Now what was I going to do? The question struck to my core. For months, I had been making pretty good money selling adult novelties in people's homes, much like Tupperware parties, except, well, not just anyone was invited. And this is what happens when you don't know your hostess.
My husband, Steven, and I had needed some extra money, and a small article in our newspaper had piqued my interest. I'm sure Steven would admit that it piqued his as well. From Steven's perspective, he lost weekend days and nights with me, but he gained by testing the wares and hearing my stories of women's reactions during my demonstrations. And although I told my customers that all transactions were strictly confidential, I always shared with Steven what our friends and neighbors bought. It was wickedly fun and led to some good sex.
My first few jobs had been very difficult. The company I represented, although having a great product line, didn't have a suggested list of people for me to call upon for home shows. So, that meant I had to start with my friends. This had been awkward in my somewhat conservative social circle, but, everyone enjoys sex... The sales got better, and pretty soon, I was into the third and fourth generation of shows from people who had attended my earlier ones. I learned that to sell my items, it was important to put the ladies at ease, and, at times, to non-provocatively demonstrate what the gadgets did, or how they were worn. The biggest selling point had been suggesting how the items could be used to surprise their husbands, to turn the humdrum of marital status quo into a night of fun and passion. The parties rarely got out of hand, and generally only when liquor was involved. But, polite or raunchy, I had learned how to make it fun. And besides, it was among girls, often with others much more open than I was about sharing my sex life with others.
It normally took one to two hours for "some show, more tell" of my various products. Then, I would retreat to a bedroom, where each of the women would enter to purchase their items privately, so that no one would know what she had purchased. I kept a stock of all the "toys," but some sizes of lingerie I had to special order. But overall, my sample bag and boxes included what seemed to sell the most. Making $1,000 to $2,000 per show was quite nice, and it had recently begun to get very easy, almost second nature.
Women who chose their friends to attend such a non-conventional affair generally selected those who were either randy to begin with, or had a desire to be randy for a change. I had learned in idle conversation with my customers that the ones who spent the most money had told their spouses where they were going. Their "credit limits" were enthusiastically removed by their husbands as a result. Further, I encouraged the hostess to provide wine, which definitely seemed to soften inhibitions. Sales were steady, and steadily good. I just couldn't let my mom or anyone else take a close look at all the cardboard boxes in my garage and basement. Yikes.
My "hostess," Claire, who had sounded perfect over the phone, had said that she would invite a good sized crowd that she was sure would be interested in sex products. As I had driven to her home, her neighborhood had spoken of wealth, as did the cars in her driveway. But it was only after I had arrived that Claire explained that, after talking it over with her husband, that he had felt more comfortable inviting his friends than she did hers. Then she had picked up her purse, and headed out for dinner with the girls. The wives thought only that the men were getting together for their normal Saturday night college football game and maybe some cards.
Doing a show for men was definitely out of my "comfort zone," and I had begun the evening...terrified. So much for confidence. There were seven men, with another expected to arrive. Beers were popping before Claire had made it to the door. To put it bluntly, I had the fear of being raped, as there was no way of escaping an atmosphere of "sex," which, although not literally, was what I was selling. But the men's good humor had won me over, at least enough to proceed, and several had seemed more interested in the football game. So, it all began more manageable than I had feared. I began with the basics: bra's, panties, garters. There were general whoops and hollers as I held them up, explaining the colors and sizes available. I gave each man an order form which listed each item, so that they could check off those in which they were interested and make notes. I was pleased to see frequent pen movements.
I had to endure a few catcalls, as I held up a see-through body suit, or a bra with holes cut out at the nipples. They kept joking that they couldn't make a decision without seeing the fit. Yeah, right. So, I played to the audience with suggestive talk, but leaving the goods to their own imaginations.
With the promise of a good sale, I had just wrapped up most of the clothing items and was just beginning the vibrator selection, when the men broke to refresh themselves. Meaning more beer. When they gathered again, the husband of the hostess, Lou, posed a question. "I'm very interested in what you've shown us, Hayley, and the prices seem reasonable. But, if we were to pay double your price, would you show us your products...more intimately ? What about it, guys?" His question was met with an enthusiastic response from the others, apparently a collusion decided upon during our "break." My first reaction was, "Yeah, right." But...
My resolution faltered to my current dilemma. This job suddenly had the potential of paying a lot more than my usual 40% commission. But I couldn't answer based solely on financial terms. If my husband found out... He had been thrilled to hear me recount each session of who bought what, but how would I explain this night? Think it through. They were asking me to model, but, a bra was a bra. Panties, garters...no big deal. Exposing my nipples in a cutout bra would be more fun than embarrassing. I think. But to model a vibrator would mean... No way! I wasn't going to show my cunt to a bunch of strangers... Was I? But I just couldn't! Could I? I realized that my cunt was primed. The words "thinking with my dick" quickly came to mind, but I shoved them aside, however appropriate they were for the wetness between my legs.
I had been looking at the floor while I had considered this, but as I raised my eyes, Lou saw that he had me. But he couldn't "have" me. Yet, he did. The money was enticing, and so was the idea of showing a bunch of men my 38 C's. Steven had hardly given me a compliment on my body in months, maybe a year. Yes, they had me, to a point. But rules were going to be necessary.
"Okay," I allowed with a devilish grin, "but here's the rules. First, I'm married. There will be NO sex." I looked at each of them to see that this registered. "But, any product you're interested in, I'll demonstrate. But you agree to buy that item at twice the price. Further, I'll start with an imprint of your credit cards, and we'll record the sale BEFORE I demonstrate it. And, I'll only pull three items from the bag at a time. They all have to sell before I pull out any more. When an item doesn't sell, we stop." Let them consider the expense...
Lou looked thoughtful and then countered, "That sounds fine, except, considering the price, we get to try the goods - we dress you, we get to," he paused, considering, "TEST the vibrator in you, and whatever else you've got in the bag. But if we use it, we'll buy it."
A small voice withing me cried, "Nooooo!" But I wasn't interested in listening to it. My hard nipples confirmed what my cunt was screaming at me. This was like a fantasy that I didn't know I had. Control remained the issue. This could get out of hand, but, still... I wanted it. "Okay...BUT, you each have to line up your chairs at least 10' away and stay there, except for the person buying the merchandise." I could handle one on one.
Lou nodded. "Gentlemen?" There was general agreement. But I wasn't going to start with the vibrators. I pulled the bag of clothes closer, that I had just showed them, and began by randomly pulling three items out of it. I could see that Lou, at least, appreciated the sales tactic in the move. "Okay, Hayley, we'll start with the clothes. But there's no dressing rooms here."
Be still, my racing heart. I gave him my best come hither look, and replied saucily, "Obviously, assuming you're brave enough to dress me." My voice sounded much braver than I felt. I would normally have the hostess do most of the modeling, if any were needed, as part of her duties for the $200 worth, or 10%, of products that she could choose for inviting her friends, providing refreshments, etc. And it added to the fun when the ladies knew who it was that was modeling. So, I hadn't come here prepared to be undressed. But, I suppose it doesn't really matter, except that my plain bra and panties would show that I wasn't practicing what I preached... The clothing was laid out, so I offered, "Who wants to be first?" Lou, of course. Approximately 45 years old and full of executive level confidence and swagger. He walked towards me and picked out a bustier. I had him record it on his sales sheet. It was a good thing I had given them pens. I wouldn't want them erasing orders after this.
My skin began to feel hot as I turned my back to the men to undress. Shoes. Off. Blouse. Off. Skirt. What WAS I doing? Off. Panty hose. I need to remember to wear garters next time. I'm sure they're disappointed. Next time? I'm getting way ahead of myself here. I reached back and unfastened my bra, noticing for the first time the silence in the room. Just the sounds of their suddenly heavy breathing and a faint football game in the background. This was, more or less, the pivotal point.
Looking over my shoulder, I made sure that everyone but Lou was still in their seats. They were. This was misunderstood as a tease, and they Said a few things that I could only imagine might be appropriate in a strip club. Then they got silent again, hoping, I suppose. Looking down at the top of my breasts, smooth and tan, I decided that I did want to tease them. I looked over my shoulder, smiled, and dropped my bra, which was followed by a chorus of cheers. Panties. I worked them off my hips and down my legs, my bare ass facing the men. I realized that by being the tease, I maintained control, or at least I hoped. But it kept them in their seats. So I wiggled my butt as I reached for the bustier.
"Forgetting something?" Lou stepped beside me, and slowly lowered himself to one knee, eye level with my cunt. The tease in me suddenly departed. I don't know what shade I was, but I couldn't imagine there was a brighter red in the universe. He held the bustier at my feet so that I could step into it. Thank goodness I was low on inventory on the ones that snapped in the crotch and hadn't brought them. Then he rose, slowly, eyes level with the outfit as he raised it, eyeing my cunt closely as the outfit caught between my legs, then stretched over my abdomen, and finally, up to my 38C's where he jiggled the cups just enough to cover my nipples, while briefly pinching one nipple between his fingers, the sly dog. He then turned me around to face the others while he zipped my back side, making the bustier fit closely to my form, and thrusting my breasts upward. I adjusted it slightly so that my breasts remained comfortably in.
Aside from my husband, I hadn't been naked in front of another man, aside from doctors, since my college days, 14 years ago. I had forgotten over the years of my marriage those moments of embarrassment when a man sees me naked for the first time, which were followed by pangs of excitement as his eyes devoured my body, hungry for the gift I was giving to him. And while I wasn't giving myself that way, Lou's slow inventory of my body reminded me of the power the female form held over men. By comparison, his attention made my husband seem to take me for granted. THIS was a turn-on.
With great pleasure on his face, Lou said, "Ahem. I believe you were supposed to model also." I took a breath and then walked closer to the men, struck a pose revealing my cleavage, turned around, and struck another pose. This sale was done. Forty, no. Eight dollars in the bag. The room became quiet again as I moved near the two remaining clothing items. Their faces were staring towards my crotch. With a glance downward, it was then that I noticed that I hadn't shaved my cunt recently, and my brown hairs were peeking out liberally from both sides of the thin strip of material that "covered" my crotch. It couldn't be helped now.
And so it was that we began working through the bag. I had repacked the bag randomly, so there was a mixture of provocative and, relatively, conservative clothing in each mix of 3 items. This became so much the case that they began bidding against each other for the more revealing outfits, and then had to take turns buying the plainer sets to spread the costs. And they were motivated to buy all the clothes so that they could get to the toys. However they split their purchases, it suited me. It totaled the same. One guy took out a cell phone and made a phone call before I could stop him, so I requested that we not invite anyone else. Those that were here or due to arrive was as much, and I hoped not more, than I could handle.
There was no doubt that they had to be getting more satisfaction here than at a strip club. As they took their turns, their hands covered me from my feet to my neck, and each man had seen all that there was of me, so the more exotic outfits became easier to try on. The shyness melted, although I felt unusually conspicuous among a group of fully dressed men.
But after the first few men, it didn't matter if they saw my nipples through a bra, or all of my body through a see through body suit. Besides, It became clear that buying the merchandise was an excuse just to grab a feel. I was unnerved at first, but being desired by a group of men was a feeling that, I had to admit, was...delicious. So I playfully reprimanded them when they grabbed a tit, or slid a finger between my legs when pulling up panty hose. Limitations had been set, although it was unnerving to hear a man talk about how wet his finger was after briefly touching my sex. And it was true. I just couldn't let them know how good that brief touch felt, and it was a struggle to keep my body from shivering in response.
The last outfit was the plainest, a simple bra and panty set. Blue satin, with revealing cuts, but not uncomfortable to wear. As if that would even occur to them. My nervousness wasn't extreme, however. The men had kept to the rules. And besides that, they were having a good time, and were generally acting...nicely.
As I moved the two toy boxes to the table, I realized just what lay within. They didn't. I hadn't paid attention to the what they were discussing, but then Lou spoke up. "Hayley, instead of you setting the items out, how about we take turns and grab something from the bag, which we will buy." That seemed reasonable, and it would avoid their debating who was going to buy what. That would speed things up, maybe, and everything depended on me keeping control of my responses. And I my cunt spoke loudly of what it wanted.
Lou went first, and seeing what he had chosen, furrowed his eyebrows. This was a sale that his wife would probably never see. I hoped the $50 was worth the experience. I curled my finger to bring him towards me, and asked him to remove my bra, which he did, gladly. I opened the box of what was called a nipple enlarger. I had tried it once, and it didn't do much for me. It included small rubber rings and a hand pump. "Place the rubber ring on the long throat of the pump." He did. The rubber ring was tight against the throat and, he couldn't move it far. I guided his hand to my breast, and placed the suction end of the pump around my nipple and firmly against my breast. "Start squeezing, slowly."
Of course, when I had tried it, I was alone and was nowhere close to turned on. As my nipple was drawn into the tube, the sensation was exquisite. My nipples are normally about 3/8" long, but after a few squeezes, the length doubled as it was drawn inside the tube. It was hard to speak. "Okay. Be careful not to break the seal, and move rubber ring off the end." He understood, and just as he moved it off the end and onto my nipple, he gave the pump a hard squeeze. My mouth just hung open as the sensations took the interstate from my nipple to my cunt. My nipple was red, long, and caught in an exquisite pinch by the rubber ring. As I regained some composure, I realized that Lou was starting on my other nipple, which ended with a similar result.
Lou was smiling. I was hoping he was happy, because he now owned it. Another of the men asked a question, which came to me through a clearing fog. Kevin, that was it. "Other than a torture device," everyone laughed, "why would someone want that?" Fair question. I reached for my blouse and put it on. "It's generally for women with smaller nipples that want to show a little something through their shirt. As I looked down at my exaggerated nipples poking into the shirt, I added, "In this case, it could be used if a woman wanted to look promiscuous or obscene." They nodded some understanding. But perhaps there were some more sales here. "Just imagine if your wife met you at a restaurant or a bar like this..." The thought carried to their imaginations, and Kevin, at least, made a mark with his pen.
The sensations had ended with what I presumed to be numbness. Then Lou asked, with a greedy smile, "And how do we get them off?" I rolled my eyes and held his hands. "Carefully," I replied. I placed his left hand around my breast to hold it against the pulling action required to roll the ring off. He understood, and after adjusting his hand unnecessarily on my breast, he began working the ring off. The sensations once again flowed as the blood returned to my nipple. Soon, both were on fire and bright fiery red.
Lou returned to his seat, and Max, probably in his late 20's and the shyest of the bunch, took his turn. Bad luck on my part. Nipple rings, but at least they weren't the clamps. He grinned as he opened the box. The rings had two small balls on their ends which touched to form the circle. The rings had been formed to compress at these points, and Max approached my breasts. They didn't grip tightly, but as sensitive as I was, they didn't feel particularly good. He played with them briefly before all but jerking them off. "Owwww!" escaped my lips. The shy one had a mean streak, or maybe he just didn't know any better. Max apologized, I think sincerely, as he retreated to his seat. He looked happy with his purchase, but it wasn't worth the $25 I was going to get.
Morgan was next. He had been pretty quiet, but funny when he spoke. About my age and attractive. Shoot, they were all attractive, but at the moment, they were attracted to me. My ego soared. Regular exercise for a mother of two had been well worth it. He reached into the other box, and pulled out the item that I was probably most afraid of. Thigh/wrist cuffs. I had to give a reminder. "All right gentlemen. Remember the agreement. You stay in your seats."
Morgan had already opened the box, seen the picture on the cover and was fastening a Velcro fabric around my thigh. Then he did the other. I was standing, so he moved my right arm to my thigh, and fastened it with another Velcro loop that was attached. Then he did the other arm. I couldn't move, and I didn't like the loss of control. Morgan stepped behind me and commented to the group, "I guess that's what bondage is about. Once you tie her up, you can have your way with her." As he said this, he reached around and grabbed both of my breasts, enjoying the handfuls. Then he said, "I think I'll enjoy these," and undid my arms. Whew. That could have turned out...how? I didn't want to get fucked by almost strangers. Marital commitment, disease possibilities, and...no birth control! It hadn't dawned on me about that. I had just recently had my diaphragm removed when my husband had gotten fixed. I had to stay in control, of them and myself.
Tall, dark, and handsome stood, and I couldn't remember his name. He pulled out...tickling panties. Well, he was going to have to wash them before giving them to his wife. He looked at me, curiously. I explained, "They're kind of fun. They don't tickle, but they include a vibrating pad in the crotch. The part you will probably like is that they work with remote control up to 20 feet."
TD&H looked like he had won the lottery. He knelt down and lowered my panties, exposing my cunt yet again. He held up the panties where everyone could see clearly the shade of the material where it was dry, and the darker shade where it was soaked. Thanks. I stepped into the new panties, which he guided up my legs. He made a minor adjustment to make sure that the pad was firmly set against my cunt, and smelled his fingers which were wet with my juices. Thanks, again. He then sat in his chair and told me to walk around. It was the knowing of what would happen, and not the when, that gave to me uneasiness and to him a huge grin. It jolted me. It was better than their occasional touch with a finger, MUCH better. It built. It stopped. It began. It began cycling between intense and annoying. That was enough. "I think a minute is all I can handle of battery operated devices." I pulled the panties down, wiped myself off a bit with them, and then handed them to TD&H, which he quickly moved to his nose. While he was inhaling, I couldn't help but add, "Enjoy. My husband does." That set the men laughing.
Hugh was next, slightly round in the middle, and the only one in the group who didn't know what the deal was when he arrived, aside from me, that is. Another enthusiastic lottery winner. As he reached into the same box, he added that he was hoping for something remote controlled. Based on the way I had packed the boxes, he probably had a 50% chance. He won.
This was one of my husband's personal favorites, and I told them so. "It is a remote control egg. It has a little string attached to it so that you can pull it out of your wife's...cunt when you're done. It has a range of 30' - 40', and, I would add from experience, makes my husband eager to go mall shopping with me." This was greeted by an assortment of cheers, which I lost appreciation for as I realized that Hugh was ready for me to spread my legs so that he could insert his toy. I couldn't yet face doing this with everyone watching, so I stepped around to the back side of the table, hopped up, and turned myself away from the others so that only Hugh could see.