Suburban Strip

To a few snickers, Amy peered around behind Don, looked down and said, "I don't think it's such a bad butt."

Don obediently moved behind Amy and awkwardly started pulling down the zipper. At last he was able to slide his hands along Amy's shoulders, knocking the garment to the table as Amy pretended to shiver with delight. She daintily stepped away from the small pile of material and stood, waiting and showing off a shapely figure plus a barely-there black bra and a sliver of a matching thong.

Don gingerly undid the clasp at the front of Amy's bra, uncovering a pair of attractive handfuls, curved softly at the bottom with dark brown nipples pointing skyward.

"Look what you've done to me," Amy scolded. "Everyone can see my boobs. Your mother is really going to be disappointed."

Don didn't respond. He just moved behind Amy and slid the skimpy black thong down until all eyes were on Amy's unshaven pussy. She had feigned a shocked look as her last piece of clothing moved down her legs, then turned to Dave, thrust out her hips as though her bare labia needed any more emphasis, and announced, "This seemed like a good night to take it out for a spin. How do you like it?

Amy's forwardness struck Don speechless. He turned to leave, hesitated, gave Amy a quick hug, and hurried off the table, getting a quick slap on the butt from Amy during his exit. Amy, smirking, sashayed the couple steps to and from the basket. She read, "Greg Fowler." Suddenly my nerves acted up again. My turn. I blurted, "You're making that up."

"Come up here and see for yourself," Amy taunted, "Are you chicken big guy? Oh, sorry, I guess we don't know whether you're a big guy. Yet."

I took my place on the coffee table as Amy faced me, and started talking. "So, is this how you've imagined me under my clothes?" She ran her fingers lightly from just under her tits to the inside of her thigh. "Come on, I know you've wondered about this body, what do you think now that you're looking at it barenaked and close enough to touch?"

At Amy's direct, and true, words my dick started stiffening again, and for the first time it occurred to me I could wind up showing off a full-fledged boner to what at the moment seemed like the whole world. I figured I'd better bring things more under control. I said, "What I'm wondering about is how long we're going to stand here talking."

But Amy's wit was quicker. "Oooh, a man of action," she purred. "Well then, let's get these pants off and see what you've got in there."

Amy sank to her knees and fingered my zipper, resting her hand on my crotch. As my fly slowly opened, her hand stayed in contact with my pants, pressing against the top of my hardening member. After a teasingly drawn out process of undoing my belt, she slid my pants down and tossed them behind the table. And in the unlikely event anyone hadn't noticed the bulge in my dark-gray lo-rise jockey shorts Amy turned toward her audience and covered her open mouth, acting at being shocked.

Amy stood and planted her toes just outside mine, so that our bodies almost touched. She slid her hands up under my sweater, one in front, one along my back. Then she rotated her hands to my sides and up my arms, taking the sweater with them as they went. As they traveled along my raised arms, she leaned into me, her nipples brushing the bottom of my chest. She tossed the sweater aside, then stuck her hands into the back of my shorts. She locked her elbows and started bending her knees, descending slowly into a squat. In the process her tits moved down across my stomach, her rigid arms pushing my underwear down. My half-boner popped out and slapped her weakly just below her chest, then was surrounded briefly by her passing tits. At the time I couldn't appreciate what a brilliant masterpiece of teasing Amy was creating. I was working too hard to control my breathing and keep from having to turn to an audience ready for my dick to erupt. Already it was half on its way to the six inches it gets when it's at full attention. But halfway didn't seem to be enough for Amy. As I stepped out of my shorts, she puckered her lips and blew lightly across my balls and the bit of head sticking out from the foreskin.

Mercifully she quickly stood back up, three feet from me, leering at my betwixt and between erection.

"Normally I'd ask if you had a pistol in your pocket or you were just happy to see me," said Amy. "But you don't have any pockets left and that's no pistol." I glanced out at the room and my wife was about doubled over with laughter. Fortunately Amy was a good enough friend that it didn't seem like this would cause trouble later. Amy grabbed me in a hug, circled her hips a couple times against my crotch, stepped back to leer some more and said, "Sorry to leave you this way, but it's time to go." And she bounced from the table.

With Amy taking her burlesque act with her, all that was left as the center of attention was me and my cock. I quickly grabbed the next name and said, "Is there a Nora Carter in the house?"

I saw her blonde head start toward the table and felt my dick rise another centimeter. I hadn't known her name but had seen her often at the neighborhood Starbucks. I'd heard she was a vice president at a bank downtown, and she certainly looked the part. She always wore the sharpest dress-for-success executive clothes, which kept her professional looking despite the extreme cuteness of the ponytail and bangs she wore so regularly it seemed to be a trademark. She was slender with nearly nonexistent tits, and an attractive face dominated by striking blue eyes that seemed especially round and in a constant state of surprise.

I turned to toss the slip of paper to the back of the table, and Nora must have moved pretty fast to the front of the room, because when I turned back around my half-mast dick nearly hit her in the face.

"You could put someone's eye out," she cracked. Then, specifically addressing my cock, said, "You seem to be having a good time. Can I come up?"

Everyone in the room laughed and clapped. It helped break the ice a little for me. I shrugged to the audience then offered my hand and helped Nora up next to me.

She was well turned out, as always, wearing a bright yellow blazer with a loose shirt just showing underneath, and black skirt stopping a few inches above her knees.

Having regained my composure somewhat, I decided I'd start with her white sheer hose that she hadn't taken off despite Cheryl's rule about socks. I knelt in front of Nora and put my hands up her skirt. But instead of having to work pantyhose down her hips, I came out with a pair of almost-transparent white silky drawers-she was wearing stockings, not pantyhose as I'd assumed. I suspected I wasn't the only one with a mind wandering at the idea of her now-pantyless pussy waiting under that designer skirt.

Next I unbuttoned and removed her blazer. The shirt turned out to be a thin white camisole revealing that while her breasts were small, they weren't nonexistent. Her nipples seemed to be trying to poke a hole in the thin material. I left the top alone for now and went for the skirt, moving the side-zipper down her hip, undoing the clasp, and letting it fall, answering one question by displaying a small, manicured patch of black hair made all the more prominent by the lovely contrast to the white camisole above and her white stockings below. I moved toward her and started lifting her top. She raised her arms compliantly and I whisked the small piece of fabric away. Nora looked breathtaking, with her small, mounded breasts and tiny, protruding pink nipples, wearing only the stockings, which I started to peel. It was impossible for my arms to avoid a few brushes with her bush, and when this all-but-naked female steadied herself by putting a hand on my bare shoulder, my cock, which had been relaxing a bit, started to reverse itself.

At last she stood, stripped and nervously fidgeting, and it was time for me to dismount. I hugged her, relishing the sensation of my prick pressed against her lower belly, and I left the table.

I made my way through the mostly-clothed crowd and joined my wife, who was holding my scotch for me, and chatting with Hannah and her date Geoff.

"Pretty hot up there," laughed Hannah. She looked down at my penis, which was starting to calm down, and said, "So your parents didn't get you circumcised. First one I've seen like that," then, glancing at Geoff, she added quickly, "Not that I've seen that many," then, changing the subject, said, "By the way, I didn't know you were such a performer. Quite a show up there."

"Yeah," my wife teased. "You and Amy haven't been practicing have you?"

I raised my scotch and dodged, "Thanks for holding this for me hon," took a gulp and kissed her on the cheek."

I was surprised what a turn-on it was to be bantering casually in the nude with my wife, a female coworker, and her date. For the past few weeks I'd been looking forward to seeing some naked women. But it was a whole different kind of rush to be standing in a crowded room chatting about the state of my fully exposed cock, while it waved in front of two fully-clothed females.

Names kept getting called and a variety of bodies were unwrapped. The whole scene was still erotic, but I was actually more just plain interested in seeing what all these acquaintances looked like in the buff.

"Hannah Latimer, get up here," boomed a male voice.

"Oh my God, it's my turn. I feel sick," said Hannah. She turned to me, "Any advice?"

"You're asking me?" I chuckled. "Have fun, I guess." Clearly, it was everything I could do to even move my tongue-all I could think about was that soon Hannah's skirt would be shimmying down her hips and her huge boobs would be out of that sweater and on display.

It was a delight to watch her come out of her clothes and even better to see her jiggling back to join us, with her slightly chubby body and breasts literally the size of melons, high on her chest, just below that giggly, schoolgirlish face, and the small circle of dark brown hair between her legs. The four of us high-fived, though Geoff seemed pretty subdued-I don't think coming to this party was his idea,

We watched as the strip shows continued. There was Janna, a classic tall, lean redhead with thick, curly orange hair and matching bush. Erika brought a Goth look to the party with her nearly white skin and jet-black hair. Jason took the size prize, stunning the room into a several seconds of silence with a thick cock hanging a limp 9 inches between his legs.

Those of us without clothes had become a majority as a guy named Dave performed up on the table. His reactions and comments were really very funny as Erika undressed him.

Erika finished by unveiling Dave's penis, a stubby thing almost invisible in his pubic hair, and he turned and drew a name from the women's basket. He tried to sound casual, but he was clearly pleased to announce, "The next victim is Sally Fullerton."

I know my breath caught in my throat and I could almost hear the same reaction from other males in the room as they anticipated watching the stripping of Sally.

She stood on the table, barefoot and smiling shyly as she brushed the curls from her face. She wore a wispy looking pink and white short-sleeved dress with an angled hemline at knee-length.

Dave rubbed his hands together. "At last, we're about to see the Promised Land, and I'll be taking us there."

"Oh I don't think it's quite that big a deal," said Sally, her cheeks reddening. "It's just skin."

"Not that big a deal?" Dave retorted. "Let's let these folks be the judges of that." He motioned to the room and shouted, "How much do you want to see what Sally's got under there?"

The room exploded in applause, cheers, and whoops. Sally crossed her arms, sucked in her cheeks, and glared at Dave. "Cute," she smirked. "Now I'm sure to get an especially close inspection by everyone. I'll have to think of a way to pay you back."

"I'll be looking forward to it," said Dave. It was a great bit of foreplay, Dave moving around the flowing folds of Sally's dress, his little cock on display inches from the skin of what he made sure we all realized would soon be a fully naked Sally Fullerton. He concluded with, "And now, a drum roll please."

A couple people in the back started a lame rhythm with their hands on the wall as Dave undid a hook at the back of Sally's neck, then reached to her knees for the hem. Sally raised her arms in a very sexy act of obedience that stretched the soft forms of the dress against those incredible breasts. As her garment rose, it revealed first, a pair of modest white panties, then a white, low-cut bra that seemed about to burst from what it was holding. After getting the dress up over Sally's head, turning it inside out as it went along, Don quickly undid her bra strap. But Sally seemed to get an attack of modesty, or maybe it was just a dramatic tease. She crossed her arms over her chest, holding the bra in place. After a few "awws" from her audience, she put her hands on her hips and let the top fall to the floor with a soft clunk.

Those size Ds were everything I had imagined. They ballooned even more as they were liberated. They sloped gently down to large areolas barely darker that the rest of her skin, before curving dramatically back to her chest. They looked delicious and achingly touchable. Dave carefully peeled off underwear bottoms. She stepped out of them artfully then stood with her hands back on her hips, showing off a thin strip of dark pubic hair, a waist that narrowed to nearly nothing, breasts arcing outside the line of her torso.

"And now the luckiest guy in the room will administer the ceremonial squeeze," said Dave, and the two pressed their bodies together. But as Sally's twin planets flattened against Dave's chest, her left hand shot up behind Dave's head to hold it in place while Sally started roughly kissing him on the mouth. Her right hand reached behind, grabbed his left butt cheek and Sally ground the front of male and female pelvises together. She backed off a couple inches, then banged groins together again, four or five times before stepping back and crowing, "Take that, you horndog."

Dave feigned a swoon and slurred, "Ooh, it got hot down there," as he waved a hand to fan at his dick, which was considerably more apparent that it had been. "I've been punished, I've been punished," he wailed, as the room broke up and he leapt from the table.

Dave made a beeline for the bar but all eyes were on Sally, who offered a view of her nearly perfectly round ass as she turned to pick the next name.

"It's awfully lonely up here," she said, holding the slip of paper in front of her. She seemed to be relaxing a little without Dave's teasing presence on the table. "Won't Terrence Dunn come up and keep me company."

There was only one black couple in the room, and Terrence was the male half. I hadn't met them, but I'd overheard that he was the computer technical specialist at Cheryl's office. Terrence's shoes were off before he started walking. He jumped onto the table and offered his hand. He was a tall man with the upper body of someone who looked like weightlifting was a fairly serious hobby. His thick hair was cut short and he had a prominent chin decorated with a drooping handlebar mustache trimmed so precisely it seemed to be painted on.

"Hi, I'm Terrence."

They shook hands, making for a dizzying contrast as the voluptuous, nude white woman greeted the imposing-looking black man.

"Hi, I'm Sally," she said, looking up at him.

"You seem to have lost your clothes."

"Oh, you noticed," said Sally. "Maybe you could join me."

"Well, since it's just us up here, I guess that would be all right. Just don't tell my wife."

"You behave yourself up there Terrence," commanded his wife, to guffaws from around the room.

"I'm just trying to help a damsel in distress, honey," he laughed back. Turning back to Sally he said, "Now how may I be of assistance?"

"First, lets get these pants off." Sally moved in front of Terrence, turning her long-legged backside to us, unhooked his belt, pulled down the zipper, and eased to her knees as she guided his pants to his feet, the long shirttails hiding his underwear. Next she undid his shirt buttons, starting from the top. When she finished the unbuttoning, she didn't grab at his shirt, but pushed it off his body by sliding her hands along his shoulders and down his arms. Watching the back of Sally's torso working within the outline of Terrence's black body provided a powerfully erotic bit of theater. This must be the style that Cheryl was talking about.

When Sally moved to toss the shirt behind the table, Terrence crossed his arms over his strong-looking chest and waited, looking dramatic himself in a pair of red jockey bikini briefs with a well-filled pouch. Sally knelt next to Terrence and started folding down the top of his shorts, inch by inch, slowly uncovering pubic hair, then cock, then balls. Then we could see the briefs weren't filled out so much because Terrence was unusually endowed, but his tool kit had started to harden. His dark rod rested in the open air at almost a 45-degree angle, the deep purple head glistening. As Sally pulled the shorts down to the tabletop, her curls brushed against Terrence's cock, and I'm sure I wasn't the only one who noticed it twitch.

Sally stood up and the two turned toward each other at the same time and performed the quick, obligatory hug. They looked great in the clinch. Then Sally hopped down from the table in a way that made her tits sway in an incredibly intoxicating fashion.

Terrence stepped around and pulled the next name. "Will Dani Fowler come forward?"

Dani gulped the last three sips of her wine, handed me the glass, said "OK," more to herself than anyone else, and walked toward the front of the room. She efficiently tossed her shoes under the table, then seemed a little startled to see Terrence offering his hand to help her up. She quickly landed facing him. He looked into her eyes and said, "I would very much like to see what you look like when you're not wearing anything at all. May I take your clothes off?"

It was certainly part of the act, but the directness and formality of the question from a new acquaintance made the request powerfully erotic. Dina said softly, "Well, I guess that would be all right. It seems to be on the agenda for the evening. What do you want me to do?"

Terrence took several seconds to look her up and down, then said, "It looks like you need to turn around so I can take off your dress." Terrence put his hands on Dina's hips and gently turned her to face the audience. Terrence moved behind her and pushed the button at the back of her neck through its hole. The front of the dress fell forward, taking the skirt portion with it to the floor so fast I heard a couple of gasps. She stood, hands at her side, her substantial breasts settling pleasingly against her chest. Now she wore only a pair of white lace panties.

Terrence almost whispered, but the room was so quiet everyone could hear, "Now I'm going to turn you to face me." This time he put his hands just above her waist, brushing the sides of her breasts with his arms-a move that seemed powerfully intimate. He took a half-step back to examine her again, then moved back toward her and said, "Now I'm going to take your panties off so I can enjoy looking at your body without a stitch on it." He reached around and slid his hands down her back and plunged them into her last remaining garment, cupping her ass cheeks in his hands. Then he moved them around to her sides and started slowly lowering the panties. His face traveled down her body, about in inch from her contours, face, tits, stomach, thighs, until he freed the underwear and tossed it with the rest of the clothes.