Charlotte and I had known each other for years but we had barely had a single private conversation; now I had her cummy knickers in my pocket and I didn’t know what to do with them.

Our group of neighbours and friends had built up a lively little party circuit: half a dozen gatherings a year, mostly birthdays, but a big one for New Year. Sue and I always looked forward to our turn to host and we hoped the others did too.

Usually there was good food, music, dancing, singing, too much booze, the occasional recreational indulgence, a little flirting, and just enough disgraceful behaviour to keep everyone talking afterwards.

At the centre of it all were five couples, topped up by the other friends and relatives of whoever was hosting, until there were usually around thirty people joining in the fun.

Shirley’s birthday party was not one of my favourites. It felt too formal, with too many of her relatives and too many respectable-looking guests.

Sue however enjoyed hobnobbing with the local art-world big cheeses, so I found myself on my own, pretending to look at something on my phone, when Charlotte sidled up and nudged me.

“You look as bored as I am,” she said.

“Was I being that obvious? I’m not very good at small talk.”

“These people are all so straight-laced,” Charlotte observed. “It seems to make everyone self-conscious and dull.”

“Hard to believe, given what these parties are usually like,” I said.

I didn’t know Charlotte particularly well. Although she had been part of the group for years, I think this was the longest one-to-one conversation we had ever had. That was just how it went sometimes.

I also found her particularly attractive, which made me avoid her out of a sort of perverse embarrassment.

“I know," she said. “So I tried to get a game of Shag, Marry, Avoid going, but none of these fuckers would play.”

I laughed, genuinely taken aback. “I’m not surprised,” I said.

She had explained that she had meant the version with public figures, not people at the party, but even then she had been told they did not want to talk about that sort of thing. There was too much salacious nonsense in the popular press, apparently.

“So you thought I might like a game?” I said.

“Not much fun with two people,” she sniffed, "and if we played the party version, we’d have to say we wanted to shag each other, just out of politeness.”

“You know, Charlotte,” I said, “we’ve known each other for five or six years, and I had no idea you were such a naughty, amusing woman.”

“You’d like to shag me then,” she said with a smile.

“Well, obviously you’re absolutely gorgeous," I replied with the twinkle in my eye.

“Oh, I never want to shag gorgeous men," she said, shaking her head. "You're not gorgeous, but I’d definitely give you one."

“Thanks," I replied. "I think.”  

“No no,” she said. “I meant good-looking."

I suggested that she was making matters worse. Having boosted my ego, she was now cutting me down to size.

"No," she said, "that's not why I fancy you. When you play the guitar and sing, you look so passionate; I bet you’d be a fantastic lover.

“I love Pete dearly, but he’s never been any good in bed. I can’t remember the last orgasm I had with him. I have to rely on myself and my little friend.”

“Who’s your lucky little friend?" I enquired. She made a little buzzing sound, leaning close next to my ear.

Our conversation was all very light-hearted and flirtatious without being too meaningful. I thought, "Don't make a fool of yourself by taking this all too seriously."

"Anyway," she said, “did you say that you would like to shag me?”

She stood very close and rubbed her breast against my arm. Although she was obviously wearing a bra, her nipples were clearly visible and erect.

I nodded almost involuntarily.

“Perhaps we should just have a bit of a snog to be going on with," she said.

“Stay there two minutes, then I’ll see you down the bottom of the garden."

She blew me a little kiss as she almost skipped away. 

I looked around for my wife but found that she was still surrounded by the boring arts fuckers.

The sensible part of my brain told me that I would only find trouble at the bottom of the garden.

My erection told me I obviously had to go. It would only be a bit of flirtation after all. I half expected to make my way there only to find Charlotte having a laugh with a couple of her mates, saying, "I told you he’d come.”

I got myself a can and ventured out into the garden. There were a few groups of people I didn’t know, standing around smoking, and the faint smell of cannabis was in the air.

I walked briskly to the bottom of the garden, hoping no one would notice me.

"Pssst." Helen had found a bench behind some laurel trees looking out onto the park beyond the garden.

Here she said, “I’ve got something for you." She held out her closed hand.

I reached out to accept her gift as I got closer. She opened her hand and pushed her knickers into my face.

They were damp and exuded her very personal smell. "See what you’ve done to me," she said.

She stood up, looked up at me and opened her mouth in a clear invitation for me to kiss her.

Her tongue entered my mouth immediately, exploring; she had the exotic taste and feel of a new lover. It had been many years since I had kissed anyone other than my wife, Sue, but I instantly recalled the erotic excitement of tasting a new woman’s mouth.

Her hands were on my bottom, pulling me in, rubbing her minge against my erection. She definitely meant business.

I had not had a snog like this for 20 years, but old habits die hard… I ran my hand up her back, inside her jumper, found the clasp of her bra and deftly undid it. She laughed and rummaged inside her jumper, pulling her bra out through the armhole, a magic trick that all girls seem to learn in their teens.

She backed into me so that I could feel her tits from behind and she could rub her bottom against my cock. Her breasts felt amazing, much bigger than my wife’s and with very prominent nipples.

I licked my fingers and gently twisted her nipples whilst cupping her beautifully, slightly sagging breasts.

After a moment or two of this delight she turned around, and I pushed her jumper up so I could suck her wonderful erect nipples that were dark and amazingly prominent. She repeatedly pulled them out, then pushed them back into my face.

“I think I might come just from you doing that,” she said, “but if you stick your finger in my cunt, it will definitely do the trick."

Who was this woman? I really had no idea that she was this sexy or at all into me.

I reached down and pushed Charlotte‘s flowing summer skirt up. It was too dark to see anything but not too tough to find what I was looking for.

Unlike the modern women I’ve seen on porn clips, she was quite hairy, but when she opened her legs, I had no difficulty in locating her very wet centre.

I delighted in rubbing my fingers along the inside of her swollen and slippery labia.

Each time I did so, she gave an appreciative, slightly animalistic grunt.

Her clitoris was large, erect and very wet. When she put her finger in my mouth, it was obvious that she’d been playing with it while I was feeling her tits.

I touched her clitoris with a couple of fingers.

“That’s it, don’t be gentle.” she said.

I rubbed it hard, and she started to make a low guttural sound, pushing against me and holding her hand across her mouth to suppress her little screams.

“Oh Jesus," she said. “Oh, Jesus."

I felt a little squirt of moisture on my hand. She grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand away from her snatch only to push it back half a second later.

She let out an enormously long breath.

Just when I thought it was over, she said, "Do it a bit more," and as I rubbed her clit again, in 30 seconds another enormous orgasm began.

This time it was even more extreme; she broke free, lifted up her skirt and was on her hands and knees on the ground, thrusting back and forward obscenely, as though she was being fucked from behind while vigorously rubbing her snatch.

“Oh Jesus fucking Christ."

After a moment or two, she got up and sat down, fairly demurely, on the bench.

"Phew," she breathed. “Oh shit, I’m sorry about that. I haven’t come like that in years.”

I explained that there was no need to apologise; it was something I would remember forever.

“Oh, but what about you?” she enquired with exaggerated concern.

Quickly moving her left hand towards my trousers after a moment or two of fumbling, she said, "Help me out here.” I opened my trousers and pulled down my pants a little so my cock could be free.

“It’s very wet," she observed. "Have you come already?”

I explained that I hadn’t but that I had really enjoyed her orgasms.

To my delight, she got her head down and started licking, then sucking my cock.

“I won’t need much of that," I said “…In fact…" With that, I started to come in her mouth.

"Eghhh," she said, spitting it out. "You could’ve warned me." A second spurt hit the side of her face. “Blick! … Have you got a hanky?” A third and final spurt found the top of her jumper. “Fucking hell, it’s getting everywhere."

“Your fault," I said. "You were pointing it." She didn’t seem to see the justice in this remark and looked genuinely angry.

She put the spunky side of her face against my mouth.

“Lick it off," she said, "and you’ll see how horrible it is. Go on, do it.”

It was something I’d never done before, but I complied with her surprisingly firm instructions. I’ve done worse things.

“I was enjoying that until you made all that spunky mess. Ugh, men are disgusting.”

With that, she put her bra back on, handed me her knickers and said, "You can use those to clean yourself up. See ya," and off she went.

When I had sorted myself out, I followed her back in the direction of the house. I was a little surprised to see her with a group of the smokers on the patio. She gave me a little salute which made clear that she didn’t want me to join her.

I went looking for my wife. I was mildly embarrassed to bump into Paul, Charlotte’s husband.

"Err, have you seen Sue anywhere?" I asked mainly to cover my embarrassment.

"No, I can’t find Charlotte either; perhaps they’re together," he replied.

“I think I saw her outside with the smokers just now."

“Was she smoking?" he enquired, "She is such a naughty girl lately. I wouldn’t put anything past her."

It was said with great humour and obvious affection. Ironic, really.

"Sue was with that art wanker, Gerald, but I can’t see them now.”

“I’ll have a wander," I muttered, anxious to get away from Paul, under the circumstances.

I found myself another drink and some grub in the kitchen, but no sign of Sue.

I wandered round the house looking for her. I found the Arty wankers dancing extravagantly in the dining room, but she was not amongst them. 

I was just about to go back into the garden to check that I hadn’t missed her in my embarrassed hurry to get away from Charlotte when she prodded me in the back. "There you are. What have you been up to? I think I’m ready to go," she said.

When we got in the taxi Sue whispered in my ear.

“I’m afraid I’ve just done something I really regret. I’m so sorry; I’ll tell you about it when we get home.”