All of my writing is fiction, and the stories and characters are all products of my imagination. They were created for my fun and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Some of the events in the stories are not particularly condoned nor encouraged by the author but are there to create and enhance the development of the imaginary characters and their lives. Comments are always encouraged and carefully reviewed. All characters within the story that need to be are 18 years of age or older. I hope you enjoy it!
If you're uncomfortable with married couples trading partners, I am too ... in real life. But it does make for some good stories, and that's where this one is headed. If you're ill at ease with it, this is probably not the story for you. If not, then I hope you enjoy it.
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"So, what time are the Biletnikovs supposed to be here?"
"About seven-thirty," Jenny answered as she set the pan on top of the oven, "but they'll probably be late if everything is normal." She cast a disgusted smirk in my direction. For Jenny, it wasn't cleanliness that was next to Godliness but rather punctuality. Of course, cleanliness wasn't far behind.
"What's in the pan?"
"A new dip I want to try out. Artichoke and cheese."
When my nose curled up, she had the perfect counter.
"With bacon," she added.
Anything with bacon was good.
When she dropped a spoon and bent to pick it up, I quickly took advantage of her position, running my hand under her skirt and cupping her pussy. I expected a yelp and a quick retreat but, instead, she remained bent over and moaned, putting both hands on the floor to balance herself. With that response, I pressed her panties between her folds, then slid them aside as my finger went into action, which brought more captivating moans.
"Fuck, CJ, stop."
"You know you don't want me to stop," I said, pressing two fingers inside her and wiggling them gently.
With guests coming and the evening ahead of us, I knew this was simply "playtime" but wasn't about to miss my chance. Tormenting my gorgeous wife was one of the highlights of my day, any day, and Jenny indulged my whims on almost every occasion. She did surprise me a little this evening as I was sure she'd be concentrating on preparations for the impending guests and wouldn't want to be distracted. I was pleasantly wrong.
"I know," she gasped, working to pull away from my roving fingers. "I'll make it up to you later."
Since 'making it up to me later' was one of her most enchanting specialties, it was an offer I couldn't refuse, despite the pleasure of having my fingers held securely by that warm and tight tunnel I so enjoyed exploring.
"Okay," I relented, reluctantly withdrawing my hand and helping Jenny straighten up.
She straightened her skirt and smirked at me before throwing her arms around my neck and assaulting me with one of her patented tongue-laced kisses.
"That should hold you for a while," she said, finally turning me loose. "Now wash your hands before the Biletnikovs get here."
"I don't know," I chuckled, sniffing my fingers. "Might be a good reminder all evening." I inhaled the aroma one more time.
"Jerk," she laughed. "Who knows what might happen this evening? And, wash your hands."
I guess I wasn't going to have that pleasant reminder after all. Just looking at her was enough of a reminder for me, though. My blood runs a little warmer every time I look at her, and it has ever since senior year of high school — and well before that when all I could do was look and not touch. We'd started dating our senior year and were married three years later. Things had only gotten better as the years passed, five of them now.
I dutifully washed my hands, then helped make the final preparations for our guests.
The Biletnikovs, Linda and Dale, were school friends, Linda and Jenny being best friends junior and senior years. I had two dates with Linda during our junior year while watching Jenny from afar before she let me know it would work better if I got closer. Linda had met Dale after high school, and they had married two years ago.
At seven forty-five, they arrived as predicted, late but with a beautiful bottle of sauvignon blanc that would go well with the euchre game Jenny had planned. I had grown up playing euchre with my grandma and introduced the game to Jenny. It turned out that Dale was also a euchre player and had tutored Linda. We had played once before, at a Fourth of July picnic, and were looking forward to tonight.
I took the bottle of wine to the kitchen to open it, Jenny right behind me. I was digging in a drawer, searching for our corkscrew, when she leaned over near my ear.
"Think that top could be any tighter?" she asked quietly. "I'm gonna check to be sure it's not body paint." She giggled softly.
"I didn't notice," I answered feebly.
"Bullshit. I suppose you didn't see those pokies either."
I'd have sounded silly uttering another denial, so I simply shrugged. "They are pretty nice."
"If you're into pokies, I guess so." She was looking at me and shaking her head. "Just pour the wine and keep that thing under control," she chastened, grabbing my crotch to my pained grunt.
I did as directed and found a tray to carry the glasses to the family room. Contrary to my puny denial of a few minutes ago, l closely observed Linda's top, noting it was very tight, the nipples very prominent. I tried to put myself in Dale's place, wondering if I'd be happy with Jenny wearing a clone of Linda's outfit. Her figure was certainly, well, droolable, and I was always proud to 'show her off.' I wasn't sure, though. I might need to experiment one of these days.
I did get a nice thank you for the wine, Linda's green eyes seeming to sparkle at me. I'd forgotten about those eyes. I guess the pokies made me look at her in a slightly different way. Whatever.
"I have a new dip I'm trying tonight, and I need some opinions," Jenny announced as she carefully set two big bowls on the table.
I kept my mouth shut, understanding when my opinion wasn't necessary.
"What is it?" Dale asked hesitantly, peering cautiously at the bowl of dip.
"Artichoke and cheese," Jenny proudly announced, "with bacon."
"Have I ever had artichoke?" Dale asked, looking at Linda.
She shook her head, looking from Jenny to me. "If you have to ask me, I'd say no," she answered, giggling.
All four of us sampled the dip. It was good — unanimous decision. The wine made it even better.
Of course, the single bottle of wine didn't last long, so I went to my supply, chardonnay, of course. We had chips and dip and more wine, interspersed with laughter and a tiny bit of actual conversation. That was fine as substantial conversation wasn't our aim for the evening.
Jenny broke out the cards, separated them, salvaged the counters, and we were ready to play — men against women, of course.
I poured another round of wine for everyone, and we played. I liked euchre for times like this. We could play cards, laugh, talk, and have a great time. I'd watched my parents play bridge when I was small. The conversation usually amounted to "one club ... one spade ... two clubs ... two spades" and on and on, and then a rehash of the hand. Boring. I'd never played much poker, so that wasn't an option.
The women won the first game and were unrelenting in their torment once it was over.
"Lucky, lucky," Dale chided. He was an excellent high school athlete and hated to lose. I was with him on that.
"Double or nothing," the ladies challenged.
"Double what?" I said. "Let's make it worthwhile and see if you guys are just all jabber."
"You name it," Linda said, thrusting out her chin in defiance. Jenny looked a little wary of Linda's bravado.
I caught Dale's eye, and he looked ready. A thought emerged, I'm sure spurred by Linda's tight top, highlighted by those very prominent nipples.
"Strip euchre, " I said emphatically.
"Are you shitting me?" Jenny asked, an incredulous look on her face.
"You guys sounded pretty cocky after that first game. How about putting your, um, clothes where your mouth is." I'm not sure where this was coming from, but I thought it sounded good, tough, you know.
"If we win," Jenny said to Linda, smiling.
"Which we will," Linda assured her. "Naked men."'
That was the first time the word 'naked' had been used, and I think it struck us all where we might be headed. I looked at Jenny, and she returned my look, a bit of defiance on her face. She looked like she was ready for whatever might come, but I doubt that she considered they might lose. Even if they did, we weren't quite sure what would happen.
"Okay," I began. "Let's get the rules straight for this game if we're going to play it. I think we can do it two ways. We can play a game to a certain score, maybe ten, and when it ends, the losers strip. Or, we can play point by point with clothes disappearing along the way with each point, which sounds, well, more titillating to me." That wasn't a word I used very often — titillating. And "losers will strip" wasn't familiar either. Unless someone had a final objection or just chickened out, we were going to do it.
"I like number two," Linda answered enthusiastically. "I want to see males cringe as they peel off piece by piece." She was getting into the game very quickly.
"Could be you peeling," Dale laughed. "Could happen."
I looked at Jenny to see how she was reacting. She looked a little tentative, but I knew she wouldn't be the one to back out. She was way too stubborn to do that, even as bizarre as this was turning out to be.
"Speaking of peeling," I said, "We need to be sure we all have the same number of things to peel."
Silence as everyone was counting. I knew Jenny had six items, counting both of her flip flops. I figured that Linda was one short of that, sans bra as she was. I was reasonably sure that Dale and I each had seven items as we were both wearing socks. We needed to figure out how to even things a bit.
I should have figured that Linda would be right on top of something like this.
"You guys take off your socks or your shoes, and you'll be at five. Jenny, take off your bra, and we'll be at five. That should make it a quick game," she giggled, boobs bouncing as she did.
