Game Day - Playoffs

"I do want to say," I said, a cautionary note in my voice. "We guys came up with one rule. The girls came up with one rule too, but they are the same rule, so that's nice and easy. None of our wives gets actually fucked by anyone except her own husband... and nothing close to that, either." I raised my eyebrows as I took another pull on my beer. I realized I was as nervous as my friends still looked. "Other than that, I think everything else is pretty much on the table."

"You're a fucking saint, Dale," Tom murmured absently.

I still didn't know why I was being such a saint, but the image in my mind of naked Lisa and Gail certainly had something to do with it...

I took a deep breath, and brought up the real elephant in the room: Whether the Falcons' suddenly vulnerable defense was going to get its shit together today and sufficiently shut down the Niners.

Five minutes of that ultimately unreassuring discussion later, Jess popped back in, glass of wine in one hand and the tray of stuffed cucumber rounds, now with dill artistically sprinkled on and around them, in the other. Just as she set them down, the bell rang, and Jess bounced (again) to the door.

Lisa and Harry came inside. Lisa was wearing an excruciatingly short, black denim skirt that looked like it had once been longer but had been raggedly cut off to barely couch-covering length. It was possibly the ideal garment for showcasing her hips and ass. Her shirt was an exact match to Jess's, down to how it was tied up above the waist, exposing yet another flat abdomen.

As greetings were made, despite the two gorgeous women in the room with me, my mind leapt to the conclusion that Gail would be wearing the same teeshirt getup, and that was a sight I really wanted to see.

Moments later, the bell rang again.

"Gail and Mike here already?" I asked the group. "Lots of weird shit going on, but this is next level crazy," I went on as I went to the door.

"Oh fuck!" Jess exclaimed suddenly, dashing ahead of me to the door. "The electrician! I thought he wasn't coming after all!"

I grabbed her arm. "Wait. What? An electrician? Today?"

"Talk about delay of game," Mike observed drily, earning him a half-hearted elbow from his wife.

"It's a Sunday! That's like triple time for an electrician," I complained, suddenly going all suburban husband.

"Honey, come on!" Jess wheedled. "It's for that plug that sucks so much. I finally gave up and called, and they could either do today or more than two weeks from now." She looked apologetically at all of us. "He was supposed to be here hours ago. I thought they'd blown us off."

"Let's just hope he doesn't take long," Lisa said, displaying an impatience that I am sure warmed all the male hearts. It warmed mine.

I slumped and turned to flick on the TV. Jess went to the door, opening it.

"Huh," I heard James say.

"Ms. Wilkes? I'm Denise Ralston, with Circuit Man," I heard a female voice say. I turned around to see a tall, baggy jumpsuit-clad woman at the door, with a heavy tool bag in her hand. She was showing an ID badge to my wife. "I'm sorry I'm late, ma'am. My first call this morning went very long, and there was no one back in the office to give me your phone number to call." The electrician paused as she entered, seeing everybody.

"Let me guess," she said with a fairly pretty half smile. "Football watch party? Falcons-Niners?" Jess nodded, no happier than anyone else at the speed bump. She still moved swiftly to the outlet across the room from the TV. I knew it had been wonky, but I had no idea she was that bothered by it. "Please turn up the volume, so I can hear too," the electrician asked the room as she followed Jess. "I doubt this will take long, then you can all relax, and I can get home to my own TV."

I exchanged glances with the guys. Good. Our intruder was motivated to get the work done quick and get the fuck out. Then this Denise person brought up something more horrifying than a delay in the festivities, whatever and however they would begin. "Hopefully, the outlet and your TV aren't on the same circuit."

"Fuck!" Harry exclaimed, voicing the worry for all of us. If she had to cut the power to the TV, that would be a serious disaster.

"I doubt it, given where they are located, but I'll just check," the worker said, and she grabbed a small box about the size of an iPhone charger cube and plugged it into the same power strip as the TV. She walked across to the problem outlet and waved a little plastic stick at it. Nothing happened. "You are good to go for the game," she said, sounding happy herself to have the game on in the background. The congregations rejoiced.

We all settled down to watch as the pre-game wrapped up. Denise got down on her hands and knees and began to remove the cover plate. I saw that Tom was eyeing her carefully, and looked back again myself. With her jumpsuit stretched across her ass, it was clearly a pretty decent backside, at least.

Lisa caught Tom staring and threw a kernel of Jess's caramel popcorn at him.

The Falcons won the toss, and all five of us guys yelled in dismay when they elected to kick.

"Whoa. Shit," the electrician said unprofessionally. Straightening up, she turned and said, "Hey, uh, Je... Ms. Wilkes? There is a real problem here."

"What?" Jess asked in surprise. "Really?"

Don't act so surprised woman, you called a fucking electrician to come in on a Sunday.

"Yeah," Denise said, sounding quite surprised herself, but also a little concerned. "Whoever put in this extra outlet, they weren't a licensed electrician. The wire they used to extend the circuit is 16 gauge, and this is a 20-amp circuit." She traded a look with Jess. "I really need to fix this now. I'm surprised you house hasn't burnt down whenever you plugged anything into this plug."

"Really? I only use it for the iron, and it kept tripping the circuit."

"An iron? Jesus," our workperson breathed in genuine concern. "I'm going to re-wire this right now."

"Re-wire?" I yelped. I had visions of a thousand dollar bill being presented. "You're going to tear open our wall? Today? Now?"

"Easy... Mr. Wilkes?" she said placatingly. I nodded that it was in fact I who was married to the profligate wife who called workmen on Sundays... workpeople. Whatever. "The wire is loose," the woman went on placatingly. "I can just use it to pull the new, safe line through the wall and still be done way before the first quarter is over."

"That fast?" Lisa asked in bemusement.

"I'm motivated," our intruder smiled, then almost dashed out to her vehicle.

Tom was clearly watching her leave, and Lisa threw another popcorn piece at him.

"What?" he demanded with a smile.

"Not enough women on the day's agenda already?" she asked archly.

"It's possible," Tom retorted archly, "that I have sex on the mind."

"Good," said Jess.

I saw James out of the corner of my eye adjusting himself. I almost missed it, because I was adjusting myself.

Our intruder was back in a flash, with a coil of yellow wire over her shoulder. "Game started yet?" she asked, heading directly to the outlet.

"Birds just kicked off," I said, eyes on the screen. "Hey, where the hell are Gail and Mike? They are later than usual," I asked Jess.

Jess was sitting beside me on the couch. "I don't know. Too bad they are missing the kickoff," she added slyly. Then she grabbed her teeshirt, undid the little knot in a heartbeat and flashed us all her breasts. It was just a second or two, and she pulled it back down, taking a quick glance over her shoulder at the electrician behind her as she tied up the bottom of her shirt once more.

James, Tom, and Harry were all grinning at her. I was grinning at her too. Hell, Lisa was grinning. Tom, predictably, turned to Lisa. "Do you know why they are missing the kickoff, Lisa?" he asked with an expectant grin.

"I have no idea," Harry's wife said. Keeping her eyes on Tom, her hands went in turn to her shirt. But she was not sitting with her back to the worker and didn't have the back of the couch covering for her, and she looked over toward the oblivious electrician. Even though the woman was still on her hands and knees, doing something with the wires, Lisa shook her head at Tom.

He pouted.

But Lisa had a plan. I love a woman with a plan.

She slouched back in the chair where she sat beside Harry, reached under her skirt and incredibly swiftly yanked the almost pointlessly small panties she had been wearing down her legs. With a smile at all of us, she tucked them away out of sight from any electricians. Then she slowly, excruciatingly slowly, lifted her leg and draped it to the side over Harry's lap. After a brief, glorious pause sitting there completely spread-legged, she languorously lifted the other and laid it over Harry's legs as well. Suddenly once more demure-looking, she snuggled against him.

"Gotta love that Spread Offense," Tom observed to no one in particular. Lisa flipped him off.

"Niners are running more of a classic West Coast Offense this year," the electrician suddenly piped up, not looking back at us as she started tugging out the old wire from one outlet hole in the wall, pulling the new, larger wire in from the other.

"Well, at least she knows football," Harry laughed, looking archly at Jess then Lisa. His wife bristled, and started to take her legs off of his lap. Harry quickly grabbed her thighs and pulled them back down onto his legs. She silently slapped his chest, but snuggled back in.

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Jess bounced up to answer it before I could move. "I wonder which one is going to blame the other for how late they are?" she asked as she went to the door.

As Jess ushered our tardy couple inside, Gail loudly announced to the room that Mike had taken too long at Home Depot that morning.

"You kept texting me with more jobs for later. I had to go back after checking out twice!" Mike scoffed in return. "And why is there a work truck in y'all's driveway?"

"Mine," Denise volunteered, not looking up from where she now sat on the floor, legs crossed, stripping insulation and twisting wire nuts with swift, sure, very expert fingers.

"You have a worker here? Today? During... the game?" Mike asked me incredulously.

I wanted to throw Jess under the bus, but since I always hate it when Gail and Mike do it, I refrained.

"Sucks, I know," Denise said, crawling over to the other outlet as she spoke. "I'd rather be doing the game myself, but I'll be finished quick and out of your hair."

Watching her crawl across my floor in my current, impatiently horny state, I thought even she looked marginally good in that baggy work jumpsuit. At least she had taken off the heavy work boots and not clomped all over my floor in them. But her ass still looked quite decent when she bent and pulled the khaki fabric tight.

We had all risen to greet our late-comers. Mike walked over to shake my and Harry's hands. Gail went first to James and Tom, giving them each a hug. The old Gail, the one that didn't suck cock in public, was not a hugger at all--much less the kind of hugger who pressed her spectacular chest against the guy she is hugging.

She was, in fact, wearing the same white Falcons teeshirt, in the same way as the other wives.

Hugs delivered, she spun but didn't move. Keeping her eyes on the electrician, who had no idea what she was missing, Gail reached behind her and slowly, firmly groped both James and Harry's packages, stroking up and down happily.

Then she moved away from them, not looking back. She crossed the room to Harry. She stuck out her hand as if to shake, but when he bemusedly reached out, she lifted it firmly and hugged him, trapping his hand and hers between her tits. Harry shot a glance at the woman obliviously rewiring my house and copped a quick feel of Gail's nicely generous ass.

Then Gail turned to approach me, and I had but a moment to speculate on how I would be greeted. I liked new Gail.

She reached out to give me a brief, almost perfunctory hug, one without even much boob pressage. But as she started to release me, she shot yet another glance over at the work going on, and pulled my head down to press it against her chest. She wiggled her firm flesh back and forth across my face about three times, then laughed and went to sit with Mike, who was grinning at everybody.

"God, I love game day!" Surprisingly, it was James, not Tom, who made the quip.

On the television, the Falcons' defense managed to keep San Francisco from scoring, but they left the offense in shitty field position--shitty field position that they proceeded to make worse, almost giving up a safety on third down.

"All done!" announced the electrician, getting to her feet. She really was tall, but was graceful in unfolding herself from the floor. "The office will send you an invoice, Ms. Wilkes."

"Thank you, Denise," Jess said formally. Then she went on in a more friendly, but wondering tone. "That really was dangerous?"

"Yeah," snorted Denise. "Can you believe it? I really could not leave that situation be. I really am surprised this house didn't burn down before you even bought it."

"Um... thanks again, then," I said, glad for my apparent salvation, and feeling I would be all the more churlish should I tell her to beat it ten minutes ago so I could get my dick wet one way or another with one woman or another...

As if evilly reading my mind, Denise asked Jess, "Say, do you mind if I stick around until the end of the quarter?"

"Sure," Jess said instantly, her horribly sweet and generous nature betraying herself and the rest of us.

Harry and Mike both looked like they wanted to object vociferously, but caught themselves, in no small part due to feminine but stiff spousal fingers gouging manners into their thighs.

Tom, who had probably spent more time looking at Denise than anybody else, and who could not resist the lure of a new female to flirt with, even with what she was delaying, added. "By all means, have a seat!"

"Thanks everybody," Denise said, walking slowly over toward the extra chair near Tom on the side. "I might leave earlier than the quarter, but I want to at least watch the Niners punch this in," she added sweetly.

We all gasped in shock. Not doubt about her prediction, because the bad guys were starting with the ball on our own 45 after our shitty punt, but shock.

"Wait just damned minute," Tom said, flirtatious overtones absent from his voice suddenly. "You are a Niners fan?"

Denise took a swift but deliberate look around the room at all of us in our Falcons gear, then smiled back at Tom.

Then she unzipped her work jumpsuit and let it slip off her shoulders, hanging by her belt at her waist. Under it, she wore a regulation 49ers jersey. It wasn't regulation sized, though. It fit her torso quite nicely, thank you. And her torso seemed to be damned well formed, also thank you.

Oh, if only...

"Ugh!" snorted James, making a fake cross with his fingers, as if she were a vampire.

"Oh, hell no," declared Tom. Then he grinned. Fuck it, the sonofabitch could not turn it off, could he? "We can't have enemy colors here on game day. It's a rule!"

"So you want me to pull back on this heavy jumpsuit?" Denise scoffed.

"No," Tom drawled, leaning back in his chair and grinning like the asshole he is. "We'd all know that jersey was still on you. You need to take it off."

I wondered if I had a bucket large enough to put all the pieces of Tom in after I picked them up.

Denise just rolled her eyes and looked at the wives. "He like this with every single girl he meets?" she asked, jerking a thumb at Tom.

I relaxed microscopically, until Lisa replied. "Not just single girls. He made me take my shirt off last week just because it was blue, just like the Rams."

"Ha! Wait. What?"

"He got me to take my dress off," added Gail seriously. "It was blue too."

"And it had all those little yellow ram's horns," piled on Mike, unbelievably.

"They were flowers," snapped Gail.

"And he got me to strip naked," added Jess. "Just because I wore Georgia Bulldogs clothes."

"Bulldogs? They aren't rivals. Though the Bulldogs are a better professional team..." Denise said, appearing confused.

"None of us girls are into football," Jess said archly.

"Sorry about that," Denise said sympathetically. Then she turned back to Tom with a lopsided grin. She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, "These maniacs telling the truth?" she asked skeptically.

"More or less," shrugged Tom. "But that's not the point. You want to stay, that jersey has to go." He grinned at her, and I wondered if I could be arrested because my houseguest sexually harassed an electrician.

"Only one problem, buster," Denise said firmly. Then she leaned forward and grinned. "I don't have a bra on underneath."

"I utterly fail to see how that is in any way a problem," Tom said in a voice like butter would not melt in his mouth.

"Will this suffice instead?" Denise negotiated mockingly. She unhooked her belt, letting it and the rest of her jumpsuit drop loosely to the floor. Below her jersey, she wore brilliantly golden bike shorts. Across the ass, which Tom could not see, they had '49' in crimson letters on one ass cheek, and 'ers' on the other.

My disbelief-o-meter had pegged long ago, and I was beginning to ride with this insanity. That allowed my brain to register that there was no way there was any underwear beneath that gold, skin-tight lycra.

And the babes were not bristling about Tom's act. As long as they didn't object, I decided to let him roll.

Who knew what might happen?

"Much worse," declared Tom. "You have to ditch it all now." His voice was firm, but Tom really isn't a pig, and his eyes told her clearly that he was only teasing her.

Denise stared at him for far too long, until even he got a little restless.

"I am not getting naked all by myself," she said firmly.

"Well..." Gail began to offer. Gail! Of all people!

Denise just shot up a hand, stopping her. "If I'm getting naked, Tom... it is Tom, right? If I'm getting naked, you are too."

"Me? Why?" Tom asked, taken aback a little. But he quickly indicated his full, NFL-licensed Falcons get up was obviously in compliance.

"Because you are the one saying I have to get naked. With Rules Comes Responsibilities," Denise said, folding her arms under those nice tits.

I had never heard that saying before. I wasn't sure it really was one. But by this point, I was becoming somewhat invested in seeing this electrician naked in my living room. No, make that fully invested. That ass rivaled (but did not beat) Lisa's backside, and with the low waist on her shorts, and how the jersey had been trimmed up high, I could see this woman had a literal six-pack on her flat belly.

"Come on, Tom," I taunted. "Like the woman says, 'With Rules Comes Responsibilities.' You've been waiting for kick-off. Kick off."

He glared at me.

"I may have to flag you for delay of game," Mike added, receiving a grin instead of a poke in the ribs from Gail.

Tom's mouth worked wordlessly, but he stood up. He took deep breath, then whipped off his Falcons jersey. I hadn't thought he had it in him. "There," he said, trying to sound triumphant.

"Oh, please," snorted Denise.

"You owe us at least the jersey now," Tom leered.

"Again, please," Denise said. "Societal norms say that your," she grumbled some words under her breath, "bare chest is not much in the way of a modesty issue. I need to see more if you want me to give these up," she said, plucking at the jersey with one hand and stroking the gold lycra with the other."

Tom gawped at her. Then he reached for his waistband with a grin of his own, calling her bluff.