My Wife's Costume Romp Ch. 02

Between the planning meeting on Saturday and the first photo session Wednesday evening there was quite a lot to do. Nancy located some vintage women's clothing items including several linen petticoats, a pair of garters, and a lace cap that looked like something the female servants wore in "Upstairs, Downstairs." I asked her about the anachronistic cap and she told me it was the best she could do. I'd just have to adapt it in my drawings.

She also bought a pair of somewhat sheer white stockings. They weren't authentically eighteenth century, either, but they would do.

On Tuesday when I got home from work, Nancy modeled the complete costume for me. She looked wonderfully young and innocent. The only suggestion I made was that she find a lower cut top. And I asked her to loosen her bodice so the top of the blouse would fall open more easily. In the first session, I told her to expect quite a lot of inappropriate touching, including at least some tit-grabbing.

"Nasty man!" said Nancy. "Are you going to have the poor country girl ravished immediately?"

"Not immediately. But she gets compromised pretty early on. You know, a lot of sexual horse-play used to go on in the taverns."

Karsten called a little later. He said Gil, the Israeli student, wouldn't be able to make it for some reason. But Adrian, Glen, and he would be there. And they'd borrowed costumes, including wigs, that were more or less authentic. I asked him if Gil was dropping out of the project and Karsten said he wasn't.

I left work early on Wednesday and got home before my wife did. I gave the house a quick going over to make it appear that I lived there alone. This meant stashing a lot of Nancy's stuff until after the photo shoot. We'd be working (if that's the right word) in the living room tonight. So I moved things out of the center of the room to make a little more space. I laid Nancy's costume on the couch. I'd tell the guys that she had to store her costume at my house.

When Nancy got home at about 4:30, I showed her what I'd done. She volunteered to leave the house for a while at around 6:00 o'clock so that she wouldn't be the first project team member to arrive for the 7:00 o'clock session.

So, after a quick dinner of left-overs, I drove my wife to a neighborhood bar. I told her I'd come back for her after the guys arrived. I watched her enter the bar (looking very sexy in a long coat over her tight jeans and a semi-transparent top under her light jacket) and drove off.

Promptly at 7:00 p.m., Adrian, Glen, and Karsten arrived. They were in their street clothes. Karsten, who seemed to have fallen into the role of stage manager, carried a box containing their costumes. As soon as I let them in, I told them I had to pick up Nancy and that I'd be back in about fifteen minutes. They said they'd change into their costumes while I was gone.

I asked them to get a twelve-pack of beer out of the refrigerator. They might as well get into the spirit of tavern decadence by having a few.

Then I called Nancy to tell her I was on my way to the bar. That was good, she said, because an obnoxious guy was trying to pick her up. I asked her if she wanted me to defend her honor. She just laughed and said "What honor?" She'd be waiting for me outside.

On the way back to the house, she asked me what I expected in tonight's session. Would she just get felt up or would it go further? I asked her just to go along with whatever happened. The truth was that I wasn't completely sure what would develop. Uncertainty was part of the thrill for me.

And the usual self-doubts came upon me. What was I getting my wife into? What sort of a husband was I, anyway? Had I actually bought into the rationalization that this would be some sort of art and that it would have, therefore, some value beyond sexual gratification?

I put these moralistic thoughts out of my mind as soon as we arrived back at the house. Once inside with Nancy and the three guys, I fell immediately into the role of serious-artist- daring-to-push-the-envelope-of-eroticism. I told them that the project might be considered pornography in the service of art. But it was pornography nonetheless. None of them objected or seemed at all disturbed by my candor.

The guys looked pretty authentic in their costumes, and I congratulated Karsten on his success in finding them. We all stood around in the living room admiring the costumes and drinking beer for a while. Then I ordered Nancy to get out of her street clothes and into her costume. She said she was a little self-conscious and asked me to bring her a glass of wine to relax her.

When I got back to the living room with Nancy's wine, I was pleasantly surprised to see that she'd begun changing clothes in the living room in full view of the three guys. She was topless. In fact she'd stripped all the way down to her white cotton panties and was sitting on the couch next to her costume pulling on her stockings.

I handed her the glass of wine and said, "Wow, Nancy. I'm glad I was able to hire you. You're really gorgeous. You're not exactly a buxom barmaid, but you've got really nice tits." Then I turned to the guys and asked, "Don't you think so?"

All three agreed. But Glen corrected me: "She's got a really nice body. She's got great muscle tone and there's hardly an ounce of flab on her. She'll be really interesting to draw."

And to fuck. I knew he had to be thinking that.

With her stockings on (they went up to the middle of her thighs), Nancy stood up and put on her blouse. Then, dressed somewhat more decently and looking somewhat relieved, she sat back down and took some sips from her glass of wine.

"You won't believe what a step it was for me to get naked in front of you guys. The three glasses of wine I had before I came here helped some," she said. "But even with the wine, until now I wasn't sure I could do it."

But I wasn't congratulatory. "Well, Nancy, you're not all the way naked. For one thing, you'll need to get out of those panties. Girls of your class didn't wear them in the eighteenth century."

She smiled up at me. "You mean now? Before I get into my petticoats?"

"You might as well," I answered. "We're all going to see you down there anyway. You might as well get it over with." Damn! Was I really ordering my wife to expose her cunt to three male strangers? To distract myself from the shame of this, I turned on the cable TV to a classical music channel.

Blushing, she stood up, pulled her panties down, and stepped out of them. Looking at the floor, as though too shy to meet our eyes, she stood quite still in front of the couch for several seconds.

"What a relief that is," I exclaimed over a Rossini piano piece. "You've got a nice little patch of pubic hair. I was afraid you'd be one of those close shavers. Women didn't shave their pubes in the eighteenth century."

I glanced over at the other guys, whose attention I'd drawn my wife's reddish-blonde cunt hair. Since they were art students, they were probably accustomed to looking at nudes. Still, it turned me on to see guys I hardly knew looking at what only a doctor or I should be able to see.

She finally turned her back to the guys and me and reached down to pick up one of her petticoats. She had her legs pretty close together, so we couldn't see her crotch. But what a great view of that lovely ass of hers! I was incredibly proud to have a wife with such perfect thighs and high, well-shaped ass cheeks. It would almost have been worth it to reveal to them that I was her husband. I knew how much they'd envy me.

She finally stepped into the inner petticoat and pulled it up to her waist. It was mid-calf in length. Then she put on the outer petticoat that came down to her ankles. "I don't think I need to wear an outer skirt," she announced. "I found an internet site that said lower-class ladies often wore several petticoats instead of an outer skirt. I get a pretty good flare from these two, don't you think?"

I told her they looked fine to me.

She then got Karsten to lace her bodice for her. Finally, she put on a pair of pointed slippers, her cap, and her apron to complete the country girl look. All that remained to be put on were the frilly garters lying on the couch next to her.

"I'll put those on last. First, I have to go somewhere to refresh my make-up."

I told her to go through the kitchen and use the bathroom in the guest room. Purse in hand, she walked out of the living room. I then asked the guys to help me carry the kitchen table into the living room. It would be a useful prop in hinting at a tavern setting. Picking up the table to carry it out of the kitchen, we could see Nancy in the bathroom applying her make-up. I wondered what she was thinking. Was she getting excited thinking about what migh happen to her in the next hour?

Back in the living room after applying her make-up, Nancy sat down on the couch to put on her garters. The darling tart pulled her skirts up high to expose her lovely thighs to us as she did this. Then she stood up and waited with the guys for instructions.

First I took individual shots of the three guys and my wife. Then, after several more beers (and more trips to the bathroom just off the kitchen), I had the three guys pose in a manner suggesting drunkenness on the couch and several chairs around the table we'd moved into the living room. According to our loose script, Nancy was to be their serving wench, a job she'd taken just after arriving from the country.

I'd forgotten the glasses and empty bottles of wine, so I quickly went into the kitchen and got them. Fortunately, the shape of wine bottles hasn't changed much in two-hundred years, so the ones we had on hand that we'd bought at the local supermarket would serve the purpose. I'd decided to use empty bottles because I didn't want to spill wine on the costumes.

I told them that I wanted some shots of Nancy bending forward over the table pouring imaginary wine into their glasses. I wanted the guys to leer down the front of her blouse as she did this. But before posing my wife, I went over to her and undid another button of her blouse -- she'd already unbuttoned the top one. Then, rather roughly, I tugged the top of the blouse away from her body so that there would be maximum exposure.

Standing a little precariously on the couch behind Adrian, I took two shots over his shoulder of his view down Nancy's front as she leaned forward to pour wine into his glass. Both breasts were mostly exposed, but I wasn't satisfied. So I asked Adrian, the large muscular guy, to reach forward with his left hand and pull the blouse wider open. As he did this, Nancy managed to register surprise, shock, and bewilderment. But she didn't move his hand away and her left breast came fully into view. I took several shots of this.

"That's great, Nancy," I said. "This libertine is taking horrible liberties with you, but you don't want to make a mess with the wine so you continue pouring as though nothing is amiss."

Then, after a short break, I asked Adrian and Nancy to repeat the breast-exposure pose while Glen and Karsten moved over next to him to share the view. I backed off a few feet to get a few shots of the backs of their wigged heads as they leaned forward to look my wife's fully exposed left breast and most of her right breast. I tried to remain objective as I took the photos, but it seemed to me that her left nipple, pink and erect, never invited kissing and sucking more than now.

Then I asked Nancy to straighten up, clutch a hand to the top of her blouse, and look at least mildly outraged. She began to laugh and it was a few minutes before she could get into character for the shot.

"Remember," I said, "you're in terrible financial straits and you don't want to lose your job. So maybe 'outrage' isn't the right word. Try for hurt and dismayed."

Still stifling laughter, Nancy managed to look wide-eyed and slightly frightened. A took a couple of close-ups of her face.

Then we relaxed a few minutes to consider the next scene. I decided it was time to loosen up the country girl.

I told everyone to relax a minute while I explained the scene: "The idea is that, at first, the girl is reluctant to drink wine with the patrons. But she's got no choice. So, to begin with, Adrian has to force the wine on her. Finally, accepting the situation, she drinks it voluntarily. As she drinks more, the fact that she's sort of trapped on this guy's lap becomes increasingly acceptable to her."

"So, do you want us to act this out for a while to make it look like she gradually gives in to me?" asked Adrian.

"Not in real time, of course," I answered. "But I'd like to see a progression over, say, the next ten minutes."

"What should we do while meanwhile?" asked Karsten.

"I'd like you guys to lean in from either side of where they're sitting and watch expectantly. You've seen Adrian the libertine in action before. You're really looking forward to seeing how successful he'll be with this particular wench."

So the scene began. Nancy sat on Adrian's lap as he held her in place with his left arm. Using his right hand, he pressed the empty wine glass against her lips. As I took a series of about ten photos, she went from grimacing and offering mild resistance to taking the glass in her hands and thirstily drinking from it. At this point, as Nancy seemed most oblivious, Adrian began caressing both of her breasts through her blouse.

It was then, too, that Glen became more than a spectator. He lifted up Nancy's skirts and placed a hand on her right thigh just above the garter. Karsten was content to leer at her from where he sat.

We took another short break while I talked to my models, who were quickly becoming full-blown actors. What, I wondered out loud, would cause the country girl to become so easily compliant with the wishes of the libertine? The best explanation, I suggested, was that he'd put something in her wine. He'd drugged her. He'd given her the eighteenth century equivalent of a date-rape drug.

I needed a shot of Adrian administering the drug, so I ran upstairs and got a small bottle of eye-drops from my bedside cabinet. It was a nearly empty, so I emptied it in the upstairs bathroom basin and filled it with water. I then brought it down to the living room and handed it to Adrian. I asked him to look furtive as he poured the "drug" into a wine glass intended for Nancy.

He did exactly as asked and I got a nearly perfect shot.

Then, since it was getting close to 9:30, we set up for the final scene of the session. This involved Nancy pretending to be unconscious and helpless. I suggested that we stage the scene as though the guys had picked her up, when she passed out, and laid her out on the table. I explained that this would be the first graphically sexual scene in the series and asked Nancy if she was ready for it.

"I guess so," she answered. "But I didn't think we'd go all the way to intercourse tonight. And you know I'm not willing to do that without protection. The guys need condoms."

Suddenly she seemed to be bothered by something. "You know, I've never been unfaithful to my husband," she said. "He's the only man I've ever had sex with except for a high school boyfriend, who was a big mistake. I love my husband. If things weren't so difficult financially, I'd never be doing this."

I decided to say something insensitive. "That gives you something in common with the poor girl you're playing, doesn't it? We can do without the fucking tonight. But I'd like some shots of the guys taking liberties with your body. That means touching, fingering, licking, and so forth. You're OK with that, aren't you?"

She looked at me semi-angrily for effect. Then, pretending to be deeply conflicted, she nodded that she was ready.

I explained the scene further. "Adrian the libertine is basically showing off his drugged conquest to his drinking companions and allowing them to enjoy her too. He's not a very nice person. But his buddies Glen and Karsten aren't much nicer, I'm afraid."

We moved the table more to the center of the living room and Adrian lifted Nancy up on it. She sat on the end of it looking at me expectantly. I put down the camera and walked over to her. I quickly unlaced her bodice and pulled her blouse open as far as I could. Then I pushed her back so that she lay with her head at one end of the table and her legs dangled over the other.

"Your job for now," I said to her, "is just to lie there pretending to be unconscious while the guys commit minor outrages on your body."

She laughed, as though nervously, and said she'd try to keep still. Then she said, "It's getting late, though. My husband expects me home in the next hour or so. Can we get this over with fast?"

I picked up my camera again and said, "OK, guys. Just improvise. You're decadent rogues and there's a helpless girl passed out on a table in a back room of a tavern. Short of fucking her, what will you do? But, remember. Whatever you do, try to give me a good camera angle."

Saying this, I felt my cock beginning to stiffen in my trousers. What the fuck was I doing? Was I really asking guys I hardly knew to manhandle my beautiful wife while I stood by taking photos? At some level, this was totally unacceptable to me. I felt enormous guilt and shame. But I was beginning to actually shake with excitement and my cock was now definitely erect! As usual in our sex games, morality and sexual arousal competed fiercely within me.

Karsten and Glen took up positions at either side of Nancy's head (from where I was standing, the far end of the table) and Adrian stood in front of me at the near end of the table. Karsten reached down and, in a single motion, pulled her blouse down far enough to completely bare both of her breasts. Then, as I moved past Adrian to get a closer shot, Glen and Karsten began fondling her breasts.

"That's right," I said. "Play with those pretty tits like that. See if you can make her nipples even harder."

Karsten was gently pinching Nancy's beautiful right nipple and Glen was doing the same thing with her left nipple. Then, a few seconds later, Glen leaned forward and began sucking her nipple and Nancy responded with an almost inaudible moan.

Glen's wig fell off just then. He looked up at me and I told him never mind. Just go on without it. He resumed kneading her left breast and sucking its nipple, which now stood up a good three-eighths of an inch.

Nancy lay with her head rolled to one side and her eyes closed. She held the position as she said, "That's nice, but please don't suck me too hard. I don't want my husband to see any suspicious marks on my body."

Karsten then began sucking and licking her right nipple. I took some close-ups of his tongue and lips working. He was very adept. When he used the tip of his tongue to lash her very erect saliva-covered nipple rapidly back and forth, I wished I'd thought to use a video camera. And when Nancy began whispering to both guys, "Oh, that's feeling good. My husband never does that to me," I wished I could've recorded her encouraging words.

Then I noticed that Adrian had removed my wife's shoes and pulled her petticoats all the way up to expose her legs completely. Then, as I moved behind and slightly to the right side of him, he bent up her legs, naked except for her white stockings and garters, so that her knees were spread and aimed up in the air. Her feet were planted near the end of the table. She looked like a woman about to receive a gynecological exam.

Which was sort of what it became. I aimed the camera over his shoulder and took a shot of her cunt. Her clitoris peaked out of its hood and her cunt lips looked like delicate pink blossoms. Adrian just looked at her cunt for a few seconds. Then he leaned forward and, using both hands, spread her cunt lips apart. I took several close-up shots of him opening the lips then releasing them and watching them come back together.