Stories

Stories >> Stories home >> The secret of the mankini!

The secret of the mankini!

My fella was hiding a lot more inside his cossie than you'd imagine...


Published by: Laura Hinton and Paul Carter
Published on: 8 March 2012

God, I was in a foul mood. I couldn't find my favourite bracelet.
‘I really wanted to wear it tonight,' I moaned to my fiance Steve, 25.
‘It's got to be here somewhere,' he smiled, giving me a cuddle.
Instantly, my mood brightened.
Steve lit up my whole life - well, him and our daughter Amy, three. We'd got the balance just right in our relationship, too. On the one hand we were devoted parents, but we also loved going out with our mates.
That's when I'd met Steve actually, on a night out. I'd been with my mate Anna, 23. He'd been dancing next to us.
‘He's a bit of all right!' I'd giggled, locking on to those big blue eyes of his.
Moments later, we'd swapped numbers. Five months on, we were living together and I was pregnant.
Although we were settled, there was still a lot of fun in our relationship. A couple of months ago, he'd paid for us to stay at a posh hotel in Liverpool. He was always spoiling me with nice underwear, too - especially when he'd just got a bonus at work.
Tonight though, he was off on a stag do, and I was heading out for a girlie night with Anna. Which reminded me, where on earth was that flipping bracelet? ‘Maybe it fell off when I was getting the shopping from the boot of your car,' I told Steve.
So I went outside and had a poke around, but could only find an old Tesco bag in the boot. I looked inside. No bracelet... but there was a lime green mankini and a bottle
of baby oil!
‘What the hell are these?' I giggled, showing them to Steve. ‘Were you going to dress up for me again later - as Borat?!' I'd bought him a joke willy-warmer from Ann Summers the Christmas before, and he'd loved that!
Now Steve laughed and took the bag off me.
‘You wish! It's for the stag do.'
Sounded like he was going to have a right laugh tonight - and I'd have a giggle with Anna, too.
We met up in the pub. ‘Why don't we go to Northwich for a change?' she suggested.
‘Good idea. We can hunt out the lads and sneak a peek of the stag in his full glory!'
When we walked in the first bar, there was girlie screaming coming from a side room.
‘Hen party,' the barman told us. ‘They've got a stripper in there.'
I tottered over, slightly the worse for wear. There was the stripper on stage, a bottle of baby oil on the floor. He had his back... well, bum, to me.
A group of girls were egging him on as he seductively pulled off a lime green mankini.
That's when it hit me - that bottom looked familiar. ‘Steve?!' I screamed.
But the music was too loud for him to hear. Now totally starkers, my boyfriend gave a twirl, then one of the girls grabbed his bits. She was starting to rub the baby oil, and he seemed to be happily responding... this wasn't just a strip show, this was a sex show!
‘Get your hands off my fiance!' I screeched. This wasn't the man I loved, the caring, loving man who'd stunned me with such a romantic proposal.
It had been New Year's Eve, and he'd cooked dinner, lit candles, and then got down on one knee.
‘Will you marry me?' he'd asked, slipping a sapphire ring on my finger. ‘I chose the sapphire because it's the same colour as your eyes.' I'd felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Until now...
Steve suddenly clocked me, panic in his eyes. But the girls were still laughing.
‘Just let me finish here,' Steve mouthed me. What? He wasn't even going to stop...?!! The rat!
‘It's over between me and Steve,' I spluttered to Anna back at the bar. ‘He's in there, stripping.'
‘It's a stag do,' she shrugged.
‘No, it's a hen do - and he's the stripper!' I shrieked.
I grabbed the nearest barman. ‘Does the stripper come here regularly?' I asked him.
‘Couple of times a week. If you want to book him up, I'll give you his website,' he said.
Moments later, I was frantically looking up the site on my phone. Steve had actually been advertising himself as a Borat stripper.
It explained the extra cash that he'd found to treat me. And that was why he'd loved the willy-warmer, it was for his show!
I raced home and stuffed all his belongings into two suitcases. An hour later, he was back. ‘Get out, you disgust me!'
‘It brings in the extra cash,' he said again and again. ‘I'm sorry.'
‘Those women were touching you! It was so seedy...'
‘But we're getting married,' he shouted. ‘I love you.'
With that, I felt myself weaken. He just looked so upset, so like the man who sat up with Amy when she had nightmares, so like the man who told me that he loved me first thing in the morning...
‘Okay. But I want to hear you say you'll never do it again.'
‘I promise,' he begged.
I tried to get past it. Whenever he kissed me though, I felt sick. Kept remembering that woman with her hands all over his bits - eurgh! As for sex, well, my skin crawled. I went through the motions, but my heart wasn't in it.
So after a few weeks... ‘It's over,' I cried. ‘I'll never be able to trust you again,' I added.
He'd thrown our relationship away the moment he let those
girls molest him.
This time, though, Steve left without a fight. That was three months ago now, and I'm still reeling from his betrayal.
What he does for a living makes me sick - and that's the bare truth of it.

Steve Wood, 25, said: ‘I've been doing the stripping for a while. I enjoy the attention. I didn't tell Catherine because I knew she'd react in the wrong way.'


Catherine Kinley, 24, Winsford, Cheshire