One Night At A Party (Conclusion)byquinn rogan©
As Mary raced, coat flapping behind her, towards the back gate, I took off after her. I caught her as she was trying to flick up the latch on the gate, and grabbed her wrists. I pulled her arms wide apart. There was a street lamp on the other side of the lane and, in its soft yellow light, Mary's naked tits were clearly visible, her nipples dark organ stops on the twin mounds of firm flesh.
"Charlie!" she whispered, urgently, protestingly. "Stop that – somebody'll see!"
"Like that lucky old sod with his dog?" I laughed, but then I threw my arms round her and hugged her, fiercely. We kissed, long and deep, then I pushed the gate open and we went up the short path to the back door, my left arm round her shoulders, my right hand, naturally, playing with her exposed breasts.
I desperately wanted to get her into the empty house, and to get the rest of her clothes off. And, deep down, although I wasn't really admitting it to myself yet, I wanted to get her to talk about what had happened with Billy – tonight, and at the beach barbecue last summer. Again, my mouth dried, and my balls tightened, as I thought about Billy – and Tom – uncovering Mary's tits, and feeling them ...
Mary opened the back door, and we groped our way through the darkened kitchen. Mary clicked on the light in the hall and, with one movement, shrugged her coat, blouse and bra off her shoulders. They fell in a heap on the parquet floor and Mary slid her hands up the front of her body and cupped her breasts, offering them to me.
"Is this what you want, Charlie?" A smile danced across her lips, but it was as lascivious as it was amused. Her tongue peeped out from between her teeth, wetting her lips. Her thighs, in her tight short skirt, were clamped together, and I imagined the moist dampness seeping into her panties. Inevitably, I thought to myself that this wasn't the first time she had been wet 'down there' tonight, and I wondered if, when my lips teased her tight, hard nipples, she would be imagining Billy's mouth – Billy's tongue ...
Like a moth to the flame, I was advancing on Mary, hands outstretched to accept her offered breasts, when the flash of headlamps illuminated the glass-panelled front door. I stopped dead. It had to be somebody coming up our drive.
"Who the hell's that?" I exclaimed, and a look of almost comic distress appeared on Mary's face.
"Oh, shit!" she said, bending to grab her clothes off the floor. "It's Sheila and Billy – I asked them round for a drink – I'm sorry, Charlie ... "
By now, she was halfway up the stairs.
"You let them in, while I get decent – please, Charlie!" – and the bathroom door slammed shut!
I couldn't remember the last time I was so disappointed – and frustrated. I was actually shaking with a mixture of desire and rage and disappointment when there was a soft knock at the door. Trying to compose myself, I went to answer it.
"Hi, Charlie," said Sheila, breezily, as I opened the door. I tried to smile as she stepped past me into the hall, but without much success. Billy looked a little ill-at-ease as he followed her – perhaps not too surprising, in view of our earlier conversation.
I helped Sheila take her coat off and, as she shrugged herself out of it, I couldn't help glancing at the small bulges in her red blouse. They certainly didn't look like "floppy puppies" to me, I thought, sourly – more like hibernating hamsters! I knew that, whatever happened now, I had 'lost the moment' with Mary and, even if we did fuck after Billy and Sheila had gone, it wouldn't be as good as it had been going to be, two minutes ago.
Mary came tripping down the stairs, fully dressed – and looking, I thought, utterly fuckable!
"Hi, Sheila! Hi, Billy!" she sang out. "We're just back – good party, wasn't it?"
She led the way into the lounge and I uncorked a bottle of wine. Sheila said she was driving, and I poured her a soft drink. Billy and I sat on armchairs either side of the coal-effect gas fire, while the girls sat together on the settee. The girls did most of the talking, while Billy and I seemed to want to avoid each other's eyes.
It was strange how our conversation was affecting me, now – now that Billy and Mary were in the same room. It was as though I could read Billy's mind and whereas, two hours ago, I might have caught him glancing at her and assumed he was thinking - 'I wonder what Mary's tits look like under that blouse' – I could now imagine his thoughts, remembering, not only the feel, but the sight, of her naked breasts in his hands. Part of me was angry at the thought – but another, darker, part was most definitely aroused.
In an attempt to distract myself, I sneaked another glance at Sheila, and tried to visualise her little breasts, uncovered. Billy had admitted that she had had them felt by other men – probably one or two that I knew. I wondered who they were – probably Tom, I thought, and maybe Alvin. She always spent a bit of time with Alvin at these parties.
My erection, which had subsided, was beginning to stir again. Sheila wasn't bad-looking, I thought. She was a bit on the skinny side for my tastes, but she had a nice wide mouth and, like most men, I do have a 'thing' about blondes. Her legs were shapely – her calves slim, but the thighs which were partially revealed by her short skirt were lean and strong. I imagined them wrapped round my waist ...
My glass was empty and I stood up to fetch the bottle. I took it over to Mary and she held out her glass. As I finished pouring, I caught Sheila's eye.
"Well, Charlie," she said, quietly. "What do you think, now you've had a chance to think it over?"
I stood stock still, my mind racing. Behind me, I could feel Billy tense up. I looked down at Mary – she was staring at Sheila, in genuine puzzlement.
When no-one else said anything, it was Mary who spoke.
"Think what over?" she said, her voice curious, but not concerned.
Sheila draped an arm affectionately around Mary's shoulders.
"Billy told Charlie about you letting him feel your tits tonight. And then he told me – sorry!" she said.
Mary looked up at me with such a tragic expression that I had to sit on the arm of the settee and put a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry," I said – although I couldn't think what I was apologising for. "I was going to talk to you about it later."
"No, I'm sorry, Charlie," she said. "It was … just ... " her voice trailed away, and she glanced at Billy. Sheila got up and went over to Billy, sitting on his lap, her left arm draped round his neck. I slid down beside Mary. I put my arm round her shoulders. I lifted her chin and kissed her mouth.
"Look," I said to her, softly. "It's OK. Billy and I had a talk and - well, we sorted it out. I understand. I ... "
I ran out of words – I couldn't tell her what I really thought – not with Billy and Sheila there. Then I saw Mary's eyes widen as she looked across the room, and I followed her gaze. Sheila's head was down, kissing Billy – and his hand was inside her red blouse. It only had two front buttons undone, but I could see enough to tell Sheila wasn't wearing a bra and Billy's hand was slowly caressing her left breast.
Sheila lifted her head, and grinned at Mary. "Come on, Mary," she said. "It won't be the first time we've had our tits felt in the same room!"
Suddenly, Mary pulled my head towards her and she kissed me, fiercely, her tongue forcing its way through my lips. Grabbing my wrist, she pulled my hand up and onto her breast. Her lips mashed against mine and her breathing was wild and jerky. Her hands were busy at the buttons of her blouse and, when they were free, she reached up her back to fiddle with her bra-strap.
But I was ahead of her. My cock like a pole, I remembered what she had forgotten – and snapped open her front-fastening bra. I felt it drop away, and closed my hand over a beautiful naked breast. I squeezed it hard, and Mary moaned, and shuddered. I felt for her nipple – it was rock-hard, and I rasped my thumb over it.
Suddenly, I remembered Billy and Sheila – and my first instinctive thought was to move my arm so that Billy could see Mary's other exposed breast. My second was to see how far Billy had got with Sheila.
They were no longer on the chair. They were lying on the lambswool rug in front of the fire. Billy was still fully clothed, but Sheila's blouse was lying on the arm of the chair. She was on her back, her neck crooked in Billy's arm, while Billy kissed her and, in full view of us, ran his hands over her smallish - but larger than I had thought - firm breasts.
I returned my attention to Mary and, still frantically feeling her tits, pushed her blouse and bra back over her shoulders, and off her arms. I needed two hands to finish the job and she sat up to help me. Naked to the waist, she was stunning, and I couldn't help looking round to see if Billy was looking. Of course, he was, and Mary saw him looking, too.
As her upper clothing disappeared, she slid her hips off the settee and pulled me with her, down on to the rug. She lay down beside Mary, but with her head by Mary's feet, and reached up for me again, pulling my mouth down on to her nipple. I imagined what Billy must be thinking, as I closed my lips round the erect hardness, and pressed my erect cock against Mary's thigh.
Mary moaned, deep in her throat, then moaned again – and again. Her thigh was jerking against my cock. Twisting my head, I saw the reason. It wasn't just me – Billy's hand was up inside Mary's skirt and I could see the backs of his fingers working against the tight material. I was beyond reason, now. I reached down and pulled her skirt up at the front – I had to see.
I watched, dry-mouthed, as Billy's fingers disappeared inside the soaking crotch of my wife's panties, his eyes fixed on the tops of her spread thighs as she pushed herself back and forth against his hand. Still watching Billy, I reached over, blind, towards Sheila and felt her hand grab mine and place it firmly on her breast. I squeezed it, and felt her nipple surge into the palm of my hand.
Then she pulled my hand away and, before I could protest, she dragged it down her body and, pulling her skirt up, raised her legs and guided me to the junction of her thighs. She wasn't wearing panties and her vagina felt wide and moist to my touch ...
Now I raised my head. I was looking straight at the swollen pink lips of Sheila's vagina. I moved my hand for a better view. Her labia were small, and neat, and she had a very long, very visible clitoris, peeping shyly out of a nest of strawberry-blonde pubic hair. I rubbed my thumb against her clit, and I heard her gasp. I slipped one finger, then two, between her distended labia, and she began to writhe.
I felt she was close to coming and I concentrated on massaging her clitoris, but Mary beat her by a short head, her sustained "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh", as Billy brought her to a shattering climax providing the final spark to put Sheila over the top to a slightly quieter, but no less violent, orgasm ....
It was a little time before anyone moved, but, eventually, Mary let out a long breath of contentment and shifted her shoulders, whereupon Billy did the decent thing and reluctantly removed his hand from her panties.
I stood up and gathered up the glasses and re-filled them. This time, Sheila didn't refuse wine. The girls moved over to sit with their backs to the settee, but made no move to cover up, sitting, knees drawn up, in just their short skirts and, in Mary's case, still, panties. As I poured the wine, I noticed that Billy had moved to sit beside Mary, so, with mixed feelings, I sat down beside Sheila.
There was a silence, but not an awkward one, and then I asked a question which had been bugging me for some time.
"So," I said, "what's this about you having your tits felt in the same room before?"
As I was sitting beside her, my question was addressed to Sheila. She smiled and, taking my hand, put it on her breast. It was quite a substantial handful, in her sitting position, and I caressed it fondly. She sighed, contentedly.
"If you two take some of your clothes off," she said, "we might tell you. OK, Mary?"
Mary nodded and, as we stood up to remove everything but our shorts, she reached under her skirt and deftly removed her panties, pushing them under the settee.
"Don't leave them for your mother to find," warned Sheila, and they both giggled.
I felt a little awkward as I sat down again, in only my shorts – not least because the thought that Mary was now sitting beside Billy, with no panties on, had revived my hard-on.
Sheila leaned over and whispered "Nice", nodding at the bulge in my shorts. I glance over at Mary to see if she had heard. Billy's arm was round her shoulders, and his other hand was already fondling her breast again. My cock jumped again, and Sheila moved forward to let me drape an arm over her and, this time, I dropped my hand on to her thigh, sliding it round to the sensitive inner part.
She raised her face and I kissed her, for the first time. As I did so, I could see that Billy's cock was also erect and I realised I wanted to see Mary touch it. But her hands were in her lap, her head back, as Billy's fingers gently rolled her nipple.
Sheila moved her head back. "Do you want to hear about it, then?" she asked. Billy and I nodded.
"Well," said Sheila, "remember the French weekend, the summer before last?"
We did. The club had organised a visit to a tennis tournament in France. We had actually done quite well, coming third out of an international entry of more than twenty teams.
"It was the Sunday, after lunch," continued Sheila. "You all went for a walk on the beach before the afternoon's matches, and we stayed behind to get the kit ready – it was our 'turn' – remember?"
"Yes," said Billy. "And you didn't make much of a job of it ... "
"There was a reason for that," laughed Mary. "You remember Philippe – the young waiter, who was also the French club junior champion?"
I was beginning to see where this was going.
"The one whose older brother owned the hotel? Really fancied himself!" I asked, suspiciously.
"Yes," said Sheila. "Auguste." I sniffed, contemptuously. Auguste!
"Well," continued Mary, "we were just having our last glass of wine at the table, when Auguste joined us, with a bottle of champagne! It would have been rude to refuse him, so we had a glass, and then Philippe joined us, because lunch was over and he had finished working for the day. So we had another glass – or three - with him, and then we said we would have to go to the laundry to iron the clean kit."
Mary voice rose on the last sentence and the she stopped talking, rather suddenly. I realised Billy's hand was on her thigh, and heading for its inevitable target, if it had not already reached it. As I watched, Mary leaned forward and touched the lump in Billy's shorts, then her fingers wrapped themselves round it. My heart raced, then - "Good idea," breathed Sheila, and her hand closed round my throbbing prick. I slipped my hand up her thigh to feel the wet warmth of her spread vagina.
"Shall I carry on the story?" asked Sheila, a bit breathlessly. Taking the absence of any reply as assent, she went on, as I slipped one finger in her - "Well, to cut a long story short, they said they would come and help, but ... "
Her hand tightened round my cock, and she slid it out of my front opening. I teased her clit. Somehow, she managed to carry on.
"... but they were no help at all! They stood behind us – Auguste with me, and Philippe with Mary – and, as we ironed, they put their hands round us and ... and squeezed our breasts! We tried to stop them – didn't we, Mary?"
"Oh, yes," replied Mary, with utter insincerity. She was now lying back against the settee, her skirt up round her waist, Billy's fingers delving into her dark thatch, and her hand squeezing and sliding up and down the shaft of his erection. "Oh, yes," she repeated, between gasps.
"We really did try," she continued, "but their hands were – well - everywhere. They pulled our shirts off, then our bras, and we could hardly iron at all – it's very difficult to iron properly when someone's playing with your tits and kissing your nipples. And they were very good at it, weren't they, Sheila – Auguste, with his tickly moustache - and the younger one – Philippe – so we had to – well, we had to resort to desperate measures, to be ready for you coming back, at all"
My mind was full of images of Mary and Sheila, in the hotel laundry, giggling, full of wine and champagne – and two randy Frenchmen enjoying their naked tits and nipples. I thought I knew the answer to the question, but I asked anyway.
"What did you do?"
They looked at each other, then leant forward simultaneously. The wet warmth of Sheila's lips engulfed the head of my cock. Her hand slid down to the base. I saw Mary's mouth close over Billy's cock, then felt the surge in my balls as my orgasm started. I threw my head back in ecstasy and saw nothing more – only felt Sheila expertly milking my root as I shot jet after jet into her warm, willing mouth ...
When I opened my eyes, Mary was lying on her back, on the rug, Billy's head on her stomach, one hand cuddling her left breast. Her skirt was pulled up, her thighs and vagina fully exposed. Sheila still had my cock – long since limp and flaccid – between her lips, her tongue still circling the head.
"Time for bed, I think," I said. "Can you stay the night?"
"Yes, thanks, Charlie," said Sheila, and Billy nodded.
We all knew we would be going to separate rooms. Neither Billy nor I wanted our wives to fuck someone else, and, after a round of goodnight kisses, they went off into the guest bedroom.
But they didn't close their door – and neither did we. It wasn't really a competition to see who had the noisiest climax, but Mary and I won it, anyway, as I got her to tell me, again, about the Frenchmen in the laundry! And, even as I fell asleep, I was looking forward to the next night, when I'd find out about the beach barbecue – and who knew what else!
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