The Shirt Off My Bac

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I have been gifted good looks, body and 'equipment' ever since I was fifteen but I was probably an arsehole with it. I say 'was', as I have now learnt that at the end of the day being an arrogant arsehole will get you in all sorts of trouble. What follows is how I learnt my lesson that looks aren't everything. I have always found that the girls flock to me, my Italian ancestry means I have the look of being tanned all year around. I work out at the gym for 2 hours nearly every day and spend almost as much time each morning smothering myself in creams and potions; ensuring my thick dark hair is perfect and my clothes look great. Anyway...

Two years back I was fresh out of college with rubbish grades and no job prospects. I had been first to mock the nerds, the same guys who were driving BMW's and LEXUS' with six figure salaries and real prospects. Three months out and I was still out of work and sponging off my then girlfriend, living out of her fridge and spending my days shuffling through 230 channels of cable TV in between my visits to the gym. I had a real stunner of a girlfriend, tall, thin pretty and blonde. We were a real poster couple but weren't really friends, more fuck buddies. That said she wasn't very adventurous, it was always either her on top, missionary or doggy. She didn't let me go down on her and said the idea of sucking on a penis was abnormal. The problem was that I needed somewhere to stay and so rode out all the crap whilst I looked for something better.

One evening I went out to a friends house and he suggested I get some bar work do some waiting on tables so I had my own money. I saw those jobs as below me but the desire to buy designer clothes and go clubbing required money, so I called the agency my buddy worked for. I was told to come into the office the next week for an interview, uplifted by the fact that I was told there was lots of work available.

I strode into the offices full of my usual confidence not caring that I had nothing to really offer in terms of experience or qualifications. I always got by with my charm and good looks. There were lots of vacancies and was offered loads of short term jobs over the next few weeks. I knew that they weren't great paying jobs, but £7 per hour was a pittance. That said, on the job they had me down for at the end of the week (Sunday) I was told there could be some good tips available. I signed the forms and gave them my details. All I needed was a black bow tie, white long sleeve shirt, polished black leather shoes and black trousers.

I turned up for each of the events, all in big local hotels and found myself as a nobody following the orders of trumped up managers full of their own importance. I hated it and was having to learn the bar terms as I went. I would have jacked it in but the final job of the week was near and that was going to be my decider of whether to keep this up or not. So Sunday arrived and I got the call from the agency of where and when. Unlike every other job I'd done this was a private job in somebody's home with just me and some girl who was a supervisor doing the job. Normally a high end job like this would go to someone with more experience but people just hated working Sunday nights. I arrived at the agency pick up point and instead of the mini-bus was collected by Dee, the supervisor, in a taxi. She was not especially great looking, only 5"4, bit of excess around the hips and tummy, long red hair and 'plain-Jane' features. She wasn't ugly but I would consider myself out of her league. She tried to talk to me about the Job and I just grunted responses in my arrogance.

We arrived and I was told what to do. It was a huge mansion of a place, modern and flashy with it. I was told the owner was an author who was living in a rough council estate five years ago then wrote two best sellers back-to-back. I went through from the kitchen to the room we'd be working in and it was huge, big enough for thirty or more comfortably. The décor was awful and you can tell it was somebody who recently had money. Pictures of motorbikes and women in leather, holding whips covered the walls, none of the furniture matched and there was a pool table that had been pushed to one side to make space for a small platform with lectern.

I set the bar up, cutting lemons, getting ice, finding reserve stocks and setting up the keg that was installed. The bar was small but well appointed and everything was to hand. The hostess came in and I vaguely recognised her as the author who wrote a series of books about a female biker who was a sort of a modern day Robin Hood, I think her pen name was something like Janet Screech or Screecher. She was loud, brash and a bit 'too' down to earth. She called me 'Sugar' and 'Honey' which really pissed me off but I bit my lip hoping for a big tip. The guests started to arrive and I did my thing on the bar serving drinks whilst Dee handed out canapés and collected glasses for me to wash.

After the initial bustle as people arrived it soon evened out at which point Dee came over and suggested a vodka shot for us both to keep us going. I was up for that and poured us both generous measures into our orange juices. As the night wore on I realised that the people there were obviously freeloaders there to feel celebrity and reluctantly give some of their money to a charity, the main purpose of the event. As midnight approached all and sundry were pretty drunk, including Dee and myself as we sneaked sly vodka shots on a regular basis. We were also getting time to chat and I found myself warming to Dee whom I'd seen as quite prim and proper but she was not averse to slipping a 'fuck' or 'twat' into the conversation.

Janet came over to me and said that the auction was to start soon and that she would tell people the bar was shut for 30 minutes to give us a break as we had worked so hard, making it sound like she was aware of our lowly stature and was showing pity. That said we both jumped at the chance of a break and as soon as Janet went onto the platform and announced it we were gone, leaving a half dozen bottles of champagne on the bar for people to help themselves.

Once in the kitchen I sat on the worktop and Dee sat nearby on a breakfast stool. I don't know if it was my beer goggles but I was seeing her in a new light, her persona bigging up her lack of beauty. She was dressed in a white blouse that showed off a big pair of tits, likely a D cup and her muscular legs fitted her hour-glass frame, clad in black tights moving up to what was actually quite a short black skirt. We chatted about the guests laughing about the things they said, mostly saying things to big up how much money they had. Dee actually made me laugh when she impersonated a lady guest in her plumy accent saying.

"When Bradley and I are on our yacht we like to drink Pimms!"

I noticed that she was actually quite drunk and was flirting with me quite a lot. I am used to girls coming on to me, but girls like Dee didn't normally see me as a realistic target in a bar or club, but without any competition she obviously had more fortitude. Her legs were getting wider and wider revealing the gusset of her tights and the white panties behind them to which I darted my eyes hoping I wouldn't get caught.

"Is it me, or is it fucking hot in here?"

I nearly burst out laughing as it clearly sounded like a line but I wasn't 100% sure it was. Dee looked at me for an answer and I said I was hot and lifted my arms to show the sweat marks, quickly hiding them again angry that I dirtied my appearance. Dee said she was going to take off her vest and tights and asked me to stand guard whilst she changed in the large walk in pantry. She closed the door after going in and I stood guard like a Marine outside an embassy as she changed. She came out and said that was better but that it was time we got back to work before anybody realised we'd been 35 minutes already. I got a quick glimpse of a wonderful cleavage but Dee zipped past me quite quickly, dropping her unwanted clothing into her bag as she passed.

We snuck back in and watched on as people bid for lots, Janet doing an apparent good job of egging on the crowd to bid silly amounts. Some guy paid £500 for a football signed by some Manchester United players; another person paying £1,100 for a spa day at a nearby 5 star hotel and even £100 for a signed photo of a soap actress whom I'd never heard of. Janet then said that all the donated lots had now been sold and so far £18,150 had be raised for the charity. She went on to say that £20,000 sounds better and said people can bid for anything in the room to make up the money. Somebody after a minute offered £100 for a glass vase and Janet said it cost nearly five times that. The bidding went on and up to £525 before it was finally won. I noticed that people were now slowly leaving and the initial 35 guests was nearer 20 as another couple crept out, probably to a waiting limo or something. I was now bored as nobody had had a drink in ages and I think Dee had hit back three more large vodkas. I moved her away from the bar and suggested she slow down or she might get caught and not paid or something.

Two more items were sold and you could tell they were getting restless as a few more left and the total raised was now £19,775. It was then that things got a little interesting!

"I'll give you ten for the barman's shirt!"

I heard it but it didn't register until I saw all eyes on me. I looked at Janet who shuffled over to me in double quick time.

"Please Honey, whatever it sells for I'll make up to you!"

Janet whispered to me, reminding me it was all for a good cause. I explained that it was YSL and cost me £60 (I lied it was £20 in the sale but she wasn't to know).

"Don't worry Honey, I'll sort you out with a BIG tip before you go and there are loads of my ex-husbands clothes you can help yourself to in the garage."

I nodded to the crowd, all be it down to about three couples and five or six women, all of whom gave a little wolf whistle or cheer as I agreed. Janet made a big fuss of selling my shirt and before long it was past £300. I couldn't believe it, all these women bidding for my sweaty shirt. I saw Dee looking on with a big smile on her face and when our eyes met she licked her lips slowly. I wasn't sure if it was another sly come-on or if she was just teasing but it sure made her look sexy. At that exact moment I realised that she was a sexy woman, not beautiful or stunning but hot and sexy.

Suddenly a cheer went up as a middle aged women with a huge grin celebrated her win. £650! These people definitely had more money than sense. I realised that she was coming to claim it now and I found myself confidently striding out from behind the small bar, tossing my elasticated bow-tie on the floor. Once in front of the bar I looked out at all the guests and realised I was now most definitely the centre of attention, an air of anticipation filling the room. Just as I was about to remove my shirt Janet turned up the lights and I was 'in the spot-light'.

The winner stepped forward and put her hand out to 'collect' it from me. I slowly undid the buttons of my shirt, realising that my hands were shaking a little. I felt like bottling out briefly but it was too late now so I pulled myself together and dug out all my confidence, now almost sneering as I reached the halfway point. The odd wolf whistle was soon followed up by the female guests egging me on with calls of, "Get 'em off!" And, "Show us your muscles!"

Once the buttons were undone I looked up and saw that I had a captive audience all looking on with anticipation. I grew bolder and tried to move like a Chippendale, swinging my hips and making poses as I shrugged the shirt off my shoulders, holding another pose and getting a few more cheers, an especially loud one from Dee who had moved into the small crowd in front of me, obviously quite drunk from the vodka. I next slipped my shirt off more, holding it on slightly with the arms and making another pose, turning my back to them and finally letting it fall to the floor. A cheer went up and there was a short round of applause to which I gave a shallow bow. The winner grabbed my shirt from the floor and held it to her face, probably looking to smell in my after shave and natural scent.

After that it was all a bit uncomfortable as nobody knew what was going to happen next until Janet took charge and asked everybody to give me a clap for being a good sport. There was another small round of clapping and then the crowd in front of me dispersed into the room, the auction also apparently over.

Dee came over and put my bow-tie back on, giving me the archetypal male stripper look. I laughed it off and went back behind the bar, feeling a little exposed in front of everybody. Dee stumbled over and said that Janet wanted us to start packing things up now, so I should make sure I collect all the glasses, get them cleaned, polished and put away. I did as she asked and collected all the glasses as people left until it was just Janet, Dee and myself, the glasses were clean and stacked and the bar tidied up. I'd actually forgotten I didn't have a shirt on by this point and was only reminded when I felt Dee's nails stroking down my back. I turned and she was dangling keys in front of me with a smile.

"Janet gave me the keys to the garage and said you can help yourself to anything I want of her ex-husbands, it's all in boxes marked Dan at the back. After we're done were to leave from the garage door and post the keys back through the letter box. Trusting of her, eh?"

I followed Dee through the house and she fumbled with the keys until she found the one that opened the garage door. I found the light switch and the strip lights 'clinked' slowly into action to reveal two fancy cars, half a dozen motorbikes and loads of other stuff in a garage bigger than my girlfriends apartment. I followed Dee over to the shelves that lined the back wall, admiring the big silver Mercedes and bright yellow Porsche convertible as I passed them.

I found the boxes, four in all, with 'DANS CRAP' printed in block capitals on the side. I took down the first box and opened it up. It had in it a nice, but dated, digital camera; a VCR; loads of computer cables; old copies of classic car magazines; ice cream tub of mixed batteries and some shoes. I asked Dee if she thought I could take the shoes and she reminded me that Janet said I could take what I wanted from the boxes. I looked but unfortunately the shoes weren't my size. I took down another box and it too wasn't clothes but loads of video tapes and DVD's, stuff like Lethal Weapon and Die Hard, men's films that Janet obviously wasn't in to. I raided a few off the top and saw tits! Under the movies was a big pile of men's magazines and not Playboy or Swank, these were really hard European ones I'd never heard of. Dee leant over and slid one out. As she flicked through the pages she looked up at me and turned the picture towards me. It was part of a set of a naked red-head next to a yellow Porsche convertible, bent over the side with a dildo in her pussy, two fingers buried or spreading herself open. Dee and I both looked at the Porsche next to us (a 911 the same but Janet's was a newer model) and laughed. I grabbed down another box and it was full or pyjamas, socks and underwear so I put it right back and grabbed the last box. I opened it up and it was like an Aladdin's cave of designer shirts, ties, trousers, tops and all in my size. I pawed over them and showed them to Dee as I went but I noticed she wasn't too bothered about it. I finally picked a Tommy Bahama polo shirt and was about to put it on when Dee got my attention.

"Tony.............. how's about we re-create this scene here?"

She spoke in a seductive tone and threw the open magazine down in front of me, showing me more of the pictures of the girl, this time in the Porsche in various states of undress. She waggled the camera in front of me with one hand and fiddled with the top button of her blouse with the other. I thought she was just messing and said that it would be a great idea. I got big surprise when she agreed.

"Fuck yeah Tony. I've always fantasised about showing my pussy on film, but quick before I change my mind!"

I loved that she said 'Fuck' and 'Pussy' so nonchalantly as I took the camera from her. It wouldn't start up so I went through the box of batteries until I found two that fitted. I took a minute to suss out the controls and then looked at Dee. She was smiling, still drunk but you could tell she knew what she was doing. I deleted a load of pics of people playing golf and more of a classic Jaguar until it showed 108 remaining pictures on the memory card.

"Where do you want me then Mr photographer?"

Dee had a 'fuck me' look in her eyes and I was at a loss of words. I'd taken the odd photo of ex's but never anything hard-core, mainly tits and a few nudes. This had the likelihood of being really hard-core if Dee really wanted to re-create some of these pictures. I picked up the mag and suggested we start the same, with the model just sat in the divers seat. Although the car was locked, the roof was down, so Dee athletically jumped in, sat in the drivers seat and started making 'broom-broom' noises as she simulated moving the steering wheel from side to side.

Dee smiled as I took the first two pictures but I could tell she was nervous and her face had become quite reddened. The next shot had the model in the same shot but with no top on and the top dangling on the aerial. I told Dee to get her top off and she quickly pulled it over her head, not wasting time fiddling with buttons. Unlike the car in the magazine this car had no visible aerial so I suggested she just throw it over her shoulder and that will do. It went a bit far and ended up hanging off the rear spoiler, not that I cared as I was more interested in Dee's big cleavage encased in a plain white bra. I snapped twice more then moved on to the next pic of the model stood on the drivers seat lifting her skirt to reveal tiny panties whilst one breast was pulled from behind the bra. I showed the pic to Dee and she tossed out her shoes, standing on the chair. She lifted her short skirt to reveal lacy white panties, then fiddled with her bra. She looked me in the eye and suggested that I would probably want to stop now but I shook my head. She knew she had a power over me and was milking it as I found my self practically begging her to continue. She eventually slid her hand into her bra, lifting it out painfully slowly. Her large perky nipple came into view and Dee had to raise her voice to get my attention back, I must have been staring. I snapped two more and when I looked at the screen on the camera saw the flash had made her red pubic show through the fabric of the panties. I suggested Dee hold the mag and can then just follow the set herself. I moved towards her and she leant over seductively as she took the mag from my hand and threw it onto the passenger seat. I stepped back and Dee looked at the magazine next to her, swiftly removing her bra and hanging it over the rear-view mirror. I snapped again as Dee posed for me, her pendulous breasts on display with her perky nipples pointing skywards. They were wonderful and the freckles around her upper breast were very cute. Dee then pulled her skirt off and threw it at me, she was definitely enjoying this as much as I was. Dee pointed at me and laughed.

"Look at that tent in your trousers Tony. Are you enjoying the show?"

I looked down and I really was tenting my black trousers, in fact I realised it was actually a little uncomfortable so reached in to rearrange things a little, causing Dee to laugh at me again.

Dee then looked to copy the next pose and threw out her panties, hiding her pussy by sitting low in the car, dangling her legs over the side. I moved a little for a better shot and snapped again. Dee then realised that she was sort of stuck and laughed as she struggled to get her legs back inside the car. I moved forward to help and was greeted by a great view of Dee's pussy. She was sat sideways on and her back was pressed into the gear stick, her legs pulled up to her chest in an effort to wiggle back in. In this position I had a clear view of Dee's hairy red pussy and anus. Her wriggling was just mesmerising. She caught me staring and our eyes met.