It had been a good evening I thought, the Summer Ball at the golf club, a good dinner, plentiful drinks and above all great company. You got out of these evenings what you put in, the more energetically you went for it, the more enjoyable it was.
There were ten of us on the table, eight other tables filling the room, I knew most of the people there, mostly members with a few guests, some well, some on a nodding basis, but the others on my table were really good friends. We'd known each other for the best part of fifteen years, or more in one case, mostly from the wives meeting at the school gates, those days now long gone, all our children now working or at university giving us the freedom to enjoy ourselves again. We socialised regularly, many events at the golf club or at each other's houses, the wives went shopping together, the men to the pub, and we were all very comfortable in each other's company.
And enjoying ourselves we were. We'd arranged two taxis to come and take us home, a six seater and a conventional saloon, the witching hour was nearly upon us, but there was time for a couple more dances. This was a slow one and I pulled my wife Deb into my arms, feeling her body mould to mine, pressing those delectable breasts into me. Perhaps tonight we'd have a really good sex session for a change, not that we didn't have sex fairly often, just not as much as we used to, and certainly not with quite the same vigour as when we were first married.
Now it was more a question of expressing our love for each other, not quite just a routine, but those adventurous days of sex anywhere in the house or garden, or even outdoors in public were almost gone. We'd had sex on the balcony of our holiday chalet the year before in Gran Canaria, instigated by Deb, but that was a rarity for her. She'd been drunk, not stupidly so, but the two-for-one drinks in happy hour had meant exactly that, not half price, but two drinks instead of one, and the brandy and champagne cocktails had set her off.
I often wondered what the others' sex lives were like, certainly the men never talked about it, I wondered if the women did, supposedly women were much more candid than men, but a couple of them could be a bit strait-laced and I smiled to himself when I thought about Pat, for example, discussing her orgasms or her sex toys with the others. She'd refused to join the panty chain letter the previous year. It was just like a standard chain letter, you passed it on to six friends, sending a pair of new panties to the person whose name and address appeared at the bottom of the letter, then adding your own name. It promised 36 pairs of new knickers, but Deb had only received about a dozen. Still we'd had quite a bit of fun modelling them, especially some of the racier pairs she'd received.
I tucked closer into Deb, pressing my body against hers, feeling my cock start to stiffen at the feel of her body and the thought of what we were hopefully going to be doing when we got home. "Now for the club dance to finish," announced the DJ, "New York, New York!" cheers and groans greeted the announcement, cheers for the song, groans because everyone was sad the evening was coming to an end. The Sinatra song was the traditional end to an evening, everyone grouped in big circles, arms round each other, legs kicking in the air, moving in and out. It was a fun way to end an evening, and in particular for the men, whose longer arms allowed them to reach further round the ladies' bodies to grope their breasts. Not that there was any serious groping going on, it was more a question of fingertips reaching side boob, but it was better than nothing and usually taken in general good spirit.
Deb and I had been split up by the movement of people and I found myself right next to Jessie, one of our group, married to Jeff. They lived just over the road, and he and I were golfing buddies, playing every weekend together. Jessie was tall and had a fabulous figure, her breasts weren't large by any means, but they sat high on her chest and I'd had a suspicion all evening that she wasn't wearing a bra. She had a dark red wraparound dress on, and from the way it billowed open occasionally I thought I'd glimpsed naked breast a few times. Now was my chance to explore further. She was a fun loving person and I decided to chance my luck a bit.
We pulled in close to each other and the dance began, well it wasn't a dance, more like a rugby maul, bodies heaving and moving in all directions. I stretched my hand around her and pressed in, feeling my fingers touch the side of her breast, it certainly felt all soft and I strained to reach further. She turned her head to me and gave me a strange look, and I thought I'd been caught and was going to get a right bollocking.
Instead she shook her head slightly and mouthed "Naughty boy," then to my amazement turned her body away from me, having the effect of landing her boob fully into my palm. I could tell she certainly wasn't wearing bra, I could feel the weight of her breast, surprisingly firm, and a hard nipple pressing into my palm. The circle buckled and my hand slipped away from her, then it moved again and once more I found myself holding her tit. My already semi-erect cock hardened further and I could feel it pressing against the front of my trousers.
The song finished and everyone was hugging and kissing, thinking the evening was over. Jessie pulled me in to a tight hug and I could feel her lower body pushing forward against me, she had to know what it was so hard against her, but instead of backing away she pushed in even harder.
"Is that what I think it is?" she asked, her mouth next to my ear.
"Probably, depends how dirty your mind is." I replied.
"It can be pretty dirty. Did I cause it?"
I nodded, only half lying and pressed myself harder against her. The DJ came on again, "At the special request of the Captain, one last song, Lady in Red by Chris de Burgh." The song came on the lights dimmed even further, as she draped her arms round my neck and I put my hands on her waist.
"Just for you," I whispered into her ear as she ground into me, I couldn't help it, my hands dropped lower and I ran them over her bum, not blatantly groping her, just caressing gently, or so I told myself. I could feel no panties and moved my mouth up against her ear. "Commando tonight?"
"Not quite, but very nearly." The thought made my cock twitch and I could tell she'd felt it as she nestled even closer into me, if that were possible, and began a slow grinding against my now very hard cock, which was starting to have an effect on me.
"What are you doing?" I whispered, my eyes glancing around looking to see who was watching, and especially if Deb was anywhere in the vicinity.
"Rubbing my wet cunt up against your hard cock," she whispered again.
"Well it's starting to do strange things to me," I replied, more than a little surprised.
"I bet that's nothing to what it's doing to me," she said, grinding even harder. Was it just my imagination or could I feel her pussy lips parting round me. It had to be imagination, didn't it?
