Super Bowl Half Time Show

This story is part of the 750 Word Project 2022.

*

I've never understood the whole Super Bowl thing. If your team is in it, OK, I get it. But this year, with the Rams playing the Bengals, my husband, Stan, had no dog in the hunt, so to speak. His team lost earlier in the playoffs. But, still, he invited a bunch of his buddies over to watch the game, just as he had the previous three years.

Since I didn't care about the game, I played the role of hostess. And I have to admit . . . I liked it. Stan's friends were either single, or they came without their wives. It was just a bunch of guys . . . and me. I knew Stan liked showing me off. He liked having a cute, hot wife, and I was cute and hot. I had a slim waist and firm, prominent breasts, a pert little butt, and long legs. And even before Stan, men had praised my long, dark, wavy hair.

Every Super Bowl, I came up with a sexy outfit to wear, so Stan could show me off. This Super Bowl, I decided to dress in a hot French Maid outfit. The skirt was so short that the bare skin of my thighs was visible above the mesh stockings.

Seven of Stan's friends were clustered around the big screen TV, on chairs and a sofa. Stan took his favorite spot on a big, plush chair at the back of the room.

I served beers and chips to all the guys early in the game. I saw the way they turned away from the action to catch glimpses of my skin in the outfit. They stared at my cleavage when I bent over. I didn't wear a bra, and it turned me on to see the way they looked at me. I looked at Stan, and I knew it turned him on, too.

Right before halftime, I pulled the pizza out of the oven. On a whim, I pulled my little black panties down my legs and left them on the floor of the kitchen. A little creamy stain lay on them. I was aroused.

I walked back to the living room, which was now dark, and I gave all the guys their pizza slices as the half-time show began. I liked the way they snuck glances at me in my costume. I liked knowing that my pussy was bare under my costume, and they didn't know it.

I went to my husband last.

"Do you want your slice, Stan?" I asked.

"Give it to me, baby," he said.

I put a big cheesy slice of pizza on his plate.

Then I sat on his lap.

He was partly hard already. I liked that about Stan. I could always make him hard. I was hot in my little French maid outfit, and he liked it.

But he didn't know I wore no panties yet, and I wanted him to know it.

"Nice show," I said, as we watched Dr. Dre rap California Love.

I pushed, and I felt the hardness of his cock between my thighs.

Stan growled.

The light from the TV flickered over the room, but it was otherwise dark, so I unzipped my husband's pants with all his friends around, without any of them knowing, and I fished out his big fat hard cock, and I rubbed it against my bare pussy, and Stan finally knew: I wore no panties.

I guided the head of his cock into my pussy.

Oh, it felt good.

Stan and I started fucking each other as his clueless friends swilled beer and commented on the Super Bowl half time show. I didn't give a shit about the TV. I just wanted that feeling of his cock inside me. I wanted to know that he was fucking me in front of all his friends, and they had no clue.

I rose and fell on my husband's hard cock, with his friends all around, oblivious.

And oh, it felt so good. That thick bulbous cock head piercing me. Filling me.

And they didn't know. Stan's friends. All around us.

Snoop Dog rapped while I fucked my husband and lowered myself onto his gorgeous stiff cock. I had my own Super Bowl ceremony.

I picked up the pace while trying to be discreet.

I came when Stan did. My body shook and he spurted into me.

I looked all around. Nobody knew but Stan and me.

THAT was a half time show.