Dionysus Retreat, The Invitation

For now, she decided to look up at the faces instead of down at the Speedos. Doing so took her eyes off the floor, and with wildly-turned up ankles atop five inch heels, Brandi almost tripped. Stuart's well-muscled forearm saved her. Brandi obviously was not used to wearing heels this high but tonight she had really wanted to step out. The stretch satin fabric of her tight-fitting dress over a shelf bra revealed distinct mounded crescents of three-inch areolas on her 38Cs but gave no hint of her large nipples atop those oversized headlights. Earlier that afternoon when dressing, Brandi had absently-mindedly taped down her thimble-sized nipples as she often did when going out in public. So far, only her husband, masseuses, and shower room girlfriends had seen the full effect of her magnificent tits. Perhaps that would all change tonight. In any case, given the toplessness all around the reception room, she only hoped she would have the chance to pull the tape off her nipples before her out-of-step modesty was noticed.

Brandi knew full well what it meant to seek initiation into an uptown sex club like the Dionysis Retreat. She and Joan had asked around all week, and they had heard rumors of wild parties, sex shows, wife swapping, and even interracial affairs. Despite all this, she had wearied of being totally modest. With her conspicuous tits trumpeting her presence every step she took, with brilliant full auburn hair flowing to her shoulders, and almond-shaped eyes, long lashes and eyebrows that never seemed to end, Brandi Westerholm remained at 54 an absolute knockout. In short, she was a mature version of the Ann Margaret look-alike she had surely been 30 years earlier.

Ball boys at Brandi's tennis club were always coming on to her. Transfixed by her toned curvaceous body, one had even dared to make advances at her recent birthday lunch. The tall handsome college boy had intercepted her when she excused herself to go to the restrooms. In a fern-lined private corridor out of sight, he brazenly suggested,

"Mrs. Westerholm, you've grown even better with age. Let me know if there's anything at all I can ever do for you. I'm at your service now, afterhours or whenever."

He had reached to touch her bare shoulder, and Brandi had momentarily lingered, but then pushed away, saying

"I'm twice your age young man. Believe me at 54 I'm really flattered by the thought, but be much more circumspect in the future. That type of language will get you fired around here."

Brandi wondered whether her girlfriend Joan had put him up to it. But the flutter she'd felt just anticipating the prospect of sex with a young virile male partner made her now wonder whether her very routine sex life should step it up a notch or two. Tonight, while at the Retreat, Brandi was determined to find out.

The Dionysis Retreat was a private uptown social club of like-minded couples and singles age 39 to 60 (with occasional exceptions). It marketed itself and recruited new initiates only by word of mouth. The members were invited to engage in open marriage events of group sex, wife swapping and watching, and cougar training with an emphasis on big cock sex. The Retreat operated discreetly so as to avoid offending non-members. Voluntary association and affirmative consent were scrupulously enforced principles, and disclosure, waiver, and privacy standards were carefully implemented at all Retreat events including the initiations underway this night. Two hot women (and their accompanying husbands) had been invited to play something the Retreat called the Cougar Game.

In addition to the Westerholms, two of their close friends, Joan Hockaday and her husband Brock, had also been invited to initiate their membership the same night. Pixie-sized and 53 years young, Joan arrived in a pale blue cashmere sweater with a bullet bra encasing her surgically-enhanced 34DDs. With her sweater buttoned half-way down to reveal massive cleavage, she looked like a glamorous movie star from the 50s, a Marilyn Monroe that didn't tower over her companion. The taut fabric of her matching cashmere pants revealed the outline of an elaborate waist cincher garter belt attached to hot pink nylons peeking out at her shapely ankles. Joan's 5'4" cheerleader stature was amplified by tall Lucite platform shoes with a six inch heel, almost as striking as the high-heeled boots in which Brandi was trying to negotiate around the reception room.

Stepping out of a black Town car that had been sent to pick them up, Joan's husband Brock felt like a million bucks with such an apparent sex queen on his arm. As they approached the Dionysus Retreat reception room, he suggested to his wife,

"Let's have a bang up good time tonight."

Joan intended to do precisely that. She couldn't tell if Brock had chosen those particular words intentionally, and she hadn't yet decided to bang anyone other than her husband, but she and Brandi were thinking about it. They'd have some sexual fun tonight any way. She decided to respond with a look of mock irritation,

"Ok, you devil, let's get in there and see where it goes!"

Many Retreat members came up to deliver welcomes and good wishes. Glamorous women in their mid to late 40s and 50s were everywhere. Some of the members were masked but others just came up and introduced themselves straight out. Strangely, male guests were in short supply. A few other husbands were present, but most of the women members were unescorted. Many tuxedoed male staff members were standing around however. Almost all of them were much younger, and all but three were black. Counting the staff and guests, perhaps twenty-five women, five husbands, two female staff members, and twenty male staffers were in the reception room.

Assuring the new initiate wives that they'd found the right place, many of the women approached Brandi and Joan with oft-repeated words like,

"Tonight will change your lives" and "This will be a night that you'll never forget!"

Instructions were given and then the Retreat members disappeared to ready themselves for the evening's initiations. Brandi and Joan were soon split apart from Stuart and Brock for separate briefings. The wives entered a garden room with water fountains and full-size classical statuary. The female figures were buxom full-hipped goddesses many with expressions of abject bliss on their faces. However, rather than divine ecstasy as in Italian Renaissance paintings and stutuary, some looked like they had just recovered from the throes of an orgasm. Others were wearing chesire cat grins like female clients in a well-studded brothel. Detailed genitals were much in evidence. No Rubens modesty gauze here. Instead, the female statuary had swollen pussy lips, taut nipples and even the occasional love bites.

After passing a full-size replica of Micheangelo's David statue, Brandi noticed that its shriveled half-penis from the Florentine original was missing. In its place was an engorged long thick phallus that hung down almost ten inches between David's thighs. Brandi and Joan giggled to one another. Next they noticed how many of the subsequent male statues were black marble with insanely large though still flaccid penises, like the one they had encountered in St. Lucia.

"Can you believe the size of that thing?" asked Brandi, nodding to one black statue with particularly fantasized proportions.

"Never would have if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes in the massage room last summer," replied Joan.

"You don't suppose that's why all these black studs are here, do you?"

"I was beginning to wonder about that myself," said Joan nervously.

Joan hadn't quite leveled with her friend. She knew the size of big black cock long before the massage room at St. Lucia. Joan had experienced bbcs in high school and throughout college. As a cheerleader it was almost mandatory. But, as it turned out, Brandi was not being truthful either. When her college boyfriend had spent Spring Break Junior year partying with (and presumably fucking) five cheerleaders, she had been hurt deeply and wanted to hurt him back. So, she went to the next formal (as prom queen of course) accompanied by the captain of the football team, a muscled handsome black athlete headed to the pros. The inevitable prom night hotel room scene then unfolded.

Once in private, Brandi had let Chet kiss her (and after a while she kissed him back). Next they smoked dope and kissed some more. Not noticing the white powder on the rim of her tumbler of bourbon, Brandi got really high really fast. Next thing she knew she had her lips wrapped around a black cock bigger than her boy friend's 9 x 2 incher. Ultimately, Brandi fucked Chet most of the night, in every position imaginable. In the morning, she felt sore in her crotch and touching herself found enormous quantities of dried sperm caked up all over her thighs, on her pussy lips, and still dripping out of her cunt. Terrified she might be pregnant, she fled to the bathroom shrieking that Chet had promised to use a condom.

"I did the first three times we got it on, but you've got a sexual appetite that just won't stop, Brandi. You wore me out for hours upon hours. Just finally got you to go to sleep a little while ago," Chet explained.

When Brandi emerged from the bathroom, Chet was gone. That was the last time they had 'dated,' and Brandi had never told anybody about the wild night of sex and drugs and her apparently unbridled passion. But Joan knew. Brandi just didn't realize Joan was also dating Chet all through college and getting it on with him regularly. He brought it up and confided that Joan's friend Brandi was being an ice queen around campus though she'd played the whore in his hotel room. So both women knew exactly what the masseuse's husband had between his legs. They both knew it well. Each had already experienced a big black cock between their own legs.

One thing the wives were told right away rather shocked them; women all women in the Dionysis Retreat were to remain fully exposed at all times while in the club, both above and below the waist. The corseted woman out front had just gone them one step better by losing her panties even for the reception. Privates were anything but private here.

"We didn't know about that, did we? Guess we're in for the real thing," Brandi whispered to Joan who was nervously unbuttoning and then rebuttoning her sweater to reduce the cleavage showing from her enormous chest. Brandi noticed and told her to stop fiddling. She knew the effect those magnified melons had on any male, and she could tell Joan was getting a little worried that they had perhaps bitten off more than they could chew.

For her part, Joan realized she hadn't really gone far enough when she had worn under her cashmere outfit Brock's favorite lingerie of see-thru hot pink bra, waist cincher garter belt and matching panty. This evening would entail even more extreme risk-taking. She needed to lose the panties. Joan had enjoyed exposing herself completely, even having sex, in front of Brandi and Stuart on vacation last summer, but she wondered about full frontal nudity everywhere they went during the initiation events. It did not seem like the two wife-initiates were being singled out. Every female member was going to be fully exposed as well. It all seemed fair, but she worried a little about so brazen an appearance in front of all these strangers.

And what about the black males on staff? Where would they be? Would they just inconspicuously freshen drinks and move away quickly? Or were all these tuxedoed black studs going to be posted about salivating over her total nakedness? She remembered from high school the effect her sexy body inevitably caused (even before her breast augmentation) among virile males with lots of pent-up testosterone. It wasn't pretty and could very easily get out of hand. One night she must have fended off the amorous gropings of seven different black athletes in the back of the bus on a long ride back from the Texas state football championship. And they had lost. Everyone said an orgy might have been allowed by the coaches, if they had won! Just the thought caused a little twinge of excitement and a throb went through her loins. The image of that long thick black cock hanging almost a foot below the massage table in St Lucia popped into her head again. Then a momentary sense of apprehension took over.

Before Joan's concerns could set in, the tall gorgeous woman with the nametag Sonia and wearing only a lace-up corset, a G string, and high heels approached them. She seemed to be acting as hostess. Sonia explained that Floor 2 contained facemasks and many costumes Brandi and Joan could select from while still complying with the full exposure rule. Somewhat relieved, the wives headed to an elevator marked "Costume Design Shop, Floor 2."

Their husbands were instructed to wait below on Level 1 and get measured by a tailor who stepped forward with a grin. Only when signaled to do so, could the husbands move up the staircase to watch the proceedings on Floor 2 through two-way glass wall panels. In a special function room off the main reception area, each man was measured for all sorts of garments and for other things.

"Did that guy really just put his tape measure across the length of my stiffening cock?" asked Stuart.

"Did mine too, then he recorded it on a pad. I'm glad there are sex videos playing on the wall screens over there or he'd have gotten an embarrassingly short measure," replied Brock. He thought he'd recognized the actress being mounted from behind by a black stud as the woman who appeared to be acting as hostess and master of ceremonies for the evening. Turned on, he asked Stuart,

"Say, isn't that the knock-out we saw earlier who appeared at the reception in a corset?"

"I thought so as well. It's hard to believe she's a porn actress. Did you see all those sex toys in the cases? We need to take some of that stuff home with us."

Somewhat inexplicably, the wall cases were filled with enormously proportioned dildos of various hues as well butterfly and rabbit vibrators, all designed to pleasure women. A few G-spot stimulators and anal probes were mixed in, but everywhere the theme was gargantuan male sex organs. One enormous realistic cock dildo was installed on a doorknob where it impaled a full-size love doll dressed in a black lace garter belt and ultra sheer black thigh-highs. A cream-colored realistic dildo was stuck in her mouth and a black butt plug peaked out of her ass. The husbands had never before wondered about love dolls that were advertised on the Internet as an effective substitute for a real woman. On the one prominently displayed apparently for their benefit, all the orifices seemed to work, so maybe in one sense, they were an effective substitute. It was curious, and as the Cougar Game designers intended, a first question had been raised in the minds of the two husbands. If everything went according to plan, Stuart and Brock would soon have another descriptor that applied; they would be cuckold husbands.

A second question had been nagging at Stuart and Brock for several minutes. Neither wanted to raise it with the other, even though their wives were best friends. Each wondered why everyone around the Retreat seemed to be so fixated on large penis size. They were about to find out.