Trade

I've used the game described in this story in another story. I don't remember which one and without doing significant research, I can't identify it. I might not have already published it. If I have and you've read it, know that I know I've repeated it. I like it. It seems like a realistic strip game and I don't apologize for reusing it.

Sam and I have been friends for over fourteen years. We met when we shared a golf cart during a charity outing to raise money for a local children's hospital. During our almost six hours together, charity events can be painfully long, I learned that Sam played every Saturday with three other guys. We exchanged contact information and, whenever the Saturday foursome was short a player, he called me and I filled in.

Eventually, one of the members couldn't continue to play and I became the regular fourth player on Saturday. Over the years the group suffered additional losses and we became a twosome playing with other random twosomes on Saturday. Eventually, we added another day, usually Tuesday, to our playing schedule, managing to schedule work hours to leave Tuesday afternoons open.

Over the entire time Sam and I played golf together, I never met his wife, Debbie, and he never met my wife, Bree. As far as I know, neither Debbie nor Bree ever met each other unless it was accidental and they'd never put Sam and me together.

It wasn't a plan. The opportunity never came up. Sam and I played golf twice a week and the women had their own social circles. We talked to each other about our wives all the time. We shared good and bad moments we had with our wives and we felt as if we knew them well but neither of us suggested that we get together for dinner or drinks.

We talked about many other topics while Sam and I played golf and drank beer in the clubhouse. Often our conversation involved the women we noticed on the course and in the bar. One Tuesday in particular comes to mind. We had started later than usual that Tuesday and were finishing up just as the local university's women's golf team was arriving for a match against another conference team.

Over the years we had noticed, and admired, the short skirts that many of the women wore while playing. That Tuesday, the extremely short skirts the teams wore, the extremely long legs below the skirts and the unusually large number of players attracted and maintained our attention.

We sat in the bar at a table next to a window with a view of the practice range and watched the women warm up. Every shot was perfect. Not that we noticed where the golf balls went. We were more focused on how the women's short skirts moved as the wearers twisted their bodies when hitting the balls and how their short skirts frequently swung up on the follow through revealing the tight white panties underneath.

Of course, our hushed conversation that Tuesday centered on what we were watching, frequently pointing out one of the coeds who was especially revealing during her swing. More than once that afternoon either Sam or I made some sexist comment similar to "I'd like to get her between the sheets" or "Can you imagine her legs wrapped around your waist."

In our defense, we didn't usually talk that way, but that Tuesday afternoon was different. The sheer quantity of young, long legged women athletes was over whelming and we resorted to the depraved, licentious vocabulary present in all men's primitive brains.

We began to play golf later on Tuesdays and we encountered the women's golf teams twice more before the end of the season. Each time the comments we exchanged were similar and the subject became more of a repetitive topic during and after golf outings. Sex is always a topic that men are willing to discuss among each other if not with their spouses.

Neither of us mentioned the coed golf league to our wives but we continued to discuss sexual situations with each other. Sooner or later, men discussing fantasy sex with strange women will mention sex that isn't a fantasy - sex at home.

Sam was effusive about how great sex with Debbie was and I contributed similar, possibly even a greater, appreciation about sex with Bree. Over time, our boasting became a point of pride for both of us and the conversations approached the level of a contest. One Saturday afternoon, after several beers, Sam declared, "Mike, I wish there was some way you could appreciate how good Debbie is in bed."

The length of the silence that followed was painfully long. Eventually, I took a huge swallow of my beer and said, "Sam, what are you suggesting?"

"I'm not sure I'm suggesting anything," he said. "What do you think I was suggesting?"

"I think you were suggesting that I have sex with your wife," I stated.

"Really?" he replied. "What did I say?"

"You said, and I quote, "I wish there was some way you could appreciate how good Debbie is in bed.' That sounds like you'd like me to sleep with your wife."

"You're right," Sam admitted. "It does sound like that. I don't know if I meant it but it seems that we have this conversation about our wives frequently and there is no way for either of us to understand the other's point of view except to actually experience it."

"I think we need to change the subject," I said.

We left for home soon afterward. However, neither of us forgot the comment.

The next Tuesday, we were driving to the second tee when Sam said, "Mike, I've been thinking about what I said Saturday."

"What was that?" I asked, deliberately playing dumb about what I had thought about all weekend.

"You know, about my wife," he clarified.

"You mean about me and your wife?" I asked.

"I can't think about anything else," Sam admitted.

"Truthfully," I told him, "Neither can I."

"Whoa. You want to sleep with Debbie?"

"I didn't say that," I retreated. "I said I can't stop thinking about it."

"Mike," said Sam. "That's a distinction without a difference."

"Sam, I've never even met your wife. I don't know her at all except for what you've told me. I'm miles short of wanting to sleep with her."

"I've never met your wife either," Sam said.

"Wait. How did my wife become part of this conversation?" I worried.

"I don't know," said Sam. "But if you're going to sleep with my wife it seems logical that I would sleep with your wife."

"Hold it," I demanded. "How did we get from thinking about it to 'going' to do it?"

"It's just words," explained Sam. "We're just exploring the possibilities."

"Sam," I said. "Exploring is a long way from thinking about it and it's even a longer way to actually doing it. There're a thousand obstacles between thinking about it and actually doing it."

"Give me an example," asked Sam.

"Okay. How would you feel about another man, even me, fucking your wife?" I said. "I'm not talking about the physical sensations. I'm talking about how you would feel emotionally, in your heart, in your soul."

Before he could answer, we reached the second tee. We played the hole, neither of us managing even a bogey.

Sam brought up the subject again on the way to the third tee. "I think I could handle it if I was fucking Bree at the same time," he suggested.

"That leads to a number of other questions," I replied. "First," I said before he could interrupt, "I need to agree with you and I don't know if I can accept Bree sleeping with another guy, even you. Second, neither of us can consider either scenario without meeting each other's wife and dealing with whatever biases we have about sexual partners. And, third and fourth, both the women would have to agree to fuck the other's husband with the same issues we have fucking each other's wife."

"That's a lot of ifs," said Sam.

"That's just scratching the surface," I replied.

We played lousy golf and quit after nine holes. In the club house early, we ordered beers and sat down at a corner table.

"I think it's possible," commented Sam.

"You don't quit, do you?" I commented.

"It's going to take a long time but I think it's possible," Sam repeated.

"I give up. What's your plan?" I asked.

"I don't have a plan," admitted Sam. "But I do have a first step. We have to meet each other."

"You mean the four of us together," I clarified.

"Yeah. You and I can meet each other's wife and the women can meet each other. That may be all it takes," he explained.

"All it takes," I repeated. "You think it would be a go/no go meeting?" I asked.

"If you're referring to having sex with each other's wife, I think it would be a go. From what you've told me, I can't believe Bree wouldn't meet my expectations and I know Debbie would meet yours."

"Even if you're correct," I replied. "The women would have to like each other and then they'd have to want to have sex with someone not their husband. That sounds like a no go to me."

"First things first. Let's get the women to set up an evening get together," suggested Sam.

"How do we do that?" I asked although I thought it might be possible to convince Bree.

"Just suggest it. Women are naturally social and you'd think they'd have some curiosity about the guy their husband has been playing golf with all these years and that curiosity might extend to the family as well."

"I'll give it a try," I committed.

"Call me if Bree's interested," said Sam.

After dinner that night, I was sitting on the sofa watching something on Netflix. Bree was lying on the sofa with her head on the arm of the sofa and her legs over my lap. Honestly, I wasn't playing much attention to the television. I was stroking her legs from her knees to her labia. Bree had her eyes closed.

At the risk of interrupting our current serenity and where I hoped it was heading, I mentioned Sam. "Bree," I opened. "Sam and I have been playing golf together for a long time and I don't think you've ever met him."

"It's funny you should mention that," Bree responded. "I was just thinking about that this afternoon. I haven't met Sam. Is there any reason why I haven't?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I guess there just hasn't been a reason. Sam and I play golf and you don't. I don't think it's any more complicated than that."

"I think it's about time I met him," stated Bree. "Set something up."

"Sam's married you know," I informed her.

"Even better. We can have a foursome. How about we have them here for dinner and drinks?"

"I can do that," I committed.

"Call him now," insisted Bree.

"I was hoping for something else," I said as I rubbed her pussy under her skirt.

"If we do that first," analyzed Bree, "you'll forget to call him. However, if you call Sam now I can guarantee you won't forget what you were hoping for."

I called Sam and suggested dinner for a week from Friday at our house. "That was quick," he said. I haven't had a chance to discuss it with Debbie."

"Now you have to," I said. "Let us know before Thursday so we can plan."

I hung up and headed back into the living room. Bree was still prone on the sofa only her skirt and panties were on the floor next to her.

"Nice," I commented.

"Just helping you remember," Bree responded.

She lifted her legs. I sat on the sofa and she settled with her legs over my lap as before. I placed my hand on her pudenda again and resumed stroking.

"Hold that thought for a moment," Bree said. "What did Sam say?"

"I suggested a week from Friday here for dinner and drinks. He said he'd talk to Debbie about it and I asked him to let us know before Thursday."

"Well done," Bree praised. "Debbie. Sam's married to Debbie. "That's good to know."

She closed her eyes and separated her legs. "Nice," she whispered.

Wednesday evening Sam called. "I talked to Debbie a few minutes ago and she thinks it's a good idea."

"So were on for a week from Friday?" I asked.

"We are," agreed Sam. "But there's something else," he said.

"Something else?"

"Yeah. Debbie acted as if she already knew about it," Sam explained.

Later, I spoke with Bree and told her we were on to host Sam and Debbie on Friday nine days hence.

"Great," commented Bree. "I'm going to have fun planning dinner."

"I have another question," I interjected.

"Okay."

"Did you talk with Debbie today?"

"Why do you think that?" asked Bree.

"Something Sam said. He thought Debbie already knew about the invitation when he asked her."

"Busted," admitted Bree. "I thought some insurance was appropriate in case you forgot and Sam procrastinated. Sorry."

"Not a problem," I said. "But how? I don't know Debbie's number. How did you know?"

"It was simple. You called Sam. I looked at your phone and got his number. I did a reverse lookup and got Sam's last name. Then I searched for a local Debbie with the same last name and got her cell number. It was chancy but it worked the first time."

I smiled and said, "I'm going to have to watch you more carefully."

"I love to be watched. Let me know when and I'll dress appropriately," Bree suggested.

I played golf with Sam on Saturday and again on Tuesday. We discussed the pending dinner date on Friday on both occasions. Sam was convinced that Debbie and Bree were talking to each other. I confirmed his observation with Bree.

Wednesday night, after dinner and before bed, Bree confronted me with her own conjecture. "Mike," she began, "Do you and Sam have a different agenda for Friday night than just dinner and drinks?"

"What makes you think that?" I asked.

"Something Sam said to Debbie," Bree explained.

"Debbie must be picking up on something us guys always talk about," I evaded.

"And what would that be?" asked Bree.

"Both Sam and I retain a high regard for our wives. We can't help some competition between us as to who has the best wife. Sam must have said something to Debbie about reinforcing his position."

"Interesting," commented Bree. "Just how far does this 'competition' go?"

"Not too far," I dodged, hoping Bree wouldn't inquire further.

"Let me be clear," continued Bree. "Do you guys discuss your sex lives with each other?"

Busted, I tried to minimize the damage. "Only about how satisfied we are with our wife. Nothing personal and no details."

"So, you guys have a rivalry about whose wife is better in bed," Bree summarized.

"You make it seem tawdry somehow," I complained.

"I don't intend to," countered Bree. "Actually, I'm intrigued by the concept. I have to admit that we girls have had similar discussions on occasion although I haven't had a similar conversation with Debbie... Yet."

I was more than happy to leave the conversation there except for Bree's final comment. I wondered how a conversation between Bree and Debbie would develop and where it might lead.

Dinner Friday evening was outstanding. Bree and Debbie got along as if they were long time friends instead of only having a few telephone conversations and were meeting each other for the first time. They worked together getting dinner on the table as if they had done it all their lives. The four of us shared an incredible roast pork with oven browned potatoes and asparagus. Add in a chocolate mousse for dessert and two bottles of wine and we feeling mellow by the time we retired to the living room for after dinner drinks.

Bree and Debbie sat on the sofa together while Sam and I settled into two chairs obliquely facing them. Bree took a sip of her Bailey's on ice. "Well, guys," she asked. "What do you think?"

I was mystified by the general nature of the question. Before I could respond, Sam asked, "About what?"

Bree looked at Debbie before she answered. Debbie nodded almost imperceptibly. "Well," she began. "You've had a chance to see both of us together. What do you think?"

"I think," I began. "That we've had a magnificent dinner with two beautiful women and now were relaxing in peaceful, post banquet tranquility."

"I was hoping you had enough information to settle the outstanding rivalry you two have about us," explained Bree.

Sam looked at his shoes. "It's too close to call," I opined.

"You need more input?" asked Bree.

I liked the way the conversation was going. "It would be helpful," I agreed.

Bree stood up and offered a hand for Debbie to stand up alongside her. The two of them stared at each of us and then turned around slowly. Slowly enough that we had plenty of time to evaluate each of their physical endowments. "What about now?" asked Bree before they sat down.

"Honestly," I commented. "The jury's still out."

"What more can we do to resolve your struggle?" asked Bree.

"Bree," I said. "I think you've done enough. We'll call it a draw."

"You know," said Bree. "We gals are as competitive as you guys. I don't think that either of us is satisfied with a draw."

"What would you propose to break the deadlock?" I asked.

"Maybe," hinted Bree. "Debbie and I could get naked."

Sam was suddenly alert. He almost spit his drink across the room. He managed to hold it in but there was a drop or two coming out of his nose that he wiped away with the back of his hand. Debbie was unsuccessfully trying not to laugh out loud, hiding her face behind her right hand. I was also intrigued. What game were these two women playing with us? It was almost as if they knew about Sam's proposition and were way ahead of us in making it happen.

"Of course," continued Bree. "Then you guys would have to get naked too."

"Whoa," said an excited Sam. "Aren't we rushing things a little?"

"What things are we rushing, Sam," asked Debbie.

"Getting naked," said Sam.

"So," concluded Debbie. "You planned on us getting naked. You just didn't think it would happen this fast. Did you also think you'd sleep with each other's wife?"

"I didn't say that," defended Sam.

"You didn't have to," stated Debbie. "Everything over the last two weeks has been leaning in that direction. Did you think that tonight would be the night?"

Sam didn't answer. Debbie looked directly at me. "Well, Mike" she said. "Maybe you are willing to answer."

"Debbie," I responded. "Honestly we didn't. I admit we had the thought but I don't believe either of us thought it was a reality. Tonight was only the first step. Just to meet each other. Nothing more."

"And what was the next step?" asked Debbie.

"We hadn't thought that far," I admitted.

"Just like men," said Debbie. "Incomplete planning and starting something they can't finish. You just leave it up to us women."

"What does that mean?"

"Mike, darling," interrupted Bree. "Debbie and I have been talking and it seems we've gone further than either of you. We do have a plan and it goes further than your plan."

"You have a plan?" I asked. "Care to share?"

"Let's just say that the first step was similar to yours. Have dinner and meet each other but we were evaluating the potential of sleeping with the other's husband while you were considering something similar with us wives."

"And step two?" I asked.

"Assuming we passed the 'getting to know you' test, the details aren't important except that sharing was a primary feature," explained Bree.

"You're serious," said Sam looking directly at Debbie.

"Serious but also frightened and nervous as hell," she replied.

"I agree with that assessment," said Bree raising her hand.

I raised my hand in agreement and, after a moment, so did Sam.

Looking at all four hands rose, Bree asked, "So where do we go from here?"

"I don't think the 'let's just get naked and dance' approach is going to work. I need some time to adjust to the realities, maybe more than just tonight," commented Debbie.

"I think that goes for all of us," suggested Bree and nobody disagreed.

"So, is that it for tonight?" asked Sam.

"No," said Bree. "I don't think so. Maybe we should play a game just to get to know each other better."

"That's a good idea," I agreed. "We have Scrabble, Monopoly and a few others."