Dinner for Eight - Fifth Course

(Previously -

Rob and Ann have invited three couples to their home for A Scripted Dinner. After the first course, a delicious assortment of appetizers, Rob gave his first script direction.

"Ladies, please remove your blouses."

A cream soup was served, and even eaten, amidst other activities. Then Rob gave his second direction.

"Ladies, please remove your skirts."

The wide array of lettuces in the salad drew only moderate consideration from the assembled couples, as temptations to use hands elsewhere overcame etiquette boundaries.

When the salads were cleared away, Rob delivered his third directive.

"Gentlemen, unhook their bras."

Amidst the appreciation of fine flesh now exposed, chilled bowls of sherbet were served. These inspired a flurry of creative exercises. Finally, when the sherbet was either consumed or reposing on the floor, Rob managed to order, "Get those panties off!")

Wriggling occurred all around the table. Mark's hands, already fondling Traci's sensitive areas, simply slid the bit of white lace down her hips. Once past her knees, they fell to the floor. She lifted one foot from the bit of white lace and swung her bare leg around her mate. She drew her lover close, locking her lips onto his. Savoring the softness against her mouth, Traci dreamily gazed around the table.

Barbara and Floyd had slid from their chairs, disappearing somewhere under the table. Traci considered peeking underneath to see what they were doing, but Mark's hand between her legs dissuaded her from moving.

Ann sat straddling Rob in his chair. Her fingers argued with the final buttons on his shirt, persuading the final one from its hole. Rob's fingers, insistently exploring the area uncovered by the missing panties, did nothing to help her coordination.

Jim knelt in front of Ruth. Her blond head thrown way back, Ruth moaned and squirmed.

Mark's lips resumed their journey down Traci's body. If she had thought his hands aroused her, his lips left a trail of flames. A kiss, a lick, a tug of his teeth - each touch sent waves of heat coursing through her body. He descended the length of her neck, the valley between her breasts, and the flat of her belly. Traci abandoned herself to his attentions.

Her strawberry blond hair trailing over the back of her chair, Traci lost all track of time. She had no idea how long the server must have been waiting with the entrees before she heard Barbara's voice once again. Through the fog of pleasure that entranced her, Traci detected the senior female of the group calling out, "Oh, my, we really mustn't make that poor man stand there all night waiting to serve us."

"He's being paid for it," came Rob's mumbled reply. His mouth was stuffed with breast. His fingers below kept Ann oblivious to anything else.

Little by little, the guests pulled themselves together - Barbara and Floyd even getting back into their chairs. Traci noticed how those two couldn't stop smiling at each other.
Juan was exceedingly careful in serving the plates of beef Wellington. He never once brushed against a bare breast, though exposed nipples hung close against the table's edge. Juan's restraint, however, did not stop other male hands from caressing the hanging offerings. Or from wandering elsewhere on bodies clothed only in stockings and heels.

The beef, as well as the twice baked potatoes and seasoned green beans, drew rave reviews from all the guests, at least for a few minutes. But open views of other possibilities distracted people's attention. Soon, plates of food sat neglected while men opted for more lively taste selections.

Traci never saw anyone finish their main course. But then, Mark gave her little chance to think of anything besides him. Leaning from his chair, across her leg, his hands and mouth became ever more insistent in their playground. Traci's moans mingled with similar sounds from all around the table.

"You keep that up," Traci bent to whisper in her husband's ear, "and you will have to fuck me."

Mark merely grinned knowingly at her. Neither his fingers not his mouth, wet from her response, rested from their mischievous motions.

As the sensations mounted within her, Traci's hands became frantic. She pushed his shirt away and clawed under the cummerbund for his pants. When the button there proved obstinate, she reached for his hardness through the cloth. She gripped him, and he intensified the flicking of his tongue.

Traci lifted one foot onto the table, pulling her legs farther open. Her head lolled back as her moans turned to gasps. Just as she whimpered, "Oh, you'll make me cum," she heard the same words from Ann's mouth. The stereo effect tickled a chuckle from her throat.

But Mark's attentions immediately supplanted the chuckle with whimpers of ecstasy. Passion mounting unbearably, a climax tore through her with the sound of a small scream.

Spent, the youngest woman of the group lay back in her chair, panting. She still held her husband's stiffness in her hand. Lazy strokes pulled the fabric of his tux tight against his hardness, then slid away again. Traci placed a sweet kiss on his lips.

For the few moments her eyes would focus again, Traci perused the group. She watched in fascination as Ruth's body tensed, collapsed with a huge gasp, and then tensed again. Waves of orgasms sent the golden blond head twisting from side to side. Jim's hands teasing her erect nipples only added to the effect of his tongue on her slippery cleft.

Barbara's head was still beneath the table, but Traci could see her legs, spread wide on the floor. While Floyd may have ignored his portion of beef Wellington, he was not ignoring this portion of his wife at all. While Traci watched, Barbara gripped her husband's head, her hands yanking the few wisps of hair as the spasm rippled through her body.

Still in her own afterglow, Traci rolled her head towards the head of the table. Last Traci remembered, Ann had abandoned her food to place passionate kisses on her husband's mouth. She had stood before him, straddling his lap. All Traci could see now were her legs, one foot on each of Rob's knees. Curiosity piqued, Traci looked closer.

While her low, black heels were on Rob's knees, Anne's hips leaned against his chair between those knees. Traci scowled slightly, puzzling out that Ann must be nearly upside down, propped up on her neck, her nether regions at Rob's fingertips. Certainly, with Ann's thighs splayed so wide, Rob had perfect access before him. He was taking full advantage of it.

Traci's eyes widened as she saw not two or three, but all four of Rob's fingers plunge into Ann's soaked recesses. No wonder the hostess' every breath sounded more like growls than breathing. Rob's hand came away shiny with juice, then plunged again.

Traci found the combination of watching Rob's hand slide inside Ann and feeling Mark's tongue slide inside herself to be overwhelming. Her breaths turned to gasps, then uncontrolled grunts. Her body shuddered, with another scream to match.

As the younger woman strove to catch her breath once more, she smirked. All four men were so busy eating. This evening's menu has veered far from beef Wellington, she thought. More like "dames Welleaten"!

In a few more minutes, all four women lay panting, three on their chairs and Barbara still on the floor. Rob made use of the lull. "Ahem," he began, "you will have noticed the main course is now complete."

Dazed faces peered toward the head of the table. Rob stopped speaking, suddenly noticing his plate full of food. "Well, if not complete, we're at least finished with it," he said.

Ruth nudged Jim as she pointed to Rob's tie dangling loose, and his shirt hanging askance. She raised her voice and said, "Hey, Rob! I thought we couldn't uncover anything until so directed."

"Yes," Rob said, directing a supposedly stern glance at Ann. "I think SOME of us need a review of the script."

Ann made an innocent face, then grinned wickedly. "But maybe there needs to be an adaptation to the script," she said.

Directing a look at Ruth, the hostess slid smoothly from her chair and disappeared under the table. When Rob's eyes went wide, everyone knew exactly where Ann had gone.

"Oh, no, you don't!" the host cried, hands reaching between his legs.

"Oh - no - oh - - - oh - - -oh," Rob's protests faded into incoherence.

Traci quickly checked the woman at the foot of the table. Sure enough, Ruth also knelt before her husband's chair. Jim's face beamed pleasure.

Grinning at Barbara across from her, Traci nodded at the older woman, and the two of them sunk below the table as well.

Just as Traci's lips found their mouthful, she heard Ann's voice call out. "Juan, please bring the dessert now."