Back in the late 70's I was serving hard time in the Navy. I was stationed out of Groton, Connecticut, living modestly in base apartment housing with my wife of 4 years. I married Teresa (Terry) when we were 18. She was somewhat southern, being raised a military brat at Virginia Beach. Her hair was dirty blonde. Terry had a nice built with shapely muscular legs and ass. Her pussy was tight with slightly darker hair. Her breasts varied between 34B and 36C cup sizes depending on maker of the bra and time of the month. Terry tended to be shy until she got to know someone really good, than she was simply standoffish. She enjoyed being talked dirty to while having sex, although would not talk dirty herself. Her fantasy was to have "a guy in every orifice" not 3 cocks stuck inside me, but " a guy in every orifice." I would cater to her fantasies when I spoke dirty to her during foreplay. Terry was no prude, mind you. We would go to the X rated drive-ins and fuck and suck each other in the back seat of our VW while watching the movie and patrons passing by, getting popcorn, watching us. We had also purchased the popular book, "Joy of Sex" which we proceeded to experiment with up until the point it had us swap partners or engage in group sex. When my grandmother died, we absconded with her old clothes. Terry claimed she would use them to make a quilt. In reality we used them to act out rape fantasies where I would rip the clothes from her body. This fantasy worked even better when Terry had a worn out bra she was ready to trash. Twenty years after our divorce, I would still get reminded about Nana's clothes at family reunions. I just smile and innocently shrug my shoulders over the missing quilt.
I could write about these events: "Terry gently quivered as I thrust my hot throbbing love muscle into her warm receptive flesh. The VW swayed slowly to the rhythm of our passion as strangers caught glimpses of our love sharing"- but that is not my style. That is a romance novel- sure to obtain an editor's pick. My style would be "Terry winced as I rammed my cock into her well lubricated snatch. We rocked the VW as Goobers peered in the window to see my big white hairy ass in motion. They opened the car door, grabbed her tits and stuck their dicks down her throat." –Now that's real porno! If you like the word "quiver" shop at the big green "E". Anyway that group scene never happened. I don't want to insult my readers with fictional nonsense, so I will continue with what really happened one night. Honest. This is a no shitter.
Submarine crews were pretty tight. We spent most of our time together under the ocean with a lot of male bonding. The guys become as brothers to you- even the assholes. Everyone hangs up naked pictures by their rack of their wives which we all gaze at, rate, and borrow from time to time. Our Chief of the Boat (Skip) who makes up the duty schedule was the only black man on board. He loved to gamble. His duty section was stacked with poker players. When someone lost a bundle and stopped playing Skip would swap him out with someone who played. I was the luckiest by far, being the top money winner, however I would say Skip and Vic were overall better players. I avoided playing with just the 3 of us, as I lost my shirt before this way. I always insisted on 5 or 6 players to assure a profit.
When we were in port and off duty we would sometimes play cards at someone's house. Most of the guys were single so us married folk hosted the games-simply because we had a place to do so. It was a cold October day. We were in stand down after a long Unitas run to South America. Everyone just had his dick inspected by the boat pecker-checker, shot with penicillin and given a clean bill of health. We would never tell our wives what really went on -that is why we are called the "Silent Service." The card game was at my place.
I had a well-stocked liquor cabinet in those days. Terry got to show off her limited cooking skills by putting together some finger foods. Unfortunately those finger foods were chicken livers wrapped in bacon. I love bacon, but hate liver. In fact I hate liver so much, I gave it up for lent eleven years in a row. This food always brought a look of confusion to my face, as I ponder how much I should eat to be polite. Vic was the first to arrive. He was generally in good disposition when he got his way. He was on the short side, about 5' 5" tall from San Antonio, Texas. His mother was Mexican which gave him olive skin and nice facial features. Vic brought his own Wild Turkey (I couldn't afford to keep him in liquor) and began his normal harmless flirting with Terry.
Skip arrived next- the only black fellow in the group. He brought along a Navy blanket to be used as our "felt" tablecloth. He also brought two new decks of rider backs; broke the seal on one in front us and proceeded to shuffle. I counted out chips in anticipation of our other guests.
John arrived shortly after Skip. John worked with me in the lab. He had balding blonde hair and was working on his pouch. His wife, Sue recently had a baby and all the Navy wives hated her because she got "her figure back" in a couple of weeks. Sue was a class act. Her family had some of that Long Island money. She could cook (unlike my wife) and was the only women I knew who could still look classy breast feeding a kid in a room full of sailors. Too bad John left her at home. With four people we opted to play some spades with an old deck of cards while waiting for the other two players.
After the fourth hand Sarge and Reno had arrived. They were the chumps. Neither one had a poker face. Sarge thinks he can win every pot with a pair of aces. He never folds early. He likes to play a game we called "jacks, trips, progressive." Sarge was our token Southerner at the poker table. He was short, blonde and on the thin side compared to the rest of us "full figured" men. Reno was from out west. He was born and reared in Salt Lake City, Utah-several times. He was a short Hobbit like chap; hairy and he liked to party. Reno could always find a dumb way to say something clever. We knew he was smart, we just weren't sure what about.
The games went fairly much as expected. Skip, Vic and myself were accumulating chips, John held his own, while Reno and Sarge were feeding us. The drinks were coming with regularity. Vic was working furiously on his bottle of Wild Turkey. Reno was a Bicardi and coke man as was Skip. John preferred gin and tonic, and Sarge was taste testing from everything available. These were my scotch drinking days. Pinch on the rocks was my favorite. My wife, Terry was a scotch drinker also.
Terry was wearing a new pair of jeans to celebrate her recent weight loss and a green halter-top she made herself. Her breasts would peek slightly out at the sides, showing off just a touch of pale white flesh. Her nipples would tend to get hard against the material. Every now and then she would duck out of sight and rub the nips to make them go back down.
Skip would deal High-Chicago a lot. For some reason he always had a lock with the ace of spades in the hole. I would always suck along with a shitty hand with the hole king. It never failed. Vic and myself played a lot of 7 card high-low split with a kicker-roll your own. The more rules and twists the better we thought- making it tougher on the mediocre players. Sarge always had trouble with this one. Reno liked to play Low-Chicago. We started calling him the anti-Skip. Terry was busy playing the host, but as time progressed, she retired to the connecting room and turned on the tube. Actually the entire downstairs was one big room shaped like a blocked letter "C". The dining room table was visible from both the kitchen and living room area. Don Kershner's Rock Concert was playing. We officially hated that show. It had a bunch of "artists" come on and lip sync their songs to a pre-recorded video. The nerve to call it a rock concert. Videos suck. Live music was best. Videos would never catch on. Disco was killing Rock n' Roll. Both the Stones and Rod Stewart sold out. And here was sweet innocent Terry, sitting on the sofa, watching this shit. It was all her fault Rock would die a horrible death. We asked her to turn it off and put on some Steely Dan. She was nice enough not to mention my Donna Summer's tape.
At eleven PM Skip, who was ahead, announced that he would be leaving at midnight, that we had one hour to win our money back. True to his word, at midnight Skip turned into a pumpkin and John who was about even went with him. This left the four of us with Sarge and Reno near broke.
It would not have been so bad, except now, Sarge and Reno would alternately start sitting out a few hands to "change their luck." With three people playing, I began to slowly lose my money back to Vic. This was not a good sign. I tried to put the brakes on by playing conservative and making frequent calls to the bathroom to delay the game. I noticed Vic had also been using the bathroom a lot, but for a different purpose, as his jaws were grinding quite a bit.
By one o'clock I was in the red. Terry was cleaning up. You could still see plenty of exposed flesh from the sides of her breasts as she moved about. Vic seemed to be the only one besides me who was watching. Things were winding down, when we broke into a good game of 5-card draw. We had both bet our limits by the pre-established rules, but wanted to bet more. Vic had suggested a $500.00 side bet. I told him I did not have that kind of money. He then suggested my wife in lieu of the $500.00. Terry immediately objected.
I said, "Dear, before you say no, look at my hand." I had a full house, aces over eights A good hand by any standard, and being a poor sailor, we could of really used the money.
Terry hesitated. "Let me get this straight. If we win, you will give us $500. If we lose I will have sex with you."
Vic corrected her, "If you lose, you have sex with all of us."
Terry thought for awhile. Her nipples were getting hard pondering what might happen. Vic had his eyes glued to her chest. Terry looked down and saw her hard nipples and instinctively rubbed them. Vic went wild.
Terry using this to her advantage said, "make it a thousand." I love that girl.
Vic countered, " $700."
Terry bargained, "$800 and you can use any orifice you want."
Vic cracked up over her use of the word "orifice" but agreed to the deal. Reno and Sarge were hovering about the table, now wide-awake. They had mixed emotions about this bet. They generally liked to see Vic lose his ass. My joining the poker group gave them new hope. But now, pussy was at stake.
I slowly laid down my full house.
Vic had a mock look of dejection on his face. I had seen it before and expected the worse. Vic proclaimed, "I have two pair." He paused. "A black pair of sevens and a red pair of sevens."
Shit! I had lost. Terry went and sat on the sofa. She was visibly upset, looking as if she might renege on the deal.
Vic protested to me. "A deal is a deal."
Vic was real big into honoring bets and deals. I couldn't back out with witnesses, but what was I to do? "Vic what do you want me to do, hold her down while you guys fuck her?"
Vic was visibly upset. I leaned over to him and in a soft tone suggested he let loose of some of that white powder he had been snorting. I grabbed a Melmac heirloom plate featuring all-star favorite Dave Kingman. It was a great investment, a sure Hall of Famer. I turned it upside down to cut a few lines. Vic reluctantly pulled out his stash. He knew there was very little I could legally do to get Terry to spread her legs. At this juncture it was worth the gamble.
A half dozen lines were cut, as I motioned to Terry to come over to the table. She took a few deep breaths, gathered her composure and came over. It wasn't quite a death march; some of the reluctance was eroding away, as she knew her fate. I said to Terry in front of the gang, "Look dear, ten months from now I'll be getting out of the fuckin' Navy and you'll never see any of these guys again. And 7 on those months we won't be in port. You'll never have a chance like this again. Seize the moment. Enjoy yourself and honor our word." I used the phrase "our word" instead of "your word" to convince her we were in this together.
