Mona Lisa: What Happens Next

SonofCallicious wrote a fascinating story called Mona Lisa, which I urge you to read, with elements of Frank Stockton's The Lady or the Tiger and its lesser known sequel, The Discourager of Hesitancy. I added a second perspective, Mona Lisa: Phoebe's View, with his permission. This tale tells of their next encounter, again with his permission and encouragement.

***

I hadn't been able to think about very much for the last few weeks except that hot encounter at Helen and Tommy's home when my two friends and our three husbands had had a night of absolutely amazing sex. None of the three of us wanted to talk about it until we'd taken it all in, and for myself that experience wasn't working its way through my head very quickly. You see, what happened was that the boys hadn't known which of us they were making love to, and we had promised never to tell them. They had been blindfolded quite thoroughly and couldn't be sure. Richard thought that he was sure that his partner was one of the other women, Liz or Helen, because they shaved and I didn't - until that day - but I let him know after that I had shaved as well, putting him back with three candidates. That was only possible, of course, because Helen, Liz and I were of a size and quite similar. We'd done our best to cover over any differences, and the rules forbade kissing or touching above the shoulders which could have disclosed our identities right off as we didn't do our hair the same way. Of course, they couldn't see differences in eye colour and hair colour, but they could tell whose hair was longer and the texture was different, too.

From bits and pieces we overheard, none of the lads was at all sure who he'd been with and speculated endlessly on who it might have been. Their speculation didn't reduce their pressure on us to try it again, this time with somewhat different rules. I was for it since there had been something more to it than just mind blowing fantastic sex, though that was a major attraction as well.

"God, Phoebe," Helen smirked at one of our gettogethers - the three of us used to get together at least weekly, and more often since that adventure - "you're positively shameless, and you used to be the reserved one."

"I'm sure I was quieter than Phoebe," Liz commented, "though I wouldn't mind another try, either. There was something extra to it above and beyond what I get at home. Though that's certainly adequate and very pleasing, too," she added quickly. All three of us had very satisfying sex lives in our marriages, and were quite in love with our husbands. We did agree that our little adventure into naughtiness had been above and beyond our expectations. Helen had convinced us to try it as a way to stop the boys from pushing us so hard, though that hadn't been the result. Not only the lads were eager for another go.

"I do wish I had a better handle on what it meant," I added. "I'm reluctant to just rush into another session if it's going to have the same effect without having some feel for what it all means."

"I don't know if we can get that. Ever think that maybe we need another day of debauchery to put everything in perspective?" Liz asked plaintively.

"No," I replied. "We may need another day of debauchery but I doubt that it will resolve anything for us."

Helen laughed. "I suppose not."

The next time we sat down together, Helen reported that she and Tommy had talked about the idea of a repeat performance.

"The boys are up for it, of course. When are they not? However, they want a change in the rules. Not all of them. Just one, actually, and only part of it."

"That should be doable," Liz burbled, clearly pleased that progress was being made.

"Which one?" I enquired warily. Richard could be devious, and I suspected Tommy and Arthur had similar outlooks. It was what kept them as friends, after all.

"Er," Helen seemed a little reluctant, or confused, or was she . . . excited? "The one about the lads being blindfolded."

"No." I was firm and decisive. "Too much damage can result if we all know who's with who. You know that, Helen."

"It's not quite like that. You see, it's us they want blindfolded."

"That sounds suitably tantalizing," Liz commented. "Just think, the idea of making love with a person when you don't know who it is, and never will."

"My thought exactly," Helen replied. "Phoebe?"

"I'm not happy about it, but turnabout is fair play. All of our lads have told us how arousing it was to be making love with one of the women of their dreams, but with no idea as to which particular woman was involved. I imagine I could enjoy that part."

"Right. The same condition, that none of the men is to ever reveal who was their ultimate partner, applies. So, are we all agreed, then?"

"Yes" came from both Liz and me. I was a little less enthusiastic. Liz was agog at the idea. She'd lost a lot of her shyness since the last time.

"Do you know what they're planning to do to eliminate their differences?"

"Not as such. They are much of a size, after all. They are all going to use Arthur's scent - the one that comes in a bottle, and don't the two of you be looking at me with that little grin. Arthur offered to provide the other two with penis prosthetics but they said they refused to deprive him of anything he needed.

"They're all much of a size," Liz commented. "I don't see why any of them would need a supplement, not that there aren't larger cocks in the world. Mine does me quite well, thank you."

"Men are little boys at heart, Liz. They're playing," I explained.

"Well, they'd better grow up if they intend to be daddies one day."

"Oh, Liz, are you . . .?" Helen asked.

"Not yet, but we're going to start trying, now that Arthur's thirty. I'm going off the pill next month."

"So, if we want to do this, we don't have much time," Helen concluded.

"That's right," I said. "Richard and I will likely follow along in a short time. As a matter of fact, if we do do this, it could mark the start of all of us going after families."

Helen looked intrigued.

"Perhaps it could, at that. I'll let the boys know we're agreeable, and perhaps we could have it happen next time we get together, at Casa Arthur and Liz. All right with you, Liz?"

"Certainly." It couldn't be at our place because it was still summer and we'd want to play in the pool if we could, and Richard and I didn't have a pool. We did have a lovely fireplace, which made a lot more sense in our climate, which is why we tended to host more in the fall, winter and spring.

Finally the fateful night was at hand and Richard and I made the trek over to Liz and Arthur's home in the car. We could have easily walked it. It is just over three blocks, but neither of us wanted to be seen bearing burdens that looked like we were camping out in their backyard. I had my little but elegant overnight bag with me and Richard had a garbage bag full of whatever he was supposed to provide. I could see it was more bulky than heavy, but apparently the lads had put in a fair amount of mental effort to make this a memorable experience for us. For them, too, I'm sure, but they were a caring lot.

It was a late summer evening, but still it was warm enough to really enjoy the pool. Possibly the last warm evening we'd have. Today, like our last adventure, was a pleasantly warm, sunny day, with just enough of a breeze to keep one cool in the sun. The six of us played about for a bit in the water, with the lads enjoying the view of the women each wearing a small two piece bathing suit, and we women enjoying the play of muscles in our men's skins and some rather hard, round bums, too. Nobody outright complimented anyone on his or her looks, but the heated glances made it clear everyone was more than acceptable.

Nothing overt or untoward happened in the water, although I must say there was more physical contact amongst us than was normal, with brushes of arms or legs, and there was a heightened sense of anticipation in the joking and comments. Maybe it was a little more sensual than usual. Liz almost lost her top at one point, and from the pout it looked like she wasn't all that happy it had only been almost. I stared a calming look at her, since having an outright orgy in the pool hadn't been in anyone's plan. Perhaps another time.

Dinner time came and we all got out of the water and toweled off. No one went into the house to dress. We all remembered Helen's words from last time: "After all, there is no point in changing our clothing when it won't stay on long anyway, now is there?" Made us all want to get to the afters.

The lads enjoyed seeing us in our bathing suits and they were a treat themselves. Our nipples were pressing out the thin fabric of our tops, which had all the boys staring, as it should have. It wasn't a cool breeze that caused our nipples to poke out, though, but remembered passion.

Arthur had hamburgers cooking on their barbeque and it wasn't long before we were all ready to eat. We sipped at white wine, while the men each had a Smithwick's in front of them. Arthur never served Guinness, which he always claimed was an English something or other, though he'd drink it fast enough. All of us were careful not to overimbibe. We'd all learned that there were no moments that we wanted to forget, from Liz, in her unaccustomed two-piece, to Tommy, in his baggy suit, to the light smoke rising from the coals under the barbeque grill.

When we had all eaten and drunk our fill, Arthur pushed his plate back and picked up an empty bowl. He set it in the middle of the table, then passed a small slip of paper and a pen to each of us women. "Right, now this is how this is going to work. You will each write your name on your piece of paper, then you will fold it carefully in half and drop it into the bowl. We will each draw a name. We men have agreed we will never reveal to anyone whose name we have drawn, because we don't want any jealousy to spoil our friendships. Can everyone agree there will be no hard feelings or repercussions after this evening?"

We all looked at each other and nodded. After all, for whatever reason there had been no fallout at all from our last little adventure.

Arthur must have been watching.

"Hey, what's this?" He'd seen one of the names that had gone in face up, and checked the other two. "Who is Zoë? Who is Selina? Who is Nazli? I suppose you can use pseudonyms, but it doesn't help us choose if we don't know who is who."

"That will be for you to figure out," Liz told him.

"Well, our first choice for picking partners had better work out, then."

There was a ton of speculation hanging over the men. You could almost see them calculating the odds as to who would get whom. They already knew it would be worth it. Unlike last time, when they couldn't know which woman they'd have, this time they would know and we wouldn't. The change brought out traits of possessiveness that they hadn't expected. I guess to the male mind it's one thing to shag someone else's wife and a great deal different to have someone shag your own wife, right in front of you as it were. On the other hand, they'd each had this strange fantasy of wanting to make love to a different woman who was almost a duplicate of the woman they already had. Perhaps it's something like wanting to make love to twins, another fantasy I don't quite understand.

From our point of view it was exciting to think of taking on a strange man, who wasn't so strange that we didn't know him, but unknown in the sense that we'd never know which of them he had been. The last time we'd been able to control the choice of men. If you believed that bit about the names in the bowl I do pity you when you find out the truth about the tooth fairy. After all, we might have been stuck with our own husbands, or not, as the case may be. This time we had no place in the choice at all, and were bound to join with a man we hadn't chosen. There was a touch of thrill in it, of course, and whoever I ended up with would be completely acceptable, but really I'd much rather choose myself. I don't really enjoy feeling helpless.

Liz was certainly eager, but I think Helen felt more like I did, as she was normally a take charge type.

"So let's get on with then, shall we?" Arthur invited. "As we have agreed, the women will be blind folded this time. No one is to ever disclose who was whose partner - agreed?" There was a muttered assent. "Fine, then. The first thing we're going to do, after the girls are blindfolded, is to strip them bare. Then Richard is going to manage the slave auction. Not real slavery, mind, just a way for us to decide who'll be going with whom. There is that raised area by the bar downstairs and we can have the girls pose there."

"Will we be naked?" Helen asked.

"Of course. I said the first step was to get you bare. Then we'll ogle you all we like and you can't get peeved since you won't be able to see it. After all, we didn't even get to see you last time."

"I can feel your ogle," I piped up.

"And you'd be upset with us if we didn't think you were worth an ogle or three, now wouldn't you?" Tommy added. He was right, so there wasn't much of an answer I could make.

Liz and Arthur had finished their basement, and about half of it was taken up by what they called the party room. It had adjustable lighting, which Arthur turned down to about half bright. There was a raised bar area. Liz always said that was so anyone who couldn't navigate the tiny step up would know it was time to stop drinking. There were a number of armless couches.

"Well, this isn't what we intended them for," Liz explained. "But it should be more comfortable than those pallets on the floor at Helen's. To be honest, we bought the third last week after this event had been planned. I didn't want to be the one shagging on the concrete."

Actually, they had a raised floor, but I knew what she meant.

I'd brought the blindfold materials and Richard had his big plastic bag full of I don't know what party aids. It was soft when he accidentally hit me with it. I was curious, but I was also sure he wasn't going to tell me what was in it.

I had the same cotton balls, tape, and strips of dark fabric as we'd used the last time. I divided the materials into three piles and handed one each to the three men.

Each of the lads took his pile over to his wife. We closed our eyes and the men then taped the cotton balls over our eyelids so that even if we tried to open our eyes we would be unable to do so. I noticed Richard was careful to avoid putting any tape over my eyebrows. Then the black cloth was carefully tied around our heads over our eyes to rule out any possible peeking. It also served to block out any light penetration, leaving us as near to blindness as could be done without doing harm. I'm not sure about the others, though there were some revealing moans, but Richard took his time about the blindfolding, running his hands all over me, almost as if he were putting his stamp on me, marking me as his, which was rather silly given what we were about to be engaged in, or perhaps not. Maybe he wanted to give me something to come home to.

I didn't feel very jealous about Richard making love to another woman (well, the odds were two to one that he would) since I couldn't see it. Perhaps this evening I could readily imagine the man I was making love with was Richard rather than one of the others, as was more probable. Perhaps the fact that he was likely to see another man making love to me affected him more than he'd thought.

Truth to tell, I was a little surprised at how calmly I was taking it. If you discount what had happened the last time, which I could since the man involved still had no idea whom he'd been shagging, I had never been with another man since I'd met Richard at university. We'd taken to each other right off even if it had been after graduation before we actually got married. Tommy had asked why we'd bothered, since everyone we knew thought we were married already. That kind of connection is kind of special. Arthur and Tommy had met their wives through us, since I was friends even then with Liz and Helen, and Tommy and Arthur were Richard's best buds, as they still are.

"All right, ladies," Arthur announced. "Time for your husbands to unwrap the goods."

The lads started that same stroking before disrobing (what a strange word for taking off two bits of cloth that put together would hardly make up a decent-sized handkerchief) us rather than move right in for the kill, as it might have seemed. Or at least Richard did, if it was Richard, but the sounds coming from either side suggested that the others were doing the same.

They were a very long time about it, and none of them would have made it with Helen's five-minute timer. The understanding was that it would be our husbands who disrobed us, but from a few chuckles I'd overheard the boys weren't going to hold to that plan, and we couldn't know whether they were without taking off our blindfolds and spoiling the whole evening. Actually, things went so well, for me at least, that I didn't care whether they'd decided to trash that rule or not. I even ended up wondering whether they hadn't actually trashed the rule, and we'd just been meant to think that they were going to. The uncertainty was titillating, planned or not.

At first, Richard, or whoever, just stroked his hands up and down my sides, warming me, then heating me. Next, he extended his thumbs inward enough to brush across my bathing bra. I hissed with pleasure. He gave a little satisfied sigh, apparently pleased at my excitement. He stroked back down my curves and sent his hands around to cup my bottom, kneading me momentarily. He slipped his fingers under my bottoms to stroke my bum. My exhilaration was compounded by not knowing which of three possible men was the man in front of me, worshipping my body.

He slid his hands back out, leaving tingles behind, while he stroked upward to cup my breasts, bouncing them slightly in my bra top, then fondling them, sliding his thumb across each to target my upstanding nipple. Each time his thumbs caressed my nipple a shot of fire sped through my body, landing like lightning in my pussy. This was a man who knew how to give pleasure. Rather than dawdle solely over my breasts, he dropped one hand onto my bottoms to slip into my core between my legs. He cupped my mons in his hand. I must have felt like I was on fire. His other hand gave up on stroking my breast through my bra and he slipped two fingers under the fabric to caress my breast flesh to flesh. When he grasped my nipple lightly I moaned. He stroked forward and back across my pussy. He stroked up and down the inside of my thighs, stroking upward on the sensitive skin until he met the fabric of my bottoms. He slipped his other hand all the way inside my other bra cup, to hold and squeeze my breast. I could feel the nipple prodding his palm. He was stoking the fires that were threatening to make me cry out. I moaned again.

He slid his lower hand into my bottoms and started sliding his fingers up and down my crease, which was warm, swollen and wet with excitement. Not wanting to be completely selfish, I reached into his bathers, took his erection and stroked it slowly and lightly, running a fingertip around the helmet and rubbed the drop of pre-ejaculate that had formed on the tip on the underside of him. He started back, tearing himself from my hands. He moaned with arousal. I moaned again, pleased beyond measure. One more touch, a flick of my clit, and I knew I'd be over the top. He had to have known it.

Instead of a buzzer signalling frustration like last time, his fingers circled my centre, then flicked three times over my clit and I was over the top, orgasming spectacularly, a brief scream followed by moans as my body yielded to the pleasure and my mind blanked. I would have fallen, my knees completely unreliable, but he caught me up and settled me on one of the couches. I felt embarrassed by my complete lack of control in front of the others but I realized that all of us had been pleasured to completion, even Helen, who had always told us she was slow to climax, always slow to let go of her control. Perhaps the blindness had robbed her of her control before her man, whoever he was, had pushed her over the edge.