The Joy of Candi

(My thanks to everyone who responded to my earlier writings. I know it has been awhile since I posted but that is part of the tale. When I showed Michelle the "Joy of Candi series" memoir, she was very uncomfortable with the idea of going pseudo-public. Per her wishes, I agreed to cease. However, events have recently changed her mind and it is with her blessing that I continue the tell the story of our lives and our loves. A lot has happened since then, so there are many chapters ahead -- if I feel that people are reading them and enjoying them. Let me know)

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From the moment the idea first crossed my mind, I became obsessed with the idea of providing my friend Tanya a truly outrageous bukkake party for her birthday. Her real name is Michelle but since my husband Jim and I began swinging with Michelle and her husband Peter, the boys had used the name Tanya for Michelle when we were having one of our special nights. My name is Candi, or Joy, as my wilder alter ego has been similarly dubbed by the boys.

The idea had come to me at an earlier swap session when I had masturbated for the three of them before Tanya received a hearty helping of sperm on her smiling face. Now I appreciate the feeling of warm, sticky juice running down my chin and I know the visual thrill it gives a guy to see me in that position -- conditioned as you all are from watching too many sex tapes where you imagine you as the stud with the 10 inch penis and the insatiable appetite. But Michelle/Tanya simple LOVES to be the recipient of such a treatment, as she had exhibited ever more clearly as our foursomes developed and evolved over the months of our relationship. So it only figured that if one load was nice, and two loads was even nicer, then three or seven or thirteen loads would be that much finer. And so the planning for Michelle's perfect birthday party began, although I had already formulated an idea in my head. The secret was to keep it a secret, while protecting the anonymity of the four of us in the process.

Things began to crystallize when Jim had to go to Philadelphia on business one week. I knew that I needed his help to make the plans and I also knew that he would be within driving distance of a great place to hold Michelle's special party -- Atlantic City. I know that you are thinking that AC is the lowly cousin to other gambling meccas but Foxwoods in Connecticut was too close to home with too many chances of being discovered or uncovered by friends. Las Vegas was too far away and the attraction there would have been the city itself. Atlantic City was the perfect alternative in my eyes with its gambling induced wildness and yet its comparatively demure persona that would allow us to solely focus on setting the table for Michelle.

I began to detail my plan to Jim the Sunday before he left -- and while he at first balked about making the hour long drive to the ocean to lay the groundwork -- he began to soften as he heard my thoughts. The next morning as he left to catch his plan, I handed him an envelope with a few keepsakes that he might need to assist him.

When he returned on Thursday night, I was ready to greet him in every way possible and he wasted no time in getting me upstairs and naked. He laid me out on the bed and began to lick my pussy which sent spasms coursing through my backbone. After five minutes or so, I reciprocated as we switched positions and I slowly licked his cock and caressed his balls with my left hand. I could taste the precum on his dick and I could tell by the size that he had not taken things into his own hand while away for the week. I knew that we were in for a long evening. When he could take no more of my oral ministrations, he lifted my head to his and let me sink back onto his dick while I maintained the command of being on top. I loved to watch his face as I rode him and before long I was rocking back and forth as well as moving up and down. A thousand sensations were rippling through the walls of my vagina but the sensation of orgasm was too good to pass up. I knew he would come when I did and I did it with great passion (and volume) before settling back down into his arms. We nestled for a long time before either of us spoke. And then we spoke of my plan.

"So did you get to Atlantic City?" I asked, knowing full well that he would have called and told me if he was unable to carry out my assignation.

"Yes, I did, young lady, and it was a most amusing experience. In fact, if I didn't know better, I would have said that you had preplanned the whole encounter since it worked out exactly as you thought it might."

I bounced up from his arms and sat beside him as he continued to speak.

"The hardest part was making the initial contact with the bellhop, since I wasn't checking in and I wasn't officially a guest at the hotel. But I took the elevator up to a random floor and rode it up and down until I got my chance to make contact. On the second trip down, a young teenage bellhop got on near the top and as we descended I did as you asked. He was leery at first, thinking that I might be some kind of crazy gay guy or something but when I clarified that he was in fact in high school AND on the football team, I did just as you asked and offered him $25 for a five minute conversation. He agreed to meet me in the bar in a few minutes."

It was exactly as I had imagined it and I knew that the execution of my plan had passed a major hurtle because if there was one thing I could count on it was the rampant communal hormones of a bunch of high school football players. I sat excitedly next to Jim and awaited the rest of the tale.

"Clint (which I later found out was his name) came into the bar about 10 minutes later and came over to my table with a renewed sense of wariness. I quickly paid him his money and assured him that he could leave at any time if he wanted to but that I had a proposition for him that he (and his friends) might find interesting and memorable. As I began to unravel the story, his apprehension was slowly replaced by intrigue and halting consideration. The main thing was to make sure that he had the final say in all of this and that we wanted mutual protection for both sides of the encounter.

"I explained to Clint about our open relationship and about the unique friendship we had developed with Peter and Michelle. I told him a little about some of the things we had done and teased him with the idea of seeing pictures of the two of you if the conversation continued satisfactorily. I also began to outline Michelle's love of sperm and your idea of giving her the ultimate bukkake party as a very special birthday present.

"My final proposal was simple -- Clint would get paid $50 up front for organizing his end of the party and $10 for every one of his football buddies that he could convince to come to our suite on the night of the party. Their enticement was simple: unlimited free beer and the chance to participate in a major bukkake party where they would get to cum all over a beautiful woman and have a hell of a locker room story to throw around for years to cum. Our concerns about protecting the anonymity of the four of us and the control of the party were detailed to him in the abstract and he seemed to understand our issues and trust that we could control the situation. I told him the approximate time table, reassured him that it would be at a location different from the hotel where he worked, and got his cell phone number so that we could continue the arrangements over the next few weeks. But that wasn't the best part."

I was visibly excited as my plans began to reach fruition and Jim was visually excited as I played with his cock while he was telling me his story. He paused, sighed, and continued. "I knew that I had told him that you and Michelle were beautiful women but I wasn't sure that he believed me until I took out the pictures that you gave me to take as evidence. I showed him a lot of the more risqué ones so that he knew we were serious about our behavior and then left him with a few more subtle ones of the two of you. If that doesn't help him in his recruiting, then nothing will."

"So what's the next step -- when will we know for sure?"

"I told him that I will call him on his cell a week from Friday. That will give him plenty of time to line things up. If he fails, just realize that there are a lot of high school football teams in New Jersey."

Jim had handled it beautifully and I continued to show my appreciation throughout the early evening, but part of my thoughts were with Michelle/Tanya and the special day we were planning on her behalf. Peter and Michelle slept peacefully elsewhere, oblivious to the thoughts spinning round my head.

When Jim called Clint the following Friday it was clear that the football team had taken us on as a special cause. Clint said that at least eight and perhaps as many as fifteen of his friends were up for making the party and so we set a tentative date for two weekends away (when the team had a Saturday afternoon game) and went over the rules for contact and propriety with Clint. He was going to be the first person in the suite with us that night so we could control the arrivals accordingly. No one, including him, knew the name of the hotel and we had called from a special cell phone that Jim had bought for this sole purpose. Now it was just a matter of making the final arrangements.

I called Michelle early the next morning and when I told her that "Tanya and Joy" had to go shopping for some special clothes for her birthday party she immediately knew that I was not talking about pants suits at Saks Fifth Avenue. Our husbands were completely in favor of our going out for a day of sexy shopping and the only problem was making it clear to them that they would not be seeing any of our purchases until the big night in a couple of weeks.

Michelle and Peter were only told that we were going away for the weekend and that it was our treat. They cleared their schedules but knew nothing about the what, where or why -- and frankly they didn't know much about the who either. It was the ultimate non-surprise surprise party and I was reveling in the preparations. Due to family commitments, we were not able to party sexually with Michelle and Peter ever the next couple of weeks so there was an air of anticipation on that front as well as the weekend approached. We had planned to go down to Atlantic City on Friday night with the actual birthday celebration to be held on that Saturday night and our final call to Clint was on Monday of that week to just confirm the logistics. He assured us of at least 10 willing participants - and the image of Tanya dressed in liquid white danced in my head. Clint did mention one other angle that he was working on but said that he could talk to us on Saturday if it came to pass.

Our short flight to Atlantic City on Friday was full of laughs and drinks as the four of us really started to unwind and leave our normal world behind. Jim sat next to Michelle and they acted as a couple and Paul sat next to me across the aisle. Any observer would have thought that we were thinking of the mile high club the way our hands touched our partner's body. We checked into the adjoining suites that were reserved in our names at the Trump Taj Mahal -- the smaller suites that we would live in for the weekend -- not the larger suite that would be the site of the more inclusive party, the larger suite that was just down the hall. That room would be paid for on Saturday with cash and secured with a rarely used credit card in my maiden name.

Our Friday night was an exercise in excess: too much good food, too much wine, too much gambling (and surprisingly, some winning), and too many hours. By the time we drifted upstairs around three a.m., it was clear that sleep with our respective spouses (and whatever that might entail) was the order of the day. We would save our sharing for the next evening. This was the way Jim and I had planned it and had dropped hints throughout the evening that the real celebration would be on Saturday.

Saturday was one of those lazy, holiday days that don't seem important at the time but will be remembered for many years to come. Jim and Peter went down to tackle the blackjack tables again and Jim continued on his hot streak which was basically guaranteeing a free weekend. Michelle and I lounged around the suite that we had claimed as our own for the day and watched a movie until the sky began to darken and it became clear that it was time to get ready for the evening. Since I didn't think that a big heavy meal was in order we called room service and had them bring us an assortment of appetizers which we dined on with wine while we began our administrations. At this point, Michelle still thought that she was getting ready for a night like the previous one but I told her that we had to make sure we were ready for the after-party with our husbands first. And while I knew that we have both done all of these extra things to prepare sexually in that past, this was the first time that we were doing them while in the same living area. We showered and shaved -- and we certainly didn't stop at the top of our legs. In fact, I showed Tanya (for she was no longer Michelle just as I was no longer Candi) how I had learned to most easily shave my vagina without the fear of nicks. We did our hair up in outrageous fashion before teasing it back down again, but it had a bounce like a high school ingénue's. We put on a little too much makeup with the rationale that it was play night and that people had to see us from the back row. That was my comment anyhow -- Tanya didn't know how true that was.

While all of this was going on, Jim had taken Peter back to the suite next door, excused himself to go and make final arrangements on the larger party suite, and then returned to crack open a bottle of 20 year old scotch for the two of them. He then began to explain the genesis of my plan and the steps they had taken thus far to assure Tanya's ultimate happiness for the evening. This was a sticky point because it is one thing for Jim and I to think it was a great idea that provided suitable security and anonymity and another for Tanya's husband to think the same. Jim later said that Peter was a bit taken aback at first, but when he explained the arrangements further Peter was clearly impressed with the planning and the image of the night we had arranged for his cum-loving wife and he agreed to the plan as they headed out to buy supplies for the party suite.

In the meantime, I had Tanya dressed to the nines in a very sexy Victoria's Secret black corset outfit complete with matching thigh-high stocking, heels and robe. I was kidding her that it was too bad she had to take that off to get ready for dinner and that maybe we shouldn't go out tonight after all. As we continued to drink our wine and as she continued to stay comfortably in her outfit, I tried on my "late night" offering and it became clear that Tanya wanted a wilder night than the one before.

"Tanya," I began tentatively, "do you remember the time I stripped for the three of you - and Peter and Jim came all over your face."

"The candlestick performance! How could I forget?"

"Well, do you remember how I kidded you that night about arranging a night sometime where you could experience even more cum like that?"

Tanya looked at me with a quizzical but dawning expression. She had come to know me, or rather to know my alter-ego of Joy quite well over the last few months and she knew I used words rather precisely, both at work, at home, and in the bedroom.

When she didn't speak, I continued. "Well, tonight is that night. I have arranged for a bukkake party just for you. If you want," (and I knew I had to say everything conditionally if Tanya were to feel comfortable), "if you want, we have arranged for a few men, perhaps boys would be a better term, to masturbate all over you." I paused to let her thoughts form. "If you don't want this, you only have to say the word. Nobody knows where we are, nobody will be offended if you say no, nobody will come knocking on our door. It can happen if you want. But no means no -- if you don't want this to happen, you only have to speak."

Tanya paused before answering and even then it was in the form of questions; she wanted details about the arrangements, but I knew it would be more mystical and fun if she had none of the background.

"I am not going to tell you all of that because it is irrelevant. I came up with the plan, Jim heard it and didn't see any problems and at this point Peter has been told all of the details. If we stop it right now our only problem will be how to drink the six cases of beer that are in the special suite that we have arranged for you.

"No one will try to fuck you. No one will touch you unless you want them too. You will just have the opportunity to have many men admire the way you look (and you do look unbelievable) and scatter their sperm all over your body. It's up to you. If you want to change into a dress for dinner, I will tell the guys. But if you want this other thing to happen, I have to make a phone call to set things in motion and then we'll have some more wine."

There was very little hesitation at this point. "Make the call," Tanya urged.

When Jim heard the verdict, he conveyed it to Peter and they gave me the suite number with instructions to appear in one hour. Tanya and I continued to fuss over each other and I decided that I had more work to do to at least try to match the glow that was suddenly apparent in Tanya's skin covering.

In the other suite, Peter called Clint and told him to meet him in the lobby of the hotel. Clint was then walked up to the party suite where he systematically called his friends, one call every few minutes, no more than two of the participants coming into the hotel at a time, properly attired and acting appropriately. They had been warned of the ground rules and surprisingly, played along for the sake of the evening. As the calls were continuing, Clint cleared his throat and asked to raise one other issue.

"I know that you wanted all males tonight but, you see, there are a couple of our girl friends that heard about tonight. Not girlfriends, like we're dating or anything, but girls who we party with and who many of us have been with. They were like, wondering if it would be OK to come up to and kind of check it out."

"I'm not sure that that would be a good idea," said Jim. "I think we want it just as we planned."

"I know," said Clint, "but the thing was that some of the guys thought that no matter how hot your wife is, we might, like, have some problems, getting there at close to the same time. So we thought, maybe like our friends, our girl friends, could like help us to y'know be there for your wife."

This addressed an interesting issue that Jim and I had actually talked about. On porno sets, there are girls hired as "fluffers" whose jobs are to go backstage and give the male actors blow jobs or whatever so that they are nice and erect when they go to perform. Jim and I had talked about my role this evening as a fluffer, and while I had no problem with it in the abstract, as the numbers grew, I began to think about it and become a little daunted by the magnitude of the "fluffing issue". So Clint's suggestion, while not part of our plan, actually helped address a secondary concern that we had about the whole thing. The gods were smiling down.

"Sure, Clint, why not? Tell the girls that they can come but make it clear that they have to help out in that way."

As the hulking football players arrived at the party suite, Peter and Jim asked them to take off their layer of upper clothing and confiscated any cell phones or cell cameras from them. Bukkake was one thing, bukkake broadcasted all over the internet was another. The only camera that was going to be allowed this evening was the one Jim had brought from home. The boys were then shown into the living area where there was a tub of beer, appetizers and a big screen TV with a football game. It was like any other high school party except the beer was better, the room was bigger, the company was stag (up until now), and the anticipation was palpable. As the beer went down, the volume of the voices went up. When the cheerleader girls arrived (Ashley and Lauren we later learned) in their micro-mini skirts and exposed belly garb, it was like putting a match to kindling in the forest. There was only smoke, but the fire was coming.