Our Parties

Julie and I had been married five years. We had been moved, more-or-less forcibly, by my firm, from the North of England, to the Commuter-belt, semi-detached, keeping-up-with-the-Jones's-country, and all that. Our marriage was OK. If I say it lacked a certain spark, I risk a visit from the ACP (Authors' Cliché Police) but it was probably true of many five-year-old marriages, anyway.

Julie had a circle of friends, most of whom she had met around the school she took our two young kids to, or at the library where she did some part-time work. I had made some friends amongst workmates and fellow cricketers and rugby players. One way and another, we started getting invited to more and more parties, and, as the kids grew old enough to leave with a sitter, we stayed out later, and went to yet more parties – they seemed to be the social life of the suburb where we lived.

As we got into the 'party circuit' – even threw one or two of our own, farming the kids out to neighbours – we started, inevitably, I suppose, seeing the same faces at many parties. It became a routine, and it also became almost as familiar to dance with, say, Linda from the Day Nursery, or Brenda from the Bookshop, as with my own wife. It got so that we danced to a fairly regular pattern at the parties, some rock numbers, then some slow stuff, when someone invariably dimmed the lights, and it was tacitly accepted that you were dancing with someone other than your wife at that point. I tried to make sure I was dancing with the sultry Linda, or a pneumatic young lady called Sue whenever the lights went down, and spent a happy few moments with an alien tongue probing around my mouth, and a raging hard-on pressed against the lady's stomach.

One evening, as Julie was getting ready to go to a party, our second that month, I said, 'Another new dress!' She looked pretty good, I had to admit, long blonde hair, brushed straight down her back, and a simple long, backless green silk halter-dress – or perhaps it was man-made fibre, we didn't have that much money - but it was silky, anyway, and felt nice. The girls were forever trying to outdo each other, which was OK by the fellows, I suppose.

She turned to look at me, 'Do you ever get jealous, Tom, when I dance, and snog with other men?'

'Perhaps a little,' I admitted, 'and you?'

'Well, I suppose so, yes,' she said, 'but it's OK if we come home together, eh?'

I wondered where this was going, and a sudden thought came to me. 'Do you want to take it further, ever?' I asked.

She hesitated long enough for me to know that there was a doubt there, before saying no, and a sudden idea struck me. 'Do me a favour, Julie,' I said, 'in that dress you can't wear a bra, I know. Take your panties off as well, tonight. I shall know when I see you dancing with someone else that you are naked under your dress. It will turn me on.'

She looked at me as if I had gone mad, then saw I was serious, reached up under her skirt and pulled her black lace panties down, over her sandals, and off. 'No harm done, I suppose,' she said.

The party was at a house a bit like our own, a normal semi-detached, and there were no more than ten couples invited. I danced a lot with Linda, whose racial origins I could never be sure about. She had dark olive skin-tone, and the blackest of eyes, which she accentuated with heavy make-up, and she always wore slinky, skin-tight dresses and very high heels. She had a way of moulding her body to you when she danced that suggested – well, it suggested a first-class fuck. As we danced, we brushed past Julie, dancing with Linda's husband, Gary, who was an engineer of some sort. She gave me a look over his shoulder, and I knew what was passing through her mind. My cock hardened instantly against Linda's intimate closeness.

'Ooh,' she whispered in my ear, 'down, Fido!'

But 'Fido' wouldn't listen, and I had to sit down quickly when the music stopped in order to save embarrassment.

When we got home that evening, I left the car on the driveway, in order to take the babysitter home. She only lived two minutes away. After Julie had discussed the kids' bedtime antics with her, I took her home, and, when I arrived home again, was surprised to find the downstairs lights still on.

I walked into the lounge to find Julie waiting for me, still in her party dress, stood by the dining table. As I entered, she slowly lifted up the skirt of her dress, revealing her long slender legs, and her trim little bush, through which she deliberately ran her finger, her eyes never leaving mine. I came and lifted her bodily onto the table, and parted her legs. My prick was already engorged and waiting, the hours of the party, dancing with the sexy Linda, thinking about my wife dancing around naked under her dress – all this meant that my erection was just below the surface. I didn't have to check to know that Julie was wet through in anticipation, and my shaft slipped into her with rare ease, drawing a contented moan from the back of her throat. The wetness of her cunt made slurping noises as I drove in and out, slapping my balls against her arse with each deep stroke, then she cried out, 'Yes, oh yes, Tom, I'm coming, oh Tom, yes, yes! Oooh!' I shot my load in a great hot, liquid stream, as she writhed and bucked with the force of her climax.

'Good idea of yours, the one about no panties,' she said later, 'I got quite excited dancing with Gary.' I wasn't sure what to think of that, but we had certainly had our best fuck in years. I decided to think about taking things a step further.

Next morning was Saturday, and over a leisurely breakfast, whilst the kids had gone out to play, I said, 'Apropos of what you said last night, what do you think to having a word with all your girlfriends? You know they like to compete – they're always appearing in new dresses – how about you start the fashion for no underwear?'

'You dirty bastard,' she said, 'you just want to get a grip on that slut Linda with no panties.'

I tried to look hurt, but Julie was smiling, 'It's OK,' she said, 'it may be fun, but I don't know if I can bring up the subject.'

'Sure you can,' I said, 'why not talk to Kathy first?' Kathy was a well-known gossip, who ran a Charity Shop where just about everybody congregated.

'I'll see what I can do.'

We had no parties organised for about a month, due to the holidays, and our time was taken up with other things, but Julie mentioned a couple of times that she had spoken to Kathy, and even to Linda, when she had delivered our younger child to the Nursery, and that they had been amused by the idea, and certainly had not rejected it. In early September, we had a party invitation from Kathy, whose home was a rather nice detached house, in a riverside location at the edge of town. We showed up at nine o'clock, as invited, Julie wearing another long dress, this time a maroon one with a plunging neckline and a tight skirt, which, had she been wearing panties would have shown a line distinctly. As we sat down to enjoy a preliminary drink, and watch the larger than usual gathering arrive, I couldn't help wondering how many of the women were devoid of underwear.

A little later, Kathy came and asked me to dance with her. She was a buxom blonde, not really to my taste, but filled her dress pretty well, I had to say.

'I'm not wearing panties, you know,' she said, by way of introduction. She ground heer belly into mine as we danced, and I asked her if she had passed on the message to many other women. 'Oh, yes,' she said, 'just about everybody. There's some discussion about going a little further.'

I was intrigued, and was about to ask Julie if she knew what that was all about, but found myself in a clinch with Linda, as the lights were dimmed, and, this being Kathy's house, the dimmer was very effective.

Linda was dressed in a midnight-blue sheath-dress, with spaghetti straps. It was made of thin synthetic material, and her nipples strained at the top, poking out like hard little knobs against my lower chest as she held me close. Her perfume filled my senses, and she whispered, 'I'm naked under this dress, you know, Tom.'

'I know, Linda.'

'Would you like to fuck me, Tom?' she teased.

'Does the Pope say his prayers?'

'We'll have to see what we can do.' She sounded as if she really meant it. My rod stood to attention.

The dance was over far too quickly, and Julie and I were reunited. She had been dancing with James, Kathy's husband.

It was a couple of days before I remembered the brief conversation I had had with Kathy, and mentioned it to Julie.

'Oh, that,' she said, 'Kathy did mention something to me, now you say – she said that a couple of the girls had been talking in her shop, and the suggestion is that we try for some different kinds of parties.'

'You mean like Tarts and Vicars, or Bad Taste parties, that kind of thing?'

'Well, no, not exactly.'

'You can't mean wife-swapping?'

'They don't want to go that far – at least, not just yet.'

'What, then?'

'The idea is that we've gone without panties – at least a lot of us have – we think probably a nightwear party might be fun, then see where we go from there.'

I thought about it, and it sounded good to me, but I'd have to go and buy a pair of pyjamas if the men were to be included, as I always slept naked.

Plans were made, and the venue was set – once again, Kathy volunteered her house, so long as we all chipped in for the booze – she had the space, after all.

'You look great,' I said to Julie, and meant it, when she did a twirl in the bedroom doorway, in a floor-length peach silk nightgown with deep v's front and rear. It covered her decently, but, when she was framed against the light from the passageway, her long limbs were silhouetted clearly, and the dark smudge of her bush could just be made out. She climbed onto a pair of strappy stilettos, and completed her ensemble by clipping a gold chain around her waist and putting in long gold pendant ear-rings. She slipped on a coat over her gown, and I did similarly over my short pyjamas, and off we went, across town to Kathy's.

When we arrived, the party was already in swing, and that everybody had entered into the spirit of it was plain. I spotted Linda straight away, and she gave me a surreptitious wave, hooding her eyes suggestively.

'Fuck, she's got the hots for you,' said Julie.

'And you wouldn't mind a piece of her husband,' I rejoined.

'As you mention it,' she said, and went off to get drinks.

Linda was wearing a transparent scarlet baby-doll nightdress which concealed nothing whatever of her small breasts, and her dark aureola, with their hard little nipples thrust out the top, jiggling as she danced. The nightdress was accompanied by an equally transparent thong, tied at the sides by means of two red ribbons. Even as she danced, I could tell that her mound was completely shaven, and, as I watched her, unable to take my eyes off her, her hand strayed mischievously between her legs, and lingered just a split second, whilst her tongue darted out from between her lips, too fast for anyone else to have noticed, I felt sure.

Julie had been waylaid by Gary as she was fetching the drinks, and was deep in conversation – I noticed with amusement his hand creeping around her arse, just sliding around the smooth silk. She clearly enjoyed the attention.

I danced a couple of numbers with the heavy-breasted Brenda, from the Bookshop, who wore another short, transparent number, but I caught myself looking again and again at Linda, and wondered how I could find the time to make it with her.

Kathy told us that the slow numbers were coming up – we always had a bit of a warning – and I noticed Julie was missing from my side. Then I saw that Gary had claimed her for the dance-floor, and his wife was getting herself a drink. I wasted no time. Walking up behind her, I asked, 'May I have this dance, please?'

'Certainly, sir,' she said, and threw an arm around my neck, pushing her lithe body against me, just as the lights were dimmed almost to complete darkness.

'A Whiter Shade of Pale' was playing ass we smooched around, but we were oblivious, and I had the erection of all time, as my hand strayed to her buttocks and I found it incredibly easy to work my finger down the crack of her arse, and ease it into her arsehole.

'How did you know where I like to be fucked?' she whispered.

'Linda, you drive me insane,' I said, 'come on, I don't care where, I've got to fuck you, now!'

I glanced around, straining my eyes in the dark, but saw no sign of my wife. I grabbed Linda by the hand, and we set off in search of an empty room. I pulled her down a corridor, and found a door, which opened to the touch. Straight away, it was clear that this wasn't the answer, as we heard the unmistakeable sounds of lovemaking issuing from within, much creaking of bedsprings, and a lot of moaning and groaning.

'Come on,' I said, and pulled her onwards, and found a door out to the garden. At the end of a short path, there was a gazebo, and although it was cool, it wasn't a bad evening. She scampered down the path, and was in the gazebo, sat on a wooden bench, lit by the light from the windows of the house, by the time I got there.

'Oh Tom, fuck me, please,' she pleaded, 'I've wanted it for so long.'

As she spoke, she was tugging at the bows on the ribbons of her thong, and, once freed, she pulled it out of her crack, and opened her legs wide, pulling her labia lewdly apart with the fingers of both hands.

'Look how wet I am,' she said, and even in the dim light, I could see her cunt glistening with secretions. I got down on my knees and licked her until she was close to orgasm, but she said, 'You know what I said, Tom, about where I want it?' And she shifted her position on the bench, moving her buttocks up to the very edge, so that I could see into her waiting arsehole. It was a lovely, velvet-lined channel, just asking to be penetrated, and my aching shaft was wanting to go there more than anything in the world. I took my time entering her warm inviting portals, and she moaned with sheer pleasure as I reached her sphincter and her peristalsis took me to new heights of pleasure. I couldn't have said whether it was she or I who screamed when she reached her shuddering climax and I stiffened and unburdened my load of hot spunk into her bowels. Perhaps it was both of us.

'Phew,' I said, as we made our way back to the house. To get back to the dancing, we had to traverse the same corridor which passed the bedroom the noise had been coming from earlier. As we did so, Julie walked casually out of the door, closing it behind her.

She started, 'Oh, hello,' she said, 'been somewhere?'

I didn't reply. On the way home, she said, 'Quite a party.'