Pushing Boundaries Ch. 01

Pushing Boundaries - Chapter 1

"She spent the entire evening trying to stop herself falling out."

Laughter from the two men.

"Yes," came Layla's voice, "and never again. Ruined the whole evening for me."

There was a brief moment of quiet before Ricky spoke. "That, my dear, is bullshit. You loved it. If we hadn't been with your sister and that monumental prick of a husband of hers, you'd have just given up and let them pop out."

"I would not," she declared, shocked and outraged, "I could never..."

"Bullshit," interrupted Ricky, "I saw the look in your eye, I know you thought about it even then. And I remember what you were like later."

I was in the kitchen, listening to the conversation. I had been about to go back and sit down, but decided to listen furtively instead.

Ricky and Layla had been to the theatre. They had always wanted to see 'The Rocky Horror Show', as they'd heard it was fun - the audience dressed up in outfits like the characters, there were shout-outs and participation, rather than just sitting back and watching - it was fun - not your average musical.

They had rehearsed, looked at costumes, and decided to dress up in sexy outfits - corsets, feather boas, stockings, suspenders. Both of them. They wore coats over the top, just in case they were the only ones, but on arrival, found that the majority of the audience wore similar lingerie - both men and women.

The few exceptions, like Layla's sister and her husband, stood out in the sea of bare flesh, looking dowdy and dull among the sea of red and satin and lace in their jeans and t-shirts.

"The look on their faces when you took off your coat and they found you were wearing the same as me," giggled Layla, "and the fact that you wore satin knickers which were rather 'figure hugging'. I thought her eyes were going to pop out when she looked down."

Ricky laughed again. "Yeah. That was hilarious. I saw you smirk. And he couldn't stop looking at your boobs. Though, in fairness, there was a good deal on show. I think everyone enjoyed them - though there were plenty of others to admire."

I heard the 'thwack' as she slapped him.

"Jan?" Ian shouted to me. "Leave that and come and sit down."

I wandered back into the sitting room and took a seat as Ian continued.

"Tell them about the swimming costume."

I blushed. I felt a warmth in my cheeks, spreading down my neck to my chest.

"This must be good," commented Ricky, "judging by that face."

"Oh god," I muttered, "it was awful. We were on holiday, and I'd a nice costume. It was white, to reflect the sun, quite modest, considering most people were in bikinis. We went to the pool at the hotel and I decided to have a swim while Ian found a couple of spots for the towels. I swam a couple of lengths and got out right in front of him. I'll never forget his face."

Ian was almost bouncing, ready to tell the rest of the story.

"Oh my god. She got out of the pool and started walking towards - but the swimsuit was almost transparent when it was wet. I could see everything - literally everything."

"Stop it!" I interrupted. "It wasn't that bed. Just a bit translucent. Enough so people noticed. At first, I didn't realise, then I noticed everyone looking, so I looked too. It was awful. I didn't want to panic and make it obvious how mortified I was, so I casually covered up with my arms until I could get a towel round me."

"Rubbish!" Ian declared. "You owned it. You were totally casual. It was only when you thought I might be annoyed that you covered up. Otherwise, you'd have just let everyone look. And it was that bad. I could see everything - and if I could, so could everyone else. I could even see how you'd shaved..."

"Stop!" I almost shouted. "We don't need details, thank you."

He grinned at me. "Anyway. You loved it. I remember how you were afterwards - just like Layla if she was like Ricky suggested."

It was true. I knew it was. Everyone around the pool had seen my nipples, erect from the cool water, dark, surrounded by my well-defined areolae. Even the puckering of the circles of the skin had been evident. Lower down, had I not shaved, my bush would have stood out clearly. As it was, the swimsuit moulded itself to my slit, making it obvious that I had shaved.

He was also correct in that it made me horny as hell. Had I not thought he would hate everyone seeing me, I would have just let them look. As it was, I wrapped a towel around me and dragged him back to the hotel room, under the pretext of needing to change. Once there, I stripped and spent far too long wandering around naked, bending over and letting him take in everything that was on offer. When I turned round, even his loose swimming shorts couldn't hide his erection. We had fucked. And how.

I realised my blush had remained, but now had turned to a flush of excitement at the memory. I should calm down.

Ricky raised his wine glass. "To exhibitionist wives," he toasted.

Ian echoed the toast, while Layla and I just sat, nonplussed.

"Look at you two," she laughed, "would you seriously want us flashing other people? Come on. You'd hate it."

Ian looked at Ricky as if trying to form a telepathic connection and debating what was the right thing to say. Either they connected, or he just decided to take the plunge.

"I thought I'd hate it, but, if I'm honest, it made me incredibly horny. I kept revisiting that time, thinking 'what if Jan had just kept walking and let them look?' It's fuelled quite a few fantasies."

Shocked silence. Then Ian spoke.

"Yeah. If she'd just let 'em pop out and bounce free, I'd have loved it. Honest."

He looked at his wife. "Seriously. You've got amazing boobs. Why not?"

The shocked silence returned as everyone sipped their wine. It was me that spoke next, my voice taking on a life of its own, independent of my brain.

"Honestly? All those eyes on me was such a turn on."

Silence.

"I spent so long stopping myself from falling out that night," said Layla, "that afterwards, I just thought 'why not?' If it hadn't for the pair of boring farts with us, I think I'd just gone with it. I've often thought since then, 'what if I'd just let it happen?' It's fuelled a few fantasies for me too."

The silence descended again. Not uncomfortable, just thoughtful. I glanced at Layla. She certainly had great boobs. They were swelling orbs - at least a C cup, I guessed, and she loved wearing outfits that gave her a great cleavage of which I could only dream. I was certain Ian would love to see them - and I have to admit to some curiosity myself.

I could hardly compete, with my own modest swellings - still, they were ok. I was hardly flat-chested. Still - it was my bum that men seemed to go for. Blame the gym for that!

"Would you?" Ricky asked. It took a second to realise that he was asking me.

"Would I what?" I replied, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Would you let people see you naked?"

My eyes flicked to Ian as I considered my answer.

"It'd depend. First question would be how Ian would feel. If it was going to be a problem between us, no way."

Ian went to jump in, but Ricky held up a hand. "What if it wasn't, if he found it a turn on?"

"Well..." should I be honest or try to deflect the subject? Honest, I decided, knowing that a lie would be seen through instantly. "I suppose it'd be ok. I'd be embarrassed, but sometimes that changes doesn't it. Sometimes, embarrassment can be quite a turn on."

I released a long breath, very aware that three pairs of eyes had been on me.

"Cool," breathed Ian, a grin twisting his mouth as he made eye contact with me.

"Actually," he continued, "I don't know how I'd feel. Fantasy is one thing, but reality can feel different. When it was an accident, it was a turn on - but just imagining Jan naked with strangers looking at her... I really don't know."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," blurted Layla, "all these ludicrous social standards about nudity and having to cover up everywhere. It's pretty pathetic. We know what a human body looks like. What's the big deal?"

We all nodded slowly. Social expectations were pretty pathetic. We had agreed on that many times in different contexts.

"I mean", she went on, "nudity and sex have become interlinked, so now, if a woman wears something revealing, it's automatically linked to sex. Now, at that play, about a quarter of the audience wore lingerie. Some was very revealing, and it was fun. A laugh. People didn't assume everyone wanted sex. It was the standard for the evening - the social standard and it was fun. It's all so artificial."

She paused, apparently having run out of things to say, then started again.

"However, if those same standards can lead to a massive turn on - that's gotta be good."

We laughed.

"How about guys?" I wondered. "So far, it's just been about women - what about you guys? How would you feel if a load of people saw you naked?"

"For a start, we'd get arrested," stated Ricky, "Double standards, I know, but it's true. A naked woman's a fun story down the pub. It's fine on TV after the watershed. A naked bloke? Shock horror - gotta be a pervert - lock him up. Protect women. When did you last see a penis on TV? Have you ever seen a hard one? I mean... hot sex scene - woman gets out of bed - we see boobs, maybe even between her legs. She slips on a robe. Cut to the guy in a robe. No tent at the front, leaving a stain as it twitches down."

"Er..." began Ian, "very graphic, mate."

We giggled. "But valid," concluded Ian. "Personally, I wouldn't mind, but couldn't do unless it was with people who were open minded enough to accept it."

We nodded wisely, as if he had just made a deep philosophical statement - which, in a way, he had.

Again, the pregnant silence settled. We were all expectant now - it was just a case of who would deliver. As it turned out, it was Layla.

"Well - we're all open minded enough to accept it. Aren't we?"

A slow nod travelled around the group. I suspect we all thought similar things: if someone got naked in front of us, would we be shocked and appalled, or would we laugh about it and even be a little turned on - depending who it was, of course.

"How about you, Jan, how would you feel if you were at the cricket club with Ian and one of the players walked out naked, because he didn't know you were there?"

I thought. "Well - depends who it was of course. If it was unthreatening, I suppose I'd giggle and laugh about it later with Ian."

"Would you check him out?" Ricky asked, smile playing gently on his lips.

I thought for a second. "Yeah. Course I would. Especially if it was Coops. They're always going on about the size of his dick."

Everyone laughed.

"In fairness," Ian spluttered, "it's pretty incredible. When he sits on a bench, it rolls down and about three inches hang over the edge. He's never had a hard on, cos he'd faint."

He turned to me.

"D'you remember when Mitch tried to chat up his wife, cos he'd never met her before? She stood and listened for a bit, till Coops walked out and waved to her - then she leaned forward, and whispered, 'you'd never touch the sides, sunshine.'"

We all collapsed into shouts of laughter at this wonderful true story.

As we settled again, Layla, once again, addressed the room: "So we're open minded, no problem with nudity, so... who's first?"

This time, the silence was 'stunned'. Was she really suggesting we all get naked? Was she joking? And was it such a problem? Four friends who had known each other for two years since becoming neighbours getting naked together? Why not? I tried to find an answer, but beyond 'because it's not right', I really couldn't think of one.

I sure as hell wasn't about to be first though! What if they all just stopped and laughed at me?

Ian thought. "How about spin the bottle?" He asked, emptying the last dregs of wine into my glass. "If it points to you, take something off."

Another silence - it was getting like a Pinter play - then Ricky nodded. Layla glanced at me and we nodded simultaneously. If the guys were ok knowing that we could end up naked, where was the problem?

The men moved the coffee table so we could sit on the floor in a rough square with the bottle in the middle. We all grabbed cushions for more comfort.

"Youngest spins first. I'm thirty, so I reckon that makes me last. Ian - you're... er twenty-eight? Layla's twenty-six - which means Jan's the baby - I remember you're twenty fifth birthday last month."

Ricky had it all worked out correctly, which was typical. He was the sort of man who paid attention to trivial details.

I spun the bottle. It worked well on the laminate floor. It slowed steadily, as we held our breath, watching it track past each of us, gradually coming to a rest on Layla.

She laughed and removed a sock.

We were dressed similarly - jeans, t shirts. Layla and I wore cardigans and both men had an unzipped hoodie. I did a quick calculation and worked out that the only real difference was that Layla and I wore a bra.

Layla spun again - and it landed on her again. "This is fixed," she joked, removing her other sock.

"Does jewellery count?" I asked, more in hope than expectation.

A resounding "No!" from all three. Hardly a surprise.

Next spin - Layla again - another sock.

"Is this fixed?" she asked, "Cos if this happens next time..."

Third spin - Ricky, then me, Ian and then Layla again.

She gave an exaggerated tut and slipped off her cardigan.

Another spin, more lost socks, then my cardigan, Mikey's hoodie and to Layla once more.

We were all aware that the game had suddenly become interesting. Layla was about to expose her underwear.

Her hands went to her waist, grabbing her top first, then switching to the button of her jeans, then back again.

She paused.

"We are doing this, right?" she asked. "We're all ok getting naked. I don't to be sitting here with my tits out when someone says 'that's it, enough'."

She had a point. What if someone were to back out? We needed to make a commitment.

For me, I needed to know that Ian was ok with it, so I looked to him first as Layla and Ricky exchanged a similar look.

"I'm good," announced Ian.

"Sure," agreed Ricky,

Layla and I acknowledged our own agreement and that was it. We were in. No backing out now.

Layla returned to her dilemma, finally choosing to undo her jeans.

My stomach churned. I felt for her. She unzipped and pushed her thumbs into the waistband. She began to push down - then stopped.

"What happens when someone's naked? Is that it? Game over?"

A pensive silence this time. Isn't it odd how silence can mean so many different things?

"That wouldn't be right," said Ian, "how about we keep playing till we're all naked?"

"What about the ones who are naked?" Layla asked.

"Dares," smiled Ricky, "they do dares until everyone's naked. Nothing too much, like walking round the block, just things in this room - and if it's too much, you can say no and have a different dare."

We nodded.

Layla pushed up to her knees and slipped her jeans down, before sitting to take them off completely.

It was as if reality suddenly hit me. The next time the bottle landed on me, it would be my cardigan, then, it would be my turn. The decision - top or jeans? Then the removal. I felt the flush start and spread over my face, neck and chest. My stomach clenched in embarrassment and I felt a little sick. And then the tingle started between my thighs, at first quite general, then settling into my sensitive parts. I felt a trickle of moisture, knowing that my knickers were wet, and thankful that I had put on a clean pair after my shower - sensible, but not huge, with a thick gusset, which I prayed would ensure that my wetness wouldn't show.

Layla's panties were far more sexy than mine. Not a thong, but bikini style, tight around the areas I could see, making it clear that she had no, or very little pubic hair. I was going to find out soon enough - just as they would see that I was totally shaved. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. It meant my pussy would be very visible, but looked neat, tidy and... well... sexy. It also meant they would see how wet I was.

Layla sat with her legs folded so her panties were invisible - like the bits they covered. I knew I would be doing the same - covering up as much as possible.

I watched Ian's tongue run across his lips as he looked at Layla's legs, long and shapely. She was tall and curvy, with large boobs - a curvaceous figure that I envied. I was slim, with narrow hips and small boobs, A 'runner's build, Ian said. Fair enough - I enjoyed sport and was athletic, while Layla preferred more homely activity for fitness - gardening and walking.

Ian lost his hoodie and I lost my cardigan - then back to Ian.

He was a guy. Simple choice - he stripped off his t-shirt.

I felt a swell of pride. His shoulders were broad and his stomach flat, thanks to cricket in Summer and football in Winter. I noted how Layla's eyes travelled over his frame, knowing I should feel jealous, but instead feeling just pleased that whatever happened, it would be he would sleep with later.

Ricky lost his hoodie - then it landed on Layla.

"Right," she announced, grabbing the waist of her scoop-necked t-shirt, "once I do this, anyone who backs out gets pinned to the floor, stripped and tied down for the rest of the evening."

We laughed. We were all committed. More than that - I rather felt we all wanted to go ahead with this.

Layla lifted the t-shirt over her head in one smooth motion, before folding it carefully and placing it with her jeans.

Her bra matched her panties - red satin with a lace trim - not overtly sexy, but enough to suggest that she cared about what she wore under her clothes. I quickly considered my own underwear. Comfortable but not oversized. Not matching - but both white, at least. A bra for the small amount of support I required, rather than uplifting like Layla's. Had I known, I might have worn something a bit more 'visually appealing'. I considered asking if I could nip to the bathroom and changing, but decided it wasn't worth it - especially as they'd be coming off pretty soon after they were on show, and I planned to hide them anyway.

A thought occurred to me: "Do you do this with many couples?"

Ricky laughed. "God, no. Only time anyone who's not a professional has seen us naked since we got together was when we went skinny dipping with a group from uni."

"You went skinny dipping," corrected Layla, "I kept my knickers on. I didn't shave back then and had a bush that'd house several families of birds and a colony of badgers."

We all laughed. Stories from student days were no surprise - the time of rebellion, irresponsibility, and experimentation. I had stories - so did Ian, I assumed. No shared ones and nothing we had discussed. It was one of those silent mutual agreements - what happened before we met was in the past. Suffice to say neither of us were virgins.

Ricky glanced at Layla, then at me, possibly putting two and two together and making five. "You mean the matching set? Oh no. That's just Layla. Always likes her fancy gear. Don't think she's worn a supermarket bra since she got out of her 'let 'em swing' phase."

She nodded. "I went through a radical feminist phase at uni - no bra, no shaving. Then found feminism is about more than that - especially when the radical movement sided with a certain well-known author who wrote kids' books about magicians and nothing worthwhile since."

It was an issue we had discussed before and were totally agreed on. In fact, it was why we got on so well - they were well-informed, had views based on evidence and research, and hated abuse of position and hypocrisy.

However, now was not the time for politics, so after nodding agreement, we returned to the game.

Ricky lost twice and removed hoodie and t-shirt. He had a gym body. Solid, developed muscles as opposed to Ian's wiry frame. I was impressed. He was hardly a gym bunny, but did enough to stay in shape. I imagined he could lift me with one arm and Layla with the other.

Another trickle of moisture between my thighs. Not just the prospect of me getting naked, but the opportunity of seeing my good-looking neighbour. Both my neighbours, I realised. No question - I also wanted to see Layla.

My panties were quite damp by now, and as the bottle pointed to me, I realised my dilemma. Lose my t-shirt and my small, almost unnecessary bra would be on show and difficult to keep hidden. Layla made no effort to hide hers - but she always showed cleavage anyway. I wore high-necked tops - and anyway, if I created a cleavage, it would be false advertising, as I used to joke with Ian.

If I lost my jeans, the damp patch on my knickers might be visible. They had a good, absorbent gusset, but I could feel moisture on my thighs. Could I slip off my jeans without anyone seeing?

A sudden realisation hit me. I was getting turned on by the idea of exposure. Why not go for it?

I grabbed my t-shirt and lifted it over my head, making no attempt to hide my bra. Small boobs, maybe, but Ian loved them - he wouldn't leave them alone in bed - apparently, it was nice not to have to 'control a load of blancmange'. And my nipples were super-sensitive, standing proudly and firmly at the slightest stimulation.

Oh shit! My nipples!

I looked down and there they were, proudly erect, rock-hard points against my bra, standing out in stark relief. My loose t-shirts hid them effectively on a day-to-day basis - but now, there was no hiding place. The blush deepened, descending almost to the top of my bra, standing out starkly.

I instinctively put an arm across my chest, but there was no point. One look at the others - especially the smirk on Ian's face - showed they had all noticed.

And that was when it happened. Yes, I was dying with embarrassment - but what the hell. I dropped my arm and simply let them look.

"Wow," breathed Layla, "gorgeous. I bet you could hang half a dozen CDs on each of those."

"Four, actually," chirped Ian, "we tried it one night."

Despite everything, I giggled at the memory, causing my tits to jiggle. The sensation of fabric on my nipples was electric. Almost painful. It caused me to draw a sudden breath, my eyes going wide and an involuntary "ooh!" escaping my lips.

More sniggers from the others.

Once again, Ian spoke: "Oh yeah - they're very, very sensitive."

I glared at him and saw the amusement in his eyes. I realised that he was loving this. Any apprehension which might have existed had vanished. He was loving watching his wife expose herself.

I grabbed the bottle and spun it, hoping desperately that it would land on one of the men.

It did - Ian - and I stared at him triumphantly.

He shrugged. If he was bothered, he hid it well.

He stood, undid the button of his jeans, and unzipped before sliding them down.

He wore trunks, which clung tightly to his body, his cock, roughly at eye level for all of us, was clearly outlined. It was semi-hard - not enough to call an erection, but sufficient to show the shape of his shaft and swelling of the head.

"Ooh. Yummy." Layla breathed, her eyes fixed on the briefs moulded to his shape.

Ian stood - posed almost - content to let her enjoy his body - before sitting back down.

Layla's turn to spin. Me again.

I considered taking my bra off, partly to see their faces as I bared my breasts, and partly to ensure that my wetness remained hidden, but that would have spoiled the tease. Anyway, who cared if they saw that I was wet? Everyone was turned on. Might as well share it.

Despite my new-found exhibitionism, I decided to slip off my jeans the same way that Layla had, on my knees first, then seated to remove them. I returned to my seated position, legs curled under me, without looking to see if my wetness had revealed itself.

"Not fair," moaned Ricky, "we didn't get chance for a proper look."

I offered my best, seductress smile. "Well, you'll just have to be patient. Never know - you might end up seeing nothing, if I'm last one naked and slip them off carefully."

"And if you're not last, we might dare you to give us a really, really good look," stated Ricky.

"It's well worth it," interrupted my treacherous husband, "it looks fabulous. She's got an amazing..."

"Stop!" I exclaimed. He grinned at me as I continued. "I know what you think I have that's amazing. No need to tell the world."

I think the flush on my face and chest must have covered my entire body. While the embarrassment remained, it was secondary to raw excitement. That Ricky had suggested I might be asked to show every detail of my most private parts, and that Ian had encouraged him, inflamed me. Juices which had flowed gently and steadily now started to run freely. I felt the moisture flow from my gusset to the unprotected edges of my panties and onto my thighs. I was so, so horny.

I wanted nothing more than to slip off my knickers, throw my legs wide, part my swollen outer lips and show them every detail. But there was still the game - the tease, building up to everyone's nudity.

Ian spun.

As the bottle slowed, I thought it was going to land on me again - then it crept past, as if driven by its own agenda. It even crept past Ricky, before settling on Layla.

"Well, shit," she muttered.

The first intimate flesh was about to be exposed. Although I was a little reluctant to admit it, I desperately wanted to see Layla's boobs. I wanted to know how they hung when released, how firm they were, how big her nipples were and how far her areolae spread. Were they dark or pale? Did they point up, down or straight ahead?

I had acknowledged privately that I was bisexual some time ago. I loved women's bodies - especially their breasts - and in changing rooms, I actively had to stop myself looking. Others took as a sign of prudery but I knew that if I looked, I would end up staring - and if I was caught, some women might get very offended.

That was until now. I suddenly realised that I was gazing at Layla's tits in eager anticipation - and the others had noticed. I quickly looked away. Too late.

"Do you like my breasts, Jan?" Layla asked. "It's ok. I don't mind. I'm totally intrigued by yours. My bisexual side."

I looked at her and tried to frame an answer. Nothing came.

Ricky laughed. "Truth time. Have you, Jan, ever had a sexual experience with a woman?"

Ian laughed. "Of course she hasn't. I'd know if she had. Isn't that right?"

Maybe my blush deepened, maybe it was impossible, but at that point, I felt crimson from head to toe.

"Actually - do you remember Carol from uni? She and I got drunk one night and we... well... let's say we woke up together naked."

Ian's jaw dropped. Ricky and Layla guffawed loudly, clapping their hands.

"Oh - one drunk night and a bit of cuddling and groping doesn't really count," said Ian.

"Well," I continued, "we did a bit more than cuddling and groping the next morning - and over the next few days."

I looked at Ian. He was stunned - then a smile spread. "That is so fucking horny. What happened?"

"Well - we all went home for the Christmas holiday - and she never came back. Then I met you two days into the next term."

Layla squealed with laughter, and I watched her breasts bounce and jiggle.

She looked at Ian, and between her laughs she spluttered: "So you were a lesbian rebound! That's fantastic."

Then she turned to me. "And has Ian 'cured' you of your attraction to women?"

"'Cured'? You can't cure sexuality. It's a part of who you are. I buried it, but I've always been attracted to women - I just haven't acted on it."

I had recognised this years ago. Only the most ignorant believe that sexuality is a choice that can be switched on or off. People are born gay, straight or bisexual - and I had accepted that I was attracted to both sexes - and all genders, for that matter - from a very early age. It was the person I was attracted to - not their gender.

Ian had listened in silence. Then he turned and looked at me. "That is so cool. I feel incredibly honoured that you chose me - and that you've stuck with me. You're amazing."

I felt a warm glow. I don't think I had ever been more proud of my husband. He had always expressed his views openly and strongly, but saying it was one thing. Living it was quite another. I turned to him and embraced him, kissing him long and deeply, not caring that my bum was openly displayed to Ricky. Ian returned my kiss with fervour.

Ricky coughed, breaking the mood.

"Er... are we continuing with the game? I think, from what I just saw, Jan is really, really wanting to keep going."

I sat down hurriedly as Ricky and Layla laughed. There was no hiding it now. They knew how turned on I was and that I wanted this game to move forward.

Layla slipped her knickers off. She did it quickly, so no one could see anything and got a chorus of 'not fair' and 'oh, come on'. She laughed it off and announced that if, as seemed likely, she was naked first, they could dare her - and then they'd get to see everything.

Another spin - Ricky lost his jeans. He wore loose, cotton boxers beneath, which made it more difficult to work out the dimensions of his member, but gave the impression that he, like Ian, was probably semi-hard. For some reason, I had always assumed that he was well-endowed, but from what I could see, he was about the same as my husband - about seven or eight inches when erect. Nice. Filling, but not painful.

I had only been with one genuinely huge man, and while gazing at his monster had been a turn on and aesthetically pleasing, the actual sex had been pretty awful. He spent half his time saying that he bet I couldn't cope with it and the other half telling me how many times he would make me cum. He didn't. If he thought I would cum just by looking and his unskilled humping - which involved very little fingering and no oral - he was very much mistaken. He finished far too quickly, blamed me, and stormed off in a huff, never to be seen again.

I preferred a little above average - though average or even small was good, given skilled fingers and tongue. Ian had the full package - slightly above average length and fingers and tongue that sent me into writhing raptures without fail. Let's just say, we kept a good supply of towels by the bed to save changing the bedding every time we had sex.

Next spin - Ian became the first one to be naked.

I think he would have happily just stood and revealed all, but Layla's teasing had set the tone - he wriggled out of his shorts, barely letting us see anything.

He glanced at me - maybe checking that I was ok with him crossing the final frontier - and the elation in his eyes delighted me. We were not the uptight couple that some may have thought us to be - we never had been - but moving forward like this and embracing new frontiers felt right, and I knew we were both loving it.

Layla tutted in mock disappointment, but I think we all knew that it was only a matter of time before we were all totally exposed - and maybe more.

Another spin - me again. I wanted to bare my breasts, but following Layla's lead, I wriggled out of my panties, feeling the wetness drag down my thighs as I did so. I liked the tease if I'm honest. It also meant that the first dare would simply be to show everything - because the second dare was likely to be far more intimate.

Ricky lost next and slipped out of his boxers, showing nothing.

Two naked men. I think mine and Layla's minds were already starting to consider what we could do with them. I had a few thoughts - and I guessed hers were similar.

We found out pretty quickly. The bottle selected Ian.

"Well, that's easy," smiled Layla, "stand up, arms by your sides for ten seconds. Turn slowly and let us see everything."

Ian grinned easily and rose to his feet. He was obviously not flaccid - but neither was he fully erect. I looked at his cock, proud that Layla seemed impressed by his nice, smooth shaft, swollen purple head peeking from behind his foreskin and tight balls.

Ian was a very hairless man over most of his body, and shaved his pubic area, so things looked smooth, groomed and very visible - especially his heavy balls, which can be almost invisible in more hirsute men.

Layla licked her lips, presumably imagining the taste. I could have assured her that it was pleasant. Clean, masculine, slightly salty. His cum tasted good too - and I should know. He once joked that it topped up my hydration levels, and he was probably right. While he shot his load directly into my cunt quite often, he just as frequently let me choke on it as I swallowed it down, or scraped it off my face or tits and into my mouth.

Sometimes, I even used a finger to collect our mixed juices from my pussy and lick them off. He loved that.

I wondered if it was something that Layla would learn later.

Although Layla had seemed quite confident throughout the evening, a sudden uncertainty seemed to grip her at this point. Perhaps she had similar thoughts to me.

"How far are we going with these dares?" She asked.

It was a good question.

There was another tense, thoughtful silence, until Ricky spoke.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'd be happy to go all the way and beyond at this point. However..."

He paused.

"However, I don't want it to be the last time we do this. I don't want any regrets getting in the way of our friendship or future playtimes."

We nodded wisely.

"So, I suggest we keep tonight visual. Anything goes, but not getting hands-on, or mouths or anything else. That way, we get to go home, fuck each other hard and process. Next time, perhaps we push things further - perhaps not."

He turned to me.

"Believe me, Jan, this isn't anything to do with lack of attraction. Depending on what we decide, I would love to do so many things with you - I just don't want to spoil things by going too far too soon."

I think we all felt the same - however, we appreciated the commonsense behind Ricky's words. And anyway, as I well knew, watching people could be incredibly intimate. Let's face it, there were plenty of couples who fucked regularly, but never watched one another masturbate. It was something Ian and I did frequently - and if I was in the mood, he would often find me on the bed, legs wide, dildo buried deep inside me, enjoying my first orgasm - before he joined in to give me my second and beyond.

Not just that - I loved seeing him shoot his generous loads of cum - onto me or himself, usually - it was a far easier clean up!

We all agreed. Saving something was good, and Ricky was right. We had all had a couple of drinks and big decisions after alcohol were not a good idea It was perfectly possible that we would wake up energised and elated, ready for round two - or it could be avoiding one another's eyes, uncertainty and a difficult conversation about too much booze and the need to move on past this night and never mention it again. Or not.

Only time would tell.

The bottle spun, landing on Layla.

She reached behind her, unfastening her bra, then put an arm across her holding her final item in place, while she shimmied out of the first strap. She then swapped arms deftly and slipped off the other strap. She slipped one arm under her bra, holding her breast, as she allowed her final item to drop to the floor.

"Clever," laughed Ian. "Never mind. Next time."

He was right. The next spin landed on Layla again.

She received the same dare as Ian.

She stood confidently, arms to the side.

Her boobs were fabulous. Full, firm, rounded, with deep pink nipples and slightly lighter areolae. Her nipples pointed slightly upwards, clearly erect, standing proudly. How I would love to suckle on them.

My eyes tracked down, over her soft smooth belly. She was shaved, as I expected, and in the centre of her smooth mound, I saw her slit. Just a short black line, but so tempting and tasty.

Her thighs glistened slightly. She was wet, her juices coating her. I wondered how this would compare to my own free flowing pussy. I guessed I had produced far more of the lubricating liquids, but seeing evidence of her excitement was vindication.

"You're enjoying it," smiled Ricky. "We can see how wet you are. I bet I could three fingers in you right now."

She grinned. "Probably. Later though. Tonight's for looking only."

She sat again, not bothering to cover up, her breasts hanging freely, legs together, offering a tantalising view of her slit.

I lost. Everyone was naked. I unfastened the clip on my bra, and, like Layla, covered up as I slipped it off. I didn't want to, but maintaining the tease was all part of the event. I felt my nipples, long and solid, pressing on to my arms. In a way, I was grateful for the tease. I wanted to be seen, but at the same time, as soon as they saw me, the truth of just how turned on I was would become obvious. That was what bothered me. Layla had been visibly excited, so had Ian, but I was a mess. I knew my juices would dribble down my thighs, and Ian would know that my nipples were more distended than was normal with him. Would that bother him?

I had no time to think. We were all naked now. This next phase was all about exposure.

The treacherous bottle landed on me again. I stood and submitted to their gaze. My reluctance was gone - they were welcome to look - but then the comments started.

"Fucking hell. You are so turned on," said Ian. "I've seen you horny, but your nipples look enormous - and your pussy is sopping wet."

"Your nipples are incredible," Layla joined in, "I love that brown colour - and they're so long. Mine just become pointy. Yours are... like liquorice sticks. They're incredible."

My eyes met hers. Maybe not tonight, but at some point, she and I would come together and... well... cum together.

Her eyes tracked down to my thighs and her tongue peeked out between her lips. She wanted to lick me - I knew - and I wished she would. I wanted her too.

"Oh, fuck it," said Ricky, "I can't be arsed to mess about with the bottle any more."

As I sat, he stood, exposing everything. His cock was impressive. Not so much the length - he and Ian were probably similar in that respect - but the girth. It was probably as thick as my wrist, which was, in fairness, quite slim, for a wrist, but impressive for a cock.

I felt sure my cunt would stretch to accommodate him, but I feared for my jaw.

Layla must have read my mind. "He really makes my jaw ache. I can barely fit it in my mouth for more than a couple of minutes. I know it's impressive, but, believe me Ian, a more 'standard' girth has definite advantages."

"Tell you what," Ricky announced, "it's two in the morning. How about two more dares for the guys and two for the ladies. Then call it a night. I need to sleep."

We agreed.

The bottle spun one last time, to decide who went first. It chose Ricky and Ian.

Layla whispered quickly, before deciding.

"Stroke yourselves until you're fully hard. Then pose for photos."

Ian's mouth dropped. "Photos?"

"Yes," said Layla. "Totally private. Nobody sees them but us."

The men looked at each other and shrugged. We grabbed our phones as they started to stroke. It didn't take long. They were pretty much fully erect already.

Ricky posed like 'The Thinker", elbow on his knee, forehead resting one his hand. His cock stood hard and proud in the centre. Ian lay on his side, head supported on his arm, one leg raised.

We took photos, giggling and moving around them. Every angle was covered.

"Enough," declared Ricky, "your turn."

If I had been shy to start with, I had certainly lost my inhibitions now. I stood and turned slowly, giving them all a good look at my body from all sides. Next to me, Layla did the same.

Then we posed for photos, giggling as we slipped from one pose to another.

"You got a great arse, Jan," rumbled Ricki, as he knelt, maybe six inches from it, taking close-ups. I glanced to the side and saw Ian. He was also up close and personal, his phone aimed at Layla's generous boobs.

Ricky half stood and directed his lens at my distended nipples.

I had always been self-conscious about my nipples. They became ridiculously long when erect. As a teenager, my mother had even consulted a doctor about them. He had smiled and said there was no medical problem - it was just me. Since then, every boyfriend I ever had (and one girlfriend) had admired them, so I came to accept that it was just how I was. Ian even joked that he almost had to deep throat me every time he sucked them. Slight exaggeration!

"Hey," said Ian, he had broken away and was opening DVD cases and taking out the discs, "you wanna see something cool?"

I knew exactly what he was up to. He hung first one, then two, then three DVDs on my left nipple and considered a fourth, but decided against it. Ricky was ecstatic.

"Holy shit! That's incredible - not just how many, but that the weight doesn't pull them down. You should do this as a party trick - on stage even. 'Jan and the Super Nips'. What a cool name for your act, I'll market it and Layla can be your assistant."

I slapped him lightly across the shoulder, but the idea of large numbers of staring at my tits in awe was quite a turn on - as if I needed to be more turned on!

Our bodies were fully documented, photographically, when Ian said: "There's something more about Jan. Could we have our second dare now, so you can see?"

I knew exactly what he was talking about. It was another of the things I had been concerned about when younger, but had found was totally accepted and revered by my lovers - and now I was expected to show it off - my second 'party trick'.

Ian whispered to Ricky, and a wide smile spread as he nodded agreement.

"OK," said Ian, turning to Layla and me, "we dare you to lie back and masturbate until you cum. I'll get towels, grab cushions, and get comfy."

He darted off and returned a few seconds later. This was really pushing the barriers, but it was much needed, and I suspected would be over quickly. Layla said as much, in cruder terms.

"Layla has her own little 'party trick'," stated Ricky, "hope you're done first, Jan - you'll want to see it."

Then Ian had a bright idea. "Why not do it one at a time? Then they can see each other's party trick. Hang on."

He disappeared again, upstairs, and returned a minute later, carrying my dildo.

"This might help. You don't mind sharing, do you?"

Layla and I glanced at each other, before saying "Fuck, no" simultaneously, causing us to descend into a fit of giggles.

I would have suggested using it on each other," Ricky mused, "but maybe that's one for another time."

I think we would have happily fucked each other, but he was right - we should process before moving on to the next level. Glancing at Layla, I think we were both a bit disappointed.

"OK, Who's first?"

We shrugged. Ian grabbed a coin from the mantlepiece. "Heads Layla, tails Jan."

The coin spun in the air and landed on tails.

My stomach suddenly churned. Another Rubicon to cross. I had never masturbated in front of someone before - not even Ian - and as they looked at me expectantly, a sudden wave of my earlier reluctance washed over me. I swallowed it down and steeled myself. I needed to do this. I had to cum, or I might explode.

I lay back, spread my thighs wide, and lifted my heels toward my thighs - the 'smear test' position, as an older friend of my mother's had once confided, during a very peculiar conversation. I moved my hand down, and parted my labia as wide as possible - and heard two gasps, one giggle.

"Told you," giggled Ian, "worth waiting for."

I knew immediately what they had seen: my clitoris.

Many women, apparently, have a small clit - some complain that men have problems finding it - not me! My clit erected and stood out proudly. Totally unmissable. Ian loved it. He could take the whole thing in his mouth and suck it. With previous partners, he told me, it had been a case of searching for a hard little nub against the rest of the flesh hidden by their outer lips.

Ricky's lips parted and his tongue darted out as he grinned openly.

Layla just stared for a moment, then breathed: "Fuuuck. That's incredible. Guys had so much trouble finding mine. Obviously, Ricky knows where it is now, but I had to guide him at first."

"It's called clitoromegaly," I informed them, using knowledge acquired from an internet search. "It's to do with hormones. I've been like it my whole life. At one point, I thought be part boy, cos it was like a little cock. Obviously, I know that's what's intersex. I'm not. Just different hormones."

"Who cares," whispered Ricky, it's incredible. "Show her yours, Layla."

Layla dutifully lay down, spread her thighs, and opened herself wide.

"Just there," Ricky announced, pointing to a small, white button, about the size of a pea. He tickled it with his finger, making Layla gasp and sigh as she shivered with pleasure.

She sat up again and looked at me. I didn't need telling that it was time to put on a show.

I grabbed the dildo - a favourite of mine - eight inches long, translucent rubber or latex or whatever they made them from. It looked realistic and was not quite solid.

I was about to slip it into me when I realised something very obvious. "You know this won't take long? I'm so turned on now, I doubt if it'll take more than a minute."

Ian laughed. "Seriously! I think we're all the same. If we stopped now and went upstairs to fuck, I wouldn't last two minutes. Better this way - at least it's fun."

I pushed the dildo into my sopping cunt. An inch at first, then two, three, then buried it to the hilt. I was so wet, I could probably have fitted another one in alongside it. I angled it slightly to gain more pressure on my G spot, and began to build a steady rhythm.

Once the rhythm was established, I brought my other hand to my clit, rubbing the head at first, then rolling it between my fingers. It was incredible. The fact that three people were watching me was irrelevant. I closed my eyes, drew my knees up, so only my toes touched the floor from hips down, and felt shivers run through me.

I was aware of my shallow, rapid breathing, little sighs and mews emanating from my mouth, eyes closed as I built up the speed of my plunges, and rubbed my clit more vigorously.

I felt my muscles tighten, in my stomach, my buttocks and my core. I was building to a huge release. Every muscle was so tight, that I knew my orgasm would be massive.

The tension was massive. My back arched, my legs lifted. I was so clenched, I thought I might cramp or get stuck in that position - then, as I thought I might break, the explosion. I think I cried out or screamed. Fireworks exploded in my brain. I felt a gush of release between my legs. My body shook and shivered. My pussy throbbed and pulsed, almost forcing out the dildo. For a brief time, my brain was in seventh heaven, on cloud nine - whatever you want to call it. I was somewhere other than my living room, with three others watching - I lost myself completely.

As I calmed down, my pussy continued to pulse, rhythmic tensing and relaxing as I allowed my artificial cock to be pushed out. I opened my eyes and looked at the others, seeing smiles and appreciation for my performance.

"Your cunt's winking at us," Ian informed me. We all laughed, and as I did, I felt more fluid run between my bum cheeks along my arse crack.

I breathed out, long and hard, allowing my head to drop back, almost wishing I could just switch off for a while now, but I couldn't. It was Layla's turn.

She took the dildo and wiped it on my towel. I had folded it over, but it was still soaking. I threw it into the kitchen - at least I could just wipe the floor in there and not have a stain on the carpet.

Layla placed her towel lengthways, which I found odd, and spread her legs. "I sometimes do this doggy style," she said, "but this way's going to better tonight, I think. If there's another time, I might, but if tonight's about party tricks, lying back works better."

She slipped the dildo straight in, without hesitation and began pounding it in and out more quickly and deeper than I had. Her other hand reached round and rubbed her neat little button.

I realised that it was, in fact, the first clitoris I had actually looked at and recognised for what it was. My previous, brief lesbian experience had never moved to the point where I examined her so intimately. Apparently, I found it - and she could hardly miss mine. She definitely looked, but did not offer to show me hers.

I thought back - should I have recognised it from sex ed lessons? Why? Those diagrams were neat, line drawings - hardly realistic. And anyway, when I had devoured her, I had been too close to really see properly. I wished she had shown me back then - I think all women should show men their clit, in fact, rather than just complain that they can't find it. The Princess and the Pea took on a whole new meaning.

While I was lost in my rambling musings, Layla was building to her climax. Like me, it was quick. Not just the sheer eroticism of the setting, but knowing her own body had helped. I guess anyone, man or woman can force out a quickie at times of need.

She braced, legs wide, dildo invisible between hand and pussy, right hand tapping vigorously at her clit. She gave a loud sigh - quieter than me, I think - and it happened. A jet of clear liquid arced from her urethra, jetting a metre and more, followed by smaller jets, distance gradually reducing until the liquid was running down her thighs and between her cheeks.

Like me, she was gone for a brief time, lost in the throes of her orgasm, before gradually returning to the earthly plane.

She was greeted by two wide open mouths and the smiling face of her husband.

"Told you it was good," grinned Ricky.

"Did she pee?" Ian wondered.

I rolled my eyes. "No, idiot, sniff. Does it smell like pee?"

He did as I said and acknowledged that the stream of odourless, colourless liquid was definitely not urine.

"She squirted," I informed him, "some women do - not all and not every time, but it happens. I never have, but who knows, one day maybe - maybe Layla could help?"

She laughed now, sounding shaky and still clearly having aftershocks, the discarded dildo leaving her winking pussy as unmistakable evidence.

"I can try," she gasped, "but I just do it. Most times anyway. Shocked a few guys in my time and had one or two walk out after a face full. Ironic really. They were quite happy to cum on my face."

She lay back rather like I had, not caring that her intimate parts were fully on display, all sense of decorum long since departed.

"I got some great shots," enthused Ricky, flicking through photos on his phone. He turned his phone to show everyone. They were, indeed, excellent, showing the place the stream started and the long arc as it flew through the air, right the way through the final dribbles. Ian, in turn, showed the video he had made, with a notable wobble as he moved away, missing the first big squirt, but redirecting again afterwards.

My photos were of her face, capturing her ecstasy and a moment where her eyes were flung wide, unseeing - or maybe seeing something that was definitely not our living room ceiling - maybe clouds with angels playing harps - or possibly men wanking their huge cocks and shooting their loads into her open mouth before closing her eyes with their sticky, almost opaque goo.

"We gotta share these," declared Ricky.

"With each other," prompted Layla, "no-one else." She gave her husband a stern look.

"Oh, yeah," he agreed, "of course - though seems a shame not to let the rest of the world see. Imagine - the cricket club - work - local news - a four-part streaming documentary - hey - a mini-series - you could be played by..."

"No! Definitely not. These are private. Totally private."

He laughed. "Of course they are. Shit, if people saw these, half the planet'd want to be fucking you two. You'd be off to some billionaire by tomorrow morning. Though, on second thoughts, you're a bit old for those guys. I'm sure someone's already set up a nice, new island - probably with a really bigly golf course."

We all laughed. The light relief had given Layla and I time to settle, and I grabbed the saturated towel (I now knew why it had been placed lengthways) and threw it in the kitchen.

"So... you're up, guys - and you certainly are up," vamped Layla, gazing at the two erections in front of us.

The men needed no encouragement. They began stroking themselves in tandem. No desire to watch one another - and Layla and I both hoped to watch them cum simultaneously.

They were building up speed, when my natural, domestic instinct burst through.

"Wait, wait - we need towels. I don't want it all over the sofa and carpet."

"Well, I'm not going," stated Ian, and it was a fair point.

I went to stand when Layla grabbed my arm. She looked directly into my eyes.

"There's another way to avoid getting on the carpet. It could go on something else."

With my brain slightly addled from my orgasm, it took a second to realise what she meant.

"Oh!" I gasped, "You mean... us?"

She had held my eye throughout. "Unless you think it goes beyond our 'see how it feels in the morning' rule?"

I know I licked my lips, and I saw her mouth curl into a smile. Not only would it protect the carpet, but I always enjoyed having cum on me. I rubbed it in and found it softened my skin - not just that - I loved watching a man cum and found it totally horny. Should it go in my mouth... yummy... mostly anyway.

Layla read my signals and turned to the men. "How about you guys cum on us - just to save the carpets, of course. I don't know about Jan, but I'm good with it on my face - and if I have to swallow - well... so be it."

Ian glanced at me with a grin. "I can answer for Jan - faceful, mouthful, whatever - she's always enjoyed it. First time we fucked she made me pull out, get rid of the condom, and shoot in her mouth. She swallowed the lot, then said 'well I didn't want to waste it' like butter wouldn't melt."

I blushed at the memory, remembering how frightened I had been that Ian would think me a total slut and never see me again.

Layla quickly set up her phone to record the event - and I did the same from the other side. The men held theirs above, to get a proper 'pov' recording.

As the two men stroked slowly, unnecessarily keeping themselves hard, Layla and I knelt up, angled towards one another, our bodies touching.

"Let's make it a race," Layla decided, "see who cums first."

I hoped it would be Ian. He had a generous load of cum, more than most guys I had known. It meant I had learned to swallow his rapidly as he spurted to avoid it dribbling down my chin and being scraped back with a finger. I always preferred it warm.

They stood over us as we gazed up at our respective husbands, often flicking from cock to cock but making eye contact only with our own man. This maintained the evening's rule - nothing with the other's partner - for tonight anyway. I was already planning the next session.

After starting slowly, to gauge their own length (odd how men don't seem to just know), the vigorous wanking began. There was aim only - to shoot their load into the face of their adoring wife.

Hands blurred, cock heads were a bouncing, mass of purple - like a photo with a shutter speed that wasn't quite fast enough.

Then it happened - I saw Ian's movements become ragged, heard his breathing turn to a gasp and a groan, then watched as his semen arced from his tiny hole.

He directed at my face, and I opened my mouth instinctively, allowing it to coat my tongue. I swallowed rapidly, ready for the next spurt - but it never came. He had redirected his cock to Layla and the second load was disappearing into her willing mouth as I watched. Back to me for the third, then Layla got the fourth. The fifth was weaker and he stayed on me for the remaining, several ejaculations.

I was just relaxing when I heard Ricky groan and saw him shoot his first load into Layla. I changed the angle of my head slightly and took his second string. It was interesting to compare tastes. Where Ian was salty with little other discernible flavour, Ricky definitely had undertones of sweetness - maybe he ate more chocolate?

I wanted to roll it around my mouth and savour it, but he was aiming at me again, the string flowing across my nose and down to my mouth as he altered his aim. Then to Layla and back to me. Finally, we both took our own husband's member into our mouths to suck out the last of their juices before dropping back on our haunches.

Both men were heavy cummers. Could the evening have been any better?

We looked at each other. There was a surprising amount of white gel across her face and down her throat. The same was true of me, I realised, as I felt it turn cold on my skin. Surprising, really, as I thought I caught most of it in my mouth.

She reached out and I almost pulled back as her hand approached my face. Her finger ran up my cheek, collecting our husbands' mixed juices as it went. She then offered it to me. I sucked her finger clean, swirling my tongue around it, turning it into something far more intimate than just 'cleaning up'.

I did the same for her, and for the next minute or so, we cleaned one another's bodies, eating the last of the cum.

It was not until her finger descended that I realised there must be some on my breast. She moved around my nipple, then went to the other side and did the same. Oddly, I tasted nothing when she put the finger in my mouth.

"Am I all clean?" She asked, thrusting her breasts towards me.

Only then did I realise this was still part of the game. I reached across and teased her nipple with my finger, loving the feel and wishing we could take it further. Maybe we could - just not tonight.

After our mutual tease, we turned to the men, watching with open lust as their cocks twitched down rhythmically.

I wasn't bothered. I knew Ian would be hard enough to fuck me after they left - it would be much needed - and I suspected Ricky would service Layla as well.

We lay on the floor in different positions to when we played the original game. Now, no-one cared who saw what. Tits, cocks and cunts were casually displayed, open to the glances that they continued to attract - inviting now, rather than reluctant.

We chatted for a while before Layla announced they should be getting home. She was due at her voluntary work the following morning and wanted to get some sleep. I suspected that she, like me, had done some quick calculations and realised that her husband would be very ready for sex.

They stood and dressed. I considered doing the same, but decided that being naked while they were fully clothed was another turn on. Apparently, I liked CMNF. Who knew?

Our usual hugs that night were replaced by long kisses - except between the two men, who still hugged. I wondered if that might change in future. I had noticed glances between the men during the evening, and the way they watched each other wank and cum so avidly was worth noting.

We stood at the door, naked, waving them off. It was almost 2am, so it was unlikely that the neighbours would see - but if they did... one more thought that turned me on.

The second we closed the door, we dashed upstairs to fuck, and as we lay, utterly breathless, my phone pinged.

"Didn't even make it home. Fucked in the car park by the leisure centre lol. Layla xxx"

We giggled and rolled into one another, spent and happy.

"Well?" Ian asked, "are we up for it again?"

I momentarily wondered if he meant fucking, then realised.

"Oh yes," I replied, "and going further if it's what you want. Are you up for playing with Layla?"

His smile said it all.

"Oh yes - and are you up for playing with Ricky? Actually, both of them?"

I laughed. "Maybe I'm not the only one who wants to play with both of them?"

His silence spoke volumes, and his look was not one of horror, but almost guilt. He was saved from replying by my phone notifying me of another message.

"We had an idea if you're up for it. How about dares over the next week. 3 each, so it's not every 5 mins. Share with all of us? Could be fun? If you're up for it?"

I relayed the message to Ian. "Er, sure," he replied, "if we're definitely in. Let's just sleep first, get the wine out of our systems to be certain. I doubt I'm going to change my mind, but... it's a bit of a step. I just want to be certain that you're certain."

Typical Ian. I know he wanted to go ahead, but always the voice of commonsense and consideration. I knew I wasn't going to change my mind, but he wouldn't commit me to anything until he was certain I was on board.

I replied quickly:

"Talk details tomorrow. Don't want to end up naked in front of everyone at work lol"

Layla sent a quick thumbs up emoji.

After a few more minutes of chat, we drifted off to sleep, knowing that we would wake up and fuck in the morning and probably more times during the day - just like when we first met. I wanted to try something new as well - I wondered if Ian would be up for it. I wonder if he wanted to experiment?

I suspect we'll find out in chapter 2.