She was a good boss. Manager of the shop where I worked. She was strong, straight and fair. If you had a complaint you could go to her and it would be sorted. If she had something with you, she came to you, told you, and it was forgotten. And even better – she fought for her staff. Strong woman, but as a manager you could not find better. She was also, in her own way, a handsome woman. She was tall, average build, always dressed in smart suits as matched her status. Margaret Bryant had done well for herself, quite rightly, and we all respected her. But there were two things that were odd about her – her husband, and the stories about her parties………
We met Tony, her husband, at staff parties, or sometimes when he called into the shop. Tony worked in a local bank, and he was a very gentle man. Friendly. Good company. But always gentle. People often laughed about “who wore the trousers in their house”, as Tony would collect his wife, or run errands for her, or buy her drinks. But he was someone I liked immensely.
Her parties were only rumours. Rumours circulated about the parties at their house – parties where a whole group of women got together on a Saturday to celebrate…………. No-one had ever been, but somehow the rumours were there. Of course, the rumours grew in their telling, rumours of Lesbianism, nudism, but we all new these rumours were just male fantasies. And of course there were the comments by the men who wanted to be there, boasting what they might want to do, could do, would do……………
For me, I stayed friends with Tony, respected Margaret as a boss, admired her as an attractive woman, but generally kept out of the office gossip and speculation, got on with work, kept my social life and girlfriends well away from work. It was a good job, a job I wanted to keep, with a good boss – and there was no more to it than that. Until the E.mail.
It appeared on my computer from someone else in the office, someone who fancied himself as a new Charles Dickens. Only the things he wrote were not the sort of things Charles Dickens would have written. A long graphic description of a party, a party that had taken place at Margaret’s house. Probably the best description was a cross between a wife-swapping party and a gang-bang. It was pretty crude porn. I read it, put it in my “trash” folder. Unfortunately someone had been working on my computer and set the “forward all mail” setting – it meant than any E.mail that came to me was sent on to everyone else in my address book. Most of the recipients were other people in the office. One of those recipients was Margaret.
I only learnt about this after I had been summoned to her office, with demands that I explain myself. Why had I sent her pornography about her? It was made clear that this was a sacking offence. Instant dismissal. I tried to make sense of what had happened. I had seen the E.mail. I hadn’t even read it through. I had deleted it. How had it got to my boss from my computer. I tried to explain. I begged her to let me stay. I really wanted this job. For an hour I pleaded for my job.
At last Margaret relented. Yes I could keep my job. But I could only keep the job if I actually went to one of the parties at her house, this coming Saturday, and act as a waiter. I should turn up at 6.00pm. Tony would fill me in, then I would have to fulfil all my duties for the evening. I eagerly agreed – I wanted the job, and if keeping my job included a bit of waitering, then I could live with that.
At five to six on the Saturday I rang the doorbell, Tony greeted me, we shook hands, he invited me in. For some reason he looked a bit nervous as well as he led me through to the kitchen. There was already a buffet laid out in the dining room, drinks on a table.
Tony made me a coffee, and started to chat. He told me that Margaret always had about a dozen friends around. That it was our job to serve the food and drinks. I asked him if I was dressed okay – he said don’t worry, Margaret will sort that out in a bit. He explained that they were a club, that they had this social evening most months. Then mentioned the oddest thing: “At the end of the evening, perhaps half an hour before they go they always have a bit of fun, at my expense. ” He spoke hesitatingly.
“What sort of thing,” I asked, but Tony waived his hand.
“Whatever they want, we have to do.” He said no more, directly, on the subject, so I asked him if they had been holding the parties for so long, why was he nervous this evening.
“Nervous, well it’s a bit different…….” he again spoke hesitatingly.
“In what way?”
“First time there has ever been two of us.”
“Two of us?” I repeated like a parrott.
“Yes, two men to help………” his voice faded away as he looked at the clock. He changed the subject. “Margaret will be here in a moment to give us our final instructions.”
We finished our coffees as we waited, before Margaret entered, dressed smartly in a pair of dark red trousers and black top. “She would look stunning in anything” my mind shouted out.
“Ben, Tony,” – she spoke strongly to us. “Three things”
I stared incredulously as she listed her “four things”. Firstly we were to wear special skirts and blouses she provided, but no underwear. Secondly whenever we were not doing anything we had to hold hands. Thirdly, we were both the entertainment, and had to do what we were ordered. Even Tony looked shocked, but it was me who spoke “I couldn’t possibly do that………..”
Margaret looked back at me hard a directly, holding my stare. She spoke quietly. “This evening you will do as you are told”.
For what seemed like ages I defiantly held her stare, but at last it was too much, I looked away. Spoke “Yes ma’am.”
By eight o’clock Tony was manning the door, welcoming the guests, while I handed out drinks as they entered the sitting room, both of us with knee length black skirts and white blouses dressed as waitresses.
It became even more embarrassing as the head teacher – a middle aged lady – from my primary school entered. Even more embarrassing as a lady who worked with my mother entered. Both smiled, both said hello, both wished me an enjoyable evening.
After half an hour there was a lull in what we had to do, and it was very strange standing quietly in the dining room holding hands with Tony. At first it had been very tentative as we reached for each other’s hands, but we got used to it, and I’ve always known Tony as a really nice man, both kind and gentle – it made it that bit easier.
By nine we were both working hard serving and clearing up the buffet, but by ten was another lull. As we held hands again, Tony whispered – “the worst is about to come…………”
As he did Margaret appeared. “Gentlemen”, she said in a voice not to be denied, “come through to the sitting room.”
We followed her through, and then had to stand in front of the fire place. Margaret was clearly the spokesman. “Gentlemen, don’t be alarmed. We are going to dance. You can join in. You can dance with each other.”
It all began to feel very surreal. The lights were low, everyone partnered off, and after a few false starts I was dancing with Tony to a slow romantic record, holding each other is waltz grip, but keeping as far part as we could. We were surrounded by several women also dancing.
As we danced, I became aware that Margaret was near us. She stopped us for a moment, ordered us to stand still. Quickly undid the skirts which immediately fell to the ground. “Keep dancing,” she said to us, as we stood there naked from the waist down. “In five minutes I want to see you dancing body to body……..”
Tony was as terrified as I was, as we began to dance again to the romantic music. Remarkably, we did find ourselves edging closer to each other as we danced, then suddenly I turned one way, he turned the other, our bodies came closer together and I felt my cock touch his.
The moment was startling.
At that instant my cock had gone from soft to harder than I had ever known. It had clearly had a similar effect on Tony.
As we danced, we couldn’t help our cocks touching each other. And it felt so fantastic. I could only takeit so long – I simply put my hands on his ass and pulled him to me, as he put his arms around me neck. We danced like that, our cocks rubbing against each other as we moved around, getting more and more aroused. I took the plunge – I kissed him, he responded. A voice – Margaret’s – whispered to us “don’t get too excited – yet.” We knew what she meant but our tongues wrestled as we danced around the floor – totally unaware we were now the only the people dancing, the room of women watching intently.
I eased myself away from Tony and let my arousal subside a little before moving my body to him again, our cocks again touching, this time more lightly as we continued to dance. Perhaps the lightness of the touch was even hotter. As I felt our pre-cum mingling, lubricating our rubbing against each other – it felt even better…………
“Stop”. Margaret’s voice was demanding. We stopped, we parted.
“Okay Ben – on your knees”. I slowly fell to my knees. “Okay Ben, lick his cock until he cums all over you……..”
I was stunned – I had never done anything like this. Never even imagined anything like this. Never even looked at a man – more than happy with women. Yet my cock was throbbing, and something deep down wanted this. Not that I had much choice, as Tony moved towards me, his cock touching my face and my mouth. Tentatively I put my tongue out, let my tongue lick his cock, tasting our juices. Tony’s cock twitched. I let my tongue run along it licking again, then as I gained more confidence I ran my tongue all over his cock, then with confidence I began to caress it with my tongue rather than lick.
It was clear the audience – the women – were enjoying the show. It was clear Tony was as he moaned softly. And I knew I was, it was so hot – the humiliation of being watched, of being forced to lick his cock, waiting for his cum………..
As I caressed I began to imagine what I would like, and did it to him. It was clear Tony liked the things I liked. As he got more and more excited I concentrated more on the front of his cock – by now he was almost sliding his cock on my tongue, rather than me having to work on him.
Suddenly Tony cried out. He exploded, cum shot in the air, landed on my head, he was pumping cum all over my face. I could taste it, it tasted good. For what seemed like ages he spurted his cum, covering my face, in my hair.
At last Tony came down from his high, stepping back as Margaret stepped forward.
“Stand up, Ben, she ordered.” I stood. “I suppose you are expecting the same as Tony. Expecting him to return the compliment. Not today – you can jerk off.”
“What?” I stammered.
Margaret spoke firmly. “Jerk yourself off!”
It was so humiliating. Standing there with my hair and face covered by Tony’s cum. The expectation that this would be shared, that I would be admired. It was all taken away. There was no denying her – I held my cock, began sliding in Rhythm to the ladies clapping. As humiliated as I felt – the idea of being watched by these friends of Margaret, one or two whom I knew – it was too much. Within seconds I was spurting, pumping, emptying my balls. ……………..
The rest of the evening was mundane. I was allowed to go and wash my face. I was given a cloth to wipe up my cum. I had to return the coats to the women as they left. Remarkably after they had left, with just myself, Tony and Margaret there the atmosphere changed completely – suddenly we were just three ordinary people sharing a coffee.
“Did you enjoy our party”, asked Margaret.
I blushed, didn’t speak.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” she said with a smile. She continued. “You see Ben, we were looking for a second man for our parties. We wanted a good man. We thought it would be fun to have someone hetero. And Tony suggested you. It was easy to make it look like the E.mail came from you……..”
I was suddenly angry. “You tricked me……”
“Yes,” said Margaret. “And I bet this was the hottest night you have ever had..” My blush overwhelmed my anger.
Again Margaret continued. “I’m sure you want to carry on making it with women, and you will. But we would like you to come to our parties once a month. And you may go through the same and worse. For our entertainment. But you might find some of the women here will want to share other things with you. Will you join us? Your choice. Will not hold anything against you if you say no.”
I thought. Humiliated in front of these women. Forced to make love to a man. Forced to expose myself. Forced to serve all these women. It was awful. Humiliating. Degrading. No way I could do this regularly. I spoke. “Yes, I’ll be at the next party…………….”