The Dictator and the Waitress

This was how my night went. I was practically dressed like a man, in German attire which was made up of a baggy gray shirt and boots with a green coat and mid calf boots. With the cleavagy or skin tight (or both) outfits worn by the other girls, I didn't get too many dance offers.

Instead I watched my husband's ass get slapped, his washboard abs get felt up, and his potato get so abused, that by the end of the night it was barely hanging on by a few threads. I wouldn't be surprised if in 9 months several girls at the party gave birth to a baked potato.

I decided to survive by eying up the boyfriends of my friends knowing that I was going to see naked pics of them soon. Betty's boy was the best catch, and I got hot thinking of him posing for my athletic friend and then the raucous sex they would have afterwards.

At the night's end, Derrick was damp with sweat from the dancing and alcohol he had consumed. I was a good underage partier (I turned 21 in January) and stayed sober. I wasn't a big beer drinker anyway, and they weren't serving martinis.

"Did you have a good time?" I asked him, not sure how upset I should be with him. If I wanted to strip him down to show off, and then all the girls liked him, how mad can I be with him?

"It was good," he replied. He got his coat from Bo Peep, who by now must have heard the dictator joke and giggled as she ogled his spud. The potato was still in one piece, but the threads had ripped a bit was it hung lower and almost on its side. His natural bulge was now clearly visible and it was tough for me to know which one the shepherd girl was grinning at. Either way I helped him with his coat to cover up and we left.

"So I assume we won the bet," he said once we were in the car headed home.

As I drove I explained the bet and confirmed with him that we did win. He was a bit disappointed that by winning I got to see naked pictures of their guys -- something he wasn't interested in seeing. But I told him that the way he danced with some of my friends, they might be breaking up with their boyfriends, in which case I'll get to see the sex tapes. That he was interested in.

When we got home Derrick needed a shower and I changed out of my costume into some PJs and sat reading on the bed to wait for him. Even though I was thinking about naked men, sex tapes, and my husband humping every girl at the party, I wasn't feeling like sex. My mind was too scattered on how I should feel about winning the bet, since I did it by pimping out my husband. What was he going to make me wear tomorrow night? Did he enjoy tonight enough not to take revenge?

Derrick interpreted my mood enough to know that I wasn't up for a romp in the sack that night and probably relieved his sexual tension by jerking off in the shower. He came into the room in the boxers her wore to bed, we kissed goodnight, and fell asleep.

***

The next morning, Derrick was up early. I heard him in the office on the computer for a while and then down in the kitchen. When the smell of bacon made its way upstairs, I knew something was up. He never made breakfast. I feared that he was apologizing in advance for tonight. I pulled myself out of bed with resolution to meet his challenge head on. He was a trooper last night, and if he decided to whore me out tonight, I would just have to take advantage of it like he did.

"You're up early," I commented as I sat down at the kitchen table and he put bacon and eggs in front of me.

"There is a lot to do today," he replied.

"Funny," I said, "I can't think of anything."

He went off on a list of yard work and home improvements he wanted to get started on and shopping he needed to do. I believed none of it. I firmly believed that he was in scramble mode. He had probably bought me something for tonight and now he was going to change his plans.

Eventually he stopped his rant, kissed me on the top of my head, and ran out the door. I finished my breakfast and then went hunting around the house. I had some shopping I needed to do as well, but that could wait for this afternoon. Now I wanted to take advantage of his absence and find the costume he had picked out for me originally.

I knew all his hiding places and it wasn't hard to find. A French Maid outfit was stashed in a box on a shelf he didn't think I could reach. I whistled when I saw it. It looked to be from Fredericks' and must have cost a lot. I hoped Derrick would be a while yet, because I wanted to try it on.

Unlike the wench outfit last year, this one didn't come with a corset, so I found a padded strapless bra to wear under it. There were fishnet stockings that I didn't bother putting on, but I could imagine what they would do to my legs. Once I had it on, I really liked what I saw. It showed less cleavage than last year's costume, but because this time it wasn't all cinched up into tight fitting corset and dress, it had a lot more freedom to bounce, which it did whenever I moved.

The skirt was very short with layers of white frill beneath the black outer skirt. It flared generously, making my legs look thinner and hiding my round butt. I spun in front of the material to watch it flair up, and while it revealed more leg, the material was too thick to fly completely up. It wasn't until I bounded down the stairs a few times that I got the parachute effect. I could feel my mostly unsupported breasts bounce and a rush of cool air against my upper thighs. I could make quite an entrance with this dress if I wanted to, and then when I was on the ground floor, I wouldn't show that much more skin.

I thought it was perfect. Give everyone a show to start, and then leave them wanting the rest of the night. Of course, if all I did was walk through the front door of the house, with no staircase to descend, I wouldn't get the same effect.

Derrick had left the tags on the outfit, and I feared that with him getting something else right now, he might plan on returning this outfit. I would have to come up with a way to keep that from happening.

Before I got caught, I quickly got undressed. The last thing I needed was him coming home and finding me in the outfit he had tried to hide from me. It took a while to get out of it too, and then I needed to prop the box back up on the high shelf. I didn't need to worry, because two hours later he still wasn't home.

I ate lunch by myself and then decided to give him an empty house to come back to and went shopping.

***

I came back home at 4 knowing we needed to leave around 5 to get to his friends' party. I figured that left me enough time to jump in the shower, put on a little make up, and then dress up in whatever Derrick had picked out for me.

My husband was sitting at the computer checking college football scores and gave me a quick greeting as if nothing was up. "You gonna take a shower yet?" he asked.

"I think I have time," I replied. He only nodded.

When I got into the shower, I heard him scramble around upstairs, pulling the mystery costume from wherever he had hidden it before I got home. I played with the notion of taking a short shower, and catching him in the act, but as I washed up, I realized there was some shaving I should probably do.

I didn't know what he would have me wear, but the idea that he might put me in a bikini and him in swimming trunks did cross my mind, if that was the case, I had a little hair removal I needed to do.

By the time I did step out of the shower, he was back in front of the computer as if he had been there the whole time. I dried off and then walked into the office naked. This did distract him a bit. He stared for a few seconds at my perky breasts and freshly manicured bush. He was trying to be in control right now and it was nice to turn the tables slightly.

Eventually he found his voice and told me that my outfit was on the bed. I retreated to the bedroom to analyze what I would be wearing. Memory of last night when he had come home and saw my wearing a tank and my underwear and told me "Nice costume," came back to me now. One of my white tank tops were there and it was matched with a white thong. He wasn't that bold, though, and a pair of red running shorts completed the outfit.

When I picked them up, they looked like his, but must have been from his supper skinny high school days, because it looked like they might still fit me. I saw that he did adjust the slit in the leg, though, cutting it up to the waist band.

What really made the whole outfit and gave it the theme was the word that he had appliquéd to my shirt: Hooters. It looked official, and I guessed he had downloaded the image from the web as opposed to going out and buying one of the infamous tank tops. I guessed this because the shirts the girls wore in the restaurant were of much thicker material than my almost transparent tank top.

Without further analysis I began to put it on. The thong was one of the cheap Walmart ones that I had, made from the same cheap, nearly transparent cotton as the tank top. I had a lot sexier silk ones, but no one was going to see it anyway, so he probably didn't bother with them.

The shorts were big for me by a size or two, and I saw that he must have removed the draw string. Luckily I have a big butt, and they weren't going to fall down unless someone tugged on them. They did sit very low, however, and I needed to adjust the straps of the thong much lower on my hips so they could be hidden by the waist band.

Standing without a shirt on, there was nothing but skin up my side interrupted by only an inch wide waistband. It looked really good. I moved around a bit and watched the loose shorts billow out as I moved, but they only exposed my outer thigh, and kept everything else pretty well hidden. They also hung down a couple inches below the crotch allowing me to sit down without an up shorts view.

I noticed that Derrick forgot to put out a bra for me, so I picked a white pushup and put it on before the tank top. The tanks had always been tight on me before, but now it really stretched across my chest. My bra also pushed my cleavage up into the plunging neckline. I twirled about in the mirror before presenting myself to Derrick.

I could see he was impressed as well as he eyed me up and down, but he frowned when he focused on my chest. I thought it looked great and wondered if there was an error in the graphic he had printed on that I hadn't noticed. "That's not what I put out for you," he said.

I was confused. "Yes it is."

"Everything you are wearing was on the bed for you?"

Then I knew where he was going. "You're not going force me to go without a bra?"

"I believe last night I wore a speedo and nothing else. You take that bra off and you are still wearing three times as many clothes as I was."

I had no quick comeback. I looked down at my boosted chest, knowing that the padding didn't make them that much bigger, it just shoved them up and together. Without the bra, I would show a lot less cleavage, but the full contour of each breast would be visible through the clingy material. I would be nipping all night long, but the letters would actually do a good job of masking that.

"You agreed to wear anything I picked out for you. And like me, you need to wear it all night long."

"What are you going as?" I asked, wondering how he could accessorize himself to me.

He got up from his chair and spread his arms. He was wearing a Tomlinson jersey, blue jeans, and a Chargers hat. "How does that match me?" I asked.

"This is what every guy at Hooters looks like," he explained. "I'm a sports fan watching a game and eating wings. We go together perfectly."

I sighed. I wasn't going to win this. "Okay," I replied, turning to go remove the bra.

"I love you," he called after me. Of course he did.

***

The ride to Derrick's co-worker's house wasn't too long. I tried to look out the window, but ended up just staring down at my chest the whole time. The letters were my only saving grace. Otherwise I might as well have been wearing cloudy shrink wrap. Also, the shirt went down to my waist, but the baggy shorts didn't come up to meet them, revealing a wide expanse of skin showing the beginnings of the creases heading into my crotch.

I felt on display, but I guess that was the point. Speaking of points, it was cool outside, but Derrick insisted on blasting the air conditioner in the care until my nipples were rock hard. My right tit nearly poked a hole through the letter "O" while my left one punctuated the "E" on the other side.

Derrick assured me that there would be women there in skimpier outfits. I doubted it. Maybe tighter or more revealing, but when we got out of the car at our destination and an ocean breeze hit my upper body, I had to do a double check to make sure I hadn't left my shirt in the car. The wind went right through the thin material.

Before going into the house, I marveled at its size and location. It was a mansion with an ocean view. It wasn't on the ocean, but it was darn close. It was made of stone and brick and looked like something from an episode of "Cribs."

"You work 'with' this guy or 'for' this guy," I asked, wondering where he stood in the small company.

"With," he answered. "He was one of the first hires, though, and has a lot of big clients. Don't worry, in a couple years, when you graduate, we can move to a place like this too."

I was shocked. Derrick didn't talk about money much, and we obviously had enough to pay the rent in our small, two-level apartment just off-campus. I had no idea how much he made. I grabbed his arm and squeezed him excitedly as my mind raced to when we could throw parties like this. We passed BMW and Lexus automobiles as we navigated through the front lawn-turned-parking lot.

I almost forgot what I was wearing until we were met at the door. "Nice costumes," the host, Rick, exclaimed. I smiled back at him flirtatiously, cocking my shoulders so he could my breasts move individually, confirming I was wearing no bra. I wasn't happy that he said "Costumes" as if Derrick's was that special, but it reinforced what my husband had said that they did in fact match.

We stepped inside, and as a dozen eyes checked me out, I checked out the interior of the fabulous house. The whole layout was open in the center, with interior second floor balconies along each side. There was a large open sitting room with a dozen people lounging around. A large, open kitchen was behind with granite countertops and a bar that sat another dozen. Despite the people, the rooms were spacious enough to see through the kitchen to the large patio out back next to a large pool.

"Nice," I said, as we stepped down to the lowered sitting room.

"Yes they are," Derrick replied.

They? I thought, but then I turned my eyes to the people. Derrick had been right and there were skimpier outfits than mine. One woman wore a skin tight cat suit. Another one had worn one of the Baywatch swimsuits. Someone else had on a sexy nurse outfit. All the outfits were different, but the one thing every woman in the room had were breasts. And they all enjoyed showing them off. Mine were easily the smallest in the room, with the next closest being a pair of 36C's on someone dressed as a sand volleyball player.

After our initial entrance, people returned to their drinks and conversation. I was suddenly quite mad at Derrick for not letting my wear a bra. I felt like a 12-year-old now. All these women were in their mid to late 20's. They all had breast implants thanks to the money their husbands made. I guess I could look like them in a few years if I wanted to, but right now I felt preadolescent.

Derrick didn't seem to notice my sudden discomfort as he was greeted by several of his friends and introduced me. I returned half-hearted smiles back at him, far less flirtatious than with Rick, but I saw their eyes drop to my chest regardless. Men, I thought. Doesn't matter how big they are, they still like looking.

As we moved to the kitchen to get some drinks and then out to the patio to sit down by the pool, I saw more and more of the buxom women and their low cut, painted on outfits and time and time again, men's eyes left these women to follow me. I half wondered if Derrick had put a kick me sign on my back or something.

As we sat down at a table with another couple (Mike and Christine) and Mike's eyes watched intently as I sat down and my tits jiggled beneath my shirt, I began to figure it out. His wife, Christine must have DD's, but they were currently secured tightly in a flame red corset as part of her devil costume. When she moved, they didn't. In fact, the more I looked at them, the more they looked like a plumber butt crack. They were too stuffed into her outfit to jiggle, and they definitely didn't sway. In the end, they were just curves, while mine had shape, movement, and hard nipples.

As Mike and Derrick talked, I checked my theory as my eyes roamed the patio area. Sure enough, every large breasted woman had an underwire or corset to contain her massive jugs. None of them dared let them swing free or they might sag. I don't know how much of that Derrick knew would be the case, but I felt more like showing off now.

"Can I get you guys another beer?" I asked them, standing up from the table and watching Mike's eyes follow the letters on my shirt.

"Thanks honey," Derrick said without looking at me.

I was looking at Mike, daring him to meet my eyes. "And you?"

"Uh, sure, thanks," he said only after his wife elbowed him in the ribs.

I laughed as I walked away, swishing my hips so my shorts flashed more thigh at them. When I got to the kitchen, I got an idea and quickly consolidated some of the snack food from two serving platters to one. I had worked as a waitress in high school and knew how to balance a tray. I grabbed two beers from the cooler, put them on the tray, and then held it up by my shoulder.

"Rick rented a Hooter's girl," I heard someone call out. "Yes."

"She's hot too."

"I'm getting thirsty suddenly."

"Hey! Can you get us some drinks too!"

I looked over at the group of guys and winked at them. As I turned I felt the arm hole on my tank slide over revealing a good side shot of my breast. I could see the stunned look in their eyes. "I'll be with you boys in a minute." I noticed with interest the frustrated look of their women too. Their bodies put mine to shame, but the guys were still chasing after some college girl that could bring them beer.

When I neared my husband's table, I could see that he had witnessed my exchange with the other guys and decided to play up my part. He was reaching into his back pocket as I set the beers down, leaning over to give Mike a view down my top while flexing my legs to give the guys behind a view up my shorts.

When I stood back up, Derrick reached toward my shorts, put his fingers under the waistband in to pull up my thong and slid a five dollar bill underneath. "Thanks, honey," he winked at me.

I turned my eye to Mike now and watched his wife elbow him again. "Well, aren't you going to tip her?" Mike muttered something under his breath as he pulled his wallet out. The smallest bill he could find was a twenty, and as I offered my exposed hip to him, he nervously tucked it in, all the while checking out the generous curve of my ass.

"Thanks," I offered him, and then spun to help the other guys.

It was fun. I enjoyed flirting with all the guys as their wives gave them exasperated looks. I heard a few coments like: "Jealous?", "Don't I look better than her?", and "She's probably still a teenager."

With the money that Derrick and Mike had offered, I got several other tips as guys eagerly caressed my hip and pulled up my thong. When one side was full, the next guy got to dig the other side out. Soon both hips were full of cash (someone had given me a $50) and the additional bills began to wedge down my shorts. I felt like I had to walk bow legged or they would fall down.