Book Club Orgy

Patrick had the hardest time of them all pondering what to wear. Unlike women, who had a never-ending panoply of options to choose from that went from sultry to downright slutty, men's options were much less diverse. So, after much thought, and trying to mix sexy with some humour, he bought an overblown wig and dressed like an eighties member of Mötley Crüe.

The party was at Christine's house, and Tori arrived first.

"Wow, we should hit a club after our readings," Tori said.

Christine nodded, "We'd definitely get some attention," she said, admiring Tori's flapper outfit, and thinking she too should have bought some thigh highs. They were so much sexier than pantyhose.

"You look amazing, "Tori said.

"You do too," Christine said. "And I love the thigh highs."

"I used to wear them all the time for quick access," Tori said, recalling her wild past.

"Makes sense," Christine nodded, thinking if invited, she could just crawl between Tori's legs and go directly to the source.

The doorbell rang, and Christine went to answer it. "Nice," she said, as she admired Patrick's outfit, the majority of his hairless and ripped chest in view... she might be into girls recently but she wasn't a complete lesbian, as confirmed by the tingle she felt in her pussy.

"You too," Patrick said as he checked out the sexy maid outfit... with nylons. Shit, she'd be making him hard all night.

"Come on in."

Patrick followed her inside, admiring the seam down the back of her pantyhose... it really was going to be difficult tonight not to remain hard the entire time.

Tori saw Patrick and said, "Wow Patrick, you can rock me like a hurricane."

"Wrong band," he said.

"Then you can pour some sugar on me," Tori said, admiring Patrick's amazing pecs... at least the generous portion that was visible.

"Nope," he said. "That's Def Leppard."

"Oh, oh, oh," Tori said, finally realizing which band he was dressed as, "You can kickstart my heart."

"Because you got the looks that kill," Patrick returned, as he admired her outfit and the sexy thigh high stockings... this would definitely be a night of temptation.

"Well," she smiled, as she sauntered over to him, "Are you going to be my Doctor Feelgood?"

Get a room," Christine said, shaking her head and then adding, "no wait, this is my place; don't do that."

"Oh, we could always include you in a threesome," Tori smiled.

"You really need to get laid," Christine sighed, as she poured wine for the three of them.

"That's what I've been saying," Tori agreed, as the doorbell rang again.

"Don't start doing anything you shouldn't be doing until Tracy and I get back," Christine teased over her shoulder, as she went to get the door.

"No promises," Tori teased back, all sing song.

Patrick quietly sipped his wine, careful to speak as little as possible during these flirty interludes, which had always been there, but never like during the past few meetings... each of them naughtier than the one preceding it.

Christine opened the door and smiled, "Nice."

"Wow," Tracy the zombie bride said, checking out Christine's maid outfit.

"I'm here to serve, ma'am," Christine said playfully, curtsying.

"Don't tell Tori that," Tracy warned, following her into the living room.

"Don't tell me what?" Tori asked.

"Nothing," both Christine and Tracy said in unison.

"Fine," Tori shrugged. "And you pulled it off, Trace. I can leave that string bikini in my car."

"Good; I was worried about that," Tracy smiled, feeling sexy.

"Now that we're all here, let's get right to it," Tori said.

"Are we really going to do this?" Tracy asked.

"Definitely" Tori nodded. "I'll even go first."

"I'll definitely need some of that wine," Tracy said.

"To loosen up those horrid inhibitions," Tori smiled.

"I may need my own bottle if I'm going to possibly share the fantasy I wrote down," Tracy said.

"Whatever it takes," Tori said, as Christine filled everyone's glasses.

Patrick was trying not to constantly look at the excessive legs on display in nylons and feet in nylons, as all three women lounged around in their shoeless, stocking-clad feet.

"So," Tori began, as she sat on a couch, picked up a few sheets of paper, and stretched out her long legs onto the coffee table to give Patrick a good view of them. "Here's my fantasy."

"We're all ears," Christine said, sitting down beside her, and also displaying her shapely nylon-clad legs on the coffee table.

Patrick sat in a chair, needing to adjust himself as he did.

"I saw that," Tori said immediately.

Patrick shrugged, figuring they'd obviously all agreed to wear nylons just to tease him, "Saw what, that you gals are making me hard? What do you expect? Three hot women in nylons is like the start of every teenager's ideal porn movie."

"It needn't be imaginary, big boy," Tori teased, wiggling her toes.

"Just read us your fantasy," Christine said, as she admired Tori's legs and Patrick's chest from her current position, as well as Tracy's huge tits... with obvious nipples... sitting across from her.

"Wellllll," Tori began. "In this fantasy, Kevin... the hot student I told you about who calls me a MILF and wants to act on it... walks into my class after school and closes the door."

"He locks it, I assume," Christine said.

"Of course he does, but shush; this is my story."

"Sorry, sorry," Christine apologized. "Go on and begin reading."

<Note to reader: I'll enter each fantasy in bold, and then return to non-bold when the fantasy fantasy ends, and we return to the overall story as if it really happened and isn't a fantasy, which it actually is. Make sense? Oh well, too bad.>

"Mrs. Parker," Kevin startles me as unannounced, he enters my classroom, closes... and locks... the door, and begins walking up the aisle towards me.

"Yes, Kevin?" I respond, looking up from my desk, unable not to notice his suave, smug smile as he approaches my desk.

'You wanted to see me," he says.

"No, I didn't ask for you to come see me," I deny, confused.

"Oh, yes you did," he disagrees, reaching my desk, his voice dripping with confidence.

"No, I really didn't," I say, not catching onto what he was implying.

"You ask me constantly with your lustful eyes."

"Excuse me?" I ask, catching on but still playing dumb, even as I feel my cheeks flush, giving me away.

"Don't play the fool, Mrs. Parker; it's not becoming coming from someone with your intellectual stature," he says.

"Then yes, I do take your meaning; and thus I need you to leave this room immediately," I say, sensing this would otherwise get out of my control quickly. Having no dick inside me for over half a year has me already getting wet, just from having a reportedly well-hung 18-year-old standing before me with a tent in his pants.

"I'm sorry," Tori interrupted herself. "Am I getting too graphic?"

"Not at all," Tracy (of all people) replied.

"As far as I'm concerned, you're welcome to get as graphic as you like," added Christine.

"Patrick? Are you good?" Tori added.

"So long as you're good with a tent in an additional guy's pants, I am."

"Okay then, I'm hearing everyone's permission to describe whatever I like to you guys. So here goes..."

"I need you to help me with a problem I have," he says.

"What's that?" I ask, as he strolls around my desk so his crotch is now right in front of my eyes.

"Mmmmmmmm," Christine said, imagining her boss doing the same to her.

"It's actually too hard to explain," he says with two meanings, unzipping his pants. "It's better if you take a look. Just clinically, of course."

"Kevin, that isn't appropriate," I protest, even as I stare at the unveiling of Kevin's cock and the satisfaction of my curiosity about its size. 'Satisfaction' being an apt term, since its size is... well... quite sizeable.

"You've wanted this dick all semester," Kevin tells me. "Don't pretend otherwise."

"Kevin, I..." I begin, before freezing as his thick, seven-plus-inch cock is suddenly standing within a few inches of my face. "Oh my God!"

"I can see you like it," he says as he strokes it right in front of me.

"It's so big compared to my husband's," I blurt before thinking, staring at it in lustful awe.

"Stroke it, Mrs. Parker," he orders.

"I don't know if I should," I hesitate, even though I want to do lots more than just stroke it.

"That wasn't a question, Mrs. Parker, it was an order."

Tori changed the pitch of her voice, so it was easy to tell who was saying what in her story/fantasy.

"This is so wrong," I say, even as I obey him and take the fat snake in my hand.

"And yet it feels so right, my pet teacher."

"It's just so big," I say, stroking it, even though I can't completely wrap my hand around it.

"Suck it slut, suck my big cock," he orders.

I can't believe he'd just called me a slut, nor can I believe I have his actual cock in my hand, nor can I believe my pussy is soaking wet, as I mindlessly obey him and take his fat cock into my mouth... stretching my mouth so wide.

"I bet you could take a big fat cock in your mouth," Christine said, the brightness in her eyes and the flush in her face making it clear she was getting turned on by the story.

Tori replied, looking directly at Patrick, "Oh, I think I could devour the right one whole."

Patrick's cock flinched quite visibly in his tight jeans, yet he resisted a flirty comeback.

I bob on that cock slowly, getting used to the way it stretches my mouth, wondering whether he's going to shoot a load into my mouth, onto my face, or perhaps he'll even slam that pussy-stretching dick right into my needy pussy... which he answers a moment later as if reading my mind.

"That's it, slut," he groans, "get my dick nice and wet for that pussy of yours."

"Mmmmmm," I moan wordlessly around his fat dick, letting him know I'm more than ready to take this dick in me.

After another minute, while I'm taking six inches of his dick in mouth, he pulls back and orders, "Bend over your desk, Mrs. Parker, it's time to teach you a lesson."

"A lesson? What do you think you can teach me?" I ask as I obediently stand up, bend over my desk and tremble as he lifts up my dress.

"For a start, that my pet sluts don't wear pantyhose; they always wear stockings," he scolds, slapping my ass.

"Sorry," I apologize, my facial cheeks burning with shame, while my ass cheeks burn with pain.

He rips a massive hole in my hosiery, tugs my panties aside, and places his dick against the entrance to my soaking wet pussy. He then orders, "What do you want, Mrs. Parker?"

"For you to fuck me," I answer with feeling, as he teases my pussy lips by rubbing the tip of his dick up and down against them.

"Beg for it, slut," he snarls, as he gloriously slams into me, but then horrifically pulls out just as quickly.

That's all it takes. I just have to have that cock back inside me. I beg, "Please slam that big dick in my wet pussy; I need it so bad."

"Tell me more," he says, fucking me wonderfully hard for three deep strokes, but then once again pulling back out.

"Please, Kevin, make me your bimbo teacher slut," I beg, willing to say or do anything to get that fat cock back inside me.

"This cunt is mine," he proclaims, at last beginning to fuck me hard.

"Oh yes it is, fuck me, make me your teacher slut," I moan, my orgasm rising at a runaway train's pace.

"I'm going to come in your pussy and breed you," he declares, as his groans get louder as do my moans.

"Yes, do! Fill my cunt with your cum," I moan, not at all worried about the risk of getting pregnant, even though I'd never gotten my tubes tied... my useless husband, back when he'd actually cared, had gotten snipped instead.

"You have my leave to come, bitch. Come on my dick," he orders, as he slams into me so hard my desk skids loudly a few inches across the floor.

"Oh yes, fuck," I moan, my orgasm about to erupt.

"Now, slut, come... right... now," he orders, just as he shoots his potent load deep inside me, which triggers my orgasm.

"Yesssssss," I scream, as my entire body quakes through my first orgasm from getting dicked in years!

"Shit, that was hot," Christine said, as she tossed back the remainder of her second glass of wine.

"I can't believe you wrote all that hot stuff," Tracy said, the story having turned her on, and gotten her thinking she definitely wanted to encourage her personal trainer Joaquin to do something like that to her in real life, not just in her fantasies. She'd never been a submissive per se, more like just a willing slut, but she now loved the idea of giving a man total control of her after reading and discussing Fifty Shades, and now listening to this wicked story.

"Clearly you need to get laid," Christine said.

"Clearly I do," Tori agreed, again looking directly at Patrick, who looked so fucking hot tonight with so much of his muscular chest and abs on display.

"I need some more wine," Christine said, and looked around to see that everyone's glasses were empty. "Looks like we all do."

She went to her kitchen to grab another bottle, then came back to pour drinks for all of her guests... realizing her costume made performing this service ironic.

Patrick said, "Thanks."

"Your humble maid is simply here to serve," Christine joked.

"I just bet you are," Tori quipped.

"You wish," Christine shot right back.

"Yes, I do wish for that," Tori agreed, then after a beat she added, "So who's next?"

"Not I," Tracy said.

"Patrick, then," Christine decided.

"Why not you?" Patrick countered, nervous to read the story he'd written.

"Because it's my house, my rules," Christine shrugged.

"That's not very hospitable," he joked, as he pulled a few pieces of paper out of his trouser pocket.

"Read," Tori ordered.

"Fine," he said, shaking his head. "This isn't as detailed or as nasty as Tori's."

"If it gets too boring, we can add some details for you," Tori teased.

"Then why don't you just write it for me?" Patrick complained.

"Just read," Christine said, her pussy still quite wet from the first story, and looking forward to hearing another.

Patrick sighed, "Okayyyy... here goes nothing."

I was mowing my lawn when Erica pulled into her driveway. She opened her trunk to a bunch of groceries, so I asked, "Need a hand?"

"Sure, darling," she said, dressed in a fun flowery dress and mocha-colored pantyhose... which made her dark black legs glimmer.

I grabbed half of the groceries and followed her inside. I placed the bags on the table in her kitchen, and she offered, "Thirsty?"

"I little," I said, wiping a little sweat off my forehead. The day was 90 degrees, and the sun was pounding.

"I bet that sun won't be the only thing getting to do some pounding," Tori interjected, thinking she'd happily spread her legs for him.

"Hey, this is my story," Patrick objected.

"Sorry, just saying," she shrugged.

She poured us each a cold lemonade and said, "Thanks for the help, you sweet man."

"Oh, it's no problem," I said, automatically glancing down at her nylon-clad legs and feet as she slipped out of her heels.

"Sorry, but my feet are killing me," she apologized.

I offered, "They are? I can give you a foot massage if you wish."

"Really?" she asked, surprised.

"Yes, I've taken some reflexology courses, so I not only know how to massage sore spots away, but also how to make all your various organs and other parts of your body feel better just by addressing your feet," I said, which is true.

"Why have you never told us that?" Tori interrupted again.

"Yes, my feet are always sore after a long day at the bank," Christine added.

"I always love a nice foot massage," Tracy said, something her husband had used to do back in the good old days.

"I'll give you each one if you wish," Patrick offered, administering three hands-on massages to these three hot nylon-clad women being a pretty inviting idea.

"Me first," Tori said.

"Me second," Tracy said.

"Let him finish the story first, you vultures," Christine said, before adding, "and since I'm hosting, then I'm the one who gets the first massage."

"Bitch," said two soft female voices in unison.

So, we went into her living room, I sat down on the couch, and she sat down, placing her feet in my lap.

I massaged her feet for a few minutes as we chatted about life, before she asked out of the blue, "So Patrick, you have a nylon fetish, right?"

"What? Um, what?"

"You're pretty obvious about it," she said. "My last boyfriend had one too. That's why I started wearing them every time I could."

"They do enhance a woman's legs," I said.

"Agreed," she nodded. "They really help at work, too."

"I bet," I said. "I bet those tips just come flying in."

"Exactly. Ever had a nylon-clad foot job?" she asked, as she moved a foot to my crotch and rubbed my hard-on through my shorts.

I groaned, "Nooooooo."

"Mmmmmmm," she said, as she spun around and fished out my cock, "I bet you'd really like one."

My eyes went wide as this black beauty grasped my cock and said, "Such a nice cock," before she took it in her mouth.

I groaned, as a woman other than my wife took my cock in her mouth for the first time in over two decades, and nobody at all had for five years.

She bobbed for a couple minutes before she backed away and wrapped both of her nylon-clad soles around my throbbing cock and said, "Relax and enjoy, Patrick."

"Okay," I agreed, in awe of both the feeling of her nylons feet on my penis, and who was doing it... someone half my age.

"It's either a dick or a cock," Tori interrupted his reading for the third time.

"Unless it's really small," Christine added. "Because small ones aren't very sexy and neither is the word 'penis'.

"It's not small," Patrick informed them.

"So give us some specific details in your story, and call things by their appropriate names," Tracy added, just like the other two, curious to know how big their lone male was.

"So size matters?" Patrick joked.

"Definitely," all three responded in unison.