Call it an interesting situation. There I was, playing a crazy adult board game called "Open," and at that particular moment I was watching my wife of seven years giving "Ten Minutes of Heaven.......and maybe more" with a guy, Jim, whom we had never met before this evening.
The card he had drawn from the "Guy's Choice" pile of cards said:
"You get to choose one of the participants and have your way with her for ten minutes. You can touch or kiss your partner, but you can only use your mouth and hands. If you can get your partner to say, 'Fuck me,' before the ten minutes is up, then she must do anything you tell her for the next hour."
Until Jim drew his card, most of the cards had been rather tame. They involved a bit of kissing or touching or truth-telling or feeling up or showing of various private parts. This card took it to the next level. When Jim drew this card, we all were whooping and hollering. I figured Jim would choose Judy, a big boobed girl who was overtly sexual. Other players had their own ideas, and we all had a good time lobbying Jim about the girl he should choose.
Not one of us lobbied for Brenda, my wife. Of the women playing the game, Brenda is the shyest. At 27, she was older than most of the other women. Frankly, she was not one of the more attractive women; Brenda is skinny, about 102 pounds, with 34 B breasts. She is kind of "girl next door cute," with freckles and sort of string blonde hair. It never occurred to me that Jim might choose Brenda for his ten minutes of heaven.
Jim choose Brenda. He smirked at me as he did it. He looked at my wife and said, "Okay, Brenda, you're the one. Let's get to work."
Now, Brenda and I had gone into this game willingly. We thought it was just a bit of play and we thought it would be a fun addition to our married sex life. We did discuss it, and we agreed that we were both capable of handling the situations that might ensue. I never realized how far the situation might go, but it was a party and we all were liquoring up and smoking good reef when someone brought out "Open." An adult board game. One where cards were drawn and people did things with people and it was very sexually directed. Bren and I had discussed the situation before we decided to play. We discussed it from a drunk and stoned perspective. We decided to play and we agreed to play it to the limit.
That was fine in fantasy. Now, I was confronted with the situation of Jim, a rather arrogant and abrasive jerk, having drawn one of the "best cards" and getting to choose a partner to have his way with for ten minutes. For reasons I don't know, he chose my wife. He could have chosen any one of the seven women playing the game. Several of them were younger. Most of them had bigger tits than Brenda. He chose Brenda.
When Jim announced his decision, Brenda paled. She looked up at me with a frightened and concerned expression. Jim caught her look and grinned. "Hey, little lady, don't look at him. I'm the one who gets you for the next ten minutes. Now, get that cute little body of yours over here right next to me and prepare for pleasure. You might want to practice saying 'Fuck Me.'"
Brenda hesitated then slowly walked over and sat down beside Jim on the couch. I looked around at the faces of the other six couples who were playing. Several people were looking at me, waiting to see my reaction. I tried to look impassive. A number of guys were looking at the situation with a "lucky Bastard" expression on their faces. For some reason, the other women present seemed to be enjoying Brenda's plight. I couldn't figure out whether they were enjoying the embarrassing plight of a fellow woman or whether they wished to be in her place.
I doubt it was the latter. Jim was certainly no charmer and he was not what I would consider a good looking guy. He was tall, probably 6'2," and easily thirty pounds overweight. He had been drinking heavily and he appeared to be one of those guys who responded to alcohol by becoming arrogant and aggressive. Of the six other couples present, Jim and his wife Donna were the only people I had not met before the party. He had come as a guest of our host, who had introduced him as a former business associate. That was all I knew about Jim, except for the fact that he was about to have ten minutes playing with my wife's body and trying to persuade her to say "Fuck me."
According to the rules of the game, Jim's wife came over and joined me since my partner was now with her husband. Donna sat down beside me and muttered, "This is going to be something. I pity her."
Surprised, I turned and looked at Donna. She was very attractive, probably mid thirties, dark brown hair and rather tall. Donna probably had the largest breasts of all the women present, and my practiced eye led me to guess about a 36 D. I whispered to her, "What do you mean 'pity'?"
Donna turned a wry smile to me and said, "You'll see. Your wife is going to have a tough time of this. Jim can be very......persuasive." She turned and looked back at the scene unfolding on the couch.
Now I'm telling this story and you're seeing it through my eyes, so I need to relate the picture. Brenda, dressed in the obligatory black cocktail dress, is now seated on a plush leather couch. Jim is on her left, his right leg touching her. He is smirking; she is nervous. Eleven other pairs of eyes join mine in watching what's about to happen. Jim put his right arm around Brenda and said, "Ten minutes, start the clock!" He looked at my wife and added loudly, "Prepare to beg me to fuck you, darling. I want that hour of pleasure." He then bent over, turned Brenda's head towards his and began giving her a deep french kiss.
Carrie, our hostess and gamemaster, looked at her watch and said, "Let the games begin." The ten minutes had begun in earnest. I watched as time began to pass.
Minute 1
Jim is clearly French-kissing Brenda. Tongues are evident. He is staring at her. She is looking around, avoiding his eyes. He puts his right hand over her shoulder, above her right breast. He stops kissing her and whispers something in her ear. I cannot hear what he says. He starts kissing her ear and her neck while his hand slowly drops down over Brenda's breast. He lightly strums his fingers over the black fabric covering Brenda's right nipple, slowly, the tip of each finger plucking only the very edge of Brenda's nipples. He repeats the process. He keeps the strumming up. Only on the right breast. He stops strumming and starts gently pinching that right nipple. He whispers something else. It is very quiet in the room.
Suddenly, there is sound. "Minute 1 is over," Carrie declares.
Minute 2
Jim is still touching Brenda's right breast, through her clothes. It is a scene from Junior High School. He alternates between whispering to her and French-kissing her. He keeps the right hand attention on the right breast. He goes beyond the nipple now, cupping the whole breast. He lifts it, he moves it around, he squeezes it. He owns it. He whispers something else to Brenda. She seems to be paying more attention to him now. Then she looks away and our eyes lock. I try to mentally send her a message: "I love you. It's okay. Don't give in to this asshole." I am reassured by the look I see in her eyes.
Jim slips the strap off of Brenda's right shoulder. He pulls her top down a bit, but not enough that her breasts are revealed. He slips his hand under the dress, onto Brenda's bare breast. All assembled can see his hand and fingers move under the fabric, having their way with my wife's flesh.
Carrie breaks the spell with "Two minutes gone by!"
