Game Day

Purdue seemed to once more be off the table, so I was back to having fun too. "Babe, I don't know why it is so funny, but it is," I said, shaking my head.

"I suppose you are all going to laugh at me the whole game, aren't you?" Jess demanded, her glare encompassing everyone, not just me. All the guys, even Jess's friends husbands, backed me up, God bless their hearts.

"Honestly, I will too," chirped Lisa, drawing a pained expression from Jess. "You know I don't care about the teams, but every time I see that stupid-looking dog on anyone's clothes, I have to laugh," she added.

"Hey!" James, who had gone to the University of Georgia, tried to object.

Jess, I was beginning to perceive, was not only cranky at being laughed at, but also beginning to bask in being the center of attention. She was not going to let James and Lisa's nascent argument hog her spotlight. "So I guess I should go change clothes?" she asked me dangerously.

"Please, no, babe!" I said swiftly. "You'll be up there until halftime!"

She looked at me for just half a second. Jess never hesitates, and the hair on the back of my head went up as I sensed the pause.

Then she declared, "Then I'll just take Lisa's stupid dog off here!" With that, she grabbed the base of the hoodie and whipped it off over her head!

All she had on underneath was that sweet little lace bra from Victoria's Secret I had bought her a month ago. It was a close enough red to coordinate with the Georgia gear. Her delicious breasts bounced in them as she tossed the hoodie away. It really was a fairly insubstantial bra, offering more control and sexiness than any actual support. Jess's wonderful mounds didn't require much in the way of gravity-fighting.

I had thought that her tits would look sensational in that bra, back when I had bought it for her. I was absolutely right. And Jess was back to the admiring spotlight she had wanted in the first place... in spades.

"Well, that is a much better solution," Harry said enthusiastically, after a very long pause on all our parts. "Ow! What?" he yelped in response to Lisa's elbow in his ribs. "She saves time, and you don't have to look at the ugly dog any more!" he protested.

"Uga The Bulldog is not ugly!" James said, desperately trying not to stare, and searching for anything to distract him.

Tom had actually shut up for once. His mouth was shut. His eyes were very definitely open.

Jess glared at everyone, then smirked and folded herself up against me on the couch. She had made her entrance, and was ready to let us watch the game.

The Rams promptly summoned up a long drive and harshed our mood when their QB faked a hand-off, rolled out, and then wandered casually into the end zone like a lost child, with no Falcons appearing on the screen.

Defense was supposed to be the Bird's strength...

Then, out of nowhere, Mike piped up. "You know, Jess, the shorts are Bulldog shorts, too."

Jess turned a silky, snakelike gaze on his impertinence. Gail, sitting in the next chair, called out his name in a strangled voice. Mike shrugged easily, obviously just trying to lighten the mood.

Lisa...

Lisa said, "Really, Jess. Even curled up like you are, we can all see the logos on those shorts clearly. They are just as embarrassing as the hoodie."

Jess turned her gaze silently to Lisa.

Lisa just looked back with a sly smile.

Great. These two fighting all afternoon would be novel, but a definite downer, especially with the way this game was shaping up.

Then Jess just slid silently to her feet, turned toward Mike, and incidentally away from most of the rest of us, and wordlessly slid her shorts to her ankles. She did it while keeping her knees straight, and bent at the waist to push the shorts all the way to the ground, exposing the quite small, lacy boy shorts that I'd bought to match the bra, giving everybody an ass show that exceeded the tit show she had provided by taking off the hoodie. Of course, because Jess was bending almost all the way over, she was now putting on a helluva second tit show as well, what with them nearly falling out of the non-structural bra.

Then she picked up the UGA shorts, twirled them at Mike, and asked him in a dangerous voice, "Better?"

Mike, who was clearly more afraid of Gail than he was of Jess at the moment, just squeaked out, "Yeah?" Gail was definitely irritated with Mike, but just rolled her eyes, surprisingly un-pissed with Jess.

Now I had my lovely wife, cuddled up next to me in her underwear, and the Falcons offense started showing signs of life. My mood was improving. One 92-yard Falcons touchdown drive, a few covert peeks at Jess from James, and some outright jealous gazes from Tom, and I was on top of the world.

Then, during the ad, Tom's intrinsic nature broke through his earlier panicked confusion.

"Um, Jess?" he said mildly, as if about to comment on the food. "The red of that bra isn't really the Falcons red either..."

Harry and Mike laughed. Lisa laughed harder. James caught himself laughing. Even Gail treated Jess to a little smirk. Jess stiffened against me. I stiffened period... in various ways.

What the fuck did Tom think he was trying to pull here? If he actually goaded Jess into actually going to change, she'd be upstairs until after halftime, and I'd be the one who would have to go and heat up the shrimp and the empanadas that she had prepared.

Unless he thought she was actually going to...

I found myself surprisingly unpanicked about that unlikely eventuality. One, Jess wouldn't. And two, if she did, I'd be a legend.

I mean, she would be one too, of course, but... you know...

"I give up," Jess grumbled, fighting to unfold herself from me again. "Being a football fan is stupidly hard--you all know that?" She stalked off, and I began to try to remember the re-heating instructions for the shrimp. But she only took two strides, to right in front of the screen before she spun around, looked at me with both a twinkle and a bit of apprehension in her eyes, reached up between her breasts, and clicked the hook open.

God bless front-opening bras. I love them. Of course I only ever purchased front-openers when I bought Jess lingerie.

Without pause, Jess just shrugged her shoulders and spread her hands. The bra slid free, and she tossed it aside.

The silence, aside from Dennis Haysbert talking to us like we didn't already know what the fuck Allstate was, was profound.

I told you, Jess has great tits. There they dangled, magnificently. A generous, very generous, handful each, they bounced slightly when unleashed. At that moment, her nipples were hard enough to punch holes in paper, the rims of her perfectly round, dark aureola were littered with prominent goosebumps, while their flesh crinkled in the way it only gets when she is well and truly turned the fuck on.

"Fuuu..." someone whispered.

She put her hands on her hips, and tried to look irritated, the effect of which was spoiled by the aforementioned wildly-erect nipples. "Can we now watch the game in peace, without my wardrobe choices causing objections?" Jess asked, glaring at Tom in particular, but he knew he had already pushed things way too far, and for once quit while he was ahead. Way ahead.

With a toss of her head, Jess had barely taken one step toward me when I raised my hand. She froze and looked at me.

Getting a read on her at the moment was hard... among other hard things. Her glare told me to stand down. Those nipples told a different story.

"In fairness," I said mildly, "I happen to know that those panties are the exact same, non-Falcons red as the bra."

All four guys stared at me with the exact same mix of horror and hero worship. Not the exact same mix. The married guys had a larger helping of horror.

Lisa was covering her mouth desperately. Gail the conservative one was... staring intently at Jess.

Jess narrowed her eyes at me. "If you say so," she said dangerously.

And without the slightest discernible hesitation, she pushed those panties off her hips and let them slide to the floor. She stepped out of them daintily, pressing her legs demurely (demurely?) together, keeping those delectable gates between her legs undisplayed.

But there was no hiding the pencil-thin landing strip she sported on her mons, the razor-sharp touching up of which must have been responsible for a good amount of the time she had spent being late to her own party. Her pubic hair had been at least twice as wide that morning when I had had my nose buried in it. Apparently she was springing her post-game surprise on me early.

"Perfect," I sighed, speaking for all, I was sure. I held out my hands to welcome her back onto the couch with me.

Jess snorted, "As if, Mister!" She gave me an evil smile. "I'm not sitting with a husband who throws my clothing choices under the bus!"

With that, she turned and marched toward the big armchair that Tom always appropriated for game days. She turned and sat primly down on his right thigh, with her knees between his already spread legs. She still kept her legs tightly together, but she was sitting bare-assed naked, almost on Tom's lap. "I can see the game from here quite well," she snorted, not asking Tom if he minded sharing his seat.

Tom was paralyzed, unable to keep his eyes off Jess, but also wanting to watch me closely for any clues as to what I was feeling.

When I figured out what I was feeling, I'd let him know. My mind worked swiftly to examine itself.

Here was my lovely wife, showing off the magnificence of my catch to my friends and hers. She was clearly playing a spur of the moment game with all of us, one that was a bit extra delicious since she seemed to have been caught a bit deeper in her own web than she had initially intended.

On the other hand... naked wife in friend's lap.

In the end, I trusted Jess. I mostly trusted Tom.

And I wanted to see what happened next.

I just arched an eyebrow and gave Tom as little to go on as I could. I liked seeing him scared to death.

"So you are just going to sit there, tits out, for the whole game?" Gail asked Jess tartly. She was trying to sound outraged, but I was amazed to hear no actual heat in her words. I'd have expected her to be having a four-alarm freak out about this situation... if I had ever conceived of this situation in the first place myself. Of course, I had kept expecting her to lose her shit, in outrage or at least shocked surprise way before this point.

But the way things were going, I found myself remembering Jess's occasional hints about Gail that she'd been... less than prim herself, back in the day. Maybe the woman's overblown sense of propriety was more something she'd decided she needed to affect, than something she really felt.

"Your boobs are distracting the boys from their game a little," Lisa added, elbowing her staring husband in the ribs. Harry sheepishly tore his eyes off my naked wife to look at the game. His gaze stayed on the TV for about three seconds.

Jess grimaced at her friends, they were both pushing her buttons, and enjoying it.

"Good point," she growled. Then she looked around as if for something. "Here," she said, her voice growing just little bit louder to make sure she had all our attentions.

As if anything else were possible!

"These can cover me up so we can watch the game," Jess said, and grabbed Tom's hands, lifting and pressing them firmly over her tits! Tom made the tiniest moaning sound for a split second and froze. His hands did not move a muscle. He didn't massage Jess's boobs. He didn't caress them. He didn't play with them. He didn't even straighten his fingers out from the oddly splayed way they'd fallen when Jess put them on her tits. This left most of her left nipple exposed to the room. He just kept his hands frozen.

Of course, since Jess had placed his grip quite firmly on her chest, that also meant he did not come close to letting go either...

We watched all of four plays with nothing happening. Well, I kept track of those four plays out of the corner of my eye, using just a shard of my consciousness. The rest was on Tom and Jess. I suspect that I was not alone. Tom's hands still did not move.

Jess pretended to watch the game, then subtly turned her gaze to me. I met her eyes. I found that I was actually relaxed and enjoying myself.

Here's the thing. Jess was playing, she wasn't coming on to Tom. Jess knows how to demand sex, and she knows how to have fun using sex. She is very good at both, and I could tell the difference easily, even thought this was very new territory. Tom was being tormented. I knew the signs of deliberate tormentation. I just had never seen her do it to a guy other than me, and it was... entertaining. Not nearly so awesome as when she was tormenting me, but captivating in its own way.

The game on TV had meanwhile devolved into an inconclusive mess, with slow, short, unsuccessful drives on both sides, mostly in the middle of the field. This was exactly the sort of action that we guys, particularly Harry and Tom, would usually be bitching about. Things were silent.

Jess, who seemed to have taken heart that I was not about freak out, was also getting bored with Mister Flirtastic's complete, cowardly, non-reaction to her naked self on his leg and in his hands. "I'm hungry," she announced, and rose sinuously. Tom's hands fell away as she rose, as if eager to release the forbidden fruit. But as they fell to his lap, I noticed that his fingers didn't relax, still holding the same shape as if still grasping at the phantom of memory.

It was only two strides to the food, but they were not Jess's usual elegant way of moving. She was still keeping her legs closer together than is usual when walking. She collected several items, especially zucchini and a little bowl of dip, and turned back to us.

Yep, those nipples were still doing their crazy turned-on thing with the wrinkled, puckered aureoles.

She took one step back toward me, which was all I needed to perk up. Mistake. She narrowed her eyes and paused. "Nope," she declared. "I'm still not sure I forgive you for dissing my doggie-style football clothes."

Mike nearly choked on his beer.

With that, Jess turned and moved back toward Tom, who looked like a live cougar with a bar of gold tied around its neck was coming his way.

But she passed right beyond him to where James had been quietly but intently watching every fucking inch of my wife do every single thing she had been doing.

"Mind if I sit with you for a little, James?" Jess asked, as casually as she ever said anything. Just as casually, as if there could be no reason for anything other than agreement, Jess turned and sat fully in his lap. Not on his thigh, like she had with Tom. She nestled her tight, bodacious ass right back against him.

If James had a hard-on, and since I knew every guy in the house had to be enduring powerful ones (I certainly was), he absolutely was, this meant that the bulge of his erection was nestling into the crack of my wife's ass. Jess put on a show of relaxing and beginning to snack.

After a moment, she turned around to look at James, who was goggling at the vision which had descended on his lap. Unlike Tom's total paralysis, James was twitchy. "Do you mind James?" Jess asked, a little more loudly than needed for just him to hear. "I don't want Lisa bitching any more about how my tits are distracting from the game." Lisa chortled. Jess just turned back to watch the TV, displaying more interest in football than she had ever pretended to before. After a moment's inaction by James, Jess pointedly waved at his hands.

James looked at me in terror. I didn't let him see me looking back. I focused on the screen. Apparently there was a football game on it, but I was concentrating on where I could see him and Jess reflected in the glass.

"Whoa," someone breathed quietly when James slowly lifted his hands and covered Jess's tits with them.

Then everyone relaxed, and watched the game.

Sort of.

I did take a few direct looks now, and there were differences between James's behavior and Tom's. My shy, retiring buddy's fingers were moving. Not a lot. But moving. He wasn't pinching or exploring or anything, but those fingers kept flexing, digging into Jess's firm flesh, then relaxing. Then repeating. It was slow, but he was quite clearly groping my wife. I couldn't tell if he was going so slow to try to hide what he was doing, to just be discrete about it, or because he couldn't help it and was fighting himself.

And Jess was not upset about it either, since I could see her hips actually moving, unlike when she had sat on Tom's lap. She was gently, slowly, grinding on James. If Tom had been less cowardly, would she have ground on him?

Whatever, my wife was giving James the subtlest, hottest lap dance in history.

And I knew she knew that she was lapping him. She and I had gone to a strip club or two in the almost year now that we had been married. She had always been fascinated to watch me get lap dances, even if I could never convince her to get any herself.

Jess was many wild things. Into girls was not one of them. She and her two friends all could and did appreciate looking at hot girls. They certainly appreciated looking at each other. But none of them wanted what they saw...

But Jess had certainly analyzed lap dances, and was giving James one.

Subtle as their movements were, since they were the total center of attention, we all knew what was going on. Harry put his arm around Lisa and pulled him against him. "I can't believe I'm enjoying this boring game so much," he laughed idly.

Lisa snuggled into him. "Well, at least now that Jess isn't waving her boobs around in the open, we can concentrate on watching it," she joked.

"I'm not... I... You..." sputtered Jess. "You were the one who made me get them out in the first place, girlfriend!" she objected hotly, almost pulling loose from James's hands. He shifted his grip to keep his hold though.

Mighty eager with those hands there, buddy.

"I was just trying to be supportive with what I was wear..." Jess went on hotly, before cutting herself off quite suddenly. Another rare pause from Jess... I felt, rather than saw Lisa stiffen in alert. She sensed sudden danger in that pause, too.

"At least," Jess went on sweetly, "I was trying to support our team. Whereas the sheep guys..."

"Rams," Mike said automatically.

"The Rams wear blue," Jess continued automatically. She paused. "Just like the blue of that blouse you are wearing, Lisa!"

"Oh, bullshit!" Lisa laughed. "It's not a Rams jersey or anything. It's just a blouse."

"I'm sorry, I still think it is embarrassing for you to have shown up wearing the other team's colors," Jess went on relentlessly.

"It's not even the same blue!" Lisa complained defensively. She was not buying where this was going.

"I don't know about that," Jess snapped back. "Hey, Mister Graphic Designer! Is that the Rams' blue that Lisa has on?"

Tom's brain seemed to spring back to life for the first time since Jess had made him hold her tits. It took him a second to finally reboot, but when he did, he grinned. He looked Lisa over good (never a hard thing to do) and tapped his lower lip with a finger as if making a professional evaluation. "I'm afraid, Lisa, that it really is a close match. Almost embarrassing, to be honest."

Full Disclaimer: Lisa's blouse was not anything like a close match. It was at least two shades lighter, and Lisa clearly knew it.

"You," she glared at Tom, "are an evil man, and I don't trust your opinions." She sat back in Harry's arms triumphantly.

For a second, I thought this little gambit was done. Then Harry, her own husband Harry, leaned in and murmured into her ear loudly enough for all to hear, "In fairness babe, when you were getting dressed, I did ask why your were wearing the enemy's colors."