Wanting to find out how he was became a bit of problem when everywhere I tried drew blanks, and although I had thought about giving up I was determine... to at least make sure he was ok. Finally with the help of friends and colleagues I managed to track him down and after chickening out several times I found the courage to pick up the phone and called him. Feeling the nerves rising deep within me it must have taken me four attempts at calling him before I took the easy route and wrote to him. We found a nice pub and I went to the bar for drinks, looking over to my wife her legs were crossed and the tops of her stockings were displayed. As the evening wore on more of her stocking tops and suspenders were displayed and guys were positioning themselves at the bar to get a better view. She went off to the ladies on a couple of occassions and was followed with men walking behind her just to catch sight of her seams.We left and she was really turned on by the impact she had on the men. Apani bahe felai aur mujhe apane pas ana ko kaha me uski baho me akar let gaya fir se hum dono ek dusre ko kis kar rahe the ab me b puri tarah se pyar me dob chuka tha mene pehle uske mathe par kiss kiya fir galo par fir ankho par uski naak par fir uski gardan par kiss kar raha tha wo mujhe kas kar apani baho me pakadi hui thi k jese hum dono ek dusare k ander sama jana chahte ho mene usko ulta leta diya aur uske baal khol diye aur uski gardar par pith par kiss karne laga wo ek dum sihar gai. The consensus was, definitely nice and definitely better than the beefy guys on the posters on the walls. One of her friends commented that if they had Playgirl Magazines to look at instead of Playboy they could actually compare me to the models in the magazine. My wife, already slightly drunk, told them that I actually had a subscription to Playgirl magazine and that she often caught me reading the new arrivals while touching myself. The girls gasped in disbelief. I turned beet red. My wife.