The Party Favour
We gather in the lounge.
Close friends, partners, trusted associates.
It had been a casual affair. Food, drinks, and plenty of chit-chat.
But now, congregating in the lounge, was the hushed buzz of the guests with an excitement for something more.
They never disappointed. The best hosts by far, their parties renowned.
He walks in first, sporting a grin, and the room quiets. Thanking our patience, he motions to the entrance.
She walks in next, our beloved hostess, and introduces our party favour.
She gently ushers her into the centre of the room.
A pretty, young woman in a small black dress and a blindfold over her eyes. A nervous smile as the guests voice their adoration.
Together, we rise from our seats for a closer look.
Hands touch, gently stroking, learning the contours of her body through the thing, black dress.
Fondling her breasts, admiring her bottom, caressing her legs, sliding up her thighs.
We guide her hands to ourselves. Our faces, our mouths, our torsos.
We kiss her. Each and every one of us, one at a time, showing her the soft touch of our lips and tongues.
Her dress soon falls to the ground, her beautiful countenance exposed.
She giggles as we touch her, fondle her, kissing every inch of her.
Our clothes also fall, and she touches us too.
We gently lead her to the sofa and we sit her down.
While the rest of us continue to touch her, to kiss her, a few of us take in turns to please her.
Our fingers, our mouths, touching, caressing, thrusting. Her moans fill the room, muffled by our kisses.
Her hands reach out, seeking to please us too, a gentle grasp on those that she can find.
I move up to her face, kissing her with passion, toying with her blindfold.
She asks to please me, and I oblige.
She waits, moaning as the other guests please her, as I bring myself to her.
I push myself against her lips and her mouth gives way, her tongue reaching out to meet me.
Other gentleman glance over, envious, before bringing themselves to my side.
She nods at their request and softly removes her lips from me.
Before they take their turn, she whispers her own request into my ear, before her mouth is occupied once more.
I move to the other end of the sofa. A girl sits up, removing her mouth from our party-favour. She nods, and playfully lifts our favour's legs as I place myself between them. They wrap themselves around me, her feet pulling me towards her.
I slowly fill her, her moans audibly louder from the other end of the sofa. Her hips rise to meet mine, gently thrusting.
The other guests cheer, encouraging us both.
That night, we played for hours. Flowing from position to position, switching from guest to guest. Every bit of her, loved. Hands exploring all that they could, tongues and lips against every inch.
Everyone indulging their desires with our generous party favour, and our party favour indulging hers.
Polly Nor is a freelance illustrator based in North West London. She draws women and their demons-