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The Dinner Party

Stan Greenburg -- retired billionaire -- peered over his glasses at the fat, snaggle-toothed grandma sitting across the table. She's not as old as she looks, he thought. Probably only in her forties. She reeked of stale tobacco smoke.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Marsha McCoy."

"And you want to be a housekeeper?"

"Yup."

"This is a pretty big house. It's got twenty bedrooms."

"I knows the place," Marsha stated. "It's been a nursin' home up till you bought it. We'z all wonderin' what a city man is doin' buyin' a nursin' home out here in the holler."

Stan had bought the place for a song. The first thing he did was surround the property with razorwire atop a chainlink fence. And then he brought in his construction crew from New York to fix it up -- he needed space for women and guests. A lot of money got spent on his own living quarters -- a sumptuous master bedroom, and a spacious sitting room, adjoining a large porch with a beautiful view of the mountains. He had the kitchen built to specs for his long-time personal chef, Jemima Brown.

Finally there was the dining room, with a table that could seat twenty, along with the accompanying chandelier. The walls sported painted portraits of distinguished gentlemen from the 19th Century. Stan had no idea who they were, but they looked very formal and intimidating. Oddly, Stan had installed a hand wash sink in the corner of the room.

No better place than out among the hillbillies if you want to enjoy a harem undisturbed. He'd picked a spot 150 miles from the nearest airport.

"I'll pay you a thousand bucks a week. Cash. You can keep your welfare benefits."

"A thousand bucks ..?" Marsha stared at him, unbelieving.

"Yes. A thousand bucks a week. But there is a catch."

Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"You have to procure for me."

"Procure?" She looked to the portraits for explanation. "You mean you want me to get you drugs? That's easy. I can do that!" She smiled broadly.

"No, no. Not drugs. Actually, I don't want any drugs on the premises at all. Your job is to keep them out, not bring them in.

"What I want are women. Women who will take care of my guests and me."

"You mean you want prostitutes? How the hell am I s'posed to find hookers for you?" Marsha looked angry. "What are you? Some kind of pervert?"

"I'm a rich pervert, and you'll get some of that money if you do as I ask. Here are the specifics. First, you get a thousand a week for doing housekeeping. That means vacuuming, dusting, making beds -- all that stuff.

"Then next month I'm hosting a dinner party. Along with me, there will be three other gentlemen present. I need four girls to take care of us. They must be willing to do any sexual favors we request, though we won't hurt them or tie them up.

"For every girl who shows up, you get a $500 bonus. The girls will each be paid a thousand dollars for 24 hours. They will be expected to fuck, suck, strip, dance, serve, and otherwise entertain all of us. For every girl who doesn't show -- or doesn't perform -- your pay will be docked by $500.

"Are you in or out?"

Marsha stared at him, speechless. "Where'm I s'posed to git these girls?"

"Do you have any children, Marsha?"

"Yeah. Three. A son and two daughters." She paused, horrified. "You're not suggestin', are you ...?"

"Not necessarily. It could be they have some friends who need some extra money. Remember, it's all paid in cash. Nobody loses their welfare. And I need to meet these young ladies in advance. For quality control, you understand."

*********************

Marsha was dressed in the Salvation Army's finest. She'd washed and combed her stringy hair, and had even put on lipstick. Makes her look like a pig, thought Stan. But she looked as good as she could. Props for that.

The doorbell rang and Marsha went to open. The three guests had arrived.

The Police Chief entered first. "Hi Marsha," he smiled. "Surprised to see you working here." Marsha nodded, uncomfortably. "Marsha and I go way back," he told Stan. "We grew up on the same street." He looked her over. "You're lookin' good tonight, Marsha. Ya'know, she was a pretty girl when she was younger. Since then she's been an occasional customer of mine."

The Chief stood 6'5" in his stocking feet, and should've weighed 250 pounds. But he was at least a hundred pounds overweight. He wore suspenders.

Next came the Mayor, another plump man, but a lot shorter than the Chief, even shorter than Stan. He dressed nattily, wearing a suit and tie. The freshly shined oxfords caught Stan's eye.

"I'm an ex-Marine. Retired as a sergeant," the Mayor explained. Looking to the lady, he added "We miss you over at City Hall, Marsha. I'm glad to see you again."

"I miss you, too."

"Yeah. We'd hire you back, but -- you know -- we can't. Not with the arrests."

"Arrests?" queried Stan, worried.

"Dipshit stuff," said the Chief. "Drug possession. Practically everybody in this town has that on their record. But we can't hire them anymore. State law."

"I'm glad you're working here," said the Mayor.

The gaunt, elderly gentleman was last through the door. Dressed neatly in khakis, he had a full shock of white hair, with wire-rim glasses adorning his face.

"Hello," he said, shaking Stan's hand. "I'm the school Principal. I hear you're from New York?"

"Yes. I am."

"I grew up in Buffalo. Attended Buff State College. Then got a job here as Principal. Been here ever since. Along with Doc Charles I'm one of the few people with a college degree around here. It's like being the one-eyed man in the land of the blind.

Hi, Marsha. Glad to see you've landed on your feet."

"Hello, Sir. Can't say I'm happy to see you. Brings back too many memories." She smiled.

"Don't sweat it, dear," consoled the Principal. "There's a lot of water under the bridge. No hard feelings." And then to Stan, he added "Marsha didn't do so well in school. She tended to get into trouble."

"Never cared fer school much."

Stan ushered them into the sitting room. "Care for aperitifs, gentlemen?" Marsha served a dry vermouth -- per Stan's instructions, of course. Otherwise she'd have no idea what an aperitif was. Indeed, earlier that afternoon Marsha and the girls had rehearsed the entire meal, eating the food and sampling the drinks. That way they wouldn't be hungry and they'd know what was going on.

"Have you ever had tapas, gentlemen?"

"Can't say as I have," answered Chief.

"I've heard of that," opined the worldly Principal. "But I don't really know what they are."

"Tapas is a way of serving dinner," explained Stan. "Instead of an appetizer, entree, and dessert, what you get instead is a whole bunch of small plates. It's like a meal of appetizers. That way we can serve you a nine-course meal without you getting too full."

"You're gonna give us a nine-course meal?" repeated the Mayor, unbelieving.

"That's exactly right. Jemima has been working hard all day to make this for you. I hope you're hungry, and I hope you enjoy the food.

"But the purpose of this game is not just to eat, but also to play a sex game with the servers. It is important that you follow the rules -- games are always more fun when you do. We will be attended by four hostesses hired especially for your pleasure. With each course you will be permitted to take certain liberties with them -- and also they with you. At the end of the evening you and your hostess have a private room, where you may behave as you wish with no rules.

"Are you ready for the game?"

"Bring it on," said the Chief. The others nodded.

"So the first step is to assign lots. That will determine which girl you get at the end of the evening. Don't worry -- you'll get to play with all of them at some point. And you can trade girls with each other if you want later. But this gets us started."

They used a deck of cards to assign the girls. The Chief got the first girl, the Principal the second, Stan came in third, while the Mayor brought up the rear.

"And one more general rule. Since we'll be touching people in very personal places, it's important that we wash our hands before every course. There is a sink in the corner, so let's do that now."

A large cloth covered the table, broad enough to hide any indiscretions that might occur underneath. Stan and the Chief sat at opposite ends of the long table. The Mayor and the Principal sat opposite each other in the middle. They were too far apart for comfortable conversation, but then that wasn't the point.

"The first course is entitled Look But Don't Touch," Stan said. "You will be introduced to the hostess that corresponds to your number -- the one you will own for tonight. For this course you are not allowed to touch her. But you can talk to her, and we can talk about her. We will bring them in one at a time.

"Marsha, please ask Miss BBW to come in."

"Jamie!" said the Principal. "I'm surprised to see you here."

Jamie, aka 'Miss BBW' carried her dish to the Chief. "Sir, my name is Miss BBW. Here is your first course. It is a shrimp cocktail. I will move my tail for you." She turned around and wiggled her butt at him.

"I thought you were graduating in the May?" exclaimed the Principal. "I hope you haven't changed your mind?"

"I still plan on graduating, Sir. But I need some extra money."

"Are you old enough to be here?" asked the Chief.

"I turned 18 last month, Sir. So the answer is yes."

The Mayor questioned Marsha. "Do you think having Jamie here is a good idea?"

Whatever Marsha may have thought, she'd lose a lot of money if Miss BBW backed out now. "We need the money. And Jamie will be the first person in our family to ever graduate from high school."

"Not that it'll do her much good," muttered the Principal, under his breath.

"So let's avoid calling people by their names," Stan intoned. "This young lady is Miss BBW. That stands for Big, Beautiful Woman."

Short and plump described her better than big, though she'd be as fat as her mother in a few years. Also, while cute, beautiful didn't fit. Her face was plain, with an acne-scarred complexion. But now she radiated youth, and came with big tits and a big smile. She'd dressed in a modest skirt with a blouse buttoned to the collar, and pumps sporting two-inch heels. That, some cheap jewelry and too much makeup made her look sexy as hell.

"Marsha, please show in Miss Meth."

This time the Mayor couldn't control his surprise. "Diane! What is this, Marsha? Are you pimping out both your daughters?"

"They're not prostitutes. They jes havin' fun at yer party," said Marsha, indignantly.

The girl marched over to the Principal. "Sir, my name is Miss Meth. Here is your first course. It is a shrimp cocktail. And I will move my tail for you, Sir." She faced away and shook her bottom.

"So these girls don't have the same dad? Who's Jamie's dad?" asked the Principal.

"Al Dodd," answered Marsha, miffed.

"And who's Diane's dad -- er, I mean Miss Meth's dad?"

"Joe Ferguson," Marsha said softly, looking down.

"Must run in the family," opined the Mayor.

"So who gave you the Miss Meth moniker?" asked Chief. "It sure does fit." She probably spent one night a week in jail.

"Mr. Stan did, Sir." True to the name, she'd already lost one of her front teeth. And she was skinny -- too skinny to be pretty. But barely 23 years old, possessed of a cute butt and nice hair, it'd be fun to sex her up.

Miss Meth was the only woman in the lineup to wear pants -- tight-fitting jeans topped with a t-shirt.

"Marsha, please show in Miss MILF."

Miss MILF took her place next to Stan. "Hello, Sir. My name is Miss MILF. Here is your first course. It is a shrimp cocktail. I'm here to move my tail for you, Sir." She, too, did the little butt dance.

"Hey, I know you!" said Chief. "You're the waitress over at the Diner. I get breakfast and coffee there a couple times a week."

"Yes, Sir. I remember you. Though you're usually wearing your uniform there."

Miss MILF wore her waitress attire from the Diner -- a simple, white dress, tailored at the waist with the hem at the knees. White tennies, a gold necklace, and some earrings completed the outfit. It charmed.

"Your name's Terri -- isn't it?" She nodded, embarrassed. "Yeah, I remember from your nametag. I've often thought how much I'd like to screw you. Didn't think I'd get the chance. But I didn't know you had a kid. Who's the lucky dad?"

"Stevie Jones. He's a loser, but my little boy is the light of my life. I'm doing this for him."

"I'm sure he'll appreciate that," remarked the Principal, sarcastically.

"And last but not least, Marsha, could you please show in Miss College Girl."

A petite blond, stacked and with curves in the right places, walked in, delivering a plate to the Principal.

"My name is Miss College Girl, Sir. Here is your first course. It is a shrimp cocktail. And I'm going to move my tail for you." She did the bunny hop.

"Erin! I thought you were in college. What are you doing back in this podunk little hole?" asked the Principal.

"I am in college, Sir. But my mother told me about this opportunity, and I do need some money. I'm not going to make a career of it.

"Erin is among the few who actually graduated from high school and left this place. I didn't think I'd see her again. I gotta say, I'm surprised.

"What are you majoring in?"

"Communications, Sir. I want to get into sales."

"Well, you're off to a good start," offered the Mayor, eyeing her lasciviously.

The hostesses took seats next to their new masters, who finished their food.

"Marsha," called Stan. "Please have the hostesses clear the table and prepare for the second course."

Stan waited for them to leave the room. "Now gents, after you've washed your hands, instead of sitting, please stand behind your seats.

"The second course is entitled Affectionate Touch.

"Tapas is a Spanish custom, and usually includes Spanish food. That's mostly what we'll be serving today. When you greet a young lady, the Latin custom is to embrace her gently and kiss her on both cheeks. So that's what you'll be doing. Give her a light hug -- no full-body contact -- and then kiss her gently on both cheeks. Please let her initiate the hug.

"The girls will walk around the room and greet each of you individually. As long as you're discreet, you can pat her on the butt as she walks away.

"After the greeting a girl will sit next to you while you eat. You may touch her affectionately, but not intimately. You may stroke her hair and hold her hand. You may kiss or touch her cheeks. You may put your arm around her shoulders. She will show similar affection toward you. Please be a gentleman."

The gents rose to wash their hands, and then stood in their assigned places.

Marsha announced: "The hostesses will bring you paella, a Spanish rice dish. We hope you enjoy.

Miss BBW took her dish to the Mayor, and put it down on his plate. "I am very happy to meet you, Sir. My name is Miss BBW. I will do my best to make you happy." She put her arms around his shoulders and offered her cheek for a kiss. Mr. Mayor embraced her waist, holding her a tad closer than was civil, and smooched her cheeks. They disentangled.

The other girls did the same. Miss Meth was assigned to Stan. "I am very happy to meet you, Sir. My name is Miss Meth. I will do my best to make you happy." Stan kissed her cheeks. Her hair smelled of cigarettes. Her breath reeked of rotting teeth. What a skank, he thought, regretting that he'd hired her.

Miss MILF introduced herself to the Principal, and Miss College Girl offered courtesies to the Chief.

The girls then circled the room, personally introducing themselves to each of the guests. Stan enjoyed the greeting from Miss BBW. He could feel her tits against his chest. Miss MILF was his favorite. He got a hard-on just looking at her. Miss College Girl was the prettiest of the bunch, but also the most modest. The hug yielded no body contact whatsoever.

But like all the other girls, she got a good parting pat as she walked away.

Miss College Girl sat next to Chief, who clearly thought himself lucky. His hand rested against the nape of her neck, with fingers combing her hair. He ate with his other hand, occasionally feeding her a bite. She had her hand on his knee, gently stroking it. He leaned over to give her another peck on the cheek.

"Marsha, please have the servers clear the dishes and prepare for the third course." The girls hopped to, and in a few minutes the table was cleaned and reset with fresh silverware. The men washed their hands.

"The third course is entitled Getting Grabby. This time, when you greet your server you can give her a full body-contact hug -- cock to cunt as it were. Make sure she knows you're alive. And while she's sitting next to her you can touch her anywhere you want.

"But -- and here are the rules -- your hands have to stay outside her clothes. You can't unbutton anything, nor can you move any clothing out of the way. And she won't spread her legs for you, either. You can kiss her, but keep your tongue to yourself.

"This course is twenty minutes long. After ten minutes the girls will change places, so you'll have a chance to get grabby with another server.

"Marsha, please ask the servers to bring in the third course."

Miss Meth led the way. "The third course is Spanish meatballs, served on a bed of paella rice."

She walked over to the Mayor. "Hello, Sir. My name is Miss Meth. The meatballs are hot and spicy. I am also hot and spicy. Please enjoy, Sir."

The Mayor hugged her closely, his hands pushing her butt toward his cock. He didn't kiss her. I don't blame him, thought Stan.

Miss BBW put the food down at Stan's place. "Hello," she curtsied. "My name is Miss BBW. The meatballs are hot and spicy. I am also hot and spicy. Please enjoy, Sir."

Stan ground his cock hard against her. He did kiss her -- the tobacco odor hidden by cheap perfume. She tasted good. His hand reached for those big tits and started massaging.

Her lipstick was all smudged when she sat down. Stan wiped his mouth clean with a napkin. His hand rested on her thighs as he ate his food, sharing a couple of bites with her.

Chief looked happy with Miss MILF. How could he not be? He threw his arm around her, resting his hand on her breast.

Marsha kept time. After ten minutes she rang a little bell and everybody stood up. The girls marched one place around the table. Miss College Girl succumbed to Stan's embrace.

There was no room for modesty now. He pushed his hard-on as far into her as he could, while smashing his lips against hers. She wore a long skirt down to mid calf, but he supposed she had beautiful thighs. He explored them from knee to crotch -- as best he could while obeying the rules -- all the while squeezing her tits.

Stan kissed her again as Marsha rung the bell a second time. "Marsha, please have the servers clear the tables in preparation for the fourth course."

The men washed up while the ladies cleared and reset the table. When the were alone again, Stan gave instructions.

"The fourth course is entitled Losing It. Each hostess will lose an article of clothing. It is your choice what it is -- any one piece of attire you want. We will go around the table, defrocking each one in turn. When it's your turn, please explain why you chose that piece of clothing.

"You may touch your woman as needed to take off her clothing. Take your time. Removing her blouse, for example, may require some extended investigation of her bosom. But, apart from what you're removing, your hands have to stay outside of any other clothing.
"She is not required to spread her legs for you."

When all was ready, Stan gave the word: "Marsha, please have the servers bring in the fourth course."

It was Miss MILF's turn to announce the dish. "This dish is potato croquettes filled with cheese. We hope you enjoy it."

She then walked over to the Mayor and served him his food. "Hello Mr. Mayor. My name is Miss MILF. I want you to help me show off my body."

Stan was happy with the luck of his draw. "Hello Mr. Stan. My name is Miss College Girl. I want you to help me show off my body." He debated what he should take off.

The Principal got Miss BBW, and Miss Meth went to the Chief.

"Since you have Miss BBW," Stan said to the Principal, "I guess you should go first. What are you going to take off, and why?"

The Principal pulled his chair away from the table and had Miss BBW stand in front of him. "It's a little odd -- and a lot of fun -- stripping down one of my kids. I'm glad she's over 18. Are you shy, Jamie?"

"No Sir. I'm not." Though her face belied her words. Marsha looked shellshocked.

"Would you like to sit down, Marsha?" Marsha sat down in a chair along the wall. She looked ready to cry.

But all eyes returned to Miss BBW. "Turn around so I can decide," ordered the Principal. He sized up her butt. He had her face him again. "I'll take off her blouse. She's got a beautiful bosom and we need to see more.

It'll be easier if you sit on my lap."

She did so, nervously. Her red, plaid blouse buttoned up the front, fastened it all the way up. The Principal put one arm around her waist to hold her close, sliding it under the blouse to rest against her cool skin.

"Gotta get some cleavage here, fondling her tits as his hand moved to the top button. He undid the top three and spread the flaps. It was charming. Then he unfastened the remainder. "Get up and spin around." The flaps flew open. The Principal stood behind her, pulled the garment off her shoulders, embraced her by grabbing her breasts and shoved his dick against her butt.

"Your turn, Chief," said Stan. "What happens to Miss Meth?"

Chief eyed her thoughtfully, from head to toe. "Whaddaya think, Marsha. Jamie's lost her shirt. What should we do with Diane?"

Marsha looked ready to kill him. "Jes take off her t-shirt," she scowled.

"That was my idea, too. She's the only girl in the room with pants, so we'll let her keep those a bit longer. He, too, stood behind Miss Meth and slipped his hands under her shirt on her belly. Then he pulled her tight, her butt against his tool. The hands went to the breasts, lifting the shirt with them. He paused there for a minute before lifting it over her head.

"She's got girly tits," said the Mayor. "I like that."

"I'll go next," said Stan. "I got the prettiest girl in the room this round -- Miss College Girl. Wouldn't you all agree?"

"Not sure," said Chief. "I like Miss MILF."

"Whatever. One thing about College Girl is she sure is modest. Odds are she's got a beautiful figure, but it's kind of hard to see under all those clothes. Still, I think her thighs are probably to die for, so I'm going to take off her skirt."

He sat down. "Come and stand between my legs, sweetie." She obeyed. He reached down and fondled her ankle, below the hemline. Slowly running his hands up the back of her calf, and then her thighs, he lifted the skirt to her butt. He pulled her toward him, forcing her to support herself by resting her bosom against his head.

Stan took his time massaging her butt, letting one hand slide around to the front. He explored her crotch through the pantie, though she kept her legs tightly closed.

"Step back and let me get a good look at you." He bunched the skirt together and raised it over her waist. Everybody could see her thighs and pantie-covered butt. He turned her around, undid the hook in the back, along with the zipper. It pooled on the floor and she stepped out of it.

Her thighs were smooth, soft, and perfectly formed. He ran his fingers across the front and back. He felt ready to explode -- wanting to fuck her right then and there.

"Enough," said Stan, reluctantly pushing her away. "It's your turn, Mr. Mayor, to defrock Miss MILF. Whatchya gonna do?"

The Mayor studied her. "I agree with Chief. She's a beautiful woman. That dress is just super-sexy. You must get a lot of tips at the Diner, don't you Terri?"

"I do OK." She smiled, shyly.

"Well, I'm not gonna take off the dress. Not yet. So you know what that means, don't you, Terri?"

She squirmed and looked at the floor.

"Come on. Say it, Terri."

"You're gonna take off my pantie." She blushed red.

"That's right, Terri-girl. Now come over here and stand between my legs." He reached under the dress and fondled her butt and crotch. Eventually his hands got to the waistband. He let his fingers comb her pubic hair as he gradually pulled it down. The middle finger on his other hand traced her butt crack down to her asshole. "Not the time for that," he muttered.

She squirmed, excited and embarrassed.

The pantie fell to the floor. The Mayor stood up and grabbed the hem of her dress. He then put his arm around her waist, holding the hem up so that her bottom was completely exposed.

"That's one beautiful ass," exclaimed the Chief, out of breath.

"Yeah, I agree," said the Principal. The pussy's a charmer, too."

She'd trimmed her bush. It looked neat and clean and ready for action. The Mayor couldn't resist copping another feel.

Stan interrupted. "Marsha, please have the servers clear the table and prepare for the next course.

"The fifth course is called Hidden Hands. That means you can hide your hands under her clothes. But you can't remove any of her remaining clothes, nor can you make anything more visible than it is already. No peeking! Also, except for your tongue, no penetration this round.

And one more little benefit. The servers will spread their legs for you now. So enjoy!"

"Bravo," said the Chief. "I thought we'd never get there."

"This course will last for twenty minutes. We'll give you a few minutes to eat before the hostesses join you.

"Marsha, please ask the servers to present the fifth course."

The skirtless Miss College Girl introduced the meal. "This plate is tuna tartare served with Japanese eggplant."

"What the hell is tuna tartare?" asked Chief, suspiciously.

"Just go with the flow," suggested Stan. "If after a couple of bites you don't like it, then don't eat it. But give it a chance."

Miss College Girl took her dish to the Principal. "Hello, Sir. My name is Miss College Girl. I enjoy getting a massage all over my body. Please don't be shy with me, Sir."

The girl in the support bra delivered a plate to Stan. "Hello, Sir. My name is Miss BBW. I enjoy getting a massage all over my body. Please don't be shy with me, Sir."

Likewise, the shirtless Miss Meth brought food to the Mayor, while Chief got his plate from the seductive Miss MILF. "Hey, am I a lucky guy, or what?" he said.

The servers stood behind their masters while they ate. After a few minutes Marsha rang the bell, the table was quickly cleared, and the servers did what they were expected to do.

They sat on their master's laps, legs akimbo. Most fetching was Miss MILF, instructed by Chief to spread her knees so wide it must've hurt, displaying her pussy to the world. The others momentarily ignored their own servers while admiring Terri's labia. That changed when Chief's hand got in the way.

The Mayor had Miss Meth posed with one leg extended out to the right, while her left foot rested on the chair, so she could hug her knee. That stretched her pants across her privates to maximum advantage. But the Mayor was busy with his hands under her bra, feeling up those girly breasts.

Stan had Miss BBW on his lap. He probably should've explored her tits, but somehow he wanted to go for the pussy. He had her spread her legs, and then he inserted his hand under the waistbands of both the skirt and her underwear. The elastic yielded easily, and soon he felt her wetness. He massaged lightly and the girl got glassy-eyed.

"Hey, Marsha," shouted the Chief. "Looks like your daughter's getting her cunt waxed. And good, too. Whaddaya think of that?"

Aww shuddup, asshole."

"Watch your language, Marsha. I can put you in jail for that." He laughed.

The Principal had Miss College Girl posed across his knees, as if he was going to spank her. And then she had to keep her knees apart so that he could reach between her legs to her pussy. He put his hand inside her pantie, so like Miss BBW she was getting a clit massage.

The bell rang, the girls reassembled themselves and left to fetch the next course.

"The sixth course is called Bosom or Butt. You will again be taking off some of your servers' clothes. You can leave them topless, i.e., showing off their bosom -- or bottomless, i.e., showing off their butt and pussy. But not both.

"You can touch them as needed to take off their clothes. And as before, feel free to freely feel, i.e., take your time. Also, please let us know why you are making your choice.

"Marsha, please present the sixth course."

Miss BBW announced the dish. "This plate is baby back ribs, spiced with a raspberry and cinnamon glaze. Because it's so messy, we will give you time to eat before you get to play with us."

She walked over to the Mayor. "Hello, Sir. My name is Miss BBW. I really want to lose some clothes. Can you help me?"

The lady with pants approached Stan, saying "Hello, Sir. My name is Miss Meth. I really want to lose some clothes. Can you help me?"

Similarly, Miss MILF delivered a plate to the Principal, while Chief got to strip Miss College Girl.

"Yum! This is good," said the Mayor. "I've actually enjoyed all the food all evening, though honestly I haven't been paying too much attention. It's not the star of the show."

"I agree," said the Principal.

When they'd finished their portions Marsha rang the bell, the tables were cleared, and the men cleaned their hands so as not to soil the servers' clothes.

"Alright, Mr. Mayor," proclaimed Stan. "You got Miss BBW, so that means you get to go first."

"It's a no-brainer," said the Mayor. "I really got to see those tits. So I'm going to take off her bra."

Nobody disagreed.

Rather than just unhook it, the Mayor had Miss BBW sit on his lap straddling his hips. He inserted his hand under the cups from the bottom, massaging her nipples while gradually pushing the cups off the breasts. Only then did he reach behind her, undo the hooks and slide the straps off her shoulders.

"Stand up so we can look at you," said the Mayor. She got off his lap and turned around. She really did have nice tits. In a few years they'd sag, but not yet. Firm, round, soft, big, and totally natural, they were the tits any man wants to play with. After a moment he spun her around facing him, pulling her between his legs and burying his face in the fleshy mounds.

"Miss Meth is next in line," said Stan. "So that means it's my turn." He studied his Miss Meth carefully.

"So I don't really like those pants. They're too tight to get your hands inside of them. Takes a lot of the fun out of it."

"I agree," said the Mayor. "I had that problem last round. Not much you can do with them."

"So I'm gonna go with the pants."

"You're going to take off my pants?" complained Miss Meth, unhappily.

"That's right, Missy. And your pantie, too. It's bottomless for you."

"That's not what I was expecting."

"Looks like Diane doesn't like to have her pussy stroked, Marsha," teased the Chief. "Did you raise her to be a good girl or something."

Marsha sat silent, frowning, looking at the floor.

"Come here and sit on my lap," Stan commanded. "And spread your legs. We need to do a feasibility study before making a decision."

She sat down side-saddle, spreading her knees. Stan undid the buckle and reduced the zipper. "Now I can get my hands in there. Let's see if there are any surprises."

"Maybe she's hiding a dick down there," offered the Mayor.

"God, I hope not," answered Stan. He slipped his hand under her pantie and felt for the lower lips. "No. No dick. Sorry Mayor. You're outta luck.

"There do seem to be some hygiene issues. Jeez! This girl stinks!

"We're gonna have to clean you up before we go any further with you, lady." He didn't want to mess around with her pussy anymore, so he asked her to take off her own clothes. She obliged.

"Well, she looks ok," commented the Principal. "Nice little tush. Too skinny for my taste. Though still fuckable."

"OK, Mr. Principal. What's your verdict for Miss MILF?"

"Doesn't look like I have much choice, does it. Given that she's already short her pantie, there's no way I can get her topless without leaving her bottomless. And that breaks the rules."

"I think you're right," answered Stan. "Though I suppose she counts as bottomless already. You could leave her the way she is."

"Are you kidding? No way. Sorry MILFy, but you're losing your sexy dress."

It unhooked in the back and then slid off over her head. The Principal released the hook, but took his time with the sliding. He grabbed the hem and her thigh at the same time. Slowly, sensually, he moved his hands upwards, taking the hem along. He stopped at the hip, taking time to explore her tush and pussy. Stan only got a glimpse of either. But then the hem moved to the waist.

"Hooo -- Wheee," whistled the Chief. "She is just one sexy girl."

As the hem reached the bosom, the stretch marks from her pregnancy showed. "Not too bad," remarked the Mayor. "She definitely still has her figure."

The bra turned out to be lacy pink, barely concealing pert, average-sized tits underneath. The Principal stopped to check that out, but then with some help from the girl herself, the dress was lifted off and discarded on the chair.

The Principal pulled her close. "Oh jeez. Am I gonna fuck you, little girl. You're just too good to be true."

"So what happens to Miss College Girl?" asked Stan. She stood skirtless behind the Chief.

Chief considered. "The easiest'd just be to take off her pantie. That'd be fun, but I want to get her as naked as possible. So I vote for topless."

"So you're taking off her shirt and bra, and leaving the pantie?" asked Stan.

"Yeah. That'll work, won't it?"

"Sure will."

Chief motioned the bare-legged girl to sit on his lap. She wore a baggy sweatshirt that didn't accent her figure. "I bet she's beautiful. But I'll get this shirt off to find out.

"Just to make it more fun, let's do this first." He reached up under the shirt with both hands and unfastened her bra. "Pardon me, gents, but I think I need to do a feasibility study, too. For all I know those tits are fake." His hands moved round to the front and pushed the bra out of the way.

"They're not fake, gents. These are the real McCoy. Oh -- sorry Marsha. I didn't mean to insult you by the comparison." He pulled the bra back in place. With no further ado he lifted the shirt over her head and took it off. The unfastened bra still loosely covered her tits, but not enough to hide their beauty. He pushed the straps off her shoulders and let it fall away."

The men were silent. In awe.

"Do you bang your professors any?" asked the Principal.

"None of your business."

"I'm just saying you could make some real money doing that. Erin, you are beautiful!"

"Marsha, please let the servers prepare for the seventh course," Stan ordered.

The table had already been cleared, so the ladies picked up their clothes and left the room.

"The seventh course is entitled Under the Table.

"As you can see," continued Stan, "the tablecloth will cover a lot of sins. During this course your server will give you a blowjob. Please take a minute to prepare yourself so your server has access."

All hands went below decks as belts were unbuckled, flies were opened, and cocks freed.

"Marsha, please present the seventh course."

Miss MILF -- now without her sexy dress -- announced the dish: "We present to you a chorizo, which is a spicy, Spanish sausage." She walked over to the Mayor and put the dish on his plate. "Hello, Sir. My name is Miss MILF. I hope you enjoy this spicy chorizo. I can't wait to taste your spicy sausage." She stood behind his chair.

Miss Meth --wearing only a bra -- presented her plate to Chief. "Hello, Sir. My name is Miss Meth. I hope you enjoy this spicy chorizo. I can't wait to taste your spicy sausage."

"Just my luck," said the Chief. "Does she have any diseases, Marsha?" Marsha ignored him.

Topless Miss BBW claimed the Principal, while Stan hit the jackpot with the beautiful, pantie-clad Miss College Girl.

"This round lasts fifteen minutes," announced Stan. "The rule is you need to finish your sausage."

Marsha passed out a package of wet wipes to each girl. "So git unner the table, ladies. The sooner we start, the faster they'll cum." The girls got down on all fours, disappeared behind the tablecloth and crawled between the knees of their masters. Stan watched as Erin's tight little ass disappeared from view.

Presently he felt hot breath against his cock. It jumped to attention.

The Chief's eyes got wider. The Principal took off his glasses.

Stan's tool throbbed against her face as she started kissing him. And then licking him.

"Remember," Stan said, while he was still able to speak. "You have to finish your chorizo. That's the rules." He wasn't hungry, but he stabbed it with his fork and managed to take a bite.

He felt her suck on the tip of his cock.

The Mayor's eyes went glassy. The Principal tried to concentrate on the sausage.

The Chief had given up on the sausage. He moved like he was humping her face. One of his hands had disappeared under the table.

Miss College Girl took Stan's dick halfway down. He, too, started humping. Unconsciously he reached for her head to push it down his shaft.

The Principal started to grunt, and then shout. Stan closed his eyes and pushed his tool as far down College Girl's gullet as he could. The Mayor swallowed a bite of sausage.

"Oh God," moaned the Chief. "Here it comes. I can't believe this." He practically jumped up and down in his chair, completely impervious to his surroundings.

Stan almost passed the inevitable point. But he decided he didn't want to shoot his wad -- not this way. He backed his dick out of her throat.

"Oh, Oh... Oh." Miss Meth must've just swallowed a whole lot of cum. Chief had that look of ineffable relaxation.

Marsha rang the bell. Miss College Girl's mouth pulled away, leaving Stan bloody horny. But that was his fault.. A minute later he felt a cool wet wipe as she cleaned him up.

She with the beautiful thighs crawled out from under the table. He put his organ away and zipped up.

Miss Meth was a sight to behold as she emerged. Cum dripped from the corners of her mouth. Apparently she'd backed off just before the final thrust, only to get cum in her eyes and hair.

"Looks like a whore, don't she, Marsha?" said Chief, smiling.

"She ain't no whore. Watch who you call a whore, buster."

"I gotta say," continued Chief, "you trained her well. She sure knows how to suck cock." He borrowed a wet wipe and cleaned himself up. "Whew. That felt good!"

"Marsha, please ask the girls to clear the table and prepare for the eighth course."

Only the Mayor had finished his chorizo. And only the Chief had cum.

"The eighth course is entitled Buck Naked," Stan intoned. "That means just what it suggests -- you'll be removing any clothes they still have on. You can even take off their jewelry if you want to. But let them keep their shoes.
"Let's keep this one short. Eat your food and then strip your girl. We can get this done in five minutes.

"Marsha, please have the servers present the eighth course."

"It's a fruit plate, gents. S'posed to clean the pilot."

"She means cleanse the palate," muttered Stan, under his breath.

The servers all marched in and presented bowls of fresh fruit and cream.

After eating, Stan removed Miss BBW's skirt and pantie.

The Mayor took off Miss Meth's bra.

The Principal relieved Miss College Girl of her pantie.

And Chief freed Miss MILF's breasts from her pink-lace brassiere.

The girls all stood in a row, naked, while the men got out their phones and took pictures.

"Hey. It's not fair," complained Jamie (aka Miss BBW). "We're all naked, but Mama still has her clothes on. She should be naked, too."

Diane (Miss Meth) nodded vigorously. "Yeah, Mama. How come we gotta go through all this shit and you get off scot free?"

"I'm with them," chimed in Chief. "We oughta strip and fuck you like we do the rest of 'em."

"I'm not fucking that old hag," said the Mayor.

Marsha looked to Stan for guidance. "You don't have to do it because it's not part of our agreement. But you can do it if you want to. There's a robe in the closet over there that you can wear after we've had a look at you."

"If you don't do it, then don't be askin' me no favors," said Diane, angrily.

Apparently that threat meant something. Marsha stared at her daughter, a if to make sure she was serious. It seems she was, for the old lady reached behind and unhooked her one-piece, Salvation Army dress. She pulled that off over her head.

That left her in a bra and panties. The bra got taken off first, followed by the panties. She made no effort to seduce. "Ta da" she said. "Are you happy now?"

Actually, she didn't look as bad as Stan expected. Her tummy was distended from the pregnancies, and she was overweight. But she still had clear skin and a well-shaped butt. Not fuckable, thought Stan, but at least not disgusting.

Marsha marched over to the closet to fetch the robe. Newly clad, she awaited instructions.

"Marsha, please have the servers prepare for the last course."

The naked girls cleared the table and returned to the kitchen.

"The last course is entitled Just Desserts. You will be given a finishing sweet, which you can enjoy with your girl. She'll sit next to you. Once we're done eating, we'll retire to the sitting room for an after dinner drink. After that you can mix your own drinks. This course will last for as long as you want it to.

"There are very few rules for this course. Please behave like a gentleman while sharing your dessert. Your girl will be dressed in a nightgown. Leave it alone for the moment.

"Once we're in the sitting room, it's up to you if you want your girl dressed. You can have her naked if you prefer. The girls will enjoy the after dinner liqueur, but after that they are permitted only one additional drink.

"Your girl is the one assigned by lot at the beginning of the evening. She is your sex slave until tomorrow noon. You may lend her out, perhaps in trade for somebody else's girl. But she belongs to you.

"While your girl can be naked, you must remain dressed in the sitting room. If you want to get more intimate you can take the girl to your room, where there are no rules.

"Any questions?" There were none.

"Marsha, can you please serve the last course."

Naked Miss BBW introduced the dish. "This is dulce de leche. It is sweet and refreshing."

Miss BBW walked over to Chief. "Hello, Sir. My name is Miss BBW. I will be your faithful sex servant tonight." Chief looked a little disappointed.

Miss BBW modeled the one-piece nightgown that all the girls would wear. It extended to mid thigh. It tied around the collar -- release that tie and her tits would hang out. She wore no underwear. Miss BBW's color was baby blue.

Miss BBW carried two desserts. One she put in front of Chief, and the other was for her. She sat down in the chair next to him.

Miss Meth served the Principal. "Hello, Sir. My name is Miss Meth. I will be your faithful sex servant tonight." Miss Meth's color was yellow.

Miss College Girl attended to the Mayor. Her color was pink.

Finally, Miss MILF was Stan's slave. She came outfitted in green.

They all sat next to their masters. The food was good.

As they adjourned to the sitting room, the Principal had a request. "Stan, I was wondering if we could trade girls for awhile. Miss Meth is not to my liking. I think she needs a bath."

Stan had thought himself lucky to have landed Miss MILF. She was his favorite girl. But he realized that Meth didn't work as a sex slave -- at least not until he'd straightened her up. "You can have MILF for a couple of hours. But I want her back later tonight."

Stan took Miss Meth roughly by the arm. "You need a shower young lady. Come with me." He marched her to a guest bathroom down the hall. "Strip off that gown," he ordered, as he turned on the shower. He undressed himself.

He pulled the naked lady into the shower and started lathering her up. He soaped under her arms, her tits, and her feet. Then he got busy with the stinky parts. He used a washcloth to clean her anus (yuck). His fingers scrubbed her labia, clit, pubic hair and crotch. She was polished to a shine.

"You gotta wash your hair yourself." He handed her the shampoo and shoved her under the water, her back to him. He grabbed the condom from the soap rack (supplies are prepositioned in a harem) and put it on. No way I'm doing this skank bareback, he thought. He put it on while she lathered up.

Her eyes were closed to keep the soap out. He spun her round, shoved her against the wall, pushed her legs apart, and in one swift motion rammed his rod up her cunt -- all the way to the hilt.

How lucky is that? he thought.

She let out a shriek -- whether from pain/surprise/pleasure he couldn't tell. Didn't matter now. He made sure soap got in her eyes so she'd keep them closed. Lifting her by the butt, he pinned her against the wall at an optimal height for humping.

He started slow, pleased to feel she was wet.

Once he had the rhythm, he pounded her shudderingly hard. smashing his hips into hers with as much force as he could muster. His lips found hers -- he pushed his tongue inside. He required one hand to hold her in position, but the other he used to knead her breast. Not gently.

It took him about two minutes to cum. Actually, he wanted to deposit his first wad into Miss MILF, but that was not to be. He'd have to do her later, for sure.

"Rinse your hair." She stepped again under the shower.

He got dressed while she dried her hair.

"Where are my clothes?" she asked.

"Don't worry. You don't need them."

"Whaddaya mean I don't need them? I can't go around naked."

"Sure you can. And if you want to get paid, you will. I want you naked." She looked ready to cry. "Come'on. Don't start crying. Every other girl's gonna be naked. Everybody's already seen you anyway. Buck up.

"Is it worth losing a thousand dollars?"

She pulled herself together. Hand on her butt, he escorted her back to the sitting room.

Miss MILF and the Principal weren't there. Neither were the Mayor or Miss College Girl. That figured. All the good girls are taken, thought Stan. The Chief, holding a drink, sat next to the clothed Miss BBW. He looked four sheets to the wind.

"I'll trade you Diane for Jamie," suggested Stan.

"What'd I do that for?" Chief slurred.

"Just to make me happy. I already fucked Diane. See. I cleaned her up good. I even got her naked for you."

"Sew yu wanna screw Marshi's girls? Huh?"

"Something like that?"

"Whaddaya think, Marsh? Should I led him scrue Jamie?"

"Can't hurt," said Marsha, from the far corner of the room. "You sure ain't doin' it."

They made the trade.

Stan stripped her naked and took Miss BBW to his room. He used her bosom as a pillow. His hand rested in her crotch. He fell asleep.

By two in the morning the sitting room was empty. Marsha straightened up a bit, turned off the lights, and went to bed.

Stan gave Jamie a good, hard screw.
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