"Come on," she said, "you skipped your turn. You have to answer one too."
"Sure," Mitch agreed, "gimme the next question. Wait, don't I have to pick a color first? Blue." As he spoke, he guided Katey next to an end table, and turned her so that her upper thighs pressed into it.
"No. *She* has to pick the color. Goes by partners."
"Blue," Katey said obediently. Mitch pushed his hands down on her shoulders, as he pressed his crotch into her ass. She willingly ground against the table.
"Blue. Right. 'Name something that would embarrass you, if your boss found out?'"
He thought for a second. "I dunno." He moved his hands down to Katey's waist, and began rocking his hips into her, causing her to bump the table rhythmically just below her own crotch. "If I had a boss, then if he found out my new girlfriend likes to masturbate against the furniture."
"I do *not*!" Katey squealed indignantly, even as she allowed him to press her downward to cause full genital contact, albeit shielded by her skirt, with the table edge. He told her to spread her legs wider, which caused her pussy to be in even more firmly pressed to the corner of the table. "Not so much!" she protested, and he eased his pressure on her, just slightly.
"That's not what... the category... oh, Mitch, you are impossible." The woman, perhaps five years older than him and quite beautiful, was more amused than annoyed, but annoyance still was a factor.
"No more impossible than you," Mitch said, evidently referring to some inside joke or experience.
"And it will stay that way, honey," she replied with another laugh.
"You're making my cootchie all hot again, baby," Katey said. It was unclear whether she was embarrassed, was trying to sound embarrassed, or was trying to sound not-embarrassed at something most women would find terribly embarrassing to discuss in front of new acquaintances.
"He's a perv, is what he is," said Trevor's fiancée as she came over to guide him away from Mitch's orbit.
Mitch wasn't willing to let that comment go. "I'll show you perv," he said. Still pressing her to the furniture, he pulled down the spaghetti straps of Katey's low-cut blouse. Her prominent D-cup rack, cleavage already in view to some degree all evening and especially so after she had removed her bra a half hour earlier, was now in peril of spilling out completely if the unsupported fabric were to shift only just a little.
"That's nothing. She was giving him a blow job, five minutes ago," Trevor announced. "And none of you even noticed."
"You really don't know how to keep a secret, do you?" Mitch laughed, not bothering to point out that Trevor had been just as much in the dark as the others while it was happening. Mitch wasn't really concerned with his old classmate's lack of discretion, anyway, knowing from experience not to share with him any secrets of actual importance. "Anyone want to see her demonstrate?" He took one hand off her hips, as she continued to pleasure herself against the corner of the table. He placed a finger to her lips.
"Noooooo, just yoooou," she protested coquettishly, before he slipped the finger past her incisors. She didn't resist and allowed him to do what he wanted. She applied suction and made her little humming sound of contentment, barely discernible to anyone but him, as he finger-fucked her mouth.
"She gets horny when she's high," he said, merely stating the obvious.
"We really should get going," the woman nearest the fireplace said to her husband, a skiing friend of Mitch, who protested, but she reminded him, "we have to be at your mom's by noon, remember?" They bickered about the threat of additional snow and her food preparations in the morning and their promise to get the babysitter home by 1:30 anyway, as he grudgingly began moving along with her toward the front entryway near the stairwell.
"Aw, don't go, Pascal," Mitch said, "everybody else I invited turned out to be lame and were just party hopping and left before 11. It's officially the New Year now. Come on."
"Nope, gotta," the man replied.
"What if I make it worthwhile? Don't you wanna see?" He used his other hand to reach in front of Katey and gave a little tug between her cleavage to the fabric futilely trying to cover it. The blouse gave way, and her five-centimeter diameter areolas suddenly were on full display.
One could pick apart various aspects of Katey's appearance. In the first place, at five feet even, she was shorter than to the taste of some. Also, her teeth were not entirely straight. Her nostrils were imperfectly matched. Her fingers and toes were all a bit short, and their nails were irregular in shape. Her eyes were big, so dark as to be almost black, and her lower jaw was small, leading unkind acquaintances to call her ET or similar alien references. At 135 pounds she carried perhaps 20 pounds of unwanted weight, mostly concentrated in her butt and thighs, which were accentuated by the overly short skirt she had chosen for this party. But the one area of her body that was beyond reproach by any reasonable critic was her chest. Those titties were large for a woman her height, D-cup as previously mentioned, and at age 22 she had remarkably firm ones. There was of course a certain reasonable amount of sag simply due to their weight, but the contour was graceful, and they rode high on her rib cage, not low. There was not a trace of pendulousness, so the erect nipples stared insolently straight toward an onlooker, while the areolas were just enough oversized to be memorable without being grotesque and their hue was just dark enough in contrast with her otherwise pale skin to be exotic as well as erotic. She had, to be concise, a magnificent rack.
"Don't show everybody my boobies!" she squealed in her trademark way, pulling the fabric back up to shield them from view.
"That's enough," Trevor's fiancée declared and took his hand to try to lead him toward the front hallway, behind Pascal and his wife.
"Trev. Not you too? Stay for the show. Might be something in it for everyone after the show too. You never know."
"Not a show. Just you," Katey reiterated, clearly understanding his meaning. "Just you."
"Come on," said Trevor to his intended, "just a few more minutes?
"I told you my Katey was fun, didn't I?" Mitch chortled.
"No, it's time we head on out, too," the medium-sized blonde woman spelled out to Trevor, a college classmate of Mitch who had recently moved to the area. She didn't seem as overtly outraged as the other two female guests, but neither did she seem to wish to be seen as lingering. "Long drive back down the hill. Storm's almost here. And we should let the two love birds have some, ahem, privacy, from how it looks."
The third male guest, tall and lanky, looked at his redheaded live-in girlfriend. Well, actually, he had moved in with her, not the other way around, but the result was the same. "I suppose you want to leave too."
She smiled and shrugged. "We'd better," she said a little evasively.
"C'mon, Z-man," Mitch cajoled. "We didn't even play Guess What Color Panties Midget Is Wearing, yet." He backed Katey away from the table and turned her toward the guests who were all heading toward the front door.
The man called Zander smirked and shook his head. "Trick question, right? She's not wearing any. I'd bet anything."
"How'd you know?"
"Based just on your even asking."
Mitch, wasting no time, lifted the hem of Katey's skirt to navel level. "Well, yeah."
"My cootchie!" Katey squealed. Her diminutive black triangle was on display to all, just for an instant, before she batted his hand away.
"You're drunk," Trevor's fiancée said dismissively, as she put on her coat. "Don't be an ass."
"Nah, she loves it. Dontcha, Shrimp?" Mitch said of and to his girl.
"Sto-o-o-op it," Katey giggled. "You got my cootchie all hot. It's just for yoooou."
"I said, let's go," Trevor's fiancée repeated to him, who was dawdling about getting his coat on.
Mitch tried to lift Katey's skirt again, but she flipped his hand away. "Go on, give him a show, Shrimp," he urged.
"No," she giggled. "They'll get ideas. You don't reeeeally want to share me with anyone else, do you, baby? I'm all yours."
"Getting bashful all of a sudden? Sounds like someone needs another tootski," Mitch joked.
"Ooooh, baby?" she said, reversing herself a little too obviously. "You got some more?"
"I don't ever keep much on hand. But, show Trevor your cute little bush, and I'll go upstairs and see what I can find."
"Let's you and me *both* go upstairs," she countered. "Just us."
"Nah, nah, you stay here and entertain the guys. Well, the two who're still here." Pascal and his wife were already making their way, carefully, up the driveway to the parking pad, not having lingered for a better goodbye than they had already given.
Trevor didn't bother to disguise his interest. "Sounds like the show must go on," he told Katey hopefully.
"We're leaving *now*," his fiancée insisted. "Or, anyway *I* am. You can try and find your own way home. But I'm taking the...."
"I can call *you* an Uber, if you want," Trevor suggested sweetly.
"You're too drunk to drive, *apparently*," she replied, ignoring his failed attempt at even mild humor. "I'm driving. With or without you."
