It was Christmas Eve, and the company had let us out at noon, so a bunch of us headed for a local restaurant/bar to have an 'unofficial' Christmas get-together. The politically correct 'Holiday Party' would be after the New Year -- probably because it would be cheaper then -- but we were more interested in lifting a few with friends than checking the corporate block.

There were only a half-dozen of us, so we sat at the corner of the horseshoe bar and argued and complained and gossiped and sucked beer. By two o'clock, everybody had a buzz on -- and Jeff Baxter was well-lit.

"I've got the next one," Rachel Weisman announced, and hopped down from her stool and bent over it to get her purse -- and got the oddest look on her face. I was sitting around the corner, on the other side of Mort Sampson, and Rachel had the other half of the corner; I leaned up to see what was going on. "What's up, Rache?"

"N--nothing..." But she still had that look on her face. I stood up on my stool so I could peer over the bar...

Jeff was rubbing Rachel's ass! There he sat, next to her, painting her butt with his palm, giving it good coverage, right there at the bar! I looked back at Rachel; she was pink with embarrassment and humiliation -- but she WASN'T rushing to get up! Very slowly and deliberately, she reached down and dug in her purse, poking around in her wallet, extracting a couple of twenties, making sure everything was neat and organized, then playing with the bills for a moment before slowly standing back up. As she climbed back onto her barstool, Jeff turned to me and resumed pontificating about how the Lakers were going to pull it out and the Celtics weren't gonna do it again this year -- just like nothing had ever happened.

Now, Rachel is a big girl, brunette, five foot seven or so, and most of her is to scale -- but plus size. She wasn't thin -- probably weighed two hundred or so. She wasn't blubbery, but if you peeled her down you would find that she was well-insulated, for sure. The face wasn't remarkable, but wasn't ugly, either -- just plain. She had nice hands -- smooth looking. She had at least a size 'C' rack -- probably 'D' -- and it was real and her bras tended to look like they were having a tough time keeping it up close to where it was supposed to be. She either lived with her mother or visited her every day, from conversations I'd had with her or overheard; 'Mom' seemed to be the center of her life outside work. Given the fact that Rachel was in her late twenties or early thirties, that was sad, in a way.

Mort and I decided independently to paper over the episode and we resumed our various discussions as if nothing had ever occurred -- but it wasn't over. Rachel consumed her next beer in record time -- Mort, who was a two-fisted drinker, had barely consumed half of his, and I wasn't even close -- and announced brightly, "I'm ready for another -- anyone else?" Then she got down off the stool again and went for her purse, bending over the stool as before.

Mort and I were watching; Jeff took his cue from us, looking to see what we were looking at. Discovering Rachel's ass once more conveniently positioned, he started mauling handfuls of it.

Betty Sellars, a forty-something bleached blonde who worked in the warehouse, let go with a snorting giggle, having detected the situation for the first time; she'd been talking up Bob Braddock during the first round and never noticed. Now, she and Bob looked on as Jeff thoroughly tested the consistency of Rachel's buttocks, laughing and pointing.

Rachel locked eyes with me and turned fire-engine red -- but she STILL took FOREVER to pull a twenty from her purse. When she finally got back up and sat down, Jeff resumed more or less ignoring her, pointing out flawed plays in the basketball highlights on the TV screen.

Mort looked over at Rachel and asked mildly, "Rachel, you ain't numb anywhere, are you, Honey?"

Betty erupted in another cackle while Rachel blushed and whispered, "No."

Mort nodded. "Jeff ain't botherin' you none, is he?"

"Oh, that?" Rachel pretended to pass it off. "No. He's a little drunk, that's all."

Mort nodded again. "Yeah. Mark, (that's me, by the way), Rachel's right. Some of us shouldn't be drivin'."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Let's get a case of something next door at the liquor store and go over to my place. We can watch ESPN on my TV." I have a 42" HDTV. "That way nobody gets arrested."

It took thirty minutes for everyone to get organized and all of the bottles emptied; Mort and I hit the liquor store and hauled Jeff, in particular, out of there. Betty apparently had Bob on the run so they took off for parts unknown, but I took Rachel in my car and Mort managed to pour Jeff into his pickup. Rachel was definitely tipsy, and with good reason -- she'd more or less doubled up on everyone after Jeff felt her up the first time. As for me, I'd begun to have evil thoughts...

My apartment had an island bar between the kitchen and the living/dining room, so we ended up there, me on the service side and mort, Rachel, and Jeff seated left to right in front of me. After some thought and conniving, I fished out beers and opened them way over on the end of the bar to Mort's right, and then handed Jeff his beer before pretending to get wrapped up in the TV which was on the wall ten feet to Mort's right.

This left Rachel without her beer, which sat, already open, off Mort's right elbow. I then ignored her quiet attempts to get my attention for the next couple of minutes. Mort looked up at me and I shook my head fractionally and he turned away, also, even to the point of ignoring Rachel's hand on his arm. Finally, Rachel lurched up to reach across in front of Mort...

Her ass came up off the stool, right in Jeff's face -- and Jeff blinked and put his beer down and dropped both hands on her ass.

Rachel looked at me and said in a strangled voice, "Can I have my beer?"

"Oh, I don't know," I replied, knowing the conversation would extend things as well as she did, "are you sure you haven't had enough?"

"I'll slow down," she promised, her eyes telling me that she knew that I knew.

"That might be a good idea," Mort opined. "Wouldn't want you to miss Santa Claus." He leaned in and laid his lips on her neck, which was right in front of him.

Rachel looked like she'd been electrocuted! "M--M..." She never did finish saying 'Mort' -- she just looked back and forth from him to me, bug-eyed, while I grinned at her. I handed her bottle to her and she murmured, Thank you," faintly before slowly settling back onto her stool. Jeff, released from his trance, looked up and slurred, "Is the Pistons game on?"

I chuckled and handed him the remote. "I'm gonna put out some snacks." While I collected chips and peanuts and popcorn and stuff, I watched Rachel out of the corner of my eye. She couldn't even LOOK at Mort; did I mention that Mort is black? A nicer guy you've never met, but Rachel was thoroughly scandalized -- and aroused, I was willing to bet...

The brainstorms kept right on coming; I took the snacks over to the coffee table -- which was in front of the TV. A couch faced the TV from behind it and I had a recliner off to the right. This setup worked better than I even hoped...

I got back to the bar and Jeff whined, "What the fuck did you put shit over there for? We're over here!"

I pretended to be nonplussed. "I thought..." I shrugged. "Rachel, would you go get the peanuts off the coffee table?"

"Sure..." She got up and headed over to the couch, hips swaying.

Jeff gave out a grunt and got up behind her, beer in hand, and followed her to the couch. Rachel bent over the back to see if she could reach the peanuts, throwing her right leg out behind her for balance -- and Jeff grabbed her ass again! I got up and headed around the bar, arriving just as Jeff mused, "Rachel has the sweetest ass, don't you think? I follow that ass up and down the hallways at work all the time, watching it do that little figure-eight move and jiggling in them thin pants she wears..." He handed me his beer bottle and collected a handful of her other ass cheek.

Rachel gave me this 'deer in the headlights' look and I grinned and went, "Oops!"

"Mark..." she croaked.

"Rache, if you didn't like it, you'd have slapped the shit out of Jeff two hours ago," I chided her.

"If this gets out..."

"It won't be me and it won't be Mort -- right, Mort?"

"Right!" Mort nodded from his new position looking over my left shoulder.

"Jeff, on the other hand, you might have to negotiate with," I allowed, "but you seem to have something he wants." Jeff was sliding his hands under the elastic waistband of Rachel's pants.

"Jeff, Honey..." Rachel pled.

"I just wanna feel it some -- you tease me with it all the time..." Jeff whined.

"I... didn't know..." Rachel muttered.

"Well, it's WORK, you know? Sexual harassment, and all that shit. I couldn't exactly say 'Oh, Baby, show me that big white ass!' now, could I?" Jeff muttered.

"I guess not..." Rachel bit her lip.

"It's just us -- and you KNOW you want it!" Jeff wedged his hands under her waistband and pushed her pants -- and her panties -- to her knees. "Ahhh, Jeezus!" he whispered, "will you LOOK at that!" His palms returned to the white moons of Rachel's now bare ass.

I turned to Mort. "Put these on the bar, willya?"

Mort grunted, "Oh!" and put his beer on the bar so he could take mine and Jeff's. I knelt beside Rachel and tugged her pants down the rest of the way.

Rachel eyed me and opened her mouth; I forestalled her with, "You know you like it and WE know you like it -- you can lie and get all stuffy and make everybody unhappy, or you can get a little something special from Santa this year. What's it gonna be?" Rachel shut up and lifted her foot so I could remove her shoe and pull her pants off the leg. While I shuffled around behind her and Jeff so I could get at the far side, I said, "Mort, why don't you park yourself on the couch?"

While I helped Rachel out of the other leg, Jeff mused reverently, "I'd crawl naked a mile through broken glass to smell that..." His hands were giving Rachel's ass a workout. Rachel spread her stance a bit as she came out of the second shoe and the pants and panties came away, telling me that this was going to go the distance. "Man, what a sweet looking box!" Jeff breathed. All Rachel had on below the waist was her knee-highs -- and they were drooping around her ankles from contact with her pants. She had one of those little bifurcated belly rolls; it didn't show much when she stood up, but bent over like this, it hung there... I couldn't see her twat; I was off to the side.

Since I seemed to be running things, I decided to bump things up a notch. "Jeff, she's up too high -- it'll look better if she leans over the couch arm. Besides, Mort can't see nothing..."

"Yeah..." Jeff took Rachel by the hips and moved her sideways -- and Rachel followed his hands obediently. In a second or two, she was draped over the right couch arm, basically with her head above Mort's lap. "Oh, yeah! That's nice!" Jeff crooned, pleased with the result. He dipped a hand between her spread thighs and her pussy made a wet, squishy sound. Somebody was gonna get fucked...

I came around front and stood next to her and said, "You look kinda funny, overdressed above the waist like that..." I reached down and collected a tit, feeling it through her bra. "Let's clear the decks some." Rachel looked up at me and I could see fear and arousal warring in her expression. "Just relax, Honey -- you're among friends -- and it looks like Santa is gonna fill both legs of your pantyhose THIS Christmas! Let's get that jacket off..." She had on this little bolero suit jacket that went with the pants; she obligingly lifted one hand and then the other so that I could tug the three-quarter-length sleeves down off them and remove it.

"What a sweet beaver!" Jeff gusted, his fingers making squishy noises in her slot. Rachel's nostrils dilated and she started sucking air in through them rapidly as her face reddened and her eyes -- locked on me -- got glassy.

"Blouse next, I think," I announced. It was one of those high-necked things, frilly. I unbuttoned it; Mort got the cuffs. Rachel looked like she was thinking about looking at Mort, but just didn't have the guts... Once again, Rachel obligingly shifted from arm to arm to facilitate removal, and I went straight to the heavy bra, unsnapping the clasp. It dropped off, settling around her wrists and I whistled, "Will ya look at those nipples!" Rachel's hooters hung down probably six inches from her chest; her brownish areolas were crinkled tight and a half-inch of stiff nipple stuck out from each. I reached in a grabbed one, squeezing gently, and Rachel whined deep in her throat. Yeah, this was going ALL the way!

"Say, Mort," I said conversationally, "since Rachel is so well-positioned for it, why don't you do a 'Myth Busters' thing and let her see for herself if the legends about black guys' dick size are true or not?"

Mort, who was mauling Rachel's left nipple while I did her right, looked up at me. "I, uh, dunno... I don't want to..."

"Huh! Must not be too big... Maybe Rache doesn't want to know, then. How about it, Rache? Do you have an inquiring mind?"

Rachel tried, but she could NOT bring herself to look at Mort. On the other hand, she COULD look at me -- and croak, "Yes!"

"Well, there you go, Mort -- Rachel wants to know..." I grinned, waving.

"Shit..." That was all he needed; Mort undid his Dockers and lifted his ass just enough to shove them and his underwear to his ankles, revealing his stiffie. Now, it wasn't world-class, but it was a wee bit bigger than mine -- wider, mostly -- and that made it somewhere between seven and a half and eight inches long and about as big around as a roll of Christmas wrapping paper -- quite decent, actually. Rachel ogled it cross-eyed from a distance of about three inches, gave a gasp, and her legs started jumping. Now it might have been Mort, and it might have been Jeff's fingers in her gash -- but I'm betting it was both; in any case, she let out a wail and her eyes rolled up and she started humping Jeff's fingers like a bucking bronco and my apartment suddenly smelled like Airwick's Wet Pussy plug-in. VERY stimulating! Then she collapsed with her face in Mort's lap with her nose in his balls.

"I'm gettin' a piece of this!" Jeff announced, and started hauling at his clothes. He got naked pretty damned fast for a drunk guy; by the time Rachel started trying to get her legs back under her, he was positioning hr at the hips to take a dick.

"Jeff!" I snapped, "Gentle! I'm betting Rachel doesn't get ridden a lot! Don't tear it up!"

"Uh, yeah, right..." Jeff got a grip.

Rachel looked up at me with big, wet eyes and whispered, "Mark..."

"What, Honey?" I shifted my attention from watching Jeff nose his cock into her clam.

"You won't think... less... of me..."

I froze. She might as well have hit me on the forehead with a sledgehammer! "Are you trying to tell me something, Honey?" Rachel had the hots for me? Since when?

"I... No..." She looked away -- but a tear dripped onto Mort's leg. She gave a little grunt as Jeff wedged the door open with the head of his cock. Okay, THAT was a lie -- but then, I'd asked a stupid question, hadn't I?

I took her by the chin and tilted her face up to look at me and kissed her on the nose. "I engineered this -- it's partly my fault. No, it won't change anything. You have a good time -- you don't get a lot of this, do you?"

"No."

"When was the last time?" I asked. One look at her face said she wasn't currently capable of higher mathematics. "Never mind -- you just enjoy your Christmas present. It's all cool, Honey." I leaned in and kissed her -- and I made it good, because I wanted her to set aside any worries and enjoy herself. Girls don't think like we do; for guys, sex is good clean fun, but girls tend to wrap it in other stuff. If I'd know going in that Rachel had a thing for me, well... But Jeff was rocking his ass back and forth and grunting and backing and filling and it was just too damned late... Rachel was going to worry about me thinking she was a slut -- totally without realizing the fact that if she proved herself to be a hot number it actually IMPROVED her position! Hell, if she hadn't succumbed to the urge to have her ass played with, I would likely have never discovered that she wanted to be with me!

Jeff had managed to get himself root-deep and was starting to lunge. I backed off as she moaned in my mouth and whispered, "Party like it's nineteen ninety nine, Honey."

"What about..." She eyed Mort's cock.

"You do what you want," I whispered in her ear. "Suck it, fuck it, whatever. I'm gonna watch. And I'm gonna bat cleanup. I think Mort deserves a little, don't you?"

Rachel pushed her hair back over her ear. "You're sure?"

"Positive."

"I'm gonna suck it."

"Okay." I watched as she leaned down and gingerly took Mort's half-covered glans between her lips, making sure she could see a smile on my face -- because she was damned sure looking! I rubbed her back as she squatted a little to facilitate Jeff's stroke. Mort groaned and palmed the back of her head -- not pressing, but asking her to go deeper -- and she started jacking and bobbing on him.

The blow job made handling her titties difficult, so I reached in and felt around until I found her stiff clit standing tall under its hood and started working my middle finger back and forth over it. Rachel started shaking in no time and in a few seconds Jeff howled, "HOLY SHIT!" I thought he was done, but it was just Rachel's pussy clamping down on him as she got off; he was too drunk to get a nut that soon. Jeff and I basically held her up while she got her shit together and he resumed his stroke while I purred at her and told her what a hot babe I thought she was.

Rachel went back to work on Mort and she seemed to have the hang of it because after a couple of minutes, he got all stiff on the couch and gasped, "I'm gonna blow!"

I leaned in and whispered, "Drink it. Suck it down and swallow." She watched me out of one eye as she finished him off, continuing to bob on him until he actually lit off, and I watched her swallow his jizz, smiling. When he was done, the post cum sensations were clearly too much; he pushed her back gently and went over to crash in my recliner.

I went and picked up her beer so she had something to wash Mort's product down with, then asked her, "Want mine?"

"Please?" The way she said it made it clear that it was important to her. She handed me back the bottle and I put it on the coffee table, and then climbed on the couch sideways facing her. "Tell me how you like it," she gasped, jacking me. "Are you Jewish?"

"No, doctors just thought it was cleaner when I was born," I replied. "They talked my mom into it. I don't miss it..." She was already leaning in to suck. "Work the tip; you want to run your lips back and forth from the tip to behind the head, at least. The underside of the head is really sensitive. Basically, you want to fuck it with your mouth."

"Mkay." That was all the guidance Rachel needed. I spent the next ten minutes in Heaven. Rachel only got off once on Jeff's cock during that period, largely because I was getting seventy five percent of her attention. I'd have gotten a nut, but the damned doorbell rang!

The second time, I sighed and backed out of Rachel's liquid embrace, went over, and stuck my eye to the peephole. It was Betty, which was a surprise; I'd given out my address during the early planning at the bar, but she'd been with Bob. This was the first time she ever darkened my door. Being buck naked, I opened the door a crack and stuck my head around. "What are you guys doing?" she asked.

"Hanging out." THAT was more descriptive than I intended. "Where's Bob?"

Betty frowned. "He always has an excuse..." I nodded. What I knew and she didn't was that Bob was on blood pressure meds and had an erectile dysfunction. "Is Rachel here?"

I considered lying, but Rachel was going, "Huh! Huh! Huh!" in time to the fleshy smacks of Jeff's hips against her ass as he put the meat to her. I could hear it, so I KNEW Betty could. "Yeah," I admitted.

"Can I come in?"

"Depends on how open-minded you are, I guess," I allowed.

Betty smiled and caressed my cheek. "I get by."

I stepped back and opened the door, largely to duck her hand. "Oh, my! I see Jeff managed to get Rachel to give him a piece of that ass he's so enamored with!" Betty cackled, then started doing her snorting laugh, "He he!" Snort! "He he!" Snort! She came in and I took her coat; as her eyes drifted over Mort, she asked, "So, are you at loose ends?"

"Actually, I was busy..." I replied, just as Jeff, who had really stepped up the pace while I answered the door, yelped, "HOLY SHIT!" He pumped in Rachel about three more strokes, then pulled out and rubbed his cock along the crack of her ass for three or four more, then geysered cum all along her back from the base of Rachel's neck to the crack of her ass! It was impressive, so I was surprised that he was rude enough to mutter, "I've had better!" as he staggered back to plop down in a side chair.

"I'm up," I replied, shrugging and grinning while Betty stepped out of her skirt.

"Rachel's had hers, Baby," Betty cooed. "Let Mama show you how it's done."

"I want Mark!" Rachel rasped, panting. "We were..."

"Busy," I finished. "Besides, I made promises. Why don't you check out Mort?" I suggested.

Betty squinted at me. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"That's not the question here," I pointed out. "What would YOU like? You might want to eyeball that kielbasa before you pass it up..."

"Yeah, right..." But she looked -- and she cocked her head. Mort was probably at half-staff -- and a little irritated.

"It was good enough for Rachel to suck," he growled. "If I was to..."

"I'm sorry, Mort -- that was just rude," Betty apologized. "Can I, um, play with it a little?" I suspected that she planned to give him a hand job while she waited for either Jeff or me to get around to her -- but that was between Betty and Mort... I went over and shoved the coffee table against the entertainment center and tossed the couch cushions on the floor.

"Let's be looking at one another," I suggested to Rachel, waving at the cushions.

"My back..." she muttered. I snagged a couple of cocktail napkins off the coffee table and started swiping at her back. "I'm not protected," she muttered, eyeing me over her shoulder.

"From this mess, I'd say you're safe," I replied, "but I'm not stocking rubbers, either." I don't -- maybe it's selfish, but I hate the damned things. "I can do this..." I held up the messy napkin, indicating that I could pull out and shoot on her.

"Or not," she replied, holding my eyes. The world's oldest bear trap yawned open...

... And I wandered in, of course. Sometimes it only LOOKS like you have a choice; knowing where her head was at, it was do it or both be miserable for having done without AND make her think I thought she was a worthless slut. Better to roll the dice and hope... I waved her down onto the cushions. Rachel plopped down, flopped back, corralled her titties with her upper arms and her knees with her hands and looked up expectantly. It was the hottest picture I'd seen in a LOOONG time! There was something about that look -- that wide-open posture -- that defied description, but made her irresistible! Her clam had a beard, but it was sparse, rather than bushy; her labia were puffy and pink and wide open from Jeff's effort. Her nipples were up and hard and she didn't have to SAY 'Fuck me!' -- It was written in every line and curve! I dropped down and rubbed my cock along her slick slot, feeling out her opening, found it, and slid forward, taking her knees on my upper arms and releasing her hands to rub me here and there...

Sliding my dick into her was like coming home; I swear her cervix kissed the head of my dick when it got there. Jeff had really wailed on her and I expected her to be loose and sloppy -- but her cunt fit like a glove! Her eyes popped when I hit bottom and she went, "Oh!" -- and she did that every stroke for the next fifteen minutes, except for the times she was arching and wailing out a climax. No, I'm not Superman; she had me so charged up that I blew in her about thirty seconds out -- and she wailed like a banshee when my juice hit her cervix and milked my dick like it was gonna deliver a quart if she just did it right... She probably DID get a half-pint, anyway. When she settled down, I just took off again, and she lunged up, starry-eyed, and locked lips with me and I ended up fucking her mouth with my tongue, too. I rode that shit like there was no tomorrow, and she went off on me three more times before I lost it the second time and couldn't continue without a recharge.

When I had excess attention span again, I looked up to find Betty kneeling in front of the recliner licking Mort's asshole while she jacked his dick. "Change your mind?" I croaked at her.

"Uhn huhn," Betty replied, without removing her tongue from Mort's pucker.

"I haven't decided whether I'm gonna give her any yet," Mort growled -- but he winked at me. Once he'd put Betty in her place, he was going to pin her to her mattress...

He made her beg and apologize and grovel -- it was fun to watch. Rachel and I cuddled one another until Mort apparently reluctantly put Betty up on her hands and knees and proceeded to long-stroke the living shit out of her! Mort had Jeff come over and stick his dick in Betty's mouth to keep her from waking up the neighbors -- and when he was done blowing his nut in her he stood up and waved Jeff over to replace him. By then, Betty was wall-eyed and could barely croak.

When Jeff settled back on his haunches after delivering Betty's second creampie, I looked up at the clock and announced, "It's Christmas. I'm going to bed. You guys can crash here if you want -- the couch folds out." Rachel looked a question and I answered it, "The bedroom is that way." The look in her eyes... well, only a woman gets it, you know? I managed another round sometime around three a.m., long and slow and easy from behind, both of us on our sides, her holding her knee clear and me diddling her clit while I slid in and out. It was good shit -- addictive.

I could get all gushy and tell you we hooked up and got married and shit, but this is real li-- Ouch! Dammit, Rachel, don't bite my fucking ear! People don't want to hear that happily ever... OW! Okay, okay! She didn't get pregnant that night, but we spent too much time practicing for it not to work at some point; by March 1st, Rachel had a bun in the oven. Chris is two, and Rachel is preggers again -- a good thing, since the Christmas Eve Swap Party is now a tradition. I don't want to have to worry about Mort embarrassing me by planting something while I pork Betty. Mort more or less has Betty on a leash; theoretically, they're not a couple -- because Mort SAYS they aren't. They'll be over later; Betty gives pretty good head. Not as good as the old ball and chain, but pretty decent...