Literotic asexstories – Ladies' Night by tazmanuk,tazmanuk
Ladies’ Night
It had been a depressing evening. My football was playing in the quarter final of the Cup. We were favourites to win, and felt confident. My mate and I had decided to watch the game together, over a couple of beers and enjoy our victory.
Instead, we lost. The game was a joke. The referee was clueless, and with no video ref, we were at his mercy. We had a penalty turned down, which TV showed to be beyond doubt. The opposition’s goal was offside – what was the assistant ref playing at? How could she miss it? We were robbed.
Worse still, it had caused a fallout with my wife. I had arranged this, and forgotten it was her birthday. More accurately, I remembered her birthday, and had gifts etc, but forgot that I had agreed to take her out. When Ian asked me to watch the match with him, I just agreed without thinking.
I realised as soon as I put the phone down.
“Shit!” I said to Michelle (my wife), “that’s your birthday meal. I’ll call back and tell him.”
“Don’t bother,” she replied, “Megan called earlier. She wanted me to join her for a couple of drinks with Simone and a couple of friends. We can have dinner at the weekend.”
I was amazed she took it so well, and even more amazed that she was willing to get together with her twin sister. She and Megan got on quite well, but Megan would usually have been with her husband. I asked if Michelle was sure.
“Yeah,” she replied, “Megan and Geoff are having a difficult time. He’s moved out. She found he was having an affair. It’ll do her good to get out and have fun.”
“Who else is going?” I wondered.
“Well, I know Georgia’s going – and Cheryl. Then there’s Megan’s friend PJ. That’s all. I think she wants to bitch about Geoff, so she just wants a select group.”
Select indeed – Georgia was my wife’s other sister, and Cheryl was my step-sister. PJ and Megan had been friends since school.
No doubt they would spend the evening moaning about how awful men are and Michelle would come home depressed. Join the club.
Ian was hardly great company. His girlfriend had left him a few weeks before when she found he had been chatting with a woman online and exchanging photos with her – intimate photos. He spent half his time saying what an idiot he had been and the other half contacting his ex and begging her to go back to him. I knew she had moved on, because I had seen her with someone else, but didn’t have the heart to tell him. I had planned to tonight, but with the football result, I simply didn’t have the heart.
We were sitting commiserating at just after eleven o’clock, and Ian was talking about getting a taxi home, when I heard the key in the front door. Michelle’s arrival would, no doubt, speed up his departure.
However, rather than the quiet footsteps in the hall, followed by Michelle sticking her head in and saying ‘Hi’, I heard loud voices – slightly drunk voices – and the living room door burst open, allowing five women to pour in.
“Hi”, said five voices, simultaneously.
“Hi,” I and and I replied.
Michelle stepped forward. “Hope it’s OK,” she began, speaking slightly too loudly, as she had clearly had a little more alcohol than usual, “we got sick of all the noise in the pubs, and creepy blokes hanging around, so I suggested we come back here. We’ve got plenty of wine in, so we thought we could have a couple more drinks.”
Ian stood to leave.
“No, no, don’t go,” Michelle insisted, “stay and join us. Have a couple more beers and you can share a taxi with Megan and PJ later.” That made sense. They lived quite close to one another, and none of them was particularly able to afford the cost of a cab on their own.
Ian sat down, rather reluctantly. He would have preferred to avoid company, but he had no real excuse. Anyway, I knew he fancied PJ, even if he was still hung up on his ex, so maybe her presence would snap him out of his depression.
In fact, the ladies made quite a group. My wife, Michelle, is quite petite and curvy. She stands barely three inches over five feet, and although she has a slim waist, her boobs and bum are well rounded. She often complains about men ‘talking to her tits, not her face’, but as I point out, with tits like hers, they can hardly be blamed.
Megan is not an identical twin. Like Michelle, she is not blessed with great height, but neither is she blessed with curves. Her body is, in fact, remarkably average – pleasant, but average. What sets her apart are features she shares with Michelle – sparking, blue eyes and brown hair. It speaks volumes for Michelle’s boobs that they draw more attention than her eyes.
My step-sister is a red-head. I barely notice her looks, but friends say she is good-looking, in a pale, mousy way. This contrasts massively to Georgia, who is vivacious, well rounded and seems to have few inhibitions. Like her twin sisters, she is not tall, but she is larger. Perfect for those who like generously proportioned women, and, again, several of my mates were very drawn to her.
Then there was PJ. She was almost six feet tall, broad shouldered and superbly toned. Her Carribbean heritage was evident, not just from her skin tone, but from her laid back, easy-going attitudes. As she entered any room, all eyes turned to her, but she would sit, quietly, and observe everything. When she spoke, however, everyone took notice. She was an Amazon in stature (thanks to sport and the gym), and a leader by nature – and she almost radiated sexuality. Everyone knew she had to be incredible in bed – yet no-one actually knew. Perhaps she preferred men from her own ethnic group. Or maybe she was gay. She was an enigma.
I sorted out the drinks, and we all settled down together. The women had drunk enough to feel loose and relaxed. They chattered together loudly and with frequent raucous laughter. Ian and were probably in a similar stage of drunkenness, but our teams defeat had left us feeling maudlin and quiet.
Eventually, Michelle turned to me and said: “For fuck’s sake. Would you two cheer up. It’s a football match, not the end of the world.”
I shook my head at Ian. Some people would never understand.
Georgia swung round. “Let’s play a game. See if these two can cheer up a bit.”
She loved board games, and evenings at her house often ended up playing anything, from Trivial Pursuit to Scrabble to Mouse Trap and even Snakes and Ladders. I was not a big fan, but it was better than sitting around getting bored. The problem was, we had very few board games.
“How about cards?” Megan suggested. “Surely you’ve got a pack of cards.”
We had – but only one. It was a pack of cards I had had specially made from some photos of Michelle when she went for a ‘boudoir’ style shoot. We had both loved the photos, mostly of her in lingerie, with a few topless ones, and while we could hardly display them for everyone to see, I had decided a pack of cards would make a good birthday present. I only used the lingerie ones, of course, the more intimate ones were in a photobook which we looked through at times.
“Of course we have,” announced Michelle, “and it’s about time we actually used them.”
I was amazed she was considering using these cards – not so much because the women would see her in her sexy underwear, but because Ian would. Still, if she was comfortable with it, it was fine with me. The drinks she had probably helped.
She collected the cards from the bedroom and we all sat expectantly round the coffee table.
“Mark. Get that set of poker chips your brother got us last Christmas. They’ll do for gambling chips. What do people want to play?”
“Poker,” said Megan. No-one dissented, so it was agreed.
The big problem was that there were so many of us. Sharing chips between seven would mean very few each.
“Let’s play in pairs,” suggested Michelle. “Or two pairs and a three.” Again, no-one dissented.
After a little discussion, we split into our little groups. Me and Ian, Megan and PJ, and Michelle, Cheryl and Georgia. I felt quietly confident. Ian played poker quite regularly, and I enjoyed the odd game. To my knowledge, none of the women played.
We shared the chips and started playing.
As the cards were dealt, eyebrows rose at the images of Michelle, stretched out on a bed, wearing bra and knickers, in a sexy corset and thong with stockings, and in stockings and suspenders, with a sheer top, her nipples definable through the folds of the outfit. “Wow. Looking fit, Chelle,” commented Ian.
The women waxed lyrical about how fabulous she looked, wishing they had similar photos of themselves – all except PJ, who stated calmly that she had done something similar.
It was fun. People laughed, cursed the luck and moaned at the good fortune of winners. Ian and I were building a steady pile of chips. Had it been real money, we would have been ready to cash in and leave.
“We should have a prize for the winners,” quipped Ian.
“And a punishment for the losers,” followed up Georgia.
We all agreed, and started thinking. It was suggested that the winners be allowed to spend the next week relaxing, being served by the losers. A really poor idea, considering not all of us lived together.
Then PJ spoke – and when she spoke, everyone listened. “I think,” she purred in her rich, Jamaican accent, “the losers should do a forfeit, set by the winners.”
As we were winning, Ian and I loved the arrangement. The women seemed a bit unsure – especially Michelle, Cheryl and Georgia who had very few chips left – but eventually, it was agreed. I was already thinking of fun forfeits for my wife – waiting on me hand and foot all week, dressing up in Halloween costumes and going to the pub. Fun, but a bit humiliating.
The women, too, were talking about forfeits – mostly involving not watching football for two weeks if Ian and I lost, or cooking for all of us if was the other women. All very lightweight and fun.
With something at stake, the atmosphere changed. People were more thoughtful and serious, and both groups of women started to play much better. In fact, I rather thought we had been hustled.
Gradually, our impressive winnings dwindled, and it was increasingly the two groups of women who celebrated, almost as if they were co-operating. In fact, I had decided that this was exactly what was happening, and considered complaining. It would only have caused an argument, so I kept quiet.
I watched, and there was no question. The eye contact between the groups made it obvious that they were working together. There was a definite level of concentration which had not existed before. All I could do was shrug and get on with it. If we lost, so be it. Some daft forfeit and forget it.
The two groups of women had increased their piles of chips until they were fairly even, and as Ian and I laid down our final chip (with a pair of threes in our hand), we sat back, knowing it was going to take a very long time before a clear winner emerged.
As we watched, the women kept playing, teasing us with their ideas of forfeits. Georgia said they should give us a full makeover and take photos for our friends. Megan said we should dress in their clothes as well. They giggled as they played, coming up with various daft, innocuous ideas. I felt everyone would have given up long before there was a clear winner.
After a while, Ian and I were clearly getting bored. I asked if we could put the TV on, maybe watch highlights of other football matches. Michelle immediately said ‘no’. Then Megan looked up and studied us, to the point where I felt a little uncomfortable. Eventually, she spoke.
“This is going to take a long time. Why not call it a draw between us, and women get to set forfeits for the men.”
Ian and I sighed and had a brief, whispered discussion. He gave them our reply. “OK. Let’s get it over with.” We waited, expectantly.
Georgia spoke instantly – far too quickly, in fact. There was no question that we had been set up.
“OK. Your forfeit is to be our slaves for the rest of the evening. You have to do anything we tell you.”
Shit. That meant making drinks and snacks, foot massages, plumping up cushions. Could be worse.
“You can start,” said Michelle, “by fetching us all fresh drinks.”
We stood and went to collect glasses.
“Just a minute,” purred PJ, “fetch us drinks in your underwear.”
We started to protest, but Michelle waved her hand at us. “Stop moaning. You agreed the forfeits. Your our slaves. Ian. You can go if you want, and be forever known as a wimp. You, however, dear husband, will do exactly as you’re told. If you don’t, you get no sex for a month.”
I laughed. “You’d never last that long.”
She barked out a short guffaw. “Ha. I’ve got plenty of toys to play with. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”
The women giggled, watching and waiting. Ian looked at me and shrugged. We undid our trousers and slipped them off, lifted our replica football shirts over our heads, and stood in our boxer shorts. The women applauded as we collected glasses and went to fetch drinks.
I glanced back from the kitchen door as we poured. They were huddled together in an animated group, discussing our fate. Even normally quiet Cheryl was chattering with exaggerated facial expressions and open hand gestures.
Ian turned to me. “Well, mate, I’m just gonna go with it. Always been a bit of a fantasy of mine to be dominated by a woman – especially PJ. I mean, how bad can it get?”
I nodded. He was right. My step-sister was there, so was my sister in law. My wife was quite open-minded (although her talk of sex-toys had rather shocked me), but I was pretty confident she would call a halt before things got out of hand.
We returned with the drinks and served them, before being told to get ourselves a glass of scotch. “You’re going to need it,” said Megan. We were told to down the drink in one, and refill our glasses.
“Stay standing,” Michelle ordered, “Cheryl has a request.”
Phew! At least Cheryl wouldn’t ask too much. She was naturally shy and eight years younger than me. Growing up, I had barely noticed her, and we rarely talked. By the time she was eighteen and fully mature, I was dating girls and she paled into insignificance. Honestly, I barely knew her.
She looked first at me, then at Ian. There was a glint in her eye that I had never seen before. Her smile, usually tentative, now seemed bold.
“I’ve wanted to ask this for years now. We want our slaves to be naked. Take off your boxers.”
I think our eyes must have popped out of our heads and our jaws hit the ground, not only at the request, but at who had made it. I looked at Michelle, who met my eye and just nodded. Not only was she fine with it, it was what she wanted.
I looked at Ian. He seemed almost exhilarated, an excitement behind his surprise, and I knew he was up for it. I sighed.
“OK, mate. Together. One… two… three.”
We slipped our boxers to the floor and stood naked before the assembled group, looking into space.
I expected giggles and applause, but instead, there was silence. I glanced at the women, and saw that all eyes were directed at our cocks.
Georgia spoke first. “You’re lucky, Michelle. He’s very nicely proportioned. As long as he uses it well, I should think he keeps you happy.”
“Oh yes,” agreed Michelle, “he certainly does. I’m impressed with Ian too. Very nice. Of course, it’s hard to tell while they’re so… floppy.”
There was a general murmur of agreement before Megan spoke up. “I think they should make themselves hard for us. What do you think?”
Again, more agreement. Then Cheryl spoke again. “I’d like a closer look before that. Is that OK?”
There was a little muttering, then a brief, whispered conversation, before they sat back. Michelle was the designated speaker – maybe because they knew that I would have no choice.
“You are to stand in front of each of us for penis inspection. We are allowed to look and touch as much as we want. If you get hard, you will have a punishment.”
I stared at Michelle. A smile tweaked at her lips, but she kept her face stern. We had talked about swinging, and kinky sex, and agreed we’d like to try both – however, it had been one of those conversations which had seemed like fantasy, and never really been pursued. Apparently, she had decided to force the issue.
I stood in front of Georgia, who tittered merrily, looking at my manhood from all angles. Then she reached out and lifted it up. “You’re very hairy,” she opined, “I’m sure your balls are nice, but I can’t really see them.” She reached out and took my plums in her hand, weighing and squeezing them. I felt the first twitch, and knew she had noticed it, as she exclaimed, “Ooh!”
I moved on to Megan. My wife’s twin sister. This seemed so wrong – but… Like her older sister, she looked, touched and commented. Another twitch. Then she told me to turn around. I did as directed, and she began to stroke and squeeze my buttocks, reaching between my legs for one final grab at my balls. I was definitely semi-hard, and it was obvious to everyone in the room, as my dick arched forward, like a banana, standing proud of my body.
In some ways, I was less concerned about this than I might have been, as I looked across at Ian. He was side-on to me, facing Michelle. As I watched, she ran a finger around the head of his penis, and ran a nail down his shaft to his balls. She glanced over at me, offering a secretive smile. Maybe I should feel jealous, but, in truth, I found it a huge turn on. As she reached around him, squeezing his bum, her mouth was mere centimetres from his semi-erection.
It was then that I knew I was going to be rock hard by the end of this ‘examination’ – as the women intended – and would be facing whatever punishment they fancied.
Cheryl was next – my little step-sister. She was in her mid-twenties, and, I assume, had plenty of sexual experience. All I knew was that she was fourteen when I left home, and I had only seen her since at family get-togethers with our parents. She had always seemed shy, and I could never imagine her getting it on with a man – but here we were.
She looked at my burgeoning cock and licked her lips. “I always wanted to see you naked,” she whispered. “Shame I had to wait so long.” As Michelle had with Ian, she reached around and squeezed my bum, pulling the cheeks wide. Unlike the other two, however, her lips did not stop short.
She made no effort to take me in her mouth, but her lips touched the head – they braced against it, keeping it from moving away, and causing me, finally, to be fully erect.
I moved on to Michelle, who, announcing that she was very familiar with what I had to offer, was satisfied with a quick stroke, dragging her nails along my length, and a quick kiss on the head.
Finally, PJ. She was so calm, looking first, then encircling my shaft with her dark brown hand. It looked incredibly erotic. I had never been with a woman of colour before, and the contrast of skin tones really hit the spot. She looked directly into my eyes and licked her lips, as if preparing for a succulent meal.
Finally, we were told to stand back. Ian and I were both fully erect. We glanced at one another, mainly competitively. We were, I decided, both similar lengths – seven or eight inches – but mine was definitely broader. His had a marked bend to the left, while mine was straight, and the head of his was more bulbous. Interesting, from an almost scientific perspective. We both had nice cocks, I decided.
“Look at you two,” Megan scolded, “you were told not to get hard. Now you need a punishment. Can I make a suggestion?” They all nodded. “Well… most men I know like a shaved pussy. Some even insist on it. I don’t know about you lot, but I like to see a shaved man. Makes things look bigger – and you don’t get hairs in your teeth.”
The group nodded. “In fairness,” my loyal wife chirped up, “he doesn’t mind too much. He likes it trimmed and neat. I shave because I like it.” They nodded wisely.
“I’ve got a runway,” announced Cheryl, “I think it focuses attention. But a shaved man is always nice.”
“OK,” PJ interrupted, before the discussion of pubic hair took over, “we gonna shave them. Me and ‘Chelle do Ian, Megs, Cheryl and Georgia sort out Mark. ‘Chelle – fetch scissors, razors and foam.”
“Don’t worry,” twittered Georgia, we’ll be careful.”
As Ian and I glanced sideways at each other, the women chattered away until my wife reappeared with the various sharp implements, which were about to get closer to my pride and joy than I would ever want them to – especially in the hands of several drunk women. She also brought towels – a good idea, considering the amount of hair – and went to fetch a large bowl of steaming water.
Chairs were moved back, and the towels placed on the floor. We were directed to sit down, lean back and open our legs.
I was glad I could rest up on my elbows and see what was happening, otherwise every touch might have led to a twitch, and a twitch at a bad time could be disastrous.
First, Georgia grabbed scissors, and I watched in terror, unable to move, as she snipped away my excess hair, leaving a thin coating of down, maybe a centimetre long. It was the first time in years I had seen my scrotum, which was drawn up so tight, I thought my balls might have disappeared. How would they shave all those wrinkles?
Megan soaked a cloth in warm water, and slathered it over my pubes and onto my thighs. I was not too hairy, in all honesty, and it was easy for them to decide where to stop. Again, Ian was similar – not like some guys, whose hair starts at the neck and finishes at their ankles, with just a few thicker bits, and the odd island of skin to differentiate them from apes.
Georgia moved in with shaving foam, working it in deeply above my cock, and telling me that my balls could wait for now.
Then I saw Cheryl, razor in hand, smile plastered on as she met my eyes. Having auburn hair, I guessed she had very little to remove when she shaved her runway. Mine was thicker, more wiry, and I wondered how skilful she would be at this job.
As it turned out, she did quite well. Megan held my cock to one side, as she revealed the denuded skin, then Georgia held it the other way. All in all, not too bad.
Then my balls were soaked, and, for some reason, my perineum. Surely they weren’t going right down there? The shaving cream was applied by my grinning step-sister, and Megan grabbed the razor.
I was terrified. I wanted to beg them to be careful, but my voice had vanished. Megan read my mind as my lips flapped. “Don’t worry. I’ll be careful. I’ll leave you at least one – I want to be an auntie some day.” She laughed as my eyes widened I suspect my pupils contracted. Then she set to work.
In fairness, she was careful. There was one tiny nick, which bled far more than it should have, but it soon stopped hurting. Unreasonably, the female contingent found it hilarious, and gathered to admire my poor, bleeding ball-sack.`
Megan continued right down until she met the part where my buttocks met, then she checked her work and let Georgia rinse off the shaving foam, and Cheryl to towel me dry. I felt Cheryl spent far too long towelling my shaft, which wasn’t particularly wet.
It was the first time I had really considered my step-sister in terms of her appeal, and I was realising that she was quite attractive in certain ways.
She had long, straight, auburn hair, and the typically pale complexion that went with such hair colour. She was not tall, and was very slim. Her breasts were pleasantly sized – maybe a B or C cup, and her hips swelled pleasantly, which gave an attractive arse. Her legs were excellent. For the first time, I was seeing her as a woman, not my kid sister, and I liked what I saw – even the smattering of freckles across her nose, and her vibrant blue eyes. I tried not to stare.
Georgia suddenly looked disappointed. “Shit. We could have waxed them.”
There was a groan of general disappointment, until Michelle announced that she didn’t wax herself, and we had no suitable products in the house. It was a massive relief – they might have tried to wax our legs.
We were told to stand up, so they could admire their handiwork.
“Now,” announced PJ, “we need to finish the job. Hands and knees.”
I think my limits of being horrified were being pushed, and, once more, my stomach churned as I realised what they were about to do.
I knelt down, and felt water pour between my buttocks. Then a pause. “Shall I hold them open?” Michelle was asking – but she was asking about Ian. I heard PJ agree, and imagined my wife spreading my mates arse cheeks. Clearly my beauticians had caught on, because I felt my buttocks pulled apart and more water pour in. Then a hand slapped on the foam, touching my little hole as it worked.
Michelle and I were not particularly big on anal. She was happy for me to do it to her sometimes, and we had anal beads and butt plugs. Occasionally, her finger would slide up and tickle my back passage – sometimes she would even seek out my prostate. When she did (the last time being a couple of years ago), I had cum explosively and loved the sensation.
Kneeling like this, however, felt so vulnerable. Anything could happen. Just like fucking a woman doggy-style, I assumed. This was different though. Fucking doggy-style was with one person who was trusted. This involved several people, who were drunk, and could easily take advantage.
A razor worked away – thankfully not too deep, and not painfully. They were careful, thankfully. Water splashed down again, then the towel. I had no idea who did what, but assumed Megan had dried me, as she held the towel.
We stood again for the ladies to admire, this time having to bend over and part our cheeks for inspection. It was like a police strip-search, I guess.
Water, towels and shaving implements were removed and our ‘owners’ sat down again, considering our next task.
“We should get pictures,” declared Megan. My heart fell. Surely not. “Don’t worry, they’re private use only, but we want to remember this.”
The others agreed, and our sentence was passed. We stood and submitted to being photographed from all angles by five phones.
“We should do a full photoshoot,” declared my treacherous wife, “like the one I did. I know you only saw the cards, but there’s loads more – topless ones. I kept my knickers on, but Mark’s taken plenty of pics of me naked.”
The women agreed. Apparently all of them had allowed boyfriends to take nude photos of them – nude and more. Only PJ kept quiet, although she mentioned that she had done some ‘proper’ modelling for photographers as a student. I would have loved to see those pictures.
Cameras clicked and we were told to pose in a variety of ways. Then PJ spoke again. “Maybe we should have pics of them both together – or maybe with some of us?”
Again, the idea received an excited response. Ian and I were told to stand together, arms round each other. We were not comfortable with skin to skin contact, but our directors insisted. We started side by side, then back to back – arses touching – then facing one another.
“Cocks touching,” shouted Georgia.
This was too much. Surely Ian would object now. Instead, he smiled sheepishly at me. I realised that, in fact, he was willing to do it – perhaps even keen.
“Are you OK with it?” I asked.
He leaned in and whispered. “Honestly, mate. I’ve been bi-curious for years. I don’t mind. It’ll be our secret.”
I gasped, then thought. The admission from Ian was huge. What should I do? I looked down at the swinging dicks and decided. What the fuck? It was just a cock. Maybe I wasn’t especially bisexual, but I couldn’t deny that I was curious. I nodded to my mate, and we brought our erections together, like swords, battling.
The women squealed and cameras clicked.
“Hold each other’s cocks. Lovely. Ian, lie down. Mark hold his cock and bend over like you’re going to suck it.”
I did as directed.
“Now suck it.” I recognised my wife’s voice and looked up at her. Her eyes were bright, exhilarated, and she nodded to reaffirm her instruction.
Well – in for a penny… I bent forward and took Ian’s penis in my mouth. I didn’t move my head, but my tongue snaked out involuntarily and licked his bulbous head.
Then we swapped. I stood, while Ian sucked me, looking up at me as he did. Our tormentors were lapping it up, and I wondered where it was heading.
It was Megan who spoke up next. “I think we can take more pictures later, but right now, I’m feeling very warm. I want one of our slaves to undress me to my underwear.”
The others seemed to say ‘me too’ simultaneously.
They wanted us both to undress them together, so we went from one to the next, slipping off skirts, dresses, jeans, blouses and t-shirts. What was odd, was that all of them were wearing very sexy underwear.
Michelle wore hold-up stockings and matching red bra and knickers. Megan and Cheryl, who had worn dresses, also had matching bra and panties, but topped their stockings with a suspender belt. Georgia wore a purple and black waspie, holding in her slightly over-flowing stomach, along with the obligatory matching set beneath jeans and blouse, and PJ stunned everyone with a white corset, from which her boobs bulged, white thongs and fishnet stockings, attached to the corset.
I don’t know if it’s possible to become ‘more erect’, but I’m certain I did. My cock was actually twitching, and I suspect Ian’s was too.
The photos started again. This time, the women participated too. At first, it was one at a time, taking turns to hold us, suck us, stand over us and kneel above us as we lay down. We knelt before them and showed that they were firmly in control.
Then it was two at a time – Cheryl and Megan both kissing my cock, Megan and Michelle taking turns to suck me and lick my balls, Georgia and Cheryl, with hands around my erection. Then all of them, like Bond girls, stroking my shoulders, my chest, thighs – and, of course, my rock-hard dick.
Finally, Georgia squawked: “Money shots!”
Michelle opted to take the photos and set up the other cameras to video from various angles, as Ian and I jerked off. He was to shoot over PJ and Megan, while I was to finish off on Cheryl and Georgia.
It was an image which fed my fantasies for years to come, and the photographs appeared on my phone and laptop screens with frightening frequency. My step-sister and my sister-in-law, gazing up, mouths open as I took my cock in hand and stroked.
I felt a hand on each side slide up my thigh and onto my buttock. The women giggled as their fingers met between my bum-cheeks and burrowed between them. I jerked rapidly, desperate to cum, and hoping it would be a big load.
Finally, my buttocks clenched, my dick seemed to swell and I let out a long sigh. My creamy, white semen shot out, first onto Cheryl’s face, then Georgia’s. Michelle jumped in, getting photos of cum-covered faces and my dripping cock showering them. Georgia knelt up and guided my pulsing member into her mouth. She swallowed a couple of pulses, then withdrew and allowed Cheryl to enjoy my final throbs and suck out what remained. As she sucked, she looked directly into my eyes.
A few seconds later, I heard Ian groan as he ejaculated, and could not resist the urge to glance round. I could not see Megan, but PJ looked incredible. Cum across her dark brown looked incredible, and I heard Ian mutter “Oh my god,” as she placed her lips around him and sucked. She even opened her mouth to show him his cum on her tongue before swallowing. I had to believe that fucking her would be legendary.
The women sat back, and Michelle passed towels for them to wipe their faces. Ian and I returned to our seats, thankful that our ‘ordeal’ was finally over.
“Well,” Megan began, “that was nice – but… well… hardly fair that they get to cum when we’re all horny and… well… I’m desperate.”
There was general agreement, and Ian and I exchanged a glance. Our cocks were dwindling and we couldn’t possibly be ready again instantly. Surely they knew that. I suppose we hand hands and mouths, but we needed a break.
PJ spoke in her calm, measured tones. “Maybe we can have some fun and get these guys horny again.” She turned to Georgia and kissed her hard on the lips, her hand sliding up to her breast and fondling it. Georgia responded by putting her hand on PJ’s thigh, moving up until it came into contact with her knickers.
Michelle and Megan were sitting either side of Cheryl. While Michelle moved her hand, so that I could see her fingers slip inside Cheryl’s knickers, Megan slipped her fingers into the matching bra. Cheryl turned from one to the other, kissing each of them, while her hands went between thighs, which opened willingly to invite her touch.
I looked on, stunned. I had never known my wife had a ‘bi’ side. In fact, seeing my wife engage in foreplay with my sister, with two of her sisters involving themselves at the same time, was beyond my wildest fantasies.
Steadily, the women moved around, twisting to allow one another access to fastenings on bras and corsets, then lifting hips to let knickers slide down their legs.
All of them were shaved – except Cheryl, who had a narrow strip of hair above her slit – as she had told us earlier.
What was evident was that they were all very wet. Fingers slipped between pouting lips easily, and disappeared into welcoming vaginas.
Kisses moved from mouths to breasts and nipples.
The pairings changed regularly, and if I had expected the three sisters in the room to be apprehensive about playing with each other, I was very mistaken. Michelle and her twin sister fondled one another, and Georgia joined in their pleasures.
I looked at their bodies. All were familiar to me when clothed, but seeing them naked caused an instant shockwave – they were simply not what I expected.
I was instantly drawn to my stepsister. Firstly, her arse was great. Firm, toned. She was on her knees in front of me, and her buttocks parted. I could see everything. I had an urge to kiss and lick her, to push my face between her cheeks. I had never tried rimming, but right now, I wanted to.
Her pussy was also on show. Lighter pink than my wife’s, lips less pronounced, parting as she pushed forward – shining and moist.
She moved, lay on her back, head towards me, smiling at me, aware that I was staring at her, and that both of us were enjoying it.
Her tits were great. Pale, like the rest of her, but spreading mounds as she lay back. Her nipples were small, areolae a soft pink, as if a droplet of red had been added to her skin tone, and another droplet for the nipples themselves, now hard, rigid, like chewed bubblegum that had been left to dry.
We both knew that we needed to fuck before the night was over and we returned to the reality of our lives.
Megan and Georgia had many similarities. Both carried a bit of extra weight, and there were dimples and extra rolls. Both `had large, wobbly boobs, which flattened on their chests, like jelly which was not quite set. Like Michelle, they had deep brown nipples, large areolae and hard nubs which would be highly sensitive. Their backsides were puckered and wobbled gently as they moved. Michelle was slimmer, her breasts firmer, but it was very clear that the three shared the same DNA.
Finally, PJ. I knew that she must enjoy the gym. She was muscular, every part firm. Her breasts were small, mere swellings, topped with dark brown, almost black nipples, perched on small, wrinkled areolae. Her nipples were, in fact, incredible. So long that it looked as if she could hang ten CDs on them. Sucking them would be beyond enjoyable.
Her buttocks were firm and rounded, with not an ounce of fat. Like Cheryl’s they split to show the dark depths within, and below, puffy labia, occasionally splitting to share a glimpse of pink.
I glanced at Ian. He was fixated on PJ, as if she were a goddess. It was hard to imagine that he would not make a move before the night was out.
Michelle disappeared, to pee, I assumed, but returned a few minutes later with a bag. She emptied the contents on the floor. It was our collection of sex toys. Two vibrators, a dildo, three wands in different sizes, three butt plugs, two sets of anal beads. Why did we have so much? I guess we were greedy.
Michelle chose a vibrator, and crept behind Cheryl, who was bending over with her head between Georgia’s thighs. Michelle pressed the switch, to start the familiar buzzing, and slipped it between Cheryl’s pussy lips. My step-sister cried out in pleasure as it slid in.
As Cheryl looked round, her face flushed, Michelle indicated the toys on the floor, catching Georgia’s attention as she looked up when the avid tongue deserted her tingling cunt. She reached across, grabbing a wand, and as Cheryl knelt up, she brought it up onto Cheryl’s clit.
The double stimulus was clearly way too much for the woman with whom I had shared a home for so many years, and she cried out loudly, achieving her orgasm. I was intrigued. I stared at her pussy, seeing juices flow freely, and watching as her contractions pushed against the vibrator, and her dilations allowed Michelle to push it in deeper than before.
Her cries drew the attention of PJ and Megan, and the quickly unravelled, grabbing toys greedily. Megan looked ready to start using the dildo she had grabbed on PJ, but the muscular Amazon moved across the room to her bag. From it, she withdrew an item which I recognised, but had never seen before. She dragged straps over her legs, to her thighs, fastened it around her waist, and stood. In front of her was a black tube.
She fiddled between her legs, sliding something over her pussy and moved back to her partner. PJ with a strap-on was a sight to behold.
She grabbed a butt-plug and whispered to Michelle, who had withdrawn the vib from Cheryl. Michelle found our lube which had been in the bag, greased the butt-plug, and as PJ bent forward, inserted it deftly into her anus.
Megan knew what was about to happen, and knelt up willingly, displaying her pussy, inviting PJ to fuck her.
Cheryl and Georgia now turned to Michelle, armed with anal beads and a vibrator. Georgia knelt over her face, leaving her pussy in place to be licked, while Cheryl took control of the toys.
Ian and I watched as the women used toys and tongues on one another. The groupings changed, everyone determined to experience PJ’s surrogate penis, and orgasms were plentiful. Ian recorded the scenes on his phone, while I took photographs.
Eventually, the women fell apart, elated and gasping, eyes sparkling from their climaxes, and looked at us. We were both hard again. Ian had been gently stroking himself for some time now, although I preferred not to touch myself. Someone else could do that.
PJ unfastened her strap-on and put it aside.
It was a question of which of them moved first. As it was, I think both Ian and I would have picked the ones who came forward.
Cheryl approached me, as PJ went for Ian. My step-sister’s lips encircled my cock, and she began to work up and down. She was good, clearly not the novice I had assumed she would be. Had I not already cum once, I might easily have shot my load into her mouth and missed out on what came next.
She climbed on to my lap, and guided me into her, initially flexing her thighs gently to slide up and down, then picking up speed.
Fucking the woman, who I had always assumed, unreasonably, was asexual, was incredible. Her cunt was so wet that there was little friction on my cock, but the sheer eroticism of the situation brought me to the brink again.
As she fucked me, she leaned forward and whispered. “I’ve wanted this ever since I started thinking about sex.” I was stunned. If only I’d known. I might have taken advantage of it as soon as she turned eighteen, and we could have enjoyed one another for years.
She withdrew, allowing Georgia to grab my cock and drag me down on top of her. Alongside us, Ian lay on the floor with PJ astride him, reverse cowgirl style, showing him the pretty, jewelled butt-plug alongside his cock, white and very evident as it appeared and disappeared into her deep brown vulva and pink pussy. Then she too moved away, allowing Michelle to replace her.
We fucked every woman, as they brought us to the edge, desperate to empty our balls, then drew away, allowing someone else to replace them. The women ensured that we fucked them in their favourite positions, and assumed dominant and submissive positions as the whim took them. I don’t think there was a position we didn’t try – thought my Karma Sutra knowledge is hardly extensive.
As others waited their turn, they played with toys, or with one another. If possible, they would present their pussies for licking or fingering as we fucked, and at one point, I had my two sisters-in law squatting over my hands as I rubbed their clits, while my wife bounced on my cock. A true family affair.
Finally, all five women knelt before us, so we could work along the line, fucking them doggy style – a dozen thrusts each, then a change of height, pussy angle, tightness and response. I needed to cum, but every time I was about to unload, my partner withdrew. Clearly, although they continued to enjoy regular climaxes, Ian and I were being held back until they were ready.
Eventually, as if by mutual consent, everyone stopped, exhausted. We had a drink, and waited. Both of us men knew that we had been held back, and that there was a plan for our orgasms. We waited to find out what it was. Neither of us expected what came next.
After a break, PJ stood again, and picked her strap-on which had been discarded. She put it on, and this time, I noticed that her fiddling between her legs involved sorting out a small device which rubbed on her clit while she fucked her partner. I assumed we were to be treated to more lesbian action, and readied myself to watch.
Michelle smiled at me, as I looked, I spotted evil grins on the faces of all the women.
“OK, gents. Your turn.”
They all began giggling. Probably because my jaw hit the floor at precisely the same time as Ian’s.
PJ walked over to us, her surrogate cock swinging in our faces.
“On your knees, guys.”
I did not dare look at Ian, and PJ stood over us, so dominant that disobeying was unthinkable. I glanced at my wife, wondering if this was some joke, but I found no sympathy. Her face said it all. ‘We do it, so time you learned about penetration.’
I dropped to my knees and bent forward, hearing Ian do the same beside me.
“Don’t worry guys,” purred PJ, “I’ll make sure it’s properly lubed.”
Clearly, this was PJ’s ‘thing’. She liked to dominate. The other women did not share her taste, but loved the idea of men experiencing penetration, and, just for once, being subjugated.
I guessed the sounds were PJ ‘lubing up’ as I waited on all fours.
I felt hands on my bum, cheeks being pulled apart, then the rounded tip pushing between them. I tried to relax, and must have been partly successful, as I felt the plastic tube enter me.
At first, nothing. Then a thrill, making my cock twitch. That must be my prostate. I never thought I would actually like this – but I did, and as she slid in further, I decided that this was infinitely better than I had ever imagined.
She began to thrust in and out, rubbing my P-spot – the hyper sensitive gland unique to men. My balls pulled upward, and my cock throbbed. Suddenly, my head began to spin, and I was certain I would ejaculate – but no. Nothing was ejected. It was like an orgasm without actually cumming.
My face must have reflected the pleasure I felt, because all the women laughed, and gave me ‘knowing’ looks – especially my wife.
Then it was over. PJ withdrew, and moved over to Ian. I stayed as I was, wondering what was next.
I heard Ian cry out, a cry of pleasure, not pain, and I heard PJ murmur: “Someone’s tried this before.”
When she finished with Ian, we were told to sit up.
“Well?” Georgia asked Ian. “Have you done that before?”
Ian glanced at me, embarrassed. “Yes. I’m bisexual. I never told anyone, but I’ve been with a few men as well as women.”
I hope my face reflected surprise and no judgment. Ian had always seemed to like the ladies. In truth, his confession made me feel closer to him, as a friend. I was proud of him.
“I think you guys need to finish off once more, then we should call it a night,” announced Megan, to general agreement.
Ian and I lay back, propped up on cushions, and Cheryl and PJ approached. Clearly, these two had been nominated – or maybe they had noticed our particular interest in them.
Cheryl grabbed my cock and began to jerk me off, encouraged by the three sisters who watched avidly, as PJ ministered to Ian. It did not take long before my cum exploded from me. I was amazed at how violent my orgasm was – maybe, I guessed, because of the anal sex we had been subjected to.
Usually, my second time was quite minimal – a few splashes – but this was, if anything, more voluminous than first time.
I had cum on my chest and stomach, and once I had finished, my step-sister worked her way over my body, licking off every last drop. Glancing to my right, I saw that Ian was getting the same treatment.
Finally, our evening was over. We all dressed and taxis were called. Cheryl, Georgia and Megan in one, PJ and Ian in the other. Michelle and I were left alone.
“Are you OK?” She asked. “Sorry. We planned this as soon as we saw there was football on, and knew you’d cancel our plans.”
I gazed at her, open-mouthed. “I thought it was spontaneous. How did you get the others onside?”
Michelle laughed. “Well – Cheryl was desperate to be involved. She said she’s wanted to try you out for years. Georgia and Megan – well – they’re just sluts. I know you didn’t know that, but that’s just them. And PJ? Well, for a start, she’s fancied Ian for ages, but she’s very bisexual anyway, and very dom. Once she heard what we were doing, she was desperate to get involved. And once we heard she was into strap-ons, we wanted her involved too. I wasn’t going to miss a chance like that.”
I snorted, not sure if I should be annoyed, but, all things considered, I thought I might just let this play out and see what she was thinking.
“I was really turned on, seeing you with them – and exploring my lesbian side. How about you?”
I had to agree, it had been a huge turn on. I’m not naturally sub, but having the pressure to make all the moves taken off me made a pleasant change.
We continued talking, agreeing that we should explore some more – maybe with some of the same people, maybe with others – and we did. Ian and PJ got together, and we had foursomes from time to time, and Cheryl often joined us for threesomes. When she met a new partner, he joined us too.
Megan and Georgia never participated again. Both of them met new partners shortly afterwards, and felt their relationships would not stand such goings on.
Most importantly, it brought us all closer, as friends and families – and, most surprisingly – none of us felt difficult over it the next time we met.
I’m not sure I’d recommend it to everyone, but at the right time, with the right people, go for it. You never know, it might open up a whole new part of you which you never knew existed.
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