An Evening with Friends
A new home, boxes unpacked and our first social evening ahead of us.
My wife and I were tired — very tired, but still, with an evening with friends to look forward to, we were ready to keep going rather than just flop into our sofa and doze off. We had invited just two other couples — Emma and David, Karen and Jeff. We had all known each other for a while, but it was the first time all six of us had got together. We were confident, though, that things would work well, as both couples were relaxed and easy going, had similar interests and enjoyed a drink — sensibly, of course. Additionally, we were all of a similar age (early 30s) and had many tastes in common — music, films, literature, sports etc.
Importantly, we did not feel under pressure to look perfect. A good thing, as our home was far from finished. There was no coffee table in the living room, leaving a large, vacant space, and we only had enough comfortable seating for four, supplemented by cushions. It wasn’t perfect, but no-one would care.
During the afternoon, my wife, Claire, and I had been shopping. We had bought crisps, nuts, cake and various bits of food to place in bowls. We had bought wine, beer and champagne to celebrate our new home. We were also overrun with strawberries — Claire had taken the kids to a ‘Pick your Own’ strawberry farm, and they had returned with enough to keep Wimbledon going for a month. These, along with cream, would no doubt be very popular.
Kids were packed off for sleepovers with friends, food was ready, the environment was as good as it was going to be, and now it was time for us to get ready. A quick shower and change — shorts and t shirt for me, skirt and blouse for Claire — nothing formal. I watched as she changed, admiring how she had worked to keep her figure after two kids, enjoying, as usual, her larger than average breasts (the envy of many), and her meticulously hairless body. I was lucky.
So, I reflected, were our friends. Emma was tall and had a feline grace which made me think she could almost have been a model in her younger days. She was slim, but toned, as a result of hours at the gym (where she and Claire met).
Karen was petite. In fact, had I not known her age, I might easily have mistaken her for a student at first sight. In some ways, her body was almost androgynous — slim hips and breasts which looked more as if she was a late developer rather than a mature woman. She rarely wore a bra, and it was this fact alone which hinted at more maturity — her nipples often proudly erect, which barely seemed to bother her at all. I found it quite a turn on.
It would, in fact, be rather odd seeing these three entirely different women together. Different, but all attractive in their own unique way. Even their hair was different. Claire — brunette, long and luxurious, to match her dark, almost Latin look; Emma – blonde, cropped short, with tanned skin from her recent holiday; Karen — auburn, cut in a neat bob with pale skin, which freckled in the sun.
I barely noticed what the men looked like. We were all fairly similar, I suppose. We were all athletic — Jeff and I had met through playing cricket together. We both worked in the ‘creative arts’ field. He was a lecturer in art at the local University, while I was a photographer. My first love, as a photographer, was wildlife photography, but I would never compete, on a professional level, with those who had the vastly expensive kit, and inordinate amounts of patience to get the great shots. I also loved landscapes, but rarely managed to be in a position to take the truly great shots — and, as a family man, I would never travel to the truly magnificent corners of the earth.
So I was left taking portraits and trying to make them creative. This was supplemented with the occasional ‘boudoir’ shoot, which could be a lot of fun. These tended to involve wives or girlfriends wanting to make their partners horny with a set of sexy pictures — and varied in their success. Some arrived looking good, with plenty of lingerie and a willingness to strip off for some truly rewarding images.
Others, it seemed, wanted to just get naked and make porn — arriving with sex toys, fetish clothing and a desire to degrade themselves for their lovers. Still others were unprepared for the whole thing, not really willing to reveal themselves any more than they would on a beach. Still, persuasion usually worked, and the top eventually came off, if not the panties.
On one memorable occasion, a woman turned up saying she assumed I would provide the lingerie — totally unaware that these things came in different sizes, and I ended up telling her that I would not take any photos of her until she went away and prepared properly. Like any job, there were ups and downs. Worst were those who wanted to seduce me — and failed every time, regardless of their physical attractions.
David was a ‘property manager’, in business with Emma. I have no idea what a escort bayan ‘property manager’ does. Something to do with renting out offices and homes to people who can’t be bothered to look for themselves. Unlike Jeff and I, who were tall, slim and toned, David was muscular. Not obscenely so, but sufficiently to make him wear tight t shirts, and walk as if he was cracking walnuts with his buttocks. This was a result of hours at the gym with Emma. His only real defect (in his eyes) was that he was only 5’6, and desperately wanted to be taller, mainly to match Emma’s 5’9 (or 6′ in heels). Despite their efforts to achieve physical perfection, David and Emma were not arrogant, but found it easy to laugh and joke, accepting good natured teasing about the ‘body beautiful’, and accepting their own vanity for what it was.
At 8 o’ clock, the doorbell rang. Claire shot up and hurried to greet our first guests. Inevitably, it was Emma and David. They were always prompt, maybe because their business required it. As ever, they looked fabulous. David wore dark chinos and a plain t shirt, sporting the logo of their company, while Emma wore a loose, sleeveless white blouse, buttoned at the front, but open far enough to show just a hint of cleavage, and a red skirt, finishing half way down her thigh. It was a simple outfit, but somehow managed to look stunning, showing off her arms and legs to great effect, and making everyone very aware of both her tan and her toned muscles.
As they came in, Emma and I exchanged ‘air kisses’, followed by a hearty (and slightly painful) handshake and clap on the arm with David.
Claire fussed around, getting drinks and settling everyone in our new living room.
‘Looks great, mate’, opined David, looking around the room.
‘Thanks’, I replied, ‘about time we took a step up in the world’.
‘When do we get the grand tour?’ asked Emma.
David and I rolled eyes at one another. Being typically male, we were not particularly interested in looking around each other’s homes — we could leave that to the ladies.
‘Let’s wait till Karen and Jeff arrive,’ replied Claire, ‘I really can’t be bothered to do the grand tour twice.’
As if on cue, the doorbell rang again, and Claire shot up to admit our final two guests.
More air kisses, more shaking hands, and after a brief pause, the ladies left to tour the property. In fairness, it was quite a step up for us from our previous two bedrooms and a box room terraced house to this four bedroom, large, detached ‘mansion’. As for many people, it had been a combination of work going well and a substantial legacy, following the death of my mother, and reflected the need for more space for our maturing family — and, more importantly — my need to have a studio at home.
‘You and Karen look good,’ said David to Jeff. What he meant, of course, was that Karen looked good, something both he and I had noticed. She wore a long, flowing skirt and a loose t shirt with a scoop neck. It was one of the rare occasions on which she had chosen to wear a bra, as the scooped neckline of her top allowed us to see every time she bent forward. I felt certain that she was very aware of this, as she had made sure that she bent forward at times when David and I could hardly fail to notice.
‘Thanks,’ replied Jeff, taking a sip from his beer, ‘same for you guys. Claire and Emma seem to look better every time I see them. However, more importantly, how’s work going with you guys?’. Our work was almost an obsession with Jeff. He had been desperate to get away from his employers and set up business alone for some time, but lacked the courage and self-belief to take the final plunge, despite Karen’s encouragement.
‘Great,’ I reacted instantly. ‘Now I’ve got the home studio and new kit, I can do more, better work, and with a bit of luck I won’t need to rent studio space in future.’
‘What about your boudoir shoots?’ asked David, suggestively, ‘ How does Claire feel about having you snapping naked women while she does the ironing?’
‘She says she’s fine with it, so long as it’s them that’s naked, and not me.’
We all laughed gently.
‘Does she ever model for you?’ asked Jeff.
‘ Sorry mate, not saying.’ It was a question both Jeff and Dave often asked, and was a well trodden piece of banter between the three of us.
‘Oh, come on’, teased David, ‘of course she does. We know you’ve got hundreds of pics of Claire looking sexy as hell stashed away. Go on, let’s have a look.’
As ever, I decided to tease back. ‘When your ladies come for their boudoir shoots, maybe we can all share. I know they’d love to get their kit off for me.’
Both laughed, as the ladies re-entered the room.
‘What’s so funny?’ demanded Claire.
Jeff, David and I exchanged glances. ‘Nothing’, we all replied together, making it patently clear that it had something to do with our wives, and was something we felt a little guilty about.
‘I love the studio, Alex,’ purred Emma, ‘Claire sincan bayan escort said she’ll be a lot happier with you working from home. Have you tried it out yet?’
‘Not yet. I’ve got the backdrops in and the lighting set up, but yet to try it all out properly. I’m waiting for the right model. Emma, Karen? Interested in helping me try it out?’
‘Oh no!’ said both together. ‘That’s Claire’s job.’
I smiled at my wife, knowing full well that she would, indeed, be very happy to pose for me. Our photoshoots were very much part of our sex life. I had photographed Claire in almost every way imaginable, from demure portraits to the most intimate images of her private parts. She had done the same with me, and using time lapse photography and the ability of my camera to take images every ten seconds, we had vast quantities of photographs of us both together, indulging in all kinds of sexual activity — not to mention several videos. From time to time we enjoyed looking at these, and even hoped, when the kids were older and no longer at home, to make a display of some of our favourite photos by having them framed in our bedroom. For now though, we had to make do with slideshows of ourselves on our TV whenever we wanted to get in the mood.
The evening meandered along its predictable way. We kept drinking, eating snacks and chatting about anything and everything. As we consumed more alcohol, the subjects became increasingly risqué, sharing anecdotes from my boudoir shoots and Jeff’s life drawing classes (such as the male model developed an erection while modelling naked for a group of 18 year old, predominantly female students, but instead of trying to hide it, simply carried on with his hard on proudly displayed to all.
The sketches were, apparently, fascinating, and when Jeff approached the model later in his private changing room, it was to find one of the students busily sucking him off. Needless to say, this particular model did not pose again, while the student could never meet Jeff’s eye — which was a relief to him, as he could never quite dispel the image of her on her knees in front of the model, with semen running down her face and in her hair as he shot his load just as she withdrew when Jeff entered the room.
David, of course, had no similar tales, as he did not, routinely, work with people who willingly stripped off their clothes. He had, however, allowed one couple to look around a property alone, and gone to look for them when they failed to return after 15 minutes. He found them in an unfurnished room, both naked, she on all fours, while he pumped her vigorously from behind. What surprised him most was there lack of embarrassment when they found him downstairs later, and asked why he didn’t stay to watch or join in.
Suddenly, Emma jumped up, grabbed her car keys, and left the room, shouting over her shoulder: ‘back in two minutes’.
She dashed back in, holding a pack of cards.
‘How about a game?’ She panted, slightly out of breath from her short run outside.
‘Poker?’ suggested Jeff,
‘No,’ said Emma, showing us the front of the pack, ‘these aren’t playing cards.’
The title read simply ‘Oh!’, with the subtitle ‘The Kinky Confessions Card Game’.
‘Er…’, I asked, ‘how kinky are we talking?’
‘Very’, replied Emma, ‘if you want to play, it’s going to be a very revealing evening’.
We turned to David. ‘I didn’t know she had them in the car,’ he shrugged. ‘And yes. If you want to play, it will be very revealing. Em and I played, and we learned quite a bit about each other, even after ten years of marriage.’
I looked across at Claire, and was not too surprised to see her eyes sparkling. We had talked about swinging in the past, and had agreed that we liked the idea. However, we did not like the idea of going to a club and meeting total strangers, and we lacked the courage to approach any of our friends. We had enjoyed sex on webcam with other couples, but found it difficult to watch and perform at the same time, and ultimately felt it didn’t increase the fun very much, and carried the risk of recordings ending up online.
Not that we had much to lose if they did, but we really did not want to be wank material for anyone who came across us, and we wanted even less to be recognised in the supermarket and find ourselves with stalkers. So, Claire was in, and I certainly was.
Clearly, Karen and Jeff had undergone a similar exchange of looks. I was fairly sure jeff would have few qualms, knowing him as I did. I was less sure about Karen though. Looking at her, however, I recognised the same glint I had seen in Claire’s eyes, and was pretty much certain I knew the answer.
‘Before we give a definite answer,’ I said, ‘can you just tell us how to play, and exactly how revealing things are likely to get?’
Emma took over again. ‘It’s very easy. Shuffle the cards and choose ten each. Each card has a sexy ‘either, or’ statement, which you have to answer.’
‘Sounds easy’, interjected elvankent escort bayanlar Karen, ‘but what if we can’t answer, or don’t want to?’
‘Well,’ continued Emma, ‘in that case, you have to perform a forfeit’. Karen opened her mouth to ask the obvious question, as Emma held up her hand to silence her. ‘There are some suggested forfeits, but we can make up our own if you like. I like some of the suggested ones, so maybe start with a couple of them, and make up our own later if we’re having fun. What do you think?’
‘And what are the suggested forfeits?’ asked Claire.
Emma took a card and read from it: ‘Kiss you partner on a body part of their choice for 2 minutes; Give your partner a neck and shoulder massage for 10 minutes (5 at most, I think); bend over your partner’s knee and let them spank you 5 times; pour your partner a drink; remove an item of clothing.’
Until the last one, it had all seemed very tame (even the spanking), but everyone recognised that this upped the ante. Again, looks were exchanged, nods given, and we were all in.
‘Anyone want to add any new ones?’ asked Emma, now firmly in control.
I considered. ‘In terms of the drink pouring, it seems very tame. How about adding that they should drink it in one?’ Nods of assent around the room. I stood and produced six shot glasses, and a range of spirits to fill them. This was well received by all.
‘One last thing.’ Jeff this time. ‘How do we decide which forfeit is used?’
We thought for a minute before Claire spoke up: ‘Let’s write them on pieces of paper and choose one. Then it’s fair.’ We nodded our agreement once again, and Claire went to fetch paper, which she handed to Emma, who wrote each forfeit down and tore the sheet into roughly even sections, before dropping them into one of the many empty boxes which were dotted around our new home.
‘Oh!’ Karen again this time. ‘What happens when we run out of cards?’
‘Easy,’ replied Emma, ‘shuffle and start again. Maybe at that point it’ll be time to think of new forfeits?’
‘I just realised,’ pointed out Jeff, ‘How few clothes we’re all wearing’. He had a point. It was Summer, and it was warm. None of us wore shoes or socks (out of respect for the new carpet), which meant each of the male players wore just t shirts, trousers and underwear, while the female participants wore pretty much the same, with the sole addition of a bra. If the ‘remove an item of clothing’ forfeit happened to appear too often, or if someone was very unlucky, it would not be long before someone was naked. I found the thought quite exhilarating, and glancing around the room, realised that everyone felt pretty much the same.
‘One final rule,’ Jeff again, ‘ this is absolutely private. Never mentioned outside the six of us here. I have students to teach, and any rumours could destroy my career.’ Jeff was right, and we all readily agreed, equally unwilling to have our sexy shenanigans reported elsewhere.
We all sat on the floor in a rough circle, following the tried and tested ‘boy, girl, boy, girl’ sequence. I had Claire to my left and Karen to my right, and the thought of either of them removing clothing made my cock twitch in anticipation.
Emma shuffled and dealt our cards. Unsurprisingly there were not enough for ten each, so we started with seven. Jeff sat immediately to her left, so the first turn fell to him.
‘Would you rather,’ he read, ‘be spanked firmly, or receive a sensual massage?’ He barely had to think. ‘Easy. Sensual massage. Karen gives the best massage.’
Next was Karen. ‘Would you rather be tied up or blindfolded?’ She thought. ‘I love being blindfolded’, she stated with confidence.
‘Really?’ said Jeff. ‘I need to remember that’.
I was next, revealing that Claire and I liked to change positions frequently during sex. It had always been our thing — missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy often achieved without the need to pull out of her warm pussy. Except, of course, for oral, to which we were both very partial.
Claire’s turn. She looked at the card, and I immediately knew she would not answer. The question was, did she prefer to watch me touch myself, or prefer to be watched. Of course, we had watched one another many times, but I had no idea which she preferred. We usually masturbated together.
‘I can’t answer’, she said, ‘mainly because I love both. Watching Alex makes me play with myself, and I love knowing that he is getting off watching me’.
I smiled, as I felt pretty much the same — and also because I knew what came next.
She reached into the bowl and selected her forfeit. Inevitably, it seemed, she drew the piece of paper which read: ‘Remove an item of clothing’.
She glanced at me, and received an almost imperceptible nod. Her choices were limited, of course — skirt or blouse. I was not surprised when she opted for the skirt. Her blouse pretty much covered the small, sexy panties which she wore, and she was well aware that people wanted to see her boobs, and that teasing would be more fun.
Dropping her skirt behind her, Claire resumed her seating position and passed the cards to David. We learned that he enjoyed watching porn with Emma, rather than reading erotic stories together, and he passed to Emma.