An Evening with Friends 04: CFNM

It was an effort to drag my eyes from that top, but eventually I looked down, expecting to find something which could not compete. I was mistaken. Like Emma, she had chosen a mini-skirt, but this time it was denim -- distressed and frayed above sheer stockings and suspenders. It was, however, as she twirled that the real charm of this item became clear. The rear was frayed through on both sides, exposing her buttocks faintly between the horizontal threads. Better still, as she bent forward, allowing us to glimpse the tiniest thong beneath, the flesh of her backside pushed through making her seem more sexy than I would have thought possible.

It would have been an insult to these beauties NOT to have an erection.

Despite this, the first part of the evening was spent chatting -- perhaps not about the same subjects as most groups of friends, but in a light and humorous manner. Emma told us how the taxi driver's eyes had almost popped out of his head when she got in the car, and how she thought he was ready to shoot his load when David started fingering her.

'I was sat on the back seat, legs spread, while he's got two fingers in me,' she giggled, 'he must have seen everything. God knows how he didn't crash, cos he didn't take his eyes off the mirror for five minutes.'

Claire told them how she had got me naked in the park, and thanked Emma for the loan of her friends. I was intrigued, because I had suspected that Jeff and David had received similar treatment. However, this time it had been just me. I wondered if it had been Claire's idea of a bit of fun, or maybe a way of overcoming her rather dour mood at the start of the week.

It didn't take long, however, before the main part of the evening came to the fore. This time, Claire took the lead.

'Guys,' she started, 'I know we said CFNM, but we want to give you a chance. It's very simple. Dare cards. All of our names are written on the cards.' She held up a set of identical plain cards. We take turns to take a card, whoever's name we draw gets a dare. A dare is for one person alone, and can only involve people of the opposite sex. No more than one item of clothing at a time, and when you're naked, anything goes. Ladies first.'

We nodded our agreement, amazed that we were getting off the hook, and prepared to play. Claire drew the first card.

'Oh, look,' she smiled, 'it's you dear.' She held up the card with my name on. 'I dare you to take off your jacket.'

I did as I was told -- it was hardly a dare in all honesty -- and settled back.

The round progressed in a fairly standard way. All the ladies drew men's names and each of us removed an item. We knew it was tame, and just a nice slow build up, but it was better` than ripping our clothes of and saying 'let's fuck'. I think, in a way, it was this structure to our evenings which we all enjoyed, not least as it made everything random, and avoided any risk of pairing off. That could have seriously damaged marriages.

I had started to have suspicions about the game, as four consecutive male names were drawn, however, female names soon appeared, and it was not long before everyone was in underwear. I was not really sure if I was disappointed or relieved, but it did seem, after the boundary-pushing get togethers, this was rather low-key.

As I was reflecting, however, there was a sudden step-change in the game, as Karen drew a card labelled 'ALL MEN'. She made a show of thinking and reflecting, then suddenly, as if a blindingly brilliant thought had occurred, stuck her finger in the air and intoned:

'Got the perfect thing. I dare you all to not take another card, but to leave all the dares to the ladies.'

Of course it had all been a set-up. The cards were fixed, and now we had been totally stitched up.

Our initial shows of outrage quickly subsided -- after all, it had been the initial purpose of the evening -- and we resigned ourselves to being their playthings for the evening. At least they were in some very sexy lingerie, which offered us a lovely view.

Emma drew the next card and showed me my name. Again, this was an obvious part of the set-up, as she performed and am-dram version of thinking. I prepared to remove my underwear and expose my rather familiar erection to the collected group. Suddenly, like Karen before, an inspiration seemed to strike Emma. She looked me in the eye and said, firmly, like an executioner telling me to put my head in a noose:

'Go and open the front door.'

I began to protest, but she held up a finger to silence me.

'I dare you to go and open the door.'

It seemed a very bland dare -- opening a door in my boxers, so I stood, erection very obvious, and unhidden, and walked out of the room.

It was only as I opened the door, that a thought struck me, and as I opened it wider, I realised that my suspicions had been spot on.

Outside stood the two ladies from the car park, now dressed in their sexiest finery and smiling broadly.

The blonde one (Natalie, I think), smiled sweetly and looked me up and down, stopping as she spotted my erection.

'Oooh...,' she said, raising her eyebrows, 'you're already for us, I see. D'you remember us?'

I nodded, accepting that adding another two would hardly matter, if it was what the ladies wanted.

'I assume Emma invited you?' I acknowledged.

'Oh, no,' replied the dark-haired beauty (Marie?), 'Claire did.'

'Emma invited me,' a disembodied voice from the darkness announced.

From the side of the door, where she had been hiding, appeared a small, freckled redhead.

'I'm Jane. Lovely to meet you...' her eyes tracked down to now rather self-conscious bulge, '... lovely to meet you both.'

She had twinkling, green eyes, full of laughter and mischief, and could barely have been more than five feet tall, and her top revealed a magnificent expanse of breast. She was what I would describe as 'cuddly'. Definitely not excessively large, just well-rounded and very curvy.

I was just getting accustomed to having six women involved, when another voice piped up:

'And Karen invited me.'

From the other side of the door stepped another woman -- and what a woman.

She must have been six feet tall, definitely of African, or maybe Caribbean origin, and slim, yet toned like an athlete. She wore clothing which looked, to my untrained eye, like traditional garments. It was bright, colourful, patterned (a look which I loved). On top was a kind of tabard, open at the sides, which would, without doubt, offer tantalising glimpses of her small breasts. Below was a simple sheet of similar design, wrapped around, tucked in at the hip and rolled over to show the full, infinite extent of her leg, while the other side hung just above her knee. It curved gently between the two ends, and gave the impression that one pull would remove it.

She smiled broadly, white teeth gleaming and the depths of her eyes, such a dark brown that they were almost black, offered a gaze which was accepting and inviting. I guessed that whenever she entered a room, every head turned.

'I am Absco,' she offered, extending a warm hand for me to shake, 'it means 'one with an inventive mind'. Let's find out if it's true.'

She held my hand for a few more seconds, not releasing until the precise second when it became uncomfortable.

She spoke again, briefly:

'You can call me Abbie, if you like, though I prefer my full name.'

I swallowed, realising I felt a little intimidated by her, but knowing I needed to invite her back whatever happened tonight -- she would be a stunning photographic model.

'OK,' my voice warbled slightly, 'so it's Natalie, Marie, Absco and Jane. You'd better come in.'

I led the way back through to the living room, and as we entered, I saw David's and Jeff's jaws drop in shock and amazement.

I introduced our guests, and was about to organise drinks, when Claire intervened.

'OK, ladies, on with our game. The rules are simple. Take a name, give a dare. Only people in the room can be involved from now on. The dare is for one person only, but you can involve any of us ladies who want to be involved. Enjoy yourselves. It's not often we get three men to play with.'

She smiled at the 'friends' who had appeared, who were smiling broadly, except for Absco, who was looking at us directly and intensely, as if planning her strategy.

Claire then added, as an afterthought:

'Oh -- and ladies, can we ask you to strip to your underwear? We might want to make use of our victims in ways which mean minimal clothing for us will be helpful.

Without hesitation, our additional guests stood and undressed. Natalie had a wonderful body, slim waist, full breasts and a pert, firm backside. Marie too was slim -- maybe a bit too slim for my liking -- with small boobs and narrow hips, while Jane's breasts were exceptionally generous, above a role of excess flesh on her stomach, and a butt which was wide and puckered. All three wore the standard matching bra and panties, teamed with stockings and suspenders.

Absco, however, rather than simply pulling off her clothes and casting them aside, untucked her skirt slowly, with languid grace, unwrapping it to show a tiny, white thong, which almost dazzled against her deep black skin.

I had not expected her to remove the top, as the open sides showed no evidence of a bra, but with the same poise and grace, pushing her hips to the side, she lifted it up and over her head. Below, there was indeed no bra, just twinkling cones over her nipples -- glittering white again. Her breasts were very small, barely mounds, but my assessment of her as an athlete seemed accurate, as her body demanded attention.

As if reading my mind, she smiled, looking at me, and asked:

'Do you like?'

She raised her arms and rotated slowly to show us just how impressive she was. Her skin shone as if wet or smothered in oil, and her muscle tone was firm throughout, especially in her buttocks, which were superbly formed, and fully exposed. She was no classical beauty, but her attractions were undeniable.

She seated herself with the others, and I was aware that it was not only the men who had been transfixed by her performance. The women had too.

It took a few seconds before Claire broke the spell.

'Um... ok. Let's carry on.'

The chattering and whispering began again, as did the giggling, and the main event of the evening began again.

First Natalie drew David's name, and his cock was the first to be fully revealed, to applause and whistles from our audience. Next Jane drew Jeff, and his erect member was celebrated in the same way. Finally, Absco drew her card. She held it up to show that I was to be subject to her dare.

'Hmm...' she breathed, 'I dare you to let me remove your boxers.'

I swallowed. The dare was not much different to the previous ones, but that little twist suddenly set a challenge for the other ladies -- what can you add to make things just that bit sexier?

She beckoned me to her, and I approached, my rigid penis stopping barely a foot from her face.

Smiling, she hooked a finger in each side of my shorts, and slowly, but smoothly drew them down. What she did not do, was to pull them outwards, over the eight inches of rigid flesh within. Because of this, my cock was pulled down... and down... and down until it pointed directly at the floor. Only then did the root appear, followed by the shaft. It was, in truth, quite painful, crushing my balls beneath. Just as I feared the skin at my pubis might split, or my balls explode (and not in a good way) a purple ridge became visible.

By this point, all the observers were holding their breath, and the tension was electric -- when would my penis spring free? Still, there was no rush, and the waist band on my sensitive skin at this bizarre angle was unbelievably exciting.

Suddenly, without warning, I was released, and my penis shot up, like an ancient trebuchet firing its load. It actually slapped into my stomach, bouncing absurdly as many sets of eyes followed it, before coming to rest, maybe three inches from Absco's nose. I could feel her warm breath on it, and at that point wanted nothing more than to feel her thick, dark lips around it.

That was not the game, however, and as my undresser breathed out forcefully, deliberately blowing on my engorged penis head, Claire's voice cut through the laughter and applause, of which I was suddenly aware.

'You can sit down, now,' she half giggled, half shouted.

I turned, cock pointing at each woman in turn, like a sniper's weapon at a terrorist conference, before retaking my seat, where David's hand clapped my shoulder and rested there.

'Well done, mate,' he whispered, 'thought it might snap off or crush your balls.'

It seemed, however, that the ladies were not happy to pause, and this time it was Emma who spoke.

'Shall we dispense with the 'dares'? It slows things down and gets a bit juvenile. How about we use our position of strength to direct these guys? Just a reminder to our new guests -- there's a few things we don't -- no pee or poop, no severe pain -- light pain no problem,' she leered at us, 'and keep it fun. Some of us have to take these guys home -- we don't want them damaged.'

Karen interrupted. 'Right now, we need drinks, and we have three waiters. C'mon guys, seven wines, please -- and hand round the snacks.'

So we started our first duty, and I suppose it must have looked pretty absurd, had anyone been looking in from outside -- three naked men with rock hard erections carrying glasses of wine to seven ladies in the sexiest of underwear, then bringing round plates of food.

'I know!' Exclaimed Jane. We haven't got any plates, because our waiters have been rather lax. Perhaps we should use them as plates -- but,' she added with a twinkle in her eye, 'no hands!'

'Right, gents,' chipped in Karen, 'lie back, eyes on the ceiling, strictly no looking -- or who knows what might get bitten!'

We all lay back as directed, and I felt items placed on my body. Flat, moist things -- cold meats maybe, wet, oozing things (sauces?), flat dry shapes, round, warm greasy bits. Some applied singly, some poured on, some several at a time. My chest seemed to be the focus for the dry items, while my stomach rapidly became greasy and my cock was popular for thick, liquid sustenance. Things were placed on my legs, neck and arms.

I could tell from snippets of conversation that David and Jeff were getting the same treatment, and I gathered that some organisation was taking place as well.

Strangest of all was having no idea who was doing what, and the almost desperate need to look and see exactly what we all looked like now. My concerns on that front were only slightly allayed, when I heard a voice (Marie?) ask:

'Can we take pics? They look so tasty. I'd love to have a pic for future reference.'

I cringed slightly at the thought of someone other than our immediate group having naked photographs of me -- albeit I was fairly sure most of me was discreetly hidden beneath food.

'Of course,' said Emma, 'but if it's on your phone, no faces please.'

I was very relieved at this, and surprised that Emma was being so cautious, until she continued.

'Maybe later they can model for us and we'll get plenty of pics -- all sorts of pics,' she sniggered suggestively, 'and then we can leave nothing -- absolutely nothing -- to the imagination.'

I swallowed nervously, and just hoped there would be proper controls on our privacy -- although I knew that if any photos found their way out, we could take it further down legal channels if necessary. Not that I wanted to, nor would I say anything (partly not wanting to spoil the mood, but also not wanting to be forced to sign release forms in our current, vulnerable state.

The hands left me, and the clicks of camera phones lasted for a couple of minutes. At least I would be able see what I looked like.

Natalie's voice piped up:

'Shall we eat, ladies -- don't leave any waste.'

There was a brief pause as they organised themselves, then I heard movement very close to me and something touched my chest, like a butterfly landing and fluttering. As this left me, I felt a fine sprinkling, almost like rain, float down just below my shoulder. Crumbs, of course, probably from some pastry covered food. Next something similar happened around my stomach, and I felt my cock twitch and heard a giggle.

'The sausage roll's alive!' laughed someone -- Jane I guessed -- followed by laughs and giggles from our ladies.

I kept feeling nibbles, licks, lips closing slowly across my skin as food was devoured and my body was stimulated gently, especially as the ladies grew in confidence, and began to linger longer on my flesh and explore more intimate areas.

Whatever food item had been on my nipples was gently removed, and, presumably for the sake of tidiness, or cleanliness, a tongue returned, licking, followed by the warmth of a mouth, sucking gently and finally (and rather unnecessarily) teeth, nipping and nibbling around an area which I had always found extremely sensitive.

Gradually, the movements got closer to my penis. A tongue in my navel made me aware that someone's cheek was almost touching whatever covered my cock, and I wondered whether they would lick it off or take me fully in their mouths and suck me clean. With each thought, my member twitched involuntarily, causing fresh giggles and comments and raising my level of excitement.

Another mouth worked up my thigh, on top at first, then working inside, to where my legs met.

I almost jumped as an order was given close to my ear.

'Legs apart -- nice and wide.'

I recognised Emma's voice this time, and did as I was ordered, then felt gentle hands move me to the desired position -- feet flat on the floor, knees bent upwards, legs falling wide -- almost missionary position, had I been Claire.

The licking tongues returned to my inner thigh, working up to my groin. Hair brushed my balls and I heard a complaint that someone had something undesirable in their hair. The quick response was that there would be far more in there by the time we finished anyway.

As I gazed at the ceiling, legs appeared above me, and from the shape and the colour of the underwear, it was Jane. I could not see beyond the panties, due to her angle of approach, and her fuller stomach. As I looked, she said, clearly:

'I'm going to try a new angle. Should be interesting. Make sure he's looking up too.'

As I stared up, she moved back, slightly out of my eyeline, before I heard her drop to the floor. She shuffled forward before a knee and a fleshy, porcelain white leg appeared either side of my head. Still, she knelt up, and above me were her panties, damp -- wet actually -- sticking to the contours of her pussy, the details evident.

As I gazed at the green silk, moulded to her soft, fleshy cunt, it moved closer still, the scent of her juices coming to me in waves, musky, aromatic and exciting beyond belief. The urge to put out my tongue and lap at her pussy, like a dog drinking water was almost irresistible.

She bent forward, pressing her soft breasts pushing flat on my chest as her mouth went to whatever thick liquid sauce covered my cock. She lapped, at first tentatively, taking the liquid only, barely flicking my skin, then more confidently, her tongue tracing the outline of my cock, focusing on my pubis and avoiding the rigid tube for now.

Suddenly, I became aware that she had been joined by another mouth, helping her in her efforts to clear me of every last drop of whatever foodstuff had been poured on to me.

Suddenly, regrettably, my close up view of Jane's cunt ceased, as she lifted herself off my face. My disappointment was short lived, however, as it was soon replaced by another -- less fleshy lips, panties sunk deep into the soaking slit and a lighter, altogether more delicate aroma, pushed right down on to me, coating me with pussy juice, rubbing on my nose before bending forward to resume eating -- or drinking -- from my body.