After the third sales meeting and our subsequent wives get togethers. I began thinking not only erotically about the situation, but in order to maintain the incredible pleasure I had found, strategically and tactically.
The most obvious element of the situation was that there had been three sales meetings with each turning into an orgy. Secondly neither corporate management nor the salesmen had made any apparent move to alter either the meetings or the way in which the "winner" was selected. These observations led me to the conclusion that the prize structure was here to stay.
Further it seemed logical to me that it would develop that there would be a small group of wives who would end up being the prize at each meeting. Presuming that the selection was fair, that the husbands of the wives on whom the prize status fell were actually the wives of the lowest performing salesmen and not simply chosen on George's whim, the same wives would be selected time after time.
That it might be that these salesman had the highest goals, the most difficult territories, or were in some way the least competent, I didn't think mattered. The reason might well change from quarter to quarter, but these wives would continually find themselves being handed around as a sales prize because their salesman husbands fell in one of the above categories: highest goals, most difficult territories, least competent – or some combination.
Bob didn't seem to be one of those doomed to a perpetual status as low man. He had shared with me that his quota had been increased, but that he had developed some good relationships which had turned into good customers. In addition, these customers were providing highly qualified leads. He actually expected to make his quota next time around.
All of this left me in a quandary. I had really liked being a supplemental prize and, while I didn't want to have Bob shown up as the lowest on the salesman's totem pole, I did want to experience that wonderful variety of cocks. To date not only had I managed to make myself an unbidden supplemental prize, I had also learned a hugely exciting fact, Bob really got off seeing me used by his buddies. In short my getting fucked at these meetings not only made me very happy, it made Bob happy as well. Nonetheless, I wanted more. I was actually fantasizing about being humiliated in front of a crowd. The more I got into being naked and fucked at the meetings, the more I thought about being the prize.
I had daydreams about being the center of attention. I wanted to be forced to stand in front of everyone and have my clothes stripped from my body. I wanted to be handed over to the men for them to do what they wanted with me.
Many of my daydreams had me dressed in fine clothes, silks, perhaps. I would be called up and forced to stand with my arms held firm by ropes or chains high over my head while my clothes were torn from my body. My blouse would be shredded as several naked men sporting wondrous erections tore it from my body. My breasts would be jerked first one way then another as the cloth shredded. I would scream. Bob would try to save me (hopefully to no avail). My bra would reluctantly give under the onslaught leaving me on the stage shrieking in dread, my arms tethered high over my head, my breasts prominently displayed. They would continue to be tossed one way and another (seductively, I hoped) as I writhed in agony, humiliation, and fear.
My attackers would pause for a moment as they gazed lasciviously at my nakedness, staring at the erotic sight of my chest heaving in fearful expectation before completing their mission of stripping me naked.
Bob would be held back by strong arms; too many for my brave husband to rescue his endangered wife. I would see this and realize no help would come. I would be stripped and forced to endure the depraved desires of many men.
They would set on me again with a cry. My skirt would be forced open, vicious tugging at the waistband would tear it from my hips. I would be momentarily be swept from my feet, hanging only by my arms. The ripping of the material would generate another cry of success from the licentious men.
It would be only seconds before I regained my feet where, once again, these naked men with erect, dripping cocks would finish by ripping my panties from my body.
What happened next in my daydreams would always be a blur as, inevitably I brought myself to a climax. Not a fully satisfying one that those fantasized cocks would have forced on me, but a climax nonetheless. It wasn't unusual for me to not realize that I had a finger on my clit until the climax burst on me. No wonder I didn't have a specific end to my daydreams. They never got that far!
I also knew from the girls' get together that there was interest on their part as well. They may not have the same sort of daydream I had, but they were close.
Early in the week after the third sales meeting I called Freddie and between the two of us we arranged for another girls afternoon. It would be at my house when Bob was out of town. I asked Freddie to bring her "objects of passion" with her just in case they could be useful.
I hadn't done this in forever, but I made a batch of "special" brownies which I thought I'd serve just about the time I broke out a lovely Sauvignon Blanc I'd found at the local wine store.
As it turned out only seven of the sixteen wives showed up, but I was certain it would be enough. They were the more active ones. I thought they would most likely to be interested in the kind of plans I was thinking about.
The coffee went well enough. When I felt the time was right I brought out the brownies and the wine. When the requisite "oos and ahs" subsided and even those who claimed to eschew sweets had had a brownie, I kept the wine flowing while I changed the subject.
"I've been thinking a lot about the current sales contest," I said looking around the room.
"Who hasn't," Claire rejoined. "I think about it a lot." It was said in much the same way she had talked about it earlier. I had already counted her in. I also counted in Freddie and Barb.
Suzanne, not surprisingly, wasn't here. I didn't figure her for one of us anyway. There were several others also not present whom I did not expect to participate.
Joan was present (and on her third brownie). I wasn't sure which direction she'd go. May was also here and seemingly enjoying the wine and brownies. I had no idea how she'd vote. Anne was another unknown as was Jenny.
It left the nine others unaccounted for. At best they would be neutral or mildly supportive. Worst case they could be actively against our plans which could cause some real problems. Nonetheless I expected that we'd get a majority to go along. That might not be enough, however. If only eight or nine went along, that would leave a whole lot on the sidelines. It could be enough, depending on who it was, to scuttle everything. I intended to make a point to assign one or two of those in agreement to talk to everyone who needed convincing. I figured we could pull it off if we only had one or two sitting out.
I also felt we could get George to go along. If he did, he'd have a chance to fuck some of the women he'd never get to fuck otherwise. I also wondered about his wife. She had attended the meetings and never seemed put off by the goings on. I began to wonder if she'd like to participate rather than sit on the sidelines.
"I have a confession to make," I began loudly enough to silence the ambient chattering. "I bought a toy just like the ones that Freddie showed us last time we got together." That quieted things down. Everyone looked at me. Well, the looks said, what else are you going to tell us. Or, heaven forbid, what are you going to show us.
I inserted a pregnant pause and said, "When Bob is gone, I find it quite comforting." By now it was apparent that the brownies and wine were having an effect.
"I never did get to try one when we got together last time," the look on May's face was something between lascivious and "I can't believe what I just said."
I let it pass. I'd get back to her later. Freddie and I had great plans for her.
"I hadn't tried one before that day," I continued. "When Freddie showed us how enjoyable they are, I wanted to continue learning." I looked around the room. No one else said anything, but I certainly had their attention. "I also realized that perhaps others were not having the proper attention paid them." Nods developed around the room, almost like a wave at a football game.
"Who," I wondered aloud, "is getting all the attention she got before their wedding day. I can remember having to go to great lengths to straighten my clothes after every date." I looked around again to be sure that I was getting through. I wanted them to think back to their courting days.
"Bob used to release the catch on my bra as we walked into a restaurant like this," I reached around in back and released my bra catch. "He got so good that we'd sit down and in a few moments my bra was in his hands." I demonstrated slipping my bra straps down my arms under my blouse and maneuvered it out the left sleeve hole. I dropped it on the floor. I was almost as good at Bob at getting it off!
"He'd put it in his pocket and I'd be 'bra-less' for the rest of the date." I looked around for a nodding head. I found Jenny in agreement. "I'll bet you had the same type of problem, Jenny." She looked surprised that I knew she'd had similar experiences. She was completely unaware that under the influence of wine and cannabis she was sharing every thought inside her bobbing head. I said nothing, but continued looking at her with a look of what I hoped was compassion.
When she finally realized that we were waiting for her story, she began slowly. "Ralphy was never so good as to do all that stuff you were showing just now," she said looking more in my direction. "But, in a movie and sometimes in the car, he'd find a way to get his hand in my pants. He even told me he preferred I wear skirts so he could play with me. One time he unzipped his pants and had me give him a blow job while he was driving. We almost had an accident so I quit doing that." Laughter broke out. It appeared that several had had similar experiences.
"Yeah. The worst part of that is that you can't see the road. You can only feel the car swerving. If we'd had an accident, I might have bitten his cock off," She laughed self-consciously. "I don't know if I would have married a guy without a cock." She giggled as the room broke up in laughter. The sharing was picking up. The girls were getting less hesitant.
"Ryan was the same way," Jenny broke in, "always getting his hands in my pants and wanting me to blow him while he was driving, so I'd just give him a hand job instead. He really seemed to like it and it kept his hands off me and on the wheel. The problem I had was that he never had any Kleenex in the car. I started keeping some in my purse." The girls giggled again knowingly.
She thought for a minute then she said, "You know, when he'd cum in those days, it was a big mess. I mean he'd shoot," she started gesticulating imitating a geyser, "you know, gobs. Now, not so much. 'Course, I don't do that for him," she paused, ". . . anymore." Another pause. "Maybe I should. I'll bet he'd like that."
"I've never done that for Bob. I wonder if he'd like it," I added to the generally developing confessional.
"Oh, yeah," several chimed in their agreement emphasized with nodding heads.
May picked up the thread, "They all like it. You know, they say all men masturbate." Her head bobbed in agreement with herself. Her looking around gave proof, however, of her lack of total confidence in the statement. "Maybe he'd like me to do that for him." Her eyes got rather merry at the thought. "Maybe he'd just like me to watch." At this she covered her mouth. "Oops," she said.
"Maybe he'd like to do you," Joan added.
I thought I saw several squirming in their seats at that thought.
