It Started As A Trivial Pursuit...



With your indulgence I'll relate the circumstances around the day that changed my

life forever.  In the early eighties, there were the two of us and three other

couples on our block that had a lot in common.  We were upwardly mobile, without

children yet, and into fitness and activity. At first the couples consisted of my

wife Carol and I, our neighbors to the right, Jeff and Marcy, and the couple

across the street from them, Wade and Susan.  Every weekend, and some week

nights, we would get together with one or more couples for fun on the town, back

yard barbecues, or just hanging out.



Then a new couple moved in across the street from our neighbor to our left, whom

we were all intrigued with. Bill was an accountant and Sandra was a fox.  We

didn't see much of Bill because he was always working inside or something. 

Sandra, however, was the one who washed the cars, mowed the lawn, and actually

used saw, hammer and nails.  When she was outside, she attracted one or more of

us to figure out a way to make conversation with her.  It was clear that we were

going to get Bill and Sandra in our group somehow.



Ours was the more central house location so we invited everyone over for a

potluck barbecue.  It was a warm summer night, so the beer was flowing and we

were having a good time.  Bill and Sandra were kind of quiet but sociable.  We

had to draw information out of them as nothing was freely volunteered.



After dinner, with the beers still flowing, we decided on the group activity of

the then popular game, "Trivial Pursuit".   We first started out as couple teams.

 Then Sandra said in a kittenish way, "Why don't we play girls against guys?"



This unexpected spontaneity on Sandra's part sparked a new energy in the room.  

We quickly agreed and the conversation  steered around the respective bravado of

the teams regarding the game.  At a perfectly timed moment, Sandra said, "Why

don't we all put our money where our mouths are?"



The posturing built up in a crescendo until out of my wife Carol's mouth came,

"Why don't we play 'strip Pursuit'?" Everyone became instantly silent, and Carol

turned beet red, just as surprised at what she had said as everyone else was by

it.



We guys started a huddle as did the gals.  The debate went on for a few minutes. 

The opportunity to see each other's wives naked was clouding our thinking.  Heads

would independently pop out of each huddle looking across to the spouses

presumably imagining the future possibilities. When agreement was reached, the

rules were debated and hashed out to the point that a "pie piece" would mean

shoes, socks, shirt, pants, bra or tee-shirt, and finally, panties or underwear

with a dance, respectively.  It could have ended right there, because for me just

the thought of the possibilities was enough fantasy food for the rest of the

summer.



Our living room was laid out perfectly for this challenge, with two love-seats

facing each other and a coffee table in between.  We actually moved the

love-seats back so some of us could sit on the floor by the table.  With the

energy of a close "Super Bowl", we began to play the game.  The women won our

shoes, socks and shirts before we won their shoes. Then they won our pants before

we won their socks, for those that wore them.  All we could think about was

seeing Sandra and the others sans clothing.  Now that we had them barefoot, we

began to get aroused, and stiffening was apparent in the briefs and boxers.



It was not our destiny this night, though, as the homemaker, Marcy, easily got

the entertainment pie piece to seal our fate.  All of sudden, it was difficult

for each of us men to swallow.  We collectively went from pale to flushed, as we

realized our task at hand.  We all wanted out of the deal. We all knew we

wouldn't have let the women out, so we took solace in the fact that it was

happening to all of us rather than just one.  We tried to talk our way out of it,

since they should have had their fun just getting us to this point, and we didn't

voluntarily get up and do what was required of us until we were directed to do

so.



When directed, we stood in a line in front of the fireplace. We waited for Carol

to put on some old disco music and started to dance.  When we all started to put

our thumbs in the waistband of our underwear, Sandra said, "No boys.  One at a

time.  You first Bill.  Step out in front."  Bill did so without hesitation and

clumsily danced and slid down his boxers to his ankles and stepped out of them,

tossed them to Sandra and stepped back in line.



The women were beside themselves with glee.  This victory was sweeter for them

than they had imagined.  Marcy then said, "Come on Jeffy-boy.  Your turn honey." 

Jeff got up and tried to dance as sexy as he could, undulating his stomach, and

pulled down his briefs and handed them out for Marcy to pick up from him.  Marcy

got up and took the briefs from him and patted his butt as he turned and walked

back in line, making the comment, "Always did like this butt."



Then there was me, and I was so much in shock, I can barely remember what I did. 

And finally, Wade came forward, still in a competitive mood, and tried to out

class us in his performance.   The women went wild as he prolonged the inevitable

teasing as best he could.



Well, we were completely nude in front of our wives and neighbors.  The

embarrassment and humiliation was intense. But, the women hadn't completely won

yet.  In fact we hadn't thought that far.  We had just thought about getting the

other side naked.  We wanted to play on and get as much clothing off the women as

possible.   Of course it was a long shot, but we wanted some measure of payback. 

 So we decided on the stakes of a night of sexual slavery to the winners.  We

figured that we were acquiescing to the makings of an orgy and had no particular

reservations about it.



Of course the women won.  Alas we did not score anymore clothing.  It was Friday

and relatively late in the evening so our wives didn't want to waste our

servitude on a short evening.  So preparations were hashed out for tomorrow

evening starting at 6:00 at Bill and Sandra's.  We were to be prompt, we were to

address each of the wives as "Mistress" plus their first name, speak only when

prompted to speak, and to do exactly as we were told for the evening.



Part 2 -



It was 5:50 and Jeff and Wade met me at my house so we could go over together. 

We downed a couple of stiff drinks and meandered over, not realizing we were ten

minutes late. Bill opened the door for us wearing an apron and nothing else. 

That dry mouth sensation overtook us again as realities were coming into focus.



We were led to the living room, where we saw our wives for the first time since

10:00 that morning.  They had obviously been shopping.  Carol was in a black

body-stocking with a sequin bra and panties over it.  Marcy was in knee-high

boots, dark ultra mini-skirt, horizontally striped, body-hugging long-sleeved,

low cut shirt and scarf around her neck.  Susan was wearing fishnet stockings, a

short leather skirt with a slit up to her hip and halter top which let the hint

of the sides of her breasts exposed. And Sandra wore tight beige riding pants,

riding boots and a leather bra that encased her magnificent breasts beautifully

with a small hole at the front of each large enough for just her nipples to poke

through.  Our wives were all heavily made up, and were obviously fulfilling some

fantasies that they had not let us in on.



Bill's eye's were looking down, but we couldn't stop staring at our wives in

disbelief and excitement.  As we each discovered Sandra's leather bra, we got

hard at the distraction of seeing only the nipple of her ample breasts. Sandra

welcomed us to an evening we would never forget. She scolded us for being late

and said she would take care of that later, but that now we were to undress and

put on our costumes for the evening.  From now on, she instructed, we would have

to keep our eyes down or suffer penalties, which we would not like.



Our costumes consisted of leather collars, leather wrist-cuffs, leather

ankle-cuffs and a leather belt, all with rings at various places around them,

which we later learned were for attaching things.  As we undressed in the hall

leading to the living room, we got reminders from a riding crop yielded by Sandra

not to look at our mistresses.  This was difficult indeed, because they were so

intriguing in their sexy outfits.  When we were out of our clothes we were walked

into the living room and we were each attended to by someone other than our own

wives in adorning the leather gear.   Sandra attached my ankle-cuffs and the

sight of her full bosom tipped off by the exposed wrinklely skinned erect

nipples, gave me a hardon.  When she looked up and saw it, she said, "Ummm,

nifty, but not now slave.  Not until I tell you to."  And, gave my balls a tap

with the riding crop which sent a surprising jolt of pain up into my stomach.  It

also did the trick of bringing the erection back down.



We were then placed around an ottoman facing out.  Our ankles were attached to

the ankle next to us and our wrists were attached to a loop on the back of our

belts.  With our legs spread as they were, and our hands immobilized, I was

feeling mighty vulnerable.  "Now," Sandra said, "how about we size up the

evening?"



Out came a clipboard, a cloth tape measure, and money for bets.  First my calves

were measured around and recorded on the clipboard then my thigh at the widest

part around.  Next my biceps, neck, and chest were measured and recorded.  As our

wives took turns coming forward and measuring parts of me and coming into my

view, I eventually had to close my eyes to avoid another erection before

instructed to do so. The touching, the closeness of our friends and neighbors on

my body was just too much, however, and I raged a hardon despite my efforts to

avoid it.  "I'll give you five seconds to get that down, or I'll get it down for

you."  Said Sandra, "One.., two.., three.., four.., That's better."



Wade wasn't so lucky.  He got several whacks with the crop to get his back down. 

Bill was surprisingly obedient, or not so surprisingly in retrospect.  And, Jeff

was so nervous, he couldn't get it up, even if he tried at that point.



Then Sandra led the way and placed the tape on the middle of the back of my right

testicle and ran the tape along the bottom up to the middle of the front.  Then

she ran the tape around my scrotum to get the circumference of the two balls

together.  I guess they could do the math to figure out the size of our nuts. 

This manipulation of my balls got my penis stirring again and she grabbed and

yanked my balls saying, "Down boy!  Not yet."  She then measured the relaxed

length of my cock and the circumference of the head. "Now boy!  Now!"  she said

as she slinked up next to me putting one hand on my shoulder and dragging the

other up my tensed stomach, glancing an exposed tit along my arm, and exhaling

warm air against my face.



The ladies watched in fascination as my cock twitched up to attention in less

than a minute.  Then she measured the length from underneath and the

circumference again, passed the tape to Susan, and took over the recording duties

as Susan did Jeff, and so on.  The humiliation of this was beyond belief.  Not

only were we being displayed naked in front of the ladies on the block, but we

were being compared to the other men in things that we bundle up pride and

insecurities all in one.  The most embarrassing aspect was having our sexual

natures controlled by them as they wished.



It seems Wade was the hunkiest on their scale with Jeff and I somewhere second

and third and Bill, who didn't seem to mind, taking up the rear.  The ladies went

off for a bit to get some refreshment leaving us standing attached to each other

around the ottoman.  We started comparing notes, complimenting each other on the

foxiness of their wives and trying to figure a way out of this, then in walked

the ladies giggling.  When they entered to find us talking to each other, they

stopped giggling, smiling, and talking. Sandra said, "You boys were late, you

boys can't keep your eyes to yourself, and you boys can't seem to follow the

simplest of rules, can you.  Well it is time to teach you slaves to follow our

simple rules so we can proceed with an orderly evening. Comprende'?"



We were led down stairs to a recreation room.  Instead of typical furniture,

there was a wall made up of two pieces of plywood eight feet wide by the height

of the ceiling. Along the wall were four holes about 32 inches from the floor

evenly spaced.  As we got closer, we could see two drilled holes a couple of

inches above each hole.   When we were around back, our hands were undone to give

us the opportunity to push our cock and balls through the hole, or we would have

assistance from one of the ladies.  When we just barely and painfully managed to

squeeze everything through, our hands were reattached to the belt behind and our

ankles again to each other.  Shoelaces were threaded through the drilled holes

and were used to tie our cocks straight up against the wall, leaving our balls

vulnerably on display, us helpless to do anything about it, and blind to what

ever was happening on the other side.



We heard Sandra ask the ladies, "What should we do about them being late?"  All

we could hear then was whispering and shuffling.  Then someone pulled a hair out

of my scrotum.  When I flinched my fellow slaves looked at me with apprehension

in their eyes.  Then Wade got a pull and then Jeff, and so on it went until I'm

sure we were each pretty much hairless on our balls.  Then we were given an

alcohol rub which had us wanting to dance in place till the wave of intense pain

started to subside.



Then I felt a fairly pleasurable massage of my balls which ended in having a

rubber-band or hair scrunchy or something placed around my balls extending them

down to the bottom of my scrotal sack and out.  The others got the same

treatment. "Now this is for not following the rules in general boys." Came

Marcy's voice from the other side, as we felt slaps from paint stirrers or rulers

or something.  My colleagues were in as much excruciating pain as I was.  We must

have taken a dozen each, and the women couldn't have known how much pain they

were inflicting because they couldn't see our tears.



The rubber-bands were removed and the shoelaces untied, but the women left for a

while and went back upstairs.  We didn't dare talk or move from our posts for

fear of further retribution.   Besides, my balls were swollen and I don't think I

could have backed them back through the hole at that point.



What seemed like half an hour later, we heard their voices and footsteps. 

Moments later, a hand grasp my cock like a handshake.  "Now boys, don't cum, no

matter what we do to you, if you know what's good for you."  Sandra's voice came

from the other side.  Music started playing and the hand did a grasp pull motion

getting me hard.  Another hand started lifting and jiggling my balls.  This was

all very arousing when the music stopped and the hands went away.  The music

started and a new pair of hands started to work away in a different way bringing

to a new level of excitement.  The music stopped, the hands stopped.  The music

started again, this time a hand grabbed my balls and a mouth started sucking on

my dick.  When the music stopped, my dick was bobbing and reaching for someone,

anyone to touch it.  The music started again and each of us were moaning and

lunging forward to increase the sensations without regard for the warning at the

onset of the game.  Wade stammered, "Oh god. No. Oh god, oh god, Ayeeeeya!."



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



All ministrations stopped.  Bill, Jeff and I opened our eyes, breathing deep in

disbelief, poking our cocks humorously out as far as they would go several times

trying to get friction from anything that might be close, to no avail.   Wade

looked sheepish and worried.  The gals were giggling and talking too low for us

to make anything out for a while.  Then we were told to back ourselves out of the

holes - yeah right!  We tried, but without our hands, we were essentially stuck. 

As we pulled, the women pushed with their fingers like they were stuffing a

sleeping bag into a stuff sack.  The pain was indescribable.  When they came

around back, we were in an awkward pile bound by our ankles trying to get into

fetal positions.  "Oh!  Was that that uncomfortable getting out?" Susan said

innocently.



We were released at the ankles, helped up, and led around to the front.  We

briefly looked at our sexy wives, but put our eyes down quickly to avoid any

further punishment.   I wondered what was in store for Wade.  "So do you boys

understand the rules for the rest of the evening?  And, do you agree to abide by

them?"  Sandra asked.  And we all nodded our heads without looking up.  "Now

ladies, the blindfolds please."



We were blindfolded by cotton being taped over our eyes, then a sleeping mask

pulled over, so no light was able to get in at all.  Our hands were clipped to

the sides of our collars and I was led to a low sturdy coffee table.  After I was

placed on my back, legs pulled apart and groin exposed, I felt one of the lady's

bare legs and bottom sitting back on my face.  She had her hands on my upper

thighs for support and someone said "Do it!".  My mind was a cloud.  Here I was

face to cunt with one of the sexy ladies of my block, I was going to give her a

licking, and I had no idea who it was.  When I hesitated, I received a brief pat

on the balls like spurs in a horse's side to get me going.  I started licking

with enthusiasm.  Soon the anonymous rider grabbed my cock in one hand and my

balls in the other.  I soon figured out that she was communicating to me how she

liked it.  My cock became a joystick that led my tongue to the right spots and my

balls became the throttle to ease up, hurry up, or harder.   Although sometimes

painful, I really enjoyed the connection with this woman through this process. 

After she came, she leaned forward onto my belly so I discovered she had been

completely naked.  She huddled my balls up in her hands and gave the tip of my

cock a gentle kiss before dismounting.



We finally had the women naked but were unable to see them. Another mystery woman

mounted me in a similar fashion.  She communicated what she wanted by moving her

hips in an uninhibited way with her hands on my legs where they join my upper

body, the pressure of her palms told me where to go and so forth.  As she neared

her climax, she huddled her arms to her side leaning down onto my stomach,

crushing her breasts to my body and pulling my balls and cock back toward her

face.  When she was done, she gave my balls a not so gentle, but nevertheless,

friendly squeeze, and got off.



That was all for me for a while apparently, as Bill, then Jeff seemed to get

turns.  I remained still and quiet trying my best to figure out who was doing

what to whom.  When it was Wade's turn, it appears they had other ideas for him.

Instead of lying on his back on the table, they had him on his hands and knees. 

When he felt someone's greased up fingers at his virgin ass hole, he blurted out,

"Oh no! Not that!"



"What was that?  Did I hear you say something slave?"  was Sandra's reply, and

someone slapped him in the balls. There was rustling and conversation about how

to attach what turned out to be strap-on dildoes.  One by one, and in

successively increasing size, I later learned, Wade took rubber shafts up his

rectum until he was actually made to come again from the experience.  The rest of

us were not that lucky that evening until we got home and screwed our wives

silly.  Carol said,  "If that is what a little mistress/slave action can do for

you, were going to have to do it more often."  And so it goes.