Neighbourhood Party

THE NIGHT OF THE PARTY...

My husband Richard and I have lived on Laburnum Avenue for over thirty years; we've raised our three children there and save for one other couple are now the avenue's longest standing residents. Laburnum Avenue's 'Ribbon-Cut Party' was already an annual event -- held on the nearest Saturday to May 15th -- when we moved in and it's still going now.

The party apparently commemorates the housing development's official opening by the Queen. But even back in 1993 nobody was quite sure if that were true and I, nor seemingly anyone else, has ever bothered to research it. Whatever, it's always been a good laugh and despite almost coming to an end during the Covid years, we got it back into full swing again last year.

This year it was to be an even livelier affair, promising to be the biggest and best party in almost twenty years, though Richard and I couldn't claim any credit for that. We've hosted the event twice, the last time being in 2013, since when we have passed the baton on to younger residents. This year it was Carl and Zoe from number six in tandem with Dan and Jill at number seven, doing the honours.

They jointly hosted a party and barbecue for the youngsters during the afternoon, installing a connecting gate between their rear gardens to provide more space; as empty nesters, Richard and I didn't bother to attend that one. In the evening, there was a similar party, but just for the adults, though as the numbers thinned at that one, all those that remained had drifted into Carl and Zoe's place.

A highlight for Richard and I - well, for me at least. - was that both parties were to be fancy-dress events. That used to be a regular thing, but this would be first time we'd done that in over ten years. In celebration, I dug out the outfit which I'd worn at our very first Ribbon-Cut party in 1993 and was delighted to discover that I could still fit into it.

I'd worn the same costume at a subsequent party too, but few of the avenue's current residents would have seen it before. Thirty-one years on the film it relates to was no longer topical, but its remained iconic and still appears regularly on TV; besides which, there is a personal connection which I loved to play upon:

On marrying Richard in April 1990 I became 'Vivien Ward' and not two months later, the film.Pretty Woman. was released in the UK; Julia Roberts' character in that film was also named Vivian (OK, with a different spelling) Ward too. For a while I was teased unmercifully, things not being helped by my being very tall, very slim and sporting a bobbed-blonde hairstyle.

Yes, we all know that Julia Roberts is a red-head, but in the early part of that film, she wore a blonde wig which all but matched my own hairstyle. It was that street-walking hooker character which my fancy-dress costume recreated: A white midriff revealing crop-top, blue mini-skirt and black leather thigh boots.

I'd looked smoking-hot in that rig when I was twenty-six and was pretty damned pleased to see how well I could still carry it off more than thirty years later. My belly wasn't quite so flat and trim nowadays, but I better (perhaps over?) filled that crop-top and was confident that my boobs would distract peoples' attention -- especially the men's -- from my waistline.

In 1993 Richard had worn a smart business suit a la Richard Gere playing Edward Lewis in the same film, but for this year's party -- courtesy of his younger brother -- Richard would instead be donning a Naval Officers Uniform Whites (albeit Royal rather than US Navy) in a homage to Gere's 'Zack Mayo' character in 'An Officer and a Gentleman'; I have to say, he looked rather dashing.

The party was a resounding success and my costume garnered me a LOT of attention, most especially, though not surprisingly, from the men. I was barely off the dance floor all night and to continue with the Hollywood theme, some of that dancing got very dirty! The majority of my dance partners were rather younger than myself, which provided yet another fillip to my evening.

When I say 'rather younger', several dance partners -- especially the dirtiest ones! - were less than half my age. In some respects, that was perhaps for the best? Had I been twenty-seven, or indeed even thirty-seven, rather than my now fifty-seven, I suspect that someone's wife or partner might've scratched my eyes out within the first hour!

Despite the handicap of those advancing years, I was still going strong to the end. Save for Richard and I, all the other 'Oldies' had gone by ten-thirty and well before midnight even Richard had taken himself off to a quiet corner and gone to sleep. I meanwhile was still bopping away as the hour-hand approached one and the last of the other guests departed.

Beyond the 'buzz' which I'd been getting from all that male attention, I'd put my own stamina down to the Vodka with Red-Bull concoction which Carl had introduced me to early on in proceedings. It's only with hindsight that I've begun to wonder if one, or more of those cocktails perhaps included a little something else? I was certainly very... gregarious, the evening.

With Richard contentedly asleep, I helped Zoe and Carl to clear away the worst of the detritus and re-order their furniture before rousing him at about 1:30. As is his way, Richard was wide awake in the instant and bemoaning the fact that the music had stopped and the drinks cabinet closed; Carl immediately offered to re-open both.

I was quick to intervene: "I don't think so; Richard's had more than enough to drink already, it's time that I got him home and into bed."

"Whoa, that sounds promising Richard; the Happy-Hooker's eager to get you into bed and earn her fee."

"I wish; Richard will just about manage the walk home (it's only ten minutes) but his revitalisation is no more than a dead-cat bounce, Richard will be sound asleep again thirty seconds after his head touches the pillow."

Both Carl and Zoe responded, almost together; Zoe offering: "If you're not up to the walk, you're welcome to stay here; the spare bed's already made up."

Carl meanwhile contributed: "Well if the old man's not up to it Viv, just give me the word, I'll come back with you instead; I don't know what you charge for your services, but I'll happily pay it."

All four of us burst out laughing at that and our laughter rose higher when Zoe added "In which case you definitely ought to stop here for the night... Then I can watch."

Parodying a line from the Pretty Woman film I growled "It'll cost you a hundred quid Carl... And for another twenty, the wife can watch."

Our laughter re-doubled, barely easing as Zoe turned away to open a drawer in the nearby cabinet. Only when she turned back toward us did it begin to fade: Zoe had pulled out a stack of twenty pound notes, from which she ostentatiously counted out six, rolled those into a tube and pushed them into the top of my right boot.

A moment later our laughter had stopped completely. The act itself had quietened things, while Zoe's purr of "Ooh, I definitely want to watch" muted things still further; the words were amusing, as warranted by Zoe's smile, but there was no laughter in her eyes. More silencing than either though, was Zoe's hand... that remained resting against my thigh.

Our eyes locked together and the whole room remained deathly quiet; I presume that the men were equally transfixed. It was fully ten seconds before Zoe moved her hand and even then it wasn't to remove it; Zoe's fingers began tracing gentle circles on the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. As those circles increased in size, the hem of my skirt began lifting.

I broke the silence, albeit barely, with a softly murmured groan -- I couldn't stop myself -- before a voicing a louder, but still timorous and undoubtedly questioning "Richard?..."

Richard's response was slow to arrive, Zoe's hand was still moving and those circles were still expanding, now straying dangerously close to my panties. "Hey, you're the one that made the offer Vivien... You talked the talk, so it's your decision if you're going to walk the walk."

I was trembling like a leaf, my heart rate must've been through the roof; I could feel it pounding in my chest and hear it pounding in my ears. It wouldn't have been the first time Richard and I had exchanged partners, we'd even done so after a couple of those early Ribbon-Cut parties; for a few years, back in the day 'Wife-Swapping' had been quite trendy.

The key words of course were 'back in the day'; we hadn't done anything like that in twenty five years. Equally importantly, there had never once been the suggestion of anyone watching me perform, the fashion in those days had been to pair-off and withdraw to at least separate bedrooms; more often it was to separate houses.

This proposal was ludicrous! Nowadays I'm a fifty-seven year old mother of three and grandmother to four, with a fifth on the way; that Carl was younger than all three of my own kids made Zoe's suggestion doubly ludicrous! So why had I not said, in fact screamed, 'NO!' as Carl walked towards me?

As Zoe stepped aside to make way for her husband and those gentle caresses to my thigh abruptly ceased, I felt a sense of disappointment; why? A second question I couldn't answer. I was still trembling like that proverbial leaf, but in the moment Carl's arms wrapped around me, I realised those trembles arose from excitement rather than trepidation.

Carl's first kiss was careful... Perhaps exploratory? When I didn't slap his face, Carl delivered me of a second and somewhat more confident kiss; it was certainly more protracted than the first, though my responding in kind no doubt contributed to that. Carl's third kiss was the real deal, his hands, lightly resting on my hips had pulled me close while his tongue probed between my lips.

The room remained silent, I knew Richard and Zoe were watching our every move, but neither said a word. I'm unsure how long we stood there in that embrace, but Carl's kisses became increasingly forceful -- possessive? Carl's hands did likewise; the left one had wrapped around my shoulders, while his right hand had gone in the opposite direction to grasp my bum.

That grip on my bum was similarly forceful, with one leg interposed between my thighs, my groin was pressed hard against Carl's own thigh. When Carl moved that intruding leg the pressure increased further, drawing a feral growl from between my lips, which seemed to echo in the void of Carl's open mouth.

That though was the least appalling of my responses: I promptly lifted my right leg high off the ground, snaked it around Carl's backside and pulled him against me even more firmly. It was a trick I'd perfected as a teenager -- one more benefit of being long-legged -- and I'd yet to meet a man who hasn't been enamoured by the move.

The squeal of delight which I heard Zoe release an instant later suggested that she too was impressed and it certainly provided further encouragement to Carl. Not more than two seconds later Carl's grip on my right buttock eased, his hand slipped south for a moment and almost immediately back north again; it was now beneath my skirt! That alone drew a gasp from me.

I'd barely registered that manoeuvre before Carl's hand gravitated south for a second time; it was now inside my panties, flesh against flesh! That drew a startled yelp from my lips, but for the most part it would've been obscured by Zoe's second and even louder squeal of delight; though Richard continued to remain silent.

For the first time in three or four minutes there were some real words spoken; those were voiced by Zoe and they were all too real: "Is Viv wet? I'll bet she's soaking... Finger her Carl... I want to know." Those enquiries came out as almost adolescent sounding squeals and they were enquiries which Carl was swift to address.

Carl's arm stretched further, reaching his hand between my open thighs to press two of his fingers deep into my pussy. That initial penetration drew another yelp from me, but in response to Carl's subsequent intrusions, it was an unbroken stream of bestial moans which poured out of me.

The shameful ease with which Carl's fingers first slipped inside me, had perhaps answered Zoe's question on its own? If not, the way that I accommodated the penetrations which followed certainly confirmed that Zoe had won her bet; Carl's intrusions were forceful, his fingers twisting and spiralling inside me, though not for long... I reached a very obvious orgasm in no more than thirty seconds.

As I gasped and shuddered my way through that climax, the leg which I'd had wrapped around Carl fell away; I needed both feet on solid ground, along with my hands laid heavily on Carl's shoulders just to stay upright. That stumble dislodged Carl's intruding fingers from within me, a departure that I marked with a squeal of disappointment.

All was again silent as I recovered myself, even Zoe's tongue had stilled; it was only long after the event, that I learnt (from Richard) why: Having withdrawn his hand from between my legs Carl had raised it for Zoe's inspection; she'd greeted it with a wicked grin and immediately busied herself in licking it clean. Had I known that at the time, what occurred later might've come as less of a surprise?

It was perhaps a minute later when Zoe called "Get her tits out Carl; let's see Viv's boobs." That demand too came out as an adolescent squeal and Carl reacted to it just as promptly; his hands went to the hem of my crop-top and jerked it upward. That top was actually attached to my skirt by a large gold hoop at my navel, but the delicate fabric proved no match for Carl's strength.

It was too late for any objections, I'd already heard the fabric ripping free; so my arms were compliantly lifting above my head as the crop top followed them upward. The catch to my brassiere was released not two seconds later; Carl's hands were still busy with discarding my top, so that could only have been Zoe's contribution.

That garment fell away as I lowered my arms, its departure being heralded by another girlish squeal "Fuck me they're gorgeous; I want some of those for myself!" At the time I'd thought Zoe was speaking in the figurative sense and knew she was referring to my nipples; it could hardly have been my boobs, Zoe's own, surpassed those in every way.

Large, protuberant and a mahogany brown, though I say it myself, my nipples are very impressive. Carl's attentions had undoubtedly contributed to their current display, but for the most part it was the birthing and subsequent suckling of three voracious children. I might have advised Zoe of that in appeasement of her yearning, but I didn't feel that then was quite the right moment to do so.

The speed with which Carl attached his mouth onto my right nipple and his hand to my left breast, attested that he was equally enthused. Carl's assault on my boobs was aggressive, but I didn't object... That's exactly the way I like it! Besides, Carl's rough handling helped distract my attention from Zoe's fingers working on the fastenings of my skirt; something I was rather less comfortable about.

That said, when Zoe slipped off my skirt -- not easy, it was damned tight and snagged on the tops of my boots -- her hands once again caressed the skin of my thighs. Just as I had earlier, I began to tremble like a leaf and my heart rate rose; the difference this time around was a realisation that my responses weren't being driven by fear, but by my arousal.

That was quite the eye-opener! I'd never been with a woman before, or ever even attracted by the idea; I wasn't a Lezzy! Of course I'd... fooled around with a couple of school friends, but that was years ago and just jokingly... Practising for the boys who we hoped would come knocking. When my eyes met Zoe's, I was in no doubt that she wasn't joking.

I snapped my head around to break that shared gaze, then roughly tore Carl's face away from my breasts and kissed him. Yes, I instigated that kiss myself and it was a protracted and bloody passionate one; just the sort which reaffirmed to everyone, perhaps most especially myself, that Vivien Ward was most definitely heterosexual.

My sudden assault had caught Carl off-guard,, but he quickly caught-up with play; one hand still roughly groping at my breast and twisting the nipple savagely -- I just love that! - while his left hand dropped back inside my panties to treat my bum similarly. I growled with delight, even more loudly than I had earlier; further emphasising that I was straight.

Zoe -- our Master of Ceremonies? - allowed me a short minute to reassert my sexuality, before ordering "It's time you fucked her Carl... Viv's ripe for your cock... Do her on the couch... In the middle of it, so that Richard and I both get a good view."

Carl, as ever was eager to oblige his wife and was dragging my knickers down even as he walked me backward towards the couch; it was a big, overstuffed tan leather affair. Carl's eagerness was almost our undoing: Those panties, like my skirt before them, snagged on my boot tops; I stumbled, to land on the very edge of the couch-seat, in an ungainly heap.

That tumble did at least put an end to the knickers problem; Carl had maintained his grip on those and they ripped away as I fell. A pity, they were favourites; along with the matching bra they were from Victoria's Secret, one of Richards presents for my birthday. On the up-side, without the half-second delay that their destruction provided as I'd fallen, I would probably have landed on the floor.

I must've presented a wanton sight: Naked save for those shiny boots and flat on my back, with my bum and legs hanging off the edge of the couch. Once my feet found some purchase on the carpet, I gave a wriggle and managed to scramble a few inches further onto the seat; that along with my firmly planted feet, provided just enough support to maintain my balance.

But only my balance... It'd done nothing to maintain my dignity; with knees bent and legs splayed, I was offering a clear view of my pussy. Should anyone have been blind enough to have not realised already, that provided a final confirmation of just how aroused I now was; my labia gaped and I glistened with moisture, half my inner thighs were coated too!

"I told you Vivien was ripe for some cock; get you kit off Carl and fuck her." Another lightning response: Carl hadn't been overdressed to begin with, his costume being a one-piece gymnastics leotard; chosen I'd assumed, to best display his muscular physique and substantial cock? In less than ten seconds, that'd been discarded and I got the full effect.

Carl did pose an impressive sight, though the shit-eating grin and the way in which he now flexed his biceps and abs, indicated that he knew it and was damned proud of himself. After that, Carl wrapped a hand gently around his erect cock and stroked it slowly whilst enquiring "Whadda ya think Viv... Do you reckon you can handle all of this?"

I smiled sweetly but didn't reply; it would have broken the poor boy's heart if I'd told him that while his cock might equal Richard's in its girth, it was shy by an inch or more in length. I caught Richard' eye and though he too remained silent, the wry smile and glint in his eyes suggested that he was perhaps thinking similarly.

"Well are you up for it Viv; think you can take it all?" this time I didn't get the chance to answer, Zoe did that for me.

"Just get on with it Carl... We can all see that Viv's gagging for it and how slick she is too... You'll get a start easily enough and we'll soon judge how well Vivien can handle your cock by how loudly she screams."

As Carl was approaching the couch I did discern one way in which he might have an edge on Richard; Carl's cock definitely wasn't quite as big, but it was... stiffer. Don't get me wrong, Richard has no problem in getting -- and keeping! - it up, but until that moment I'd forgotten about that bar-hard rigidity which men have in their youth, but which fades as the years go by.