Daphne's nervous, I think as I drive us to the fancy Halloween party to which we're invited. My girlfriend is absentmindedly humming with a kind of jerky rhythm, apparently lost in thought, and is tapping her feet obsessively on the floorboard. The only other times I've seen her like this were when she first asked me out, and at the beginning of our first date.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
"I'm good, Joe," she says with uncharacteristic meekness.
"I can tell you're not. Are you anxious about this party?' After a beat, I suggest, "We don't have to go. We could just go to dinner."
"In these costumes?" she asks skeptically.
"It is Halloween, you know. I'm sure we aren't the only people out in costumes tonight. But I guess that's easy for me to say. Your costume would draw a lot more attention than mine in a fancy restaurant." I'm in a moderately convincing butler outfit, consisting of a black thrift-store suit, vest and bow tie, whereas Daphne is wearing a sexy French maid getup.
"I want to go," she says determinedly. "I want you to go. It's important to me." She hasn't said exactly what this party will be like, but I've deduced that I'm in for something wild. Our engraved invitation mysteriously promises "an evening of divine and demonic pleasures," and contains two coins with the letters "VIP" stamped on one side and an image of horned mythological figures fornicating on the other.
"Do you want to talk about it at all?" I fish as we pull into the parking lot of our destination, an abandoned suburban office building with blacked-out windows, the grounds taken over by weeds.
"I know I haven't told you much about this party," she says hesitantly, apparently searching for the right words. "But I should at least warn you that you might find out about some things I've done. Things I'm not proud of. Or things that were done to me. Sometimes," she says, on the verge of tears, "I feel like I'm damaged goods."
"Oh, Daph, you are not 'goods,' and I am not going to judge you or shame you for anything you've been part of. Or for whatever happens tonight, as long as no one gets hurt. We can trust each other."
"Thank you, Joe," she says tearfully, visibly reacting to the "no one gets hurt" part, which I know is important to her, having hinted that she has been hurt in the past, perhaps even physically.
I recognize that some past iteration of the party must be part of her trauma, suggesting, "It sounds like you're being pretty brave doing this."
She dabs her eyes to clean a drip from the thick mascara she has put on as part of her costume. "God, you get me, Joe! We really are right for each other. And thanks for putting up with my not telling you more about this party. The other reason I've been doing that is I want everything about it to be a surprise. Mostly in a good way, I think."
"So this is a surprise party?" I quip, masking my own anxiety about how crazy this thing is going to be. "My birthday was last month."
She breaks into a tearful laugh at my terrible joke. It seems to have broken her tension, too.
We join the crowd of well-costumed partiers, apparently of a range of ages, streaming in from all the parked cars, lining up before the two huge bouncers checking names outside the entrance. This is no low-budget college costume party. Hell, we're paying a hundred dollars each just for the privilege of entering. A privilege we're permitted only because Daphne's well-connected friend Bobbi brought a female date, and was therefore allowed to invite another couple.
< = = = = = = = = >
We enter what used to be the open lobby area for some company, now elaborately decorated for Halloween and converted to a large dance floor. Multicolored lighting swirls and flashes to the techno beat, putting to shame some concerts I've attended. Tables laden with fancy hors d'oevres line a side wall, next to a cash bar. I can't say I've ever seen anyone dance in a cage before, but that's exactly what three bikinied women - plus one beefcakey, shaved man in a Speedo - are doing in the various corners of the room. Ten feet inside the door, and it's already the wildest Halloween shindig I've seen. I suspect there's even more.
Bobbi and her date Rita, whom I haven't met before, quickly find us. Knowing that they are both part of Daphne's broad (so to speak) network of occasional female lovers, I'm not surprised when they both exchange juicy kisses with my girlfriend.
I'm almost embarrassed to see just how weak my effort at a costume has been, in comparison to these three ladies. In my defense, I can at least pull off a pretty good Jeevesy English accent to pair with my butler look, but just look at them.
Except for her shimmering red hair, Bobbi's channeling the nurse from the cover of Blink-182's Enema of the State almost disturbingly well, with a cleavage-enhancing red bra, excessive blue eye shadow, a rubber-gloved hand holding a large fake syringe, and a seemingly permanent sly grin.
Rita, meanwhile, has come as Betty Boop, pulling off the giggle and the blackened spiky hair almost uncannily, her white facepaint making her just as black-and-white as the original. She is wayyy too curvy and jiggly for the costume, however, with fleshy bits bulging out in places the designer didn't count on. She might not be to everyone's taste tonight, but I find the effect mindblowingly sexy.
"I'm calling her Betty Boob now," taunts Bobbi, uninhibitedly squeezing one of Rita's actual boobs and making a honking bicycle-horn sound.
"Save it for next door," complains Rita flatly, swatting Bobbi's hand.
Before I can wonder what's next door, Bobbi turns her attention to me. "And you must be Joe!" she bubbles, a bit too appraisingly. I suspect she's had a couple. Or, given the foreshadowing about this shindig, maybe she's had a couple. "Finally, a boyfriend worthy of this gathering! And of Daphne, which is a much higher bar."
"I have no idea what it means to be worthy of this gathering," I deadpan, trying to keep my excitement in check. From Daphne's hints about disrespectful prior lovers, I suspect that her previous date(s) to this event fell short. Although if these ladies saw my dick, they might think I fall short. At least they're giving me the benefit of the doubt prior to seeing the merchandise.
"Ooh, Daphne's been keeping you in the dark?" enthuses Bobbi. "Then, without further ado, let's enlighten you!" She takes Daphne's hand and leads us towards the back of the building.
Rita grabs my arm and pulls herself close, her costume-straining boob squished against my arm. She affects the giggly Betty Boop voice as she breathily utters, "You're going to love it!" into my ear. With her paying me this kind of attention, I already do.
A bouncer checks our invitations at a side door accessing what is apparently the VIP section, beyond which we find another large open area belonging to the adjoining suite of onetime offices. This VIP dance hall features the same music as the first one, but with two key differences. One, the volume is less ear-splitting. Two, everyone is nude.
Not completely nude, actually. Many of the revelers still sport accessories that hint at former costumes. Boobs of various sizes and dongs of various sizes (not to mention erectile statuses) bounce and flail to the beat. In one corner is an area of benches and lockers for changing, the apparent purpose of our special VIP coins. A large banner commands, "NO SEXUAL CONTACT IN THIS ROOM."
"In this room?!" Holy shit. This is my first real confirmation that we are attending an actual orgy. I can't blame Daphne for being a little anxious. Thankfully, this gathering is far from a group of global ultra-elites on a private island, so hopefully it won't be as crazy as what those assholes get up to.
"Let's see the beautiful couple naked!" urges Rita, evaporating any thoughts from my head beyond the present moment.
Daphne does a nice little striptease out of most of her maid costume, keeping on her tiara and choker, but tossing the panties and garters to her friends. Bobbi takes a big whiff of Daphne's panties, smiles and passes them to Rita, who says, "Oh yes, that's our Daphne."
I really do have the world's coolest girlfriend, I think. How could her exes have not appreciated her?
My turn clearly next, Bobbi and Rita make nice comments and cheer as I get nakeder and nakeder, retaining only my hat, bowtie and cummerbund. "I hope you're willing to share, Daphne," taunts Bobbi.
Daphne nods almost too affirmatively.
"I hope you're okay with being shared, Joe," purrs Rita, leaning in and flicking her tongue across my ear. As she removes her dress, I see that she's gone all-in on her B&W look, having painted her entire curvy body white and dyed her thick bush coal-black to match the hair upstairs.
Bobbi's strip act, meanwhile, removes the red bra and panties, but her rouged nipples and red-dyed twat-tuft do a nice job of substituting. She keeps the white nurse hat and puts the nurse coat back on, unbuttoned now so her titties can bounce free inside. I don't know which of them looks sexier. Wait, yes I do. Rita, by a fucking mile.
< = = = = = = = = >
Daphne takes my hand as we explore. Based on peeks through open doorways, I can tell that outside the dance floor, sex is very much allowed. Some rooms have signs designating various themes, but we pass by so quickly I can't process them all. Bobbi leads us into a room with a reversible sign indicating "Free," flips it to "Taken," and immediately wraps her arms around Daphne from behind. She squeezes Daphne's pert little boobs and kisses her neck, whispering in her ear.
"Yes, Bobbi, it has been far too long," says Daphne hungrily, turning her head to meet Bobbi's. As their kiss progresses, Daphne pivots so the women are facing each other, pulled tightly together. Rita moves in behind Daphne, repeating Bobbi's prior actions in kissing her neck and squeezing her boobs.
After a moment of this sapphic triple delight, Rita taunts, "Aren't you going to touch yourself, Joe, watching three ladies go at it?"
Now that they've given me the okay, I start stroking myself, to the cheers and catcalls of all three.
"Mmm, nice cock!" leers Bobbi.
"Let's play 'Spin the Butler!'" declares Rita, breaking away and grabbing an office chair. "You have to kiss whoever you end up pointing at," she says, pushing me into the chair and giving it a good spin.
Around and around I go, eventually facing ... my beloved Daphne.
"Having fun yet?" she giggles as I take her in my arms.
"Yes, my love. But whatever happens tonight, remember how much I love you."
"Oh, Joe!" she says, almost tearing up again as she plasters her mouth onto mine and gently strokes my pecker.
"Again!" cheer Rita and Bobbi as I return to the chair.
"This time," says Daphne provocatively as the chair spins, "you have to fuck whoever you end up pointing at." Well, a hall pass doesn't get any more explicit than that.
While I feel like I should wish to end up fucking Daphne, I secretly hope it will be Rita. And when the chair stops and I open my dizzy eyes, that's exactly who I see smiling back at me.
Although Daphne and I have played with her friend Joan together before, I have not had vaginal intercourse with another woman since we started going out. I glance at Daphne, checking in to see if this really is what she wished for.
"Yes, Joe, this really is what I want," she nods demonstratively, reading my mind. To my chair-selected partner, she commands, "Fuck my hot boyfriend, Rita!"
"You don't have to ask twice," purrs Rita, lying back on a desk and spreading her legs. "Admit it, Joe, you've always wanted to fuck someone on a desk." Normally, I try to engage in a little foreplay before thrusting into a woman, but Rita's having none of that. She pulls my head towards her and huskily whispers, "I'm ready. Just shove it in."
So I do. Rita grunts an "Oof!" roughly enough that I worry I've hurt her. Maybe not, because "Yesss!" is the next thing out of her mouth, and the other women start cheering me on to fuck her hard. Who am I to disobey? As I start pounding, Rita switches to her Betty Boop voice and squeaks, "Fuck me harder, Joey! Fill me with your hot cum!"
I make sure to keep hitting Rita's pelvis with each stroke so she gets plenty of clitoral stimulation, and she lets out another little "oof" each time. While I would never directly say so to Daphne, who is ideal for me in almost every way, Rita is closer to my physical ideal, and I am enjoying her body immensely. Daphne and Bobbi have dropped to the carpet and started to ... well, yes, munch carpet, but they don't get very far with that before the excitement gets to me and I'm finishing inside Rita, my strokes slowing down and then becoming convulsions while I squirt my semen home again and again, now kissing her deeply. In her normal voice, Rita grunts as each shot sprays her cervix.
"Oh, baby, that was a lot of cum!" she finally gasps, cradling my head.
I know exactly what to do about that, and the desk is big enough for me to dive between Rita's legs for cleanup. She lifts her legs instinctively as I reach up under them to squeeze her bodacious boobs, tasting every convolution of her gauzy labia, a large quantity of my own jizz, and her musky, puckered asshole while I'm in the neighborhood. She responds to the latter particularly well, so I slide a finger from my free hand first into her lubey cunt, and then carefully through her back door. This trifecta - my mouth on her pussy, two fingers pinching a nipple and another finger wriggling around in her anus - brings her to a juicy, shuddering climax.
Rita gets up quickly, almost bumping me off the desk as she joins the other two girls on the floor. She kneels behind Daphne, who's busy consuming Bobbi's cornucopia, and starts licking her from behind while rubbing her hand all over her body.
She eventually beckons me to climb under Daphne, who looks down for a second while I position my head under her dangling cones. "Hi babe," I grin as I start suckling. "I love you."
"I love you too, Joe," she replies appreciatively, then returns to devouring Bobbi's twat.
From my vantage point, I can see Rita's fingers inside Daphne's puss, which can only mean that she's licking Daphne's asshole now. I know that this will drive my girlfriend wild, and I can tell from her moans that it is doing exactly that.
I feel Bobbi's legs shiver - after all, I'm between her legs too - as Daphne's mouthwork finally drives her over the edge, after which Daphne starts moaning, "Oh gaaawwwd," clearly overwhelmed by all of the physical contact. She's still got her mouth clamped to the cunt of Bobbi, my mouth chewing on her nipples just the way she likes it, Rita's mouth now back to her pussy, and apparently one of Rita's fingers filling her asshole too. Daphne shudders and bucks, the three of us holding her in place while she shatters. And shatters again.
When she's calmed down, Daphne says, "That might be the most powerful orgasm I've ever had."
"I'm so glad for you, Daphne," I say, squeezing her tighter. "I love you so much. Thank you for trusting me enough to let this happen."
"I love you too, Joe. But speaking of trust," she cautions, "you have not seen me with another man yet."
"That's true," I reply, appearing casual but choosing my words carefully. "And I'm excited to watch other men fuck my hotw ..." Bobbi and Rita gasp expectantly, expecting me to say "hotwife." Although part of me would love to marry this woman right here and now, Daphne and I will have to part after our senior year of college is over. It's just not in the cards. So I finish the thought with the smirking epithet, "... hotwoman. The hottest woman I know."
"Oh, Joe," says Daphne, kissing me, appreciative of the overt sentiment as well as the unspoken one of what I wish could happen in a different universe.
"Awww," go Rita and Bobbi.
"What a lovely couple," cheers Bobbi. "But now we have to see how well you play with others."
As we open the door to the hallway, a nude couple passes by, the man urging his partner, "Let's go check out the Gangbang Room."
Daphne freezes, looking whiter than Rita, her eyes as big as golf balls. She is shaking, visibly, tears forming in her eyes. "I only agreed to be here tonight because they were getting rid of that room."
