Chapter 7: A BDSM New Year’s Eve Celebration

We flew back to school on the 27th, and Rita, my house sitter, picked Liz and me up with a chuckle and dropped us off at my house. We were exhausted and slept ten hours, ordered a large pizza, and watched old movies before sleeping some more.

When we woke up on the 29th, we talked and agreed to work harder at communication. Liz convinced me she was serious about making our relationship work, and I told her about the invitation I received to a party on New Year’s Eve. I didn’t tell her what the man who invited us did for a living; he ran multiple BDSM internet websites. I got an invitation through my patent attorney’s father-in-law, who graduated college with the man who owned the company, Mr. John Smith. I swear that’s his name.

The New Year’s Eve party was at a fabulous estate owned by the movie company that made bondage movies and was decadent and depraved, a perfect exhibition of San Francisco’s immorality. I enjoyed it immensely since I hailed from a conservative South Carolina city. They even had dressed-up outhouses that looked like nineteenth-century brothels. The spacious backyard had three dance floors over grass and three live bands.

Liz was spectacular, dressed in a sexy ice blue evening gown with a thigh-high slit and five-inch pumps with ankle straps. With her hair piled on top of her head in a glamorous messy bun style, she was a major attraction for every unattached male. She flirted shamelessly with attractive men and women but remained attached to my arm. Every time we danced, a half dozen lounge lizards or lesbians tried cutting in.

About an hour before midnight, Liz took my hand and led me toward the house, urging me along, “I’m not going to piss in a box sitting outside that looks like a whore house.”

Guarding the back door were two bodybuilders doubling as bouncers who stopped our entry into the mansion. In my mind, I called them Mutt and Jeff, for short and tall.

Liz spun a tale on them that she made up as we walked up to them, “Guys, I have to pee so bad; if I don’t find a toilet right now, I’ll have to do it here. See?” She reached down to the slit in her dress and pulled it up, showing her smooth pink cunny with moisture seeping out.

The short one, who I named Mutt, stammered, “Straight ahead through two double doorways, then the second door on the right.” The tall bald bouncer, who, of course, had to be Jeff, hurriedly opened the door for us.

We moved quickly straight ahead, with Liz practically dragging me behind her. I looked behind us and expected to see someone chasing us, but no, we were in the clear. After we passed through the second doorway, she opened the first door on the right.

“He said the second door...” and I stopped talking.

I was looking at a stunningly beautiful woman, incredibly well put together with extra cushion for the pushing, whom I would classify as a BBW, an internet term. Wearing only her curly red shoulder-length hair, she was straddling a man lying on his back, and her large implants were sagging slightly as she rested on her hands and knees, with the man’s thick dick stretching her hairless pussy. A second man, with what looked like a ten-inch cock, but half as wide as the first guy, filled her ass. These two men were young, in good physical shape, and they were in no hurry to come. In front of the woman, a rolly poly man holding a whip was sliding a long skinny cock down the woman’s throat as her muffled moans escaped from her lips wrapped around his dick.

If Liz hadn’t been holding my hand, I would have joined the friendly neighborhood gangbang happening in front of me. Liz was frozen, squeezing my fingers, so I freed my hand to turn her around with a hand on each shoulder and pushed her out the door before she left a puddle. Somehow, I don’t think anyone would be unhappy if she lost her bladder control, at least in this house.

After leaving the room, I quietly closed the door before we were discovered and led Liz to the second door. She launched herself at a vacant toilet, lifted her dress to her waist, sat down, and sighed.

I looked around, and the room was laid out like a public bathroom, a lavatory reserved for the rich and famous. The difference between the two; public restrooms have privacy stalls around the toilets and don’t have a bidet. They also don’t have vanities with marble sinks, gold fixtures, and large mirrors on the wall.