The partnership had been a resounding success. The three of us had bought the land, developed the subdivision and sold off the entire project at a very good profit, and in doing so had become firm friends. Ken had taken on the operations and project management, Marcel knew sales and marketing, and as for me, Rex, I handled the finance and administration. We made a very tight and effective team.
We had organised tonight's dinner to celebrate our success, and to officially end the partnership now that the project was over. Julie and I had decided to host the night at our home rather than going out to a restaurant, so that we could all relax without worrying about how much we could drink, but I did call in caterers to provide a sumptuous meal and pour the wines. I knew Julie was looking forward to the night because she had gone out and bought a new outfit for the occasion - "complete with frilly underwear" I heard her confide on the phone to both Rose and Nicolette, the other two wives who would make up the party of six.
"Why the underwear?" I had asked her. "Expecting to get lucky tonight, are you? Show me what you bought." It was Saturday morning, and the evening was due to kick off at 6.30 that night.
Julie just laughed, and then said "You'll see them at the party tonight."
"At the party?" I queried.
"Oops! I meant after the party." she replied.
"I think I just caught you in a Freudian slip, my girl, what's your cunning plan for tonight?" This conversation was starting to get interesting.
Julie smiled at me, knowing she'd been caught out, and said "Remember six weeks ago, when we had that weekend away with Ken and Rose, how we had a few drinks after dinner and played cards? You and Ken tried to get Rose and me to play strip poker. If that happens tonight, and the other girls give in to the boys' suggestions, I'm not going to be the one wearing granny's knickers!" Then she blushed, and those beautiful blue eyes couldn't hold my gaze, as she realised that she had just implied she was prepared to strip naked in front of our friends.
I laughed at her fears and reminded her that there would be caterers present, and that it was a more formal sort of dinner, but throughout the afternoon, my mind kept returning to the thought of Julie stripping down to her sexy undies, removing her bra, peeling off her panties. It was one of my strongest fantasies.
Mid-afternoon, Julie ran herself a hot bath to give herself what she always called her "shave and a haircut" - the legs, armpits, and I guess the bikini line, as she always kept her full blond bush neatly shaped. I popped my head in to the bathroom, hoping to catch a peek at her gorgeous big tits that I love so much, and found her sitting on the side of the bath, her pubic area completely covered in shaving cream, and looking at herself down there with a small shaving mirror. I quickly retreated, not realizing that a simple trim job was so complicated.
At about five thirty, I poured us both a scotch and soda, and started to get ready myself. By five past six, I was dressed, casual but with a jacket, and sipping my second scotch. Julie was still working on her preparations, and I knew she'd be down soon. At precisely six thirty, she descended the stairs an absolute vision, her blond hair swept back, and wearing a sheer, black, two-piece outfit, the top caressing her breasts softly, and the full-length skirt accentuating and defining the gentle curve of her hips. Stocking and heels completed the elegant ensemble and left me feeling shabby and underdressed. But what the hell, I've never been known for my dress sense.
Sensing that my timing would be right, I went to the front door and opened it to find Marcel and Nicolette, just about to ring the bell, with Ken and Rose following them up the path. I shook hands with Marcel and hugged Nicki. She gave me a kiss on both cheeks in her very French manner, which I must say I enjoyed very much. She was dressed in a hip hugging, skin tight pair of black jeans that left nothing to the imagination except the faint outline of a skimpy g-string running up from her buttocks, while her top was a black and silver, swirly thing that accentuated her small breasts, making them look decidedly perky, then stopped short at the midriff. Her outfit perfectly complemented her black hair and tanned olive skin.
Shaking hands with Ken, I looked over at Rose, and fell in love all over again. Every time I see her, I wonder at the perfect, flawless skin, auburn hair and fine facial features that her English heritage has blessed her with. Dressed in a light grey tartan skirt and jersey top, she simply smiled and took my breath away. Pulling myself together, I offered drinks and everyone settled down for a chat.
As the easy conversation filled the room, I enjoyed musing on the differences and similarities that made these people my friends. The stark differences between Ken, Marcel and me. Ken is a bull of a man, both physically and in the way he applies himself to his work, letting nothing and no one get in the way of what he wants to achieve. Marcel, on the other hand is a handsome but slightly built man who relies on his charm and a persuasive manner to achieve his ends. As for me, I often call myself Mr Average - average good looks, medium build, steady temperament, but with one advantage that sets me apart. I'm good at working with people, planning, directing, steering them. There may be a little bit of a control freak in my makeup.
I think the thing that made us all close friends in spite of these differences was the comfortable confidence each of felt in ourselves and in each other - enough so that we could accept and enjoy our differences. Ken and Rose held hands as they listened to Marcel explain the intricacies of the European soccer rules, while Nicki tousled his hair, and Julie and Rose discussed how men's conversation always seemed to revolve around balls. I laughed as Nicki picked up a cushion and threw it at me, saying "You're staring at my tits again!" and I realised I had been. They all laughed at my embarrassment.
Night had just fallen as dinner was served. The meal began with the shell of a blue swimmer crab loaded with crabmeat, avocado, and a crumbling of Stilton cheese over the top. Over a bottle of crisp Semillon, I made a little speech of welcome and expressed my appreciation for the dedication of my partners, the understanding and patience of our wives, and the true friendships that we had developed. I was touched by the applause that broke out as I sat down, and Julie's kiss on the cheek that followed.
Over the fresh asparagus and bacon soup, with herbed focaccia and a fairly dry, unwooded chardonnay, Ken responded to my speech, thanking me for having kicked off the project, and giving us all the opportunity for success. Marcel followed, but in a more light hearted vein with his typical Gallic charm, ending in a risqué joke. The wine was obviously beginning to take effect on the mood of the party.
That set the tone for the rest of the meal, with each of us trying to outdo the others with jokes and stories. Over a most delicious steak Diane, for which I had given the caterers my own recipe, and a robust bottle of Hermitage, I told my modest little joke.
"There were these three old guys on the hill overlooking the beach, sitting on the bench in the sun, and enjoying the young ladies walking up and down, or tanning themselves. The old fellow on the left says to the other two ' See that one over there wearing the green costume. Now she reminds me of a girl I used to know. I'd love to give her a big kiss."
"After half an hour goes past, the one on the right says ' See that one in the yellow bikini, now she's really beautiful. I'd like to go down there and give her a big hug!"
"An hour goes past, and the one in the middle says 'See that one over there, with her top off. Wow, I'd love to go down there and ... I'd love to ...I'd love to ... Now what WAS that other thing we used to do?"
Everyone laughed, but Julie couldn't stop giggling as she compared the three old guys to Ken, Marcel and me. Ken and Marcel immediately voted me the old guy with the lousy memory. "I'll show you how good my memory is tonight!" I said to Julie.
"Promises, promises", she replied, and in a fake stage whisper to the others, said," he'll forget in ten minutes".
I let the caterers go home after the main course, telling them we could serve the rest of the meal ourselves. Over a mango and maple syrup sorbet washed down with sparkling champagne, the stories became more risqué and ribald. By the time Julie and I brought out the cheese and fruit, we were all more than a little merry, and started to ramble on about every party's favourite subject - sex.
Marcel, who fancies himself as the last of the great French lovers, bemoaned the fact that there were fewer opportunities for a man to "get a bit" these days - not for himself of course he hurried to explain to Nicki as she bristled at his remarks, but speaking hypothetically. Back in the old days a man simply carried a paper bag, but now he must go equipped with condoms and lubricants etcetera. We three men laughed at the reference to a paper bag, knowing the old line about "not arranging the mantle-piece when you are stoking the fire", but the ladies didn't understand. I had to explain to them that the paper bag was to put over the heads of the ugly ones.
Amid the uproar this remark caused, I quickly changed the subject to my personal favourite - tits. I said, "You know, there are six billion people on this planet. Half of them have tits, and the other half want to play with them. Now why is it that there are six billion tits in the world, and yet I only have one set to play with. Mind you, Julie does have beautiful big tits, but I could handle a lot more if they were offered. What do you guys think?" The other two men agreed with me, Ken saying yes, there should definitely be more sharing, but Marcel saying yes, she definitely did have beautiful tits. I think we lost the thread of the argument about then.
There may have been a little bit of female revenge for the paper bag comment in what happened next, or it may just have been the drink, but Julie sat back in her chair, cupped her full breasts through her sheer black top, and said, "Eat your heart out guys. Oh God, they feel good tonight!" And she proceeded to massage her own tits in front of us.
Nicki immediately caught on, and started to do the same thing, but she was able to reach under her little silver top and hold her breasts directly. "I'm not wearing a bra," she announced, as she tweaked her nipples and made false noises of passion in a feline duet with Julie.
Rose, on the other hand, didn't join in, but she had this quiet look of arousal on her face, and her soft jersey top betrayed her passion with two very prominent nipples poking out for all to see. We all noticed. Ken let out a howl like a wolf in heat, and I joined in. The girls burst into laughter, then shooed the three of us out into the games room to pour a round of liqueurs while the coffee was brewing.
I was horny. I had been since morning, since Julie talked about being ready to play strip poker, but the events of the past few minutes had made it worse. I think the other two were feeling the same way. Marcel started to apologise for his remarks, but I chuckled and asked him " Tell me, who has the best tits out of our wives?"
He grinned and replied, "I don't know, I haven't tried them all yet."
Ken responded "Don't I wish..."
At that moment the ladies in the kitchen erupted into laughter over something and, a short time later, arrived in the games room carrying coffee. From the looks on their faces some devious plan was in their minds. They gave us a few minutes to drink our coffee, and then Julie announced that they had a party game to play, called "Paper Bag". She then told us how it worked.
"We don't have any paper bags, so we will put a pillowcase over each man's head. It will be tucked in to your collar so you can't see, but it will still let you breathe. Then you'll find out how the game is played - but you must promise not to remove the pillowcase until we tell you." We agreed. This was intriguing.
Each woman went up to her husband and put the "paper bag" over his head and tucked it in. We were told not to move. Then we waited. I could hear a rustling sound nearby. Then I heard Julie, standing very close to me, say "Hello darling" as she took my hands in hers. I heard Rose and Nicki say something similar to their husbands.
What I wasn't prepared for was the moment when Julie drew my hands to her breasts - her bare breasts. I felt her warm skin, her erect nipples, moved my hands up to her shoulders to find them bare, back to her beautiful tits. She was naked from the waist up. And so were Rose and Nicki, judging by the deathly hush in the room. It seemed like an eternity that I massaged and fondled her beautiful big breasts, feeling the warmth of that smooth skin, the heat emanating from her hard, erect nipples. I was incredibly aroused by the intense quiet, and the certain knowledge that there were three topless women in the room, having their tits squeezed.
What happened next stunned me. Our wives told each of us not to move and not to remove our "paper bags". Julie moved away, but soon my hands were taken again, and drawn up to bare breasts. But these breasts were not Julie's. Incredible! I felt a pair of firm small tits, and I knew I was fondling Nicki's beautiful small breasts, with the most erect nipples I had ever known. The blind and silent eroticism of the moment, the feeling of fondling Nicki, it was sending my senses spiralling, and my cock was fully erect.
Her quiet voice close to me said "Don't move" and moved away. Soon my hands were taken again, and held against the soft, silky skin that I knew had to be the breasts of dear Rose. I was in heaven. Rose kept hold of my hands, and moved them over her breasts, drew them up to her shoulders, put them around her back, and back again to her perfect breasts. Her nipples were erect and prominent, and very sensitive. As I gently squeezed them between my thumbs and fingers, I heard an intake of breath that spoke more eloquently than words. Her head rested softly on my shoulder.
Soon she moved away, and we heard Julie's voice from across the room. "Okay boys, you can take off your "paper bags". We've had our fun." I removed the pillowcase from over my head, blinking in the sudden brightness to find Ken and Marcel in a similar state. I finally focused in the direction of the voice. There they were, our three ladies, standing near the doorway to the games room, bare-breasted and posing as though for some erotic photograph. We didn't move. We were speechless, except for 'Fuck!' and 'Holy Shit!' and 'My God!' With a laugh, they quickly left the room, taking their garments with them.
I went to the bar and poured each of us a stiff drink -- to match our cocks I'm sure. Then we erupted into hilarious laughter at the trick that had just been played on us. While we had been granted our wish of sharing our wives' tits, we had ended up being the "paper bag" uglies.
The ladies took some time to return. Before they did, we spoke our minds easily to each other, comparing each wife's tits to what we had imagined. Both Ken and Marcel drooled over Julie's big tits, and I pointed out how lucky Marcel was to have a wife with such incredible sensitive nipples, and Ken to have such perfect creamy breasts to suck on at night.
Marcel suggested that we turn the tables on them, and up the ante. When we pressed him to explain, he suggested that the ladies be "bagged", and that we each perform oral sex on our wives, with the first to climax being declared the sexiest. I agreed immediately. I was so horny I would have agreed to anything. It wasn't just the erotic petting of a few moments ago, but the realization that just a few moments ago my two partners had fondled my wife's bare breasts and had then seen her with her tits exposed, as I had done with their wives. If the ladies agreed to Marcel's suggestion, then we would be crossing a line here. But it wasn't really sex, was it? Was it just foreplay?
We signified our agreement, by doing the old partnership handshake, both arms crossed, shaking the hands on either side of us. As we did, the ladies re-entered the room, having dressed themselves and reapplied their makeup. They giggled as each wife rejoined her husband, and we smiled back, knowing that the tables were about to turn. Julie sat down beside me and grinned as she put her hand between my legs and gently squeezed my cock. "Enjoy the show, did we?" she said. I noticed that she had put her top back on, but not her bra, and her nipples were still erect. I looked over at Rose and realized that she too was braless and her nipples were poking firmly at their soft jersey covering. When I looked over at Nicki, what I saw delighted me. She had settled on the floor at the feet of Marcel sitting in the soft leather chair. She had twisted to rest her arms on his leg, and place her chin upon her arms. In doing so, her top had ridden up to expose the bottom of one breast, and all of the other - a perfectly shaped, small, tanned breast, capped with an engorged dark brown nipple that I knew to be much larger than Julie's. As I looked, I realized that Julie, Ken, and Rose had also noticed, but none of us said a single word. We just looked at her tits and enjoyed her unaware flashing.
Then it hit me that more was still to come, if a twist could be spun into what happened next. If I could make it happen, I would not be blindfolded, but would be free to watch as one of my friends removed my wife's panties, opened her legs for us all to see, and put his tongue inside her slit - with me watching. Oh God, I wanted to see it happen so badly.
"Fancy another game?" I enquired.
Julie said, "I'm game."
Nicki replied, "Okay."
But Rose said, "What are the rules?"
Clever Rose. Choosing my words carefully, I explained the rules of the game I called "When Harry Met Sally" as proposed by Marcel. There was a moment of tense silence before Rose finally spoke up. "Okay, I'm in," she said, and the other two then confirmed that they would play. I explained that each wife must remain blindfolded, must not assist with her hands, which were to be kept by the side. Each wife was free to make as much noise as she wished during the event, but on reaching a climax, should call out "Oh Harry!" to proclaim her climax to the world.
The tension in the air was palpable, as each of us applied a table napkin blindfold to our own wife - no "paper bags" for these beauties. Then Marcel brought up a valid point - Nicki was wearing tight jeans, and the other ladies were wearing skirts that could be easily lifted. The ladies agreed that Nicki should remove her jeans, and we agreed that Rose and Julie could lift their skirts before being positioned - but that all panties would remain in place to begin. Silently, Marcel kneeled in front of Nicki, and reached forward to undo her skin-tight black jeans. She flinched as he touched the bare flesh of her stomach, but he soon had the top button undone and her fly unzipped. She stood firm as he pulled her jeans down over her thighs and off her bottom. He left her tiny black g-string on, and led her by the hand to the sofa, where he turned her around and pushed on her shoulders so that she sat down. He quickly removed her jeans. Ken and I were rooted to the spot, just watching. Next I moved Julie to one of the leather arm chairs, positioned her, and unbuttoned her long black skirt from floor level to her panties, leaving it still buttoned at the top but folded back from her panties. She sat down and scooted her bottom forward, ready to have her panties removed when the time came.