Good Lord. This is actually episode eight in the continuing and increasingly improbable sexual adventures of a (fairly) ordinary English couple. Personally, I'd recommend you start with my first effort, disturbingly titled "My Daughter's Panties". If, however, you're a bit of a free spirit then by all means start here and work backwards. Either way works for me, you just be yourself.
By the way, all the sexual activity in this story involves adults over the age of eighteen; as in way, way, over the age of eighteen
In addition, all places, persons and situations are fictitious and any similarities to real life counterparts are unintended, even Geoffrey.
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We'd been dancing one Friday evening and met two lovely ladies who had asked if they could join us at our table. In this case 'us' consisted of me, Geoff a retired materials scientist, my wife Marie a retired modern languages lecturer and Angie, our shared lover and my wife's best friend.
Sue and Margie, the other ladies I mentioned, had been frustrated at the apparent unwillingness of the men there present that evening to ask them to dance. They had noticed that both of 'my' women seemed happy to share, hence them asking to sit with us.
After a couple of dances and a rather enlightening conversation, both Sue and Margie agreed to come home with us that evening for an intimate little orgy. You see, the thing is, my wife and I recently reignited our sex life and Marie, being the big hearted woman she is, had begged me to accept her six closest friends as lovers, Angie amongst them. Her reasoning was that all six were either single or in sexless relationships and it wasn't fair that outdated cultural values should deny these lovely women, well to put not too fine a point on it, cock; specifically in this instance, my cock.
Eventually, I caved and have now had actual sex with three of 'the girls' and masturbated a fourth on my lap in the pub. In the interests of full disclosure it was in a private room, though my wife and her friends were there too. In my defence, the woman in question, Lucy, had been in tears because her husband apparently avoided sex with her because he claimed that she had a 'wrinkly old snatch'. I was just manually evaluating the validity of his observation. Turns out her 'snatch' was warm, inviting and in every way delightful, thus confirming that her husband was indeed the pointless twat that Marie and Angie claimed, and I withdrew my refusal to have sex with a married woman in Lucy's case.
Anyway, here we were with divorced Sue and widowed Margie, both teachers in their mid fifties, having had a similar conversation at our table at the Friday night dinner dance. Marie and Angie had found two more attractive women, starved of affection through no fault of their own, and felt compelled to offer my services. "The full Geoffrey experience", as I think my wife described it. This time round I capitulated with barely a murmur. They were pleasant, intelligent women, capable of making their own decisions and Marie had already watched me fuck three of her friends without any obvious signs of jealousy. She'd played with them too, having a bi-side that she'd suppressed since we'd married. Her logic was that it wasn't cheating if we both only had sex with the same people.
I had just got back to our table after a final dance with my wife prior to heading home for an evening of sex with four mature but attractive ladies, when I heard a someone mutter, "Whores!"
I looked up to see a pompous little tit of a man passing our table on his way back from the bar accompanied by a mousey woman I assumed to be his wife. I think that the sudden lull in the music took him by surprise and his comment reached a wider audience than he perhaps intended.
"Whores, where?" Piped up Angie, very loudly. "I've always wanted to see one." She looked at the embarrassed looking man. "You seem to be particularly familiar with them. What do they look like? How much do they charge?" She kept the volume at a level calculated to carry, and the occupants of several tables turned to watch with interest.
The man, probably unwisely, chose to engage in a battle of wits with Angie, a mistake for two reasons; she's the cleverest person I know and she has an almost pathological inability to self-censor.
"We've all noticed," he sneered. "You two trollops arrived with him." A nod in my direction. I smiled and gave a little wave for the benefit of the ever increasing audience. "And then," he continued, blithely unaware of the possible consequences. "these two whores join your little clique of debauchery."
"Oooh!" Said Angie. "Could you just clarify though? Are you jealous of Geoff having all these MILFs gathered round him?" This time it was Angie pointing to me. I waggled my fingers at him again, just to piss him off some more.
"Or," she continued, remorselessly, "Are you just pathetically insecure about your wife's fascination over what he's got that enables him to take the four of us home with him, while she's stuck with just you?"
He started to bluster, then stopped, suddenly, as Angie stood and loomed over him. All of a sudden her slender, feminine arms exposed by her dress, now seemed toned, muscular, even dangerous. Almost as if she worked out, regularly, with unarmed combat instructors. "You called me and my bestie 'trollops' and our new friends 'whores'." The teasing tone was gone from her voice by now. "Geoff is too much of a gentleman to offer to take you outside and give you the beating you deserve." She gave him a smile that could scare a paratrooper. "I'm not a gentleman though. I'm not even a lady. So, apologise to me and my friends or..." she thought for a moment. "I'll put you on your arse in front of everyone here."
She was fucking ruthless. She'd given him no way out. He looked around for some sign of support. Nothing, even his wife seemed unimpressed.
"I won't hit a woman,' he smirked, thinking he had a get out of jail free card.
"It's amusing that you think you'd even have a hope of doing so," Angie countered. "So if you're not man enough to apologise and you're afraid to face a defenceless little woman what fucking use are you? Why don't you do everyone a favour and take your poor unfortunate wife and your petty little bigotry and just fuck off and mind your own business?"
Angie turned round and sat down, ignoring him, leaving him standing alone looking exposed and ridiculous. I was proud of her; I actually worried at one point that she might really deck the little prick. I noticed he was still there, processing his dismissal so I did that thing with my hand: you know, palm down and then flicking your fingers as though telling a naughty child to go away and play. He huffed but thought better of poking that particular bear any further and strutted off. I caught his wife's eye and she mouthed, "Sorry!" and stormed after him.
I saw Margie staring at Angie as she and Marie spoke quietly together, then Margie looked at me. "I've held you when we danced," she mused. "I can tell you're very fit by any standards, yet you showed no interest in standing up to that buffoon. But..." She looked thoughtful. "But you didn't seem frightened, or even embarrassed at the thought of facing him down. You just didn't seem to care. Why? What am I missing?"
She looked at Sue, who nodded in agreement.
I sighed. "Look Marie is an ardent feminist," I explained. "So is Angie. If they had been physically threatened, then I would have intervened because I'm bigger, stronger and can handle myself in a fight."
They both looked rather shocked. "You're a brawler?" Margie challenged me.
"No, of course not!" I felt a little insulted. "But I played amateur rugby for nearly forty years. You can't do that if you fall apart if someone gets in your face. But, you have to be able to meet aggression with calm when it's needed; otherwise you get sent off. So tonight, when it came to verbal sparring with some dick who's insulted them, any intervention from me would have been seen as chauvinistic and patronising and would have just got them mad at me and not that idiot. So I just follow their lead and he looks like the pathetic tit he is and we don't get thrown out."
"Anyway," I continued, grinning at them. "Angie could have taken him easily on her own."
I looked at my watch. Ken, the girls' favourite taxi driver, would probably be waiting outside by now. It's odd really, he's only driven us three times but I already feel a connection with him, partly because my two girls tease him mercilessly just like they do me, and partly because he seems like a genuinely nice gent. God only knows what the scamps will get up to when they introduce him to Margie and Sue.
There was sniggering and whispers as we made our preparations to leave. I stood and went round the table, assisting my companions from their seats, as a gentleman should. Marie was first. "Thank you Geoff," she said, and kissed me on the lips.
Angie was next. "Thanks stud," was her contribution as she kissed me, slipping a bit of tongue as she did so. She stepped away from the table. "By the way," she continued, at an 'outdoor' volume that most of the other patrons could hear clearly. "Good call on not getting involved in dealing with Mr Stick-up-his-arse. We don't want our Geoffrey wearing himself out prematurely, do we?" She winked and went to join Marie at the door.
Sue was next. "Thank you Geoff," she said softly, putting her hands to my cheeks to guide me into a lingering kiss on the lips. It should have failed the 'wife test', but from Marie's smile as she watched, it was an easy pass.
Margie smiled at me. "Such a gent." She surprised me by putting one hand behind my head to be sure she achieved maximum effect when she kissed me. Well, Ken was going to be in for an interesting ten minutes when we got outside, that was for sure.
As we left, they all paused to blow a kiss to our new nemesis, still quivering with self righteous indignation at the idea of someone having more fun than him. It cheered me to see that more people seemed to find his attitude ridiculous than those that appeared scandalised that I might actually be talking all four women to my bed. I mean, I was going to, but that's not the point. Or maybe it is; I didn't care, I was definitely getting laid, that's all that mattered.
We got to the car park to find Ken waiting by his vehicle. Now, he could have stayed behind the wheel, so I choose to believe that he took a guilty delight in the girls' teasing, and so made himself more accessible. Marie got to him first and I heard her apologise for having to change her plans and travel with Sue on the way home. But she gave him a kiss by way of compensation. Apparently she was very, very sorry, again. I watched the kiss with mixed feelings. I wasn't jealous, I mean three women who weren't my wife had done just the same to me only minutes ago and I try not to be a hypocrite. I'd recently accused my wife of grooming me to accept her kissing other men. Her response was that I should concern myself more with how I felt and less with how I thought others might think that I ought to feel. Was that zen, or what?
