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It Started As A Trivial Pursuit...
by Hector's Pup
hectorspup@hotmail.com


With your indulgence I'll relate the circumstances around 
the day that changed my life forever.  In the early 
eighties, there were the two of us and three other couples 
on our block that had a lot in common.  We were upwardly 
mobile, without children yet, and into fitness and activity.  
At first the couples consisted of my wife Carol and I, our 
neighbors to the right, Jeff and Marcy, and the couple 
across the street from them, Wade and Susan.  Every weekend, 
and some week nights, we would get together with one or 
more couples for fun on the town, back yard barbecues, or 
just hanging out.

Then a new couple moved in across the street from our 
neighbor to our left, whom we were all intrigued with.  
Bill was an accountant and Sandra was a fox.  We didn't see 
much of Bill because he was always working inside or 
something.  Sandra, however, was the one who washed the 
cars, mowed the lawn, and actually used saw, hammer and 
nails.  When she was outside, she attracted one or more of 
us to figure out a way to make conversation with her.  It 
was clear that we were going to get Bill and Sandra in our 
group somehow.

Ours was the more central house location so we invited 
everyone over for a potluck barbecue.  It was a warm summer 
night, so the beer was flowing and we were having a good 
time.  Bill and Sandra were kind of quiet but sociable.  We 
had to draw information out of them as nothing was freely 
volunteered. 

After dinner, with the beers still flowing, we decided on 
the group activity of the then popular game, "Trivial 
Pursuit".   We first started out as couple teams.  Then 
Sandra said in a kittenish way, "Why don't we play girls 
against guys?"

This unexpected spontaneity on Sandra's part sparked a new 
energy in the room.   We quickly agreed and the 
conversation  steered around the respective bravado of the 
teams regarding the game.  At a perfectly timed moment,  
Sandra said, "Why don't we all put our money where our 
mouths are?" 

The posturing built up in a crescendo until out of my wife 
Carol's mouth came, "Why don't we play 'strip Pursuit'?"  
Everyone became instantly silent, and Carol turned beet red, 
just as surprised at what she had said as everyone else was 
by it.

We guys started a huddle as did the gals.  The debate went 
on for a few minutes.  The opportunity to see each other's 
wives naked was clouding our thinking.  Heads would 
independently pop out of each huddle looking across to the 
spouses presumably imagining the future possibilities.  
When agreement was reached, the rules were debated and 
hashed out to the point that a "pie piece" would mean shoes, 
socks, shirt, pants, bra or tee-shirt, and finally, panties 
or underwear with a dance, respectively.  It could have 
ended right there, because for me just the thought of the 
possibilities was enough fantasy food for the rest of the 
summer.

Our living room was laid out perfectly for this challenge, 
with two love-seats facing each other and a coffee table in 
between.  We actually moved the love-seats back so some of 
us could sit on the floor by the table.  With the energy of 
a close "Super Bowl", we began to play the game.  The women 
won our shoes, socks and shirts before we won their shoes.  
Then they won our pants before we won their socks, for those 
that wore them.  All we could think about was seeing Sandra 
and the others sans clothing.  Now that we had them barefoot, 
we began to get aroused, and stiffening was apparent in the 
briefs and boxers.

It was not our destiny this night, though, as the homemaker, 
Marcy, easily got the entertainment pie piece to seal our 
fate.  All of sudden, it was difficult for each of us men to 
swallow.  We collectively went from pale to flushed, as we 
realized our task at hand.  We all wanted out of the deal.  
We all knew we wouldn't have let the women out, so we took 
solace in the fact that it was happening to all of us rather 
than just one.  We tried to talk our way out of it, since 
they should have had their fun just getting us to this point, 
and we didn't voluntarily get up and do what was required of 
us until we were directed to do so.  

When directed, we stood in a line in front of the fireplace.  
We waited for Carol to put on some old disco music and 
started to dance.  When we all started to put our thumbs in 
the waistband of our underwear, Sandra said, "No boys.  One 
at a time.  You first Bill.  Step out in front."  Bill did 
so without hesitation and clumsily danced and slid down his 
boxers to his ankles and stepped out of them, tossed them to 
Sandra and stepped back in line.  

The women were beside themselves with glee.  This victory was 
sweeter for them than they had imagined.  Marcy then said, 
"Come on Jeffy-boy.  Your turn honey."  Jeff got up and tried 
to dance as sexy as he could, undulating his stomach, and 
pulled down his briefs and handed them out for Marcy to pick 
up from him.  Marcy got up and took the briefs from him and 
patted his butt as he turned and walked back in line, making 
the comment, "Always did like this butt."

Then there was me, and I was so much in shock, I can barely 
remember what I did.  And finally, Wade came forward, still 
in a competitive mood, and tried to out class us in his 
performance.   The women went wild as he prolonged the 
inevitable teasing as best he could.

Well, we were completely nude in front of our wives and 
neighbors.  The embarrassment and humiliation was intense.  
But, the women hadn't completely won yet.  In fact we hadn't 
thought that far.  We had just thought about getting the 
other side naked.  We wanted to play on and get as much 
clothing off the women as possible.   Of course it was a 
long shot, but we wanted some measure of payback.   So we 
decided on the stakes of a night of sexual slavery to the 
winners.  We figured that we were acquiescing to the makings 
of an orgy and had no particular reservations about it.

Of course the women won.  Alas we did not score anymore 
clothing.  It was Friday and relatively late in the evening 
so our wives didn't want to waste our servitude on a short 
evening.  So preparations were hashed out for tomorrow 
evening starting at 6:00 at Bill and Sandra's.  We were to 
be prompt, we were to address each of the wives as 
"Mistress" plus their first name, speak only when prompted 
to speak, and to do exactly as we were told for the evening.

Part 2 -

It was 5:50 and Jeff and Wade met me at my house so we 
could go over together.  We downed a couple of stiff drinks 
and meandered over, not realizing we were ten minutes late.  
Bill opened the door for us wearing an apron and nothing 
else.  That dry mouth sensation overtook us again as 
realities were coming into focus.  

We were led to the living room, where we saw our wives for 
the first time since 10:00 that morning.  They had obviously 
been shopping.  Carol was in a black body-stocking with a 
sequin bra and panties over it.  Marcy was in knee-high 
boots, dark ultra mini-skirt, horizontally striped, 
body-hugging long-sleeved, low cut shirt and scarf around 
her neck.  Susan was wearing fishnet stockings, a short 
leather skirt with a slit up to her hip and halter top 
which let the hint of the sides of her breasts exposed. And 
Sandra wore tight beige riding pants, riding boots and a 
leather bra that encased her magnificent breasts 
beautifully with a small hole at the front of each large 
enough for just her nipples to poke through.  Our wives 
were all heavily made up, and were obviously fulfilling 
some fantasies that they had not let us in on.

Bill's eye's were looking down, but we couldn't stop 
staring at our wives in disbelief and excitement.  As we 
each discovered Sandra's leather bra, we got hard at the 
distraction of seeing only the nipple of her ample breasts.  
Sandra welcomed us to an evening we would never forget.  
She scolded us for being late and said she would take care 
of that later, but that now we were to undress and put on 
our costumes for the evening.  From now on, she instructed, 
we would have to keep our eyes down or suffer penalties, 
which we would not like.

Our costumes consisted of leather collars, leather 
wrist-cuffs, leather ankle-cuffs and a leather belt, all with 
rings at various places around them, which we later learned 
were for attaching things.  As we undressed in the hall 
leading to the living room, we got reminders from a riding 
crop yielded by Sandra not to look at our mistresses.  This 
was difficult indeed, because they were so intriguing in 
their sexy outfits.  When we were out of our clothes we were 
walked into the living room and we were each attended to by 
someone other than our own wives in adorning the leather 
gear.   Sandra attached my ankle-cuffs and the sight of her 
full bosom tipped off by the exposed wrinklely skinned erect 
nipples, gave me a hardon.  When she looked up and saw it, 
she said, "Ummm, nifty, but not now slave.  Not until I tell 
you to."  And, gave my balls a tap with the riding crop which 
sent a surprising jolt of pain up into my stomach.  It also 
did the trick of bringing the erection back down.

We were then placed around an ottoman facing out.  Our 
ankles were attached to the ankle next to us and our wrists 
were attached to a loop on the back of our belts.  With our 
legs spread as they were, and our hands immobilized, I was 
feeling mighty vulnerable.  "Now," Sandra said, "how about 
we size up the evening?"

Out came a clipboard, a cloth tape measure, and money for 
bets.  First my calves were measured around and recorded on 
the clipboard then my thigh at the widest part around.  Next 
my biceps, neck, and chest were measured and recorded.  As 
our wives took turns coming forward and measuring parts of 
me and coming into my view, I eventually had to close my 
eyes to avoid another erection before instructed to do so.  
The touching, the closeness of our friends and neighbors on 
my body was just too much, however, and I raged a hardon 
despite my efforts to avoid it.  "I'll give you five seconds 
to get that down, or I'll get it down for you."  Said Sandra, 
"One.., two.., three.., four.., That's better."

Wade wasn't so lucky.  He got several whacks with the crop 
to get his back down.  Bill was surprisingly obedient, or 
not so surprisingly in retrospect.  And, Jeff was so nervous, 
he couldn't get it up, even if he tried at that point.

Then Sandra led the way and placed the tape on the middle 
of the back of my right testicle and ran the tape along the 
bottom up to the middle of the front.  Then she ran the tape 
around my scrotum to get the circumference of the two balls 
together.  I guess they could do the math to figure out the 
size of our nuts.  This manipulation of my balls got my 
penis stirring again and she grabbed and yanked my balls 
saying, "Down boy!  Not yet."  She then measured the 
relaxed length of my cock and the circumference of the head.  
"Now boy!  Now!"  she said as she slinked up next to me 
putting one hand on my shoulder and dragging the other up my 
tensed stomach, glancing an exposed tit along my arm, and 
exhaling warm air against my face.

The ladies watched in fascination as my cock twitched up to 
attention in less than a minute.  Then she measured the 
length from underneath and the circumference again, passed 
the tape to Susan, and took over the recording duties as 
Susan did Jeff, and so on.  The humiliation of this was 
beyond belief.  Not only were we being displayed naked in 
front of the ladies on the block, but we were being 
compared to the other men in things that we bundle up pride 
and insecurities all in one.  The most embarrassing aspect 
was having our sexual natures controlled by them as they 
wished.

It seems Wade was the hunkiest on their scale with Jeff and 
I somewhere second and third and Bill, who didn't seem to 
mind, taking up the rear.  The ladies went off for a bit to 
get some refreshment leaving us standing attached to each 
other around the ottoman.  We started comparing notes, 
complimenting each other on the foxiness of their wives and 
trying to figure a way out of this, then in walked the 
ladies giggling.  When they entered to find us talking to 
each other, they stopped giggling, smiling, and talking.  
Sandra said, "You boys were late, you boys can't keep your 
eyes to yourself, and you boys can't seem to follow the 
simplest of rules, can you.  Well it is time to teach you 
slaves to follow our simple rules so we can proceed with an 
orderly evening. Comprende'?"

We were led down stairs to a recreation room.  Instead of 
typical furniture, there was a wall made up of two pieces 
of plywood eight feet wide by the height of the ceiling.   
Along the wall were four holes about 32 inches from the 
floor evenly spaced.  As we got closer, we could see two 
drilled holes a couple of inches above each hole.   When we 
were around back, our hands were undone to give us the 
opportunity to push our cock and balls through the hole, or 
we would have assistance from one of the ladies.  When we 
just barely and painfully managed to squeeze everything 
through, our hands were reattached to the belt behind and 
our ankles again to each other.  Shoelaces were threaded 
through the drilled holes and were used to tie our cocks 
straight up against the wall, leaving our balls vulnerably 
on display, us helpless to do anything about it, and blind 
to what ever was happening on the other side.

We heard Sandra ask the ladies, "What should we do about 
them being late?"  All we could hear then was whispering 
and shuffling.  Then someone pulled a hair out of my 
scrotum.  When I flinched my fellow slaves looked at me with 
apprehension in their eyes.  Then Wade got a pull and then 
Jeff, and so on it went until I'm sure we were each pretty 
much hairless on our balls.  Then we were given an alcohol 
rub which had us wanting to dance in place till the wave of 
intense pain started to subside.  

Then I felt a fairly pleasurable massage of my balls which 
ended in having a rubber-band or hair scrunchy or something 
placed around my balls extending them down to the bottom of 
my scrotal sack and out.  The others got the same treatment.  
"Now this is for not following the rules in general boys."  
Came Marcy's voice from the other side, as we felt slaps 
from paint stirrers or rulers or something.  My colleagues 
were in as much excruciating pain as I was.  We must have 
taken a dozen each, and the women couldn't have known how 
much pain they were inflicting because they couldn't see 
our tears.

The rubber-bands were removed and the shoelaces untied, but 
the women left for a while and went back upstairs.  We 
didn't dare talk or move from our posts for fear of further 
retribution.   Besides, my balls were swollen and I don't 
think I could have backed them back through the hole at 
that point.

What seemed like half an hour later, we heard their voices 
and footsteps.  Moments later, a hand grasp my cock like a 
handshake.  "Now boys, don't cum, no matter what we do to 
you, if you know what's good for you."  Sandra's voice came 
from the other side.  Music started playing and the hand did 
a grasp pull motion getting me hard.  Another hand started 
lifting and jiggling my balls.  This was all very arousing 
when the music stopped and the hands went away.  The music 
started and a new pair of hands started to work away in a 
different way bringing to a new level of excitement.  The 
music stopped, the hands stopped.  The music started again, 
this time a hand grabbed my balls and a mouth started 
sucking on my dick.  When the music stopped, my dick was 
bobbing and reaching for someone, anyone to touch it.  The 
music started again and each of us were moaning and lunging 
forward to increase the sensations without regard for the 
warning at the onset of the game.  Wade stammered, "Oh god. 
No. Oh god, oh god, Ayeeeeya!."

We could hear Marcy jumping and yelling, "I win! I win!"

All ministrations stopped.  Bill, Jeff and I opened our eyes, 
breathing deep in disbelief, poking our cocks humorously out 
as far as they would go several times trying to get friction 
from anything that might be close, to no avail.   Wade looked 
sheepish and worried.  The gals were giggling and talking too 
low for us to make anything out for a while.  Then we were 
told to back ourselves out of the holes - yeah right!  We 
tried, but without our hands, we were essentially stuck.  As 
we pulled, the women pushed with their fingers like they were 
stuffing a sleeping bag into a stuff sack.  The pain was 
indescribable.  When they came around back, we were in an 
awkward pile bound by our ankles trying to get into fetal 
positions.  "Oh!  Was that that uncomfortable getting out?"  
Susan said innocently.

We were released at the ankles, helped up, and led around 
to the front.  We briefly looked at our sexy wives, but put 
our eyes down quickly to avoid any further punishment.   I 
wondered what was in store for Wade.  "So do you boys 
understand the rules for the rest of the evening?  And, do 
you agree to abide by them?"  Sandra asked.  And we all 
nodded our heads without looking up.  "Now ladies, the 
blindfolds please."

We were blindfolded by cotton being taped over our eyes, 
then a sleeping mask pulled over, so no light was able to 
get in at all.  Our hands were clipped to the sides of our 
collars and I was led to a low sturdy coffee table.  After 
I was placed on my back, legs pulled apart and groin 
exposed, I felt one of the lady's bare legs and bottom 
sitting back on my face.  She had her hands on my upper 
thighs for support and someone said "Do it!".  My mind was 
a cloud.  Here I was face to cunt with one of the sexy 
ladies of my block, I was going to give her a licking, and 
I had no idea who it was.  When I hesitated, I received a 
brief pat on the balls like spurs in a horse's side to get 
me going.  I started licking with enthusiasm.  Soon the 
anonymous rider grabbed my cock in one hand and my balls in 
the other.  I soon figured out that she was communicating 
to me how she liked it.  My cock became a joystick that led 
my tongue to the right spots and my balls became the 
throttle to ease up, hurry up, or harder.   Although 
sometimes painful, I really enjoyed the connection with 
this woman through this process.  After she came, she 
leaned forward onto my belly so I discovered she had been 
completely naked.  She huddled my balls up in her hands 
and gave the tip of my cock a gentle kiss before 
dismounting.

We finally had the women naked but were unable to see them.  
Another mystery woman mounted me in a similar fashion.  She 
communicated what she wanted by moving her hips in an 
uninhibited way with her hands on my legs where they join 
my upper body, the pressure of her palms told me where to 
go and so forth.  As she neared her climax, she huddled her 
arms to her side leaning down onto my stomach, crushing her 
breasts to my body and pulling my balls and cock back toward 
her face.  When she was done, she gave my balls a not so 
gentle, but nevertheless, friendly squeeze, and got off.

That was all for me for a while apparently, as Bill, then 
Jeff seemed to get turns.  I remained still and quiet trying 
my best to figure out who was doing what to whom.  When it 
was Wade's turn, it appears they had other ideas for him.  
Instead of lying on his back on the table, they had him on 
his hands and knees.  When he felt someone's greased up 
fingers at his virgin ass hole, he blurted out, "Oh no!  
Not that!"

"What was that?  Did I hear you say something slave?"  was 
Sandra's reply, and someone slapped him in the balls.  
There was rustling and conversation about how to attach what 
turned out to be strap-on dildoes.  One by one, and in 
successively increasing size, I later learned, Wade took 
rubber shafts up his rectum until he was actually made to 
come again from the experience.  The rest of us were not 
that lucky that evening until we got home and screwed our 
wives silly.  Carol said,  "If that is what a little 
mistress/slave action can do for you, were going to have to 
do it more often."  And so it goes.
