The Gift of the Makeout

(Note to Readers: All characters are more than 18 years old. This is an entry in the Winter Holidays Story Contest 2022. If you are perturbed by women hugging, kissing, and fondling while naked, feel free to seek enjoyment from the other stories in this contest.)

***

I married Josh, because we understand each other. We knew our pairing would take some heavy lifting, because we're outliers, but in different ways. I'm a gal who loves paintball, he goes along with it, and his goggles usually end up opaque. He's nuts about architecture, I follow him on walking tours, and try to find the right moments to nod and smile. Those are just one example each. We're a little defensive about how geeked we are for our passions. We pay attention to how the other person responds. Somewhere along the way we started caring, and wanting to make that other person happy.

Three years after secretly crossing our fingers while we said 'I do,' to vows that eased our parents' minds, we're doing fine. (No, we don't sleep around. At the time of the ceremony, though, we weren't ruling it out.)

There have always been way more pluses in our life together, than minuses from heavy lifting.

But...this?

The winter solstice was approaching, and with it, all of those holidays and festivities intended to take a temperate-zone dweller's mind off the dreadful weather (the snow and wind were worse than usual). Neither of us likes the giving and getting of objects, either practical or frivolous. We gift each other with experiences, which we do all year anyway, when a whim strikes. And because attempts at surprises have often fallen flat, we tell each other what we'd like.

For this year's Xmas-ish gifting, I told Josh I'd like to take a kickboxing class. At the time, he said he hadn't decided on something for himself, and he'd get back to me.

Three days later, he said that he wanted me to make out with our neighbor Stacie, while he and Stacie's husband Frank watch.

For an instant, I was ready to ditch kickboxing, and hoped Josh would follow my example.

In the next instant, I mused about kickboxing my husband, without any training.

I didn't have any deep disgust or traumatic response to this. The core issue was that Josh and I had agreed to keep sex stuff to ourselves, and weren't interested in expanding our range.

I said, "Have you asked Stacie and Frank about this?"

He bristled, drawing himself up to his full 6' 3" height. "Hell no! Just you."

"Thank God. So what makes you think they'd go along with it?"

"C'mon, Holly, you know what they're like. Pushing envelopes, talking about who they'd rather bang. And Stacie saying she'd have options other than men."

I pulled a face. "Public performance, just to mess with whoever's listening. It always gets the Caldwells upset." Pete and Zoe Caldwell were shy, and seemed inhibited. "And Stacie and Frank only talk about landing hot celebrities. They've never said they want to get freaky with people they know."

"Anyway, is this a non-starter?" he asked. "If so, I'll think up something else."

"You should do that anyway," I said, "because there could be a lot of reasons why it can't happen. You need a 'yes' from two more people even if you get one from me." I sneered at him. "What would you be doing, when you watch this?"

He slouched back from full height. "Enjoying it..."

"You'd jerk off, in the presence of another man's wife?"

"Look, it's a fantasy, and if it can't happen--"

"I'll let you know tomorrow," I said, giving him my impression of becoming my own evil twin. I thought he might deserve what would happen if I said 'yes.' I'd watch him bring this up to Stacie and Frank. I'd love to see him get shot down, and have to slink back to our house.

See, I understand about putting on a show for other people. I started trying out for school plays in junior high, and by high school I was landing big roles. I get it, it's doing make-believe for an audience. I'm a showoff. Growing up, I thought everyone was like that, and I was surprised to learn that they aren't.

For a few months between college and marriage, I did standup comedy. I even made some side money, there at the bottom membrane of show business. I quit, because there was too much awful behavior in the crowds, and the clubs did nothing to stop it. It's one thing to heckle and insult, but did they have to keep it up to drown out long-form jokes I worked on for days? The one about the musk ox in the limousine had a great payoff, it brought in references from three minutes earlier--

Okay, reset.

Josh and I banged that night, and I razzed him the whole time about his gift wish. This didn't put a cloud over what we did. Josh is gawky and angular and hairy, but I get a huge charge out of having his body to play with. I wouldn't say I have a firecracker libido, but I love being naked when he is. He sure likes all of my curves, which still look good, here on the short side of birthday thirty.

"So I'm not enough for ya, huh?" I growled, mashing my left breast on his face while I stroked his schwanz. "Ya gotta beat off to the neighbor lady too!"

He replied, "Ffmfrmmff."

The sex itself? Good enough. Worth doing, but not at the level of the fun of being naked-together. It's been mostly like that all along, and we're fine with it.

We've been to nude beaches. We've been nude there. But that's not sex stuff. We behave ourselves when we're naked in public, and his cock stays calm, and my nipples relax. I gain a deep, tranquil fulfillment of feeling air, water, towels, and sand only with my skin, and I quietly relish the thrill of parading around naked in front of other people.

And because that expression exists, why aren't there naked parades? I'd be out there, jiggling my boobs, twerking my ass, high-stepping my muff. I'd skip the baton twirling, I'll settle for Josh's baton later, in private.

Yeah, the standup reflex remains strong in me.

When I'm at a nude beach, I know I'm being checked out. So what I'm doing may be sex stuff for somebody else. But it isn't to me. It's just...satisfaction. Knowing that my naked self does that to, and for, somebody.

What I'm getting at here is that, if I just went naked for Frank and Stacie, it might make for some baggage and awkwardness among neighbors, but I wouldn't give it a hard no. It was the making out with Stacie, and the masturbation by Josh and Frank, that went into the realm of sex stuff, for me.

***

The next morning I asked Josh, "Can't it just be a strip show? Me and Stacie, a few feet apart?"

He looked really defensive. "Frank and I have talked a little about, um, watching porn. You know what I like--"

"I sure do," I said darkly. "That part didn't surprise me." In fact, it doesn't bother me at all that Josh likes to watch porn stars acting like lesbians in a male fantasyland. Me? I like watching vanilla sex with hot guys, and chicks who take charge, in luxurious outdoor settings. I'd like to believe that could actually exist. For someone with infinite money.

"Well, Frank likes that too," Josh went on. "A whole lot. So he says."

Despite that, I still didn't think the other couple would go for this. I was now at a place where I thought I could deal, if it was only once and we got it over with. I had to be honest with myself, it seemed like it might be fun, if Stacie and I ran the show and made it obvious that this was a total goof. But my evil-twin self wanted the greater fun of seeing Josh get called a perv by our neighbors.

"All right, Joshua," I said, with my use of his full name warning him of dire consequences. "I give you my conditional approval. I intend to accompany you when you seek the other approvals."

"Conditional?"

"That it goes no farther than what you've stated. Making out, not a lesbian extravaganza."

"Bare breasts?"

I gazed at the ceiling, almost hoping it would collapse. On him. "If she's willing."

I mean, they're only tits. In standup, I sometimes yearned to do a Mrs. Maisel moment. That might have shut up the hecklers for a few seconds.

Josh called Frank that night and asked if we could come over to talk about something. Josh told me Frank said they couldn't for a couple days, they had holiday commitments with relatives, so it got pushed back to a Saturday afternoon. We had to get done up in full winter wear for the walk, including boots, because at one of the three houses between ours and theirs , nobody had shoveled the sidewalk. Maybe Doug waited for Jenny to do it, and vice versa.

Frank went through a full hosting routine, taking our coats, even though we were just going to talk, and he didn't even know what about. His curly brown hair was still at college-kid length, though I think he was the oldest of us. His musculature was thick, and so were his glasses.

Stacie offered us hot chocolate. She's such a sweetheart, when she and Frank aren't putting on their act. If I swung that way, AND I DON'T, she'd be a candidate. She's maybe two inches shorter than my 5' 8", skin on the pink side of fair, hair that might really be blonde. Cute face. Mid-sized frame, but skinny legs, and not much of an ass.

When we all had our mugs and took seats around the coffee table, Frank said something he may have picked up from his parents: "So, what can we do you for?"

I looked at Josh. He dawdled, mug at his mouth.

I said, "You need to hear this from Josh."

That made him put the mug down. "Um. What Holly and I do, for Christmas, is give each other experiences."

Stacie smiled politely. "That sounds nice."

"And, for this year, the experience wouldn't be just with us."

"The experience he wants," I said, eager to duck all responsibility.

"Yes, mine," said Josh, nodding rapidly. "It's um, because Holly is an actor, and, Frank, he and I share an interest in, um..."

Stacie sent a questioning look at Frank, who seemed to squirm a bit.

I was more annoyed with Josh's discomfort than I was enjoying it. "You'd better just say it," I told him.

"The experience, is, that I'd get to watch Holly and Stacie making out," he said, too loudly. "And, it's only fair that Frank could watch too."

"Whoa!" said Frank, staring at Josh. Then, with a desperate look at Stacie, "I never said I wanted this!"

"That's all right, dear," said Stacie, reaching to hold Frank's hand. "Pillow talk doesn't count."

My eyes bugged. I think Josh completely missed the inference of that, maybe trying to think of a better way to explain the 'gift.'

Stacie looked at me. "If I have this right, the experience isn't for you, but it includes you. So is this something you want to do too?"

I tried to set aside my speculation that Frank had been mentally hooking me up with his wife. I said to Stacie, "I don't want to, as in being as positive as Josh. I'm willing to go along with it, as the giver of the gift. But Josh knows that I'd set a limit on what making out means. And that this can only happen if you're not only willing, but have no concerns about it, going forward." I hated sounding so legalistic, to our friendly neighbors. But it seemed necessary.

Stacie shrugged, with a calm smile. "I don't have a problem with it." She looked at Frank. "Do you?"

Frank looked at Josh, maybe trying to read him. "So, you don't mind that I'd see, uh, them doing that?"

As the man I've lived with for three years looked at Frank, I saw that despite Josh's stressed-out expression, he trusted Frank. So maybe there wouldn't be bad feeling between the men after this was over. As for the women...?

"No," said Josh. "But, you'd keep quiet about it, right? This is just among the four of us."

"Of course!" Frank blurted. He looked at me. "Holly, I, I want you to know, I respect you, and value your friendship--"

"He does," said Stacie to me, with a smirk. "But he's a man. And we've both been looking for some excitement. We've already got cabin fever, and it's only December. I'd be more than happy to help give Josh this experience."

I swear to any deity out there, both men simultaneously said, "Really?"

And so the deal was done. I asked Stacie for some time alone, when available, so we could work things out.

Think about it. Would this reminiscence exist if they'd said no?

***

I still look like the sexts I sent to Josh when we were dating. My black hair is short, because I like the manic pixie look. Dark eyes and, yes, a big mouth, with teeth to match. They undermine the manic pixie look. No chin-doubling yet, but from the looks of my relatives, that'll happen someday. The boobs aren't enormous, but substantial enough to look good even with a little bit of sag, and when I arch my back, they declare themselves. I have a few small, punk-inspired tattoos on my sides. I'm told, by Josh, that I have a terrific ass, but to be honest that doesn't matter to me. If it makes him happy, I'm okay that something I can't see isn't going to waste. I have good legs, and I'm a decent dancer. Have I painted enough of a picture? Most of the people on Earth haven't seen me at a nude beach.

It was arranged that, a couple nights later, Josh would go to watch basketball with Frank, and Stacie would brave the tundra to confer with me. I made sure to offer hot chocolate, a different kind, so we could compare.

"I'm inclined to turn this into a skit," I told her, "and mock their fantasy a little. How does this sound? We fake that we're outside, and the wind is blowing hard. I'd turn on a couple box fans, and I'd set up thin curtains to flutter, as a visual effect. The wind tears away our clothes, and we hug each other for warmth."

She grinned. "Funny. But we don't really make out?"

"We do, for a while, so the guys don't complain." Then I grimaced. "Josh wants to see our boobs. Is that a problem?"

"No. Why not the rest of us?"

She looked a bit disappointed.

"I...hadn't planned on that. Would you be okay with it?"

Stacie angled her head. "If we're only doing this once, shouldn't the guys get the whole urge out of their system?"

That made sense, but what persuaded me was an extra frisson of excitement. It was enough to make me wonder: At what point should an exhibitionist admit she has a problem?

"Okay," I said, "full nude, if you're up for it. I haven't worked out how to rig up the clothes so they come off by themselves."

"I think I can do that," she said. "If you have some clothes you don't mind sacrificing, I can sew some tear-aways."

It was amazing, that between us we had sufficient skill sets for a project of soft-core silliness. "Cool. Only, if the guys' whole urge is to get what they see in porno, I'm out."

"Yeah, that'd be too much," she said, but with a smile that suggested that it might not be.

A few more nights later, the men met at my house and the women at hers. I never grilled Josh on the details of the 'basketball' they watched, and let the euphemism stand.

I heavy-lifted box fans and curtains, probably looking very odd on the snowscape.

Their home has a better space for what we'd do. I appointed myself both dramaturg and house manager. I worked out not just where Stacie and I would be, but also the location of the audience.

Half of their living room was in range of ceiling track lights. With all other lights off, Stacie and I would be clearly visible. The men, sitting in armchairs about seven feet apart, would be in the dark. Whatever they did to themselves would be hidden.

Stacie's really good at sewing. She put tiny velcro patches in our cut-up dresses, sports bras, and baggy athletic shorts, and you couldn't tell they were there, intact or ripped.

We rehearsed, with Stacie catching on that we didn't need exact words, just enough to show that we're strangers, we're outside, and we're cold. It took a little more work to nail the quick, disguised moves that would undress us. The fans, even set on high, weren't enough to rip, but they did blow away detached fabric.

In the rehearsal, I was inclined to fake some of the hugging, breast fondling, and kissing, but Stacie wasn't. So I went along with her, and tried to get through it quickly. She didn't tongue kiss, and her boob handling didn't strike me as excessive.

When it seemed like we had everything smoothed out, we got dressed in our unaltered clothes. As we reassembled the ripped ones, there was something I had to ask her.

"Stacie, what are you getting out of this?"

Her eyes widened. She got closer, and quietly said, "You."

"Oh no, Honey, I don't do, um, it's not a--"

"I know. But just this much, that'll be great, even if it isn't serious. I could never go all the way with a woman. Frankie couldn't take it."

I thought there was a limit to how much human eyes could pop, but I guess I wasn't there before. "But...he does want you to do this?"

"We've had a lot of deep discussions, over the years. He talks big, but he's a creampuff. He worries about anybody taking me away from him." Her voice went even quieter. "Please don't tell anybody else."

"I'll keep quiet about that," I said, "if you two stop freaking out the Caldwells. They're nice people. Have your fun around me and Josh, but read the room. If Pete and Zoe are in it, please cool it."

Stacie nodded. "Okay."

"Stace," I one-syllabled, "is this, like, something you're really missing?"

"You mean lady love?"

"Yeah."

"I explored when I was in college, when I did a whole lot of stuff. I liked it, mostly, but it's not a must-have. I really like the chance to play with you, a little. Just like you want to show off for Frank."

My eyes had relaxed, only to pop again. "What--show off--y-your husband?"

She laughed. "Don't you remember sending us those pictures? From the nude beach?"

Oh. Yeah. I did remember, then. "Well, that wasn't meant, uh, as anything like, uh--"

"You and Josh have a very healthy attitude. Frank and I are thinking about going someplace like that."

I held my head in both hands, worried that it might explode. "Doesn't it bother you that Frank is up for this?"

She grinned. "But we agree. We both want to see you naked."

I was as excited as I was flabbergasted. Which made me think I might, indeed, have a problem.

***

Showtime.

December 27 has no great significance on the holiday calendar, except maybe for people who track the progress of the Magi. For us, it was a slack day without commitments to extended families or friend circles. None of us had to work that day.

The four of us decided to order pizza, and play a board game. So we could pretend that we were gathering to enjoy an evening together, for reasons other than the cringey one.

To some extent, this helped us relax a little, and see us as our normal neighbor selves.

To a greater extent, the knowledge of what was going to happen frazzled us. To the point where Frank conceded the game, even though he was doing well in the Nineties Edition of Trivial Pursuit. Josh and I soon did likewise.

Stacie and I went to a bedroom to change into our tear-aways. Before I got started, I remembered to go back, set up the curtains, and turn on the fans.

As easygoing as Stacie had been, she was nervous now. Her back was turned to me as she stripped and dressed.

My instant of being nude in my neighbors' bedroom gave me a shudder. Sending nude images to a couple, hundreds of miles away, is hardly the same as revealing all of my skin to the male, in the same room, while cavorting with the female. I think I trusted Frank as much as Josh did, but would everyone really be unaffected?

We finished dressing. Stacie turned to face me. I nodded. Out we went.

Peering into the mostly-dark, I saw that the guys were still dressed, as I'd requested. Stacie had placed a towel on each armchair.