Copyright © 1997, Phil Phantom, ALL Rights Reserved

I married my high school sweetheart and moved to the big city three years ago. Pam has grown more beautiful each year. We met in the pre-schooler's Sunday school and married in that same church fourteen years later. I learned a good trade in the heating and air business. I landed a great job with a company that stays busy and pays well. After a year with AAA Heating and Air, Pam and I decided to start a family.

Unlike many of our peers, we remained virgins until our wedding night. That first night was awkward. We were both uptight, and I was clumsy and over-excited. Gradually, we've become less inhibited and sex is much better. At least now I can usually last long enough to get Pam off.

Sex was still a topic we couldn't discuss easily. We knew one position, the missionary, and the subject of oral sex was never broached. We both blush easily, so company get-togethers were always trying times for us. I work in a shop of fifteen men. I'm the youngest, the new kid. Most of those men have been with Jake Barnes from the day he opened shop six years ago. They are a tight-knit group and rather rowdy at parties.

Our work shop is not open to the public, so pictures of naked women are everywhere. It has a men's locker room atmosphere. Pam has, on occasion, brought my lunch to me. She creates quite a stir when she walks through. She acts like she has blinders on and stays red-faced the whole time.

Jake Barnes is a tough guy to work for but he pays well. Two things can get you canned from the company: poor work and not fitting in. My year of probation was up. I'd been accepted. Our future looked secure. As long as I continued to fit in, I knew I'd have a job. Pam and I decided to buy a house.

The ink wasn't dry on the paperwork when Jake called me into his office one day. He said he was disappointed because I never offered to host a Friday night poker game. I'd heard about the games, an institution at AAA, but I didn't gamble. He said the games were low stakes and friendly. He said I'd learn. I had a house, so I could not claim that the apartment was too small.

From the stories I'd heard, I did not want Pam exposed to their bawdy poker games. What was even worse was that the wife of the host was to serve as hostess of the game, serving drinks and snacks. The way Jake put it, I had little choice but to volunteer. I said we'd host the next one. Jake smiled. As I departed, Jake called out, "See that Pam wears something sexy. We don't want a hostess that looks like a Tomboy." I grinned uncomfortably and scrapped the idea of having her wear jeans and a sweat shirt.

Pam was not pleased to hear about the poker party. She disapproves of gambling and she hates being around drinking and smoking men. When I told her what Jake said about wearing something sexy, she threw a fit. I let her rant and rave, but she knew as well as I that we were in no position to alienate Jake Barnes, not with a sixty-thousand dollar mortgage over our heads and the possibility of there being a baby on the way. She came to her senses on her own after stewing for a couple of days. Together, we picked out the dress she'd wear.

You may think this odd, but after three years of marriage, I'd never seen Pam naked. She is very shy and wears PJs to bed. We made love in total darkness. I saw her in bra and panties for the first time as she changed outfits. I sat on the bed, trying to act nonchalant about it. I could see that Pam was aroused. She grew more aroused as she tried on various outfits and modeled them for me. None suited her.

I almost choked when she suggested that going braless might help. She removed her bra right in front of me. I stared at the nipples I'd sucked on but never seen. They were tight, puckered, reddish caps on bullet-shaped mounds of firm flesh. She took her time donning the dress and paraded her tits before me with her shoulders back and chest out. As she moved about, those breasts vibrated with each footfall.

I broke out in a sweat when she decided the panties were all wrong and shimmied out of them. She went through her things in the nude, presenting me with a visual feast of her unguarded sex, mostly rear views of her pouting vaginal pouch tucked neatly at the top of her creamy thighs. Pam's pubic hair is so light and fine that it is barely noticeable and hides nothing. Her wet slit seemed to wink at me when she'd bend over. Her clit hung from between the lips like a tiny cock, just begging for someone to walk over and kiss it. She waved that pink flag in my face one second too long. I went over, knelt behind her, and planted a wet kiss right on her clit.

Pam shot upright and spun around as though a snake had bit her. She looked down on me like I was sick, saying, "Jerry, what on earth has gotten into you?"

I stood and apologized, feeling like a pervert. She said, "I thought we could be mature adults about this. Just because I agreed to dress like a tramp doesn't mean you can treat me like one. Now, you go sit down, behave yourself, and don't get up until we're through."

I slinked back to the bed and sat. Remarkably, Pam turned back to the dresser in a wider stance than before. In addition, she bent low to open the bottom drawer and began rummaging through it, giving me a most provocative display. It was then I realized that her tease was intentional. She was looking for panties in her sweater drawer and taking her sweet time doing it. After searching another bottom drawer, bending over with straight legs, her tits showing between the inverted V of her legs, she stood and faced me, hands on hips, flustered.

She still had her high heel shoes on and walked about, gathering her dresses, holding up one after another. She tossed all to the bed and stood with a hand on her cocked hip and said, "Jerry, none of my dresses are sexy. They're all too long."

I tried not to look between her legs or at her tits, but she made it most difficult for me. She stood right before me. She picked up a light summer dress with an open bodice and said, "If I wear this one without a bra and shorten the hem, I suppose it might look sexy. What do you think?"

I nodded. She slipped it over her head and folded up the hem to mid thigh, saying, "Is this short enough?" I nodded. She folded it up another inch and said, "How about this? Is this too much?"

I said, "You'd be inviting trouble if you cut it too short. Remember who you'll be wearing that in front of."

"I haven't forgotten, Jerry. Jake said sexy. He expects sexy. This might be a test, you know. Suppose he lets you go because I wasn't wearing a sexy enough dress. What would we do then?"

"All right, if you'll wear it that short, I'll go along. He can't say it isn't sexy."

Pam folded under another two inches of material until the hem was just below her crotch. She said, "Maybe we should go all out just to be sure."

I gulped. I said, "Pam, you'd never wear anything that short in front of a bunch of men and you know it."

She said, "With our future at stake, I might go topless wearing a g-string. Don't forget the baby. I am due to ovulate this week. I can endure a little embarrassment if I have too. I'm not that weak and fragile, Jerry."

Pam's attitude surprised me. She shortened that dress a little higher than mid thigh. She looked very sexy in it, especially in her high heels. When she modeled the dress, I noticed that she had also cut back the top. The square-cut top exposed the swells of her upper breasts and showed a great deal of cleavage. When she stood straight, the top edge just did hide her nipples. If she'd bend over, it dropped away and exposed her hanging tits. I made no comment about the modification; she offered no explanation. With the puffy sleeves and ruffled short hem, the dress looked like something a little girl might wear. On Pam it looked sexy as hell.

Eight guys showed up on Friday night. Since we figured there would be other poker nights, we bought a large round table with eight matching chairs. Nine of us just barely fit around the table. I had to sit on a bar stool.

Pam was a big hit. The guys made a fuss over her every time she entered the room. She was nervous and scared, but she looked stunning. They embarrassed her by staring openly down her top when she had to bend over. Those that were not in a position to look down her top would lean back and look up her dress. They kept the ash tray in the center of the table and requested she empty it often.

The first time Pam tried to empty the ash tray, she reachout out and brought it to her. Jake said, "No, No, No. If you're going to do the job, do it right. Here, set the ash tray back where it was. Now, don't ever carry an ash tray over people. Do like this." Jake had Pam lean back over the table as he was doing. Their heads converged near the center as Jake tutored her on the professional way to service an ash tray.

Pam listened attentatively, mindless of the scene taking place behind her. Tommy Drew and John Blazek were on their knees pinching the hem of her skirt and lifting. Two others were leaning in to watch the operation. They were either very good or Pam was very absorbed in what Jake was telling her. I could not see what they were seeing, but from the looks on their faces, it was a sight.

I tried to get Pam's attention, but she would not look up. She watched as Jake laid a paper towel down after first making sure that every butt was out. He then poured the contents into the paper towel, folded it neatly, then used the folded package to swab the inside of the ash tray. It all looked very neat and professional, but would also be time consuming.

Before Jake was done, Tommy had Pam's dress laid back over her back. I could not see how she did not notice the draft. Just when I thought the show was over, Jake emptied the napkin back into the ash tray and told Pam to give it a try. This allowed the guys more time to visually feast on my wife's ass and make crude jestures. When Pam did back away, she bumped right into John's face with her ass. She acted surprised to find herself exposed and John at her ass, but she playfully admonished him and pranced into the kitchen.

To service the ash tray required Pam to squeeze in between two chairs in order to reach it. Two guys would scoot back from the table to let her in, then while she laid over the table, they'd boldly look up her skirt from the rear. Each time Pam had to clean the ash tray, she'd find a new hole open up for her.

Pam amazed me. She caught on quickly to what they were doing. On her third visit to empty the ash tray, she went to the third set of guys and waited for them to make a hole. Then, she would rest on her elbows, her tits fully exposed, while emptying and wiping clean the ash tray. The guys on either side of her were not content to simply look. Their hands roamed up and down her legs. Pam took her sweet time, her face as red as a rose. The fourth set took even longer.

Being the odd man, I got skipped the first time around. I got included on the second go round. I scooted back with Benny, who sat on my left and had been in on the first round with the guy who sat on his left. When Pam leaned over, I decided to act like all the others and take a peek up her skirt. What I saw blew me away.

Pam had on a pair of frilly pink panties I'd never seen before. They were so sheer and thin that only a narrow strip passed between her legs. I could plainly see her labia lips and I could see that she'd shaved them clean. A dark pink spot caused by wetness marked the place where her clit pressed out against the material. While I sat in stunned awe, Benny ran his hand up her left leg right up to her crotch, pressing the edge of his hand between her lips. Pam did not react, even when he took the panty material between thumb and forefinger and made it wedge between her lips. Her labia lips closed over it. When she stood, she just smiled and walked off with a sexy sway to her stride. This time, my face was red.

The game went on like this for several hours. Pam worked the table, bringing fresh beer, keeping the snack food bowels full, and frequently emptying the ash tray. Hands reached for her legs, tits, and ass whenever she passed by. Pam never jumped or flinched and never pushed a hand away. She kept track of which set got to feel her up and never balked at the hands that went between her legs. The cards got sticky and so did my shorts.

After four hours, I was down three hundred dollars. I was learning to play poker the hard way. After buying the house and the table set, our savings was tapped out. Fifty dollars was all we had to our name with payday two weeks away. While Pam was out of the room, Jake said, "Jerry, I'm going to give you a chance to recoup your losses at two to one. You interested."

I sat up and said sure. He said, "I'm going to bet you six- hundred bucks that Pam will let me take her panties off right here at the table and not say a word while I do it. If she does, she's mine for twenty-four hours. If she so much as makes a peep, you get six bills."

I felt sure Pam wouldn't stand still for that, not quietly anyway. I also knew she'd be pissed if I put her ass on the table as part of a wager. I said, "Jake, I can't give you Pam. I'm her husband not her keeper."

"I'll handle Pam. All I need is your acceptance. What do you say, kid? I know you could use the money. I'm just trying to make things easy for you."