-------- ASSTR Standard Headers --------
Author: Altan
Title: The Party
Keywords: voy exhib MF
Date: July 2001
-------- End of Standard Headers --------
This is a work of erotic fiction. If you are not allowed to
read such material, or if such material offends you, please stop
reading now.
This is copyrighted (C) July 2001 by Altan. Permission is
granted for this to be reproduced and archived in the
context of the newsgroup(s) to which it is posted by the author.
In addition, the reader is allowed to make copies in electronic
format and on paper for his or her personal use only. For all
other uses, please consult the copyright statement in
http://www.asstr.org/~altan/copyright.html.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The Party (voy exhib MF)
by Altan
You heard about a wild party I went to and want to know more? It
is not what you think. Oh, it was a wild party alright--I never
believed such parties existed. But it was much more than that,
and changed me in ways I never expected. Are you sure you want to
hear the whole story? This is not just a about sex, so
maybe you are not interested. You insist? Well, OK, if that is
what you want--but don't say I didn't warn you.
Let me tell you something about myself first. I believe I'm a
regular guy, heading towards forty, no great looks or anything. I
do keep my body in shape as you can see, work out at the gym
three times a week.
I've always loved women, for as long as I can remember. Really, I
think women are the summit of creation. But I've been usually
happy just to watch. I often go to public places and look at the
people around me.
Enough introduction, here is the story. Let me take you back to
the start, and I will tell it just as it happened to me. You can
draw your own conclusions.
* * *
The Friday evening it all started, I am walking around the mall,
as usual looking more at the people than at the stores. There are
always a lot of attractive women in a mall, and sometimes you get
lucky finding one who is really exciting to look at. Someone who
goes bra-less, and then bends over at the right moment. Once,
there was this with a long sleeveless dress, where you
could see almost all of her from the sides. When one of
these rare moments happens, I'd wish I had photographic memory.
Anyway, as I am wandering around, I see this woman walking
towards me. I guess she is about twenty, with short brown hair
and a tanned skin. The first thing I notice, however, is the blue
checkered miniskirt she is wearing. Miniskirts are rare these
days, I really think they ought to make a comeback in fashion.
But it does make spotting a in miniskirt all the more
exciting.
I stop to pretend looking at a store window so I can follow her
when she passes. I always try to make sure the women do not
notice me watching them, they might get scared and I wouldn't
want to do that to them. So I make sure I leave ten or twenty
feet between her and me before turning to follow. Meanwhile, I
study her back. She has a tight white top, the kind that squeezes
the almost flat, and the blue skirt. I can see neither
panty lines nor the shape of a bra.
She is heading to the escalator, which of course is fine with me.
I edge a little bit closer so that, when I reach the escalator,
her skirt is above my eye level. When I look up, even though I
was hoping for it, my heart almost stops--she doesn't seem to be
wearing any underwear! I tightly grip the handrail so that I
don't fall and look again. No mistake, there is no underwear in
sight at all. I guess she must be wearing one of these string
slips, which is quite daring with such a short dress. This is a
woman to my heart!
Since she seems to know exactly where she is going and doesn't
look back at all, I walk closer behind her when we reach the
upper level. Of course, I keep searching for signs of underwear,
but find nothing. Is this going to be one of those special days?
I feel myself getting more and more excited.
She enters an expensive shoe store at the upper level, and I
decide to wait outside. There are chairs right opposite the
store, from where I can see her through the large windows. The
store is not crowded and has a very open layout: the shoes are
all arranged along the two sides of the store, with little
benches in the middle to sit and try them on. She picks up a pair
of short black boots from the display, and sits down facing the
front of the store. My breathing picks up--if she would just part
her legs a little bit, I should be able to see right between
them.
She puts on one shoe and then it actually happens. She bends her
knee out and lifts her other foot to put on the other shoe.
Again, my heart is about to skip a beat--is she really wearing
nothing under that skirt? I can't believe it, it must be my
imagination running wild. She tries a few steps with the new
shoes and seems to be satisfied, as she picks up her shoes
and hands them to the behind the counter, pays, and comes
walking out of the store.
I follow her again all the way to the end of the mall, where she
enters Saks Fifth Avenue. I make sure I stay back while she
browses the business suits. She selects two and goes to the
changing booths at the back of the store. I follow and start
looking at some of the T-shirts in front of the fitting area,
while glancing over to the booths. She hasn't closed the curtain
completely, and I switch to the display on the other side of the
aisle to get a better view.
When I get into the right position, I can see about half her back
through the opening. She has just taken off her top--definitely
no bra--and is starting on her skirt. I'm mesmerized. The skirt
moves down and I just see skin, no underwear at all. I realize
there is a completely naked woman (except for her new shoes)
standing in that booth.
She turns to pick up something, but I can't see anything more
than her back side. It is the skirt of the business suit which
she puts on. She straightens up again, and for a second I the
side of her breast, before her arm gets in the way. I'm sure that
by then I must be staring at the booth, but I don't care who sees
me doing this anymore. Then she puts on the top part of the suit,
and seems to be turning around in front of the mirror in the
booth.
The next thing I know, she opens the curtain half way and comes
out of the booth. I feel my face turning when she walks right
up to me.
"What do you think?" she asks.
I try to say something, but no words come to me. I must look
ridiculous, standing there with a face and an open mouth.
"Wait, let me try the other one," she says, and turns back to the
booth.
I don't know what is happening, but this is getting more and more
interesting. I wonder if I'm asleep and this is a dream, but I
don't want to try and find out right now. I just want to watch.
This time, she doesn't bother to close the curtain, leaving me
with a perfect view of her undressing. She is standing with her
back to me when she puts the jacket and skirt back on the hanger
and picks up the other one. It takes just a second to slip it on,
and she comes back out.
"Which one do you like better?" she asks.
I haven't paid any attention to the clothes, but I have to say
something. I look her over. It is a light brown suit, with a
skirt above the knees and a jacket that has three buttons which
go halfway up her chest.
"This one," I say. Then I add boldly, "but it would look better
without the buttons."
"Like this?" she asks, opening all three. The jacket falls open,
bearing her bellybutton.
"Definitely."
"I think you're right," she says, looking at one of the mirrors
that are all around the store. "OK, let's get something to eat."
She walks over to the counter. There is an woman behind it,
who is looking at her with a shocked expression.
"I want to buy this suit," she says, and presents a credit card.
"My clothes are in the booth back there, I won't need them
anymore."
While the cashier rings up the suit, I stand next to her, and
look at the side of her breast. When I look up, I see her looking
straight back at me. This time I don't turn red.
"Who are you?" I ask.
"Maggie," she says. "What are you thinking?"
What a strange question is that. What does she think I'm
thinking?
"What a beautiful creatures women are," I answer, truthfully, but
incompletely.
She smiles, signs the credit card slip (bending over slightly,
which drags my eyes back to her chest), and turns. "Come," she
says.
I follow her to the food court, where we get in line at a Subway.
She orders a Tuna Sub, while I settle for a cheese sandwich. I
try to pay for it but she doesn't let me.
"Who are you?" I ask again when we sit down. "I don't mean your
name, but... what kind of person are you? Why are you doing
this?"
"I like having fun," she says, "and I believe the physical
differences between and women are there to enjoy, not to be
ashamed of."
"Amen to that," is all I can say.
We eat our meal in silence, me looking at her and she obviously
enjoying being looked at. When we're all done, she gets a pensive
look, as if she is trying to make a decision.
"Are you clean?" she asks.
"Clean? What do you mean?"
"Do you have any sexually transmitted diseases?"
Talk about getting to the point...
"No," I say, "I don't."
"Are you sure?"
"Actually, I am. I'm always careful, and make a point of having a
checkup between girlfriends. I've had a complete physical only
three weeks ago, and haven't had sex since. Yes, I'm clean. How
about you?"
"I wouldn't ask if I weren't."
She gets a pen from her purse and writes something on a napkin.
"Be here Monday at seven," she says as she gives the napkin to
me. "Don't tell anyone about it, this is kind of secret. But I
think you will enjoy it."
With that, she gets up, bends over to pick up her tray, throws
out the trash, and walks away. When I hurry to follow her, she is
lost in the crowd. I look at the napkin. It has an address in one
of the upscale new apartment buildings on it, and below that, a
password. I look at the napkin for at least two minutes, my mind
going over everything that happened tonight, before I put it in
my pocket and go back to my car.
* * *
Monday evening and I have taken a cab to the apartment building
that was written on the napkin. All weekend I've been wondering
what this would all be about, and why specially tonight. I have
been going over the encounter with Maggie in my mind, and I still
can't make it out. It is almost as if she was looking for a
specific person, and found him in me. But what could she possibly
have found in me in those few words we exchanged that makes me
different from all the other in the mall?
I still can't believe I the only thing I know about her is her
first name. The whole weekend I kept reminding myself that I at
least have to get her phone number.
I decide that the only way to find out is to go to the apartment
and see what is happening there. I am scared, wondering if I am
going to be abducted or something like that. Maybe I just read to
many spy novels, but the fact that I wasn't supposed to tell
anyone made me suspicious. So I did take one precaution that I
learned from one of those spy stories: I wrote a letter
explaining in detail what happened, and sent it to my house, addressed to myself. I know that they won't open it unless
something happens to me. If nothing happens, I'll pick it up the
next time I'm over.
With this little bit of reassurance I take the elevator to the
seventeenth floor, which turns out to be the top floor, and look
for apartment number 1703. There are only a few doors here, three
on each side. I ring the bell and wait.
The door opens a crack and a dark-haired woman looks at me.
"Hi, I'm Tom. Maggie asked me to be here at seven," I say.
"Yes?"
I'm not sure what to do, so I give her the password.
Without a word, she closes the door. Just when I start wondering
if this was just a practical joke, the door opens completely and
the woman beckons me in.
"I'm Marishka," she says. "So you're a friend of Maggie's?"
"Yes--I guess," I say while looking at her. She is wearing the
most astounding evening dress I have ever seen. It is a single
piece, ankle-length--and transparent, except for a center stripe.
The silvery sparkles that are embedded in the thin material seem
to come together in a silver band down the middle at the front
and back of the dress. At the top, the band fans out over her
breasts, where the outline of her nipples shines through, and at
the bottom it goes all the way down to her ankles. Since she is
obviously wearing nothing underneath, this band is all that keeps
her from standing here completely naked.
"Maggie is not her yet," she says. "But a friend of hers is a
friend of all of us. Come on in, look around and have fun.
Remember, Anything Goes."
I wonder what she means by that last phrase when I follow her
into what must be the living room. The room is huge, the dozen or
so people do not start to fill it. At the back wall a row of
tables is set with food and drinks, and there are a few couches
and low tables in the room. The floor is covered with a very
soft, thick, white carpet and I see some of the people are
barefoot. In fact, some of the people are not wearing much at
all--Marishka seems almost overdressed in this crowd.
With some effort, I check out the other around me, and am
glad to see I seem to fit right in with them. I had been quite
uncertain about how to dress, as I had no idea what to expect. In
the end I decided on the neutral style of what is nowadays called
"business casual." My khaki dress pants are freshly pressed and
my dark-blue is very simple.
Feeling a little bit more relaxed, I walk towards the buffet and
turn my attention back to the women around me. And they are
certainly worth my attention. Right in front of me is one dressed
in a spider web! No, I'm not kidding, that is what she is
wearing: leather pants and a black cotton spider web. Her small
breasts wiggle slightly when she walks, nipples erect like two
flies caught in the web.
"You must be new here," she says when I get to the tables. "Hi,
my name is Rachel."
"I'm Tom," I say. "Yes, I'm new her. Maggie invited me."
"Good Maggie, haven't seen her in a while. How is she doing
these days?"
Oh my God, what if she finds out I don't even know her? Will they
throw me out?
Rachel seems to see my uneasiness and laughs.
"I guess you don't really know Maggie. That's O.K., I didn't know
my sponsor when I first came here. I did get to know him later
though... I guess Andy will be here later."
"Let me show you around," she continues, "although there really
isn't that much to show. The living room here has the food and
drinks, which will be replenished by the catering staff in the
kitchen. The bedrooms are there on the left, each with a full
bath, and there is another half bath in the hallway where you
came in. Personally, I like the view best, looking over the city
as if you are standing on top of the world."
The windows reach down all the way to the floor, which makes it
kind of scary to stand next to them. The view out of the window
is indeed fantastic, but I find the view next to me a lot more
fun. I try not to stare at this lady's breasts, but I can't
help wondering how soft they must feel.
"So, what brings you here?" I ask, trying to make some
conversation.
She looks up surprised, but then smiles. "The same as
everyone--having a good time," she says. "You seem to enjoy
yourself too." She nods at the growing bulge in my pants.
"Susan's parties are really great," she continues, "you never
know what will happen. As they say, anything goes. You know."
Actually, I don't quite know, but I keep silent about it. We look
out the window together for a moment when Rachel speaks again.
"You know, it is none of my business of course, but since you are
new here, may I give you some advice?"
"Sure," I say.
"Get rid of your underwear."
"Huh?" I am completely stunned by that comment.
"Take off your briefs and throw them away. I don't think anyone
here wears underwear, that just gets in the way. Oh, and can you
bring me one more of these cheese things on your way back?"
That doesn't really leave me a lot of choice. On my way over to
the bathroom in the hallway I do notice that one of the has a
big erection in his pants, and definitely nothing underneath to
constrain it. I can see where it comes from as well: he is
talking with a gorgeous into whose jacket he is staring.
I drop my boxers in the garbage can in the restroom and return to
Rachel, who is still standing at the window. She reaches down and
strokes my member, which is pretty hard already.
"Now, this is better, isn't it?" she asks smiling, and I have to
agree with her. It feels very exciting to be so exposed, but
then, I guess it is only fair when the women here are also
exposing so much of themselves.
"Look, there is Joan," Rachel says as she lets go of me. We walk
over and she introduces me.
Joan looks at me and says, "a new face, now nice! Rachel, can I
borrow him from you? You know how I love newcomers!"
"No problem, I think I just saw Andy coming in," Rachel answers,
and turning to me, "I'm sure I'll catch you later on. Have fun!"
Joan takes my arm and leads me to one of the couches. She grabs a
bottle of wine and two glasses on the way, handing one of the
glasses to me. When we sit down, she fills the glasses and puts
the bottle on the couch. I look at her while she leans back and
sips her wine.
Joan is wearing a light blue dress with buttons at the front,
most of which are undone. The sides of her dress slide off her
legs when she sits, and when she opens her legs, I can see that
Rachel seems to be right about the underwear--Joan is definitely
not wearing anything. I feel myself growing again.
"So, what do you like to do," she asks, looking candidly back at
me. Her hand rests on my lap and starts stroking my inner thigh.
"Well," I start, and then put my right hand on her legs as well.
She opens her legs further, which I interpret as a clear
invitation, and let my hand slide all the way up.
When I turn to better reach her, the wine bottle she had left
sitting on the couch begins to slide. Since I'm still holding the
glass in my left hand, I quickly grab the bottle with my right
hand.
"Come on," Joan says, "what did you do that for? Didn't someone
tell you that anything goes here?"
With that she takes the bottle from me, turns it upside down, and
pours it out right on the couch. This is a white couch, looking
brand-new. I'm sure that the wine must leave horrible stains.
Joan must have seen my the look on my face because she starts to
laugh.
"Didn't somebody tell you that anything goes?" she asks.
"Well, yes, but..."
"But I guess nobody told you why?"
When I shake my head, she continues, "This is Susan's apartment.
She happens to be a with a very rich father, and she likes
to have fun as well. Every now and then she gets tired with her
apartment and decides to have it completely redone. The day
before the decorators start, she throws a party. Tomorrow people
will come in and tear this whole place bare. Tonight, anything
goes. And I mean, anything, as long as everyone has fun."
With that, she takes the two sides of her dress and with a
forceful pull two buttons pop off, exposing all of her beautiful
legs and the lower part of her belly as well. She is now
completely exposed. Then she grabs between my legs again and
starts stroking me. I forget the wine and reach into her dress,
caressing her breast. Joan leaned back, dropping her glass behind
the couch and closes her eyes.
* * *
You can imagine what happens next. After five minutes, we both
lean back and relax. Then Joan leaves with a "See you later" and
I'm about to close my eyes again for a moment when I see Rachel
walking up.
"You seem to be having fun," she laughs when she comes closer.
"Save some for me, though, will you?"
I beckon her and when she starts to sit down, gently pull her to
sit on my lap.
"You didn't tell me what kind of a party this is," I say with
mocking reproach.
"I gathered you'd find out soon enough..."
"Thanks for the advice though," I continue, while I start
fondling her breasts. I notice that the spider web she is wearing
is not made of cotton but of some elastic material, and I have no
trouble freeing one completely. I start to suck on it
softly, meanwhile massaging the other one with my hand.
Rachel just moaned softly and I let my massaging hand slide down
between her legs. She lets her hand slide between my legs as well
but I whisper, "no, I think I need a little rest there."
With this, Rachel relaxes completely and now feels like a purring
cat beneath my caressing. After a few minutes I feel her go
completely limp and I just hold her on my lap.
"That was nice," she says after a while. "Not many are so
subtle. Maggie made a good choice selecting you. But then, she
always had a good eye for men."
I don't know what to say, so I just hold her and relax. I never
thought of myself as subtle, or in any other way specially good
with women. In fact, even though I've had my share of
girlfriends, I've had only a few serious relationships, and none
of them lasted longer than a year. But I've never been so relaxed
about sex with a woman, never felt that sex could be just for
fun. Come to think of it, I never felt so good in my life.
Then Rachel gets up and says, "Come on, the party is just
starting." She makes no effort to put her back in her
spider web, and I realize that I'm no longer self-conscious about
the bulge in my pants. She takes my hand and continues showing me
around.
One of the first people Rachel introduces me to is Susan, the
host. By that time I'm getting used to the outrageous costumes
that are being worn, but this one beats them all hands down. All
Susan is wearing is a thin silk scarf, which falls down from her
shoulder over her right breast, goes down between her legs and
comes back up at her back. Her left doesn't even pretend
to be covered.
When Rachel tells Susan I'm new, she asks if I've seen a food
dance before. When I just look at her blankly, she claps her
hands and calls, "Food dance, everybody!"
She then walks to the tables covered with food and drinks, and
starts pushing everything back. The plates, bottles, glasses,
everything falls behind the table, breaking and shattering with a
loud noise. Anything goes, I remember. This certainly gets her
everyone's attention and when she climbs on the table, everybody
is watching.
"Bring in the cream," she shouts, and some of the catering people
bring in large bowls of whipped cream. Real cream, I notice when
I taste some. Then the music starts a soft tune and Susan slowly
starts dancing on the table. Everyone grabs globs of cream and
throws it at her. Most of them miss and stick to the wall behind
her, or drop on the floor, but some of the cream hits her and
with gracious movements of her fingers she wipes them off and
eats them.
More women, and a few men, join her dance on the table. Other
soft food than whipped cream is brought out and thrown at the
dancers. Large plates with Jell-O are brought in, and people just
grab globs of it to throw. When a new plate comes in, the rest of
the one is dropped on the floor, which becomes soggy with all
the food.
Some of the dancers lie down wallowing in the piles of food. They
start rubbing each other with ice-cream, and then licking it off.
Everyone is cheering them on. I feel myself getting more and more
excited.
Suddenly I look down in surprise. Rachel is kneeling in front of
me, which my cock in her mouth, it. I get hold of a bowl
of cream and let it drip down. She licks it off, never stopping
the sucking. Almost before I know it, I squirt in her mouth. She
swallows and smiles.
"I knew you would like that," she says.
Then, somebody yells "Shower time" and a big garden hose is
brought in. It starts spraying the dancers who stop and let
themselves be cleaned. The water keeps on coming, completely
soaking the carpet and I wonder how much of the water drips
down to the next floor. Oh well, not my problem.
I join Rachel and the others in clapping enthusiastically when
the dancers are hosed down. When Susan comes back to us, she has
dropped her scarf and now stands in front of us, dripping but
totally naked.
"Did you enjoy that?" she asks.
"I've never seen anything like it," I answer honestly.
"I just love it when people throw food at me," she says.
I smile and say, "you were just wonderful." I then give her a
strong kiss on the mouth.
"Thanks," she says, hugs me, and walks off.
* * *
There was more sex that evening, as much as I wanted to. But I
was learning that it is often just as much fun to enjoy bright
people with attractive bodies without the jumping up and down.
Knowing that sex is constantly available releases the pressure
that I never realized was there. I now know that there always is
this tension between a and a woman, where you know that all
the going out and talking is supposed to lead up to sex, and you
are anxious about that. With this pressure gone, I find I'm
talking with people just for the fun of talking. I find that I
can admire a woman's body, tell her how great she looks, knowing
that she understands it as exactly that: a compliment on her
physical appearance.
When I left, there was a closet full of long raincoats and
sandals in different sizes. In one of the pockets was money for a
taxi, of which there were a few waiting in front of the building.
In the other pocket was a note with a date and a password.
Now how about Maggie, you ask? She came in later, wearing the
outfit I had seen her buy, and I've spent a long time with her. I
don't quite remember if we had sex, but we sure had a good time
talking. I never did ask for her phone number, but you know what?
I don't need it anymore. I know I will see her again in a few
weeks when Susan is tired of her new decor, just as I will see
all those other wonderful people again.
You know what else? Last night I went out with this I met in
a bar. We went to the movies, and then to a couple of bars around
town. Only when we were on the way to her house I realized that I
hadn't thought about sex all evening. At her doorstep she told me
what a wonderful time she has had. Then she asked me why I hadn't
tried anything on her. I smiled and said I had enjoyed the
evening as well. Then I added that she was gorgeous and I would
be happy to spend the night with her, but would be just as happy
to see her next week. She shook her head in amazement, we kissed,
then I went home. But I'm sure I'll see her again next week, and
we will have a wonderful evening again.
T H E E N D
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If you enjoyed this story, please let me know. Constructive
criticism, serious comments etc. are also greatly appreciated. I
can be contacted by Email at altan1@bigfoot.com. Please use the
word "STORIES" in the subject line of your Email, since messages
not containing that word are automatically filtered as junk mail.
Please check out my Web site at:
http://www.asstr.org/~altan/
for more of my work.
Altan
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