Written by Pussinboots1
24 May 2012
Memoirs of being *slutty*, hell who am I fooling a big slut.
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As a swinger/player, I met a lot of men – and women –some in powerful corporate positions.
Some filthy rich.
Some well known.
Some just as ordinary as myself.
Discretion runs high, and so does our play times.
But two things universal among the super rich are borderline lunacy, and a big appetite for sex.
Put those two together, and pretty much anything can and does happen.
I draw the line at whatever leaves a permanent mark.
Giving marks......well that is different.
This adventure, while not my wildest, certainly left me with some amusing memories.
I was invited for a swingers cruise one night,on a spectacular yacht by a who’s who gaggle of investment gurus,and their wife`s and girlfriends and boyfriends,and few singles.
We were told to bring an extra set of clothing.And also told what to wear....I was to wear a cocktail dress.
It was a fairly dull beginning; jazz on the deck with some men and women in power suits guzzling champagne, directly from work,it seemed....for this *sunset*cruise.
Few ladies and men, in scanty swim suits,or cocktail dresses.
Some were just lying around topless, like ornaments, with their suit bottoms wedged in their pussies for a slippery and tempting show of camel toe,some men strutted around in tiny swimsuits,showing of their bodies.
I only knew a handful,including my *play partner* of the night.
Most were strangers to me.
Dinner came and went uneventfully; your typical haute cuisine with emphasis on presentation over actual nutrition, served with really expensive wines and cheap superficial conversation,some people flirting but nothing exciting.
Then it was time for dessert.
This is where the fun started,as planned by our host.
He proceeded to explain what was going to happen,and the rules of the *game*.
We could participate or just sit back from the dining table and play voyeur...few people did move back to comfortable chairs and sofa`s.
The rest of us all got to draw a piece of paper from a hat with some instructions on it.
Some people remained as they were...some,including me,had to go and change...and *do* as asked.
Us being the desert of the night.
The numbers did not even out as some of women and men sitting down out numbered the *deserts*.
We were all dressed alike, black panties/thongs and jockstraps....all of us going Topless. No one was allowed to be even slightly shy.
The huge long dining table was cleared so we could strut the length, like a catwalk.
All eyes followed us back and forth. With a change of music to hard thumping disco ..and lights flashing.
We were asked to dance.
We all moved to the music, showed a lot of leg, flashed our covered crotches and cleavage, and rubbed our pussies in the assembled faces.
The men shaking their booty and asses,doing the same.
The mood was quickly getting steamy.And the cheering made us more bold.
The yacht’s owner, and host of the event, rang a small bell.
A few caterers entered with large bowls of cream, shaved chocolate, and of course, cherries,and a varied fruit pieces and set them on the table’s center.
We "deserts" were then asked to present our pussies/cocks to a guest sitting of our choosing.
I chose a rather pudgy and homely man that reeked of money and dignity.Still wearing his pants and shirt.
I scooted to the edge of the table, set my feet on the arms of his chair, and opened my legs.
My man licked his chops with a hungry grin, then proceeded to wipe his face all over my pantied crotch.
Piggish, but cute in some weird way.
He gave me a wink, then proceeded to cut the panties off with a knife and gave me a surprisingly satisfying licking.
Yes, I do enjoy my playtime ...The occasional jerk will ruin a good play night, but for the most part, getting licked by a stranger who knew his *story* ain’t bad.
So, he slurped away ‘till his hearts content.
A quick glance around, and I could see the other *desserts* were in the same boat as I, a tongue up their pussy/ boobs or on their cocks.
Lots of eager eyes looking on,awaiting their turn.
The voyeurs of the night,I am sure, was by now regretting their chosen path.
I also noticed none of my *desert lady companions* were paired with the power ladies at the table.
To me that Seemed a little unfair.
So after the bell was rung for changing of partners...(rule of the game)
I rolled a few seats up the table, opened my legs for one of the ladies, and proceeded to turn my pussy into a gourmet éclair for her.
I scooped up a fist full of cream, bits of chocolate and few cherries,and fruit pieces and let her dig in.
What a pro!
I do have to say it was rather comical to see her, undoubtedly a real lady in normal life, now smothered in whipped cream and looking like a clown.
Despite that *priceless moment*, I was enjoying the tongue bath quite a lot.
Time to move a few more chairs.
This time I got up on my knees and offered my backside to a cute old gentleman .
He put together his own *dessert* with the table fixings, and dove in for a feast of - me.
All told, He and all the others, must have put away a few thousand calories and several good shots of girl/boy cream.
This musical chairs went on until we had all made two complete rounds. The table was a mess, and every face seated around it was smeared in whipped cream and a big smiles around
Playtime proceeded from there to showers,pool, and private cabins...
The yacht docked around three in the morning.
We all left smiling and in good moods,once again ,*normally dressed people*
All I am sure woke up with clear and pleasant memories, while others still wonder why they have put on a few pounds.
For me, this is just another fond *play* memory.......of days gone.