Form a circle

It was Sunday afternoon and you were not entirely sure how you had ended up in this situation. Saturday had been wonderful. It had been the first full day since moving in that you had Ben all to yourself. Your legs still felt a bit wobbly from the experience. It was embarrassing to acknowledge… but there were times when you went into what your lover affectionately referred to as ‘Feral Mode’. Where, 100% submissive or not, you simply could not hold back a pent-up explosion of horniness. It upset you a little: to think it ruined your image as a perfect, meek little plaything. But the built up excitement of a whole week’s worth of new and nervous erotic encounters just couldn’t be denied.

And now you were here… In a church. Naked in a circle, with a whole new group of strangers. You supposed this time you’d at least had distinct suspicions that this was where things were headed, the Donahues had not exactly been subtle in their cultishly over-friendly vibes. Still, as always, Ben had the confidence to be more curious than perturbed by their invitation so along you had traipsed, weaving through the departing crowd of what had presumably been a more normal service. You had clung nervously to his arm on the approach, dodging all eye contact and looking up at the tall steeple with trepidation. Again, memories swarmed in of all your previous visits to such a building. Dragged along to listen to red-faced old men spout furious tirades about how the fact that any man even thought about dressing as a woman was a sign that the world was ending and the devil walked amongst us… Presumably handing out padded bras and lacy panties.

Yet you had received nothing but smiles or the occasional baffled look in your cutesy pink t-shirt and plastic miniskirt, possibly just wondering why you were headed in when everything had ended. You had even started to relax a little… until the doors had been closed behind the last elderly parishioner, and the small gaggle of folks who remained all started immediately undressing.

“Ben, Sam! So glad you could make it!” The vicar had been all smiles as he stepped down from the pulpit and opened his arms to hug you both in greeting.

“Come on now… Don't be shy! We're very inclusive, remember? We find it's easier to form the bonds of a community unshackled by the constraints of clothing.”

The idea of getting naked in front of all these strangers, especially considering the shaved cock and balls that were hidden beneath your feminine attire, had terrified you. But Ben had begun unbuttoning his own shirt with barely a shrug. Suddenly you were faced with the prospect of being the only one wearing clothes, instead. So the fear of being the centre of attention won out and you hurried to catch up with the process of disrobing.

The circle was formed in the middle of the wide, central hall; around an ancient-looking stone altar. Glancing around shyly at the others, you were greeted by a motley collection of bodies. Ben stood to your left, but to your right shuffled in a heavily-pregnant woman with ebony skin, long braided hair and a fierce tilt to her brow. The Donnahues were opposite, both looking decidedly well-toned and tanned in their nudity; clearly their jogs around the neighbourhood were made with these meetings in mind. The rest were a truly eclectic mix of older and younger men and women: some looking nearer to 60, some nearer to your own age. The only thing they all shared was that warm and welcoming smile; openly admiring your and Ben's bodies, but not with any particular shock or ill will.

The vicar stepped forward and spoke up, opening his arms wide to encompass all the group.

“Welcome, all, to another meeting of the Suburban Open-Community project: Our little experiment in love without boundaries.”

He smiled at each individual as he spoke, letting his eyes obviously linger up and down their forms.

“Now you will notice we are lucky enough to have two new members joining us today. From the big city no less, and with some quite exciting lifestyle choices compared to what us bumpkins are used to!”

“I know I speak for all of us when I say: Ben and Sam I hope you will feel very welcome here in our quiet little corner of the world! Can we give these two beautiful souls a round of applause please?”

There was indeed a surrounding clatter of polite, but enthusiastic clapping and whooping. It all seemed genuinely sincere… but you just couldn't shake the feeling that they were more celebrating themselves and their expanding, collective ‘inclusivity’ than anything else. You had the guilty urge to kick yourself over the scepticism of it. Yet still couldn't shake your jaded reaction to all these wide smiles and exhibitionist gestures.

You'd didn’t want to be a ‘representative’ of anything. You just wanted to wear pretty dresses, get down on your knees and suck anything that was offered to you. Why did other people always seem to want to make it more complicated than that?