Game Day Guacamole

My wife Ally brings the guacamole and chips, Shaun's wife Peg makes the dinner - in a crock pot. Obviously, the focus of our Thanksgiving isn't the spread on the dining table, it's the game on TV.

"Dallas is back baby," Peg taunted, flailing her arms around like a dude in a rap video. "New coach, new QB. Dallas is going to kick your ass.

"Dallas is hopeless," my wife yawned. "They're going to choke."

Peg has always been a diehard Dallas fan, while my wife has always been the diehard opposite. It doesn't matter what the issue is, if Peg is for it, Ally's against it.

"A hundred bucks says you're going home a LOSER!" Peg said.

"Now ladies," Shaun interrupted, "nobody here can afford to throw away a hundred bucks. Can't we think of some other way to add a little drama to this football game?"

We were sitting in Shaun and Peg's living room, dipping chips into Ally's homemade guacamole and watching the pre-game show. We had already taken sides: My wife and Shaun rooting for the Saints on one couch, Peg and I going with the Cowboys on the other. It's not that I cared that much about the game, but flirting with an ex-cheerleader like Peg was so much fun, how could I choose not to be on her side?

"Here's an idea," Shaun said, eliciting a sarcastic rolling of the eyes from his wife, "how about every time the Saints score, you guys remove an article of clothing, and every time the Cowboys score, we take something off?"

My wife shot me a worried glance. We weren't swingers, or even exhibitionists. The closest we'd ever gotten to a strip party was taking our swim suits off in a hot tub - in the dark. Before I could say anything, Peg jumped in.

"That doesn't seem fair. Ally's wearing what, 8 things? Two shoes, Two socks, T-shirt, bra, jeans and panties."

"So?" my wife replied, "how many things are you wearing?"

Peg looked down at her two-piece running suit. "Two."

"Peg!," my wife exclaimed, "No underwear? You're such a perv."

"Well...," Peg stammered, "I was just getting out of the shower when you guys walked in."

"Really?" I said, my mind racing.

Peg laughed. "Your husband's the perv, not me."

"Okay," Shaun interjected, "let's say a pair of shoes counts for one item of clothing, and a pair of socks counts for one. That would be 6 things for you, right Ally?"

Ally looked down at her T-shirt and jeans, and then nodded.

"You?" Shaun asked me.

"Six will work."

"Well Peg, you can either go with two, or put on some underwear."

"I'm going with two," Peg smirked, folding her arms across her chest and smooshing her boobs up a couple of inches.

"Whatever," Shaun sighed, shrugging his shoulders. Then, in a stage whisper: "My wife does look really hot naked."

"Oh alright," Peg moaned, getting up off the couch, "I'll put on some underwear."

I watched her disappear down the hall, imagining her unzipping her top, her voluminous tits rolling out like bowling balls...

"Honey?" my wife whined, in her WTF-are-you-thinking voice, "are we actually going through with this?"

I could sympathize with her, but the thought of seeing Peg in her underwear, or even naked, overruled my concern for my wife's modesty - or my own, for that matter. "You're the Saints fan. You tell me."

"There's no way Dallas can to run up the score on the Saints. The Saints won the Super Bowl, and now Dallas is 2 and 7."

"Whatever you say, Hon. I'm okay with your little bet."

"It's not my little bet," she said nervously, "it's Shaun's bet."

It would be an interesting bet indeed. Shaun's wife is the epitome of sexy: long legs, wide hips, bouncy ass, full tits that jiggle even when she's wearing a bra. She has golden tan skin, dirty blonde hair, green eyes, and the long lanky build of a Norwegian. Ally is the exact opposite: thin, wiry, with a boyish build and firm, compact tits. She's also opposite in the sense that she's rather withdrawn, conservative even, compared to Peg's larger-than-life personality.

Just then, Peg emerged from the hallway, wearing a tight tank top with a pushup bra underneath, and loose denim cutoffs, which she was still in the process of buttoning. My jaw dropped. I could have been staring at a live Playboy photo shoot, with her white panties peeking out, and her cleavage jiggling as she walked.

"I'm back," she said, as she flounced down beside me, her clean soapy smell hanging like a cloud around her. "So," she chuckled, "we finally get to see your wife naked."

"In you dreams," Ally snapped, hugging a pillow to her chest.

I settled back on the couch, trying to act casual, while inside I was as excited as a kid at Christmas. I took a quick peek at Peg's cleavage, all tan and firm. It occurred to me that if a guy was to drop a cellphone in there, he'd have a hell of a time finding it.

1st Quarter

New Orleans received the kickoff. Drew Brees drove 80 yards in four plays, with Chris Ivory scoring the first touchdown on a 3 yard run.

"Start stripping!" my wife commanded.

"Oh boo hoo," Peg sighed, kicking off one flip flop. She ignored me while I kicked my shoes off, but I couldn't ignore her. With the top button of her cutoffs undone, and her quivering cleavage, I felt like I was sitting next to a porn star. Fortunately, she was on the end of the couch closest to the TV, so I could ogle her to my heart's content while pretending to watch the game.

The Cowboys took the ensuing kickoff, made a first down, and then fumbled. Four plays later, the Saint's kicked a field goal.

"See?" my wife cackled, "you're going to be naked before half-time."

"Shut up!" Peg snapped, kicking off her other flip-flop while I removed my socks.

We watched Dallas take another kickoff and go nowhere. Then the Saints drove all the way down to the Dallas 6 yard-line and ran it up the middle for a touchdown. The score was now 17 to 0.

"Okay Peg," my wife sneered, "what'll it be, your shirt or your cutoffs?"

"The Saints scored again?" Peg whined, staring in disbelief at the TV screen.

"Of course they scored again," Ally said, obviously enjoying her moment of triumph. "Dallas sucks."

"This is so silly," Peg moaned, as she pulled her tank top off over her head. I just sat there staring as her lacy bra emerged. It looked as though it was straining at the weight of her heavy tits. Okay, that may be an exaggeration, but they're definitely bigger than my wife's, and more pointed, sort of like a pair of footballs.

"Well?" Peg said, giving me an annoyed look, "are you suddenly out of the game?"

"Oh sorry," I stammered, as I shucked my flannel shirt off. I still had a T-shirt on, which appeared to be unacceptable to Peg.

"That's it? No skin? Come on Alfred, man up."

"But.. but.. what about the six things we're supposed to be wearing?"

"Honey," my wife interrupted, "take your T-shirt off and then put your flannel shirt back on. Then you'll still be on track for the six things, and me and Peg will get to look at your bare chest."

"Yeah, that'll work," Peg grinned, watching as I pulled my T-shirt off. I could feel myself blushing, not because my shirt was off, but because I was getting a hard-on.

"Nice," Peg said, reaching over and sliding her hand up the middle of my bare chest. "So smooth. Shaun's chest is like a freakin' dog's back."

I pulled my flannel shirt back on, but left it open to keep the ladies happy. Checking the score box, we were only 10 minutes into the game. It was hard to keep my mind on the action, knowing that just 3 more New Orleans scores would leave Peg as naked as the day she was born.

A long Dallas drive followed. They got all the way down to the New Orleans 21 yard-line, went for it on 4th and one and didn't make it.

"Oh crap!" Peg moaned. "That was our team, right?"

"Yes," my wife answered, "that was your team. They're a bunch of losers. I'm telling you, you'll be naked before half-time."

"Will we be naked before halftime?" Peg asked me, a worried look on her face.

"No way," I said. "If it wasn't for the Saints catching all the lucky breaks, the score would still be zero to zero." That was a lie. The Saints were actually looking pretty good, but I didn't want Peg to freak out and bail on the strip contest.

2nd Quarter

New Orleans went 3 and out, and then Dallas managed a long drive, culminating in a field goal.

"Finally!" Peg sighed, as Shaun and my wife kicked off their shoes. Peg's enthusiasm was short lived, as we watched the Saints drive all the way down to the Dallas 27. With 43 seconds left in the half, New Orleans kicked a field goal.

"Uh oh," Ally cackled, "Peg has to show us her underpants."

"I'll go first," I said, hoping to take advantage of the momentary lapse of my hard-on. I stood up and undid the button on my jeans.

"I want to see," Peg moaned, sitting up on the edge of the couch.

I turned to face her, my hands trembling, and started to inch my zipper down.

"I want to do it," she commanded, scooting over next to me and jerking at my zipper. The feel of her fingers nudging my half hard cock made me wince, but I don't think anyone noticed.

"That's hot," my wife gasped, watching from her perch on the other couch.

Peg bent over to pull my jeans off, and I swear, her tits almost fell out. It was maddening. And wonderful.

"Your turn to take my shorts off," she chirped, looking over at my wife for her reaction. That's when I realized what was going on. Peg was trying to make Ally jealous. It was just another competition, one that she'd probably win. I reached for the buttons of her cutoffs, my fingers grazing her bare tummy.

"Oooh," she giggled, "tickles!" She stood there sucking in her stomach so I could get the buttons undone. Then she stood motionless while I slid the cutoffs down her long legs.

"Happy now?" she asked, as she spun around and showed me her ass.

Of course I was happy. Her lacy booty shorts revealed most of her peachy butt, which looked as round and firm as a pair of watermelons. Instantly, I was heartsick, wishing I could run my hands up and down her luscious curves.

"Are you two lovebirds done now?" Shaun asked. He had been relatively quiet during the proceedings. I wondered if perhaps Peg's little plan to make Ally jealous was also working on her husband.

"It was your idea, Shaun," Peg said, settling back down on the couch.

"Hey, I'm cool," Shaun said. "It's just that you're missing the game. Kitna just made two long passes, and the Cowboys are in scoring position."

"That's us, right?" Peg beamed.

"That's us," I replied, liking the "us" part of what she had just said.

The Cowboys were, indeed, in scoring position, and with less than ten seconds to go in the half, they kicked a 53 yard field goal.

"We're back, baby," Peg hooted, turning to high-five me. Watching her tits jiggle when our hands slapped together was better than seeing the field goal, but I wasn't about to tell her that.

"Okay," my wife snorted, as she pulled her socks off, "you won't be naked by half time, but you will be naked before this game is over."

"Um... Ally?" Shaun interrupted, "This guacamole is great. New recipe?"

"I put in some special spices," she said, her face lighting up. "I got them on the internet, from New Orleans, as a matter of fact."

"Yeah, Hon," Peg slurped, with a dab of the green stuff hanging on her lower lip, "this is great, even if it is from New Orleans. Speaking of food, I guess I better go check the stew."

She bounded up off the couch and strutted to the kitchen, swiveling her ass like a chick in a rap video. Shaun and I just sat there staring with our mouths hanging open. I looked over at my wife, who was well aware of what Peg was doing to Shaun and I. Hoping to redeem myself, I offered a compliment.

"Shaun's right about the guacamole, honey. It's got a very interesting taste to it, sort of an earthy and animalistic undertone, if that makes sense."

She grinned back at me. "The website said the spice was recommended for an intimate dinner, so I guess this qualifies."

I smiled to myself, thinking about the intimate moment when she'd be pulling her jeans off. It's not that I had my heart set on a wife swap, I was just hoping for a little T & A show - something to spice up our same-old-same-old routine.

3rd Quarter

With Peg ensconced next to me on the couch, the second half began. Dallas took the kickoff, ran two plays, and scored a touchdown on a 60 yard end-around play.

"Finally," Peg exclaimed, "you wife has to take her top off."

Ally stood up, catching my eye with a pleading look. "Is Shaun supposed to, you know... help?"

"Why certainly, darling," Shaun said, springing up off the couch. While my wife stuck her arms up in the air, he carefully pulled her shirt off, revealing her plain white bra. I gasped when I noticed we could see the outline of her pink nipples through the sheer fabric. Hopefully, from her angle, it wouldn't be so obvious.

"Your turn?" she asked Shaun.

He stood stoically while she unbuttoned his shirt. He made no effort to hide the fact that he was staring at my wife's untanned chest. Ally, innocent that she is, was totally oblivious, concentrating on getting his shirt off.

Peg turned to me. "Thank god your wife finally took her top off. I don't feel like such an exhibitionist now."

"You were born an exhibitionist," my wife said, under her breath.

"Hey," Peg grinned, "if you've got it, flaunt it, right?" She shimmied her tits back and forth like they do in the Electric Slide dance, and I scrunched lower in the couch, trying to disguise my erection.

New Orleans took the kickoff on the 20, and with a series of short passes, Drew Brees got them all the way down to the Dallas 10 yard-line.

"Oh crap," Peg moaned, as we watched them kick a 28 yard field goal.

"Cool," my wife cackled, "Peg's going to be topless for the rest of the afternoon."

"Won't be the first time," she snapped, as she turned her back to me so I could unclip her bra. Then she faced me, cradling her tits in her hands, with her bra straps dangling off her shoulders. "Have at it," she said as she let go of her bra. I gently lifted it off her tits and watched in awe as they oozed out into the open. Her lemon sized aureola were a rich brown color, with her puffy nipples protruding like little black beans.

"Wow," I gasped, staring, yearning, aching, wishing I could take one in my mouth.

"That's what they all say," she said, tossing her bra on the arm of the couch. "Your shirt?"

"Oh, sorry," I said, my eyes glued to her chest. I shucked my shirt off, still staring at her man-killer boobs.

"Oh honey?" my wife interrupted, "there is a game going on. It's right there, on the TV?"

"Yeah," I sighed, feeling a little self conscious. By this time, there was no denying my hard-on, which presented a bit of a problem - what to do if the Saints scored again and I had to get naked? Would my hard-on ruin everything? Would my wife get mad? Lucky for me, Dallas put together a five minute drive that culminated with a touchdown, and I was momentarily spared.

"We did it!" Peg squealed, grabbing my thigh. "Did you see that? That was awesome. Now your wife has to take her pants off."

"Darn it," my wife mumbled, standing up to do the deed.

"Wait a minute," Peg yelped, "isn't Shaun supposed to pull your pants down?"

"Whatever," Ally sighed, resigned to her nearly naked fate. She stood in front of Shaun and held her panties up while he slid her jeans off. Then she did the same to him, easing his pants down carefully so as not to drag his boxers with them. I admit, I was a little stressed watching my wife and Shaun undressing each other, but it was all part of the tradeoff. At least we were both getting down to our underwear at roughly the same time. It would have really sucked if two of us had to get naked while the other two remained fully dressed. Talk about awkward!

New Orleans took the kickoff and drove all the way down to the Dallas 30, but stalled on 4th and five, and Dallas took over.

4th Quarter

Dallas punted, New Orleans punted, and then Dallas put together a scoring drive that culminated with a one yard touchdown run.

"Okay little girl," Peg teased, "time to show your little tits."

I grabbed Peg by the elbow. "Come on, be nice. My wife has perfect tits. That's why I married her."

Ally wasn't paying any attention to us. She already had her back turned so that Shaun could unclip her bra, but instead of turning around to let him remove it, she just let it fall into her lap and then crossed her arms over her chest.

"Cool," Shaun grinned, as he pulled his shirt off. "You do have perfect tits."

"Shut up," my wife grunted, looking a little embarrassed.

"How much more game is there?" Peg asked, perhaps pondering the next article of clothing that would be sacrificed in the event of another score.

"Five minutes," Ally replied, "and we've got the ball."

It was a tense couple of minutes, all of us sitting there in our underwear. Between Peg's man-killer boobs and my wife's high school titties, I was in erotic heaven, my hard-on twitching with every snap of the football. It was all I could do do keep from whipping it out and spurting all over the couch. I watched impatiently as both teams went three and out. Then the Saints got the ball back and made a 55 yard pass.

"I don't like this part," Peg said, to no one in particular, "I like it when Kitna's throwing the passes."

I didn't tell her what I liked - staring at her football-tits. How's a guy supposed to follow the game when tits like that are within arm's reach? I did notice Drew Brees throw a 12 yard touchdown pass, and suddenly, it was time to get naked.

"Yes!" my wife hissed, pumping her fist in the air. "You lose, Peggy. I'm going home with my panties on, and you're not."

Peg looked over at Shaun. "Are you sure it's okay? We've never done this before,"

"It's okay with me," Shaun said, with a twinkle in his eye. "Is it okay with you, Ally?"

"Hey, it's not my junk everyone's going to be staring at. Go for it."

Slowly, Peg stood up and turned to face me, her crotch inches from my face. I took her panties by the waistband, at the sides of her hips, and slid them down slowly. Her trimmed little muff inched into view, followed by the hood over her clit, peaking out from a few trimmed hairs. Then it was her labia, looking a lot like my wife's, only a bit thicker, meatier. I inhaled deeply, her rich scent filling my entire being with desire. As I inched her panties lower, I could almost feel her legs trembling. Or maybe that was my hands.

"Oh my," Peg sighed, stepping out of her panties, "that was... intense." She bent over to grab her panties off the floor, and then sat back down on the edge of the couch. The look in her eyes had changed. She was no longer the queen bee, running the show. Now she was revealing herself to me in a way you don't joke about. She looked into my eyes. "Your turn," she said in a whisper.

I faced her, but from the side, so that Ally could still see. I really didn't want to shut my wife out of this part. Without a word, Peg grabbed my boxers and pulled them down slowly, till they got hung up on my dick. By this time my hard-on was past raging, it was throbbing, with that unmistakable tingle making me wish I'd gone to the bathroom during half-time.

She gave my boxers a little tug. I winced. She tugged again. I gasped, realizing I was crossing the threshold between holding back and letting loose. She tugged a third time, and my dick popped out. I pinched, but it was too late. A surge of jizz oozed out and splatted on Peg's wrist.

"Oh my God!" she gasped, watching wide-eyed as another glob splatted on the back of her hand. I stood there, quivering, while a third spurt erupted from my aching cock. I looked over at my wife, expecting the evil eye, but that's not what I saw. Ally was scrunched up on the couch, one hand pressing on her mound, the other cupping a breast. Instantly, I recognized the convulsions of an orgasm.