Claire Gets Played at a House-Party

After closing time at the bar where they had watched the match, Dave had invited his friends back for a few more drinks. He didn't phone ahead or message Claire to let her know, and when they all walked in she had given him a look that he knew meant there were going to be words exchanged at a later point! Claire had been in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil so she could make herself a coffee. She was just out of the shower, with the sheen of moisturiser visible on her skin, and her wet hair thrown up into a scruffy pony tail. Her white vest-top was heroically undersized, with the thinnest straps and a neckline that plunged deeply between her breasts. As a result of having made only a half-hearted effort at getting dry, combined with the water dripping from her hair, the vest had been about half a glass short of belonging in a wet t-shirt competition. It clung to the lower curve of her breasts and seemed perilously close to becoming translucent where it pulled tight over her nipples. None of Dave's friends had even tried, or at least tried convincingly, to hide the fact their eyes savouring every inch of her body, imagining her naked, always returning to focus on her breasts.

She didn't entirely hate the ways those eyes traversed her body. Claire knew full-well that the guys all swapped comments about each others' wives. In fact, they swapped more than comments. One night last year, she had gone with Dave to Phil's house, for his birthday party. Phil let a few secrets slip out. She had always flirted with him, enough that on one occasion his girlfriend noticed and caused a scene. Of course he always started it, and Claire typically wouldn't start to play along until she was three-four drinks in. When she stopped their game depended on how much there was to drink, and how much tolerance Dave was prepared to exercise.

At Phil's she had been a good six-seven drinks in when she found herself chatting to him in the kitchen. In a move that seemed pre-planned, he had asked her to grab him a beer from the fridge and then, as soon as she opened the door and felt the chill on her face, he moved close behind her. Under the vague pretence of having realised she wouldn't know which brand of beer he was drinking, he slid his right hand up her arm, taking her hand and guiding it towards a particular bottle. His left hand, with much less chivalry, slipped underneath her loose top and his palm had rested on her flat stomach for a moment, perhaps seeing if there would be any immediate reaction.

As he told her that he thought she looked gorgeous, but not as good as in the photos Dave had shared with him, Phil's hand had found its way to her left breast, where his fingers traced the thin lace of her bra. From the detail of his description she knew exactly the photos he was referring to, and which he explained had been circulated amongst all the guys to facilitate a vote on which wife or girlfriend was the most "fuckable".

Whenever she thought back to what had happened next, she was never certain whether she was conscious of the movement of his hand, but by the time he had finished explaining that every one of Dave's friends voted for her, he had been able to discern that her pussy was completely shaven, and the index finger of his left hand had completed a few laps of her clit and slid inside her. He had her back so closely pressed against his chest that she was able to let her head fall back onto his shoulder, eyes closed. Although it seemed recklessly long, as she remembered it Phil fingered her for there for thirty seconds, maybe even a minute, telling her how often he thought about them being in bed together, and asking her whether she ever imagined him fucking her. At the very moment he stepped back, her mouth had just formed the word "yes" but hadn't spoken it.

When she and Dave let the party, as she hugged Phil goodbye, and one of his hands squeezed her ass, she whispered the answer in his ear.

Claire had seen Phil again since that night at the fridge, but he had never seen as much of her as he and the rest of the guys were able to see when they barged into the kitchen. The evening turned into a bit of party. She got dragged downstairs to play pool on the table in their basement. When she bent over to take a shot, half of Dave's friends seemed to be stood behind her looking at her ass, the other half were in front looking down her top. Dave didn't seem remotely concerned, not even when Phil told about a porn film he liked where someone's wife got gangbanged on a pool table in a bar. She had noticed heads turning to look at her when his story finished, so she rolled her eyes and joked that she hadn't had enough beers.

When she left the basement pool-game, Phil had followed her upstairs, without being particularly discreet about it at all. With no one else to hear him, he had said that if all it would take to get her naked on the pool-table was is a couple more beers he would go on and get her one straight away. She just rolled her eyes and in the end he got them both got a drink. They ended up chatting for a while on the couch in the living room. He told Claire he liked her outfit and when she explained she had been in the shower his quick reply was that he wished they had gotten back a few minutes earlier so he could have helped her with the soap. Knowing perfectly well she shouldn't play along, shouldn't entertain him, Claire couldn't help herself, and with a shrug told him she was sure Dave would send him some photos if Phil asked him nicely.

That had been the moment she realised it was time to leave, and so she had stood up with purpose. Then, without visible hesitation she had taken hold of the bottom of her vest, arms crossed over, one hand gripping each side, and whilst looking straight at Phil, she pulled the vest up slowly. She let him see the lower curve of her breasts, then a little more, almost but not quite revealing her nipples. She had pulled the vest back down and spun around, as Phil groaned, desperate to have seen it all. She had even waved over her shoulder as she went to find Dave.

Not long later, feeling the drinks making her light-headed, Claire had said goodnight and taken herself upstairs. On the landing she had bumped into Phil, almost literally, who explained he had been using the bathroom. Even though there was a toilet downstairs. She hadn't asked him for a truthful explanation, she just said goodnight and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. When he put his lips firmly on hers, she didn't pull away, but also didn't return his kiss, not at first. He persevered and her response was to tilt her head slightly and let her tongue meet his.

She hadn't noticed his manoeuvre, but her back was suddenly against the wall and as their kiss became steadily more intense Phil started to lift her vest. She had put her hands on his to stop him, but after a heartbeat she had helped him lift it up over her head. For a moment she held it limply by her side, then dropped it to the floor, as his hands ran up her body and over her breasts. A moment or two later she pushed him back, but had remained very much within his reach, naked now apart from her shorts. He drank in the smoothness of her pale skin, the curve of her slender hips, her breasts with nipples hard and prominent, her green eyes and her brown hair falling out of the band she had used to secure it, trailing down over her shoulders.

It had been Claire who slowly eased the shorts over her hips, let them slide down her legs and flicked them to one side with her foot. She had tried to hold his gaze as she ran one hand down from between her breasts, all the way to her pussy, but his eyes had other interests. It had been Claire who turned around to face the wall, and bent over just a little show off her ass. She had intended that to be the end of Phil's fun for the night and the tight grip of his hands pushing her against the wall took her by surprise. He pinned her with one hand on her neck, pressing hard enough that her left cheek was flat against the wall and she couldn't even turn her head to look the other way. When he released her neck it was only to hold her by both hips as he spread her legs with his feet, with intent but not aggression.

"Tell me to stop." She looked over her shoulder at him and answered with a shake of her head and so he pulled her back onto him sharply, as he pushed forward.

She had no coherent thoughts for a few seconds, and when she became aware that she was bent forward almost in half, bracing herself with both palms pressed against the wall, she wasn't sure if it had been her idea or his instruction. The first words either of them spoke were Phil's, when he hissed at her to quieten her moaning at each of his thrusts. Claire had struggled to comply, biting her tongue, then her lip and finally resorting to sinking her teeth into her left hand. Despite the situation he hadn't hurried, and when he realised he was getting close, he pulled out, stood her straight and spun Claire around so her back was against the wall. His left hand moved to hold her right leg, behind the knee, and he pulled it up; then he had fucked her with an urgency that was very apparent to her. They kissed, clumsily, and there had been some moans they weren't able to suppress. Claire came first, by mere seconds, with her fingernails tearing across his back. Even with her mouth pressed into his shoulder, the crescendo of her moan grew and, with her final, ecstatic, "Fuck yes. Phil" was rather more than merely 'audible'. As he was about to cum, Phil grabbed her hips and pulled her onto him, holding her there whist she rolled her hips against him. Then it was done, and he had vanished back to the party

Naked and stroll catching her breath, Claire had closed the bedroom door behind her, and him. The music from downstairs became suddenly very distant. The heavy blackout curtains meant the room was pitch dark, save for just the faint blue glow of their alarm clock. It was only as she sat down on the bed that she remembered her shorts and vest were on the floor outside on the landing. She shrugged her shoulders at no one, and then let herself fall back on-top of the mattress, enjoying the cold air from an open window.

It was now two hours or so later. Claire woke up to the sound of the bedroom door closing. Presuming it was Dave coming to bed, she let her head fall to the side, more asleep than she was awake. She was more than aware of the number of drinks she had knocked back. She vaguely heard him undressing and felt the mattress shift under his weight. She ignored his hand on her thigh, having no intention of entertaining him tonight. When that hand clamped over her mouth it was a surprise, but nothing they hadn't played with before. When his other hand grabbed at her right leg, and she felt his weight and his knees pushing her legs apart, it no longer felt like Dave.

Claire eyes had adjusted enough that, in the dim alarm clock light, she saw who it was just as he forced his dick inside her with two movements, two inches at first, withdrawn to be followed by the whole eight.

"Phil. What the fuck?"

After each thrust he drew himself back slowly, almost completely, and waited for an appreciable moment only then to slam his hips into hers. For Claire it was torture, in the sense that feeling his entire dick enter her with every thrust was ecstasy, and then he made her wait

"Please don't stop, Dave's going to come in. He's going to see us. He'll see you."

She heard herself slip up, betraying what she really wanted. It wasn't Phil, not exactly, it was Phil fucking her whilst Dave was downstairs, with all his friends, the guys who had seen photos of her naked and voted her "most fuckable".

She was at a point where her body practically convulsed with every stroke. He had released her hands which seem to alternate between his back and grabbing fistfuls of the bed-sheets. She had a distant appreciation that between her increasingly frequent moaning and the sound of the bed, they were making too much noise. That thought was immediately chased away because Phil switched up the pace on her, all the way

"Harder. Fuck me harder. Please." He obliged her immediately and then had to slap a hand back over her mouth to try cut off a scream. He didn't have much luck. She had a brief hope that the music downstairs might have saved her, then everything but Phil was driven from her mind.

Claire couldn't have known that the DJ had fallen asleep and been carried into one of the various taxis. For an hour it had just been Dave and Phil left, chatting and smoking downstairs. Phil still had half a cigar left when he told Dave he was going to head upstairs and fuck Claire. He stubbed it out carefully, so he would be able to finish it later. Dave sipped his drink. Remy Martin.