WARNING, SEXUALLY EXPLICIT MATERIAL!                           ADULTS ONLY!

CHARITY BASH ( in which Belden and Tricia Shaw attended a charity party and 
               contributed so much more than they could ever have imagined) 

by Ozman (c) 2001.

  Glenys and Greg Hallston had  become our best friends due to being in the 
identical situation and living next door to us. Belden, I call him Ben, was 
posted to Sydney by his employer at about the same time as Greg was by his, 
although we come from Adelaide and Brisbane respectively. We often went out 
together and shared baby-sitters and, while Glen and I worked part time, we 
shared several other interests such as swimming and working-out in our free 
time.  All of us were between thirty-two and thirty-five,  I'm youngest and 
Greg the eldest, married for seven and eight years and having a pigeon-pair 
of kids from two to five.

  One Friday evening while we enjoyed a barbeque by our pool, Greg anounced 
that he'd been pressed to deputise for his CEO at an upcoming charity party 
at some celebrity's house in the Blue Mountains,  but he'd have a couple of 
thousand bucks worth of gaming tokens to begin the evening.  There would be 
live entertainment by voluntary performers and  various novelty events over 
the course of the night, while the theme of the party was 'Saints & Sinners 
(Priests & Prostitutes)', making costume choice an easy matter for even the 
most unimaginitive soul. It was only a week away and Ben and I were invited 
if we cared to attend. 

  Like them, we'd never been to a charity bash and were intrigued, although 
I felt some trepidation at being in the company of the wealthy and powerful 
people who seemed to organize and attend these functions. They made me feel 
inferior despite my telling myself I'm as good as anyone with my degree and 
my sporting accomplishments. However, Glen had no such doubts and, assuming 
I was going, got us organized.  For less than a hundred dollars she did the 
op-shops and salvage merchants one morning while I worked and obtained us a 
costume each, not as prozzies which the boys wanted us to be, but as chorus 
line dancers. For our men she found a pair of pirate-style outfits of polka 
dot headscarves, buttonless waistcoat type vests and voluminous nylon pants 
with anklebands, in red and black.  When Ben tried his costume I could make 
out his dangly bits through the cloth, so I insisted upon his wearing black 
underdaks.

  My outfit consisted of an almost transparent, sequined halter attached to 
a kind of g-string decorated with trimmed ostrich plumes to barely cover my 
pudendum and make a kind of bird's tail at the top of the buttock cleft and 
golden, open toed sandals with ten centimetre semi-chunky heels. It left me 
naked from waist to ankle and revealed more buttock than I was happy about, 
with matching head dress of a broad, golden, sequined headband with plumes, 
while to protect my modesty I would, like Glen, wear a flesh-toned, stretch 
boob tube under my top and a matching bikini brief beneath my feathers.  On 
the Wednesday I reluctantly went with her to be pierced through the edge of 
my navel, twice more in each ear and  have a temporary tattoo of a red rose 
on my upper left breast.  Plenty of soap would ensure it faded it to a more 
authentic appearance we were told when Glen queried the sharpness of the 
image.

  My pierced belly-button aroused Ben no end,  even more than my single ear 
ornaments which I'd had done when he told me just how horny Glen's multiple 
piercings made him,  so we made love twice that night on the strength of it 
and the tattoo. He'd seen my outfit for the party, not yet on me, which had 
likewise aroused him considerably as he professed to like my being a little 
less than ladylike,  even confessing that he'd enjoy seeing me being double 
or triple penetrated by other guys.  I was appalled initially, but the idea 
became more appealing with the passage of time,  although there would be no 
likelihood of my ever being adulterous. A nice fantasy all the same.

  We'd arranged for our best sitter, a tertiary student in her mid-twenties, 
to stay until we returned the next day.  Greg's boss, now we plebs, had the 
use of a motel suite about a kilometre or three from the venue. We showered 
and changed into our costumes there  without being seen by anyone who might 
know us and we could crash after the party until one of us was fit to drive 
again.

  I was quite darkly tanned and,  wearing my black wig in long plaits and a 
little magic by Glen,  found myself looking in the mirror at an oriental or 
eurasian lass. The fact that I tend to squint a bit helped as she elongated 
my eyes with liner to entirely alter my appearance from the normal me,  but 
the clincher was the use of a  red-brown lip-gloss to thicken and darken my 
lips like an Asian's. She'd blonded her her hair to looked younger and very 
different;  both of us quite aware that we were well disguised that we'd be 
able to get away with any amount of naughtiness that night,  if we chose to 
take the opportunity. 

  Both the guys got us to pierce their earlobes with a big sewing needle so 
that they could  wear thick gold rings and Ben had cut the luxuriant growth 
around his crotch to make his penis and scrotum look a somewhat larger than 
usual. They also wanted makeup to change their appearances in order to feel 
more in character, so Glen produced a distinctly wild look for each, making 
them both look quite capable of pillage and rape without pity.

  At seven-thirty we walked to the foyer from which limosines were ferrying 
guests into the party through a security cordon of large scowling men. Greg 
showed his invitation card and we were deposited, with several others, on a 
lawn where there were a number of huge red and white marquees, the smell of 
a barbeque and the sound of voices and dance music.      

  Being modest,  I'd put a light gaberdine raincoat over my costume for the 
journey out after having changed at the motel. Other ladies were a lot less 
concerned about displaying their feminine charms,  two of those sharing our 
car showing off their breasts through lacy net tops without a bra.  Finding 
that some women were walking about with completely bare bosoms made me feel
that I could probably remove my coat without making a scandal, particularly 
in the dance tent where we went for a drink. 

  After sitting at a table and looking around it struck me that I could see 
most peoples' genitals through their clothes; a fact that became obvious to 
Glen as well.

  "It's the lights," she told me. "They make synthetics almost invisible."

  "Mmm," I agreed looking at the almost impossibly huge erect dick waggling 
under baggy harem-guard's trousers as its owner gyrated on the tennis court 
sized dance floor with his tossing-titted partner. 

  We had several drinks and danced with our men until they left us to visit 
the men's room, returning to make it clear that they'd shed their underdaks 
as I could see both stiff cocks from across the room. Near the doorway they 
were accosted by a woman who slid her hand into their pants to fondle their 
horns as they chatted. 

  "What do you reckon?" asked Glen, rising to go to the dunny, but I wasn't 
ready to even partly display myself yet.

  I saw her return and that she was virtually naked, her breasts and shaven
pussy clearly visible under her virtually transparent garments. She glanced 
at our spouses with a smile and came back to our table to finish her drink, 
having barely resumed her seat before this bloke asked her to dance and she 
accepted.  Not wanting to be the odd one out, I too went to the powder room 
to remove my under things,  except my g-string and coming back to the table 
on rubbery legs as most male eyes turned my way to check my womanly charms. 
Unlike the dreams in which I experience utter blind panic on realizing that 
I'm naked, I felt quite afraid at being seen like that, but it was tempered 
by another sensation that was both erotic and exciting to comprehend that I 
wasn't alone in my public nakedness.

  Glen was dancing with the bloke, Jim, who was clutching one round buttock 
while attempting to finger her quim.  He'd unfastened the top of her halter 
and the garment hung from her waist as she pressed her breasts flat against 
his hirsute chest. Further in the background I spied my spouse dancing with 
the 'handy' woman who was still caressing  his engorged schlong beneath his 
trousers while he had his hand up under her skirt to diddle her clit. 

  "Hi," said Greg. "Like to dance Trish?"

  I thought I'd better as I wasn't up to a strange male attempting to grope 
my snatch or breasts like Glen's beau was doing to her hot snatch with what 
appeared to be her approval.

  "You're not concerned about what's happening over yonder?"  I asked Greg, 
indicating his wife.

  "Not really, in fact I'm glad, to be honest," he told me quietly.  "We've 
talked about swinging and she's been very resistant to the idea until now."

  "Do you get worked up by thinking about her with  another bloke or blokes 
penetrating her? Ben reckons he'd just about explode if he saw me having it
like that," I told him, the gins and tonic having clearly reduced my normal 
reticence to discuss that kind of thing.

  "Yes, he said that. We've discussed most of our fantasies I guess."

  "Oh," I gulped. "I thought you might have."

  "Do you want to see how he'd really feel about you playing up?"

  "How do you mean?"

  He slid one hand under my top and squeezed one bronze breast, rolling the 
swollen nipple and tweaking it between thumb and finger.

  "Greg!" I squeaked in alarm, then bit my tongue as I noticed he was doing 
less than those around me. 

  In fact a few couples danced coupled and I wondered  how it would feel to 
slow dance with my twat full of Ben's hefty hanger, a little idea for later 
perhaps,  an idea which quite seriously aroused me to the point of not even
remonstrating with Greg when his agile finger found its way under my scanty
nether garment and into me.  He diddled my thrilled clit until I wanted him 
to make me come and took his dick in hand to encourage him, but just as the 
music stopped. The band would take the break until after supper and we were 
bidden to eat too; on the first-up, best-dressed principle.

  Ben was back at the table and Glen arrived when we did,  her face flushed 
with excitement.

  "Well," she giggled, "talk about a gropefest. Hey, did you two get caught 
short?"

  She was looking at Greg's very obvious erection and then noticed my quite
agitated manner.

  "Why don't you go somewhere and finish it off?"

  I looked at her dumbly, then at Ben. 

  "Go on," he grinned dorkishly. "I won't be much good for a while."

  He looked down and indicated a large wet patch on his pants and a flaccid 
dick in his hand.

  "And Jim made me come," Glen added.

  "And you think that we should find a quiet spot for a quick manual relief 
massage?" I challenged them both.

  "I didn't mention a hand job, did you Glen?" teased Ben.

  "No. I'd reckon the real thing would be much more fun," she chortled.

  "Come on, before they change their mind," said Greg as he grabbed my hand 
and led me to the doorway.

  "Try the central tent," called Glen behind us.

  "I didn't say I actually wanted to do it," I mumbled to him as we entered 
the marquee with a sign on a screen.

  'Don't proceed beyond here if the sight of sex offends' and 'Condoms must 
be worn in here'.

  "You didn't say it, but I assume you do."

  Beyond the screen were a crowd of people engaged in sexual intercourse in 
all sorts of positions, most entirely naked by then. I couldn't see any way 
to avoid the matter then as I'd been dared by the others and it was obvious 
that they wanted me,  the reluctant one, to be first to have adulterous sex 
in order to assuage their guilt.  Well, I felt horny enough to accept their 
challenge and Greg was certainly worth screwing if one needed to compromise 
oneself, in the moral sense.

  "Yes I do," I told him. "Actually, I can hardly wait."

  "Me either," he growled and pulled me down to the big beanbag beside us. 

  In a moment he had shed his clothing while I just unfastened my shoes and 
g-string, the elastic pulling the feathered mass under my crotch to rest in 
the middle of my back,  then pulled down my untied top before lying back to 
spread my legs for him. 

  "Twin-ticklers," read Greg from the condom satchet before ripping it open 
and revealing an orange-dayglow rubber. 

  He put it on his knob and gestured to me to roll it down, finding that it 
had several rings of long,  soft protuberances below his knob and more near 
the shaven  base of his shaft.  I squeezed KY on his penis and smeared what
remained around my pussy as he moved over my trembling form. I both desired 
and feared accommodating his penis, knowing that I would be crossing a line 
to the life where nothing would be the same again whether or not I tried it 
again, but unable to help myself and turn back as I guided his thick member
into my slippery love sheath.

  "Oooh, oh," I gasped at the thrill of intromission, feeling filled by him. 
"Oh, it's lovely Greg."

  "Oh yes Trish," he mumbled. "I've been waiting for this for so long."

  I didn't spoil things by asking for an explanation about his last comment, 
but got on with matters with rotating hips and bottom, feeling his response 
as a strong thrusting of his hips at mine while our bellies slapped in time. 
I felt surprisingly comfortable about making love with him as he'd been the 
subject of my very occasional sexual fantasy, as it seemed I'd been of his. 
I didn't hold  back with him and found our initial screw to be a voluptuous 
affair as we writhed and strained towards mutual sexual release, both of us 
encouraging the other with intimate sounds and salacious words and touches. 
He plunged his tool deep within my belly with a huge, last lusty thrust and 
stiffened when I felt his warm gush of semen into my womb initiating my own 
climax and we lay clinging tightly  together in a blissfully hazy interlude 
of ecstatic convulsions.  I hadn't had an orgasm like that for ages and, as 
he hadn't done anything unusual, realized that it probably had much more to 
do with our circumstances than any great physical prowess on his part. Mind 
you, I wasn't complaining.

  "How was it?" he enquired. "In general terms, I mean, not particular."

  "It was so wonderful Gregory darling," I grinned, hugging him tightly and 
kissing him passionately.

  "Good enough to try again sometime?"

  "Indubitably." 

  We laughed before I suddenly had  the feeling that we were being watched, 
looking to my right and finding Glenys and Ben grinning at us inanely. They 
lay on their side with him behind, lifting her upper thigh to show us Ben's 
plump, latex-sheathed tool sliding slowly in her welling pussy.  Greg and I 
watched our spouses screwing gently,  our own parts still coupled, enjoying 
the sight of them giving and receiving  pleasure and pleased that our first 
venture into swinging had been so positive for all of us.  Despite it being 
against all that I'd been raised to believe,  it felt quite comfortable and 
wanted it to happen again and often,  although our having children was sure 
to reduce our opportunities to indulge.

  When Ben and Glenys had finished we cleaned up and went to find food. I'd 
left the modesty gusset of my g-string  off so my all-but-bald snatch could 
now be seen through the plumage in the right lighting and, athough I had no 
intention of putting myself around, felt pretty excited and daring about my 
previously private parts being on public view.

  After eating we went into the casino  where Greg converted his voucher to 
chips and gave us a quarter each to blow on gambling. The other three tried 
several games and lost their money in dribs and drabs,  but I had a feeling 
about the roulette tables which, I should mention, I'd never played before. 
Having been so sinful I placed my five fifty dollar chips on black thirteen, 
croupier spun the wheel and I was suddenly in the money.  The others wanted 
to go to the cabaret so I cashed it in, without telling them, then followed 
along. 

  The cabaret marquee was now crowded with hundreds of people, most of whom, 
because of the lighting, were displaying much more of their person than any 
would normally have been inclined to, although some were clearly exhibiting 
themselves. There were bare tittied women, some wearing pasties or rings in 
their nipples and others with small, decal-style ornaments stuck over their
nipples.  

  We took a table and drinks as the show began with the MC telling a number 
of blue jokes and one-liners at the expense of a heckler  who I thought was 
planted for the act.  All laughed uproariously, well lubricated by alcohol, 
before he introduced the host and his spouse. He'd been a top international 
sportsman while she was a TV personality  who'd compared my truly favourite 
show when I was a kindy kid. Funnily enough, Pat seemed to look the same to 
me, perhaps just slightly heavier, despite twenty-five years having elapsed 
since then.

  The Em-cee, Denis Kemble, also doubled as magician.  While talking to our 
hostess he held up a bra and a pair of panties behind her that he indicated 
he'd removed from her person without her knowledge,  but it seemed unlikely 
as she wore a kaftan type frock and her stilletto heels which I hadn't seen 
lifted from the floor.  He persuaded her to help in his act by getting into 
a closet size box which his glamourous assistant had wheeled up beside them. 
She stood motionless as he demonstrated that the whole thing was segmented, 
including the doors and, after closing up the front he went to the rear and 
opened it before returning to front stage to hold up Pat's dress out of her 
sight. He then opened the top of six little doors to let us see her smiling 
face while her husband Bryan stood there looking rather bemused.

  Denny opened door three, then five and six to display her torso and legs, 
closing them again before turning the box to show us the back,  opening all 
doors in descending order, less four.  The audience wanted it opened and he 
teased them a bit before swinging it open to reveal a really gorgeous, well 
upholstered derriere to go with the rest of the naked posterior aspect of a 
feminine body wearing just stockings, but was it Pat's form we were seeing? 
He closed it up again and shoved a broad steel plate  between each segment, 
twisting each to some greater or lesser degree than those above or below it.
 
  On opening the top he showed us her face in profile, door three her torso 
facing in the opposite direction, door five her thighs to the front and six, 
her lower legs facing rearward.

  "Two!" or "four!" cried the crowd and Den seemed to become a bit mentally 
dim as he opened and closed compartments,  twisting some and showing us the 
interior,  but never opening two or four unless that part within faced away 
from us. Finally, as if he sensed the teasing had continued long enough, he 
pulled out the plates, each smeared with crimson liquid and causing someone 
right at the back to throw up,  then opened the rear  completely to show us 
her nude back. Closing up he swung the box around on its castors and opened 
doors one, three,  five and six before getting the promise of a large money 
donation to open two, showing us a pair of large, pale boobs.  On repeating 
that process he got another hefty donation  before almost driving the crowd 
wild with his shilly-shallying  before opening the final door to let us see 
her trimmed pubic mound.

  We all applauded before he held out his hand to steady her stepping down, 
then even louder as she stepped forward to stand with  one foot in front of 
the other and throw her arms high above her head for our acclamation. About  
then she realized that she was nude and I became sure she hadn't been aware. 
She shrieked, blushed profoundly,  snatched her clothing from the chair and 
fled from the stage, returning moments later at Den's coaxing, her fabulous 
bosom clearly unfettered beneath her bodice. He made an apology, such as it 
was, in a song sung directly to her.

  He finally did a number of truly dreadful magic tricks which seemed to go 
terribly amiss and leaving dead, flat or mangled replica doves, rabbits and 
guinea pigs.  Men in the audience were shouting for his gorgeous assistant, 
actually his wife, to 'take it off!', and the band broke into 'The Stripper" 
as she began to dance pretty skillfully to remove her clothing down to just 
g-string and pasties. 

  "More! more! Get it orf!" they bellowed.

  "Aren't you going to allow her a little modesty?" asked Den.

  "No! No! Take it orf!"

  The musicians launched into the piece once again as she teasingly removed 
each nipple ornament and, eventually, her g-string.

  "Happy now?" he enquired.

  "No! No! Take it off!" shrieked a chorus of female voices.  

  As he sang another song the lovely Althea, still nude apart from her tall 
shoes, came up behind her husband and ripped the tailed coat from his body, 
followed by each other garment until he too was down to a g-string.  At the 
crowd's insistence she took it off and revealed a quite presentable,  semi-
erect penis.

  There was a recess at that point and  when the Kembles returned they were 
wearing their g-strings to go on with their show. Being a warm night it was 
not a hardship to be undressed and they were really a joy to look at,  both 
fully tanned and fit from a strenuous exercise regime.

  The next act was an international singer called Aurora who sang a popular 
operatic aria and a song from 'Evita' before  asking the audience what they
would like to hear next.  She had a beautiful face, red hair and pale skin, 
a shortish, solid figure that was extremely curvy,  but not, by any stretch 
of the imagination, a realistic contender for 'Miss Universe'. 

  "Take it orf!" they yelled.

  She gestured down at her body. "You'll be changing your tune if I do. I'm 
built for comfort, not for speed. There are lots better looking chicks here 
than I," she chuckled.

  They weren't happy at that answer and continued calling for her to strip. 
She launched into a raunchy version of 'Big Spender' in  which it was clear 
that 'spend' was rendered with an old fashioned meaning of ejaculation. She 
dropped her long skirt at one end of the stage,  strutted back and forth to 
remove her blouse and her bra before halting and,  with a great deal of hip 
wiggling, shed her lacy panties. In just her white suspender, tan stockings 
and super-high heeled, platformed sandals she paraded her entirely untanned
body along the stage, thrusting her hips forward to display her shaven quim 
with a big, intricate ring ornament piercing the top end of her inner labia. 
The audience went wild at her ease with public nudity, particularly because 
nobody there really thought that a performer of  her stature would actually 
strip and perform nude.

  As an encore she sang a very long version of 'Mr Tambourine Man' with the 
three female guitarists backing her onstage and the mob  wanting them naked 
too. Each of these girls put down their instrument to remove her long skirt 
and blouse before doing a solo piece wearing just their shoes, g-string and 
smile, their tall, athletic figures fully tanned and glowing with health. I 
found it fascinating to watch the movements of their unfettered breasts and 
buttocks as they played, flexing and twitching randomly. When they finished 
they whipped off their g-strings for a flash at the audience before leaving 
the stage, then returning with g-strings on to finish the evening's gig.

  A female barbershop 'quartet' of a dozen singers sang several songs,  but 
didn't accede to the demands for skin until the very final moment when they 
pulled down their bodices,  threw out their arms and held the last note for 
over a minute's display of quivering bosoms of every size and shape.  After 
giving an eyeful they replaced up their dresses and hurried out giggling at 
their daring as they were merely an amateur outfit of suburban ladies doing 
their bit for the childrens' medical charity the party was in aid of. Every 
act, including the ad hoc band,  but excepting the Kembles and Aurora, were 
amateurs, we were told. All were donating their time to the cause and so we 
were encouraged to be generous with our donations.

  An eighteen woman chorus line tapped its way on to stage, high kicking to 
display sequined g-strings over crotchless fishnet hose under their pleated 
silver miniskirts.  They did several formation turns and one pair performed 
solo before reforming their line with nine dancers facing each direction as 
it revolved about its centre.  When the half facing to rearward returned to 
face the front we saw that their little bolero jackets were open to exhibit 
a variety of madly jiggling boobs, then similarly with the remainder before 
they came back into sight. Their next turn saw the short tops discarded and 
the following one had them  minus skirts as they kicked so high in a flurry 
of wobbling buttocks and jerking, quivering breasts, halting momentarily to 
bow as each half faced us, departing from the stage in a tapping conga line. 
A moment later the line tap-danced on-stage again, without their g-strings, 
reformed their line and treated us to the sight of winking vulvas when they 
high-kicked around and around, their scanty undergarment ensuring a need to 
remove most of their pubic hairs and give the audience a full view of their 
variously shaped cunts.

  A troupe of belly dancers entertained us all with their full figured, but 
surprisingly muscular and agile bodies shimmying in the  manner I'd thought 
that only Polynesian hula dancers were capable of moving their hips. They'd 
come prepared to discard clothing without a lot of prompting and eventually 
showed their hairless bodies in their entirety,  none apparently in any way 
self-conscious about size or shape as they performed with great aplomb.  
      
  Then there were the body builders  who performed a combination of lifting 
the women members in multiples, acrobatics, tumbling and some floor routine
gymnastics, rhythmically to music.  Some of the women had almost no breasts 
at all, their  mammary glands seeming to have been transformed into muscle, 
while others had implants to reshape their boobs that had been distorted by 
the muscular development of their chests. They shed their tiny bras without 
seeming to before g-strings began to fall away, from both the men and women, 
disappointing me in that their blokes' penises were, in the main, just your 
standard-sized pricks that hardly befitted the bodies they appended. At the 
finale,  three women were lowered by the waist down the front of their male 
partner's body, from his shoulders, as he kneeled. Their plan was obviously 
to strike a final pose with the musical crescendo,  but the foremost couple 
ended, by either accident or design, with his prick sliding unerringly into 
her love pouch.  One thing wasn't planned, I knew, when his creamy goo then
appeared around his tool and dripped from her pussy. When she rose from his 
knee his cock fell out and more of his semen ran slowly down her soft inner 
thighs as she blushed profusely.

  The very last act was a musical performance by the three young guitarists 
and three violinistes who were all at a conservatorium students.  Where the 
guitarists were all strapping, well tanned women, their friends were petite, 
slender, two being bespectacled and all seemed younger. The guitarists were 
still wearing only high heels and sequined g-strings and Denny enquired, on 
behalf of all the males, whether the fiddlers were going to bare themselves 
to the crowd.  Two shook their heads adamantly while the third put down her 
instrument to unbutton her white silk blouse, turning away to remove it and
then facing us to reveal a pair of small, white, teeny-type titties.

  After their first piece the other two relented and removed their blouses, 
one having a surprisingly large bosom, their other friend then shedding her 
long black skirt to reveal that she too wore a glittering g-string upon her 
pallid figure.  They followed her lead at the end of the next piece and, at 
the finale, a person in a gorilla suit who'd been fondling bare breasts all 
evening, unfastened each of their scanty g-strings with astoundingly nimble 
fingers,  not one of them quite realizing that they were naked until they'd 
looked down to see what the people were staring at. They then ran squealing 
from the stage,  trying to hide their twats behind their fiddles, returning 
in only their high-heels and g-strings to take a topless bow before retreat-
ing backstage to dress again.

  The band and entertainment groups had more or less dressed again and were 
sipping drinks to wind down following the performances. I wondered how much 
of their nudity had been a real surprise and what had been rehearsed before 
the event,  later being informed that all of it was spontaneous in response 
to being 'dared' by the audience. 

  Den returned to his microphone with an anouncement.

  "Someone's slipped me a note," he told us archly, looking down at a small
paper in his hand. "A bloke says here that his wife has  worked her bum off 
to look like a passable whore for this shindig over the past month, but not 
one guy has propositioned her since they arrived. Where are you sir?"

  Nobody wanted to own up, but he saw a deeply blushing woman who shook her 
head adamantly when he asked her to stand. He went down, still wearing only 
his g-string, to take her hand and lift her to her feet. She wasn't a great 
beauty, but an attractively presented lady of around forty who'd never been 
so embarrassed in her whole life before,  obviously wishing that the ground 
would open up and swallow her.

  "Who wrote this?" demanded Den.

  She briefly pointed to a man sitting across the table.

  "Your hubby?"

  She nodded.

  "You put him up to this?"

  Her head shook vigourously.

  "But you'd go along with his offer here?"

  She didn't respond for quite some time,  then almost imperceptibly nodded 
before he hauled her up to the stage.

  "What's your name, or perhaps I should ask what I should call you?"

  "Lori," she whispered blushing, having to repeat it three times before he 
understood what she'd said.

  "Okay blokes," he looked around at the crowd. "What's wrong with you?"

  They cheered and whistled.

  "Now,  don't you tell me that Lori's not a lovable bit of fluff that your 
average, red-blooded male wouldn't like for a bit of warmth on a cold night. 
Nice legs, great boobs, delicious child-bearing hips and a sweet face; what 
more could you want?"

  'Take it orf! Getcha gear orf!' chanted the male mob, and some females. 

  He glanced at her and she pulled down the bodice of her scanty costume to 
display a fine pair of boobs which owed more to a cosmetic surgeon's skills 
than to nature,  then briefly lifted her hem to let them look at a smoothly 
shaven pussy.

  "Nice?"

  They roared their approval.

  "Alright then.  Lori's husband suggests we offer a hundred raffle tickets 
for ten dollars a time,  a thousand bucks for charity, the winner, drawn by 
Lori, getting to spend thirty minutes with her in the nooky tent,"  he read 
to explain the proposal.  "Lori's hot to trot, so come on guys and buy your 
tickets."

  The idea was so popular that they bought more than one ticket, five books 
in fact, giving five grand to the philanthropic fund, a very expensive fuck 
which did wonders for Lori's self-esteem. As they clamoured for tickets she 
stood up straight to pose and to look as tempting as possible,  smiling and 
then calling the winning number loudly as she drew the marble from the wire 
tumbler. The lucky man was from the table beside ours; tall, dark and a fit 
looking fortyish, going forward egged on by his friends to accept his prize.  

  "I can't wait," he grinned, squeezing her ample bottom and kissing her on
the mouth. "I reckon Lori's very brave and it's paid off for the kids we're 
collecting for. I'm probably risking my marriage by going through with this, 
but it'll be worth it."

  By then it seemed that Lori had come right out of her shell and urged all 
the women who'd come along as sluts to follow her example and play the part, 
just once, 'for the kids sake', she told us. It wasn't a huge sacrifice and 
we might even enjoy it, at least giving us all a topic for conversation for 
the rest of the evening.  Her beau's spouse, a tall, elegant brunette in an 
almost transparent dress, made it all too obvious that she was the next sex 
lottery prize and started selling tickets for her favours.  While I thought 
that Nella was a somewhat more attractive woman, she only sold two books of 
tickets due, I supposed, to the lesser novelty value of being the second to 
offer herself. 

  Then there was a drought as far as women willing to prostitute themselves 
for charity was concerned. I saw Den go into a huddle with his wife, Aurora, 
Pat and our host.

  "How about a celebrity raffle?" he enquired, receiving a roar of approval. 
"A hundred bucks a ticket and a choice."

  That idea was a hit.

  "Pat and Bryan, Althea and I, Aurora...... come on you newsmakers...."

  Eventually they were joined by an international sportswoman,  a female TV 
presenter and three blokes, one of whom was a spunky jock in a top national
sporting team.  'God,' I thought, 'Imagine winning it. How could you choose 
one guy out of that line-up?'

  As the numbers were drawn the women were all taken first, leaving Ben and 
Greg disappointed and me afraid of being drawn out. I felt I'd die if I was 
forced to go out in front of all those people and choose a male to have sex 
with me, but Glen had all her fingers crossed.  Having had my luck for that 
evening I felt fairly secure,  even more so when one of our numbers came up 
and a flushed and smiling Glen went out to claim Bryan as her screw. I felt 
safe and happy  with the knowledge that lightning had never struck twice in 
the same place, so you can imagine my shock when the two guys showed me the 
winning  ticket for a choice between a TV actor and an Olympic athlete from 
yesteryear. The men had to lead me giggling and blushing out from the table 
where I was introduced to Jonny, my prospective lover, before he led me out 
to the 'Love Tent' to see to my prize.

  "I don't know whether you're accustomed to real quality nooky Tricia," he 
told me a trifle self-conscoiusly. "I promise I'll do my very best for you, 
but my lifestyle isn't quite right for learning the ins and outs of sex."

  "I'm sure you'll be quite wonderful,"  I assured him sincerely, squeezing 
his arm, my shyness and a fear of sex with a stranger allayed by his modest 
admission as I thought, 'if my friends could see me now.' 

  There were at least a dozen couples in the marquee and, after selecting a 
suitably festive condom from the bowl, found a beanbag near our hostess who 
was certainly giving value for money to her winner. She sat astride him and
strongly ground her ample hips in a circular, lifting motion while dangling 
her generously pendulous bosom in his face to be nipped and licked.  

  Jonny was quickly out of his costume of a Dyak sarong and turban to cover 
his hefty cock with the striped and ribbed latex, then posed for me with it 
curving up and out from his hairless crotch.  I'd stripped naked then posed 
momentarily for him before lying back on the beanbag to display my hairfree 
vulva before he lay beside me and slid one muscular arm beneath my neck and 
stroked my soft tits with unexpected tenderness. His body was as hard as it 
looked, even harder than his thick, hard tool I found, and he was trembling 
as excitedly as I in anticipation of our shagging soon. The painful ache of 
trepidation that had earlier knotted my gut had been assuaged by his gentle 
shyness and I was ready to receive my prize.

  "Ready?"  I asked, the second sylable rising suddenly as his finger found 
my tingling clitty.

  "Yes, you are,"  he chuckled, dragging one of my legs under his waist and 
the other above as we faced each other.  Two fumbling hands reached between 
us to poke and prod at my pudendum with the tip of his cock.

  "Allow me," I whispered and he released it as I guided his throbbing tool 
to my quim. "Okay."

  He slid full length inside my welling vulva with an easy push and we just 
gently undulated our hips as he played with my tits.

  "Great boobs," he murmured, nibbling on a small, flat nipple.

  "You're too kind," I grinned. "I think matronly is the word you meant."

  "No, I didn't," he argued.  "Mindy's boobs were really out of shape after 
the kids, but yours are just right for a sexy young mother. It isn't nearly
the same after enhancement, no matter how good the surgeon, they never look 
as natural as yours do."

  He thrust a little faster to slide his member in my thrilling vagina with 
more clitoral pressure as we stared fixedly into each other's eyes.

  "Can I kiss you?" he asked breathlessly.

  I nodded before we tongue-wrestled  as I discovered that he was very good 
at kissing indeed.  The cadence of our pushing hips had gradually increased 
until I was, unusually for me, moaning and whooping as loudly with pleasure 
as those about me. My position let air into my wet cunt, around his sliding 
cock, making seriously salacious sounds as it became compressed and escaped 
over soft, wet mucous membrane and encouraging him to ram into me even more 
energetically.

  "Oooh, oooh Go-od! Oh I'm coming! Ooh Jesus!" he blurted before thrusting 
deeply within me with hot convulsions of pleasure racking his rigid, sweaty, 
glistening body.

 "Me too!" I cried emotionally as I was overcome by orgasm only a heartbeat 
or two after him.

  We lay kissing and caressing as our thrills abated and our senses cooled, 
he tightening his sphincter to make his schlong swell just momentarily as I 
clamped my drooling sheath around it. I don't know how long we enjoyed each 
other like that,  but eventually became aware of a naked woman standing and 
watching us, Jon smiling then beckoning her over to us where she sat on the 
edge of our beanbag.

  "This is my wife Mindy," he told me. "And this is Trish who won me in the 
raffle."

  Mindy and I solemnly shook hands, her husband's member still fully within 
me, before she gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

  "Was it good? I mean, did you get your money's worth out of him?"

  I just nodded, smiling, noticing her too-perfect boobs puffed out by soft 
implants and the full redness of her cunt which had obviously only recently
accommodated a busy male member.   
 
  "So what have you been up to?" asked Jon as he noticed evidence of recent 
sexual congress in his wife's pussy.

  "The boys were being totally gross in offering us money for sex, actually, 
money for charity for sex.  I really thought they'd fold if somebody called 
their bluff, except that Rowena had sold a whole book of tickets, got up on 
stage in front of the crowd and gone off for nooky with a complete stranger 
who picked her out. I think the rest of us were a bit envious of her daring, 
although I didn't consider anyone was of a mind to actually emulate her, so 
when Dinny asked me if I'd put out for a  million bucks for charity, I said 
I'd give it serious thought. He wanted a 'yes' or 'no' answer so I said I'd 
probably do it in the unlikely event that somebody made the offer. 

  'How about a hundred bucks?'

  I asked him 'a hundred dollars what'?

  He said for sex and I fell right in by asking what he thought I was. It'd 
all ready been established that I was a loose lady, he told me, now we were 
haggling over the price for my favours.  

  'A thousand?' he said and I shook my head.

  'Two?'

  'Three?'

  'Oh come on Min!' said Meryl. 'You can't refuse that sort of donation.'

  'Would you accept it?' I challenged her.

  'Nobody asked me.'

  'If they did?'

  'I'd be in it for a lot less if I were asked. It's really all just a game 
for charity.'

  'A dollar,' Terry bid on Meryl and got a playful slap on his face for his 
trouble.

  'Okay,' said Terry, revising the bid, 'a grand.'

  'You serious?'

  He counted out ten hundreds into her hand  and she looked to Burt for his 
thoughts.

  'Up to you, Love.  Mind you, I might just have to make a bid on Charlotte 
if you do.'

  She smiled radiantly, took the cash to pay it to the charitable treasurer 
before coming back to whisk Terry off for sin. Guys from another table were 
interested in what we were doing and got Allison, Jen and Laurie to cave in 
for two thousand each, while their menfolk persuaded the leftover ladies at 
the other table to put out for only one thousand each, despite their having 
resolved to have no part of that style of fund raising only minutes before. 
I held out for fifty-five hundred,  really not thinking Dinny would go that 
high, but he did. It wasn't so bad; d'you mind, sweetheart?"

  "'Course not love. It's great. You know how I feel," Jon assured his wife. 

  "Well just don't ask me whether or not I'll do it again,"  Mindy told him 
firmly. Then to me, "Does your husband tell you he'd like to see you having 
it off with other guys?"

  I nodded.

  "Is that what made you do it?"

  "No, I was virtually frog-marched out to select Jon by my husband and his 
friend without having a choice.  Mind you, I was curious about how it would 
feel to have another bloke in me,  particularly after my friend had grabbed 
her opportunity for consensual adultery in both hands, so I thought it'd be 
worth trying once."

  "And will once become twice?"

  "Well other than weariness there seems to be no real obstacle if I was so 
inclined." 

  When Jonny's flaccid penis eventually drooped wetly from my oozing pussy, 
Mindy and I took a nude swim in the half-size Olympic pool at the rear exit 
of the sex tent, cooling and refreshing ourselves for whatever came our way 
during the rest of the evening. We dressed and returned to the cabaret tent 
where I saw that Glen and our husbands  were up on the stage awaiting their
selection by raffle winners, Ben getting raced off by a slim, giggling, red 
headed woman from the tap dance team who seemed to be about forty, blushing 
profusely like I'd done on being pushed forward to collect her prize by her 
friends.

  "Who's Mindy?" asked the stand-in MC of the crowd, waving a raffle ticket 
book. "Come on, stand up and let's see you."

  There was a throaty cheer as she arose with a reddening face on realizing 
that the decision as to whether or not she'd put out again had been removed 
from her.  I found myself in that same boat a moment later when my name was 
called to give people a look at my charms.   

  "Take it orf!"  bellowed several male voices,  so I unfastened my top and 
showed one boob at a time before baring both to pendulously sway and jiggle 
them to cheers from the mob.

  Several more ladies were persuaded to make their sexual favours available 
as prizes, but only one younger bloke, while I'd been asked to join Mindy's 
table where I suffered a groping from several of her male friends. I didn't 
mind really, but gave them nasty looks as if I did. Mindy was called to the 
stage with other females for the prize-selection process, but I missed that 
draw, looking on at who'd volunteered their bodies to be whores for a night.

  Two of the three of the female guitarists were there, one bodybuilder and 
two of the chorus line ladies, the lone bloke and three other women who had 
obviously been persuaded to volunteer against their better judgements. They 
giggled and blushed about the situation they found themselves in, trembling 
and aching with trepidation at the prospect of accommodating any stranger's  
prick in their hitherto chaste pussies, but not entirely averse to what lay 
in store for them. The first winning number was called and a bloke went out 
to choose one of those three afore-mentioned ladies. She refused to go with 
him and made quite a fuss before he slung her petite form over his shoulder 
and carried her out.

  "Her brother-in-law," said the current emcee by way of explanation.

  The others were quickly taken and I found  myself up on stage flashing my 
boobs to convince any prospective partner that I had  what it takes to give 
a good, satisfying time. It probably sounds silly, but I just couldn't bear 
the idea of being left until last; the booby prize for the loser who saw me 
in the same light. 

  As luck would have it I was taken off second by this older man who wasn't 
much to look at, portly and balding, but beneath his toga I saw the outline 
of a cock about the size of a standard aerosol can. It was circumcised with 
a head like an apple,  more than seven centimetres in diameter and at least 
twenty long, with an upward tilt. I'd never have believed that they grew as 
big as that, but now I was about to feel it stretching my poor little cunt, 
hoping sincerely that it didn't spoil me for Ben's more modest appendage.
 
  Back in le palais-de-rapports sexuels we had to wait for a shagging space. 
I looked around at the action as Stan, my beau, had a bit of a diddle in my 
very juicy pussy. I watched Mindy kneel astride her prize-winner and slowly 
sink down to engulf his hefty cock with her quim, lean forward on her hands 
and begin rocking energetically back and forth. Our hostess hadn't confined 
her sexual activity to the one bout as she'd indicated earlier, her breasts 
tossing wildly as she gyrated wildly over some young guy's hips in a lather 
of erotic sensation.                   

  Having done it before I was far more relaxed and took in my surroundings. 
One room containing some hundred couples, most engaged in coitus, is really
something to behold and hear.  They panted, gasped, sighed, cooed, groaned, 
moaned, grunted or cried out emotionally, their hard bellies slapped on the 
bellies or buttocks or backs of thighs of others as they  strove for sexual 
release. The scent of washed bodies mixed with all manner of fragrances and 
perfumes hung palpably in the warm air, making me feel rather randy despite 
my partner's looks, desiring to get on with things. 

  "There!"  Stan whispered hoarsely, indicating a spot being vacated by two 
couples who'd been having a bit of foursome fun.

  We hurried over, just beating another couple who, nonetheless, lay beside 
us and coupled without removing any clothing. I undid my top and flicked it 
over one shoulder before parting my feathers when I slowly kneeled over his 
vertical member to feel the mighty knob pop into my pleasure portal, which, 
despite its size, slid easily into my elastic vagina to the hilt.
  
  Stan licked and fondled my pendulous breasts swaying before his face as I 
rocked to and fro over his corpulent middle-section with both palms flat on 
his heaving chest.  While I lifted my rotating bottom even higher he thrust 
his hips upwards to shove his member hard into my flexing,  drooling sheath 
with ever faster  movements until I felt the familiar tingling in my nether 
parts which always heralded my orgasms.

  "I'm not too far off coming," I mumbled urgently.

  "Yeah, me too," he responded. "Go for it."

  We thrust our hips together even faster until I was about to come.

  "Oooooh lovely!" gasped Stan as his entire being went rigid and spasms of 
erotic delight racked his body. "Ooh, how wonderful."

  I had the distinct feeling that it was his first nooky for the day,  from 
his reaction, making me feel sad for him, but not for long as mine was upon 
me in a rush. It was rather intense because of my highly aroused state over 
the expectation of something special with his mighty member which, although 
it didn't really eventuate, brought me to a pleasantly fulfilling orgasm. I 
lay on him as  my senses cooled then raised myself again to gently kiss his 
mouth.

  "That was great," I murmured hushily.

  "My pleasure," he grinned and we shared a laugh over that.

  As he pulled me to my feet a slender, redheaded lady of mature years came
over and joined us, also showing the signs of a very recent sexual coupling. 

  "Hi love," Stan greeted her. "This is Tricia. Trish, my wife Valli."

  She smiled amiably. "How was it, Stan's big beef gun I mean."

  "It is something isn't it?" I agreed. "A girl certainly knows it's there."

  She giggled, pleased that I enjoyed it,  she having just been poked by an 
ex-athlete of some fame in both international games and boudoir sports.  It 
was her very first extramarital experience,  she said, leaving me wondering 
if she had developed a taste for more.

  I took another swim in the pool before going in search of  my husband and 
friends again. They weren't in the cabaret, which had become something of a 
flesh market for some of the older guests who were negotiating the price of 
a fuck with those they'd fancied in normal life, but hadn't the temerity to 
mention without the atmosphere of free loving where whoring was acceptable. 
A number of those  mature ladies seemed quite pleased at having a couple of 
guys bidding for their faded charms.

  The disco was still going with those who seemed to be avoiding the matter 
of sex for remuneration, albeit a good cause. There seemed to be no sign of 
the others, but a short man wearing a bodysuit made to look like a priest's 
black clerical outfit with dog collar,  gave me an idea as he was obviously 
aroused.  He caught me staring at him and I smiled in what I hoped would be 
an alluring manner, although the gargle had probably made it a bit lopsided 
by that time of night.

  "Hello, would you care to dance?" he asked me and I accepted. "I'm Lou."

  "I'm Trish," I replied.

  We danced a slow box step and I took a condom from my headpiece where I'd 
secreted several for no particular reason I can think of now.

  "Would you like to put this on," I murmured huskily on handing it to him.

  To say he was surprised would rather understate matters,  but he complied 
with alacrity as I unfastened my top to sling it back over my left shoulder 
before embracing him. With my heels his knob was at crotch level and we had 
no problem in inserting his slim dick into my pussy and keeping it there as 
we danced.

  "Oh that's gorgeous," he enthused, and I had to agree.

  "I saw some people doing it before, but hadn't had sufficient wine to try 
it," I told him. "I saw that you had the need and asked for your assistance 
in doing it. I hope you don't mind."

  He hugged and kissed me as  we continued dancing until I sensed the first 
spark of orgasm in my loins, our undulating hips sliding his prick in short 
movements inside my vagina, until it was irresistible and I stiffened quite
suddenly with a cry of passion. He backed me against to one of the vertical 
poles where he lifted my legs up off the ground to screw me furiously until 
he was overcome by joyous climax.  There was clapping and cheering from all 
those who'd been watching us and I blushed profoundly when I bowed from the 
shoulders to acknowledge them.

  "That was bloody marvelous Trish," he told me. "I'd like to see you again, 
if it's possible."

  "'Fraid not Lou," I told him kindly. "In real life I'm a wife and mother, 
so it's really not something I could, or would even want to, contemplate at 
all. But thanks, for the nooky too I mean, it was great."

  I left him to wander away to see Greg and Ben being gleefully led away by 
the 'octopus lady' who'd earlier familiarized herself with their manly bits 
and was now apparently about to experience them both simultaneously. That's 
another thing I'd decided I'd like to try in the not-too-distant future now
that gone as far as I had. 

  I found Glen in the marquee which had been used for a fashion parade that 
afternoon, the catwalk was still in place, with she and a number of equally 
naked guests up there being auctioned off for sex. It had begun as a 'best-
costume' parade, but had degenerated into another amateur flesh market with 
the tacit acquiescence of those participating.  She beckoned me to join her 
just as the auctioneer called  her up to the front and she sashayed forward 
with swaying hips and swinging breasts while the bidding began. She was, it 
seemed, in demand as a bit of crumpet, the bids going up to 'nine', which I 
assumed were hundreds of dollars. 

  Many of the women present were bare breasted, but I'd covered myself once
more after my bout with Lou and preferred to stay that way, for the moment. 
The woman who'd played bass guitar, Samantha, the last of the trio, stepped 
up on the stage to the cheers of  most of the guys present and those female 
band members also standing together in the crowd. Sam stripped off and came 
forward to be knocked down for nine and great cheering from her colleagues, 
then stepping down to meet the successful bidder for her voluptuous, tanned 
body. As she left she pointed, first at them, then up at the stage, causing 
them all to blush deeply,  making it clear that they'd agreed to follow her 
lead if she went up to be auctioned off for charity. The harpist and one of 
the saxaphone players were married ladies, according to their ring fingers, 
but seemed less reluctant about a bit of illicit nooky than the fiddlers as 
they left their fellows and climbed on stage.  As the three ladies ahead of 
them strutted down the runway to display their charms  they stripped off to 
reveal their tanned,  but bikini marked bodies, then strut along the runway 
with bobbing boobs and buttocks as they were called to show themselves off. 
Both were taken for a score of five,  blushing hotly, but seemingly pleased 
at having prompted  an enthusiastic round of bidding for their first sexual 
encounter for the night. 

  A group of five women of thirty-something,  all fit looking matrons, then 
stepped up blushing as deeply the rest,  to put their sexual favours up for 
auction.  They all attracted bids of four and were hurried away by guys who 
seemed eager to get on with things.

  While this was happening I heard a familiar voice behind me and turned to 
find Lizzy, a friend of ours from the health club which I attend with Glen, 
grinning at me uncertainly. This was an unusual mood for Liz who was always 
so certain of herself and spoke with authority on most matters we discussed, 
being a few years older than our workout group.

  "Hi," she greeted me shyly. "I saw you and Glen go in the raffle before."

  "What was it like?" her blonde and buxom friend Jody, much younger, asked 
me earnestly.

  "Oh, it's just a bit of fun for charity," I told them airily. "Nothing to 
be taken seriously." 

  "Oh, I don't know how you can just have sex with any Tom, Dick or Harry," 
she sniffed. "You don't know what you might be getting into."

  "Or getting into yourself," giggled Jody.  "I'm too not sure about Tom or 
Harry, but Dick certainly appeals to me right now."

  "Ooh, you're awful Jo," Liz moaned.

  "And you're a wowser Lizzie," the other retorted. "I could've been on the 
receiving end of several healthy bonks tonight, but you kept making me wait. 
Well now it's nearly one o'clock and I'm still waiting."

  With that she got up on to the catwalk and stripped off to join the three 
giggling fiddle players who'd finally accepted that their time for some sex 
had come, then boldly strutted forward to generous applause and a top score 
of ten after a prolonged bidding duel between eight blokes,  the three slim 
musicians going off for sevens. 

  The auctioneer called for more female volunteers, looking pointedly at me
and I nodded, ready for a bit more fun by then. 
  
  "Don't go up yet," begged Liz, indicating another three women stepping up
on to the stage just then.  

  "Face it Lizzie," I told her a bit cruelly. "You're never going to get up 
there, so why try to stop others who are. You don't have to do it you know,
it's absolutely voluntary."

  I climbed the steps when the last of my predecessors dropped her gear and
strutted forward blushing deeply,  her well-upholstered figure jiggling and 
quivering with each exaggerated step,  her taut, smooth exterior indicating 
an exercise regime to keep her fit despite her full figure. She was knocked 
down for 'six' as I stripped and sashayed forward to spin on my toes to let 
them see all of me.

  To my real disbelief I'd received numerous bids and been knocked down for 
an unprecedented 'twelve' to one of the musclemen, the best looking of them,
in fact.  His wife or partner was a tall and slender woman, I'd noticed, so 
I surmised that he was looking to sample the fuller figure as a sex partner.
He passed down twelve of the numbered raffle tickets to the auctioneer who, 
in turn, gave them to me before I walked back to get my things.

  Coming towards me with her face like a beetroot was Liz, her bikini-lined
body as naked as the day she was born, chin up defiantly as she strode down
to the end of the catwalk to display her not insignificant physical charms. 
I got my new partner to wait while I watched for the outcome of Liz's sale.
There was a lot of bidding then to a high of 'eight', and off she went with 
a tall, swarthy guy in his forties.

  "There's something I need to tell you," my new partner, Kelvin, told me a
little self-consciously. "The two of us pooled the last of our money to buy 
your service. We'd like you to pick which of us you want to do it with?"
   
  His mate Phil stepped forward, a little bit older,  but at least as hunky 
as Kel.

  "Oh, I think I'll be able to see to you both,"  I chuckled recklessly, my
Dutch courage up with my alcohol consumption.

  "Together or one at a time?" enquired Phil.

  "Whatever you'd enjoy most, but you decide between you who goes where," I 
told them with a grin.
  
  By the time we got into the palais de nooky I saw Liz being  screwed with
her back to the canvas wall.  She was fucking wildly, crudely urging him on
both lewdly and loudly, her passion for physically demanding sex obvious to 
all.

  As the boys got their frenchies and KY I glanced about at the fornicating
mass of humanity and realized,  with the crowd still awaiting a spot on the 
floor, that it would be some time before we found any place to lie down. We
discussed this subject on their return and decided that a doubled up, knee-
trembler against the wall might be best. Although I had heard them referred
to in jokes and books I hadn't realized that people actually did stuff like
that until that evening; there I was about to experience my initial, double
intromission, known more crudely as a sandwich fuck.

  Kel pulled me hard to him to kiss me deeply before bending his knees just
slightly to get his healthy looking horn beneath my crotch when he and Phil
lifted me off my feet. I reached down to guide his jerking knob into my wet
snatch,  feeling it part my vulvar lips and slide into me to the hilt as he
bore upwards.  Phil turned my head to kiss me too, then poke his lubricated
cock at my tight, pink rectum and push it with increasing force to enter me.
We grunted and gasped until eventually his enormous knob popped in past the
tight ring and into my anus, Kel lifting me and leaning backward while Phil
thrust right in and then started to work his tool both in and outward until
he could slide it fully with relative ease. 

  It was then Kel's turn to slide his penis within me before both men began 
thrusting alternately as I clung tightly to Kel's huge frame,  both my arms 
around his neck and legs about his hips.  This was unsatisfactory to us all
and they tried simultaneous thrusting to solve their problem. We all had an        
absolutely voluptuous experience, working ourselves into an uproar of wild,
emotional sounds as our sweating bodies emitted all kinds of lewd slapping, 
slurping and sliding noises.
  
  I was in heaven as they lustily rammed their pricks in and out of my avid
pussy, increasing my pleasure to the point where I simply couldn't hold off
any longer and my orgasm just overwhelmed my senses when I dissolved into a
convulsing mass of ecstatic sensations.  The erotic spasms repeatedly shook
me without seeming to lessen in intensity as the blokes continued to thrust
manfully, then, just when I thought I could take no more, they shoved their 
tools in deep and stiffened before hot shudders of bliss hit them too.

  "I always wondered how that would feel,"  Kel murmured when we eventually
disentangled ourselves. "I reckon it was fun. How about you Trish?"

  "It was great,"  I enthused, "but I came fairly close to sensual overload
towards the end and nearly passed out."

  "Serious?" he asked.
 
  "True," I told him. "I'd heard stories about females fainting with sexual
pleasure, but really didn't believe it 'til tonight."

  "Me either," he mused, looking at me self-consciously, "but I wondered if 
you might be interested in joining a group of us who've been thinking about
getting into amateur porno videos and swinging."

  "I don't know what you think Kel,"  I told him evenly, "but tonight's the
first and probably last time I'll ever do something like this. I'm just now
thinking about how I'll feel when I wake up later this morning;  talk about
the morning after the night before and your alcoholic remorse. I think I'll 
be cringing all day as I think of it."   

  "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I intended no reflection upon your morals or 
allusion to previous experience. You seemed to have so much fun that we saw
you as a prospect."
 
  "Thank you for asking Kel. I do appreciate it really and I might take you 
up on it eventually,  but it'll be some time before I've come to terms with 
tonight's adventure."

  The night hadn't cooled a lot and I took another swim, with my two beaus,
before being called by Glen  who said that the others were ready to retire. 
I was so exhausted by then that I kept dozing off in the limosine and later 
slept through until ten-thirty a.m. in the same bed as the other three.  As 
things transpired I didn't feel nearly as  badly as I thought I would about 
my exploits at the party, especially after the others had expressed a quite
positive sense of what we'd done.