The Party Experiment

Party Girl,

I can't tell you how much I miss gazing upon your naked body. Could we maybe make it a weekly thing? Say, I come around to the clump of palms beneath your balcony every Tuesday at 11 P.M., and you take off absolutely everything? Think about it. I know I do, regularly, and my hand starts creeping, and I dream of all the naked things I could do with your naked body. The neighbors would never be the same.

And while you think on that, think on this: I know you're a woman who likes her parties (and her orgies, I might as well add). I'm guessing you even have a couple on the schedule this week. I love a party too -- the talking, the drinking, the possibilities -- but don't you find that most parties don't have nearly enough orgasms? I thought you'd agree, and I've decided that you and I should do our part in fixing that. What I really mean, I guess, is that you should fix that, and I'd like you to start at the next party you attend.

This is a very simple dare, really. Somewhere at this party, whether it's at someone's house or at a club, sooner or later, I want you to have an orgasm. Close yourself off in the bathroom, if you like, or strip and fondle yourself towards ecstasy in front of everyone, which of course I'd like more. All that really matters is that your body be racked by pleasure at some point in the night (day?), and that you tell me all about it. Specifically, I want to know what's on your mind as your hand moves towards your moistening pussy, and I want to know about the situation you've chosen for your lust, and I want to know the specific details of how an orgasm feels to Mona -- what happens in your body, and your cunt, when fantasy and a moving finger take you straight over the edge. If I can't do it to you, I want you to tell me how you do it to yourself, and I want your wandering hand to become my wandering hand.

Deal? I hope so. My fantasies about your body (breasts in particular, if you want to know the truth, and I've never particularly thought of myself as a breast man) have distracted me to such a point that I desperately need me some Mona.

Wanderingly,

Mr. X

...

Dear Mr. X,

You make me so horny, and I love your whole mystery man thing, but I also hate it, because I really want to fuck you. I want to take off all my clothes for you slowly, not all at once like that night on the balcony, and show you my tits first and let you kiss my nipples, then show you my pussy which will be completely shaven, and put your hand between my legs to feel how wet I am. I just imagine the look on your face, and I imagine unzipping your pants and putting your yummy cock in my mouth. I could definitely show you things.

So I had all this in my mind at a few parties where I did not feel like doing your dare, and then I went to this big party at the house of my friend last weekend. I was planning to masturbate there somewhere for your dare, but then I started laughing and drinking and dancing, and maybe it was in the back of my mind, but more or less I had forgotten about it. Then I sort of picked up this guy, very cute, I had seen him around in the discos. We were both getting drinks at the bar, and I caught him looking at my breasts (like you naughty boy!), and I laughed, and he laughed too, so we started talking and he kept looking at my breasts from time to time. So I was wearing a low-cut white top, a short red skirt, sheer black stockings, and no underwear. So I had come prepared. And this guy? A black dress shirt undone a little over a strong, hairy chest, and only blue jeans, but I had already noticed they had a nice tight bulge. He had thick lips and a mean stare that got me wet. And like I said, I had seen him around and danced with him a couple of times at clubs, and I knew he wanted me.

After talking a while we went out on the terrace for cigarettes. When he lit mine I saw him staring hard at my lips. I wanted to jump him right then but acted like he did not interest me at all and turned away to press up against the balcony railing that looked down on the street, sort of like at my house, lover! I leaned out over the railing and brought the cigarette to my lips, which gave him a nice little view of my skirt riding up towards my ass and my sexy sheer stockings down to some SCANDALOUS red heels. I wanted his cock inside me right then, and I knew my curvy ass was having its effect when I felt him press gently up into it, like he was just admiring the view, too, but I knew we were looking at two very different things. He was kind of at my side, so his hipbone was at the outside curve of hip, but he was close enough in that I could feel his cock against the outside of my ass, and it was as hard as the balcony railing I was gripping in my left hand. Don't worry! I let him stay right there!

After a while I wiggled a little bit, and he knew what I wanted, so he shifted until he was right behind me and I could feel his cock right on my ass, and I pushed back against it. Then I felt his chest against my back and he moved my hair away to kiss my neck. I groaned. Mmm! I wiggled some more and said, "I bet you want to fuck me!'" How about you, Mr. X? I bet you want to fuck me, too.

I think he was so shocked or so excited he didn't know what to say, so he just went on kissing me, and I threw my cigarette away and turned to kiss him on the mouth. Right away one of his hands was up fondling my breast, and I said, "Not here but I know the place." I took him by the hand and led him back through the party. It was really rocking now, and I led him back to the bedroom of my friend, which I I know pretty well because one time we had a sort of a threesome in there! Gulp!

As soon as I shut the door behind me, he attacked me, and normally I do like it hard and rough, but I did not really want anyone to find us fucking in there, so I pushed him away. Then I really thought of your dare again, so I pulled my skirt over my hips and leaned back on the bed without lowering my stockings. He smiled real big and just stared down at the slit of my shaven pussy through the sheer back material. Then he dove for it, grabbing them to pull them down. "No!" I cried. "Just your hand, just like this."

He didn't know what to make of me, but he was certainly entranced by the sight, so he lowered himself to his knees like he was at the altar of Mona's cunt and began stroking me through the stockings. I was already a fucking swamp down there, and I pulled out a breast to pinch as he went on rubbing my clit with his thumb. I pressed up hard into his hand with my hips and came in like thirty seconds. "OH MY GOD!" he said, like he had just come as well, but I was already tucking my breasts back in and straightening my skirt. He did not know what had hit him!

Afterwards we went back out to the party and for the rest of the night I pretended he was not in the room, just to amuse myself. Whenever I glanced over he looked like a little wounded puppy -- pretty cute, and I'm sure I will fuck him sooner or later.

So next time I will try to masturbate myself as you ordered, but this time it just turned out easier to have someone else do it for me! I wish it had been you, Mr. X!

...

A few days after Mona conspired to have herself masturbated through sheer pantyhose at a party, my wife and I went to a party, too. I will admit that I was hoping to find Mona there: for a glimpse of her fabulous tits, at the very least, and maybe for a private bedroom fondle of her shaven pussy through sheer hose? Well she wasn't there, although the crowd was fun, and drinking a lot. We didn't know a lot of the people there, which is rare in a smaller town, and which tends to turn us both on. Nothing's healthier for a marriage, as far as I'm concerned, than a bit of across-the-room flirtation, a hint of possibilities. And my wife does turn heads (judge for yourself), and my head does enjoy a good turn or two.

But we didn't induce an orgy or bring strangers back to our bed for naked flirtations. We drove home after midnight, feeling loose and good, laughing about the party. Neither of us had to find a way to propose it — we knew we were going to fuck.

No romance, but there was romance in that. We didn't even make it to the bed. Her lips were on mine as the key went into the lock, and the front door closed again with a bang as I pushed her against it, one hand gripping her shoulder, the other the inside of her thigh, my thumb feeling up into the damp center of her panties, my tongue pressing into her mouth. Her tongue was not enough in response. I needed more. I needed to lose myself in tits and cunt, and her blouse, already unbuttoned low, came fully open easily. Her tits came out so easily too, as I raked her bra aside with clutching fingers.

My wife, she likes to be overcome, but she was cock-starved that night too, and her red painted fingers slipped magically over my crotch until in my madness I felt that my cock was free and clutched hard into the flat of her palm. We fell to the floor in a tangle while trying to get me extricated from my shoes and my pants. She fell perpendicularly on top of me, her shirt and her bra having completely vanished now, her panties stretched aside into the groove between her soft mound and her tensed leg, beneath a skirt that was bunched up over the curve of her hips, as Mona's had been.

Her mouth dove for my cock while emitting a surprising growl, and I glanced up to the pale, firm halves of a perfect ass, which were split by a gleaming notch of pussy. I had to have it all in my mouth and pulled her senseless leg over me until I could raise my head and plunge my tongue deep inside her sopping, swollen cunt. I felt her groan through my cock, and then she pressed it further back towards her throat, and then I groaned. I licked her clit, smothered it with the flat of my tongue, and then I plunged, plunged deep into her wetness with a tongue hardened like a cock.

And I wanted her anus. I wanted that too. I wanted everything. The smooth stretch of skin sweeping back from the back edge of her slit (at which she momentarily lost suck on my prick for a full-bodied scream), and then the sweet pucker of her anus, gently, tasting mildly of salt, slowly relaxing for my tongue, which pushed slightly in (at which she merely sighed, although the sigh was as full-bodied at the scream). I wanted to be filthy. I wanted to break records.

After a while our mouths began to move more widely over each other's bodies, tracing lust across skin in our invisible ink, and I wriggled out from beneath her to rise up on my knees and move my throbbing mouth-slicked cock towards her proffered pussy from behind. My eyes closed, my dick just naturally found its gap, and I pushed slowly, deeply into that sheath. She was wailing now, all pussy, all voice, unconscious of what the neighbors (sexy themselves) were hearing. Even I, normally quieter, shouted out for them, for my wife, for pure pleasure.

We fucked and fucked, her ass bucking back urgently into my hips. I wet my thumb and pressed it against the pert circle of her anus, rhythmically at first, and then the thumb pressed in. She was so sunk down in the fuck, her cheek pressed against the rug, that she didn't even seem to feel this new entry. Before long my entire thumb was moving slickly inside her, feeling the simultaneous press of my cock through thin, elastic walls. Her head was lolling about on the floor in a crazed, violent rut.

"Put it in me," I heard her hiss. I paused for a moment in my stroking, unsure of what she meant. "Put it there!" she cried, and I knew what she meant: the rare occasion, the full moon lust for us both, the path so exciting because it's so rarely taken, the filling that is utterly complete but that tantalizingly leaves her otherwise unfilled. Anal fucking, that's right. Joy on the back alleys, on the dark streets.

I pulled out of her vagina, and everything was sopping. I moved my cock several times shallowly up through the line of her wetness, and then I pulled back again, admittedly in wonder at the sight of myself, and then, gently, I pressed my tip at the kiss of her ass, held motionless, breathlessly, for my entry. The tip slid in, and she gasped, astonished with us and the pleasure. I couldn't hold back. All that I could offer was slowness, a gentle but steady progress of my cock into her depths, further and further until she'd swallowed me whole. There was resistance at first from her fresh body, but past that first clasping ring, the fucking was smooth, and endless, and I felt all of her relax as if she'd been stabbed by a powerful drug. Slowly I moved in and out until her bucking recommenced, and I knew that there were no limits, no place deep enough for my pulsing cock.

I fucked her hard then, both of us screaming. My forearm was locked against my balls so that I could dip my fingers into her steaming pussy. Her fingers frantically intertwined with mine, and she took over the frenzied masturbation -- and what a masturbation, Mona -- while I took as much of her ass as I could in my two hands and drove us through the floor, through the basement, through the earth. We fucked right up to the edge of oblivion, and both exhausted now, fading, we knew I had to come. But it was "In me," she wanted, and as soon as she said the words, I felt the come ripped from my balls as if by claws, and I emptied all my juice, all my saliva, all my tears into the heart of her. The orgasm felt as if it lasted an hour.

Then we fell together in a disordered heap, and I laughed for a minute or so, as I will very occasionally do after certain particularly epic fucks, and it was an hour later that I woke up in that same position.

"Let's go to bed," I said, waking her and helping her to her feet. "I guess we gave the neighbors quite a show."

"Good," she said. "I want even more."