Good Game

I'm an assistant college football coach, and one year I was picked to host the annual Superbowl watch party. The entire team, plus coaching staff and whatnot, at your house, to watch the Superbowl. I was still pretty new at the time so I heartily agreed, eager to prove myself in the hopes that Coach Thompson would tap me as his replacement when the time came.

My wife was also eager to help out. Now, let me tell you a little bit about my wife, Liz. A beautiful redhead with a lean body from years of dancing, big, round breasts, a cute, bouncy bubble butt, and the most angelic face. Ironically, we met in college. We had the same English class. It took me months to pluck up the courage to ask her out, and I was as surprised as anyone when she agreed. We got married while I was going after my doctorate, and we've been a practically perfect couple ever since.

My players met her a few weeks into the season. I'd forgotten the practice cones that morning and asked her to bring them on her way to class. When she arrived she was wearing a flowy sundress that showed off her figure.

"Hi!" she'd beamed at the players. "I'm Liz, Coach Patrick's wife. It's nice to meet you all!"

I could see even then that they had more than meeting her in mind. It didn't bother me, though. They were young men in the prime of their lives faced with a beautiful woman. It was only natural. Besides, it's not like they'd ever actually try something. Or so I thought.

Anyway, back to the party. We quickly stocked up on chips, sodas, and all sorts of snacks. Liz, who was a killer cook, whipped up all sorts of dishes, and we covered the house in all sorts of football paraphernalia.

"What do you think I should wear?" Liz asked the night before the party. I looked up from the book I was reading. She stood in front of her closet, fanning through all her outfits. But what caught my eye was her current attire. A white satin night shirt that did little to hide her pert breasts, tight stomach, or long legs. I stood from the bed and walked over, wrapping my arms around her waist.

"I'm sure whatever you wear will be beautiful," I whisper before nibbling on her ear.

She giggles, heat already rising in her cheeks.

"Steven, I'm trying to think!"

"I'm sorry, is something I'm doing distracting you?" I asked as I reached into her nightshirt and squeezed her left breast.

She sucked in a breath, and let it out with a shudder. "That's not fair, you know I like that."

"You know plenty I like," I retorted. Then I squeezed her nipple.

"Fuck it, I'll decide in the morning," she gasps as she spins around, wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me down.

Day of the party:

First, we moved to the backyard for some games after everyone arrived. I was leading Liz to the beanbag toss when a voice called out, "You don't mind if I cut in, do you coach?"

We both turned around to face Troy. Picture of the All-American stereotype, Troy had long blonde hair and blue eyes. He was tall, taller than me, which I'd of course noticed before but in front of my wife, it felt a tad more embarrassing. He was also well-built, with broad shoulders, a large back, and well-muscled arms.

"Sure!"

I turned and gawked at Liz. She was smiling at the younger man, but not in a flirty way. No, of course not.

"Liz?" I asked, gently grabbing for her wrist. She reached down and took my hand in both of hers, locking me with a look of utmost love that instantly thawed at my nervousness.

"It's okay. We have all day to spend together," she said in a quiet, soothing voice. "Like I said, I want to get to know them better, so I can help you take of them better."

I smiled, but before I could reply, the whistle blew to start the game. She shot me one more quick smile before going over to join Troy.

I ended up teaming with Josh, the equipment manager, but I was hardly paying attention. Try as I might, I couldn't take my eyes off Liz. She and Troy were smiling and laughing, having long conversations between turns. At one point Liz completely missed the board, and Troy came up behind her to show her how. I watched with wrapped horror as he pressed his broad chest against her back, hands wrapped gently but commandingly around her wrists, smiling as he whispered instructions in her ear. They threw. Right into the 100 hole. They cheered. Liz wrapped her arms around his neck, and he wrapped his around her waist, effortlessly picking her up and spinning her around.

She came back, red-faced and beaming, and we moved on to hoarse shoes. Maybe I was imagining it, but I was usually better at this game. I cursed under my breath after my third straight miss, but it must've been louder than I thought because a voice called out behind me.

"Whoa, don't blow your top, coach!"

I turned to Mark. Yet another tall, muscular student. Where Troy was the picture of Americana, Mark had dark brown skin, short hair, and a strong-jawed face, He walked up, picked up a horseshoe, and effortlessly tossed it onto the pole.

"Wow, nice throw, Mark!" Liz said.

He beamed at her. "It's all in the arms, Mrs. G!" He flexed his left arm, and the muscles bunched together powerfully. Liz stared for a second, clearly taken aback, but quickly recovered.

"I see that!"

An hour later everyone was naturally moving into the house for drinks. I got pulled aside as we were going in to talk to one of the offensive coordinators. I was making my way over to Liz by the kitchen island when three of the students walked in without shirts on. I couldn't help but stare for a moment at the way the afternoon sun played off their young, sweat-drenched bodies, highlighting every muscle for the world to see. They were tossing a football back and forth, their muscles stretching and contracting hypnotically.

I tore my eyes away long enough to look over at Liz. She was blatantly staring from her relatively hidden position, stirring a straw in her glass absent-mindedly. This gave me my voice back.

"Hey, shirts on, kids!"

"Sorry, coach," one of them says. "We sweated through ours."

I sighed. "That's okay. I've got plenty of spares upstairs. Just be sure to bring them back on Monday, alright?"

They smiled, nodding. I shook my head as I headed upstairs, grabbed three old shirts from the back of my closet, and came back down. I stared at Liz, dancing with a group of boys. I could see her face clear as day, beaming.

Soon, the game started and we all moved toward different chairs. I spotted Liz on the couch and was heading to join her, when Mark sat beside her, throwing an arm over her shoulders. She giggled but didn't protest. She scooted a little closer to him! I settled for one of the comforters. As the game began, I watched as Mark pulled her closer, whispering things in her ear, things she found hilarious, giggling until she was red in the face.

As the first quarter ended, everyone got up for refreshments. I hid in the little nook by the door, watching Mark and Liz. He whispered something in her ear, she looked around, shaking her head, but then he whispered something else and her eyes went wide as saucers. Then I watched as, in the middle of my fucking living room, he took her hand and guided it between his legs. She wasn't looking at him now, looking around for anyone who might come over, but it was affecting her. She kept her hand in place, kneading it like she'd never felt a dick before. Her breathing got heavier....

She and I both jumped as someone approached. I'd been so distracted I hadn't noticed Professor Greene, English Lit, come over. Thankfully she hadn't seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary, so as she and Liz started talking, Mark sank away and made his way upstairs. I watched Liz quickly dismiss her, gesturing around like she was saying she had a lot to do, and then look up the stairs, a dilemma clearly going on in her mind.

*Don't*, I pleaded in my mind. *Please don't do this*

But she finally cast a quick look around before heading to the stairs. I waited until she'd disappeared from the landing and went up too, just in time to see the spare bedroom door close. At least she wasn't screwing my student in our bed. I crept forward and pressed my ear to the door.

"We....we really shouldn't be doing this," Liz was saying. She sounded out of breath. Hot.

"Oh, come on, Mrs. G," Mark was saying with his damned smooth voice. "You can't honestly tell me Coach does it for you anymore."

Hot shame and embarrassment washed through me, and I waited with bated breath.

"Well......Steven is a very good husband. He's loyal, and he treats me well, and....and....."

"That's all well and good, but does he FUCK you?"

"W-well, he, um, he eats me out, and-"

She let out a sudden gasp, and I had to see what was going on. I reached up and slowly, very slowly, pulled the nob and opened the door just a crack.

Mark and Liz were standing inches apart. Mark had taken off his shirt, the evening sun coming in from the window making him look like a Greek god. But, he'd also taken his pants off. I couldn't help but stare. Mark's cock stood proudly; long, thick, and veiny. They were standing so close now that the cock was touching Liz's bare thigh.

"Can you honestly tell me," he purrs as he rocks his hips back and forth, "That you'd rather have HIM than THIS?"

"I...I..." Liz looked dazed, her breathing making her lovely breasts even more noticeable.

Mark took her hand and ran it palm down across his chest. "He doesn't have a body like mine, does he, Liz?"

"No," she gasped, staring wide-eyed at his chest.

"He doesn't have my charisma, does he, Liz?"

"No," she replied, practically moaning, as her other hand moved of its own free will to glide down his rock-hard abs.

"And that," he says with a big predatory grin, "Is why you're going to fuck me now, isn't it, Liz?"

"Yes!", she practically sobs. "Yes, PLEASE fuck me!"

With that, Mark wrapped his strong arms around her waist and lifted her, throwing her onto the bed. They were on each other in an instant. I'd never seen Liz this horny. She attacked the young football player's mouth hungrily like the answer to all life's problems were in his plump mouth. She moved from his lips to his jaw, to his neck, and began lathering his chest in long, wet licks.

"I've wanted to do something like this for so long," Liz admits between licks.

Mark smirks as he pulls her dress down.

"You couldn't do this with Coach, huh?"

"God no," she sighs.

He smiles and sits up.

"You know what else you could lick?"

She gazes lovingly at his cock.

"God, it's been so long since I've had a real cock. Steven's is.....is tiny!"

"Well," Mark purrs, "Give me your best shot now and I'll let you suck it whenever you want."

"Yes sir!"

With that, she launches into action, spitting on the large, angry cockhead and working it over his member. Once it was covered, she leaned forward, pressed a long, sensual kiss to the head, and enveloped it in her pink lips. Mark groaned as she vacuum-sealed it, pumping the rest as best she could given its size. She worked it like a master lover, switching between the suck and pump and sliding as much as she could into her small throat to give it a heavenly massage. She would pull back, strings of saliva left in her wake and her eyes watering, but with a smile I'd never seen before.

He eventually pulled away. Liz pouted, but then he told her to turn around. She did, face torn between excited and nervous as he pulled her dress out of the way. Then he pressed his cock, still covered in her spit, to her opening.

Liz moaned as he entered her, grabbing a pillow to muffle her. Once Mark was in position he began pounding her like an animal in heat. I stared at Liz's face, eyes crossed as she moaned Mark's name.

"Oh, Mark! Yeah, Mark, right there!"

Soon he began speeding up, close to orgasm. Instead of throwing him off as she'd always done with me, Liz doubled up.

"Yes! Please, Mark, fuck me! Fill me with your seed, make me yours!"

Soon, they both came a glorious and horrifying sight. Soon he pulled out, his white spunk spilling from her pussy as she lay there twitching. He cleaned up as best he could and just left.

"Hey, Coach," he told me as he passed me. "Good game, huh?"