Hot Wife Erotica Bundle

Exhibitionist Hot Wife Strips on Stage-2-1

What kind of man takes his wife on a fifth anniversary date to a strip club? Well, Cole for one, I guess; I think he was thinking that seeing the acres of bare flesh, t**s and ass on display would turn me on and smooth his way into my miniscule panties by the end of the night.

And boy was he right?!

He’d kept it a secret up until the very last minute – pretty much as he’d driven his Mercedes into the parking lot of the strip club. He’d promised that he would take me somewhere extra-special for our special date, since he reckoned that a wife as beautiful as me deserved to be treated to the very best. So, I wore my metallic silver crop top with thin spaghetti straps that showed off my firm, tanned belly and dangling, diamante navel jewelry and which was scooped low to best display my firm, voluptuous breasts. To compliment the top, I wore a silver miniskirt that was short enough to show off my long, lean legs, but long enough to (barely) cover my round bubble butt that he was so in lust with. I’d topped the whole sexy ensemble off with a towering pair of shiny black, strappy, stripper heels – which were somewhat appropriate as things turned out.

I guess that the venue Cole took me to was kind of special, if somewhat unorthodox; it turned out to be a private and particularly exclusive strip club that apparently required a hefty annual membership – I was indeed lucky to have a husband wealthy enough to afford such a place. And as the place was strictly members only, it was permitted to serve up both alcoholic beverages and gratuitous displays of total nudity – even the wait and bar staff were completely naked, and I must admit that it was rather nice to be served my expensive cocktails by young ladies with such mouth-watering t**s and bare, pouting p*****s.

And despite my initial reticence at Cole’s selection of venue for our date, I soon relaxed in the high-class atmosphere and actually began to enjoy watching the unbelievably gorgeous strippers cavorting about on stage, jiggling their perfect breasts and spreading their legs as they spun around the slippery chrome poles to give everyone in the club an unhindered glimpse of the wet pinkness between their parted labia – and that in turn made me think of my own p***y, and just how wet this whole experience was beginning to make me.

The strip club itself was intimate and relatively busy without being too crowded – there were twenty five, thirty or so patrons other than the two of us – mainly men, but some had brought female dates along and that helped me to feel a little more comfortable.

“Those guys keep looking at you,” Cole whispered as we sat thigh to thigh watching a tall, flaxen haired beauty peeling off her shimmery black top to unleash a most magnificent pair of natural breasts - easily a match for my own 36DD’s.

“They do?” I turned my head to look over at the six young men in designer suits who sat by the front of the stage. They appeared to be on a bachelor party, and were already well lubricated by expensive champagne and were shouting their encouragement to and raining twenties upon the large-breasted stripper who played up to their attention, squeezing her t**s together and pouting to get them even more excited and to part with yet more of their hard-earned. As I glanced across the club at the guys, a couple of them smiled back at me. I returned the smile and flicked my long, black hair with a flirtatious toss of my head.

“I figure they just can’t help themselves, Abi,” Cole said to me with a sexy smile that showed of his perfect, white teeth. “Since you are the most beautiful girl in the place.” He followed my gaze towards the bachelor party and as we watched, one of them flagged down a delicious ebony waitress who had stiff, jutting n*****s and pink inner lips that peeped out from between her legs like delicate rose petals. The guy whispered something into her ear and pointed over to us.

I couldn’t help but smile at my naughty husband, a whole host of naughty thoughts spinning through my racing – and increasingly aroused - mind.

“This is from the gentlemen by the stage,” the dark skinned waitress appeared as if from nowhere with a huge bottle of champagne and two glasses on a polished sliver tray. She placed it carefully on the glass-topped table in front of Cole and I, her beautifully bare breasts jiggling suggestively as she did so.

“Tell them I said thank you very much,” I said, pulling a twenty out of my purse. I held to up for the waitress to take; as naked as she was, there was absolutely nowhere for me to put it – not even a garter belt around her thigh.

“They said to tell you that there’s more where this came from if you’d care to take a turn up on the stage,” the waitress bent over to whisper to me, her breath warm against my ear, her heavy naked breast resting on my bare shoulder. She glanced over at Cole who was of course oblivious to the proposition; he was too excited about the free Champagne and was busy ogling the tall, blonde stripper as she slid off her lace thong panties to reveal a scrumptious, shaven p***y to the bachelor party.

“They said they’d love to see me up on the stage,” I told Cole the minute the waitress had left us to serve another table.

“Really?” Cole replied, and it was difficult for me to judge the look on his face. I’d taken a chance on revealing the message from the six guys to him; I just wanted to see how he would react, since it really wasn’t something I’d ever have dreamt of actually doing. “I think you’d be good up there,” my husband surprised me as he said, eye-f*****g the blonde with the endless legs and the perfectly smooth, creased p***y slit.

I wasn’t sure if I should take it as a compliment or not – either my darling husband was saying that he thought I was a stunning enough woman to get naked in front of a room full of men (and the handful of ladies, not forgetting), or he thought no more of me than he did the nude woman who strutted her stuff around the stripper pole and made it wet and slippery with her p***y juices.

Cole popped the Champagne cork and filled both of the flutes the waitress had bought, and together we sipped our ice cold drinks and watched as the stripper finished her routine and sashayed from the stage. Quickly, her place was filled by a petite, voluptuous girl with an ass-length mane of fiery red hair. She was breath-taking, and simply smoldered s*x as she strutted confidently onto the stage in her miniscule gold bikini and instantly wrapped herself around the chrome pole.

“Your turn next, m’darlin’!” one of the bachelor party – a broad shouldered black guy who looked like he could easily have been a pro’ ball player - called over to me. “Show us what ya got!” he added and his buddies laughed along with his ribald comment, no doubt relishing the embarrassed blush that colored my cheeks.

“Maybe you should consider it,” Cole said jokily (at least, I think it was jokily), his eyes firmly on the redheaded stripper who was now gyrating with the pole thrust between the alabaster globes of her delicious butt. “This Champagne really is the good stuff.” Cole laughed and lifted his glass in my direction in a one-sided toast.

I smiled at my hubby and gulped down my own drink, its bubbles tickling my throat and in an instant a most pleasant buzz warmed my brain. Enthralled, I watched with intent as the stripper strutted her stuff, my eyes roaming the length and breadth of her small but perfect body; her firm, bulging breasts, her flat, smooth belly, her shapely legs and the tight groove in her bikini bottoms that belied the treasure of her dark, moist hole that lay beneath. And my thoughts returned to the pleasant tingling within my own tight and incredibly tiny panties.

I was just about to thank my husband for our wonderfully sexy date when were interrupted by the redheaded stripper.

She left her pole and danced her way to the side of the stage nearest to us. With her back to us, she untied the thin string of her bikini top and then wriggled out of the thing, her arms crossed demurely over her overflowing t**s. Turning around with an exaggerated, theatrical move, the stripper then opened her arms wide and flung her top at our table.

I caught the bikini top and waved it over my head triumphantly. Rather pleased with myself, I grinned like the cat that got the cream at the stripper, and then across to the bachelor party, all of who were cheering for me.

The stripper climbed from the stage and wiggled the short distance over to our table – all wonderfully in time to the thumping music, her glorious breasts with their incredibly erect, cherry-red n*****s swaying to the hypnotic beat.

And then – much to my surprise – the stripper straddled my legs and pressed her hot little body into mine. Without thinking, I placed my hands on the bare, delightfully sweaty skin of her waist and stared at her glorious, bare t**s that were mere inches away from my face. She tossed back her head and ground her crotch into mine, and I was certain that at that point she could feel the heat of my dampening p***y as she moved against it – for I could most certainly feel the heat from her p***y against me.

“Come with me,” she whispered in my ear and tugged at my hand.

I shook my head. “I can’t,” I told her with a nervous glance at Cole, and then across at the bachelor party who seemed to be egging her on. I wasn’t above showing off my body, but looking at Cole’s startled expression, I wasn’t at all sure as to how he’d react to me getting up on that stage right now.

Disappointed, the stripper slid from my lap, her juice soaked bikini bottoms leaving a warm, damp trail all along my bare thigh.

“Come on, gorgeous! Show us ya stuff!” one of the bachelor group shouted over – I think he was actually the groom-to-be.

“Go on, babe,” Cole seemed most eager all of a sudden, his eyes crawling over my bulging t**s, then over to the redhead’s, “I dare you.”

Still holding onto the stripper’s hand, I reached with my other and grabbed my drink from the table. I chugged the entire flute down in one and then allowed the stripper to pull me from my seat and lead me towards the stage.

As I walked – a little shaky with the Champagne and sheer nerves – the bachelor party whooped and hollered, and the eyes of the whole club were suddenly upon me. I glanced back at Cole who seemed to be entirely delighted that he’d brought his hot, desirable – and evidently game for anything - wife to the strip club.

If only he knew...

I clambered onto the stage in a most unladylike manner, flashing my black thong panties to the bachelor party and most of the audience. The six guys cheered and clapped at the sight of my underwear and a couple of them threw twenty-dollar bills onto the stage in my direction.

The stripper led me by the hand to the pole that stood center stage. She jiggled her magnificent t**s at me and gave me an incredibly lascivious smile, which she finished off with a suggestive lick of her pouting, blood red lips. She then let go of my hand and made her way over to one of the other poles and flung herself around it, but not before undoing the side ties of her bottoms and flinging the diminutive triangle of material into the midst of the bachelor party. The boisterous half dozen fell upon the bikini bottoms like a pack of hungry animals, each of them wanting to own the precious material that no doubt smelled wonderfully of the stripper’s musky juices.

My self-consciousness began to melt away as I lost myself in the pounding beat of the music, and I began to dance with my back leaning against the shiny, smooth pole. I gyrated my hips and thrust out my formidable chest as I played in turn to the bachelor party and my eager-eyed date.

“You’re overdressed!” the black guy in the party called out, a broad grin all over his face. He had kind but incredibly hungry eyes, and they burned into me like hot coals.