The Auction

Rosie and I, now both in our early 30s, have been married for five years and enjoyed a wonderful marriage. We live in a nice house in West London – no children yet, but that’s because we have been concentrating on our careers; Rosie as a schoolteacher and me in banking. We have some nice friends and a good social life, but recently we suffered a huge setback when I was made redundant, which is never great great and certainly not when you have a massive mortgage like we do.

We had to cut right back, which meant we rarely went out as I tried desperately to find a new job, so it came as a nice surprise when a banking mate I met when I was out jogging asked me if I was interested in going to an auction party he was attending. And auction party? I had no idea what that meant. “It’s just a fun night for couples. Can get a bit raunchy, but nothing really off-colour. It’s not wife swapping if that’s what you are worrying about. And you don’t have to buy anything. Free booze and food, which helps.” Dress code? We’re in the middle of a heatwave, so just sunmmer stuff, he said, adding he would be in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. OK, I said. count us in, when is it and where? It turned out to be in a really nice house near the Thames, where all the properties are crazy prices. Sounded interesting.

We were looking forward to it tremendously, because my mate Dave said we would know a few people when we got there and so it turned out. When he arrived and were ushed into a huge room full of young couples I knew several of the men by sight because they were all very successful bankers, earning huge salaries and even bigger bonuses. I felt slightly awkward being out of work and struggling badly to keep up mortgage payments, but we would keep quiet about that. The drinks flowed and the substantial buffet was fantastic and as the evening progressed we started to relax, Rosie having been excited but certainly nervous when we first arrived. The pal I met while jogging wandered over and asked how we were enjoying things. Fine, I said, but what about the auction bit. Don’t worry, he said, that starts any time now.

At that very moment, the music stopped and a man in a dinner jacket clapped his hands and asked for silence. “Now for the main event of the evening,” he said. “For those of you have not been before, this is what happens and at that point, a large bed-shaped platform rose from the centre of the room. A few seconds later there was a short fanfare and into the room strolled a truly lovely girl in her early 20s, who climbed up on to the platform and smiled. “This will be a demonstration of how the auction works…ok everybody, what am I bid for Julie’s tee-shirt? A voice called out £20, then another £30. “Any further bids?” asked the MC. “OK, Julie, your tee-shirt please” and Julie obliged by peeling it off and handing it over. He then moved on to her skirt, following the same procedure. Some guy bid £40 and Julie duly slid out of her short skirt and gave it to the bidder. And there she stood in bra and pants looking – well, amazing. “And that’s how it works,” said the MC. “Thanks Julie and off you go. Now then guests – who would like to sell an item or two? Just a bit of fun, of course. Have a minute or two to think about it.”

I looked at Rosie and she must have read my thoughts. “Me? You must be joking. Not likely.” I put my arm round then said “look, we’re already behind with the mortgage, even a couple of hundred pounds would help and at the end of the day it would be no different to standing there in a bikini.” Rosie thought for a second, then nodded. “That’s true”, she said, “and tomorrow’s another day, it will just be history.” I put my hand up and caught the MC’s eye – “we’ll have a go,” I shouted, to a cheer of approval for the men and some of the women around us. Rosie was led up onto the platform, where she stood a little shyly, though the drinks she had downed were certainly having an effect. “This is Rose” said the MC. “Isn’t she lovely? So what am I bid for her shirt?” There was a bid of £30 then £40, then £50. Then silence. Rosie knew the form and unbuttoned her shirt, shrugged it off to a cheer and handed it tothe MC. “And the skirt…where shall we start – £50? “50” came a voice and up went the bidding to £80. “Any advance? No? OK, the skirt please, Rosie, so Rosie unbuttoned it behind her, let it slip to her ankles, stepped out of it and handed it to the bidder. Oh well, I thought, £130. It’s not a lot, but it helps. And that, I thought, was that. But it wasn’t “We can, of course, go on if you wish” said the MC. You can sell your bra if you like, Rosie. I looked at her. She hesistated them came across to me and bent down. “What do you think?” she said. I have sunbathed topless in Spain.”  I was surprised but quite pleased. “Fine, carry on,” I said. Back went Rosie  to the middle of the platform and waved to the other guests. There was yet another cheer. “Ok said the MC. “Let’s start at £100 and see where we go. “In no time bidding reached £200, then £250, eventually stopping at £280. “That’s it, Rosie,” said the MC and without even being asked Rosie reached behind her, unclasped the bra, whipped it off and passed it to the eager buyer who had come up to the platform. This time there was more of a gasp than a cheer. Rose has fantastic tits, still as firm as a teenager’s. “It doesn’t have to end here, Rosie,” said the MC. “Knickers go for a fortune here, what do you think?” Julie glanced across at me, shrugged her shoulders, pulled a strange face, then said “OK, I’m up for it.”

The bids came pouring in – these men were loaded – and we were soon at £500 then 600. And then it stopped and the room went quiet. How would Rosie handle this? As it turned out she handled it amazingly. Perhaps it was the alcohol working, but she seemed to almost enjoy hookig her thumbs over the top of her pants and slowly lowering them her lovey, thighs, then her knees until they lay on the floor. What a finale – or was it. Rosie suddenly seemed to be enjoying this a little. “We do have extra options” said the MC. “Guests have in the past bid for a fondle of a seller’s breasts. What do you think?” We needed a time-out. Rosie, a little pink, but still in control, came over to me again and asked what I thought. “Well it wouldn’t be the end of the world would it?” I said. And we do need the money.” Rosie looked reluctant. She grimaced and pursed her lips, then nodded. “Ok, I’ll go with it,” she said, “but then that’s it.” She returned to the centre of the platform, put her hands under her boobs and pushed them up. “What am I bid for a grope?” she said, mimicking the MC to laughter all round. The room went mad. The bids rocketed to £2,000, then £2,500, finally ending at £3,200 and up came a good looking guy in his middle 20s. He was good. First he gently stroked her boobs for a minute or so, then squeezing slightly. Rosie stayed stayed calm, then suddenly he brushed each forefinger over her swollen nipples and she gasped audibly. This was amazing. He took a nipple between each forefinger and thumb and gently tweaked them, causing her to gasp again and again. I have to say she was loving it. He then stepped it up, letting go of her left tit with one hand and lowering his mouth to kiss it gently, then licking it, then kissing again. He then switched to the other tit  and repeated the treatment. The guests were clapping, but actually fairly quiet as they crushed closer to get a better view. After 10 minutes the MC intervened. “That’s it, Tommy. Time’s up,” he said firmly. “Back to your seat and Tommy reluctantly obeyed. The pace quickened. “Ok” said the MC “you can now go on if you wish, but it is up to you. “Down below or not down below?” We all knew what that meant, not least Rosie. She didn’t even look my way this time. She could sense money rolling in, but I’m sure she was also starting to enjoy it. “Do it” she instructed and the MC needed no enouragement. The bidding stopped dead on £5k and up stepped an older man, maybe 40, who I recognised from one of the merchant banks. 

“Rosie you’ll have to sit down and lie back for this one” said the MC, which Rosie quickly did, leaning back on her elbows with her leg slightly apart. However, it was not the man who scrambled on to the platform, but his very attractive wife, which drew the biggest cheer of the night, not that Rosie knew because she had her head back and her eyes shut. This very sexy woman then knelt down and pushed her legs further apart. “More, we can’t see,” shouted some of the guests, but the woman could see all she needed to see and so could I from my privileged position. Her head went between Rosie’s knees then up towards her pussy, then she moved her hands forward and I could just see her parting those beautiful pussy lips. I then saw her tongue flick in and out and Rosie’s head jerk still further back at the touch. Like Tommy before him this woman knew what she was doing. She teased Rosie for minutes as she gasped and squirmed, then brought her to a perfect climax. Rosie sat up slightly and suddenly saw who it was who had just given her fantastic oral sex. Her mouth fell open as the woman smiled at her then, to me amazement, she smiled back. After all, as he said to me later, a tongue is a tongue, male or female.

Again the crowd cheered and whistled and as the MC came forward I realised exactly where this was going. Rosie did too, I suspect. She scrambled over to me and whispered desperately – “I know what they want me to do. I can’t go that far, I just can’t.” I hesitated, but we had a decision to make. “Look darling, I agree. I know how you feel, but we’re broke. This ccould make a massive difference to us.” A tear ran down Rosie’s face. “It’s just not right, I don’t want some stranger to have sex with me,” she said. “You’re the only man I have ever slept with and that’s how it should be. I want to go home.” “Rosie” I said. “I love you and I’ll always love you and we need never see these people again after tonight. Do it for us and our future.” Rosie gathered herself and looked me straight in the eye. “Once, just this once” she said as the guests started a slow handclap along with a very quiet “why are we waiting” with more women apparently singing than men. Now Rosie was on her feet again as the MC closed it. “Ok Rosie” he said. “I think you know what I’m going to ask you. The ultimate seller’s lot – a shag. Rosie flinched. She hated swearing and didn’t even slang words like shag. All she did was take a deep breath and nod. “Rosie has agreed to go the whole way” he announced to the biggest cheer of the night ” and the bidding starts at £10,000. It soon reached £20,000 – as I said that was pocket money to most of these men – then £25,000 as they started showing off in a typical macho way. Eventually it went to £35,000 with Rosie just standing there in a sort of daze. When the winning bid was announced up stepped a man I had only seen on the financial pages of newspapers – a very well know tycoon who I will simply call John. He was a tall, handsome black American who, like most of us, was dressed just in shorts and a shirt. Lucy gasped yet again when she saw him, then just lay back and opened her legs before he even touched her. He stripped off his shirt, dropped his shorts, revealing a huge had cocck, then with no real foreplay pushed the top of his knob into her pussy. She groaned loudly, then even more loudly as he pulled out then back in but deeper. And so it went on. Suddenly this woman who hated swearing had her arms round his neck, her hips bucking in rhythm with his thrusts as he fully filled up, gasping”fuck me, fuck me, John” over and over again. Until then I had never heard her swear She was clearly in heaven. He was an expert and took his time. He slowed, then sped up, slowed then sped up again, the guests chanting “in, out, in, out” and clapping along. I found myself joining in, which in a way I now regret, but it was just an amazing sensation. This shag took for ever, ending with John pulling himself up slightly and powering back into her with a kind of roar. Rosie said later she feel his sperm thudding against her insides. And so it was over. She actually kissed him firmly on the lips. “Thank you, that was great, “said John. “No, no, thank YOu,” replied Rosie with a tired smile.

It was, as she told me in the taxi home, the experience of her life. John got in touch by phone and told me what he thought of it. “She’s a beautiful woman and if you don’t mind me saying so, a great shag.” Days later he rang back to say he had heard we had mortgage problems. “I can help you with that he said,” and now he comes round one Sunday a month and he and Rosie disappear to our bedroom for a couple of ours. I often listen to Rosie’s “fuck me John, fuck me John” but she went on from there to “fuck me harder, no harder still” and then (I could hardly believe my ears) “fuck my cunt, John, fuck my cunt”. A word I have never used and never heard her use until then. And they are quite happy for me to go in and watch, which to be honest I enjoy. “Can you imagine, four fucks one afternoon and each one fantastic,” she said one day. “We should get him to come round every Sunay and we can pay the mortgage off early. It’s a thought…