[Sven]

Striptease

There once was a successful rancher who died and left everything to his devoted wife. She was determined to keep the ranch and make a go of it, but she knew very little about ranching, so she decided to place an ad in the newspaper for experienced ranch hands.

Two men applied for the job. One was gay and the other was a drunk. She thought long and hard about it, and when no one else applied, she decided to hire the gay guy, figuring it would be safer to have him around the ranch, and around the main house, and her, than the drunk.

He turned out to be a fantastic worker, working long hard hours every day. And, he knew a lot about ranching. For weeks the two of them worked very closely together and soon the ranch was again doing really well.

Then one day the woman said to the hired hand, "You have done a really great job for me and we've both done nothing but work for weeks and weeks.The ranch is wonderful, and I'm taking Saturday night off and going into town to kick up my heels and paint the town red, and I think you should do the same!" The hired hand agreed readily, and Saturday night each went to town.

The woman had dinner and drinks with friends, and talked and joked and danced. She had a good time, the first since her husbands death. And she thought she could even see herself possibly having a romantic interlude at some point.

Eventually the evening concluded and she was getting home about midnight. The hired hand's pickup wasn't parked by the bunkhouse, so he wasn't home yet. She decided to wait up for him. One o'clock and no hired hand yet. Two o'clock and still no hired hand. She began to worry. At two-thirty, in came the hired hand.The rancher's wife had mixed emotions as she watched him walk toward the bunk house. And she realized she had to call him to her. She spoke out for him to come to the ranch house, and once at the door, she beckoned him to join her by the warmth of the fire place.

"Now, I am the boss," she said, "and you have to do what I tell you, right?"
"Well, . . . yes," he answered.
"Good, then pull off my boots!" He reluctantly complied with her instructions.
"I want you to unbutton my blouse and take it off," she said. His fingers seemed to shake ever so slightly as he undid each button, and he averted his eyes from her.
"Now, I want you to take off my skirt." His hands reached slowly behind and unzipped it and the skirt fell to the floor. She tilted her head slightly as she said, "Take off my bra." His fingers clumisly unhooked the front clasp and he slowly slid the strap from each raised shoulder and that garmet too fell to the floor.
"Now, take off my nylons and garters." she said somewhat demandingly, and he hesitatingly complied with her wishes.
"Now take off my panties." she strongly commanded. He slowly inserted his thumbs beneath the waist band and slid them down past the curves of hips and thighs and calfs, and past the toes and off, tossing them into a heap with the other garmets. His eyes still avoiding hers. She reached out and cradled his face in her hands raising his head so their eyes met, and she whispered, "Now, I don't want you to ever wear my clothes to town again, understand?!"