I had recently started working as a financial analyst in the Bombay branch of a small but prestigious wealth management firm. Their clientele was very exclusive, staff size small at just under 50, and they usually hired only one person a year, so I was pretty pleased to get selected from what had been at least a hundred other applicants like me from other reputed companies. The pay was phenomenal, the work challenging and my colleagues were all brilliant people, highly qualified and accomplished.

A month after I started work there, my wife and I got invited for a company party that was going to be held at a senior partner’s bungalow in Malad, a northern suburb of Bombay. It was Friday night, and my wife Swati and I were going to drive there. This was the first time Swati was going to meet my colleagues and I had praised all my colleagues and bosses so much, that she was looking forward to meeting them all.

At 27, Swati is just a year younger to me. She is quite a hottie, even if I do say so myself. She stands at a medium 5 ft 4, has a milky white complexion, a very attractive face, shoulder length hair, and a body that she keeps in good shape by working our regularly. All the work out has made her ass especially delectable, perfectly curved and round, neither too big nor too small. And I always thank god for the fact that she has the most amazingly shaped C-cup boobs with no sag. Swati looks like a knock-out whatever she wears, and always attracts admiring glances when we are in a public place.

That night she looked particularly smashing. She was wearing something she bought specially for this party from a designer boutique in Bandra - a yellow dress which went well with her milky white complexion. It stopped about two inches above her knees. It was loose and pleated from the waist down, so when she twirled, it kinda rose up, giving a glimpse of her underwear. And for underwear, she was wearing a tiny thong, which I really loved. Above the waist, the dress was figure-hugging tight, so it showed that Swati had a flat stomach. And it fit very snugly over her breasts. Also, the dress had spaghetti straps, and it gave a nice hint of her cleavage, and because of the thin straps, she had decided to go bra-less. So a very faint outline of her nipples was visible. They weren’t poking out (yet!), but you could tell where they were.

When she had gotten ready and come out of the bedroom in our house in Bombay, she had twirled very fast, making the dress balloon up to waist level, giving me a nice look at her thong-covered ass. She looked so sexy, I got hard instantly and had expressed the desire for a quickie right then, but Swati refused, saying it would mess up her make up. Reluctantly, I limited myself to some fondling, and finally we got going.

Swati really was looking amazing that night. Even when we were on the way to the party, drivers in passing cars would stare at her lustily. I felt even luckier than usual that I had such a hot wife. Eventually, we got to Malad at about 8 pm and followed the directions to the bungalow. Bungalow?? It was more like a mansion. Really huge. We parked the car and entered the massive living area, where the party seemed to be in full swing already.

I took my wife around, introducing her to everyone, and got introduced to others wives. Which is when I noticed something odd. Although there were almost 30 men there, there were only three wives, aside from Swati. I also noticed that none of the female employees had come. I found this surprising, and when Swati got busy talking to one of the other wives, I mentioned this to a couple of guys. They laughed and said, yeah, the parties tend to get kinda “raunchy” and “crazy”. Which is why a lot of the wives and women from the company stayed away. I asked what that meant exactly and they just laughed and said, nothing too serious. People get drunk and so there is flirting, teasing, and sometimes while dancing, there is fondling. Some of the “stuffy aunty” types don’t like it and stay away. Even the wife of Navin, the senior partner who owned the bungalow, had gone to stay with her sister for the night, with their kids.

I pulled Swati to the side and mentioned this to her, just to inform her about what to expect. She laughed it off and said she could take care of herself. And I knew she could. Being that attractive, she got hit on all the time in all situations, and I had seen her put guys in their place a lot. She was by no means a “stuffy aunty” type. Quite the opposite. She was kinda wild and loved flirting, although she knew where to draw the line.

I had known Swati since we were toddlers - our parents were next door neighbors. Growing up, we were good friends, often hanging out together. Ours wasn’t exactly a teen romance. In fact we never even considered the idea of dating until much later. I knew the two guys she had dated before we got together, and she knew the three girls I had dated. We had told each other about our first kisses, when we lost our virginities, and poured our hearts out to each other when we were heartbroken. In fact it was simultaneous heartbreaks that brought us together. I was 22, she was 21, and we had both had messy break-ups at the same time. We got talking, started hanging out exclusively, and before we knew it we were in love. After two years of dating, we got married.

All through childhood, teen years, during our relationship and then our marriage, I had always known Swati to be very aware and confident of her beauty and she did not mind flaunting it or using it. She knew she had an awesome rack, a perfect ass, and it did not bother her that men got turned on by it. In bed too, she is a wildcat, using her body (and her mouth) very well. She loves to try different positions, loves to talk dirty, asked very confidently for what she wanted, enjoys oral and anal sex and even loves watching porn with me. Often, we try out positions from porn films as we watch them. She was also a compulsive tease, and loved telling me about how she noticed men checking her out, or dying to touch her. So I knew that even if things started getting crazy at the party, Swati would be on top of things.

Everyone started mingling, talking, dancing. Swati was definitely the hit of the party, with almost everyone wanting to talk to her or dance with her. The three other wives there were also young, in their late 20s or early 30s, and decent looking, but none of them was as drop-dead gorgeous as Swati. Also, two of them were dressed in saris, and the third one in a long skirt and a conservative blouse. So dress-wise too, Swati was the center of attention.

When the party started, we had been together, but as the party went on, we slowly drifted apart, although I had my eye on her all the time. I was still new to the company, so I was getting to know a lot of the guys, listening to their stories about their clients, bosses and so on. Plus, I hate dancing and try to avoid it if I can. Swati on the other hand, loves dancing and was mostly on the dance floor. Guys kept asking her (and the other three wives also, to be fair) to dance. I also noticed that guys kept bringing Swati drinks, and she kept drinking. She has a pretty high tolerance by Indian women standards, but until I cared to count, she had already downed five cocktails.

I was getting quite drunk too. As I moved from group to group, in almost each group, someone would raise a toast to me, the new guy, and ask everyone to down shots. After eight drinks, including some shots, I stopped counting too. Pretty much everyone was drunk, the senior partners, the managers, the analysts and even the wives. People would eat the food laid out on the tables in between, but the main nutrient for that night seemed to be alcohol.

As people started getting drunker, sure enough, the flirting and groping started. A couple of guys that danced with Swati hugged her and pecked her, and even in that state, she seemed to be in control. I saw one guy trying to put his hand on her ass when they were dancing, and she firmly moved it up to her back. I noticed another thing with amusement. Guys were getting her to twirl more and more often. As a result, her thong would come into vision every once in a while. Knowing how self-aware Swati usually is, I am sure she was fully aware of it, and was enjoying the teasing. She still had enough sense not to twirl too hard and show her whole ass, but there was enough visible to keep guys interested. I even noticed a few guys nudging each other to point it out.

There was some close dancing too, and the groping increased a bit. The other wives were being groped too, and like Swati, did not seem to mind too much as long as it stayed within limits. Plus, everyone WAS really drunk. Soon, more and more guys kept breaking away from the small groups and heading towards the dance floor. There were now lines of sort to dance with the women next, and the longest line was for Swati.

Finally, one of the wives declared that she was getting tired and was going to take a break, and Swati and the other two wives said that was a good idea and they needed a break too. At that time I was sitting on a couch, talking to one of the guys, and when he saw Swati approaching, he politely excused himself and left us two alone. I had gotten very turned on by Swati’s flirting and dancing and the way all men were ogling at her. Even now, as she sat next to me and put her head on my chest, I saw at least half the guys either looking at her, either directly or through the corners of their eyes.

I was already drunk and so, quite low on inhibitions. So I started kissing Swati hungrily, in full view of everyone, and she, also drunk, started kissing me back passionately. We had our tongues down each others throats and were making out like two hormonal teenagers. Knowing fully well that everyone was watching and feeling jealous, I groped her boobs and her ass. And I slowly moved one hand up her dress, and put my fingers into the waistband of her thong, and started fondling her naked ass, careful to keep the dress lowered and not give everyone too much of a show.

We kissed and made out like that for a while more. After that, Swati said she’d get something to eat and stood up to do go. The problem was, my hand was still in the waistband of her thong, and as she stood up, the flimsy material tore with a rip, and I was left there with the thong wrapped around my fingers. Swati saw what had happened, and cracked up laughing, saying - “I hope you’re happy now, Mr. Public Make-out!”. I started laughing too, and she walked away towards the food table.

I looked around and saw many guys staring at the thong in my hand with a smile on their face. I stuffed it in my pocket, and got up to get myself another drink. I saw Swati was talking to a few guys near the food table, laughing and having a good time. I also saw her touching a couple of them on the arm flirtatiously. I got myself a tall drink of scotch, and went back to the couch where I had been sitting, because it gave me a good view of the dance floor.

Soon everyone else was back dancing, and dancing a lot faster. Many guys also knew that Swati’s thong panties were in my pocket, so she was twirled around hard many times, giving half the room fleeting glimpses of her ass and her shaved pussy. This time there were a lot more attempts to fondle the wives, and maybe because the wives were drunk too, many of them were succeeding. I saw a couple of guys touch and grab Swati’s ass, and after a few attempts at stopping them, she seemed to have given up too. However, when one guy tried to put his hand under her dress, she slapped away his hand emphatically, and no one tried anything. Guys were, however, rubbing their chests against Swati’s and getting a feel of her ample bosom.

I watched this for a few minutes, and then found myself dozing off periodically, as the high level of alcohol in my blood starting taking effect. I guess everyone else was drunk as much, but because they were dancing, they were working it all off much faster than me just sitting there. People also seemed to notice that I was passing out, and seemed to get bolder and bolder with Swati, and her resistance also seemed to be gradually waning, although she still didn’t let anyone put a hand inside her dress.

Every few minutes, I’d wake up and look at the dance floor and see Swati being spun around or fondled. She was also being handed shot glasses regularly and coaxed into downing them. The other wives were also being felt up liberally, but Swati seemed to be the target. When I’d wake up, I’d keep my eyes partially closed to give the impression I was passed out, but kept watching with increasing fascination and arousal as my colleagues kept taking liberties with my wife. The men would look in my direction, make sure I was sleeping, and then go in for another feel or grope. I had always had fantasies of watching my wife with another man, and had even suggested swinging or swapping. But as wild a tease as she was, she had always firmly refused. I started beginning to wonder if this was a night when circumstances would make her change her mind. As I thought about the possibility, I even started feeling an erection come on, so I took one of the couch cushions and put it on my lap to hide it. And those thoughts actually sobered me up to an extent that I didn’t doze off any more, just pretended to do so.

As the action on the dance floor started getting raunchier by the minute, pretty much all the guys except me were crowded there, clamoring to be the next to get to dance. The top choice was Swati of course, but the other wives also had guys fawning over them. Soon people started arguing over who would dance next. Finally Navin, the senior partner whose bungalow it was, yelled loudly and told everyone to keep quiet and stop arguing. He then announced that they would have a sort of a musical chairs game to see who danced with the women. Some guys were sent to gather chairs from the living area and the adjoining rooms, and the others were told to gather around.

Swati, breathless with the dancing and reasonably drunk, walked over to me, swaying slightly to tell me to take part in the game too. I kept the pillow over my erection and kept my eyes shut even when she shook me. For good effect, I even started fake-snoring a bit. After some futile attempts to wake me up, Swati (and presumably others looking at us), assumed that I was completely passed out from the booze. Which is what I wanted, because maybe thinking that I was knocked out would make Swati cross some boundaries, and I’d get to watch.

Swati walked back to the dance floor, where people had assembled 25-30 chairs. Navin started explaining the rules of the game. Al the guys would sit on the chairs in a circle, facing out. The women would run around them, like participants in musical chairs. When the music stopped, they would sit on the lap of the guy closest to them. Whoever they sat on, got eliminated and moved out of the circle. Then the music would restart and the women would run again. This would continue until there were less men than women, and the final four guys, as a prize, would get to dance with the women uninterrupted for half an hour.

I know I was drunk, but even in that drunken state, I could guess that this so-called “game” was just an excuse to have the women sit on everyone’s laps and give them each a chance to fondle them. I almost felt like bursting out laughing at the game, but I had to appear to be passed out, so I resisted the urge.

Soon the men were seated in the chairs, and the women were standing around the, ready to go. Navin had very graciously decided to not take part and be the music guy instead. He put in the CD of some trance music and pushed play. And the wives started going round and round. First they were just walking, and everyone shouted that they should run and soon they were all running. As they were running, their boobs bounced, making the men happy. The best sight was of course Swati, my gorgeous wife with the huge boobs wrapped in a dress with spaghetti straps. They bounced up and down very heavily, and most men were craning their necks to get a look. Also, when Swati ran, the back of her dress would rise up slightly, giving a hint of her naked asscheeks, so both her front and back were being admired by most of the male eyes in the room.

After a couple of minutes of their running, the wives starting yelling at Navin to stop the music, and Navin obliged at once. The wives dived into the laps of the men closest to them. And as the wives sat, obviously, the guys didn’t miss their chances. They were groping boobs, groping asses, rubbing thighs, you name it. When the music stopped, Swati was on the side of the circle facing me, so I saw her sit on Pankaj’s lap. Swati, already tipsy and having a good time, decided to have some fun, and starting jumping up and down on his lap and laughing, as if Pankaj had been fucking her. Everyone started laughing, and the other wives also played along by doing something similar. Pankaj, meanwhile, emboldened by Swati’s playfulness, was trying to get his hands inside her dress, and she was fending him off very well. He did manage to raise her skirt a few times though, and from where I was sitting, I got a good view of her pussy when he did that. I am sure Navin, from his angle, also saw the same sight.

Pankaj finally gave up his attempts at reaching inside her dress, and put his hands on her boobs and cupped them, something she did not seem to mind or stop. So he hungrily massaged her huge tits for a few seconds, when the music started and he reluctantly let go. Swati and the other ladies starting running again, and Pankaj and the three other guys moved out of the circle and stood around it to get a good view.

The next time the music stopped, Swati was on the other side of the circle, so I could not fully see what was happening, but from whatever I saw, she was on Michael’s lap, and he was also fondling her boobs. Again the music started, the wives got up, and four more guys were eliminated. The number was now down to 20. As the music kept going, I noticed Yatin, a senior partner still seated in the circle, say something to Jay, one of the eliminated men, when none of the women were near him. Jay walked over to me. He called my name a couple of times, then shook me on the shoulder. I kept my eyes closed and mumbled some gibberish. Satisfied that I was still knocked out, he walked back and gave Yatin a thumbs up sign.

I then watched in amazement as Yatin slowly unzipped his pants and took out his erect cock. It didn’t seem too big at all_maybe 4-5 inches, but it was very erect. When a woman would approach, he’d cup his hands around it, and at a glance it would seem like he had just kept his hands in his lap. But when none of the women was near him, he looked at Navin, took his hands off and showed him his dick. Navin smiled at him and nodded. Yatin then cupped his hands over his dick again. And I suddenly realized what was going to happen.

Sure enough, around the corner came Swati and when she was a couple of steps away from Yatin with hands still cupped around his dick, the music stopped. Swati, unaware of what she was literally jumping into, turned around to sit down on Yatin’s lap. As soon as Swati turned and started to sit, Yatin took his hands off his dick, and pulled Swati’s dress up from the back. She sat down and it was clear at once that Yatin’s had hit the bullseye. Call it pure luck or skillful aim. Her face, until then sporting a playful smile, suddenly turned serious and her eyes widened. I am sure Swati’s cunt must have already been pretty wet from all the groping and fondling. Combine that with the fact that Yatin’s dick wasn’t too big, it must not have been too difficult for him to penetrate her cunt completely right away.