by Bridy McAvoy
They were all cheering and clapping when, red-faced, I joined the line of girls.
Two other people had joined us on stage by now. I recognized both of them. I should do, I’d had both Mike’s and Lance’s cocks down my throat. They were standing to one side, and they had six buckets of water lined up next to them—no question about where they were going, nor what the two guys’ roles were.
“Now, we need one little addition, don’t we, gentlemen? If we’re going to use water it needs to be the right temperature, doesn’t it?” The audience cheered. “So, what do we need?”
“Ice… Ice… Ice…”
I could see Simone was as shocked as I was as another member of the male staff walked from the back of the room carrying a tray with six large jugs of ice on it. He stood between the other two and, one at a time, they emptied a jug of ice into the bucket of water and swirled it around. All three then picked up two buckets of water and walked around behind us, taking up station with a bucket for each of us.
I shuddered. Simone and I were at one end of the line, and Chrissie at the other. I hoped she was going to be the first. I noticed it was Lance standing behind the two of us, and he was openly grinning.
I quickly recounted, there were six buckets but only five contestants—there was a gap between Chrissie and Lauren.
“Well, there’s only one job left for me to do. So, if you gentlemen will excuse me for a moment…”
Chelsea put the microphone back on its stand and walked toward the rear of the stage. She put some effort into that walk too, and we all turned to watch as she sashayed behind the curtain, her fingers already working on the zip at the back of her tight skirt. She made a real performance out of removing her clothes, turning this way and that but never actually managing to turn to face the mirror. You could hear a pin drop as she pulled the T-shirt over her head before removing her stockings and heels. She sat on the chair, lifting each leg straight up into the air in front of her to ease the nylon off. I’d be hard pushed to emulate that move, and I considered myself quite flexible.
Once she was done she stepped back out to a round of applause and I felt a little relieved to see she was wearing ordinary panties, like we were, rather than the bikini bottoms like the rest of the staff volunteers—or victims.
We all faced forward and, I guess, braced for the deluge. I wasn’t sure exactly how they were going to do it, but I guess one of the guys held up his fingers and gestured for the audience to take up the count down.
“Five…”
I took a deep breath but wondered how they were going to manage with a bucket each.
“Four…”
I glanced sideways but couldn’t see behind the girls before Lance called out. “Eyes front, no peeking.”
“Three…”
The guys in the audience were at the edge of their seats and I hunched my shoulders in anticipation.
“Two…”
It was hard to think as adrenalin raced through me.
“One…”
Shit! No! Shit! Here it comes!
“Now!”
I heard water cascading everywhere, accompanied by shrieks and squeals, the loudest being from Simone next to me, but I hadn’t been done. Obviously, the three guys had chosen three targets and we were next. The count restarted amid the general hullabaloo and I guess I missed the start of it.
“Two…”
I took another deep breath and tried to make myself as small as possible.
“One…”
Shit!
“Go!”
I was braced but I hadn’t seen the other girls get theirs. Lance was obviously standing right behind me and he just upended the bucket over my shoulders. Half of it went down my back, half of it down my chest and arms. Not a great deal went into my face or on my hair, which I guess is why he’d done it that way. I screamed and I could hear the others screaming and sobbing too.
I shivered and shuddered and the audience went wild. After a few seconds I forced myself to look down. The T-shirt had been thin cotton and picked for its purpose. It was soaking wet, plastered to my skin and totally see-through. Every little detail could be seen, right down to my very hard nipples and the goose bumps on my areola. Now I could look to the side and see everyone else in the same state. Simone seemed to be even more shocked than me, but the women staff had their hands on their hips and were proudly moving about, showing off. Realizing I might lose simply by not being prepared to strut my stuff, I moved to the front of the stage and shook my chest at the guys forming the audience. They went wild.
Simone moved up alongside me, obviously working out why I was being so brazen and did the same. Quite why we did that, I don’t know. I wasn’t naturally competitive, and in any case we had no idea if there was a prize for winning.
The others took their cue from us too and soon there were six very cold women shaking their breasts at the audience. I glanced to the side just in time to see Mike move up behind Chrissie, reach around and grab the T-shirt neckline just above her breasts. She stood still as he flexed his biceps and then ripped the T-shirt down the middle. The audience applauded and the other guy then did the same to Lauren. Then Lance did the same thing to Simone.
This revealed the bottoms to the audience and I could see the audience had focused their attention on Simone’s crotch—obviously her panties had gone transparent. The others were bikinis so weren’t putting anything on display.
A few seconds later there was another ripping sound, followed by applause as Mike did the same to Chelsea. Now there were two pairs of wet transparent panties framing shaven mounds. Andrea’s T-shirt went the same way and then Lance put his hands over my shoulders and did the same to me, ripping the T-shirt right off. Since my panties were white they were totally transparent, and thus showed everything.
I’m not sure what came over me, but rather than just stand there and let them look, I dropped my hands to my waist, grabbed the sodden garment and pushed them down onto my thighs. That got the biggest roar of approval for the evening, redoubled when Lance stepped forward again and yanked them all the way down so I could step out of them.
Not to be outdone, Simone followed suit, but none of the other girls did so. I wasn’t sure how they decided but somehow, probably by my brazen display, I’d won, and Simone had come second. Apparently there were two large bottles of champagne behind the bar for us.
Suddenly, large fluffy toweling robes appeared and, as the audience filed out and into the bar, the staff girls grabbed their robes and disappeared out through another door. Chrissie and Chelsea robed up and then came and gave us a kiss on the cheek and thanked us for being good sports. The three guys solemnly shook our hands, but also disappeared. Chelsea helped Simone get dry and then dressed, while Chrissie helped me. Neither of us bothered to put our underwear back on, just slipped our dresses on, and then went out to the bar and opened our champagne. We had a glass each, then shared it around the guys. There were ten guys there, and just the four of us, and again Chrissie and Chelsea had changed into silk robes that only just reached their asses. This time, though, they kept the belts tied tightly.
I think Simone would have stayed and partied, but to be honest I was starting to get a bit annoyed with guys accidentally on purpose brushing up against me. One or two got handier still and I had to push two guys’ hands out from inside the front of my dress where they’d copped a feel of my breast. When, the third time, someone started stroking my thigh up under my dress, getting very close to my pussy, I called it a night. Simone was a little grumpy but accompanied me back to the cabin.
We were due out early the following morning, and the same driver picked us up, took us to the airport and we came home.
* * * *
She stopped and took a deep breath.
“And that’s it, honey, I’m all ‘fessed up. Nothing more to tell.”
I sat silently for a minute, pondering how to reply. Part of me wanted to shout and scream at her for behaving like that on her hen
night. Part of me was rationalizing that she hadn’t actually fucked anyone, just blown a couple of guys, only one to completion, and fooled around with a couple of guys. To be honest, the two exhibitionist shows, or her description of them, made me hard. I wished I’d been there to see my wife behave like that.
I wondered what other activities she could have taken part in. Fantasies floated through my mind about playing tennis, or racquetball without underwear, working out nude in the gym, spotting weights for guys while standing there in tight short skirts and nothing else. My mind was in overdrive at the idea of a hot tub party with them and six or eight guys. Especially prominent was the idea of the gang-bang that might have happened in the bar that night—or rather an orgy involving the four women, including my then fiancée, now my wife.
It wasn’t that I didn’t believe her, I did. There was no way she’d give that much detail and still hold anything back. There was no point. She’d given me enough material for me to leave her, ten times over, before recounting her experience at the hen night.
Above all, I wanted to go there with her myself and just cut loose—or, more importantly for me, watch her cutting loose.
I held out my arms and she crossed the room, dropping into my lap, her arms around my neck. She sat there, side-saddle, quietly, her head buried into my chest. I guess she knew I needed time to process everything.
I don’t know how long we sat there like that, taking comfort from the quiet presence of each other. Eventually, I moved my hand and, putting my finger under her chin, tilted her face up. She looked into my eyes as I softly kissed her lips, but I didn’t deepen the kiss. Nor did she.
“Sam.” My voice was quiet.
“Yes, honey?” Her eyes were wide as she stared into my face.
“You didn’t fuck anyone after I proposed. Correct?”
“Only you, honey. Only you.”
“Then as far as I’m concerned the matter is closed.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, except for one matter.”
“Oh? Which is?”
“I have my own confession.”
“You do?” She frowned at me and I forced myself to carry on.
“I wasn’t exactly whiter than white on my stag night.”
She giggled. “You mean what happened with the stripper at the club in the VIP room? Or the one Bruce hired for the private performance in the hotel room at two a.m.?”
“What? How did you know?”
She chuckled and leaned in, rubbing noses with me, then planted a soft kiss on my lips.
“Honey, I wormed that information out of Bruce at your company Christmas party that same year. I guess he felt bad about what happened, and he had tied a huge one on. I cornered him and the story came out.”
“You’ve known for this long?”
She smiled. “Oh course. And there’s nothing to forgive.”
“But…”
She put her finger across my lips, then removed it in order to kiss me again. This time the kiss was longer. “As I said, it’s history. I suspected something was in the offing at the time, but let it go. Let you have one last hurrah, one fling. I’d had mine, so it would have been hypocritical to stop you having fun. You’ve been mine ever since, just as much as I’ve been yours.”
She cuddled back into me, leaving me staring over her head out of the range doors, looking at the hot tub. An idea began to form in my head and I let it bubble as I just held her. After a few minutes I kissed the top of her head to attract her attention back.
“Sam…”
“Yes, Si…”
“That resort Simone took you to… Do you still have the details?”
“Of course.” She chuckled. “I’m a librarian. I always file everything away carefully.”
“Well, I was thinking…”
“About?”
I could see her mind was moving too. The smile betrayed that her thoughts probably matched mine.
“We’ve both still got a few days of holiday left. They might have a cabin free…”
About the Author
My name is Bridy, and I live in upstate New York. I’ve written for as long as I can remember, which is thanks to my parents for teaching me to read and write before I went to school. I’ve been fascinated by erotic tales all my adult life, my husband thinks they’re silly but indulges me. I won’t tell you how old I am because a lady never gives away her age. My other interest is photography but writing will always be my first love, other than my husband of course.
