Charity Bash

Belden and Tricia Shaw attend a charity party and contribute so much more than they could ever have imagined.

All characters herein are aged eighteen years or older.

*****

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 interstate by his employer at about the same time as Greg was by his, although we come from different cities. 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 respectively and having a pigeon-pair of kids from two to five.

One Friday evening while we enjoyed a barbeque by our pool, Greg announced that he'd been pressed to deputise for his CEO at an upcoming charity party at some celebrity's house in the mountains out of town, 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 gold, 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 head band 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 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 our guys got us to pierce one of 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 limousines 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 gabardine 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. It seemed clear that he wasn't a eunuch.

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 powder room, 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, coming back to the table on rubbery legs as most male eyes seemed to look 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 off with another guy," 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 tanned 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 lying unoccupied 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 lubricant 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 warm, 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 in climax. I wished I'd 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 I wanted it to happen again and often, although our having children was sure to handicap 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, the 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 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 lift 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 somewhat 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 number 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, blonde 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.