tagGroup SexThe Clothes We Wore

The Clothes We Wore


I closed the door quietly behind me as I entered the house, feeling a little guilty and figuring Linda would be pissed I was so late for dinner. After an afternoon of golf, my buddies and I had stopped at a bar, and it was almost eight by the time I'd pulled into the driveway.

Linda wasn't anywhere downstairs, and in the kitchen I saw no evidence that a dinner had been prepared. Hearing laughter from upstairs, I climbed the stairs and turned toward our bedroom. Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks and my mouth dropped open. Our next-door neighbor, Marla, was standing there, staring at herself in the hallway mirror.

I did a momentary reality check. I'd had a few Scotches earlier, I knew, and the thought momentarily entered my brain that somehow I'd walked into the wrong house. No, it was my house, I was sure of that, but why in hell's name was our neighbor standing in my hallway? And even stranger, why was she dressed up like she was headed for a presidential ball or something?

She had on a formal evening gown, complete with high heels, a string of pearls around her neck and a little handbag that matched the deep purple of the gown. Sensing my presence, she turned toward me. Her face blushed beet red, and putting her hand over her mouth, she let out a loud giggle as she scurried into the bedroom. A second later, Linda stepped out of the doorway.

"Hi, Honey," she said nonchalantly, as if running into my neighbor outside my bedroom door was an everyday occurrence.

Peering into the bedroom, I saw the bed was strewn with clothes. Dresses, blouses, skirts, hats, scarves, it looked like a clothing store that had been hit by a hurricane. And on the table beside the bed, I also noticed three wine bottles and two glasses, all empty.

I guess Linda figured the confused expression on my face warranted some explanation on her part.

"I'm finally doing it," she said, "I'm finally cleaning out this damn closet and getting rid of what I never wear. Of course, Marla, being as cheap as she is," Linda continued, pointing at her friend, "just had to see if there was anything here she could scrounge from me before I ditched it."

Marla frowned at her. Suddenly, Linda spun around in front of us.

"I say keep it," Marla said.

"What about you, Tom?" Linda said, looking at me, "keep it or throw it out?"

It was a yellow, knee-high sundress with white ruffles at the neck.

"Uh, I guess, sure," I said, "might as well keep it."


We'd just moved into the neighborhood four months earlier, and Linda and Marla had hit it off immediately. Marla lived two houses down the street, and at twenty-eight, was just a year older than Linda and I. Her husband had left her a year or two ago, and she'd joked to us that the only good thing that had come out of her marriage was the house. I hadn't spent a lot of time with her, Linda usually went to her house to visit, but she seemed like an nice person. According to Linda, her ex-husband's family was quiet well off, and when he'd left her there'd been a lot of money change hands, much of it in Marla's direction.

I looked at the two women as they picked through the clothing on the bed. My wife, Linda, with her short brown hair and eyes that always seemed to sparkle. I looked at her slim waist - the result of three-a-week visits to a nearby health club. Her breasts, not too big and not too small, nicely filled out the top of the sundress.

In contrast to Linda's light brown hair, Marla's was jet black. She tended to wear dark shades of makeup around her eyes, and the combination of dark hair and dark eyes gave her a mysterious, sensual look. Her face was round and smooth, and her pouty lips were always covered with a bright red lipstick. But Marla's most prominent feature was her breasts. They were large and full, and every time I saw her, no matter what she was wearing, they were always the first thing I noticed.

I looked at the evening gown Marla was wearing. Linda had worn it only once, as far as I could remember, to a formal dinner we'd been at two or three years ago. Marla was probably a size or two larger than Linda, however, and it clearly didn't fit her. It hugged tightly to her hips, outlining the shape and contours of her full ass. When Linda had worn it, I remembered she'd been concerned it might show too much cleavage. I'd assured her she looked great in it. On Marla, however, it was another matter. The top of the dress seemed like it was about to split apart as her breasts strained against the fabric.

Marla must have noticed I was staring at her and she glanced down at her front. The dress was unable to fully contain her breasts, and they bulged out from the top, as if trying to pop out from their confinement. Marla looked back up at me, a deep blush creeping across her face.

"I'd better get out of this silly thing," she said sheepishly, "I guess it was wishful thinking that it might fit."

"Here, try this one on," Linda said, handing her another dress from the bed, "It's a stretchy fabric so it should fit you better."

Marla took the dress and stepped into the bathroom to change.

Meanwhile, Linda picked up another dress from the pile.

"What about this one?" she asked, looking at me as she held a blue dress up in front of her.

"I can't tell until you try it on," I answered.

Linda took a step toward the bathroom, then stopped and smiled

"Hey, I guess I'm allowed to change in front of you," she giggled.

I watched as she pulled the yellow sundress off and threw it on the bed. Wearing only her bra and panties, she reached for the blue dress. Her panties were made of an almost translucent white material. They hugged her tightly, and through the sheer fabric I could make out the little patch of brown hair above her pussy. Her bra was one of those strapless, 'half bras' that she'd probably put on with one of her low-cut evening gowns. The bra cupped and supported the bottom of her breasts, just barely covering her nipples.


It was Marla in the bathroom. Startled, Linda and I both turned toward the door.

"What's wrong?" Linda called to her.

"This one's worse."

"Let's see," Linda said.

There was a long pause before Marla slowly stepped into the room. Maybe Linda had forgotten how small the dress was before she'd given it to her, or maybe it had somehow shrunk as it hung in the closet, unworn, for so long, but it was definitely too small for Marla. It was red and made of some stretchy, knit material, and it clung so tightly to Marla's body that it looked more like a coat of red paint than a dress. The bottom of it extended only about four or five inches down her legs, exposing most of her thighs. The fabric clung tightly to her hips and molded itself across the curves and contours of her ass. Higher, her breasts stretched the material out and hugged her so tightly that even from six feet away, I could make out the outline of her bra underneath.

"You're right," Linda said with a laugh, "that one is worse."

Linda glanced down at the dress in her hand and suddenly realized she was standing in front of us wearing only her bra and panties. She blushed and held the dress against the front of her body.

"Think how silly our rules are," I said, looking at her, "Before I got here, Marla saw you in your bra and panties, and that was O.K. I see you in your bra and panties all the time, and that's O.K. too. But for some reason, it's forbidden that Marla and I are together when you're dressed like that. Doesn't make any sense, does it?"

"You're too analytical," Linda said with a frown as she slipped on the dress.

"But there are so many examples," I continued, "For instance, would you go out like that?" I asked, looking at Marla.

"No, of course not!"


"Because...because it shows too much," she answered.

"But," I said, looking at her, "if you were wearing even the most modest swimsuit at the beach, you'd be showing a hell of a lot more, and you wouldn't think anything about it."

"Linda's right," Marla said with a smile, "you're too damn analytical."

Linda glanced at the empty bottles on the table.

"Be a dear," she said, "and open another bottle of wine for us. Would you?"


In the kitchen, I poured myself a Scotch. As I opened a bottle of wine, it suddenly struck me that I was feeling a little annoyed about the situation upstairs. I mean, it was my bedroom too, and here was my wife inviting another woman to root through her stuff. Who knows what else they were doing. Going through my underwear drawer? Checking out my collection of old Playboy's I had stored in my closet?

I took a sip of Scotch and smiled, realizing maybe I was being a little paranoid. They'd had too many wines, I thought to myself, and I'd had too many Scotches. What the fuck, let them have their fun.


I'd only taken a step or two into the bedroom before they both started giggling like little kids. They were sitting side by side on the bed, staring at me. Linda raised her arm. There was something in her hand, and it took me a moment to realize what it was. It was a swimsuit she'd bought for me during our trip to France last year. She'd found it in some seaside shop, and bought it more as a gag than anything else. It was man's thong, a tiny patch of cloth in the front and a thin ribbon of material in the back. I'd tried it on once in our hotel room, and she'd made me do a few muscle man poses while she took some pictures. That was the one and only time I'd worn it.

"Marla wants to see you in this," Linda said with another giggle, as she waved the suit in her hand. Marla's elbow flew from her side, poking Linda in the ribs. "No, I never said that," she said, a blush crossing her face.

"Did so," my wife said, and suddenly, I was standing there watching two grown women playfully pushing each other back and forth, giggling like twelve-year olds. Linda fell back on the bed, and as Marla leaned over her to shake her shoulders, her dress crept up to her hips and I realized she was wearing, if not a thong, the closest thing to it. It was red, and the thin strip of material nestled deep in the valley between her asscheeks, exposing the twin globes of her full, round ass. As she shook Linda's shoulders, Linda's legs spread apart momentarily and I could see the red lips of her pussy through the sheer fabric of her panties.

They gradually stopped their playful fighting and sat up again on the side of the bed. Marla, seeing how high her dress had risen, blushed and tugged at the hem.

"Why in the world did you even keep that thing suit?" I asked.

"I thought maybe you'd model it for me sometime," Linda said.

"You must be really desperate if you..."

Now it was Marla's turn to interrupt.

"Hey, it's O.K. if a guy gets turned on watching a woman in a skimpy outfit, why not us watching a guy?"

"It's different," I said.

"Why?" Linda asked, "Last year, I went with the girls from work to that male strip show, remember?"

"Did it turn you on?"

"Maybe a little," Linda answered with a laugh, "Are you jealous?"

"Hah, those guys are all gay, I bet."

"You want to believe that, to protect you male ego," Linda said.

"Come on," I said, looking back and forth between Linda and Marla, "you've finished off a few bottles of wine, so you don't know what you're saying. I bet if I really agreed to put that...thing on, you'd both run out of the room."

Marla looked at me, then at Linda. She took another sip of wine and giggled, as if she was just an observer, and the real decision was something us married folk would have to figure out. Linda waved the suit at me again.

"You don't have the nerve to do it, do you?" She said in a taunting voice.

My first reaction was to just laugh and leave the room. But then I looked down at them sitting on the side of the bed. Linda in her little blue dress, her thighs tan and well-toned, her stomach flat and firm. And higher, her little half-bra thrusting her breasts up underneath the dress.

And my eyes went to Marla, the tight dress not leaving much to the imagination as to what was underneath. And mentally, I compared the two. Marla's body was softer, more curvy than my wife's, her hips fuller, the tight skirt hugging the slight outward curve of her stomach compared to the flat, firm stomach of my wife. And higher, Marla's magnificent, full breasts, thrusting out from her chest like mountains, straining against the fabric of the dress. And my mind slipped, and I imagined what it would be like making love to Marla, fucking her, her body like a cushion under me, her breasts like soft pillows.

And my mind wandered to my marriage, and how in the beginning sex had been so exciting, a new adventure every time our bodies met, and now, after seven years, how it sometimes seemed almost routine. And I looked at Marla again, at her face, her red, pouting lips and dark eyes staring at me....Suddenly, I knew what I had to do. I grabbed the suit from Linda's hand and disappeared into the bathroom.


"Oh, my God!" Marla gasped when I stepped back into the bedroom. Her hand went to her mouth and she stared at me with wide-open eyes.

Linda smiled and clapped her hands, as if I was their entertainment for the evening.

"Come closer, big boy," she laughed, "Let's see what you've got."

I stepped forward until I was just a foot or two in front of them. Putting my hands on my hips, I faced them. Linda clapped again. Marla's eyes remained fixed on my crotch. I realized I felt a little silly, maybe even a little embarrassed, standing in front of them like this. I glanced down at the large bulge in the front of my suit. The suit was so tight the fabric molded itself around me, clearly outlining the contours of my cock and its bulbous head.

"Hey, aren't you supposed to do a little bump and grind now?" Linda asked with a giggle.

"Hey," I replied, "aren't you supposed to tip me first?"

Linda jumped up and took her purse from the top of the dresser. She grabbed some bills from it and handed a few to Marla. Linda leaned forward and tucked a dollar bill into the top of my suit. I did a little rotating swivel with my hips and Linda clapped again. She looked at Marla. Marla blushed. There was a pause, then Marla's hand slowly came toward me, a dollar bill clutched in it. She folded the bill and without touching me, slipped it inside the elastic hem at the top of my suit. She withdrew her arm quickly back to her lap, a satisfied smile on her face, like she was proud she'd been courageous enough to do it.

I slowly tuned until my back was facing them. Leaning forward, I shook my ass back and forth, then turned back to face them. Linda let out a cheer and clapped, and this time, Marla's hands slowly came together and she clapped also, a smile spreading across her face. Linda took another sip of wine. Setting down her glass, she slid another bill in the top of my suit. I turned toward Marla and thrust my pelvis forward. She giggled and tucked another dollar down my front. This time, however, her hand lingered there for a moment, and as she withdrew it, her hand slowly grazed against the front of my suit, her fingers brushing lightly over my cock.

At that moment, I felt a little twitch down there. With that single touch, I knew I was in trouble. Marla put her hand on her lap and smiled up at me, a little twinkle in her eye. I put my hands behind my head and thrust my pelvis back and forth, like I imagined a male stripper might do. Linda and Marla cheered.

Now, Linda's hand came toward me with another bill. The bill was folded lengthwise, and before tucking it in my suit, she brushed it up and down against my cock. I felt another twitch, and without looking down, I knew there must be something moving there, I knew my cock, slowly enlarging, was rearranging itself under the tight fabric.

"Maybe I'd better end my show now," I said, my hands still behind my head. Marla looked up at me and almost imperceptibly shook her head.

"No," she whispered, a slight blush spreading over her face, "I still have some more money to get rid of."

She glanced at Linda, then back at me, then her hand slowly came forward. With a dollar bill held between her fingers, she momentarily cupped her hand against my front, pressing it against my cock through the thin fabric of the suit. Her hand slowly moved upward, still in contact with me, as she slid the bill inside my suit.

That was the end of any control on my part. I glanced down and saw the outline of my cock moving against the fabric, twisting and pushing under the material as it slowly became erect. I heard a sharp intake of breath come from Marla, and her eyes opened wide as she stared at my crotch, then she let out a loud gasp and I felt the cool air against the head of my cock as it pushed its way out from the top of the suit, and as it became further engorged with blood, I watched as it slowly expanded and lengthened until at least an inch or two of my cock protruded out the top of my tiny suit.

Marla's hand started to come toward me, then paused in midair. She looked at Linda, almost as if she was seeking Linda's permission to extend her hand further. Linda's face remained expressionless, and after a pause, Marla's arm inched forward until her finger touched my cock. She extended her thumb and gently took the head of my cock between her thumb and forefinger and held her hand there, as if measuring it. I glanced at Linda. It may have been my imagination, but it seemed her breathing became slightly faster as she watched Marla's hand touching me.

Marla's finger and thumb slowly moved downward, until they reached the top of my suit. Now, she'd leaned forward so close that I could feel her warm breath against my bare skin. She glanced again at Linda, then turning back to me, she hooked her finger under the top of my suit and drew it downward, slowly exposing more and more of my cock. As her finger continued down, I could feel the side of the suit slipping down my hips, then the back of it slipping out from between the cheeks of my ass, and with one final tug, the suit slid down my thighs and fell to the floor.

Now, I was standing naked in front of them. My cock, freed from its confinement, leaned forward, hard and erect toward Marla. A little whimpering sigh came out of her mouth as she cupped my balls in her hand, gently massaging them with her fingers. I looked down and saw a small drop of precum form at the head of my cock. Marla touched the bead of moisture and made a little circular motion with her finger, rubbing it into the head of my cock.

Her arm lowered, and she grabbed my cock in her fist. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Linda lean forward slightly. Her faced was slightly flushed as she stared intently at Marla's hand slowly rubbing up and down my cock.

A small shudder went through me, and I knew if I allowed Marla to continue much longer, I would erupt. I made a decision. That wasn't the way I wanted to cum. I took a step backward, and Marla's hand slipped off my cock. She looked up at me, a surprised expression on her face.

I turned to Linda.

"Now your turn," I said.

"For what?"

"You guys chose an outfit for me. Now I get to choose one for you."

Linda looked at me, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Wait here," I said.

I went to the closet and rummaged through the shelves. Finding what I wanted, I stepped back to the bed.

"Here," I said to her.

Linda looked down at what I'd given her. It was a little pink nightie I'd bought for her several years earlier.

"No, I can't wear..."

"Put it on," I said, realizing my voice was a little louder and more commanding then I'd intended it to be.

There was a long pause, then she slowly stood and started toward the door to the bathroom.

"No, here," I said, "I'm your husband, you can dress here, in front of me."

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