18 comments/ 172312 views/ 31 favorites The Christmas Retreat By: Flynn77 The winter holiday theme has given me the chance and motivation to recall a Christmas experience which had a big effect on my life and relationship at the time. I'm writing this from memory and will fill in as much detail as possible so that my readers get as true a taste of events as I can possibly relate. The story's quite long, but it's genuine and I hope you find it rewarding, erotic reading. This is my account of a Christmas past which I doubt I'll experience the likes of again... It was only five years ago. I was in a steady relationship, in my mid-twenties, and busy trying to launch my own consultancy business. My girlfriend of two years at the time was a slim and pretty strawberry blonde - of course I'd claim beautiful - called Lucy. We'd co-habited in our modest apartment for a year and got on well. Each of us had our own daily lives to attend to but we made the most of our time together. Lucy was quite shy, though not cold – we had our passionate moments like any young couple but nothing kinky; she had always been quite restrained sexually. Only once had I seen her let loose in any sort of way, which was after her graduation party when she and a few other drunk girls flashed their boobs for laughs at the male revellers. I got quite a kick from even that minor daring. Lucy had a perky set of breasts with nipples which reacted in a charming way to the cold. A nice handful, her boobs complimented her neat figure. She had a great little bubble-butt and toned, sexy legs. Altogether, she was perfectly proportioned. Her big bright green eyes, wide pearly smile and shoulder-length blonde bob were a great advertisement for the sexy female package I was happy call my girlfriend. She always came across as chirpy and intelligent – assets which gained her plaudits and an accounting position at a vibrant private firm with plenty of upward opportunity. I say firm, but the company, which specialised in overseas retail was on the verge of going plc and acquiring a stock-market listing. As a result, that Christmas the boss man was giving a lavish pary at his country retreat with all staff and partners invited. Lucy and I spent Christmas day apart – each with our respective families in different parts of the country. So when we met up two days later to head for the big party we were feeling a bit frisky. Although I was reticent about the occasion, knowing no-one, and Lucy a bit nervous about all the networking and office politics that would no doubt be lacing the evening, we reckoned our own personal heat would see us through. We were due to stay over – the place had apparently enough guest rooms and guest chalets to house forty-plus – so I was quite buzzed about getting some of my girl's delights in a strange place. The drive was to take us two and a half-hours so we set out early, eager just to get there, change into our party clothes and relax, if possible, into party mode. However, the weather worsened and by the time we'd been on the road two hours snow was falling in flakes big enough to crush a mouse. Conditions were near whiteout. Driving was hellish, and we got lost twice. Eventually, after much swearing, and frantic map reading, we got there. The retreat was a converted farm – a huge modernised farmhouse with all angles of glasswork, extensions and developments bolted-on. It all looked rather spaceship-like, spectacularly lit, set in grounds which, I suspected, under the snowfield were beautifully manicured. As we approached up the wide drive, ground-set floods illuminated old barns and outhouses which had also been converted to living quarters and all were joined to the 'mothership' by corridors of floor-to-ceiling tinted glass. It was like somebody's private hotel on Mars rather than a home. At the main door of the big farmhouse a girl ran out to greet us sporting an ubrella for shelter;ours, it turned out. She was one of the staff employed for the night and she ushered us in from the cold. We saw nobody else as we were escorted along those umbilical corridors to our room, a tastefully decorated suite with a big four-poster bed. The girl – a curly-haired brunette called Vicky, wearing a black pencil skirt and tight white blouse which showed my sex-starved eyes a very firm set of breasts – politely asked we change for the evening and make our way back to the main house where she'd take us into the party. Both Lucy and I were now looking forward to the event more than our anxieties could detract enjoyment from it. The place was spectacular, the mood and time of year just right for merriment. I knew I could put up with numerous office bores just for one night if it meant a whale of a time at someone else's expense and I never doubted Lucy felt any different. We both dressed for fun in double-quick time with smiles on our faces. My smile widened as she appeared from our en-suite bathroom ready to rumble. Lucy's slim figure and high, jaunty boobs never looked better in the tight little black party dress she wore. She giggled and flashed a black stocking-top at me – I felt my heart jump and my groin tighten at the sight of sallow thigh flesh; I knew it led up to the small black lacy panties I'd bought her as part of her Christmas gifts. I gave a small growl of approval. I glanced up to catch sight of the matching bra, but she was tutting and striding past me, grinning cheekily. "Later, Andy. Later. We've got some partying to do first." Lucy walked out into the hallway, smiling back. Then she flipped up the back of her dress and I got two perfect tight butt-cheeks shaken at me as she disappeared round the door. I followed at speed. Vicky met us true to her word and led us through a vast hallway towards the ever-increasing sound of music. The entire place was very festively decked-out. We went through a large room with a dancefloor incorporated in the centre which then opened out into an expansive living area – a big open hearth fire warmed a room floored with expensive rugs of both Persian and animal skin, laden with enough couches and cushions scattered around to seat a small football crowd. There was no-one using them, however. The only human life was at the other end of the room where huge bay windows opened onto a stretch of garden brightly lit in the fading daylight by halogens mounted roof and floor. A massive Christmas tree sat to one side of the windows, dripping with glitter and glimmering multicolours. The gathering of guests ceased their conversation as our presence became notable. The low murmur of chatter gave way to the ambient music. Vicky introduced us. Lucy was all smiles and familiarity. I followed her into the small throng, fixing my best neutral grin and bestowing season's greetings. There were three other couples, mingling with drinks in hand. One was about our age. The guy was a bit reserved, eyed me up and down. I nailed him for office asskisser; definitely one to sneak to the boss about you in benefit to his own career. His wife was a stunner, however. She was a dazzling, statuesque, short-bobbed blonde, all lips and sparkly eyes. There was something inherently Scandinavian about her. She wore a green figure-hugging dress which accentuated her long, strong legs and really firm-looking bust. I took a guess from her skin-tone that she liked the sun a lot – natural tan, not sunbed. She was Helene, and that snidey hubby of hers went by the name of Peter. Lucy introduced him as something to do with acquisitions, but I wasn't really listening or caring. In that whirlwind way, I was sidled over to another couple, this time some fella called Tony with an overtly-trimmed moustache who rather forced himself on you. Too in-your-face for my liking, and a distinctly false manner. He also gave Lucy's ass a rather naughty pinch as she kissed his cheek. I'd heard about him before, though his name and face hadn't matched until now. Tony was the company pain-in-the-ass, one of a few the female employees tolerated with a forced grin but avoided getting into one-on-one situations with. I think he believed himself some latter-day Clarke Gable. I exchanged some meaningless banter with him, and then met his wife, Linda. She was just about what you'd expect Tony to have as a partner: A brunette with straight hair which crested her shoulders, slightly over the top with make-up and fake tan, and sporting almost as much glitter as the damn Christmas tree. She did have a great build though – all pushed up cleavage in a sparkling low-cut crossover top, and a tight pair of white pants which drew your eyes due to their hint of transparency and the immediately-flagged thought that there can surely be no room for underwear beneath them. I took a deep breath and forced my eyes back up to the third couple. The guy met me first, shaking my hand warmly and with no little relief, I sensed. He was Colin, younger than me – I placed him around twenty-one – fresh-faced, and looked a little out of his depth. I asked him what he did in the firm, just to get the formality out of the way. Turns out he wasn't anything to do with the company at all – he was an electrician by trade and like me, a partner of the invited guest. That happened to be his girlfriend, who was talking to Lucy with the same underlying relief as Colin had shown to me. Lucy broke off to introduce me, and I was welcomed with a warm smile which revealed a perfect set of teeth adorned by beautifully sculpted lips. I make a point of remembering those lips, as they deserved a special memory all of their own. You know the ones you might glimpse on billboards advertising lipstick or lipgloss, or some other sensuous product? Well, those lips of Annabelle's – yep, got to her name eventually – were the poster child lips for any male oral fantasy ever concocted. They were definitely a triumph of nature, and fascinating to any red-blooded male. The fact that they were in no way let down by the girlish face upon which they rested and the beautiful jawline which underscored their exquisiteness, only served to make Annabelle all the more appealing. She was young, a bright spark nineteen going on twenty with a talent for academia which had won her a potentially prestigious placement in the company straight from college. Cynical as I am, I was in no doubt that her looks, like Lucy's, were also a winning career-card, played with subtlety and charm. Annabelle wore her ringleted dark brown hair up in an architectural whorl, with two or three strands strategically falling about her smooth ivory-skinned features. Although quite dazzling of appearance in a pure way, I noted her demure manner carried into her dress-sense. She wore a shiny, bustling number – a party dress which did not in any way draw attention to the figure it clothed. I tried to gauge her physical appeal even further, but cannot honestly say right here for the purpose of these memoirs that I could place any comment on her body at that first close-quarters meeting; only that she was tall in a languid way and not as imposing as Helene. We kind of shot the bull in a polite way amongst us for a time. Then conversation got to who was coming and who had called off. Between them, Lucy and the company staff reckoned something was amiss as time was dragging on; it was almost dusk and as yet our little gang was the only party in town. Where were the reinforcements? Moments later we got our answer, and I got to meet the hosts at last. The boss man, Ian strode in, gregarious and welcoming. His wife followed with Vicky, the hired staff member bringing up the rear with a fresh tray of champagne. Ian was a big fellow, heavyset, grey to the core, in his mid-fifties. His wife Nicole was about forty or so and was an impressively sophisticated woman of average height but classically attired in an expensive designer dress of fine cut which enhanced her big bust and caressed her full ass I noticed when she had her back to me, tossing her auburn locks between her shoulder-blades as she chatted to Tony and his wife. After pleasantries, Ian explained, rather crestfallen, that the party was a wash-out, or rather whiteout. Roads were closed due to snow; all the other guests had run into problems because of the time they chose to journey. The eight of us who'd made it were the only ones with sense to set out early enough. Even the band he'd booked couldn't get there and as for Vicky's other waiting staff – the coach that had dropped her at the retreat to begin organising things and then gone to collect the other hired help had never made it back. Ian and Nicole had spent the past hour on the phone fielding call-offs and disappointment. There was silence as he finished his explanation. I don't think anyone knew what to say, or do. Was the evening still going ahead? Nervous, awkward glances were exchanged. But Ian was no big player for nothing. He rallied our spirits with gusto, pointing out that they had a damn big spread of food to go through and enough drink to scuttle an ocean liner. Vicky was happy to stay and serve as long as she got to join in with out merry little band. Of course, our jolly host insisted that was part of her duties! So the music was changed to some livelier tunes, the fire turned up and we spent the next couple of hours dining on a scrumptious buffet, with more wine than we needed, crashed out on the plethora of couches and cushions. Everyone relaxed and enjoyed the banter, even office titface Peter who became actually quite convivial with me, I remember. As the evening had turned out to be more intimate a gathering than anyone had anticipated it seemed to bring about an effect of greater and quicker relaxation. Any networking or politicising evaporated into the simple enjoyment of five couples and one stranded waitress making the most of things. The environmet helped as much as the copious and varied amounts of alcohol we imbibed. Inside was glamour and warmth, outside a very festive picturesque scene, crisply snowbound, illuminated beneath a clear starry sky. The beautiful carpet of snow left by the day's fall stretched as far as the outside arc of artificial light allowed. I glimpsed a different, darker shape in the penumbra at the far edge of the light's glow and asked Ian about it. "Oh, that's the pool out on the lawn," he answered. "Cover's over it – that's what you can see; the snow's weight's sagging it a bit." "A hundred bucks to anyone brave enough to skinny-dip," called out the over made-up and over-the-limit Linda, giggling and shaking those upthrust boobs. "A hundred won't cover the funeral expenses you'll need if you jump in there tonight," quipped Tony to his spouse. I thought the look that passed over his face hinted at a tiny bit of pleasure that thought gave him. "Ah, no chance of the boys doing that," sneered Linda back. She wiggled her little finger. "Shrinkage, huh, Tony?" There were a few catcalls and laughs. Tony grabbed at his crotch in mock freezing-pain. "Hell," Ian grinned, "I'll put up a thousand for any girl brave enough to run out there in her underwear, never mind skinny-dipping. Now the males whooped a bit. I glanced at the women. Nicole was shaking her head indulgently at her husband's cheek. Linda was shouting something unintelligible at him. Helen was laughing along. Annabelle was laughing too, but nervously, glancing around. Lucy sat with a big grin, sipping wine. "I'll do it." Silence. Everyone turned to the source of our shock. Vicky had returned from the kitchen or cellar or from wherever she had fetched more booze. She was drinking from her own wine glass, then suddenly gulped down the remainder and firmly planked the glass down on the nearest coffee table. She placed her hands on her hips and asked emphatically, "Well?" arching a dark eyebow at Ian. The women broke into cheering and applause. Ian said to Vicky, "Hey, don't worry, I'll be paying you extra for all this. No need to..." "A thousand, you said." "Yeah, but I was. . ." "A bet's a bet," Vicky smiled, coy but challenging. She kinked her hip sassily too, and I was suddenly very interested in seeing that figure sans uniform. So I chirped up, "Hey, the girl's got a point." I hoped I didn't sound too cheeky, but everyone was well merry by then and all I did was give the office boys some bravery. "Yep, she's got you there, Ian," added Tony. Peter made his point too, and young Colin clapped his support, nodding seriously. Annabelle nudged him in the ribs. She was reddening about the face; a bit of both embarrassment and alcohol taking effect I thought. "Bloody hell, fair enough," said Ian. " But I'm not responsible for hypothermia, right?" he grinned at Vicky. She pouted back. "Ok, let's see the cash." Ian jumped up and disappeared at speed, letting us know he'd be back with the readies in a few moments. While he was away, Vicky's task was agreed upon – to run up to the edge of the pool, touch it and then back to the house. In her underwear, of course, the original bet. That was the last stipulation, and there were some eager male eyes on her as she nodded her agreement. Then, very coolly, Vicky started to undo the buttons on her blouse. "Woah, woah," called out Ian rushing back into the room. He couldn't drag his eyes off her but still managed to pull a wad of notes from his pocket and slam them down on the tabletop, placing Vicky's empty wine glass atop the loose pile. "Ok, gorgeous, the bet's on," he beamed. I was sure I saw some healthy bills bulging in his pocket where that little lot had come from. I fleetingly wondered what he was planning. Then Vicky started to strip and I nearly started to salivate. She slipped out of her blouse, peeling it back behind her – a deliberate move, executed with a pout and a sly smile; it forced her breasts forward. They looked a full 36C cup at my guess encased in a dark blue bra with lace trim. The overbulge of her tits above each cup gave the nicest little shudder as she shook her arms free of the blouse and let it drop to the floor. "Nice bra," said Linda quietly, and someone giggled. Vicky kicked her small heels off and reached under her thin skirt, hiking it up enticingly. But she was not teasing, just removing her dark pantyhose first. She revealed a shapely pair of bare legs. "Great," Ian commented absently. Nicole gave him a playful slap. Then Vicky undid her skirt and wiggled out of it slowly. I think then she was really enjoying the attention. She had lovely, shapely hips and taut thighs, and wore a pair of thong panties to match the bra, just trimmed with lace at the edges. She slipped her shoes back on. As she turned to face the window and walked towards it, her firm, naked ass undulated enticingly. The thong string was lost between her cheeks, like she was bottomless. It was definitely getting hotter in the room. I wondered what the hell outside was going to feel like. Ever guy had a lascivious grin on his face, every woman sporting either enjoyment or reservations in some cases – definitely Annabelle, and a bit in Lucy. Ian slid open one of the big windows enough for Vicky to slip through. "You ready?" he asked. She gave a theatrical shiver, which shook those fine breasts, and then a thumbs up. "Okay. Go!" Ian shouted, and Vicky took off. Everyone yelled and cheered as we watched her race, stumbling in the snow. She lost a shoe, then gave us a tremendous view of her ass and legs as she bent, then crouched down to retrieve it. She made it to the pool edge, almost out of the light. Then came the amazing sight of her running back towards us. It must have taken her a full minute to wade/churn through the snow with as much grace as she could muster, eventually taking both heels in her hand and going barefoot for speed. As Vicky got closer to the house, she took one final stumbling lunge. Her left tit popped out of her bra. The boys cheered; the girls shrieked with laughter. She was still trying to fit it back in as she scrambled, wheezing, through he window space back into the warm house. I was closest to her and remember the thrill of her big left nipple puckered up just within touching distance. The Christmas Retreat Vicky dropped her shoes and ran over to the fireplace. She grabbed up one of the big animal skin rugs and wrapped herself in it while crouching for some heat from the flames. She apologised to Ian and Nicole for using their rug but they wouldn't hear any of it, preferring to lead a well-earned round of applause. Ian waved the money in the air before placing it down by her skirt on the floor. "All yours my dear," he said. "Well earned. A big thank you." Linda piped up. "It wasn't all that much," she said, a bit sarcastically. The attention seeker in her couldn't stand this hot waitress getting all the plaudits. "The temperature can't be much below freezing. No damage done, eh?" "Listen to you, big mouth," Tony joked to his wife. "Didn't see you leaping to do it." "I don't need a thousand dollars that bad," she sneered, sitting and crossing her long legs in those tight pants. Damn, I meant to catch a glimpse of her crotch to see if my no-underwear theory was correct. "What about two thousand?" Ian smiled, holding up just two notes. Yep two thousand-buck notes. Now there were catcalls aimed at Linda. Nicole gave Ian a peculiar, enquiring look. He shrugged, smiled at her and said, "Hey, honey, we got it so might as well spend it on some fun..." She gave a small laugh, shook her head at her hubby and looked back at the crowd. Vicky, warmed up, then returned Linda's sarcasm. "Well why don't we race for it, bigmouth?" She grinned and threw off the rug, standing up looking sexy as hell in just her bra and panties. Linda looked mortified. She murmured, hesitated, and looked about. Tony egged on his wife. "Go on honey. You can take her..." Linda scowled at him and hissed, "If you have forgotten, dumbass, I'm not wearing any damn underwear!" The room erupted, even Nicole clapped as she laughed. To my surprise, my Lucy yelled, "Chicken!" at Linda, which just seemed to infuriate her. Annabelle, getting a dose of bravery, joined in. Colin looked at me as if he couldn't quite believe the night would be turning out so interesting. I shrugged and took a big slug of beer, awaiting Linda's response. I nearly spat my beer out as she stood facing Vicky and tugged her top clean off. Her impressive boobs juddered into view, no bra to contain them. The males gasped, Tony swearing with surprise. The girls shrieked with amusement. Annabelle, near to me, was amazed at Linda's bravado. Lucy looked at me with her jaw gaping. I just returned her gaze with a goofy smile, then feasted my peepers on Linda's quarter-sized brown nips. "Well," Linda said, hands rubbing swiftly over her breasts, "Let's make it topless." Vicky looked like her bluff had been called. But she met Ian's gaze and warmed to his big broad smile. Keeping her eyes on him, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. She let it fall gracefully down her front. Her tits were full, big as I'd hoped and settled delightfully. Now both her big rosy nipples stood puckered for inspection. She liked the attention, this waitress, that was for sure – she looked around at every guy and all of us did our best to look into her eyes as her gaze passed over us. I could definitely feel a stirring in my loins as the two topless girls faced off. "Okay!" shouted Ian, with a clap of his hands. "Two thousand for the winner!" Linda and Vicky went outside, each shivering as the cold air raised goosebumps. "Hey, it's not so bad!" called Linda, flapping her arms around and making those boobs jiggle delightfully. Vicky laughed and kept her hands over her nipples; I think she was actually a little self-conscious about their increasing size – I'd noticed definite expansion beyond the norm as she slipped through the window. Lucy, a bit drunk, yelled out to Linda, "If it isn't cold, then get your pants off, too!" That got some support, most from Tony, shouting at his wife to, "Show some ass!" Linda, enjoying being the centre of attention, spread her arms, fists raised like a celebratory footballer, and shook her body in a little dance, turning to wiggle her butt at us all. She was loving it, making sure everyone got a great view of her tits. Then she sneered at Lucy and Annabelle, "Enjoy it, you shrinking violets – your turn next!" That shut my girl up. And I heard Annabelle gasp and utter a little breathless, "No way..." Colin sniggered and winked at me. I laughed and looked at Lucy's face, white as the snow with shock as she drank from the neck of my beer. Hey – give that back. I reclaimed my precious booze as Ian started the race. We watched the two tramp through the snow, another great view of Vicky's butt cheeks in action. When they touched down at the poolside they were neck and neck and too close together – on the turn they collided and had hands all over one another for balance. Vicky stumbled forward, maintaining momentum until she crashed to her knees in the snow. What a vision those big breasts were, hanging down. Linda wasn't so lucky. As us partygoers howled with laughter she sprawled face first, temporarily disappearing completely in the deep snow. They both scrambled to their feet, Vicky with a considerable lead. Linda's front was caked in snow. She wasted precious seconds attempting to brush it off before remembering she was in a race with a great prize stake and resumed her run, face panic stricken. Vicky, louping through the drifting snow, used compressed footprints to ease her return leg. I was transfixed by her swinging tits as they lashed side to side between her pumping arms, coming closer and closer... She beat Linda to the window by a good few yards, acclaiming her triumph with a yell and a jig of delight, the bouncing effects of which all us boys loved. As Vicky squeezed herself and her big firm boobs back inside I saw again just how erect her nipples got – they were jutting out about near the length of my thumbnail, and thick, too. She gratefully took two notes from a beaming Ian who gave her butt a sly pat when she passed. I was snapped from my nipple trance by much renewed laughter and squeals of hilarity from the girls. Linda was back, and the results of her fall in the snow were all too visible. Those tight, sheer white pants were soaking wet and as a result highly transparent. A pain in the ass she might have been but her luscious body was glistening with melting snow and below her waist the sodden material revealed a dark patch of pubic hair trimmed to a landing strip,. The seam of her pants cut down the centre of her crotch and was just wide enough to retain some of her modesty, but as she walked the tell-tale bulge of pussy lips was visible either side of the white strip and deliciously revealed with each stride. She got a round of applause as she joined Vicky in front of the fire, and we all got a back view of her bigger-than-I'd-first-thought but very shapely ass under the wet pants seat. I sensed an attempt to offer an olive-branch when Lucy asked, "You alright, Linda?" Linda wiped at some smudged makeup and regained her good humour. "I will be when I get these damn things off," she said looking down at her wet pants. "Now I'll definitely pay to see that," Ian laughed. Too quickly. I saw the spark in Linda's eyes. "Really?" Peter cried out, "Woo-hoo, she's gotcha, Ian..." "Hey, I've only got a hundred here," Ian said, waving a note. Like hell, I knew there was a bundle in his pocket. "That's fine," Linda said and turned her back to us all. She undid her pants and stuck her ass out at us as she slid them down. Lucy gasped her shock. Helene called, "Wiggle those cheeks girl!" Tony was hooting fit to burst as his wife shook her great heart-shaped ass at us all. Her salon tan was definitely all-over; no white bits in sight as those generous buttocks glistened and shook. As she stepped each leg out of her soaking white pants in turn, I caught a cheeky glimpse of labia in the shadowy cleft between her thighs, peaked by a wet point of pubic hair. It was but a momentary exciting sight because Linda gratefully took a rug from Vicky and wrapped herself in it without turning round to give us a full-frontal view. Only Vicky got that and I doubt she appreciated it as much as I would have. Although, judging by the overly complimentary look on her face when she held out the rug she did get a bit of enjoyment from the sight. I wondered about our waitresses preferences at that point. Ian put the hundrded bill on the table top before Linda with a congratulatory nod. "Teriffic," he said. There was a chorus of bravos, even from Lucy and Annabelle. Vicky was still standing topless and unabashed. She absently tugged at the front of her panties, saying, "I could do with getting out of these, too. Got a bit wet." "Hey, you'll have me bankrupt," Ian jested. "Oh, don't worry," Vicky replied. She picked up her skirt, put it back on, then reached underneath and pulled off her panties. It was a heart-stopping moment but nothing was revealed, although we did get to watch her full boobs shake as she manipulated her clothing. Soon they were under bra and blouse once more as well. "Who wants drinks?" Vicky asked, then headed off to get our requests. Linda glowered at Tony and said, "I need some damn clothes. Tony, will you go to our room and get..." She was cut off by Nicole, who had retrieved a large sack from beneath their monstrous Christmas tree. "We were saving these for later, for fun" she said, lifting a wrapped, flat present from the sack for display and dropping it back, "But as the party's no longer what we anticipated then you can take one now...Pink wrap for girls..." Nicole held open the present sack towards Linda with a wide smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. Unsure, Linda was careful to keep the rug wrapped around her with one hand while she reached into the sack with the other. She pulled out a pink-wrapped parcel with a quzzical frown, threw it to Tony and requested he open it for her. Bemused, he unwrapped the present – we all burst out laughing as he revealed a French Maid's outfit, an expensive novelty complete with frilly underwear. "I think it will fit," said Nicole through her amusement. Linda was egged on by everyone, and being a good sport – we already knew that! – she agreed to give it a go. Tony held the rug up like a curtain to allow her to change in front of the fire. Vicky arrived back with more drink for our already sizzled group. Ian proposed a toast which brought hilarious results when Tony attempted to join in and let one side of the rug slip. Linda yelped as her bare ass was revealed once again, pulling on the pair of black frilly panties. When she was fully dressed, she twirled to a round of applause, looking quite sexy, I thought, given her predilection for fake tan and make-up, in the classic short black maid's dress which barely reached below ass or crotch level and gave a terrific tease of the lacy undergarment. Added bonus was that the top was too tight and came without a bra – it laced up the front to a frilly white collar but Linda's fair-sized boobs pressed the material to breaking point. The gap over her chest reached as wide as each nipple, those brown tips only just concealed each side. "Hey, now I've got two servants", Ian quipped. Linda pouted her bright glossy lips and then attacked Ian with the feathery duster on a stick which came as an accessory with the outfit. "I don't come cheap!" she laughed. He collapsed in a fit of giggles. I must say it was a real eye-opener to see such a serious business head let loose in such a manner; the guy obviously liked to enjoy his life and money and it just so happened we were in the right place at the right time because Ian was in no mood to let the frivolity drop. "Listen, listen," he said, fighting Linda off. She stopped to let him continue: "There's presents for all in the sack. More than we can use." "Yeah, come on," said Linda, "everyone get dressed-up!" There was hesitation – I noted that while Helene might have been up for it, Lucy and Annabelle exchanged worried glances. Then Lucy surprised me by slugging her drink and proclaiming a bit drunkenly, "Heck, it's Christmas, we're stranded, why not have some fun!" Annabelle looked even more nervous, but laughed anyway and drank long from her glass. Colin raised his eyebrows at me. Peter clapped with glee and Tony yelled, "Bingo! I'm game!" I turned to Nicole, the hostess, and asked, "Guys too?" "Yes," she nodded, "But I have an idea – why not play a party game first and use the costume prizes for that?" I thought it sounded a good idea and discussion started, principally amongst Nicole and Ian, about what to play while the others racked their brains. I reckoned Nicole had it already planned in her mind, so I excused myself for a quick toilet break while they sorted things out. It was a little trek through their splendid home to the nearest bathroom and I had to laugh when I walked into the toilet to find a full-size motorised Santa Claus facing me. Obviously positioned to shock and surprise, it also added hilarity by raising a giant dildo from Santa's crotch at the behest of some sensor as you opened the door, accompanied by a tinny, "Ho-ho-ho!". As I peed I did seriously wonder about whether I'd control my own erection if Linda or Vicky got near-naked again. The pleasant buzz brought on by the booze was playing the tantalising thought of Vicky being pantiless under her slim skirt through my head. It was a wonder I finished peeing without hitting the ceiling. I left the comedy bathroom wondering if Santa would be the only one displaying his hard-on to strangers that night. When I returned to the room I could sense the tension in the air. The atmosphere was distinctly charged with a frivolous anxiety, the sort you might feel from a gaggle of kids about to head off on a school trip into the unknown. I immediately looked to my own partner, Lucy, in an attempt to read the situation. Lucy's face was red, a blushing red. Puzzled, I noted Annabelle had the same apprehension evident, and she was standing closer to Lucy, the way someone does for moral support in times of anxiety. But their trepidation was definitely underpinned by a current of excitement which had them flashing nervous grins at each other. It was weird. Lucy saw me, said, "Ian and Nicole say they've got a fun game we can play..." I noted Ian had a measuring tape and was pinning it to the wall across the bay window area from the Christmas tree. Nicole was holding a long piece of string against the tree branches, testing heights. Everyone was watching, curious. Ian finished what he was doing and faced us all. "Right, everyone take a present from the sack, first. Guys blue wrap, girls, as you know, pink." We all delved in in turn as Nicole held the bag open. Ian took one too, and Nicole went last. "Okay, let's see what we've got," Nicole announced. Everyone tore at their paper with glee. The laughter rose again seconds later. I got a Roman Gladiator outfit, complete with plastic sword! I felt like a kid! Great! Lucy shrieked and let loose that nervous giggle again as she opened a Fairy Princess costume. Colin held up a traditional Cowboy outfit with a 'Yee-Haa!" Peter frowned as he inspected a Red Indian headdress and clothing. "Damn, no bow an arrow," he moaned, "Just a tomahawk..." – we were all regressing to childhood, I thought with a smile. "I got a bow and arrow!" It was Ian, main man, CEO, host extraordinaire, yelping like a five year-old right enough. "Robin hood!" he exclaimed putting a little green hat on his head. "What the fuck is this?..." Tony was tying to make head or tail of a silky, checkered harlequin-style outfit. Looked like pyjamas. "You don't know?" said Linda sarcastically. "Obviously," Tony snapped back. Linda took something from his parcel, and popped it onto his nose – a red foam bobble. "A clown's costume for the clown, stupid," she sighed. That raised guffaws all round. Tony sulked, "Can't I choose again?" He was shouted down, and told to stick with it. I couldn't stop laughing, but was keen to see the other girls' choices. Helene laughed as she showed us her 1920s flapper-stlye dress complete with smoking stick and feathery headband. Nicole opened hers to cries of, "Toga! Toga!" – it was a Roman mistress costume, a toga indeed; very short bit of material as well, I noted Vicky laughed hard when she revealed a sexy nun ensemble, a tiny black dress with suspenders, stockings and little habit. There was a gasp from my right and I looked around with a big smile to see Annabelle holding up a white pvc sexy-nurse's outfit, again replete with stockings – elasticated hold ups – and a wee white hat with a red cross. "Oh my God," she whispered, "I can't wear this!" "That's the general idea!" her boyfriend, Colin, hooted "You will hardly be able to wear it!" In a state of shock, Annabelle looked at Lucy for support but Lucy was smiling broadly just like everyone else, and had her own concerns – "God, this is flimsy," she observed, with a giggle, feeling the lacy, ragged material of her fairy dress. And semi-transparent as well, I noted, with rush of blood to my groin. I looked to Ian and asked, drawing a big breath, "Alright, mein host, what's the game then?" Ian rubbed his hands together. "Right, we've got a roaring fire, plenty of alcohol, and a good bunch up for some festive fun, agreed?" There were plenty of murmurs of consent. Ian pointed to the measuring tape strung vertically up the wall opposite the Christmas tree and the string being atttched to a branch. He opened a hand to reveal two die clinking together. "Right, the rules – we're not going to change into our costumes right away. Keep them together in the bags. This is called 'Diver's Dilemma'. What we'll do is take turns to roll the dice and the string will be move to the corresponding height across the room. The string represents the water level. Each person takes it in turn to roll the dice, take a shot of liquor and then 'wade' across the water from the tree to the tape. Any item of clothing that is below, or hits the water level, comes off!" That brought a few comments. Ian continued, "When you lose an item of clothing you can then put on one item from your costume, but only if it has a corresponding piece of clothing. . . By the time we're through everyone should have changed from their normal clothes and be costumed up!" I heard the women gasp and whisper amongst themselves; that nervous anxiety I'd felt on return from the bathroom; something definitely in the air. Alcohol mostly... Linda moaned, "But I'm already in costume!" Ian thought a moment and then said, "Okay then, why don't you go umpire? You make sure everyone sticks to the rules – you still get a shot of liquor and a chance to roll the dice in turn but you also get to keep hold of each contestant's costume until you're satisfied they've followed the rules correctly to deserve a piece to wear..." Linda looked happy enough, and eyed the other girls with a devious grin. "Welll, okayyy then..." Tony yelled out, "Yeah, but she won't be in the 'water,' so if anyone rolls a double she loses an item too, until she, or someone rolls double six to get it back! Monopoly rules!" Linda glowered at him. It was obviously the 'clown's revenge'. I remember at the time I nearly applauded him for quick-wittedness; I was hankering after seeing Linda's hot body again. Lucy quickly piped up, "Yeah, that's fair," and got encouraging agreement from Annabelle, who'd felt the brunt of Linda's wicked glare. Ian tipped any doubters over the edge of reluctance when her announced, "Arbitration over any rules will go to my dear wife. And of course, a big prize for the winner," waving a big bundle of notes. The Christmas Retreat There were plenty of cheers now. Even Lucy whooped. Annabelle, surprisingly, asked tentatively, "How do we determine the winner?" Ian paused to get the assembly's attention and said measuredly, "I think we'll have a consensus on who's the biggest sport, Hmm?" Linda, typically, enquired, "And just how big a sport does one have to be?" Ian did a quick shuffling count of the bills in his hand and said with fake nonchalance, "Oh, depends on how big a sport you think you need to be to scoop five and a half thousand big ones..." Needless to say he got plenty of accord of even higher volume. Nicole settled everyone and confirmed it: "Yes, well we're all agreed then. Who wants to go first? Girls?" I saw Nicole give a sly glance to her hubby. Ian was by my shoulder as he made his way to the starting point. He returned her look with a wink. But he saw that I'd noticed. He whispered in my ear, "We've played this at parties before. The women always shy away from going first, but it's an advantage if you think about it –the height will be minimal, but watch them..." True to his word, the girls shuffled nervously and were reluctant to step up. Lucy even said, "It's okay, we'll watch the boys go first..." Helene added, "Yep, boys' prerogative..." Annabelle was happy to go along with them, shrinking behind Helene and Lucy. Vicky seemed the only one thinking. She almost spoke up but remained standing there, arms folded with a puzzled frown on her face, as if she were trying to remember song lyrics. Tony moved into position beside the tree. Linda kept her husband in check at the start, holding her feathery duster across him like some officious starting marshal in the Olympics. Ian handed Tony the dice. He rolled: a 5 and 2. Total 7 inches. Ian and Nicole moved the string to the appropriate height. Tony took a shot poured for him from Ian's crystal decanter – it looked like eggnog but I presumed it would be a lot more vicious - then strode across, arms held out like it was a piece of cake to him. "Shoes, socks, and pants please," said Nicole. Tony's face dropped like a shot goose. "Huh?" "You got them wet," Nicole explained. "Off, please." Linda was in kinks of laughter, doubled up. "You should have rolled up your pants – clown!" she roared. "Ah, fuck," Tony sighed. "Get them off!" Helene called, and the girls goaded him. Bright red, cursing himself, Tony flipped off his shoes and socks. Then, to whistles, removed his pants. He was left standing in a pair of black briefs, just covered by the bottom of his shirt. "Woo-hoo, nice package," chimed Helene. Tony blushed. "I get to put on my costume," he said. "Not until you've lost your shirt, too," Nicole ruled. "it's an all-in-one outfit so it does not correspond to just your pants." He was laughed down. All us guys followed on, deciding on our own order, losing only our shoes and socks as we kept our pants rolled up. I had a pair of roman sandals to put on but thought they'd look a bit stupid with my regular clothes, so I decided to wait. Ian was last of us to go and by then the bar was at around two and a bit feet if my memory serves me well. No-one had rolled doubles – much to Linda's relief – or anything big to get excited about unfortunately – too bloody low in fact - despite the guys hollering for large numbers and the girls realising what going second meant and screaming successfully for low numbers. At any rate, it was above the average girl's knee and the shock of realising that when Ian and Nicole had raised the string sent the girls squabbling for position. Suddenly, the reality of the situation was hitting home, not just to the girls, but us guys as well; we were quiet, considering what we might get a glimpse of... Linda determined the order of progression by turning her back and picking numbers given silently to each girl by Ian. Lucy got picked first, much to Linda's chagrin. I didn't know whether to share in Lucy's obvious relief or be disappointed my girl might have escaped exposing some hitherto private flesh. The tension was palpable when Lucy rolled the dice. But she shot a three, and the near-minimum raise was welcomed by all the girls. Lucy took her shot and then skipped gingerly across, careful to hold her dress hem up enough so there was no chance at all of it catching the 'waterline'. But she lost her heels and had to peel off her silky black stockings, which she did slow and sexy for effect. It drew a few compliments as her sweet slim legs were bared and I saw to my surprise and arousal that she was enjoying the attention. Then Helene was picked next. The tall blonde only raised the bar another four inches, to male disappointment, but performed a heck of a trick when she went across. She walked on her hands, showing not only her admirable athleticism, but also an incredible view of her crotch as gravity pulled on her dress. The entire room was treated to a plain white pair of bikini-style panties, high-cut, showing white bits against her mellow golden tan. The tight panties also provoked much loin-stirring amongst us males due to the terrific camel-toe they presented. I saw no stray hairs or sign of then against the thin material, just the outline of two lovely pussy lips in perfect symmetry. Peter said to me, "She does a lot of aerobic wok down the gym..." I could only nod – I was dumbstruck. Helene got the biggest round of applause yet, but her plan backfired as she finished. A slight dip in her arm strength had Ian yelling and pointing. "Her dress went under!" Helene protested as she uprighted. We booed. Ian called for a judgement. This one went on the umpire's decision. Linda said with a devilish smile, "Sorry, Helen, you touched the level." Cheers. Helene stifled a rant, shrugged, then peeled down her top. It was her turn to grin – what I'd thought a dress was actually a two-piece. She was able to remove the top half alone. At any rate that left her in a neat white bra to match the panties. Her body was exquisitely toned – a flat stomach and high breasts with just a hint of nipple pushing at the cups. I thought her a modest B-cup, those boobs firmed up with the rest of her. Such a picture of fitness, I sucked my small gut in. Helene couldn't get the flapper dress yet, because it too was a full-body number. She'd have to lose her skirt. Now things were getting tense. Linda called again: Vicky. I felt my heart race. Vicky no-knickers. Annabelle groaned. Nicole laughed. Vicky rolled the dice. I willed it high. She hit a combined three; Another. Goddamn, I joked to Ian that the dice were fixed. "Yeah, seems like it - the wrong bloody way," he sighed Silence as Ian and Nicole raised the line. It was touch and go as to how high it was; nearing three feet? With her heels on, she stood a chance. After hissing through her shot – I think it was some wicked punch concoction Ian had dreamed up; remember identifying some bourbon in there somewhere, myself – she lined up against the string. Vicky definitely had to lift her slim skirt to get across 'dry'. But how high? At the top of her thighs she had height clearance. It was anguishing. She very carefully made her way across. With each stride the forward motion of her legs lifted the crumpled-up skirt that little bit higher; Just enough in her final steps to shoot us horndog guys a flash of dark curls licking upward at the juncture of her thighs, caught by the light. Tony yelled, "I see bush," unable to contain himself. "I see dick," Linda cried back at him, pointing. Yep, the poor sod had gotten too caught up in the Vicky snatch-watch. He had a notable lump in his briefs. He covered his crotch, turning away to tug his shirt down some more as his ears rung with laughter. Vicky smiled, "Glad I could entertain you, Tony," as she flattened her skirt back down and kicked off the heels she'd lost to the 'water.' Then she went about putting on the stockings and suspender belt of the nun's outfit. She kept the belt over her skirt, unattached to the stockings which she slipped under. I wondered what on earth would happen if she lost the skirt; there were no panties with the costume... "Horny bastard." Linda interrupted my thoughts as she mocked her hubby. I gave him a pat on the back, saying, "I'll bet you're not the only one, old boy." I for one could testify he wasn't. I had wood, sore. Then Linda called again. This time, Nicole, the hostess was the pick. I got butterflies in my stomach. The string was at the height of indecency as it was. How much higher was Nicole about to raise it? Five inches. Enough for low growls of male approval. Nicole took it in her stride. She whipped her designer dress right up above her waist, exposing a lovely pair of silky red French knickers which clung arousingly to her broad heart-shaped ass as she walked carefully across the distance. Then she stepped out of her heels and in one movement hooked both thumbs in her knickers and slid them down her curvy legs. The dress dropped back down as she did so but there was a fleeting second when she was bare waist to knee and in the shadow as she leaned forward I surely saw a glimpse of trimmed bush, auburn I was sure, to match her natural hair colour. I gulped. Colin uttered a small-voiced, "Wow." So I wasn't alone in my vision. "Okay," chirped Nicole, "I'll have to wait it out for my toga," she stated, playfully tossing her underwear at her hubby. "Getting serious now, folks. Who's got the nerve?" I wondered. I looked at Linda. She smirked and called the final number, a formality of course – Annabelle. If her skin was classic pale ivory beforehand, it was now alabaster white. Colin said, "Go for it, honey." But he shook his head at me as if to say, 'some hope.' She definitely needed the encouragement. Ian thought so, too and thrust a shot glass at her before she could change her mind. Lucy gave Annabelle the thumbs up and to her credit the young hottie forced a nervous smile and downed the liquor. It had an energising effect, or maybe just a get-it-overwith effect. Annabelle took the die and cast with baited breath. A double four. The room exploded. Eight took the string over three feet, above waist height. Nicole and Ian hurriedly fixed it up. Annabelle managed to look both condemned and frantic with tension. And then Tony added to the hubbub by shouting, "Hey, a double means Linda loses something too!" I wondered why she'd kept relatively quiet at Annabelle's distress. She glowered at Tony. He gave a goofy grin back and the thumbs up. Linda made the international, I'm-gonna-cut-your-throat gesture. Ian was gleeful. "Yeah, it's the umpire's turn to lose something. We'll make it umpire's choice though." Linda smirked, "Easy, I chose my sho...Oh, shit..." "You're not wearin' any!" Tony shrieked like a girl, jumping on the spot. This guy held a serious position in Ian's company? I had to laugh, at both Linda's dilemma and her husband relishing her predicament. She hadn't put her shoes back on after changing into the French Maid's outfit. She had the dress and the frilly French-knicker style of panties on, but she hadn't bothered either with the stockings or the little lacy hat that came with it all. And the feather duster she held didn't count, as Ian was at haste to confirm. "Oh, heck," Linda muttered, looking down at herself. We all waited on tenterhooks. I wanted to see her pussy – we'd had the tantalising preview through wet pants and I'd been rewarded with a tempting shadowy view from behind when she'd undressed, but the temperature and stakes had been raised in all ways and I prayed for a full-on show. I'm a cooler; I cursed it, but not too badly. "Ah, everyone's seen my tits, anyway," Linda said and unlaced the front of the dress. She cast it away and stood there unabashed, a Christmas card in front of the tree, topless, with black frilly panties just heightening the eroticism. We applauded. She beamed. Her nips tightened to hard little peaks. Someone said something about them. Linda scanned down her body, pushing her fine boobs out for inspection, then said, "Well, it's hot in here, no? I mean, sexy hot, right?" A few nervy sniggers, then she added, "And these aren't the only things hard, right Tony?" Again, poor Tony was the butt of jokes. He couldn't totally conceal what looked like a fully-erect dick attempting to poke above the waist of his briefs. Nicole spared his blushed by clapping for attention, saying, "It's all good fun, so let's go on with the game. .. " Linda, now loving her own bravado, shook her tits at a blushing Annabelle and said, "It's your turn, now, shygirl..." Colin quickly said to me, breathless, "No way. She won't dare. She can't. No way will she do it..." Annabelle gulped and regarded the string. She lined up carefully, side-on to us all, facing Ian at the other end of the line. With a deep breath she reached down to her calves and, closing her eyes, whipped her flouncy dress up. Sharp intakes of breath all round. Not only was the girl tall, but her languid figure was as beautiful a work of nature as that succulent mouth. She had legs, did Annabelle, amazing long legs sketched in smooth undulating lines any artist would kill to get right. And her dress, lifted high above the line, brought more stunning revelation – a beautiful ass atop those pins, a continuation of unbroken progress... Unbroken by any panty line. I had a gorgeous view of her right flank as she stepped along as quickly as she could, even raising herself onto the toes of her spiky heels to be sure of clearance. But my eyes deceived me – I had assumed there was a thong. As she nervously progressed she lifted her dress even higher – a bare side of waist. Shit! Now I knew what Colin had meant by her not going to dare – she had no panties on. Linda, at the starting position, realised as well as she gazed at Annabelle's bare ass. "Oh, you dark horse!" she yelped. Everyone caught on. I took a look at Ian, who had the full-frontal view from the finishing point. His jaw was agape, eyes wide with delight. Busted, Annabelle's nerves got the better of her. She stumbled and it caused her to swing her hip round towards the room as she fought to maintain her balance without the use of her hands, which were occupied with holding her dress up. As a result we got an unrestricted view of her entire lower body. Long, strong thighs slightly spread as Annabelle turned, led to a gloriously fleshy cleft. Her pussy lips were shaved bare, and that nakedness was accentuated by the luxuriant triangle of dark hair above it. For one so refined of skin and figure, it was a dick-raising sight to see such a lippy, pink cunt – it advertised raw passion, young desire. I winced with the urgency it raised in me. Tony was more vocal, emitting a shocked, "Fuck me..." There were other expletives offered up to the sex gods from the guys but none that hadn't run silently through my own head. No-one sounded more shocked than Colin. Not even Lucy whom I heard above the rest of the girls, cry, "Oh my god!" Annabelle squealed at her mistake and corrected and our flash was just that – a flash, but one that burned on the memory's hard drive. Not for Ian, though, who got the best of the bargain – he was mesmerised as Annabelle completed her task to rapturous applause. She was bright red. Her dress fell back, covering her delights once more. Annabelle opened her hands, shrugged and said quietly, "Nothing to take off apart from these..." – and kicked off her shoes. Colin gave her a big hug and a kiss, and said something about the five and a half grand being well deserved. Couldn't argue with that and neither would my cock at that point. Even Linda applauded and threw Annabelle her nurse's stockings to put on. Ian recovered enough to bellow, "Encore!" Nicole chastised him with, "Not so soon, Valentino. I think it's you boys' turn again...But this time, just one dice.." "How does that work with Linda?" Tony asked. "A one for off and a six for back on," Nicole said after a little deliberation. For the first time Linda looked a bit nervous. She subconsciously clasped her hands over her crotch, tweaking at the frills on her panties. Tony rolled a merciful five, to Linda's delight, but knew the problem beforehand anyhow – he would definitely lose his briefs. The string was now above his waist, so he had his shirt bunched up to his chest to display a torso not toned, but not flabby. He had a thick patch of hair on his belly which disappeared into his bulging underwear. All the girls made appreciative noises and cooed at him to hurry up so they could 'see the meat' as Linda so charmingly put it. Tony completed his trip, then with the demeanour of a death-row depressive, awkwardly rid himself of his briefs. The girls roared approval as Tony attempted to keep hold of his hard-on, wrapping the bottom of his shirt around it in a fist. As male comparisons go, what we could see of it looked a good size, circumcised. Nothing to be ashamed of, but no porn star. I hoped my own, if it came to that, would 'stand up' to comparison. Us blokes gave him a manly round of applause, everyone drunkenly, amusingly careful to choose their congratulatory words and not sound like some closet case. Looking back on it, the whole restrained macho attempt to make it sound like some football game with, 'Well played's and 'Good man, top bloke's was borderline comedy. We were all now feeling the pressure. "I get my costume yet?" Tony asked in hope. "Guys get nothing until their entire round has been complete," Nicole ruled. "Aw, that's cheating," Peter said, forlorn. "Like it or lump it," smiled Nicole. She was a feisty one, burning dark eyes and sexy smile. She ran a hand through her auburn locks as they fell over her face. I fancied seeing a lot more of her than I'd already been granted. Ian just cracked a laugh and said, "Let's do it, guys." Thing was, anything under the string must come off; that meant pants and shorts all round. I needed the starting shot, I can tell you. Like Tony, we all kept our shirts high, except for Colin, whom I'll get to in a minute. I slipped my stuff off, watching Lucy gaze on wide-eyed. She was biting her bottom lip, usually a sign she's getting turned on, and that thought only perked my dick up some more, given the situation. The girls were loving every minute. Like Tony, I did my best to conceal my wood, and Peter did likewise. We had rolled a succession of twos, which kept the string at about our ribs. I'm six feet tall, so it was a fraction over halfway up my body by the time Ian went. The thought that it was all but hitting female tit-height kept us blokes going. Ian strode through manfully with his shirt bunched around his chin. When he divested himself of his pants and underwear he did so with no shortage of exhibitionism. In fact he took his jockey-shorts down real slow, holding the attention of every woman, and attracting a knowing laugh from his wife. What she knew, we soon saw – only half-hard, but Ian was hung. A fat uncut dick with a bulbous head lolled out from its restraints, dipping a good seven inches. His pubic are was shaved clean, heightening the effect. The girls fell a bit silent and Linda whistled appreciation. Ian jiggled both his balls in his hand, flapping that lengthening dick and said, "We thank you..." That brought the house down, and he tucked his shirt between his legs to conceal his appendage. Lucy caught my eye, and I was unable to read her response; it was all good though but in what way I couldn't be quite sure – lust in her gaze or trepidation? Was she okay I asked silently?; she was - her grin dazzling. Then Colin, amid the bubbling chatter caused by Ian's big cock, threw a one. Linda moaned. We cheered. Tony hit back with a "Get 'em off!"