“Um, no, uh, thank you very much,” replied Sophie, tugging at her top to keep her breasts in check. She could feel the group staring at her erect nipples that were poking plainly through the thin fabric.
“You know, Rogan, since you like Sophie’s figure so much, you should invite her back to the clubhouse so that she can give you a better look at it,” suggested Buttercup taking a drag of a cigarette.
“That’s a fine idea, Buttercup,” replied Rogan, rubbing his hands together. “But you know she would need to go through her initiation first.”
“Of course, of course,” said Buttercup, frowning judiciously and shaking her head. “No women in the clubhouse until they go through initiation. I know the rules.”
“What does the initiation entail?” asked Sophie.
“Let me try to say this politely, so I don’t offend your husband,” said Rogan while his fellow chortled knowingly all around. “We don’t normally allow women in the clubhouse unless they show their loyalty and that they got nothing to hide.”
“I’m not sure I like the sound of this,” said Milton, the sweat beading on his forehead.
“Well men can’t come in at all unless they are full members,” said Buttercup blowing smoke in Milton’s face dismissively.
“Now, now, Buttercup, this is true. But our friend Milton has shown his worth. He is a solid man who stood right up to me to defend his wife’s honor, so he’s earned his entrance,” said Rogan drawing himself upright.
“Well, uh, thank you,” said Milton, feeling an unaccountable sense of relief.
“But how do I show that I am loyal and have nothing to hide?” asked Sophie.
“You got to strip down naked in front of the whole gang and then go down on Rogan while everyone watches,” said Buttercup simply, taking a puff of her cigarette. “Piece of cake. I did it years ago myself.”
“You sure did,” said Rogan eyeing Buttercup lewdly. “That’s a hummer I won’t ever forget.”
“Surely you're joking,” stammered Milton, his stomach dropping at the thought.
“I can barely stand everyone looking at me in this dress. I couldn’t get naked in front of a bunch of strangers,” gasped Sophie in distress.
“You are afraid to get naked for the gang, but you wouldn’t mind the part where you get to suck on my, uh, penis, though, huh?” said Rogan, wagging his eyebrows at Sophie suggestively.
She bowed her head, her cheeks bright with shame, and said nothing. She cast a furtive glance at Rogan’s bulge and had to admit she was fascinated by the idea of sucking on his member while her husband watched. Rogan’s raw animalistic machismo exerted a great attraction over her. She found herself yearning to service the charismatic gang leader.
“Look, honey, you can wear this Mardi-Gra mask that covers your eyes and leaves your mouth free for business,” said Buttercup. “You would be surprised how bold you can be hiding behind a mask.”
“This is just preposterous. There is no way that I can agree to this,” sputtered Milton indignantly, shaking a scolding finger at Rogan.
“Milton, Milton, Milton,” coaxed Rogan, his inner eyebrows raised in show of sincerity. “This is the ritual of our tribe. I mean, tribes have had rituals since time immemorial.” The bikers chortled with mirth at Rogan’s grandiose language.
“Rituals,” spat Milton dismissively.
“Sure, when the woman disrobes before us, she reveals that she has nothing to hide from the group and that we can trust her. Then she shows her fealty to her lord by going down on her knees before him. Once she performs her, uh, duties, then she gets anointed with my seed and she is truly one of us,” said Rogan to general guffaws of delight.
Milton looked with disdain at the fat bearded bikers wiping tears of laughter from their eyes all around him and sniffed at the stink of stale beer, sweat, and cigarettes.
“We didn’t come here so Sophie could join a biker gang,” complained Milton. “This is ridiculous.”
“Well why did you come here, sugar?” asked Buttercup, squinting at Milton with raw malice. “Why did you doll up your wife in that getup that would make a hooker blush?”
Milton was taken aback by the question and he was at a loss for words.
“I know why,” said Buttercup with a cold laugh. “You wanted to show off her gorgeous body to other men. Admit it.”
“That’s true, dear,” piped up Sophie cautiously after Milton stood there gaping for a moment.
“But, but, it’s one thing to wear a slinky dress, and it’s quite another to strip completely naked,” objected Milton weakly. But his penis was already stiffening again at the thought of it.
“I see your little weiner stirring in your trousers there,” cackled Buttercup. “You want to show off your woman, then show her off properly. Don’t be half-assed about it. Just admit that you're a fucking pervert and go whole hog.”
Milton just stared at the harridan in shock, the blood draining from his face as he realized that she was right. He did want to show his woman off, and he would love for her to parade around naked in front of a bunch of men but he was too ashamed to admit it. And he didn’t like the idea of the men being this rough crew of bikers. He would prefer clean cut college educated men.
“Har, har, she’s a hellcat, ain’t she?” laughed Rogan, slapping his thigh in amusement. “You can’t fuck with Buttercup, I’ll tell you what.”
“Even if I could agree to the stripping,” began Milton, his palms slick with sweat. “I couldn’t agree to let her give you a, a blowjob.”
“Oh, listen to you, you little prude,” scoffed Buttercup waving her cigarette around. “You think Sophie never had another man’s dick in her mouth?”
“Let’s not go down that path,” mumbled Sophie, tapping Buttercup’s arm in warning.
Buttercup cast her a sidelong glance and changed her tack. “Ok, look, Milton. A blowjob is nothing at all. Why it’s just a friendly gesture that a woman does for a man. There’s nothing to get bent out of shape over.”
“Pish, posh,” said Milton nervously.
“Look Milton, I respect your opinion in this matter, but at the end of the day, shouldn’t we really be asking your wife what she thinks of all this?” asked Rogan with a broad grin.
“Um, well, I do like the mask idea. I remember in anthropology class they talked about the transformational power of masks. I can explore a wilder identity, channel the trickster spirits,” she said with a wan smile.
“Oh my god,” replied Milton, his face pale and his gut full of ice. “What have I gotten us into?”
“Quit your belly achin’, we can all see the stiffy in your pants you little pervert,” laughed Buttercup. “Come on, Sophie, you’re gonna have a ball turning this trick.”
“No, no, you take Milton, I’ll take Sophie on my bike,” said Rogan, smoothly taking Sophie by the arm and whisking her away.
“Back to the clubhouse!” bellowed a huge biker beside Milton. And soon the whole crowd was chanting, “Back to the clubhouse,” as they parted to allow Rogan to pass with Milton’s wife teetering along beside him, clutching at the top of her dress to keep her tits from spilling out. Then the whole gang filed out behind their leader and Milton watched in sick fascination. He really had underestimated how serious this situation was.
“Come on then, numbnuts. Let’s go. Just follow the boys, and don’t get lost,” said Buttercup with contempt, pawing her straw like hair out of her face as she lead Milton out of the bar. Milton walking into a wall of insane cacophony as forty or fifty Harley Davidsons all revved up at once. He clapped his hands to his ears in pain and ran to his car to follow the gang back to their secret lair. He watched with nauseous jealousy as Rogan drove away with Sophie on the back of his bike, clinging to him for dear life as they roared away.
Milton, followed the motorcyclists for just a short drive until they came to a innocuous dirt road that led back into the woods for a few hundred yards. There they came to a large asphalt lot and a modest wooden lo
dge building. Milton parked his car and squirmed through the crowd of milling bikers to get inside. They looked at him strangely but stepped aside to let him pass until he got to the front door where his path was blocked by Tiny, the huge fellow that Buttercup had chided on the way into the bar earlier.
“You can’t come in here, little man,” said Tiny, towering over Milton threateningly.
“Rogan said I could,” insisted Milton defiantly, and everyone within earshot hushed when he said it.
“Oh, yeah, is that right?” said Tiny. “How about if I call him up here and ask him myself?”
“Please do,” said Milton and several big men whistled with surprise at his brashness.
Tiny deflated slightly and seemed a bit querulous as he poked his head back into the lodge and called for Rogan.
Rogan appeared instantly and beamed when he saw Milton. “Milton, come in, come in. I am glad you found the place. I want you to stand up front next to me so you have a good view when I put my cock in your wife’s mouth,” he laughed, pounding Milton on the shoulder heavily and leading him inside.
The front of the lodge was one big hall with folding tables and chairs all around. There were deer heads mounted on the walls and huge cases stocked with automatic weapons of all kinds. When Milton saw the arsenal, he recalled suddenly that motorcycle gangs were often involved in serious crime like drug smuggling and his heart started pounding with anxiety. At the back of the hall Milton noticed a full bar as Rogan lead Milton to the center of the room.
“Bring out the slut!” bellowed Rogan as the gang formed a ragged circle all around them. “No offense intended of course,” said Rogan conversationally to Milton as an aside.
Sophie suddenly appeared at the edge of the crowd, wearing a slightly tattered Mardi Gras mask with peacock feathers that covered her eyes. Buttercup lead her hesitantly to the center to stand before Rogan and Milton.
“Take off that dress, little lady and show the boys what you got,” said Rogan.
“I don’t think I can do this, Rogan,” stammered Sophie, glancing over at her husband nervously.
“Oh, come on, now,” said Rogan reaching over and pulling her under his arm affectionately. “Looky here, the boys are all eager to see some poontang,” he said gesturing around the room at the collected ruffians surrounding them. Milton looked at the feral gang licking their chops expectantly and gulped in apprehension. “Besides, no one will recognize you in that mask. Heck, no one here would recognize you even without the mask.”
“That’s true, but I still feel weird doing this in front of so many strange men. Can’t we go in a back room and do it with just you and I?” she asked glancing around the room at the dirty bearded men all around.
“Hey, hey, there will be time for that later, little darling,” laughed Rogan, sharing a knowing glance with Buttercup. “You heard, that, Milton? Your little wife can’t wait to go one on one with me.”
“Yeah, uh, I’m not sure I’m ok with that,” stammered Milton.
“Why don’t you introduce her to some of the boys, so they won’t seem so strange to her,” suggested Buttercup with a sly grin.
“Good idea, come on Sophie,” said Rogan, leading her over to one of the big bikers while Milton and Buttercup tagged along behind. “Sophie, this is Tiny. Tiny, meet Sophie.”
“Howdy, ma’am,” said Tiny, bowing his head politely.
“Sophie her is just dying to show you her snatch, you know,” said Rogan conversationally.
“Rogan!” exclaimed Sophie in surprise, blushing madly behind her mask.
“I’d be much obliged to see it, ma’am,” said Tiny.
“Go on, show him,” urged Rogan, hiking up the hem of Sophie’s dress to expose her pink panties.
“Oh my god,” gasped Sophie, glancing around the room nervously.
“You don’t have to do this, honey,” said Milton, trying to hide the fear in his quavering voice.
“No, no, I will channel the trickster spirit,” mumbled Sophie as she pulled her panties down, exposing her dark curly bush to the huge biker.
The fellows on either side crowded around eagerly to see, hooting and whistling in excitement while Milton’s stomach dropped in dread.
“Lookit that snatch, willya, boys,” chattered Rogan, bending down to inspect Sophie’s pussy closely while she gingerly held up the hem of her dress so all the bikers could get a good look. He reached out boldly and ran his fingers through her pubic hair, fluffing it out slightly and sending a thrill of arousal through Sophie’s body like an electric shock.
“Now, don’t touch,” mumbled MIlton ineffectually while his own phallus stiffened at the sight of this stranger fingering his wife’s genitals.
“Hush up, Milton, don’t be a party pooper,” hissed Buttercup.
“Get that dress off, Sophie, don’t hold back now. Look how much the boys are enjoying themselves,” said Rogan expansively.
Sophie eyed the slavering bikers crowding all around her with trepidation. But it dawned on her that she had a strange sort of control over them as they gazed, mesmerized, at her crotch. It excited her to hold such sway over this rowdy bunch and she willed herself to pull her dress up higher. But she struggled and couldn’t get it off over her head. She turned instinctively to her husband and asked, “I can’t get this off, can you unzip me, dear?”
“Um, yes, I guess so,” said Milton as he fumbled to pull his wife’s zipper down and the bikers sniggered at him.
“That’s better,” said Sophie and she wriggled out of her dress and stood naked before the group of bikers while they all looked on in awe, silenced for a moment as they drank in the sight of her nude form.
“Ho-ly shit!” cried Buttercup finally. “Girl, if you ain’t a stripper, you missed your calling!”
“No, I’m not a stripper, I’m a CPA,” giggled Sophie, giddy with all the attention as her nipples hardened in the cool breeze. It felt so odd to be standing naked before all these men. She felt her vagina grow moist in response to the lustful stares of the bikers all around.
Rogan shook his head in admiration and strode forward toward Sophie. “Look at this figure, boys. Perfect hourglass!” he said, standing behind Sophie and running his hands down her sides, past her narrow waist and over her broad hips. Sophie gasped with pleasure as the gang leader ran his calloused hands over her tender body.
“Nice narrow waist,” he said, gripping her by the waist firmly and making her squeal with pleasure. “Good, baby-birthing hips,” he continued, sliding his hands down over her soft hips. Milton looked on in sick fascination as his wife was man-handled and put on display for all this hoodlums, his penis throbbing stiffly in his pants. “And check out these titties!” Rogan cupped Sophie’s huge white breasts in his hands and pinched her pink nipples between her fingers while the men all cooed with appreciation. He ground his stiffening bulge up against her delicate bottom and Sophie felt his penis prodding between her butt cheeks.
“Let’s see the ass!” begged Tiny, gripping his jock shamelessly as he looked Sophie up and down.
“Show em, honey, show em that ass,” said Rogan, taking Sophie by the shoulder and spinning her around forcefully. She gulped and bent over slightly so that the men could get a good look and Rogan reached around to slap on round cheek playfully. “Nice bounce on that ass,” he commented, patting each cheek in turn. “Nice and round. You are a lucky man, Milton,” he said looking over at Milton with an impish grin.
“Err, yes, I know,” said Milton, struggling to hide his erection from his wife to no avail.
“Ooh, honey, you look like you’re really hard,” said Sophie.
“No, I’m, uh, not really,” lied Milton.
But Sophie reached right over and pinched the bulge in Milton’s pants to determine his arousal for herself. “Yes you are,” she purred. “You like this!”
“Bend over a little more, Sophie,” commanded Rogan, and Sophie obediently complied, putting her hands on her knees and jutting her bare ass o
ut toward the circle of admiring bikers.
“Shit, look at those pussy lips puffing out like that,” said Rogan, pointed to Sophie’s swollen labia, peeking out between her milky white thighs. He poked a finger into her cunt from behind and Sophie gasped with pleasure.
“Oh, Rogan!” she moaned, arching her back to offer herself to him. “You musn’t!”
“You’re mouth says no, but your twat is soaking wet,” he chuckled as he sunk a finger deep into her sodden snatch.
“You really shouldn’t finger my wife like that,” admonished Milton, nursing his own hardon.
“Ok, Milton, ok,” said Rogan. “You are right. Do me a favor though, will you smell my finger?” The men all around broke out in raucous laughter and Milton blushed with embarassment as Rogan held out his index finger toward Milton, still slick with his wife’s juices. “Too squeamish? Oh well, I would have thought you’d have smelled this plenty. Anyway, it’s time for Sophie to suck on my dick and prove her loyalty. Tiny, throw down your jacket so Sophie don’t skin her knees on the concrete.” Tiny eagerly complied, whipping off his jacket and laying it delicately at his leader’s feet. “Now come kneel before me, little lady,” said Rogan offering her his hand.
Wives Cheating, Husbands Watching Box Set Page 61