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Damn!

By: Gwen



I am getting wet from just sitting here and watching you play softball. I want you so much that I can taste it, but that will have to wait until later. It seems like the game will never end. 

Finally the game is over and we jump in your truck and head to your house. Once there, you head to the bathroom to take a shower while I get comfy on the sofa. I hear the water running and in my mind's eye I can see you getting undressed and stepping into the shower. Hmmm, that gives me an idea.

I head to the bathroom and quietly get undressed. You are rinsing the shampoo out of your hair when I step into the shower with you. You jump when you open your eyes because you didn't know that I was there. I have a grin on my face and tell you that I thought you might need some help.

I take your hand and bring it to my lips, sucking on your index finger. You try to pull away but I won't let you. I do this to each of your fingers, making you crazy with need for me. You are facing me, and I run the wash cloth over your chest, down to your stomach, and as I go lower, you try to stop me, but I will not be stopped. I drop the rag and start to stroke you, loving the feel of you in my hands. I look up at you and you have a grin on your face, so I reach up and slowly trace your lips with my tongue. I nibble on your lips a bit, but then get back to what I was doing before.

My hand is replaced with my mouth on you, hot and wet, licking and sucking gently. You lean back on the shower wall to keep from falling. Up and down your cock my tongue goes, teasing you, making you want more. I take all of you into my mouth, feeling you swell even more, making you go wild. You tell me to stop, but I keep going, stroking and licking until I feel you explode in my mouth. 

We get out of the shower and you take my hand and lead me to the bed. You gently lay me down, running your eyes over my body. Your hands follow the same path that your eyes did. A trail of kisses follows your hands, up to my stomach, my breasts, licking and sucking each one, then on to my shoulders, finally to my neck and face. Your fingers search out the place that you want to be, finding me wet with need for you. 

You kiss me deeply, then leave a trail of kisses back down my stomach, lower to my pussy. First licking the lips, then sucking gently. Your tongue finds my clit, and you gently suck on it. I love the feel of your mouth on me. You keep licking and sucking my clit until I come. 

You slowly crawl up the bed, covering my body as you go. You start to slide into me, but pause for a second or two, and I tell you that I need you. Be patient, you say. You are doing this to drive me wild. I’m trying to pull you in deeper, but you hold back, only giving a little at a time. You love the feel of your cock sliding into me as much as I do. Once you are completely inside me, you just lay there and enjoy the feel of it – hot and wet. Slowly you start to move in and out. My body is tingling from head to toe. I protest as you move both of my hands above my head and hold them there. Be patient, you say again. 

I have my legs wrapped around your waist, trying to set the tempo, but you are going at your own slow pace, driving me insane. You hold both of my hands in one of yours, and take your free hand to trace little trails on my face, around my eyes, down my nose, then to my lips. I kiss one finger, then slowly suck it into my mouth, licking and nipping it. You release my hands and I run them from your shoulders down your arms, feeling your muscles as I go. I love the feel of them flexing as I touch you. You start to speed up, thrusting harder and harder inside me. I rake my nails down your back and grip your ass, pulling you into me. I tell you that I’m almost there, so you slide your hand between us to play with my clit, sending me over the edge. You can feel me coming, pulsing around you, which makes you come too. 

Once our breathing becomes normal again, you slide off to the side, holding me in your arms. I look up at you, and you have a grin on your face. I ask you what that grin is for, and all you can say is one word, "DAMN".

Damn!



He couldn't believe his good luck. There she was again, and looking like pure sex, just as she had the previous two times he had seen her. This time she was wearing a skimpy black halter-top and skintight hip hugging jeans that not only showed off her toned bare midriff and small waist but also accentuated the spectacular lines of her beautifully shaped ass and long legs.

Fondling a soft ripe grapefruit, he watched transfixed as she slowly made her way through the produce. Green onions, carrots, celery, mushrooms, all were carefully perused before being placed in her cart. 

I've got to have her, he thought, while remembering the promise he had made the last time he had seen her and failed to approach her. I'm not going to let this opportunity go unanswered. After all... the worst that can happen is her telling me she's not interested and it ain't like I've never been rejected. Quickly he decided his best strategy would be an end run... circling the vegetable area until he was facing opposite the direction that she was moving. 

She looked up, saw him approaching and immediately made eye contact, boldly holding it as she nodded and smiled. After all, she had been hoping he would not only be there but would take the initiative to talk to her.

Countering her smile with one of his own and somewhat surprised by the boldness he saw in her eyes, he began a little awkwardly. "Hi."

Continuing to grasp the lettuce she had been inspecting she matched his stare with her own. "Hello there."

"This is the third time"... he began clumsily as the protrusion of her nipples through the thin material of her top presented a significant distraction. In an attempt to refocus he locked his brown eyes back onto her brilliant black ones before continuing. "I've seen you in here a couple of times before... and I... this time I wanted to do what I should have done the first time I saw you... introduce myself." 

She put the lettuce down, flicking her hair, sending the long black tresses flying over her shoulders. "Yes... I noticed you too. I'm here visiting my grandmother while she's recovering from surgery so I'm doing the shopping." She half laughed before continuing. "I've only been in here six times and I've seen you on three of those." She paused... slowly running her tongue over her lips. "Fate, you think? Or perhaps you're following me. Maybe all the way from Baltimore?"

His juices had begun to surge as he followed her tongue's sensuous journey around her full lips. "Baltimore?" His cock stirred. "This is weird. I used to live there. I haven't been following you... but to be honest, I was hoping you'd be in here today. Besides, if I'd have run into you in Baltimore... I promise you... there's no way I'd have ever let you leave."

Knowing her hardening nipples were becoming increasingly noticeable, she again flicked her hair and once more ran her tongue over her lips. "You lived in Baltimore?"

It was difficult for him to pull his eyes from the attention attracting protrusion of her nipples. The ache in his groin increased... his cock, having assumed it's own agenda as cocks are prone to do, had accelerated its ascent. "Actually just north... Glen Arm, on Loch Raven."

She stole a quick glance at the growing bulge. "Loch Raven?" She ventured a longer look. "That's beautiful." She paused, once again tonguing her lips. "I've been sailing out there a couple of times."

Visions of her laid out on the bow of a sailboat flashed through his mind. "What area do you live in?"

"Fells Point." She tried to focus on his eyes but the growing lump in his jeans made it difficult. Once again she licked her lips as she was compelled to take another longer look. "I converted an old warehouse into condos." 

He immediately envisioned her naked... ass in the air... wet pussy glistening... bent over a sawhorse... his tongue spreading her juicy folds. "Nice. Nice... ahhh... area. You a builder or something?"

She thought how she might employ her hands... her tongue... her lips... her mouth. "Kind of a developer. Got into it sort of by accident." 

That's exactly what I want... 'into it'. I need to figure out how to get her out of here. He motioned toward the snack bar. "How about some coffee?"

She glanced at her watch... hesitating just long enough for him to fear she might say no. "Okay, but it'll need to be a quick one." She paused as she thought about the words...  A 'quick one' isn't what I want with this guy. "I need to take my grandmother to a doctor's appointment in an hour and a half."

Damn. She's almost as tall as me. Those long legs and that ass. He licked his lips. Mmmh, what I'll be able to do with those. "By the way," he said as they pushed their carts near a table. "I'm Mike. Mike Donati."

She stopped to extend her hand. "Sarah. Sarah Cardetti."

Her hand was warm... in fact, almost hot... the heat spread through his body... seeming to settle in his already hot cock. "Cardetti? You're Italian?" 

The image of his hands and tongue on her body flew through her mind. This one would be long and slow... something to savor. "Yes, Italian. You?"

He felt his cock struggling for more room in the tight confines of his jeans. "Three quarters actually. My mom was half."

She reluctantly slid her hand from his... while stealing another; much longer look at what was now a seriously large protrusion. She sat down. The heat in her body had intensified... her pussy was now smolderingly wet. 

Resisting a compelling urge to attempt an adjustment on his misaligned and throbbing cock, he took the chair opposite her. "How about tonight? Can I take you to dinner?"

She hesitated... the words 'take you' hung in her mind. She resisted the urge to shout a positive response... instead she pressed her crotch down into the chair in an unsuccessful effort to alleviate her yearning. "Well... I had planned on cooking for my grandmother." Pausing, she again ran her tongue over her lips while leaning forward in her chair in an unsuccessful attempt to get a better viewing angle. Wish he was still standing. "Let me talk to her and see what I can work out. If we can't have dinner... we can have a cocktail... or something. I haven't done"... she paused in mid sentence to ponder the words 'done' and 'cocktail'... "I haven't done much since I've been here."

Reaching full hardness his cock continued its struggle for freedom from the cramped quarters. His words came huskily. "Shall I call you later?"

"Yes," she said... giving him her cell number. "About 6 or so. I'll know by then what time I can get away." She pretended to glance at her watch... while stealing a look at his crotch as she got up. "Right now, I better just skip the coffee and get on home." 

As he rose, he recognized the look of lust in her eyes as they focused on his bulge. I'll bet she likes to be in control. This one will really be fun.

Their parting handshake became a lingering hand hold as the electricity surged through them... desire filled their minds... craving lay heavy in their loins.

Reluctantly she withdrew her hand. "Call me at six."

"At six."

He wanted to turn away but couldn't... his attention was riveted on the rhythmic sensual roll of the cheeks of her beautifully formed ass as she made her way toward the check out stand.

Pausing as she reached the counter, she looked back and was not surprised to find him in the same spot, staring at her... the bulge still prominent, although it did appear he had made a manual adjustment. She gave one last flick of her hair... then a brief smiling wave. Reluctantly turning her attention to the goods in her cart, she licked her lips in anticipation.





Damn!



"You like my cock, Sarah?"

"Yes." She moaned. "Oh yes"... a hand reached back to grab his sack as her other hand squeezed her nipple. He began to pound her harder. Finding a bucking sweating rhythm with her hips she squeezed him with her pulsating pussy as another orgasm began its movement through her body.

"Oh God yes," she cried. "Fuck me... fuck me... I'm cuming. I'm cuming." 

Grabbing a handful of her hair he pulled her roughly back toward him... his other hand grabbed at her hips. He pummeled her pussy as his balls slapped loudly against her ass. Crying out again and again her hot fluids flooded over his cock.

As quickly as he felt her relax he flipped her over... spread her legs... parted her lips and began to tongue lap her sopping wet cunt. It wasn't long before she felt the yearning once again building within her.

"I can't believe it," she whispered, as she began to pull at the back of his head. "God... I'm so fucking hot." 

"Good," he said as he spun around... throwing his legs up so he straddled her head... putting his full sack right above her forehead.

Quickly she pulled his cock to her mouth, slid the skin back, and began sucking and licking at the head.

"Oh, that's good Baby," he muttered, pumping his ass in rhythm with her sucking, as he continued to batter her clit with his lips, tongue and teeth. 

Knowing he was nearing an orgasm as she recognized the tell tale twitches, she began to suck harder while he plunged deeper into the back of her throat.

Suddenly he withdrew... quickly rolling over onto his back. "Get on me. Fuck me now."

Without hesitation she straddled him... grabbing his cock... rubbing it once over her clit and then twice around the lips she placed it at her entrance. Pausing for just an instant as the swollen head entered her... she moaned loudly... then buried it in her and quickly began a hard back and forth grind. 

He pulled her upper body down until he reached her nipple with his teeth... then grabbing her hips with both hands he began to stroke in perfect rhythm with the plunges of her hips. 

Feeling it once again building in her loins, she began to ride him harder... trying desperately to get as much of him in her as was possible. 

"Oh yeah, Baby. Fuck me. That's good... that's good," he muttered. Feeling the inner muscles of her hot pussy gripping at his cock, he bit harder on her nipple knowing his own orgasm was nearing.

She felt the tell tale twitches of his seemingly still growing cock as her pussy began to spasm. Quicker and quicker... harder and harder... she pumped her ass while simultaneously grinding back and forth. "Oh God yes," she cried. "I'm cuming! Oh God I'm cuming!" Her ass jerked... her eyes rolled... her pussy walls gripped tighter... her spasms increased... her hot nectar flooded over him.

His hips flailed wildly... his ass shuddered... his cock jerked... as he felt her hot fluids flood over him. "Yes... Oh Yes, Baby. Fuck me." he encouraged. Grabbing her cheeks in both hands he desperately attempted to force his pulsating cock even deeper into her hot tight depths. 

His cock jerked with each spurt as his hot sperm filled her insides. "Oh God yes, Baby. Oh God," he cried.

Kissing... biting... pulling... pushing... licking... shaking... jerking... grinding... trying to unleash every drop they continued to work for another 2 or 3 minutes although all rhythm had gone with the orgasms. 

They lay quietly for a few minutes. Bodies still entwined... her head resting on his chest... his hands still holding her ass. His softening cock still imbedded in her. 

She raised her lips to his. A long wet kiss... tongues now working less frantically... hands now moving slowly, tenderly over bodies... bed wet with sweat and cum... the smell of sex in their nostrils.

Her brilliant black eyes locked into his deep brown ones. "God Mike. That was good."

He laughed. "Nah Sarah. It wasn't at all good." She immediately pulled back... a look of shock and disbelief moving across her face and into her eyes. "Nah... it wasn't at all good. It was fucking great!"

He immediately pulled her to him... his lips finding hers in a long wet passionate kiss. She felt his cock twitch and begin to thicken. Taking a hard nipple between his teeth his hands began to roam her ass. Pausing from his assault on her nipple he looked up into her eyes and smiled. "And best of all Sarah. We're just getting started."



Damn Car



Just to warn you. No graphic sex in this story as usual, and not a single wife gets burned at the stake.

++++++++++++ 

I cursed the day that I'd sold the damn car, and then I double cursed the cursed damn day that that I'd bought the damn thing!

Damn car!

I'd fancied a Porsche all my life, and I found myself there, me pushing thirty, a four year old Ford outside our house, and just about enough money in the bank to pay the difference. The difference that is between my old Ford and the considerably older but none the less beautiful red Porsche 911 that I'd been drooling over for the last four weeks every time that I passed it in the garage in town. The registration number even featured the letters GAD. Got it? George and Debbie!

I talked to my wife, pleaded, cajoled, joked and made every sought of promise imaginable, and at last she came round and agreed that we could splash our hard earned savings out on the object of my desire. 

That I guess was my first mistake.

On reflection, Debbie and I weren't really Porsche material, the Ford being more our type of thing, maybe some GTI or other, or even an MX5 perhaps. But as I'd said, I'd fancied a Porsche for so long that I couldn't wait to get behind the wheel once it was mine.

"Golly George," Debbie grinned at me the first time she sat in it. "I'm not sure I feel right in a car like this."

"You look great dear," I told her happily, smiling at my pretty young wife, imagining how much better she'd look sat there in a shorter skirt and skimpy top, than the sensible dresses that she habitually wore. 

That was part of the problem I suppose, neither of us being 'clubby' types or lovers of the bright lights. We were both schoolteachers at different schools in our little town in Bedfordshire, where we'd both been teaching since we'd left college. I'd been there nearly five years and Debbie, some two years younger than me a little less. We'd met at college when I'd plucked up the courage to approach her in her first year to ask if she wanted to share my blotting paper, as it seemed that we were the only two in the class who still used a real fountain pen. She'd looked terrified at first, not knowing how to respond, having no idea that I was going through the same emotions. 

Quite how we got there will always remain a mystery, but for the rest of that year we went steady, even though it took me till our sixth date till I actually got round to kissing her. Debbie really was a pretty little thing, only five two, with long brown hair that she almost always kept done up in a bun. She was slim and nicely put together in a homely sense, breasts not at all large, but very firm and pert, not that I was to confirm that till much, much later. As you will have guessed perhaps, I graduated, got my job in Bedfordshire, and when Debbie followed a couple of years later, then marriage soon followed within months.

So there we were, me and my sensibly dressed wife sat in our Porsche, and didn't we feel grand! I set off on our first trip, surprised at the power available compared to my previous cars and absolutely loving it. And I continued to love it for the next four months, rather inconveniently just out of the three-month guarantee that it had come with. 

The first time I heard the noise I ignored it, imagining that it would just go away. The second time I simply couldn't pretend that it didn't exist, and by the time we got home that evening from school, we both knew that something was amiss. 

A trip back to the garage where we'd bought it didn't help much, as all they did was direct us towards a specialist over in Luton.

"Gear box trouble mate," the oily mechanic informed us with a sad look on his face. "All sprockets and grommets these things. I wouldn't want to take this too far with a problem like that."

You can imagine we were both desolate, all our savings having gone into buying the damn thing.

"I've got a spare one in the back," he cheered us up with. "If you leave it with me then I could have it done by Wednesday."

Well, at least that cheered us up, and Debbie gave me a cuddle and a little smile of encouragement.

"How much?" I asked feeling more confident.

"Three grand for the box plus labour," he floored us with.

"Three thousand?" I screeched in disbelief, my innards running cold at the prospect of such an impossible sum. 

"Yes mate," he confirmed. "Three thousand plus another grand or so for the labour and gaskets and things. Plus VAT of course.

Oh shit!

-----------------------------

Our house was a pretty sad place that night, with Debbie trying not to blame me, though every time she looked at me her eyes showed the evidence of tears trying to break through, and it nigh on killed me with shame for what my indulgence was about to cost us.

"We can't afford it you know George," Debbie spoke out at last.

"I know honey," I agreed broken up. "I'll ask the guy what he will give us for it."

"I'm sure it'll be Ok George," Debbie assured me, though the look on her face told me that she knew full well that it would be anything but so.

-------------------

"Not interested mate," the mechanic informed me the following morning. "Once the gear box has gone on a car like this, then it'll be something else. I don't need trouble like that."

"But what can I do?" I pleaded with him.

"Stick some thick oil in the box to quieten it down, and then get shot of it mate," he suggested rather disinterestedly.

"But I couldn't just sell it to someone else knowing there was a major problem," I protested. "That wouldn't be honest."

"Stick it in the car auction then mate," he went on. "Then you won't even have to see the poor mug who buys it."

"Thanks for nothing," I thought as I carefully drove the damn thing home that evening, praying that the noise wouldn't suddenly get worse, and having no idea what to do.

That evening the two of us talked it over for hours, hating having to take advantage of some poor soul, but not knowing what else we could do. Duly, the following Saturday found us buying the extra thick oil, and most of my Sunday morning was taken up swapping the oil, no easy feat at the best of times. The Porsche was delivered to the local car auctions in Bedford the following week and we sat back to wait. A call on the Friday confirmed the good news that the car had indeed sold, but the bad news was that the top bid had been far below what we had paid for it. We'd expected the auction price to be less than we'd paid of course, but it was still a hard knock to accept.

"Well that's your dream over for a few years honey," Debbie consoled me, as we looked at the replacement second-hand bog standard Volkswagon parked where the Porsche had so proudly sat, our savings blown on our unfortunate escapade. "But at least you lived it for a few weeks."

"Thanks sweetheart," I sniffed back and took her in my arms and pulled her tight. "The important thing is that we've still got each other."

-----------------

Life went back to normal for about three weeks, our sensible car doing all that was asked of it, getting the pair of us to and from school each day. Of course questions we were asked about the sudden disappearance of the Porsche, which had caused such a stir when it first arrived in my school car park, but we brushed them off with claims that we'd simply changed our minds when we realised how much the running costs were going to be. Not quite the truth, but close enough, and to be honest a bit of a face-saver.

---------

"Mr Adams," the voice on the other end of the line demanded when I picked up the phone one evening shortly afterwards. "Mr George Adams?"

"Speaking," I confirmed.

"The Mr George Adams who used to own the Porsche 911, that was sold at the Auctions the other week?"

My legs went weak and my stomach knotted, knowing that the bloody Porsche had come back to haunt us.

"You still there Mr Jones," the now threatening voice demanded. "It was you who sold it I presume."

"Yes," I mumbled back uncertainly. "What can I do for you?"

"I think you know what this is about Mr Adams don't you?" the voice stated, and my silence did nothing but confirm it.

"So what are you going to do about it Mr Adams?" the guy on the other end went on. "What are you going to do about the duff gearbox you passed off onto me?"

"Gearbox?" I queried, well aware that I was on a loser. "What gearbox?"

"I'll tell you what Mr Adams," he went on, ignoring my denial. "We'll come round to see you to discuss the matter. We've got your address off the paperwork and we'll be there in about half an hour, so you'd better be thinking about what you're going to do about it."

Before I could say another thing, the phone clicked off and I was left standing there, shaking.

I called Debbie and told her what had happened, and she burst out crying. 

"I told you we shouldn't have bought that damn car," she sobbed. "I knew it would lead to trouble."

We were still standing there when only a quarter of an hour later, the front door bell rang. I sent Debbie into the other room, and gingerly opened the door, my claims of no responsibility half worked out in my head, when three men, big men, brushed past me.

"Right then George," the middle one with the closely cropped hair and scar on his face said to me. "Where's my bleeding money you stupid bugger?"

"What money?" I murmured back, taking in his six foot odd height, bulky build and grim expression. "You bought the car, we didn't make any claims on condition, so the gearbox is your problem."

"Like a broken leg would be your problem you mean?" He shot back roughly. "And that would be just for starters."

"What do you mean," I spluttered, the horror of our situation hitting me. "You wouldn't."

"Don't piss me about sunshine," he shouted back at me, the anger in his dark threatening eyes shining through. "Ten thousand quid on the button and the car's yours again, but you'll have to go and pick it up down in London where the bleeding gearbox blew up. That's what I paid for the bloody thing and that's what you're going to give me back."

"But I haven't got ten thousand pounds," I told him. "That's why I had to sell it."

"Well you've got half an hour to find it sunshine," he threatened me; stepping up and shoving his face up close to mine.

"But I can't," I answered back as confidently as I could. "You can't get away with this."

"Hurt him a bit Jimbo," the leader said to the huge black guy stood next to him. "Don't break anything though ---- Not yet."

I found myself backing up across the room as the human nightmare moved towards me. I admit it --- I was terrified, bloody terrified. This Jimbo character was even bigger than the first guy, with muscles that seemed to have muscles built on them. His bald shaven head only added to his frightening appearance.

I yelped in pain as he grabbed my arm and twisted it, bringing it back up behind my back, till I thought it would surely snap.

"Get off him you brutes," came my wife's scream as she charged into the room, unable to stick to my instructions to keep out of it. "Leave him alone."

"Well what do we have here then?" leader man grinned nastily as he took in my pretty young wife. "You're a pretty little thing aren't you?"

"Bit skinny if you ask me," the third lout, a long lanky scruff of a man piped up. "But pretty enough I suppose."

"Nice little pair of tits though by the looks of it," the leader cut back in with. "Can't really see though with that big jumper she's got on, can we."

"Shut up you bastards," I cried out at them, but all I got for my trouble was even more pressure on my arm.

"Leave him alone," Debbie pleaded as I yelped out in pain again.

"Break his fucking arm Jimbo," came the response.

"No please don't. Please don't," my wife screamed as my yelps turned to squeals of agony.

"Hang on there a minute Jimbo," the leader instructed my tormentor, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I felt the pressure relax on my poor joint.

"Take your jumper off darling," he ordered my poor Debbie. "Let's see what you've got."

"No I can't," she sobbed back at him, a look of horror on her face. "I've only got my bra on underneath. 

"So much the better, " the one holding me growled. "Come on girly. Give us a show."

"No!" Debbie cried back the tears streaming down her face.

"Shall I break his arm now Ted?" Jimbo asked casually of the boss man.

"No please," Debbie sobbed.

"Get your kit off girly, or we break his arm," Ted snarled.

"No, please no," screamed Debbie in anguish. "Alright, I'll take my jumper off."

"Don't do i....." I started but I was cut off with a further wrench to my arm, that all but made me pass out.

My own eyes were watering up in a mixture of pain and humiliation, as I watched my wife hesitate then reach for the bottom of her jumper and slowly pull it up and off over the top of her head. She stood there, her lovely pert breasts clad only in her lacy little bra, and her eyes cast down to the floor, too ashamed to look up.

"Not bad for such little tits," the third lout commented.

"I quite like little tits sometimes," Jimbo, the black hulk still holding me countered. "Especially little white tits like this little girly's got."

"I think I agree with Jimbo," Ted, the leader laughed out mirthlessly. "Them tits look pretty good to me, and I think we should see them properly."

My objection was cut off by another squirt of pain, and Debbie just stood there saying nothing and doing nothing, as the three of them stared at her with grins spread all over their cruel faces.

"Now you know that I could tell Mike here to take your bra off for you don't you my little darling," Ted growled at Debbie. "And neither you nor hubby here could do a thing to stop it."

"I know," mumbled Debbie, hardly audibly.

"Sorry, what was that you said?" Ted teased my poor wife. "Didn't hear you properly."

"I know you could, you bastard," Debbie spoke up fiercely staring him in the eye, and standing up straighter. "Why don't you just get on with it?"

"Not so much fun darling girl," he explained. "I want you to take your bra off yourself. I want your wimp of a husband here watch you bare your own tits to us, and I want him to feel the shame for trying to cheat me."

"No, I won't do it," Debbie replied her voice breaking with emotion.

"Christ I'm really enjoying this you know," Ted remarked to nobody in particular. "I wonder how we can persuade you?"

Debbie just dropped her head, at a loss to know what to do.

"Tell you what little thing," he continued after a few moments. "You take off your bra darling, and we'll leave you in peace for the time being. We won't hurt limp dick here I promise you."

"You promise?" Debbie responded hopefully. "You really promise?"

"I promise darling," he laughed back, knowing that he'd hooked her. "You take your bra off and let us all have a grope of your tits and we'll let hubby here go."

"No groping," my wife shot back. "You didn't say anything about touching, just that I'd have to take my bra off. I'll do that, but no touching."

"Things change I'm afraid my little thing," he continued to tease her. "A strip and a grope. Not a lot to ask."

Debbie gritted her teeth and refused to be drawn, looking daggers at him.

"Ok then little lady," he grinned at her, lapping up her discomfort. "Mike there didn't seem so interested by your little tits, cute though they no doubt are, so we'll cut him out. Take your bra off and only two of us get to have a feel."

"No you bastard, no," cried my Debbie, shaking her head. "I won't do it."

"One of us then sweetheart," he counter offered, grinning all over his face, revelling in her discomfort. "Christ I'm really, really enjoying this chaps."

Debbie said nothing, just shook her head.

"Tell you what my pretty little thing," Ted carried on tormenting my wife. "Only one of us gets to play with them lovely tits of yours, and you can pick who it is. Jimbo or me, or even Mike if you want. How does that sound?"

"That or we break this wimp's arm that is," he added with a grim smile when she didn't respond. "Come on girly think about it."

"Well it wouldn't be you that I'd pick," Debbie snarled at him, thinking perhaps that she'd got one over him.

"Of course not darling," he countered her with. "Never expected you would. Now who is it to be my pretty one? Is it Mike or Jimbo that gets to feel those lovely little tits of yours?"

"Jimbo," whispered my wife causing my stomach to knot up as if some strange beast was scratching away at it.

"No Debbie," I cried out in despair.

"I've got to," she cried back, pleading with me to stay out of it.

"Please Debbie don't."

"I've got to!" she repeated.

"Jimbo, you've chosen then have you?" Ted resumed amused at our little conversation. "Lucky man."

Nobody said anything for some moments, the three of them just grinning at my poor dear wife.

"When do you want me to do it?" she asked at long last.

"Whenever you're ready my dear," he tormented her, putting all the pressure on my wife. 

Slowly eyes cast downwards, she reached behind her back and unsnapped her bra, holding it in place for some moments before letting it drop away, her luscious round little breasts bared to all four of us, standing there like two ripe pairs, the tips visibly wavering about as she shivered with embarrassment. 

"Come on then, damn well do it," she whimpered when nobody made a move towards her.

"Do what?" teased Ted, the bugger. "What do you want us to do?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Debbie replied between clenched teeth. "For God's sake just do it."

"Do what exactly my sweet?" Ted went back, not letting her off the hook. "Tell us exactly what it is you want us to do."

"Feel them," she sobbed. "For God's sake feel my breasts."

"I think she wants one of us to grope her," Ted announced to the other two. "Look how hard her nipples are. She must be desperate."

It was true!

Debbie's nipples were rock hard, as hard as I'd ever seen them, and they were bobbing up and down as she fought to catch her breath.

"Shut up," she screamed at him. "Jimbo, come and do it please."

But Jimbo didn't move. He was still holding on to me and knew perfectly what his boss-man was after.

"Seems he's a bit tied up darling girl," Ted almost crooned at my half naked wife. "He can't let go of your hubby and that lovely pair would be wasted on Mike."

Debbie sobbed, the movement making her bare breasts wobble even more, and earning a whistle of appreciation from Ted.

"That just leaves me sweetheart," he encouraged her. "Do you want me to take Jimbo's place?"

"Yes, just do it," she whispered, giving in.

"Ask me nicely," he taunted her. "You rejected me just now and hurt my feelings, so you'll have to ask me properly."

"Feel my breasts," Debbie said between gritted teeth.

"Say please," Ted demanded, knowing he was totally in control.

"Please feel my breasts," my wife whispered in reply.

"Sorry darling," he replied. "Speak up so that I can hear you."

Debbie looked up at him with a look of hate in her eyes. However she stood up straight, put her hands behind her back and thrust her naked breasts out at Ted.

They looked gorgeous! So inviting. Oh fuck it! I didn't want to look, but I simply couldn't tear my eyes away from her naked torso.

"Please Ted," she said slowly and precisely. "Will you please feel my breasts for me."

"Of course I will my dear," he replied with a grin. "Since you asked so nicely and obviously want me to."

With that he stepped towards her, reached out and took her left breast in his hand, first weighing it carefully, and then squeezing it gently but firmly, before rolling her hard nipple between his fingers. Debbie screwed up her eyes and gritted her teeth, trying her best not to let it get through to her. But the challenge was too one sided, and eventually a groan escaped through my wife's lips, as she pushed forward, thrusting her breasts out towards him.




Damn Car



"Ok if I suck them Sweetie?" he asked her softly, his whole attitude seeming to change.

Debbie fluttered open her eyes, but nothing seemed to register with her, before nodding her head, throwing it back in passion as he bent down and took her other sweet little breast into his mouth.

This time the groan was louder and more purposeful, and she grabbed at the back of his head, pulling his mouth urgently to her breast, shoving it hard up to his enveloping mouth.

"Christ," laughed out Mike as he watched. "She might have little tits, but she's some goer ain't she?"

"She's bloody loving it," added Jimbo, as Ted reached down and started to flip open the buttons on her skirt.

And me?

All I could do was watch the awful scene being played out in front of me, desperately trying to deny to myself that my treacherous cock was reacting to the scene of debauchery. Hardly able to believe that my innocent young wife could be so easily seduced into such wanton behaviour.

My heart gave a lurch as her skirt, now freed, slid slowly down her slender legs till it puddled at her feet, and I could scarcely believe my own eyes as of her own free will, she stepped out of it and kicked it aside.

"Don't you just love them little white cotton panties," Jimbo commented, relaxing the pressure on my arm just a little at last. 

"Yes Jimbo," his mate agreed readily. "Makes her look all sweet and innocent despite the way she's acting."

"I prefer my women in high heels normally," Jimbo remarked as if he was discussing what model of car he fancied buying next. "But them little white ankle socks look just dandy on her don't they?"

I'd no sooner taken their comments in, than Ted, the dirty bastard, proceeded to slide one of his big hands down Debbie's tummy, his huge fat fingers toying with the waist band of her knickers. To my utter astonishment and dismay, my previously naive wife, grabbed at his wrist but did nothing to stop him as his whole hand all but disappeared down the front of her admittedly fairly large knickers.

"Oh my God please don't do that," she groaned, her own actions nullifying any likelihood that her words would have any effect, and I had to stand there watching the brute manhandle my wife.

I simply couldn't describe the anguish and feelings of hopelessness that enveloped me.

I next heard a mobile phone ringing behind me, and to my surprise Jimbo simply let go of me, freeing himself to reach inside his jacket for his phone. By then poor Debbie's panties were half way down her thighs, her ample dark bush peeping out from between Ted's fingers, as he rubbed the palm of his hand up and down against her bare pussy mound, the slick wetness on his middle finger indicating far too graphically where it kept disappearing to.

I couldn't move though!

I felt paralysed; disgusted, but mesmerised by the sight of my wife being stripped and felt up.

Jimbo was busy on the phone and Mike was ignoring me, as he leant forward trying to get a closer view up between my wife's legs, but all I could do was stand there with my mouth gaping open, staring at that hoodlum as he physically abused my wife's lovely trim body, right there in front of me.

"How does that feel darling?" Ted baited Debbie, as he slid his middle finger deep up inside her. "I bet my finger's bigger than your husband's cock isn't it?"

"Oh God yes," she gasped, which was a downright lie as it happened, but it didn't stop her from collapsing against him as he roughly fingered her, her gasps of pleasure, literally tearing lumps off me.

"Ted," called out Jimbo, holding his hand over the mouthpiece of his phone. "Got a problem boss."

"Can't you see I'm busy Jimbo?" He complained at him, hardly hesitating in his attention to Debbie's now completely naked body.

"It's Horseman," Jimbo explained with a look that everyone except me seemed understood. "He's gone wild again."

"WHAT!" exclaimed Ted, letting go of Debbie, who had to grab at him to avoid falling to the floor. "Horseman? Horseman? Is that fucker on the loose again?"

"Fraid so boss," Jimbo casually informed him. "We've got to go and sort him out before he kills someone at the club."

"Bugger him," Ted spat out, looking down at my Debbie who was still clinging on to him desperately, still lost in the throws of her own lust. "Sorry love. I've got to split. Next time maybe."

Debbie's response bought the last vestiges of my world tumbling about my ears.

"It's Ok Ted," she told him, even smiling at the bastard. "I understand."

I was left standing there on my own, totally desolate, as Debbie, my wife Debbie, accepted the thug's hand, and allowed herself to be led out into our hallway to see them out.

Bear in mind now, that this was my wife, my by now naked wife, having walked out of her panties as she'd left, just her sensible lace up shoes and little white ankle socks left, walking willingly out with three thugs who'd just abused her body and held me so that I had to watch the whole deeply disturbing incident.

I stood there for a good five minutes, perhaps longer, my mind in a turmoil at what they might be doing to her on the other side of the living room door, as I waited her return. I know I should have done something. Reacted in some way, but I was simply totally out of it, in a world that I didn't understand.

My wife --- My previously shy and so reserved Debbie, out there in the nude with three strange men that we'd never seen till half an hour ago. 

I couldn't believe it was happening. 

I was paralyzed.

Then I heard the front door slam, and coming out of my semi trance, I rushed to spy out of the window, fearful for the moment that they may have taken Debbie with them. With relief I saw just the three of them get into the huge brand new looking Mercedes parked outside, and was able to relax just a tiny bit as they roared away. 

What the hell was a guy like that, who could afford a Mercedes like that doing buying an old second hand car, even though it was a Porsche?

I didn't know ---- No idea, but the thought did occur to me.

"Sorry honey," she quietly said to me as she came back in, a large towel that she'd found somewhere wrapped round her to cover her nudity. "Guess I got a bit carried away there."

"Debbie," I virtually sobbed at her. "How could you? How could you act that way?"

"I'm sorry honey," she sobbed at me. "I've said I'm sorry."

"But for Christ's sake Debbie," I shouted at her, losing my rag. "You let him fondle you. You let him touch you. You let him feel your tits and finger you."

"What else could I do?" She cried out in despair. "They were hurting you and I thought they were going to break your arm or something."

"But ... But ... But, there was no need to let him do all that Debbie," I proclaimed. "There was no damn need to enjoy it for fuck's sake."

There ---- I'd said it!

"What did you expect me to do George?" Debbie retorted, losing her calm completely. "The damn man was sucking on my tits and sticking his fingers up my pussy. Right up inside me. I couldn't help how good it felt. I couldn't help reacting to what he was doing to me. Damn it George, I'm sorry if it upsets you, but it felt good and I lost control."

"But why did you have to go out into the corridor with them? You're naked for Christ's sake."

"I had no choice honey. They made me go."

"You didn't put up much of a fight did you?" I spat at her, wanting to hurt her, perhaps unfairly, but needing to strike out at something.

"I didn't put up a fight?" Debbie screamed at me. "What about you, you wimp? All you did was stand there and watch while they forced me to strip. Your own wife --- You did nothing to stop them."

"What could I do Debbie," I sobbed in frustration. "That big black bastard had hold of me." 

"He wasn't holding you when the three of them took me out into the hall was he?" She shot back at me. "Where were you when Ted invited the other two to have a quick feel. Where were you when I had three pairs of hands all over my naked body?"

"I don't know Debbie," I mumbled unhappily, images of Debbie, totally nude and surrounded by the three of them, unable to fend their hands off, swimming before my eyes. "I was just so shocked that I couldn't seem to react."

"Well don't blame me you bastard," she retorted in temper. "You insisted on buying the damn car, and it's me and my body that's paying for it."

There was a short silence while we stared at one another, rethinking our positions.

"I'm sorry Debbie," I blurted out at last. "I know it wasn't your fault."

"Thanks," she whispered back, unable to look me in the eye. "At least that's something."

"Well at least it's over honey," I tried to comfort her.

"You think so?" She questioned me sadly. "Because I don't think so."

Oh shit!

She was probably right.

----------------

The next few days were not easy for either of us. If I wasn't reliving the horror of seeing that bugger Ted stroking Debbie's body, then I was wondering quite what the three of them had done to her just before they left. I simply couldn't ask her about that, especially since she kept breaking down in tears every few hours.

When the call that we had been dreading finally came, it was in some weird way, almost a relief.

"Why don't you and your lovely wife Debbie pop down to our club tomorrow night," Ted asked us. "I think I've got a solution to our little problem."

"I'd rather not," I found myself responding, caught out completely by his suggestion.

"That or we come over to see you again," he went on, making it more than clear that his suggestion was an order, whichever way I looked at it. "And that might not be so nice for you as I don't like wasting my time."

"OK, I'll be there," I promised, not seeing any way out of it.

"Not just you," he snarled. "You and that lovely wife of yours. In fact you needn't come if you don't feel like it."

"We'll both be there," I promised him, and got the address off him, of a club called the Yellow Duster, which I'd certainly never heard of before.

"I trust you haven't mentioned our visit to the police or anyone George, have you?"

"No," I replied, though it was only Debbie's fear of retaliation that had stopped me.

"Very sensible," Ted informed me. "Don't you worry too much. I'm sure we can sort this out."

Bloody great!

Early the next evening found Debbie and I nervously stood at the door to the aforementioned 'Yellow Duster'.

"It's a lap dancing club George," Debbie said, reading the spiel at the entrance. "What's that? How do lap's dance?"

"Oh it's a sort of men's club," I replied, wondering if we should bugger off and emigrate to Latvia or something.

"There's a picture here of a girl dancing round a pole of some sort," she went on, examining the single poster by the door. "It looks kind of fun."

"Yes dear," I agreed with my unworldly wife, really not wanting to cross the thresh-hold of that place, my heart pounding at the thought of what Ted's solution to our problem might be.

"Come on then let's go in and get this over with," Debbie sung out as she grabbed my arm and pulled us both through the door.

"You members?" A dodgy looking man in a cheap suit and a thin moustache greeted us inside the dingy looking establishment.

"No we've come to see Ted," I told him, pleased to see that Debbie now had a nervous look on her face as she clung on to me.

"Mr Walters said someone was coming," the doorman grunted, eyeing up my wife up and down as if he was examining a piece of merchandise. "He said you were a pretty little thing sweetheart and so you are. In you go."

Before our eyes had even adjusted to the gloom inside the club, Jimbo from the previous evening came up, grabbed Debbie's arm and whisked her off behind the bar, casually telling me to follow them. We went through a heavy wooden door and found ourselves back in normal levels of light in a rather scruffy office full of filing cabinets, where Ted was sat behind a huge, grey, metal desk.

"Ah! There you are my lovely," Ted greeted my wife, ignoring me completely. "And all dressed up nicely as well, I see."

It was true, and somewhat against my will, Debbie had dolled herself up for the meeting. Now when I say 'dolled up', what I mean is put her best 'going out' clothes on, though they were hardly sexy or anything, or even terribly fashionable for that matter.

"Now you come and sit on my knee young lady," he ordered her, and with a frightened look across at me, she nervously approached him and plumped her shapely bottom down on his lap. 

Jimbo had positioned himself in between the two of us, so even if I'd had the nerve, I couldn't intervene.

"Now this solution I have involves you, young lady," he started, confirming my worst fears. "Now normally when I interview new female applicants to work here, I have them strip for me, but since I've already seen and felt the goods, I think we can give that a miss for the moment."

"Now hang on there," I started to object, but to my astonishment Debbie interrupted me.

"Let's hear what he's got to say George," she suggested.

"Very sensible young lady," Ted grinned at her. "Glad to hear that you're not going to be difficult."

"So what job am I being interviewed for?" she demanded somewhat more confidently than I would have given her credit for. "If you think I'm going to be one of those strip tease dancing girls, then you've got another think coming."

"We don't call them that anymore," Ted smiled in amusement. "Besides, an innocent little thing like you would need a fair bit of training before we'd let you do that."

"So what do you expect me to do then?"

"Waitress to start with," he told her, sliding his huge hand round her slim waist. "Then maybe try you behind the bar perhaps."

"Well," Debbie started nervously. "I've never been a waitress before, but I guess I could manage that perhaps."

""Now look here. I'm not ....." But my objections were cut short by a nudge in the ribs from Jimbo, that all but laid me out.

"How long do I have to work to pay the debt off?" Debbie asked Ted, throwing me a sympathetic look.

"Oh --- we'll see how it goes darling," he told her. "How many nights a week can you manage?"

"Two perhaps," she ventured uncertainly.

"Let's call it four then," he over-ruled her. "You start at nine each night till we close."

"What time would that be?" Debbie queried, but Ted simply shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

"Well the sooner you get started, then the quicker you'll pay the debt off," was the closest that we got to how long she'd have to work for, and the conversation that followed made me feel quite queasy.

"We're short of a girl tonight Debbie sweetheart, so you might as well get your outfit on and get out there," he told her, handing over a couple of tiny articles made of some silky material.

"But everyone will be able to see my bra in this top," complained Debbie, examining the tiny slip of material

"No they won't," he grinned back at her.

"Yes they will," she insisted, holding it up against herself. "Look, there's hardly anything to it, it's open right down the front, and in any case it's a bit see-thru."

I gulped; glad to remember that She'd put on a sensible bra that evening, one that wouldn't show off too much.

"They won't be able to see your bra, sweetheart," Ted assured her again.

"But they will," Debbie protested. "Look, there's nothing to it."

"They won't see your bra because it's not designed to be worn with one," Ted delighted in informing my wife. "None of our girls wear a bra when they're here, so that's something you won't have to worry about."

"But then they'll be able to see my ....." 

She broke off and visibly gulped, as the implications struck her. 

"Only when you bend down," Ted carried on. "You'll get a lot more tips that way as well, so you ought to practice how to give the clients a flash."

"A flash," Debbie exclaimed in shock. "You mean you actually expect me to flash my breasts at the customers?"

"Of course sweetheart," he laughed back. "It's a bloody night club. Once you've settled in you can let some of them have a feel as well if you want, and then you'll really rake in the tips."

Debbie stood there silently, her mouth gaping open, trying to take in what she'd just been told, even more surprises coming as Ted continued.

"Have you got those old fashioned knickers on again?"

Debbie simply nodded.

"Well you'll have to get yourself some new ones, thongs and things, as the clients won't like them much."

Debbie picked up the miniscule mini skirt, and we were both able to see why what panties Debbie had on, would be apparent.

"They'll do for tonight though I suppose," Ted carried on nonchalantly, ignoring both our looks of horror. "Unless you fancy going without of course, like some of the girls do."

"Without?" Whispered Debbie. "You mean without any panties in a skirt as short as this."

"Perhaps not," he said thoughtfully.

"Thank God for that," Debbie exclaimed in relief.

"No ---- You'd better get your pussy shaved before you go commando. Perhaps another night when you've got used to the guys out there mauling you. You should give it a go though, because the tips are so much better."

Oh Shit!!!!

Before I could gather my wits, Jimbo started to usher me out of the door, leaving my poor embarrassed wife standing there.

"Get changed then darling, you've got customers out there." 

I tried to resist Jimbo, only too aware that Debbie had already started to undo the buttons on her blouse. As he forced me easily out through the door, my last sight of Debbie was of her easing her blouse off her shoulders, her little white bra out on view.

"What time shall I come and pick her up?" I asked Jimbo in desperation.

"No need mate," he replied as he edged me out of the club. "We'll make sure she get's home safely.

"But what time?" I demanded, the thought of poor Debbie taking her clothes off back in that office etched in my mind.

"Who knows?" He replied. "Depends how well she does and whether any of the customers want to chat to her afterwards or whatever."

Oh Shit!!!!!

---------------------

You can imagine!

I walked slowly back to my little Volkswagen, in a daze, never having expected to be going home on my own, furious at having to leave my dear wife in that place on her own.

The journey home was a nightmare, and I had to pull up a couple of times when I thought I was on the point of bursting into tears or something. I thought about going and buying a gun or something, but in the UK, that is all but impossible for an ordinary guy like me.

When I got home it was no better, and neither the TV nor my magazines could hold my interest for more than a few minutes, and eventually I spread myself out on the sofa feeling sorry for myself and worrying about how my poor Debbie was coping.

Midnight passed then 1 am, and Debbie was already out later than she had been for years. I think I may have dozed off at some point, but was bought back to reality by the growl of a powerful car pulling up outside. In an instant I was at the window, stunned to see a gleaming Aston Martin DB9, parked outside. A hundred grand's worth of car at least, and the bastard was making us go through this turmoil for an old Porsche. Why the hell had he bought it in the first place?

My heart pounded as I stood there watching the car, unable to see what was going on inside, fearful of letting my imagination run riot. After what seemed an age, but probably wasn't, the nearside door opened and a pair of long bare legs swung out. A lovely pair of bare legs that were familiar to me, with a pair of high heels on that weren't. Debbie closed the door behind her and leant back inside the window for a moment. Long enough for a kiss, but probably not so, the miniscule skirt that she had worn home rising up over her bottom to expose her white cotton panties. Well at least she had kept them on by the looks of it.




Damn Car



She tottered up the path on the unfamiliar heels, turning to wave at the powerful car as it pulled away, tugging at her little skirt as it rode even further up her thighs. By the time she got to the front door I was there, and Debbie jumped back in surprise as I opened it.

"You're still up," she called out huskily.

"Of course I am," I confirmed, staring unbelievably at her partially covered breasts, and the two darker circles that I could clearly make out through the thin material. "How was it? Are you OK honey?"

"I'm Ok, but very tired George," Debbie replied, her eyes visibly drooping with fatigue. "I need a shower and then my sleep." 

"But what happened honey," I pleaded with her, desperate to know what she'd gone through, praying that she hadn't had to endure too much unwanted attention from her customers.

Just wanting to know for Christ's sake!

"Tomorrow honey," she said as she gave me a quick cuddle. "I really don't want to talk about it tonight and I must smell like a brewery with all the booze that's been spilled over me tonight."

With that, she uncurled herself from my arms that had encircled her, and left me staring after her as she wearily made her way to the stairs.

"But Debbie please," I called out after her, following her to the foot of the stairs, unsure whether to enjoy or feel disgusted at her white panty clad ass, as her skirt rose even further up her thighs as she took each step.

"It's OK honey, but not now dear ---- tomorrow," was her parting shot as she disappeared from view, leaving me stood there frustrated, confused and unhappy.

-------------------

She eventually did come to bed of course, but was in the shower an awful long time. She asked me to hold on to her, and within moments she was fast asleep, which is more than I could say for myself.

I lay there most of what remained of the night, pondering what life held in store for us. Wondering quite what indignities Debbie had been forced to put up with earlier, and torturing myself with what she might do in the weeks to come. Angry with myself that there didn't seem to be anything I could do about it.

The next morning came too early, and we both got ready and left for our respective schools, me avoiding the questions I needed to ask, and Debbie avoiding my eye. The day seemed to last forever, and needless to say I didn't perform at my best.

Then I went home!

"We need to talk," Debbie greeted me with. "I couldn't face it last night, but we really need to talk."

Of course I concurred immediately, and after I'd got us both a nice cup of tea, we sat down together to start our discussion.

"Do you love me George?" Debbie started with. "I mean really love me?"

"Of course sweetheart," I assured her, wanting to hold her in my arms and make all the problems go away."

"Well last night George, I did things that you wouldn't approve of," she went on, causing my stomach to contract painfully. "I did things that I could never have imagined doing, and I let men touch me a bit. I let them touch me where a wife probably shouldn't allow other men to touch them."

"What!" I cried out, leaping to my feet. "What sort of things? Where did they touch you?"

"My tummy, my arms, and a few times ..... Well elsewhere," she whispered guiltily. "One guy ran his hand up under my skirt when I had a tray in my hands, and couldn't get away so easily."

"God Debbie," I shouted out angrily. "You don't have to go back there. We'll go to the police and tell them what's happening like we should have done at the beginning."

"We can't honey," my wife told me, with a tear in her eye. "They've got photos of me now in the club with my breasts popping out of that stupid little top, and even one of some man who I hardly remember giving one of them a squeeze. They've threatened to send them to my headmaster at school if we cause problems and I'd get the sack and never get another job."

"But damn it Debbie ....." I started to protest, but Debbie held her hand up for me to stop.

"That's not all George," she went on. "Ted said that if you caused any problems then he'd break both your arms and maybe worse."

"What are we going to do then," I asked pathetically.

"We've just got to go through with it honey," she told me. "With the tips I make then it shouldn't be more than three months or so to pay him back."

"But I can't expect you to go through that for three months Debbie," I tried to reason with her. "No husband should expect his wife to accept treatment like that."

"It'll be OK George," my wife continued, reaching up to put her hand on my arm. "I'll be OK, I promise you."

"No," I declared. "I just can't allow you to suffer like that."

"That's the worst part about it honey," Debbie then said, giving me a look close to despair.

"What is?"

"Promise you won't hate me George," she demanded.

"I could never hate you Debbie," I proclaimed. "What could be worse than the way they've made you suffer?"

"You're sure?" she asked nervously.

"Of course I'm sure," I replied, and waited to hear what she had to say.

"I enjoyed it," she whispered meekly.

"What!"

"I enjoyed it," she repeated. "The first half hour or so was truly dreadful, but once I'd got used to it, then it didn't seem so bad. Then one of the men there told me that he thought I was the prettiest girl in the place and asked if he could have a proper look at my bare breast rather than just the flashes he kept getting."

"The bastard," I muttered, unable to believe what my previously innocent little wife was telling me.

"He told me that he was fed up with all the big busted woman there, and thought that my natural little breasts were beautiful."

I breathed in deeply to calm myself. What the guy had said was true as far as I was concerned, but I couldn't stand the thought of my wife having to put up with crude comments like that.

"I did it honey," she continued, almost weeping. "I'm sorry but I did it. I pulled my top aside and stood there with my bare breast out letting him look at it. His friends as well for that matter. I'm so sorry but I just stood there sticking them out at the whole table to look at."

"I can hardly believe what you're telling me Debbie," I struggled to say, though I could also hardly believe what effect her words were having on me. I was upset and there was no doubt about that, but like before, my erection was actually making me feel uncomfortable. 

Christ! What sort of husband did that make me?

"George," Debbie took up the conversation again. "You're taking this awfully well honey. Much better than I expected."

"Well ..... That is ..... Oh I just don't know what to say Debbie," and it was true. I was totally lost for words to describe my outrage, but couldn't pretend that other very strange feelings were emerging.

'There's something else then that you'd better know honey. Might as well get it all over and done with now I've started."

What next? I had no idea.

"The other night," she began to explain. "When Ted told me to take my top off, then I couldn't believe that I actually went and did it, but by the time I was down to just my panties, I was desperate to get naked. I felt so hot and horny George. I simply wanted to get the rest of my clothes off and I was terrified that they wouldn't force me into stripping completely. When he started to feel my breasts and things I just lost it totally. Then when all three of them had their hands all over me out in the hall, I was in heaven."

"Is that it?"

I think my voice squeaked!

"Just about," Debbie admitted at last. "I love you honey and I don't want to hurt you, but I can't lie. You mean too much to me to lie to you."

Oh Shit!

Where the hell do we go from there?

------------------------

You think that was enough for any man?

You think it was finished for the night?

"I've got to go shopping tomorrow straight from school," she announced a little later, after we'd some how or other managed to get dinner ready and eat it. "I'll be a bit late home."

"Fine," I said. What else?

"I'm going clothes shopping," Debbie continued, staring over at me.

"Fine," I repeated. I wasn't being nasty, I'd simply had the wind knocked out of my sails.

"I'm going with Tammy," she went on gingerly, waiting for my reaction, which was to demand who the hell this Tammy was.

"A girl from the club," she replied, continuing to keep her statements as short as possible.

"You're going clothes shopping with a girl from that damn club?" I did react at last. "What sort of clothes."

"You know George," Debbie said in little more than a whisper. "High heels, some nice little thong panties, things like that."

"And how the hell do you think we're going to be able to afford that?" I nigh on exploded. She was in danger of pushing me just too far.

"Tips from last night."

"That's enough?"

"More than enough," she grinned at me more confidently. "I made more in tips last night than I earn as a teacher in a week."

What could I say?

Throw her out?

Dump her? 

Divorce her?

Knock the living daylights out of her?

No of course I couldn't do any of those things, and didn't want to. The important thing was that she'd been completely honest with me and still loved me. 

What could I do?

I really didn't have a clue!

Not a fucking clue!

------------------



Well, she went and did her shopping and wasn't home too late. She didn't chose to show me what she'd worn, and I was too much of a prick to ask her. 

We just carried on, and except that Debbie wasn't around for several evenings of the week, nothing seemed to change much.

Then came Monday the eleventh.

I remember the date for some obscure reason.

"Honey," Debbie said to me cuddling up on the sofa, while we watched Coronation Street on the box. I hated it, but she'd always loved it and me watching it with her was a sign of my love. "Ted's asked me to do something, but I told him I'd have to ask you first."

"He accepted that?" I queried, not remembering Ted as the sort of guy who asked rather than demanded.

"Yes sort of," replied Debbie. "He's really a little bunny rabbit when you get to know him."

I chose to ignore that remark!

"He wants me to be a dancer," she then hit me with. "I've been practicing at the club and he thinks I'm good enough."

"A dancer?" I queried.

"Yes a dancer," she confirmed, smiling back at me as if she'd just told me she'd got promotion at her school.

"Not wearing many clothes I expect," I ventured, recalling the photo outside the club.

"Not a lot," she blurted out. "At least, I'd end up without any."

"A strip tease dancer," I asked her. "My wife, a strip tease dancer?"

"They don't call them that anymore honey," she consoled me. "Exotic dancer, pole dancer, lap dancer, whatever. But they don't say 'strip tease' anymore."

"But you still take your clothes off?"

"Yes, all of them," she confirmed.

"Can I come and watch?" I surprised her with. Myself as well for that matter.

"I'd rather you didn't honey," she responded in surprise. "Ted isn't too keen on his artist's husbands visiting the club.

At that point, I nearly lost it. My wife had to ask her boss if I could watch her taking her clothes off, and he was probably going to refuse me permission????

Damn it!

Damn the lot of them!

Damn that bloody car!

----------------------

The next few weeks got increasingly impossible, as Debbie worked as a teacher every day and at the club four nights a week. It seemed we hardly saw one another as when she wasn't working, she was catching up with her sleep.

Our sex life had all but disappeared.

"This can't go on Debbie," I announced one night when we were in bed, Debbie having come home absolutely knackered. "We've got no marriage anymore. You're killing yourself."

"You're right,' she replied to my surprise. "I've been thinking about it and I'm going to pack up at the end of this week, and we can be more like it was before."

"Thank God for that," I told her happily. "Whatever the problems, we'll sort them out honey pie."

I took her in my arms and pulled her towards me, intent on doing the dastardly deed with my wife, albeit the first time for two or three weeks.

She fell asleep!

Oh well ---- There'd be another time I told myself.

--------------

Of course asking her to pack up working at the club and the reality of it were two different things. I had no idea how much of our dept had been paid off, and quite what the implications of us not being able to pay the rest off was something that we had yet to face. 

But face it we would, and we'd face it together.

"That's it," she announced towards the end of the week. "I've quit! I've given my notice in and we'll have more time for one another."

"What did they say?" I asked somewhat nervously. 

"They weren't very happy at all," Debbie told me, her face creasing up a little. "But they accepted it, and so that's the end of it."

"No repercussions Debbie," I asked my heart beating. "That's really the end of it."

"Absolutely George darling," my lovely wife confirmed. "That's it! Finished! The end!"

Glory be!

I thought we'd never get through it, and I owed so much to my wife for going through what she had experienced. I didn't know how to thank her, but vowed that I would find a way.

The weekend passed, and we clung to one another a lot, though she was so tired that we only managed a couple of short sessions.

Nothing special, but a new start ---- A new beginning for the pair of us, out of the clutches of those hoodlums, and just the two of us.

Monday morning I had to leave early for the music class as usual, and I left Debbie eating her breakfast as normal.

"See you this evening darling," I whispered to her, and she responded with a crushingly lovely smile.

Everything was going to fine again!

It looked as if our problems were over.

I should explain that on Mondays I started early, but was allowed to skip off the final lesson, and I rushed home, intent on having everything perfect for when Debbie came home. I wanted that night to be special. I wanted it to be the first night of the rest of our life.

"Hi honey," she greeted me as I walked in the door.

"Hi Debbie," I responded in surprise. "What are you doing home?"

"Making you a special dinner honey," Debbie grinned at me. "I'll be able to do that all the time from now on."

"But I don't understand," I mumbled in confusion. "Why aren't you still at school?"

"At school?" She laughed out loud. "Why would I be at school?"

"Because you're a teacher," I answered her, surprised at her answer.

"Not any more George," she smiled back. "I told you that I'd done as you asked and given my notice in. I'm not a teacher anymore."

"WHAT! But I thought it was the work at the club you were packing in," I uttered in astonishment.

"Why would I do that?" Debbie asked, a look of puzzlement on her face. "I can earn nearly as much in one good night at the club than I do in a month as a teacher."

"Yes but you have to ..... You .... You ......." I babbled on, unable to express what I was thinking.

"I have to show my tits and things off you mean?" Debbie finished for me. "So what? It's no big deal, and in fact I mostly really enjoy it."

"But all that studying and training," I mumbled on, her use of the word tits for the first time ever not lost on me. "All lost. All for nothing."

Not completely dear," she smiled condescendingly. "My main act is usually dressed up as a teacher lady. Not that the outfit stays on for long though."

"Not quite the same thing," I pointed out.

"Come on honey," she carried on, ignoring my comment. "Come and eat your dinner, because I've got to be at the club for eight O'clock tonight. There's a group of Quantity Surveyors arriving early from some conference and they'll need entertaining."

"Entertaining?" I spluttered, at a loss for words.

"Yes dear," Debbie smiled at me. "They're said to be a horny lot, so I should do well for tips."

"Tips?"

"Yes Chips dear," she answered. "Steak and chips, your favourite. Now eat up sweetie and enjoy it."

Oh Shit!

What the hell had happened to my marriage?

Bloody hell ----- At least the chips were good.

--------------

Life continued and I did see more of my wife, though it was hardly the same as before. Her style of dress changed so radically that some of our old friends started to avoid us. Not many of the guys though, and our house became more and more popular as they called by, hoping to catch Debbie in the sexier and skimpier clothes she seemed to prefer.

The sex was better though.

But that's not everything you know.

------------------

Debbie became fairly evasive about what she actually did at the club, and question as I would, she didn't want to talk about it. Only that everything was still OK, and that the money for the Porsche was gradually being paid off.

Eventually one night I couldn't stand it any longer, and I found myself outside the club, wondering if I had the nerve to go in. 

The same scruffy thin guy took my money, showing no recognition, and I found myself inside the place again. I have to admit that in the evening with a crowd of people in there, the place looked a lot better than it had looked the previous time, and I was surprised at how many women patrons were there sprinkled among the groups of men. 

Then there were the waitresses of course, all rather stunning and in minuscule little outfits every bit as small as the one that I had seen Debbie in. I was approached by several of them asking if I wanted any company, the shock dawning as I realised that my Debbie must have been doing the very same thing. After about ten minutes my nipple count passed into double figures and I stopped counting, though I certainly didn't stop looking. Eventually I discovered that if I joined the group of men stood at the back, then we got served at the bar alongside, and the waitresses, or hostesses as they really were, stopped propositioning us. From there I had a good view of both the stages, hardly more than raised podiums where the girls were performing. 

Now I'm a normal sort of male and I have to admit I enjoyed what I saw, as a succession of lovely women took their turn to take all their clothes off and display themselves quite openly to the men crowded round each stage. There was one little blonde that I was particularly taken with, and for some moments I almost forgot why I was there.

But still I could see no sign of my Debbie.

It was a good hour later that I saw Ted and Jimbo breeze through the club, and though I almost didn't recognise her at first, Debbie was with them. It was what she was wearing that fooled me!

No ----- She wasn't in a mini skirt and skimpy top, but quite the reverse. She wore a sensible skirt and a white blouse that covered up just about everything. 

What the hell was going on?

Ted and his pals joined another group of men sat round in a sort of open booth, and Debbie to my surprise reached up and gave Ted a peck on the cheek, before going off behind the stage area.

"Pretty little thing ain't she?" said the guy stood next to me giving me a nudge, no doubt having noticed my interest in her.

"Very pretty," I replied shortly, not really wishing to get into conversation.

"She's the new girl," my new friend went on. "Only been stripping a few weeks, but she's got a lovely little body on her."

"I dare say she has," I replied out of politeness.

"You'll see yourself soon," he went on. "I think she'll be on next."

Oh Christ ---- The reality was about to be upon me.

Sure enough, the previous girl collected her tips from the guys round the stage and disappeared back behind the curtain. The compare came on and cracked a couple of smutty jokes, and then announced the girl that you've all been waiting for. Even the guys round me seemed to stand up to attention a bit more, and there was actually a ripple of applause as the compare made way for Miss Jones, as he described her.




Damn Car



Then I got it!

Miss Jones, Debbie that is, came strolling out onto the stage in what I then recognised as her schoolmistress outfit, all prim and proper. She strolled round the stage glancing at the men stood there over the top of her obviously false spectacles, and appearing to tick off names on the pad she held as if taking the class register.

"Right!" She announced after a while, and the whole club seemed to go quiet. "You all seem to be here boys, so we'll start the lesson."

I noted that she had everyone's attention to a level that would have done any real class a credit.

"OK boys," Debbie went on. "What's the square root of twelve thousand six hundred and forty seven? To the nearest three decimal places, please."

When nobody answered, she just shook her head and tried another virtually impossible mathematical question.

"OK boys," She announced, frowning at everyone. "This really isn't good enough. I'll try another question and if the boy I choose gets it right, then he'll get to select what item of clothing I take off."

Debbie kept her frown on, even though by then everyone else was grinning happily.

"Right, you boy," she called out, pointing at some forty year old with a group of his mates. "What's two plus two?"

"Four!" Cried out the contented punter. "Please take your blouse off Miss."

Tutting away, Debbie slowly undid her blouse and discarded it, revealing one of her old prim and proper white bras. I hadn't seen any of them for some time, and wondered where they'd gone.

"You boy ---- In the green shirt," she restarted. "Where's your school cap?"

"Left it at home Miss," shouted back the hapless guy with a laugh, who was then refused a chance for being improperly dressed.

The bald boy at the back there," carried on my wife. "What's five times two?"

"Ten Miss Jones," he roared back. "Get your skirt off."

Say please you naughty boy," Debbie retorted with a mock angry look. "Don't be so cheeky in class."

"Sorry Miss," he came back immediately. "Please would you take your skirt off next?"

"Certainly boy," she smiled at him, and seductively unzipped her modest skirt that I also suddenly recognised from before, slid it down her shapely legs and threw it aside.

By this time I was a bit of a basket case, not knowing whether to be angry or just sit back and enjoy it. My Debbie wasn't simply a stripper ---- She was an entertainer, and was so obviously loving what she was doing.

"Best stripper in the place," my friend alongside me informed me. "Wait till you see her lovely little tits. They're bloody gorgeous."

"Told you so," he went on when another pupil managed somehow to calculate three minus one, and Debbie added her bra to the small pile of clothes behind her, her bare breasts out on display for everyone to admire, her nipples so obviously rock hard, even from that distance.

"Right boys, now concentrate," Debbie instructed the enraptured class of 'boys' gathered round the stage. "Whoever gets the next question right first will get to come up here and help me take these off," snapping the elastic of her thong panties. The whole lot of them seeming to lean forward to hear the question better.

"The square root of thirty six, times the square of five?" Debbie cried out to them.

"Hundred and fifty," I mumbled to the guy alongside me, amused as he tried to count on his fingers.

"Rubbish," he said. "It's ..... It's ...."

"A hundred and fifty Miss," shouted out some flash looking guy above the rabble around him a minute or so later.

"Correct boy," Debbie beamed at him. "Now come up here and collect your reward.

The flash git leapt up onto the stage, the bouncers stiffening to attention to make sure nobody followed him up there, and Debbie, the cheeky bitch, took his hand and led him to the centre of the stage, brushing up against him suggestively as she did so.

Till then, to be honest, I'd been a bit carried along in the swing of the whole thing. Taken in by Debbie's great act, and enjoying the sight of a beautiful young women taking her clothes off as all the other guys were doing. If I'm forced to admit it then the fact that it was my wife made it even more intense. But what she'd said about some guy helping her off with her panties, suddenly struck home.

Suddenly I didn't want to be there anymore.

"Blimey," my friend commented loudly. "Can you imagine yourself up there sliding that piece of crumpet's knickers off. Can you imagine it?"

"Yes I can actually," I mumbled, feeling my chest tighten as I recalled how many times I had done that since we'd known one another. Not that anyone took any notice, too interested in watching as the lucky git up on the stage, got to slide his fingers inside her tiny panties and slide them down her legs. My insides churning as he leant his face forward, planting a kiss on her now naked pussy.

"Naughty boy," my stripper wife admonished him. "Do that again and I'll have to give you the cane."

But all that did was to encourage him to lean forward again and take a long lick between her legs.

"Six of the best for you boy," Debbie groaned, and not even I was sure if she was pretending or not. "I'll see you in the headmaster's study later."

Despite his attempts to prolong the encounter, the bouncers moved in and gently but firmly removed his hands from my wife's bare body, and propelled him back to where he had been sitting. 

Debbie never gave him a second look.

That didn't however prevent me from feeling sick!

I'd seen enough!

All I wanted to do was get out of there. I'd known what she had been doing in theory, but the reality was more than I could stomach.

Worst of all ---- Yes by far the worst, was that Debbie so obviously enjoyed it!

What the hell had happened to my sweet little wife?

----------------------

I never admitted that I had been to watch her act, and other than her less modest clothes, there was little to suggest that she was anything other than she had always been.

My loving wife.

It came to a head however when I was teaching a group of elder kids one afternoon and was having great difficulty keeping their attention. They were all really young adults rather than kids and I'd always had a good report with that class. But that day they simply weren't with me, and were all sniggering over something that they were passing round between them.

"What's this?" I shouted out, grabbing the paper from one of them as he passed it across the aisle.

"Do you recognise her sir?" Nick Jones, one of the lads asked me. "We all thought she looked familiar."

My heart dropped as I looked at the sheet, which was a computor printout, and discovered to my humiliation that it featured my wife, spread-eagled naked over the bonnet of a car. There was no doubt in my mind from the moment I saw it. Not sure why, but I just knew.

"It is your missus isn't it sir, another of the boys asked. "We found it on the internet." 

"Of course it's not her," I blustered. "Looks a bit like her, but ....."

"But it is her sir," Jones insisted. "Look that's the Porsche that you used to own."

"WHAT!"

"Yes look sir, one of the others went on. "It is your old Porsche as we recognise the registration number with GAD. Why hasn't your wife got any clothes on sir?"

I couldn't answer.

"Is your wife an escort girl sir?" Asked David, one of the shyer boys. "She's very pretty and has got gorgeous tits sir. If you don't mind me saying so sir."

"What's an escort girl?" another of the lads asked the class at large. "Why is Mr. Adams' wife posing like that with no clothes on?"

"That's enough boys," I told them, trying to take back control.

"An escort girl is like an upmarket prostitute," butted in Jones, the 'know all' little bastard. "Mr Adams' wife looks like she might be one."

"How much does she charge sir?" Asked a boy at the back.

"More than I would," Angie Thomas butted in before I could respond, the girls in the class having been quiet up till then. "I'd do Mr. Adams for nothing."

"You'd do anything with trousers on for nothing," Jones yelled out. 

"Not you I wouldn't you idiot," she shot back at him, standing up and sticking her tits out. "But if Mr. Adams wanted me to, then I'd strip off and give you all a show like his wife has."

"Behave yourself Angie," I shouted at her, acutely aware of how she had been flirting with me all year, and disturbed by my own reaction at the thought of her carrying out the act that she'd just threatened.

"Well she's got bigger tits than your wife has sir," another girl Natalie butted in. "Nice bod though."

"Shut up the lot of you," I screamed, having lost my temper in front of a class for the first time ever, knowing that they'd lost all respect for me.

"Is it really your wife sir?" Amie, the shyest girl in the class piped up in the silence that followed my outburst. "Why would she do that sir? Why would she put photos of herself in the nude on the internet?"

"I don't know ----- I don't bloody well know!" By which time I'd had enough. I charged from the room, my face red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, not stopping till I reached the sanctuary of the staff common room, where I sat close to tears for the rest of the lesson.

It got worse!

"Hey Jim," called out Tony, the geography teacher as he entered the staff room, unaware that I was huddled at the back out of view. "Have you seen those photos of George's wife going round the school?"

"Seen them," retorted Jim, the sports master. "I've been confiscating them half the bloody morning."

"Can I have one," Tony shot back hopefully.

"Me to if there's any to spare," added the new Chemistry assistant. "I don't even know the girl, but from what I've seen she's a cracking piece of crumpet."

"Lovely pair of tits," agreed Tony. "Would never have expected it of her though, I've met her a few times and she always seemed rather conservative."

"Not any more," laughed Jim. "From what I've heard there's a rumour that she's a stripper down at some club nearby."

"Maybe we should all go down one night and take a gander," Tony chuckled.

"We'll ask George if he can get us some tickets," giggled the new chemistry guy.

"I don't know if he even knows what his missus is up to," was the last comment I heard as the three of them walked back out of the room, on their way to their next lesson, all laughing their heads off at my expense.

My stomach was churning ---- Damn them!

--------------------

The upshot was that the assistant Head master eventually found me curled up in an armchair in the common room when I should have been taking the next class.

"You'd better take the rest of the day off George," he instructed me. Those photos are all over and everyone will give you a hard time."

In fact I ended up asking for the week off, and I guess they were more than happy to see the back of me.

And so to home!

I was staggered when I found the Porsche of all things, parked outside our house when I got home. 

Things were getting totally out of hand. 

With a heavy heart, I got my key out and entered my home.

-----------------

My mouth gaped open in shock as the first thing I registered upon entering our lounge, was that thug Ted, the bastard, slumped out on our sofa as if he owned the damn place. He looked up when he saw me and grinned.

"Long time no see George," he smirked at me, leaving me speechless.

"What was that you said honey," Debbie asked as she breezed into the room from the kitchen, totally missing the fact that I was standing there behind her.

"Nothing that matters gorgeous," Ted responded, holding his arms out to her, and pulling her onto his lap when she went to him, his great paw of a hand, closing round and totally encompassing her left breast.

Her action was bad enough.

It wasn't that she was wearing those ridiculously elevated CFM high heels, so much as that was all she was wearing.

Starkers --- Naked ------ Nude ------ It was all hanging out for Christ's sake.

"We'd better be going Debbie," Ted told her when he emerged from the passionate kiss that she bestowed upon him. "We've got a long way to go."

"Oh come on Ted," my wife replied, snuggling up to him. "We've got time to enjoy ourselves a bit surely."

"Not sure your husband George would be too happy with that Debbie," he told her, giving me a huge wink over the top of her bare shoulder.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him sweetheart," Debbie whispered to him.

"Maybe Debbie," the bugger teased the pair of us. "But since he's stood behind you, that could be difficult."

"What?" She cried out looking up at him, but all he did was grin and nod his head at her in confirmation, before turning his head towards me, and greeting me yet again. "Hi George!"

Debbie's body went stiff and rigid in an instant, till she at last turned her head slowly to look round at me.

"Oh my God noooo," she cried out, her face a picture of desolation. "George ---- I didn't .... That is I wouldn't .... Oh God no!"

Stand-off!

"Come on girl, get some clothes on," Ted broke the silence with. "We've got a ferry to catch."

"But Ted ....." Debbie started to protest, only to find herself dispatched towards our bedroom with a smart smack on her bare backside.

"Now don't be doing anything stupid George," Ted grunted at me as he stood up and towered over me. "So I've been fucking your wife, but there's no need for you to get upset. I'm the only one that's been getting her pussy."

"I'm supposed to feel good about that," I spat out.

"Why not?" he replied casually. "Most of the girls at the club are up for fucking anything with trousers on and some money in their pockets."

My mouth opened, but no words come out. Was I supposed to be grateful that he was the only one that was fucking her????

At that point Debbie came rushing back into the room, still pulling a skimpy top on over her bare tits.

"Please don't get too upset George," she appealed to me, trying to take me in her arms as I backed away. "It's all been for you honey."

She was still looking back at me as Ted led her off out of the door.

"We're just off to the South of France for a few days honey," she called back to me. "I'll only be gone a few days and then everything will be OK. We can go back to how things were before."

"Fat chance," laughed Ted as he propelled her towards the Porsche, giving me, the loser, a look of derision.

-------------------

The next day was worse than a bad dream, and the equal of any nightmare that I could remember. I heard nothing from Debbie, and her mobile didn't even give me the option to leave a message.

Not that I was at all sure that I even wanted to.

After two days of hearing nothing, I even plucked up courage on the to ring the club were she worked, but the whole place seemed to be in turmoil from the answers I was given. Early the following evening I drove over there, not knowing what else to do. 

One minute I was all for divorcing the bitch and the next close to tears worrying about where she was. Worrying whether she was all right.

The club wasn't open when I got there which surprised me, so I settled down to wait in my car. Over the next hour or so any number of cars turned up, waited a while then drove off again. By ten, it was obvious that the club simply wasn't going to open that night, and for some reason that made me feel bad, and even more cut off from Debbie.

What was I to do?

I drove slowly home, pulled over in front of my house, and wearily started up the pathway.

"Mr. Adams?" A deep voice by the side of me surprised me with. "Mr. George Adams?"

My heart dropped, remembering the last time that had happened and dreading what was coming next.

"Your wife is Mrs. Debbie Adams?" the large man in a suit carried on after I'd confirmed my identity.

"Yes," I reacted automatically. "Where is she? What's happened to her?"

"That's what we'd like to know," the voice carried on. "Would you like to continue this conversation inside sir, or would you like to accompany us down to the station?"

For the first time I looked up at the large man who had hold of my arm by then, and for the first time noticed the uniformed police officer stood alongside him.

Oh Bloody hell! ------- What now?

----------------------

I chose my own living room, not wishing to be dragged down to the local nick. I was in big enough trouble with the school already without having to explain that away if anyone spotted me being taken in by the local coppers.

WRONG!

Not the local Bobbies by a long chalk!

"Do you know where your wife is at the moment sir?" They asked me, and I'm being polite when I use the term asked.

"Do you have any idea at all where she might be?" They demanded more forcibly when I told them that I didn't.

"Do you know when she is due back?" He carried on when I mentioned the South of France, which didn't seem to surprise him.

"She said a couple of days," I mumbled feeling inadequate that I had no idea where my own wife was.

The guy looked at me almost angrily for some moments, and then turned to his colleague.

"Take him in Norman," he instructed the uniformed man. "I don't think Mr. Adams is telling us everything he knows."

Despite my protests, I was dragged from my house and ushered into a squad car, and whisked off. But not to the local nick as I'd expected, but much further, where they plonked me in a cell to await my fate.

It took two hours of questioning till I at last convinced them that I knew nothing more, and even then they refused to give me a lift back and I had to find my own way home. The one thing that I did discover that my Debbie was involved in something serious.

Drugs!

Serious drugs!

But I knew no more.

That night when the phone call came, I wasn't expecting it.

"George? Is that you?"

"Yes Debbie," I responded immediately recognising her voice. "Where the hell are you? What's going on?"

"No time honey," she sobbed back, half breaking my heart despite what she'd done to me. "Listen ---- You have to do something."

"Collect the Porsche and put it in the garage," she instructed me, after refusing to explain anything, except to tell me where it was, the other side of London, and where she'd put the spare key. "I'll be back in touch as soon as I can."

"But where are you?" I insisted on knowing, or refusing to carry out her wishes. 

"Jimbo and me are at a friend of his in Tottenham," was all she'd tell me, bursting into tears when I asked her for some reason, where Ted was.

Then she was gone!

The next day I caught the train down to London, and the tube out to the suburbs and picked up the Porsche, which was exactly where she'd said it would be, and drove it home. Couldn't put it in the garage as it was too full of stuff, so I left it outside as we usually did with our cars.

-------------

"See the Porsche has re-appeared Mr Adams," DI Jenkins of the drug squad as I now knew him to be, greeted me as I opened the door early the next morning. "I've got a search warrant for the house, so we'll take a look at the car as well while we're here."

In fact they weren't really too thorough with the search. Didn't seem to be over-interested. Almost as if they knew they wouldn't find anything. They loosened some dog they had with them through the house, but he didn't seem any more worried about the place than they did.

"Try the car," Jenkins told the dog handler, but that didn't evoke any more spark from the dog, and with a shake of his shoulders, the handler cleared up and left.

"Heard from the missus?" the DI demanded, albeit somewhat more friendlily than the last time. 

I simply looked at him, wondering what the hell to say.

"The car didn't get here by it's own accord sir," he pointed out patiently. 

I guess at that point something inside me snapped. Maybe it should have done so long before, but ..... Well it hadn't. Not till then.




Damn Car



What the hell was Debbie up to?

How involved was she?

Why the hell should I take the rap for what her and those hoodlums had done? For Christ's sake, she had been fucking one of them behind my back.

I told him everything, finishing with the information about Jimbo's friend in Tottenham, at which point Jenkins smiled broadly. 

"Got the bastard!" He exclaimed, and with a word of thanks shot out to the waiting police car and made off with tyres squealing.

-------------

I nearly missed the breaking news on the television. You know those banner things that go along the bottom of the screen and spoil your concentration. I just caught the end of it and had to wait a good ten minutes till it came through again.

'MAJOR DRUGS BUST SHOOT OUT IN NORTH LONDON THREE KILLED'

My heart sank.

Debbie, my Debbie ---- Had she been shot? Was she dead? I no longer knew whether I loved her or hated her, but I didn't want to see her dead.

-----------------

I searched half the night, desperate for more information, trawling through the news programs, the internet and God knows how many wasted phone calls, but all to little avail. All I could discover was that the police had raided a house in Tottenham in north London and there'd been a shoot out, and three men had been shot dead and two policemen wounded.

Three men!

Yes men!

By no imaginable mistake could my Debbie be mistaken for a man could she?

Could she?

They got things wrong all the time, the press. But ..... But they couldn't get that wrong, could they?

Shit! Did I really care anyway?

------------

Well of course being the British press, they did get it wrong, though not as far as Debbie was concerned. In fact only two guys were killed, though another was wounded, but my Debbie was arrested and charged. It appeared that they'd been involved in running drugs from Northern Africa, through Spain into France and then on into the UK.

I didn't shed a tear when I discovered that Ted, bless him, was no longer with us and gone to meet his maker up above there somewhere. Some other guy, a Frenchman that I'd never heard of copped his lot as well, and Mike --- You remember Mike? ----- Well he'd been badly wounded and would eventually end up losing his leg.

Jimbo had been arrested at the same time as Debbie, and those two and four or five others were to be put up on trial. 

And I'd shopped them. 

Did that worry me?

Well not now that half were dead or disabled and the others in jail it didn't.

"I'm so sorry George," Debbie sobbed when I went in to visit her the first time. "I've done such awful things."

We chatted some more about how we were going to afford a decent lawyer to defend her, though from what I heard it seemed to be a cut and dry case. Trouble was that I hated the sight of her, but couldn't stop loving her ----- Not easy.

"Don't sell the Porsche George," she insisted, but when I asked why she simply looked around her, no doubt wondering who might be listening.

It was on my second visit that we were allowed to talk more privately.

"I suppose you've been wondering why Ted bought our Porsche honey," she said, and of course I had. "The gang bought powerful cars that wouldn't attract too much attention to smuggle the drugs in. They cut holes in the wings or whatever, hid the drugs away and then welded the wing back up so nobody would notice."

"You mean they did that with our Porsche?" I asked in astonishment. "There's a secret compartment?"

"I think so."

"But they had their dog all over it Debbie, I informed her. "They didn't detect anything."

"Our Porsche wasn't used for drugs George," Debbie told me in a whisper. "Buy yourself an angle grinder thing and see what you can find."

"Do you know what's in there?" I queried.

"Not sure," she whispered to me. "But it must be worth investigating."

------------------

I went straight home and cleared half the mess out of the garage, enough to make room for that damn Porsche. Having put it in there, I left the bloody thing there, half afraid of what I might find if I started to investigate.

Several months later the trial come to court, and Debbie was sentenced to twelve years in detention, but that meant that with good behaviour she could be out in eight or nine.

Jimbo wasn't so lucky and got a twenty stretch, coupled with a list of other convictions. He wouldn't be out for a long, long time.

Eventually curiosity got the better of me, and I went out to the hardware shop and bought myself an angle grinder, and set to work. Four hours and several cuts and bruises later, the wings of the car were a mess.

But I found it!

I found the hiding place.

My hand shook as I reached inside and extracted the surprisingly big leather bound parcel that was hidden there, and I dropped it on the floor, terrified that it might explode on me or something.

Plucking up the courage to investigate further, I took a knife to the package and slit it open, not knowing what to expect to find inside, and not knowing what the hell I'd do with them if it turned out to be drugs.

What I didn't expect to find was Euros.

Not pounds or dollars but Euros. Bloody thousands of them, all bundled up in tight bundles. Not unnaturally I started to count them, but after ten minutes I lost track of where I was. It was only then that I realised that each bundle had twenty notes in it, so all I had to do was check the denomination, and they were all fifties or hundreds, so that was easy.

Half an hour later and I had the total. Four hundred thousand Euros!

Ok, I may have made a mistake or two, but who was worrying about that?

Four hundred thousand bloody Euros. 

At the time that was the equivalent of well over three hundred thousand pounds. It must have been the money they were going to use to pay for the drugs.

Bloody hell! Decision time!

-------------------

It didn't take me long to decide not to declare the money. It obviously was obtained illegally, but not by me, and the only person still alive or with enough sense to know about it would be Debbie, and even she didn't seem to be too sure. I worked out later putting pieces of information together that Ted's gang drove down to France with money hidden in one car, and swapped it for another identical car that had the drugs hidden in it. Just a matter of changing the plates over and nobody would be any the wiser. That's obviously why they decided to re-use our Porsche, to match the identical one that the French crooks had already.

Maybe my tipping the coppers off that they were on their way to the South of France scuppered the exchange. I didn't really know, but I hoped I'd been responsible in some way.

So, was I going to tell her?

Was I going to tell anyone?

How on earth was I to convert Euros into pounds?

Well I did tell her on my next visit, but claimed that there was only twenty thousand euros hidden away, and that I'd keep it to help her when she eventually got out. She seemed surprised that the sum was so low, but if Debbie suspected me of lying, then she never mentioned it. She had enough problems of her own by then.

Next to get rid of the car.

How do you get rid of a car with lumps cut out of the wing? Not easy!

Eventually I patched it up as well as I could and drove it over to the Porsche guy we'd talked to before, giving him some story that it had been vandalised. Not sure if he believed me, but the first thing he did was to open the engine compartment. That's in the back by the way, for those who don't know about Porsches.

"It's got a replacement gearbox," I told him.

"It's got a new engine and gearbox," he informed me to my surprise.

Anyway, we struck a deal and I walked out with a cheque for nine thousand quid, which was a lot more than I'd been expecting considering the mess I'd made of the thing.

As you can imagine, I was pleased to see the back of the damn car.

I quite deliberately didn't change my lifestyle so as not to attract attention, though I did buy myself a few new things at Marks and Spencers, where they accept Euros. I put our house on the market at a very reasonable price. It was attractive to first time buyers and the market had risen since Debbie and I had bought it, so four months later I left the solicitors office with another cheque for forty-two grand.

Nor bad eh?

Not only did I have money, but I then had an excuse to spend some of it. The cheated husband making the most of what he had left from his messed up marriage.

A trip down to the Casino in France more or less solved all my problems of making the euros legal, when I left the place after a hectic weekend with a certified legal cheque for three hundred and forty seven thousand, six hundred and twelve euros. My winnings!

I guess somewhere if someone searched deep enough, then they could have discovered the three hundred and ninety two thousand that I'd invested in order to walk out with that cheque. Ok, so I'd lost forty odd grand, but what the hell. The Casino covered the cost of my hotel stay for the weekend, and whatever the beautiful nineteen-year-old French blonde cost who kept me company. She could do things with her ..... Well, that's another story.

----------------

Well, what else?

The Porsche was gone and the Volkswagen soon followed it. I thought about getting myself a new Porsche, but simply could face it, my dream of owning a Porsche, long since spoiled.

Didn't stop me getting an Aston Martin though did it?

Not the top of the range model, the Vantage being sufficient for a simple guy like me, and I lorded it around town showing it off to all and sundry, never actually going back to teach at my old school.

----------------

"Hi," said the pretty little dark haired beauty with the big tits as I parked my Aston outside a restaurant one evening shortly after buying it.

"Hi gorgeous," I threw back at her, by then getting into the swing of attractive women of all ages taking more interest in me since I'd bought the Aston.

"It's Mr Adams isn't it?" The lovely thing asked me to my surprise.

"Yes," I replied, wondering what she was after.

"Don't you recognise me sir," the girl grinned at me.

Sir? Sir?

It had been quite a few months since anyone had called me sir.

"Mandy Davis Sir," she carried on. "I was in the fifth form when you first started teaching at our school."

Oh yes!

Oh boy yes!

The sexy little schoolgirl that all the male teachers lusted over but never dared do anything about.

Mandy Davis ----- Crikey, was she a cracker. I did a quick mental calculation as to how old she would be by then, and decided that perhaps with a bit of luck, that thirty might well go into twenty-one, whatever her last maths teacher might have said.

It did!

We did!

The pair of us ended up shacked up with one another in a swish apartment in La Rochelle on the South West coast of France, and when we started to look for something other than bonking one another all day and all night, we bought a boat. There are lots of them in La Rochelle, and we ended up with a three-year-old forty footer that we rented out to rich Europeans during the summer, with me as skipper (OK, I had to do several courses to qualify), and Mandy as the cook come hostess.

It was great. No, really it was for nearly two years, till the hostess side of Mandy's job became more important then the cooking part, and I walked in on her 'entertaining' one of our male guests, a guy who had more money in his piggy bank than I had in the world.

We parted friends, me having got together by then with a billionaire's discarded trophy wife, an ex model, Russian girl not much older than Mandy, who was paid off several million to release her previous husband.

Will it last?

No bloody idea, but I just think it might.

----------------

Ok, so what about Debbie, you're thinking.

Still loved the girl in my way, but there was a lot of water under the bridge since then. She's due out in less than two years now, and probably thinks I'm still waiting for her. 

Maybe I am?

Then again, maybe I'm not, and if you saw Elka, my beautiful, Russian companion, then you'd understand why.

Now by chance, just like the French girl at the Casino, Elka could do things with her...... No never mind. I won't bore you with little details like that.