Dungeons and Dicks Ch. 02

This is the second part of a four part series. They should all post quickly, one after another, and I make no effort at catching readers up. You would do best to start with Chapter One.

As always, please remember that I am not aiming for deep truth here. I craft my stories to be plausibly ridiculous.

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Dungeons and Dicks: Chapter Two--A Vigorous Campaign

Over the next week, things were strange, at home and with our friends.

To start with, immediately after our guests left, I grabbed Tess from behind, wrapped my arms around her and bore her down onto the carpet in our entryway. I nibbled so hard on the back of her neck I was practically chewing, and her hands fumbled backward to grasp at my head. In moments, I was reaching under her and working her pants down off her hips. I was determined to keep my weight pressing down on her back, pressing her into the softness of our new entry rug. When we had bought the thing, we had joked about how it was too nice not to fuck on, but I don't think either of us had really meant it.

I finally worked those pants down to her knees, and Tess took over, kicking them free entirely. I meanwhile undid my fly and worked my own pants down no further than mid-thigh. It was all I needed. My desperately hard cock rubbed only briefly against my wife's delicious ass before I slid between her legs and found a wet and waiting opening. Still keeping her pinned down, I slid myself into her, meaning to take it slow. I got about two inches in before my need drove me to slam the rest of the way, drawing a gasp of delight from Tess--the first noise either of us had made since I had grabbed her.

The sex on that carpet was glorious. It did not last long at all, that wasn't the point, but the finish was tremendous and as near to simultaneous as one could ask.

As I collapsed spent atop Tess, dick still deep inside her and her scrumptious ass pressing up into my abdomen, I reveled in this woman.

When my mind could form the words, I nuzzled the back of her neck once more and said simply, "I love you."

Her reply was simply, "I know." It flooded me with warmth and reassurance. It was better than her just saying it back. She still had faith in me, as I had faith in her.

We processed that together wordlessly for a moment, then Tess spoke beneath me again, in a more conversational tone. "That was lovely and powerful and reassuring," she said, squeezing her kegels mightily to make sure I knew exactly what she meant by 'that'. "But I know want three things, in order. One, for you to get off me and pour us each a small scotch. Two, to take my scotch to the bedroom. Three, to get into the bed and get down to seriously working off the remaining enormous reserve of horniness this evening has built up."

I slid off of her and looked up to realize to my horror that we had never closed the front door. "Oh shit," I observed eloquently. Tess looked over her shoulder, yelped, and rolled up in a ball.

I looked outside, on the verge of panic. I saw no applauding fans. I saw no Karens dialing 911. I saw no one. I kicked the door closed.

"Tess," I said, my voice shaking. "The scotches will not be small. And I am getting on Amazon first thing in the morning and buying some kind of auto-closing mechanism for that door!"

*

Monday night, my phone buzzed. The text identified as being from the group Emergency Bears. Craig, Mark, and I had had this thread going for years now, long before we all decided to stop being grown-ups and start playing D&D again. Originally it had been solely for discussing whatever latest disaster our NFL team had inflicted on its fans. Nowadays, we coordinated social activities, told jokes, shared memes, and had any discussions in which we tacitly did not want to include our wives. But mostly we still used it to talk about what a disaster the Bears were.

CRAIG: Disaster.

Oh God I thought. What had the front office done now? It was the off-season, for chrissakes.

CRAIG: Anne wants to make me a COSTUME for playing on Saturday nights.

I stared at this with mild amusement.

MARK: Oh thank God. I thought it was only me

ME: Ha! Sucks to be you guys!

MARK: Tess isn't making YOU wear one?

ME: I'm the DM. Unless she is going to make a trunkful of costumes for me, what's the point?

CRAIG: You suck, Mason.

Craig always calls Mark and me by our last names.

MARK: Is your's done?

CRAIG: Not yet. Am avoiding being helpful.

MARK: Me too.

ME: You guys let me know if there is anything I can do.

MARK: Die in a fire?

CRAIG: I'm saying I'm not suiting up unless Mason cosplays too

MARK: [High-Five Emoji]

Good luck with that, guys.

To be clear, none of us were above a bit of good cosplay ourselves. Craig had a particularly good Dr. Strange outfit (original comic look), for instance. But with what we were getting up to, we all three knew we'd be lucky if at least one of us didn't end up with our wife sticking us in a gimp suit.

*

I had obviously spent all week repairing the wreckage that our prior week's deliriously off-script adventuring had made of my carefully designed campaign... as well as coming up with hopefully interesting and open-ended opportunities to employ our newly added role-playing elements. By Saturday, I felt reasonably satisfied that I would at least not shit the bed with that week's game.

I was downstairs packing up all my notes and stuff for departure to Craig and Anne's when Tess came walking down the stairs. Or should I say Frenoria came walking down the stairs. Her brown hair in its cute bob was hidden beneath a new long black wig with a prominent white streak running down the right side. She had gone shopping, and found an ankle length black dress with a deep neckline... and then had cut that neckline further down to her navel. She sews a bit, and she managed to make it look like it had been designed that way. Around her waist were three white loops of cording, tied together on her right hip.

Obviously, no bra was possible with this outfit. The impressive inner swells of her breasts were framed and displayed in the gap.

I wanted to drop my stuff and fuck her right there on the stairs, but I didn't want us to be late like Mark and Geri had been the prior week. "Holy shit!" was all I said.

"I'll work on an outfit for you next week," Tess said absently as she headed for the kitchen to pack up what she had made for food.

"Ha ha," I said. "I'm the Dungeon Master. I play a hundred characters. What kind of costume could I have?"

She stopped in the kitchen doorway and turned back. "One that is appropriate to your role, and will be making all us girls panting to be ravaged by orcs."

We were relaxed, and having fun, and already little bit horny.

But the moment we opened the door to the garage and started loading up, our conversation died.

We got into the car and started the drive to Craig and Anne's condominium in silence. We were both suddenly tense. We really had not talked directly about anything that had happened last Saturday. Not Mark's dick in her mouth. Certainly not my cock in Geri's pussy. Suddenly, we were about dive in again and we had never explicitly gotten on the same page.

Halfway there, Tess suddenly turned to me. "Would it be all right if I were to say we should turn around and go home?"

I pursed my lips and checked the mirrors. We were thankfully clear, and I executed an immediate u-turn, accelerating back toward home.

"Wait! What the fuck are you doing?" Tess asked sharply.

"Turning around and going home," I said simply. "You have doubts, and I am therefore punching out immediately, no hesitation."

"I said, 'would it be all right if,' not 'take me home!'" Tess said quickly, almost exasperatedly. "I am still totally ready to go. Turn the fuck back around... Wait. As long as you want to."

I grinned and immediately pulled a second you-ee.

The tension in Tess's shoulder was gone. She looked at me as I accelerated once more. "You weren't even going to try to talk me out of going home?" she asked with skeptical challenge, and maybe a little disappointment.

"Nope," I said firmly, giving her a look out of the corner of my eye. "I would never have tried, and will never try, to talk you into staying. You want to go, we go. I hope you would do the same for me if I lost my nerve."

We rode for a while in silence while Tess watched me and I watched the road. "You aren't such a bad guy, you know?" she smiled.

"To be clear, once we were out and you were in a place you felt safe, I would absolutely have tried to talk you into going back," I said earnestly.

"Ha! I knew it," Tess laughed.

"The difference is," I went on, "I'd only ask you to make such a choice from a position of your own security. I'd never ask you to make a decision when in a place where you were uncomfortable."

"Thanks," she said. "Thanks for your consideration. And thanks for showing me you really are as into this as I am."

As I pulled into Craig and Anne's parking deck, I said quietly but firmly, "And I was serious before. I need to know that you'll do the same for me if I get cold feet."

She squeezed my hand on the shift knob. "Of course."

I pulled into a space in the half-full parking garage, and Tess asked me, "Do you think you might get cold feet?"

"Fuck no," I laughed, and she laughed with me. "I'm so revved up right now, it was all I could do not to drive 90 on the way over here! You?"

Tess just grabbed my hand and slid it down and into a slit in the skirt of her dress that I had not even known was there. There was no underwear for the dress to conceal. She was sopping. I sensed that just might possibly be a good sign.

We smiled at each other. We were going to do this again, and this time we knew what was coming. That was its own kind of deliriously confusing.

"You still aren't going to tell me who I'll be role-playing with tonight?" my wife said, as we still sat in the car.

I chuckled evilly. "No chance! For two good reasons: One, it is no fun if you know what's coming; Two, I deliberately set things up so even I don't know how things will play out. I'm the DM, my fun comes from seeing what you guys do."

"That better not be all your fun!"

A knock came our car window.

"All right you two," came Geri's stern voice. "Save it for inside! Let's go." She and Mark were standing outside the car, peering in at us.

We may have been getting fairly intimate as our conversation progressed...

We all four left the elevator and I knocked on Anne and Craig's door with my foot, since all of us had our hands full. I had all my DM shit, and since it was our week for dessert duty, Tess had, in addition to making up a cheese tray, baked an actual cake, decorated to look like a gold piece. Geri and Mark were similarly laden with food.

Everybody seems to have upped the food game this week.

Anne opened the door with a smile, then immediately cooed at the cake. She took Mark's burden off of his hands, and the three girls headed off to the kitchen. Craig waved and approached as I, forgotten by the girls, struggled my way through the door with my armful of books, map tubes, etc. He and Mark grabbed token amounts of my load and we exchanged hellos.

I like playing at Craig and Anne's condo. It is a huge, open-concept loft, with almost everything in one room. The kitchen is in the back against the windows, looking out with a great tenth-floor view, and screened from view by a series of panels and a wall of cabinets. Their bedroom is up an open stairway on a suspended platform and is fully open to view from below. I think that the sleeping area is a cool design, but Tess always says she would hate it, because she'd always be working to keep it presentable.

After she and I have been in a bed together, it can often be hard work to get it looking tidy again, I'll admit.

When we play at the MacAdams's, we play around the big coffee table in the center of the space. On one side, there is a large, soft, leather couch that Craig inherited from his late uncle. It has seen better days but is incredibly comfortable. Three of us sit on the couch, usually Craig, Anne, and Geri, with Anne in the middle. I pull up Craig's desk chair over to the opposite side of the table by myself. Tess sits to my left in their grape-colored, modernistic armchair that looks like it came from a '70s sci-fi TV show. Mark usually lounges in a big beanbag chair he drags over from in front of the window, and this week was no exception.

We dudes grabbed beers and got into it about the Cubbies' current series of late-inning collapses. I wanted bullpen help, stat. Craig, the quitter, was ready to unload a couple of impending free agents and reload for next year. Sometimes Craig sucks.

The girls surprised us by going for glasses of rosé. Usually everybody drinks beer during D&D.

More food than usual, and fancier too, I observed. The girls were drinking something that they would inevitably drink more of than if they were drinking beer. And for once Mark wasn't the one being an idiot about sports. Everything seemed normal, but the abnormal details said that it was not.

I took a deep breath. I was the DM for this group, I needed to be the responsible one. "Look, guys," I said, letting my body-language convey I wanted to be serious for a moment. Hopefully just a moment. I glanced toward the kitchen. "I just want to check. Is there anything we need to talk about?" I said, indicating the three of us men.

Craig and Mark stood there thoughtfully for a moment. Our pause was interrupted by peals of laughter from the kitchen. Mark smiled first. "From that sound, I say not really, no."

Craig chuckled, "Yeah. Though maybe we should worry what they are plotting back there." We all shot a sudden 'nervous husband' look in that direction. "No," Craig went on. "Mark said it all last week. We are playing a game, one we've played for years. We just have added a new element. And we only play it during the game." His voice added a subtle but firm emphasis to that last point, while adding a gentle plea for confirmation.

"Damn straight," I murmured very quietly. Then in a more relaxed tone, I added, "Aside from a brief, intense, and valuable discussion on the way here tonight, Tess and I haven't talked about it ourselves at all, certainly not in any detail."

"Really?" Mark asked.

"Anne and me either," Craig said. "We've be demonstrating our enthusiasm for the situation quite a bit, but we don't actually talk about it any more than we talk about our dice collection."

"Dudes," Mark said, shaking his head, "you might want to change that MO. Geri has dragged me into describing every fucking detail, even though she had watched it all in the first place." He shot the barest of glances my way, "And she has gone into the nitty-gritty about her own fun. And those discussions were very... productive."

"Different strokes," I muttered, shaking my head. But I thought to myself, would I want to? Would I want to talk about what I did? Would I want to get Tess to talk about what she had done? How?

And for that matter, how did I feel about Geri describing the minutia of my cock inside her to her small but extraordinarily dangerous husband? I mean, my dick clearly thought the idea was amazing. But my dick was finding just about every uncomfortable thing lately to be amazing...

I shook my head again. DMing this game going forward was going to be complicated enough without letting other confusions get in my way.

"Hey, girls," I shouted toward the huddled women, "come on and play. Don't get drunk on wine before we even start!"

There was a brief laugh from their direction, followed by a gentle silence that experienced husbands all know means they are being whispered about, followed by much louder laughter. The women wandered out to us and we all took our usual spots. It was time for another evening of just good RPG fun with good friends.

As Geri jingled in, I let myself once more enjoy staring at her in that chainmail bikini. Tess followed. She had arranged the front of that dress just so, and I heard Craig and Mark both hiss just little bit at all that glorious cleavage.

Anne followed in her regular clothes. Anne's regular clothes were totally sexy of course, since they were form-fitting, and the form they were fitting was Anne's, but I was a little disappointed. "No cosplay for you?" I asked.

She shrugged. "It's all in-game, right?" The question got more active assent than you might have though if you weren't aware of the undercurrents. "Well, Gala's heavy mail and vestments would be a pain to make, and would add very little to the atmosphere we're creating, when compared to The Nerd Wet Dream, and Elvira's Apprentice here," she grumbled, jerking her thumb at Geri and Tess respectively. "I'm biding my time until I can change Gala's outfit in-game before I dress up."

And with that, we all took our normal places, just like every other time we had played at the condo.

"Okay guys," I began. "That was a very successful campaign for everybody." There were snickers. "But you guys wrecked my Catacomb-slash-Dungeon weeks ahead of schedule. Congratulations, you reconsecrated the temple of a Good god, and headed off a drow infestation. You have also made a ton of new work for me," I glowered. I was not met with overwhelming sympathy.

I looked momentarily hurt, then got on with it. "You have left the small castle and are standing around in the woods, about two days' walk back to the town you've been using as a base. Alternatively, you are almost four days walk from the nearest city, which is a small one called Yesterton. We went there back when you guys were about fifth level."

"Yesterton was pretty boring, that's why we never went back," Tess observed. My ever loyal wife, everybody--telling me that my creations were boring...

"It was. Sorry," I said. "But I don't have time to make up a new city, so those are your options. I think I know what I want to set up next, and I have ways to do it from either place. Things along the way will be different, whichever you choose." I shrugged and puttered with my notes, happy to let them make some fateful decisions without my pushing them one way or the other.

"A four day walk in the wilderness seems like an excuse for him to inflict a weariness penalty on us," Mark said to his party mates, struggling to sit up in the beanbag chair. He liked the bag, but the only time he ever looked anything but poised was when he was sitting on it.

"Gala pushes hard for Yesterton," Anne said firmly. "I've made a list of things she needs to get on with. She had more on her plate with the temple than anybody else's character, and I'll find what I need easier in a city than the town. We will probably have to go to the city eventually anyhow."

"Okay, but then maybe we should go back to the town first," Mark said. "Our characters have relationships there. We need to re-equip, and I have an in with one of the shops," he grinned. His narration of Renault's dalliance with the shop girl had been the spark for everything.

"I truly hope you don't expect me to role-play her with you," I said tartly.

That brought up a good point, though. I currently had no scenarios where a female NPC might be called for... yet. How could I make that work when I needed to for the game?

Mark laughed. "Good point."

"No, we need the city," Anne bore on. She could be relentless. "Gala needs to send messages to Greya's nearest active temple, announcing her new patronage. And they will need to send repair crews and guards to the temple before things go south again. A city will also have more ways we can find our next task." She paused significantly. No one replied. She knew how to hold an audience.

"And Gala needs to revamp her wardrobe now that she also serves the Goddess of Love," she added, casually laying down her trump card.