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By *est-couple OP Man
over a year ago
Southwick (near Trowbridge) |
On Saturday night, we played again. We girls decided to dress this time, and a few hours were spent choosing nylons, lipstick, nail varnish, all the girly stuff which modern women aren’t supposed to be interested in. We had just opened the second bottle of wine, and the boys were stripped to their boxer shorts when we heard a cautious, quiet tap on my door. We froze, realised we were still dressed and waited. Tap again. Quietly I said, ‘Come in’. It was Mandy: curiosity had got the better of her, as I suspected it would.
She was obviously embarrassed. She walked into the room and Bill swung the door shut behind her. She sat down, rather heavily on the bed next to Suzanne, who I’m sure she was relieved to find clothed, and then hugged her. We let her calm herself, and I said – simply in the manner of the hostess:
What do you want, Mandy?’
She was silent.
‘Look, Mandy, we are going to play in a minute – play, that’s what it is, not sin or giving into temptation or doing the devil’s work or anything: play. What we do is no better nor worse than playing tennis or trivial pursuit. Now, if you want to stay, that’s fine – no one will touch you unless you make it VERY clear that you do want them to. But if you don’t want to stay, then you really need to go.’
Mandy was perturbed. My five associates were, I’m sure, convinced the sinner-in waiting would turn tail and run
‘Can I stay? Please…’ she pleaded. ‘But can I just watch, I mean, and not have anything done to me?’ She was breaking all the rules of her upbringing by even being here, let alone asking the question. It was heart-breaking, a real case of pleading. I looked around at my fellows. They nodded in acquiescence. Bill locked the door, and indicated to Mandy that it was a Yale lock: she could leave any time. He indicated a bean bag on which she could sit, and she flopped down – a woman who felt degraded just for thinking about sex. She hadn’t actually seen anything yet.
We, funnily enough, had seen far more of her than she of us. She sat awkwardly on the bean bag with her knees apart, and all of us could see the glaring white of her cotton knickers beneath her sensible grey cotton dress. Try as we might, we could see no stain of moistness – but maybe she hadn’t even thought about what horrors she might witness.
Feeling strangely awkward at having such an odd audience, we settled own for out lovemaking, probably with a secret desire to perform even more outrageously in order to shock our guest. We began by kissing our own partners and, after their hands had raised our skirts and invaded the lacy heat of our knicker, and our hands had traced a similar journey inside our boyfriends’ boxers, we swapped partners and did it all again. Ruth stripped Bill totally naked when she took him from me, and we all surreptitiously watched Mandy draw breath as his cock swung in to view. Her focus was intense, and only distracted as she realised there were two further cocks in pay and three girls eagerly sucking them in front of her. We expected to hear the click of the lock but still she sat there, entranced. What on earth was going on in her head? Swapping a third time, we allowed – no, we encouraged – the boys to strip us, and then, after an hour of licking, sucking and frigging, when cocks had been rubbed to hardness, pussies to wetness, and nipples to a peaky firmness we paused to take on further supplies of wine. The silent Mandy sat immobile in the corner near the door. We looked at her and she looked at us.
‘You can leave, you know’, said Suzanne. ‘Perhaps it is better that you go now. This isn’t really your scene, is it?’ Mandy shook her head, and stood up, but she ran not to the door but to her oldest friend at the University, Suzanne, and hugged her very tight. The boys rolled their eye; this was an orgy, not a psychotherapist’s ante room. Ruth and I were genuinely concerned, though, and sent the three of them out of the room so that we could have a pow-wow with the obviously distressed girl – a girl who we certainly liked, even if we thought her a bit daft. Them needless to say, in female company, it all came out. She had desires, she wanted to play, but she was scared of God, scared of the Vicar, scared of the Christian Union finding out – scared even of Suzanne thinking her a trollope (not in this context, I might add, a Victorian novelist but a lady of easy virtue!) She prayed long and hard for forgiveness when she masturbated (yes, she did that in secret), and felt like an inveterate sinner for even looking at a man. She’d certainly seen enough tonight to fuel her frigging sessions for the rest of her life, if her morality was so intent on compelling her to be a repressed but prurient virgin!
Group hugs were administered between the near naked and the clothed, and promises of secrecy and eternal friendship made. Her particular focus seemed to be the prim Suzanne, who for once took the initiative and told the girl she should stay, without guilt, if she really wanted to. Then she delivered the bombshell: ‘but if you stay, you may want to play’. Mandy looked terrified. ‘No, no, I won’t.’ Suzanne simply lifted the poor girl’s dress and showed us the soaking stain at the gusset of her panties.
‘Mandy’, she said kindly, you are now just at the point of no return. If you leave, then you won’t play tonight, and maybe you’ll regret walking out of this room for the rest of your life – or until, at least, you find Mr Right. Looking at the state of your pants, if you stay, you are going to end up naked, just to see what it feels like, and if you end up naked, I think you are going to succumb to temptation. We don’t want to rush you, but if you want to leave, leave now and put an end to it.’
The poor girl was in a terrible hiatus between duty and desire, fear and pleasure – but it was the human emotions that triumphed in her head over the ascetic ones. Looking at Suzanne with more courage than I think I had ever seen her show before, and holding her friends two hands she said ‘I’ll stay – and I’ll accept the consequences if I’m weak and fall into si––’. Suzanne stopped her friend’s mouth with a finger before she could enunciate the final ‘n’. ‘Pleasure isn’t a sin’ was all she said.
We knew the boys would return soon, and be all the more hungry for their pleasure – just as we were. We three looked at Mandy in her demure dress. ‘We think you’ll feel a different person if you are naked like the rest of us’, I said. She nodded, and almost gravely, we stripped her of her clothing and her respectability. Naked and ashamed she stood in front of us. There was another group hug, this time with Mandy’s nakedness sliding deliciously along our own flesh. She was accepted into the group, and we all kissed her, but in a way more innocent than the deep kisses which we shared for ourselves. That could come later, if she was that way inclined. For the moment there was one question: if her urges demanded it, which of the boys would she prefer to sleep with. The answer was typical of her: she couldn’t make her mind up, but when she said ‘All of them’ instead of the ‘Any of them’ she really meant, we felt that a prophecy had been uttered.
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