Off The Clock

Posted in Natalie on January 12, 2011 by hoot

Meet Natalie! Caught your eye, eh?

“All the girls talk about you two,” Natalie confessed.  “They think you’re cool for old married folks.” 

“Old married folks?  Is that what they think of us?”  I teased the new girl. 

She quickly amended, “I mean… they all trust you guys.  Shit, Sarah stayed with you for like a week, right?” 

“Yeah, and Hoot tips good!” the Mrs. added.  Always a source of debate–the wife’s a strict 25% tipper.  Me, I round up.  Way up!

Natalie wasn’t on the clock this night.  She was hanging out with some friends, but when they made plans to join others at another bar, including Nat’s ex beau, she wasn’t interested.  “Why don’t you join us?” I asked.  She agreed.

“He’s a dick,” Natalie explained.  “We went out for a couple of months and I found out he was seeing someone on the side.  He lied.  I followed him.  Caught him red-handed.”

Natalie helped us finish a couple pitchers of beer.  Just like the Mrs., she loves Blue Moon!  With each glass she got looser with the details.  “I don’t get mad.  I get even.  I went out with his little brother.  Gave him the best head he’s ever had.  Let the little shit tape the whole thing on his Flip.  Show that to your brother!”  This kind of talk makes my wife uneasy.  Works wonders for me. 

She continued, “You guys ever seen a Flip?  I got one.  Coolest video camera ever.”  She fumbled in her bag and pulled out the gem.  “Here, tape us,” she demanded, showing me which button to push.  Natalie moved over to pose with the Mrs.  Mocking a kiss and pretending to tongue my wife’s cheek, she mugged for the camera.  “It takes great stills too.  Look,” she grabbed the camera to change settings, and handed it back to me.  “Are you ready?” she smiled, all at once dropped her top to reveal a perfect little tit.  Click, I did!  Nice pic of her, if I do say so myself.  “I’ll email that one to you when I get home!” she promised.  I made sure she had my email address before we parted.

We polished off the beer and made our way home.  The email came through that night.  Enjoy the pic.  I know I do.


Strip Poker

Posted in Sarah on January 4, 2011 by hoot

Have a look at Sarah!  She’s a sight for longing eyes, eh?

It was a winter power outage that found us hosting one of our favorite Hooters Girls, Sarah, in our home.  The ice storm was severe and she was told it could be as many as five days before electricity would be restored to her building.  My wife and I offered a room, warmth in front of the fireplace, and a few days of fun as the winter storm made it most undesirable to be out and about.  We sat enjoying our first evening together, sipping some wine and eating cheese and crackers when Sarah suggested Strip Poker.

“I haven’t done anything like that since college”, the Mrs. giggled with a nervous by intrigued look in her eyes.

“Hell, there’s no way you two are going to beat me at poker, and I’m all for watching you get naked!” I laughed.

The next thing I knew, my ass was sitting there in my boxers, both Sarah and the wife enjoying every moment–and both fully dressed.  “Four of a kind!  Give up the drawers!” my wife tossed her hand face-up on the table and both she and Sarah laughed wildly.  Damn!  I know you don’t stop by my blog to read about Hoot being naked!  What the hell happened?

“I feel sorry for him”, Sarah offered.  “What do you say we sympathy-strip?”  With that the girls took another swig of their wine and began to peel off their clothing. 

First Sarah pulled her shirt over her head.  My wife followed.  They giggled–and never really took their eyes off each other, which I found pretty exciting.

Next Sarah unhooked her bra and let if fall over her arms to her wrists, swung it playfully and tossed it at my wife.  She had perfect tits!  The Mrs. set Sarah’s bra behind her on the floor and slowly unhooked hers, holding the cups in place with her hands, nervously biting her lip.

“Let me see ’em!” Sarah encouraged.

With that, my wife tossed her bra playfully towards Sarah’s and looked at me.  Her eyes seemed to say, ‘What have I gotten myself into?’  I smiled big and nodded assurance to her.  She reached for another gulp of her wine.

Sarah had already stood and begun to untie the string of her sweatpants.  In a smooth motion she slid the pants down, bending in such a way as to give us a very provocative view of the powder-blue thong she was wearing.  “Victoria’s Secret”, she said, as she adjusted the thong for our view. 

My wife had either suddenly gotten into this, or resolved herself to it.  When I turned back her direction her shorts were off and she shot back, “Mine too!”, as she ran her hand over the darker blue satin panties that she wore.

“You ready Card Shark?”, Sarah joked, looking at me.

“You guys are doing so well, you don’t want me to mess this up”, I quipped.

“All at once”, she suggested.  My wife agreed, “All at once, honey.”

I’ll spare you the rest.

Strung Out

Posted in Lindsay on December 30, 2010 by hoot

The Mrs. got a call on her cellphone on Christmas Eve.  We were actually on our way to church.  What?  Hoot knows the real meaning of Christmas!  I also know that talking about love and actually doing it are two different things.  Maybe that’s why I’ve always had sort of a bad taste where church and organized religion are concerned.  Don’t tell me what you believe.  Show me.

“We’ll be right there,” I heard her say.  She began motioning to me to turn the car around.  “Lindsay,” she managed to clue me, as she continued listening to the person on the other end of the line.  “Well get her some clothing.  Put her in a car or something to warm her up until we get there.  We’re twenty minutes away.”

Get her some clothing?  What  the hell?  It’s twelve degrees outside!  Put her in a car?  I couldn’t imagine what was happening.  It seemed to take forever for that call to end, the Mrs. uttering an ‘Uh huh” or an “Oh my!’ every so often.  Finally the call ended and she could fill me in.

Lindsay showed up for her shift late and completely strung out.  “Coked out,” is how Melissa described it.  A new manager, Stu–who all the girls hated–fired her on the spot and demanded she leave the premises.  It got ugly when he told her she couldn’t leave in her uniform, as the rules stated, but also for appearance sake–she was obviously wasted.  “What happened?” I asked.  “Melissa says Lindsay stripped buck naked in the office, threw her uniform at Stu and walked out the back door.  Stu locked the door behind her.  Melissa ran around the building and found her on the fire escape.  They’re trying to get her dressed.  You heard me tell them to get her in a warm car or something.”

“And what exactly are we going to do?” I asked.

We arrived to find Melissa in her car–she’d decided to take a sick day, uncertain of how Stu would respond since she had already clocked in.  “He said, ‘Go.’  So I went.”  Lindsay was asleep in the passenger seat, wrapped in a fleece blanket.  “Her clothes are in a locker and we don’t know the combination.  She’s in no shape to tell us.  I got the blanket from Kim’s car.”  I’ve never mentioned that my wife has a nursing background–and nursing instincts took over, as she worked to stir Lindsay.  “I’ve got nowhere to go,” was all I could make out of what Lindsay said.  “We’re taking her to our house to sleep this off,” the Mrs. declared.  And with that we were transferring a naked Hooters girl from one car to another in the glow of the big orange sign.

“We’ve got to warm her up,” we discussed our next steps as we neared the house.  “Then when she sleeps this off, we’ve got to convince her to get some help.  The girl is going to be dead at this rate.”  That whole thing of talking about love and actually doing it was now forefront in my thinking.  I determined to myself  I was going to love this young lady as if she were my daughter or little sister.  And I would need to keep reminding myself of that–as I carried her, wrapped only in the fleece, into our home, and laid her on our couch.  The wife asked me to help her get Lindsay in a bath–reminding myself again, as I’m now assisting a naked girl into our master tub.  I left the Mrs. to tend to her.  I went out to turn on the TV and grab a beer.  Not your normal Christmas Eve.  There’s a naked Hooters girl in my bathtub–and I’m trying to think pure thoughts.  Maybe when the tub is clear, I’ll hit up a cold shower!

An hour or so passed before Lindsay emerged under her own strength, wrapped in a bath towel.  “Can I grab one of your sweatshirts?” the Mrs. asked me.  It turned out to be a very long and–Lindsay wearing nothing but my Hokies sweatshirt–a very revealing night.  The kind of Christmas miracle story you’d hope for–well, sort of.  More to come.

Rubbin’ One Out

Posted in Cara on December 21, 2010 by hoot

Do you remember Cara? From this angle, how could you forget?

“I’m quitting,” she announced as she took our order. Rolling her eyes in the direction of new manager and former Hooter girl Pam, she snipped, “I won’t miss these fuckers at all!”

I was shocked that Cara was leaving.  She had made sport of how easy the tip money could be coaxed out of male customers’ wallets, and in more serious moments she had alluded to how much better the waitressing life was to her past as a stripper.  But I was even more shocked when she sat down for a few moments to tell us her plans for the future.

“It’s like I’ve told you before–I’ve got these money makers.”  I recall that comment, but I also remember how she had felt degraded by men tossing money at her.  “So you’re going back to it?”  “No.  I’m too old for that shit,” she stared at the floor.  “You remember the modeling I’ve been doing?  It’s a new opportunity with that.”

“What new opportunity?” my wife couldn’t hide the worry in her voice.

“It’s like massage–helping clients relax.  Good paying clients.  Very good paying clients, actually.”  My wife let loose, “Jesus, Cara!  You’re smarter than this.”  I was confused.  Modeling that helps clients relax?  “It’s not like you think,” Cara argued. “I just model lingerie for a little while, we have a few drinks, I let him catch a glimpse or two, we have another drink while I rub his shoulders, and… you know…”  “You rub one out for him!” my wife finished her sentence.   Now I understood.  “That’s prostitution, Cara. It’s sex for money!”  Cara bit her lower lip.

Just then Pam yelled across the room, “Cara!  Pick-up!  You’re falling behind!’  Cara rolled her eyes again.  “It’s definitely going to be better than this shit.”  As she stood to leave, the Mrs. grabbed her wrist, “We’re not done talking about this.”  Cara sighed, “Okay.  I’ll be back.”  It was going to be a late night.

You Wanna See?

Posted in Kelli on December 16, 2010 by hoot

Do you remember Kelli? She stunned us again.

We sat in Joey’s area because we hadn’t seen her in a while.  We wanted to catch up.  She sent Kelli over to take our drink order as she stepped outside to take a cigarette break.  Those things will kill her–the cold alone at 20 degrees, you had to really want a smoke!

“Guess what I got?” Kelli was giddy as she poured our glasses.  “Some more body art?” I guessed, hoping for a repeat reveal.  “Hardware!” she gave a reckless grin to me first, and then to my wife.  Paying attention to our reactions rather than her pouring, she managed to serve me a glass of nothing but foam.  “Shit! Let that settle a minute.”

“What kind of hardware?” the Mrs. inquired.  That a girl!  I had a good feeling about this because I knew she already had a belly button piercing.  We had seen that when she showed us her tattoos.   Quieting down, so the family with two children sitting behind us wouldn’t overhear, she nodded towards her chest and said “Got my nipples done.”  She took another look at my beer glass.

I studied her chest through her uniform.  I couldn’t see a hint.  Catching my gaze, she offered, “I’ve got a padded bra on so you can’t tell.”  She must have read my mind as I figured I’d talk her into a showing.  She giggled, “I don’t think so.”  “Oh come on!” I pleaded, “You showed us the tiara, for crying out loud.”  “Hurt like a bitch,” she confessed.  “I thought someone stabbed me in the tit with a hot poker.  I almost chickened out and stopped after one.”  I was stuck on one track, however.  “You going to give us a look?”

Joey was back in no time.  Before long the crowd had thinned.  Kelli got cut early.  She asked if she could join us after she changed.  I agreed, “Only if you lose that padded bra!”  She came out dressed in gray sweatpants and a black tank top–it looked almost identical to the black Hooters top she had worn except without the company logo–and it was very clear that she wasn’t wearing a bra.  The piercings held her nipples erect.  “Let’s get this out of the way,” she sighed as she sat down, quickly looking around.  With that, she pulled her tank down, straps sliding down her arms–her breasts clearly exposed, and her piercings quite impressive!  She didn’t move to cover them as quickly as I would have thought.  “What do you think?” she asked.

Oh darling!  What do I think?  Uh…

Giving Glimpses

Posted in Allison on December 8, 2010 by hoot

This is Allie. Actually, this is Allie’s nipple!

It was back on Halloween that Mrs. Hoot and I first met Allie.  She’s new to our location, but not to the company.  She’s worked for Hooters for a few years, having called a few different stores home.  This Halloween she was dressed as an angel–sort of like the old Victoria Secret advertisement angels, white and powder blue lingerie with dainty feathered wings… oh, and garters and hose, too. 

“Hey guys! I’m Allie,” she announced, bending over our table.  The nightgown top she wore gapped forward revealing both of her breasts without obstruction.  I removed my stare from her nipples only long enough to note that the Mrs. had gotten the same peek-a-boo.  “Oh, your top, sweetheart,” my wife cautioned.  I’m thinking, ‘Are you kidding me? Blowing a view like this by alerting her?’

“Oops! I’m sorry,” she smiled wickedly–not moving so as to remedy the exposure.  Then she winked at us, tits in full view, “What would you like to drink?” 

As the night went on we saw a lot of Allie.  She told us that she loves to tease.  No kidding?  She said she’d be “naked all the time if the world would let her.”  Hell, I’m game!  Late in the evening she sat next to the Mrs. and gave her a very intimate look at the way her teddy matched her panties and garters.  Mrs. Hoot nearly blushed.  Allie couldn’t show off enough.

We’ve had Allie serve us three or four times since then.  Of course, it was only on Halloween that she could get away with going bra-less.  Now in uniform, there is no flashing.  Still, she pushes the envelope.  She revealed that she wears very thin bras on purpose.  “It’s cold in here, you know?” she smiled, flicking at her nipples, noticeably erect through her tank top.  Snapped a picture of a nipple with my cell phone.  With Allie on the clock, I think I’m going to go back to bringing my good digital camera to the restaurant with me.

Between Her Legs

Posted in Melissa on December 1, 2010 by hoot

Remember Melissa?  Recognize her from this angle?

“Well, when you going to open the store, Hoot?” Melissa wasted no time, those were the words she greeted me with as I walked in the door.  Melissa was working a bar shift, and the Mrs. wasn’t with me this afternoon, so I decided to cozy up to the bar for a spell.

“I’ve got to get the web page for the store designed”, I replied.  “I have great Hooters connections, but I lack the web skills.”

“I’ve got more for you”, she spoke now a little quieter as she delivered my draft, “but I don’t want to overstock you before you get the store up and running.”

The only other customer at the bar cashed out and left.  It was just me and Melissa for a time.

If I haven’t mentioned it before, sitting at the bar when it’s not crowded is usually a great seat for voyeurs like me.  The girls who work the bar usually shed the order pouch from around their waist.  Some the girls will opt for a bar towel tucked into the front of their shorts to provide a little modesty.  Then again, some of them – like Melissa – just don’t care.  At the right angles, the view can provide a pretty intimate feel for each crevise and fold between your Hooter Girl’s legs.

“You minding my gap, you pervert?” Melissa teased.  She must have caught me looking.

“Absolutely!” I confessed.  “So, what do you have for me?”

“A few of the girls had to replace shorts because the logo was wearing off of them.  I’ve got the old ones for you.  I also put a box in the locker area for used nylons.  Got a ton of them.  Some of them pretty rich – you know, like I said, perfume and pussy.”

“Anything of yours this time?”  I asked with a smile.

Reaching under the counter, she pulled a brand new package of Peavey nylons out.  Turning to show me a run up the back of her left thigh, she said, “You came at just the right time!”

“Beth!  Will you cover the bar for me for a minute?”  she shouted across the room, and then looked at me and winked, “I’ll be right back.”  Then, just to tease me, she stepped back against the back counter and looked down at her own crotch.  She deliberately ran her fingers over the camel toe between her legs, and said, “I guess they are playing Indian, aren’t they?”

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