Mi tío millonario y mi esposa

A guy who has fields in Buenos Aires sends my wife and me an invitation to celebrate his 50th birthday. He was going to do it at a north zone estate, a party with all the luxuries. We are two rough workers, my wife is an administrative secretary for a company that sells sanitary ware. I'm a common salesman who drives a broken Volkswagen Golf trying to win clients for a massive consumption company. Both of us are happy, we rent a two-room apartment in a medium zone of Federal Capital, and every now and then we go out to eat pizza. And we're saving up to go to Brazil for vacations in a couple of years. When the invitation arrived, my wife grumbled because she said she didn't have clothes for an event like that, that everyone would look at us badly if we showed up dressed like that. So after whining a bit, I convinced her to spend the card on buying new clothes for the occasion. She'd dress me up so she'd choose the new shirt, some shoes and pants. A modern suit. And even a handkerchief. Already with all that, the card was burning a hole in my pocket, but there was still her clothes left. She was like a little girl in a toy store, indecisive between several dresses, some fitted to the body, others very short, others with deep necklines. All of them accentuated her young figure. She was slender, a 15-year-old booty, small breasts, a waist that causes envy in younger and older girls. After choosing the dress, she followed up with shoes, high heels of course. When I thought we were done, she told me something important was missing. The underwear. She chose a thong and bra set, although she clarified that she'd only wear the thong, but she took advantage of the moment to have everything ready. She winked at me while showing off several tiny models. After spending almost a whole day shopping, it was time to pay. Literally, we spent our entire paycheck on clothes. In installments to pay until I don't know how much. While we were walking home with the bags, we talked about our projects, that maybe with these expenses, the trip to Brazil would be in 3 years and not in 2. And that we had to adjust a lot in the next months. The big day arrives, she blows up the credit card again with makeup, perfume, accessories, and hairdressing. How do I know? Because the bank calls me to confirm the purchases. When it arrives, she looks at me with guilt, I try to stay calm, but one slips out: 'do what you want, we're not going to Brazil anymore.' This detonates in crying and screaming. All the dirty ladyboys come out into the sun, things I didn't do, things I didn't buy, sacrifices, and even that time when she caught me looking at her sister's butt. After being silent for several hours, the part of reconciliation begins. We say many clichés, that we're going to get ahead, that we're going to change our way of reacting and also consult expenses etc. Things that don't come true but serve to put cold compresses after a fight. She occasionally gets a tear because her face is a disaster with crying. She goes into the bathroom trying to fix herself up. We'll be a little late, it seems. She comes out of the bathroom and enters the room, she's going to put on the red dress she bought. A dress that shows off her thin waist, a back neckline that scandalously reaches centimeters from the start of the booty. The front neckline is modest, delicate, only visible if one tries hard from the side. Below the waist, the dress has some flow, and the fall allows you to see the shape of her buttocks, one by one, and even their union. It's something short for my taste, but it's delicate. Ten centimeters below the booty. She'll have to be careful when she bends or sits so that the teenage guys don't register her in their memory to jerk off later. I suppose she put on the red thong, that one that cost a lot. It seems like it, because you can tell. the relief of the thong over the dress, she doesn't seem to convince him, he doesn't like it when it's noticeable. But seems to be convincing herself and lets her have it. I spent all day washing my Volkswagen Golf, I vacuumed and perfumed it. When we're on our way, she starts saying we should change the car for a newer one. I don't say anything anymore, if we're deeply in debt from a party and she's already talking about changing the car. When we arrive at the house, we see everyone in the same situation, all with new clothes, their impeccable cars, polished shoes. At least we weren't the only ones who spent our lives pretending to be something on one night. We hand over the humble gift to uncle, a book. What else could we give this multimillionaire? She didn't know him, he couldn't come to our wedding. So I introduce her. They start talking about the best things, uncle never lost his humility, speaking to everyone equally. He was always impeccable, well-dressed, first-class perfume, perfect hair, always toasted, better body than mine, it seems like he goes to the gym. While greeting the rest of the family, they continue talking. She tells him about her projects, that she wants to finish her accounting degree. That she likes business, that she feels trapped in her job without a future. Meanwhile, we're being served by waiters who are carrying canapés, caviar, champagne, and white wine. The party continues, there's loud music, the dance floor is filling up, and at one point she's dancing with my uncle. He has his mature hand perilously on her back, I see how carefully he's guiding her while she dances, his hand rises and falls down her bare back. She occasionally leans her hand on his muscular arm and chest as she smiles at things only they know they're saying. When dancing in that dress with a train, she manages to show off her thighs, in certain movements she raises perilously showing the roundness of her buttocks. She continues smiling, showing an intense red mouth. carefully made up. After some time resting, they go to some armchairs, he brings champagne, and she, hot, tries to cool off by lifting her hair. It seems like it embarrasses her because of the small drops of sweat that form on her cleavage and slide down due to gravity in the roundness of her breasts. She doesn't seem to have noticed how she sat, more concerned about the heat and sweat, she sat carelessly. The dress is very high up when my uncle returns with more champagne, he can see perfectly the nudity of her legs, all the way to where her buttocks begin, and internally where you can see the red color of the expensive thong that matched her dress. I see my uncle looking down there discreetly. Then he sits and shares the champagne, they keep laughing. I think it's enough. I approach where they are, sit next to my wife, and ask them what they're laughing at, it's so funny. My uncle doesn't notice the irony, and tells anecdotes about his travels, cultural misunderstandings, my 22-year-old wife laughs like a rowdy teenager. At one point, my uncle says: I'm telling her how bad she's doing, I'd like to help them, I'd like to give your wife the job she deserves, let her work for me, I need an accountant for one of my new businesses. I always expected him to give me a job, as his nephew, all my life dreaming that the uncle would give me a job that would save me, and no. I had to make a living from scratch like everyone else, and now I end up with a potato fry vendor job in suburban warehouses. But now, after just one night, a short dress, a butt, and an expensive thong result in my wife having a job proposal from the millionaire uncle. She said yes, concludes my uncle. To which my face transforms for an instant, I hide it with a joke, but inside I'm very angry. “I'll start this Monday, and your uncle said I'll have a car to” disposition, so you don't have to bring it all the way here

The party ends, she talks to my uncle coordinating details, she's already decided, she's going to leave that crappy job of hers. They exchange phone numbers.

He fires her with a kiss very close to his lips, his arms are around her waist. And when she turns around, he fixes his gaze on her ass, in that standing ass, observing well every one of her buttocks at each step she takes, it seems like he can see through the dress, he can distinguish how that thong I saw earlier gets lost in the seam of her young ass.

She arrives next to me, I bid farewell to my uncle from a distance, I hug her as if showing that she's mine.

We arrive at the Volkswagen Golf, we only make a couple of kilometers and the car dies.

She grumbles, I get angry, we start arguing again. She asks me not to dirty the leather with the car, in vain I try to fix what I don't know, it won't start.

I call a tow truck, she tells me she's not going to come back in one of those trucks with that dress on.

Suddenly I see her calling my uncle, and telling him about the situation.

He comes to the rescue, I had to stay with the car until the tow truck arrives, he says we should both stay at his country house. I can't, I have to wait for the tow truck, I have to fix the car.

He said not to worry about the cost of the tow truck, he'll pay it, I refuse. I want to maintain my alpha male position.

We end up agreeing that she goes back to the country house and I'll look for her when the car starts again.

I see her getting into my uncle's Audi 0 km, the dress rises again, her perfect legs almost to the limit of the thong are visible. My uncle gets in to drive, puts on his seatbelt, and in that movement he brushes against her legs. I see them driving back to the country house.

It's up to me to wait for the tow truck