forced stripping

Writer’s note: This is the third installment of the events concerning Eronemus. I endeavored to inject more information on the fantasy world in which he lives in as well as to build on existing themes. Hope you all enjoy it.

Our story continued:

It was a massive, heavy chunk of black stone, shot with veins of scintillating crystals. Arcane runes crawled across the pebbled, flecked surface giving it both an eldritch and quietly menacing appearance. An expanse of empty, reddish sand, about five paces across surrounded it. Somehow, I felt uneasy about approaching this stretch of empty, dead ground.

“It’s a Void Henge, isn’t it?” I queried Magda, turning away from the ebony slab, looking up to her face.

“Yes,” she replied, her eyes meeting mine. “You really know quite a lot about our lore. I can see that you can be useful to our cause.”

“I read about these before,” I continued, my hand making a sweeping motion indicating the quiescent hunk of carved rock. “Your sorcerers- er, mages,” I corrected myself, struggling to find the right words, “preserved the lore of the races that came before. Then, they improved on the magicks used here.”

“Correct again,” answered Magda, her lips curling into a slight smile, her eyes dancing briefly.

“The Hovanish were formidable mages. Even if most of their lore vanished with their passing, our Priestess-Magi have been ever at work preserving and refining the knowledge that remained.”

Briefly, we paused, staring at the tall female soldiery filing past. They were clad in mail, bearing large convex shields, covering them from chin to shin. Their wicked-looking spears were tipped in sharp killing points, shod in burnished steel. They tromped audibly around the bend with the clash of metal and creaking of leather that smelled of horses and sweat.

However, I was only too aware of how the last one stared me down under lidded eyes. The Amazon threw me a glance and arched an eyebrow, looking me from head to toe as she marched past me. There was a hard set in her chin as her lips drooped down disdainfully.

At that moment, I felt very far from home. I was very much alone in a strange land.

“Eronemus, you must never, ever forget that we are at war,” Magda emphasized, snapping me out of my reverie. “My sisters and I live every day to defend our lives, our loves and our homes against the rapacious greed of the Council of Ten.” She practically spat out her last words, as if trying to rid herself of a mouthful of distastefulness.

“Those sisters of mine stand ready to fight every incursion of the enemy,” she indicated with her chin the departed patrol, speaking somewhat a little bit too forcefully. She drew herself up to full height, gesturing indicating the nearby menacing hunk of rune-crusted stone. “Take these Void Henges- they serve as sentinels, protecting our stronghold with their magicks.”

“Ah,” I exclaimed, eyes widening as I came upon a realization. “These Void Henges prevent the sorceresses of the Council of Ten from launching attacks from portals through space- much like the portal Morg used to gain entry into their keep when you rescued me. But how then was Morg’s warband able to deploy a portal into the Council’s hall? Surely the sorceresses’ defenses would have been formidable.”

Magda just smiled again and looked at me under narrowing brown eyes that twinkled playfully. I smiled back, thinking how wonderful she looked when she did that to me.

“We too have our secrets, little scribe.” She said as seriously and earnestly as she could manage, as her smile faded.

Judging from her tone, I felt she was not inclined to discuss this any further so I left it at that. I knew that the Amazons of the Moira were keeping the Council of Ten at bay. A stalemate was now in effect, as the Council could only launch incursions by physically moving their forces overland; and the Amazons were undisputed mistresses of their own territory. Neither side could, at this point, bring the fight decisively over to the enemy, thereby ending the war.

Suddenly, I sensed Magda tense and stand straighter. I looked left and saw a broad-shouldered, chunky looking Amazon trudging up to us. Her angular cheeks were, as usual, sagging in a perpetual frown. Her cold greenish eyes that met mine were glazed over.

“Salutations, Clys,” said Magda in a very flat tone, so unlike the one she used when we were just conversing.

“Salutations, Sister,” answered Clys in her bored drawl. Then, I saw Clys’ eyes widen and she grew flushed, vigorously indicating some people who were marching towards the cleared space of the Void Henge.

A trio of Amazons, garbed in short pastel-colored shifts and belted at the waist was nearing us. Even this far, I admired their trim agile legs, so enticingly shown off by their short skirts. They were so short that I could almost catch a glimpse of delightful butt dimple peeking through as they strode closer. Their arms were bare to the shoulder, and my eyes followed their breasts jangling delightfully under their brief garments. They were indeed splendid women in these lands!

“Take a look the one behind them, little scribe,” drawled Clys icily. She was studying me under beetling brows, seeing how I frankly admired the approaching Amazons. “Take a real good look.”

The last of the approaching file of Amazons was leading a fourth person, and I saw it was a man.

He was stark naked, shaved smooth and bald as an egg. His bare skin was dyed a shade of faded pink from the crown of his shaved pate to his bare feet. Even from here, I could see his cock and balls were burning in a state of extreme excitement, and that they were imprisoned in the grip of the Amazon leading him on. As he was led forward, he grimaced and gasped for breath.

He was lean and athletic, moving in a strange waddling gait as when a man is forced to walk with his legs spread apart. His captor who maintained a tight grip on his cock was using this to lead him forward to the Void Henge.

“Uhm, a-ah, Pefft?” I asked aloud, a trifle uncertainly.

“Yes, Eronemus,” answered Magda looking at me significantly straight in the eye. “That’s a Pefft.”

The trio led their waddling naked captive across the dead ground surrounding the rune-covered chunk of rock. After being coaxed and prodded, he was made to kneel in front of it, legs and knees spread apart, arms raised and bent backwards with his hands at the back of his head.

“I wanna take a closer look.” Said Clys, walking off without waiting for us. Magda and I followed. I could hear her breathing heavily.

“What is it?” I asked, but she did not reply. Instead, she was staring intently at what was going on.

Moving sideways to get a better look, I saw that the four were joined by yet another woman who had approached from the other side of the Void Henge, thus earlier escaping our view. She was taller than the others, her platinum blonde hair cropped short to a fuzzy growth. She was clad in a scintillating robe covered with pastel designs. She wore a torc of beaten brass studded with scarlet and greenish gemstones around her ivory neck. Clutched in her delicate hands was a chalice of worked brass, inlaid with intricate script. All the Amazons, including Magda and Clys bowed in respect.

The tall berobed woman stopped before the naked kneeling Pefft. She glanced at me and I felt the cool stare from her eyes of a deepest lustrous blue. Her brow furrowed slightly as she squinted at me. I began to squeeze my fingers together and my palms felt sweaty. Under her scrutiny, I felt just as undressed as the Pefft kneeling before her.

“Bow to the Priestess-Mage, Eronemus,” whispered Magda urgently.

I went down on one knee and bowed, my left hand placed forward, palm up. I recalled a formal greeting from the old scriptures and blurted it out, hoping it came out correctly.

“Lorannis vronis est. Kelabennis valomft.”

“Sharompt,” answered the Priestess-Mage, meaning ‘Up’ in the same almost-dead language predating the Common Tongue.

I stood and deliberately avoided staring her at the face. I saw that she had already turned her back and was facing down at the Pefft. She handed the chalice to the nearest Amazon who knelt in front of the abased shaved nude. His monstrous throbbing erection and throbbing balls were almost painful to look at. I could see he was lathered in sweat and was breathlessly gasping from the mouth. His eyes were shut and at irregular intervals, a keening, moaning sigh would erupt from his pinched lips.

Another Amazon held the chalice right in front of the Pefft’s erect penis.

Then, both hands of his handler shot down suddenly, her fingers gripping the standing, throbbing cock displayed lewdly before her.

A high-pitched gasp torn from the trembling Pefft was the only sound that broke the hushed silence.

Almost lovingly, the Amazon changed grip, gently stroking the Pefft’s stiffened nude shaft. I saw the man arch his back in pleasure. His bare buns now bunched up and jerked to and fro as his hips made urgent pumping motions. She began to stroke his captive standing cock. The Pefft was now breathing harshly, groaning with suppressed desire.

She stroked him faster and faster and his sweaty, naked exertions got more urgent. My ego was appalled by their treatment of a fellow male, but deny it as I would, something in a dark, hidden recess of my being envied the shamed ecstacy which was surely being provoked in this Pefft who was baring all to his captors.

The kneeling nude bunched up and suddenly uttered a grunting sigh as the Amazon’s fingers continued to slide smoothly across the surface of his burning, hard tool. Not long after, he ejaculated passionately. Gobs of thick milky cum began to spurt from his engorged cocktip, to be caught deftly into the chalice held by the nearby Amazon.

I recalled that these Peffts were fed on an infusion of rare components made into some sort of tea to keep them hard. This one was kept in a state of extreme sexual excitement for gods only know how long before being milked this day.

Eventually, the Pefft spurted himself dry, with the Amazons collecting his hot man-milk in the chalice which was handed to the Priestess-Mage. As the spent nude sagged in the dirt, I saw his shoulders slump and heard him utter a low, sobbing sigh. I could see that his throbbing cock which was undoubtedly hot and sweaty was still stiff as a metal rod. No telling how long he would have to stay in such a state of extreme agitation.

The Priestess-Mage turned away and approached the rune-covered stone. Murmuring incomprehensively and making complex gestures with her left hand, she emptied the contents of the chalice onto the slab of rock. I stood unbelievingly to see how the porous, dark surface of the Void Henge drank up every last drop of man-seed poured upon it.

“Quite a show, huh Eronemus?” Quipped Clys grinning at me and showing off all her teeth. “Maybe you’d wanna take his place over there now? Serve the stronghold with your sperm and offer us a laugh at the same time.” She chuckled with a brittle irritating edge.

I could sense Magda tensing beside me, and her normally warm pretty face had hardened with cruel lines. Her eyes narrowed and I saw her hand go for her sword hilt at her side.

“I , uh don’t think so Clys,” I answered, mustering as much courage as I could. As I spoke, I moved swiftly between Magda and Clys, gesturing with my outstretched palm at Magda.

“No need for that Maggs.” I whispered out of the corner of my mouth hoping only she would hear me.

Thankfully, I felt her freeze and then make one long exhalation as Clys turned her back on us and slowly walked away. I saw that with her back turned, it would have been so easy just to sink some steel between her shoulder blades and end this. In the City State of Kai where I lived, this would have been acceptable- but this was apparently not the Amazon way.

Absently, the fingers of my right hand found the grip of a short sword hanging from my belt. I had forgotten about that.


After my encounter with the Pussy Plant in the Forest of Yerras, my companions from Suprema Morg’s warband and I spent a peaceful evening camping under the trees. We awakened refreshed early the next day and I was overjoyed to receive a full change of travelling clothes and a short sword from the spare supplies carried by the troop.

Now, I felt more as an accepted ally and less like a naked curiosity.

As we prepared to depart, Clys passed in front of me and I felt my hand on the grip of my sword contemplating thoughts of murder. Yet, reason won out this time. I considered myself lucky. Barely three days ago, I had no idea that I would get caught up between two deadly warring female factions who were earnestly bent at exterminating the one another. I wasn’t anxious to be part of this war and I wanted out of it. Unfortunately, that option was presently foreclosed to me and my home city of Kai was far, far away to the West. Seeing how men were treated here in Old Erkmark and Yerras, I considered myself lucky to be treated as a “valued” ally. From what I have seen, I could easily end up stripped naked, shaved and used as a source of liquid magical anima- milked regularly and kept erect and hot as much as it suited my captors’ needs.

I had to find a way to get out of here and back to Kai at the earliest opportunity, and yet, as much as I yearned to escape, I could not deny that irrational delicious yearning for more. Never before in my wildest dreams were the desires I always sought to keep hidden and suppressed given full reign as in my recent experiences of captivity and bondage. My rational mind convinced me to escape but something deep, dark and deliciously sensuous seemed to be holding me back.

There was also Magda, my pretty, pretty Amazon warrioress.

Our journey through a world of exotic greenery took us another three days. Gradually, the lush islands of verdure gave way to cleared spaces, many of which were now planted with food bearing crops. We came upon a dirt road on the second day out and followed it. I caught glimpses of palisade-ringed villages but we never stopped in any of them. One the morning of the third day, we ran into heavily-armed patrols, some mounted on a curious species of horse covered in hair and sporting an orange and bluish-striped coloration. These were all Amazons of the Moira who saluted Morg and their sisters in arms.

Eventually, we arrived at a stockaded settlement, the largest I had yet seen in these parts, which turned out to be the stronghold of the Moira clan.

Any expectations of rest were drowned out in continuing cycles of frenetic activity in the days that followed. The stronghold was a hive of disciplined routine with the women giving orders and carrying into effect a regime geared towards winning a war. It was almost a twisted opposite of my accustomed life in bustling Kai, with its shops, universities, libraries and emporium. Here, a regular routine of work, preparation and still more work prevailed every day. I saw how even young females were sent to the Schola to train as warrioresses, apprentice priestesses, magi or administrators. Men were relegated to more mundane everyday tasks that kept the community functioning as a whole.

Yet it seemed to work smoothly, everyone was fed, clothed and, to my mind, reasonably content.

I did not see Magda during these times as I assumed she was pulling duty with her unit somewhere in the stronghold. Neither did I get to see the Suprema Morg any much more, as I was mostly left by myself in the small but clean apartments provided to me in a place where single, valued male workers were quartered. I took the time to read up and study the texts which were allowed me (albeit reluctantly) and start on a journal of my strange experiences to date.


Just as suddenly, I was summoned to a council one morning by an Amazon officer, armed and accoutered for war. I was led through the busy streets and admitted into a citadel of rugged, grey stone pierced with narrow high windows and banded hardwood doors. I reflected that this was the first time I came to this part of town and later learned that this was where the Suprema liked to hold office.

I found myself in a long chamber dominated by a long trestle table spanning most of its length. It was bright and airy as the shades were drawn back. One length of stony wall was covered with maps and charts with squiggly markings of various colors. Seated along the table were Amazons, some of whom I recognized from Morg’s warband. About half were armed and armored while the other half were clad in rather severe-colored dresses decked with pendants of fanciful design. I saw Magda seated to one side. Our eyes met and she gave me a warm, shy smile. This seemed to still any trepidation I was feeling at the moment.

Morg sat at the center, presiding over what appeared to be an ongoing discussion of great importance. I looked around for a seat but finding none (and receiving no invitation to be seated) remained standing and tried to look patient as I waited to be acknowledged.

“It is that simple, Suprema,” pointed out a serious-looking woman of middle age. “We need the friendship of the Avendaas Confederation to break the stalemate at the front. Now is the best time as their clan leaders are gathered together in Haldrenfast for the conclave.”

“I’m not arguing against your reasoning Safira,” replied Morg, waving absently as she spoke. “Bringing the Avendaas on our side will be a formidable factor to aid us, and enhance our prestige in the mother tribe. But we cannot spare the women and resources for a large embassy to travel to Haldrenfast. Fighting is desperate at the front and our tribal sisters of the Errienyx need every warrioress at our disposal.”

Racking my brains, I stove to recall what I knew about the subject at hand. I recalled that Morg’s mother tribe, the Errienyx, was neighbor to a similar tribe of Amazons called the Avendaas Confederation. The latter was organized in the same lines as the Errienyx and their sub-clan, the Moiras. They also had a Grand Suprema who lorded it over lesser clan Supremas just as in Morg’s case.

Apparently, the Avendaas were sitting on the fence posts, holding off whether or not to join up in the fight against the Council of Ten.

“We’ve sent feelers and embassies before, Morg,” pointed out a nearby Amazon warrioress. “Yannessa, their High Suprema does not seem convinced it’s the best thing for them to side with us against the Council of Ten.”

“Thuriya damn them all,” muttered another warrioress nearby. “So they won’t listen and we can’t spare the women to send another embassy to Haldrenfast.” I later learned that Haldrenfast was the closest thing to a capital the Avendaas Confederation had.

“But we need to try again!” said the one called Safira, this time even more forcefully. “Now is the best time to plead our cause as all the Supremas are in one place. We’ll never get a chance like this again.”I could see this was degenerating into a shouting match.

“Uh, if I may make a sug-suggestion ladies?” I said, trying to get their attention.

I was shouted down initially but Morg prevailed upon the council to listen to me, even if they seemed skeptical of some male advise.

“Why not send a smaller delegation to meet and explain, rationally and cogently what our talking points are?” I suggested. “Surely a smaller party with the right amount of security can get through safely and make your points known to the Avendaas?”

“And who, pray tell would be able to successfully argue our case when all have failed in the past?” Demanded one of the officers in a loud voice, glaring at me for my upstart suggestion.

“I believe I can, ma’am,” I ventured as firmly as I could. “I am Eronemus, a scribe and orator from the City State of Kai. I apprenticed under various advocates of note and I hereby request the honor of volunteering to accompany a delegation of emissaries to plead our case to the High Suprema of the Avendaas.”

We never had the conversation, Bob and I, but we were clearly of a common mind. I could hardly wait until he watched while I was being fucked. I was going to make that happen. I knew he’d love it.

I reported the gist of our agreement to the girls. They reported similar agreements, not as specific as mine perhaps, but agreements that showed that the guys were game to let their wives get fucked as long as they could fuck the other guys’ wives. Seemed fair enough.

We were pretty sure that the other girls were in general agreement, but we hadn’t actually spoken to everyone. We’d have to deal with girls that didn’t find themselves in sync as the process unfolded.

Now all that was left was for us to let George’s meeting take it’s course.

Shortly before the next meeting, I sent George a text: “last meeting out of control. Pls add more rollaways.”

He responded within moments: ” # “.

“Hrd to say. # avail?”

“Maybe 5″

“OK. More if poss”

“Will do. When you avail?”

“1 thng @ time”

“Cant wait”

When Bob and I walked into the meeting, I dropped him at the bar and sought out the curtained area I’d found at the last meeting. Finding it, I poked my head inside the curtains and began to count the roll aways. There were certainly more than five, but before I finished counting I was pushed inside.

I recalled that touch and the smell of alcohol on his breath. I was not surprised when the initial assault was followed by exploring hands. I relaxed as George went so far as to pull my top over my head and extract my breasts from my bra. I allowed him to continue his exploration even to the extent of sucking his fingers clean of the juices he had found in the cleft between my legs.

“Don’t cum,” I said kneeling in front of him, “I don’t want your cum all over my face and chest when we leave here.” He nodded and I sucked him until he tapped the top of my head urgently. Not wanting to leave him in distress, I let his cock slip from my mouth, but continued with my hand until he shot across the small curtained area we shared.

I hurriedly dressed and left, leaving him with a dripping cock hanging out of his pants.

Things proceeded more or less as they had in the previous two meetings. George took the stage and asked the women to come up and stand with him. He began his examination of lingerie, but was brought up short when Sara, his first examinee, said (loudly enough for all to hear), “Why do you get to look down at our underwear, but no one else gets to see what you get to see?”

Clearly confused, George stepped back and said, “What did you have in mind?”

Sara said nothing, but turned her back to Freddie standing next to her. Freddie pulled her zipper down and Sara let the the bodice of her dress fall to her waist. She stood, her lingerie fully exposed to everyone.

“Oh, I see,” George said, obviously disoriented.

Of the sixteen, twelve followed suit. The others nervously let him look as he had in the past.

Twelve now stood rather revealed to the men of the sales force. Four didn’t quite know what to do. At that point those of us who had revealed ourselves, buttoned up our blouses and pulled up our bodices ready to proceed. In his confusion, George became strictly an observer and the question about panties matching bras was forgotten. He missed an opportunity because the planned response was to be Why don’t you see for yourself.

Still a bit rattled by the reversal of control, George continued toward his goal, though now it was clear he wasn’t clear what that might actually be. And he was right, our plans differed materially from his. Nonetheless, we thought he’d appreciate what we had in mind as much as what he had in mind.

He started the “count down”. “Georgeanne,” he called. Bummer. I hadn’t wanted to sit down, but I made my way back to sit with Bob. Together we would watch the evening unfold. Bob squeezed my leg. I reached over and squeezed his cock.

When there were but three left, we waited anxiously. Our idea for the evening’s festivities was about to be unleashed. George called out “Naomi”. This left Joan and Suzanne. No one had lost two in a row, though this was only the third meeting in the contest, so I expected that Joan would be the “winner”.

So did she. She hadn’t been in on our plans and had been one of those who did not participate in the lingerie show tonight. She put on a stoic face, but I could see she was not doing well as she waited for the pronouncement. Suzanne, for her part, put an arm around her waist to steady her. Suzanne had been aware of our plans, but was at best lukewarm. She had agreed to show herself, but her bra, even with it’s lace, was one used for complete coverage. It looked more like a sports bra with lace than one used to proclaim femininity.

George stopped and looked at the two still standing, then at the audience. There was not a sound.

“Bruce,” he said, “participated most uniquely last time.” He said it in a manner that seemed more of a musing than anything else. “Can’t help but wonder about Jim.”

A low rumble brought our attention back to the stage. The noises came from behind a stretch of curtains across the stage. George stopped apparently waiting for the noise to die down, but, I suspected, more to add to the building suspense.

“Jim and Bruce would you like to come up here?” A scraping of chairs and the two made their way hesitantly forward.

When the arrived, they instinctively took places alongside their wives. How strange it must have felt to know that in a few moments they would see their wife stripped naked to be used by the men in the crowd including the man who stood in front of them.

Last time Bruce had valiantly offered himself and must have thoroughly enjoyed it as women excited by his nakedness had thoroughly used him and had him use them. Was he anticipating a repeat? Did he want a repeat knowing his wife would be used as well?

Jim had been around for a while. He knew everyone here well and, of course, he had participated in using Freddie and Suzanne in the previous two meetings. In fact, for all I knew, he may well have one of those who used me. I squirmed a bit thinking about how close we were to our planned orgy.

Bob moved his chair quite close and slid his hand under my skirt. I looked in the direction of the scene being played out at the front, but felt his hand move upward along my leg. I spread my legs a bit as he moved slowly toward the inside of my thigh. He spent time there, his fingers a promise of ecstasy. I spread my legs more.

As he found his way to my mound George was saying, “If Joan is our winner, what thoughts do you have?” He held the mike to Jim.

Jim was unsteady in his response. “Well,” he said, “I guess I’ll have to work harder next quarter.”

“Great thinking,” George said, “but any thoughts about right now.”

“Could I do what Bruce did?”

“Are you asking me, Joan, yourself, who?”

“I don’t know.” He was sweating.

“What about you, Bruce? That is, if Suzanne is our first winner two meetings in a row.” George had turned toward Bruce pointing the mike so as to catch his response.

“Well, I worked really hard this quarter, so I’m not worried,” he confidently responded.

“Actually, that wasn’t the question,” George prodded. “The question involved the hypothetical about tonight activities. You seemed to rather enjoy yourself at the last meeting.” Then he added, “I am right, you did enjoy yourself last time, did you not?”

“I sure did,” he blurted. “Suzanne never said whether she enjoyed it,” he concluded.

Suzanne’s eyes were the size of saucers. I could see her chest heaving.

“I don’t think I have much in the way of answers from either of you so you may both return to your seats.” George had a smirk he could hardly contain as they walked away. When they reached their seats, George called out, “Don’t bother to sit.” They stood looking very uneasy and wary.

“In a few moments all the guys will be busily removing their clothes in preparation for the evening’s activities. I’m going to give Jim and Bruce a head start. Boys, just pile your clothes on the table.” He nodded in the general direction of the tables at which they had been seated.

The logic was overwhelming and the directive was clear. They hesitated and looked at each other as if waiting for the other to start. George said nothing. Everyone was watching.

Bruce started first. Maybe because he’d been through this before, but whatever the reason, he pulled his shirt off just as he had at the last meeting. This time there were no fawning women to help or at least cheer him along, but without any hesitation he continued to strip until his clothing was piled on the table. All except his shorts. The bulge was quite apparent. “All the girls are waiting, Bruce.” George said mildly.

He pulled his shorts off in a single movement. His cock sprang up. Instinctively he turned to show it off to everyone. There was a smattering of applause from the ladies, including me. He looked at George.

It was a splendid performance from my perspective. I was really hot and Bob could tell. Without my panties on, I would have been dripping. As it was I believe there was a damp spot on my skirt where I sat on it.

I could see Jim take a deep breath. He really missed the chance to either go first or at least strip at the same time as Bruce. As it was with him wearing an open dress shirt, he not only had to unbutton his shirt, but he also had an undershirt to pile on the table. He accomplished neither with any erotic flourish.

He’s not fat by any means, but he has a tiny bit of a roll. I debated not watching, but I thought that might be insulting. My level of excitement dropped with every item he removed.

Finally he got to his white boxers. As these topped the pile on the table, we were treated to a cock so shrunken that it looked as if it was trying to find refuge in his belly. It was difficult to see his balls at all.

All eyes turned back to George who was still wearing his smirk. “Well,” he said, “the party has started. Come up here and join your wives.”

They made their way forward again with Bruce leading the way shoulders back, his cock swinging majestically. Jim followed. Everything about him was, at this point, unremarkable. I knew him to be a very nice person and a good friend, but at this moment he was just a naked and humiliated man.

Both took their places at their wives’ sides.

“Well,” George began (I wished I’d counted the number of times George started a comment with “well”) the next decision is up to the wives. You see, this quarter we have a tie so we’ll have two women to enjoy.”

He let the comment hang in the air. Both couples looked at each other and around the room in confusion and realization of what George had just said.

George continued mildly, “Ladies, do you prefer to have your husbands remove your clothing or would you like me to do it? Doing it yourselves is not an option. Which do you prefer, Joan?”

Joan looked surprised, but without hesitation she opted for her husband. Suzanne followed suit.

“Alright gentleman, who is going to go first?” George stepped aside to give everyone a clear view. “Shall we flip a coin?” He produced a coin as he spoke.

The four nodded assent, though not in unison. The coin rose in the air. “Call it Jim,” George said.

Jim was taken by surprise and managed a call of heads only after the coin had landed. Without looking at it George showed it lying on the the back of his hand to the four. Apparently it was heads as George said to Jim, “You win. What’s your preference?”

“Bruce can go first,” he said with some relief evident.

Again without hesitation Bruce turned to Suzanne. She stepped back as he reached for her and almost fell as her heel bumped against the stage. He caught her and turned her so her back was toward us. Carefully, slowly, he unzipped her dress. There was no communication evident between them and the move seemed to surprise her. As the tight black dress opened it revealed her tanned back broken by the bra strap running horizontally across it.

He turned her around. She was graceless in the turn stumbling a bit and still looking confused. With the dress unzipped, he moved behind her and pushed it off her shoulders revealing the plain white bra, the sports bra with lace I had mentioned earlier. Obviously undressing Suzanne wasn’t one of Bruce’s skills because he tried to push the dress downward rather than taking if off over her head. Her hips, while not overly wide, provided a barrier to this direction. She didn’t seem to know what to do as he continued to try to push the dress down.

Joan took half a step toward them and said in a loud whisper, “Pull it over her head.”

He quickly reversed course, grabbed the hem and jerked it over her head. The lack of finesse resulted in total destruction of all efforts she had expended on her hair. It seemed to piss her off as much as being stripped naked for a second time. She flailed at her hair to straighten it without any success. Lip reading I saw him tell her he was sorry. I expected that they might have some conversation later in which he would offer his apologies several more times.

Every dutiful, however, he continued on his assignment. Suzanne was now in a half slip and bra. He made the choice to pull the slip up and over her head resulting in more messing of her hair. What was going through her head I could only imagine, but I expected that she was plenty hot, and not in an erotic way.

He looked at her as she faced him. He was unsure of himself for the first time. Tentatively he reached under her arms for her panties probably because the bra catch was now rather inaccessible. She swatted his hands away and in one smooth move unclasped her bra, let it slide down her arms and handed it to him. He took it, but made no immediate further move. She continued, shucking her panties and throwing them at him. She turned her back on him giving the audience their first view this evening of her nakedness. She put her hands on her hips momentarily, then realizing the predicament was only beginning, she stood awkwardly waiting for something she didn’t want to happen.

George continued watching. The smirk hadn’t left his face. “Jim,” he said turning in his direction.

Jim seemed more adept. He stood in front of her and began unbuttoning her blouse.

“Stand behind her as you do that,” George instructed.

Jim moved around behind Joan. It didn’t make any difference, she’d be naked soon enough.

He continued with the remaining buttons from behind. He removed the blouse like he’d done it before setting it neatly on the stage behind him. He unzipped the skirt and guided it to the floor. Joan stepped out using his proffered hand to steady herself. Again, the garment was neatly placed on the stage. I saw him take a breath, then realize that she still had shoes on. He said something to her and she stepped out of the shoes. He took a deep breath again and reached for her bra. It fell away from her breasts. Instantly she covered them with her hands.

Another deep breath and he started moving her panties toward the floor. As soon as her neatly trimmed pubic area began to appear, she shifted her hands covering her breasts with an arm and her pussy with her free hand.

The panties joined the rest of the neat pile of Joan’s clothes.

“Jim,” George began in a stern voice, “take hold of your wife’s wrists.

He did.

“Now, Jim,” George’s voice was still stern, “pull her arms around to her back and hold them there.”

Clearly he was not happy with this instruction, but complied. She did not resist. Again I was surprised at what beautiful women were married to our salesmen.

Both women and their husbands now stood naked in front of us. Jim continued to hold Joan’s arms in back of her.

“OK gentlemen,” George had turned to the naked foursome, “please find out if your wife prefers the table,” here he moved onto the stage and patted the cushioning on the table. It was the table that he had secured Suzanne to last time. “Or the mattress.” It was unnecessary to show them what he meant by mattress.

I could see the decision process in the eyes of the women. It was a choice of looking into the face of someone you knew as he made use of your body or turning your back and not having to watch, but risking someone wanting to use an entrance you preferred they not use.

The four drew closer to each other in whispered conversation. “The women want to know if they’ll be gagged,” asked Jim now perhaps emerging as a spokesman.

“I don’t think will be necessary,” George responded.

“Neither of them wants someone to use, you know, their . . . you know,” it was Jim again after more whispered conversation.

“Well, I’m not sure exactly what you mean,” George began, “but if you mean they don’t want to have their ass poked or aren’t up to blow jobs, I suggest that they both make the men’s use of their pussies the most exciting thing that’s ever happened so that other avenues aren’t considered. The bottom line, if you’ll excuse the pun, is that I’m not taking any positions off the table. Again, forgive the pun.”

They both opted for the beds but made no move to lie on them. That was fine with me because I wanted to start on the table. I rather liked that helpless feeling for the first few cocks.

“OK ladies,” George said somewhat impatiently, “take your places.”

They moved the few steps toward a bed. Joan was the first to actually sit on one. Suzanne just stood alongside the one she selected.

“Gentlemen, your wives are about to be fucked. Would you please have them lie in the proper positions. These mattresses are what they, themselves selected.” George was clearly annoyed.

Both men put their hands on their wives as if to get them into position and were immediately rebuffed as the women actually lay on the beds without further encouragement. They didn’t look ready to fuck from my perspective. Arms and hands covered important parts and both had their legs clamped tightly together.

I had noticed earlier that there were large video screens hanging from the ceiling, but I hadn’t paid any attention to them presuming they were there for another function. Now, as they became active we could see that ceiling mounted cameras were focused on the stage. Unseen hands moved the cameras so that the view in each screen was one of the couples.

“The ladies don’t seem quite ready. Jim, test your wife’s pussy and let me know if she’s ready to be fucked.” Jim knew what he meant and didn’t play dumb or argue. He just sat on the bed by Joan, gently parted her legs and slowly inserted his finger. His verdict was that she wasn’t. Without being asked, Bruce did the same with the same result.

I did notice that both cocks reacted positively to the assignment. Jim’s actually began to look more like something that could be used to fuck a woman. We all also noticed that the cameras followed the fingers zooming in so that the finger and pussy filled the screen. The camera followed each husband’s finger as it performed its mission and as it exited with its result. Once the mission was complete, the cameras panned over the women’s bodies alternating between panoramic views of their bodies and excruciating detail of individual parts, mainly breasts, nipples, and pussies.

“Well,” George said let’s give you guys a few minutes to get them ready. I want you to use your mouth on her pussy, anyway you choose, to get her ready. And, oh,” there was that smirk again, “Bruce you do Joan and Jim you so Suzanne.”

Their cocks responded instantly. I must comment here, though, that I was thinking that while Bruce’s cock became majestically hard at this point, I was routing for Jim who’s cock, while clearly hard did not have the majesty of Bruce’s.

To belabor the point, Bruce’s cock had more color to it and I could make out the veins. The helmet looked like just that with an eye to it that promised a woman her fill of his seed. From his body it was just above horizontal (Ok, OK, I was staring), and pointed a bit to the right. It was long and thick without being frightening. It looked like it would fill me and, if used properly, bring me to multiple pounding climaxes. I considered pointing it out to Bob, but thought better of it. He knew I was staring and that was bad enough.

July 2018
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