The Party

This is based on a true story. I only say 'based on' because everything that happened here took place more than fifteen years ago when I was in my mid-twenties (as are all of the other characters) and, to be honest, I simply can't remember every detail, so I've used some artistic license to fill in the gaps wherever necessary. But the events, the emotions, the people and the places are true, reconstructed where necessary from my diary at the time, my messages, my emails and my photos, and have stuck with me like it was yesterday. My then boyfriend, now husband, doesn't know about most of this, so here's hoping he's not a reader...

I hope you enjoy.

I heard the key in the front door, and the sound of my flatmate coming through. Hopping off the sofa in our living room I went over to the hall to great her.

"Good weekend away?" I asked.

"Really good," she said with a grin. "Really, really good."

I raised an eyebrow at her. She was nearly bouncing she was in such a good mood. Clearly it had been a good weekend. "Good weekend as in 'good weekend'?" I asked with a wink.

Smiling back at me, she said, "Yes... good in that way. There was someone. It was great."

"Let me make you a cup of tea and you can tell me more."

"That would be amazing... I'll just put my bags away and see you in a minute."

We spent the next fifteen minutes chatting about her weekend away with one of our mutual friends. My flatmate had been worried that our friend was a bit uptight, but it sounded like she'd really let her hair down while they were away and, without giving too much away, had managed to temporarily forget about her own long term boyfriend at home. So, all in all my flatmate had had an excellent time.

"So...," she said during a pause in the conversation. "How was dinner on Friday?"

"Oh, it was good, very nice food and drink, really glad we went."

"And..." she smiled at me.

"...And what?" I replied, feeling my cheeks start to turn red.

"And... you're blushing like I've never seen. Oh my god, something happened! What?!"

I sat there in silence, too afraid to say anything.

"Did he kiss you?"

"Well... sort of."

"Did you kiss him?"

I nodded slowly, my cheeks getting redder and redder.

"You kissed him! You made a move on him?"

I nodded.

"And...?"

I shrugged and looked away, letting my hair fall down in front of my face. I just wanted to hide at this point.

"You slept with him?" she said softly. "Really?"

"Can you absolutely keep a secret?"

"Yes, of course. Promise."

I nodded slowly, "Yes..." I said quietly.

"Oh my god, that's incredible... and?"

"And what?"

"And... was he good?"

"Define good."

"At a minimum you got an orgasm out of it and had you wishing for more?"

I blushed again and nodded.

"I always thought he'd be good in bed," she said. "He seems like he'd be considerate. Was he?"

"You could say that," I said quietly.

"So where do things stand? Will you see him again soon? How about your boyfriend?"

"That's a lot of questions! But short answer is no, it was a drunk one night stand and nothing more, and no it doesn't affect anything to do with my boyfriend - I scratched an itch and it is well and truly scratched now."

We sat there quietly for a few minutes.

"How about we go out and have some dinner in a bit?" I suggested. "We can catch up more on our weekends as we eat. And then I need to get a good night's sleep before the week ahead."

For the rest of that week it was work and much needed quiet nights in. I spent a lot of time processing what had happened, particularly while I worked out each day at the gym, and quite quickly came to an accommodation in my head - a narrative that me cheating, while not ideal, was ok, that it scratched an itch that otherwise would have lingered on potentially much more harmfully throughout my time on this overseas rotation. That me cheating was a one off never to be repeated. I knew deep down that I was kidding myself, that what I'd done was cheating plain and simple, but show me someone who doesn't get by in life by lying to themselves sometimes and I'll show you a liar.

I spoke to my boyfriend every day, the excitement of both of us palpable as the days ticked down to him coming to stay. We tried phone sex a few times and while he clearly enjoyed it (unless he's the first man in history to bother faking orgasms) I, to my shame, needed to fake it - every time I tried to get properly into it I had flashbacks to my Partner in Crime fucking me while I talked to my boyfriend on the phone, and I just couldn't in my head humiliate my boyfriend further by genuinely orgasming at the thought. Instead, I hate to admit, I'd pleasure myself when we'd finished on the phone and invariably that week it involved fantasising about some of the things my Partner in Crime and I had done the previous Friday and Saturday including, to my shame, him having sex with me while I spoke to my boyfriend.

I was genuinely excited about my boyfriend's visit in a few weeks' time, though I had no intention of telling him any of what had happened. He may have understood me drunkenly making out with a guy in a club, but not what followed. It had to be something that I kept away from him.

On the one hand that felt like it should be easy. Both me and my Partner in Crime had agreed to kept it secret when we parted, and I genuinely trusted him to do that. The only other person who knew was my flatmate and she, again, I trusted absolutely.

But on the other it could prove tricky. With this overseas rotation there were about 25 different people who'd come to this city for six months, all in their mid-twenties, all at least relatively good looking, and all liking to party. That made for a great social life, and often we'd do things as a big group, but, well, a bunch of twenty somethings a long way from home inevitably meant a lot of people hooking up and a lot of gossip. While I'd only strayed the once (unless you really want to count a very drunken kiss with someone on our first night out as a group - I could barely remember it and nor could he so I don't!), and my Partner in Crime had been the same, we were the prudes of the group. Most people had had multiple partners in the two months or so, and there was an ever changing web of who had slept with who, and who wanted to sleep with who. To give an example, I knew for certain that my flatmate had brought two different guys back to our flat after parties (the walls were thin - so much so that I almost felt like I'd joined in with them), and that she'd not come back home until morning another time albeit she'd been pretty coy about where she'd been.

That also meant that the commonly held assumption in the group was that people who spent time together had either hooked up already or were going to inevitably. Given the number of social events that my Partner in Crime and I had done together (we even had the nickname!) it was very likely assumed knowledge for everybody that we were in that category. I doubt if we told someone what had happened at the weekend they would be at all surprised.

So... this was a problem with my boyfriend coming to stay. I had a great, sociable set of friends who my boyfriend would fit into really well. But on the other hand, it was far too risky for us to socialise with them in case someone said something that got him suspecting. Not that they'd know, but just a hint based on their guesswork could be enough to get my boyfriend asking questions and, with me being a terrible liar, it could all come crashing down very quickly.

The only solution was to go big on the couple heavy activities throughout the two weeks he was going to be with me, lots of romantic evenings and maybe the two of us going to stay in a hotel for a break (no, not that hotel... a different one). Maybe we could socialise with my flatmate, a few other carefully selected friends, and absolutely, on no account, would we do anything that risked him and my Partner in Crime meeting. Luckily, as I didn't have much holiday that I could use, only evenings and weekends were the problem. Weekdays I'd mostly be at work and my boyfriend could keep himself entertained.

The only other thing of note that week was, on the Wednesday night, I was sat chatting to my flatmate in our living room when my phone pinged. I looked down, and saw it was a message from my Partner in Crime. My heart started beating a little faster as I opened the message:

Partner in Crime: Hi, how are you doing? I've been thinking about you and wanted to check you're ok? x

My flatmate could see me blush as I read it. "What is it?" she asked.

I said nothing but showed her the text. She read it, and said, "You know when you can tell that someone has spent the last three days trying to come up with the perfect wording and not quite getting it? That's what that is. Breezy but caring! And signed off with a kiss? So maybe slightly flirty?"

"Should I reply?"

"I don't see why not?"

"Well... I don't want to give him the wrong impression. It really was just a one off."

"If it was really just a one off then you should reply. Unless you don't want to be friends with him still?"

"I do, it's just, well... it will be awkward when I next see him."

"Yes, of course it will. It's always awkward when you sleep with someone then see them next. Even more so when it's someone you didn't mean to sleep with. Though, on that point, I think you meant too..."

I paused. "Yeah, I'll admit, I did. Ok, let me reply. But no 'x'. That could lead him on."

Me: I'm good thanks, been having a really quiet week. Last weekend was a busy one! How are you doing?

The reply came quickly.

Partner in Crime: Tell me about it! I've just about recovered today. Great, I'm glad you're doing well. Just wanted to ask, are you going to the party on Friday night?

Ah, yes. The party on Friday night. A few of our group were hosting a party in their apartment and it promised to be a good one. They had a ground floor flat with a big terrace and, brilliantly, stairs leading right down to the communal pool. I pitied anyone else in their building wanting a quiet swim that evening.

Me: Sure, we'll both be there.

I paused, then thought a little light flirting wouldn't hurt anyone.

Me: I hear swimming costumes are mandatory in their pool. No skinny dipping x

Oh dear... I put an 'x' again by mistake. Too late to change.

Partner in Crime: Ha ha, you wish! Can't persuade you to skinny dip? x

That made me smile.

Me: Good to experiment, but I think I'll revert to something more clothed this Friday.

Partner in Crime: Sounds great, looking forward to seeing you x

Me: Really looking forward to seeing you too x

My flatmate had been sitting quietly looking at her own phone while this was going on. She looked up. "You've got a twinkle in your eyes, must have been a good text?"

I smiled, "Yes, it was very... normal. I'd been worried that things would be weird between us, but it was like nothing had ever happened."

She gave me a knowing look. "I'll be interested to see what 'normal' looks like for the two of you."

Friday came around quickly, and after work my flatmate and I went home to get ready.

"What are you going to wear?" I asked. "I can't really tell if it's a pool party, or a party party. And the two don't really mix."

"I know... it's difficult. Here's what I'm going to do - treat it like it's a party party, where a nice dress, shoes etcetera. But rather than underwear I'm going put on a bikini so that I can do the pool thing if I need to."

"Not a bad idea... I like your thinking. What about after you've swum?"

She smiled, "Go commando. Noone needs to know and I'm pretty sure we've got the bodies to pull it off." That was true. We both had good sized breasts (mine were C-cup and hers looked similar) but mine certainly stood up well on their own if need be, and I'm sure that hers did too.

"Deal. I'm going to get changed."

I spent the next thirty minutes choosing the bikini (for a pool party it needed to be one that was relatively modest but fashionable - I didn't want to sit there feeling like a sex object). I ended up choosing one that had a floral pattern, sensibly cut but, just, cutting quite tightly into my butt at the back. After all, it was nice to be admired.

On top I wore a blue mini dress which ended halfway up my thighs, and as it fit quite loosely I tied a leather belt around my waist. On my feet I opted for knee length brown leather boots - with the dress stopping quite high I didn't want to be flashing my legs too much.

My flatmate knocked and came in. "Wow," I said when I saw her. "Give me a twirl."

She span around for me and, I'll be honest as someone who's been known to have a girl crush or two, she looked stunning. She was wearing a white / silvery sparkly mid-length dress which went down to just above her knees, relatively low cut in a V shape which gave a glorious view of her breasts, and leather boots similar to mine but black.

"You can only be wearing that if you've got a target in mind!" I teased.

"Well... maybe. Ok, yeah, there is. But don't ask me who." She blushed as she said it.

I wasn't letting her off the hook that easily. "Someone you've been with before maybe?"

"...maybe..."

"Someone whose place you went back to, despite your rule that you'll never go back to a guy's place...?"

"...maybe..."

"If you don't tell me who I'll just have to guess."

"Then guess away, I'm keeping this one quiet."

"Ok then, I'll be keeping an eye on you later."

We caught a taxi over to the party, and by the time we got there it was in full swing. A few of the guys had already jumped into the pool, while everyone else was hanging around having drinks. One of the hosts fancied himself as a cocktail maker and made decent, if probably a little too strong, cocktails so it was pretty merry pretty quickly.

I chatted to various people, and my Partner in Crime was there too. When we saw each other he smiled at me across the room, and I smiled back. Honestly, it was good to see him again. I pointed at my cocktail, then gave a thumbs up sign - he instantly knew that I was saying it was good and he should get one.

As the night wore on he came over and we chatted. It was very relaxed, I'd be lying if I said that I didn't feel myself getting a little aroused as we did our usual flirting but nothing different to what we used to do before last weekend. It felt very normal.

A little later my flatmate came and grabbed me by the hand, and said, "We're going in the pool, come join us."

I could see that it was her and a couple of other of our female friends that she'd been talking to. "Sure, why not," I replied as the string of delicious cocktails removed a lot of my inhibitions. Both her and I must have been a sight as we walked out on to the terrace and slipped off our dresses - I swear that a few of the guys hoped that something different was going on! But of course, with our bikinis on, it wasn't a problem.

We jumped in the pool and spent a while in there, hanging out with various of our group of friends. My Partner in Crime was in there too but, sensibly, we both kept away from each other - I'm not entirely sure what we'd have each done in close proximity to each other with minimal clothing on.

After a while rain started to fall, and not just the soft rain that you get at home. This was heavy, tropical rain. The sort that can very quickly drench you as if you've been standing under the shower.

Everyone, save for a couple of hardy souls, rushed out of the pool and back up to the party, gathering their discarded clothes as they went. Inside, there was a queue forming for the bathroom of people wanting to get changed out of their wet clothes.

"Feel free to use the bedrooms," offered one of the hosts, which helped to speed things up a bit.

I went down their hall and found an empty bedroom to get changed in. Quickly I stripped off my bikini, but realised I'd not brought a towel with me. Locking the bedroom door in case anyone else tried to come in to change, I went to look in the cupboards for a towel. As I searched, I suddenly heard the door to the ensuite open. Oh shit, someone had been in there. And I was stood there with literally not a stich of clothing on me and my dress on the other side of the room.

Quickly, I covered myself up with my hands as best as I could and turned my back to them. At least if they were going to see me they'd see my rear, not my front. "Sorry, I didn't realise someone was in here already," I called out. "Could you pass me a towel?"

I heard the noise of whoever it was reaching for a towel, and then a familiar voice said, "Here you go. But you'll need to come and get it. I've got the same problem."

As he started to speak, I looked over my shoulder and felt my heart race a little at the sight of my Partner in Crime. His upper half was leaning out from behind the door, protecting his modesty by keeping his lower half hidden while he held a towel out. He was definitely taking a long look at my figure from behind, which, I realised, I didn't mind one bit.

"Feels like we're at a bit of an impasse," I suggested. "Because I can't walk over there without showing you everything. Can you bring the towel to me?"

"It won't be anything I've not seen before," he laughed.

"I could say the same to you," I retorted, also laughing.

How ridiculous to find ourselves in this situation. But it didn't feel awkward. I think the previous weekend had smashed so many barriers between us that it felt entirely normal to be naked in front of each other. Plus, just as last weekend, I think by this stage of the evening we were pretty drunk so that broke down whatever other barriers there were.

I stared over my shoulder at him and felt the first blush of arousal. Looking down I could see my nipples, already hardened from the cold water of the pool, harden further and I could feel moistness between my legs that couldn't all have been from swimming. I wondered if he felt the same. Only one way to find out.

"Ok, let's meet in the middle." I suggested. "On the count of three, I'll turn around and walk to halfway between us. You do the same. That seems the only fair way to do this."

He smiled, "Sounds like a good idea. Ok... 1... 2... 3."

I turned around and walked towards him, dropping my arms to by my side. He stayed exactly where he was though, his eyes devouring the sight of me as I stood there in front of him.

"You cheated," I said.

"No, I was just playing with you," he replied as he stepped out holding the towel in front of him. I took the towel and could see that, behind it, he had a huge erection - throughout everything that we had done the previous weekend I had never seen his cock so hard.

"Wow," I said. "You must like what you see?"

"Oh, believe me I really do. Let me help you." And with that he took the towel, and started to dry me, taking particular care around my breasts and, particularly, stroking my nipples with the rough texture of the material.

"May I?" he asked, looked down further. I was super aroused at this point, and just swallowed and nodded. This was getting out of control pretty fast.

With the towel, he started drying my stomach before working down to dry my ass and the tops of my legs. Finally, he moved the towel to dry between my legs, slowly and gently rubbing the towel across me while he looked into my eyes.

He threw the towel back towards the bathroom and took my hand, leading me over to the bed where I lay down. He climbed on to the bed on top of me, I opened my legs and he quickly slid inside me, causing me to gasp in satisfaction. Our lips met and we kissed while he started to gently, slowly slide in and out of me.

It was sensory overload, and I could feel myself building, the first spasms of my impending orgasm starting to spark through me. I could feel that he was also getting close, and I wrapped my legs around him, using my hands on his butt to pull him into me with each thrust. I was in heaven.