Who Gets Stripped Next?

One thing I see a lot--it still turns me on--is some guy at Raymond's party who suddenly gets "the treatment"--squealing in protest and disbelief as his dick gets popping out in front of the cheering, clapping crowd. Girls freak out, too, but at some level we sort of accept that to be stripped and ogled is our fate.

I get invited to all of Raymond's parties. (I've written about him in previous, he likes taking me to bars in my sexy black dress and just talking, although he keeps hoping for more sex someday.) Raymond is anything but gay, but here in the Hamptons there's a big gay and lesbian community (alternating with life in New York's West Village, of course) and when they are weekending or summering in the Hamptons, they want to find the hottest parties.

People hear rumors of the goings on at Raymond's parties and want to make the scene--so why are they surprised when things happen to them? Probably think visitors just watch what is the antics of the regulars. They are subtly warned, however, with questions like "You have to accept what we are about." And: "Are you really willing to be part of the scene?"

Oh, yes, yes! I'm fine with it! No more needs to be asked.

At a recent party in Sag Harbor in a charming house worth a few millions, there were 20 guys and half-a-dozen girls, including me. Raymond likes that I am cute, funny, bitchy, and, you know, just tell me what to do if you don't hurt me--well, injure me. Hurt up to a point is sexy. And I bring a case. Sometimes wine, sometimes Montauk Ale, sometimes Kings County Distillery whiskey. A welcome guest.

So this night, on a quiet side street in Sag Harbor, in an old whaler captain's mansion now Raymond's, things are going as usual. Introductions, hugs, drinks, a tour of the house.

Tonight, guests are a well-known New York City editor, in his forties. Not sure why he is here, maybe to experience the "authentic Hampton's scene). He has brought his assistant editor, a heavy-set young woman with a massive bosom who talks about books, editing, grammar. And you just know she has a girlfriend ("spouse") and no male hands have ever touched her. What in hell does she think she is doing, here?

The moment comes. Everyone has had a few drinks. The plates of food are fantastic. Lots of seafood as befits Sag Harbor. Some guests have arrived in yachts that are bobbing in the harbor, now, and their wealth somehow clings to them like a scent.

Our host, Raymond, announces: "We have new and very welcome guests, this evening, Walter So-and-So, editor of So-and-So, and his legendary assistant and copy editor, Cynthia So-and-So." He grins. "They are very eager to find out what we do."

Rounds of applause. The two, the handsome male editor and the busty lesbian assistant editor, have no idea what is about go down, here. He is wearing blue jeans, sandals, a short-sleeved shirt that looks pretty good on his chest. She is wearing red shorts and a halter that holds her securely.

And our host says, "Let's have a look at you, Walter."

Yeah, right. Two husky regulars suddenly are behind Walter and seize his arms, holding him. You can guess what happens. He yelps, "Hey, what the fuck?"

And the host says, "You accept what we are about?"

High pitched cry: "Yeah, but..."

Hands are tugging down Walter's trousers. He looks as though he can't belief this. The guys behind him have lifted him so his pants can be whipped off over his feet. Taking away his shirt. Nice looking guy, I think. Good chest and abs, cute legs. Now, he is in his tightly whiteys. And shrieking: "No, please! Please! What is this! No! No!"

He is held, but his belly thrusts forward as he struggle. Guess why? Our gay party goers are hurrying over and reaching down inside his underwear to find out what's there. Hands, hands, hands. All sliding down into his underwear to play with his stuff. I don't try to resist. I step up close to him, my lips close to his face, and slip my hand down in his pants to grab his stuff, balls and all, and give a good squeeze.

I suddenly smile and say: "Wow! Big!" I play for a while with his swollen dick, which keeps getting bigger. He is struggling, twisting, but obviously it must feel good. I put my lips on his and we kiss.

Whoops, sorry. About 10 hands are taking turns diving into his underwear to play with him. Some start swatting his stomach. I see he is getting even bigger, moaning now, maybe in embarrassment, maybe aroused. Both, I would say. He casts quick desperate glances at Cynthia, his loyal assistant, and copyeditor, who is watching aghast. She looks stunned, also scared, and when she sees his expression, she puts her hands over her face. She's not supposed to see this.

Okay, enough stimulation. Walter gives a cry of alarm. Someone with some scissors is carefully cutting off his underwear, snip, snip, snip. It slides off and falls to the floor. His big swollen dick springs free. It is bright red, straight up, tilted a bit to the left, stiff and straight, as though pulling away in embarrassment. He gives a long moan of disbelief that sounds like "Nooooooooo..."

Despair. Sorry, Walter, your dick is now our party favor. Nothing new, to us. People are clapping and cheering. Guys and girls alike are staring at what he's got.

Then, hands are competing to play with the straight guy. Pumping him, playing with the big purple head that has thrust forward out of his foreskin. Suddenly, a guy is down on his knees, holding Walter's cock like an ice cream cone and sucking it. Walter groans louder. The girls are all watching and grinning; none has touched him, except me.

Really nice big dick. So sexy. I strip, now, as I always do at these parties. For a moment everyone watches, waiting to see what I reveal. I walked over and swat away the guy down on him. I stand right in front of him, press against him with my nipples, my cunt with its jet-black fur, my lips. He is so sweet and so whacked out.

I kneel, now, and take him in my mouth. I hear a long moan.

Oops! Surprise. He suddenly cries out: "What about Cynthia? What about her? Am I the only one? What is this?"

I can only figure he thinks that if this happens to him in front of Cynthia, he is never going to feel sane working with her. And who might she tell? Unless of course...

Cynthia, who has uncovered her face and been riveted on what is happening to her boss, cries only, "No!"

Sorry, Cynthia. Two girls seize her arms from the back, holding her. She screeches: "No, please! Please! Please! Don't you fucking dare!"

Our host says, in a calming tone, "You said you accepted what we are about, Cynthia?"

"Yes! No! Please! No! Please!"

By now, they already have her dress off. She gives a cry of disbelief, despair, and wild protest. Her bra is unhooked and whipped off, freeing her big spreading pendulous boobs, freckled, with big orange nipples, now getting stiff.

"Oh, no!" she sobs, struggling. I'm only a 32B, with breasts like a marble sculpture and little dark red nipples that always stick out, too much. I love this ample spreading flesh of real boobs

Her pleas do no good, a girl is kneeling in front of her, with a big grin, pulling down Cynthia's big white panties. She has a rounded belly, also freckled, smooth and pale, and at the bottom is her massive triangle of light-brown, curly hair. She gives a final, long wail as everyone sees what she has and starts to clap.

No guy is touching her, yet. Just the girls. One is pressed against her, now, kissing. Another is on her knees, her face pushed into the mass of hair over her pussy. Cynthia's wails have given way to soft moans.

But who can leave well enough alone? I am standing watching Cynthia's big, curvy body forced to accept all this. But suddenly, naked Walter, with a screaming stiff erection, has been shoved into position.

Hands push Cynthia down to her knees, lets folded under her so her belly becomes a little roll of fat, and her dangling titties almost brush her thighs. "Take it, Cynthia!" someone orders sternly. She opens her eyes. There in front of her face, inches away, is her boss's stiff red dick. Cynthia moans, "Oh, no..." but it does not carry conviction. She has heard of this even if she never has done it. She opens her lips and takes in the big, stiff dick. Her eyes are open as though admitting honestly to what she is doing. But then he eyes jack wide open as she stretches her mouth, her whole face, to admit her boss's big stiff meat.

It had to happen. Walter is thrusting, now, pushing his stiffness into Cynthia's mouth. Poor Cynthia, a half-dozen hands, utterly fascinated with the flesh of her breasts, now are massaging, grabbing, feeling her up, stretching her light orange nipples as far they will stretch--and more.

It doesn't last long. Other people want Walter's toy. They pull him away, so his dick slides out of Cynthia's mouth with a wet pop.

I really like Cynthia. The party is in full swing. I kneel beside her, my hand caressing her, and I press my stiff little nipples against her. My lips seek out her cheek. She likes girls.

Wow, this chick has been co-opted. Suddenly, her index finger is jammed up into my pussy, working me. She is groping me with that finger again and again. Christ, I could come.

I turn my face toward the sound of cries. Yes, these parties get out of control. Guys are swatting poor Walter's big swinging balls--not too roughly, but he yelps and tries to jerk away, which, of course, he can't. Mustn't be too bad, his erection gets even stiffer. Someone starts slapping his big stiff dick back and forth.

Cynthia is still kneeling, as though uncertain what to do next. Hands are grabbing her and feeling her up. Hands that squeeze and stretch, squeeze, and pull her fleshy nipples. She seems to have given up any defense of her boobs. Maybe she didn't know these very unfashionable knockers fascinate men and she is enjoying it.

I know hysteria when I see it. And it is coming. I kneel and learn forward to cover Cynthia's nudity with my body. And for a moment, I do nothing. When her eyes focus on me, I whisper: "It's going to happen, Cynthia. Just let it happen. No one will hurt you. Okay?"

After a moment, she kind of sobs, gasps, "Okay. Thanks, yes, Okay. Thanks." And abruptly, he is kissing me, kissing me madly.

My small hand has cupped her boob. No possible chance of covering this thing with one hand. I roll her nipple until it is long and stiff. She smiles a little. I put my lips to hers.

I whisper, "Did you ever see your boss's dick? Most of them don't come as big as than this."

It was true, hands from every side were amusing themselves with Walter. He had a huge erection. I could see that he had given himself up to it. I got up and went over, swished away the hands, and put myself naked against him. My face was close to his.

"Oh," he said. "Oh."

I reached down with my small hand and took him. I smiled into his eyes.

"Oh!" he said.

"So manly," I murmur to him. Then, I put my lips on his even as I gently massage his cock.

"So beautiful," he mutters. And then: "Why do they do this?"

"Why do you think? The reason that brought you to this party in the first place."

"Yeah, but, I thought..." And he groans, "So good!"

"I can make it better," I whisper. And I lower myself to my knees, kissing along his body as I go, and open my lips very wide to take him my mouth. Quite a stretch. A big sucker. My other hand gently encloses his probably aching balls.

I knew this would ignite onlookers. Always does. From behind me, anonymous fingers thrust hard up into my cunt, curling, stroking my wetness. As if that were not enough, another finger suddenly is up my asshole. Oh, well. And then, hands come around from the back and are cupping my titties, squeezing them, and toying with my nips.

I knew what was coming. This the climax of the party. Rough hands are on my shoulders, drawing me back and down. I don't resist.

I am on my back, my long, slim legs lifted and pulled back to open myself. You have to go with the flow. And sure enough, after brief, rough, very arousing pounding on my pubis, I feel the spurts of hot semen inside--and outside on my belly.

I glance aside, and, on the floor beside me, is Cynthia. I catch her eyes and, yes, she smiles. Sisters.

I guess we are the party girls. I see that the spurts of hot semen are falling on her face from the circle of dicks above her, even as I feel drops on my belly, my eyes, my lips...

All good times must end. Our host, Raymond, has a mini-spa and locker room for the girls. I go in with Cynthia and a quiet Mexican girl, a dainty thing with beautiful light brown skin, totally firm titties with dark brown nipples, jet black hair. And the sweetest smile.

She is new. Someone invited her, but no one this evening had done anything to her. Now, Cynthia, she, and I are in the little hot pool.

She smiles shyly at me and says, "I had no idea."

"Who brought you?"

"Oh, a guy from the Recenter that I met. I work out every day."

I smile. "I can tell."

"Yeah," says Cynthia with a smile, leaning back in the hot water of the tub, big floating boobs just breaking the surface with orange nipples.

"Nothing was done to me," says the girl.

"Are you Horney?"

She lowers her gaze, looking out from beneath long eyelashes, and grins. "A little."

Such a sweet perfect piece.

I draw her to me. She does not resist. After a long kiss, I heave her up onto the rim on the pool. I say, "Lie back."

I part her perfect legs, opening the sweet belly. It rises and falls, as she gasps. Then, I lean in, my lips on her pussy. She almost screams. I figure, yeah, she has been aroused all evening.

A lot of noise as she comes.

Cynthia has been watching us. Very laid back, calm. With girls, she is fine. When I finish with the girl, she says, conversationally, "I actually didn't come either, for all they fucking did to me."

I motion with my head. She understands, heaving her big butt and heavy legs up onto the rim of the pool. I don't have to tell her to lift her legs and spread herself. She lifts them, bends them, and pulls them toward her breasts. So, her cunt is spread wide.

I bury my face between her legs, in the light-brown hair of her pussy. This girl has one thick stamen! I lick and suck on her cannoli of a clit as she goes wild. She heaves her hips so that I scarcely can keep my lips on the target. I take the clit in my teeth; she gasps, stops thrashing.

Well, I whisper a few ideas to them and we emerge back to the party stark naked. Just barely dry. Pink from the hot spar. The party has become quite sedate. I notice that they have not let Walter get dressed. He doesn't seem to mind, anymore. I guess that with that big cock, and lots of admirers, he is fine to stand around drinking and talking. Even though his was the only dick on display. Sometimes, as he stands with a drink in his hand, talking, someone grins at him and takes a handful of his sex and squeezes him.

We saunter up to the bar. Applause and stares, examining every inch of us. Cynthia comes up to Walter, stops, smiles shyly. "Wow!" he says. And she glances down. "Wow!" she says.

"Give you a drink?"

"Sure, scotch on the rocks." Classic drink of the New York City intelligence.

Raymond seems, as always, to be fascinated by me. But a lot of this is to show me off. I do have a kind of willowy model's body... "Okay!" he calls out. Everyone turns to look. They already were looking. "Here are my two goddesses!" His fingers diddle my right nipple, making it stiff. "Athena," he proclaims. And then he his teasing my left one. "Minerva!" he declares.

Pretentious prick. Why I enjoy him but can't accept his heartfelt marriage proposals.

Still, my dark red little titties are stiff, sticking out there. And everyone, but everyone, including the bartender are ogling them.

Our devastatingly cute, nude little Mexican seniorita, is standing quietly, ignored. Well, except I see a lot of eyes on her. The slightest tilt of my head, and my expression, tips off Raymond. I am taking a big chance. God knows what he will do.

He declares, "This is Maria Cruz."

He continues, "Did you every see anything so perfect?"

His hands clap onto her hip, and he lifts her little body and plops it on the bar. I see that Maria is grinning, but it is part expectation, part terror.

"Spread'em" says Raymond and he spreads her perfect legs on the bar so that we see her pussy. Her demure clit is swollen now. She knows it and try to close her legs.

"No, no!" says Raymond. "You have a perfect clit. We all want to see it."

I hear a kind of moan, a protest, from Maria. She is on display. Raymond's finger is stroking the little clit. Stroking it with his fiendish gentle perfect touch.

And there with everyone watching, seeing all Maria has, her perfect hips and legs, and her little hairy black mound, are thrusting up toward the pleasure. I hear her little gasp

Raymond drives her mercilessly toward a cum. All eyes are on her, writhing, twisting on the bar, for everyone to see. Her spread pussy is bright red. Her slim perfect thighs are heaving. And she screams her pleasure, screams again and again.

Our host, Raymond, hugs each girl goodbye and slips a little gift into each girl's hand--an American Gold Eagle. Current value, $1,928. A nice warm little present.

At the door, I take the sweet Mexican girl in my arms and give her a long lascivious kiss. As I do, I slip my coin into her hand.