Mystery Girl 6

We had finally secured a baby sitter who was prepared to look after a two year old and a pair of four-year old twins, so Sally and I decided to make a night of it.

When Sally succumbed to my suggestion that she should go to the fancy dress party as Princes Leia, I nearly came in my pants.

"If you're choosing what I have to wear, Harry," she said, then I'm choosing what you have to wear." Why did I feel that victory and suddenly turned in to defeat?

So when they day of the party came, and the costumes from the costume supplier arrived, I was somewhat pissed-off at finding a huge 'Chewbacca' suit beneath the wrappers. Of course, Sally found it hugely amusing, as she took her own costume up to the bedroom to change.

The furry costume was huge, thick, and I knew straight away that I was going to boil alive. With the head on, I could barely see a thing, and movement of any kind was energy-sapping.

Sally emerged from the bedroom, and it was the only time I was glad I had the head on, as my disappointment would have been obvious. Instead of the bikini-clad slave-girl-Leia I had been expecting, Sally wore the white, silky dress that Leia had worn in the first Star Wars film.

I removed the Chewbacca head for a better look.

"You disappointed?" She could read me like a book. "Well, there was no way I was going to go in that bloody stupid bikini-thing, if that's what you had thought. Not with all your pervy mates there. Besides, don't you think I look sexy?"

She gave we a twirl, and the splits in the dress flashed her thighs beautifully. She jiggled about and her breasts bobbled under the material. Sally was only a petite five feet three, and her huge 30EE boobies were always mesmerising. I was about to check with her if she was wearing a bra, but the way her breasts moved and the glimpse of nipple under the thin nearly-translucent material, confirmed she was not. I thought twice about advising her how transparent her dress was in certain light, but decided that if she wasn't going to play fair and wear the bikini-Leia costume, then this was the next best bet.

The taxi driver who drove us to the party was most amused, and offered to pick us up.

"No, thanks," I said. "We have a minibus collecting us all at the end."

We were fashionably late, and the party had already gotten in to full swing. I was only moderately pissed off at the immediate attention Sally received from the men, but it was probably my own fault for not suggesting she go as Queen Victoria or something equally as plain.

I plodded myself off to the kitchen to get us some drinks, a task which proved very hot and very hard. When I got back to the living room, Sally had disappeared, and I found myself talking to two guys from work (Dracula, and a Catwoman). I had a few beers with them, and then got caught up with a few people I didn't know, who were debating the correct order in which to watch the Star Wars films. It' amazing just how many opinions there are on this, and even though I didn't give a rats ass, it was intriguing how they formulated their opinions.

After an hour or so of this, I drifted away back to the kitchen to top up my drink.

Sally was chatting to a guy who had his back to me. He was dressed as a native American Indian, with huge headdress of feathers, leather top, and leather loincloth. He was a little portly, which made him look slightly ridiculous, but as there was nobody at the party who was dressed sensibly, I could see how he fitted in.

She was locked in close conversation with him, smiling gently, with her eyes half-closed as she does when she's drunk more than she should. So she didn't see me enter the kitchen. As I came round the side of them, I recognised his face as being that of Dan, an old school friend of years ago.

I'd heard that he had moved back into the area, and rumour had it that he had been kicked out of his rented accommodation by his landlord, after having an affair with his landlady. This didn't surprise me, as he'd always had this fantasy thing about married women even when we were at school. He wasn't especially good looking, with scraggy flyaway hair, a weak chin, an a dismal dress sense. Although he had never been married, he had a series of long and short term girlfriends, flings, affairs, and partnerships, usually due to the sob-stories he told women. Women seemed to take pity on him, and wanted to 'fix' him.

As I listened, he was telling Sally about how his last relationship had ended, after she had promised to go away with him, get divorced, and buy a flat together in London. Then, suddenly, just as they were about to start a new life together, she changed her mind and dumped him. And now he just didn't know where he was going in his life, what to do, or who to turn to. He'd returned to his mother's house, and although he loved his mother dearly, he felt it was wrong to impose himself on her for too long, as she was getting old.

"You poor thing," Sally said as he finished, resting her hand on his arm.

"Dan!" I exclaimed, as though I was surprised to see him. "Is that you, Dan? I hardly recognised you." I gave him a playful punch in the belly, that was perhaps a little too hard.

"Wha? Who the fuck are you?"

I took my Chewy head off. "It's me, Harry, you dickhead."

"Ohh, Harry, hi, yes." He took a pace back as I offered my hand. Perhaps he thought I was going to smack him. "What are you doing here?"

"Just getting a drink. One for my wife too. Fancy a coke, Sally?"

"No, I'll have another gin an tonic."

"You sure? You sound a bit slurred?"

"I'll get you one, Sally," said Dan, pushing past me to get to the fridge. I didn't like the amount of gin he threw in to her glass, but Sally took it from him, giggling.

I tried to prize her away from Dan, as he just made me feel uneasy. The way he stared at her breasts all the time, and the way she was so eager to hear of how down on his his luck he was, about the constant failure of his love life, and how he so wanted to turn over a new leaf but just didn't know where to start.

Sally eventually had to pee and so I followed her to the toilet.

"Are you going to talk to your husband tonight?" I must have sounded annoyed.

"Why should I, when he's being such an asshole?"

"What? How?"

"To poor Dan. Haven't you heard how he is? He's supposed to be your friend, you know."

She closed the bathroom door on me. I suddenly felt the urge to pee too, so I dragged my Chewbacca suit up the stairs to the upstairs bathroom. After ten minutes of getting out of the thing, peeing, throwing cold water over my face and under my arm pits, I dragged the suit back on, silently cursing Sally's choice of evening wear for me.

Back down in the kitchen there was no sign of Sally and Dan. I wandered in to the living room, hallway and dining room, but couldn't find either of them. Somebody suggested looking outside in the garden, as they had seen Sally going outside presumably to cool down.

I found Sally talking to a group of her girl friends, sitting on a bench in the corner. There was no sign of Dan, and I was relieved she had shaken him off. I chatted some more to the guys about work, football, and fishing, and hadn't noticed that it was dark until somebody turned the outside lights on.

We were stood in the garden down the side of the house. The downstairs toilet window was open, and from it came the grunting sound of a man. Like a set of stupid schoolboys, we staggered our way nearer, to see Dan's face in profile. One of the guys, Ray, crept nearer, and spoke a few words. Dan grunted something back before throwing open his mouth and having a huge orgasm.

"What the hell was that about," asked Simon, a guy I knew from work.

"Dan's gotten himself a blowjob," Ray chuckled.

"Who?" asked another guy.

Ray shrugged. "He just said she was good. Just some slut."

The guys laughed it off and we headed back to the kitchen for more beers. We saw Dan coming out of the downstairs toilet, but had no woman with him.

In the kitchen, I was surprised to see Sally, as I thought she was still in the garden. She was standing by the sink drinking a pint of water.

"Glad you're trying to sober up," I said.

"I washnt drunk. Much," She slurred.

"Good. I'm just thinking about your head the next day. I don't want you to be ill, that's all."

"God, Harry, you're sush a killjoy. Dun you wan me to ava good time?"

"Of course I do, sweetheart." I kissed her on the head.

Just after midnight, the minibus arrived, and we said out good-buys to our hosts. I was one of the last on, as, having the monstrous Chewbacca costume, I needed the wider disabled seats at the front. I looked round for Sally and saw she had a place on the back row, next to Dan.

The whole minibus was singing, people were standing and swapping seats, shouting directions, and messages about where to drop off the next person. I saw Sally's head on Dan's shoulder, and I fumed at how close they were sitting together. I noticed that there was nobody on the back seat with them.

The next time I looked, her head was still on his shoulder, but her eyes were closed, her head had tilted back, and she was biting her lip fiercely. I removed the stupid Chewy head to see better, as it was dark in the minibus and difficult to see clearly. A woman had stood up two rows back, and was singing something to a guy across the isle, so I lost sight of Sally. I wanted to try and get back to her, but the minibus was just too full. So I sat back and fretted to myself.

The minibus stopped a few times in quick succession, and soon it was only half full. I looked to the back seat, and Sally was now on her own. I was relieved at this, but bemused as I hadn't seen Dan get off. But there again, I hadn't been watching. As I looked at her, her face turned from a relaxed, far-away drunkeness, to that of sudden pain. She looked downwards, her mouth opened, and then her head went back, eyes closed, gasping. Was she masturbating, here on the coach? If she was as horny as that now, then it bode well for me when we got home.

The next stop was ours, and Sally was pushed forward towards me and the door. I grabbed her round the waist and we stepped out of the minibus into the cool of the evening. We waved our goodbyes, and as the minibus pulled away, I thought I glanced Dan's face though the back window.

I woke late on Saturday morning, and Sally was still dead to the world. She finally emerged from the bedroom in the evening, and slumped herself on the sofa holding her head. Although she vaguely remembered talking to Dan, she said she couldn't remember anything about the latter half of the night or the ride home.

This didn't surprise me, as she'd had amnesia before when she was drunk. Once, before we were married, she'd gotten so plastered that she'd removed her top and bra, dancing topless in a bar in town. Even though there had been plenty of photographs to capture the moment, she refused to admit any recollection of it.

I remained uneasy about Dan's presence, and my concerns increased when I came home from work and she let it slip that she'd had lunch with Dan. When I asked her when, she eventually revealed that she'd 'bumped in to him' a few times since the party. I told her I wasn't happy about this, as Dan had a history of being a womaniser. But she just repeated lines from his sob stories.

"He's down on his luck, Harry, and he just needs a break. He's looking at living in cheap bed and breakfast places at the moment, so I thought he could come and stay with us for a while."

"What?"

"Just until he gets settled. He's having to impose on his mum. She's such a lovely woman, and Dan loves her so much. But he's having to sleep on the couch. And we have a whole room spare..."

"No. Absolutely not. Our place isn't big enough anyway. And we've got three small girls who tear up the place. I don't want him wandering out of the bathroom one morning and...and.."

"Oh, Harry, grow up."

"He's not staying here, Sally. I haven't seen him in years. I don't really know him any more, and neither do you. I know he's been selling you hard-luck stories, but that's what he does. That's what he always does. It's just his technique."

"Technique? For what?"

I paused, but I hadn't actually got anything stuck in my throat. "For trying to get inside your knickers."

"Oh for God's sake. You really are bloody immature sometimes. Besides, you said yourself, you haven't seen him in years, so you don't really know him. He's not like that."'

"I don't care what he's like, he's not staying here!"

Our discussion had turned in to a row loud enough to wake the twins, who peered out from their bedroom, wide eyed.

Of course I got the cold shoulder from Sally for the next few days, but I just got on planning our summer holiday trip. We were going camping with a large group of friends down to the south coast. The campsite was just off the beech, and if the weather was good, we would have a week of building sand castles, collecting shells, and barbecues. I was excited as we hadn't had a holiday for a few years, and this might just be an opportunity for Sally and I to rekindle our pre-marital sexlife.

We were all set on the morning of our departure, with the kids buckled in to our MPV, and the tent and gear stashed in the boot and roof rack, when Sally picked up a call. She spoke for several minutes, laughing with whoever had called. It sounded like she were discussing cooking arrangements.

"Who was that?" I asked as we set off down the road.

Sally looked a little uncomfortable. "Well, you might as well know now. Dan will be coming on holiday with us."

"What!?"

"It's not just me. Some of the others told him to come along too."

"Oh, Sally, why did you do that?"

"He's on his own. He's lonely. The company will do him good."

We argued for an hour before it went silent. And remained silent for the next two hours, when we arrived at the campsite.

I busied myself unloading, sorting the kids out, and putting up our huge three-bedroomed tent. I set up the kitchen gear, tables, and chairs in the huge porch, and started inflating the air beds. There was the predicable row between Dee and Indy, the twins, as to who was getting which room. I looked round for Sally to arbitrate while I completed pegging out, but she was nowhere to be seen.

I took the three kids up to the campsite shop and bought a few provisions, before heading back down, checking in with all our friends. I asked few if they had seen Sally.

"She's over at Dan's tent drinking wine," said one.

I dragged the kids over to Dan's tent, with the aim of making Sally feel guilty. But she was already sozzled enough not to notice.

"Excuse me," I said eventually to Dan, grabbing Sally be the hand. "My children are in need of their mother."

We put the kids to bed and then I put Sally to bed. Dee and Indy had claimed a room each, which left two year old Libbie sleeping between Sally and myself.

Any thoughts of this holiday having any romance at all for me were fading rapidly.

The next day we all took off for the beach. It was gloriously hot, and we spent all morning jumping in and out of the sea, applying layers of sun lotion, building sandcastles, and playing cricket.

Around midday, the mums agreed they would sort out lunch for us all. The yummy mummys, clad in bikinis and bathing costumes, set off back up the beach, whilst us dads continued with the cricket with the kids. When the mums returned, Sally was wearing a new tiny white bikini. So tiny was it that it barely covered her beautifully big boobs, and she looked utterly fuckable.

I was walking up to her to say how much I loved the way she looked, when Dan beat me to her. Sidling up to her, he wrapped his arm round her waist.

"I knew you'd look good in that," he said. "You're really beautiful, Sally. By far the most beautiful woman here. I so wish I could have someone like you."

I was going to launch in to a rant about that being the biggest load of bullshit I'd ever heard, but all the mums were cooing and ahhing over him, saying how sweet he was, that any woman would be lucky to have him, and they were sure he'd find somebody on this holiday. I was flabbergasted. Not only had Sally bought his crap, but so had all the other mums too.

One other thing that irked me, was how he had said "I knew you'd look good in that" as if he had been expecting her to put on that skimpy bikini, and like he'd seen it before.

That evening, the consensus was that some of the adults would hit some of the bars in town. We drew lots to see who would be baby sitting, and I drew one of the three short straws. I was chatting to Ricky and Paula about how we would watch all the kids in six tents, when the taxis arrived to take the others in to town.

Sally popped out of the tent wearing a very sexy pale blue linen dress, with tiny straps, and a matching blue bra that was clearly visible. Her long auburn hair was down her back, and her hips wiggled as she strolled toward the taxi in a pair of killer high heels. She looked good enough to eat, and I tried to get near her to say how good she looked, and how pissed off I was about not being able to go with her. But she had been pushed inside the taxi, which was rammed with other bodies, eager to get into town.

The taxi pulled away and to my dismay I saw that Dan had taken a seat right beside Sally.

Ricky, Paula, and I placed three deckchairs in the centre of the six tents, where we could keep our eyes on all the doors and openings. We cracked open some wine and began chatting. Every few minutes or so, we'd wander round the tents, peeking in to see little faces asleep, and the occasional grunts and snores. By midnight we'd finished our third bottle, and the first of the taxis had arrived back.

"You look shattered," said Ricky. "You hit the sack."

I couldn't say no to that, so headed back to our tent. Sally's white bikini was laying on our airbed, and I began to stiffen at the sight of it. It felt so soft and smelt of her. I placed it beside my pillow, moved the sleeping Libbie to one side, and fell asleep.

It was some time later that I heard the taxi. It stopped, and the doors opened. There was some commotion and what sounded like an argument developing. Putting on my trousers, I wandered outside. Ricky was paying the taxi driver, and holding on to Sally, who could hardly stand.

"No money," said Ricky. "Don't worry, I've got it covered. You get her to bed."

"Come on, honey," I said, taking Sally under the arms. "How are you feeling?"

She spoke, but it wasn't really English.

"Have you come back in the taxi on your own?" I asked, looking round. Again, she mumbled something. I looked over to Dan's tent but there was no sign of life.

Eventually I had to carry her to bed. I peeled her out of her dress, unfastening her bra, and helping myself to feel of her melons. Pulling her dress down, I was shocked to find no knickers. The thought of Sally going commando in that dress made my semi into a fullie. She looked utterly fabulous, lying naked on our airbed, with the light from a nearby lamp illumining her bumps and curves.

I removed my shorts and lay on top of her.

"Sally? Sally?" I whispered. If she could hear me, there was no response, apart from a mostly incoherent groan. I kissed her face, and lips, hair, ears, everywhere. Suddenly I was consumed with lust. I had to have her, now. I knew it was probably wrong of me to take advantage of her in this predicament, but she was my wife after all. I kissed her tits, taking first one and then the other in my mouth. They were always too large to fit inside my mouth, but I always loved seeing if I could take just that little bit more. I feasted on them, suckling her erect nipples, and stimulating a moan from her. My fingers reached for her pussy, smooth and freshly shaved. My God, she was so wet! Utterly soaking.