I'd done some research and made some judicious choices for the this bed. For example, did you know that some beds come with a choice of height? Depending on the mattress thickness, you can get an arrangement that just fits your needs. Makes it easier to get in and out for old folks, as the saleswoman explained. That wasn't my aim, necessarily, but I let her natter on. I wanted the bed to be of a height so when I lay on the edge, with my legs in the air, and Harry stood on the floor, his pecker could connect with my quim—that's an English word for pussy, I think—without him having to bend his knees. It also meant if I lay with my head just over the edge of the mattress, my mouth would be, how you say, conveniently accessible.
I chose a mattress that had good firm edges as well. The bonus for all this finagling was that my fine lover would be able to get in and out of bed with greater ease when the day arrived that he became less mobile than he was at the moment. We snaffled on a set of new sheets and covers for the several pillows we'd bought. I was anxious to try out our new bed. In fact my labia were getting damp. But Harry, being of sterner stuff, pointed out that the party site was an hour away, we still had to shower, dress and have supper. Seemed to me arriving late to Carole and George's party was no big deal, but Harry explained that George was a scientist and liked things to be precise.
His lectures always started and ended exactly on time and woe to any who turned up late. Faculty meetings at which people came and went and always started late, drove him up the wall. We saved some time by showering together, which led to some intimate groping. But once again, Harry pried my hands off his balls, we dried, dressed, picked up some food to go and drove to the Andersons.
The Andersons live on three or four acres outside of town. It's an old farmhouse that's been added to, enlarged, improved and fixed up, as Harry explained. He drove. It kept him from showing his increasing nervousness, the closer we got to the driveway. I didn't show my nervousness near as much as he did. We'd both opted for summer casual conservative. Harry was in tan lightweight slacks and a light blue short-sleeved shirt. He left two of the buttons at the neck open.
I wore open-toed sandals with two-inch solid heels, no stockings, silk panties, a demi-bra that covered my nipples and kept my breasts from swaying all over the place. My frock was a pale yellow slip-dress with straps, a wide square neckline and a hem that hit me at mid-thigh. I thought we made a spiffy-looking couple.
Harry'd been to this place before so he took my elbow and shepherded me around the outside to the patio in back. The patio opened off a big sliding glass door from the dining area. It was a large stone patio that extended right to the edge and then surrounded the Anderson's big swimming pool.
There was a bar on wheels next to the door and a few tables scattered around. Four couples were already there and four more arrived just after we did. Harry took my hand and introduced me to our hosts. George was a stocky guy about fifty with a tiny goatee and a bald spot. He had a hot penetrating look in his eyes. He looked at me like he wanted to undress me. He looked at all the women there like that. He probably looked at every female of any age he encountered the same way. George was dressed like Harry, except his shirt buttoned down the front and he was wearing it open plan so you could see a lot of his chest.
His wife Carole was a lush buxom good-looking woman, younger by a few years, I judged. She looked at me like she wanted to undress me. She was auburn headed, hair up in a deliberately untidy knot on top of her head held in place by an elaborate pin of some kind. Her dress was white, tight, short with a scooped bodice. The kind that was cut low from each shoulder, then a curve to cover the boob, a low plunge in the middle and repeated on the other side. Her bosom was too large for the bodice. So you saw a lot of breast from the side and I never saw her nipples, but it was a near thing, especially whenever she leaned over. Carole did that a lot that evening. She looked at the men attending the party as if she was eager to undress them. I'd call her predatory.
Once everybody invited was there, George made a little speech welcoming us. Then he explained where the booze was, where the bathrooms were and that the pool heater was broken so the water was cold. He said the snack-food would be delivered shortly and everybody should enjoy themselves.
"Hello, young lady," said a pleasant male voice. I looked around. It was Max Shell, my thesis advisor. We chatted for a few minutes about nothing. Then I got tired of never seeing Max's eyes because he was mostly staring at my boobs. He was like that in the office, too. He never put a move on me, he'd just stare at my chest the whole time we were meeting.
I scanned for Harry and saw him with a couple I didn't recognize. I sauntered over. Halfway across the patio, Harry saw me coming and smiled. I put a tiny extra bit of hip into my walk, which he saw and gave me a wider smile. "Jack and Mary, this is my good friend, Alice." We'd discussed how to label each other. I said he could call me his fuck toy if he wanted. Harry laughed but he wasn't amused. I wanted to call him my best pussy plugger, but that didn't go over well either. So we settled on good friends.
Mary and Jack seemed like nice folks. Both shared the intimate space around them and after a few minutes they wandered off to the bar and we were accosted by Leon. Leon had his arm draped dangerously around the bare shoulders of a young woman whose name I forget. Time was moving and I was on my third whiskey and soda. He may never have actually introduced us. Leon's hand swung just over the woman's right breast. When he curled his fingers in, they touched her tit. He wasn't quite grabbing her, just brushing over her. She didn't seem to mind.
"This is Harry and Alice," Leon said with a big smile. "You remember. The couple I was telling you about on the way here."
"Oh, sure," she said. She smiled at Harry and her pink tongue came out and slid over her lower lip. She was modestly dressed, although in a while strapless summer dress, there was something about the way she held herself and looked at men that cried out slut. I stepped slightly away, signaling that while I was with Harry, I wasn't defending my territory against all attacks. I wanted to see her in a little action. I'm always observing the dance of lust, never too experienced not to pick up some new techniques. The girl stepped closer and smiled up at Harry. She put one slender white hand on his chest, probably gauging how elevated his heart rate was getting. Her fingers curled slightly and I was willing to bet her nails were making an impression on Harry's skin. I excused myself then to find a bathroom. The nearest one, just off the kitchen was empty and it smelled of recent sex.
