Just A Little Gangbang

"Hmm," mused J.P. "Even if I have a good witness on the stand, I'm going to do some leading and even light pushing, to get things going in the right direction."

Brandon considered that. Then he nodded. "Yeah, to get things started."

Mike jacked off to images on his flat screen again that night. Only this time, they were the pictures of Shannon that he'd transferred from his phone. And this time he aimed his hose at his mouth intentionally when he came; imagining kissing Shannon deeply just after shooting his load into the mouth of another man's wife.

Chapter 6

As Brandon and Shannon made their way back to their table after their third round of dancing, they passed by the server who was taking care of them. Brandon asked her to please bring them two more gin and tonics and she assured him she would.

"I'm not even half done with this one and it's our second," Shannon said as they took their seats and she picked up the glass that was already there. "Going a little fast tonight, aren't you?"

"Am I? I guess I just saw the opportunity to catch our waitress and jumped on it so we wouldn't have to wait." There was a slight nervous tremor in his voice.

She lowered her voice to a sultry level and said, "You know, you don't have to get me drunk to score with me tonight. You just keep taking me dancing and you're going to get lucky."

"I'll remember it," he said with a more confident tone.

"Hey, Brandon, is that you, man?" came a deep voice from off to his right.

The voice was followed by the form of light-skinned Black man, about six feet tall, dressed sharply in blacks and grays. At his side was a sandy-haired White man, maybe two inches shorter and some years younger.

"J.P., Mike," Brandon said with a smile and got to his feet to shake hands. "You guys actually came. I wasn't sure you would." He turned to the woman. "This is my wife, Shannon. Baby, you remember the guys I told you about from the gym? These are them."

The White guy was closest and shook Shannon's hand while saying, "Mike."

After he moved aside, the Black dude glided in, took the woman's outstretched hand, and bent to kiss it, rather than shake it. "Enchanté, Shannon. Je suis Jean Pierre," he crooned in an authentic sounding French accent.

"Ooh, tres galant," she smiled back at him.

"Yeah, watch out for Mr. French Quarter," her husband warned with a chuckle. "You guys want to sit down?"

"No, thanks, we're already set up at the bar and wouldn't want to interfere with a 'date night'. We just wanted to stop over and say hi," said Mike.

"Actually," said J.P. "When Mike said it was you out on the dance floor, I didn't believe it. The guy I saw was dancing too well and doing it with a woman far too beautiful for Brandon. I had to come over and see for myself."

"I like your new friends," the redhead said to her husband. "I hope you'll visit with us for a little while at least," she said to the big guy.

"Who could refuse you?" It looked like he was going to take her hand and kiss it again, but instead just kissed her with his eyes. Then he turned to Mike and looked at him expectantly.

The younger man paused a moment, then said, "Okay, okay, I'll go. But no more of this "youngest flies" bull. I'm the coach, you guys should be fetching for me." He threw Shannon a wink and headed off to the bar.

When he returned a couple of minutes later, he held two freshly-opened bottles of Dos Equis beer. J.P. took a couple of coasters from a rack on the table and set one in front of himself and the other in front of the last empty chair, across from him. Shannon and Brandon each had two coasters, the waitress having brought their new gins while Mike was away.

Mike put down the bottles and sat. "When I got to our old beers on the bar, I saw there was only a quarter left and knew they were getting warm, so I just went ahead and got fresh ones."

J.P. looked at Brandon on his left and said, "I told you our Mike was a clever boy."

"And strong too," he heard from his right. Twisting his head back toward Shannon, he froze halfway. Mike's left hand was around his beer bottle, which still stood on the table. That meant his left forearm was resting on the table. And resting on top of the well-muscled limb, was Shannon's hand.

J.P.'s eyes widened and his mouth opened just a bit. Actually, if anyone had happened to point a camera at the table just then, they'd have captured a hilarious picture showing all three men with the exact same expression on their stupefied faces.

"Very strong," the elfin beauty cooed as she squeezed his forearm. "Strong everywhere?" she asked as her hand slid along. When it came to the crook of the elbow it followed the bend upwards. Mike was wearing a short sleeved madras check shirt with long, wide sleeves -- he wasn't one of those lifters who went around in skintight everything. The small, delicate hand slid under the sleeve and found the large bicep. "Oh, yes," she sighed. Then, in a firmer voice. "Flex for me."

Responding like a hypnotist's subject, the gym rat didn't lift his arm from the table, but he did tighten it. "Ohh, yess," the redhead repeated in a deeper hiss. You could see the movement of her hand under the shirt sleeve, squeezing and stroking the solid mass. Then it was sliding out from under the fabric, retracing its path back along the ridges of the forearm, across the back of Mike's hand and pausing slightly when their three longest fingers were tip to tip, before finally breaking away and picking up her quarter-full second G&T glass. When she brought it close to her lips, the men's stares were still locked on her hand. They finally shifted up to her eyes when she spoke.

"So, is it just the two of you or will there be more?" She took a long sip, letting the sharp chill counterbalance some of the heat she was feeling.

"Just us," mumbled Mike, although he wasn't sure he had the right question, let alone the right answer.

"More for what?" said J.P., automatically kicking himself for saying something so inane. He did not like being flustered, but he was.

"Why, for my gangbang, of course," Shannon answered, raising one eyebrow and giving him a wry smile.

Chapter 7

Mike and J.P. turned to Brandon, expecting to hear why he'd changed the plan to Option 1, asking Shannon directly. Instead, they saw a wide-eyed look that told them he was as surprised as they were. When they turned back to his wife, she smiled gleefully.

"Oh, please," she said. Jean Pierre noticed her tone was teasing, but not cruel or angry.

"I knew you were up to something," she told her husband. "Something dirty. I just wasn't sure what. But when your 'two new friends' just suddenly showed up without women of their own, then I knew."

She broke her stare from Brandon's eyes and glanced left and right at their table companions. "Your two new, good-looking friends. He probably thought he was being smooth, but do you know how many times we've watched porn over the past six weeks?" The men just stared dumbly. "Seven or eight times. And do you know how many were about group sex or gangbangs? At least ninety percent."

Brandon had told the guys that while Shannon looked like a sweet little girl, she could be brazen and bold as she got excited. But still, her frank talk with a couple of strangers caught them by surprise. Brandon himself was speechless and took up his older G&T and began steadily emptying it.

"Care to hazard a guess as to how often we normally watch porn?" She paused as if she really wanted one of them to guess. Fortunately, they were both too stunned to fall for the bait.

"Seven or eight times a year. Still a lot of groups and gangs, but more like sixty percent. So, like I said, I knew something was going on. And when he came up with this short-notice dancing date, I figured that whatever it was, it was going to happen tonight. I have to admit, I thought it would be more like going to watch some porn in a real X-rated theater or maybe doing some pretend choosing of potential partners here in the club before going upstairs to a room in the hotel for some hot and dirty role play."

She looked directly at Brandon. "You do have a room reserved for us here, don't you?"

Her husband's eyes dropped to the table top and he nodded slightly.

Turning her words back to the new men, she continued. "But I have to admit, I didn't think he'd go this far." She paused and her tone changed subtly. "So, do I have any say in this or am I meant to be ravished a la Marilyn Chambers?"

Not surprisingly, the attorney recovered first. Jean Pierre had run into many awkward moments in courtrooms over the year and moved quickly to save their case.

"Always," he said, looking directly into Shannon's eyes. "That's been Brandon's Rule Number One the whole time. Yes or no was always up to you. You decide if we start and when we stop, no question."

She considered a moment; then, "And how was it meant to play out? I go up with you and Mike one at a time or you two take me upstairs together?"

Mike saw what J.P. had been trying to do and followed his lead. "Neither," he said. "Brandon's Rule Number Two was that it was you and him. With us, only if you wanted to try it."

"Hmmm," she considered some more. "You know, I came here already feeling pretty horny, I was eager to see what he had up his sleeve. But right now, I think I'd like to slow down a bit and think about this. Maybe be romanced a little before lying down and spreading my legs? Anybody feel like trying to charm the pants off of me?"

J.P. gave her his best, make the lady jurors swoon, smile, then held his hand to her, palm up and open. When Shannon placed her fingers in his, he drew her hand to his lips and repeated his chivalrous gesture from earlier. This time, however, he did not let go, but kept hold of her hand as he got to his feet. "May I have this dance?" he asked.

When they returned to the table, Mike was already standing, waiting his turn. Shannon had just enough time to take a drink from the fresh G&T before the hard-bodied hunk was leading her back to the dance floor. She finally got to see that while his shirt was fairly loose, his pants were wonderfully tight and he had a beautifully sculpted ass.

True to his word, to his Rule Number Two as Mike had called it, Brandon also filled many spots on her dance card. And in the end, Shannon had to say he was actually the best dancer, although she'd always loved dancing with him. She thought it must be all his running, including the cross-country racing he did. His stamina was endless and his footwork was both light and secure.

However, Jean Pierre was the best at what she thought of as "couples'" dancing. Apparently, a New Orleans upbringing had included lots of ballroom and swing dance lessons and he was quite adept at moving her around the floor without seeming to drag her when she was unsure. This even despite their great height difference. She figured he was close to a foot taller than her. She found herself bouncing back and forth between not liking having to crane her neck to speak to him and loving the feeling of being completely enveloped when he folded himself over and around her during slow dances.

Slow dances also came to be her favorites with Mike. Her husband was taut and strongly muscled, especially in his legs and butt, but in the end he was skinny. Mike, however, felt like barely restrained power as her hands roamed over his torso and back. Subtly at first, but more boldly as the night, dances, and drinks went on. After two hours she found herself really wanting to unbutton his shirt and feel those muscles directly.

My God! I really do want to feel them. To see them. Naked!

The song ended and they returned to the table, but Shannon stopped just long enough to grab her bag from her chair and excuse herself to the Ladies' room. All the way there and during her moments away from the men she tried to calm her pulse and her thoughts, but both kept thrumming away.

In between dances they'd conversed at the table. Mostly teasing and working to build the sexual tension, but she'd learned that Brandon and J.P. really had begun working out more with Mike, not just plotting her conquest. They'd talked about exercise and diet, losing fat and building muscle.

She could imagine Mike's strong chest. She was sure it was hairless, either by nature or by razor. I want to lick Mike's nipples.

She'd felt that J.P. was the softest, but he said he'd already dropped three pounds just by following Mike's advice on improving his diet and doing more lifting. He's so tall I bet I could suck his cock just by bending over. Suck his black cock.

Brandon had always been wary of weightlifting, fearing that too much bulk would hurt his running. But Mike had him thinking about strength rather than size and had him doing mostly bodyweight exercises. Brandon had been embarrassed to find he could barely do three pull-ups despite supposedly being in good shape. But after less than two weeks of Mike's tutelage he was up to five and all in good form. Shannon thought about her husband being stronger in his upper body, in his grip. In his grip on my hips as he fucks me from behind while I'm bent over sucking Jean Pierre's cock.

She'd sat to pee, but after wiping, her hand stayed in place. She'd known she was getting wet from dancing with and talking to the men, but now she forced herself to face that fact more directly. Peeling apart her naked labia, she found her pussy so wet that her middle finger slid all the way into the end without a hitch. Her index finger joined almost as easily, only the tightness of her pussy created any need for pushing harder. Her other hand began tweaking her clit as she unconsciously moved toward rubbing one out right there. Unfortunately, a group of three women came tumbling into the restroom just then, giggling and talking loudly in alcohol-fueled glee and broke her from her trance.

As she approached the table all three men half-raised from their seats and waited until she was in her chair before re-seating themselves. Somehow this simple gesture of old-fashioned politeness sealed the deal for her. She was still holding her small purse in her lap after sitting and now she opened it. She reached inside and pulled out the black silky high cut briefs that she liked to wear for dancing. That she had been wearing for dancing until her time in the Ladies' Room. She laid them in the center of the small table. She was dying to say, 'You've done it, you've charmed the pants off me,' but managed to bite it back and go with the silent method. Much classier, she told herself.

A small smile played across Jean Pierre's face as he reached out and picked up the briefs. Moving smoothly, so as not to draw attention to their table, he brought the small garment to his torso and manipulated it until the gusset was turned inside out. Then he held it to his nose and inhaled quietly, but deeply. His eyes half-closed dreamily.

Bringing the briefs back to table level, he turned them right side out again, got to his feet and nonchalantly slipped them into a pants pocket. Then he held out a hand to Shannon. When the lovely redhead put her small, pale hand in his large, mocha one, he drew her to her feet and began leading her to the exit.

Mike paused a heartbeat, then popped up and began following. Brandon pulled his wallet and dropped a fifty on the table before joining the exodus.

Chapter 8

The club was in the hotel's cellar; small windows high on the side wall were at street level. One stair case led to an entrance on the street, another went up to the hotel lobby. J.P. had paused with Shannon at the foot of the second and when the other two guys caught up, he handed her over to Brandon and stepped aside, clearly indicating they should go up first.

More chivalry, thought Shannon. Certain behavior might go unnoticed or unremarked in a darkened nightclub, but not so much in a well-lit, high-class hotel lobby.

She smiled at him, then at her husband and gave Brandon a warm squeeze as they headed up the stairs hand-in-hand. Mike allowed three steps to come clear before following them up, with J.P. a step behind him. They crossed the lobby like that, two-by-two, with enough distance that they didn't appear to be together. The fact that both pairs got onto the elevator at the same time was just a typical hotel coincidence.

What was not typical was what happened after the doors slid closed. Shannon put one hand on her husband's chest and pushed him away. Then she reached out and grabbed the other two guys by their shirt fronts and pulled them to her. She turned her face up toward Jean Pierre and the smooth New Orleans operator hesitated not at all in bending down and kissing her gently, but firmly.

Brandon laughed as Shannon pushed him away with a big smile on her face. His face tightened a bit in a less happy way when he saw her draw the Black man down into a very serious kiss. Purposely, he pushed out the breath that had caught in his throat. She had asked to be romanced, not used like a sex toy, and he wasn't going to let the first twinge of petty jealousy derail things at this point if he could help it. He turned to the bank of buttons and pushed 15. A long ride up.

After a few moments delighting in her first kiss with a Black man as well as her first kiss with any man other than Brandon in nearly five years, she broke away and turned to Mike. It was funny, the stud was only three years younger than her and Brandon and Jean Pierre was only three years older than them. But the six years between Mike and J.P. really did seem to make a difference. But that was not a bad thing; she was enjoying the variety.

Mike's kiss began more tentatively than the confident lawyer's, but the younger man's higher energy quickly came through and his tongue pushed hungrily into her mouth. She took it and found herself pushing back just as urgently. Kissing J.P. had been sensuous, even loving. With Mike she felt like a teenager making out in the heat of unfamiliar hormones. Both were wonderful.

Brandon continued to adjust to the internal conflicts. Shannon was really going at it with the hunky Mike, which tightened his guts. But it also tightened his balls and swelled his prick. He forced himself into a clinical thought about how he was glad the guys had agreed to blood tests for STDs and Herpes antibodies and how both had come through with no red flags. Then he was drawn back to the sight of his tiny dancer wrapped in the powerful arms of another man.

Shannon broke the second kiss and briefly leaned her cheek against the strong chest. Then she twisted her head further and looked back over her shoulder at her husband. He was standing with his back in the front corner of the car, by the buttons. Brandon looked a bit stunned and she liked it, he deserved it after putting her into such an incredible position.

She'd had a hand on each man's chest, but now dragged them down over their bellies and flagrantly across each crotch. Her heart jumped when she felt their hardness. She got an extra rush when she felt each man's entire body go rigid as she firmly squeezed. As cool as they'd been trying to play it, especially J.P., she could tell that they were as nervous as she was. And that knowledge actually helped her relax.

Brandon watched bug-eyed as his wife gave him her dirtiest smile and then copped a feel from each of the men she'd just met tonight. He wondered if she was going to unzip them right there in the elevator, but her hands kept moving after the cock squeezes. They came over to her own hips, then slid back over her buttocks. Shannon's fingers reached under the edge of the short skirt on her cocktail dress and began pulling up. First the bottoms of each small, tight cheek were exposed, the skin seeming extra pale with the black of the dress hem draw across them. And the hem kept rising, exposing inch after enticing inch.