So far, in my relations with Susan, only she has been the exhibitionist. This continued shortly after our return from our holiday down the coast. Since I was going back to work after a three week break the following Monday, I asked two of my male reports to drop by after work on Friday to brief me on issues that had arisen, or had continued, during my absence. When they arrived, before I opened the door to them, Susan rushed off to the bathroom and dipped her head under the shower. I then showed the two guys into the lounge room, and asked them to wait while I retrieved my briefcase from the front room.

I heard Susan call out, "Can you get me my dressing gown from the front room?"

While the guys could not see me, I watched Susan enter the lounge room naked, but for a towel around her head, her eyes covered as she dried her hair. She stood there waiting, as I gathered the gown and returned to the lounge room. The guys were totally mute, as I handed the gown to Susan, who lifted the towel to see the two guys. "Oops, sorry," she exclaimed, then turned and left the room. The episode was not mentioned, and it never got back to me at work.

She repeated the procedure the next day, when my three golf mates arrived to pick me up for a game. This time, a voice called out, "I don't think you know we're here," as she stood before them drying her hair. She lifted the towel from her eyes and replied that this was an embarrassing way to meet and she hoped she had not unsettled them. "No, not at all," was the response, and she then introduced herself, and accepted the gown from me, without ever attempting to hide behind the towel. 

"Well, I'll leave you boys to it," she said as she left the room. The episode created much discussion in the car, and later at the club. I had to admit it had not been accidental, and that Susan revelled in little tricks like the one they had seen. 

A few weeks later it was my turn to follow the same procedure. Susan was doing a diploma course by correspondence, which required a visit from a tutor every week or so to discuss her assignments, and overall progress. I entered the room, naked but for the towel drying my hair. I was met with a shriek, and the tutor was too upset to stay, despite my apologies for not knowing she was there. The fact that I had an erection was probably of no help.

Not deterred, I tried again a week later, but this time with one of Susan's friends who was in the same book club that focussed on female authors. Liz had come to discuss the agenda for their next meeting. Being a published author herself, she was the unofficial leader of the group, and Susan, being computer literate, took on the administrative duties. Liz was in her sixties, a big woman, but one who had been a stunner in her earlier days, when she had been well known in the free-love hippie scene. She came with a younger, somewhat frail woman, who lived with her in what may have been a lesbian relationship (they chose to keep everyone guessing on this point).

As I entered the room naked, but for the towel drying my hair, Liz came out with raucous laughter, while Susan advised, "God, you're a terrible actor!"

Liz took up the running. "You must be Susan's boyfriend. I'm Liz, and this is my friend Jo. I must say that, forget the acting, I like what I see," she announced, offering her hand. I stepped forward to shake it, but she surprised me by dropping her hand to shake my erection.

"And I'm especially pleased to meet you too," she laughed. "Now go and make us all some tea, before I make a fool of myself. But by all means, stay as you are. You obviously like being naked."

As instructed, I retreated to the kitchen, made the tea, and returned with a tray carrying three cups, and some biscuits. "You should join us," Susan instructed. 

As we enjoyed the tea and biscuits, they completed their program for the next book club meeting, before Liz came up with her suggestion that maybe I would like to be a naked waiter at that meeting.

And that is how I arrived at my present situation. I am stark naked in the kitchen of Liz' home. There are nineteen ladies outside on a small shaded verandah, waiting expectantly and impatiently for my appearance, as they have been promised a naked waiter to follow the official program. This had been to encourage a full attendance. The ladies range in age from Susan's (thirty-eight), to Liz'. They do not know I am Susan's boyfriend, as she feels this would be embarrassing for her. I have been obsessed with planning for this moment since it was scheduled. I am completely hairless, save for my head. My anus is as clean as a whistle (I must be prepared for anything).

Liz takes me to the door, and I am introduced. "What did I tell you. Isn't he delicious?"

I am a little embarrassed by the cheering and applause. I am carrying a tray of tidbits that I offer to each lady in turn. I am very excited, since it is over eleven years since I have had this opportunity. And whereas then I had been relatively passive, I am encourage by the initial reactions, to be more assertive. I can brush that lady's hand with my cock, as I edge past her. She looks a little surprised, but not angry, and smiles. I can park my cock on that seated lady's neck, as I offer her the tray. She turns, and her cheek brushes my erection. She laughs, pushing it away. But it springs back, hitting her chin. Her head backs away. "You are a naughty boy," she opines. I notice four or five have witnessed proceedings, and are smiling broadly at me.

This is going well. It's all in good fun. So I aim at as many hands or faces as I see. I place my cock on the tray with the tidbits and make the offer smiling. A couple pretend to select the cock.

Having done the rounds, I return to the kitchen, clean away the pre-cum, and take up a tray carrying cold soft drinks. I find my way precariously to the small coffee table in the centre of the verandah. I am bending low, carefully placing drinks on the table, and exposing my bottom as provocatively as I can, and as close to eyes, as knees and shoulders allow.

I am now totally abandoned. The audience is not only appreciative, it is starting to participate. I look up to ask what drink this lady wants, she says any will do, I reach it out to her, she takes it, and a sharp slap comes from behind. "You are absolutely wicked" comments the slapper. I do not move. Another slap. Then another. "Is it red?" I ask.

"Have a look," she replies as she fetches a small mirror from her purse. As she hands it to me, the purse drops to the ground.

"I'll get it for you," as I lay across her knees to retrieve it from the floor beside her. It feels great. I position my cock between her knees, and now more hands are reminding me how naughty I am. A lady takes the mirror and shows me how red my bottom has become. I look around to see happy, interested faces - bar one -- Susan's.

Too late! I am totally committed to taking things as far as they will go. I get up, thank my disciplinarians, take the tray and try to return to the kitchen. It is not so easy now. As I aim my cock at a hand or face, it has become a source of amusement. It is fondled. It is pushed aside, up or down, to watch its recovery. My balls are clutched. My bottom is caressed. My nipples pinched. 

I have ceased being a waiter. They now know that I can be used as they see fit. Cushions are brought out from the house, and laid on the small table. I am helped onto the table, on my knees. Liz has brought out small plates of pudding. Each plate is placed under my cock, and warm custard is poured slowly down my shaft to drop onto the pudding. On occasion, she offers my cock to anyone to clean away the custard remaining on it.

Three different ladies oblige with their tongues. They are applauded. One bites my cock, hard! Three times in different places.  I find myself begging for more. The teeth marks are shown to those who want to see them - most of them it seems. Now others want to try. It hurts. I cry out, but I beg for more. One lady bites, and grinds, firstly down the shaft, and then on the head. I can see blood gathering beneath the skin. I know I should stop them, but I cannot. I am in heaven.

One lady mounts the table, then me, pulls my hair back and slaps me on the bottom, shouting, "Giddyup." I can't go anywhere, but the idea is now popular, and so I am led down the stairs to the lawn, and remounted. "Pat the horsey," they cry. Liz finds a plastic fly swatter which is used to leave marks on my bottom to match those on my cock. Now my bottom is throbbing, but I call for more - and for it to be harder. 

Bare feet are placed over my mouth. I lick them obediently. I thrust my tongue between the toes. My back is getting tired from my load, my bottom and cock are still being punished, my tormentors are being urged on by everyone else, and I am not moaning any more - I am actually begging   for more. The shoes belonging to the current feet have now replaced the fly swatter flogging my bottom. The cock grinder has come back for more - or is it someone else? I realise that I am immersed in three fetishes simultaneously. Glorious!

I sneak a view of the audience. The ones standing at the back appear shocked, but unable to look away. Closer in, some look excited, but too reticent to get involved. Others wait impatiently to get physically involved. I notice some jockeying for position. I feel completely vulnerable. I am in pain, and worry that there might be some significant damage if it goes on. I have tears in my eyes as I suffer the pain, yet beg for more and harder attention to by cock and bottom. That this predicament has involved so many women shames me, degrades me - but this is what I crave. I am in heaven. 

Now I feel relief. Some type of lotion is being applied to soothe my cock, and my bottom simultaneously. I am back kneeling on the table. How did I get here? I feel the fingers of the hand that is soothing my bottom slowly thrust into my anus, lubricating it for further degradation. Instinctively I relax to allow full entry.

"Fuck me. Fuck me." I am impatient. I need to be fulfilled, but it is still only the fingers getting me ready. I turn pleading to be fucked, and I see Liz, dress held up, strap-on now lubricated, ready to enter me. The cock is not plastic, or metal. It is hard, but somewhat flexible. The noise has died down completely, replaced by the silence of awe and expectation. I am now crying with impatience, pleading, exhorting and demanding to be fucked. The cock enters slowly, but purposefully. God it hurts. It is stretching me too much, tearing me apart. "Yes. Yes." I moan as I accept inch after inch, until it probes no more, pushing up against whatever is stopping it.

Slowly it withdraws part way. "Give it back," I demand. And so it returns, quicker this time. Again, quicker again. And again. And again. I am now conscious that the pace is now somewhat frenetic, that I am being ridden with great urgency, the cock plunging again and again into my greedy hole. Now my consciousness is subsiding, but I am still rocking in concert with the cock that is turning me inside out. 

My consciousness is reawoken by a loud scream - it is mine! Liz has stopped, but still inside me. And I am spurting semen in every direction, until I collapse onto my stomach, and my semen, with Liz exhausted on top of me. 

Hands are offered to help Liz off me. There is an excited buzz. I hear sighs, maybe of disbelief. I am helped up, to stand beside Liz, whose dress has fallen back over her strap-on.

"You don't see many waiters offer such fine service," she exclaims. No-one disagrees.

I look at my flaccid cock. It looks like a piece of well-chewed steak. I try to look at my bottom, and when I do see it in an offered mirror, I wonder if it can recover.The fly swatter has left a distinctive pattern, and has drawn beads of blood in places. My anus is wide open, bright red and dripping with the lubricant. 

For another couple of hours, I remain as people slowly leave. I stay naked. I have pleasant discussions with small groups, or individuals, who want to know how I feel about proceedings. "I love this sort of thing - being totally abandoned, vulnerable and wanton. I realise many people would feel humiliated or degraded. But I don't. I feel fulfilled. I have given in fully to my urges, I have not hurt anyone. If people are revolted in any way, they need not have stayed. These are behaviours one reads about. To experience them adds another dimension. I hope you felt entertained, rather than aroused. But if you were aroused, that's okay too. Just a bit more entertaining."

In time my erection returns, highlighting the extent of the teeth marks. Gradually the party breaks up, and I am left with Liz and Jo. It is now quite dark

"Susan left when things got a bit rough," Liz advises. "I don't think she was expecting you to go beyond simply being naked."

"Nor did I, until I grasped the opportunity."

I stay the night, too chicken to face Susan. I give Liz and Jo my life story, and Liz recounts her free-love days. Quite some time is spent on my experience with other men. It seems Liz enjoys both sexes herself. I let Liz know that I am available for similar parties, the raunchier the better. She is non-commital. Surprisingly it is the quiet Jo who tenderly applies soothing lotion to my wounded cock, bottom and anus.

By morning I  look a lot better - it is amazing how resilient the human body can be. Susan is somewhat withdrawn for a few days and refuses to discuss the event. I will never know if she is told the complete story. I leave most of the exhibitionism to her for the time being. She likes the limelight.