Husband Bets Rival-And I Win! Pt. 02

continued from Part 1

...Anyway, a few years later we were on our honeymoon in the islands, and we were out on a deck, taking in the sun and the sea air. Of course it was topless and I was a little nervous, but when in Rome...

My new husband (it felt amazing to say that!) was getting us drinks. So it was in this relaxed and exposed condition that I felt a strong, masculine hand gently touch my shoulder. "Hey, Christey. Love the shades. Is your agent around?"

I knew who it was the moment I felt the hand: a topless girl will attract a lot of attention, but I didn't know anyone else who had the balls to just walk up to one and touch her. So it had to be Jack. Out here? What were the odds one of his coworkers would show up on the island? At this secluded deck near our cabana?

I had met Jack at the various office parties. I was not at all attracted to Jack, but I couldn't deny Jack was a complete stud. I probably shouldn't say that out loud, but that's what he was. Standing in front of me bare chested, abs chiseled, muscles defined from MMA training. And it was impossible not to notice the freely flopping beer can filling his otherwise baggy shorts, right at my eye level, while I lounged before him wearing nothing but a pink thong and a wedding ring.

Jack had a complicated reputation. Like my husband, he was a young superstar who climbed quickly to partner; but unlike him, on the way up he had left behind him a trail of sexual devastation. Receptionists, coworkers, the wives of coworkers-- if he wanted he unfailingly bed them. He was an arrogant bully who treated men like shit and women like sluts, but no man would stand up to him and no woman seemed to want to. Worse, he was a hugely important part of the company. Even though many of the men were resentful of him, there was a collective sense that he deserved his success, not to mention "all that pussy" (of course, they didn't know that included their own wives.) I guess many of the women quietly thought the same.

His ego finally got him into trouble. He kept pushing the board to do a takeover of another firm, both out of a desire to cross the others, with whom he was at odds in other work issues, and also because of the veiled criticisms he made in his speech, but mostly because he wanted a promotion, hoping the takeover would make him a lot of money and earn for himself all the glory. His ego was already overinflated by being a quasi-celebrity to the lower employees who had only heard about him anecdotally, and this led him to overindulge his tastes beyond what his income would bear, in cars and in the rest of his expenses; and later on this had more than a little to do with the bankruptcy of the company. Most of the senior managers were alarmed at his ambitiousness, and how much license he took with the job, his life and habits, and... the female employees, and the bulk of them saw him as wanting to make himself CEO and so became his enemies. And although in his public life his handling of the job was as good as anyone could have ever wanted, in his private life his behavior enraged everyone, and caused them to give promotions to others less able, to the ruin of the company. Eventually he went to work for their main competitor. I'm sure he did very well for himself.

Jack was not the kind of guy my husband would have been friends with, but he tacitly respected Jack's act-on-what-you-want attitude. I don't know about the boardroom, but as for the bedroom I had often tried to argue that Jack's success wasn't something to admire, it required him to be callous and unemphatic, oblivious to any resistance or hesitation from the woman. "You're not going to understand this," I said, "but sometimes a woman feels like she has to go along with it. If it gets to a certain point, she feels obligated to submit." I was right, he didn't understand this. He thought women could always do what they wanted, which in this case was what Jack wanted.

But respect wasn't the only thing that drove my husband to maintain friendly relations. He got a perverse enjoyment from being around Jack because of me. My husband knew that Jack saw me as just another of the many trophy wives that would fall into his bed-- except that, try as he might, I didn't. Sorry, bub, the only man I want I marrying. That rejection pleased my then fiance so much that he tolerated Jack's increasingly bold flirtations. If we were at a party and he saw me talking to Jack he wouldn't interfere at all, he wouldn't even glance in our direction; meanwhile Jack took full advantage of our time to ply me with flattery or provoke me with manipulative complements, all of which I parried by reminding him I had a fiance, and right over there, and that there were plenty of other women who would adore his attentions. Of course, Jack assumed he just needed to get me away from the "giant cock blocker over there...." (yes, I got it!)

God knows I never would have gone out with him even if I single, his cockiness and smug superiority totally turned me off. But if you knew how to handle him he could actually be quite fun to be around. He was undeniably attractive, and I admit I was flattered that the man who was known for bedding beautiful women wanted me. He was charming and funny, and despite his cockiness was never pushy with me or made me feel uncomfortable. I found I could let my guard down, even flirt a little (it's fun!) and he wouldn't overestimate it. So I played the part of the curious but honorable fiancee and just as playfully shut him down when it got too hot. Jack's ego never suffered, I'm sure. He was man enough not to take the rejection personally, even if I sometimes meant it personally. Meanwhile, each time Jack flirted with me, my husband saw it as another championship match for the trophy wife which he kept winning again and again. Undefeated-- against his single rival.

Perhaps because my husband never directly confronted him, Jack even began to tease my husband a little, letting him know that it was only a matter of time before he got me out of my clothes.

I rolled my eyes when I heard his fantastic predictions of my complicit nudity. And yet now he was standing above me, grinning broadly, while I was topless in a pink thong that served no other purpose than to prove I was naked. For years he had been eyeing my breasts, and now they were fully displayed for his enjoyment. What was I supposed to do? Wouldn't it have been weirder to cover up? Thank God I was wearing sunglasses, it made me look way more self-assured than I felt.

Beyond nervous, I stood up and did that thing where you overcompensate pretending to be excited to see a person in a new context. "Oh my God, Jack, how are you! When did you get here?" By reflex I greeted him with an awkward bent-over hug, careful to make sure our hips didn't touch, but the result was my naked tits swayed against his bare chest. Oops. His one hand slid to the small of my back, and then lingered at the edge of my thong. I quickly lay back in the chaise, but of course not putting on a shirt only made it look like an invitation, which he took. He perched himself on the edge.

"I had no idea you were here until the desk told me you were on your honeymoon. Congratulations, I'm sure you've made him a very happy man. Here, let me help you with that." He took a nearby bottle of sunscreen and began to rub it into my already glistening, well lotioned calves-- exactly as my husband came out to the deck. I froze. What should I do? I saw his eyes momentarily widen as he tried to process what he was seeing, but he otherwise didn't react and maintained a poker face as he continued walking casually towards us. So I nervously did nothing, and passively let Jack continue rubbing my legs.

"Hey, man, congratulations on your wedding," Jack said as he caressed under my knees. "Why don't you leave the drinks here and meet us for dinner later?"

I was so tense I couldn't help it-- a loud laugh escaped me, which he took as assent to sliding his hand further up my inner thighs. I sat upright and crossed my legs, ending his recklessness.

Nevertheless, Jack stayed put on my chaise. We all began chatting, awkwardly at first, my husband tried to seem cool but I knew he was tense, he had a pack of cards that he was fiddling with in his hands, hoping to seem nonchalant but also to break the tension. But it was Jack who made it all very light and smooth, and soon we fell into easy conversation, talking and drinking. He even asked to see a card trick! Truth is, Jack hadn't really done anything wrong, rubbing my calves was typical Jack, and its very brazenness proved it was meaningless. He was just fun to be around, easy going and friendly. Periodically of course he dropped flirty innuendos, commented on my spectacular "boob job" (as if he was fooled-- ha), and even managed to get me (after my eyes rolled) to let him rub lotion on my back as if it was the most normal thing in the world. And my husband seemed ok with everything, too, no secret signals, no signs of discomfort beyond the card twirling. They were both having a good time, and it was fun for me to be the center of attention.

So I relaxed. Topless. On a chaise lounge between my hunky husband and his studly rival.

Whew. He did give nice back rubs, though.

At some point Jack left to get us more drinks, and all at once my husband's cool demeanor completely imploded. It was so forceful and abrupt that I reflexively threw on a tank top and raised my sunglasses to my head.

"He'd kill to fuck you," he told me urgently.

"He's not going to," I said, sobering up quickly. "I have no desire to be with any other man, let alone him."

"I don't think he thinks that."

"Would you like me to tell him?"

He thought about this for a moment. "No, because he wouldn't believe you. He thinks he just needs to get you away from me."

I laughed. "You want me to seduce him into the hot tub and turn him down there?"

"No..." he said in a way that made me think he was considering it. "The key is to lead him on into a situation where there is no way I could catch you, and then shut him down. Let him know I beat you."

"How you think," I rolled my eyes. "Do you run a business this way?"

"Do something really sexy, I don't know, flirt, show him your tits."

"He's already seen my tits," I reminded him, tugging my tank top down. Where the hell did I ever get it? It was my old sorority crop top, cut obscenely high so that it barely covered my breasts, and right below the logo was written in squintingly tiny letters, "take a picture, you'll last longer." My dorky husband thought it was hilarious. Did wearing it make me look more covered or less?

"Show him your ass then, I don't know."

"Oh my god, what am I to you, shark bait?"

"Just drive him crazy, do something."

"So you want me to be a cock please," I said.

"Tease," he smirked.

"Oops," I said. "Sorry-- tease."

"Can you do it?"

I smirked back and gestured to my body. "Umm, yeah, I'm pretty sure I can do it. I just don't think I should do it."

My husband was nuts. Work parties are one thing, but I couldn't believe he was letting this cocky alpha male anywhere near his intoxicated and basically naked wife, let alone asking me to inflame him. What did he think would happen?

Jack returned with the drinks, and there was no way I couldn't glance at the beer can in his shorts swinging as he walked. The big dick had a big dick. Urf. I lowered my sunglasses and lay back on the chaise, and was about to take off my top again when I realized that it would look like I had covered up when alone with my husband, and was now going to re-present myself to Jack. Oh God, they were making me as nuts as they were, these two horny mountain goats were getting high on their own pheromones and I was getting it from both ends, so I resolved to just be myself, act naturally, keep my own limits and have a little fun, and let them lock horns and misinterpret my behavior any way they needed to. If my husband wanted me to stop or do something different, all he had to do was just say so.

Jack studied the shirt for a moment, then looked into my glasses. "Pig," I mouthed.

Alcohol and innuendo continued, and I have to admit that all the attention I was getting was making me giddy. I know this won't make sense to a man, but that jump from being single to being married made me feel more free, not less. Marriage made it possible for me to enjoy desires without the pressure to pursue them or the guilt that I didn't. It made it safer to flirt because there was a line around you, and anything outside was inconsequential when before I'd have to figure out what I wanted, my feelings about it, weighing the consequences of acting on it against the risks of a missed opportunity. If I had been topless in front of Jack back when I was dating, I would have been just as mortified and just as turned on as I was now, but too mixed up inside to enjoy it. And while I never would have pursued him I admit I would have been way easier to seduce. But married, on my honeymoon? I was a queen guarded by a king, playing with... jacks.

And so with my new husband right there beside me, I even felt safe enough to enjoy being provocative. I had placed my drink on the table slightly behind me so that I had to twist my body to reach it, causing the shirt to stretch and expose the bottom of my breasts. Of course I was aware. Both boys noticed, and both guys knew the other noticed. Oh boy. I was drunk, I was tingling. Everyone's attention was on me, it felt electric, it made me feel so sexy, so desired, so charged.

And that's when my seemingly laid back, likely drunk, and evidently dumb husband suggested we... play poker. Uh oh, I know I've seen this movie before. Good thing I put the shirt on.

I'm sure in his head he thought it was a good way taunt Jack, to show me off and show him up, frustrating and humiliating him, but Dummy hadn't thought through how that scene would play out. So when he proudly won the first hand, he suddenly went silent, realizing he had to command me to take my top off in front of his coworker and--

"I know you want me to undress in front of your wife," gloated Jack, "but you'll have to say please. Or do you want us to undress each other?"

Yeah. He's a dummy. Thinking fast, he instead "demanded" I give him a lap dance while Jack had to sit and watch. "Oh my God," I laughed "You're such a dork! Are we in college?" But I wanted to dance, I had to get the erotic energy out of me and dancing was a safe way to discharge it. I got up, moving my hips and shoulders to a beat I hummed out loud. I had a lot of practice dancing; minimal movements was all I needed for maximum effect and plausible deniability. At one point I sat in my husband's lap facing Jack and blew him an innocent kiss. He responded by discreetly but deliberately adjusting his giant penis inside his trunks. "Bad boy," I mouthed to him.

Dummy's improvised reward brought about the obvious. The next hand went to Jack, and of course he wanted a dance with the newlywed. I got up and moved towards him with completely fake confidence. "You guys better hope I don't win any hands."

Overcompensating for my anxiety, I danced around him, stroked his hair and then his chest (sexy!) Fortunately, even this arrogant prick had the sense not to try anything too crazy in front of my husband, and I was still wearing the tank, which gave me a little more freedom to tease him.

I tried to safely straddle his lap facing him, but as I grinded on him his dick was impossible to avoid. I tried to avoid it... honest! But it was so prominent that even with his shorts on, playful writhing on his lap became subtly rubbing my pussy along his pole. My hands were on the back of his chair, my tank covered chest (thank god!) pushed forward into his face, my nipples confessing my arousal through the white material.

"Take off your top," he whispered in my ear. "I want to feel you."

"I'm maaaaarrrried," I teased, exaggeratedly slurring my words. "My husband would not like that."

"If he loved you, he'd want you to enjoy yourself."

"Yes," I said leaning into his ear, "but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want you to enjoy yourself."

"What does he want?" Dummy said proudly.

"He wants," I said, looking at Jack stare into my mirrored sunglasses, "to see my tits." I giggled.

"He's seen them." Ok, true, but he wasn't supposed to say it out loud! I felt myself flush. "Show him your ass."

I caught a flash of my new wedding ring, with all its magic powers. I spun around and sat facing away from Jack, pushing my ass against his crotch. He slapped it playfully. "Any tan lines?" he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he tugged on the side of my strap to reveal the light arc that traced over my hips and... down.

"Hey, now," I cautioned, in what probably sounded like assent.

"Are you a natural blonde?" he asked, covertly speaking into the back of my neck. My husband sat across us smiling, gloating over the frustration Jack must have felt.

"No," I admitted.

"I should check," he said.

I turned my head and bit my bottom lip. "There's nothing to check," I slurred.

Of course he checked anyway, pulling up the straps like a puppeteer. "You're bad," I whispered.

Of course Jack had been around enough women to know my dance was intended as fun, meaningless teasing-- of both of men-- and he played along. He put his hands on my sides and daringly slid them slowly upwards. His hands felt so good, no man since my husband had touched me there, like that. I was nervous and excited, pretending like I was enjoying it while hiding how much I was really enjoying it. And Jack knew just how to playfully push the envelope. He began to slide his hands higher... and forwards... deliberately provoking the expected response: I slapped his hands away, giggling. "Hey, no touching," I pretended to whisper, "you know my husband is right there, right?"

"That guy?" he said loudly. "You think he's going to do anything?"

And then he started to go for it. He let me know that he was going for it, making me self-conscious of the fact that neither I nor my husband was stopping him. He slid his hands slowly up under my shirt. I had been topless before, but this was different-- he was touching me, touching my bare flesh while I was covered to my husband, the significance of the action impossible to ignore. Our touch had become private. He was taking possession of me. I waited to see how my husband would react: would he jump up? Stop this? Give me a signal, anything? But he did nothing! He just watched Jack's hands under the shirt. I tried to hide how turned on I was, but it was hard. Hard for me... I had even forgotten what I was sitting on... My breathing became ragged and my heart was pounding right through my breasts, I know Jack could feel it. I was so mixed up with anxiety and arousal I was trembling. Jack's hands slid all the way forward, cupping and massaging my breasts, and then his fingers finally reached my nipples.

I came.

"Oh!" I didn't mean to, it surprised me, and I really tried not to show it. My back stiffened as I tried to resist its arching. My hands gripped his through the shirt. My hips drove downwards even as my weight shifted to my toes. My mouth fell open but I stifled the moan with a long breath, oh god please don't let him notice; yet through my sunglasses my taunting eyes screamed at my husband: look what he's doing to me! But he was so focused on what Jack's hands were doing to my breasts that he didn't appreciate what Jack was doing to the rest of me, how easy it was for him to do it to me. Jack, of course, knew exactly what he was doing to me.

"Nice," he whispered, very pleased with himself, politely letting me ride out my orgasm. His hands remained on my swollen tits.

"Oh my," I said finally, preposterously playing it off like I didn't just have a massive orgasm in his lap. I looked at my still oblivious husband, feigning an amused shock while trying to reset my hormones. "Are you just going to sit there and let this very naughty man maul your wife's tits?"