Dinner For Eight Fourth Course

Previously -

Rob and Ann have invited three couples to their home for A Scripted Dinner. After the first course, a delicious assortment of appetizers, Rob gave his first script direction.

"Ladies, please remove your blouses."

A creamy soup was served, and even eaten, amidst other activities. Then Rob gave his second direction.

"Ladies, please remove your skirts."

The wide array of lettuces in the salad drew only moderate consideration from the assembled couples, as temptations to use hands elsewhere overcame etiquette boundaries.

When the salads were cleared away, Rob delivered his third directive.

"Gentlemen, unhook their bras."

A chorus of squeals and short gasps ricocheted through the room as each man enthusiastically reached for his spouse. Traci's husband, Mark, deftly snapped open the front hook of her lacy white bra, and Traci deduced Rob's cleverness. He had observed that each woman wore a bra that hooked in the front - so all eight breasts would be instantly revealed by a single set of snaps.

"Ah, ah, ah, now, gentlemen," the white-haired Rob remonstrated, "patience is a virtue, you know." His blue eyes twinkled. "Let us appreciate what is now revealed, but wait for complete removal instructions."

Rob's own hands surrounded Ann's creamy breasts. Lowering his head, he enveloped one silver dollar sized nipple with his mouth. Ann moaned.

Not that the strawberry blond Traci could keep track of the others much longer. Her small, perky breasts held up well on their own, and Mark needed no other encouragement to take advantage of them. His nimble tongue toyed with one pink-tinged nipple, while his fingers flickered on the other. Traci was swept onto waves of pleasure.

She did spare one glance towards the foot of the table. Jim, who had nearly eaten his way into his wife's bra during the salad course, had been granted his wish. Ruth's melon-round breasts hung free of the restraining, red cups. Now, all Traci could see of the man was the back of his head. He was thoroughly buried in his treasures.

Traci grinned momentarily. Then Mark's ministrations on her breasts consumed her.

"Oh, get these things off!" Rob exclaimed, busily pushing straps off Ann's shoulders.

"Excellent instruction, Rob," agreed Floyd, the senior male in attendance. His fingers lovingly caressed their way down his wife Barbara's shoulders, around the sensuous swells of her breasts, and onto the stiffened tips. Barbara's breath came in shortened gasps as his palms teased the very ends of those tips.

The soft sounds of arousal permeated the room, as did a growing aroma of musk and desire. Suddenly, a shriek pierced the stillness.

"What!" Ann yelped.

Despite their involvement, everyone turned to look at the head of the table. Unnoticed by the diners, Juan had placed small bowls of palate cleansing sherbet at each setting. Rob held his chilled bowl of lemon sherbet in his hand, his spoon at the ready. Ready to scoop it onto Ann's breast, to be specific.

Watching with wide eyes, the guests saw Ann slide away from Rob's dripping spoon, only to end up with her back against the table. She squealed as the chilled silver of her own sherbet bowl grazed her arm, and then again as Rob plopped his sherbet onto her stomach.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaack!" she yelled.

Traci suddenly noticed Mark holding her breast very tightly. Whispering to her, he said, "Now you won't make me work so hard at it, will you?" Traci's eyes popped open as she watched Mark raise his bowl of sherbet. She, too, squealed as the cold confection landed on her breast.

With Mark holding her breast so tightly, and the sherbet balanced on top of it, Traci couldn't turn to see the head of the table. But she heard Rob commenting on the superb quality of the sherbet. "Especially from this particular serving dish," he added.

Shivering as Mark licked the drips of sherbet off her nipple, Traci saw Jim lovingly spooning lemony bites into Ruth's mouth. Then Ruth reciprocated. Traci had to smile at such a touching demonstration of their love. She also noticed how Jim always had a handful of at least one of Ruth's golden globes.

If she twisted her head just far enough, Traci could catch a glimpse of Floyd and Barbara. Though with one hand they each seemed sedate enough in their consumption of their icy delights, Traci followed their other arms to where they disappeared under the table. She smiled again at the stroking motions she detected there.

Mark's journey down her body passed the valley between her breasts, and Traci gasped when his tongue ran circles around her navel. Her hands reached for his shirt and fairly tore at the buttons keeping her from his flesh.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Rob's shout interrupted the party.

Mark moved with Traci so they could both turn to look at their host. Ann leaned from her seat on the table, holding her bowl of sherbet over her husband's head.

"Well, at least I'm giving you a choice," Ann declared. "Just which head do you want yours on?" The other women laughed heartily at the sight of Ann's sinister grin.

Rob grabbed Ann's arm just above the wrist, and their guests watched in fascination at the arm wrestling that followed. Rob succeeded in forcing Ann's sherbet away from his hair, but Traci wasn't sure that this wasn't playing right into Ann's scheme. As the small bowl began a descent towards Rob's lap, Ann slid off the table. She bent slightly and reached for Rob's belt buckle.

Sensing her goal, Rob grabbed her belt busy hand. The bowl of sherbet swayed precariously as the two struggled to gain control of the buckle.

Mark turned Traci so her back was to him. She leaned against her lover, so they both could watch the contest, and he took one breast in each of his hands. Traci writhed under his kneading, her concentration split between the show and the sensations.

Giving up on defeating the belt buckle, Ann switched to pulling on her husband's shirt tails. The sherbet zeroed in on the soft skin of Rob's belly. Rob tried pulling Ann's hands farther apart, but she kept the sherbet, wobbling in its bowl, on its course.

Traci heard a deep groan from across the table and looked at Floyd. Judging from the speed of Barbara's strokes beneath the table, the man was not long for this world. Though to look at the glaze over Barbara's eyes, her husband's caresses had already removed her far from any mundane plane of existence.

"Aauuuuuuuuuugh!" Rob bellowed. Traci glanced back at the head of the table in time to see the sherbet slide off his stomach and onto the floor. Ann smiled ever so sweetly and commenced licking up the drips. This time Rob didn't stop her as she undressed him. She unbuttoned one button after each swoop of her tongue.

When Traci looked the other direction, she found Ruth and Jim swallowed up in each others arms. Jim's fingers ran first through Ruth's golden curls, then down her back, and finally across the mounds of her hips. Ruth's hands undid clothing fasteners as they explored both the front and back of her man.

The ping of a knife striking a crystal glass rang through the room. Traci looked back at Rob again. He was leaning over his wife's head, while her tongue still licked at supposed drips of sherbet. He strove to get everyone's attention. As Ann's hands ran up his body and circled his nipples, she made it anything but easy on him.

"Obviously, THIS course is finished," their host managed to say. He attempted to catch Ann's hands as they wandered his torso. "It's your turn again, ladies."

Finally capturing Ann's roaming hands, Rob concluded his directions. "Get those panties off!"