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 ï>¿Candaulism by Fishman

   Candaulism Part III My wife agrees to take off all her clothes in front
of my friends in the basement of my parent's house and show herself naked
to them while I spy from outside the window.

   Since we were now back in the old neighborhood where I grew up and went
to high school, many of my old friends dropped in to see us, the same guys
who used to visit us in our apartment before we had moved away after that
incident with Steve.  They said they came to visit for the same reason that
we were housesitting, that is, for the air conditioning and the free booze
and the color TV and the rec room.  But of course they also came for their
interest in my wife.

   We had seen almost nothing of them for more than a year and a half, yet
they were still as horny about her as ever.  She had put on a little
weight, but she was as attractive as ever to them, and they seemed just as
eager to press her for sex.  It was not long before I was witnessing the
same old maneuvers.  Trying to stick a hand up her shirt.  Teasing her. 
Craig and Jon especially.  Jon brought friends to give a try as well. 
Whenever I was out of the room and even when I wasn't.

   But Karen was not the same.  She responded more coyly, I thought... 
with more understanding of what they intended.  If she had been naive
before, permitting improper advances with genuinely shy embarrassment and
uncertain resistance, she was no more.  Her experiences with Craig had
changed how she felt, and how she reacted to her own feelings and she now
understood their feelings.  Yes, her innocence and naivety was completely
gone; in its place was a knowing and flirtatious acknowledgment.  In short
she knew herself, and she understood what they wanted of her.

   Craig had matured her sexually, though they should not know that.  She
knew what they wanted and sometimes she teased them; she baited them even
to try things.  She did not hesitate to look at them with a coy and
seductive smile, kiss and play, then laugh and leave them hard.  She could
not be so easily guided into reluctant necking or letting them cop a feel
of her breasts.  She knew what she was doing.  To their great
disappointment she also had more skill in rejecting them as well.  Teasing
them and leaving them cock-hard.  I saw it more than once.  She knew what
she was doing.

   For their part my friends were non-plussed, especially Gary who had
always had a crush on her and had dated her before I had dated her once
upon a time.  I could see that now he felt he had a chance to "do her," but
she always put him off.  He tried to come visit while I was work, she told
me.  He had put a move on her, and she had teased him, letting him kiss
her, feel under her sweatshirt but pushed him off when he became more
urgent.  Making her tell me all this in detail aroused my fantasies even
more.

   Jon on the other hand seemed to annoy Karen, grinning at her as he
watched her playfulness.  She seemed disturbed by his fixed gaze.

   I debated with myself about whether I should tell my friends what I
wanted.  I decided I would not.  I did not know how they would respond to
me, and besides I wanted them to think I did not know.  I wanted them to be
in charge and I wanted her to make them think she wanted them to see her
naked.

   I had no real idea what would happen after she took off her clothes.  If
she did it, I did not know what they would do then.  I would have to leave
it to her and them, although honestly my fantasies were sick and
humiliating.  But I would not tell her any of these thoughts.  It might
intimidate her.  No, I would tell her: I just to see you take your clothes
off for them and let them see you naked.  But how?  What was the excuse? 
She would be drinking of course.  I would go to bed and leave them alone.
But why would she do it?  Would they be necking?  Would Gary get carried
away?  Would she just stand up and do it?

   I thought at first that I might leave it to chance which of my friends
(or friends of my friends) should be there that night.  But I did not want
to risk disappointment.  It should be a Friday night so that Craig would
not be there.  I called Gary to make sure someone would come, knowing that
he would probably bring Howie at least.  I guessed he would also call Jon.
Other than that I really hoped that there would be several--maybe some I
did not know.

   I really could not imagine how it would go.  I thought it just as likely
to flop.  I mean, Karen might chicken out.  Or they might be too worried
about me to press her.  My thoughts went in circles.  I had to just stop
thinking about it.

   But of course I could not.  I rehearsed it over and over in my mind.  I
went down to the basement to consider the scene.  Where should they sit?  I
considered where I should be outside as I watched them.  I considered where
Karen should stand in the room when she did it and how she should do it.

   I was determined to act immediately before I lost my nerve, but more
than this, I have to admit, I was obsessed.  I thought of little else.  I
daydreamed it.  I masturbated to it.  It was like the epitome of my
fantasies.  It was what I had thought about since I was a teenager.  And my
wife, though more savvy, more aware of her sexuality, was yet willing to do
anything to please me.  And I believed she would not be unwilling anyway,
even if she was a little scared and worried about the consequences.

   This time, when I told her what I wanted her to do, I was explicit.  I
reminded her of how I had wanted her to let Craig take off her clothes
while I spied on them.  I told her that I was not satisfied with how it had
turned out.  He had not done it and so this time I would want her to do it
herself.  She was thinking of course that I meant for her to take off her
clothes for Craig while I watched.  She nodded agreement.  But I said she
did not understand.

   "Tomorrow.  When the guys come over.  They will want to fool around with
you.  Don't fight too much.  Whatever they want, I want you to let them."
She nodded.

   "And then after I am gone to bed, I want you to take off all your
clothes for them."

   She looked shocked.  I persisted but avoided her gaze.  This time there
would be no chance that I would not see what I wanted to see, because she
would do exactly what I wanted.  I was clear and specific.  "I will go to
bed saying I feel sick.  I will leave you alone with them.  They will try
to do things with you, you know, after I've gone.  You know they will. 
After I'm gone just get up and say: "Is this what you want?" And take off
your clothes."

   She did not say anything when I finished.  But she was thinking.  She
did not look at me, she looked at the floor.  She had not said no, that was
encouraging.  She asked me: "Where will you be?"

   I said: "I'll be outside." She looked puzzled.  "You'll be in the rec
room, in the basement," I explained.  "I can see everything through the
window if you stand in the center of the room when you do it."

   "Who will...?" She did not finish the sentence.

   "I don't know.  The usual guys," and I admitted, "Gary's coming over for
sure." She blushed.  Certainly there would be Gary.  I had already invited
him on purpose.  "Howie's coming too," I added, "and probably Jon." She did
not like Jon, as I said.  She always seemed a little afraid of Jon.  When I
mentioned his name in particular, she became more remote and unresponsive
too.  Or perhaps it was Howie that bothered her.  She had known Howie since
the two of them grew up in the same neighborhood.  The thought of taking
off all of her clothes in front of him made her feel vaguely sick - like
she was taking off her clothes for her brother.  She said nothing more, she
thought some more.

   She did not look at me.  "Who else?"

   I shrugged.  There usually were five or six guys who came over.  She
knew that.  Who or how many would be there to see my naked wife, I didn't
know either.  The more the better I was thinking.  I wished I'd told Gary
to invite a bunch of guys.  I think she saw what I was thinking, and it
made her feel cheapened.

   Thinking about it, about doing this thing, taking off her clothes in the
basement, standing naked in front of them, she looked more and more unhappy
in the thought, more unhappy than upset.  I think it hurt her feelings that
I should want to humiliate her in this way, but then as I saw it her
experience with Craig taught her to be sexually submissive and there was
nothing that I asked that was very different in kind from things she had
done willingly for him.  I reminded her of that.  "If you love me, like you
love him...." I suggested.  I reminded her of the time in the cab with the
cabbie.

   She was obviously hurt and ashamed by the reference and my presumption.
She did not reply.  I said I didn't see how I was asking her to do anything
different than she already had done for Craig.  Of course she had been
really drunk those other times, that is true.  I was thinking she'd have to
show herself naked for my friends, drunk or sober.  "You can get drunk, if
you want."

   She looked at me searchingly.  "What else then....  what if they want
things?" she asked sadly.

   I pretended that I had not thought of that until she brought it up. 
"What do you mean?" I asked.  But of course I had thought of it.  There she
would be, after all, standing there completely naked in the basement, after
she had just flirted and let them cop feels all night.  Of course they
would want to do things.  But I did not want her to back away now, now that
I had her so close to giving in.

   I shrugged and said: "All I want is you take off your clothes for them."

   Actually, though, I fantasized about that lots of things might very well
happen and I think she saw what I was thinking.  It was in her mind as
well.

   She looked worried: "Jon will want things."

   Why did she single out Jon?  I could believe Gary would certainly
try--after all he'd been trying to get her panties off (unsuccessfully) for
years--but why did she say Jon?  I asked her what she meant.  She would not
reply.

   "What things?" I wondered disingenuously.  "Do you want them to do
things?"

   "Is that what you want?" she asked.  I tried to embrace her, but she was
stiff.  She turned away from me, shaking her head, folding her arms.

   I asked her again: "Just take off your clothes for them." She would not
look at me.  She said she wanted to think about it.  I left her alone for a
while.

   She did not speak about it until later once we were in bed.  She was not
interested in sex.  We laid apart on the bed, she staring at the ceiling.
She asked me quietly: "Why do you want this?"

   "I don't know," I admitted.

   "Why?" she repeated, leaning to look at me.

   "I don't know.  I want to see you naked for them...." Then I added: "I
think you want to be naked for them too." I watched for her reaction to my
suggestion.  She sighed.

   She stared at me.  She was silent for a long while.  She asked: "Are you
sure?"

   I said: "Yes...  Will you do it then?"

   "If it is really what you want...  " She looked sad and then turned her
face away from me.  She was obviously too distressed to look at me.; or did
not want me to know what she was thinking.  It gave me a sexual pang to
think of it, because it meant she would do it.  Reluctantly?  Willingly?

   "Yes..." I said.  I told her I loved he.  She sat up.  I sat up beside
her.

   I kissed here cheek.  She said nothing.  She sat stiffly as I kissed
her.

   I made love to her then, coupling her from behind, but she was impassive
and remote.  My mind filled with imagination of them seeing her naked as I
fucked her.  This would hurt our marriage, but I did not care.  Bitterly,
spitefully I thought how she owed me this much, for all the things she had
done at the Frat house and that time with the Cabbie, with Steve and that
other boy.

   I took off work on Friday.  I was too keyed up.  Karen slept late and
seemed very distant all day.  She said little to me all day.  I asked her
several times if she was okay and she smiled and nodded.  But I think she
worried.

   I felt giddy.  I wondered if she felt the same giddiness that I did.  We
got to the house early.  My parents had already gone.  She watched TV.  I
made some snacks.  I went to the store to get soft drinks.  When I came
back she had changed her clothes.

   She had started drinking before I came back.

   What she wore was her own idea.  And it was perfect.  She deliberately
appealed to the old days.  She wore the same outfit that she used to wear
when my friends came over to the old apartment.  Bobby socks, blue jean
shorts, and one of my t-shirts.  The blue jean shorts (with the legs rolled
up above her knees) were in fact the very same she used to wear, which now
pinched her waist, a bit too snug for her since she had gained weight.  The
t-shirt, large on her, hung down to mid-thighs, actually covering the jeans
beneath, so that to their imagination she might be entirely naked
underneath.  And of course, she did not wear a bra.  And that was obvious.

   Dressed this way, so provocatively reminiscent of times they must
remember, she would seem to be inviting them.  I saw it that way.  They
would certainly see it that way.  I think, she meant it that way.

   Dressed this way, all the ideas they harbored would be excited.  They
saw for certain that she was not wearing a bra, seeing the nubby points of
tits underneath the t-shirt, and the pudgy fleshiness wobbling when she
danced up and down to get them drinks.  They would see this as an
invitation, like the old days.  Why not?  They always tried to lift her
shirt.  She should know that.

   It was hard to wait for them.  We said nothing to each other about it.
It was understood.  I had it all scripted.  I had told her even how I would
guide them all to the basement rec room.  How I had set it up.  Lights on.
Curtains open.  Where they would sit.  Where she would stand.  When I would
leave them.  Where I would lie outside to watch.  When she should do it.  I
expected them to come about 8.  They didn't start coming until 8:30 and
Karen was already drinking.

   When my friends arrived, she even acted like she used to act.  She was
already tipsy.  Acting little silly.  Shy to greet them.  Awkward.  And of
course they flattered her on her clothes right off.  They remembered.  She
blushed and pretended to ignore the comments.

   Gary and Howie arrived first.  She kissed Gary on the mouth, surprising
him.  Then, for good measure, she kissed Howie too, pressing her soft
breasts against him.  Well, both had really been goods friends of hers well
before I came along.  Gary had dated her, as I said, and Howie had been a
member of her church (back when she a pre-teen and went to church).  Then,
Andy came alone -- he was Steve's brother, by the way, and that would
introduce all the tension of the night, because of course everybody knew
the stories that Steve told.  And Bill came--not particularly a friend of
mine or Karen's-- in fact he always treated Karen with nasty remarks, he
didn't like her.  He brought his younger brother Timmy.  They really came
to drink free liquor.  Especially so for Timmy because he was just a
Sophomore in High School.  I felt anxious now myself as my imagination
began to conceive and anticipate.  I saw the anxiety pass in her face too
when Jon arrived with his friend, a stranger to us, he introduced as Bob.
Bob leered at my wife like he guessed what would happen.  I suppose Jon had
told him stories.  I was righter than I knew.

   Jon was the last to arrive, about 9.  This would be it then.  Six.  That
was good.  The number was right.  She would be gang-banged.  Or at least
humiliated.

   I had it planned to coincide with the TV news.  I looked at the clock.
An hour to go.  I felt almost dizzy.

   I had not anticipated this group at all apart from Gary and Howie.  The
rest -- except for maybe Jon -- was not expected.  In particular I had not
expected Bill; he was an old friend of Gary's and I suppose that it why he
was here, but he had never been a regular in the past, and he didn't
particularly like me or my wife, as I said.

   And Bill also happened to work where I was working at present, not on
the same area, but we saw each other sometimes and he knew guys I knew.  I
had qualms about the thought of him being here.  Would he tell other guys I
worked with?  I just pushed the thought of it out of my mind.  Or perhaps,
recklessly, I entertained the idea.  Again, the gnawing anticipation.  Why
did I want her humiliated?  Did she want it?  She looked already sexually
flushed.  I was sure they saw that too.

   Andy was the real surprise; he had completely avoided us ever since the
incident with Steve, his brother, as if he was ashamed of it, or worried I
would be angry with him about it.  I was glad to see him; he had been my
best friend in high school, but I worried how he might take this.  Andy
would be the most astounded, because of all of them, while I think he
privately and painfully lusted for her, he had never tried anything
untoward; he was too shy, and he would think of me.  And yet, I had no
doubt, he had always wanted to see my wife naked, just like the rest of
them.  He had been here several times when they got her drunk and tried to
get her shirt off, lifting it to expose bobbling breasts.  He had watched
it all.  He had gotten a glimpse once or twice.  She was too reckless in
those days.  It had embarrassed him.  Still he looked.  He had hoped they
would do more, I am sure.

   Of course I had not expected either Timmy or the stranger that Jon
brought.  The stranger Bob leered at Karen from the outset, as I said.  Jon
and he stood apart and drank standing up, commenting to one another.  It
was obvious they talked about my wife.  It was almost like they knew what
was going to happen, although when it did no one was more surprised than
Bob, nor more enthusiastic.

   Timmy had come to drink, as I said.  He treated Karen like he might his
mother.  Timmy was barely sixteen, I am guessing, and although tall looked
like a boy; his age discomfited Karen but also intrigued her, I could see
that.  She looked at me when he came in.  I guessed she was beginning to
get cold about doing it.  But I shrugged and pretended it was okay. 
Actually his age and innocence, his stunned amazement would heighten her
shame, I thought, for this is someone who would likely tell other boys he
knew, boys in the neighborhood.  She would have a naughty reputation among
a whole bunch of high school teenage boys after this -- a legend that would
build.

   But except for him, all others present -- including the sneering leering
stranger -- were more or less our age, all recently come to the legal
drinking age.  And while in the year -- hell, almost two years that had
passed since we used to hang out -- Jon and Bill had some luck with
girls--or so they bragged---the others had remained basically virgins and
were inexperienced in sex, if not entirely innocent.  Oh, they all might
claim they knew more than they really did of course.  But even Jon and Bill
had maybe only done it a couple times and probably knew more from magazines
and porn movies than anything real.

   Andy, I am sure, had never seen a naked woman in the flesh; he had never
even been to a strip club.  Neither had Gary or Howie for that matter.  And
none of these guys would get married for several years; my wife would be
the sum total of their sexual experience until then.

   Perhaps Jon was a real player, or at least he thought himself one, and
in the end he would lead the others through the night, being eager to
harshly push the shameful extreme of what my wife could tolerate,
possessing a keen insight for her abuse and humiliation and for the
delicate application of coercion and teasing to coax her to sexually
surrender.  He knew when and how to plainly bully her, when to let her
tearfully breakdown, and when to tell her that she was beautiful and kiss
her kindly.  He had absolutely no conscience at all.

   I could not have picked a better group if I had tried.  And the fact
that it made Karen so plainly giddy, so that they all saw it too, actually
made me even more sexually excited in my anticipation.  Her anxiety, my
sexual excitement made me giddy too.  I think they thought we were both a
little nuts that night.  I was watching the clock and watching her.  She is
drinking heavily.  I did not drink at all.

   My friends in the know of course saw the significance of the provocative
clothing that she was wearing, the clear "invitation" was not lost on them,
as I have said.  They all knew what it meant --and I think Jon explained it
to the stranger almost as soon as they arrived--

   Jon was especially open about the implications.  I began to see why
Karen worried about him, but still did not know why.  When Jon arrived with
his friend -- the stranger whom he would later introduce as Bob -- he
immediately commented on her clothing in simply rude and coarse terms
calling her out for dressing like that, calling her "a little cock-teaser"
in fact and when he embraced her in his greeting, he let a trailing hand
feel the underside of her breast, almost groping it.  She fended his hand
yet showed to him her awareness of his touch in a nervous sidelong glance
after him.

   Actually all of them when they arrived took special notice of how she
dressed; Jon was just maybe the most unabashed.  I saw Gary, Howie -- even
Andy -- steal glances at the nubby points of her tits under her shirt, the
hint of the supple shape, the way they bobbed when in one of her strange
manic cheery moods she ran to open the door for another guest or bounced up
to get a drink for one of my friends or dodged from an illicit grope with a
teasing look.

   Her behavior and mine gave them mixed messages.  They kept looking at me
for my response to the obvious indecencies being taken with my drunk wife,
expecting me to be jealous and upset, especially given the stories told by
Steve about her.  But I acted like I didn't care and maybe I even
encouraged them to go ahead and cop a feel, if she'd let them, turning my
head to the things that I saw, and they knew that I saw them.

   Karen's ambiguous feelings, rising in anxiety as the time drew nearer,
showed in odd behavior; they saw how giddy she felt and how awkwardly she
acted -- starting with the provocative way she dressed and how she looked
at them -- and it made them uncomfortable.  All except the stranger who
winked at Jon and said things under his breath.  But I knew that because
she was feeling so queasy about what she had agreed to do -- anticipating
the moment that she would take off her clothes for them -- she was
alternately strangely moody, then incongruously chirpy and frivolous:
imagining nervously what she felt would be their likely response, obsessing
in anticipation on what she imagined they would do to her; then suddenly
she would be withdrawn, quiet and worried, thinking (I suppose) of the
regretful aftermath.

   When one of them spoke to her or sat beside her, she would try to be
happy, trying not to think of it.  But teasing her or flirting with her
would seem to worry her, even while she tried to good-naturedly receive
them.  She blushed with more discomfort than they expected, and after all
their teasing was not meant to be cruel, though suggestive and at moments
raw, but from time to time she would look on the verge of tears.

   They felt her tension.  When she was left alone, she would sit apart
looking about the room of them inappropriately despondent, for no good
reason that they could tell.

   Reengaging her, trying to cheer her, she smiled cheerily, but her cheery
smile showed an obvious pretense and the moment she was left alone she
plunged back into a sullen anxious preoccupation.

   They saw all the wildness in her emotions, and it perplexed them.  They
asked me privately what was wrong.  Was something wrong?  Nothing's wrong,
I said, she just has something on her mind.  They asked her too when they
saw she looked unhappy.  But of course she would smile and try to be
amusing.

   I knew what she was thinking about, for I was thinking it too: the time
was approaching.  I shared her anxiety: what would they do when she took
off her clothes?  I did not know for certain.  I had deliberately left it
to fate.  And I shared her misgivings about the aftermath.  What would they
think of her?  How will the feel about me?

   The atmosphere of the evening had a knife-edge, like there was going to
be violent thunderstorm.

   I contributed to the atmosphere myself.  Alternately over-solicitous to
her (feeling guilty and frankly wanting to reassure her so that she would
not back out) and then again ignoring her, especially as they made comments
or sexual advances toward her.  Sitting next to her, she between Gary and
Howie on the sofa.  They watched TV.  When he thought I wasn't looking,
Gary put his hand up her shirt, which I pretended I did not see but which
obviously I had.  All of them saw it.  All of them saw she let him.  He
withdrew his hand when I came back to the room.

   Because she had not discouraged him--in fact she had just sat there
watching TV with a nonchalance while Gary felt her-- the moment I turned
away to talk to Jon, Gary put his hand up her shirt again while the others
grinned or I could see it out of the corner of my eye in a reflection on
the sliding glass door that opened to the back yard.  He fondled her openly
while she sat smiling dewy eyed and woozy with drink.  I turned and caught
him.  He pulled out his hand with an abashed grin.  But I just shrugged,
and I winked at him; even Andy saw that.

   My friends thought this should have offended me, especially the teasing
of this stranger whom Jon had brought, who said rudely out loud, "Why not
take off her shirt?" I said nothing even to this, and Karen pretended not
to hear it.  It must have seemed to them that I oddly ignored her misuse
and humiliation.

   Karen for her part pretended to be blithely oblivious, even while Gary's
hand toyed with her bare tit, her shirt raised enough to show a bit of the
bottom of her bare tit, her plump belly.  I think he wanted to lift the
shirt to expose her, but he did not dare.  Gary looked at me sheepishly. 
Karen pushed her shirt to her lap with her fist and reached for her drink
on the coffee table.  Sipping, blushing, she sprang up and ran out.

   They all looked after her.  I felt a bit uncertain.  There was a lot of
muttering and joking that I could not hear and was not meant to hear.  I
worried she would not come back, so I went to look for her and found her
coming out of the upstairs bathroom.  I asked if she was alright and she
looked at me quizzically and smiling and skipped down the stairs.  I heard
them greet her gaily.  She had just gone to pee, I guessed.

   When she came back it was obvious, she had taken off her jean shorts. 
When she flounced back on the sofa, I saw and many others saw her bare legs
and flashed her underpants, and so they let them see, until she smiled
sheepishly and sat up and tugged the undershirt back to her knees.  The
boys were alert and keen.  Gary grinned.  Jon winked at his friend.

   We stayed upstairs until I was certain no one else was coming.  It was
coming up on 10 o'clock.  I had told her she should do it about 10, just
after the news programs came on the TV.  That was to be her cue.

   She was talking animatedly with Bob, Jon and Gary in the center of the
kitchen when I approached them.  I announced that we should all go down to
the basement and the rec room.  They seemed confused.  I told Gary to grab
the liquor bottles: "There's more beer in the fridge downstairs."

   She looked at me seriously.  She watched them file down.

   As they went down, before she went down the stairs, she stopped me.  She
wanted to say something.

   What she said was not perhaps what she mean to say: "Am I dressed
alright?" Her speech slurred.  I don't think it was what she meant to say.
But I think it was her way of cryptically signaling her intent to go ahead
with it.  Her face showed me what she meant.  Eyes so wanting me to love
her, to reassure her.

   I said: "Maybe you should stop drinking now?"

   "Why?" she said defiantly.  She looked unhappy.

   I kissed her and embracing her, feeling supple bare breasts against me
beneath her t-shirt.  I put my hand underneath and touched them.  She
leaned her forehead to my shoulder.

   "You look beautiful," I said, kissing her forehead.  "You okay?" She
nodded, but she seemed very unhappy now.  Still she said nothing in reply.
Everything was communicated between us in her submissive nod.

   Downstairs, the boys found seats on the sofa and loveseat under the
window.  Andy turned on the TV that was in the corner; he was not one to
socialize and distracted himself.  I brought down the snacks and put them
out onto the wet bar.  Karen sat on the sofa between three of the boys Andy
on one side (a safe bet) and then Gary and Howie.  Bill and Timmy sat on
the love seat off to the side.  Jon and Bob sat on the coffee table or on
the sofa arm, chatting up the others, on both sofa and love seat..

   We drank.  The boys flirted with Karen just like they had been doing. 
Gary and Jon and Howie were taking turns at it.  Switching places, sitting
next to Karen and Andy as we watched TV and drank.  The same old play.  A
hand at her waist, then touching on her bare skin.  A whisper.  Her blush.
The hand slipping onto her tummy when I was turned away.  But now she was
pushing it off before it got to the prize.  The newcomers Bob and Timmy
seemed perplexed that I did nothing to stop it.  Karen was quite drunk, and
it was likely that several hands would eventually slip further up beneath
her shirt.  It was game now.  Gary showed her white underpants to the top
to her plump bare belly and her belly button before she slapped him away.
He meant to finger her if they could.  She held the T-shirt down with a
fist and shook her head at Gary, who glanced my way furtively.

   Aware of the incident with Steve, but uncertain of the truth of it, Gary
and Jon now teased Karen asking her if she ever saw Steve nowadays.  Jon
asked after the other boy whose name I had never heard before then.  Karen
had not told me.  She said she did not know.  Gary said the name: Larry
something.  Jon said: "Larry remembers you well." She blushed.  I think
they all of them knew the stories.

   After drinking some more the boys started to talk about sex,
deliberately I think, in order to embarrass Karen and she did seem
uncomfortable.  An allusion was made to cock-sucking.  Gary, again, looking
up under Karen's downcast eyes, asked her plainly: "Do you do that?" She
bit a lip and looked up at me.  Gary grinning said: "No.  Why would a girl
like that?"

   Jon said slyly, making a little knowing glance at Karen: "Maybe she
likes the taste of cum." The silence made everyone uncomfortable.  Jon
nudges Karen, leaning toward and adds maliciously: "Tell us, Karen.  Do you
like the taste of cum?"

   She looked hurt, it is true, and embarrassed.  Howie looked worried and
looked at me.  I think he expected me to say something.  When I didn't,
Andy turned away in embarrassment for me.  Gary laughed nervously in spite
of himself.  Timmy looked confused.  Bob grinned.  Bill rolled his eyes. 
Jon nodded and winked at me.

   Seeming upset, Karen got up and went upstairs.

   We were all disappointed, I am sure, and I was worried that she would
not go through with it.  I told Jon he should not talk to her like that. 
He apologized but then asked: "Does she like sucking cock?" Only his friend
laughed.  I blushed I suppose.  I sort of nodded with a stupid look on my
face.  Truth is she had not done it to me.  She had done it others.

   At length she came back.  She looked serious, even unhappy, but was
flushed.  She sat next to Gary, scooping her t-shirt up underneath her
bottom snuggly.  That is when I realized she had gone upstairs to take off
her underpants.  She was naked under the t-shirt.  I had not asked for
this. This was her idea.  She looked at me as if wanting my permission.  I
knew what she wanted it.  I returned a knowing look.  She knew I knew. 
Gary looked perplexed at the two of us puzzling at our exchange.  He could
not guess.

   I interrupted the conversation now suddenly.  It seemed a good time.  It
was nearly ten and I had told Karen her cue should be when the news came
on. That she should ask someone to turn down the sound then and then wait a
moment and then take her position in the room.

   I said I didn't feel well.  Some of them thought it was because the sex
talk was getting raunchy.  I said I thought I had eaten something bad.  I
was going to have to go to bed.  But I added: "You guys stay.  Karen will
keep you company.  Have a good time...."

   I motioned to Karen when I stood where I wanted her to stand, seeing
that from here I could see everything well.  As she got up, Gary's hand
slipped out from beneath her shirt.

   She approached me meekly, aware that I had seen him fondling her and
that she had allowed it.  I whispered to her: "Stand here....  this is
where...." She looked down and nodded.  I did not kiss her.  I just left.
She returned to sit beside Gary.

   I had gone out the front door and ran around to the back yard to peek
into the windows.  I had opened the windows a bit earlier so that I would
be able to hear them, saying it was because of their smoking.  It was cool
outside anyway; we didn't have the air conditioning on.

   When I settled in creeping close enough to hear and see well, Gary was
keeping up his rude patter.  What he expected Karen to say I do not know.
It was almost cruel; I think he expected her to get upset, but she did not.
She looked worried, he saw that clearly he was hitting a nerve; maybe
Steve's stories were really true.

   Jon finally said for him to give it a rest.  He leaned to explain the
subtext to Bob in a quiet aside.  Bob's eyes widened on Karen.  Karen saw
this.

   "You didn't answer me," Gary teased her.

   "I didn't hear you," she said meekly.

   He repeated it: "Do you like sucking cock?"

   They waited.  Everyone looked at her.  She blushed.  She did not
respond.

   The TV news began.  It was time.  I was ready.  But nothing happened. 
Karen did nothing.  I began to doubt that she would do it.

   Gary laughed: "I don't know.  Anyway you never had your cock sucked."

   Jon took offense.  He looked at my wife, then back at Gary.  "Oh yeah
and she loved it."

   "Really?  Who?" asked Gary, "Some boy scout?"

   "Fuck you," retorted Jon.

   "Who then?  Anybody we know?" He winked at Jon and looked at Karen. 
Andy had looked up from the news and glanced at my wife

   Jon seeing Andy looking at my wife, added the irrelevant fact: "You
know, Steve got his cock sucked by some married woman he knows.  He's
always bragging about it.  Right?"

   Dropping the bomb.  They did not speak for several minutes, listening to
the news.  I began to believe it would not happen.

   To my friends, Karen seemed to be upset, and those in the know
interpreted this to be her response to the pointed reference Jon had made
about Steve.  It was like accusing a witch, trying to get her guilt to show
in her face, and were getting to her.  Her discomfort showed but those who
did not know what was going on just thought the nasty topic offended her.
Good girls don't do such things.  The conversation lapsed.  The TV droned.
Karen had lost her nerve.  It wasn't going to happen.

   Gary got up to get himself another drink.  He asked Karen if she wanted
one.  She said no.  The conversation resumed and in the background I heard
an announcer go off on a rant of sports scores in the newscast.  It had
been more than twenty minutes.  I thought I might as well go back inside.
She wouldn't do it now.

   Then, I heard Karen speak to Andy: she asked him to turn down the volume
on the TV.

   I was disheartened.  In my mind I spoke to her a silent command.  "Get
up." I squeezed my dick and sent my thoughts to her: "Take it off." Gary
was coming back with his mixed drink when Karen got up from the sofa.  And
I felt an anxious anticipation.

   "You said you didn't want one.  I would have got you one."

   She smiled at him and said: "No, it's okay." She touched his arm and
seemed preoccupied.  When he sat down, Karen stepped around to the other
side of the coffee table.  I spoke to her in mind again: "Yes." Gary looked
up as he sat to see that Karen had gone to stand out into the room a little
beyond the end of the love seat the love seat squared up in a L with the
sofa and in the corner nook between this matching set there was a table
lamp, its light also turned on, set on a square end table.  All the lights
were turned on in the room.  I had made sure of that.

   "Do it," my thoughts directed to her.  She glanced toward the window
where I crouched.  I unzipped my pants and felt my erection.  She stepped
back a few steps, looking at them on the sofa.  "Do it," I thought.  Jon
looked at her curiously.  She was aware of his gaze.  "Do it," I urged her
in my mind.  Gary sipped his drink and spoke to Jon who turned his face
toward him.  Bob was following their conversation.  Andy looked at the
news. The other boys were talking or watching others talk.

   "Take it off," I urged her silently.

   Karen looking down at the front of herself.

   "Do it," I commanded her in my mind.

   No one was looking at my wife when she began.  Her hands pressed palm
down on the front of her t-shirt, feeling the hem, she lifted her head
looked up to window where she thought I must be watching.  She could not
see me.  She looked at the window blankly, as if in a hypnotic trance,
taking my mental commands to strip for my friends, and reaching under the
front of the t-shirt, barely lifting it.

   Her legs are pale above her sunburnt knees.  The hem of the t-shirt
falls mid-thigh.  She looks up at them when some one spoke, as if
remembering that they were there.  Gary, I think, said something to Howie
which the others overheard and so they all looked up.

   Howie nudged Gary who looked up to see what Howie was grinning at.

   Their conversation had suddenly and awkwardly stopped.  Only the TV was
heard, murmuring sports news.  All of them straightened up where they sat,
leaning eagerly toward her, their faces intense, expressions amazed.  They
all looked at her now.  Arms at her side.  And she, aware of their stares,
although she still did not look up at them, fidgeted.  Was she losing her
nerve?  Eyes, downcast, she almost spoke, to explain herself.  She looked
worried.  I could see that.  I was worried too.  What did I think was going
to happen now?  How would this change how they treated her?  How they
treated me?  But I did not care what it meant.  I wanted her to strip for
them.  I wanted her naked in front of them.  I did not care what they
thought of her or me.  I wanted my friends to see my wife naked.  I wanted
to see them looking at her naked.

   "Do it...  I whispered.  I am sure they were thinking along with me ---
my mental commands urging her to do it, to take off all her clothes for
them.

   She straightened up, lifting hair aside that had fallen forward over her
face; glancing at my friends, showing she was embarrassed, and anxious, she
smiled awkwardly and nodded to something that Gary said.  He said something
else.  They laughed.  She shook her head, blushing, and bit the side of her
lip.  She looked like she was going to immediately take off her shirt, her
hands at the hem, fingers feeling it.  She looked down at her hands.... 
"Take it off..." I thought urgently, keenly wishing her now to show herself
completely naked to them.  I was masturbating harder; I was ready to cum
the moment that she lifted her shirt for them.

   She hesitated, looking at the floor.  She looked up---her eyes were
almost tearful---she looked sad and almost said something--- she tilted her
head in an expression of pathetic question, looking up at me, looking up at
where I hid in dark on the lawn, beyond the window and the glaring
reflection of the well-lit room -- I can't do this, she seemed to say.  I
was sure I could not be seen, being so close to the ground and beyond the
shining light, lying in the shadow of the house, but she was looking so
intently at me that I felt a sick anxiety that I would be discovered.

   But now new programming began--Gilligan's Island--they turned their gaze
back to the TV.

   For the moment they had all turned their eyes away from Karen.



   Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale

   a tale of a fateful trip,

   that started from this tropic port,

   aboard this tiny ship.

   The mate was a mighty sailin' man,

   the Skipper brave and sure,

   five passengers set sail that day,

   for a three hour tour,

   a three hour tour.

   I thought mentally: Do it!  Do it now!

   She looked at the floor.  She hestitated.  I thought for sure she
wouldn't do it, that she would now just run from the room.



   The weather started getting rough,

   the tiny ship was tossed.

   If not for the courage of the fearless crew

   the Minnow would be lost.

   The Minnow would be lost.

   The ship's aground on the shore of this

   uncharted desert isle

   with Gilligan....

   the Skipper too.

   Then, with her eyes cast down, her face down, looking down at her hands
and at her own exposed legs, she curled her fingers inside the hem of the
shirt and drew the t-shirt up with an intake of breath, and drew it up all
the way to show her bare belly, her hairy pubes, and then closing her eyes,
she gathered up the t-shirt, and gathering it up, lifted it entirely up and
off, exposing herself naked to them--while they were fixated on the TV--and
then she dropped her T-shirt to the floor.

   Naked now.  Completely naked but for her socks!  And her obvious wedding
ring.  Her wedding ring!

   Someone saw her now out of the corner of his eyes.



   The millionaire and his wife,

   the movie star,

   the professor and Mary Ann,

   here on Gilligan's Isle.

   Then they all dramatically turned their heads toward her.  Stunned to
see her.

   She openned her eyes.  She looked back at them.  Flushed.  Mouth parted.
She too looked stunned.  Also worried.

   Anxious, uncertain.  I myself: I felt anxious.  Not sure.  What did they
think of her?

   But here she was--my wife--standing completely naked in front of them.

   Except for her socks which somehow added to her humiliation.  Just as I
had wanted--but still I could hardly believe it -- they looked like they
could hardly believe it.



   The first mate and his Skipper too

   will do their very best,

   to make the others comfortable

   in their tropic island nest.

   No phone, no lights, no motor car

   not a single luxury

   like Robinson Crusoe,

   it's primitive as can be.

   So join us here each week my friends,

   you're sure to get a smile,

   from seven stranded castaways

   here on Gilligan's Isle!

   Howie stood up.  Gary stood up, grinning Jon came around the coffee
table, moving toward her and she looked at him warily.

   Someone said something indistinctly and some laughed lightly.  Howie
bent and turned the sound down on the TV.

   No one said anything.  It was otherwise completely silent.It was like a
church or something.

   All eyes were fixed on my naked wife.  Wide-eyesd and glad.  Fixed on
her as she stood facing them--Naked!

   My own eyes fixed on her randy tits, as I saw my friends also fixed on
her tits--randy and plump, nipples like momma nipples, wide and succulent.

   And then dropping our gaze to her pussy, we saw how the lips of her cunt
showed clearly through her faintly regrown pussy hair.

   She glanced up shyly at the window where I hid -- could she see me by
the light from the basement?

   Gary caught her glance -- her nervous look and the glance up at the
window again -- and so he glanced up over his shoulder in my direction too.
Jon too followed her eyes.  I ducked down into shadows quickly.

   Then I heard Karen deliver the one scripted line I had given her,
delivering it poignantly, as if she thought they may be disappointed to see
her naked: "Is this what you want?"

   Almost sadly, .But obviously hoping for a positive response.

   Hearing it spoken, I peeked up.  Somebody laughed.

   She brushed back the hair back from her face.  She dropped her arms. 
She stood like in an interrogation.  For a moment she looked uncertain of
herself, but smiled even so.  Like she really was worried that they did not
like her.  But that was absurd.  They wanted this.

   No one knew what to say, I suppose.

   Jon grinned and nodded, and finally Gary answered for them all: "Yes."
Enthusiastically.  She later told me that at that moment she unaccountably
felt like crying --- she did not know why she should but she felt something
now would change between her and me and these men, some of whom she had
known since she was in sixth grade; but more simply, I think, it was the
humiliation she felt or the anxiety of anticipation, for she did not know
what would happen after she had taken off her clothes but she thought she
would be obliged to do anything they wanted.  She could hear Jon speaking
something obscenely to her in a low surly voice; he believed she meant to
tease them; I could see that she was anxious.

   Karen actually blushed in genuine embarrassment, as though suddenly
aware that she was naked.  Facing them.  Showing herself completely naked.
Not trying to cover herself.  She looked anxious then and looked at her
T-shirt as though wanting to put it back on.  Afterall she had done what I
had asked, showing herself naked.  But she didn't reach for the T shirt. 
She wanted them to see her naked.  I could see that.  They could see it
too, I thought.

   After another pause, the boy in the crowd said: "Holy Shit!" And
everybody laughed loudly.  And Karen smiled at him more broadly but still
shyly, and pressed her hands to her thighs, now looking away from their
fierce gaze.

   I knew -- and she knew -- that my friends had always wanted to see her
naked.  I knew they would have even paid me to see her take off her
clothes.

   Now here she was.  Right here.  Totally naked.  With all the lights on.
. Standing there right in front of them, facing them with all her clothes
off.  Head to stocking feet, completely naked for my friends.

   I gasped and I could not help myself: without even stroking myself, I
ejaculated freely onto the lawn.

   Her gaping audience was speechless, but they were not the least
disappointed to see her naked; I could see that, and she must have seen it
too, although she did not think she had a nice body; she thought herself
plain and kinda fat.

   Maybe she was.  But they were pleased to see her naked, even Bill would
mutter out loud: "She ain't too bad."

   "Like Steve said," Gary nodded.

   "Yeah," said Howie, "I wished I'd stayed then." Referring to Steve's
good fortune a couple years ago.

   Their response, staring at her, shamelessly leering and obscene, and
this reMike about Steve made her anxious now.  She fidgeted and looked at
her clothes on the floor.

   Bill assessed her without sympathy and crudely: "She's kinda fat but
she's got pretty good tits." Gary laughed.  Timmy giggled.

   She could not look at Andy, who was blushing as much as she was, but h
stared at her nakedness just as keenly as the rest of them.  She was too
ashamed to look at Howie at first, but then she glanced (and so did I) to
see Howie beaming at her happily and she shyly smiled back up at him from
downcast eyes.

   All of them leering, liked looking at her.  Even Bill, whom she knew did
not like her, was nodding.  And the boy Timmy's astonished gaze especially
aroused her.  Fat or no, they liked looking at her naked and I believe that
all of them wanted to fuck her.

   Gary's friendly and reassuring smile and small compliments made her feel
more confident now.  Afterall she had known him for years, even dating him
before me.  He said something pleasantly to her that I did not hear, and
she gave him a sortof coquettish smile.  She really liked this, I could see
that.

   She was embarrassed but also just as obviously--she wanted to do
this--she wanted them to see her naked.

   I could see it.  They all could see it.

   Later she admitted that she herself had felt sexually aroused to see how
she sexually aroused them.  Their obvious erections.  That was why, she
would admit to me, that she so complacently responded to their molestations
and then submitted so serviley to do all the things that they wanted her to
do; she was so easily coaxed to do those things and she never resisted
them.

   It's true my wife is rather plain.  When naked I suppose she looked more
like a plump underdeveloped girl than a grown woman--high-waisted like a
little girl and, like a little girl, her hips were not wider than her
chest, and having put on weight, her waist was filled in, her plump tummy
protrudes, her navel sinks--she looked more like a chubby 14-year-old
pre-pubescent than a grown-up woman at 21.  Except that her breasts are
well-formed, bulging like water balloons, made heavier with the fat she had
put on, and her wide nipples, the same rich color of her natural mouth,
swelled out to points and seemed to draw out her breasts, as if enlarging
at the tips of her tits, as if growing out and drawing out their shape by
them.  Pouting as she stands.  One of her tits is a little bigger than the
other, adding to the naive look and the vulnerability she felt.  Plump,
they jiggled a little even in her small movements as when she brushed her
hair back.  Tempting for them to touch.  And oddly, just like a 14-year-old
girl, she had then a very downy pubic hair--because it had not yet fully
grown back after Craig had shaved her.  Dark in color it would grow thick
and bushy in time but then it was thin, as if she had only recently
acquired it, as if she was 14, and showing beneath her chubby mons, they
could easily see the chubby lips of her cunt slit, and from that the long
line between her rounded thighs down her bare legs to her bare feet.

   Her legs are long and smooth.  She never ever needed to shave them.  Her
hands flattened on her thighs contrast to the paleness of her undressed
portions of her body and on her left hand the only thing she had not taken
off--socks and her wedding ring.

   So for several minutes, in the full light, they just stared at my naked
wife, astonished.  Simply stamping in their memory a permanent photograph
of her nakedness.  One they probably still keep in vivid memory.

   I crept even closer to the window to see them and her better, still
masturbating.  I wanted to see her face.  I wanted to see their faces
looking at her naked.  Their eyes fixed and eager on my naked wife.  Silent
and reverent as in a church, grinning their sappy grins, mesmerized,
fixedly lewdly gazing at her nakedness.  But as no one said
anything--astounded, as I say -- and the voice of some sportscaster calling
off scores on the TV news -- she stood there,her arms at her side, my poor
wife, and began to look a little worried, or even sad in her shameful
display; her sadness made me have second thoughts.  She looked at Gary who
had just spoken her and seemed almost beckoning him, and Gary smirked and
made to stand up , shifting in his seat on the sofa, and made an eager
comment to Jon who nodded.  I could not hear it, but Karen blushed.  Howie
said something to Gary also.  They laughed.  She glanced at them, shyly
pleased.

   I kept masturbating though I had already cum once, watching the faces of
my friends, following their eyes where they looked at my wife's naked body,
almost feeling her with their eyes--running them over her tits and her
nipples, handling her hips, belly, thighs, wanting to probe her between her
legs.  She faced them with responsive awareness now.  Aware of their eyes,
feeling their pleasure to see her, feeling her all over.  Taking in all of
her.  Head to foot.  Naked.  Her hands at her thighs.  Those silly socks.
Wedding ring showing.

   She inadvertently glanced up at the window from where I spied on them.
To acknowledge my pleasure in seeing them see her naked.  To see her
satisfaction too.  Her own reflection in the glass was all she might see
with all the lights on, but she knew where I was, and she wanted to
acknowledge her nakedness for me.  Again, Gary glanced back up where I was
again.  Jon too.  I shrank back.

   Suddenly she covered her crotch and made to leave; she leaned and
reached for her T-shirt on the floor beside her.

   "What are you doing?" said Jon., standing up an approaching her.

   She straightened up, holding the T-shirt.  He intimidated her without a
word.  She dropped the T-shirt and dropped her hands to her sides.

   She turned her head in disingenuous shame, in a deliberate signal of her
surrender to them, having looked away when their eyes had met hers, but
they were not looking much at her face anyway.  They had gotten more and
more animated, now shifting on the sofa, as if they were all going to get
up; now and stop her from leaving.  I could see how many had certainly
gotten erections.

   The only sound: the irrelevant murmur of the TV -- some silly
commercial- --and outside where I was., the crickets.  She said nothing.

   What was she thinking?

   Gary said: "Come on, Karen."

   It was too much.  I had to hold my ejaculation.

   Finally, Jon went closer, standing to the side of the coffee table.  She
still a few paces away into the middle of the room.  He smirked at her:
"So, what do you want, Karen?"

   She looked at him searchingly as he got closer to her.  I edged up to
see this more closely, masturbating as I watched.

   "We can fuck you," he grinned, and gestured around the room behind
himself.  "All of us."

   Her eyes widened.  Was this what she meant that Jon would "want
things"--and why Jon?  Why did he take charge?  Why did she do what he
said?

   Looking down at her nakedness fiercely (not at her face, though her eyes
were on his), Jon approached her in a kind of swagger without a word;
except that briefly she was eclipsed by his passing in front of her as he
moved across the room, I had a full view of her naked and her face turning
toward him, and I saw in both her face and the gesture of her rising hands
an expressive intimidation, a responsive anticipation, worry.

   She seemed both anxious and aroused by his approach and, sensing her
shrinking back and her wary vulnerability suggested by her stooped and
almost cowering posture, he stepped all around her in two full circles,
looking her up and down, and smirking.

   While I cowered, praying that they had not seen me, I heard Jon say out
loud what I was thinking: "You ain't gonna need this no more..." I looked
up.  Jon had gotten close to her.

   Standing right in front of her now--eclipsing what I could see a
little--Jon leaned over and picked up the T-shirt which still lay next to
her stocking feet.  and, peeking up at her naked body sarcastically; he
threw the T-shirt and it flew ten feet away, skidding across the linoleum.
Some of the boys laughed as she looked it slipping far out of reach.  She
was naked and she would stay naked, she understood.  Jon grinned and winked
at my friends.  They all understood.  They laughed again.

   Watching this, she had half turned toward him, showing how pronounced
the tips of her nipples, stiffened to points.  Her pointy nipples showing
her obvious sexual feelings.  He said something to her.  She blushed.

   Standing closely, she half-turned from him, avoiding his eyes, his
cynical eyes to her worried eyes, he looked her over now up close, nodding,
looking her up and down; he nodded smugly and appreciatively, and having
considered her nakedness completely, he looked up at her face, and she
raised her eyes to his to hear him give her his judgement: "You got fat,
Karen."

   He said it harshly, mugging comically back at my friends.  Bob laughed.
Gary did too, though he seemed to share Karen's wince at the careless
reMike.  Jon meant to hurt her feelings, I think, to aggravate her shame
and humiliation by calling her fat to her face in front of all my leering
friends.  But what he said also implied that he had seen her naked sometime
before this that I did not know--when she was thinner--what?  Back when we
were first married?  She blushed at the insinuation herself and glancing my
way through the window in the darkness where I lay peering at her on the
lawn, she seemed to acknowledge her embarrassed guilt for it.  When else
had he seen her naked?

   He said to her: "Gimme your socks too." Gesturing.  She was uncertain.
He repeated himself: "Take off your socks." To complete the dominance.  I
felt it.  She felt it.  They all knew it.

   She complained weakly but she bent to his will, her tits jiggling,
hanging, as she awkwardly bent and stripped off one sock, then the other.
He held out his hand to her.  She handed them to her.  He turned aside and
tossed them back to Gary who caught them, clutched them greedily.  She
looked at him.  She knew what it meant.  So did I.  So did all of them. 
They were not going to let her to put any clothes on.

   The implications flooded everyone's awareness.  If she had thought to
run away, it was too late now.  Gary said something to my friends that made
them snicker.  I did not hear it, but Karen did.  She folded her arms under
her breasts like she was cold, and she shook her head.  He looked back at
her and repeated himself and nodded against her protest.  He said so I
could hear: "You know you want to do it..."

   This was incredible.  This was unbelievable.  It was impossible, it was
dream-like.  But it was happening.  She had really done it.  There she
stood now, completely naked for my friends.  And now?  Jesus Christ, they
were going to do it to her while I watched...

   Gary handed her socks to Howie, grinning, feeling them over, who then
shared them with Andy, who did not know what to do with them, and Bob
gushed at Jon: "I didn't believe you...  But like you said...  Man, oh,
man!"

   "Come closer...." Jon commanded.  "Stand here..." He pointed to a place
within a few feet of the coffee table, directly under an overhead light. 
Close enough they could her sweat.

   She took two or three small steps to be closer and encouraged more with
a smirk and gesture and so he gradually positioned under the bright light.
"Put your hands behind your back, Karen..." he demanded.  She did as he
said.  She looked over the tops of the heads of her audience.  Vaguely. 
What was she thinking?

   After an interval of silence and new closer study, she glanced at Timmy
to see him looking at her nakedness.  She glanced at others.  Except for
Andy.  She could not look at my friend Andy whom of all my friends seemed
most uncomfortable about this.  He made me feel ashamed too.  Wide-eyed and
abashed, my poor friend Andy blushed even more than my naked wife did. 
Andy blushed, but his eyes were riveted on my naked wife; he studied her
tits, her pussy like he had never seen a naked woman; and well, I am sure
he never had.  How many time had he imagined seeing my wife naked?  My
guess is he had privately masturbated about it and now here she
was--completely naked under bright light.  He knew this was wrong and he
could not understand why she had done it.  He worried I'd come back, I
suppose.  That must have been on everybody's mind, because Jon said,
looking in my wife's eyes: "He's gone to bed?  You done this on your own?"

   "Shit." I wondered, "had he guessed?"

   Jon examined her nervous response; he fondled her breast, teasing,
drawing out her nipple to a point, then strumming it mockingly with his
fingertip, to see how it stiffened and jiggled like a rubbery thing.  Karen
nodded.  She glanced at Andy with such a shocking mixture of obvious
embarrassment and obvious sexual responsiveness that it must have aroused
him.  Jon's unexpected masterful command of my naked wife also confused
Andy, but it also seemed to justify her humiliation.  She deserved this. 
Hell, she wanted it.  He could see it.  They all saw it.  Andy nodded in
spite of his embarrassed misgivings; he had got an erection like everybody
else.

   Seeing Andy and feeling ashamed for his sake and perhaps anxious about
the kid brother Bill had brought, she may have regretted momentarily that
she had done it; I saw her fits of uncertainty and anxiety, but the rest of
my friends obviously did not care.  While obviously seeming to become
worried and uncomfortable, ready to protest that she must not do this--her
hunched posture now looking so pathetic as if to plead that they should let
her go, she also seemed submissive, wanting to show herself naked them, to
stand there completely naked for them for as long as they wanted to look at
her.  And for their part, grinning and gawking, they were in no hurry to
let her go.  The expression on their keen faces was delighted eager lust;
they wanted to touch her, I could see that.  They would not let her go
until they had.

   Jon sauntered back to her, leering, grinning, stepping behind her,
lifted her hands away, which she held out like a child, and looking up and
down her legs, said: "Nice ass..." He smacked her bare bottom smartly and
she startled.  It made a sharp wet cracking sound.  Her tits jiggled.

   She put her hands back reflexively.  She said: "Ow!" More in embarrassed
surprise than in pain.

   She glanced up at me.  She looked worried.

   Jon looked where she looked: "What are you looking at?"

   She shook her head.  Jon grinned in my direction.  I ducked.

   Timmy snorted in a laugh nastily.  Then stopping back in front, standing
to the side of her, looking at her tits with a smug appreciation, then
looking back at the audience to share his thoughts, then looking back at
her tits, Jon sneered at my wife and said derisively,"...  your tits got
chubby..." and, hefting it in his hand like he was weighing its flesh, he
jokingly jiggled her breast at them, mugging at the men watching him do
this, jiggling it with his hand for their amusement and her humiliation;
her tits shimmied like Jell-O.  Her inadvertently stimulated nipple
involuntarily responded sexually, crinkling, thickening, pointing; at which
display Jon nodded approvingly his satisfaction and gave it a teasing
prolonged fingering at its pointy erection and pulled it out and waggled
the bag of flesh.  Gary laughed at her.  She looked at his eyes
pathetically, almost pleadingly, it seemed.  Timmy giggled at her
uncomfortable and foolish humiliation.  Andy looked almost sick with shame
for her sake.  Karen caught his anxious stare, and the lewd grins of the
rest of them.  She looked almost tearful now in her own anxiety.

   She watched Jon warily as he let drop her plump tit and began again
circling back behind her, dropping her gaze to the floor as he stepped
behind her, feeling his hands cupping her buttock, squeezing them, his
fingers pressing between the cheeks of them and inserting into the moist
warm wet cleft between her legs.  He whispered to her something sarcastic
and obscene.  She closed her eyes, dropped her head, her face reddened
now--but this was arousal, I think, not blushing; she was responding to his
hand; her mouth parted; she was forced, or she volunteered to shift her
stance, widening her legs for his hand.  Jon peered over her shoulder as he
worked his fingers between her legs behind her, grinning manaically and
whispering sexual and insinuating things to her.

   Jon stepped around in front of her, circling about and as he did
bringing his hand to glide on her naked body, to brush her right breast,
her right nipple in his fingertips, and she looked up at him pleadingly as
he passed in front of her and came to stop, to stand beside her on her left
side, so that the boys could all see as he hefted her left breast in his
hand to assess it, fleshy satisfying shape of it.  Treating her like a
sexual slave.  Like property .

   He said: "Show us your cunt"

   She was perplexed.  He explained: "Get on the coffee table and spread
your legs." She was embarassed and confused, but smiling.  Jon took her and
helped her to stand on the table.  He pushed her legs wide apart like he
was posing her.  She staddled the better length of the table facing the
boys.  Her head was nearly level to mine.  She glanced at me, seeing her
own nakedness reflected in the window, I supposed.

   "Use your hands." She looked consused.  "Use your fingers and show 'em
your cunt." She understood.  She was ashamed of herself.  She turned her
head, closed her eyes, but she did what she was told.

   "Nice", Jon said.  "Always wanted to see that, Gary?"

   Gary grinned.

   "And you, Timmy...  Ever seen a girl's cunt up close?"

   Timmy said "Yeah" but he meant "no."

   Jon said: "I seen it before.  Ain't I, Karen" Karen did not respond.

   "Got naked...  just like this...  and showed me...  just like this... 
last summer.  Remember that, Karen?"

   She looked down at him and dropped her hands, giving him a pathetic
look.

   Jon added: "That was good times.  At the old apartment, you know.  Got
her drunk like she did tonight.  Messing with her like we always do.  But
this time we got all her clothes off.  Me and some other guys.  Remember?"

   She did not say a word but it was obviously true.  She glanced at me
sheepishly.  When the hell was that?  Why didn't I know about that?

   Jon reached up for her hand and helped her to step down off the coffee
table.

   Jon had no sympathy for what she had now brought upon for herself: "You
want us to fuck you now?"

   This was way more than I had imagined.  Teasing her like this.  Taunting
her.  Humiliating her like this.  I thought Karen would resist them.  I
thought if they approached her she would run off to the stairs.  But no! 
She just stood there impassively naked, as Jon fondled her breast, plucking
on a stiffened nipple with teasing fingers, and when Jon asked, "Or
maybe..." (he paused to look her in the eyes, sarcastically grinning) "...
No.l..  I know what you like....  you wanna suck cock, right?"

   She looked so ashamed and dejected, it seemed to me, I knew that she was
resigned to give them whatever they wanted.  It was unbelievable.  "Yeah...
like before...  All of us.  Right?"

   She said something urgently, closely whispered to him so that only he
could hear her, and Jon replied sarcastically: "I didn't know the boy was
coming either.  But then again we didn't know you were gonna strip for us."

   Jon let his fingers glide from her nipple, tracing the shape of her tit,
down the slope of her tummy smoothly to her pussy, rubbing her mons gently
there, rubbing the slit of it, his index finger slipping between her cunt
lips into her sex.  Whispering to her.  Her head lowered.  Her mouth
parted. Eyes closed.  Arms at her sides.  Seemingly helpless to his
touching.  She nodded to his inaudible suggestions.

   "Where is your husband?  Huh?" He teased her.

   She flinched at his clever fingers.  Finding what aroused her, he
focused.  He kissed her mouth; she turned her head to receive his open
mouth, opening her own.  She lifted her hands to his chest to resist him?
She did not.

   Even from outside the window I heard her responsive mewing.  One hand on
a breast, the other felt her between her legs.  She kissed him warmly,
responsively, accepting his fondling, even though watched by all these men.
God, I almost shot off right then.  But I was as amazed as my friends, who
stared with open mouths as the scene of my naked wife being openly kissed
and fondled by Jon, whom all of them knew she detested.  She kissed like
she wanted him to feel her nakedness.

   Then, just as she so obviously wanted him to continue, he abruptly
disengaged; grinning sardonically at my wife whose own up-turned flushed
face showed confusion and self-conscious embarrassment, Jon stepped back,
removing his hands from her body, her hands foolishly uplifted as she had
embraced his neck, abandoned now by him to the bright light and their
intense gaze, standing naked and apart.  She looked up sheepishly where I
spied on her.  God, I thought, Jon must have had her naked before.

   Giving her nakedness one more long leering perusal, then calling over
his shoulder, Jon said loudly: "Hey, Bob, you wanna turn at this?"

   Bob stood up quickly, grinning, and Jon stepped around behind her,
holding her by the shoulders and looking approvingly over the front of her,
down her chest and tummy to her legs.

   From where I stood crouched outside I saw my wife open her eyes to watch
him approach.  She looked at him with intense and worried expression,
seeming almost to shiver, as he stepped in front of her and lifted his two
hands to feel both her nipples simultaneously.  He squeezed her breasts. 
He dropped his right hand to her pussy, and I could see that he used two
fingers to feel her up.  She stiffened.  He finger-fucked her, grinning,
mugging back at the men.  She is looking out at them sadly, straddling the
hand rubbing her, poking her.  She closed her eyes in shame.

   He said to Jon loudly: "She's really ready, Man!"

   "Yeah," Jon said, "She wants us to fuck her."

   Bob lifted her tits in his hands, saying "I like these," and kissed
them, mouthed them, lashed his lewd tongue about them, sucked up one nipple
after another.  Leaving them wet and gleaming under the lights, puckering
in the air.

   "I really wanna fuck her," he added loudly.

   Jon grinned: "You will."

   "Howie!"

   Howie was called.  Bob stepped back, backing to the side watch the next
one.

   Howie approached her cautiously, worried about touching her, it seemed;
and he asked about me, about whether I might come back.  Jon still holding
her by the shoulders reassured him.  His resonant voice carried easily
outside to me: "Don't worry about it.  He wants her to do this."

   I felt sickened and worried that I had been seen.  Karen did not react.
She looked at Howie plaintively and Howie avoided her eyes.  When he
touched her breasts, she closed her eyes and then he more liberally fondled
her, kissing her breasts the way Bob had, feeling her slit the way he had.

   Jon called for Gary, and Howie went back to sit down and watch from the
sofa.  Gary had been waiting for his turn with impatience.  He had
commented that he wanted to be next and Jon gave him the privilege with
sarcasm in his voice.

   As Gary approached, Jon shoved Karen toward him.  She stumbled into his
arms, and Gary immediately embraced her, kissing her, running his hands on
her naked body feeling her back, her buttock, putting both hands to her
breasts.  She stood limply, arms at her side, pinioned by his, but clearly
she kissed him back warmly, her eyes closed like his.

   Gary had dated Karen but had never had any success like this.  From his
point of view he was finally getting his due and she was getting what he
believed she had always wanted.

   "Jesus, Gary," Jon finally observed, "Just fuck her...  She don't care
if you love her."

   Gary stepped back and hurriedly took off her pants.  She looked down as
he did.  He lowered his underpants to mid-thigh.  He was the first to
expose his prick.  The others looked at it too.  Some laughed.  Bob
cheered: "Yeah." Gary embraced her again, rubbing his angled erection
against her belly, admitting he had wanted to do this long time, and
pressing his erection downward with his right hand, he shoved himself
against her to force his erection between her legs and into her buttery
cunt, and he entered her easily and to the length of it where she stood,
making her gasp and rise up on the balls of her feet and put her hands up
on his chest to brace against his thrusts.  Jon came back to hold her
shoulders as Gary began to fuck my wife.  He would have finished in her
too, but Jon stopped him, telling him it was not yet his turn.  He
appreciated what he wanted but he insisted, "Pull out."

   Gary pumped a couple times and cursed and pulled out, drawing up his
underpants.  "Well, at least I was the first," he said.

   "Andy," Jon called and everyone looked his way.  He did not get up.  He
said nothing.

   "Come on," Jon said.  "She wants it." Still Andy did not move.

   "Bill," Jon called, "And you too, Timmy."

   The two brothers approached.  Timmy seemed awestruck, while Bill seemed
wryly amused by the humiliation of my wife's nakedness and her pending
fucking, but she was not attractive to him, even if she was naked.  He had
never been one to pursue her.  She was not his type.  She was pretty in an
ordinary sort of way, but she was nothing special.  And certainly her body
was nothing special.  He liked women who were more classically curvy,
Playboy bunnies and the like; my wife was a boring chubby housewife, as far
as he was concerned.  And so he deferred to Timmy to take his turn to feel
her up.  He'd fuck her.  Why not?  And she'd probably suck his cock sure,
fine, okay.  But he wasn't really that turned on by this it was weird.  And
he seen better; she was kind of fat really.  On the other hand, this was
Timmy's first real live naked woman.  Let him have his fun.

   Timmy, though only sixteen, was already taller than Karen.  He hesitated
to touch her.

   Jon said: "What's wrong with you guys?

   "Okay, okay, I get it..." Jon turned Karen toward him and explained. 
"He doesn't want you to see him do it."

   Gary got up and ran across the room to scoop up her T-shirt and ripped
it at the neck, ripped it apart; he dangled its halves before Jon, a rag
for rope, a rag for gagging.  She heard this.  Gary coming up from behind
her, looped the ragged cloth of the t-shirt over her head, covered her
eyes, to blindfold her and tied it behind her head.

   "Can you see?" Gary asked.

   "No," she said, muffled, sheepish.

   Jon turned her back to face the boys again and guided her forward and to
the side a bit, closer to where Andy sat.  Several of my friends laughed at
her stumbling naked like this.  Andy had stood up.  Jon nodded at him.

   For good measure, Gary suggested, "Let's tie her hands behind her back."

   She waited.  Cocking her head toward voices like one who is blind.

   With this Jon would bind her wrists behind her back.  "This is good,"
said Jon, as he finished the knot.  Gary tittered.  Bob, I saw had taken
off his pants and now his undershorts and was openly stroking his cock,
looking at my blinded naked trussed up wife with leering savor.

   And I admit that at that poignant moment seeing how gingerly my bashful
friend Andy touched my wife's breasts, while secretly and unreservedly
staring down at her tender nakedness, the firm breasts he touched, her
nipples sensitive to his fingertips, her diaphragm trembling, heart
fluttering in sexual response, and below this, below her bare belly that
dark fragrant thatch of pubic hair and what was hidden warm and wet between
her legs, and those long pale bare trembling legs as she stood so
helplessly naked before him, tensely breathing beneath that cloth that made
him anonymous I ejaculated onto the lawn.  My second ejaculation that
night. Not nearly my last.  My erection did not flag with this.  I would
masturbate long into the night watching them from outside the window.

   Timmy joined Andy's hands with his own, feeling her more coarsely and
aggressively, pulling on her nipples and grabbing her breasts.  The two
took turns at her breasts and her cunt.  Andy fingering her gently.  Timmy
thrusting his thumb inside her, jamming it hard and fast like a small
prick. Within the cloth over her head I heard my wife whimpering
shamelessly.  This last, this illicit touching by a boy as young as her
brother and by Andy, Steve's brother, and the one of all my friends who
among all had been the only who respected me and my wife's supposed
chastity this particularly excited her, or shamed her, or perhaps it was
the accumulation, or perhaps the tantalizing bondage and humiliation. 
Andy's savage sucking on the tips her breasts, grabbed in both fists and
squeezed to poke out her nipples randy for his mouth, she was loudly
breathing and squirming--not in resistance, but in pleasure--squirming
against Timmy's big pumping thumb and grinding knuckle, and she soon
spectacularly and unexpectedly climaxed; her knees shaking, she moaned like
a cow, she collapsed completely, held up barely by Jon until she was just
too heavy, just too limp, and he had to let her go down to her knees in his
arms.  My friends were awed.  I don't think any of them had ever brought a
woman to orgasm, and for that matter I had never seen her like this, and in
all their wildest fantasies concerning my wife this would be the ultimate.
I realized then how overwrought sexually she must have been, thinking about
it all day long, thinking about it when she hesitated and fretted while the
news went on, knowing it was her cue to get up and undress in front of
them. When they started touching her, it must have released all the sexual
anticipation she had built up.  She just gave into it.  Like a dam
bursting.

   Jon leaned, whispering to Karen, who had fallen forward, leaning where
she had knelt, her arms being bound behind her making it awkward for her to
right herself.  Andy and Timmy and the rest stood before her in a
semi-circle.  Jon lifted her t-shirt from her head; she was flushed; she
was crying perhaps; I could not see well for Jon was in front of her
soothing her kindly and helping her to stand up .  He nodded at Gary and
told him to get a cushion from the sofa.  Gary nodded eagerly and brought
two and flopped them down before going for the third.

   Jon took Andy aside to speak privately.  He spoke wickedly, like Lucifer
enticing a sinner.  Andy looked pleased, excited but worried.  He nodded.

   Gary and Bob who were both naked now below the waist, except for their
socks, and who had approached Karen while Jon was conspiring with Andy. 
Gary kissing her in front and fondling her breasts while he did, and Bob
who had slipped behind her, held her hands and had punched his prick up
inside her from behind.  She kissed Gary warmly while Bob fucked her.  Her
body jostled by the fucking.  Gary's prick mashed her bare tummy.

   Jon turned now to see what Andy was staring at and saw this scene.  My
wife for her part was flushed --crimson with sexual flush -- and
unprotesting.

   If I had any doubt of where this would all go, I saw it now.  She also
knew, and she had resigned herself to it.

   Bob, stopping as he fucked her, his prick still well up her cunt, untied
her hands, out of self-serving kindness I supposed it interfered with his
fucking her and immediately released she brought her hands to Gary's neck
and face and kissed him passionately as his hand vigorously rubbed her
clitoris.  Now Bob grabbed my wife by the flesh of her hips and thrust his
prick in deeply again, and began to fuck her hard and fast so that her
buttock shimmered as he slapped his thighs against her and her tits bounced
wildly and obscenely, and she grunted to his rhythm, leaning, hanging her
head, mouth open, panting, and extending her arms up to and clasping Gary's
neck and leaning pulling him to kiss his mouth hungrily as her passion
rose. Gary gradually took her hands from his neck where he was bent to kiss
her and backing away now held Karen by the hands, her arms outstretched,
her tits bobbling beneath her she was fucked, who alternately smiled and
sobbed, crying tears of emotion, as Bob fucked her from behind.  Noisy
fucking.  Slapping thighs, soupy fucking.  It was a necessary orgiastic
release of all the sexual tension that had filled the room since my wife
stripped in front of them, and it seemed especially right for the shame of
it all, that it should be Bob the stranger who would be the first to fuck
and cum in my wife.  And when he did, she sobbed and squealed and Gary held
her up by the shoulders, as she herself obviously orgasmed and gasped.

   Stepping back and pulling out his wet cock, bobbling as it popped out of
her hole, Bob smacked her buttock with satisfaction and pride in fucking
her.

   Undressing as they watched her being fucked, half of them were naked
below the waist, feeling their pricks, and the other half stood ready to go
in their underwear.  Only Andy, watching all this, had not given up his
reticence to use her; he had not undressed.

   Jon returned to my wife and Bob and Gary retreated like he was a big dog
coming for his share of the meal.  But Jon helped her to straighten and
held her sweetly, his hands on her buttock, her head lay on her chest.  He
spoke quietly and kindly to her, and lifting her chin, he took off her
blindfold.  She blinked and blushed.

   He looked at her almost lovingly, kissed her, and brushed the hair from
her eyes as he spoke to her, picking stray wisps of her hair to place them
right.  He spoke some gentle reassurances to her as she began to look like
she might cry.

   Then He led her by the hand to the end of the coffee table and by
gesture, by firm command he got her to step up onto of the tabletop and
stretching out her arm he let go her hand as she turned her and to face
them, her back to me.  The boys faced me, gathering up to look up at my
naked wife; none of them saw me.  None of them were looking in my
direction. They were yet transfixed by my wife's nakedness.  But I could
see their keen horny expressions, some of them touching their stiff pricks
as they studied her nakedness.

   "You can see his cum in her slit," said Gary.  Karen smiled, even if
ashamed.

   Jon said: "Squat."

   She looked confused.  But she knew what they wanted and why.  She
stepped off the table and squatted as he had instructed.

   The grotesque posture meant to make her cunt gape.  To show the raw
meaty hole, her labia parting and wet, florid in the light.  And to show
the slobbering ooze of Bob's creamy cum.

   Again something none of these had seen such a thing.  Not even in
pornography.

   This obscenity got many grinning, while Timmy and Andy stared at it
wide-eyed with open mouths.

   She held herself in this position tremulously by steadying herself as
best she could, leaning back on the flats of her hands; it was
uncomfortable, but she did not complain.

   It was absurd.  Obscene.  Shameful.  But she actually smiled.

   Stupid.

   Gary and Bob crouched down before her to peer closely at her gooey cunt,
and then Bob's cum drooled from it; a gooey strand drooled onto the floor.

   "Jesus Christ...  Look at that..." said Gary.

   I myself saw it dangling rudely, and in a slw loop, it dropped to a glob
on the carpet between her legs.  To make a glistening dollop of goo.  Not
more than a spoonful but obviously there was even more oozing out from her
cunt, coiling on the slimy strand.  They stared at the thing, fascinated.

   "Eat it," said Jon sadistically.

   Gary looked up horrified.  They laughed at him.

   Jon was talking to my wife of course.  She looked up at him
pathetically, but she said nothing.

   It was Bob's cum.  So at last it was Bob who got down there and put his
fingers in and scooped the goo out and fed it to her.  She said nothing. 
Squatting still in that obscene position, she licked his slimy fingers
obediently; she sucked on them when he put them into her mouth, looking at
his face, ashamed but aroused.

   Bob loved it.  Karen looked at my friends sheepishly and he leaned out
of squat and knelt; she lowered her head and clutched herself like she was
cold.

   Jon nodded at her submission and said to them: "I think she likes the
taste of cum....  So what you say, Karen.  You wanna suck cock?"

   She did not reply.  Jon stood grinning at her.  The others looked
flushed.

   She looked up at Jon sadly.  The fact that she did not protest, that she
said nothing at all told them that--- yes, she would suck their cocks.

   "You want us to cum in your mouth?" Jon teased.

   O, my god.  I was surprised.  But they were not.  They were eager.  And
yes, the look on her face gave her away.  She did not shake her head.  She
did not protest.  She would do what they wanted.

   "You do that, don't you?  We gonna cum your mouth.  Okay?  Like you did
for Steve and that other guy...  What was he name?"

   I did not know she had done that.  But they obviously all heard the same
stories.  She did not protest.

   I could see --they could see -- that she would do it.  She would take
their cum in her mouth.  She glanced guiltily up at me.  I saw it in her
eyes.  Jesus Christ!  "God damn," I said under my breath.

   "God damn," said Gary, standing up.  "I want to be first."

   "Yeah," said Jon, "She wants to do it....  Don't you?"

   He nodded at my wife whose upturned flushed face suggested unspoken
acknowledgement.

   "Jesus," muttered Gary, "She really does."

   "Right..." said Bob.  "Make her suck everybody's cock." From my perch
above them, beyond the window, I silently agreed: "Yes...  do it.  Make her
do it.  God, please."

   Bob stood, stroking his cock, as he looked down into her shadowed face.
Jon spoke to her quietly and she shifted out of her kneeling, put her legs
out on the floor, and sat on the edge of the coffee table, still looking
down with her arms crossed under her breasts, as they began to discuss how
they wanted her to suck their cocks and who should go first.

   They quarreled.  Gary still felt offended that Bob got to fuck her and
that he himself had been stopped and that Bob didn't even know her.  Jon
laughed.  Bill rolled his eyes.  Howie suggested they do some sort of
lottery for taking turns.  Gary thought this was ridiculous it should be
based on who knew her longest.  He clearly wanted to go first, although
Howie had known her longest.  Karen followed the conversation without
comment.

   Andy, who had been standing with the rest of them, also a silent
witness, stared at Karen intensely -- at her breasts, at her belly, but
also at her face absorbing her.  I think he was puzzled by her submission
and ashamed for her.  At any rate he seemed to get more and more disturbed
as they quarreled, speaking about her so vulgarly, and anyway he would be
too inhibited to join in, I suppose, and was feeling bad about watching it;
so suddenly he turned, and without a word, he left the room and in fact he
got in his car and drove away.

   This silenced all of them who watched him leave.  Gary said: "Fuck him,
the fool.  Don't know what he's missing.  She did his brother.  She'd do
him too.  Suck him off.  She's gonna suck off all of us.  Right, Karen?"

   Like triumphant hunters that had captured prey, my friends surrounded my
wife where she crouched naked on the coffee table -- her crotch obscenely
splayed in that humiliating pose, oozing ejaculate (hers and his)-- and
they stared fiercely and longingly at her naked body, while she, their
willing victim, looked up sheepishly.

   Jon decided: "Okay, I'll go first.  Then we'll take turns."

   Jon reached out of Karen's hand and she responded with a dazed slow
submission., stepping off the coffee table, looking down at the floor.