Husbands on Display

"Hey Mike. Come on over and say hi to the girls." Donna P. beckoned to her husband.

He looked tired. His hair lay matted from sweat and the hardhat now held at his side. He painted on a brave face while he sauntered toward the pool. Wrinkles in the corners of his eyes mirrored a genuine smile when he said his greetings.

"Why don't you join us? You look like you could use a cool down."

"Alright," he muttered after a pause to consider. I'll rinse off and come back."

"Bring some more beers - will you honey?"

He nodded as he trudged through the open sliding door and disappeared.

"Your husband looks like a million."

"Thanks. He works hard. Summers kill him."

Mike returned with a towel and a six pack. His baggy board shorts looked a few sizes too big producing a curious visual contradiction because Mike is a large muscular man. The bathing suit was crafted for a giant. He tossed the towel onto the grass and plunged into water up to his ribs without ceremony. He passed the first can to me.

"Thanks." I set my can aside.

He shrugged and handed out the rest keeping two for himself. He downed the first and chucked it from the pool before saying another word. The last can opened with a smacking sound, and he sipped.

The group milled around the pool splashing to keep cool and ward off boredom.

When he finished his second, I called out. "Want this one, Mike?"

"Sure, if you don't want it."

"Keep away from Mike," I yelled, and threw the can to Donna P.

Mike lunged for his wife knocking her off her feet, but not before she tossed to Donna F.

Mike churned through the water like a bull right for Donna F. causing her to drop the can. I grabbed it before Mike got his footing and passed to Kirstie. She passed it back to Donna P. The game lasted longer than I expected with Mike comically swimming, striding, jumping, and charging to get the can. We laughed hysterically having a grand time.

Mike lunged taking the first stroke needed to swim over to me His wife gripped the waist of his swim trunks and hauled them down to his ankles.

"Whoa! What?" Mike spun in place. He wrestled his wife for a moment, but she surfaced with the board shorts triumphantly raised above her head.

"Give those back!"

Donna P. handed them hurriedly to me and crooned, "Keep away from Mike!"

The can was forgotten, and the game resumed. Mike was a good sport about it. I have to admit, I was shocked and excited by the turn of play. Mike is a handsome guy. His job keeps him more than fit. He's a tanned demigod, if you want to know the truth. I became flustered watching the muscles flexing in his thighs, the biceps bulging, and let's say another bulge didn't go unnoticed.

It was so exhilarating that I lost track of time, but soon enough, Mike retrieved his shorts. He had to tackle Donna F. to get them. I think she inhaled water, not because of Mike's actions but because of the shock finding herself pressed against him.

He climbed out of the pool with the suit in one hand. Not bothering with modesty, he faced us. He held the suit in the air mimicking his wife's earlier triumph and gave us the finger with his other hand. He looked fearsome, but then he smiled. Mike whirled around causing his nether appendage to swing dramatically and stomped back into the house.

We laughed and complimented Donna P. on specific elements of her husband's physique. The otherwise slow afternoon ignited an unexpected thrill within me assuring his starring role in future fantasies. We still joked about it an hour later when we went our separate ways. I needed to get home and change to be ready in time for the dinner I planned with my husband.

---

I bumped into the other women a few times over the course of the next week. Kirstie spotted me at the grocery store, and we reminisced laughing and exaggerating Mike's virility. Donna P. and Donna F. came to my house for coffee and to drop off lotto tickets. We took turns buying scratch-off tickets for the whole group. I didn't win anything.

Apropos of nothing in the conversation at the time, I blurted, "I had a great time in the pool," and started to blush, so I winked dramatically to cover my embarrassment.

"We'll have to do it here this week. You can show off your husband."

"Ah, No. Not this week," I blathered in sudden panic. Donna couldn't mean it. She understood exactly how to tease me successfully.

Donna F. came to my rescue. "Let's do it at my place."

"Are you gunna show off Rick?" Donna P. chided.

"He'll still be out of town, but I can arrange something entertaining."

"That sounds too good to pass up. Can you make it, Mary?"

Hesitating, I finally replied, "Like she says, it sounds too good to pass up."

---

We all gathered at Donna F.'s house. Her modest split level overlooked the city's maintenance vehicle yard. Rick traveled for his sales job. He and Donna always said it didn't make sense to put money into a house he never sees. Instead, they spent his annual bonus on extravagant trips. Last year, they spent two weeks in Maui.

"What you got to make this worth our while?" Donna P. teased.

"The mimosas and the sparkling conversation aren't enough?"

"Come on, I know you have something planned."

"Mimosas are more than enough." I tried to take some pressure off Donna F.

"If mimosas rev your engine, what I've got is going to give you a stroke."

"What is it? What is it!" Donna P. sounded like a child eager to open a present.

"Just a second. I'll get it."

Donna F. rummaged in her entertainment center drawer to pull out a disk. "I made this a few years ago. Rick said I could never show it to anyone - unless it was you girls."

We all laughed. Rick always flirted with us. He was so aggressive that our husbands resented him. I can't say I really minded the flirting though. It reminded me of the old days dodging gropes under the stands at a high school football game.

The disk started, and the big screen flashed to life. A jerky camera at a tilted angle crept slowly down the hall to pause beside a cracked open door. The camera showed a sliver of light until we could see Donna's hand nudge the door open.

Rick sat with his back to the door flipping through pictures on the computer screen. The video quality wasn't good enough to reveal the pictures from across the room, but nobody watching could doubt what Rick was doing. I giggled nervously. We all glanced at each other as if silently asking, "Is this OK?"

The camera crept closer until the screen resolved into an image of two women embracing. The picture changed, and a woman straddled a chair with a huge black dildo held agains her pouting lips.

By this time, the camera was close enough to peer over Rick's shoulder for an instant. The purple red knob of Rick's erection flashed. He must have noticed the camera and yanked it from Donna's hands.

"What were you going to do with this?" he demanded pointing the camera at his wife.

"A girl's got to have a little porn too." Donna F. smirked back at the camera.

"Then you should do it right."

The screen went dark. Then it flashed displaying the master bedroom. The camera must have been set on a table or a tripod because the scene played out with Donna's sensuous dance and Rick caressing his cock. After a while, Rick's brows furrowed. His face turned red, and he exploded shooting a string up onto his own chest and then onto his slightly chubby stomach.

"Do me now," the TV Donna demanded as the screen went dark.

"Oh crap! That was hot." Kirstie's words echoed my thoughts.

"You shouldn't have showed us that," I mumbled.

Donna P. punched me in the shoulder. "Shut up! That was great." Turning back to our host, she aded, "Will you make a copy for me?"

"Sorry, no copies ladies," Donna F. answered with a mix of pride and embarrassment.

"What you gunna do to top that on your night?" Donna P. demanded looking me straight in the eye.

I looked at the floor and blushed.

"I think I have an idea for my turn," Kirstie volunteered.

---

I admit, I was shaking with anticipation when I rang Kirstie's doorbell a few weeks later. We delayed the event because Donna F. had other plans. Her husband was back in town, and they were making up for lost time. In the end, Donna F. told us to go ahead without her.

The three of us ladies sat in the living room sipping wine coolers. I didn't have the courage to ask what was in store for entertainment. Instead, I fidgeted and squirmed in my chair. I must have looked like a nervous school girl.

When Kirstie's husband finally arrived, greetings were exchanged and the plan revealed. "We're going to play strip poker, but Steve has to ante enough clothes to match the entire pot wagered by us girls."

"It's not fair," I complained, "He's wearing a jacket and tie, and we're all in shorts and t-shirts."

"But, if we each throw one item in the pot, he's got to match with three," Donna P. explained.

"OK," I conceded and kicked one of my Converse onto the coffee table.

"Eew. Stink!" Kirstie teased. Then she peeled her shirt over her head adding to the ante.

Kirstie's small breasts remained concealed within a lacy bra, but the gesture still felt risqué to me.

Donna removed a gold chain from her neck. "Does jewelry count?"

Nobody objected, so Steve matched our wager with his jacket, tie, and shirt. He wore socks and shoes but elected to play bare chested. I don't think he was really trying. He asked for four cards and then called our hands. All he had was a pair of fives. My three of a kind won, and I scooped up all the clothes with a flourish into a hoard beside me. Rick's shirt betrayed the faint musk of male.

For the next hand, I anted the same shoe from the previous hand, Kirstie stripped to her panties, and Donna surprisingly tossed in her shirt. She should have wagered her shoes! Donna was such an exhibitionist. Steve's eyes bulged staring at her heaving chest. Apparently, Donna didn't wear a bra that day.

Of course, Steve had to find three items to match the pot. He ended up giving us his shoes and belt.

"Belts don't count," Donna asserted, but Steve argued that if a necklace counts then a belt counts.

It didn't matter. I won that hand as well with a measly pair of queens.

"Again. Again," Donna bounced in her chair.

I let the same shoe ride. Kirstie conceded her bra. Bless his heart, Steve ogled his wife's tits as much or more than Donna's. I sensed he was going to get laid that night. Donna gave up her shorts in the most dramatic way. She stood and slid them down her thighs slowly. At first, her fingers hooked silky panties along with the shorts, but she only slid the panties down enough to tease before stepping out of the shorts.

My anxious heart pounded. Steve dealt me a flush. I collected my winnings and predicted the next hand was going to be a jackpot.

My shoe went into the pot again. Kirstie and Donna both sacrificed panties. Steve abandoned his pants, underwear, and a sock. How interesting that the one article he chose to keep was his other sock.

I looked around the table expectantly before realizing it was my turn to deal. Embarrassed again and unable to concentrate, I didn't even shuffle before handing out cards. Steve won for a change, but when he collected the pot, he set the pile aside saying, "Well ladies, what should I ante now?"

I pointed to the pile of clothes beside him. Everyone ignored me.

"I think the winner of the next hand gets a sexual favor from one of the losers," Kirstie suggested. It was probably her plan all along.

Part of me wanted to win the round, but I gave away two pair to draw zilch out of terror contemplating the consequences of the alternative. When Steve won, and he demanded a blow job from Donna. My heart climbed into my throat. What if he had picked me? I wouldn't have done it. Donna seemed ready, but the look on Kirstie's face changed Steve's mind.

Steve laughed all the while keeping eye contact with his wife. "I was kidding," he pleaded, "I need a massage from my dearest."

Kirstie relaxed, and the group chatted as if it was normal for two naked women, a man wearing only one sock, and a fully clothed woman. Steve moaned and groaned during the massage. He sported a partial erection that slowly subsided and then regrew several times as Kirstie's hands roamed.

He caught me staring in a daydream, and asked, "Like what you see?" A couple of quick tugs on the shaft stretched his cock to full engorgement. I flushed so intensely my face burned.

"Don't give her a heart attack," Donna cautioned, "She needs her health to do better than tonight. It's her turn now."

Impossibly, my blush brightened.

"I can't wait," Kirstie added before looking at her husband. There was a pregnant pause. "Well, go to the bedroom! I can't wait," She amended.

Steve jogged down the hall giving us one last peek at the swing of his ready tool.

"I'll leave you to yourselves," she winked before following down the hall.

They didn't even close the bedroom door. I couldn't imagine staying for the show. I dug my shoe out of the pile and found myself backing the car out of Kirstie's driveway before taking even a moment to explore my own feelings. "I might go back in," I thought - testing the waters. "No, no, I couldn't," I told myself.

---

I avoided the others. I went as far as driving away from the grocery store parking lot before parking when I spotted Donna P's car already there. I didn't dare explain the exciting entertainment of the past weeks to my husband let alone ask him to play. Out marital bed flared into fire though. He commented, "You haven't been this randy in ages."

I must have looked shocked or offended, because he quickly clarified, "I love it. You're turning me into an animal." He smiled like he was getting away with something, and I punched his chest playfully.

I started to miss my friends and felt like an idiot hiding from them. I wracked my brain trying to devise of a way to live up to expectations or at least not lose face.

"Do you still like it when I give you blow jobs?"

"Uh. yes! Yes I do." He handled the reply remarkably smoothly considering his mouth was full of mashed potatoes.

I felt stupid asking at the dinner table and changed the subject. The poor man looked confused.

"Do you like Kirstie and the Donnas?" I asked one morning as he toweled off from his shower.

"Sure. Why do you ask?"

"I mean, do you consider them attractive?"

"I like you best, baby."

"I know, but do you like them at all? Like, if I didn't mind, would you be tempted?"

"If you didn't mind? What are you talking about?"

"It's just that we've been talking, and the other girls are interested in, I don't know, fooling around somehow."

"What do their husbands say about it?"

"Not like that!" I blushed again. Damn my Irish complexion. "I only mean - they think you're attractive and might like to see a little more."

"And you don't mind?" Skepticism dripped from his words.

Did I mind? I examined my feelings. "Well, if we planed something - you understand - with clear rules."

"You never stop surprising me." My damp husband embraced me. "You're all I need," he whispered tickling my ear.

I though that would be the end of it, but then he said, "Tell me what you decide," and turned to start dressing for his day at the office.

My mind staggered imagining the tasks I'd him to perform. Later, I doubted I wanted him to do anything. "What are the rules to this stupid game my friend started?" I lamented while struggling to concoct of some way to top the others without losing my sanity or my spouse. All day, every day, I my mind fixated on it. If I send John out of the house, maybe I could hire male dancers. What if I filmed John on the sly and showed my friends the video? No, that would be wrong without his consent.

"I have a fantasy," I whispered as we lay sweaty and panting.

"You tell me now - after I'm spent?"

"I want to tie you up next time."

"Really? How long have you wanted that?"

"It's new," I replied defensively.

John smiled and said, "I don't mind. You can tie me up and have your way with me. It sounds like fun."

"Really?"

"It's not something I would have suggested, but it could be fun. Why not?"

"I might have something kinky planned. I might take advantage of you in ways you don't expect."

"Oh? Let's do it now!"

"Stop it!" I pounded his chest. "You're making fun of me."

"No," he insisted, "I mean it. I'll be totally at your mercy. Do your worst. I can't wait to find out what you'll do."

"You're not teasing?"

"Let's do it."

"Tomorrow night?"

"It's a date."

---

I didn't stop hyperventilating the whole next day. The Donnas and Kirstie agreed to drop whatever plans that had when I demanded "now or never." I gave them explicit instructions to enter the house quietly. "Don't ring the bell! Come right in."

John stripped and slipped on the satin boxer shorts I gave him years ago. I tied him firmly to the bed posts with old silk scarves and some felt ribbons. I left him spread eagle while as I puttered around the house waiting for the others.

"Is this all you had in mind?" he called from the bedroom. "I'm starting to fall asleep."

I trudged back into the bedroom carrying headphones and a heavy winter scarf. With the improvised blinder secured and the headphones playing music, I warned, "If you talk too much, I'll gag you too" I turned the music volume up to the verge of blaring.

At that moment, Donna P. poked her head into the room. She motioned me to come over.

"Oh my god! Mary, what is going on?"

"Shhhh. John can't know you're here. We'll play with him unless one of you spoils it."

Donna and I waited in the living room until the others arrived, and I lead them to the bedroom. John didn't appear to notice us entering. We cautiously approached the bed, and I sat while the others watched. I caressed John's inner thighs until he sprouted goose bumps. I fished his limp cock out of the fly of the boxers flouting the taboo against exposing my husband to my friends.

Kirstie suddenly sprinted from the room. I wondered what was wrong. I almost panicked, but she promptly returned. She handed me an ice cube and waggled her eye brows.

The first touch of ice to John's groin spurred a jolt. I spread the melting water around his tummy and along the shaft of my growing toy. By the time the last of the ice melted, I blew softly over moist flesh. He shivered and became rock hard.

Donna F. mimed giving a blow job using her hand as if gripping a cock and her tongue pressing her cheek simulating the thrust of a dick in her mouth. Taking her suggestion, I enveloped my husband enthusiastically. He moaned in time to my head bobs. I savored the sensations in my mouth while sparks traveled up and down my spine. I relished the sheer naughtiness of performing in front of others.

A tap on my shoulder broke the reverie. Turning my head and releasing John with a lip smacking pop, I startled to find Donna F's face so close to mine that our noses bumped. Pointing to her chest, she whispered, "my turn?"

The moment of decision arrived. I searched my feelings. Was I jealous? Compromising with my own uncertainty, I tapped an imaginary watch on my wrist. "Just a minute," I tried to convey.

Donna F. wrapped her hand in a strong grip around John's thickness. She pumped slowly with her mouth hovering above the target. Glancing in my eyes and then looking around the room for permission, Donna licked the under side of his cock using only the tip of her tongue.

John squirmed and pushed against Donna F's mouth as much as possible while restrained. I floundered with conflicting emotions. I was about to interrupt when Donna P. tapped Donna F. on the shoulder. I thought they would swap positions, but both Donnas backed away from the bed. Kirstie gestured frantically to me. I didn't get her meaning. Finally, Donna F. mimed her finger on one hand inserting and retracting through a ring formed by the fingers of her other hand.