The Birthday Surprise 15

Toby Williams answered the door to find three of his mother's friends stood on the driveway. He'd met all the women on more than one occasion, and had often wondered what they'd looked like thirty years ago when they'd been about his age. It was obvious to him that even though their faces were heavily wrinkled, and that each one had skin blemishes make-up couldn't hide, that they'd all probably been attractive in their twenties, especially if they'd had the sort of figures he always assumed that women had prior to marrying men with as much money as each one's husbands.

"Hello," he smiled politely, "But my mother's not here. She's gone away for the weekend to see her sister."

"We know," grinned the slightly overweight woman closest to him, "but it's her birthday tomorrow and we've planned a little surprise for when she gets back, so can we come in?"

"Sure," he shrugged and then asked politely, "Is it anything I can help you with?"

The fifty-something woman he knew only as Cathy grinned back at him, "Definitely," she replied waving a canvas shopping bag under his nose, "Or there wouldn't been any point in bringing this lot."

"Why, what have you got in there?" asked Toby as he instinctively peered downwards in an attempt to make out what was in the bag down but saw nothing.

"Let's have a drink first," smirked Cathy as one of the other women waved a shoppping bag which he could tell from the sound of chinking glass contained bottles of some sort, "Jenny's spent all day telling us about some special cocktail mixer she got from a friend and we want to try it out."

The three women walked past Toby into the open plan kitchen, where Jenny put the bag of bottles on the worktop and gestured for him to sit down. "We know where everything is," she said smiling, "so I'll pour us all a drink and then we'll let you in on what we've got planned."

Toby sat on the three-seater in the main room as the two other women sat in the armchairs either side of him and watched intently as their friend pulled bottles of spirits and mixers from her shopping bag. "Any preferences Toby?" she asked grinning, "Or would you like me to mix you a nice surprise?"

"Whatever you want to do is fine by me," he smiled in reply, just seconds before the thick set fifty something woman to his right laughed, "Lets get the drinks poured first!"

The two other women also started laughing as Toby shrugged in puzzlement while watching the stick-thin fifty year old stood in the kitchen quivver with amusement as she poured small amounts of several spirits into a cocktail shaker and then added two different coloured liquids that he assumed were non-alcoholic.

"You first," said Jenny as she handed the contents of the shaker to Toby in a large tumbler, "and then I'll make us something."

He sipped at the glass politely, and then asked, "So what's in the bag and what do you need my help with?"

"Lingerie", laughed Cathy McAllister as the lines on her face turned into deep creases, "But let's all have a drink first."

Toby gulped his drink nervously and gestured towards Jenny for a refil which she poured from the shaker while grinning almost maniacally. "Do like my cocktail Toby?," she sniggered, "Or has Cathy just embarassed you?"

"Yes and yes," he muttered breathlessly, and then emptied his glass for a second time. "Surely you haven't bought my mother fancy underwear as a surprise present?" he slurred, "She hasn't seen anyone since my dad died."

"Well not that you know about," grinned Cathy, "but that's why we're here."

Toby felt his head spin as the woman to his right leveraged herself up out and then sat down next to him. The seat cushion sank under her weight and Toby Williams fell slowly and helplessly against her pendulous breasts. "Your mother hasn't seen anyone since your dad passed because she's been fucking our husbands," she said quitely, "so we're going to have a bit of fun with you as a way of getting our own back."

He tried to speak, but couldn't. He could do nothing except look up and drool incoherently with his mouth open as Lisa Metcalf patted him on the cheek in a way that he'd probably have found reasssuring if all his faculties had been working properly.

"Don't bother trying to talk," sniggered Jenny, "That special cocktail mixer we mentioned inhibits all but the most necessary bodily functions. You won't remember much, if anything tomorrow, but your mother's going to come home to a birthday surprise she'll never forget."

"Are you sure he won't remember anything?" said Lisa as she stood up causing Toby to fall sideways onto the three-seater. "I doubt it," replied Jenny, "But why does that matter if we're just going to leave him for Susan to find?"

"Because he's really quite decorative," said Lisa unclipping her skirt, "and looking at him just lying here with his mouth open and his tongue hanging out is making my knickers wet. So if he's not going to remember anything, then there's no harm in doing this."

She grinned down at him, folded her skirt over the back of a chair, removed her shoes and peeled her rapidly dampening pink knickers off.

"What?" she laughed at her friends, "I'd never forgive myself if I passed on this opportunity, and it's not as if he'll know about it, so what's the harm?"

Toby Williams tried and failed to move as Lisa Metcalf positioned him on the three-seater, straddled him with her flabby thighs either side of his head, interlocked her fingers round the back of his neck, and then pulled his face upwards into the large dripping folds of pink flesh that opened up underneath the biggest mass of unkempt pubic hair he'd ever seen.

And that was the last thing Toby Williams was able to remember when he woke with a headache early the next morning with sunlight glaring painfully through the open curtains.

He was wearing a high-heeled shoes with little straps that secured them to his feet, an ill-fitting bra that dug into his skin everywhere it touched, some stay-up thigh-highs, and a pair of black panties covered with what he could tell was the result of several ejaculations.

He reached round his back, unclipped the bra and shrugged it off, unfastened the shoe straps, peeled off the nylons and then thumbed the almost-cardboard-stiff panties down his legs.

Toby Williams stagged into the downstairs bathroom and stood in front of the mirror. His ears were red, his upper body was covered in bruises, and as well as the dried spunk stuck to his upper thighs, had what felt like some sort of glaze stuck to his face and matting his hair.

He spent ten minutes in the shower, walked back into the main room, gathered up his clothes and the lingerie, and then staggered upstairs to bed.

Toby Williams slept soundly until he was woken later that day by his mother's return, dressed, and walked nervously downstairs as he fully expected his mother to have been sent upsetting pictures or videos of whatever had happened the night before, but to his surprise, she acted as if he'd been alone for the last twenty four hours and knew nothing about what might have taken place.

At first, he thought his mother had been only feigning ignorance and he'd no inclination to start a conversation when he knew very little anyway, but over the next few days it became clear that her "friends" hadn't told her anything, and that any pictures or vidoes they'd taken had been kept to themselves.

He spent nearly a week wondering what had actually happened, and trying to think of a reason why the three fifty-something women hadn't ruined his mother's birthday as they'd planned, until eventually his desire to know became an uncontrollable urge.

Saturday afternoon, exactly one week after his mother's friends had knocked on the door, he spent an hour getting dressed, and walked to Cathy McAllister's house thinking and rethinking every word of what he intended to say.

She opened her front door just a few seconds after he'd knocked and grinned: "Hello, what do you want?" "To know what happend last week," he half-whispered while staring at the floor, "And why. Mum's not upset, so she doesn't know anything, but one of the last things I can remember is your friend saying the three of you wanted to ruin her birthday."

Cathy's grin got wider, "Well something obviously didn't go to plan, but why should I tell you anything? That you can't remember very much isn't my fault now is it?" She started laughing as Toby tried to stay calm, looked up from the floor to make eye contact, and nervously whispered: "I thought you'd say that, so I've brought your stuff back."

"What stuff?" she replied as Toby stepped uninvited through the open doorway, closed the door behind him and unfastend the button at the top of his trousers. Toby then slid the zipper slowly down, and pulled each flap aside so that Cathy could see he was wearing the black skimpy panties he'd woken up in the week before.

"Very nice," she smiled, "But why do you think coming round here wearing women's knickers will get me to tell you anything?"

He didn't reply, just dropped his trousers to the floor and stepped out of them, unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off, and stood in front of his mother's fifty-something friend wearing nothing but the freshly-laundered black matching set of bra, knickers and thigh-high stay-ups he thought belonged to her.

"I don't think any of this would fit either of the other two, so it's probably all yours," he said deferentially, "and if it is, then it was most likely you and not the other two who wanted to dress me up like this."

"They wanted to do it just as much as I did," she smirked, "But yes, it was my idea. So what?"

"From the mess I was covered in, I must have liked last week, but I don't know what happened," he replied shyly, "So I thought that coming round here like this might make you want to do it again. So either I'll take all this off, put my clothes back on and go, or you can tell me what happened and then do whatever you want."

Cathy McAllister ran the tip of her tongue around the inside of her open mouth, took a deep breath, reached forward, stuck a finger in the hem of the panties, pulled them down just enough for his rapidly growing erection to spring free, and grabbed hold of it. "Come with me," she said turning sideways and dragging him down the hall, "Yes, what you're wearing is all mine. I wanted Susan to come home and find you drugged out of your mind and dressed up like a cissy whore. It would have been the worst day of her life, but you must have come round earlier than Jenny thought you would. None of us intended to do anything more than leave you like that, but Lisa got a bit excited, and once she'd got what she wanted, there was no real reason for me and Jenny not to join in, especially as you had an erection when we took your clothes off."

She led him into her front room, pushed him onto the long-seater, kicked off her shoes, took off her lounge pants and knickers in one swift movement, and continued, "And then when you came while we dressed you up, we thought why not have a real party as you seemed to be enjoying it as much as we were, so we took it in turns to sit on your face for as long as we could. None of us fucked you, but we might have done if you hadn't kept ejaculating every time we got you hard again."

He smirked up at Cathy McAllister as she straddled his chest and sniggered, "What about today?"

She interlocked her fingers round the back of his neck, pulled his face upwards to the dripping slushy folds of pink flesh as he strained desperately to thrust his tonuge into her, and laughed, "I'm going to sit on your face for as long as I can. You've just said I can do whatever I want, so the only thing that's going to be different from last week is that this time Jenny and Lisa won't be joining in!"