An Evening with Friends 02: Theme Night

Theme Night

It was a week before we were due to visit Emma and David that I received my email.

'You are formally invited to Emma and David's theme night one week from today.

Gentlemen, your theme is formal wear. You should wear a black suit and bow tie.

You may share your theme with your partner, however, she will not share her

theme with you. Please do not ask.

You will not need a camera, as the evening will be recorded by our own video and

stills cameras, specially installed for the event.

You should arrive at 8pm. Your partner will be collected by taxi at 6.45 to prepare.

To help the evening go smoothly, we have volunteers to serve you.

We look forward to seeing you.

Emma and David.'

'Intriguing,' I said to Claire, 'I can't know your theme -- and mine seems rather bland. I half expected S and M.'

Neither of us were into pain -- except firm nipple squeezing and gentle spanking. We had tried the 'Fifty Shades' approach, like half the country, but it really didn't work for us. Gentle restraint was good. We liked handcuffs and bound feet. In truth, I loved seeing Claire with her legs spread wide, watching her get wet as I touched her and inserted whatever appropriately shaped objects I could find.

Once she asked me to see how much I could stretch her. I had asked why, and she told me that one day a baby's head might come out, and she wanted to know if she could stretch wide enough. I was unconvinced, so she told me that, in truth, she had seen someone 'fisting' on a porn video and wanted to know if she could manage it and how it felt.

We started gently, gradually creating more space, and I loved watching her cunt widen and return to its beautiful, tight self. We progressed to a butternut squash from the fridge (so cold she shivered, but said she loved the feel). I slid it in and out a few times, letting it gradually enter more deeply, making her writhe in the restraints and orgasm. This helped, of course as she became unbelievably wet, and her juices made her pussy as slippery as if she was coated in oil.

I next found a champagne bottle. It was broader and longer than the squash, and the narrow neck, sweeping out to the wider base helped. I inserted it to within an inch of the base, worrying in case her muscular spasms as it went deeper might break the thick glass. I had no real need for concern, of course, but the thought of damaging her delicate, most sensitive parts terrified me. Explaining it to the hospital would be interesting too.

After this, I removed my wedding ring (would hate to lose that inside her), and placed my fist against her slit, which had become a crevasse. I twisted, attempting to screw it in, and felt my knuckles begin to enter. Slowly, steadily, as Claire screamed and bucked with sheer euphoria, my hand entered, forced at first, then almost drawn in up to the wrist. Her lips closed firmly around my arm, and another hideous thought grabbed me: what if it got stuck. Try explaining that one!

It didn't, of course, and I withdrew steadily. Claire lay back, smiling.

'Ouch,' she grinned, 'that was ... interesting, but never again.' She lifted her head and giggled. 'Oh my god. Look at you.' My cock was massively erect and looked as if it could explode at any second under the pressure -- and not in a good way. Yet one more tricky thing to explain at the hospital:

'Well, doctor, we were experimenting, and my hand became stuck in my wife's vagina, then my testicles exploded, causing my penis to fly off and land on the light bulb, where it got severely burnt before I could retrieve it and put it with a cold butternut squash which ... er ... just happened to be nearby.'

Thankfully, it never happened.

'Undo me,' said Claire, 'You can't finish off in there. It'd be like playing a penny whistle in Madison Square Garden. Let me finish you off.'

I unfastened the handcuffs and knelt by her head. Her hands barely brushed my engorged purple glans before I came thick and fast, like a water cannon on her face and hair, then, once fear of drowning was past, into her mouth, great creamy globs of cum in her throat, being swallowed as fast as she could manage, and probably filling her stomach like a three-course meal.

Yes, it was exciting, and we were both turned on, but it wasn't something we wanted to repeat. Too many risks -- and personally, I like Claire's pussy just the way it is.

My thoughts returned to the forthcoming evening. There was no need to ask if we both wanted to go ahead with it -- we didn't need to discuss it to know we had both loved it and had alternately fucked hard and made love gently every day since -- more than once a day.

I had sorted out the photographs from our last swinging evening, selecting about a hundred favourites and cropping and editing (light, exposure and quality issues only) before forwarding them to our friends.

Claire and I had enjoyed our own private slide show, and I knew the other participants had done the same, it was gratifying to receive their feedback, and requests for some enlargements and framed prints for their bedrooms. I wondered if others outside our little group would end up seeing them, but, frankly, I didn't care.

Claire and I spent a while talking about my outfit and decided I should buy something along the lines of 'An Officer and a Gentleman'. Claire loved the white military uniform with the peaked cap, and had once got me to perform a striptease wearing it. My dancing is very limited, but she loved it and became incredibly horny. I hated the dancing but didn't care -- my reward was more than worth it.

That time, the uniform had been from a fancy-dress shop, and very poor quality. This time I would get a properly made outfit. Not identical, but close enough for everyone to make the link.

Over the following week, we both made shopping trips and spent more than we should -- I hoped swinging was not going to be as expensive a hobby as this event made it seem -- and eventually, I was satisfied with my look. So was Claire. She insisted that I perform my inelegant strip, while she watched, naked, one hand between her thighs, stroking, the other teasing her nipple.

Once I was naked, I had expected us to fuck, but she told me to stand back and watch as she masturbated herself to a climax, licking her fingers at the conclusion. She then told me to jerk off for her, standing close, while she brought herself to a second climax as I pumped my creamy juices onto her face. I always think she looks pretty with cum streaking her features and have often wondered if that's odd.

I was not allowed to see Claire's outfit, of course, and on the appointed evening, she was collected, along with a small suitcase, while I stayed behind to change and wait for the taxi which Jeff and I had agreed to share.

Jeff was as tense as I was. He had gone for the more staid outfit - black suit and bow tie - very James Bond. I couldn't help wondering what the taxi driver was thinking, both at our outfits, and our conversation.

'Have you got any idea what Claire's wearing?' started Jeff.

'None whatsoever,' I replied, 'I know it involved a shopping trip, and a lot of money, because I wasn't allowed to know how much.'

'I don't know if I'm excited or terrified,' Jeff went on, 'after last time, we know how it's going to end up, seems pointless buying anything to wear.'

'Yes,' I agreed, 'but it's how it all comes off that's important. The games were fun, but I think Emma's all about making it different. For her, it's an event rather than just stripping off and ...'

I suddenly realised that the driver was looking at us in the rear-view mirror and decided the less said the better. I nudged Jeff, who caught on quickly, and we both fell in to a very dull conversation about work, abysmal bosses and football, though with no real interest in any of the subjects.

Some fifteen minutes later, we arrived at Emma and David's rather impressive home. It was a miniature mansion, which they had bought following the death of both sets of parents within six months of each other. I had seen maybe half of it already, although Claire had been for the 'grand tour'. Apparently, it was incredible - large rooms which Emma had big plans for - a cinema, hobby room, games room etc. My house with just a photographic studio seemed very tiny by comparison - and Jeff's standard three bedroom detached must have felt like a garden shed.

We pulled into the circular driveway and prepared to pay, only to be waved away. The driver had been paid, and apparently given a very ample tip in advance. As he bade us goodnight, I felt sure there was a knowing smile. He probably guessed what was going on from our conversation - or maybe he had also delivered our wives earlier.

We rang the dfeswwwwwwwwsqay6 expected David to answer. Instead, the door was opened by a stunning, raven-haired girl, probably about twenty years old, wearing a maid's outfit.

Her black dress was cut incredibly low at the front, revealing several inches of cleavage, and the tiniest hint of darkening as her areola were barely covered. It barely covered her pert backside, allowing the silky curve to hint that she wore very tiny panties, if any, underneath. The outfit was completed by a white apron, frilly cap and the obligatory stockings and suspenders.

Jeff and I must have resembled goldfish as we took in her outfit, and her body.

She took control.

'Good evening, sirs, I am Marie, and I will be serving you tonight. Miss Emma and Master David are expecting you in the theatre.'

She turned, and we clearly saw the dark cleft between her buttocks. She wore the tiniest thong, and it was quite a feat for us to spot the piece of string which ran up the crack of her delicious ass, especially as we could only see about an inch of it.

She led us through a couple of corridors to a room towards the back of the house and ushered us in. We entered reluctantly, not wanting to give up the rear view of her, but happy to replace the crack of her ass with the crack of her cleavage as we entered, brushing her bosom as we did.

Marie led us through the hall into a long corridor, stopping at a door half way down. Again, she held the door and positioned herself so that we had to brush against her as we entered.

David was sat at a low table, reflecting his Scottish heritage in a kilt. He looked very stylish in full formal wear, his bow tie and white shirt beneath a black, short jacket, festooned with an excess of silver buttons. Below he sported a magnificent kilt (I had no idea which tartan), and a fabulous sporran.

He stood and shook hands with us.

'I see you've met Marie,' he greeted us, 'friend of Emma's. This is her 'thing'. She gets off on serving people while wearing that outfit. Loves the attention. She'll get involved later, no doubt, if you're ok with it?'

Jeff and I nodded. The idea of this beauty joining our beautiful wives was very appealing.

'Good,' continued David, 'the girls are ok with her, and just to warn you, her other half's in the kitchen. He's like her. Gets off on serving. They're our waiter and waitress. Like I said, they'll get involved, but only fuck each other. I suppose it's a very mild masochism mixed with exhibitionism. She'll tease non-stop. Don't worry though, I'm told we'll get to see the lot later.'

Jeff and I took in the rest of the room. The lighting was low, and at the far end, blocks had been set up to create a low, curved stage. Hanging just behind the front of the stage were heavy, velvet curtains. Clearly, we were in for a show of some sort.

'No idea what's going on,' stated David, as if pre-empting my next question, 'obviously a show of some sort, but Emma won't tell me a thing, 'Just wait and see', is the most I've got out of her all week.'

In many ways, what was going to happen was fairly obvious - our wives were going to perform - it was a case of how? Claire was no dancer, although I knew that Emma was, and Karen, with her slim physique might have been (though knowing Jeff, I can hardly imagine he would join in). It was intriguing.

Marie appeared again, bending low to offer an eye-popping view of her very ample bosom:

'What can I get you to drink, gentlemen? I'll be serving you this evening, and please feel free to ask for anything, as I'm sure our host has told you.'

She held eye contact throughout, almost daring us to drop our gaze to her body.

As she turned to each of us, however, we took it in turns to take in her breasts, which strained against her outfit as she bent, allowing the hint of darker skin previously on show to become a definite crescent. Our seats had been cleverly placed so that as she bent, the person she spoke to caught her eye, while one of my fellow guests got her boobs, and the other her ass.

'Please feel free to look at me,' stated Marie, 'I shan't mind.' She giggled prettily as she left to fetch our drinks, wiggling her backside as she left, followed by three pairs of eyes, taking full advantage of her invitation.

Suddenly, the lights went down, leaving just two spotlights on the stage. A young man walked out:

'Good evening, gentlemen,' he announced, 'please sit back and enjoy the show.'

'Marie's other half,' whispered David, 'fuck knows what's going on.'

The curtains pulled back, revealing Marie in her maid's outfit, now with a feather duster, pretending to dust around the stage, while her partner watched. Our wives stood off to one side, all in formal gowns stretching to the floor, and looking stunning.

Music started - Nina Simone - 'I just wanna make love to you.'

As Marie dusted, she moved closer to the young man, bending low to show her smooth, buttocks, then facing us and bending to show her magnificent cleavage, while he must have been loving the view of her ass. He reached out and touched it with his fingertips, prompting her to straighten rapidly and mockingly scold him. She turned again, once more presenting herself to him as the music seemed to read his mind.

This time, he grabbed a black string at the top of her dress. It fell apart, revealing maybe three inches of flesh on her back. He reached again, undoing the next tie, and the next, the dress now being open to the top of her buttocks, revealing a gravity defying strapless bra. He undid the final tie, and the dress slid down, leaving her in bra, thong so small it seemed almost not worth the effort and apron. Again she feigned embarrassment, which he dismissed, telling her to get on with her work.

She did, teasing with her bending and contortions, and I suspected both Jeff and David were as hard as I was, knowing what had to come next. Once more, Marie wandered close, and this time, her bra was snagged and removed. It fell away, leaving her magnificent breasts exposed. They barely dropped at all. They were certainly large, and totally natural, but her youth and attention to fitness had kept them firm.

Almost impossibly, it seemed, as she faced us, the straps of her apron covered her nipples. Either side, we could see the dark brown areolae, puckered and clearly defined on her skin as almost perfect circles, but still no view of the nipples in the centre.

Once more she acted as if shocked, and once more she was told to keep working. Still, as she bent and stretched, showing off both breasts and ass, we were denied a full view of the parts we craved above all. Even as she once more passed her suited partner, and he removed her thong, her apron teased and taunted, barely covering, yet frustrating beyond belief.

'It's burlesque,' whispered David, 'Emma loves it, she's been to classes.'

It registered with me now. Claire and I also loved burlesque - the concept of stripping from almost everyday situations, and the almost too sexy teasing as the layers came off. I glanced at Claire in her full-length black gown and wondered what was beneath it. She caught my eye and winked, probably delighted that I still had eyes for her as the young, gorgeous girl in just an apron, stockings and suspenders openly flaunted around the stage. Although the apron still hid her front, as she bent now, her pussy shone, slick, pink and wet as the lips parted each time she reached to the floor.

Finally, the young man found the bows of the apron within range and with a smart tug undid first the one at her waist, then the one at her neck, allowing the apron to fall and letting us see her breasts, fully exposed. Her nipples were rock hard cylinders, standing well over a centimetre long, and a similar diameter. Now the young man grabbed her, and bent her back, allowing him to greedily devour those nipples as she half-heartedly pretended to fight him off.

With a sudden movement, he flipped her over, presenting he buttocks for us all to see. At first, his touch was sexual, sliding a finger between her cheeks, opening them wide to show us the hairless brown hole which they had hidden. He inserted a finger into her ass hole as we watched, then went lower to the glistening pink vulva, now clearly displayed and framed by her buttocks at the top, and stockings and suspenders at the sides.

He pulled her lips apart, looking at us and winking lasciviously as he showed us the dark hole within. Then his hand withdrew, and he raised it purposefully, bringing it down with a resounding smack, which must have been painful, as it left a clearly defined red handprint. Again he spanked her, this time accompanied by a small moan as Marie expressed her pleasure in the pain which radiated from her glowing ass. Again and again he spanked her, her cheeks becoming redder and hotter with each reverberating slap.

It may seem odd, but we had almost forgotten the music - despite it being a magnificent song. Suddenly it changed. It was another favourite of mine - Sweet Dreams by Marilyn Manson - the reworked Eurythmics classic. It indicated the sudden involvement of our wives.

Together, they walked over, apparently outraged at the way this young maid had been stripped and abused. They lifted her up, her thighs now streaked with her juices as she was led to one side, and Claire and Emma pulled the young man to his feet.

While Marie knelt in front of him, they circled like predatory vultures, ready to exact punishment on this person who had so terribly 'abused' his maid. As they circled, a hand would periodically reach and undo his jacket buttons, until Claire stopped behind him and hauled off his jacket. With a smart pull, Karen removed his bow tie, before Emma went to work undoing his shirt. Claire, again, slipped the crisp, white top off his shoulders, revealing a hairless body and a perfect six pack.

Jeff and I shuffled a little as our wives ran their hands over this magnificent male specimen - David had his own muscles, and looked on appraisingly, maybe finding that his bisexual barometer was leaning more towards homo than hetero. A quick glance at Marie, however, quickly restored his balance.

Karen slipped off his shoes and socks (there are few things more absurd than a man standing naked apart from socks) while Claire unhooked, then slowly, lingeringly, unzipped his trousers. They fell away, leaving just his boxers covering an obviously erect (though thankfully very average) cock.

He was as near perfect a specimen of masculinity as anyone could hope for - muscles strong and well-toned, but not the bulging knots of an obsessive weight trainer; skin smooth and unblemished; face handsome and strong. If he had a ten inch cock, he would be every woman's dream.

Thankfully, though, he didn't. As Emma removed the final item, his very adequate six inches sprang out proudly. He was circumcised, leaving the purple head exposed, light catching a dribble of precum.

Claire and Karen went to Marie and led her to him - the roles reversed - he was now her servant. As we watched, she dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth. As she sucked, massaging his balls rather more roughly than necessary, our wives moved aside, watching them with poorly disguised lust.