Mousy Wife in Biker Bar

Mousy Wife in Slutty Dress at Biker Bar

"Honey, you know how I have been trying to convince you to dress more, uh, provocatively when we go out?" asked Milton, gulping with nervousness as he addressed his wife, Sophie.

"Um, yes. But you know I'm not that kind of woman, dear," said Sophie softly, looking down at her tea as she stirred it.

"But you have such a sexy body," urged Milton. "You should show it off more. Look, I stopped by the mall and bought you a tube dress to try on." He held up a shopping bag toward his wife.

"Oh, god, are you serious?" giggled Sophie, bowing her head to avoid her husband's inquiring gaze and pushing the hair behind her ear. "You know I'm too shy to wear some sexy dress in public."

"Look, can't you just do it for me, darling?" pleaded Milton, his cock stiffening at the idea of his meek wife strutting around in this revealing outfit.

Sophie peeked at her husband and laughed nervously, "I'll try it on, but I won't promise to wear it out to the bar tonight," she said, taking the bag from her husband and scurrying off to the bedroom.

Milton followed her down the hall but wasn't surprised when his wife shut and locked the bedroom door behind her. She was a remarkably modest women and didn't like for Milton to watch her change. He paced back and forth in the hall while she dressed, his palms sweating and his penis quivering at the thought of Sophie's curves barely contained by the tight dress.

"Oh this will never do, Milton," called Sophie through the locked door. "It's too tight."

"Let me see," said Milton, practically jumping up and down with anticipation.

"I don't even have a strapless bra to wear with it," complained Sophie.

"Let me see," repeating Milton.

"I feel slutty," whimpered Sophie in a small voice.

"Just open the door, honey, please," pleaded Milton. He waited for a moment, with his ear to the door, but he heard nothing. Finally there was a click as Sophie unlocked the door and he rushed into the room. "My God, you look amazing," he gushed as he admired Sophie's hourglass figure. She wasn't wearing a bra and her large breasts seemed on the verge of spilling out of the top of the snug black dress at any moment. The dress clung to her curves, perfectly outlining her narrow waist and wide hips and was so short that it just barely covered her crotch, leaving her shapely legs entirely exposed. Sophie was blushing furiously and alternated between tugging the top of the dress up to keep her boobs in check and then tugging at the hem to keep her crotch from peeking out.

"Oh this is just impossible," gasped Sophie in exasperation. "I don't have a bra to go with this and my boobs are going to pop out any second," she complained, pushing her heavy framed glasses back up her nose.

"Please honey, you look simply delectable," begged Milton, getting down on his knees dramatically. "This has been a real fantasy of mine for a long time. To show the world how gorgeous my meek and nerdy wife really is."

"Hey, who are you calling a nerd? I thought you were trying to butter me up," said Sophie, taking her husband's face in her hands, and looking down at him tenderly.

Milton said nothing and just gazed up at his wife with hope in his eyes.

"Oh jeez, not the puppy dog eyes," said Sophie, covering her face. "Ok, ok, I will do it for you. But we need to go someplace quiet and dark," she said giggling in confusion.

"I know just the place," exclaimed Milton, jumping to his feet. "That little Roadhouse bar down by the freeway. No one will know us there."

"Ew, I don't know," said Sophie with hesitation. "That place seems a little run down."

"I stopped in there once with some fellows from work. It was very, uh, rustic. There were hardly any people in there. And the beer was cheap."

"Ok, I know this is important for you, but if I feel too uncomfortable, I want to leave right away, ok?" asked Sophie. She gulped with anxiety at the thought of going out in public in this skimpy dress. She felt practically naked and it filled her stomach with butterflies.

"Absolutely, whatever you say," said Milton eagerly as they headed out to the car.

***

When they arrived at the Roadhouse bar, the gravel parking lot was overflowing with Harley Davidsons.

"Whoa, look at all these motorcycles," said Sophie with trepidation. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Um, yeah, I don't know," said Milton as he parked the car. "It looks like a biker convention."

They sat for a moment watching the unsavory crowd milling in and out of the bar. They were mostly grizzled men in beaten up leather jackets, all with a skeleton logos on the back. But there was an occasional women amongst them, looking haggard and smoking cigarettes. One of the women noticed Milton and Sophie sitting in their car and approached them with a ragged smile.

Sophie rolled down her window as the woman approached.

"Whatsa matter, you two? Afraid to come in?" asked the woman with a grin that revealed some missing teeth. She had bags under her eyes and her breath stunk of beer and tobacco. "Don't be nervous. We might look rough, but we are just as harmless as kittens." Then the women noticed Sophie's dress and she whistled with surprising lewdness. "Ooo, girl, look at those ta-tas. Ha, ha. Come on in, the boys will get a big kick out of you in that little black dress, I'll tell you what."

"That's what I'm afraid of," admitted Sophie, tugging self-consciously at the top of her dress.

"Oh, don't worry, I will take care of you, pudding. Just stick with me," said the woman, opening the car door for Sophie and helping her out with a bawdy wink. "I know all these old boys and they won't lay a finger on you without your say so."

"Um, thank you," said Sophie, looking back over her shoulder as her husband quickly climbed out of the car and scampered after them.

"They call me Buttercup, what's your name, sweetie?" asked the woman as she locked arms with Sophie and headed toward the entrance of the bar.

The dilapidated woman sported a leather jacket with the ubiquitous skeleton, a short denim skirt, and cowboy boots. She crunched across the uneven gravel of the parking lot casually, providing support to Sophie who teetered along beside her in unfamiliar heels.

"I'm Sophie, and this is my husband, Milton," said Sophie, as Milton caught up with them breathlessly.

Buttercup pursed her thin, dry lips and tutted at Milton, taking in his pink polo shirt, dockers, and hair plastered to one side. "Hrmph, the boys won't like him much," she muttered to Sophie.

Sophie gave Buttercup a look of concern and didn't notice that all the bikers by the entrance had stopped to stared at her.

"What's up, hot stuff?" asked one huge bearded, bear of a man, leering at Sophie and ignoring Milton entirely. Milton felt his arms pits growing damp with fear at the sight of this huge rough man accosting his wife and was relieved when Buttercup intervened.

"Put it back in your pants, there, Tiny," snapped Buttercup sharply. "Sophie here is my pal and I am takin' her straight to Rogan."

Tiny's pals guffawed loudly and slapped him on the back as he cringed under Buttercup's tongue lashing. Milton felt his relief draining away as he considered her words. "Err, wait, who is Rogan?" he asked.

"Rogan is the boss of these mutts," said Buttercup, putting her nose in the air as she led the nervous couple through the crowded bar, pushing through clumps of big, sweaty bikers. "He is just going to eat. Sophie. Up," she cackled. Milton realized that as worn-down as the woman looked, she probably was no older than he or Sophie.

All the men stopped and ogled Sophie as she passed by with her jiggling, unconstrained boobs and she kept tugging awkwardly at the top of her dress, her head bowed meekly, afraid to make eye contact. Milton was starting to have second thoughts about this whole experiment. When he fantasized about showing his wife off to other men, he always pictured nice, upper class professional men like himself, not these rough, poorly dressed motorcycle hooligans. In fact, Milton didn't even feel safe here amongst these animals and stuck close to Buttercup's side for protection since she seemed to have some power over them.

"Go get us some beers and make your yourself useful, Myron," said Buttercup to Milton dismissively.

"It's, uh, Milton, actually," said Milton raising a finger in objection. But Buttercup just ignored him and hustled his wife away through the crowd. He and a couple of other men stopped to stare at Sophie's round buttocks, snugly encased in her tight dress.

"Look at that sweet, sweet, ass," said one wiry biker to Milton, clapping him on the shoulder roughly.

"Yes, that's my wife," said Milton. "So you might want to be a bit more respectful."

"Har, har, respectful, huh," laughed the thin man in Milton's face. "Well if you are tapping that ass, then I guess you deserve a bit of respect, cheers," said the man, holding up his beer in a salute before taking a long sloppy draught.

Milton cast a brief glance at the beer dribbling out the corners of this fellow's mouth and took that opportunity to scurry off to the bar and fetch some beers for himself, his wife and Buttercup.

Meanwhile, Buttercup lead Sophie to a table at the back of the bar where a group of men stood talking by a battered pool table. One man in his forties stood out among the rest and was clearly the leader. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a square jaw. He wore a neatly trimmed beard and long hair that went past his shoulders. His skeleton jacket has specials emblems on the front and the other men seemed to defer to him.

"Rogan, look what I brought for you," said Buttercup, pushing her way into the group with Sophie by her side. "Her name is Sophie!"

Conversation stopped short and the coarse group fell silent as all eyes were fixed on Sophie's body. Her cheeks flushed prettily and she bowed her head as the men brazenly looked her body up and down.

"Holy fuck, Buttercup," grunted Rogen in appreciation. "Where did you find this slutty little nerd? She is built like a goddamn brick shithouse." The men all broke out in raucous laughter as Sophie giggled nervously and hid her face in her hands.

"Come now, fellows," tittered Sophie into her hand. "You are making me self conscious."

"Oh, darlin', they are just playing with you," said Buttercup, putting her arm around Sophie consolingly. "I thought you would be used to that sort of thing with a body like that."

"Oh, I never dress this way," admitted Sophie, peeking over at Buttercup who gave her an encouraging smile. "It was my husband's idea."

"Your husband?" cried Rogan. "Where the fuck is he at?"

"Right here, right here," said Milton, edging his way into the circle of ruffians with three beers clasped in his hands.

The group took one look at him in his pink shirt and khakis and broke out laughing in unison. He glanced around the group fearfully as he handed Buttercup and Sophie their beers.

"Thank you, honey," said Sophie quietly, taking the drink. She turned away slightly to take a big gulp, hoping it would calm her nerves. Her heart was pounding madly in her chest.

"Let me get this straight," said Rogan, stepping closer to Sophie while looking Milton in the eye. "You dressed up your timid little wife like a whore and decided to take her down to hang out with a gang of bikers? What the fuck were you thinking, man?" Rogan shot Milton a winning smile and shook his head in disbelief.

"Ah, well, I wouldn't say that she looks like a whore exactly," objected Milton, holding up one finger. His pulse was racing but he felt that he had to stick up for his wife in this group of churlish men.

"Maybe not a whore, but she sure does have the goods on full display," interjected Buttercup. She slipped behind Sophie and shook her by the shoulders, making Sophie's generous bosom shimmy and jiggle. Sophie squealed with surprise as the shaking caused her rebellious top to slip down, exposing her gorgeous white cleavage. She caught it just before it slipped down past her nipples. While the men hooted and made ribald comments.

"Stop it, Buttercup, my boobs are popping out," gasped Sophie, her face burning with embarrassment.

"Yup, your wife sure has a sweet set of knockers on her," said Rogan, nodding with approval.

"Um, you all keep talking about about me in the third person," offered Sophie softly. She kept her chin tucked down as she wriggled her top back up into place.

"Oh, I'm sorry, little lady," said Rogan, stepping closer. He took Sophie's chin gently in his big rough hand and tilted her head up so that her could fix with a piercing gaze. Sophie gasped in response as she found herself drawn into Rogan's cold blue eyes. "You have a lovely pair of tits. White, big, and jiggly. Just as I like 'em."

Sophie gulped in amazement and felt a tickle of arousal in her belly as this big strong man took her face in his hand and spoke so suggestively. The group snickered and muttered amongst themselves in response.

"Now, err, that's quite improper," objected Milton impotently as he watched this big oaf manhandling his poor wife.

Rogan ignored Milton and continued on, holding Sophie's head up to maintain her gaze. "Yup, your tits are making my dick real hard right about now," he told her. "What do you think of that?" Rogan reached down with his other hand and shamelessly adjusted the growing lump in his jeans.

"Um, I guess that's flattering in a way," admitted Sophie, feeling locked into Rogan's stare. She put her hands over her breasts unconsciously to hide her stiffening nipples.

"Come now, that's really beyond the pale," protested Milton. He summoned his courage and tapped Rogan on the shoulder. "Please unhand my wife, sir," he said, fighting the nauseous fear in his gut.

There was a collective inhalation as a hush fell over the group. Rogan released Sophie's face from his grip and turned to face Milton, drawing himself up to full height and glowering down at the indignant husband.

"Do you have any idea who I am, little man?" asked Rogan quietly. "I'm the leader around here. I'm the fucking alpha male. I snap my fingers and this bunch here would grab you and break you in two!"

Milton's chin quivered in fear, but he glanced over at his shocked wife, looking on anxiously and he gathered his wits about him. "Be that as it may," he stammered. "Sophie is my wife and you shouldn't talk to her that way. It's impolite," insisted Milton, meeting Rogan's stern gaze though his face shook like jelly and his gut was writhing with eels.

Rogan's face dropped in bald amazement and he turned in a full circle with his arms spread, silently imploring everyone to take notice. A larger group formed around the little circle as bikers all crowded in, craning their heads to see and whispering feverishly to inquire what was happening.

"You know what?" Rogan asked the crowd. "This little man has a big pair of stones on him, I'll tell you what," he said pointing at Milton. "I wouldn't have thunk it, but there it is. A big old pair of stones." There was a pregnant pause as the group seemed to hold it's breath. Rogan relished the moment while Milton stood there, knees shaking, and then he broke out into a broad grin and gave a deep belly laugh. The crowd exhaled as one as Rogan slapped his knee in delight. "Which one of you tough guys would stand up to me like that? I ask you," laughed Rogan, wiping a tear from his eye. He came over and put his arm around Milton, crushing him to his side in a an iron grip. "What's your name, there?" he asked.

"Milton."

"You are alright in my book, Milton," said Rogan as the crowd started to thin out, realizing that no violence was at hand. "Now what's the problem between us? Am I being too rude for you?"

"Well, Sophie is my wife, after all," said Milton reasonably. "It's only appropriate for me to ask other men to treat her with dignity."

"Dignity," said Rogan, pursing his lips and furrowing his brow in thought. He released Milton from his grip and rubbed his chin in thought.

"He just wants you to be more polite," explained Sophie primly.

"Oh Rogan don't mean no harm," put in Buttercup, suppressing a smile. "He just follows the old adage, treat a lady like a whore and a whore like a lady."

"Har, har, I sure do, Miss Buttercup. By your leave ma'am, I surely do," responded Rogan with a twinkle in his eye as he kissed Buttercup's hand to the delight of the group. Bikers pounded each other on the shoulder as Rogan teased Buttercup.

"Oh you rascal, you go on, I know what I am," laughed Buttercup, withdrawing her hand.

"Ok, Sophie, I beg your pardon, ma'am," said Rogan, gripping his crotch as he looked Sophie up and down. "Let me start over, can I? My name is Rogan, and it is a real pleasure to meet you," he held out his hand to Sophie.

Sophie glanced at her husband nervously and hesitantly took Rogan's hand. "Hello, Rogan. I am pleased to make your acquaintance," she said, feeling excitement building inside her.

Rogan put her hand to his lips and kissed it delicately while he fixed her with an intense gaze, making Sophie's heart flutter madly. "May I say that your dress is very flattering to your figure?" he asked. "I hope that's not too forward." The group snickered in response.

"Um, no, uh, thank you very much," replied Sophie, tugging at her top to keep her breasts in check. She could feel the group staring at her erect nipples that were poking plainly through the thin fabric.

"You know, Rogan, since you like Sophie's figure so much, you should invite her back to the clubhouse so that she can give you a better look at it," suggested Buttercup taking a drag of a cigarette.

"That's a fine idea, Buttercup," replied Rogan, rubbing his hands together. "But you know she would need to go through her initiation first."

"Of course, of course," said Buttercup, frowning judiciously and shaking her head. "No women in the clubhouse until they go through initiation. I know the rules."

"What does the initiation entail?" asked Sophie.

"Let me try to say this politely, so I don't offend your husband," said Rogan while his fellow chortled knowingly all around. "We don't normally allow women in the clubhouse unless they show their loyalty and that they got nothing to hide."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of this," said Milton, the sweat beading on his forehead.

"Well men can't come in at all unless they are full members," said Buttercup blowing smoke in Milton's face dismissively.

"Now, now, Buttercup, this is true. But our friend Milton has shown his worth. He is a solid man who stood right up to me to defend his wife's honor, so he's earned his entrance," said Rogan drawing himself upright.

"Well, uh, thank you," said Milton, feeling an unaccountable sense of relief.

"But how do I show that I am loyal and have nothing to hide?" asked Sophie.

"You got to strip down naked in front of the whole gang and then go down on Rogan while everyone watches," said Buttercup simply, taking a puff of her cigarette. "Piece of cake. I did it years ago myself."

"You sure did," said Rogan eyeing Buttercup lewdly. "That's a hummer I won't ever forget."

"Surely you're joking," stammered Milton, his stomach dropping at the thought.

"I can barely stand everyone looking at me in this dress. I couldn't get naked in front of a bunch of strangers," gasped Sophie in distress.

"You are afraid to get naked for the gang, but you wouldn't mind the part where you get to suck on my, uh, penis, though, huh?" said Rogan, wagging his eyebrows at Sophie suggestively.

She bowed her head, her cheeks bright with shame, and said nothing. She cast a furtive glance at Rogan's bulge and had to admit she was fascinated by the idea of sucking on his member while her husband watched. Rogan's raw animalistic machismo exerted a great attraction over her. She found herself yearning to service the charismatic gang leader.