0 comments/ 41333 views/ 25 favorites Deacons and Damsels By: NikkiSwank -1- The expectation of what might happen and what could happen built the whole month. In the final week, I refused each of David's several advances. Repeating "I really want to wait 'til Friday." Reminding him "nothing heightens my pleasure as much as the anticipation." And promising, "good things come to those who wait." On Thursday night, I suddenly found myself pressed up against the wall of our bedroom. Telling me how irresistibly sexy I am, Dave insisted he "couldn't possibly wait another minute" to have me. I was wrapped in a towel when he started, my whole body still warm from a long, hot shower. The weight of his torso pinned some of my damp hair behind my right shoulder, forcing my head up and to the left. His eyes were filled with an animal lust. Before I could mount a defense he pulled up the leg of his gauzy, red jogging shorts. His erection sprung free and tunneled up under the edge of my towel. He used his right leg to spread my own. As he straightened his torso, the tuck of my towel came free and my breasts spilled out. His intense heat added to the fire that was already growing between my legs. I wanted him with my whole body. The tip of his delicious dick was pressing into my lips. My pussy wanted it deep inside. I quivered, then gasped. But I put a stop to it. I shoved him away. I still wanted to wait. I was high on the drug of anticipation and not ready to come down. I was fearful, too, that without the anticipation I'd be too nervous to actually go. Also, I needed to dry my hair. He was angry when I climbed into bed a short time later, but I refused to accept the offered guilt. It had been Dave, I remembered quite well, who insisted we accept her invitation. In the end he had even begged me, sweetly to try it "just this one time... for me?" Kissing him good night but turning my back, I waited for him to take care of his body's need. Then I slept. And dreamt a night full of fantasy. - 2 - By Friday evening, though, I was the one who couldn't wait another minute. We had called for a black car service, so we could both drink. I took a seat directly behind our nameless, suited driver. My David was in the back of the car with me, but on the far end of the seat. The anticipation overcame me. I could no longer think of anything but sex: raw, visceral fucking and every other kind imaginable. I wanted Dave to look at my body. I wanted to tease him with it. I wanted him to get hard, because of me. I wanted him inside of me, right then and there. I'd have pulled my skirt up all the way to my bottom to show him the full length of my legs, except the skirt was so short they were already in plain view. I'd have slid my panties down to mid-thigh to underscore my intense need. But I wasn't wearing any underwear, as I'd been instructed. I'd have pulled my crop-top down a bit so he could see my hard nipples. However, the sheer white fabric already left little to the imagination. I'd also agreed not to wear a bra, and semi-circles of areolae peeked out above the tight lines the shoulders of the tiny bodice struck on their way to a knot tied near my sternum. I demanded his full attention by SMS: "I wish your head was between my legs. I'm imagining it's happening right now..." Sadly, he was too far away for me to touch. I touched myself instead, gently at first: rubbing my arms and legs with soft open palms; tickling my neck with curved fingers; cupping my breasts lightly through the gossamer; and, finally, teasing my clit with the tip of my thumb. I was so wet I was dripping. A small puddle formed beneath me on the supple, leather seat. For a moment, I thought of the driver later finding this share of my sex: just curious at first; then remembering my long legs and short skirt and contemplating the daring possibility; finally, sniffing at the musky odor to confirm. Suddenly overcome by a lust of his own. I looked over at Dave. His eyes were glassy and aimed straight at my hand between my legs. I removed my hand momentarily, to get his attention. When he looked up, I puckered my lips and winked, as I sometimes do to signal "I want you" from across a crowded room. Amidst the ebb and flow of the shadows the car's motion steadily pushed across his lap, I spied the outline of his penis. The fabric of his tight black dress pants was under strain. Like me, I knew, he'd followed her rules and wore no underwear. Keeping the side of my thumb on my clit, I allowed first one and then two of my fingers to enter. I could feel a flutter-wave in my middle: a sure sign of an orgasm well on its way. Then, suddenly, we were there, at the address on our invitation. I had to stop and get out. Though the orgasm was lost, for now, my breathing remained heavy. I waited for Dave to walk around and open my door, giving me a moment to collect myself. As I spun in my seat, I made sure to give him a very long look up my very short skirt. He grinned, appreciatively, then offered his hand. As we turned to walk from the car to the house, his hand joined the cool October air in an assault up my skirt, where it landed, with a light sting, on my bare ass. - 3 - We had arrived at a modern suburban home in a cookie-cutter neighborhood. Not remarkably different from our own in most respects, except that it was obviously larger and a bit better trimmed. As we walked up the lighted brick path and then stone steps onto the high-columned porch, I briefly wondered what a nosy neighbor spying the seven identically costumed couples enter might think. Each of us had been pre-assigned a specific five-minute arrival window. "Miss your arrival window, miss the party," was another of her many rules. By accepting the invitation we had pre-agreed to obey her every instruction, without question. We were on time and greeted warmly by our hostess. After which she told us, "The party will be downstairs. If you want drinks, get them before you join the others. My husband is behind the bar. The games will begin in about half an hour, when we join you." "For your privacy, wear these," she said as she handed me a pair of Mardi Gras-style eye masks. Turning to Dave, she added, "Before you go downstairs, I just need to make one small adjustment to your nicely... fit... costume." With her final word, she took a half step toward Dave and caught us both off guard by grabbing his pants by the waist with her left hand and expertly unzipping his fly with the right. Then she fished her hand inside and pulled out his penis. Still in shock, our bodies were aimed at the basement door. - 4 - Our hostess, Joan, had taken a job in the accounting department of the local electric utility nearly a year earlier. Her office was just to the left of the one I had occupied for most of the nine years I'd been back in the working world. We struck up an immediate friendship and frequently lunched and took breaks together. One evening in early May, at a noisy happy hour, our conversation turned to speculation and gossip about the sex lives of others in the office. Two drinks later, Joan leaned in close and revealed that she and her husband were swingers who "enjoy the company of other couples" and "regularly host game nights" at their home. I was stunned. Until that night, I thought of Joan as just another middle-aged, married woman with a house in the suburbs and an office job in the city; like me. Well, except for the significant difference of her not having children. I came to realize that I'd previously thought of swingers as a kind of mythical creature: Amusing to think about, like mermaids or vampires, but obviously not a part of the real world. But swingers are real, apparently. And I knew one! It took me several weeks to adjust to her scandalous revelation. That we still took our breaks together and she didn't mention her sex life again was crucial, I think, to my accepting her as she was. Joan was still a competent colleague. And still a valued, albeit new and now unusual, friend. I made a conscious decision to remain friends and ignore her little secret. So what if Joan and her husband hosted orgies at their house? That was her private business, I tried to maintain in my mind. That aspect of her didn't change who I was and it didn't have to end our friendship. That said, I couldn't help but view everything about Joan through new eyes, including: her fit, always-tan body and large breasts; her often-revealing clothing; her natural charisma and many casual friendships; and her unhidden flirtations, even with the married men. I had a hundred questions, of course: What happened, exactly, at these "game nights"? Had anyone from our office played with them? Was her youthful outlook on life a cause, or a product, of her little secret? But I kept my questions to myself. - 5 - It was Dave who needed answers. Of course, I had mentioned my new work friend to Dave a dozen times before. But I only shared the tidbit about her unorthodox sex life as I was describing various people he might meet for the first time at the company's annual summer picnic. "Unfortunately, Joan's husband is away on business this week, so neither of us will get to meet him." Joan and Dave hit it off easily. And as the sun began to set on the picnic and most other folks were packing up, the three of us remained seated at a table along the tree line. We were laughing and sharing funny stories over a bottle of wine we'd earlier hid near our table. "Is it okay if I ask you a question?," Dave said to Joan during a lull in the conversation. "Ask me whatever you want." "Are you and your husband really swingers? " I couldn't believe Dave said that and immediately shot him a nasty look across the table. I'd have kicked him in the shin, but it was well out of my reach. I guess it was my fault, really. I shouldn't have told him at all. Or I should have at least asked him not to let on that he knew. "It's true. It is something we both, very much, enjoy." "I'm so sorry, Joan," I said. "If I had known my husband was such a clod, I wouldn't have told him." "No worries, Sugar," she said using her pet name for me. "Though we don't advertise it to the world, we don't mind our friends knowing. It's just the three of us, and the bats, out here tonight, if either of you have any more specific questions?" Dave is a prominent chemistry professor at State motivated almost entirely by scientific curiosity. And with a few drinks in him, at least, never shy about asking questions. I was astonished to learn that Joan had been a swinger for more than thirteen years, starting with her husband before they married. It was his idea initially, but she is the outgoing one who organizes their parties. I sat quietly and listened, uncomfortably, as Dave enquired about the details: "How many?," "Where?," "How often?," ... My mind wandered off as Joan started giving answers to "What?", remembering scenes from "late night" movies I'd slyly watched in hotel rooms; erotic stories I'd read online; and the fantasies I sometimes escape to while Dave and I screw. - 6 - On the drive home a few hours later, I was very horny and still a bit tipsy from the wine. My hand gravitated to my lap. At Dave's urging I unzipped my shorts and put my hand inside my panties. Then I masturbated while sharing my favorite group sex fantasy aloud for the first time: "I'm invited to a girlfriend's house. Her husband has three young, single guys from work over to play cards. After a few drinks and our chatting, my friend and I agree to join them for just a few hands. We soon wind up talked into strip poker. The winner of each hand removes one item of clothing from each of those who stayed in and lost. Our bras and bare chests and panties and tented boxers are gradually revealed. It costs $5 to fold and I run out of cash. "I am the first to be completely stripped. All of the men tell me how sexy I am. Told I can win my clothes back now, I am allowed to keep playing. When I lose again, the winner has me stand and parade around the table, slowly. Hands caress my legs and arms, spank me on the ass, and pinch my nipples. One of the guys shamelessly puts his hand between my legs. After gently massaging the length of my labia, he holds his glistening fingers up in the air for all to see. I am embarrassed about my arousal and sit down to try my luck again. "My friend wins the final hand and commands that I be blindfolded. I'm guided up the stairs by numerous roaming hands. Then tied spread-eagle to a bed. For over an hour, my body serves as the playground of the others. I come again and again as I lick her pussy and take a series of cocks in my own. I leave disheveled and tired, but wearing a big smile." For the rest of the summer our sex life was ablaze. Fantasizing aloud about what might happen and what could happen in various group sex scenarios had us both very aroused. I didn't actually want to have sex with other people, of course. The risks are many and too costly in the real world. Though I had a well-worn corner of my brain for fantasy, the only non-traditional sex I'd ever actually had was one drunken exchange of cunnilingus with a college roommate. With Dave, the extent of our prior kink was occasional use of a "personal massager" during our foreplay and a couple of mutual experiments with butt plugs. So I don't know why it turned me on so much to learn that Dave was as aroused by the idea of a threesome with another man as with another woman, and that he sometimes imagined giving a blow job. The fantasy of all this was good enough for me, though; more than I needed, really. Dave's head was in the same place, I was sure. He's the teacher for the large Chemistry 101 lectures that are required for the majority of freshman at State. He's also the head of a national panel of scientists that advises the Department of Homeland Security about chemical weapon threats, for which he had to get a security clearance. Being found out as a swinger is not an acceptable risk in either line of work. - 7 - The mid-September arrival of a finely printed invitation to Joan's Halloween "Game-Night" came as a surprise to us both. We had the same quick reaction, "Obviously, no." But Joan wouldn't accept that answer. On an after-lunch walk she assured me that everyone at the party would be physically fit and was required to be tested as disease-free. She said that each of the women would be on birth control; most, like me, having had their tubes tied after having kids. Finally, she added, because of the costumes and masks at this particular party, we'd be completely anonymous. She emphasized several times that Halloween would thus be the best time for Dave and I to try it. "We're very flattered to be invited," I said several times. "Talking about group sex and your parties has improved our sex life!," I even boldly admitted to her. "But the fantasy is enough for us." I had no idea about her call to Dave until he brought the invitation up over dinner on date night. He wanted to go. Joan had convinced him we would be anonymous; that she would be the only one who would even know we were there. That was all he needed to hear, apparently. "This Halloween party is our only chance to try it anonymously," he said. "She's arranged that aspect carefully, and mostly to get us to come." He swatted away all of my concerns, scientifically. Then begged me, sweetly, to try it "just this one time... for me?" That Monday, when I closed the door to Joan's office and nervously changed our RSVP, she squealed with delight, jumped up from her desk, and hugged my shoulders tightly against her chest. "The reality is five times hotter than the fantasy, Sugar," she whispered before letting me go. "I'm so happy you guys will be able to come." - 8 - I liked the way Dave's erection looked as it confidently led our way to the basement. The rest of him seemed nervous, though. I was feeling nervous again too. The unknown of what lie ahead was palpable. Neither of us said a word. The basement was expansive, high ceilinged, and nicely decorated. Apparently below ground, there were no windows. Large, gilt-framed oil paintings hung on several of the walls. Dimmed recessed lights in the ceiling set the tone for the party. The double glass-doors of a wood-paneled library stood open past the well stocked bar we found to our right as we exited the stairs. A large gas fireplace, set into the far wall at the same end of the basement as the library, was the centerpiece of a large open-ended space containing a circular arrangement of eight compact beige-colored sofas. Three of the sofas already held couples. Each of the men was dressed entirely in black, except for the white square of the clerical collar that completed his costume. The women all wore low-cut, tie-front white crop tops and pleated plaid schoolgirl minis, like mine. Dave walked up to the bar and requested, with a nervous smile, "A double shot of Jack, please." In reply to "On the rocks?," he chuckled, "Don't overthink it!" Dave quickly downed the drink and asked for another. The full length of the bartender's banana-curved erection stared up at me as I opted to try the Riesling already open on the glass countertop. As we turned to walk toward the other guests I surprised myself by pausing to down it quickly and then returning to the bar to for a refill of my own, and a second look. Liquid courage in progress, we joined the group. A few people nodded their heads in muted welcome. We selected a plush, forest green sofa just to one side of the lit fireplace, then took in the scene. - 9 - The other couples were already engaged in various sexual activities. One schoolgirl was sucking on her priest. Another was seated on her minister's lap, facing him and slowly grinding up and down, as he sucked on a breast pulled entirely free from her top. Dave set his empty glass on a small table between our sofa and the next, and leaned in to kiss me. Turning his body more fully toward mine, he soon had his hand up under my skirt. A moment later, as he put a second finger inside me, I came, sweetly, for the first of what I was already certain would be many times. By the time the sixth couple took its place I was straddling Dave, and sucking on his neck. Soon I spun around, flipped up the back of my skirt, and slowly lowered my pussy onto his dick. In this position, I could watch the others even as we fucked. Dave's hands reached around to my chest. He untied the knot of my top, exposing both of my breasts to the room. Then pulled and twisted on my nipples. The couple directly across the circle had moved into a doggie style position, with her on all fours on the sofa and him kneeling behind her. I loved my view as her well endowed man thrust back and forth, each time displaying a portion of his penis that was itself easily larger than the entirety of Dave. Dave reached his right hand down and began to gently circle the tip of his index finger around my clit. I felt then I was dreaming: Watching a very hot couple have sex while I was being fucked, in a room full of strangers; on the edge of a very intense orgasm. I had no prior notion how erotic it is to have sex in the same room as others. The whole of my being was intoxicated by it. And my sex was on fire, needing Dave to pick up the pace. A moment after I came again, I climbed off of his lap. I spread his legs with my hands and got down onto my knees between them. Then I wrapped my lips around the shaft of his cock. Something animal, calling out from deep inside my body wanted me to display my sex, to attract the attention of the alpha male across the room, in particular. I stood up tall on my hind legs to angle my pussy and ass straight back at him. Deacons and Damsels The animal didn't care who else could see my pussy then. Continuing to suck on Dave's erection, I reached back with my right hand and flipped the hem of my skirt up onto my waist. The anonymity was more powerful, it seemed, than my frontal lobe. Dave leaned forward and grabbed my left breast. His other hand was slowly stroking my hair. My hips wiggled side to side as he pumped his up and down. I felt his body stiffen, nearly ready to come in my mouth. "Bing-bong," sang a soft electronic tone, at a volume that could not be ignored. "Bing-bong," again. Our hostess stood in the middle of the room and began to speak. "Please stop what you are doing, sit up, and put your costumes back in place." - 10 - "You are as anonymous tonight as is possible. I know the women here and they me, of course. Each has brought a willing husband, only three of whom I've met before tonight. Though some of you may work together or know each other in some other way, none of you are recognizable here. Even I cannot distinguish any individual woman or man from any other. To maintain this anonymity, please don't speak or remove your mask." As she finished her introduction, Joan began to walk around the room. Stopping briefly in front of each man, she handed him a black scarf and a pair of arm-cuffs. "In an environment of such anonymity, all of the taboos and politics of sex fall by the wayside. There is no shame in wanting or taking what you need... Anything goes tonight!," she emphasized. "Please make the most of what is probably, for at least some of you, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity." After taking a seat beside her husband she continued, "Gentlemen: Please blindfold your partner firmly and securely so that she will not be able to see during our first game. Place the blindfold in the notch over her eye mask so that the single white letter printed on the scarf is easy to see." The men were already at an advantage in this game. "Next cuff each of her arms, about halfway between her wrist and elbow. Place the leather strap that connects the cuffs neatly behind her lower back." I could barely feel the strap behind my lower back. However, it was only long enough for me to hold my arms, tightly, along my sides. "Once you have done both, gentlemen, please gather by the table in the center of the room. When all eight of you are there, my husband will open and raise the small wooden box so that each of you may randomly select one card. Each of the cards contains a letter that matches a blindfold." Unable to see, my hearing became more focused. I recognized the creaks of other sofas as men left their partners. And then a scrape of the wooden box as it was picked up or opened. "Ladies: While the men are drawing cards that will assign them to you, please move yourself so that your neck and head are comfortable on one armrest and your legs are extended down the length of the cushions." In the next moments, the sounds of women repositioning themselves under the constraints of their bound arms overshadowed the movement of men and cards. "Now, gentlemen: Once all of the cards have been drawn, you may walk over to stand close to the sexy damsel in distress adorned with the same letter." "Just after I have finished explaining the rules, you will hear an electronic tone. That is when this first game will begin. Upon the tone, each man should approach the woman before him and do what he can to please her. However, he may not touch her with his penis or anywhere above her hips." "The tone will play again automatically every 60 seconds. Upon hearing the next tone, each man must move quickly to the next blindfolded woman to his right." "Ladies: In addition to enjoying the pleasures bestowed by the men, you have a very important task to accomplish during this game. So keep your head!" "As soon as you realize your husband is the one pleasing you, move one or both of your feet to get his attention. If you are correct, he must immediately go to the center table to retrieve the top card from the numbered stack." "When he arrives back to the sofa, he will remove your cuffs and blindfold. However, if he is not seated on the sofa before the tone, your husband must return his card to the stack and continue the game." "Lest you think guessing a good strategy, know this: If you guess incorrectly, the man pleasing you gains the right to please himself instead. From the moment of your mistake, he may use any part of his body, and any part of yours. He may also do what he pleases with you if he makes his way back to you before the game ends." "Much like musical chairs, this first game ends when there is nowhere else for the last man to go. The losing couple will play a starring role in tonight's second game." - 11 - "Bing-bong." My left leg was pulled, hard by a strong hand between my knees. My lower leg fell off of the sofa, my torso sliding a bit in the same direction. My foot hit the floor. A heavy knee pushed into the far cushion. The front of my skirt was flipped up, revealing every part of my vulva to this first man. Could it be Dave? My assailant's other knee pushed the sofa cushion down deeper. Not Dave; too heavy and brusque. He put his hand on the inside of my left thigh and pushed that leg up against the back of the sofa. His right thumb slid up inside me. His left thumb started rubbing my clit. My body began to react, favorably. He moved his face in close. I could feel his hot breath on my clit. "Bing-bong." The cushion sprung up as the room filled with the sounds of men in motion. A light caress of my leg began at the right foot. On my other leg, I could feel the hairs of his leg against my calf. This man was standing. As his caress moved up to my knee, a second hand took a position high on my thigh. Now two hands were approaching my private place. Dave was often gentle like this; was it him? There wasn't much time to decide. Take a chance now or wait another however-many minutes for Dave to come back? A knee pressed down between my legs. The woman nearest my head purred. Some of the others were moaning, at various volumes. His hands framed my pussy now: forefingers pulling my outer labia open, fingertips on either side of my clit, thumbs probing under my legs, near my anus. This had to be Dave; he had made the same frame with his forefingers and fingertips on my pussy once years ago. I lifted my left foot up off the floor and kicked him lightly in the shin. He paused. Then suddenly moved. I felt his penis on my lips. Uh-oh; not Dave. His hands forced my face to turn toward him; then the tip pushed past my lips and into my mouth. "Bing-bong." A pair of knees landed on the sofa quick, one right after the other. Hands then on each of my inner thighs. A hot breath on my clit; and then a tongue. Oooo. This was an extremely talented tongue. Not Dave. No doubt about it! Time disappeared inside me. The sounds of at least two other women coming joined my own moans in a triadic harmony of ecstasy. "Bing-bong." Whoever this next man was, he wasted no time. He climbed right up between my legs, shoved his penis inside in one thrust, and started fucking me. Too soon to be my mistake coming back to take me. Definitely not a rule follower, then; so probably not my Dave. He pulled my top up and over my breasts with one quick hand. Oh my god... this felt way too good. This was definitely not Dave. His penis was too long. So long it could only be Mr. Alpha Male, from across the circle. I was enjoying this too much to complain and wished he had longer than a minute. Rules were meant to be broken, after all... My hips started moving to meet him. Coming off the heels of Mr. Oral's orgasm, I didn't think I could come again just yet. But Mr. Alpha didn't have any such issues: He shot a huge load of his warmth deep inside me. Holy fuck, what a bad boy! He kept thrusting until I came again; hard. It was a whole body experience this time. "Bing-bong." The next guy was gentle, I surmised. Good enough with his hands and mouth, it seemed. But I was still recovering from my lovely minute with Mr. Alpha. My head was too fuzzy to analyze anything. "Bing-bong." Another rule follower. This one was not particularly good with his mouth. A lover to be endured rather than enjoyed. I felt sorry for his wife. I hated the feel of his short stubble against my inner thighs. Definitely not Dave. I tried to figure out what minute we were on. More than one woman must have found her husband by now. So where was mine when I needed him? "Bing-bong." My head was immediately forced to the left as a penis pressed into my lips. It had to be Mr. Mistake, making sure I knew it was him. This could only mean that Dave had been with me, yet I'd missed him. He thrust deep into my mouth over and over and over. He held the back of my head with his right hand and pulled, alternately, on my nipples with the other. Oh, god! I was enjoying this. I was feeling near orgasm again. But I needed his fingers in my pussy. I could feel him tensing. And then he came, right down my throat. "Bing-bong." A pair of knees appeared between my own. Two warm hands went up under my butt to support it. Then I felt a long lick from my perineum all the way up, like a kid saving his melting ice cream cone. Topped off with a gentle kiss on my clit. Dave! I'd finally found him. He was obviously trying to get my attention with that long lick; it was a technique he'd used from time to time when giving me head. I moved my right heel up to kick him in the leg. He lost his balance and fell onto my stomach as one hand got stuck beneath me. Then he jumped up off the sofa. "Bing-bong." Shit. Dave wasn't back and already the next tone was playing. Would I have to wait for him to go around the room again? But my blindfold was removed. The dim lighting felt white-hot. I could barely hold my eyes open. Long blinks were the best I could manage. I made out Dave's face. Then he freed my arms. Maybe he had made it back to me in time, after all? As soon as he finished, I knotted my blouse and sat up. As my brain started to make visual sense of our surroundings, I realized that all of the other women were already seated upright, no longer in blindfolds or restraints. Three of the men were flaccid now, including Mr. Alpha. The man at each sofa held a playing card. I'd lost! I suddenly realized there had been spectators to many of things that had just happened. How many had watched Mr. Alpha break the rules and fuck me to our mutual orgasm? Nearly all must have watched as Mr. Mistake had his way with my mouth. Had Dave seen either of those happen? A fifteen-minute break was announced. Water and fruit were waiting for us in the upstairs kitchen. Though we'd been reminded not to speak, Dave whispered in my ear, "You missed me, in the fifth minute." Right after Mr. Oral and Mr. Alpha; no wonder I'd missed him. Losing clearly upset Dave. But he was still very aroused. I wrapped my hand around his warm penis, as we stood together waiting to find out what would happen next. - 12 - Upon our return to the basement, we found a new stage set. Seven of the sofas were now arranged in a tight semi-circle that was open toward the hearth wall; and all of the tables had been removed. Joan stood about six feet in front of the fire, between a pair of unusually shaped benches. The benches were upholstered, in a much darker color than the sofas, and lay as if they were long extensions of Joan's arms. "Could I please have the losing couple join us up here in front? The rest of you should take a seat starting from number one, on the sofa to my left." Dave and I approached our hostess. As we reached her side she announced, "You have failed to find each other and must now pay the price: Disrobe." The thought of taking off my clothes made my stomach drop. Despite our anonymity and my having already been several times fucked in front of these strangers, the reality of being the only ones naked before an audience brought my stomach right up into my throat. "Remove your clothes," she insisted. I looked over at Dave. He turned to face the fireplace and started to unbutton his shirt. I liked his thinking, turned my body away from the crowd, and untied my top. We were now facing Joan, of course, from just a couple of feet away. But it was easier to face one person than thirteen. Slipping the top down off of my shoulders, I handed her the blouse. Dave was out of his shirt now too. A brief glance at his chest reminded me of how hard he worked to stay in shape. Few other men over thirty could compete with his six-pack abs. There wasn't much else to remove. Dave unbuckled his pants and slid them down over his rounded ass as I hooked my thumbs into the skirt's elastic waistband and wiggled it over my hips. Dave had gravity working with him, let his pants drop to the floor, and stepped out naked. By contrast, I had not thought far enough ahead: The skirt's waistband would not fall until it was well past my knees. To finish it was necessary to bend at my waist and thrust my sopping pussy out toward the group. Dave nodded his head toward me slightly and we turned at the same time to face the room. The applause was unexpected, but nicely reassuring. Our bodies pleased them. Their praise felt good. My nervousness receded, some. Waving me toward the far end of the bench on her right and Dave to the far end of the other Joan instructed, "Face each other, then lie down." After making a big show of puckering my lips and winking at Dave across the gulf, I leaned into my bench. It was necessary to spread my legs wide and drop my shins and bent knees into the pair of padded grooves stemming out from the rear legs, level with the floor. I thus came to lie with my butt straight out behind me. My breasts hung freely on either side of the central portion of the bench's upper hourglass. My arms hung naturally from my shoulders and found a home in a similar pair of grooves at the front. It was a remarkably comfortable position. Joan stepped in close to bind my arms and legs with a series of straps. When she was done I found that my head was the only part of my body I could much more than wiggle. My head could either hang off of the far end or lay to the left and back a bit to rest on an angled pad facing the seated couples. In that position I could also look up to see Dave. I watched as Joan strapped Dave down, his head maybe eight feet from mine. His bench lacked the hourglass at the top. Instead it contained a semi-circular cutout at the bottom, which allowed his penis and testicles to hang down through the bench even as his hips remained well supported. Suddenly my ass was raised a foot higher into the air. Then my head was lowered, nearly to the floor. "As you can see, these benches can be adjusted as you wish, by way of the pedals at the back." - 13 - "Each couple will now come to the center of the room, by rank, to spend eight minutes doing whatever pleases them with her, followed by two minutes with him. Each couple may also introduce one new toy from the assortment in the center of the room." "Other than those few, there is just one other rule: If he ejaculates before this game is over, both of their masks shall be immediately removed. Then their identities in the outside world will no longer be a secret from anyone here who may know them!" "Bing-bong." The first couple ran toward the toys. The man was already climbing out of his pants as he stood from the sofa. He tripped and almost fell into Joan, while she slipped out of the scene and switched to spectating. Being exposed as swingers was our biggest fear. Dave could even lose his job and be publicly humiliated. But we were in no position to argue with her rules. Initially, the couple seemed to struggle to decide how to coordinate their decision-making about a toy without talking. He pointed toward a thin, black leather riding-crop with a long handle. Disagreeing, she pointed at a pair of nipple clamps attached by a heavy metal chain. After a pause, he nodded. Oh dear. They met my body at opposite ends. He rubbed his penis slowly up and down the length of my vulva; an always-amazing sensation, no matter how old I get. Seconds later, she grabbed my right breast roughly, milking it hard. Then pinched and twisted the nipple to its maximum length. Her ministrations felt good in a way David's never had. She'd done this before, I sensed, probably many times; maybe even to herself. Her husband happened to push the head of his hard shaft into my waiting slit just as the first nipple clamp locked on. A mini-orgasm struck me from the waist up, fast as lightning. Were they coordinating? And then she was lying beneath my chest, upper body under the table; her pussy exposed to the couples on the sofas. She started sucking on my left tit, preparing it for its clamp as expertly as she had the first. Unbelievable! She bit down on my left nipple just as he pulled his cock out and started rubbing my clit with the head. My center-ring-fucking resumed. With each thrust I could feel the silky fabric of his shirt hit my legs and ass, just before his balls slapped me underneath. I looked up toward Dave. Was he okay with this? His penis was rock hard. It seemed to be twitching as it sometimes did when I teased him, just before he came. So he was still aroused. But an hour-plus offensive on my bound body was not among the many fantasies he had described. And no one had yet visited him yet. His masked eyes were not saying anything I could understand. Was he excited or nervous, or some combination like me? The lightning struck again. This time it was followed by the thunder of a bearish groan let loose from deep within my body, as he made his final and deepest thrust. The second nipple clamp was now very firmly in place. Drool spilled from the lower side of my mouth. "Ping." The heavy allowed gravity to keep pulling on my reins. He left my table and ran over toward Dave. His wife had a head start and was already on her back under Dave's legs, sucking on his shaft like there was no tomorrow. Her up and down milking made it look rather long. The man spanked Dave hard, with his hand, over and over on both cheeks, causing Dave's torso to jump forward, a little more each time. "Bing-bong." The couple seated to the left of Mr. Alpha was next. They quickly selected the riding crop before she helped him out of his pants. After swatting at his erection a few times, playfully, she turned her attention to my backside. First the edge of the riding crop gently traced the outlines of inner thighs then up into my erogenous zones. Then she swatted me repeatedly from below, hitting me in the area just above my clit. Flap-flap-flap-flap---unhn. Oh. Wow. Not the expected pain; but pleasure. Flap-flap-flap---hell-o! But before I could come, her husband took the riding crop and started hitting me hard on my butt. She moved around to the front of the bench and lowered my head as much as she could, then slid her legs under the bench so her pussy was right up under my face. I started to lick at her, hoping I had learned a trick or two from my two-plus decades on the receiving end. Her body and face said she was enjoying my attention. But she didn't orgasm, at least not obviously. I came once, though, with a series of contractions of my inner walls, after he entered me. Her pussy muffled my scream. "Ping." To my surprise, her husband moved his dick straight from my pussy to Dave's mouth. I couldn't see Dave's head from where I was but it was clear what was happening. The man was thrusting his hips back and forth and tensing his otherwise saggy cheeks. Deacons and Damsels His wife swatted at Dave's balls with the riding crop rhythmically, causing his lower body to tense. His butt was wiggling up and down as much as it was able, in sync with her swats, causing his penis and balls to sway. It seemed pretty certain from this body language that Dave was on the verge of an orgasm. But I was more certain he would do anything possible to keep our identities secret. - 14 - "Bing-bong." Dave's mask had slipped up above his nose a bit and now covered his forehead entirely. From my angle, it appeared his mask was serving double duty as a blindfold. What happened next will be forever burned into my brain. Joan and her husband, who I recognized from their sofa's location, stripped each other completely naked and chose a set of anal beads wrapped around a tube of lotion. She adjusted the bench and laid her body atop mine. Her large breasts pressed into my lower back. With my head leaned back into the pad, I could see and smell her wet pussy, which was mere inches from my face. He entered her and pushed his curved shaft in and out, extremely slowly at first. They were fucking on top of me! With each thrust, her weight shifted back and forth on my body. It was the single most arousing thing I'd yet experienced. As this started, Joan lubed her fingers and ran them along the length of my crack. She put just the tip of one inside and it felt gooood, like the butt plug Dave and I had experimented with. I didn't want her fingertip to ever come out. But then it did. In its place she shoved the five beads, from smallest to largest: pop, pop, pop, oh, pop, pop, unhn; twisting the whole stick as she did. The beads felt really good going in, but were less noticeable than her fingertip once settled. My senses were quickly overwhelmed. The squisssh-slapp-suckk sound of his penis and balls swaying in and out, ended each time with a powerful delayed bounce of the chain pulling my nipples toward my shoulders. The damp, musky smell of his and hers sex organs enveloped my face. I had to close my eyes to reduce the sensory overload. But I stuck out my tongue once, just to taste what I could of him. "Ping." When the bell rang, Joan quickly moved over to the other bench. She first put her head up near Dave's and nibbled on his neck. I think she also whispered something in his ear. Then she moved down a bit so she could reach her hands around the bench to fondle Dave's balls, while her husband nailed her. Our hosts both climaxed loudly, after which they rested a moment and Joan moved her hands to squeeze the length of Dave's dick, stretching it toward the floor and gently milking out a small amount of what I hoped was just pre-cum. "Bing-bong." The next couple chose a strap-on, which she donned up under her skirt. Leaving his pants on, her husband started to use my mouth, slowly. At my other end, she adjusted the height of my rear so she could thrust the simulated penis into my pussy from a standing position. It was a uniquely satisfying feeling to have all three of my holes filled at once. But just as I thought I could feel nothing more, the beads were ever so slowly removed: pop-oh; pop-oooh; pop-oooooh; pop-ahhh; pop-unhn; pop-aaaaaaah! "Ping." The couple hustled over to Dave. I wondered what he must imagine, from the sounds alone, had just happened over on my side of the room. Still wearing the strap-on, she positioned herself between Dave's legs and slowly inserted the thin dildo into his ass. As she slid it in and out of him in long strokes, he made a variety of groans and grunts and other visceral noises, most of which struck me as happy. Her husband was close to orgasm and clearly eager to finish. He took the lube and greased his hand, then positioned himself behind Dave's bench, to masturbate facing our audience. He nearly fell onto Dave's back as he ejaculated, his soggy arch landing there. - 15 - My two-minute breaks were just long enough for my body to recover, sufficiently for future pleasure, from the prior eight. And eight minutes seemed to give Dave enough time to not easily come in the next round. The couples who were finished with Dave and I had turned to each other for more sex. Threesomes had formed in two places, one with a woman receiving a cock at each end and the other with a man's penis being licked and sucked by a pair of kneeling women. Much of the rest of the game is a blur. I do remember that Mr. Alpha came up next or at least soon after the woman with the strap-on. He took off his pants and I ogled his nice ass while he bent over to select an egg-shaped toy from the floor. His wife raised my head and lowered my pussy, shoved that vibrating egg he tossed her inside me, up against my g-spot, then laid on her back to lick and suck at my clit; while he filled my mouth. I wanted to please Mr. Alpha again and tried performing a sexy technique, called the "slurpee," that I'd once read about in Cosmo. This involved building up saliva in my mouth and swirling it over the head of his penis by moving my tongue back and forth. I liked that Mr. Alpha was gentle, neither thrusting his big penis in and out of my mouth nor trying to ram it down my throat. He seemed to be just enjoying the sensations, not ready to come again yet. His wife was also gentle and rather skilled with her tongue. I came again and again with them for what felt like one continuous, four-minute orgasm. As they left for Dave's bench, my mask was jostled and I could no longer see either. I didn't see what happened to my husband after that. But we managed to remain anonymous. - 16 - After the final bell, the nipple clams and straps were released. I fixed my mask and then dizzily pushed myself back and up to stand. Joan revealed her identity, and reminded me of my own, as she wrapped me in a hot towel and hugged my shoulders into her bare breasts, whispering gently in my ear, "I hope you're having as good a time as it looks, Sugar." Joan freed Dave next, straightened his mask and wrapped him in his own warm towel. Then she laid out a blanket in the middle of the floor and suggested he take me there. My David was by my side in an instant, kissing me passionately and pressing up against me. I needed to lay down, so got down onto the blanket on my back. This was all the invitation he needed to get between my legs. I could see that his penis was rock hard, but I barely felt it enter my sore pussy. As Dave built up steam, the other couples encircled us. Several got down on their knees to pet my hair, rub my arms and legs, and caress my breasts. I hadn't thought I would be able to orgasm any more that night, but so many gentle touches reawakened my body. I could feel another flutter-wave growing inside. Dave's intensity increased and it seemed he was on the edge. My pelvic muscles tensed with anticipation. We climaxed together. Then Dave collapsed; all of his weight pinning me. As we lay holding each other and resting in the afterglow of our Halloween, the other couples quietly dressed and went upstairs. A little while later, Dave and I put our costumes back on and walked, gingerly, up the stairs. Joan was waiting for us in her kitchen; dressed for bed in teal, silk pajamas. Noting that there were no cars left on her driveway she had called us a taxi, which was already waiting. As we left, masks still in place, she wished us, "Happy Halloween!" - 17 - I no longer had questions about what happens when swingers party. Joan was absolutely right that the reality is better than the fantasy. There's simply nothing comparable to experiencing all of your fantasies in one time and place. In hindsight, Dave and I agree that being forced to try to some new things without needing to make our own decisions made the experience more enjoyable—that first time.