have the wine, the dinner and this..." She opened her housecoat to reveal a beautiful body, displayed by a corset, stockings, heels and her luscious, long black hair. I couldn't help but feel a stir. My face obviously didn't show it because she closed the housecoat. "What's wrong?" "Samantha knows about us." "Hooray. You can stay then." "No, she doesn't know I know." "So what? If she knows about us, it's time you made a decision." The reality of this hit me. She was right, I had to make a decision. "I have to leave Annabelle. I'll call you later." "Where are you going?" I didn't answer. I simply drove off. After half an hour I found myself on the dockside. Liverpool docks may not be the prettiest in the world, but they can be the loneliest when you need to be alone. No one bothers you. I don't know how long I stood there, but when I got home, Samantha was in bed. She woke as I climbed in. "Where have you been." "Walking." "At 3am?" "Yes." "Your marketing manager is worried about you. She called at 9, 10 and 11." I didn't reply, but as I turned over, the decision was made. The Boss is worried. The following morning I called my secretary to tell her I was working from home and that the only person who was to know was the MD. As far as anyone else was concerned, I was out for the day. About 4pm, the MD called. As with all the other calls I let the machine take it, but when I heard his voice I picked it up. "What can I do for you, Tom?" "Just thought I'd call to see if this campaign is getting to you already." "No, you know I do some of my best work from home." "True, but you should be aware that Annabelle has been to see me. She thinks you can't handle this on your own and is worried you will try to do it without her." "Clever girl at times. I could do it on my own, but it will be a lot easier with Annabelle, so you can pacify her." "OK. If you say so. Just thought you would want to know." "Is she there now? I'd like to talk to her." "Yes, she is. I've had her listening." "Can I talk to her without you listening?" "Of course. Here she is." "Hi Annabelle, is he treating you right?" "Yes, but you aren't. What's happening?" "Let's have lunch and I'll tell you. OK?" Bye bye Annabelle "Did you enjoy your lunch then?" I asked Annabelle. "Of course, but why do I sense it's our last one together?" "Oh, it won't be our last. Just the last as lovers." "So this is it then. No more wild abandoned sex in dangerous places?" "I'm sure you can find someone to keep you dangerous. Anyway, I'm getting too old for this." "Really? Forty is beginning to worry you then?" "Not so much that, as who I want to spend my retirement years with. Samantha is almost the same age as I am, she has never been anything other than the perfect wife over these past seventeen years and she deserves better than I've been giving her." "Now where have I heard this before...." Annabelle scorned. "Guilty as charged." "Do you expect me to just forget the last ten months?" "No." After a long pause when she obviously expected me to say something, Annabelle asked, "What do you expect me to do then?" "Act mature, get back to our business relationship and sort this contract out." "And what about your needs? Do you still expect me to get down on my knees before each meeting that you think it is necessary? You can't treat me like that." "You are right. I can't and won't. I will do what I have always found difficult to do. Samantha will be the only person that receives any form of sexual favours from me. If I have to go for a month without sex, then so be it. My right hand may end up stronger, but she deserves it." "What you are saying is that I don't deserve it. You know that is bullshit and that I deserve better treatment than this." Her voice was beginning to get louder now and I was glad that we had come to a place we'd never been to before. "I can't and won't apologise for your treatment by me, nor will I feel guilty about my treatment by you. I have enjoyed it enormously, but my wife deserves to be treated better. You are correct that ten months should not be forgotten - and I won't forget it either - however, neither should twenty years of marriage be forgotten. I WILL stay with my wife and you cannot stop that." Her face was almost white with anger, but she did not speak immediately. That is what worried me the most. When we were in meetings and she thought like this, it usually meant a devastating answer. Eventually, she began to nod slowly. "If that is what you want, that is what you will get. Let me give you one warning. If you ever bring her to a function that I am attending, you will be the most embarrassed person there. She will find out alright, but not in the way you think." I thought about this, then replied. "Given both of our positions in the company, you know there will be a time when she has to come with me. For you to embarrass me, you will have to embarrass yourself even more. I don't believe that you are so far gone that you would abandon your position as Marketing Manager just to get even with me." "Oh I won't need to, but when your wife hears me describe the detail of your "snake" to her and how we used to get it on before meetings, do you think she will really want to stay with you? When I tell her what and where we did it, she will want you locked up. I accept that we are in the past. I also don't believe in searching for revenge, however when the opportunity presents itself... A woman scorned and all that." By this time, I was wondering if it would be best for me to change jobs. The conversation was over though and it was time for us to get back to work. She drove back to the office and I went home. Fortunately, my wife wasn't there, but there was a message on the machine from her asking if I could take Jane home again. I called her back to beg off due to a stomach bug, but she had already left. Naturally, I spoke to Jane who explained Samantha had an appointment in town with one of her old school friends that she had forgotten to tell me about. I didn't mention any problems about my stomach and told Jane I'd pick her up at 5.30pm, as I had to get home to do some work. When I picked her up, she looked just as frumpy as normal. Why couldn't the woman develop style? Just because she's a lesbian doesn't mean that she had to dress as a sixty-year-old. She must only have been in her late twenties. Straight skirt going down past her knees, plain blouse covering her neck and a cardigan that my granny would have loved. Mousey was being kind I thought. The journey was mostly in silence until we reached her street. Just before we stopped, she said, "I know that what I said the other night was out of order. Please forgive me." I looked at her and thought she was going to cry. Her eyes were all filled up and her face was bright red. "Yeah, OK," I said. "No, I mean it. I regret even mentioning it to you, but your wife is so depressed at times knowing that you are sleeping with her." She almost spat the word "her" at me. But the tears were still there, ready to spill at a moments notice. I thought it best to tell her. "Annabelle and I have not got anything going now," I said it out loud. There. It was a done deal. Her face lit up. "Do you mean it?" she asked. "Trust me honey, I wouldn't joke about this!" I replied. "We had lunch today and agreed to concentrate on our working relationship. Samantha is too important to me to allow anyone to interfere with my marriage. I know that may sound cheap to you, but it is the truth. Anyone that can survive twenty years with me deserves very special treatment." Next thing I knew, Jane's arms were around my neck and she was really crying. Luckily, we had stopped outside her flat by this time, therefore I didn't hit anything! "Hey, what's all this for?" I questioned. She sort of burbled her way through some words that I couldn't understand. Eventually she calmed down enough to say that she just wanted Samantha to be happy, then rushed out of the car and slammed the door. Well, she must really have the hots for my wife. Not surprisingly, an image appeared in my mind... The mouse starts to squeak. The next few days were odd. At work, it was difficult, as Annabelle and I worked so closely together that there wasn't a day went past without us talking. Usually, it wasn't talking on the phone either. Face-to-face meetings were a regular part of the day and the project had to take precedence over our feelings. On the surface, she appeared to have perfect control over her life. To be honest, I hoped that she did. At home, life was a bit easier, although the sex was much the same - non- existent mostly. Obviously, I was getting home earlier most evenings and my wife didn't take long to notice. After a few weeks, my wife had the opportunity of a weekend in Paris. Much as I would have liked to have gone, the project was at a critical stage and needed me to be available at the weekend. The Malaysians were coming over at any time and I had to be available, as this was my baby (although Annabelle may have said something else). I had tickets for the match on the Saturday, hence Samantha knew where I would be that day. The cynic in me said the phone call I got on the Saturday morning had been arranged by Samantha. "Hi, it's Jane here," the voice said. "Jane who?" came my terse reply. It was almost footie time. "Your wife's PA." She giggled. "Are you alright?" I asked, astonishingly. "Of course, why do you ask?" "You sound so different, as though you've been taking happy pills or something." "It's better than that. I've just inherited a large sum of money from some distant relative that I've never heard of and wanted to tell Samantha about it. Can I come round?" "You, of all people, should know that she is in Paris." My reply must have been terse, because she instantly came back. "Oh don't be like that, we all forget things, don't we?" "Yes, I'm sorry. Listen, I have to go out soon, but how about we have dinner to celebrate your good fortune later?" Why am I saying this, I suddenly thought. "That would be great," she said. "Can you pick me up at seven?" Oh oh, what have I done! "OK, I may be a little bit later by the time I get back and get changed." "No problem," she almost sang. I ran out of the door, jumped into the car and drove to Anfield. I made the match in plenty of time, but on the way there, I was thinking. Why did I suggest such a stupid thing? Was she testing my loyalty to my wife? Did I really have to go through with it? Then the footie took over and I forgot all about Jane. Naturally, Liverpool won so I was in a far better mood when driving home than I was on the way to the ground! I decided I would call off. I called Jane's number as soon as I got in, but there was no reply. Damn, I thought, why couldn't she have an answering machine? She really did live in the past. Settling down with a beer, I checked the television pages. Typical! Saturday night and the only decent thing on was Match of the Day. Well, why not go for a drink with the mouse, I was thinking. Then the phone rang. "Hi, it's Jane, did you call?" she asked. "Yes, just wondered if you wanted to be smart or casual tonight. Didn't want to embarrass you by being over or under dressed." Phew, that was a good get-out, I thought! "I hadn't really thought," she said, "but let's go smart if you don't mind. I don't often dress up for a night out." "OK, see you soon." I rung off. Out came the weekend suit and off I went to get her. I wondered what smart would be for this girl. Did she really have a secret wardrobe with some wonderful cocktail dresses? Would she have a sumptuous figure hidden behind the frumpy clothes? As she opened the door, I tried to hide my disappointment - successfully, I think - as she appeared in a dress from "The Waltons", with white tights and black shoes with a strap across her feet. Her hair had been short from the moment I met her, therefore there was little she could have done with it, but I don't think she had bothered. Make-up was non-existent also. I told her she looked lovely and asked her where she wanted to go. "I don't know. You and Samantha know all the good places, so take me to one of them. Also, I want to treat you tonight. Samantha will be amazed that you suggested this!" she cooed. My mind went blank for a moment, but eventually I thought I'd take her to one of my wife's favourite restaurants where they knew me well. The service is fabulous and when I told them that Jane was a colleague of my wife's, they went overboard. It was actually a pleasant evening and Jane got a bit drunk. She wasn't used to alcohol by the look of it, so by the time we reached the coffee, she was slurring slightly. We'd only got through a bottle of wine by this stage. I could see the sentimental stage rearing up. "You know, I never thought you would ditch the bitch," she sort of said. At least I could understand her still. "I thought you would just keep getting blow jobs from her and keep on upsetting Samantha," she continued. "What did you say?" I asked, startled for a second. She giggled. "Oops, I wasn't supposed to let you know that your wife won't give them to you, so you try for them elsewhere." She was almost in hysterics now. "I think it's time that we got you home Jane." "Why, am I embarrassing you? She said, louder. "No, but this is Samantha's favourite and I think she might be embarrassed if she found out you were being loud in here." That quietened her instantly. She looked all sheepish at me and said, "Shorry. Don't tell her I told you, will you?" "No I won't. It'll be our little secret," I replied. I indicated for the bill and when it came over, she insisted on paying for the meal. At almost ?200 I was sure that she would have balked, but no, her purse was opened and out came the cash. She must have had a wad of about ?800 in there. It must have been some inheritance, I thought. I drove her home and she insisted that I come in for a coffee, even though she could hardly make it. I ended up helping her up the stairs. Her flat was like her. Perfectly arranged in an incredibly old-fashioned manner. Not a speck of dust in sight. When she served me the coffee, the old china cups rattled on the tray as she walked in from the kitchen. "Do you mind if I ask you something, Jane?" I queried. "Not at all, you go ahead," came the reply. "You always seem so well dressed, but you don't have a girlfriend. Why?" "I'm not a lesbian, why should I have a girlfriend?" she retorted. "I thought you said you found my wife attractive." "Oh, I do, but I doubt if I would ever do anything about that. I find men attractive also, but I am a good catholic and won't sleep with anyone until I meet the right person." "So, you were lying to me when you said you would ask my wife out if she was available then? I was probing and she didn't realise. "No, I wasn't lying. If I ever could get the courage to leave my religious baggage behind I might actually do it, but I've never even kissed anyone in my life, so I doubt if I would ever get the courage." I suddenly realised where all the frumpiness came from. She was behaving like some friends I had in north Scotland. They wouldn't even cook on a Sunday! "Do you mind if I say something to you now?" she asked. "Of course not Jane." "I have been really impressed by the way that you got rid of the other woman in your life, although I have heard rumours from your company that she is planning to get even with you. If you need help at any time that you don't want your wife to know about, I'm here." "Thank you, Jane." I smiled inwardly, knowing she would remember nothing of this conversation in the morning. Shortly after, I left. I had already been working for about four hours when the phone rang just after 11 the next morning. "Sorry about last night," was the first thing I heard. "Jane?" I questioned. "Yes. I'm not used to alcohol." "It sounds like you're not used to it. Are you OK?" I managed to ask without laughing. How many times I'd been there when I was younger. "Sort of. Sore head, sore throat and sore body, but I'll manage. I just wanted to let you know that I meant what I said about giving you any help to ward off the wicked witch of marketing." "Thank you, Jane. I must admit that I thought it was alcohol speaking and that you wouldn't remember anything this morning." "I'm glad I let you know. Please don't tell your wife the state that I got into. She thinks I'm always so efficient and self controlled." "It'll be our secret, Jane." "Thanks, but I think I'm going back to bed for now." And with that, she rang off. Well, well, perhaps the mouse could cope with alcohol better than I thought - though obviously not the consequences. When my wife came back, I was as good as my word and didn't mention Jane's excess. Samantha thanked me for taking Jane out and "looking after her" with her good news. Apparently, she doesn't have many friends in this country, as most of her relatives emigrated, hence the reason for her call. The inheritance was big as well, over half a million quid. With that amount she could have retired, but for some reason enjoyed working with Samantha and wanted to carry on. Samantha also reminded me about my company's Hallowe'en Party that was coming up and asked if I'd though about an outfit for this year. She knew that I didn't enjoy that type of party, but it was her favourite. I told her that I probably wouldn't go. Needless to say this caused a minor domestic with me agreeing to find something. I instantly forgot about an outfit and decided to avoid the party by "working late" suddenly on the night. Jane called me about a week before the party with a warning. "Rumour has it your marketing manager is going to embarrass Samantha at the party." "Really, and how is she going to do that?" I asked. "I'm afraid that I don't know, but it's apparently going to be nasty." "Come on Jane, you know that Samantha is so good at disguising herself that I sometimes don't recognise her. What hope has Annabelle got?" "That may be true, but she's counting on you being there, hence Samantha will be by your side and an easy target. She's also undermining you by predicting you won't turn up. Your position at the company is getting difficult I hear." "How do you know all this, Jane?" I asked. "I have my sources. Have I ever been wrong?" She replied - a little too quickly I thought. "No, I suppose not. Who cares if I don't turn up anyway?" "The new Chairman apparently thinks this is one of the most important opportunities for Executives to socialise with the rest. I'd be there if I was you." "You know I hate costume parties. Anyway, if I turn up and Annabelle does make a scene, the fallout will be worse than if I don't appear." After a short silence, Jane slowly spoke, "What if there was a way to get you in, with only the people that you wanted to know recognising you?" "How do you mean?" "Well, I've been in an amateur theatre company for years, mainly doing the behind scenes jobs and I reckon that I could make you unrecognisable." "Sounds great, except if I'm unrecognisable, how will the Chairman know I'm there?" "You tell him!" she exclaimed. I hadn't thought about that. "So what are we talking about, a bear, a cow or some other animal?" "Oh no, I've a much better idea, but it'll take me about two hours to get you ready." I thought I heard her sniggering a little as she said this. "You know I don't like costumes Jane, so I'll only agree if I can back out at the last minute - if the costume doesn't fit or something like that." "Come on. If I'm going to go to all the trouble of getting an outfit - and trust me it'll be difficult - I don't want you backing out at the last minute." After a moments thought, I knew that I had to be there. More to protect Samantha if Annabelle did spot her, but it would do me good with this new Chairman. "OK, Jane, I'll collect you at 6." "Better make that 4.30. With the time it takes to get you ready, then the traffic either way, you'll need the three hours." The Party I picked up Jane at 4.30 as promised. The traffic was worse than normal and we didn't get to her flat till almost 5.15. "So what is this outfit?" I asked as soon as I got in the car. "You'll see..." came the strange reply. And that was definitely a smile on her face. In her flat, she showed me some pictures of her work at the theatre. She was mainly the make-up specialist - that WAS a shock! - but she also looked after some costumes. The outfits looked pretty good and because I clearly hadn't noticed, she pointed out that all the photos were of the female parts. "So?" I dumbly asked. "Every one of those photos was a man," she stated simply. Now it begun to hit. "Now wait a minute Jane, those guys are actors..." "Amateur actors," she interrupted. "Yes, but actors all the same, and I bet none of them are as tall as me." "Every single one is taller than you, that's why I picked these photos." That surprised me. I'm just over six feet tall, therefore I hate to think what height they were. "I still can't act," I snapped. "Don't give me that. I hear all the time how good your "performance" was when you were doing one presentation or another. You are probably more of an actor than any of the amateurs that we have. This is purely a different role." She saw me hesitate and kept going. "Anyway, why don't you let me show you how good the disguise is before making a judgement?" "I don't know, Jane. I'll be the laughing stock of the office." "Not when I'm finished with you," she said. "Have another look at these photos." I did and she was clearly good. None of these guys looked anything other than a girl. She must have had plenty practice. Before I realised, she'd stopped being mousy and was pushing me into the bathroom. "You'll find some underwear in there that will help." Underwear! What was wrong with my pants? The door closed behind me and there on an unusual looking hanger was a corset. I'd always wanted Samantha to wear one. I was beginning to think there was no harm in this and if she couldn't make me look different from me, then I'd just back out. Then I noticed the stockings. I loved my wife wearing stockings. The feel of her stocking clad thighs around my head or waist was always fantastic. Pity it wasn't more often. What the hell, I thought, let's have some fun with this one. I stripped off, had a quick shower, got the corset off the hanger and wrapped it round me. It was difficult to get the hooks together, but I managed and then bent over to pull the stockings up. As I bent, I felt the corset pinch my stomach in. To make it easier, I bent my knees a bit and then pulled the stockings up my leg. "Don't forget the shoes," I heard Jane shout. I looked around and saw a pair of high heeled court style shoes. Never having worn heels before, I though it'd be a laugh, but they were fairly low heels and it was pretty easy. They were certainly lower than my platforms of the seventies I thought ruefully. Last thing I did was pull on the French Knickers that were laid out. Probably should have put these on before the shoes I thought, but never mind. She won't know. "Are you ready for this?" I asked Jane. "Of course, and hurry up." As I came out of the bathroom, Jane's eyes lit up. "I wasn't certain that you would do it," she exclaimed. "But let me get you laced properly." Next thing I knew I was having difficulty breathing as she pulled the laces tighter. I thought I'd done it properly, but she was merciless. She kept telling me to breathe deeper and deeper until I felt like she was almost cutting me in half. She then knelt down and fussed over the stockings and the French Knickers. This attention was getting to be too much and my snake was beginning to stir. I noticed that Jane's hand had stopped fussing and instead was holding my snake through the knickers. She looked up at me, straight into my eyes as she began rubbing my snake through the silky material. I had to close my eyes. Was this another test? I questioned myself. Just as I was thinking about pulling away with guilt, the nails of her left hand dug gently into the area just above my snake, whilst her right hand was between my legs and gently scratching my scrotal bag. Then the biggest shock. I felt her mouth on my snake, still through the material. Was this mousy little Jane? What was I doing? She would probably go to Samantha with the evidence inside her I thought. All the same, it had been a few weeks since Annabelle's moist lips had been round my snake and I couldn't bring myself to stop her. In what seemed like minutes, but was probably only a few seconds I was pumping sperm into the silky material of those French Knickers. Jane sucked the jism through the material all the time looking straight into my (occasionally open) eyes. After what seemed like an eternity, I managed to gasp. "What happened to the religious baggage, Jane?" "I've never been able to refuse a man in stockings," she smiled. SMILED! This was almost frightening. Where did the girls confidence come from all of a sudden. "But only with my mouth or hand. I do have most of my religious baggage intact unfortunately." I just stood there speechless when she said, "Come on, let's get you cleaned up and put a fresh pair of knickers on. We have to get you ready." I just let her lead me into the bathroom where she washed and dried my worm, got a fresh pair of knickers and dropped some talcum powder inside them to "absorb some of the moisture". I followed her back outside, still dazed and she told me to sit down on a stool. As I sat, I was brought back to reality. The corset dug into me as I slouched. Jane noticed and smiled again. In fact I don't think she stopped smiling. Sometimes it was actually a grin. "Why don't we take the corset off until the rest is finished?" I asked her. "No, this is definitely better. You need the time to get your body used to wearing it. Although you may find this hard to believe right now, after about an hour or so, you will hardly notice it's there." Yeah right, I thought. Meantime, she went to work.. She attached false nails to mine and cut and filed them back to about 3/4" long - well past my finger tips. Next came nail polish, which she layered on and then, told me to keep my fingers and hands straight out to dry. "Now for the face!" she winked. Firstly, she fixed a couple of breast forms inside the cups of the corset, then she shaved my really close, although I think she went farther down my neck/chest than I think was absolutely necessary. Next she used a moisturising cream over my former beard area, allowed it to dry in and put some "Dermablend" to cover any harsh areas of my face and neck. Common or garden foundation went on, then some powder and blusher. She took a lot of time over my eyes, using huge false eyelashes, although with my lack of experience she had to apply the eyeliner twice after I blinked. These were both put on after a couple of different eyeshadows, although she seemed to spread the eyeshadow outside the line of my eyes. She also used a wash out hair dye to cover up my bushy eyebrows and then painted on very dramatic arches instead. After bright red lip liner, lipstick and lip gloss (all the same colour as the nail polish), the final touch was a "beauty spot" that she painted on my right cheek. All of this time, due to the need for her to get in close to me, I could feel her body pressing against my stockinged legs. My worm had started stirring again and I opened my legs on the pretence of letting her get closer into my face. When she finished the make-up, she simply knelt between my legs, pulled the knickers aside and sucked me without saying a word. All the time, she looked straight into my eyes. This time I didn't close my eyes, although the view was unusual through the false lashes. I thought about putting my hands on her head, but I wasn't sure what to do with the nails. This time, she didn't need to suck through the material, but she swallowed every drop, making my snake leap around with the sensitivity of her tongue on my reducing member. A tissue appeared from nowhere and some more talc was added all round my balls. Seemingly from nowhere, she produced a rubber tube that was closed at one end and had laces at both ends. As my snake became a worm again, she fitted the tube over it and then used laces at the open end of the tube to tie it to two eyelets at the bottom of the corset at the front. Next, she showed me the small hole in the closed end that would allow me to urinate ("sitting down only") and tied this end to the eyelets at the back of the corset. Jane went over to a wardrobe and pulled out an enormous dress that had huge puffy sleeves that reached up over the shoulders, a square neckline at the front with what looked like a fan extending from either side round the back of the neck, but extending up beyond the lower hairline and a floor length skirt made of more material than I think I'd seen in my life before at any one time! Unhooking the back of the collar, she took it off the hanger and held it open for me to step into. This was easier said than done, because although the heels were lower than my seventies days, I'd lost practice - as it were - and had difficulty balancing. She put her arm out for me to lean on and I stepped into the dress and allowed her to pull it up at the back as I put my arms into the sleeves. After a few minutes of working at the back, she came round the front and buttoned the sleeves over my wrists. Next item from the wardrobe was a huge net that had a hoop built into it. This was laid out on the floor and Jane lifted the dress at the front for me to hold while I stepped forward. Once in the right position, she pulled the hooped underskirt up and fixed it into the right position. When she had moved out of the way and I'd let go of the front of the dress, there was nothing touching my legs under the skirt area (other than stockings of course!). The hoop had arranged the bottom of the dress in such a way that there was a circle around my feet extending to about five feet radius. "Now for your head," Jane said, From the wardrobe a box was brought out and when the lid was taken off, a large head shape with a mass of hair piled high was exposed. Jane took the wig off the dummy head and begun arranging it on my head. I was glad that I kept my hair short as she was fixing it and tugging it. When she had it in the right place, she showed me a tube of temporary glue that is used for fixing wigs to heads. Apparently, this was especially designed for people that were recovering from cancer treatments and helped them get back to a relatively normal life while their own hair grew back. From the top of a chest of drawers, Jane brought some ear-rings and clipped them onto my ears. These were long dangly ones that brushed against the side of my neck whenever I moved my head - or even when I spoke. Next she slipped several large rings on various fingers and placed some large bangles over the wrists of the dress. As the bottom of the sleeves had large, lacy ruffles that matched the high collar, there was no chance of these falling off. "I think we're ready for the mirror now," Jane decided. I followed her through to a larger room that appeared to be a dressing room, but she explained was where she practised her artistic talents and led me in front of a full-length mirror. To say I was amazed would have been an understatement. Naturally, I could tell who I was, but I'm not certain that my mother could have. The change was incredible. "I look like some sort of upper class lady from the eighteen hundreds," I told Jane. "That's exactly what you're supposed to look like. In fact, so upper class that you will be Queen Elizabeth the first tonight." "But Queen Elizabeth was much shorter than I am." "Tonight, artistic license allows Queen Elizabeth to be portrayed in a completely different manner," Jane giggled. Her giggle brought me back to earth a little, so I asked her what she was going to wear to the party. "Why, I'm going to be your lady-in-waiting, your highness," she said with an extended curtsey. "Well, then 'Lady Jane', it's about time you hurried up to get ready. I don't want to keep my subjects waiting." Jane disappeared and I found some of the difficulty that women of Victoria's time must have had. I couldn't sit in an easy chair, therefore had to stand whilst I waited for Jane to get ready. Unlike the two and a half hours to get me ready, Jane was dressed and looking exactly like a lady in waiting in twenty minutes. Naturally, her dress was not extended as far out as her "Queen's", nor was it as lacy, nor was the jewellery as ostentatious. She also appeared to have played down her make-up compared to the job she had done on me. When I mentioned this, she explained that the lady in waiting could not look as glamorous as her Queen. "Time to go," she casually stated. Now the reality dawned on me. Here I was, dressed in female clothes from several centuries ago, about to step outside. Sensing my hesitation, Jane started. "I almost forgot, you will need this." She handed me one of the eye masks that we have all seen in old-fashioned films where they are held up in front of the eyes to ensure that no-one can see who you really are. I remember that they are particularly effective, however that was not my real worry, it was getting into my car with the enormous skirts! She had thought of this also. "Ah there is the limo," said Jane. I looked outside and there indeed was an enormous limousine with the driver (female of course, and quite a looker I must admit) standing by the door. We stepped outside and the driver opened the door. "Good evening Your Majesty and Lady Jane," she said, Somewhat startled by this form of address, I hurried inside the vehicle, then thought about the amount of speculative planning that Jane had put into this. "How did you know that I would go through with this Jane?" I asked. "Well, I couldn't be sure, however your wife and I guessed that you would not have planned anything for the party and that you would be happy for anyone organising an outfit for you. Although she usually does it, she had an appointment with a professional theatre costumer today to ensure that her outfit was absolutely perfect hence didn't want sorting you out to be an issue. She wouldn't even let me know what she is going as tonight, but is aware of the outfits that we are in." My wife knew that I would wear this outfit did she? With this thought in my head, I wondered if she knew that mousy little Jane gave great head! No, she couldn't possibly know that, I thought. Jane had made it clear that she would not proposition her. With thoughts like these continuing, the journey was soon over. The Costume Party "Here we are, your majesty." The intercom chattered out. The car was slowing and the usual collection of PR people were waiting at the entrance to the hotel conference suite with the company photographers. "Did you expect these photographers, Jane?" "Of course, your majesty. Please refer to me as Lady Jane for the evening and ensure that you raise your eye mask before the door opens. It may be fun for you to keep quiet and defer all speaking to me as if you are too good to speak to the gathered throng. Also, refuse to turn towards anyone that does not address you in the proper magisterial way. This could be fun if you treat it the right way." The driver opened the door and stepped to the side. Jane got out first, then extended her hand to help me out. The driver offered her hand also. I could get used to this, I thought. Two ladies offering their hands. I smiled directly at the driver whose eyes twinkled mischievously. "This way your majesty," came the slightly annoyed voice of Jane. We walked along the path with the photographers clicking away, shouting at us to pose in various ways. Naturally, I ignored them as Jane had suggested, until eventually, one of them shouted, "Could you turn round your majesty?" I stopped, turned round and extended myself to my full height. Jane seemed to diminish herself beside me and the photographers clicked away. After a few shots, Jane said, "That's enough ladies and gentlemen, her majesty has important guests to attend to." And led me in to the conference suite. The usual hotel staff dressed in their black outfits were there with the usual trays of sparkling wine, orange juice or water. Jane got a glass of wine for me and a water for her. At my raised eyebrow, she explained. "After the alcohol of the other week, I decided that it will be a once a year occasion at the most. Besides, you and Samantha may need protecting later on. Let's go into the ballroom." She managed to walk beside me, although appearing to walk behind me. As we entered, she handed our invites to the announcer, who hailed, "Queen Elizabeth the first and her Lady Jane." Then I noticed the waiting line. This Chairman was something else! He had clearly got dressed up as King Henry the Eighth with his wife as Ann Boleyn. Now there's a coincidence, I thought, looking at Jane. "Honest, I didn't know about that, but it does give you an opportunity, doesn't it?" She giggled and I must admit her laugh was infectious, as I had never seen her giggling. She began to look quite pretty - and I hadn't even had two sips of the wine. As we went along the line of the various Directors, who looked in various stages of mortification for being forced to dress up in these ridiculous outfits, it became clear that none of them recognised me, especially as I was not speaking. Jane was doing her best to introduce me to these "underlings" in her best protective manner. When we reached the end of the line, Jane walked behind me, giving me the opportunity she had mentioned. "Good Evening Father." I curtsied. Well, Ok, I bobbed a little. "And Mother." Having kept my voice extremely soft and moved it up a pitch, even the Chairman did not recognise me. "Elizabeth," he said. "How good to see you again. You must have a drink with your mother and I. So many guests this evening, we will talk later." And with that we were effectively dismissed. There were a large number of other guests waiting and we had seemed to time our entrance well, in that the conference room was about a third full with most people just coming in. Lady Jane kept most of the other guests at bay, including Annabelle, who was sniffing around but apparently dismissed me as not who she was looking for. Looking down my nose at her may have helped. After some time, I caught myself looking for Samantha, however Jane seemed to sense this and explained that Samantha would not be arriving until just before the meal. Thankfully, the company's tradition of the Chairman inviting some guests to sit with him, then allowing everyone else to find a seat had been, continued, therefore there were no name places. Jane and I found ourselves seated with two French Maids - one of whom was obviously male, but seemed to enjoy his partner constantly feeling up his skirt at his stocking tops - a Flintstone couple, three girls for the typing pool who had tried to outdo each other's version of Dolly Parton and a forlorn looking Spiderman. We didn't notice Samantha's arrival, but that was because she had sneaked in at the end. After a superb meal, which I couldn't properly enjoy as my stomach was squeezed by the corset, we adjourned to the neighbouring room to allow the tables to be re-arranged for the dancing and the costume judging. The Lion from The Wizard of Oz had begun to talk to us and I soon realised that it was Samantha. "My god, you've shrunk!" I exclaimed. She simply smiled and said, "Remember how I ALWAYS wear heels? Well tonight my feet are killing me as I haven't gone this long without heels for ages." I looked down and saw the enormous stage feet in the shape of extended lion's paws and laughed. Jane interrupted us, by whispering. "Don't get too close tonight remember. Little Miss Marketing is up for a fuss if she can figure out who you two are." "Why thank you Jane," smiled my wife. "And just what exactly is she wearing tonight?" "Little Red Riding Hood - with the shortest skirt that I've ever seen," answered Jane. "Well, we'll just have to see who the wolves are then, and make sure that they are all over her like a rash," smiled Samantha. As she was about to turn away, I touched her arm and she stopped. "I'm sorry for all I've put you through, but you can rest assured it is all over. Your assistant Jane has helped me see sense." There was a hint of a smile from Samantha as she turned away, leaving me in the company of Jane. Over the next few hours, many tried to engage me in conversation, but Jane was effective in her ability of chasing them off. To the men, it was often... "Her Majesty is waiting to speak to the King." And the women were dismissed with... "Thank you for your kind words, but her Majesty is saving herself for her father." In the meantime, my bladder was beginning to tell me that it would not be long before it needed emptied. Addressing Jane in my most magisterial tone (which probably was more haughty than anything), I ordered, "Find me a toilet, Lady Jane." Smiling at me, she replied, "Your Lady has already thought that through and found a private toilet for Your Majesty. Please follow me." As she had done earlier, she walked slightly behind me but managed to lead me. In no time at all, we were in the lift of the hotel and once the doors were closed, we were alone, so I asked, "How long have you been planning this?" "Only since you had the conversation with your wife that you didn't want to go. We spoke about it the following day and I suggested this. As your wife has actually been to see some of our productions, she knew that I had enough skill to pull it off." The lift voice announced our floor and Jane led me to a room. Using her key card, she opened the door and allowed me entry before her. She then pointed towards the toilet and I noticed that this was not a normal little room, but had to be one of the top suites as there was no bed in the room we were in. On entering the toilet, my first problem seemed to be how to raise the skirts. Having accomplished this, I realised that the hoop was still there so struggled to get that up, then realised I had to back towards the toilet - remembering that Jane had hidden my proud boy away. It suddenly occurred to me. Why hide me away like this when there is no way that a bulge would show under this outfit? I'll ask her when I get out of the loo, I thought. Having completed my business and wiped the tube as well as I could, I looked in the mirror and was amazed that the make-up still appeared in place and that I could not recognise myself. Although not beautiful in any way - in fact not even pretty - I suppose that it would be easy to assume that I was just a tall woman. I certainly did not look like the pantomime dames that I thought most men look like when wearing female clothes. Sweeping out of the toilet, I demanded, "Lady Jane, given your knowledge of the theatrical world, why did you find it necessary to hide my privates away?" Smiling she replied, "Just my little fun, Your Majesty. Knowing that you are highly sexed, I didn't want you hanging loose and getting excited by the silk knickers rubbing against your sensitive parts. Also, with you in the tube, there is no way that you could have an erection, therefore I thought you might concentrate a little better." "Somehow I doubt that a pair of French Knickers would get me aroused." "Knowing that you buy your wife the sorts of tarty underwear for Christmas and her birthday that you do, there is little doubt in my mind that you would get aroused wearing silky knickers. All of us that wear such soft, smooth and sensual clothing get aroused when wearing them. It is not just a man thing." "Rubbish. I enjoy watching my wife in the tarty dress, but not in public, it is just for the bedroom - or at least our home when alone." The last bit was added remembering my birthday recently. "Would you like to have a little bet on it?" Jane wickedly asked. "How much?" "Oh, nothing so garish as money." Thinking that perhaps I should back off from this for a moment, my ego got the better of me so I offered, "Whatever your bet is, I think I can manage a few hours without getting an erection, just by being rubbed by any material