A Game Of Chicken 2

Sara was giddy. Between the wine and the sexually charged banter of her hot-tub companions, she was feeling like a schoolgirl about to be kissed for the first time.

She felt like her sixth-grade self, playing spin the bottle. What if the bottle pointed to her? Would she have the nerve? What if it pointed to Billy Jones? Would he kiss her? When the bottle did stop on Billy, she sucked in her breath and held it. The moment of truth. When his eyes fell on hers, her heart thumped in her chest, stirring the butterflies in her stomach into a frenzy. He moved toward her and she froze in place, her eyelids falling shut, her lips puckering foolishly to meet his. The thrill was brief but indelibly memorable. She remembered the moment clearly now as her anxiety over the very adult game they were playing grew.

Carl had always been a flirt. That didn't bother her. She knew he loved her and would not betray her. She recognized in him the same need she felt—the need that was momentarily satisfied every time she caught a man gazing at her, every time a man did a double take as she passed him on the street. Carl needed the same reassurance; he was just more aggressive about getting it. She was accustomed to his antics.

But this was different. Jenny was becoming highly suggestive, and her husband, Martin, seemed not the least bothered. He actually appeared to enjoy it when Jenny touched Carl affectionately. Sara drank more wine, and Martin refilled her glass yet again.

"Your husband's a doll, Sara," Jenny declared, not looking in Sara's direction. She batted her eyes at Carl instead, and he grinned back at her, delighted at the flattery and the suggestion of sexual interest in him. She caressed his thigh under the water and drew herself closer—nearly sitting in his lap! She looked over at Martin to ascertain his opinion of her behavior and he raised his glass in approval before redirecting his gaze toward the lovely Sara. Jenny turned toward Sara too. "My husband thinks you're pretty sweet as well," she declared. "I think he's getting ideas about you!" And that's when Sara's giddiness started.

Sara looked at Martin, who seemed to be admiring her, though he said, reassuringly, "Pay no attention to her." Then he followed playfully: "She's had too much wine." As he spoke, he leaned toward Sara, as if speaking confidentially, but he did not rise back to his former position when he was done talking. Instead, he continued to lean toward her, and admired her pretty face. "You are definitely a babe, though, Sara. I have to be honest about that," he said, raising his glass in a toast, then drinking alone as the others studied him.

Sara was taken aback, but Jenny was not dismayed in the least by either his admonition or his flirtation. She pushed further. "Have you guys ever swung?" she asked abruptly. Sara choked on her wine a bit, and covered her mouth prettily with her fingers then wiped a drip from her lower lip with her pinky.

"

We

haven't," Jenny continued peremptorily, as if correcting herself. "But Martin is

always

bringing it up. He thinks he'd like to see me in action," she declared boldly, her eyes now fixed on Carl. "I think he'd be jealous if I actually indulged his wishes," she said, smiling at Carl fondly.

"Like with Carl here," she went on, taking Carl's arm and pulling herself right up against him, pressing one of her breasts against his ribs, looking up into his sparkling eyes. "He's cute enough. Handsome, really." She turned toward Martin, "Would you like me to seduce Carl, dear?" she taunted. Martin just watched her silently, a vague smile his only expression.

"You want to make love to Sara? Is that it? She is pretty hot, isn't she?" Jenny goaded.

Sara was quite flustered by now, but drunk enough to be as much intrigued as terrified. Martin was handsome, in a rugged, outdoorsy way. He was about her age and fit, and she could envision herself with him were she not already married. She caught herself gazing at his face, his full and moist lips, contemplating the pleasure kissing him might hold. Everybody noticed. She wondered whether it would be like that first time—with Billy. She was feeling like her 12-year-old self, contemplating that first kiss. She reached to pick up the wine bottle, which drew her toward Martin who stared unabashedly at the cleavage her skimpy bikini top revealed. After filling both their glasses, and allowing him a good, long stare, she sat back against the wall of the tub again, leaving not more than a foot between her and him.

Carl and Jenny gazed at them across the tub. Jenny seemed to be toying with Carl's thigh under the water. Her eyes were intense as she studied Sara's face. She pushed harder: "Martin wants you to do him, Sara. I'm sure of it. He wants you."

Sara saw no dismay or concern in Jenny's eyes—just intense interest in the situation. She turned toward Martin, expecting more reassurance. He raised his glass in a toast to her and sipped, a wry smile now gracing those full, utterly kissable lips.

Sara felt giddier and giddier with each provocation from the others. Martin raised his arm from the water and rested it on the edge of the tub, his hand just above Sara's shoulder. Sara began to feel almost inexorably drawn toward him, despite her unease. She looked at Carl and then settled back against the tub under Martin's strong arm. He casually lowered his arm to caress her shoulder, then the back of her neck, massaging gently. Then he cupped her far shoulder with his hand and pulled her gently toward him. After only brief resistance she assented and sidled over, closing the space between them. Her heart was racing, and her thoughts were a muddle of desire and uncertainty.

Carl watched her closely, his eyes twinkling as if supremely amused. His steady gaze seemed intended to encourage her to play along. Sara now realized that, in fact, she wanted to play this intriguing game—just a little more, she told herself—and she scrunched up against Martin and touched his cheek tentatively with her fingers.

"I dare you to kiss him," Jenny said huskily, her own voyeuristic desire audible in her wavering voice.

"She won't," Carl interjected, goading her. "She always says no."

Sara refused to let them get to her. She looked up into Martin's eyes, remembering Billy, remembering that intense desire to be kissed. She felt it again, like that, like she was venturing into something profoundly mysterious, a little scary, and utterly compelling. Her inhibitions were nearly all washed away by the wine and the dares. She tilted her head back a bit, closing her eyes, her lips parting slightly, signaling her willingness to go that far, to be kissed by this man she hardly knew, in front of his wife and her own husband. Martin leaned toward her tentatively, deep desire in his eyes, confirming his wife's allegations. He cupped Sara's cheeks with his strong hands and kissed her softly. Her lips moved slightly, responding with just a tad of lingering self-discipline. She heard whispers and water stirring across the tub, but it was as if the sounds were distant and hardly relevant. Martin kissed her for several long seconds, then slowly, a bit reluctantly, they pulled apart. Sara sighed softly, then she slowly turned back toward the spectators. They were transfixed, immobile, except for the languid way Jenny massaged Carl's muscular thigh.

Sara sipped more wine and contemplated her growing desires. She felt as it were all somehow unreal, as if she were only dreaming and would soon awaken. She was, in fact, pretty drunk, or she would never have allowed this to go so far.

"I dare you to

French

kiss him," Jenny pressed, her voice huskier than ever.

Sara was losing perspective completely. The butterflies were wild now, urging her to meet the challenge. She would not chicken out, she told herself. She turned her face toward Martin and kissed him softly on the cheek, then on the neck, where she lingered, gently planting little bites below his jaw line, all the way up to his ear. She nibbled lightly at his earlobe, then blew softly into his ear, causing him to shudder. Knowing she had him well primed, she was ready to meet the dare. She turned more squarely to face him, grasped him by the shoulders, and pulled him up to meet her open lips. He opened his mouth in response and Sara's tongue probed for his. Her passion was rising fast now, almost out of control. She still believed she could stop the game any time she chose, but she kissed him deeply first, defying the others; then, still clinging to control, she settled back again to sip wine and glare, drunkenly victorious, at the others. Her swollen nipples under her unpadded bikini top gave her away, though. She was hot, and tempted almost beyond control; and everybody could see she was losing the battle to temptation.

Jenny was not satisfied yet. "I'm telling you, Sara, he wants you to do him. Bet you're chicken," she taunted.

Sara looked at Carl who nodded his approval, a lustful expression on his face. His eyes were on fire with a passion she'd not seen in some time. He seemed genuinely to want her to do it, to take another man while he watched.

Sara again turned toward Martin, in her dreamy trance. She began to feel as if she were watching events unfold rather than acting out her own desires. Yet, she did have control—at least a little—enough she believed. She could direct herself to do whatever she chose. Like forcing herself to resolve a dream, she directed her own actions. Kiss him again, she ordered herself. Kiss him really hard. Show them.

She looked intently into Martin's eyes and slurred at him, "Yer wife says you wan' me." She paused to gather herself, then continued, "That right, Martin? You wan' me t' do you? Hmmmmm?" She tousled his hair and gazed into his eyes. Martin nodded his assent, and so she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again, her mouth wide open, her tongue lunging between his parted lips.

She still had every intention of stopping at some point, but she wasn't sure where that point was. Her sense of dreaming increased as she kissed him, as if she were willing someone else to seduce this man while she and the others watched. She, the dreamer, was in control of this dream-woman and could compel her to act as she chose. Kiss him hard and lewdly, she ordered herself, and she smashed her face into his, engulfing his mouth in her own. Her tongue located his and coupled with it playfully, then pulled back, drawing him into her mouth and sucking on his tongue hungrily. "Mmmmmmm," she began to moan, her passion slipping rapidly beyond her control. She raised herself up out of the water, straddled his legs, and sat on his lap, facing him squarely. She could feel his hardness between her legs, and knew beyond doubt now that she wanted it. She began to rub her vagina against his rigid penis, softly at first, but with growing intensity, now desperately wanting to be penetrated. Her desire had become too great for her. She was wanton. She'd lost control. She could not stop. She had to do it. She had to take him, right there, in the hot tub, in front of everybody.

She began to speak to Martin while still kissing him deeply. "You want me, Martin? You want me to do you right here, right now, in front of your wife and my husband? That what you want, Martin?" His only response was a low moan. "Okay, Martin," she said simply, ceasing her kiss and rising to her feet. She looked back at the others, just to see their reactions. They sat there quietly, their hands between each other's legs under the water, obviously fondling one another.

Well, at least they're enjoying the show, she mused. Might as well make it good, she told herself. She unclasped the top of her bikini, tore it off her breasts, and tossed it aside. With no hesitation now, she hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her bikini bottom, and pushed it down, then stepped out of it and cast it away. She looked down at Martin who sat there gawking at her soft, brown pubis just beneath the surface of the water. "You, too," she ordered, and he obediently raised his hips and removed his trunks under the surface. Shortly, they were floating away in the roiling water.

Sara moved toward him again, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply once more. She then placed her hands on his shoulders, and squatted back down, just above his thighs. She dropped one hand into the water and grasped his yearning shaft. Again, she heard voices across the tub.

"Easy," Carl said peremptorily. "You're gonna make me cum," he said, a sense of urgency in his voice. "Go slow," he continued. "Mmmm hmmmm," was Jenny's only audible response as she continued to fondle him under the water, though now a little more gently. She was fixated on the nude woman who was assaulting her husband across the tub.

Sara steadied herself now just above Martin's lap and pulled his penis to meet her vagina, then slowly sat down on him, taking him into herself inch by inch until she sat flat in his lap, grunting slightly from the fullness of him. She wrapped her arms around his neck again, placed her cheek against his, and began to rock her hips back and forth, causing him to moan loudly. She knew he would not last long, but her own excitement was such that she needed only a little time. Her own orgasm was building fast and she began to whimper, "Oh, oh, ohhhh." Now she began to fuck him harder, causing the water around her to splash violently as she bucked up and down on his lap several times, then forced him deeply into her and ground her bottom against him. Martin moaned loudly and shoved himself hard against her pelvis and spent himself into her. Jenny, with two of Carl's fingers inside her vagina, his thumb rubbing her swollen clitoris, began to spasm at the familiar sound of Martin cumming, her vagina gripping Carl's fingers tightly, then contracting and releasing spasmodically for several intense seconds. Carl could hold out no longer and gushed into his trunks as Jenny somehow continued stroking his cock. Carl's orgasmic moan was all Sara needed and her vagina began to contract in powerful spasms around Martin's penis, milking every drop of cum he had.

Once her spasms subsided, Sara slumped over Martin's shoulder and she just sat there, letting the world, which seemed to be spinning around her head, settle itself down. She felt Martin becoming limp inside her and finally regained her self control. She rose slowly from his lap, sat back against the wall of the tub naked, located her wine, and took a sip. Then said to the group, "Now what?"