Donald Dentley © 2017
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When we lived in Canada, my wife was at art school. She was very busy because she took her courses seriously. I thought this was great but my big problem was that I could not relate to her art school friends. In general I found them shallow and egotistical. They were also younger than us by half a decade or more. That's a lot in your mid-twenties! But she loved the gossip, about the teachers, about who was bedding whom and who was brilliant, who was making crappy work, and so on. A lot of back biting and, I think, wild suppositions. It bored me!
So when the party to celebrate the end of the second year came along and she wanted me to go with her I was not too keen. I did go, despite my misgivings, and I've certainly never regretted it. It wasn't long before I'd lost her to her buddies, but there was plenty of booze and some really top class snacks so I couldn't complain too much. The disco was already going and a few couples were dancing. My wife doesn't like dancing. Also I can't really dance. I just move to the music. As was common in those days there were also a few girls dancing with each other. So I moved towards them. I was more or less ignored and I guess that happens to most of us blokes most of the time.
I know that it's sometimes just a front to make you try a bit harder, so I'm never easily put off. Despite the apparent indifference of the girls, I'm quite good a picking out when there's a possible interest. I doubt the odds are much better than 50/50 but hey! That's not so bad! There was a possible and I thought I recognised her. That can make things difficult 'cos you're meant to remember the name. Still I thought I'd play it by ear. If you're prancing around to loud pop music you can pretend (though sometimes it's not pretend) that you're not hearing too well. After doing some pretty stupid moves around her
I thought she said: "Hi Marc!"
That made me concentrate and something came back. She lived some houses down from us but more details, and certainly not a name, popped up.
I said: "Hi lovely lady."
She replied: "The name's June."
Then stuff started to come back. She was married but had no kids. Her husband was a businessman who was often travelling.
I said: "Sorry. You're right that I couldn't remember your name. I'm much better with faces. How's life treating you? Is your husband here? I don't remember his name either."
She said: "Barry. But that's not so important. Where's your ladylove?"
The expression made me smile. I replied: "She's with her art school chums. She won't mind me dancing with you. In fact she probably won't even notice."
It was only then that I really took her appearance in. June was about my height. She had a close-cropped, natural, mousey coloured hair. She had very blue eyes and a small, slightly upturned nose. BUT she was dressed to kill! It was summer. It was, even in the evening, warm. She wore a summery dress that dropped to halfway between her knees and waist. It flowed as she danced. It invited you to speculate what might be hidden underneath. I was pretty sure she wasn't wearing a bra because I could she the outline of her nipples under the dress. I got interested.
So we danced a bit more together. The missus was nowhere in sight and so I felt uninhibited in my dance moves which I started to make more sexual. Bumping and grinding! If you know what I mean! She responded in kind and I began to think I was on to a good thing. I had had a few drinks though and the bladder was beginning to demand some relief.
I hated having to do this but I had to whisper in her ear: "I need to have a pee. Really. But I'll be back!"
She just winked. I didn't know the Art School, but apparently it had been set up in an old boys grammar school. It took me a while to find the toilets at least in part because they were unisex. I felt a little uncomfortable using the urinal while girls were using the stalls behind me. I shouldn't have bothered!
As soon as I had my prick out and was enjoying the first moments of release I nearly hit the roof when a hand from behind me grabbed my penis and June's voice said: "Go ahead. I like feeling the cock of a man who is pissing."
I'm surprised I didn't get an immediate erection but one thing I do know about myself is that I can't piss when I have a stiffy. Once, long ago, a girlfriend asked me to piss in her when we were fucking. I couldn't! I don't know if that's normal but I think it would be very messy if I put the contents of my bladder into some girl's vagina.
I was a bit speechless but June just said: "When you're finished get back to the dance floor!"
I replied: "Yes Ma'am."
When I got back to the main party venue the disco had changed from pop to smooch. I didn't see the wife but I couldn't miss June. She headed straight over to me and before long we were dancing very closely. I could feel almost all of her body and I'm sure she could feel my increasingly big erection. She started grinding her crutch against my legs and I could feel the cotton of her panties. I could also feel that they were damp. Perhaps I forgot to add that I was wearing shorts because if I'd been wearing slacks I'm sure they would have been visibly wet. I don't know how long we ground against each other. I do know that we got a few winks. The wife was nowhere in sight.
So when June whispered in my ear: "Shall we go find somewhere more private?"
I could only agree. So we started trying to find another open room in the former school. We had tried five and were about to give up.
Not quite because June whispered in my ear: "There's always outside."
But number six opened and I think we were both completely gobsmaked. It was probably a former classroom but my eyes couldn't register anything except a naked guy arse up on a sort of table. My second take was a naked girl, legs spread at just the right height that the guy could and was stimulating her clit with his mouth and tongue. Then I noticed another girl under the table- apparently busy with something.
The girl that was being tonged said: "Hi Jon. You're a bit early."
I tried to explain that I wasn't Jon and that my name was Marc but she said that it was OK because they could always fit someone else in. I was lost but June was a bit more with it.
She asked if they were plaster casting and the girl under the table said: "Sure. We're doing a collection of penises for our finals project."
She added with a smile: "Only one of the blokes turned down the proposal. I'm Anne by the way and that's Jilly under there."
Long ago I'd read in a book by Richard Neville about the Chicago Plaster Casters but the idea had long since disappeared from my consciousness.
Jilly said: "We're all set Anne."
Anne nodded acknowledgement and got up from the reclining stool she'd been lying on. At more or less the same time the guy on the table let out a yelp of surprise and pain.
From under the table Jilly said: "Sorry Ben but I needed you to shrink in order to get you out of the mold."
Ben just muttered: "You might have warned me!"
Wearing only an apron, Jilly emerged from under the table with what looked like a lump of plastic in a jar. She took off the apron and gave it to Anne who put it on.
She gave the jar to Anne as well and said: "Now it's reward time Ben."
Then she knelt in front of him and started to lick and kiss his cock, which not surprisingly became hard almost immediately. Whilst Jilly was giving Ben what looked like a real good blowjob, Anne was preparing the Plaster of Paris and pouring it into the mold. When she'd done that and it was put aside in order for it to set, she took off the apron and turned to Ben and started caressing his chest from behind whilst Jilly continued working on his rod. Now both Anne and Jilly were beautiful girls, if in slightly different ways. Anne was quite tall, perhaps, 1.75, with dark hair shortly cropped and big brown eyes. She had a bit of a whip nose, which gave her an impish look. Her breasts were perky and very firm. She had a Brazilian so when standing with her legs slightly apart her pussy lips were clearly visible.