What, exactly, does one wear to an orgy? The obvious answer-nothing but a smile-doesn't work if you have to drive to the event or otherwise be seen in public. And Victoria's Secret wouldn't be in business if it wasn't more erotic to drape the body in soft and flowing garments that can be patiently and easily removed from their panting owner.
But what you wear also depends if you're a willing participant in the festivities or a sacrificial lamb. And as I drove to Elaine's house to attend this particular bacchanal, I had the feeling that "baa baa baa" was all anyone wanted to hear out of my mouth. Elaine was finally going to have sex with Edward Landau, Teddy to his friends, Bridget's father to me. And I had the ominous feeling that Julia, Bridget's mother, would somehow connive a way to get me and my enormous penis under her control. And as Bridget had expressly forbidden me to have sex with her mother...you see how very, very confusing this whole situation was.
Well, let me confuse it even more. Before I drove to Elaine's I had an errand to run. After school I saw Bridget standing by my car, and, good gracious, was she ever so lovely. A soft pink sweater, a long, gauzy, white skirt, and pink lipstick that made me want to kiss her so bad my knees knocked. When I'd seen her earlier in the day she'd been wearing the sweater but she'd changed her jeans for the skirt, and the lipstick was fresh. "You look fantabulous," I said.
"Thank you," she said, and took my hand and touched her hip to mine. Just that friendly, familiar touch was enough to dump quarts of adrenaline into my bloodstream. She said, "I guess you have plans for tonight."
Meaning the above-referenced orgy. "I won't go near your mother. I'll pop her in the mouth if she comes near me. I'm keeping my pants on and my thoughts pure."
Bridget kissed my cheek, and with her lips an inch from my ear she whispered, "Not if you're thinking about me, I hope."
It took superhuman control not to pull down her skirt, impale her from behind, impregnate her, and then whisk her to a church for a quick wedding. Instead I said, "I'm jealous. I have to go to this stupid orgy, and here you are all dressed up for someone else."
She smiled without a trace of guilt. "I have to visit a...friend of my mother's." She kissed me again, then she looked at me seriously. "I know that you might, um, do some things at Elaine's. Maybe with Elaine, or with someone else." Before I could protest she put her fingertip on my lips. "It's OK, I understand. But not with my mommy. Do you understand that? Not with my mommy."
I loved her so much, I wanted her so much, that a request like "Don't have sex with my mother" seemed all the more ludicrous. "I won't. I promise."
Another soft, warm kiss, and she left me. But before she got to her own car she whirled and said, "Oh! You're tux is ready. Do you have time to pick it up today?"
"Oh, sure," I said. Another smile, all for me, for ME! And the we got in our cars, waved good-bye, and went our separate ways.
I rode that high all the way home, and then I went inside and saw my mother and I crashed back down to earth. The house was spotlessly clean. And my mother was wearing a striking blue sundress and her hair was perfect and her makeup was perfect and I knew, I KNEW, why Bridget had told me it was all right if I indulged myself a little at Elaine's. Because while I was watching her father give Elaine the fuck she'd waited years to enjoy, Teddy's little girl would be upstairs in bed fooling around with my mother. It was just like the time when I'd hidden under the bed and heard Mom and Bridget licking and sucking and fingering each other. Both dressed up, both made up, both giddy with anticipation at what was to come.
Told you I'd confuse things even more.
I barely spoke to Mom, other than to tell her she looked nice and I plans for tonight. Plans she undoubtedly knew about, but I wasn't going to speak them aloud. I went upstairs, found the ticket for my tux, and changed into a Polo shirt and shorts. I put two additional items in a plastic bag and took them with me. I said goodbye to Mom, got in my car, and drove off. I looked for Bridget's car lurking on some side street, waiting impatiently for me to leave so it could leap forward and screech to a halt in our driveway, but perhaps she was more clever than I was paranoid. I drove on.
The tux fit as though my body had been constructed to fit inside it. At least that was my impression. I'd never worn something that hung on my body so luxuriously. I looked fantastic. Carlo, the tailor/genius Bridget had taken me to, was a bit concerned because the sleeves were perhaps a sixteenth of an inch too short, and the cuffs broke a millimeter too low, but other than that, as he said, "It will do!"
There was one other area he was concerned with. "Your crotch," he said. "Is there enough room for your, ah, organ?"
"Yes, plenty."
"Bridget is a beeeautiful girl," he said expansively. "If you get, ah, excited, do you think you might, ah, tear something?"
I guess you have to have these conversations when you're dealing with a master tailor and you happen to be endowed with a freak-cock, but I assured him that I would be fine, and I would return the pants to him without any torn, gaping holes.
"You are a very lucky young man," Carlo said as I disrobed. "Bridget is an angel, a living angel."
"Yes, she is," I sighed. And then I remembered that my angel probably had her head between my mother's legs at this very moment, and I sighed again.
There was no need to pay him, as Bridget and her father had taken care of it, so I went in the dressing room to change. I brought my plastic bag with me, and Carlo said, "What's that?" He peeked inside, frowned and said, "Are you sure you have enough room in the crotch?"
"Yes, it was very roomy."
His brows shot up. "Not too roomy? Do we need to pull it in, I can..."
"No, the amount of roominess was perfect. I'm not going to pop out and scare anyone. I have these things just to, um, hold things in a bit."
"Ahh!!" Carlo said. "You have date with Bridget and don't want to disgust her with your...ah..."
"Organ."
He grinned. "I understand," he said, not understanding, but I didn't think it mattered much.
What was in the plastic bag? A jock strap. A jock strap and a pair of Jockey shorts. I put on the jock strap, then put the jockeys on over that, and finally pulled on my boxers. Then up came my shorts, and, I have to say, I could have used a bit more roominess. It was a bit snug, but that had to be endured.
I asked the question before, what does one wear to an orgy? Well, if one doesn't want to participate, and if one especially wants to avoid one person who will probably try VERY hard to get into your pants, well, you make getting into your pants as much of a challenge as possible. Hence the quadruple layers. Girded in my makeshift armor, I got in my car and drove to Elaine's.
A dozen cars clogged Elaine's driveway and the street. I recognized the Landau's car, as well as cars belonging to several of Elaine's friends. Friends that I had fucked and been fucked by. One of these friends opened the door when I rang the bell. "Well, hello stranger," Crystal said with a leer when she saw me. She gave my cheek a kiss and my groin a squeeze as I said hello. Crystal had once tickle-tortured me with her long fingernails as she rode me, and I felt my constricted cock throb as she caressed my groin "Are you here for the festivities?" she asked.
"Just an innocent bystander."
She tickled my ribs with her long nails. "Oh, baby, there's nothing innocent about you. Not any more."
