Prologue: The Best Bad Decision I Ever Made (?)

I ‘should’ have known better than to agree to my girlfriend’s “totally innocent” plan. But when Mikyo’s eyes lit up like a kid who’d just discovered fire, resistance was futile. Little did I know, I was about to witness an evening so wildly unpredictable, push my boundaries and ignite a hidden fantasy I never knew I had that it would make a Vegas bachelor party look like a church potluck.

A Week Earlier

The whole thing started when Mikyo announced she was hosting a “women’s only” Tupperware party. “Sure, Jan...” I raised an eyebrow and joked, “Let me guess—this ‘Tupperware’ comes with batteries and a 10-speed setting?”

Cue, the most dramatic blush in Korean history. She stammered, “Ehhh ... yes? My friend Veronica just became a distributor for this, uh... ‘MLM sales scheme’? And she said your beach house is ‘nice and private.’”

... it was not a Tupperware party.

How I Got Here (Without a Map)

Before Mikyo, there was Mikiko—my lovely, ‘slightly’ older Japanese ex who got second thoughts after about two and half years together. We’d met by chance in Fiji (romantic!) and again in Kyoto and then, just by chance, in Santa Cruz (fate!) a year and a half later, at the university taking the same class, and we fell in love all over again instantly and so we moved in together in my ‘Jim Rockford files’ trailer near the beach after I discovered her dorm neighbor was the grandson of a literal well know infamous WW2 Nazi with the same name ( ... less romantic).

I was a passive person, insecure maybe, meaning I did not chase women. The lack of self-confidence made me fear rejection, but I was very open to women wanting to talk to me and asking me to go on dates. That did not happen very often though, but I rarely turned them down if they did.

Our relationship was sweet, if vanilla—like two people gently high-fiving in the dark. She was 35; I was 23. Back in the early ‘80s, that age gap raised more eyebrows than a surprise tax audit. But hey, she looked young, and I looked ... in love and present, insecure and afraid to embarrass and upset her with experimental bedroom requests

Things ended when she rejected my proposal, citing the age gap and her firm “no kids” policy (though she did hand-deliver me a much younger, virgin Korean student replacement like some sort of romantic Uber Eats—awkward).

But just days before a went on one knee, she surprised me by coming after me in the bathroom taking the initiative to turn vanilla into something spicy by wanting to hold and direct my firehose while a was desperately trying to relieve myself. She did not have to wait long and with my rapid growing in her hand, hitting every spot in the bowl. Just when the last drops were on their way out, she surprised me even more by kissing the tip and swiping it dry. My secret fetish flared up and I gained instant self-confidence. Probably that action prompted me to propose to her not long after that.

Enter Mikyo: The Upgrade(?)

Mikyo was ... fine. A rebound with benefits. I taught her the joys of sex (turns out, shame-free orgasms are a learned skill), and in return, she taught me the joys of ... well, demanding I ditch all my friends. (Fair trade?)

Her reasoning? “My friends are more than enough—and they won’t remind you and me of any of your exes.” Plus, she promised to “make it worth my while.” (Spoiler: She did. Just ... not in the way I expected.)

So when she insisted I scram for her “Tupperware” soirée, I saw an opportunity. “What if I ’don’t’ leave?” I teased. “What if I hide in the closet like a very attentive coat?”

I expected outrage. I got a slow, mischievous grin.

... Oh. This was happening...

Chapter 1: Sunset & Anticipation

The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the Santa Cruz sky in shades of pink and gold—nature’s way of setting the mood, really. One by one, the women arrived at our cozy beach house, their laughter blending with the sound of crashing waves. The evening was warm, the air smelled like salt and sunscreen, and I had the best (and most distracting) hidden seat in the house.

Mikyoung—my girlfriend, hostess extraordinaire, and self-proclaimed nickname enthusiast—had insisted everyone call her Mikyo or, if feeling particularly affectionate, Kiyomi. (“It’s shorter, cuter, and won’t make people stumble over syllables,” she’d argued. I had no objections.) She’d transformed our living room into what could only be described as a very inviting lounge—plush cushions scattered artfully across the floor, soft lighting that made everyone look like they were in a romantic indie film, and the distant rhythm of the ocean playing backup to whatever... activities the night might bring.

-I had spent the afternoon crafting a small peephole in the storage room adjacent to the living room. It was a tight squeeze, but the effort was worth it. The one-way mirror I installed allowed me to witness and film the evening’s events without being seen. I felt like a peeping tom, a voyeur in my own home, an unseen observer of the women’s secret world.-

First to arrive was Emily, Mikyo’s best friend and the kind of woman who made “walking into a room” look like a talent. Tall, curvy, and armed with a smirk that promised mischief, she floated in wearing a flowy maxi dress that definitely hid something lacy underneath. She greeted Mikyo with a quick peck on the cheek (a habit that still made me raise an eyebrow, even after all this time) and sauntered into the living room with the confidence of someone who knew exactly the effect she had on people.

Next came Lily—petite, fiery-haired, and basically a walking serotonin boost. A college friend of Mikyo’s, she bounced in like she’d just been told the world’s best secret, her grin infectious. Right behind her was Maya, whose presence didn’t so much ‘enter’ the room as ‘rearrange’ it. Dark-skinned, statuesque, and with a gaze that could probably stop traffic, she had this effortless magnetism that made you want to both flirt with her and hide behind a potted plant.

Last (but certainly not least) were the sisters—Rachel and Zoe. Rachel was elegance personified: blonde, graceful, and dressed in a way that made “standing still” look like high art. Zoe, meanwhile, was her polar opposite in the best way—a redheaded whirlwind of energy, sarcasm, and zero patience for subtlety. The two of them together were like watching a ballet dancer share a stage with a firecracker.

As the group settled in, exchanging greetings and pouring drinks, I couldn’t help but grin. The night was young, the vibe was right, and if the universe had any sense of humor (which it clearly did), things were about to get ‘very’ interesting.

Chapter 2: Veronica’s Very Educational Presentation!

The women settled in, drinks in hand, as Mikyo introduced the evening’s special guest: Veronica, a rep for a high-end lingerie and sex toy MLM (because nothing says “girls’ night” like a multi-level marketing scheme with benefits).

Veronica was that woman—the kind who could make reading a phone book sound seductive. Statuesque, commanding, and armed with a voice like melted dark chocolate, she had the room’s attention before she even unzipped her sample case. The soft music and distant waves? Just nature’s way of setting the mood.

Veronica kicked things off with a parade of lingerie that could’ve made a nun reconsider her life choices. Delicate lace bras, sheer bodysuits, silk robes—each piece came with a pep talk about “empowerment” and “confidence” (translation: “This’ll make your partner’s brain short-circuit”). The ladies oohed, aahed, and mentally calculated how fast they could ditch their cotton granny panties.

But the real fun began when Veronica brought out the sex toys. She unveiled a sleek silver vibrator with the gravitas of a sword ceremony, demonstrating speeds from “gentle hum” to “earthquake mode.” The women passed it around like a hot potato—until Maya, ever the overachiever, gave a hands-on demo that left everyone giggling like teenagers.

As the evening progressed, and the cocktails had done their work shedding the last inhibitions they still might have had, the atmosphere became more relaxed and playful. Veronica encouraged the women to try on the lingerie and experiment with the toys. She assured them that the evening was all about exploration and pleasure, and there was no judgment among friends.

One by one, the ladies disappeared into the bedroom, emerging moments later in various stages of undress. Emily strutted out in a sheer black teddy, her curves on full display. She twirled around, the fabric clinging to her body, and the other women whistled and cheered.

Rachel and Zoe, always the competitive siblings, decided to take things up a notch. They had emerged from the bedroom wearing matching black lace lingerie sets, complete with garters and stockings. They struck a series of sultry poses, their bodies intertwined, and the room erupted in a chorus of wolf whistles.

Lily, ever the playful one, chose a set of lace bra and crotchless panties in a vibrant shade of red. She struck a series of playful poses, her freckles standing out against her pale skin. Maya, true to her bold nature, opted for a barely-there mesh bodysuit that left little to the imagination. She struck a powerful pose, her hands on her hips, and the other women applauded her confidence. Things progressed nicely, I though, especially when Lily showed how she inserted her finger in her pussy and masturbated in front of the others and went even further when Veronica handed her a black flexible dildo to try out. I noticed that Lily had a quick small orgasm and when she pulled the dildo out, she stuffed it in her mouth and licked it dry.

Veronica was not shy either and pulled the gusset aside from her panties to demonstrate a kind of double headed vibrator. A moving phallus with a small one for either clit or ass crinkle stimulation, I wasn’t sure, and she too had an orgasm and told the others not to be shy and feel her up, using their fingers to feel in her pussy how the toy was moving and vibrating.

But the real showstopper was yet to come. Veronica pulled out a special item from her collection—a pair of transparent plastic panties. She explained that these were designed for a unique fetish known as urophilia, or the love of urine. These panties, she said, were meant for those who enjoyed the sensation of wetness and the thrill of golden showers.

As she spoke, I felt my heart racing in my chest. I had faintly heard of such a fetish, but the mere thought of it sent a rush of excitement through my body. I watched, transfixed, as Veronica demonstrated how the panties could be worn during play, allowing the wearer to experience the sensation of being wet without too much mess.

The women were intrigued, but it was Mikyo who took the lead. She stepped forward and asked Veronica to show them how it worked. Veronica smiled, a mischievous glint in her eye, and motioned for Mikyo to join her.

Mikyo, ever the adventurous one, eagerly obliged. She slipped into the transparent panties, her bare skin visible through the clear plastic. The other women gathered around, their eyes wide with curiosity.

Veronica produced a small funnel and a bottle of warm water, explaining that they would simulate the act of urination. She gently guided Mikyo to a standing position, her back to the audience, and began to pour the water into the funnel.

As the water flowed down, Mikyo’s body trembled. She let out a soft moan, her hands gripping the cushions for support. The plastic panties clung to her curves, showcasing her wetness for all to see. The other women watched, transfixed, as Mikyo’s face contorted in pleasure.

“Oh my God, it feels so good,” Mikyo whispered, her voice hoarse with desire.

Veronica smiled, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. “This is just a taste of what’s possible. Imagine the thrill of the real thing.”

Chapter 3: Busted!

The room crackled with the kind of silence that usually precedes either a standing ovation or an HR meeting. Meanwhile, my pants were staging their own little protest—apparently, my dick missed the memo about “just observing.”