The Swim Team Ch. 07

As I sipped, I spotted Metherd against the wall talking to a young blond woman in a revealing yellow slip dress that was almost inappropriate, and a bejeweled yellow choker. I nodded to him when I caught his eye and he gestured us over.

"Jon," I shook his hand. "Good to see you."

"Barry. I'm glad you made it." He turned and regarded Diane like a vassal addressing a queen. "Mist...," he cast his eye back at me. "I mean, Diane."

Diane laughed a light, musical chuckle as her fingers tightened ever so slightly on my arm. "It's so good to see you, John. I see you and Marie are getting along." She didn't even look at the blond.

"She was just telling me about her time at the university. She's quite the academic."

"She's always been very bright," Diane agreed before pulling my arm slightly. "Well, you two have fun." She had me turned around and walking away before I was aware we were moving. One wall of the room was covered in a large black curtain, and chairs were arranged as though the room was a theater. Some had taken several of the seats and were continuing their conversations there.

"What is all this?" I asked.

"Oh, that's for the floor show. It's set to begin in about thirty minutes. It's one of the warmups."

"Warmups?"

"Just setting the mood, dear. I think you'll enjoy the evening. These parties do offer all kinds of fun, if you're up for it." She paused as if deciding on what to say next. "And have an open mind."

"I'm not entirely sure I know what I've gotten myself in to."

She turned to me and fixed her azure irises on me as her fingers found the knot of my tie. "Barry, you don't need to worry. I won't let anything bad happen to you." The corners of her full lips turned upwards as she tugged the knot of my tie to straighten it. "Your fun is my responsibility tonight. Trust me?"

It was my turn to smile, though I'm not sure it looked any more confident than I felt. "Implicitly."

"Good. That's what I want to hear."

We spent the next half-hour with Diane gliding us from group to group and introducing me to several people, many of whom were prominent businessmen in town. I made a mental note to remember their names to reach out about funding the team. I met the alderman for our district. I'd voted for him, but never met him or communicated with the office. I even saw Martin Epperson ensconced in a conversation with a very young looking, hot woman who was not his wife. I made a mental note to forget I saw that when we spoke Monday. One stately looking fellow with a full head of silver hair who towered over the room and looked me dead in the eye turned out to be the local circuit court judge. He told a funny story and Diane touched his arm as she laughed. He looked at me as we were about to circulate. "You take care of her properly tonight, young man." He smiled at her again. "She's a jewel to be treasured."

"Diane!" we turned to see another older fellow approaching with his wife. She was probably the oldest woman in the room, though she was looked to only be my age. She moved with a grace that commanded attention. She reminded me of an older Diane. Just as beautiful and just as captivating. Like the others, she was dressed in an evening gown that flowed over her ample curves, cascading in rivulets that caught the light and drew the eye to places otherwise considered inappropriate.

"Cindy!" Diane and the other woman embraced. "I'm so glad to see you. I thought you weren't coming."

"Well, that's precisely why I'm here, dear." They both laughed. "Seriously, Arthur was grumbling so much I felt I had to get us out of the house."

"Cindy, this is Barry Brandford." She turned to me. "Barry, this is Cindy Maxwell and her husband Arthur. Cindy's Dean of Students at Hallstead University, my alma mater."

"My pleasure." I took her hand and turned it to kiss her knuckle.

"Ooh!" she smiled. "A proper gentleman." She nodded to Diane. "You better keep him close by tonight, Diane. Otherwise he's going to be snatched up quick."

"I'm not letting him out of my sight." They shared another laugh. Arthur looked me up and down, nodding at me when he noticed me noticing him looking. "Arthur," Diane caught his attention. "You need to meet Giselle. She's an exchange student from Marseilles. I think you'll find her interesting." She turned to me. "Arthur's a linguist. He loves exotic dialects."

"Indeed?" Arthur spoke in a resonate baritone that could rattle windows if he applied any volume. "Is she here?"

Diane pointed to a small, pale young woman with black hair and dressed like all the others, but wearing red. "Over by the piano."

Cindy put her hand on his shoulder as though shoving him off. "Go dear. Have fun."

"Well," Diane said as Arthur wound his way through the crowd that was migrating to the chairs, "I have to begin the evening's festivities. Barry, could I talk to you for a minute?"

Had we not been talking all along? "Sure."

She led me to a small seating area away from the curtain. "These parties are for people with discriminating tastes and appetites. You will see some things that some people might not appreciate. I'm just giving you fair warning so if you want to leave, now would be the time. I hope you won't. In fact, I've been counting on it."

"Well, now you have really piqued my curiosity."

"Does nudity bother you?"

"Not at all."

"I didn't think so. But I wanted to ask. Also, are you open minded?"

"I like to think so."

"I figured that as well. Good. You're making me happy." She flashed her smile and I thought I saw her blush. "Stick with me. Okay?"

"Your wish is my command."

"I was hoping you'd say that. Come on." She led me to the area in front of the curtain, pointed me to one of two seats right in front, and cleared her throat, which had an immediate effect on the room. People began filling in the seats in pairs while single men stood in back. Though I had arrived single, it looked like I suddenly had a date, since I was sitting up front. "Thank you all for coming tonight. Before I start things off, I want to remind everyone that the donation barrel is by the door. Carl, I'm looking at you." Several people chuckled at one portly fellow who shook his head. "Please drop your donations in it before you leave tonight. And, as always, your donations are entirely confidential, but you will get the required sanitized tax forms."

Now I felt self-conscious, since I had no clue a donation was expected at this party, and with the swim team, I couldn't afford another charity. Panic threatened to consume me, and I resisted the urge to get up and make my excuses. Diane had made no request of me for money, and John had never mentioned it.

"Now, without further ado, let the show begin." She turned with a flourish and waved her hand at the curtain, which parted on cue to reveal a large platform being wheeled into place by two people decked out head to toe in black spandex. Even their faces were covered. Soft music filled the room from hidden speakers, as the pair spun the platform one complete revolution before stopping it and slinking back into the shadows behind the curtain. Diane settled into the seat next to mine pulled my arm around her and nestled in, resting her hand on my thigh. She did it in such a way that it never occurred to me that it was odd. I had never in my life met a more forward woman and it was at the same time flattering and disconcerting. It was also comfortable and pleasant, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to do.

"Uhm, Diane," I leaned close to her and whispered, "I had no idea this was a fundraiser..."

"Oh, don't you worry about that," she patted my thigh and lit me up with the brightest smile I'd seen in ages. "I didn't invite you to get your money. Now, just relax and enjoy the show."

Two different figures emerged on either side of the platform and approached it with exaggerated high steps. While the two in spandex were dressed to remain anonymous and ambiguous, these two were the opposite and easily recognizable as women. Pastel silk drapes flowed over their bodies and obscured the details of their otherwise nude figures while at the same time highlighted them, until a step revealed a bare thigh or a bare arm from between the layers of silk. They were lithe and fluid in their movements, almost dancing around the platform. Breasts jiggled with each step, and nipples hardened against the movement under the silk. Their figures were athletic; muscles flexed with the movements, and not one dimple of cellulite could be seen. Each wore a decorated mask one would expect to see at Mardi Gras, and each had a white choker collar with a single red heart-shaped jewel at the throat.

They came together on the platform, continuing their dance on their knees. The platform dimpled slightly under their weight, indicating it must be a large cushion or mattress. When they pressed their hands together palm to palm, and reached overhead until their chests touched, it dawned on me what I was about to watch. My collar tightened as my pulse quickened and my cock twitched. I don't know what I expected from this party, but it wasn't a sex show. Perhaps I thought I would meet some people that could help with the swim team, or at least maybe enjoy the company of a nice young woman after a few hours of drinking and banal conversation. I had to admit this was a better, if stranger and definitely unexpected, option.

The girls danced on the platform for a few more moments, their hands only touching palm to palm, their breasts swaying under the silk. My eyes found their focus on the dancers' nipples, erect under the diaphanous fabric, tic-tocking to the rhythm of the techno music.

One girl pressed her hands forward, forcing the other dancer to lay back, which presented her silk-covered breasts to the first girl's face. She pantomimed licking the protruding nipple with her mask. Then, in time with the beat of the music, they reversed positions and repeated the action. When the beat changed, they changed again, only this time the first girl removed the bottom of her mask, revealing a pouty little mouth with bright red lipstick. She did it so fluidly that I almost missed it. I only noticed it when her lips locked around the nipple of her partner and suckled it into her mouth, the breast having emerged from its silken prison during the movement.

The music shifted to a more sedate rhythm as the girls began running their hands over each other's body, sliding the scarves around and exposing a little flesh here, a little there. They wrapped each other in a tangle of silk, where it was difficult to tell where one girl ended and the other began. All the while, they were caressing each other and kissing and licking any flesh as it became exposed.

While my attention was riveted on the tableau in front of me, Diane had not been idle. Her hand crept along my thigh from inside my knee toward my hip, being careful to avoid my tenting erection. The heat from her touch burned through the fabric of my slacks. It took most of my willpower not to grab her hand and place it where I was certain it wanted to go. I know where I wanted it to go. My willpower took aid from the fact that I had never seen such a display as the one on the platform. Sure, I had seen sex. I had seen a lot of porn. I had watched several orgies. But none of them were the form of art I was watching now. I couldn't turn away. If the girls had been totally naked, the performance--no, the art--would have suffered.

The pair continued for several more moments. The music never ended, nor changed tempo as they moved. I had no way of gauging the passage of time aside from my heartbeat throbbing in my hard on. Soon, a flash of silk flew through the air as one girl flung the fabric high above her. Another followed, as soon, it was raining silk. The scarves formed a pastel ring around the platform as the two naked girls cuddled together kissing. One girl pulled away from the other long enough to reach over the back side of the platform and reappear with a small bottle filled with red liquid. She popped open the cap and poured the oil all over her body, spreading it with her other hand.

I watched as her hands were joined by those of her partner and all four hands touched everywhere on her shiny body. In no time, every inch of flesh was shining with oil. The first girl's body, the lights highlighting the glistening of her skin, was flawless proportioned. Nice B-cup breasts with pink nipples that jiggled as she moved flowed into a tight tummy, the abs just discernible as they flexed. Her ass was perfect; so perfect, it seemed familiar. I couldn't dwell on it as those cheeks parted over her partners thigh and clenched as she ground her mound on her partner's leg while kissing her. There was so much oil between them, it pooled on the platform and splashed as they moved.

The two began kissing in earnest, battling tongues between their open mouths as their slippery bodies gyrated against each other. I'd seen girls kiss before, but something about this took the experience to a whole new level, and my cock responded, lurching in my trousers.

"They are hot together, aren't they," Diane said as her hand gripped my thigh. "It looks like you think so, anyway."

I looked down and her hand was still on my thigh resting next to my tumescent bulge. I looked up into a low simmering smolder in her eyes, while her mouth was drawn up in a coy smile. I decided that the situation called for a more direct response than a subtle joke. My dad once gave me a bit of relationship advice. He said there is no woman more significant than the one you're with. "They are indeed, but not as hot as you."

She leaned even further into me, pressing her breasts together against my chest. "Good answer. I like the way you think," she smiled. "Feel free to keep it up."

On the platform, the girls had threaded their legs together and were grinding their glistening pussies against each other as they played with each other's breasts. I heard a groan from behind me, and I couldn't help but turn my head. The couple behind me were busy shedding clothes as they touched each other. It took me a moment to recognize the woman was Cindy, the university president, and her partner was not her husband Arthur, but some young man I didn't recognize.

Arthur was in an easy chair toward the back of the room with a dark-skinned young girl sitting in his lap as he rubbed her naked breasts from behind. The other guests were all in various levels of coupling. I turned back to Diane. Her eyes searched my face for a reaction. I only smiled. "I wish I'd known what this party was going to be," I said. "I almost didn't come."

"I'm glad you did." Diane leaned in for a gentle kiss, which I happily supplied. Her lips were warm and soft, with just the right amount of moisture to move freely against mine, but not too wet. After a breath, she pulled back. "It would've been a shame if you'd stayed home."

I reluctantly turned back to the show, where the two girls had moved into a sixty-nine, and Diane rested her head on my shoulder and pulled my hand from her shoulder to her breast, where she held it against her blouse. Ordinarily I would have been shocked. I've never met a woman so sure of herself, or so assertive, that she would grab the hand of a man she just met and put it on her breast. But something about Diane made it seem completely acceptable, as though such a thing happened all the time. Maybe it was the fact that two women were having sex not five feet in front of us.

I enjoyed the heft of her breast in my palm as I watched the show. The girl on top had a narrow-lipped pussy and a little clit still hidden in her folds, though the lips were being held open by the other girl's fingers. Her ass was tiny and tight, and her puckered hole winked as her partner licked her pussy from the clit to the taint, pausing to insert the pointed tongue as deeply as she could. She slurped and licked everywhere her tongue could reach. Her fingers kept probing and playing with the vulva between trips deep inside the hot, wet cauldron. Juices dripped from the open cleft into the bottom girl's mouth.

"Wait to you see what's next," Diane said in my ear. Her breath was getting warmer every time she whispered to me.

The bottom girl pushed two fingers from each hand deep into the wet pussy above her and twisted them as she pulled them out. She repeated this move several times in time with the beat of the music, pulling the lips harder each time, the shiny pink pussy flesh visible deep inside the gaping hole. She took her one hand and dipped it into a pool of oil that gathered on the platform, coating her fingers, palm and the back of her hand, then she repeated the process with the other. She ran her hands all over the top girl's ass and pussy, pausing to dip into the wide-open hole with one, then two, then four fingers.

Top girl was moaning her arousal as the music played on, building toward a crescendo. Bottom girl kept up her attack, pushing four fingers of one hand in with a twist, then replacing them with the other hand. Several times, she slid the fingers from her right hand in alongside the fingers from her left. Top girl's pussy was hanging open. Her thin pussy lips were now swollen an angry red and dripping a combination of oil and juice.

Bottom girl sucked top girl's clit and labia into her mouth, shaking her head before pulling back, stretching the lips as far as they could go. When she released the lips, her right hand followed them back four-fingers deep into her pussy, but she didn't stop there. She tucked her thumb, twisted her wrist and pushed the rest of her hand inside as well. Top girl cried out and began humping bottom girl's arm.

"God! Yes!" Top girl cried. "More! Deeper! God, fill me up!"

My mouth had gone dry, which clued me into the fact that I was sitting there mouth agape, dumbfounded at the sight before me. I tried to swallow but had no spit.

"Isn't that hot?" Diane's breath ignited my ear.

I wanted to turn to face Diane, but I could no more turn away from the sight of bottom girl's hand wrist-deep inside top girl than I could grow a third arm. Bottom girl's forearm was shiny with oil and girl cum as she worked the pussy above her.

"Have you ever seen anything like that?"

"No," I replied without turning my head. "Never. I didn't know it could even fit."

Diane chuckled. "You'd be surprised what can fit."

I heard a gasp behind me, followed by a wail and I turned to see Cindy with her legs spread wide and her lover's fingers deep inside her pussy trying to mirror the action on the platform. Now I was torn between watching the younger girls continue their play or watching a very attractive older woman enjoying the same thing. After a few moments, I turned back and noticed that Diane wasn't sitting beside me. She was standing between me and the platform, her dress puddled on the floor at her feet. My eyes traveled up her shapely legs to the flare of her hips, the pinch of her waist, over her tight abs to the swell of her breasts, following the curve of her neck to her smoky lust-filled eyes. This was a vision that I would expect to see on the big screen. I couldn't see a flaw anywhere. With her hair, she could easily pass for a 40's film noir glamour star.

"I got tired of waiting on you to make a move," she said leaning in. "Sometimes, you need to take what you want in this world, Barry." She leaned closer and pressed her full lips to mine. If our last kiss was memorable, this one was unforgettable. She pushed me back against the chair as she settled onto my lap, her naked body pressing into mine, never breaking the contact with our lips. In that moment, the girls on the platform, Cindy behind me, hell, everyone else in the place faded into nothingness. The only thing was that kiss. When she pulled back, I gulped air, feeling like I had over-exerted myself. "Now, that's more like it," she purred. "You're a great kisser, Barry."