The Whist Drive

There were more knocks on the door, and other blokes came in looking bewildered but happy. In the end there were about a dozen there.

All the men were in their forties and fifties, and all had…err…strong views on the Whist Club ladies. They’d lusted after them for decades; Marjorie had cocked up all their tax returns; Veronica and Dolly had cold-shouldered them for years; and Diana had firmly apprised them of their inadequacies as tradesmen, as neighbours and as human beings.

It was incredible! Dolly, Veronica and Diana are greeting them lovingly; laughing at their jokes; pouring them booze.

The three women have a slightly strained look, but so what? They’re wearing such sexy little outfits that there is always something wobbling or dimpling to look at below the neck.

And in any case, it’s bloody funny listening to Diana Fortescue-Slagg trying to discuss Leeds United.

And what of Diana herself? Hell, sheer hell, darling. It’s bad enough having to peck the cheeks of these awful lower-class men, and flash her teeth at them. But as Diana fights a losing battle with the hem of her dress, she knows that worse, far worse, is to come.

In fact, Diana knows the ghastly truth in its entirety. With the exception of one small point. Who are those two strange African men? Quite large, fit and good looking – not that Diana wants to think about that kind of thing. Not tonight of all nights.

As the evening wears on, it becomes more and more obvious that Bill Slagg is pulling the strings. So when Jim has a question, it seems natural to ask Bill.

“Hey, Bill, great party, mate! But wheer’s Marjorie?”

“Oh, Marjorie’s around somewheer”, says Bill. Then, looking at his watch, he says: “Actually, it’s time Marjorie joined us, Diana.”

Diana purses her lips. “Yes, Bill, I’ll get her.”

Diana starts to leave the room. But before she goes, Bill gives her a meaningful look. Whereupon, Diana gives the men around her a quick kiss; says “Don’t go away!”; hitches up her little skirt gaily, so you can see her frilly drawers; and skips out of the room waggling her butt. Diana, that’s really nice!

Talent Show

Anyway, there seems to be a bit of a barney outside, but eventually the door opens and Marjorie enters. Well, she comes in with a bit of a clatter and a stumble, as if she’s been shoved. She and Diana seem to have been having words.

Still, here she is. The men are a bit disappointed to see Marjorie’s outfit, after the way-out party wear of Veronica, Diana and Dolly. Marjorie’s just wearing her plain old office suit, and she’s even got a copy of Tolley’s ‘Tax Advice’ under her arm. The only slightly unusual thing is that Diana’s carrying a big jug of whipped cream.

Marjorie plods over, a bit red-faced, to stand in front of a table by the French windows. Diana puts the jug on the table.

Diana looks at Bill. Bill nods. And Diana claps her hands for attention.

Good evening, gentlemen!” she says, in that weird kind of congealed cocktail party cheeriness. “Thank you so much for coming tonight, to this special Whist Club Open Evening. We think you’ll find us very open indeed, hahaha.”

What is the woman on about? they wonder. But nobody really minds, because Bill nods at Diana, and Diana hitches up her dress and gives a bewitching little curtsey all around the room. This shows her knickers off quite delightfully, fore and aft, to everyone present. “Fair play to Diana!” the men decide. “She’s doing her best to be a good hostess!”

Diana continues. “”I hope you’re sitting comfortably, gentlemen. The fun’s only just beginning. Now, later tonight we’ll have some lovely party games. But first of all it’s Talent Show time!”

“Our friend Marjorie is the first one in the limelight, because (snarl) if it wasn’t for Marjorie we wouldn’t be in this mess. I mean, we wouldn’t be here tonight. So let’s give Marjorie a big hand as she does her little turn. Don’t be shy, Marjorie (you stupid cow), this is a very friendly audience, ha ha. So take it away, dear, with: ‘The Stripping Auditor’!!”

Bill flicks a switch. The lights dim around the room, except for where Marjorie stands. She looks very unhappy indeed. The world holds its breath. As the raunchy opening bars of ‘The Stripper’ ring out, Diana gives Marjorie a shove, and the extraordinary show begins.

Now Marjorie isn’t a graceful dancer, and she’s not at all willing. But she slaps down Tolley’s ‘Tax Advice’ on the table firmly enough. And then she pulls the biros from her breast pocket, and flings them aside one by one, to each grinding beat. .

As Marjorie shrugs off her jacket, the audience are gratified to see a very generous profile of bust. And then Marjories undoes a few buttons on her blouse, leans forward, and my! - that’s a very nice audit cleavage!

Off comes the blouse, and everyone’s watching the auditor at work. Marjorie then wriggles out of her skirt. Bless her, she’s only been at it a minute, and she’s down to her underwear! Far more productive than usual.

The enraptured audience take stock of audit progress. On the credit side, a tall well-built blonde with creamy skin and everything just the right side of fleshy. On the debit side, Marjorie looks nervous (maybe the show’s over?). And it’s such a shame about the baggy, slightly lumpy knockers and bra.

Joe Worsley bellows out: “Come on, girl, let’s see your fixed assets!”, and at last the mood gets a bit less ‘respectful’.

Diana collects herself, lifts her skirts again and skips over to Marjorie. Diana hisses something into Marjorie’s ear, and positively RIPS off Marjorie’s bra and HAULS down Marjorie’s knickers.

With a ‘gracious hostess’ type smile, Diana waves Marjorie’s underwear to the crowd. But nobody’s looking at Diana now. All eyes are on the auditor, who’s wearing just a tiny red spangled thong, and red tasselled pasties on each magnificent white breast.

Marjorie starts wobbling her amazing tits, but just can’t co-ordinate them. One goes right; the other goes left. They swing back and crash together in the middle – it’s a huge, fleshy, knocker-pendulum pile-up.

But then everything clicks! Marjorie’s bazoomers swing back and forth in sweet unison. The tassels go round and round. Marjorie gets rhythm!

First the right side of Marjorie’s body shimmers up and down, from buttock to hip to breast. Then the left side ripples in response. Marjorie’s having a ball now; the crowd roars. And Marjorie TEARS off her tassels and thong.

Marjorie’s now beside herself, and she moves over to Joe Worsley. She bears down on Joe like a voluptuous white avalanche. Joe’s delighted fat face is suddenly stuffed into a big pair of charleys!

Marjorie then gives Joe a very loving kiss. She bends over Joe, so that her large round breasts (each topped with a roguish pink nipple) are dangling accidentally on purpose at hand level. Joe needs no further invitation, and the two get locked together in a sticky and obscene embrace.

Just as everyone else is starting to feel left out, Marjorie hauls herself up and undulates back to the table. It really is a pleasure to see Marjorie put one foot in front of the other and see the ‘domino effect’ – buttocks slapping together; hips shimmying and knockers a wobble-o.

Anyway, Marjorie finally reaches the table, and clambers on to a chair in front of it, with her back to the audience. Just imagine a large white cello case and you get an idea of Marjorie’s curvy rear-view beauty. But did a cello case ever look so randy and ripe?

Pleasingly, there’s none of this lady-like ‘legs together’ nonsense about Marjorie! Her round white backside is split like a peach, with some nice hairy fruit clearly in view. In fact, Marjorie reaches down between her legs to scratch some kind of itch. And after a bit of self-tweaking, we can all see two moist inviting cunt lips.

That done, Marjorie reaches over for the jug of whipped cream. This causes her back to arch; her bottom to part even wider; and her cunt to open more excitingly still.

Then Marjorie’s up on her feet and bending over the delighted blokes again. She kneads her breasts provocatively before their very eyes, and each nipple has a splodge of whipped cream on it. “Lick me, Joe!” pouts Marjorie. “Lick me, Bert!” And so on and so forth.

That done, Marjorie’s now squatting on the carpet. For all the world she could be doing a naked limbo under an invisible bar. Except that she’s smearing a load more whipped cream on her vagina. The men just lap it up (in every sense).

And by way of a finale, Marjorie clambers on the table and parks her lovely round arse on Tolley’s Tax Advice. She sits there, rather immodestly, with her legs up on top of the table, knees by her ears and cunt splayed. Marjorie is just one great sticky delicious mess of curvy loveliness. And there she sits, positively strumming away on her labia.

FOLLOW THAT!!

Nobody expected Marjorie to be so good. Diana, Veronica and Dolly feel an odd kind of damp-knickered, horrified excitement. And as for the men, their feelings are beyond words.

Diana takes the floor again. In her eagerness to please, her dress is virtually stuffed into her knickers. But she’s clearly shaken.

“That was lovely, Marjorie, dear!” she says. “What a nice ice-breaker, folks! Now we have another little turn to enjoy. She’s always a good ride, so may I introduce – VERONICA PANTING!”

For the last half hour, Veronica has been getting really quite friendly with Eric Mugg and Ted Grabbitt. Eric and Ted like the gee-gees; they know a lot of good jokes about lady jockeys; they like spunky blondes; and they really like Veronica. Veronica’s ice-cube eyes look almost soft and twinkly, as she says Ta-ta to Ted and Eric.

“Evening all!” Veronica says. “For my little turn I need two volunteers.” Every red-blooded man there leaps to his feet, but Ted and Eric have got the jump on them all.

Veronica, Eric and Ted get into a huddle, and then they march outside. Veronica’s two lovely assistants each have a great sweaty hand on one of her buttocks.

They quickly return. Veronica skips in first, blowing kisses and slapping her thighs. Ted and Eric follow, carrying a rocking horse.

Veronica directs the positioning of the horse, which has rather a built-up saddle. She thanks Ted and Eric politely in turn. You really can’t fault Veronica’s manners, as she sticks her tongue into each guy’s mouth, rubs her breasts against his chest and playfully unzips his flies. You don’t pick that up at ladies’ finishing school.

“Don’t go away, lads!” are Veronica’s final (unnecessary) instructions to Ted and Eric.

Then Veronica poses by the horse, with her back to the audience, sticking out her bum and smiling fruitily over her shoulder.

“Now, everyone!” says Diana, pretending to read from a little card. “This is the Honourable Veronica Panting doing a little sketch, called ‘Riding to hounds with the local cunt. Sorry, hunt’.”

Veronica mounts the horse and starts rocking it furiously. She really throws herself into it – head flung back, lips pouting, panting hard and occasionally moaning.

Veronica ditches her pink riding jacket and can now be observed in black riding boots, white skintight jodhpurs, white snug-fit T shirt, and black hat. The men are neutral about the hat and boots (Veronica can do what she likes with them). But they focus rather obsessively on the jodhpurs and T shirt. The big issue is: has Veronica got any underwear on?

Veronica carries on rocking to and fro, getting more and more orgasmic. Finally she settles the underwear question once and for all, by ripping off T shirt and jodhpurs. Nothing on underneath!

And now Veronica is revealed as a very fit lady indeed. Honey-coloured all-over tan; smooth long legs and torso; delicately swelling tits and bottom of firm jelly; filmy glow of perspiration covering all. Just a lovely, slender, lightly muscled, gently curving, naked woman.

Veronica moves to a side-saddle position. She hauls up her feet and shakes her vagina at Ted and Eric. “Sorry, lads” she says. “I’m not a natural blonde.”

Ted and Eric take the news pretty well. But one by one, they bury their faces between Veronica’s legs, just to check.

Then the fun really begins! For Veronica removes the horse’s saddle, to reveal a dildo fixed to the horse’s back, underneath the saddle. Diana (flashing her knickers as usual) brings over some lubricant. Ted and Eric gallantly apply it to Veronica’s cunt.

Veronica then lowers herself on to the dildo, and thus begins the ride of her life. Ted and Eric slowly rotate the horse, so that everyone can see the action from every angle. Veronica bounces up and down, shouting in her posh voice: “come on, that’s fucking marvellous, up my cunt, harder, harder, fuck fuck FUCK, oh, oh, AHH, YAROOOOO!”

And so Veronica finishes – sweaty, nipples erect, eyes glazed, bottom a- tremble, cunt lips swollen, clit throbbing, suddenly sagging.

TALLY-FUCKING-HO!!

As the applause dies down, Diana and Dolly look at each other. Marjorie and Veronica have really put them on their mettle! Diana and Dolly are both sopping wet in their panties, but also a bit awestruck by the size of their challenge.

Anyway, Diana teeters forward. She flashes her knickers in the usual way, but now everyone can see the outline of her vulva clearly marked by the clinging wet pantie material.

“Thank you, Veronica, that was charming.”

The only person in the room who hadn’t been paying much attention to the show up till a few minutes ago is Dolly Harder. She’s just been having the nicest time. Really!

At the start of the evening Dolly had ended up in a corner with Bert and Jim, which didn’t look like a good lottery ticket at first. They’re both pretty homely-looking guys. And their thick Yorksheer accents didn’t make them sound top of the food chain.

But then Dolly wasn’t exactly top of the food chain herself. Not any more. She’s broke. She was getting old and fat. And she knew that she could go to prison for that stupid Bill Slagg fraud. And so here she was, having to degrade herself. What a bloody awful mess. What a bloody awful life. And so poor Dolly started to cry.

Bert and Jim were dismayed! This was the longest chat they’d had with Dolly since they were all ten years old. What a terrible mess they were making of this great opportunity.

Jim whispered to Bert: “It’s probably nowt! Let’s get her outside, mate, away from this bloody crowd. I’ll get her to show me the garden. Then you take over from me in about 20 minutes.”

So within a minute or two Dolly was outside with one of her faithful swains. The moon was shining brightly and.........

[Well I’ll gloss over this next bit, dear reader, as it’s too bloody romantic! After all, we’re in the middle of a story about real men having wild sex with hot chicks, and I don’t want to disgust you with talk of Lurve.

Suffice to say that in the next half hour Dolly gets two separate proposals of marriage. (Her official response: flattered but non-committal.) And maybe she does a bit of off-hand nuzzling and guzzling, in order to keep both offers in play.]