The Christmas Retreat

There were plenty of cheers now. Even Lucy whooped. Annabelle, surprisingly, asked tentatively, "How do we determine the winner?"

Ian paused to get the assembly's attention and said measuredly, "I think we'll have a consensus on who's the biggest sport, Hmm?"

Linda, typically, enquired, "And just how big a sport does one have to be?"

Ian did a quick shuffling count of the bills in his hand and said with fake nonchalance, "Oh, depends on how big a sport you think you need to be to scoop five and a half thousand big ones..."

Needless to say he got plenty of accord of even higher volume.

Nicole settled everyone and confirmed it: "Yes, well we're all agreed then. Who wants to go first? Girls?"

I saw Nicole give a sly glance to her hubby. Ian was by my shoulder as he made his way to the starting point. He returned her look with a wink. But he saw that I'd noticed. He whispered in my ear, "We've played this at parties before. The women always shy away from going first, but it's an advantage if you think about it –the height will be minimal, but watch them..."

True to his word, the girls shuffled nervously and were reluctant to step up. Lucy even said, "It's okay, we'll watch the boys go first..." Helene added, "Yep, boys' prerogative..." Annabelle was happy to go along with them, shrinking behind Helene and Lucy. Vicky seemed the only one thinking. She almost spoke up but remained standing there, arms folded with a puzzled frown on her face, as if she were trying to remember song lyrics.

Tony moved into position beside the tree. Linda kept her husband in check at the start, holding her feathery duster across him like some officious starting marshal in the Olympics. Ian handed Tony the dice. He rolled: a 5 and 2. Total 7 inches. Ian and Nicole moved the string to the appropriate height. Tony took a shot poured for him from Ian's crystal decanter – it looked like eggnog but I presumed it would be a lot more vicious - then strode across, arms held out like it was a piece of cake to him.

"Shoes, socks, and pants please," said Nicole.

Tony's face dropped like a shot goose. "Huh?"

"You got them wet," Nicole explained. "Off, please."

Linda was in kinks of laughter, doubled up. "You should have rolled up your pants – clown!" she roared.

"Ah, fuck," Tony sighed.

"Get them off!" Helene called, and the girls goaded him.

Bright red, cursing himself, Tony flipped off his shoes and socks. Then, to whistles, removed his pants. He was left standing in a pair of black briefs, just covered by the bottom of his shirt.

"Woo-hoo, nice package," chimed Helene. Tony blushed.

"I get to put on my costume," he said.

"Not until you've lost your shirt, too," Nicole ruled. "it's an all-in-one outfit so it does not correspond to just your pants."

He was laughed down. All us guys followed on, deciding on our own order, losing only our shoes and socks as we kept our pants rolled up. I had a pair of roman sandals to put on but thought they'd look a bit stupid with my regular clothes, so I decided to wait. Ian was last of us to go and by then the bar was at around two and a bit feet if my memory serves me well. No-one had rolled doubles – much to Linda's relief – or anything big to get excited about unfortunately – too bloody low in fact - despite the guys hollering for large numbers and the girls realising what going second meant and screaming successfully for low numbers.

At any rate, it was above the average girl's knee and the shock of realising that when Ian and Nicole had raised the string sent the girls squabbling for position. Suddenly, the reality of the situation was hitting home, not just to the girls, but us guys as well; we were quiet, considering what we might get a glimpse of...

Linda determined the order of progression by turning her back and picking numbers given silently to each girl by Ian.

Lucy got picked first, much to Linda's chagrin. I didn't know whether to share in Lucy's obvious relief or be disappointed my girl might have escaped exposing some hitherto private flesh.

The tension was palpable when Lucy rolled the dice. But she shot a three, and the near-minimum raise was welcomed by all the girls.

Lucy took her shot and then skipped gingerly across, careful to hold her dress hem up enough so there was no chance at all of it catching the 'waterline'. But she lost her heels and had to peel off her silky black stockings, which she did slow and sexy for effect. It drew a few compliments as her sweet slim legs were bared and I saw to my surprise and arousal that she was enjoying the attention.

Then Helene was picked next. The tall blonde only raised the bar another four inches, to male disappointment, but performed a heck of a trick when she went across. She walked on her hands, showing not only her admirable athleticism, but also an incredible view of her crotch as gravity pulled on her dress. The entire room was treated to a plain white pair of bikini-style panties, high-cut, showing white bits against her mellow golden tan. The tight panties also provoked much loin-stirring amongst us males due to the terrific camel-toe they presented. I saw no stray hairs or sign of then against the thin material, just the outline of two lovely pussy lips in perfect symmetry.

Peter said to me, "She does a lot of aerobic wok down the gym..." I could only nod – I was dumbstruck. Helene got the biggest round of applause yet, but her plan backfired as she finished. A slight dip in her arm strength had Ian yelling and pointing. "Her dress went under!"

Helene protested as she uprighted. We booed. Ian called for a judgement. This one went on the umpire's decision. Linda said with a devilish smile, "Sorry, Helen, you touched the level."

Cheers. Helene stifled a rant, shrugged, then peeled down her top. It was her turn to grin – what I'd thought a dress was actually a two-piece. She was able to remove the top half alone. At any rate that left her in a neat white bra to match the panties. Her body was exquisitely toned – a flat stomach and high breasts with just a hint of nipple pushing at the cups. I thought her a modest B-cup, those boobs firmed up with the rest of her. Such a picture of fitness, I sucked my small gut in. Helene couldn't get the flapper dress yet, because it too was a full-body number. She'd have to lose her skirt.

Now things were getting tense. Linda called again: Vicky. I felt my heart race. Vicky no-knickers. Annabelle groaned. Nicole laughed.

Vicky rolled the dice. I willed it high. She hit a combined three; Another. Goddamn, I joked to Ian that the dice were fixed. "Yeah, seems like it - the wrong bloody way," he sighed

Silence as Ian and Nicole raised the line. It was touch and go as to how high it was; nearing three feet? With her heels on, she stood a chance. After hissing through her shot – I think it was some wicked punch concoction Ian had dreamed up; remember identifying some bourbon in there somewhere, myself – she lined up against the string.

Vicky definitely had to lift her slim skirt to get across 'dry'. But how high? At the top of her thighs she had height clearance. It was anguishing. She very carefully made her way across. With each stride the forward motion of her legs lifted the crumpled-up skirt that little bit higher; Just enough in her final steps to shoot us horndog guys a flash of dark curls licking upward at the juncture of her thighs, caught by the light.

Tony yelled, "I see bush," unable to contain himself.

"I see dick," Linda cried back at him, pointing. Yep, the poor sod had gotten too caught up in the Vicky snatch-watch. He had a notable lump in his briefs. He covered his crotch, turning away to tug his shirt down some more as his ears rung with laughter.

Vicky smiled, "Glad I could entertain you, Tony," as she flattened her skirt back down and kicked off the heels she'd lost to the 'water.' Then she went about putting on the stockings and suspender belt of the nun's outfit. She kept the belt over her skirt, unattached to the stockings which she slipped under. I wondered what on earth would happen if she lost the skirt; there were no panties with the costume...

"Horny bastard." Linda interrupted my thoughts as she mocked her hubby.

I gave him a pat on the back, saying, "I'll bet you're not the only one, old boy." I for one could testify he wasn't. I had wood, sore.

Then Linda called again. This time, Nicole, the hostess was the pick. I got butterflies in my stomach. The string was at the height of indecency as it was. How much higher was Nicole about to raise it? Five inches. Enough for low growls of male approval.

Nicole took it in her stride. She whipped her designer dress right up above her waist, exposing a lovely pair of silky red French knickers which clung arousingly to her broad heart-shaped ass as she walked carefully across the distance.

Then she stepped out of her heels and in one movement hooked both thumbs in her knickers and slid them down her curvy legs. The dress dropped back down as she did so but there was a fleeting second when she was bare waist to knee and in the shadow as she leaned forward I surely saw a glimpse of trimmed bush, auburn I was sure, to match her natural hair colour. I gulped.

Colin uttered a small-voiced, "Wow." So I wasn't alone in my vision.

"Okay," chirped Nicole, "I'll have to wait it out for my toga," she stated, playfully tossing her underwear at her hubby. "Getting serious now, folks. Who's got the nerve?"

I wondered. I looked at Linda. She smirked and called the final number, a formality of course – Annabelle. If her skin was classic pale ivory beforehand, it was now alabaster white.

Colin said, "Go for it, honey." But he shook his head at me as if to say, 'some hope.'

She definitely needed the encouragement. Ian thought so, too and thrust a shot glass at her before she could change her mind. Lucy gave Annabelle the thumbs up and to her credit the young hottie forced a nervous smile and downed the liquor.

It had an energising effect, or maybe just a get-it-overwith effect. Annabelle took the die and cast with baited breath.

A double four. The room exploded. Eight took the string over three feet, above waist height. Nicole and Ian hurriedly fixed it up. Annabelle managed to look both condemned and frantic with tension.

And then Tony added to the hubbub by shouting, "Hey, a double means Linda loses something too!"

I wondered why she'd kept relatively quiet at Annabelle's distress. She glowered at Tony. He gave a goofy grin back and the thumbs up. Linda made the international, I'm-gonna-cut-your-throat gesture.

Ian was gleeful. "Yeah, it's the umpire's turn to lose something. We'll make it umpire's choice though."

Linda smirked, "Easy, I chose my sho...Oh, shit..."

"You're not wearin' any!" Tony shrieked like a girl, jumping on the spot. This guy held a serious position in Ian's company? I had to laugh, at both Linda's dilemma and her husband relishing her predicament.

She hadn't put her shoes back on after changing into the French Maid's outfit. She had the dress and the frilly French-knicker style of panties on, but she hadn't bothered either with the stockings or the little lacy hat that came with it all. And the feather duster she held didn't count, as Ian was at haste to confirm. "Oh, heck," Linda muttered, looking down at herself.

We all waited on tenterhooks. I wanted to see her pussy – we'd had the tantalising preview through wet pants and I'd been rewarded with a tempting shadowy view from behind when she'd undressed, but the temperature and stakes had been raised in all ways and I prayed for a full-on show.

I'm a cooler; I cursed it, but not too badly.

"Ah, everyone's seen my tits, anyway," Linda said and unlaced the front of the dress. She cast it away and stood there unabashed, a Christmas card in front of the tree, topless, with black frilly panties just heightening the eroticism. We applauded. She beamed. Her nips tightened to hard little peaks. Someone said something about them. Linda scanned down her body, pushing her fine boobs out for inspection, then said, "Well, it's hot in here, no? I mean, sexy hot, right?"

A few nervy sniggers, then she added, "And these aren't the only things hard, right Tony?"

Again, poor Tony was the butt of jokes. He couldn't totally conceal what looked like a fully-erect dick attempting to poke above the waist of his briefs.

Nicole spared his blushed by clapping for attention, saying, "It's all good fun, so let's go on with the game. .. "

Linda, now loving her own bravado, shook her tits at a blushing Annabelle and said, "It's your turn, now, shygirl..."

Colin quickly said to me, breathless, "No way. She won't dare. She can't. No way will she do it..."

Annabelle gulped and regarded the string. She lined up carefully, side-on to us all, facing Ian at the other end of the line. With a deep breath she reached down to her calves and, closing her eyes, whipped her flouncy dress up. Sharp intakes of breath all round. Not only was the girl tall, but her languid figure was as beautiful a work of nature as that succulent mouth. She had legs, did Annabelle, amazing long legs sketched in smooth undulating lines any artist would kill to get right. And her dress, lifted high above the line, brought more stunning revelation – a beautiful ass atop those pins, a continuation of unbroken progress...

Unbroken by any panty line. I had a gorgeous view of her right flank as she stepped along as quickly as she could, even raising herself onto the toes of her spiky heels to be sure of clearance. But my eyes deceived me – I had assumed there was a thong. As she nervously progressed she lifted her dress even higher – a bare side of waist. Shit! Now I knew what Colin had meant by her not going to dare – she had no panties on.

Linda, at the starting position, realised as well as she gazed at Annabelle's bare ass. "Oh, you dark horse!" she yelped.

Everyone caught on. I took a look at Ian, who had the full-frontal view from the finishing point. His jaw was agape, eyes wide with delight.

Busted, Annabelle's nerves got the better of her. She stumbled and it caused her to swing her hip round towards the room as she fought to maintain her balance without the use of her hands, which were occupied with holding her dress up. As a result we got an unrestricted view of her entire lower body. Long, strong thighs slightly spread as Annabelle turned, led to a gloriously fleshy cleft. Her pussy lips were shaved bare, and that nakedness was accentuated by the luxuriant triangle of dark hair above it. For one so refined of skin and figure, it was a dick-raising sight to see such a lippy, pink cunt – it advertised raw passion, young desire. I winced with the urgency it raised in me.

Tony was more vocal, emitting a shocked, "Fuck me..." There were other expletives offered up to the sex gods from the guys but none that hadn't run silently through my own head. No-one sounded more shocked than Colin. Not even Lucy whom I heard above the rest of the girls, cry, "Oh my god!"

Annabelle squealed at her mistake and corrected and our flash was just that – a flash, but one that burned on the memory's hard drive. Not for Ian, though, who got the best of the bargain – he was mesmerised as Annabelle completed her task to rapturous applause.

She was bright red. Her dress fell back, covering her delights once more. Annabelle opened her hands, shrugged and said quietly, "Nothing to take off apart from these..." – and kicked off her shoes.

Colin gave her a big hug and a kiss, and said something about the five and a half grand being well deserved. Couldn't argue with that and neither would my cock at that point. Even Linda applauded and threw Annabelle her nurse's stockings to put on.

Ian recovered enough to bellow, "Encore!"

Nicole chastised him with, "Not so soon, Valentino. I think it's you boys' turn again...But this time, just one dice.."

"How does that work with Linda?" Tony asked.

"A one for off and a six for back on," Nicole said after a little deliberation.

For the first time Linda looked a bit nervous. She subconsciously clasped her hands over her crotch, tweaking at the frills on her panties.

Tony rolled a merciful five, to Linda's delight, but knew the problem beforehand anyhow – he would definitely lose his briefs. The string was now above his waist, so he had his shirt bunched up to his chest to display a torso not toned, but not flabby. He had a thick patch of hair on his belly which disappeared into his bulging underwear. All the girls made appreciative noises and cooed at him to hurry up so they could 'see the meat' as Linda so charmingly put it.

Tony completed his trip, then with the demeanour of a death-row depressive, awkwardly rid himself of his briefs. The girls roared approval as Tony attempted to keep hold of his hard-on, wrapping the bottom of his shirt around it in a fist. As male comparisons go, what we could see of it looked a good size, circumcised. Nothing to be ashamed of, but no porn star. I hoped my own, if it came to that, would 'stand up' to comparison. Us blokes gave him a manly round of applause, everyone drunkenly, amusingly careful to choose their congratulatory words and not sound like some closet case. Looking back on it, the whole restrained macho attempt to make it sound like some football game with, 'Well played's and 'Good man, top bloke's was borderline comedy. We were all now feeling the pressure.

"I get my costume yet?" Tony asked in hope.

"Guys get nothing until their entire round has been complete," Nicole ruled.

"Aw, that's cheating," Peter said, forlorn.

"Like it or lump it," smiled Nicole. She was a feisty one, burning dark eyes and sexy smile. She ran a hand through her auburn locks as they fell over her face. I fancied seeing a lot more of her than I'd already been granted.

Ian just cracked a laugh and said, "Let's do it, guys."

Thing was, anything under the string must come off; that meant pants and shorts all round. I needed the starting shot, I can tell you. Like Tony, we all kept our shirts high, except for Colin, whom I'll get to in a minute.

I slipped my stuff off, watching Lucy gaze on wide-eyed. She was biting her bottom lip, usually a sign she's getting turned on, and that thought only perked my dick up some more, given the situation.

The girls were loving every minute. Like Tony, I did my best to conceal my wood, and Peter did likewise. We had rolled a succession of twos, which kept the string at about our ribs. I'm six feet tall, so it was a fraction over halfway up my body by the time Ian went. The thought that it was all but hitting female tit-height kept us blokes going.

Ian strode through manfully with his shirt bunched around his chin. When he divested himself of his pants and underwear he did so with no shortage of exhibitionism. In fact he took his jockey-shorts down real slow, holding the attention of every woman, and attracting a knowing laugh from his wife. What she knew, we soon saw – only half-hard, but Ian was hung. A fat uncut dick with a bulbous head lolled out from its restraints, dipping a good seven inches. His pubic are was shaved clean, heightening the effect. The girls fell a bit silent and Linda whistled appreciation. Ian jiggled both his balls in his hand, flapping that lengthening dick and said, "We thank you..."

That brought the house down, and he tucked his shirt between his legs to conceal his appendage. Lucy caught my eye, and I was unable to read her response; it was all good though but in what way I couldn't be quite sure – lust in her gaze or trepidation? Was she okay I asked silently?; she was - her grin dazzling.

Then Colin, amid the bubbling chatter caused by Ian's big cock, threw a one.

Linda moaned. We cheered. Tony hit back with a "Get 'em off!"