tagGroup SexMy Good Luck Piece

My Good Luck Piece

byTx Tall Tales©

The four of us had been meeting up to watch the Cowboys play for the last two years, catching at least half the games together. We all lived in the same general area, having met during a charity golf event which included topless caddies you could bid on. It was nice to meet guys with which you had something in common. For us it was a nice rack on a girl, a round of no pressure weekend golf, and the Dallas Cowboys.

We still golfed the occasional round, but we're not especially close friends, barely staying in contact until football season starts. Don was in sales, working for a big accounting firm, and Eric owned a small AC business, which apparently did pretty well.

I was closest to Derek, and that still wasn't saying much. He lived nearby, in our gated community, and so we ran into each other with some frequency. He was a kind of standoffish guy, nice enough I guess, but we didn't share a whole lot in common other than the Cowboys thing.

Derek had recently received a hefty promotion, and had completely outfitted his media room with high-def big screen, and the NFL Ticket. He insisted we kick-off the season at his place. I personally liked the idea, not just for the excellent TV, but his new wife was quite a piece of eye-candy as well. They had been dating at the end of the last season, and we'd had a chance to meet her a couple of times, but in January they had tied the knot, and we'd all been invited to the wedding.

Cyndi and I had hit it off from the beginning. She was an exceptionally pretty girl, and always had men fawning all over her. I teased her that she wasn't my type. Too tall, too skinny, I preferred Blondes, I didn't like the belly-button piercing, her breasts were too large to be real, her ass was fat, she was always frowning, her feet were too big, the tiny mole over her right eye wasn't round enough, big freckles on her arms, I could find a hundred things wrong with her. She was probably the most beautiful woman I'd seen up close and in person.

We both shared a love of good coffee, and we'd run into each other at the local Starbuck's with some frequency. I worked from home a lot, and met a lot of clients at Starbucks, where I could use the WiFi while waiting. We'd normally just say hi, then go our way, but once she stood around looking like she had no place to go, and I asked her to sit with me, having just concluded a short customer meeting. After that we seemed to run into each other every couple of weeks or so. We shared a few coffees and a couple of our meetings lasted for hours, while we just got to know each other. She was as sweet in person as you could ever hope for, with just a little damage to her confidence left over from the constant rejection that LA had heaped on her.

She'd often be wrapped up in frumpy sweats, oversized tees, and even a baseball cap to cover up her body and beauty. It was so much the opposite of everyone else in our area. The pretty women in North Dallas are always on show, trophy wives on display, and they make sure that everyone sees exactly what they have to offer. I guess Cyndi had nothing to prove, or maybe she was just in hiding.

She'd been a college cheerleader who'd headed off to LA to make it big. She was definitely pretty enough, but the problem seemed to have been that her type of good looks were common. Everything was just too perfect. Mouth just the right size, normal sized straight nose, pretty hazel eyes, pretty oval face with just a little extra chin, everything added up to near perfection, but maybe just a little too much. Maybe she didn't try hard enough, or make the right connections. Maybe she just didn't get the break she was looking for. After 8 years in LA, barely getting by, she'd finally packed it up and headed back home to rural West Texas. After a short period to get back on her feet, she'd headed to Dallas, to earn a regular living.

Derek had met her on a wine-tasting tour in Grapevine, of all the unlikely places. Derek loved wine, and stocked an exceptional cellar, even when he really couldn't afford to. Cyndi loved wine as well. She had worked in several exclusive dining establishment in LA, while trying to hit it big, and had taken advantage of every opportunity to expand her knowledge.

She was an unusual woman, almost 30, never married, no children, not even any really serious relationships behind her. She was drop dead gorgeous, and for some reason she found something in Derek that called out to her. She came onto him hard, and within two months they'd been married. Her budding career in pharmaceutical sales died on the vine, as she became yet another North Dallas trophy wife.

Derek was a moderately successful manager, who had just made the junior executive level. At almost 50 years old, he was a bit slow in climbing the ladder, but his business was highly successful, and his annual bonuses were well into the high five figures. He was an average looking guy, belly a little to big, chest a little too small, hair receding - he looked like every other guy in a suit, and stuck to golf pants and polo shirts when away from work. He'd never been married, and was a complete work-a-holic. His only weakness seemed to be his love for the Cowboys.

An odd couple to say the least.

Cyndi met us at the door, looking exceptionally fine in orange short-shorts that reminded me of Hooters shorts, only more form fitting. It looked to me like she was going commando under those. She also had on a cut-off Dallas Tee, that covered most of her midriff. She was obviously not wearing a bra either, and her outstanding breasts looked great, especially with her nipples poking out so nicely. I hadn't seen her in about a month, but she looked better than ever. The outfit was quite a change from the old sweats I saw her in usually, but maybe this was what she was covering up with those sweats.

She gave me a big hug and a light kiss at the door. It was a little unusual, she always hugged me, but kissing was pretty new. "Alex, it's great to see you," she gushed, holding my hand as she escorted me into the house. "The guys are all in the media room, you're the last to arrive. What can I get you to drink?"

From the sound of her voice, I had no doubt she'd already had a few herself.

"What's everyone else drinking?" I asked.

"There's beers in the media room," she told me, "or I can get you a mixed drink from the bar. I've got a bottle of wine open if you'd like a bit of that."

"If it's not too much trouble, a light scotch and soda would be nice," I told her. I probably would have enjoyed a beer just as much, but I also liked the idea of her waiting on me.

"No problem," she smiled. Cyndi looked me up and down again and leaned in and gave me another big hug. "God, you look good, you need to dress like this more often. It suits you a lot better than those stuffy old suits."

I wasn't dressed in anything special, just jeans, boots, and a T-shirt. The shirt was tight fitting. I spent better than an hour a day in the gym, and was proud enough of my upper body to want to show it off a little.

I hugged her back, a little closer, letting one of my hands drift down to the top of her ass. "You look better than usual, Cyndi. Still way too skinny, I see," I told her, running my hands under the edge of her shirt, caressing her midriff, "and it would be nice if you combed your hair once in a while. I don't know what Derek sees in you." I teased her unmercifully, as I usually did, but I was devastated to see her face crumple up as she burst into tears.

I quickly took her in my arms holding her, while her body shook. "Oh, God Cyndi, you know I'm just teasing. I'm sorry, so sorry. You are beautiful, so beautiful, please don't cry. You know I'm just teasing."

The sobbing slowed, and she pulled back just a bit. "What's wrong with me Alex?" She asked so seriously it hurt my heart to hear it.

"Nothing that I can see," I answered honestly. "You are the sweetest, kindest and most beautiful woman I've ever met."

"Why doesn't Derek see it?" She asked, "Aren't I pretty enough? Aren't I sexy enough?"

"Are you kidding me? I'm almost losing control right now. You have no idea just how hard it is to be this close to you without tearing every shred of clothing off your amazing body, and spending the afternoon ravaging you." I told her, as brutally honest as I'd I've ever been.

She finally smiled, a sad little smile, and then she shocked me by reaching down and putting her hand over my obvious erection. "At least that part's true. It seems like at least you think I'm pretty after all."

"Not pretty," I warned her, "incomparably beautiful, stunning, and smoking hot." Her hand was still on my erection, almost but not quite holding it, her hand pressed against it, cupping it. After a few seconds she slowly took her hand away. I leaned down, tilted her face up and kissed her passionately, holding her ass in my hands, pressing her body against my hard-on.

Then I just held her, holding her tight. She whispered in my ear. "Derek hasn't touched me in almost three months."

"That's impossible. Nobody with a pulse could be around you for three DAYS without fucking your brains out. He's gay." I quipped, then almost gasped over the accusation I'd made.

"Do you really think so?" She asked me, seriously. "'Cause I've been wondering."

"I don't know Cyndi, I just don't understand how he could be married to you and not be doing something. I swear if I were with you, we'd be going to bed by eight o'clock every evening, so I could at least get a few hours sleep before getting up at seven."

I lifted her easily and set her on the table beside me. I reached down and opened her legs, pressing my body close to hers, my erection hard against her crotch. I placed my hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "Right now, I am only a heartbeat away from pulling that stupid piece of orange cloth aside, and fulfilling my biggest fantasy right here on this table." I backed up a bit, and let my left hand drop right on her crotch. It felt scalding hot. The material was pulled tight so I could see every nook, cranny and wrinkle of her skin down there. I pushed my thumb in, almost to the knuckle, right through the cloth.

"If there weren't three more men upstairs right now, I'd let you - no, I'd beg you to," she told me softly. It was the best offer I'd ever heard.

"Don't tell me that," I warned her. "They might be trying me for triple homicide tomorrow."

She leaned into me, wrapping her arms and legs around me. "I'm sorry, Alex, for dumping all this crap on you. It's not your problem." She held me tight.

"Cyndi, I'll do anything I can to fix any problem you have, just let me know what I can do." I told her.

"For now you better go and join the guys, before I do something stupid we both might regret later." Then she pulled my face down to hers and kissed me again.

I enjoy kissing, but stopped the heavy petting, tongue tangling, spit swapping make-out sessions around my third year of college. But Cyndi's lips, her mouth, tongue, teeth, breath, they were mesmerizing, and I found myself lost to everything else, just kissing this incredible, hurt, woman.

Eventually I realized she wasn't kissing me anymore. She had a few napkins out and was cleaning up her face a bit. "Go on, you'll miss the whole first half," she reminded me, shooing me along.

I left to join the guys in the media room, getting the end-seat, closest to the door for arriving late.

In front of the new 60" big screen, Derek had a sectional row of dark leather recliners. The middle was a loveseat, with an additional recliner at each end. There were two matching ottomans in front of the sectional, both in front of the loveseat at the moment. The entire thing had a slight curve to it, keeping all chairs facing the screen. All the seats were extra wide, with comfortable armrests. I knew them well, since Derek had recruited me to help him drag them upstairs and set them up when he'd ordered them. That was the last time I'd been in this house, almost two months ago.

The game was still in the first quarter, and we were already up by 3. That boded well.

I took a ribbing from the guys for being late, and we started in cheering and griping, talking about off-season trades, office fantasy football leagues and such. Don was a complete fanatic, and was able to bring us up-to-date on any little fact that we didn't know.

Cyndi brought me my drink after a couple of minutes, and had her own wine glass in hand. She sat on the arm of the chair I was in, watching the game with us for a few minutes. Her rear-end was rubbing against my shoulder, and I was getting warm all over. It wasn't the Scotch. Before she left, she walked down the row, offering to get anybody refills. Eric took her up on it, and I felt myself getting hard again, watching her bend over in front of the three foot tall refrigerator, to get him a new beer. From the way she behaved, so in control, you'd hardly believe the breakdown she'd had just a few minutes earlier.

The game was going well, and we were all in pretty good moods with the season just starting, and all of us riding that dream of 'anything's possible'. Cyndi was a delightful hostess, bringing out small bowls of snacks and always offering to help with refills. She was a joy to watch, sashaying in front of us, backlit by the TV, outlining her breasts against the brightness of the big-screen. Watching her delicious ass going back and forth was almost as good as the game. Every time she bent over to serve one of the guys, my eyes would be drawn to that sweet round ass, until she straightened up. I missed a huge reception that way. Luckily they replayed it.

With our downstairs discussion fresh in my mind, I noticed that her husband Derek seemed immune to her charms, which just didn't seem possible. Don hardly paid her anymore attention than he did, which seemed even stranger, except for his complete fixation on football. Whenever Derek did speak to her, there was always some little poke there, some subtle fault finding, from her timing walking in front of the screen during a play, to the order of the beer in the fridge. When she turned up the lights in the room, which we kept dim during the game, he almost went ballistic. She explained she couldn't see the beer brands in the fridge, and he quickly went through which brands were on each shelf, from left to right. So precise. So damn anal retentive. I wanted to smack him.

Still she took it all in stride, always replying softly and in control, and continuing in her role as the perfect hostess, wrapped in the perfect body.

The tide of the game turned after a while, and as the first half was coming to a close we were down 13-10 and hating life. How quickly our fortunes turn in the early season. Derek and Don were almost suicidal by this point. Eric just had another beer, and took it in stride.

"But it's in the division." Don exclaimed, "We lose this one, we're digging ourselves out of a hole all season!"

"DON!" I reminded him, "It's just one game. And it's not over yet. Hell we're only down by 3."

Right before half-time, Cyndi leaned over and asked if I could help her in the kitchen for a second. She didn't have to ask me twice, even if it did mean missing the last minute of the half.

"I've got hot wings and dip ready," she told me as we headed to the kitchen, downstairs and across the house. "If you can bring a small table, I can carry the half-time snack." She acted as if the scene of an hour ago had never happened.

I couldn't say the same. She looked so good, it was driving me crazy. I was between girl-friends, and the sight and smell of this gorgeous girl was too much. Knowing her husband wasn't giving her the attention she deserved was bad enough. Knowing that I might be the one giving her that attention, all eight long inches of it, was almost too much. By the time I got to the kitchen I was sporting a huge hard-on and wasn't sure how I could hide it.

It didn't do me much good. She showed me where the table was stored and as I turned to get it, I heard her giggle.

"I guess I can take that as a compliment. A BIG compliment," she said, with a glance and a nod to my current dilemma. "But this really isn't the time or place."

"I'm sorry," I confessed, "but it's been a while for me, and you look so damn good."

"I know what you mean. It's been a while for me, and you look good enough to eat." She scooted up close and put her hand on my arm, leaning in and speaking softly.

I turned to her, leaned over and lifted that pouty little mouth to mine. I kissed her softly, holding her close. She slowly pulled away after just a few seconds, with what I dreamed was reluctance. "The guys will be expecting the half-time snacks soon," she reminded me.

I pulled away, embarrassed at the fool I'd made of myself. The earlier moment we had must have been an aberration. I opened the door under the stairs, and picked up the folding table that was my task. Cyndi polished off the last of her wine, before grabbing a large tray of wings, celery, napkins, and bleu cheese. I led the way back to the media room, and fortunately my erection subsided before I embarrassed myself any further.

I set up the table, and Cyndi topped it with treats. I had just grabbed a half-dozen hot when Derek's phone went off. I heard him talking to somebody, sounding more and more irritated, until he finally blew up. "Fine. Dammit, just wait for me."

He turned to us. "Minor emergency at the office. You know how it goes, with the new job I get the new headaches. I've gotta go in for a while, but you guys stay and watch the game." The office was a good thirty minutes away, almost downtown - he was sure to miss the entire second half. We argued that we could go catch the game at a bar, but he and Cyndi both insisted we stay and watch it there. Of course we all finally gave in. Where else would we be this comfortable, with this good a view, while waited on hand-and-foot.

Derek packed himself a plate of wings, and was out the door within minutes.

Cyndi disappeared for a while, and just before half-time ended she showed up again. She had lost the previous outfit, and was now wearing a Dallas cheerleader outfit. "It was my Halloween costume last year, but the team looks like it could use some cheering now." She was walking Viagra. It wasn't quite the official outfit, but as far as I was concerned it was even better. The famous Dallas shorts were replaced by a short skirt in White with Blue stars across the waist and down the sides. The top was the requisite tight mini halter in dark blue, with long sleeves. Her entire midriff was exposed, and she had two blue and white pom-poms she cheered with. The knee high boots were missing, but she was wearing 4 inch fuck-me pumps. I imagine the other guys were as stunned as I. To top if off, she'd put her hair up in pig-tails that made her look barely legal.

She pushed the ottoman to the side, and shook her pom-poms for us. Then she started in with the tired old cliché:

Let's go Dallas, Let's go (clap - clap)

Let's go Dallas, Let's go (clap - clap)

Let's go Dallas, Let's go (clap - clap)

We chanted along willingly, so see where it was going. Then she kicked off a different one that had the typical cheer stances to go with it. And she looked damn good doing them. She ended with a high kick, well over her head, that completely exposed her little Dallas Cowboy embroidered thong. Yahoo.

"Watch out, we're here!

Everybody stand clear!

Let's shout, let's cheer!

Our victory is near!"

This cheer was accompanied with a cute little shake and dance that had my blood boiling. We of course cheered her loudly, and she smiled and waved her pom-poms.

"What's your favorite cheer?" I asked her.

"It's really just for fun," she said, "we don't do it at games."

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