tagExhibitionist & VoyeurThe Dictator and the Waitress

The Dictator and the Waitress

byTrimpostinger©

It is a different experience being married and in college at the same time. My name is Allison Derringer. Last year it was Allison Pinster. My husband, Derrick (yes, Derrick Derringer), and I started dating when I was a freshman. We met because of the swim team. I tried out freshman year, but didn't make it. He was a 5th year senior. He was on the swim team, and since he also hadn't made it his freshman year, he still had a year of eligibility left after his senior year, and he had taken a light course load the previous 4 so swimming wouldn't get in the way. He needed the fifth year to graduate.

Over the past two years we made up a lot of reasons why we had started dated. He insisted it was that he wanted to give me encouragement to try out again my sophomore year like he did. I said it was because I needed help in accounting, which was one of his majors. But as far as I am concerned, it was because as soon as we saw each other in a bathing suit, we fell in love.

My friends tried to tell me that I was too young, but when you meet the right guy, why wait. Yes, I am only 20, and he is 24 but we are very compatible. We dated sparingly my sophomore year, since he was busy working in the real world. A bunch of his finance friends from college had started a business that specialized in investment plans for some of the local celebrities and specialized mortgages and so forth. I don't really understand it, but I do know he makes a ton of money and bought me a killer ring.

And now that we live off campus I don't have to worry about all of the silly housing rules that the college enforces on us. It worked out well for my friends at college too. Four of us were close friends after freshman year and then sophomore year we picked up a fifth. The juniors had access to suites that allowed four to a room, so it was a question as to what to do with one of us until I moved off campus. I miss the camaraderie of dorm life, so I still spend most nights in their room studying and talking.

The one thing we really liked doing as a group was to make crazy bets with ourselves. Invariably the bets turned lewd in some way. Who could go the longest without wearing underwear? Who could last longest naked outside when the temp dropped below 50? Go skinny dipping in the college pool after hours. You get the idea.

As junior year stared, it took a while for us to get used to our new classes, and by the end of October we still hadn't tried any crazy bets yet. I figured Halloween was as good a chance as any to get a new one.

"I assume you are all going to the Halloween party this year," Cassie said, "and taking dates?"

Cassie was the only loyal dater in our group besides me. She had been dating the same guy for almost as long as I had known Derrick. The other three changed boyfriends with the seasons. "Yes," I added, "when are we going to meet the latest guys in your lives?"

Tanya shrugged. "I guess I could get him to go. We've only been on a couple dates but Halloween is fun."

Betty was also nodding her head, but Kelly looked skeptical. "I'm not a real big fan of Halloween," she complained. "It's just a chance for women to dress up like sluts."

It was a typical comment from her. She was a good friend, but she was also drew the least attention from the guys. She was the shortest, yet other than Betty who was 5'10'' and very athletic, she was the heaviest. She didn't have it in her chest, either, sporting a 36A bra size. We all told her she was still pretty, and she got enough guys (probably because she was very easy), but when trips to the beach, or laying out in the sun to get a tan, or anything else that would magnify her body compared to ours came up, she usually fought it.

Betty actually came to her defense. "I know what you're talking about. Just because I can fill out a Wonder Woman costume doesn't mean I should have bare myself for everyone." And she could fill it out too. I figured that when she graduated from college, if she couldn't get a real job, she should be a sports bra spokes person because how she kept those 36C's from bouncing all over the court when she played basketball was a mystery to me.

"Last year," Betty continued her rant. "I wore it and that jerk Gary wore the loosest fitting Batman costume I ever saw. It looked like his pajamas. Last I checked, Batman wore a skin tight costume with his crotch on display for everyone. It's a lousy double standard."

Tanya, Cassie, and I usually liked dressing up. We were all about the same size, 5'6'' to 5'8'', 120-140 lbs, 34B with differing hair colors. I had had been blonde, red, and black in the last three years, but Derrick liked my natural brunette the best, and the natural color had finally gown out to shoulder length. Cassie kept her auburn hair half way down her back in a variety of braids, while Tanya's natural dirty blonde was usually bleached platinum.

None of us had a problem wearing revealing clothes. In fact, we usually enjoyed getting stares. Cassie and I were confident enough with our men to do it, and Tanya was just an overall flirt. Of course, she usually attracted the jealous types as she was the most "Cover Girl" worthy of the group. That was why she rotated boyfriends.

"What if we made it different this year?" I offered. "What if we make the guys wear the skimpy outfits?"

"And how would we do that?" Kelly asked.

"Why don't we make it a bet?" Cassie offered.

This had the desired reaction. All the girls got in closer. We were sitting on beds, chairs, or bean bags and we all leaned in now. We all loved our bets. They made our lives more exciting. "What kind of bet?" Betty asked. If the bet was physical in nature, she almost always won.

"The girl who can convince her guy to wear the skimpiest costume wins," I said.

"What is skimpy for a guy?" Tanya asked. "That wench outfit you wore last year had your breasts practically spilling out, but you were covered with several layers down to your ankles."

"Which ever guy shows the most skin," Cassie clarified. "And it has to be a costume with a theme. Don't just put a sock over his dick and drag him to the party."

I could see the three girls with new boyfriends mentally calculating how they could convince their guys to dress skimpy for a Halloween party. It was a party put on by our hall, not a school-wide thing, so they wouldn't necessarily run into people they went to class with.

"What does the winner get?" Betty asked.

We all sat and thought for a while. "What about the sex tapes?" I asked.

"What about them?" Tanya replied.

One of our bets last year was that we each hade to make a sex tape with the guy we were seeing at the time. We never really discussed what the loser would have to do, but since we were all successful, it didn't come up. We each watched the first minute of the tape to verify it existed, and that was it. We were each required to keep it for future use.

"The winner gets to watch the tapes," I suggested.

That was met with resounding "No"s. At least I tried.

Kelly actually came up with it. "Okay, so we can't watch each other's sex tapes, but if the winner shows off her guy, then the losers have to show off their guy even more. The four losers have to provide a naked picture of their man to the winner."

"How naked?" Cassie asked.

"All the way," Kelly said. "You either strip him down as much as possible for the party or you go the whole way later on. We can decide on a time frame for how long you have to produce the pictures, assuming you don't already have them."

Kelly was looking at me as she spoke, and I was pretty sure why. All the girls liked Derrick. He was a swimmer and a long distance runner. He looked really good without his shirt on, and the size 15 feet that gave him an advantage in the pool led my friends to assume other parts of his body were largely proportioned. Kelly wanted naked pictures of my husband. And yes, I already had them. But I didn't plan on losing.

"What if we can't get the pictures?" Tanya asked.

"You mean what if you break up with the guy after the party?" Betty chided.

"No, I mean what if you can't get them. Not every guy is going to pose for pictures." She turned to Betty. "And you had more guys last year than I did."

"Easy," I said, trying to stop a fight. "If you don't get a picture of your guy for the winner, then a naked picture of you goes in the vault for future use."

The vault was a memory stick we kept in a safe that we each had one number of the combination too. On that stick was a bunch of incriminating evidence from our sex tapes, to erotic stories we each had to write, to a bunch of other things.

"It needs to be stiffer than that," Cassie argued. "We've already got our sex tapes in there."

"Then make it the tape. If you can't get a picture of your guy, the rest of us who did and the winner get to watch your tape."

Tanya looked hesitant at this, but the rest of us looked like we agreed. It was put to a vote, and it was finalized. It was Wednesday, and the Halloween party was next week Friday. We had planning to do.

***



It didn't take long online for me to find the absolute perfect costume for my husband. Kelly wanted to see his hot bod, and I would show it to her. Plus the costume was hysterical. It was just funny enough that Derrick would agree to it because of the laughs. Besides, he was a swimmer and was used to performing in front of large crowds of people in a Speedo.

"Honey," I asked him that weekend. "There's a Halloween party next week Friday off campus with our hall, and we girls have a bet going about the costumes. Do you think you can make it home from work in time to be there by seven?"

"Woa, a bet? What kind of bet?" He knew all about our bets and knew they were usually sexual in nature.

"I can't tell you yet. It's kind of a surprise."

"Well," he paused. "A guy at work is having everyone over to his palatial estate on Saturday for a Halloween party. It is going to be way better than a college shin dig. Do we really want to do two parties on the same weekend?"

"I'll tell you what," I said. "If you agree to go to my party and wear what I give you, then I will go to yours and you can have me wear whatever you want."

He grinned at that suggestion. "That wench outfit you wore last year was killer."

I frowned at him. "You can be more original than that."

"Can't we just wear the same thing to both parties?" he asked.

I laughed out loud. "I don't think you'll want to."

"Tell me what you are having me wear? Will I have to wear it all night?"

"Yes," I replied, stifling my laughter. "Don't worry; you'll think it's funny."

"But I wouldn't want to wear it to my party?" he clarified. I shook my head, laughing a bit more. "And you'll wear whatever I pick out for you to my party?" I nodded. "The whole night?" he made sure. I nodded.

I wasn't too worried about what he was going to pick out for me. I actually liked the wench outfit. I looked great in it. Besides, these would be professional people that he worked with. He wasn't going to dress up his wife in a dominatrix outfit. He would be too embarrassed about that. However, if he knew in advance what I was going to make him wear, he would probably find a really racy outfit for me. Now, he would have to plan and shop for next week, and wouldn't know until Friday night what I was making him wear, so it shouldn't be too bad.

***



Derrick got home from work on Friday early. I was in the bathroom lounging in underwear and a tanktop, cooling off from after my shower and putting on make-up. My husband looked at me and whistled. "Great costume, where's mine?"

I didn't justify the comment with a response about my outfit. It wasn't my costume, but after he saw what I had laid out for him, I feared it might be for tomorrow night. I fought that fear. Whatever happened tomorrow night, I could deal with. I couldn't think of anything so bad that it wasn't worth winning the bet tonight.

"Your costume is on the bed."

I watched him walk into the room and then heard the predictable response. "There's nothing here." A pause. "What is this? A potato?" A longer pause. "You've got to be kidding."

Predictably he appeared in the door of the bathroom holding up the potato with the straps hanging from it. "What is this?"

"It's you're costume," I replied, trying to keep a straight face.

It was the largest potato I could find at the supermarket sewn to the front of one of his speedos. But not just any speedo. It was one I had bought him while we were still dating as a kind of a prank. It was flesh colored, and with his naturally tanned completion, it was hard to tell if he was wearing anything when he put it on.

We live in Southern California, and he still swam three times a week in the ocean. Occasionally he wore the speedo just to get reactions from people. He would get a big reaction tonight.

"You know I can't wear this," he said.

"What?" I argued. "You've never worn a speedo in front of a large crowd before?" He had no response to that. "And back then, I can guarantee that everyone in the gym was staring at your bulge. Now they will only see your potato."

"Okay, fine," he admitted. "I don't suffer from excessive modesty, but this isn't even a costume."

"Yes it is," I said. I opened my make-up drawer and pulled out some black Halloween lipstick. I walked over to him and drew a narrow black line on his upper lip.

He looked at me, and then at himself in the mirror. "What am I supposed to be, a nudist version of Hitler with a fetish for yams?"

"No," I tried to hold in my laughter. "You're a dictator."

"A what?"

"A Dick-Tater," I stressed the pun.

"I'm a . . . a . . . dick . . . tater . . ." he fought really hard to keep the smile off his face.

I didn't do as good a job and began to laugh out loud. Eventually he joined in. "Okay," he replied. "I admit that's funny. But do you really think I can wear this?"

"If I could flash my breasts at everyone last year, you can show off your amazing abs this year. Besides, it's Halloween. No one is going to care."

"What are you wearing?" he asked.

"Eva Braun," I replied. "I got the costume from a friend who works in the drama department. They did Casablanca last year, so they have a bunch of WWII era clothing."

"I guess that is appropriate," he said, the grin still on his face. I could already tell that he liked the joke too much to pass it up, and as he had admitted, he didn't suffer from excessive modesty. Who knows, he might even like it so much that he wouldn't take revenge on me tomorrow night.

***



The party was not on campus. It was put on by a bunch of girls at the end of our hall. One of their fathers rents warehouse space, and he had an empty one that he let his daughter use. Another of the girls in that room was dating a guy from a fraternity, and with those guy's help, a bunch of extension cords, and a few kegs, the warehouse was transformed into Halloween Headquarters.

Derrick wore a trench coat from the car to the entrance of the party. It was an invitation only affair, so there was a girl dressed in Bo Peep costume at the door checking names and any coats. There were likely to be several risqué costumes here tonight and most wouldn't want to drive around like that.

Bo Peep took one look at my husband and probably pegged him for a flasher. He didn't disappoint and quickly shed his coat to hang it up behind her. She whistled at his body, which made me feel good, but I could tell she was having a problem figuring out what he was exactly. There were people behind us, so she didn't have much time to study.

Few if any people at the party understood his outfit at first, but as soon as one of the frat guys deciphered it, he ran off laughing to tell his buddies, and shortly the whole place knew there was a Dictator at the party. The pun wasn't explained to everyone, but all one of the guys had to do was ask some to find the dictator, and they would figure it out.

The fake mustache I had given Derrick was a dead give-away for Hitler, and that was all people needed to figure out the joke. Eventually girls were bold enough to talk to him, though their eyes were always on the spud. "May I touch your Tater," one finally asked. Derrick gave his approval without looking to me for permission, which I didn't like so much, but I'm the one who dressed him up like this.

The girl in question (she was some type of Disney Princess) reached out tentatively and brushed her hands on the potato. "It's so big and firm," she laughed, spun around, and then disappeared into the crowd with her friends.

When word got out that you could touch the "tater," Derrick became the center of attention at the party. Girls got bolder and bolder. When someone dressed as the Wicked Witch of the West dug a black fingernail into it, I stopped watching and tried to find my friends.

I saw Betty's tall frame and blonde hair first. She was with an even taller boyfriend, about 6'4'' and well over two hundred pounds. She tended to date big, athletic guys, and it wouldn't surprise me to find he was on the football team. Only seeing their heads bob above the crowd as I got closer, my anticipation grew, wondering how skimpy his outfit would be.

It wasn't bad, but it didn't beat me. They were caveman and cavewoman. They both had on fur pelt skirts on that didn't quite touch their knees (Betty's actually barely made it half way. He had a single fur strap over his shoulder while she had two criss-crossing over her chest.

"Is that Derrick over there standing naked with all the girls poking at his tater?" Betty asked. There was a twinge of jealousy in her voice, not in my husband's appearance -- her guy was more ripped than mine -- but in the fact that I was clearly going to win.

"Yes, it is," I replied and introduced myself to her boyfriend. I then turned back to Betty. "Where are the others?"

"Don't worry," Betty said, "you won easily."

Eventually I found them. Kelly and her guy were Romans wearing togas. Basically just substitute the fur Betty and her guy were wearing for a bed sheet and they were the same costumes. Cassie and her boyfriend were shipwrecked. He was shirtless with pants torn off below the knees and plenty of holes in them, while she had the same kind of pants with a torn shirt that barely covered anything.

Tanya gave me the closest run for my money, but I had a problem with her approach to the bet. "You're wearing less than he is!" I exclaimed over the music when I finally found her. The party had gone into full swing and the dancing was starting.

I watched her move her body as the fake leaves that hung from her skimpy bikini swished side to side. She was Eve, and her boyfriend wore boxers also covered in leaves to be Adam. Her bikini was so small, that at times I wondered if she just wasn't wearing leaves.

"The goal was to have them show skin," Kelly also seemed upset. But then, she was always upset when one of us seemed to go out of the way to show off our body. She was wrapped in a bed sheet.

"He's nearly naked," Tanya argued legitimately. "Now if you don't mind," she looked at the rest of us, "I'm going to dance with a dictator."

I turned to follow her eyes and saw that she would have to wait inline. Derrick was dancing with two girls I didn't know right now, and was getting a bit personal with them. They were all spooning as they danced, with my husband in the middle. A pirate was behind him, her hips pressing up against Derrick's tight butt while her overflowing cleavage rubbed against his bare back. Meanwhile in front, a genie had her baggy pants grinding up to the potato behind her while Derrick's hands guided her narrow bare waist.

I turned a few shade s of green with jealousy, but couldn't really blame anyone but myself. What did I think was going to happen? I brought my hot husband to a party with a bunch of drunk college girls on Halloween. I watched as Tanya pushed the genie aside and then ground her leaf covered ass into his potato. What the previous girl's baggy pants had hid, I now saw as the spud spread her cheeks and pulled the leaves off to show what might as well have been a thong.

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