clothed male naked female

It was bringing home the IPod Touch that turned my wife Karen into a whore. To everyone she met, Karen had always seemed rather conservative. Everything from her politics to her career as an insurance underwriter to her manner of speech and dress would have tagged Karen as modest, reserved, even snobbish. That’s often the case, I’ve found, with women who, like Karen, are not overweight but are endowed with large natural breasts. You know the kind I mean, double D-cups that seem almost out-of-place (but very welcome) on a trim frame, not those too-perfect ice-cream scoop tits that are obviously the product of some plastic surgeon’s art, but really big naturals that may sag a bit but that suggest a bedroom playtime no man could ever forget. When I first met her on a blind date it was her quiet attitude and those huge naturals that made me initially mistake Karen for a stuck-up bitch. It was only after we’d dated for a while and she’d somewhat reluctantly opened up to me personally as well as sexually that I realized there was a depth to Karen which made her rarely what she seemed.



I had bought the IPod Touch on a whim, two days before Christmas, intending it as an unexpected present for both of us. We had never been what you’d call a tech couple: cell phones but no cameras, PC’s but no notepads. When Karen came in the door she seemed surprised to find me pointing it at her. When I read her the part in the manual about taking and editing digital videos I detected from her flushed face and flared nostrils what I assumed to be anger in her. I couldn’t have been more wrong.



Karen undid the buttons on her blouse. “You mean that thing can take movies we don’t even have to send out to be developed?” she asked.



“‘Send out to be developed?’ Welcome to the twenty-first century, Babe. These don’t have to be ‘developed’ at all. They’re ready to view, right in here. Or we can download them and share them with our friends.”



She slipped her white silk blouse off, exposing her creamy skin and that exhilarating expanse of bosom. “And nobody ever sees these videos unless we want them to see?”



“Of course not. I told you, they’re stored safe, right in here.” I patted the IPod to reassure her. “Whoa!” I exclaimed involuntarily as she shrugged off her bra and exposed her sizeable breasts to full view.



“How long before you can use that thing to make videos?” she asked, standing by the door as though posing for a seminude study.



“Five minutes maybe. I already charged it at the office. Just let me finish spot-reading the manual and we’re good to go.”



She unzipped her black wool slacks and stepped out of them, then wriggled free of her dark pantyhose. Karen never undressed in front of me like this. Something in her had changed. But what?



“These wool pants made me itch something awful at the office,” she remarked, “even with the cotton lining. I’ve been having to surreptitiously scratch my legs and twat all day long.” Karen never used an off-color word, even a mild one like “twat.” Something was afoot. “I hate having to watch until all the men’s’ backs are turned before I scratch. Still, one can’t let one’s co-workers catch one digging at one’s pussy on the job, can one?”



“I suppose one can’t,” I acknowledged.



“I only wore the fucking things to dress warm,” she went on, “but they made me sweat like mad. I’ll bet you can smell me from there. Can you, Darling?”



I told her no, but there truly was a steamy glow about her, not at all unpleasant, and an undercurrent of womanly ripeness that meant business. Her musky pheronomes opened up animal circuits in my brain that had lain dormant for too long.



“So tell me, which pizza place delivers fastest?” she asked, standing there totally nude by the Christmas tree in the foyer.



“Are you hungry already? It’s only five-thirty.”



“I couldn’t eat a bite.”



“Then why order so early?”



“Beat the rush?” Karen made no move to change into a robe or lounging clothes.



“Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”



“I really haven’t the slightest idea, Darling. Tell me, what am I thinking?”



“You’re thinking of taking a pizza delivery in the altogether. You want to answer the door completely nude while I catch it all on video.”



“You couldn’t be more wrong. But now that you’ve articulated your intriguing fantasy, I must say you’ve captivated my imagination.”



“Oh, so now it’s me putting the idea in your head?”



“Not at all. I wonder, though, if you were to stand behind that room divider and point your little IPod thingie between two spindles and aim it at the front door like a good husband, do you think maybe you could zoom in and capture the nonplussed expression on the pizza delivery man’s face the moment he first beholds the lady of the house completely naked?”



“Don’t I have a vote in this?” I asked. In response, Karen merely raised her eyebrows and waited, flashing me a bemused and playful expression.



“What do you want on it?”



“You decide, Darling. I’m much too excited to even think about food at a time like this.”



I called Pizza Pieman, the one with the crazy ads that promised thirty minutes or it’s free. They employed mostly young college guys working their way through school. Five minutes later, Karen had the bright idea to call for another delivery, then another to keep the party going. It was starting to look like we’d be eating leftover pizza all week. While I kept busy calling pizza joints, placing orders and checking everything out on the IPod, Karen strutted around the condo like clothes had never been invented.



Karen was a truly lovely woman, especially in the nude. Five seven and 120 pounds, she had a startlingly hairy bush that was dark as midnight, a stark contrast to her pale skin. She left it untrimmed and untended. She had a delectable smooth ass. Her legs were shapely from regular workouts on the Nordic Track cross-trainer. The idea of some strange man beholding her beauty tonight made me jealous and sexually excited at the same time. As I lined up the IPod to spy on Karen through the spindles in the room divider I was definitely feeling some burgeoning tightness of my own down around my tightie whities.



“I feel kind of awkward with you naked and me fully clothed,” I told her. “Would you mind if I got undressed along with you?”



“Why Darling, what a bold idea,” she replied with a coy smile. “Go right ahead if you like. No reason we shouldn’t both be comfortable.” So I did as she suggested.



No sooner had I stripped off my skivvies, the doorbell rang. I jumped; it had never sounded louder. This was the moment of no return at last. With a shrill squeal in her voice Karen called out, “He’s here,” and sprang for the door. She checked the peephole in the door, turned to me with alarm and said, “It’s a woman! They sent a woman!”



“Then let me get the door and you point the IPod,” I said half-jokingly.



“Are you crazy? They’ll have you arrested for indecent exposure.” She looked through the peephole again. “She looks young, maybe college age. Do you think I should go through with it anyway?”



“One of us has to.”



“Ready whenever you are, C. B.,” Karen said, then threw open the door.



Standing outside was a tall redhead maybe twenty years old, who vaguely resembled the actress Kirsten Dunst. Her red hair was tucked up under her pizza delivery bill cap. She wore tight hip hugger jeans and a Pizza Pieman uniform shirt with the name NICOLE embroidered on the right breast pocket. She made no move to avert her eyes. Instead, with open and seemingly appreciative gaze she frankly appraised Karen’s body.



“Nicole,” Karen remarked, standing in the doorway fully nude, her hand on the doorknob. “What do you call the other one?”



“I should ask what you nicknamed your girls,” Nicole said without missing a beat, “since obviously you don’t mind showing them off to people.”



“Where are my manners?” Karen said. “Please come in; it’s freezing out there.”



“You don’t believe in dressing for the weather, do you?” Nicole said as she stepped inside carrying a pizza warmer bag, stamping the snow off her boots. Karen closed the door behind her, making no move to cover up, while, my cock now rock-hard, I captured the whole thing on video.



“That’ll be $15.47,” Nicole said, still staring at Karen, looking her up and down by the glimmering lights of the Christmas tree behind her.



“You’re a business before pleasure kind of gal, aren’t you?” Karen said. “Let me go get my purse. I think I have a twenty.” She strode across the living room, giving Nicole a full rear view, then returned with a twenty dollar bill in her hand.



“Keep the change, Nicole. Do your friends call you Nikki?”



“Actually my closest friends call me something I’d rather not repeat.”



“Now you’ve piqued my curiosity, Nicole. You’re among friends here. After all, I’ve shown you myself naked. Come on, Nicole: let your hair down. What do your friends call you?”



Nicole cleared her throat nervously and said, “Well, to tell you the absolute truth, a few of them call me Nicole the Finger Hole. More than a few, in fact.”



“Why’s that?”



“You know,” Nicole shrugged with shyness. “Because of what I like to do.”



“What is it you like to do?”



Nicole coughed once and then said, “Isn’t it obvious from the name? I like the other girls in the dorm to get me off that way.”



“You mean—”



“With their fingers,” both Karen and Nicole said in unison, and then screamed with shared laughter.



“Do you find very many takers?” Karen asked her, after they both had caught their breaths.



“In the women’s dorm at State? Are you kidding me? I came from a small town. Believe it or not, my parents are both ministers, so I had what you’d call a very strict upbringing. But once I checked into Jefferson Towers South, all that took a turn for the better, believe me. See, what with them using only their fingers I tell myself that I’m not sinning because it isn’t really sex.”



“What would you call it then—sign language for the deaf?”



“Just experimenting. Not sex. Not really.”



Karen extended her hand and said, “Well, ‘Nicole the Finger Hole,’ I’m Karen, and I feel very pleased and privileged to have met you this evening. If you weren’t out delivering I’d ask you to stay.”



“Oh, this was my last stop,” Nicole said. “I’m free after six. What time is it?”



“Six o’clock somewhere.”



“Then I can take you up on your invitation, if it’s still open, that is.”



“It most certainly is, Nicole. But please, you’re embarrassing me.”



“Why’s that?”



“Well, here I am completely nude for you, and there you are fully clothed and bundled up so I can’t appreciate your no-doubt-considerable feminine charms.”



Nicole stared at the toes of her boots. Karen said, “No need to be shy. I won’t bite. Although I must warn you, I may lick.”



I touched the tip of my cock and wiped away a drop of precum with my index finger. As the director, I was getting more than a few action ideas of my own.



“I don’t know. I mean, we just met and all,” Nicole hesitated.



“I have an idea how we can get better acquainted,” Karen said. “Let’s dance.”



“Dance? You mean right here? Right now?”



“Right here and right now. We’ll throw an impromptu pajama party only without the pajamas, just you and me, like we were kids. And whoever else happens to show up can only join in if we say so. How does that sound, Nicole?”



“All right I guess.”



“Sweet. Stay right there.” Karen crossed the living room to the stereo, put in a CD of funky dance numbers—her own private mix—then hurried back to join Nicole, who had removed her boots and shoes and now stood barefoot, and seemingly a bit apprehensive, on the foyer fug. For a tall girl her toes and feet were tiny.



Karen loved the classics. The first cut was Sly and the Family Stone’s, THANK YOU (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin.) She stood facing Nicole and began her dance moves, first moving her feet back and forth with the rhythm and twitching her ass, then doing something with her arms that made her breasts move in gentle waves. (Karen had taken belly dancing in college, and it showed.)



She leaned in closer to Nicole, reached for her hands and danced with her, the two women moving to and fro with only their fingertips touching. Karen tried to spin Nicole, then had Nicole spin her, the two of them giggling like schoolgirls above the music. Nicole gracefully followed Karen’s every lead. Then Karen leaned in and whispered something in Nicole’s ear. It must have been provocative, because Nicole responded with a throaty laugh and began unzipping her jeans in time to the music. By the time the first song ended, Nicole had taken her jeans completely down, kicked them away and was dancing in uniform shirt and thong satin panties.



While Karen watched, hands on hips, one foot in front of the other as she waited for the next song to begin, Nicole undressed completely. When she took off her bra we both saw that her body was thin, tiny breasts turned inward like two crossed eyes. Her nipples resembled pepperonis in both size and color. With a sheepish expression and a roll of the eyes Nicole stepped out of her black panties. Her pussy hair was long and wispy. With a couple of deft strokes of her fingers she fluffed it into a delicate brush. Her pubic hair was so fair and sparse it appeared in the dim light that her pussy had been shaved clean. It looked tiny as a girl’s. Her skin was deeply freckled and glowed amber in the warm ruby lights of the Christmas tree.



The next song was Michael Jackson’s DON’T STOP ‘TIL YOU GET ENOUGH, the six-minute version. Now that she had Nicole completely naked, when they started dancing again and Nicole’s back was turned to me momentarily, Karen shot me a triumphant smirk looking directly into the camera. But, watching them dance closer and closer, I began to wonder whether her coaxing Nicole to strip nude was something Karen had done for me, or for herself.



Before the second song was over, Karen was holding Nicole close enough so that their breasts touched and brushed against one another’s. Each time it happened Nicole would laugh awkwardly, but she never pulled away. They danced on and on, until the second song ended.



By the third song, JUNGLE BOOGIE by Kool and the Gang, Karen whispered something in Nicole’s ear again, and the two of them walked toward the Christmas tree, arms draped tenderly around each others’ waists. Karen spread a blanket for Nicole and beckoned her to lie down on her back with her legs drawn up. I could barely get them in frame without revealing my position to Nicole, but I could see every move they made. Karen knelt between Nicole’s legs and gently massaged her inner thighs, gliding her hands up and down and spreading Nicole’s legs with every caress, until Nicole’s nether lips parted. Her pussy looked soft and inviting as a pink rose blossom, open and exposed.



Karen said, “Let’s try something fun.” She extended the middle and ring fingers of her left hand, licked them playfully and then, palm up, gently slipped them deep into Nicole’s vagina, first to the depth of the second knuckle, then the base of her fingers, pressing inward with an undulating rhythm as she went. Nicole panted rapidly, then began a slow moan that mounted a crescendo into a scream of delight.



“Looks like we found your g-spot,” Karen teased. “From your reaction it seems none of the girls at the dorm ever managed to hit the target.”



“N-no,” Nicole gasped. “D-don’t stop!”



But just then the doorbell rang again. I had forgotten the other pizza orders we’d placed. To Nicole’s apparent dismay, Karen sprang to her feet and went to answer the door naked for a second time. She peeked through the peephole, turned to Nicole and whispered, “Want to have some fun, Nikki?”



“I’d rather keep doing what we were doing just now, Karen. You had me at the brink. I was so close.”



“This will be even more fun. I promise,” Karen told her, helping her to her feet and walking her toward the door, both of them nude. Karen whispered something to Nicole, who said, “Well, all right I guess, as long as we’re both going to do it.” Then Karen opened the door wide for the pizza man to get a good look.



A towering black man with long dreads and holding a pizza box stood beaming and grinning in the doorway. “Damn,” he said, “Two for the price of one.”



“Sir,” Karen began, “maybe you can settle a bet between me and my girlfriend. Would you like to try?”



“Do my best,” he said.



“Come on in then, get warmed up.”



“Hell, I’m warmed up already seein’ y’all nekkid an’ shit.”



“Why thank you, sir!” Karen cooed. “What a lovely compliment. Women appreciate it when a man like you admires their naked bodies. It’s very flattering.”



The delivery man entered the foyer, closed the door and brushed the snow off his shoulders. “What y’all be saying about some kinda bet or suffin?”



“Well, it’s simple really,” Karen said. “My friend Gabrielle and I have been having a disagreement about which one of us is better at giving a blow job. Would you mind being the judge?”



“Karen,” Nicole began to protest awkwardly. Karen leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. Her protests ceased.



“Would I mind?” the man said. “You mean—”



“You get comfortable, then each of us will give you her best blow job and all you have to decide is which one of us is better. Sound like fun?”



“I don’t think my wife gonna like the idea,” he hesitated.



“We’ll never tell. She’s never going to find out, I swear. C’mon, what do you say?” Karen pointed to Nicole and added, “It would help preserve her and my friendship if you’d agree to help us out. Plus it’ll be fun for all of us.”



“I gots to call work and tell ‘em I got car trouble or suffin,” he said.



“Then you’ll help us?”



“Hell yeah. Ain’t no feelin’ like a woman suckin’ on a man’s dick.”



“You won’t be disappointed, I promise,” Karen said.



By this time you might be wondering why I allowed the situation to spin so out of hand. The reason is that I realized I wanted nothing more than to see Karen have taboo sex with a woman and with another man, particularly a black man, while I videorecorded the entire episode. I have to admit that the idea of Karen fucking and sucking these strangers while I watched gave me an overpowering thrill.



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