You bought Adrianna the French Maid costume, and it was a showstopper. The little hairpiece, holding up her long dark hair, the frilly little tutu of a skirt, and of course, the underbust corset making her already-impressive chest into something you could see from space. You loved it at the party we went to (no one noticed I had painted myself green enough to be The Hulk) and when you both got home, she wanted to get fucked in it. Then the next day, she put everything on *again* and proceeded to do a thorough cleaning of the house, from top to bottom, stopping only to make a delicious meal and to fuck you with glorious abandon twice. The third time, you took the hint about her scrubbing the floors, ass up and still no panties. That night, with her naked in bed with you, she seemed fidgety and restless. After all that work and fucking, you would have expected her to be exhausted, but finally she screwed your courage to the sticking point and asked you a simple question with profound implications: "What costume do you want me to wear next?"