Duck Hunt

About that time Megan dances closer again and puts her mouth on my wife's nipple, giving it a very wet kiss. I look at my wife's closed eyes. It's a look I've seen before. Love seeing it. Megan presses close again, says something to her none of us can hear, and her hands go down to the shorts. As a 90's rock song kicks in, Megan's hands unzip them, then start slipping them down her hips. Theatrically, Megan eases down with the shorts, her face now confronting my wife's green lace thong as ooh's and aah's threaten to drown the song. She helps her step out of the shorts then takes them from her and again tosses them towards me. They land a few inches short of where I'm sitting but I grab them and try to fold them to place them on my lap with the top.

Megan looks at her and says the rest is you. The crowd starts clapping in unison and Megan joins in onstage. My wife looks around, but can't really catch my eye because Megan is standing in our line of sight at that split second. She shrugs her shoulders and mouths ok. She bends over just enough to slip her thong down her thighs, around her one knee and ankle, then quickly over her sandal. Free of one leg, they drop to the top of the sandal on her other, and she tries to kick them off, this time meeting eyes with me as she gives them a second kick and they veer two people to the right of me, one of the men catching it at chest level, then standing up to walk over and hand them to me.

My wife's plan to shave daily turned out to be a good one this day, as her legs and pussy are all looking way smooth. I'm very hard at his point, but conscious of people looking at me to gauge my reaction, so I'm working hard to make sure I have a smile on my face, which is also important if she glances my way, needing reassurance that this is all alright. She does look over at me and I smile and give a clap - she looks so beautiful I can barely contain myself.

She looks towards Megan to see what they'll do together next, but Megan gives her the "get to it" motion, and moves to the other stage, picking one guy who had money out in front of him and starting to move for him.

My wife looks confused as to what to do, so I motion her over to me, putting out a handful of ones. As she gets close I fold my arms, miming an expectant customer with my lower lip out in judgement. She laughs at me and fakes a glare, then moves down to her knees in front of me, just like Megan earlier. She takes me hands down her face and neck but rounds them around her breasts as I feign surprise at getting the PG-13 treatment. She takes my hands back up and brings them over her tits, erect nipples slipping between my fingers. I picture her last night, naked on her back, breasts bouncing as I thrust inside her.

She looks into my eyes and I realize other people have their money out and the third song of what is normally a three-song set is starting up - a big rap song that's out now. I motion my head and tell her she has other customers. She winks at me and smiles.

She has enough time to dance for three more people - all men. Each time she does basically the same moves - dances down to her knees, takes their hands on the PG-13 ride. The third time she remembers the face-between-the-breasts move and does that for the lucky guy who put out about $20. At that point the song ends and the DJ says let's give a big hand to Megan and her friend. A ton of applause and cheering. With no garter to store the money in, my wife had tossed it all towards the center of the stage, all of it scattered around the pole.

Megan picks it all up and comes over to me. She was great, she says. This is hers. I shake my head. You took her up there. She doesn't work here, you do. It's all yours Megan. She thanks me, and several people slap me on the back or come over to share compliments. My wife is also thanking people for their kind words when Dave, still sitting in his chair at the stage, calls her over. She walks to him and he motions her down. She eases down to a squat and he starts talking to her, first one hand on one of her knees, then another with a $20 bill on her other one. Their conversation is brief and as she stands up he presses the money into her hand. She smiles and walks towards me.

That she's keeping, says Megan as the approaches the two of us and I hand her her clothes. I tell my wife that I gave the dollars to Megan and she quickly agrees, telling Megan she should absolutely have it all. Megan thanks her but insists she keeps the $20. Buy some more thongs, she smiles. My wife shrugs and hands it to me, then slips her thong back on, green cloth easing back up her thighs.

A couple minutes later we're at the table and ready to wrap it up. Nothing's going to top what just happened, and I now have a need to be alone with her in our hotel room. I head to the bar and settle up as the DJ walks over to compliment her on what he just saw.

Is that your wife asks the bartender, a short girl with black pixie hair and a very revealing gold and black spaghetti-strapped top. She's fantastic, she says. I say it is and she is, tipping her a little more than planned, wondering if that was the point.

As I come back over to the spouse, the DJ and a couple of guys from Dave's table are surrounding her with their presence and their compliments. She turns to me and asks if we're settled up and ready to go, and I say we are.

You guys should come over to our hotel, says one of the Dave table guys. We're all flying to Greece tomorrow. Just gonna be more party tonight. He names a hotel very near ours, not more than 3 blocks.

She looks at me with another shrug. It's whatever you want to do, she says. What I want to do is take her back to the hotel and fuck her, and that's on the tip of my tongue when the other guy from the table says we've got a ton of food there, too. She looks over at him, says a ton of food does sound good. I'm fine with that, although I know a full belly will slow down my plans for her, but I also know we'll be in Mexico this time the next day so why not. They give us the room number and say they're leaving right now.

Megan, now in a nurse's outfit, cleavage peeking out against the low cut white neckline, comes over to give us each a hug goodbye. She kisses my wife on the cheek and pinches her ass, laughing as she prances away.

As the table crew heads out the door, she turns back to me. I mean, a free meal - that's money we save before we even get on the plane, she says. Yeah, makes sense to me, I say.

As we reach the door I look back at the now empty and quiet room. Maybe six or seven guys still at their singleton tables, one stage going. Hard to believe it's the same place as twenty minutes ago.

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On the car ride back, I tell her how gutty that was, and how good she looked. She says I probably looked ridiculous standing next to Megan. I tell her how much more beautiful she is than Megan, which really is true, even though Megan had a good look and tight fucking body. I picture Megan on top of me, those round breasts in my hands. Maybe her baby crying in the next room.

I hope that didn't make you too jealous, she says, jarring me back to reality as I drive, careful to exceed the speed limit by just a few miles: not too fast to get pulled over but not too slow to draw suspicion.

It really doesn't, I say. I think you look amazing. I'm proud of how beautiful you are. I loved every minute of it. You were amazing.

Well thank you, she says. Looks over at me. I love you.

I glance quickly at her, then back at the gray blacktop as we emerge from the trees and see the highway exit signs in front of us. I love you, baby. I love you, too.

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Who knows if they are even here, she says as we get on the elevator, pushing the button of a very high floor.

I tell her I agree. They could be full of shit. They could have the hotel room number wrong. They may have found another bar on the way home, or have decided to eat somewhere else, or really anything. But I tell her there are plenty of good restaurants in this city block and if they aren't here or we don't like it we can be eating in no time.

We get off the elevator and it looks like there are only four rooms on this floor, and I think we're both guessing the one with the door open and music blaring out is the one. We're right.

We step into a huge living room with windows giving us a great view of the city-center. The wall closest to the kitchen has a table with a half-dozen warming trays of food. There's also a functioning bar, with one of the table guys playing bartender. Vodka and soda for my wife. I take whiskey with a splash of water.

Dave sees us and comes over. Star of the show he says as he approaches with hugs for each of us. That was amazing, he laughs. Asks if we need drinks then sees we don't. Turns to her. So tell me about it. What was it like?

It was pretty fun she says. I mean...

Was it cold up there? Was it freezing? Because it kind of looked like you were.

I laugh. She looks at me. He's right, I say, you definitely looked, um, cold.

Dave laughs, and she does, too. Alright, alright, she says. I get it.

A few more of the table gang come over. Everyone telling us names we probably won't remember. All of them grew up together, all of them try to vacation together. Some of them are married, some divorced. But they all hang together.

You guys like video games? One guy asks. The old Nintendo? We have one set up over next room he says. We're playing Duck Hunt, but it's crazy the way we play.

Ok, let's see it I say. I hold hands with my wife as we head down the hallway, 2 or 3 doors on each side. Take the first left into a room that must be a den, they have a Nintendo hooked up and technically, they are playing Duck Hunt. It's the old game where you have an electronic gun and you shoot ducks as they come on screen, like you are a hunter. After each round a dog pups up grinning, holding the ducks you got. Thing is, usually you stand half a room away to do the shooting. These guys are all standing point blank at the screen. Kind of hard to miss. I laugh.

I look at my wife laughing. She says she doesn't get it. I explained how they are playing it in a way that makes it amazingly easy. Maybe the alcohol evens things out she says. She might be right.

We watch a few people go. We are like eighth or ninth in line. They are writing scores down on a pad. Right now someone named Mel is winning.

I've gotta get some food, she says to me. Want me to bring you some?

Sure, I say. This is hilarious. I turn to her. Love you, I smile.

She kisses me full on the mouth, then looks into my eyes for a beat. I love you, too, she says. As she turns she brushes her hand against my crotch, a secret move she likes to pull.

Two or three more people go. Dave wanders in. How did you do, he asks. I haven't gone yet.

The key is to move your whole arm, he says. People just move their wrist and then they miss. But it does get tiring.

Where'd your better half go, he asks. I tell her she's off getting us both food. He says he'll go find her.

I can tell he's entranced by her. She does that to guys almost effortlessly, but she rarely sees it. He heads out the door.

I think about what he probably wants, which is to fuck her. I certainly don't blame him. And in my mind, it's something I think about a lot. One of those fantasies, having another man fuck my wife. I've even mentioned it to her a few times, usually during sex, inside her, one hand between her butt cheeks, a finger on her asshole and my mouth close to her ear, whispering how I want to share her, see someone else fuck her. Once afterwards she laid on my chest, a finger lightly tracing circles on it, asking me if that's what I really wanted. I told her the truth: sometimes I think about it. She looked at me and said she never does, but it's interesting that I do.

By now I'm number two or three on the wait list and a hand on my ass tells me she's back. I turn around and she hands me a plate, mostly fried mini-egg rolls and a few potato chips. A lot of veggies out there, she says, knowing that's not my fave. Where's your plate? I ask. She holds up her drink. Couldn't do two at once she says. Gonna go back now. She looks at the game. I'm really not that into this, she says. You play then come find me. She smiles and goes back out the door into the hallway.

A few more minutes and finally my turn. I think I'm going to blow the high score away, but it turns out the early levels are pretty easy but once the speed turns up it's hard to move fast enough to get them all. I try to remember to move my entire arm, but it starts getting heavy and the dog's taunts start pissing me off more as we go along. Finally, I miss too many times and I'm out with a score that puts me at 4th. I stick around watching another 4 or 5 people go. One woman, probably my age, brown curly hair down to her shoulders, is playing without a bra, something that is duly noted by the crowd and a pretty good show in it's own right. Unfortunately, what she has in breast size, she doesn't have in aim and the show doesn't last nearly enough.

I decide to go check on my wife. I head to the door then turn right to head back into the main room, where maybe fifteen people are grazing now. Four or five by the food, the rest strewn on couches or standing around talking. The line for the bathroom is two long at the moment. I consider standing in line to go, and then get into line after a third person decides to queue up - I'd hate to be seventh in line a half-hour from now.

As I'm waiting I see my wife standing with Dave and a couple others. She sees me and waves. I wave towards the line in front of me and she makes big eyes, then mouths the words I know.

Still standing in line a couple minutes later when she and Dave walk over. She's on a new Gin & Tonic. I'm gonna give her the grand tour, if you are okay with that, he says to me. I shrug. He smiles and looks around, saying this is place is pretty cool, man. Can't believe we only had it for a couple nights. He starts heading down the hallway. She starts to follow him, then steps towards me and whispers in my ear. Maybe there'll be a bathroom back there somewhere, she says, and kisses my cheek. Follows him down the hallway.

Maybe ten minutes later I'm finally front of the line, then back out a lot faster than most of the people in front of me. My hands are still wet since the towel in there didn't look like something I'd want to be the millionth person to touch, so I head into the kitchen to find a dry paper towel. The braless duck hunter is standing there with a couple other people. You were pretty good at that, she says. It was tiring I say. My arm is tired. Bet you've said that before. I laugh. Yeah, maybe once or twice.

My eyes glance down to her chest. I'm not sober enough to do it smoothly, though, and she has no trouble catching it.

You came here with that really pretty girl, right?

Yeah, brown hair, white top I say.

Yeah. Where did you guys come from, she asks.

I tell her we met a lot of these people at a club a few hours ago.

That was her, she asks. I wasn't there but that's all everyone is talking about. She has a lot of fans. Especially Dave.

I nod and laugh. I kind of figured that part out, I say.

She looks around. Looks back at me. You should go find her, she says.

You think, I ask.

She takes my hand and places it on her chest. Maybe 1/16th of an inch of cloth between my hand and her skin. Her nipple is hard. Cross my heart, she says. Drops my hand and turns to go back into the main room.

Seriously, she says. Go find her.

I pick up my drink from the kitchen counter and take a right to head back down the hall. One room is the Duck Hunt game. Two other doors are open, but the one on the right side of the end of the hall is closed. I look in the two open doors. One has a woman sitting on the bed talking on the phone. She waves me out, waves for me to shut the door, which I do. The other room has a few people in it. One turns to me when I stick my head in and asks if I know anything about estate law. I don't. I eye the closed door, then walk all the way back up the hallway and into the main room. There are a decent amount of people, but I still don't see my wife. I walk over to the bar, which is now unattended, and pour myself some more whiskey, take my fingers and splash a little water from the faucet into it. I take a decent sized sip.

I head back down the hallway, get all the way to the door. I press my ear against it: can I hear anything? But it's just too loud. Impossible to hear. I quietly turn the handle, step in, closing the door behind me. The lights in the room are out, except for light coming from the adjoining bathroom, with the door pulled almost closed, leaving just a slash of light heading across the room. As my eyes adjust to the lack of light, I see a pair of tan shorts on the floor outside the bathroom. I start to walk towards the bathroom when I see a thong in a wad on the floor, between the shorts and the bed. I look towards the bed. They are frozen, their naked bodies suspended in time, I guess waiting to see what was going to happen next.

My wife is on top of him, her legs on each side of him. The light from the bathroom slices across her back, accenting her amazing tan. She's looking over her right shoulder, back at me. She looks concerned. As my eyes continue to adjust to the light I see his hands cupping her breasts, his head turned towards me as well. No one moves. Inside my body a scab tears off my heart, leaving it with a searing pain. For a second I feel like they can hear me hardening.

Hi guys, I say. I really said hi guys.

Not sure what the right opener really is in this situation. Part of me starts to apologize for disturbing them, or maybe for the bizarre opening line, but that hardly makes sense.

Dave stirs. He doesn't remove his hands from my wife's heaving chest, but he does speak. Is this gonna be a problem, man?

I look from him to her. She says, I hope this is okay.

It's quiet for a while. She brushes away some of her hair that's sticking to her face. Her chest is heaving, but I can't hear her breathe. I look from her back to him, then back to her.

I could break this up right now. I could tell her it's not okay and she could climb off his erection, tears in her eyes. She and I could look around the room for her clothes while he lays there quietly. But none of that sounds good. I can't imagine the conversation when we get back to the hotel. I can't imagine laying on the beach with her in Mexico. This is what I told her I wanted. I told her this was cool with me. Maybe I didn't say it today, but I did say it. I got this boulder rolling. Now I need to get out of its way.

They're both still waiting for me to say something. Say anything.

I hope you at least got to use the bathroom, I say.

She starts to laugh for a second, and I almost think I see a tear forming in her eye before she smiles. She nods. Yes, I got to use the bathroom.

I shake my head and smile back at her. I take a sip of my whiskey. Wonder where her top and bra are. Trying to build the choreography backwards. Not sure why.

They continue to look at me, his hands still frozen on her tits, but his fingers actually working them some. His eyes are closed. I see a little sweat on her lower back. A droplet starting to move down her crack. Her breathing is heavy. No sign of whatever had been holding her hair together today, as it's now draped out around her, ends swaying more or less in time with his moving fingers.

I'll talk to you in awhile, I say. She exhales deeply. Dave shifts under her.

Thanks man, says Dave. You're the best, he says as he leans up and takes one of her breasts into her mouth. She was looking at me, I think searching for what my exact deep-down reaction was, but when he starts to suck hard on her tit her head involuntarily snaps back and her eyes close. She flexes her legs and slides back up his shaft before sliding right back down at the same pace. It's loud outside the room but in here steps from the bed I can still hear the wet sounds their friction is making.