My Husband's Mates

My husband had some mates around to watch some silly game in TV. They'd chosen our place for two reasons. First, we had a big-ass plasma screen on the wall and second, I wouldn't be there, being scheduled to play tennis that afternoon.

I returned home from the tennis feeling rather chipper. I'd won a very close match and had advanced to the next round. This was the best I'd ever done in any of our tournaments. I might lose out in the next match, but you never know.

I arrived home, still in my tennis whites, and I looked pretty good in them if I do say so myself. Sexy white shorts and a white top, and the whiteness showed off my tan very nicely, thank you. I looked in at where the boys were watching the game and immediately became slightly irritated. There was my beloved husband totally out cold on one of the armchairs.

"What the hell?" I asked.

The three of them looked very shifty, promptly denying that they were to blame.

"It's like this," Andy said. "Brian made a bet that he could swallow a shot every time his team scored. That's the result."

Now I knew that Brian didn't have all that much tolerance for alcohol, but still.

"Ah, he's played that game before," I pointed out, "and it's never affected him like that." I pointed indignantly to my comatose husband.

"Yeah, well you gotta understand. He follows a pretty crap team and they don't get many scoring opportunities."

I conceded that this was true but it didn't explain his current state.

Andy shrugged. "They've got a new QB," (whatever a QB is) "and he put in a blinder. It turns out that the opposition are even crappier than expected and his team just piled on the score. Brian was out of it by three quarter time."

I glared at the idiot. He'd probably be out cold until the morning. The only bright side was that he'd have a hell of a hangover in the morning and I considered this a license to be as noisy as I liked. I shook my head in disgust and turned and headed down to my bedroom. I was going to shower and get changed.

Walking into the bedroom I slammed the door behind me, only to hear it hit something. I turned to find Mike had followed me into the room. Unfortunately, when I turned I found Mike was right there behind me and I just naturally took a step back. This resulted in my banging up against the bed, over-balancing, and falling flat on my back on the bed.

"So eager to see me," said Mike, moving closer to me.

"Piss off," I snapped at him. "Out, now."

Instead of doing as he was told he reached for me and started undoing the fastenings to my shorts.

"Fuck off, moron," I yelled, following up with a call for assistance. "Andy, Peter, can you come and give me a hand."

The sound of approaching feet didn't stop Mile from finishing undoing my shorts and trying to pull them down. I was hanging onto them tightly and then the boys came charging in.

"What the fuck are you doing, Mike?" Andy demanded, while at the same time I yelled to them.

"Can you take this moron and throw him out of the house, please. Preferably so that he lands on his head. Even better, so that he lands in front of a truck. A big truck."

"Geez, you seem to have pissed Katy off, Mike. What do you think you're playing at?"

"I'm just helping her get undressed," said Mike as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "I mean, like I'm the only one who's wondered what she looks like naked."

"Ha! You're not taking my clothes off for any reason," I spat at him.

"He has a point, Andy," Peter said. "I wouldn't mind seeing Katy in the altogether. You have to admit that she's got a wonderful rack."

"No, he doesn't," I quickly put in.

"Yeah, he does," agreed Andy. "I'll admit to wondering about you myself. Do you need our help with the great unveiling, Mike?"

"No. That wouldn't be fair. If I can't undress her by myself then I don't deserve to get the reward."

"Fuck off the lot of you, you perverts," I yelled. "I want you all out of the house right now."

Instead of moving Andy and Peter just stood back, laughing, as Mike jerked my shorts out of my grasp and pulled them down, taking my panties with them. He hoisted my legs into the air, pulling my things along my legs and off, whereupon he let my legs drop again.

Shorts gone he grabbed my top, pushing it up, collecting my bra along the way. It was a blasted sports bra, all elasticized with no fastenings, so it peeled off with no problems. All Mike had to do was push my arms up and top and bra popped over my head and off, leaving me completely naked.

Talk about being completely exposed. Mike was standing between my legs so absolutely everything I had was on display. Quite frankly I just lay there and fumed, not deigning to try and cover anything.

"Very nice," said Mike. "Even nicer than I expected."

"I'll go along with that," added Peter. "I see you even stripped her fur when you took her panties down."

I promptly regretted my habit of having a hairless crotch. Right now I'd rather have the biggest bush ever seen, a bush that would qualify for the Guinness Book of Records. I just gave Peter an extra nasty look.

"From the way her breasts have flattened I've gotta say that they're all natural," observed Andy. "If we want to see her rack in all its glory we really need her to stand up. Back off a bit, Mike, and give the woman room to stand."

Yes, and let me get in a position where I can slap you so hard your face slides around to the side of your head, I thought belligerently.

"I'd rather move a little closer," murmured Mike, and to my horror he was undoing his trousers.

"Hold it, Mike," said Andy, who immediately became my hero. "We agreed to just look."

"And we've looked," pointed out Mike. "What I've seen is telling me I need to go to the next step."

"I'll go along with Mike on this one," agreed Peter. "I mean, look at her."

"I'm looking. I'm looking," grumbled Andy. "OK. You have a good point but no getting violent. Nice and easy does it."

That's what he thinks, I decided. I'll get just as violent as I want to.

"Now I know what you're thinking, Katy," said Mike with a smile, "but I suggest you think again. Do you really want Peter and Andy holding you down so you can't struggle? Such a demeaning way to handle things. Just relax and let things happen as they happen."

I flicked a glance at Peter and Andy and they smiled at me, although Andy did give a little shrug, as if to say I don't want to, but I will. I groaned silently and slumped a little harder against the bed.

The bed was just the wrong height for what was to come. Alternatively, Mike was just the wrong height. Whatever, when I initially fell back onto the bed my bottom and back were on the bed but my legs weren't. Mike was now standing between my legs and his groin was right there next to mine. All he had to do was drop his trousers, point his cock and push forward slightly. Just like that he was pushing into me.

Now don't get me wrong. I wasn't aroused by the stripping and staring and the waving around of Mike's equipment. It was the exercise and excitement of winning the tennis that had got me all worked up and that's why I was somewhat wet down there. That just happened to make it a lot easier for Mike to push smoothly into me, and I was just lying there, watching his cock slide home.

Even as I watched his cock slid fully into me, vanishing before my eyes. My body was letting me know with a great deal of interest just where it was going. I felt his groin mash against me and then he was pulling back and I could see his cock emerging again.

Mike just stood there, slowly sliding his cock in and out, just taking his time and enjoying himself. He didn't even lean forward to try and grope my breasts, which I thought rather odd behaviour for a man. No, he just stood there, leaning in as his cock sank deep, swaying back as it retreated, with me feeling every inch of it as it rasped against my heated flesh.

I have to admit that I was moving with him, pushing towards him as he slid in, pulling back as he retreated, my eyes watching his cock the whole time, watching its incessant sliding in and out, in and out. It's not as though I had much choice about matching his movements. I mean, you just do it, don't you.

He just ground on and on and I had my work cut out trying not to show he was getting to me. I didn't want to give him that much satisfaction, damn him. Still, nature would have its way and the longer he went the more aroused I became.

All of a sudden Mike went into over-drive. It happened so suddenly that I was climaxing before I realised it, and I damn near bit my tongue off keeping my mouth shut and not screaming my relief. I was quite pleased when I was just able to lie there, breathing slightly harder when he withdrew. I was still going to get him for this.

Mike stepped aside and Andy came forward, reaching for my hands and pulling me to my feet. His hands promptly rose to cup my breasts.

"Now these were what I wanted to see," he said as he lightly stroked them. "And taste," he added, bending down to take one of my nipples in his mouth.

I snapped out of whatever was holding me still and tried to slap him which achieved precisely nothing. He just slipped to one side and pushed my arm to keep me turning around and I found myself back on the bed. Well, not on it so much as leaning over it, with Andy holding me there.

"Look to your left," he told me and when I did so I could see myself in the dressing table mirror. The problem with that was that I could also see Andy standing behind me, cock out and ready. Then I had the doubtful privilege of watching him in the mirror as he moved closer, his cock pushing into me.

His hands came around me, seeking my breasts again, and as soon as he had hold of them he went to work with a vengeance. His cock was banging away at me at a decent old rate, with me standing there watching the action as though it was happening to someone else. It wasn't though, as my body was quick to remind me. Any passions or sensitivities that might have died down between Mike backing off and Andy starting forward came surging right back again, happily waving to me and yelling we're ready for more.

I have to admit that I was somewhat shocked to see how my bottom was bobbing up and down as Andy made merry. If asked I'd have said I was barely moving with him, but there was my bottom, making a complete liar out of me. To add to my torment Andy seemed to know just what to do to my breasts to make me hyper-aware of how sensitive they were to the right touch. I'd just never dreamed that Andy might have the right touch.

Andy ploughed along quite happily, building up my arousal again, and I just knew I'd wind up climaxing again, whether I wanted to or not. (Ok, I'd just as soon climax as not, otherwise this sort of thing was just a waste of time.) What was getting to me was that he was whispering to me the entire time, telling me how great I was, how wonderful I felt, how lovely my breasts were, how sensitive I felt under his touch. I wanted to yell at him to shut the fuck up, while at the same time I was enjoying what he was saying. Who doesn't want to hear what sounds like a genuine compliment? It's just a case I'd probably have appreciated the compliments more if he hadn't had his dick stuck in me at the time.

At least, from the way Andy was carrying on, I could tell how close he was to his end. His voice was getting a little hoarse and he was slowly picking up the pace. When he was finally just about there he completely shut up and started driving home with all the vim and vigour he possessed. It was certainly enough to drive me over the line, with me jamming a hand in my mouth to make sure I didn't scream at all. No noisy climaxes for these bozos, flattering their egos.

With Andy falling by the wayside, completely spent, Peter was urging me up onto the bed, demanding that I get on hands and knees.

"As you can see, I've positioned you so you can see yourself in the mirror," he told me. "I could see you were getting off on watching yourself with Andy."

"Actually, I was checking to see if he was actually doing something, seeing I wasn't feeling anything," I said sweetly. "Of course, seeing the size of his tiny wee-wee the lack of feeling was understandable. Do you feel you'll measure up?"

Instead of answering he changed my position so I was now facing the mirror, unable to make a comment about the size of his equipment. I chalked that up as a win to me. Not that it stopped him having his go.

His cock came charging into me and I could see the shock on my face, even if he didn't notice it. As far as I was concerned it was a case of what the hell is he using on me? That's not a cock, surely? I really thought he was going to split me open when he rammed home.

He knelt behind me, hands on my hips, thrusting in just as hard as he could. He would have devastated me if he'd had any sort of smooth action, but it seemed to take him ages to withdraw and thrust home again. (Possibly because his cock was getting jammed in my passage and he needed the extra effort to extract it.)

Once again I was irritated to see my bottom bouncing high as he drove into me, annoying because I didn't really want to respond to him. It was just that my body had other ideas.

Peter seemed to go on and on, spending an eternity banging away at me. I put it down to the size of his weaponry. He was taking so long between strokes that any excitement he felt was dying down between strokes and he had to work twice as long to build himself up. I, on the other hand, didn't have that problem, already being primed, as it were.

I was already excited and Peter was fast pushing me to a point where I was going to climax again. I'd better clarify that a bit. His thrusts had certainly built me up, quite quickly at first, until I was nearly ready to blow again. Then I found that the slowness of his thrusts just weren't capable of pushing me over the edge. Instead they just held me on that edge, ready to climax but unable to make it and totally unable to suggest to him that he do something about helping me out. I'd rather die.

Eventually Peter found the steam to put in some extra effort, sending me soaring, once again chewing on my hand rather than screaming my head off.

When Peter withdrew I sat on the bed and glared at the three of them. I didn't give a shit if they did bring me to a climax three times. They shouldn't have done it.

"I hope you know you can all be charged for what you did," I pointed out in my most menacing voice.

"Really?" asked Andy. "For what?"

"For what?" I yelled. "For rape, of course."

"Rape? What rape," he asked, and I thought I was going to have a stroke I was so pissed.

"What do you call what just happened?" I demanded.

"Let's see. You didn't struggle at all, neither did you say no at any stage. Sounds consensual to me," he said, smiling happily.

Well yes, I thought but Mike told me not to struggle or they'd hold me down. As for saying no I'd have thought that it was self-evident that I didn't want them to do that. I just looked at Andy and spluttered.

"Still, it wouldn't be fair to you for us to go leaving you feeling hard done by. Hey, you two. Cough up. We need to let poor Katy have enough to buy a new pair of shoes."

The three of them produced some cash which Andy passed to me, a big grin on his face. I looked at it and snapped my fingers, hand out.

"You obviously haven't seen how much a decent pair of shoes cost," I told him.

He lost his smug smile at that but the three of them did cough up some more which I was quite happy to accept. I then suggested that the three of them depart, never to darken my doorstep again.

"We're going, we're going," said Andy as he ushered the others towards the door. "Um, we'll have to be back here next Saturday though."

"No you fucking won't," I stated firmly.

"Already arranged with Brian," Andy said, "unless of course you want to explain why you don't want us here."

I glared after him as he left, feeling checkmated. He stuck his head back in the door for one last word.

"Don't worry. We'll try to make sure that Brian doesn't get plastered next week."