14 comments/ 51169 views/ 23 favorites I Only Strip for My Husband By: amyyum That's the deal. ***** As little sister Amy, I was always shy and self-conscious. I didn't really have much going for me in the looks department when I was a kid, which contributed greatly to my poor self-image. I never wanted attention drawn to me; I wore conservative clothing for all occasions, and primarily interacted with only a few female friends. Fortunately, when I was growing up boys were never really mean to me - they primarily ignored me. They probably were never mean because they didn't want to irritate my older sister or mother - both of whom had goddess status in our community. I had only a few dates my freshman through junior years in High School, with nice but nerdy guys. It didn't help that my older sister was not only always beautiful, but was elected "queen" anytime there was an election (Homecoming, Prom, Miss Town-that-we-grew-up-in, you name it). Nor did it help that my mother was not only as good looking as my sister but was considered "plasma hot" by all of the men - and boys - that she came into contact with. The term "MILF" could have been coined with my mother in mind. Not possibly being able to compete with either my sister or mother I became as withdrawn as they were vivacious, and as unadventurous as they were audacious. My physical appearance ultimately changed quickly, but my outlook never really did. According to everyone who knew me I had a real metamorphosis between my 18th and 19th birthdays, my senior year in High School. I went from being a proverbial wallflower to being constantly ogled by virtually every heterosexual male in my school. Among the many changes that occurred were: my skin cleared up completely so that my complexion changed from acne-prone to sparkling; my hair got a luster that I never had as a child, and natural auburn streaks; my boobs went from an A cup to a D cup, and my nipples seemed to get proportionately even larger; my ass got round; I lost eight to ten pounds to my present weight of 128 pounds despite the fact that I grew two inches to my present height of five feet seven; and my thighs got sculptured. Only the sculptured thigh part (and partially the weight loss) did I have anything to do with, by constant exercise; the rest was my mother's genes finally coming through. Once I was into my full-fledged metamorphosis my mother suddenly started to take an interest in my appearance - something that she had never really done before. While Mom had always been kind to me, until my transformation she never really complimented me on my looks, or encouraged me to get the best that I could out of my appearance. I guess that she figured that I just didn't have much to work with. However, when my face cleared up and my boobs erupted she started giving me hair and makeup tips, and "poise" suggestions. My physical evolution was apparently complete when my father seemingly honestly told me -in my mother's presence - that I was as beautiful as my mother was; and she said "more beautiful, darling," as she hugged me. ***** Having been basically a recluse for so long, my physical makeover didn't result in a commensurate alteration of my personality or outlook on life. I continued to dress conservatively, eschewed being the center of attention, and remained shy. Even constant efforts by dozens of guys to get me to date them didn't snap me out of my condition, although I did go out on some dates, including to the senior prom where I was elected to the Court. I also actually made out with a few guys and even let one feel me up. After High School I got a job as a secretary at an Insurance Agency and went to Junior College at night. While many women would have loved the male attention that I got both at work and at school, it was too unsettling for me. I quit my job after six months and started working for an exclusively on-line company doing order fulfillment, so that I no longer constantly got hit on. I did continue with Junior College, however, and got an associate's degree in business administration after two years and two summers, and continued with the regular exercise program that I had started my sophomore year in High School. I did date some during this time, but it seemed like most of the guys that hit on me wanted me to be some sort of wild, hip, skip-and-go-naked Momma - and that just wasn't my nature. Therefore I had no relationship that lasted more than four dates. Just before my twenty first birthday I met twenty three year old Derek Jones in the stands at a Junior College baseball game. He was different from most of the other guys that I had met or dated in that he didn't really come on strong, and respected my inhibitions rather than trying to change me. He was the first guy that I had intercourse with. Although sex was not the toe-curling, mind-blowing experience that I had read about - or had been told about by my sister, who does have a tendency for hyperbole - it was very nice. Derek was gentle and considerate, and I fell in love with him. Derek and I got married after dating exclusively for about fourteen months. I went from the distinctive last name of "Bertelsen," to the fifth most common surname in the United States, "Jones." Derek's attitude toward my inhibitions seemed to change shortly after we got married. At first it was almost imperceptible. "Hey, Amy. Did you see Kate Upton in that yellow bikini? I'll bet that you'd look even better in it that she does." "Oh, Derek, don't be ridiculous. Of course I wouldn't. Plus, that's way too revealing for me to be seen wearing in public." "What, afraid that you'd be responsible for too many heart attacks?" he replied, followed by a laugh, a twirl, and a kiss. Some of our best friends had pools, and during the summer after we had been married about eight months we started attending pool parties. Looking back on it, Derek may have been partly responsible for what started to be more and more peer pressure on me to "loosen up" at the parties. All of the other women at the pool parties went from bikinis, to string bikinis, to sometimes sunbathing topless for part of the time. I remained in a fashionable, but far from daring, one-piece suit. Typical of the ever escalating girl talk was: "Amy; if I had your body I'll flaunt it, girl." "Hey, Amy, that one piece just doesn't do it for you. You'd kill just in a regular bikini." "Amy, my husband Rick has asked for only one thing for his birthday - to talk you into going topless for just one minute at the next pool party!" Despite the best efforts of all of my friends I went through the summer conservatively dressed. However, I kept Derek from complaining too much by ensuring that we had sex as soon as we got home. By that time, having been married about a year, I was no longer particularly reserved around him, and certainly had no hang-ups about having sex in many different positions. Sex with Derek was almost always satisfying - more so after pool parties - although still never the mind-blowing experience that I had been told about by my girlfriends, all of whom I assumed were exaggerating. Once the summer, and the associated pool parties, ended Derek seemed to begin a full-fledged campaign to get me to dress more provocatively everywhere that we went. At first I brushed it off. However, after several months it really started to get irritating. "What is this thing of yours to get me to look like a slut?" I finally inquired after he insisted that I wear the totally skanky looking outfit he bought me a night we were supposed to go to a nightclub with friends. "My boobs would spill out of that, and anyone could see my camel toe if I bent over." "Hey, Amy, I don't want you to look like a slut. I'm just proud of you and like to show you off - show everyone how hot my wife is. Come on, that dress cost a lot of money." "I'm not comfortable with that, Derek. Back off - and give this whore-outfit to the Salvation Army so you can at least get a tax deduction for it. I don't care how much it cost, I'm not wearing it." I couldn't understand why Derek couldn't be happy just having me to himself, and why he was so intent on changing me, when I had no desire to change. Things came to a head one night when he, with the help of the wife of one of his friends, tricked me into going to a strip club - on a night when they were hosting an Amateur Contest. I didn't enjoy the strip club - I had never been to one before and had never cared to ever go to one. I painfully endured the constant banter by Derek, his friend, and his friend's wife, trying to get me to compete, until I couldn't take it anymore. I finally burst into tears, tore out of the place, hid behind an SUV when Derek came out looking for me, and after he went back inside got a cab home. When Derek arrived home that night I lit into him. I rarely used swear words until that point; that is one way he did get me to change that night. "Amy, why in the hell did you take off like that and embarrass me in front of my friends," were his first words to me when he got home. "Listen you fucking asshole, I've had it with your perversion of trying to show my body off to everyone in the world. I don't like that, never have, and never will. Tonight was the last straw you sick bastard. You try even one more time and I'm through with you. Got it fuck-stick?" I screamed. With that I took off my engagement and wedding rings and threw them at him; the shocked look on his face was priceless. I then stormed off to our bedroom and locked the door. Surprisingly I slept well that night, although when I got up the next morning and remembered how I had left things, my stomach got tied in knots. I quickly resolved that I was not going to back down, and would follow through on my threat - actually to me it was more of a promise - if he pulled the same shit again. When I went into the kitchen, I saw that Derek had obviously left for work early; probably because he didn't want to face me. There was a pink piece of paper on the kitchen table, however, with a heart drawn on it and the word "SORRY" in big black print, with "Love, Derek," underneath it. Also laying on the piece of paper were my wedding and engagement rings, and a single red rose. Even though the rose had clearly been purloined from our next door neighbor's garden, my anger dissipated quickly. I left work early to prepare Derek his favorite meal. When he sheepishly came into the kitchen at his regular time the smell of roast pork and browned potatoes seemed to put him at ease a little. "Hi, Hon," he said with trepidation. "Did you accept my apology?" "We'll talk about it after dinner," I said in a pleasant, not nasty or accusatory, voice. "Let's just talk about how our days went and local politics or sports until then," I continued with a smile. That's exactly what we did talk about - interspersed with Derek's seemingly genuine compliments about how great the meal tasted. Derek cleaned up all of the dinner dishes and pots while I showered, then we sat in the living room. "Derek; I'm provisionally accepting your apology," I started right in, holding up my left hand so that he could see that I had my rings on. "However, I want you to know something for certain. I'm never going to expose my body to your friends, or to strangers, period. If you can't live with that you've married the wrong girl and we need to call it quits now." "Look,...Amy,..." he stuttered. "I really am sorry. It won't happen again. But there is something I really need you to do for me - I know it may sound weird to you, but it's who I am as much as you not wanting to expose your body is who you are." "I'm listening," I said, looking him in the eye with an expression as kind and open-minded as I could muster. "I really get turned on by your body - as you already know; but what turns me on most is the idea of you stripping..." Derek said, and then hesitated. "Let me see how to put this, because it's embarrassing." "Go ahead - I'm not judging you," I replied with a half-smile. "OK. I think that if you could strip for me on a regular basis, I wouldn't even have the urge anymore to have you expose yourself to others. Does that make any sense?" He seemed so genuine and vulnerable. "You want me to be your own personal Gypsy Rose Lee or Tila Tequila?" I asked, this time with a full smile. "Uh...well...Yes!" "But I don't know how to strip - I'd just be clumsy," I laughed. "I have a solution," he chirped, as he jumped up from his chair and reached into his pocket and pulled out a brochure. "I know that you exercise four days a week anyway - why not learn something new while you do?" he asked with a Cheshire Cat grin as he handed me the brochure. The brochure was colorful and eye catching. On the front panel was a beautiful women who looked to be in her forties with a large fan in front of her, a tiara on her head, and sparkling four inch heels; and likely nothing else, although that was unclear. The title of this little four panel attention-getter was "Strip-Aerobics," and the byline was "The most fun way to exercise ever invented by womankind!" It actually looked legit. There was no doubt that the exercises featured in the brochure would provide excellent cardio, and the testimonials made it seem like it was really fun. I had been doing basically the same, now boring, exercise routine for several years, and I had been thinking that it might be time for a change anyway. Derek looked anxious as he sat across from me as I perused the brochure. When I said, "OK - I'll go visit 'Cupcake Hostess,'" the obviously made-up cheesy stage name of the women on the front panel, "tomorrow to see what it's like," he got a big smile on his face. Despite our full stomachs, Derek picked me up, carried me to bed, did his own "strip" of me, and then fucked me. It was one of the better sex sessions we had ever had. ***** "Cupcake Hostess," in reality June Jackson (the eighteenth most common surname in the U. S.), was vivacious, enthusiastic, and knowledgeable. She proudly proclaimed that she was fifty four years old. When she told me that I was sold as I mumbled to myself "Holy shit; I'd kill to look like that at fifty four!" I was pleasantly surprised that it was no more expensive than the health club that I belonged to. I took ninety minute Strip Aerobics classes two nights a week, and a three hour class on Saturday. June's facility - with eight poles and two sets of "sheets" - could accommodate ten more advanced students, and fifteen for basic instruction. I took to it like a duck to water, and went from basic to advanced classes in just two weeks. While June's facility could accommodate ten students for advanced classes we rarely had more than six, so the instruction was very personal - and intense. It was better exercise than I had ever had before in my life, and - at least for me - was as fun as the brochure had promised. Of course we never actually stripped naked during class, always just to a jog bra and exercise shorts, but everything else was realistic - much like I saw in my only sojourn to a strip club, although Cupcake Hostess and some of the more experienced students were much better and more athletic than anything that I saw at the strip club. I especially liked the pole action. While I had to work a little on my upper body strength to do some of the maneuvers, I was limber enough - and my thighs were muscular enough - to do most of the "intriguing" pole tricks. By the seventh week of classes I could do the Cross Leg L Climb, the Russian Splits, the Up Pole Transition, the Sexy Flexy, the Bumslide to Splits, and the Splash. I was working on the Extended Frodo, the Spinning Straddle, and the One Handed Bridge, and was at least close to mastering the first and third. I was not having much luck with "split the sheets," but was from good to great for most of the non-pole standard moves including The Strut, Booty Bounce, Hoop Roll, Toe Touch, Moon Waltz, and Small Pirouette. Derek was bugging me from about the third week to let him see my stuff. I refused, first out of shyness because I didn't know if I was good enough, and then because I had no way to show him my best moves - which required the use of a pole. June's rules did not allow men in her studio while classes were going on because most of her students would be very self-conscious. Most - like me - were taking the classes as just a fun way to stay in shape; only two actually wanted to work as strippers, and they didn't want anyone to see them without paying. Derek was so much like a little kid asking "are we there yet?" on a road trip that I finally asked June if I could give Derek an after-hours show. She and I had really clicked, and I was taking more classes than any other student (except for the two budding professionals), so she agreed. On a Tuesday night, after all the other students had left, June controlled the music and lights. We started out with "Sweet Emotion," by Aerosmith, and finished with an abridged version of the ultra-hot "Fuck Like An Animal" by Nine Inch Nails. I pulled out all of the stops; I did all of the techniques that I had mastered, and didn't try those that I was still working on. My adrenaline was flowing so fast by the time that I was thirty seconds into my routine that I did my best "Sexy Flexy" and "Russian Splits" ever, and a high energy series of Booty Bounces. I "climaxed" by transitioning from a Bumslide to Splits to a wiggling ass Toe Touch, both completely naked. The total routine lasted ten minutes, and I did strip naked. When the music stopped and the colored lights were turned off I put a robe on and then approached Derek. He was almost comatose. His eyes looked as big as baseballs and were glazed over, the hair on his neck was virtually standing up, his cock was almost popping his zipper, and he was speechless. "How did you like it, Derek?" was my obvious question. Derek almost stuttered "Un - fucking - believably - awesome!" as he tried to reach inside my robe to grab one of my perspiring tits. I playfully slapped his hand away and whispered "later." June came bubbling over to me and gave me a big hug. She had apparently overheard Derek. "She was un-fucking believable, wasn't she, Derek. Your little wifey is already better than two thirds of the experienced professionals, and once she masters the 'Extended Frodo' and 'the One Handed Bridge' she'll be in the top ten percent!" "Holy shit," was all that Derek could say as he vigorously shook June's hand with a big shit-eating grin on his face and mumbled "You're a wizard Cupcake Hostess, a fucking genius!" ***** That night Derek fucked me as well as he ever had, including eating my pussy first, something that he had only done a half dozen times before. The next day he anxiously inquired "Amy - when can you do the first strip for me at home?" "How about Friday? You do understand though, don't you, that without a pole it won't be quite as dramatic as at the studio?" I replied with a grin. After a pause, with a grin so diabolical he looked like Batman's arch villain The Joker, Derek said "Tell you what, Amy. You've been wanting to visit your parents. Why don't you leave Friday right after work and come back Sunday evening - and I'll take care of the 'pole problem.'" I laughed, and simply said "OK. But don't go overboard." He just smiled. ***** When I got back Sunday night I couldn't believe what I saw. The first (and only) floor of our small house had been transformed. The wall between our living room and what had been a storage room was now all mirrors, the walls of the living room were newly painted and apparently newly sound insulated, and the roof in the living area had been raised into the attic. Two poles were placed in the living room, one permanently fixed, the other removable, and the furniture that hadn't been cleared out was on rollers. Speakers were placed in all four corners, a number of multicolored stage lights were in the uplifted ceiling area by the mirrored wall pointing toward the pole, and the door to the storage room had been moved so that it was now a secondary exterior back door. I Only Strip for My Husband I was wide-eyed when I exclaimed "Oh my God - what is this?" "Hey, someone as awesome as you are needs awesome equipment. How do you like it?" Derek proudly responded. "Uh - well - it's great, except did you have to get a second mortgage on the house to finance this? And how in the hell did you do all of this in one weekend?" "Well, first of all, I had help; Rick is a carpenter and Jessie does both electrical and general contracting, so they..." I cut him off with "What? You mean Rick who asked his wife as a birthday present to talk me into exposing my tits, and Jessie who is always ogling me? That Rick and Jessie?" Derek sheepishly nodded his head before I erupted again. "You do understand that YOU are the only one I'll be stripping for, right!" My tone was angry and my arms crossed - I thought that Derek might be having a relapse. "Hey, Hon - don't get your panties in a bunch. I know that no one except me is ever going to get to see you perform. I already told you that I'm happy with that," Derek said holding his hands in front of him in a "calm down" action. "Well how much did all this stuff cost?" I snapped. "I called in a number of favors, so it was only a couple of grand and I'll get that back shortly..." I thought that was a weird statement, and looked at him quizzically, but he quickly clarified, "In enjoyment at looking at you!" He gave me a big smile, held out his arms, snuggled me and said "I love you, babe." ***** Derek was as excited as a kid at Christmas and Halloween combined when next Friday rolled around. By 6:50, ten minutes before I was supposed to start my performance, he was already sitting on a chair in front of the mirrors in a T-shirt and shorts, simply beaming. I had a version of a school girl outfit on with two bras, panties and a thong. I had told him that Wednesday what music I wanted, and he had it set up on a digital player connected up to the high class speakers at the corners of the room. He was taking care of controlling the lights above the mirrored wall. I figured that as long as he had gone through the trouble of constructing this studio that I might as well give him the best show possible. I shaved my pussy, except for a landing strip, and spray tanned my skin. The sound track started with "Eyes Without A Face" by Billy Idol; slow and sensual. I was very deliberate in removing my blouse and skirt while doing a few twirls on the pole, but no major pole work. After strutting for a while and a Booty Bounce I removed my jog bra and started into some serious, though slow, pole work. Even over the sound of the music I could swear that I heard Derek panting and clapping. Once the sound track changed to "Buttons" by Pussycat Dolls I was really working it. I had been a little apprehensive about the mirrors, but by looking into them as I did my routine I could see if any parts of my body needed to be positioned more effectively, and - to my surprise - seeing what I could do with my almost-naked, or then naked, body was a real turn-on, inspiring me to greater heights. Between pole moves I gyrated and flipped my long auburn-highlighted hair back and forth. When I removed my panties, leaving me only in my thong, lace bra, and high heels, there was an audible groan from my "crowd of one." My next move, just as "Hot in Here" by Nelly started, I had been practicing with June's help for two weeks. It was to become one of my signature moves. I surreptitiously undid my lace bra and then transitioned into a cartwheel right toward Derek; the centrifugal force from my cartwheel threw the bra right into Derek's lap. Well, anyway, that was the idea, and I only missed by a few inches and Derek, showing the reflexes of a third baseman, snagged it. I shook my tits in front of him, including almost right in his face, before doing a hand spring back to the pole. After removing my thong I did a number of pole moves that clearly displayed my pussy. As "Hot In Here" ended - I was now officially sweating profusely - I did the Russian Splits, somersaulted over to Derek and started giving him a lap dance, with a lot of naked hip and tit action just as the last song of the track - "Pony" by Ginuwine, started. With my bare ass almost in his face, Derek scooted his chair sideways while mumbling something about wanting to see himself in the mirror, quickly removed his T-shirt and shorts, and grabbed my gyrating hips. After licking my ass a few times he pulled me back onto his lap - actually into contact with his rock hard dick. I helped him position his cock in my soaking wet - and not just from sweat - pussy - and we fucked like animals. I took a few glances into the mirror and saw a look of ecstasy on Derek's face and saw my tits bouncing and giggling so much that beads of perspiration were being catapulted off of them. Derek was so excited that he blew his large wad just as the song lyrics were "send chills up and down your spine." It was before I had climaxed, however, but both he and I rubbed my clit and pinched my pussy lips until I came too. It was probably the best climax of my life even though it wasn't in sync with his. It was a good four or five minutes after the song ended before we disengaged. When I stood up - still a little shaky - he overtly played with my tits. He stood behind me and turned me toward the mirror with one arm around my neck and the hand on the other arm lightly pinching a nipple as he said "Look how over-the-top sexy you are, babe; you're beyond awesome!" I was still glistening with sweat, cum was leaking down my right thigh, and my hair was disheveled, but in all modesty I did have to admit that I looked hot. Finally, we completely disengaged, and I went into the master bathroom to first rinse off in the shower, and then take a relaxing bubble bath. I was surprised when I looked at the clock in our bedroom, as I passed to the bathroom, and saw that it was 8:18. My routine, and the fuck and hugging session that followed, had taken almost eighty minutes, and I had to have burned well over a thousand calories. No wonder I was so wiped out. That night marked a sea change in Derek's attitude. He never again made even the slightest suggestion that I should expose my body in any way outside of our house or to anyone else, and was even happy with my continued employment of one piece bathing suits when the next summer's pool parties started. He also regularly bought me flowers, and gave me massages after my performances. I don't know why - although Derek noticed it too and speculated that it was because I now had such a great self-image from doing my stripper routines - but all of our male friends were even more friendly and smiley around me than they ever had been before. I think it caused a few problems for some of the wives and girlfriends, but I'm sure that they realized that I wasn't encouraging it so they took it out on their partners instead of me. By July I had perfected all of the stripper techniques that I was interested in, including the Extended Frodo, the Spinning Straddle, and the One Handed Bridge. All three of them - and especially the Extended Frodo - drove Derek wild. I never did master "splitting the sheets," but there was no real way to set up sheets in our home studio anyway so that was no big deal. Although I had now mastered stripping, I still continued with Strip Aerobics classes, although primarily as an assistant instructor. June/Cupcake Hostess would often trot me out to do a performance for newcomers to show them what could be accomplished by hard work, and I got all of the exercise that I needed by participating in and helping to teach classes for an hour two nights a week, and on Sunday afternoon; and of course my performances for Derek (with the following fuck) every Friday, which provided the most intense exercise of the week. ***** In May, just before that year's pool party season started, the company that I worked for had just completed transferring some of their administrative offices to our city in a newly constructed beautiful modern office building right next to the fulfillment center that I worked in. The company offered me a significant promotion - both in salary and responsibility - to move to the administrative offices. As if that weren't enough, when I saw that I would be trading a cubicle adjacent a warehouse for my own modern, closed off, office with a window in the new building, I jumped at the chance. Several of the employees who started work in the new administrative offices, some transfers from other areas, others new hires, were really great people. I quickly became friendly with two girls, Cheryl and Stephanie, and two guys, Winston and Blake, who were all about my age. All except for Winston were single. Cheryl and Stephanie both became better friends than I had ever had growing up. Winston was probably the funniest person that I had ever met and a joy to be around. Blake was someone whose bones I would have jumped about a week after I met him if I weren't married. Blake was the consummate handsome gentleman and after some initial shyness showed that he was so smart, kind, and personable that I concluded that he must be gay because otherwise it was impossible to believe that some beauty had not scarfed him up. ***** It was a Monday morning in mid-August when Blake came into my office with a serious look on his face. At the time he startled me a little because I was looking at the new bracelet that Derek had given me Saturday as a present for my best performance ever Friday night. I was daydreaming about Friday night where I did an Extended Frodo that exposed my pussy for a good thirty seconds, and a One Handed Bridge and subsequent flip where my pussy almost landed on his upright cock. Derek was particularly cuddly after our fuck and massaged my breasts and pussy for the longest time as we both were facing the mirrors. "Hi, Blake," I gushed. "I hope that you had a nice weekend." Looking at my bracelet he responded in a monotone "Nice bracelet; when did you get it?" "Oh, Derek gave it to me Saturday for a secret thing that we do every Friday night. He was especially pleased. I would tell you what it is but then I'd have to kill you," I giggled. Blake not only didn't laugh - he frowned. "Uh, say, Amy; there is something I want to talk to you about. Do you think that we could go to the park for lunch - maybe get some sandwiches to take-away from the cafeteria," he said, only occasionally making eye contact. "Sure," I replied, but trying to lighten the mood asked, "why so serious, Blake?" He didn't actually respond. He just got a weak smile and said "Great - I'll meet you at the cafeteria at noon;" then he turned and walked out. "Wow - strange," I thought to myself. However I didn't think about it again until about quarter to twelve, and was actually very efficient that morning and got a shitload of work done. Blake was even more solemn as we placed our orders at the sandwich counter, each got a bottle of Pellegrino, and walked the two or three hundred meters from our office building to a shaded park bench. After taking a sip of sparkling water and a bite of sandwich I turned to Blake and said "OK - dude - spill! What's got you so uptight?" With obvious discomfort Blake said, "Uh, Amy - we're good friends, right?" "Absolutely; in the few months that I've known you, Winston, Cheryl and Stephanie I'd say that you're my four best friends ever. Why?" "Well there is something as a friend that I feel that I need to tell you. I've wrestled with it all weekend. I didn't get any sleep at all Friday night, and little Saturday and Sunday nights." He took a deep breath, obviously mustering up his courage, and then looked me straight in the eye and asked "Do you know that your husband sells tickets to your live Friday night performances, and a DVD of several of them with your face blurred?" I dropped my sandwich; it was like someone had kicked me in the solar plexus. "How do you know, what are you talking about, what the fuck, that's impossible," were some of many phrases I rapid fired at him. Blake held my hands as I felt tears forming in my eyes and said "I was there Friday night and saw it with my own eyes." That was another kick to the stomach. As I tried to pull my hands away from him he said "But let me explain." I just stared at him with more tears forming. "A date I had for Friday night got canceled. A new guy friend of mine called me up right after work and said that he bought two tickets to the best secret show in town and wanted to know if I wanted to come with him; he said my ticket would cost me $75 but that it was well worth it since he had seen the show twice before. He said that it was a private strip and sex show by the hottest woman in the city. Since I had been expecting to get laid that night, and now wasn't going to because my date either had better things to do, or she had a real emergency, I said sure." Blake paused and took another deep breath, wiped away some of my tears with his right hand, and then continued. "Anyway, so we went to this one story house in Oakwood. We parked down the street from it, not in front. It was about 6:30. We went around to the back and entered it through a secondary rear door where a guy was either checking or selling tickets - $75 each. We entered this small dark room with bleachers where there were already another dozen guys, and we looked through an entire wall of two way mirrors into a studio with a chair, pole, speakers, and spot lights on the pole." I could tell that it was almost as difficult for Blake to tell me as it was for me to listen. "So this guy comes in with just a T-shirt and shorts on and sits in the chair facing the pole. And then this beautiful woman comes in and music starts to play. I swear on my mother's grave that I didn't know that it was you until the first time that you came right near the mirror wiggling your tits in the guy's face and then went back to the pole. I couldn't leave though since if I did it would look way too suspicious to my friend and also - well - I have to be honest. It was the most erotic thing that I had ever seen in my life. It was all that I could do not to stroke my rock hard wang, although obviously most of the other guys didn't try to exercise self-control since a lot of cum was shooting out of dicks." I was crushed. I think that Blake asked if I wanted to hear anything else; I'm not sure. I do know that I shook my head and then dissolved in tears onto his shoulder. It was a good half hour before I regained my composure. Fortunately, the park wasn't too crowded and only a couple of people saw me. Blake called into work for both of us, and told them that I had had an emergency and that he was taking me to the hospital - not far from the truth since I felt sick all over. Fortunately I had taken only one bite of sandwich otherwise I would have left a terrible mess on the park bench. Blake and I wandered aimlessly through the park, rarely speaking, for the next half hour or so. My mind was in a tizzy. I could not think logically. Finally Blake asked "Would you like to see the room?" I did and I didn't - but I knew that it was something that I ultimately had to do, so why not now when I couldn't feel any shittier. Blake drove to my house - there was no way that I could have driven. We followed exactly the path that he had followed in getting to the back of my house. He turned the knob on the secondary back door - the one that Derek had installed when he renovated our house to provide the studio. It was securely locked. "If you give me your permission, and promise not to tell anyone about my misspent youth, I'll open it," Blake said, with the first smile since we sat on the park bench. "Sure," I grumbled, nodding my head at the same time. Blake took some gizmos out of his pocket and in about a minute or two the door was open. When I stepped in it was exactly as Blake had described it. There were bleachers that could fit about fifteen or sixteen people. The room was dark; it obviously had recently been cleaned because there was a slight odor of disinfectant and no cum on the floor. Even though there were no lights on in the studio you could clearly see the pole through the one-way mirrors forming the longest wall of the room. "No wonder those perverts Rick and Jessie were so willing to help Derek build the studio and this room. He probably promised them free tickets for life," flashed through my brain, triggering agitation. My agitation turned to horror, then anger, when I saw some DVDs on a table near the back of the room. There was a naked photo of me - obviously when doing The Strut during one of my performances when I was giggling my tits with my arms extended outwardly from my sides - with my face blurred. The title of the DVD was "The Best of Amber Lee;" the homemade price tag read "$100, cash only." At that point I was cried out; I felt humiliated, cheated-on, betrayed, and irate; more anger than I had ever felt before in my life, by a long shot. I opened up the DVD cases and took the DVDs out of them, but left everything else as is in the room. When we got back into Blake's car he asked "What do you want to do now?" "I need time to think," I replied. "I have just the place - do you trust me?" he responded. I stared at him. "Blake, I know that it took guts for you to tell me what you did. And it also was a genuine act of friendship. I really appreciate it. But I need more help - my mind in muddled right now - so lead on." Blake drove to a forest preserve about twenty miles out of town. We hiked about a mile to an overlook and sat down on a blanket that he brought. Looking at the beautiful scenery and with Blake silently at my side, I started to think. By the time that it was about 4:00 p.m. I knew that I had to tell Derek something because it wasn't possible that I could face him that night without killing him. I wanted something more creative, and something that wouldn't land me in jail. I called Derek's office rather than his cellphone. He always answered his cellphone or returned the call within minutes, but he often was away from his desk and only checked messages on his office phone when he returned. "Hi, Derek; an emergency has come up with Dad. I've got to go there. I'll call you tomorrow night." There was no tenderness or love in my voice. I am just not that good an actress. He wasn't the most observant guy so hopefully he did not notice. I called my parents to provide backup for my story in case Derek called them instead of my cellphone. Then I turned to Blake and said "Can you take me back to the office. I'll get my stuff and car and then go to a hotel." "Sure," he replied, standing and then rolling up the blanket. In the car on the way to our office Blake became talkative. About half way back he said "Actually, if you don't want to spring for a hotel room I have a three bedroom house and you could use one of my spare rooms." I looked at him and smiled for one of the few times since lunch, then asked "Are you gay?" "Hell no!" he remarked obviously perturbed. But he quickly recovered, smiled and said "No, I'm not gay, but I'm trustworthy and won't be sneaking into your room at night. I believe that you can do your thinking as well at my place as at a hotel, I'll prepare you a free, better, meal, and if you need someone to bounce ideas off of, I'm there. "OK," I quickly responded. ***** Blake did make a great meal - so good that I actually ate some of it despite the churning in my stomach. He also was a true gentleman, and except for a few gentle friendly pats or strokes never laid a hand on me. He also didn't sneak into my room in the middle of the night - I wasn't sure what my reaction would have been if he had. It was probably fifty-fifty, considering how betrayed I felt at the time, whether I would have spurned him or fucked his brains out. I'm glad that I didn't have to decide. I Only Strip for My Husband I had a preliminary plan by Tuesday night when I called Derek on my cellphone. My resolve to follow through was cast in iron when one of the first things that Derek asked - before even really inquiring about my father's health - was "Will you be back for a performance on Friday, darling?" Rather than yelling at him that he was a perverted fuck that needed to be castrated - which is what I wanted to say - I gathered all the self-control that I could and said "Sure. I know how important those performances are, and I'm confident that Dad will be better by then," before I had to hit the "Mute" button since I was choking on my own words. I went to a divorce attorney on Wednesday and she promised to have all of the paperwork ready by Friday. I was seeking a divorce on irreconcilable differences with a 50-50 property split. I continued to stay at Blake's house and he continued to be a gentleman. I needed Blake not to be a gentlemen for the coup de grace, however, so I had to let him in on my plan, and get his cooperation, before Friday night. Thursday night, after dinner and a few drinks, I told Blake that I was divorcing Derek and what I had in mind. His eyes got like saucers. "Are you sure that is what you want to do?" he asked, not in a tone trying to dissuade me, but just inquiring. "Hell yes," I quickly replied. "You got a problem with that?" "No, no...no problem," he mumbled as the crotch of his pants suddenly looked like someone had stuck a gun in there. ***** Friday night arrived. I was waiting at home, Blake in the pantry, when Derek arrived at 5:00 sharp. He always wanted to have time to prepare for Friday's activities, so he left work a little early every Friday. "Hi Hon," he gushed when he saw me. I deflected him when he tried to give me a kiss. I had put cotton cylinders in my nostrils and said "I hab a coll dalling ands I donn wants ya getting it;" if I do say so myself I sure did sound like I had a cold. Of course his only concern was "Are you going to be able to perform tonight, Hon." "Nuttin culd stops me," I replied with a smile and an "OK" symbol with my fingers. I was drinking a glass of champagne and had one poured for him too. I handed it to him, smiled, clinked his glass and mumbled "To ans unfirgettible nite!" He drank up. Two minutes later Derek was passed out, drugged, on the kitchen floor. I had caught enough of him when he collapsed to make sure that he didn't hit his head and kill himself - he needed to be alert later. I pulled the cotton out of my nostrils. Blake threw Derek over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, and I got out Derek's keys and unlocked the "viewing room." Blake and I tied Derek up good and tight to the front row of bleachers with his back and head propped up and a ball gag in his mouth. We put a sign on the outside of the viewing room door, with an envelope taped to it. The sign read "Sorry; performance cancelled because of illness. Write your name and address on the back of your ticket and put it in the envelope and I'll send you a refund, plus $10 extra for your trouble." We had a camera set up filming (with audio) all of the guys who came. Most were grossly disappointed, especially Jessie and Rick, who obviously didn't need tickets especially since Blake identified Rick as the guy at the door collecting and selling tickets when Blake saw the show. "Why the fuck didn't he call me?" Rick asked Jessie. "Maybe Amy was around and he didn't want to clue her in - and he sure wasn't gonna call your house in case Debbie answered," Jessie replied as he stroked his chin. "Yeah; maybe," Rick responded as he shrugged his shoulders and they went off. Nine of the fifteen guys - counting Rick and Jessie - who did show up were stupid enough to leave their tickets, with names and addresses on them, in the envelope. As Blake collected the tickets I unlocked the door again and went inside the viewing room. Derek was sitting awake, and wide-eyed. "Hi asshole," I greeted him with a sickeningly sweet smile. "I'm glad that you're awake. The show will be starting shortly - sorry that we'll be twenty minutes late, but we had to be sure that all your buddies were gone. I hope that you like it - it will be your last show." I wanted him to think "last" as in he would be dead, but really meant the last time that he would ever see me without clothes on. With that I punched him in the solar plexus - not hard enough so that he wouldn't be able to "enjoy" the show, but forceful enough to inflict a little pain. I wonder what went through Derek's mind when he saw Blake, already naked, stroll into the studio and start up the music and turn on the lights? I wonder whether Derek was turned on, or anxious, when I did my best routine ever? I wonder if he was jealous when he saw how big and hard Blake's cock was as I neared the end of my routine? However, once I finished my performance with a Spinning Straddle and a naked Booty Bounce directly in front of Blake's now sideways chair, I didn't think about anything else except the upcoming pleasure. As I stood up from my Booty Bounce, Blake dropped to his knees and starting licking my cunt with over-the-top lust while he simultaneously twisted a nipple and fingered my pucker hole. He had to hold me up when my first orgasm hit it was so powerful. After my second orgasm I almost collapsed despite his hands on my hips. It was obvious that Blake's cock needed attention. When I recovered from my second orgasm I dropped to my knees and hungrily sucked his big tool while playing with his low hanging testicles. It was clear that he wanted to deposit his load in my pussy, not my mouth, however, so he lifted me up, bent me over so that my hands were supporting me on the back of the chair - within inches of Derek's seat on the other side of the mirrors - and rammed his rod up my pussy. Blake fucked me with vigor, and despite my exhaustion from my twenty minute spirited strip followed by two oral-induced orgasms I tried the best that I could to fuck back. Once he started squirting my cervix, however, every nerve ending in my body fried and I blacked out. When I came back to life, probably only a few seconds later, the first thought that flashed through my primitive brain was "Holy shit! Now I finally know what toe-curling, Fourth of July fireworks, sex is like!" Blake and I were in no hurry. We cuddled, laying on the floor right next to the mirrors, until I sensed his cock twitching. I enthusiastically sucked it hard then stood up and put my hands and tits on the mirrors as Blake entered me from behind and fucked me comatose a second time as I gyrated and screamed into the mirrors. More than two hours after my performance started we were finally able to regain all of our faculties. We kissed, showered together, and dressed. I made a call then went to the viewing room and removed Derek's gag. "How did you enjoy the show, ex-hubbie?" I gleefully asked. Derek didn't respond; his eyes were full of a combination of fear, disgust, hate, and - I do believe - enjoyment. I did notice that he had cum in his pants. The six foot four inch, 260 pound, full time bounty hunter and part time process server - who was Stephanie's boyfriend, Charlie - who I had called came into the room at that time. "Derek Jones?" he asked. "Yeah." "You've been served," Charlie said, tossing an envelope with the divorce papers onto Derek's cum-stained pants. "Thanks, Charlie," I said. "Please untie him once I've left. You're a dear." "Glad to help, Amy," Charlie chortled. Blake dropped me off at Cheryl's two bedroom apartment, where I would be staying until the divorce was final. My clothes and everything else that I really wanted had been moved there, or to a storage unit, during that day while Derek was at work. I gave Blake a passionate kiss goodbye. "Thanks!" I said. "Yeah, it was a real hardship having the best sex of my life by a factor of ten with the sexiest woman that I have ever known, but I sacrificed myself," he grinned. "Can I call you when the divorce is final?" I giggled. "Does Dolly Parton sleep on her back?" he chuckled. ***** My attorney called Rick and Jessie and told them to collect all of the DVDs of my performances that had been sold on the penalty of telling their wives and the cops. They were scared shitless. They swore that they were able to retrieve all the DVDs except for one, from a guy that had moved to Europe and that they didn't have any contact information for. All except one of the DVDs - held as potential evidence in my attorney's safe - were destroyed. Derek put up a little initial resistance to the divorce, but I made it clear to him in a phone conversation how badly his betrayal had hurt me. The divorce was final within four months - I ended up with a little less than half of our assets because I didn't get full value for my half of the house. Then again, I didn't have the problem of how to sell it with a stripper's studio for a living room. Blake, Winston, Cheryl, Stephanie, and I had remained best of friends, and all of them were clued in on why I divorced Derek - although Blake and I never told anyone about fucking each other's brains out that night. Neither Blake nor I ever had a date when we went out with our friends. Blake and I were also careful to never be alone together, unless at work. Just before my divorce was final Blake got promoted to be my supervisor. I immediately got another job - with my company's stellar recommendations - and I assured my friends that we would get together just as often. The Sunday after my divorce was final I called Blake up and asked him to come to Cupcake Hostess' Strip Aerobics exercise studio. It was never used Sunday night, and June was happy to give me the key. When Blake arrived I started the music and gave a performance even more impassioned and provocative than the last one. We fucked three times standing, kneeling, or laying on the hardwood floor, carpeting, or mats, of June's studio, each one more nerve-tingling than the last. That was two years ago. Blake and I have fucked almost every day since then, and have been married for the last eighteen months. Almost every Sunday night that we've been in town since then I've given him a performance, and we've had mind-blowing sex, at June's studio. I'm proud of my mastery of stripping, even though I'll never perform for anyone except Blake. However, I've got to develop some new routines now - not because the old ones have become boring, because Blake finds them anything but that. Rather this kid growing in my belly is starting to get in the way. Is there a Preggo version of Strip Aerobics?