Me, Sylvain; Him, Yves; Her, my wife Sylvie . Another New Year's. At our place, as usual. Brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law, if you can call them that. Except for Lina, she's gorgeous. We eat well and drink well too. Sylvie is half-drunk, I'm okay, I'm keeping an eye on myself. Midnight strikes, kisses, confetti (damn, tomorrow I'll have to clean it all up). I dance a slow dance with my wife, she's hot as hell, another one with Lina, she's hot too. I grope her a little, her husband (the drunk oaf doesn't notice). My wife is now dancing with Yves, my other oaf, he's caressing her ass. It's giving me a hard-on. Him too, apparently, because my wife put her hand on his crotch. He's a real macho man, he doesn't like fags. The slow dances are over, back to rock. We're shaking our hips all over the place. Sylvie takes my hand and leads me upstairs. She wants me to do what she did last year, to dress up as a woman. But this time, it's not just a dress; it's the whole shebang: miniskirt, thong, stockings and garter belt, makeup. "Doesn't it bother you if Yves touches my ass?" "Not at all, it turns me on." She's definitely noticed. "Unless it's that slut Lina," she says. I reply, "No, it's imagining Yves's cock in your hand." She doesn't comment. Dress-up mission accomplished, we go back downstairs. Applause, laughter, whistles, rock music. My turn to wiggle, hands on everyone's asses, I'm as hard as a rock. Slow music. Yves invites me to dance. To show off, he rubs against me in front of everyone and pretends to make out. Lips against lips, except I can feel his tongue sticking out. I step aside. The slow dance's over, we go outside for a smoke. We walk a bit, my ass is cold. "Hey, you bastard, you tried to ...

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