Candaulism Part III

 

My wife strips for my friends at my parent's house

 

 

Since we were now back in the old neighborhood where I grew up and went to high school, many of my old friends dropped in to see us, the same guys who used to visit us in our apartment before we had moved away after that incident with Steve. They said they came to visit for the same reason that we were housesitting, that is, for the air conditioning and the free booze and the color TV and the rec room. But of course they also came for their interest in my wife.

 

We had seen almost nothing of them for more than a year and a half, yet they were still as horny about her as ever. She had put on a little weight, but she was as attractive as ever to them, and they seemed just as eager to press her for sex. It was not long before I was witnessing the same old maneuvers. Trying to stick a hand up her shirt. Teasing her. Craig and Jon especially. Jon brought friends to give a try as well. Whenever I was out of the room and even when I wasn't.

 

But Karen was not the same. She responded with more understanding. If she had been naive, she was no more. Her experiences with Craig had changed how she felt, and how she reacted to them; innocence and naivety was gone; in its place was a knowing flirtatious acknowledgment. In short she knew herself, and she understood them. Craig had matured her sexually, though they should not know that. She knew what they wanted and sometimes she teased them; she baited them even to try things. She did not hesitate to look at them with a coy and seductive smile, kiss and play, then laugh and leave them hard. She could not be so easily guided into reluctant necking or letting them cop a feel of her breasts. She knew what she was doing. To their great disappointment she also had more skill in rejecting them as well. Teasing them and leaving them cock-hard. I saw it more than once. She knew what she was doing.

 

I debated about whether I should tell my friends what I wanted. I decided I would not. I did not know how they would respond to me, and besides I wanted them to think I did not know. I had no real idea what would happen in either case. If I made her do it, I did not know what they would do. I would have to leave it to fate.

 

I thought I might leave it to fate which of my friends (or friends of my friends) should be there that night. But I did not want to risk disappointment. It should be a Friday night so that Craig would not be there. I called Gary to make sure someone would come, knowing that he would probably bring Howie at least. I guessed he would also call Jon. Other than that I hoped that there would be several. I really could not imagine how it would go. I thought it just as likely to flop. I mean, Karen might chicken out. Or they might be too worried about me to press her. My thoughts went in circles. I had to just stop thinking about it.

 

But of course I could not. I rehearsed it over and over in my mind. I went down to the basement to consider the scene. Where should they sit? I considered where I should be outside as I watched them. I considered where Karen should stand in the room when she did it and how she should do it.

 

I was determined to act immediately before I lost my nerve, but more than this, I have to admit, I was obsessed. I thought of little else. I daydreamed it. I masturbated to it. It was like the epitome of my fantasies. It was what I had thought about since I was a teenager. And my wife, though more savvy, more aware of her sexuality, was yet willing to do anything to please me. And I believed she would not be unwilling anyway, even if she was a little scared and worried about the consequences.

 

This time, when I told her what I wanted her to do, I was explicit. I reminded her of how I had wanted her to let Craig take off her clothes while I spied on them. I told her that I was not satisfied with how it had turned out. He had not done it and so this time I would want her to do it herself. She was thinking of course that I meant for her to take off her clothes for Craig while I watched. She nodded agreement. But I said she did not understand. "Tomorrow. When the guys come over. They will want to fool around with you. Don't fight too much. Whatever they want, I want you to let them." She nodded. "And then after I am gone to bed, I want you to take off all your clothes for them."

 

She looked shocked. I persisted. This time there would be no chance I would not see what I wanted to see, because she would do exactly what I wanted. I was clear and specific. "I will go to bed saying I feel sick. I will leave you alone with them. They will try to do things with you, you know, after I've gone. You know they will. After I'm gone just get up and say: "Is this what you want?" And take off your clothes."

 

She did not say anything when I finished. But she was thinking. She did not look at me, she looked at the floor. She had not said no, that was encouraging. She asked me: "Where will you be?"

 

I said: "I'll be outside." She looked puzzled. "You'll be in the rec room, in the basement," I explained."I can see everything through the window if you stand in the center of the room when you do it."

 

"Who will...?" She did not finish the sentence.

 

"I don't know. The usual guys," and I admitted, "Gary's coming over for sure." She blushed. Certainly there would be Gary. Gary had always had a crush on her, he had dated her before I did, and I had already invited him on purpose. "Howie's coming too," I added, "and probably Jon." She did not like Jon. She always seemed a little afraid of Jon. When I mentioned his name in particular, she became more remote and unresponsive too. Or perhaps it was Howie that bothered her. She had known Howie since the two of them grew up in the same neighborhood. The thought of taking off all of her clothes in front of him made her feel vaguely sick - like she was taking off her clothes for her brother. She said nothing more, she thought some more.

 

She did not look at me. "Who else?"

 

I shrugged. There usually were five or six guys who came over. She knew that. Who or how many would be there to see my naked wife, I didn't know either. The more the better I was thinking. I wished I'd told Gary to invite a bunch of guys. I think she saw what I was thinking and it made her feel cheapened.

 

Thinking about it, about doing this thing, taking off her clothes in the basement, standing naked in front of them, she looked more and more unhappy in the thought, more unhappy than upset. I think it hurt her feelings that I should want to humiliate her in this way, but then as I saw it her experience with Craig taught her to be sexually submissive and there was nothing that I asked that was very different in kind from things she had done willingly for him. I reminded her of that. "If you love me, like you love him...." I suggested. I reminded her of the time in the cab with the cabbie.

 

She was obviously hurt by the reference and my presumption. She said that was not the same. I said I didn't see how I was asking her to do anything different than she already had. Of course she had been really drunk those other times, that is true. I was thinking she'd have to show herself naked for my friends, drunk or sober. "You can get drunk, if you want."

 

She looked at me searchingly. "What else then.... what if they want things?" she asked.

 

Somehow I had not thought of that until she brought it up. "What do you mean?" I asked. But of course I had thought of it. There she would be, after all, standing there completely naked in the basement, after she had just flirted and let them cop feels all night. Of course they would want to do things. But I did not want her to back away now, now that I had her so close to giving in. I shrugged and said: "Nothing more is gonna happen. They will just sit and stare. All I want is you take off your clothes for them. That's all that will happen."

 

Actually, though, I began then to fantasize about that lots of things might very well happen and I think she saw what I was thinking. It was in her mind as well.

 

She looked worried: "Jon will do things." Why did she single out Jon? I could believe Gary would certainly try--after all he'd been after her panties for years--but why did she say Jon? I asked her what she meant. She would not reply.

 

"Do you want them to do things?" I wondered.

 

"Is that what you want?" she asked. I tried to embrace her but she was stiff. She turned away from me, shaking her head, folding her arms.

I asked her again: "No. Just take off your clothes for them." She would not look at me. She said she wanted to think about it. I left her alone for a while.

 

She did not speak about it until later once we were in bed. She was not interested in sex. She laid apart staring at the ceiling. She asked me: "Why do you want this?" "I don't know," I said. "Why?" she repeated, leaning to look at me. "I don't know. I want to see you naked for them. I think you want to be naked for them too." She stared at me. She was silent for a long while. She asked: "Are you sure?" I said: "Yes... Will you do it then?"

 

"If it is what you want... " She looked away from me. She was obviously too ashamed to look at me. It gave me a sexual pang to think of it, because it meant she wanted to do it.

 

"Yes..." I said. I told her I loved her. She said nothing. I made love to her, coupling her from behind, but she was impassive and remote. My mind filled with imagination of them seeing her naked as I fucked her. This would hurt our marriage, but I did not care. Bitterly, spitefully I thought how she owed me this much, for all the things she had done at the Frat house and that time with the Cabbie, with Steve and that other boy.

 

I took off work on Friday. I was too keyed up. Karen slept late and seemed very distant all day. She said little to me all day. I asked her several times if she was okay and she smiled and nodded. But I think she worried.

 

I felt giddy. I wondered if she felt the same giddiness that I did. We got to the house early. My parents had already gone. She watched TV. I made some snacks. I went to the store to get soft drinks. When I came back she had changed her clothes.

 

What she wore was her own idea. And it was perfect. She wore the same outfit that she used to wear when my friends came over to the old apartment. Bobby socks, blue jean shorts, and one of my t-shirts. The blue jean shorts (with the legs rolled up above her knees) were in fact the very same she used to wear, which now pinched her waist, a bit too snug for her since she had gained weight. The t-shirt, large on her, hung down to mid-thighs, almost covering the jeans beneath.

Dressed this way, so provocatively reminiscent of times they must remember, she would seem to be inviting them. I saw it that way. They would certainly see it that way. I think, she meant it that way. Dressed this way, all the ideas they harbored would be excited. I guessed, and then I saw for certain, that she was not wearing a bra, seeing the points of tits underneath the t-shirt. They would see this too.

 

When my friends arrived she even acted like she used to act. A little silly. Shy. Awkward. And of course they flattered her on her clothes right off. They remembered.

 

Gary and Howie arrived first. They had really been her friends first Gary had once dated her, and Howie had been a member of her church (back when she went to church). Jon came with someone neither of us knew whom he introduced as Bob. Then, Andy came alone -- he was Steve's brother, by the way. And Bill came bringing his younger brother Tim. This would be it then. Six. That was good. The number was right. She would be gang-banged. Or at least humiliated and abused. I felt anxious now myself as my imagination began to conceive and anticipate. I saw it in her face too.

 

I had not anticipated this group at all apart from Gary and Howie. The rest -- except for maybe Jon -- was not expected. In particular I had not expected Bill; he was an old friend of Gary's and I suppose that it why he was here, but he had never been a regular in the past, and he didn't particularly like me or my wife. Bill also happened to work where I was working at present, not on the same area, but we saw each other sometimes and he knew guys I knew. I had qualms about the thought of him being here. Would he tell other guys I worked with? I just pushed the thought of it out of my mind. Or perhaps, recklessly, I entertained the idea. Again, the gnawing anticipation. Why did I want her humiliated? Did she want it? She looked already sexually flushed. I was sure they saw that too.

 

Andy was the real surprise; he had completely avoided us ever since the incident with Steve, his brother, as if he was ashamed of it, or worried I would be angry with him about it. I was glad to see him; he had been my best friend in high school, but I worried how he might take this. Andy would be the most astounded, because of all of them, while I think he privately and painfully lusted for her, he had never tried anything untoward; he was too shy and he would think of me. And yet, I had no doubt, he had always wanted to see my naked, just like the rest of them. He had been here several times when they got her drunk and tried to get her shirt off. He had watched. He had hoped.

 

Of course I had not expected either Timmy or the stranger that Jon brought. The stranger leered at Karen from the outset. Jon had obviosuly told him stories. Timmy had come to drink, I think. He treated Karen like he might his mother. Timmy was barely fourteen, and although tall looked like a boy and his age discomfited Karen, I could see that. She looked at me when he came in. I guessed she was beginning to get cold about doing it. But I shrugged and pretended it was okay. Actually his age and innocence, his stunned amazement would heighten her shame, I thought, for this is someone who would likely tell other boys he knew, boys in the neighborhood. She would have a naughty reputation among a whole bunch of middle school teenage boys after this -- a legend that would build.

 

But except for him, all others present -- including the sneering leering stranger -- were more or less our age, all recently come to the legal drinking age. And while in the year -- hell, almost two years that had passed since we used to hang out -- Jon and Bill had some luck with girls, the others had remained basically virgins and were inexperienced in sex, if not entirely innocent. Oh, they all might claim they knew more than they really did of course. But even Jon and Bill had maybe only done it a couple times and probably knew more from magazines and porn movies than anything real.

 

Andy, I am sure, had never seen a naked woman in the flesh; he had never even been to a strip club. Neither had Gary or Howie for that matter. And none of these guys would get married for several years; my wife would be the sum total of their sexual experience until then.

 

Perhaps Jon was a real player, or at least he thought himself one, and in the end he would lead the others through the night, being eager to harshly push the shameful extreme of what my wife could tolerate, possessing a keen insight for her abuse and humiliation and for the delicate application of coercion and teasing to coax her to sexually surrender. He knew when and how to plainly bully her, when to let her meekly cry, and when to tell her that she was beautiful and kiss her kindly. He had absolutely no conscience at all.

 

I could not have picked a better group if I had tried. And the fact that it made Karen so plainly nervous, so that they all saw it too, actually made me even more sexually excited in my anticipation. Her sexual anxiety and her shame excited them to disregard her feelings and their own misgivings. Seeing her phony reluctance tease them, her secret longings revealed to them, would arouse them to sexually abuse her. And the group of them, feeding each other, feeding off her surrender and humiliation, would arouse them collectively to do things to her that they might be too ashamed to try alone and which none of them would imagine they would do to her.

 

There was something about this particular group of men that brought out all the conflictions in guilty anxiety and sexual feelings that Karen felt: misgivings worried her, after all she did not know what they would do to her once she was naked anymore than I did. But her misgivings were overwhelmed by her own sexual curiosity and the gnawing sexual urge she might have denied, a compulsion she felt to do these things -- to be coerced to do these things, as much as my own compulsion to watch these things done to her. No, she did not really do this for me, even if that is what she told herself: she would not do it if she not want to do it, I was sure, and yet she was also worried and anxious about it, for these were guys she had known for as long as she had known me and would see them again, after she had done it. What would happen after this? We should both have worried about that eventuality, but I at least just chose not to consider the outcomes. And I guess both of us were intrigued in the fantasy of the moment. I don't think either of us believed it was real. It did not seem real.

 

Her emotions showed in odd behavior; they saw felt giddy and acted inappropriately -- starting with the provocative way she dressed and how she looked at them -- and it made them uncomfortable. All except the stranger who winked at Jon and said things under his breath. But I knew that because she was feeling so queasy about what she had agreed to do -- anticipating the moment that she would take off her clothes for them -- she was alternately strangely moody, then incongruously chirpy and frivolous: imagining nervously what she felt would be their likely response, obsessing in anticipation on what she imagined they would do to her; then suddenly she would be withdrawn, quiet and worried, thinking (I suppose) of the regretful aftermath.

 

When one of them spoke to her or sat beside her, she would try to be happy, trying not to think of it. But teasing her or flirting with her would seem to worry her, even while she tried to good-naturedly receive them. She blushed with more discomfort than they expected, and after all their teasing was not meant to be cruel, though suggestive and at moments raw, but from time to time she would look on the verge of tears.

 

They felt her tension. When she was left alone, she would sit apart looking about the room of them inappropriately despondent, for no good reason that they could tell.

 

Reengaging her, trying to cheer her, she smiled cheerily, but her cheery smile showed an obvious pretense and the moment she was left alone she plunged back into a sullen anxious preoccupation.

 

They saw all the wildness in her emotions and it perplexed them. They asked me privately what was wrong. Was something wrong? Nothing's wrong, I said, she just has something on her mind. They asked her too when they saw she looked unhappy. But of course she would smile and try to be amusing.

 

I knew what she was thinking about, for I was thinking it too: the time was approaching. I shared her anxiety: what would they do when she took off her clothes? I did not know for certain. I had deliberately left it to fate. And I shared her misgivings about the aftermath. What would they think of her? How will the feel about me?

 

The atmosphere of the evening had a knife-edge, like there was going to be violent thunderstorm.

 

I think I contributed to the atmosphere myself. Alternately over-solicitous to her (feeling guilty and frankly wanting to reassure her so that she would not back out) and then again ignoring her, especially as they made comments or sexual advances toward her--Jon twice put his hand up her shirt, which I pretended I did not see but which obviously I had. My friends thought should have offended me, especially by the teasing of this stranger whom Jon had brought. It must have seemed to them that I oddly encouraged her misuse and humiliation, often making an ironic smirk of appreciation. I winked at Jon and even Andy saw that. Karen for her part pretended to be blithely oblivious, though obviously pleased with the attention and plainly flirtatious -- that is, between moments of strange distance and despondence.

 

My friends in the know of course saw the irony of the clothing that she was wearing, the clear "invitation" was not lost on them, as I have said. They all knew what it meant --and I think Jon explained it to the stranger almost as soon as they arrived-- and they looked at me for my reaction, expecting me to be jealous and upset, especially given the stories told by Steve about her. But I acted like I didn't care or even that I encouraged them to go ahead and cop a feel, if she'd let them, turning my head at things that I saw.

 

Jon was especially open about the implications. I began to see why Karen worried about him, but still did not know why. When Jon arrived with his friend -- the stranger whom he would later introduce as Bob -- he immediately commented on her clothing in simply rude and coarse terms calling her out for dressing like that, calling her "a little cock-teaser" in fact and when he embraced her in his greeting, he let a trailing hand feel the underside of her breast, almost groping it. She fended his hand, yet showed to him her awareness of his touch in a nervous sidelong glance after him.

 

Actually all of them when they arrived took special notice of how she dressed; Jon was just maybe the most unabashed. I saw Gary, Howie -- even Andy -- steal glances at the nubby points of her tits under her shirt, the hint of the supple shape, the way they bobbed when in one of her strange manic cheery moods she ran to open the door for another guest or bounced up to get a drink for one of my friends or dodged from an illicit grope with a teasing look.

 

Her behavior and mine gave them mixed messages.

 

We stayed upstairs until I was certain no one else was coming. It was a little past nine, and I had told her she should do it about ten, just after the news programs came on the TV. That was to be her cue.

 

She looked at me sadly when I announced that we should all go down to the basement and the rec room.

 

As we went down, before she went through the door, she stopped me. She wanted to say something. What she said was not perhaps what she mean to say: "Am I dressed alright?"

 

I don't think it was what she meant to say. But I think it was her way of cryptically signaling her intent to go ahead with it. Her face showed me what she meant. Eyes so wanting me to love her, to reassure her.

 

I kissed her and embracing her, feeling supple bare breasts against me beneath her t-shirt. I put my hand underneath and touched them. She leaned her forehead to my shoulder. A fondling that several of them saw and I almost lifted her t-shirt to let them see more than they should but I played my part, looked bashfully at them and withdrew my hand discretely.

 

"You look beautiful," I said, kissing her forehead. "You okay?" She nodded. Everything was communicated between us in her submissive expression.

 

Andy turned on the TV he was not one to socialize and distracted himself. We drank. I brought down the snacks and put them out onto the wet bar. Karen sat on the sofa between three of the boys Andy on one side (a safe bet) and then Gary and Howie. Bill and Timmy sat on the love seat off to the side. Jon and Bob sat on the coffee table or on the sofa arm, chatting up the others, on both sofa and love seat..

 

We drank. The boys flirted with Karen just like they used to. Gary and Jon and Howie were taking turns at it. Switching places, sitting next to Karen and Andy as we watched TV and drank. The same old play. A hand at her waist, then touching on her bare skin. A whisper. Her blush. The hand slipping onto her tummy when I was turned away. And she pushing it off before it got to the prize. The newcomers Bob and Timmy seemed perplexed that I did nothing to stop it. Karen was getting quite drunk and it was more likely that one of the hands might slip further up.

 

Aware of the incident with Steve, but uncertain of the truth of it, Gary and Jon teased Karen simply asking her if she ever saw Steve nowadays. Jon asked after the other boy whose name I had never heard before. Karen had not told me. She said she did not know. Gary said the name: Larry something. Jon said: "Larry remembers you well." She blushed. I think they all of them knew the stories.

 

After drinking some more the boys started to talk about sex, deliberately I think to embarrass Karen and she did seem uncomfortable. An allusion was made to cock-sucking. Gary, again, looking up under Karen's downcast eyes, asked her plainly: "You like doing that?" She bit a lip and looked up at me. Gary grinning said: "No. Why would a girl like that?"

 

Jon said slyly, making a little knowing glance at Karen: "Maybe she likes the taste of cum." The silence made everyone uncomfortable. Jon nudges Karen, leaning toward and adds maliciously: "How about you, Karen? You like to suck cock?" She looked hurt, it is true, and embarrassed. Howie looked worried and looked at me. I think he expected me to say something. When I didn't Andy turned away. Gary laughed in spite of himself. Timmy was confused. Bob grinned. Bill rolled his eyes. Jon nodded and winked at Gary.

 

I interrupted them suddenly. It seemed a good time. It was nearly ten and I had told Karen her cue should be when the news came on. That she should ask someone to turn down the sound then and then wait a moment and then take her position in the room.

 

I said I didn't feel well. Some of them thought it was because the sex talk was getting raunchy. I said I thought I had eaten something bad. I was going to have to go to bed. But I added: "You guys stay. Karen will keep you company. Have a good time with her...."

 

I motioned to Karen when I stood where I wanted her to stand, seeing that from here I could see everything well. As she got up, Gary's hand slipped out from beneath her shirt.

 

She approached me sheepishly, aware that I had seen him fondling her and that she had allowed it. I whispered to her: "Stand here.... this is where...." She looked down and nodded. I did not kiss her. I just left. She returned to sit beside Gary.

 

I had gone out the front door and ran around to the back yard to peek into the windows. I had opened the windows a bit earlier so that I would be able to hear them, saying it was because of their smoking. It was cool outside anyway; we didn't have the air conditioning on.

 

When I settled in creeping close enough to hear and see well, Gary was keeping up his rude patter. What he expected Karen to say I do not know. It was almost cruel; I think he expected her to get upset, but she did not. She looked worried, he saw that clearly he was hitting a nerve; maybe Steve's stories were really true.

 

Jon finally said for him to give it a rest. He leaned to explain the subtext to Bob in an quiet aside. Bob's eyes widened on Karen. Karen saw this.

 

"You didn't answer, Jon," Gary teased her.

 

"I didn't hear him," she said meekly.

 

He repeated it: "Do like to suck cock?"

 

They waited. Everyone looked at her. She blushed. She did not respond.

 

The TV news began. It was time. I was ready. But nothing happened. Karen did nothing. I began to doubt that she would do it.

 

Gary laughed: "I don't know. Anyway you never had your cock sucked."

 

Jon took offense. He looked at my wife, then back at Gary. "Oh yeah and she loved it."

 

"Really? Who?" asked Gary, "Some boy scout?"

 

"Fuck you," retorted Jon.

 

"Who then? Anybody we know?" He winked at Jon and looked at Karen. Andy had looked up from the news and glanced at my wife

 

Jon seeing Andy looking at my wife, added the irrelevant fact: "You know, Steve got his cock sucked by some married woman he knows. He's always bragging about it. Right?"

 

Dropping the bomb. They did not speak for several minutes, listening to the news. I began to believe it would not happen.

 

To my friends, Karen seemed to be upset, and those in the know interpreted this to be her response to the pointed reference Jon had made about Steve. It was like accusing a witch, trying to get her guilt to show in her face, and were getting to her. Her discomfort showed but those who did not know what was going on just thought the nasty topic offended her. Good girls don't do such things. The conversation lapsed. The TV droned. Karen had lost her nerve. It wasn't going to happen.

 

Gary got up to get himself another drink. He asked Karen if she wanted one. She said no. The conversation resumed and in the background I heard an announcer go off on a rant of sports scores in the newscast. It had been more than twenty minutes. I thought I might as well go back inside. She wouldn't do it now.

 

Then, I heard Karen speak to Andy: she asked him to turn down the volume on the TV.

 

I was disheartened. In my mind I spoke to her a silent command. "Get up." I squeezed my dick and sent my thoughts to her: "Take off your clothes." Gary was coming back with his mixed drink when Karen got up from the sofa. And I felt an anxious anticipation.

 

"You said you didn't want one. I would have got you one."

 

She smiled at him and said: "No, its okay." She touched his arm and seemed preoccupied. When he sat down, Karen stepped around to the other side of the coffee table. I spoke to her in mind again: "Yes." Gary looked up as he sat to see that Karen had gone to stand out into the room a little beyond the end of the love seat the love seat squared up in a L with the sofa and in the corner nook between this matching set there was a table lamp, its light also turned on, set on a square end table. All the lights were turned on in the room. I had made sure of that.

 

"Do it," my thoughts directed to her. She glanced toward the window where I crouched. I unzipped my pants and felt my erection. She stepped back a few steps, looking at them on the sofa. "Do it," I thought. Jon looked at her curiously. She was aware of his gaze. "Do it," I urged her in my mind. Gary sipped his drink and spoke to Jon who turned his face toward him. Bob was following their conversation. Andy looked at the news. The other boys were talking or watching others talk.

 

"Take off your clothes," I urged her silently.

 

Karen looking down at the front of herself.

 

"Do it," I commanded her in my mind.

 

No one was looking at my wife when she began. I was the only one who saw. Lifting up her right foot, she tugged off her sock. She dropped it on the floor. Not looking up she leaned to remove the other sock.

 

Howie looked up just when she took off her other sock and now stood barefoot. No one else looked up. Howie must have inferred at once. But was too perplexed to speak? Her hands pressed palm down on the front of her shorts, she lifted her head looked up to see Howie watching her, looking back at her with his open speechless mouth. She looked at him blankly, as if in a hypnotic trance, taking my mental commands to strip for my friends, and reaching under the baggy front of the t-shirt, lifting up the hem to reveal to them the top her jean shorts, she unsnapped them. The zipper spread as she pulled them open and shoved them down. Suddenly loosened, her shorts plunged the lengths of her bare legs to ring about her bare feet. Now briefly revealing her underpants before her t-shirt fell back to hide them; she looked sheepishly at Howie and she blushed; she paused and faintly smiled; Howie nudged Gary who looked up to see what Howie grinned at, as my wife stepped onto the shorts that had fallen her about her feet, to step out of them. She paused, looking sideways at the floor; self-conscious, she could not look at them. In her underpants and the t-shirt. Arms at her side. Self-conscious and uncertain.

 

Her legs are pale above her sunburnt knees. The hem of the t-shirt falls mid-thigh. She looks up at them when some one spoke, as if remembering that they were there. Gary, I think, said something to Howie which the others overheard and so they all looked up.

 

Their conversation had suddenly and awkwardly stopped. Only the TV was heard, murmuring sports news. All of them straightened up where they sat, leaning eagerly toward her, their faces intense, expressions amazed. They all saw her now. In her underpants and the t-shirt. Arms at her side. And she, aware of their stares, although she still did not look up at them, fidgeted. Was she losing her nerve? Eyes, downcast, she almost spoke, to explain herself. She looked worried. I could see that. I was worried too. What did I think was going to happen now? How would this change how they treated her? How they treated me? But I did not care what it meant. I wanted her to strip for them. I wanted her naked in front of them. I did not care what they thought of her or me. I wanted my friends to see my wife naked. I wanted to see them looking at her naked.

 

"Do it... I whispered. I am sure they were thinking along with me --- my mental commands urging her to do it, to take off all her clothes for them.

 

She straightened up, lifting hair aside that had fallen forward over her face; glancing at my friends, showing she was embarrassed, and anxious, she smiled awkwardly and nodded to something that Gary said. He said something else. They laughed. She shook her head, blushing, and bit the side of her lip. She looked like she was going to immediately take off her shirt, her hands at the hem, fingers feeling it. She looked down at her hands.... "Take it off..." I thought urgently, keenly wishing her now to show herself completely naked to them. I was masturbating harder; I was ready to cum the moment that she lifted her shirt for them.

 

She hesitated, looking at the floor. She looked up---her eyes were almost tearful---she looked sad and almost said something--- she tilted her head in an expression of pathetic question, looking up at me, looking up at where I hid in dark on the lawn, beyond the window and the glaring reflection of the well-lit room -- I can't do this, she seemed to say. I was sure I could not seen, being so close to the ground and beyond the shining light, lying in the shadow of the house, but she was looking so intently at me that I felt a sick anxiety that I would be discovered.

 

Gary turned about and looked up at the window to where she looked. I crouched reflexively. Was she going to run from the room?

 

She looked back at them and gave them such a poignant sidelong lingering and soulful look along the whole length of them, along the line of their leering eager hopeful horny faces; she looked unhappy, but her look also expressed something else, a candid lewd sexual longing, her mouth parted in it--in her glance down at their laps she saw that Gary and the guy who came with Jon were both unabashedly and openly feeling their erections in anticipation.

 

But instead of running away, she reached again for the hem of the t-shirt, and she lifted it. She lifted it and held it in hesitation and looked uncertain.

 

She later told me that at that moment she unaccountably felt like crying --- she did not know why she should but she felt something now would change between her and me and these men, some of whom she had known since she was in sixth grade; but more simply, I think, it was the humiliation she felt or the anxiety of anticipation, for she did not know what would happen after she had taken off her clothes but she thought she would be obliged to done anything they wanted. She could hear Jon encouraging her in a low surly voice; he believed she meant to tease them; I could see that she was anxious.

 

She was trembling. They must have seen it too, though they did not see her distress. Or perhaps they did not care. Her face down, looking down at her hands and at her own exposed legs; she drew the t-shirt up, above her underpants, all the way to show her bare belly and then closing her eyes, she gathered up the floppy hem of the t-shirt, and gathering it up, lifted it entirely.

 

She lifted the shirt straight up and off her head, catching hair and lifted it away from her body, showing off her whole body--barefoot, wearing nothing but her everyday plain cotton underpants, a dark triangle shadowing her crotch--but now revealing to them, as they all knew and expected, that she was not wearing a bra--tits hanging out, lurid nipples; she lowered the hand holding the shirt and she let it lightly drop from her hand to pile on the rest of her clothing beside her on the floor. And so now, just as I had wanted, but could not believe, there she stood in her underpants, showing her randy tits to my friends, glancing up at me furtively--again Gary caught the nervous look and glanced in my direction. I ducked down.

 

When I looked back, she had her hands at the waist of her underpants, eyes on the floor, her fingertips edging inside the waist band of it, then hooked at her hips, closing her eyes, she leaned, head bowed, flushed face turned away, and pushed her underpants down, right there in front of all them. Their eyes followed her hands, as she slipped down her underpants, revealing her rounded tummy and then her hairy pussy as she leaned over at the waist; she pushed her underpants to her knees, and their eyes fixed on her pussy; then held them loose and stepped out of her underpants; she dropped them beside her and stood up straight, dropping her hands to her thighs, slightly smiling, standing there just to let them stare at her, now completely naked for them, her eyes now as wide as their own.

 

She brushed back the hair back from her face. She looked at them awkwardly, perhaps embarrassed. I was not sure. It must have seemed to them she was embarrassed but that she also obviously wanted them to see her naked. No one spoke. Then Karen delivered the one scripted line that I had given her, delivering it poignantly and meekly, as if she thought they may be disappointed to see her naked: "Is this what you want?"

 

I knew that my friends had always wanted to see my wife naked. She knew it too. Now they did. Right here. There she was. Standing right in front of them with all her clothes off. Head to toe completely naked for them and with all the lights on. Her hands on her thighs. Hiding nothing. She stood like that in the bright light and I gasped and ejaculated freely onto the lawn.

 

Her gaping audience was speechless, but they were not the least disappointed to see her naked; I could see that and she must have seen it too, although she did not think she had a nice body; she thought herself a little too fat. Maybe she was. But they were pleased to see her naked, even Bill would admit later that she wasn't bad. Their response, if shamelessly leering and obscene and crude, reassured her of her sexual attraction to them. Gary's friendly smile made her feel better. She could not look at Andy or Howie at first but then saw Howie smiling too. And the others leered but liked looking at her. Even Bill, whom she knew did not like her, was grinning. And the boy Timmy's astonished gaze especially aroused her. Fat or no, they all wanted to fuck her. She could see that. She could feel it. Later she admitted that she herself felt compulsively sexually aroused to see how she sexually aroused them. That was why, she would admit to me, that she complacently did all the things that they wanted her to do, easily coaxed to do those things and never resisting them.

It's true my wife is rather plain. When naked I suppose she looked more like a plump underdeveloped girl than a grown woman--high-waisted like a little girl and, like a little girl, her hips were not wider than her chest, and having put on weight, her waist was filled in, her plump tummy protrudes, her navel sinks--she looked more like a chubby 14-year-old pre-pubescent than a grown-up woman at 21. Except that her breasts are well-formed, bulging like water balloons, made heavier with the fat she had put on, and her wide nipples, the same rich color of her natural mouth, swelled out to points and seemed to draw out her breasts, as if enlarging at the tips of her tits, as if growing out and drawing out their shape by them. Pouting as she stands. One of her tits is a little bigger than the other, adding to the naive look and the vulnerability she felt. Plump, they jiggled a little even in her small movements as when she brushed her hair back. Tempting for them to touch. And oddly, just like a 14-year-old girl, she had then a very downy pubic hair--because it had not yet fully grown back after Craig had shaved her. Dark in color it would grow thick and bushy in time but then it was thin, as if she had only recently acquired it, as if she was 14, and showing beneath her chubby mons, they could easily see the chubby lips of her cunt slit, and from that the long line between her rounded thighs down her bare legs to her bare feet.

 

Her legs are long and smooth. She never ever needed to shave them. Her hands flattened on her thighs contrast to the paleness of her undressed portions of her body and on her left hand the only thing she had not taken off--her wedding ring.

 

All of them stared at my naked wife, astonished. Simply stamping in their memory a permanent photograph of her nakedness.

 

I crept even closer to the window to see them and her better, still masturbating. I wanted to see her face. I wanted see their faces looking at her naked. Their eyes fixed and eager on my naked wife.

 

But as no one said anything--astounded, I guess--her arms at her side, my poor wife began to look a little worried, or even sad in her shameful display; her sadnesss made me have second thoughts. She looked almost pleadingly at Gary, as if for some reassurance, uncertain of herself (it must have looked like to them), worried for what they must think of her, thinking regretfully perhaps about what she had done. But Gary smirked and made a comment to Jon who nodded. I could not hear it but Karen blushed. Howie said something to Gary also. They laughed. She glanced at them, shyly pleased.

 

 

They sat there still astounded, silent and reverent as in a church, grinning thier sappy grins, mesmerized, fixedly lewdly gazing at her nakedness, and she stood there for them, naked arms at her side, now looking up more bravely and openly looking back at them seeing how they worshiped her nakedness. Except for Andy and the boy whose study of her made her remember her shame.

 

I kept masturbating though I had already cum once, watching the faces of my friends, following their eyes where they looked at my wife's naked body, almost feeling her with their eyes--running them over her tits and her nipples, handling her hips, belly, thighs, wanting to probe her between her legs. Entranced, grinning. No one said a word. She faced them with responsive awareness now, but without shame. Not covering herself. Aware of their eyes, feeling their pleasure to see her, feeling her all over. Taking in all of her. Head to foot. Naked. Her hands at her thighs. Wedding ring showing. She glanced up at where I spied on them. To acknowledge my pleasure in seeing them see her naked. To see her satisfaction too. Her own reflection in the glass was all she might see with all the lights on but she knew where I was and she wanted to acknowledge her nakedness for me. Again, Gary glanced back up where I was again. Jon too. I shrank back.

 

 

My wife stood naked for my friends in the empty well-lit space I had selected for her. Completely naked for them. Abject. But obviously willing. Submissive to their lewd stares and dirty comments. She said nothing in reply to the comments she heard. She was passive and shyly pleased. Arms at her sides, hands pressed on her thighs. She turned her head in disingenuous embarrassment, in a deliberate signal of her surrender to them, having looked away when their eyes had met hers, but they were not looking much at her face anyway. They had gotten more and more animated, now shifting on the sofa, as if they were going to get up; all of them had certainly gotten erections.

 

Minutes seemed to go by. The only sound: the irrelevant murmur of the TV and the crickets outside where I was. She said nothing.

 

What was she thinking?

 

 

Finally, Jon who had been standing by the coffee table, smirking at her, said: "So, what do you want, Karen?" She looked at him searchingly as he approached her. I edged up to see this more closely, masturbating as I watched.

 

Looking at her nakedness fiercely (not at her face, though her eyes were on his), Jon approached her in a kind of swagger without a word; except that briefly she was eclipsed by his passing in front of her as he moved across the room, I had a full view of her naked and her face turning toward him, and I saw in both her face and the gesture of her rising hands an expressive intimidation, a responsive anticipation, worry.

 

She seemed both anxious and aroused by his approach and, sensing her shrinking back and her wary vulnerability suggested by her stooped and almost cowering posture, he stepped all around her in two full circles, looking her up and down, and smirking.

While I cowered, praying that they had not seen me, I heard Jon say out loud what I was thinking: "You ain't gonna need these no more..." I looked up. Jon had stood up. He was picking up her bra and underpants and kicking the shorts, shirts, socks away from her. She was naked and she would stay naked. He grinned and winked at my friends. They understood. They laughed. Watching this, she had half turned toward him, showing how pronounced the tips of her nipples had hardened to points. Her pointy nipples showing her obvious sexual feelings. He said something to her. She blushed.

Standing closely, she half-turned from him, avoiding his eyes, his cynical eyes to her worried eyes, he looked her over now up close, nodding, looking her up and down; he nodded smugly and appreciatively, and having considered her nakedness completely, he looked up at her face, and she raised her eyes to his to hear him give her his judgement: "You got fat, Karen."

He said it harshly, mugging comically back at my friends. Bob laughed. Gary did too, though he seemed to share Karen's wince at the careless remark. Jon meant to hurt her feelings, I think, to aggravate her shame and humiliation by calling her fat to her face in front of all my leering friends. But what he said also implied that he had seen her naked sometime before this that I did not know--when she was thinner--what? Back when we were first married? She blushed at the insinuation herself, and glancing my way through the window in the darkness where I lay peering at her on the lawn, she seemed to acknowledge her embarrassed guilt for it. When else had he seen her naked?

He turned away, taking her bra and panties with him, swinging the bra and letting it fly over to Gary who caught it, clutched it greedily. She looked at him. She knew what it meant. So did I. So did all of them. They were not going to let her to put her clothes on. The implications flooded everyone's awareness. If she had thought to run away, it was too late now. Gary said something to my friends that made them snicker. I did not hear it but Karen did. She folded her arms under her breasts like she was cold and she shook her head. He looked back at her and repeated himself and nodded against her protest. He said so I could hear: "You know you want to..."

This was incredible. This was unbelievable. It was impossible, it was dream-like. But it was happening. She had really done it. There she stood now, completely naked for my friends. And now? Jesus Christ, they were going to do it to her while I watched...

Jon tossed her underpants over to his friend, Bob, who caught them gladly, grinning, feeling them over, sharing them with Andy, who did not know what to do with them, and Bob gushed at Jon: "I didn't believe you... But like you said... Man, oh, man!"

"Come closer...." Jon commanded."Stand here..." He pointed to a place within a few feet of the coffee table, directly under an overhead light. Close enough they could her sweat. She took two or three small steps to be closer, and encouraged more with a smirk and gesture and so he grandually positioned under the bright light. "Put your hands down..." he demanded. She did as he said. She looked down at the floor.

After an interval of silence and new closer study, She glanced up at each of them to see them looking at her nakedness. Except for Andy. She could not look at my friend Andy whom of all my friends seemed most uncomfortable about this. He made me feel ashamed too. Wide-eyed and abashed, my poor friend Andy blushed even more than my naked wife did. Andy blushed, but his eyes were riveted on my naked wife; he studied her tits, her pussy like he had never seen a naked woman; and well, I am sure he never had. How many time had he imagined seeing my wife naked? My guess is he had privately masturbated about it and now here she was--completely naked under bright light. He knew this was wrong and he could not understand why she had done it. He worried I'd come back, I suppose. That must have been on everybody's mind, because Jon said,looking in my wife's eyes: "He's gone to bed? You done this on your own?"

"Shit." I wondered, "had he guessed?"

Jon examined her nervous response; he fondled her breast, teasing, drawing out her nipple to a point, then strumming it mockingly with his finger tip, to see how it stiffened and jiggled like a rubbery thing. Karen nodded. She glanced at Andy with such a shocking mixture of obvious embarrassment and obvious sexual responsiveness that it must have aroused him. Jon's unexpected masterful command of my naked wife also confused Andy, but it also seemed to justify her humiliation. She deserved this. Hell, she wanted it. He could see it. They all saw it. Andy grinned sheepishly in spite of his embarrassed misgivings; he had got an erection like everybody else.

Seeing Andy and feeling ashamed for his sake and perhaps anxious about the kid brother Bill had brought, she may have regretted momentarily that she had done it; I saw her fits of uncertainty and anxiety, but the rest of my friends obviously did not care. While obviously seeming to become worried and uncomfortable, ready to protest that she must not do this--her hunched posture now looking so pathetic as if to plead that they should let her go, she also seemed submissive, wanting to show herself naked them, to stand there completely naked for them for as long as they wanted to look at her. And for their part, grinning and gawking, they were in no hurry to let her go. The expression on their keen faces was delighted eager lust; they wanted to touch her, I could see that. They would not let her go until they had.

Jon sauntered back to her, leering, grinning, stepping behind her and looking down her legs. "Nice ass..." he smacked her bare bottom as he passed behind her and she startled. It made a smart wet cracking sound. Her tits jiggled. She put her hands back reflexively. She said: "Ow!" More in embarrassed surprise than in pain. She glanced up at me. She looked worried. Jon looked where she looked: "What you looking at?" She shook her head. Jon grinned in my direction. I ducked.

Timmy snorted in a laugh nastily. Then stopping back in front, standing to the side of her, looking at her tits with a smug appreciation, then looking back at the audience to share his thoughts, then looking back at her tits, Jon sneered at my wife and said derisively,"... your tits got bigger too..." and, hefting it in his hand like he was weighing its flesh, he jokingly jiggled a chubby breast at them, mugging at the men watching him do this, jiggling it with his hand for their amusement and her humiliation; her tits shimmied like jello. Her inadvertently stimulated nipple involuntarily responded sexually, crinkling, hardening, pointing; at which display Jon nodded approvingly his satisfaction and gave it a teasing prolonged fingering at its pointy erection and pulled it out and waggled the bag of flesh. Gary laughed at her. She looked at his eyes pathetically, almost pleadingly, it seemed. Timmy giggled at her uncomfortable and foolish humiliation. Andy looked almost sick with shame for her sake. Karen caught his anxious stare, and the lewd grins of the rest of them. She looked almost tearful now in her own anxiety.

 

She watched Jon warily as he let drop her plump tit and began again circling back behind her, dropping her gaze to the floor as he stepped behind her, feeling his hands cupping her buttock, squeezing them, his fingers pressing between the cheeks of them and inserting into the moist warm wet cleft between her legs. He whispered to her something sarcastic and obscene. She closed her eyes, dropped her head, her face reddened now--but this was arousal, I think, not blushing; she was responding to his hand; her mouth parted; she was forced or she volunteered to shift her stance, widening her legs for his hand. Jon peered over her shoulder as he worked his fingers between her lags behind her, grinning and whispering things to her.

 

Jon stepped around in front of her, circling bringing his hand to glide on her body, to brush her right breast, and she looked up at him as he passed in front of her and came to stop, to stand beside her on her left side, so that the boys could all see as he hefted her left breast in his hand to assess it, a small fleshy shape but satisfying.

 

She looked up at him at last, giving him a pathetic look. He had no sympathy for what she had now brought on for herself: "You want us to fuck you?"

 

This was more than I had imagined. Teasing her like this. Taunting her. Humiliating her like this. I thought Karen would resist them. I thought if they approached her she would run off to the stairs. But she stood impassively naked, as Jon fondled her breast, plucking a stiffened nipple with a teasing fingers, and when Jon asked "Or maybe..." (he paused to look her in the eyes, sarcastically grinning) "... maybe you wanna suck cock?" She looked so ashamed and dejected, it seemed to me, I knew that she was resigned to give them whatever they wanted. It was unbelievable.

 

She said something pleadingly, closely whispered to him so that only he could hear her, and Jon replied sarcastically: "I didn't know the boy was coming either. But then again we didn't know you were gonna strip for us."

 

Jon let his fingers glide from her nipple, tracing the shape of her tit, down the slope of her tummy smoothly to her pussy, rubbing her mons gently there, rubbing the slit of it, his index finger slipping between her cunt lips into her sex. Whispering to her. Her head lowered. Her mouth parted. Eyes closed. Arms at her sides. Seemingly helpless to his touching. She nodded to his inaudible suggestions. "Where is your husband? Huh?" He teased her.

 

She flinched at his clever fingers. Finding what aroused her, he focused. He kissed her mouth; she turned her head to receive his open mouth, opening her own. She lifted her hands to his chest to resist him? She did not.

 

Even from outside the window I heard her responsive mewing. One hand on a breast, the other felt her between her legs. She kissed him warmly, responsively, accepting his fondling, even though watched by all these men. God, I almost shot off right then. But I was as amazed as my friends, who stared with open mouths as the scene of my naked wife being openly kissed and fondled by Jon, whom all of them knew she detested. She kissed like she wanted him to feel her nakedness.

 

Then, just as she so obviously wanted him to continue, he abruptly disengaged; grinning sardonically at my wife whose own up-turned flushed face showed confusion and self-conscious embarrassment, Jon stepped back, removing his hands from her body, her hands foolishly uplifted as she had embraced his neck, abandoned now by him to the bright light and their intense gaze, standing naked and apart. She looked up sheepishly where I spied on her. God, I thought, Jon must have had her naked before.

 

Giving her nakedness one more long leering perusal, then calling over his shoulder, Jon said loudly: "Hey, Bob, you wanna turn at this?"

 

Bob stood up quickly, grinning, and Jon stepped around behind her, holding her by the shoulders and looking approvingly over the front of her, down her chest and tummy to her legs.

 

From where I stood crouched outside I saw my wife open her eyes to watch him approach. She looked at him with intense and worried expression, seeming almost to shiver, as he stepped in front of her and lifted his two hands to feel both her nipples simultaneously. He squeezed her breasts. He dropped his right hand to her pussy and I could see that he used two fingers to feel her up. She stiffened. He finger-fucked her, grinning, mugging back at the men. She looking out at them sadly, straddling the hand rubbing her, poking her. She closed her eyes in shame.

 

He said to Jon loudly: "She's wet, Man!"

 

"Yeah," Jon said, "She likes this."

 

Bob lifted her tits in his hands, saying "I like these," and kissed them, mouthed them, lashed his lewd tongue about them, sucked up one nipple after another. Leaving them wet and gleaming under the lights, puckering in the air.

 

"I really wanna fuck her," he added loudly. Jon grinned: "You will."

 

"Howie!"

 

Howie was called. Bob stepped back, backing to the side watch the next one.

 

Howie approached her cautiously, worried about touching her, it seemed; and he asked about me, about whether I might come back. Jon still holding her by the shoulders reassured him. His resonant voice carried easily outside to me: "Don't worry about it. He wants her to do this."

 

I felt sickened and worried that I had been seen. Karen did not react. She looked at Howie plaintively and Howie avoided her eyes. When he touched her breasts, she closed her eyes and then he more liberally fondled her, kissing her breasts the way Bob had, feeling her slit the way he had.

 

Jon called for Gary, and Howie went back to sit down and watch from the sofa. Gary had been waiting for his turn with impatience. He had commented that he wanted to be next and Jon gave him the privilege with sarcasm in his voice.

 

As Gary approached, Jon shoved Karen toward him. She stumbled into his arms, and Gary immediately embraced her, kissing her, running his hands on her naked body feeling her back, her buttock, putting both hands to her breasts. She stood limply, arms at her side, pinioned by his, but clearly she kissed him back warmly, her eyes closed like his.

 

Gary had dated Karen even before I did and had never had any success like this. From his point of view he was finally getting his due and she was getting what he believed she had always wanted.

 

"Jesus, Gary," Jon finally observed, "Just fuck her... She don't care if you love her."

 

Gary stepped back and hurriedly took off her pants. She looked down as he did. He lowered his underpants to mid-thigh. He was the first to expose his prick. The others looked at it too. Some laughed. Bob cheered: "Yeah." Gary embraced her again, rubbing his angled erection against her belly, admitting he had wanted to do this long time, and pressing his erection downward with his right hand, he shoved himself against her to force his erection between her legs and into her buttery cunt, and he entered her easily and to the length of it where she stood, making her gasp and rise up on the balls of her feet and put her hands up on his chest to brace against his thrusts. Jon came back to hold her shoulders as Gary began to fuck my wife. He would have finished in her too, but Jon stopped him, telling him it was not yet his turn. He appreciated what he wanted but he insisted, "Pull out." Gary pumped a couple times and cursed and pulled out, drawing up his underpants. "Well, at least I was the first," he said.

 

"Andy," Jon called and everyone looked his way. He did not get up. He said nothing.

 

"Come on," Jon said. "She wants it." Still Andy did not move.

 

"Bill," Jon called, "And you too, Timmy."

 

The two brothers approached. Timmy seemed awestruck, while Bill seemed wryly amused by the humiliation of my wife's nakedness and her pending fucking, but she was not attractive to him, even if she was naked. He had never been one to pursue her. She was not his type. She was pretty in an ordinary sort of way but she was nothing special. And certainly her body was nothing special. He liked women who were more classically curvy, Playboy bunnies and the like; my wife was a boring chubby housewife, as far as he was concerned. And so he deferred to Timmy to take his turn to feel her up. He'd fuck her. Why not? And she'd probably suck his cock sure, fine, okay. But he wasn't really that turned on by this it was weird. And he seen better; she was kind of fat really. On the other hand, this was Timmy's first real live naked woman. Let him have his fun.

 

Timmy, though only fourteen, was already taller than Karen. He hesitated to touch her.

 

Jon said: "What's wrong with you guys?

 

"Okay, okay, I get it..." Jon turned Karen toward him and explained. "He doesn't want you to see him do it." He told my wife pick up the t-shirt. She held it and was going to put it on. He stopped her. "No, no.... We're just beginning. Let's put it over your head, so you can't see." He took it from her and bunched it up so that it was like a bag and put it over her head.

 

"Can you see?" he asked.

 

"No," she said, muffled, sheepish.

 

Jon turned her back to face the boys again and guided her forward and to the side a bit, closer to where Andy sat. Several of my friends laughed at her stumbling naked like this. Andy had stood up. Jon nodded at him.

 

For good measure, Gary suggested, let's tie her hands behind her back. She waited. Turning her head toward sounds like one who is blind. Gary scooped up her underpants and ripped them at the waistband, ripped them through to a leg hole, and bursting there, he dangled it before Jon, a rag for rope, a rag for gagging. She heard this.

 

With this Jon would bind her wrists behind her back. "This is good," said Jon, as he finished the knot. Gary tittered. Bob, I saw had taken off his pants and now his undershorts and was openly stroking his cock, looking at my blinded naked trussed up wife with leering savor.

 

And I admit that at that poignant moment seeing how gingerly my bashful friend Andy touched my wife's breasts, while secretly and unreservedly staring down at her tender nakedness, the firm breasts he touched, her nipples sensitive to his fingertips, her diaphragm trembling, heart fluttering in sexual response, and below this, below her bare belly that dark fragrant thatch of pubic hair and what was hidden warm and wet between her legs, and those long pale bare trembling legs as she stood so helplessly naked before him, tensely breathing beneath that cloth that made him anonymous I ejaculated onto the lawn. My second ejaculation that night. Not nearly my last. My erection did not flag with this. I would masturbate long into the night watching them from outside the window.

 

Timmy joined Andy's hands with his own, feeling her more coarsely and aggressively, pulling on her nipples and grabbing her breasts. The two took turns at her breasts and her cunt. Andy fingering her gently. Timmy thrusting his thumb inside her, jamming it hard and fast like a small prick. Within the cloth over her head I heard my wife whimpering shamelessly. This last, this illicit touching by a boy as young as her brother and by Andy, Steve's brother, and the one of all my friends who among all had been the only who respected me and my wife's supposed chastity this particularly excited her, or shamed her, or perhaps it was the accumulation, or perhaps the tantalizing bondage and humiliation. Andy's savage sucking on the tips her breasts, grabbed in both fists and squeezed to poke out her nipples randy for his mouth, she was loudly breathing and squiriming--not in resistance, but in pleasure--squirming against Timmy's big pumping thumb and grinding knuckle, and she soon spectacularly and unexpectedly climaxed; her knees shaking, she moaned like a cow, she collapsed completely, held up barely by Jon until she was just too heavy, just too limp, and he had to let her go down to her knees in his arms. My friends were awed. I don't think any of them had ever brought a woman to orgasm, and for that matter I had never seen her like this, and in all their wildest fantasies concerning my wife this would be the ultimate. I realized then how overwrought sexually she must have been, thinking about it all the day long, thinking about it when she hesitated and fretted while the news went on, knowing it was her cue to get up and undress in front of them. When they started touching her, it must have released all the sexual anticipation she had built up. She just gave into it. Like a dam bursting.

 

Jon leaned, whispering to Karen, who had fallen forward, leaning where she had knelt, her arms being bound behind her making it awkward for her to right herself. Andy and Timmy and the rest stood before her in a semi-circle. Jon, lifted her t-shirt from her head; she was flushed; she was crying perhaps; I could not see well for Jon was in front of her soothing her kindly and helping her to stand up . He nodded at Gary and told him to get a cushion from the sofa. Gary nodded eagerly and brought two, and flopped them down before going for the third.

 

Jon took Andy aside to speak privately. He spoke wickedly, like Lucifer enticing a sinner. Andy looked pleased, excited but worried. He nodded.

 

As my wife looked on, as Jon addressed Andy, he picked up her t-shirt or should I say mine and tore it from its neck to its hem in a one strong yank. It tore more easily than I expected. He tore it again. Andy looked over at my anxious naked wife, and not at her face; he nodded his head again. Jon ripped another stream of cloth from my shirt. He had torn three streamers of cloth from my shirt. Now one of these he tore again. He was sorting and assessing them for some purpose, when some of the boys took matters into their own hands. Gary and Bob who were both naked now below the waist, except for their socks, and who had approached Karen while Jon was conspiring with Andy. Gary kissing her in front and fondling her breasts while he did, and Bob who had slipped behind her, held her hands and had punched his prick up inside her from behind. She kissed Gary warmly while Bob fucked her. Her body jostled by the fucking. Gary's prick mashed her bare tummy.

 

Jon turned now to see what Andy was staring at and saw this scene. My wife for her part was flushed and unprotesting.

 

If I had any doubt of where this would all go, I saw it now. She also knew, and she had resigned herself to it.

 

Bob, stopping as he fucked her, his prick still well up her cunt, untied her hands, out of self-serving kindness I supposed it interfered with his fucking her and immediately released she brought her hands to Gary's neck and face and kissed him passionately as his hand vigorously rubbed her clitoris. Now Bob grabbed my wife by the flesh of her hips and thrust his prick in deeply again, and began to fuck her hard and fast so that her buttock shimmered as he slapped his thighs against her and her tits bounced wildly and obscenely, and she grunted to his rhythm, leaning, hanging her head, mouth open, panting, and extending her arms up to and clasping Gary's neck and leaning pulling him to kiss his mouth hungrily as her passion rose. Gary gradually took her hands from his neck where he was bent to kiss her and backing away now held Karen by the hands, her arms outstretched, her tits bobbling beneath her she was fucked, who alternately smiled and sobbed, crying tears of emotion, as Bob fucked her from behind. Noisy fucking. Slapping, soupy fucking. It was a necessary orgiastic release of all the sexual tension that had filled the room since my wife stripped in front of them, and it seemed especially right for the shame of it all, that it should be Bob the stranger who would be the first to fuck and cum in my wife. And when he did, she sobbed and squealed and Gary held her up by the shoulders, as she herself orgasmed and gasped.

 

Stepping back and pulling out his wet cock, bobbling as it popped out of her hole, Bob smacked her buttock with satisfaction and pride in fucking her.

 

Undressing as they watched her being fucked, half of them were naked below the waist, feeling their pricks, and the other half stood ready to go in their underwear. Only Andy, watching all this, had not given up his reticence to use her; he had not undressed.

 

Jon returned to my wife and Bob and Gary retreated like he was a big dog coming for his share of the meal. But Jon helped her to straighten and held her sweetly, his hands on her buttock, her head lay on her chest. He spoke quietly and kindly to her, and lifting her chin looked at her lovingly, kissed her, and brushed the hair from her eyes as he spoke to her, picking stray wisps of her hair to place them right.

 

He led her to the end of the coffee table where by gesture, by command he got her to step up onto of the table top and stretching out her arm he let go her hand as she turned her and to face them, her back to me. The boys faced me, yet none of them saw me. None of them were looking in my direction. They were yet transfixed by my wife's nakedness.

 

"You can see his cum in her slit," said Gary. Karen smiled, even if ashamed.

 

Jon said: "Squat."

 

The grotesque posture meant to make her cunt gape. To show the raw meaty hole, her labia parting and wet, florid in the light. And to show the slobbering ooze of Bob's creamy cum.

 

Again something none of these had seen such a thing. Not even in pornography.

 

This obscenity got many grinning, while Timmy and Andy stared at it wide-eyed with open mouths.

 

She held herself in this position tremulously by steadying herself as best she could, leaning back on the flats of her hands; it was uncomfortable, but she did not complain. Jon stood behind her to support her, so that she might lean against him. Gary crouched before her and used two hands to spread the lips and to show her vagina deeply. Bob's cum drooled from it; a gooey strand drooled onto the top of the coffee table.

 

"Jesus Christ... Look at that..." said Gary. I myself saw it dangling rudely, and in a slow loop, it dropped a glob on the table top between her legs. To make a glistening dollop of goo. Not more than a spoonful but obviously there was more oozing out from her cunt, coiling on the slimy strand. They stared at the thing, fascinated.

 

"Eat it," said Jon sadistically.

 

Gary looked up horrified. They laughed at him.

 

Jon was talking to my wife of course. She shook her head.

 

It was Bob's cum. So at last it was Bob who got down there and put his fingers in and scooped the goo out and fed it to her. She said nothing. Squatting still in this obscene position, she licked his slimy fingers obediently; she sucked on them when he put them into her mouth, looking at his face, ashamed but aroused. Bob loved it. Karen looked at my friends sheepishly and knelt, lowering her head, and clutching herself like she was cold.

 

Jon nodded at her submission and said to them: "I think she likes the taste of cum.... You wanna suck some cock?"

 

She did not reply. Jon stood grinning at her. The others looked flushed. She looked up at Jon sadly. The fact that she did not protest, that she said nothing at all told them that--- yes, she would suck their cocks. She wanted them to cum in her mouth. They could see that. I could see that. She glanced guiltily up at me. I saw it in her eyes. Jesus Christ!

"God damn," said Gary.

"Yeah," said Jon, "She wants to do it.... Don't you?"

He nodded at my wife whose upturned flushed face suggested unspoken acknowledgement.

"Jesus," muttered Gary. "This is great..." said Bob.

 

I agreed: "Yes... do it. Make her do it. God, please."

Bob stood, stroking his cock, as he looked down into her shadowed face. Jon spoke to her quietly and she shifted out of her kneeling, put her legs out on the floor, and sat on the edge of the coffee table, still looking down with her arms crossed under her breasts, as they began to discuss how they wanted her to suck their cocks and who should go first.

 

They quarreled. Gary still felt offended that Bob got to fuck her and that he himself had been stopped and that Bob didn't even know her. Jon laughed. Bill rolled his eyes. Howie suggested they do some sort of lottery for taking turns. Gary thought this was ridiculous it should be based on who knew her longest. He clearly wanted to go first, although Howie had known her longest. Karen followed the conversation without comment.

 

Andy, who had been standing with the rest of them, also a silent witness, stared at Karen intensely at her breasts, at her belly, but also at her face absorbing her. I think he was puzzled by her submission and ashamed for her. At any rate he seemed to get more and more disturbed as they quarreled, speaking about her so vulgarly, and anyway he would be too inhibited to join in, I suppose, and was feeling bad about watching it; so suddenly he turned, and without a word, he left.

 

This silenced all of them who watched him leave. Gary said: "Fuck him."

 

Jon decided: "Okay, I'll go first. Then we'll take turns."

 

Jon reached out of Karen's hand and she responded with slow reluctance. She had not wanted this to be the outcome this group sex. The experience at the Fraternity had pushed the limits. The humiliation before so many men. Yielding to one man after another. Unwanted. This would be worse.