As every parent knows, having your first child turns the world upside down.  The cliche that nothing prepares you for it certainly held for Charlotte and me.  Although we were fairly worldly professionals in our early thirties, the arrival of our son, Ben, had a profound impact on our lives.  One of the biggest changes was that I stepped away from my job to look after the baby.

I'm an engineer and had been put on the management track a few years prior so my career prospects were good.  However, Charlotte is a solicitor at one of London's largest law firms so her earning potential was significantly higher than mine.  Neither of us was comfortable outsourcing the raising of our child, so despite loving my job, I chose to take a career break and be a stay-at-home dad.

The early days are a bit of a blur, particularly after Charlotte returned to the office having taken just three months of maternity leave.  I somehow found a rhythm of changing nappies, feeding expressed milk from bottles and putting Ben down for naps.  The high points of my week were the parent/baby group meetings in the local community centre.  I quickly became familiar with the core group of mums who all seemed to need a similar social outlet and attended whatever was on offer.  I say "mums" because I was invariably the only dad present.

The content of the classes varied from singing along to nursery music to mommy-baby yoga, which I particularly enjoy since I got to admire the fitter moms in yoga outfits.  However, I did fight to keep my libido in check, especially as it was an accepted practice for the women to breastfeed while sitting amongst the group.  I was brought up believing it's impolite to make others feel uncomfortable, and I didn't want to be marked as "creepy" so I averted my eyes whenever nipples were on display.  Despite my efforts, the glimpses I caught in my peripheral vision were enough to get me visibly excited from time to time.  On those occasions, I would strategically place a teddy bear or other toy to hide the ridge in my trousers. 

The most outspoken and gregarious of the mums was Rachel, a petite brunette, whose curves I suspected would have been impressive even if she weren't breastfeeding. She was the mother of a little boy, Ami, and was clearly the ringleader of the core group. Rachel had a confident and somewhat provocative air about her.  She always seemed to know when I was struggling to hide my erections and would catch my eye with a knowing look.  I swear she would wait until I was looking in her direction before whipping out what I imagined were magnificent breasts (but didn't dare to confirm).

Rachel also seemed to be the alpha mom outside of the formal baby classes. She would regularly invite many of the mums back to her house for coffee following morning meet-ups.  After a few months, I was delighted to be asked to join them.

Rachel lived in an impressive house near Wimbledon common.  Charlotte and I had a modest three-bed starter home down the hill, which we managed to afford with some help from Charlotte's parents. We hoped to be able to move to something larger once Charlotte made partner.  In contrast, Rachel's house was expansive.  Aside from some expensively, but tastefully, furnished sitting rooms at the front of the house, there was a large and airy open-plan kitchen, dining and sitting area at the back.  Sliding glass doors opened onto a manicured lawn, which received the afternoon sun.

On my first visit, I was the last to arrive at Rachel's. I had decided to stop for some pastries as I didn't want to show up empty-handed.  Rachel greeted me at the door and looked delighted when she saw the box of treats in my hand. 

"Well, aren't you sweet," she said with a smile and showed me into the house.

I recognised the two other women sitting at the large kitchen island.  Georgie was the posh home-counties blonde with twin boys, Hugo and Max.  Harpreet was the mother of Anjali. I learned that she was born in India, but moved to London as a young girl. 

Apparently, Rachel's husband, David, worked in finance and spent three-month stints in Dubai with six weeks in London in between.  Georgie's husband was a lawyer who worked incredibly anti-social hours.  As the spouse of a lawyer, it was something I could relate to immediately.  Harpreet's husband ran a software consulting firm, and it sounded like he was not around much either and was not particularly engaged even when he was.

I guess I was a bit of a novelty since it seemed like none of these women spent much time around men who were happy to be in "dad mode".  For my part, I was happy to have any adult company and thrilled that it was with three attractive women.

It wasn't long until I was firmly established as part of the regular coffee foursome at Rachel's.  Once the women learned that I was reasonably handy, I would occasionally pop round to the others' to help with changing light bulbs and even fixing a leaky tap (for which Harpreet gave me a memorable hug and peck on the cheek).  The women soon began referring to me as "Our Jack".  The sense of belonging and appreciation made me feel warm and satisfied in a way that my marriage hadn't for quite some time.

Although Charlotte and I had a decent enough sex life while we were dating, we somehow missed out on what I imagined was the rabid love-making during the honeymoon period of marriage.  Charlotte received her formal employment contract just before our wedding and was working long hours from the start.  What weekend time she had was spent recovering from the busy week.  After Ben was born, we didn't have sex for six months.  After that, our lovemaking was a monthly event.  About every three or four weeks, Charlotte would wake up, roll over to me and, only half-jokingly, say, "You've got ten minutes.  Make the most of it." 

Despite the naked breasts at the baby classes, and the lack of excitement at home, my relationship with Rachel, Georgie and Harpreet somehow managed to remain platonic, for a while at least.

On New Year's Eve, Rachel invited us all around for drinks and to watch rubbish television.  Charlotte was invited to come along, but decided she'd rather get an early night's sleep.  Thankfully, that meant I could attend without having to look after Ben as well.  Georgie and Harpreet came without their husbands who had both chosen to entertain clients. It turned out that both of their mothers were visiting for the holidays and had offered to look after the kids.  So we all ended up at Rachel's completely unencumbered.

When Rachel opened the door, I was stunned.  While she always made an effort to look good, even for jogging with prams in the park, she'd really gone for it that night. Her shoulder-length hair was perfectly done, and her make-up accentuated her high cheekbones and sexy brown eyes. She was wearing a black dress with sequins which looked festive, but not in any way overdone or tacky.  The neckline was very low-cut, and the spaghetti straps meant it was unlikely she was wearing a bra.  The hemline was mid-thigh and showed off the muscular legs that always set my pulse racing when I saw them through her yoga attire.  

Instead of our usual friendly hug, I got an enthusiastic embrace which confirmed my suspicions about her being bra-less.  It was all I could do to control myself, and I hadn't even stepped into the house!

The others were already sipping champagne when I entered feeling underdressed in jeans and a smart shirt.  Georgie was wearing a stylish blue silk blouse with black trousers and expensive-looking heels. Harpreet had opted for a green and orange sari.  Both looked happy and relaxed.  However, the mood turned, when I asked if I'd finally get to meet Rachel's husband, David.  He had only been back from Dubai for a couple of weeks, so I expected that he'd be home.  Apparently, he had chosen to return early to chase a big M&A transaction.

Rachel was clearly upset but was trying hard not to show it.  I felt awful for bringing the subject up and tried to lighten the mood.  Nothing seemed to be working, and soon the conversation turned into a spouse-bashing session.  When I refused to join in, Rachel turned on me.  It may have been due to the drinks, but she got a little aggressive.

"I'm not sure that you're actually a man," she mocked. 

I just let her comment go, but she continued, "Any real man would be delighted to see these beauties," she said, cupping her breasts in her hand.  "You've never taken the chance."

"You've had repeated chances to look at all of us in a state of undress.  Whether you've acted on it or not, it isn't fair."

"What do you mean?", I asked, genuinely not knowing where she was taking things. 

"Let's see it", Rachel demanded.  The others stood silent.

"C'mon, let's see your cock, mister MAN," she said with a mix of scorn and bravado. 

I wanted to say, "Don't be ridiculous," but by that time, I'd had a couple of drinks, and, surprising even myself, I came back with, "Fine, but if you want to see it, you take it out."

Not one to step down from a challenge, Rached did the opposite and took a step closer.  Before I knew it, she'd lowered the fly on my jeans and was fishing around in my boxers. Within a nanosecond of her hand's contact, I was as hard as a rock.  Rachel seemed genuinely delighted as she exposed my thick, swollen cock. 

"Not bad, Jack.  I suspected you were well endowed, and I'm not disappointed," she said, keeping hold of my cock.  

She added, "It's been a while since I've held one of these, and I'd forgotten how nice they feel." 

Then, with more than a little edge of authority in her voice, she added, "You're going to stay by my side all evening so I can play with it." And with that, the mood suddenly shifted.  

The four of us all moved to the sitting area.  Georgie and Harpeet took a comfy chair each.  Rachel and I sauntered over to the sofa, my dick never leaving her grasp.  We sat side-by-side, and she seemed genuinely happy with her plaything.  Oddly, the conversation picked back up, and the four of us chatted away as if I weren't exposed for all to see.  I remember a surreal moment of spotting a framed photo of Rachel and David hanging on the wall.  They looked to be on holiday on a beach somewhere and were smiling as the sun set in the background.  I then glanced down to see Rachel's left hand curled around my cock and chuckled at the huge stone on her engagement ring.  I was somehow getting the better deal than David-the-schmuck, as we were now calling him.

Rachel clearly knew how to handle a cock.  Her hand never stopped moving, and she, seemingly unconsciously, varied the stimulation she was giving me.  It was clear that she wasn't trying to make me come, but instead trying to keep me in a permanent state of arousal.  I particularly liked it when one of her manicured nails dropped into my boxers and gave my balls a light scratch.

After more than thirty minutes in this unexpected state of bliss. Rachel announced that she had to go to the ladies' room.  The light tug on my member indicated that she expected me to join her.  Without saying a word, I dutifully followed half a step behind her, my cock still in her hand. 

After entering the loo, Rachel slid down her knickers and sat on the toilet.  Hearing the first few drops of piss hitting the water must have excited me as my cock throbbed in her grasp. She was quick to notice

"Ahhh, so there is a bit of perv in you, after all.  Good boy," she said, and much to my surprise she gave the head of my cock a slow and lingering kiss.  The tip barely passed her lips, but the action was as erotic as any blow job.  When I saw the red lipstick she'd left behind on the purple flesh, I was sure I couldn't possibly be any harder or more turned on. 

At that, Rachel stood up, kicked off what appeared to be a pair of black lacy boy-short knickers and said, "It's almost time. We'd best get back."

It was quarter to twelve, and I had no idea where the night would take me.  To my credit, I did spare a thought for my poor, exhausted wife who was sleeping alone at home, but that was mostly from the perspective of how much I could get away with and what lies I'd have to tell her.

When the countdown to midnight reached ten minutes, Rachel became slightly more animated.  Her strokes on my cock were more vigorous, and, though I may have just been imagining it, I thought I could smell her arousal. 

Before I knew what was happening, Rachel turned, threw her right leg over my lap, and mounted me, exclaiming, "Fuck it, I'm not going to finish the year a frustrated mess."

Her pussy was so wet, and her aim was so good that I slid all the way into her in one movement.  She held my hands down at my sides and her hips started bucking.

In a husky tone that was dripping with desire and need, she said, "I want you to come for me - come hard, and come deep in my pussy.  I want to feel it."  

It was then that I became aware of the spectacular pair of tits in my face, but I was unable to do anything about it with my hands remaining pinned at my sides.  Not one to dwell on a minor inconvenience, I thought, "This is the best thing that's happened to me for months, so I may as well enjoy it."  As I was settling back to enjoy the ride, I saw Harpreet staring, transfixed - a look of disbelief and longing on her face.  However, it was Georgie who turned things up a notch.  

As Rachel leaned back, still frantically rubbing her pussy up and down on my cock, I saw Georgie's hands on her shoulders, sliding the spaghetti straps to the side. Rachel's dress fell to her waist giving me my first, head-on glimpse of her beautiful mounds.  Her areolas were large and her nipples painfully erect. Just as I was leaning forward, hoping to suckle them, I  saw Georgie pull Rachel's hair back and plant a passionate kiss on her neck. 

That must have been the trigger for Rachel's orgasm because she seemed to experience release with her whole being.  She screamed, convulsed, gushed what seemed to be a gallon of fluid in my lap and made incredible squishing sounds with her pussy.  Her eyes rolled so far back in her head, it took a full thirty seconds for her pupils to reappear.  It was too much for me to bear and I felt my own glorious release.  My scalp tingled, my toes curled up in my shoes and I shot weeks' worth of cum into a pussy that hungered for it.  

Rachel collapsed onto me as we sat in a damp, sticky mess on the sofa. Georgie stood smirking, looking very pleased with herself.

As Big Ben chimed midnight, I thought, "This is going to be a good year."