Baroness Garter Girls Night Out

Baroness' "Garter Girls" Night Out

Wage Gap in a Couple: the Commoner Boy and the Aristocrat Girl.

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###Disclaimer. This is the point of view of a poor boy. In real life, I made love once with an aristocratic girl. Everything else is pure fantasy.

Sequel of my tale: https://literotica.com/s/the-baroness-and-i

English is not my mother tongue, please forgive my mistakes.

If you have constructive comments I will be happy to read them in the Comments, thank you! ###

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Chapter 1: the "Garter Girls" Night Out

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Rhona would go out with her friends, for "high heels" night. Actually, they only go to the theater, however, to challenge the old well-wishers and épater le bourgeois, they go dressed as if they have to seduce all the males, from the First Violin to the last floor cleaner.

"Would you rather stay in the Manor and watch soccer on TV, Tom? Do you mind if I go with my cousins and the gals to our Garter Girls' Night Out, dear?" asked Rhona in an innocent voice, displaying a bright smile.

I pouted in an exaggerated manner, for a joke: "They say the gossip, that all of you act like sluts, and some of you cheat on a poor husband."

She laughed heartily. "Oh, Honey! "Honi soit qui mal y pense", ha, ha!

Well, yes, of course, my cousin the Countess, always acts like a real slut!

She could get a part in "Games of Thrones"!

I can already see the headline in all the tabloids: "Aristocratic screws janitor during Valkyrie opera. What do you say?"

I chuckled, too. "Can you assure me that you won't cheat me?"

"That depends, Sir. What do you want to hear from my voice, precisely? The boring truth, or some teasing lie?"

"Maybe someday it will turn me on to listen to your provocative and mischievous lies, but today is the first time for me as a Confirmed Boyfriend, and I prefer the boring truth."

She huffed, pretending she was drowning in boredom. "Okay... there you go. As every time, and tonight too, I'll go along with my girls, but I'll act differently.

I pretend to drink but I don't drink.

I am the Designated Driver, always.

Even if we go by cab.

I am the one who stays clear-headed and alert because we can't trust even cab drivers.

The Wise One.

That's all. Are you more serene now?" her eyes were sincere but shone with a devilish light.

"Oh, yes! Well, maybe then sooner or later I'll agree to listen to the lies you want to tell, now that I know they're just fantasies without any consequences."

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Without any consequence, I was thinking about the abysmal distance between us. Lovers with equal dignity naked in bed, but distant in social behavior.

A Commoner and an Aristocrat. A poor man and a rich woman.

Tonight would have been the perfect example.

As a stereotypical cliché of immigrant proletarian, I would watch soccer on TV, for free. My dinner would have been scrambled egg with onions (the poorest food in the world), my beverage a couple of cheap beers, and my dessert some chips with mayonnaise from the supermarket. My outfit was a T-shirt and boxer shorts: the value of a couple of hamburgers.

And what about her? She would go to the Theater to hear an Opera by Wagner, along with her cousins and her girlfriends: a whole-female team, who would attract attention with laughter, shouts, erect nipples, and very short skirts. Her cousin Claudia, the Countess, was famous for the nude look and generous views offered of her side boobs: any movement of her torso, allowed the nipples, or the navel, to be seen. One of the tall friends wore very high heels, attracting stares and comments. All, or almost all, wore dresses so tight that the lace of the lingerie could be seen: some, more daringly, showed an obscene Camel Toe through the tight silk pants, causing scandal in the sophisticated Theater audience.

The girls' outfits (including earrings, necklaces, bracelets, haircuts, and nails) cost several large bills each night.

The girls on the Team were as coarse as a Hillbillie without elegies, saying profanities, burping, farting and assaulting males (especially married and wife-armed), promising "Hawk Tuah" or any other trendy sexual activity. Just as a joke! Or at least that was what Rhoda used to tell me.

Her dinner would have been Tournedos à la Rossini (duck liver pâté drowned in Madeira Wine: like Uncle Waldo in the Aristo Cats movie).

As an appetizer, the girls would have ordered prawns, joking about the comparison between the shape of shellfish, and the shape of my cock.

The booze would have trickled down (especially Cousin Claudia the Countess, who had an addiction to Triple-Sec Cointreau) and although Rhoda would have drunk almost nothing, anyone who sniffed the passing group would have sworn they were all as drunk as the Spice Girls in the "Wannabe" video: the stench of alcohol coming from Countess would have stunned even a Liverpool hooligan.

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Chapter 2. The surprise.

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That night I would be watching a soccer game on television: it was the final of the 2024 European Championship, and a surprising Slovakia had reached the final against an equally surprising Turkey. The predictions had jumped: it no longer mattered who was hosting, who had held the title for three years, and who had the richest medal table.

Slovakia-Turkey. As an immigrant from Central Europe from the remnants of the old nineteenth-century empires, even I understood how important it could be for millions of Turks mocked and vilified for years by the Germans to prove that they, too, could be "winners," as the Italian soccer players had demonstrated at the 2006 World Cup. By restoring dignity and honor to thousands of pizza makers, plumbers named "Mario and Luigi," and honest little workers denigrated and bullied by the Germans in the name of some never-to-be-specified "superiority."

The soccer ball was round and often sentenced unexpected responses.

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As I was about to watch the soccer game, Rhoda arrived in the Living Room, not paying attention to me at all.

Rhoda's arrival was heralded by the rhythmic stomp of high heels, which made my heart beat rapidly.

She appeared gorgeous in her revealing outfit. Very low-cut black shoes with a skyscraper-high heel. Sheer black stockings with a wide lace, which I knew to be hooked to the straps of a lace Garter Belt: after all, "Garter Girls" was the name the girls had given themselves!

She laid the short jacket and baguette handbag on a piece of furniture.

As she walked nervously back and forth, I could see the lace protruding: because the skirt was so short! A dark green skirt so short that I could see all the lace as she walked, let alone when she sat down!

She was wearing a skirt so tight, I could make out the line of the suspenders hooked to the garter belt. And as I could see it, anyone could see it: the jacket she would wear was too short to cover!

A skirt so short that it could have been used as a belt.

The thong was black.

How was I to know? Well, on the hips, two black spaghetti straps protruded high above the skirt line, and I could 100% guarantee that it was the black thong. Anyone who had looked under the short green silk camisole would have seen the two spaghetti straps and would have guessed that only very few tiny flaps of fabric separated her moist pussy, from my hard cock.

My cock: hard.

As she paced nervously, my cock was hard. I had completely forgotten about Turkey and Slovakia: my mesmerized eyes followed her steps.

Suddenly she turned her back on me.

I kept to stare at her ass.

Muttering expletives and profanities, she leaned forward to look for something in the lowest cabinet that supported the unlit TV screen.

I was enjoying the perfect scenery.

Her pussy lips were furrowed by the very thin thong and framed by the lacy stockings.

Maybe I should have distracted myself, but I couldn't take my eyes off her.

She could not find the object she was looking for, and she knelt, showing me even more obscenely all over her pussy and asshole.

My hand grabbed my cock and I began to masturbate in silence.

I remember thinking, "If she goes with girls now, I'll just stay here with this image fixed in my mind, I'll just close my eyes and then cum!"

Suddenly, Rhoda found what she was looking for (the house keys!) and she turned around with a radiant smile painted on her face!

"Look, honey! I found the keys!"

I stood motionless. Frozen. With my hard cock in my hand, the purple kno pointed at her eyes.

I thought she would scold me. That she would punish me.

Instead, she smiled.

"Mm, what a beautiful little mushroom in my garden-look at that purple knob! Will it be an edible mushroom, or will it be poisonous?" she said in a sultry voice.

I was paralyzed and did not answer.

"There's only one way to find out... taste it... and since I'm late, there's no time for anything but a taste with my...mouth..." She said "mouth" in a whisper before welcoming the knob between her wet lips.

As I continued to slowly jack off, she knelt in front of me, her nipples erect.

She shook a lock of hair in front of her nose, collected saliva and then spit to lubricate my hard cock, "Hawk tuah!"

Then Rhoda kissed my cock and encouraged me.

"Put it all in my mouth, lest it drips all over this beautiful silk camisole, I will swallow it all... I know it is a big sacrifice, but it is a sacrifice I am willing to make!"

I obeyed. I removed my hand and allowed her mouth to envelop all of the hard cock.

With her soft tongue, she wrapped around the base of the cock urging the frenulum. Then she pushed her tongue forward to assault the scrotum and perineum.

Then her tongue went back to the frenulum.

I could not resist.

She did not want me to resist.

I cum without thinking anymore. Turkey, immigrants, stamina, resisting. My brain was as empty as my testicles.

She sucked it all hard, swallowing every single drop. Then she devoted the necessary attention to cleaning my cock of any drops.

I had almost passed out from pleasure.

She joked, "With that hand of yours, you risked soiling my camisole...next time I'll have to cuff your wrists behind your back!"

I smiled.

"Don't smile! Definitely, you owe me one, Tom!

And I don't like you being alone in the house all night... who knows how many wanks you'll get, under the guise of watching soccer!

Next time, I'll go out only after making sure I've locked a padlock around your genitals, to prevent you from spurt without me!"

"Whenever you want, Your Ladyship," I joked.

Then she placed a kiss on my mouth.

"I'm going to run. Promise you won't masturbate tonight, Tom?

I take your word for it... For this time, ha, ha!

Anyway, after all the sperm I extracted from you just now, your balls should be as dry as the Desert!" and Rhoda affectionately slapped my exposed testicles with her delicate fingers.

She grabbed the short green jacket and the baguette with the keys and opened the main door to leave. Turning around, she said: "When I come home, I'd like you to impale me properly! Bye-bye!"

And she ran off, taking care of her "Garter Girls" team.

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That was the beginning of a long tradition. Every Thursday, the "Garter Girls" would go to the theater dressed provocatively, but before that, she would torture me with teasing, stripping, and other tricks. But that's another story.

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TB: To Be Continued.

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Dear reader, these two characters were born to explore the Wage Gap between a wife with a large fortune, and a husband who earns a small paycheck.

As far as I can predict, she will never welcome penetration from another man's cock: in that sense, there will never be any cuckolding scenes, although I do not exclude that sometimes some of her lesbian friends may kiss her in front of her husband.

And as far as I know, handcuffs and chastity devices can be bought by a wife who (at least to begin with) simply wants to be sure that her husband does not masturbate while she is in the Theater with the girls. So it is likely that sooner or later a male chastity cage will be purchased by the couple together, and perhaps can be used for longer than two hours of evening solitude.

English is not my mother tongue, please forgive my mistakes.

If you have constructive comments I will be happy to read them in the Comments, thank you! ###