A Memorable Memorial Day Party

"I'm afraid the guys will only rub my ass," he said with a smile. Laughing, Carol retorted with a gleam in her eye, "Maybe I'll let a straying hand slip inside my top."

Paul now unafraid of making a spectacle of himself did just that and pinched Carol's left nipple which immediately hardened. Carol moved closer to him, partly to block others from seeing what he was doing and partly in hope of his continuing the exquisite torture,

Only to draw in her breath as Paul adroitly moved to the other nipple and squeezed even harder. This evoked even more exquisiteness as it extended the interlude of pleasure.

"I want to suck your cock!" Carol moaned.

"We could have done that at your place, but you wouldn't allow it," he whispered.

"I still want to suck it," she whispered back.

"We'll see," he answered. "The opportunity may arise."

"You've already arisen, darling."

Paul pretended to glance down, and said, "Why so I have! Want to grope me?"

Carol burst out laughed and brought immediate attention to them.

Don Roscony was the first to move into their area. "Care to share the joke? It seems the group could stand a good laugh."

"Sorry Don, it is Don isn't it?" Paul said before continuing. "Yes, I'm sure it's Don. Well, I'd love to share it but Don, it's a private thing, you know? But there's this one about the Priest, a Rabbi and a Muslim terrorist go into a bar ..."

But Roscony had already turned away to mix with Jubal and Miranda.

"You are bad," Carol said, pleased with the manner in which he had deflected the unwanted overture from the tall Italian.

Jubal chose that moment to tap on a glass with a spoon to garner everyone's attention. "May I have your attention, please?"

The room grew quiet, and Jubal continued. "We're all present and accounted for, so let's begin shall we? Miranda, my dear, what do you have for us to start with?"

Ever the actress, Miranda leaned forward as if to adjust her shoe, revealing both breasts to anyone caring to look down the front of her summer dress.

Then with a smile usually reserved for greeting red carpet party goers, Miranda strode to Jubal's side, gave him a light kiss on the cheek and took over so smoothly it's safe to say that it was doubtful anyone noticed him move off to one side and then take a seat.

Miranda was a professional of that there was no doubt. But before this audience, she stood still, but her entire body appeared to move non-stop, her braless breasts jiggled incessantly; her hips swayed so that Paul thought she was performing a motionless rumba, if such a thing were possible.

Suffice to say, Miranda was such a sexual creature that every man in the room, and a few of the woman as well desired her. Only when they realized that she was inviting everyone to join her and Jubal in the dining room for a light supper, as she put it, did they put away their sexual desire for her; and with the gentlemen trying their best to conceal their erections, and women flushed with anticipation of what was to follow, made their way into the adjoining room.

Enroute, Paul whispered to Carol, "Why Miranda? Why not Kayla?"

"I don't know. Jubal has an almost violent temper at times. Perhaps she pissed him off. I admit it's unusual for a husband to act like this. You can see the others; at least some of them picked up on it."

"Miranda handed it flawlessly though," Paul noted.

"She is an actress, Paul."

"Point taken. Let's eat, I'm famished."

The dining room was aglow but with subtly diminished lighting; its white tablecloth and gleaming silverware reflected the flames from a two matching pair of lit candelabras.

Paul remembered his manners and complemented Kayla. "Your home is spectacular, Mrs. Harshaw."

"Thank you, Paul, but it's Kayla, please, we're all friends here," she said while performing a last second review of the settings, and adjusting a glass an inch or so to the left. "There's no need to be formal."

Kayla stopped next to Paul and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Jubal really likes you."

"I'm very glad to hear it. I'm hoping he likes my next novel as much as the first."

Kayla shrugged her elegant, angular shoulders. Her tanned skin shone in the candlelight. "Oh, I'm sure he will. You'll make us all a lot of money," she said, gaily.

Seated around the table, the conversation was animated and turned from lively to licentious as inhibitions fled the room when the half inebriated Maria Gonzales raised her voice to recount a piece of gossip to Don Roscony, whose erection she had a tight grip on under the table. "... Anyway, the man found his wife in bed with his twin brother, who was staying with them at the time..."

Maria waved her arms as she spoke, causing her huge breasts to test the strength of her dresses' fabric, but continued talking as the rest of those seated joined Roscony in listening in. "The wife claimed that it was simply a mistake, that his brother had climbed into her bed in the dark after a couple of drinks and she had assumed it was her husband giving her a rousing fuck until they were interrupted by her actual husband–-who was understandably shocked by the sight his wife copulating with his brother–-twin or otherwise."

After the laughter subsided, discussion broke out. Joanna de Brito using a decidedly superior tone opined that it was highly unlikely that it was a case of mistaken identity. "Dark or not, I think it nearly impossible that she didn't recognize the cock between her legs as not being her husband's. Every woman knows that."

"Are you so sure?" Kayla asked, standing on what the others assumed to be wobbly feet.

"I mean one dick is pretty much like another, especially in the throes of heated lovemaking. And the man was his brother's twin."

"I disagree," Joanna smirked. Each penis has its own particular qualities."

"And you are an expert at this, Joanna?" Miranda inquired with a smirk of her own.

"OH! You're such a snide cunt, Miranda!" Joanna shot back.

Roscony and Paul readied themselves to prevent a fight between the two women, but it failed to materialize. At that point, Paul realized he was being provided with an almost surreal glimpse into this normally closed and cliquish world of people who controlled what mattered most to people, and began to study them in preparation to include them in some future novel or article.

Jubal Harshaw sat at the head of the table, playing the magnanimous host. He lounged back, one arm carelessly flung over the back of his chair. In his other hand he held a half-empty glass of expensive Port. His thick hair was shot through with silver strands. He had a strong neck, a very square jaw and rather intense brown eyes. He was handsome in an arrogant sort of way. From time to time, his eyes rested on each of the women, as if assessing them.

Paul felt Carol flinch next to him. Jubal obviously made her uncomfortable, and she took refuge by squeezing Paul's thigh and murmuring something to the person to her right.

Kayla spoke up, saying: "Well I'm not convinced that I would know, I mean if it were a lively penis I might be distracted to notice one way or the other."

"I think that is a distinct possibility," Jubal opined. "However, that assumes the man in question is ... how did you put it my dear? Ah yes, 'that he be lively.'"

Laughing, Mike Hunt said, "This is a very interesting after dinner discussion to be sure. I don't recall ever addressing the situation, or anything like it in any of my stories. Um, there was the one with my wife, June and her long time friend, but that was a threesome, and they had no difficulty in determining whose penis was fucking them."

"Do you have a point, Mike?" Miranda inquired coolly, and then drained her glass of wine, waited patiently for the wine steward to refill it, glanced at it and took another gulp.

"Oh, sorry, Miranda. Yes–-yes I do. Let's just turn out the lights after finding a feminine volunteer and have each of the males here provide said volunteer with a quick fuck and let her decide which fucker is her partner of the evening."

The males laughed. The females did not.

"Well," Hunt said, sensing a rising resentment from the feminine side, "perhaps that was put rather crudely. "Let's have the "volunteer" call things off the moment she can identify her partner. Now by partner I mean the gentleman who brought the lady here this evening, for to the best of my knowledge, no one here is married to anyone here–-with the exception of our host and hostess."

If nothing else, Hunt's rambling served to bring the females tempers down several degrees, and everyone realized that the idea as originally proposed was still alive and well for another lively discourse on the subject erupted moments later.

"I'd say she could tell him from the others," Frank Downey said imperiously. "After all, most men are of about the same size. Don't you agree, Jubal?"

"Damned if I know," Jubal replied. "Cocks come in all sorts of shapes and sizes."

Several people, of both sexes glanced around to see who would speak next.

"Are you so sure?" Carol asked, her tongue loosened by the alcohol. "One cock is pretty much like another, especially in the throes of vigorous lovemaking. And the man was his brother's twin; Joanna didn't say, or possibly didn't know if the brothers were identical twins. If they were, and I say if, it would seem that they might be identical in that department too. Don't you agree?"

Mike Hunt came to Carol's support, saying, "She has a valid point there."

"Yes, well," Maria chose that moment to break in, "Twins may not be the best analogy. What if we took a random group of men ...?" She glanced around the room and licked her lips.

Paul picked that moment to jump in. "I saw an article in the Times a week or so ago that quoted some expert in the field as determining–-please don't ask me how–-that most men's penises, or is it peni? " Several guests at the table laughed.

"At any rate," he continued, "the survey or whatever, concluded that the average man's penis is 5 ¼ to 5 ½ inches when erect. That being the case, then applying the usual norm for such ranges, at least 10% are smaller; and since we know that some men are in the 8 to 9 inch bracket, at least the X-rated videos prove they exist, (more laughter and a few titters from the ladies) and the exceedingly rare male blessed or cursed with the 12 inch whopper–-I give you Mr. John Dillinger, whose private parts are on exhibit at the Smithsonian–-a zillion high school kids see it every year on their school trip to our nation's capital. And I'll shut up now. It seems like I've been talking forever."

Kayla Harshaw got to her feet before speaking. "Of course there are men with big dongs; why else would woman the world over go mad for those big boys?"

The room broke into laughter, and then went quiet.

"Why not have a contest?" Mike Hunt suggested, as he glanced at the women seated at the table.

"Oh, don't be such a pig!" Miranda Mars called out sharply.

"We'd need some sort of rules," Frank Downey offered, blatantly ignoring Miranda.

"You'd need a woman to volunteer to participate and you won't get one," Miranda groused then looked at several of the females for support. Surprisingly, she didn't get any.

Instead, Paul slowly got to his feet and said, "I think it was Masters and Johnson who postulated that most women have a recurring fantasy in which they are fucked by more than one man. Or at least they have two cocks to play with, as most prefer coitus and oral sex simultaneously –- according to Masters and Johnson."

"Kayla will volunteer, Jubal said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Oh my God!" Miranda said, obviously exasperated. "You–-you're all going to do this–-this experiment!"

Almost all the women were embarrassed by Miranda's comment and the room went quiet for about a minute, and then Jubal stood up and waited a reasonable period until he had everyone's undivided attention before speaking.

"Stand up, Kayla," Jubal said quietly. "Let's show them how it's done."

Kayla rose slowly to her feet, and in a kind of slow motion, began to move the place setting away until the table in front of her was entirely clear.

"Bend over."

Paul's jaw dropped open as he watched this beautiful, sophisticated woman bend over the table until her upper body was resting on it. Everything in the room seemed surreal to him.

"Will ten be enough my dear?"

"Mmmm, I should think so, Jubal," Kayla replied, seemingly unperturbed by the sudden turn of events at the dinner party.

Paul no longer wanted to be there, but there was something that kept him from rising from the table and leaving. It was a sudden unquenchable lust. He felt it in his throat. He felt it in his chest and he felt it in his loins.

Frank Downey stood up and tried to reason with Jubal. "Harshaw, for God's sake, we don't require any demonstration. We're all adults and ..."

Ignoring Downey's protest, Jubal reached down and pulled the hem of Kayla's blood red dress over her hips. Kayla wore nothing beneath it. The candlelight flickered on her gleaming buttocks.

The first slap caused Kayla's body to flatten out as she skidded halfway across the table leaving her derrière perfectly poised for the next smack. She never made a sound.

"That's enough!" Paul said, "There's no need ..."

"Be quiet, Paul," hissed Carol. "Don't spoil the fun. This is the main reason I came to this party other than the fact that I had too–-he is my boss, remember."

Paul's first thought was that Carol had lost her mind, but then he remembered she was Sarah's dominant other, and how much did he really know about her after all this time spent with her? Not that much. Not that much at all.

Joanna de Brito, virtually silent to this point, looked over at Paul and giggled. "It's nothing more than she deserves, Handsome." There was a gleam in her eyes that he hadn't seen since he'd played 'piano' on Sarah's clit with Carol looking over his shoulder.

Jubal's hand caromed off his wife's derrière and the very sound of flesh on flesh caused several spectators to wince.

"Four," fluttered from Kayla's mouth with an urgency that told the onlookers that she wanted Jubal to hurry–-that she was nearing a climax that would be denied her until the final blow was rendered.

Kayla yelped at the seventh strike. Paul saw the pain of the blow fleetingly register on her face before leaving it, somehow, utterly impassive except for slipping both hands under her chest and squeezing her own breasts as the spanking continued.

For his part, Jubal appeared totally unconcerned with his guests and how they felt about what he was doing. He dealt out the ten blows impassively, concentrating more on the reaction of his guests than his wife's painful moans.

Paul decided to take his leave. Carol could stay, probably had to, for she worked for Jubal, he didn't. But then the spanking ended. He found himself staring at the red hand prints on Kayla's lovely ass.

He felt himself nodding in approval as Jubal lovingly rubbed his hands over Kayla's red blotched derrière. His wife moaned as if wanting more.

Joanna protested, "Finish it, Jubal. Don't leave her like that!"

Jubal laughed. "Really ... you want me to finish her?"

Joanna nodded her head vigorously.

"Well then I for one cannot resist the plea of a beautiful woman." And, without taking his eyes off Joanna's face, he slid his hand between his wife's derrière and began caressing her.

There wasn't a person in the room that could mistake the sound his fingers made as they slid in and out of Kayla's sodden cunt. For her part, Kayla was panting like a bitch in heat–-which she undoubtedly was at the moment–-as she rode his fingers and pushed back against his hand, grunting with the effort.

Every woman in the room was dripping between their legs. Every man in the room had precum flowing from the eye of their cock. Kayla wasn't the only one grunting, for the room seemed an echo chamber filled with the sound.

Finally Kayla grunted twice in succession then shuddered causing the whole table to shake as the tidal wave of relief swept over her.

And it was over, just like that.

Kayla whimpered and pushed herself up off the table, smoothed a couple of stray wisps of hair from her face and primly pulled down her dress.

Jubal glanced at his fingers now slick with his wife's juices then looked out over the table at his guests. "Desert anyone?"

Paul was stunned to hear Mike Hunt call out, "Yes indeed!" Quickly followed by Maria Gonzales and Carol say in tandem, "Yes, thank you!"

Kayla smiled inanely and nodded her head as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

As desert was served, Frank Downey broached the subject that had led to Mrs. Harshaw's punishment. "So where do we stand on the previous question?"

"What question was that, Frank?" Paul inquired as he wiped at the corner of his mouth with a napkin.

"Mmmm, whether a woman can recognize her lover's penis from someone else's during lovemaking in the dark.

"There was some talk about rules," Mike Hunt threw in for good measure.

"Should we, or should we not take a vote on the matter?" Downey inquired.

"A show of hands?" This from Joanna, who received a scathing look from Miranda.

Kayla raised her hand. Jubal nodded at her, encouraging her to proceed. "Umm, it seems to me that before we vote we should make it clear as to what's being voted on, don't you think? I mean, here we are talking about penises, and the like, but no one's said how we're going to do whatever it is we intend to do."

Miranda leaped at the opportunity to steer the conversation in another direction.

"By all means ... Joanna calls for a show of hands. Kayla wants to know just what the women are committing to ... I'd like to know if you've all gone crazy?"

Paul now had a grin from ear to ear. Carol shot an elbow into his side, but he ignored the pain and kept smiling. This was beyond real he thought.

Maria threw the gauntlet down saying: "What it means Miranda, is that apparently some, if not all the women here want to get laid and I mean laid by more than one penis. I like the idea–-if done properly, which to me means at least one or more orgasms."

"Now that lowered the level," Frank Downey said with a grin.

"Fuck you, Frank," Miranda sneered, knowing she was obligated to go along with majority rule, and knowing it was going to go against her.

Mike Hunt called out, "I say let's vote!"

"Here, here!" Joanna shouted gaily, as a flush rose from her neck to her forehead, indicating her excitement.

"Sounds like a go," Downey said above the rising clamor. So to rules ... what say you all?"

Of all the men only Roscony had yet to utter a word.

Paul raised his hand and Jubal recognized him. "Go on Paul."

"Okay, as I see it, what's been proposed is a contest of sorts. Joanna hypothesized that a woman having sex with a man other than her husband should be able to tell it–-um, from the size of his penis, or rather the feel of his penis when it's inside her. I would add that there's probably other ways of telling, um, who's who as well. Familiarity for one and ... oh, let's just leave it at that. So we would probably: A. need to blindfold the lady. B. hold everyone quiet—how I don't know, and C. Again, the men must be selected anonymously. Perhaps by drawing lots after the lady is blindfolded?"

"Very good, Paul," Jubal said. But what about the woman? How is she to decide who's who?"

"She'd have to sample every man here–-no ringers from outside the room," Joanna said, red-faced.

Kayla jumped in, saying: "Then too we need a time limit for each man."

"Yeah, they're so durable," Miranda said scathingly.

Jubal jumped in partly to add his comments and partly to head off Miranda. "So let's see. We can draw lots among the men as to who goes first, second and so on. But let me put forth another question, or questions to you all.