As they arrived on Level 5 of the Game, the wife-initiates were handed tall Champagne glasses filled with an elixir of honey and Red Bull to wash it down, a powerful mixture to accelerate the release of Brandi and Joan's endorphins. In case their natural sensual reaction to all the foreplay had not produced enough sexual tension, the Cougar Game designers intended each new wife initiate to approach first couplings at the Retreat with a sexual hunger bordering on frenzy. The wives pussies ached, their nipples had reddened and elongated, and what had been erasure-head clits swelled to large marbled orbs hypersentive to the slightest touch. Brandi and Joan were prepared in mind and body for life-changing sex.
The Performance Chamber transformed quickly into a new erotic setting. Now at center stage were two black marble platforms each with a piece of black leather and chrome furniture bolted atop. The two altar-like structures were encircled by amphitheatres containing enough curving seat pads on three levels for perhaps thirty on-lookers each. The amphitheatres were steep, so events on the two initiation altars would take place close to the surrounding seats, less than fifteen feet from the on-lookers in the middle row, closer down below, and slightly farther away up top, but still very close to the action.
More importantly, each altar's 'fucking chair' lived up to its name. As designed by the Bauhaus followers of Le Corbusier in early twentieth century Berlin, the undulating black leather and chrome lounge chair's elegant simplicity had markedly improved on Cleopatra's chaise lounge chair on which the Queen of the Nile had seduced Mark Anthony. Rising from a stable dropped footrest to overlay a peaked ridge of chrome that naturally fit the contour of a bended knee, undulations of strong taut leather continued downward to a deep V where asses could nestle before the leather circled below a chrome bar and then rose asymmetrically to a long comfortable back and neck support. The whole structure was over-engineered to support two adults in passionate rough sex without the slightest give or creak. The genius of the design lay in the positions for intercourse accommodated so naturally by the shape of the leather planes in the undulating surfaces of the chair. Hence, this icon of modern design had been nickname "the fucking chair."
Tingling with a sexual fever they had never known before, Brandi and Joan were led to their respective initiation altars. The ceremonies would take place simultaneously but neither woman would see what was happening to the other. These were individual matters to be decided by each of the wives/initiates based on their own logic, instincts, and impulses. No one doubted the ultimate outcome would be an act of wild intercourse and mind-bending orgasm, a definitional act of infidelity the women knew their husbands would be watching. But such conflicting issues were the farthest thing from their sex-riveted minds. Brandi and Joan's only immediate questions were their choice of sexual partners, the pace at which their defilement would proceed, and the number of repetitions before the Cougar Game ended.
Perched on their chrome and leather fucking chairs, Joan and Brandi turned to look at the Dionysus Retreat members at their feet in the lowest circle of seats. None of them were men with whom they had experienced foreplay on Level 4. Similarly, at waist level in each amphitheatre, onlookers who were not their intended sex partners lounged about, many smiling encouragement in their direction. The top row was where their potential sex partners waited for selection. It was accessible back and forth between Brandi and Joan's amphitheatres so they could share studs if they wanted. Only when their eyes rose to the top row did each wife see the cocks they had played with downstairs.
And lots of cocks there were: long narrow cocks well over a foot in length hanging almost to the knee, thick cocks the size of a Coke can that perhaps could fit inside an experienced woman's cunt. One three-inch diameter phallus was short and insanely squat perhaps just two inches longer than their husband's penises. Joan looked up this stud's torso and recognized Doughboy, the stud she'd made a mental note about in the darkened hallway of louvered doors downstairs. Another three-inch-thick cock was almost twice their husband's length and looked like RamCola's. Maybe it really was? A fourth cock was curved with a distinct left veer about one third up from its root. Lefttwist on a doorplate echoed in their memories. Another had dozens of crimson veins throbbing and pulsating in a spider web across the length of the shaft like pencil-size ropes. Brandi recognized Rebel to whom she had given a blowjob on the floor below. Sonia had instructed him to move back and forth between the two amphitheatres enhancing his chance of being chosen first. WhiteZilla, with whom Sonia herself had engaged in oral sex behind one of the louvered doors, was on the top row. Another potential partner up there had a nice nine incher (50% longer than their husband's dicks). Intriguing to Joan, this 2 ½ -thick cock was topped by a wide-flanged mushroom-shaped head. Joan figured the extra wide 3 inch+ rim of this man's cockhead would rub continuously against her G-spot. Such a phallus would answer for sure her burgeoning curiosity about just how intense an orgasm induced by a big cock could feel. She wanted to experience that without forcing the entire length of her entire vagina to double its breadth from 1 ½ to 3 inches in the first moments of her extramarital fucking. Thereafter, she reasoned this staffer named Capstone would be able to use her released juices to open her up nine inches deep—half again deeper than Brock had ever gone.
But she was less intrigued by length than by thickness. An incredible feeling of being "filled up" by a man's thickness not his penetration depth was what made big cock sex the mind-blowing experience she had read it could be in Sonia's guidebook. Although she wasn't ready to stretch her cunt to accommodate a Coke can like Doughboy or RamCola, Joan liked the idea of Capstone's wide-flanged cockhead maintaining continuous contact with the inner walls of her still tight and relatively narrow vagina. In short, Joan wanted a mind-bending G-spot orgasm to start her evening's final adventure.
Stuart and Brock had always wondered what it would be like to peek in on intimate relations between Brandi or Joan and a new lover. Wife watching was why they had encouraged their wives to go ahead and make the call to respond to the invitation to the Dionysus Retreat. Neither had triggered the invitation in any way, but they were both intrigued by their foursome experience in St. Lucia. Stuart and Brock had mentally prepared for wife swapping that night in the Caribbean. Watching their best friend fuck his wife had turned them on to the idea of watching someone else fuck their own wives. After intense fucking with their husbands, Joan had entertained them all at the end of the evening with those two black and white dildos. Then everyone had gone to their own marital bed. The wife swapping just had not quite happened.
Stuart and Brock had talked that afternoon about the fact that Brandi and Joan might just go for wife swapping at a place like the Dionysus Retreat. What had already occurred tonight suggested they had been right, and each eagerly awaited their call to action. However, nothing had prepared them for the exhibition in an amphitheatre that now met their gaze behind Floor 5's illuminated panels. Though each couple had discussed threesomes and foursomes, no observers other than the wife-watching husband had been contemplated. Yet, here before their eyes, not only Stuart and Brock, but dozens of costumed and masked observers were going to witness Brandi and Joan's infidelities.
Just as neither woman could see the choices made by the other initiate, neither husband was able to view more than one initiation altar at a time. The illuminated panels were designed in such a way that Stuart had to watch Brandi and only Brandi while Brock had to watch Joan and only Joan. They could of course have swapped their illuminated panels and peered in on their neighbor's act of marital infidelity. But in Sonia's experience, this appealed to fewer than five percent of the husbands brought to experience cuckolding at the Retreat. If a man was to be cuckolded, he wanted to confirm it himself.
Before Brandi could invite a sex partner to descend to her chrome and leather altar chair, Sonia motioned two lesbians with a clear rigid strap-on to ascend to the altar and make one final demonstration before the initiation matings began. The two bi-sexual staffers pinched and mouthed each another, and then proceeded to a 69 that was achingly beautiful to watch. Both women caressed and tongued one another to a quiet moan-filled pair of orgasms. Jumping up, the one named Harriet (Harriet from the RSVP call, Brandi wondered) then entered her friend from behind and began fucking her with the clear artificial cock hard and fast. Julie, whose butt and penetrated pussy were raised high by the undulating folds of the fucking chair, yelled out,
"You go bitch! Oh gawd that's good. You do me so well Harriet. Don't stop! Yes, right there!"
Brandi's laced-around-the-crotch mini-pants were pinching her pussy lips. Wearing the garment the last two hours had made Brandi especially conscious of her pussy lips rather than the inner depths of her sex organs. This was just what Sonia had intended in suggesting to the costume staff that the less sexually experienced wife be steered toward a lace-up mini-pant costume.
"Oh yesssss. That's it! I'm coming," shouted out the woman being fucked doggy style. "Ah, iiieeeeeee! And again, Ah iiieeeeeeeeeee!"
