Without a Net

Now Steve really did start losing his cool and making bad decisions. It only took a few more hands before his defeat was sealed. He stared down blankly at the pair of aces he had tried to coax into a win, while Charles crowed exultantly. "All right Jean--let's see you take it all off!"

Jean blanched. I saw Suzanne whisper something in Charles's ear--no doubt reminding him that this was not quite the spirit in which our group convened. But he seemed too caught up in his victory to register her concerns.

"Really, Jeannie," I said earnestly, "you can stop now. There's no need to overdo it."

I caught a hunted look in her eyes. All she wanted to do at that moment was throw on her overcoat and scamper home. Before she could say anything, though, Steve spoke up, in a harsh monotone. "Nope, I lost fair and square." Standing stiffly, he moved behind his wife again, grasped the waist of her panties at each hip, and pulled them down to her ankles.

The blush on Jean's face crept down her neck and across her breastbone. As our eyes continued downward past her trim waist and admirably taut belly, we could all see Jean, unlike me, is a natural blonde. Even stripped naked, though, she still retained some shreds of her natural modesty. Between the neat wedge of her curly, honey-hued locks, and the way her strong, shapely legs pressed tightly together, she managed to keep her most intimate treasures well concealed. I figured this only made Ben all the more hot for her, and it was probably the same for the other guys as well.

With Charles holding all the chips, that was the end of the poker game. At this point, I was eager to shift the spotlight away from my friend as quickly as possible. "All right, enough ogling the ladies, folks. It'll be the men's turn next. But first, who's up for another round of drinks?"

* * * * *

In the kitchen, Suzanne was bubbly. "I really wanted to lose," she said, as if confiding a secret.

"You could just pop off your undies now, dear," Donna replied, voice a little thick. "The boys would love it." Donna had already downed one fresh margarita, and was pouring herself another. Probably trying to drown her worries, I supposed.

"Yeah," Suzanne replied, half apologetically, "but you know how Charles gets--I want him to feel good for, like, 'defending my honor.' In a while..."

Returning to the rec room, we sipped our drinks, and watched as Ben set up the table and Eddie handed each of the women a stack of chips. The game was roulette, and I'd set the payouts high enough that it would be hard to lose. Whenever one of us gals had scored enough extra chips, we could cash them in to redeem an item of clothing from the male of our choice.

The men had to ditch their jackets, ties, and socks before we even got started--we weren't about to mess with all that. Then we got down to work.

Suzanne, I saw, was taking big risks, stacking wobbly piles of chips on single numbers or runs of three. And damn if she didn't hit a straight-single on the second spin of the wheel. Eddie grinned and pushed a heap of blue chits across the felt. Suzanne giggled again and started counting them.

"Five forfeits!" she gloated when she'd made it through the stack. "Well, to start with boys, you can all remove your shirts."

She bounced over to each one in turn, pressing her voluptuous rack up against their backs and caressing their chests as she made a show of helping to undo the buttons.

When it was Eddie's turn, it soon became obvious that he hadn't worn a t-shirt under his button-down. Even amidst the raunchy surroundings, Donna couldn't resist a wifely snort and rolled her eyes. "Ed, you can do your own dry-cleaning if you won't even bother to put on an undershirt."

He grinned in mock contrition as the ample cups of Suzanne's silk bra smashed up against the bare skin of his shoulder-blades. "Sorry, hon, forgot."

Suzanne was loving it--she appreciated Ben's attentions, but I knew from past soirees that she was even more into Eddie. "Someone's in trouble," she said in a playful singsong. "And I still have one forfeit left to claim. Sorry, champ, but I think I'm going to need your pants."

Eddie's grin was a bit sheepish, but he was enjoying being in the spotlight. He stripped off his trousers and placed them obediently in Suzanne's waiting hands. Eddie is cute, and even cuter reduced to skimpy sky-blue jockey shorts. He played baseball back in college. He's not big or heavily muscled, but he has a lean, taut physique and great coordination--traits that come in just as handy in the bedroom as the batter's box.

Donna won next. Having collected her chips, she hesitated next to Steve for a moment, indecisively. I appraised my friend critically, and had the impression that she was not only distinctly tipsy now, but getting a little hot-and-bothered as well. Her face looked flushed, her eyes bright, her nipples hard, and... was that her clit poking out a tad?

My friend had done nothing to acknowledge the intense vibes of desire Steve was putting off. Still, she must have sensed them. After all, it wasn't as if the man was being subtle about his feelings. At the moment, for instance, the dopey grin on his face made it painfully clear that he was hoping she'd strip him down. My fear was that the more she drank, the more receptive she'd become to his attentions.

For the moment, though, his hopes were disappointed. Donna still had enough presence of mind to realize she shouldn't give Steve any encouragement. Maybe even detected the anxious look on Jean's face as she hovered in the wings, trying to be inconspicuous. At any rate, after pausing there a second, index finger poised at the corner of her full lips, Donna pivoted on her heel and made for Charles instead.

Charles is the kind of guy that some women might pass by without a second glance, because he's not big or 'built' in a classical sense. Don't let that fool you--he's not only good looking, he's toned and deceptively strong. And another thing about Charles is that he has great skin--like silk. Plus, he was a top-notch violinist in his youth (probably still would be, if there was any money in it) and had the fingers of a musician. Let's just say that at our previous get-togethers, he'd definitely shown he knew what to do with his hands!

So it was natural that Donna, having given Steve a reluctant pass, might turn to Charles as the object of her attention. Her chips bought two items of clothing, and once she'd helped Charles off with his t-shirt, her fingertips brushed a long, slow path down his chest to unbutton his slacks. The only disappointment was that his expensive boxers concealed far too much about what was underneath.

All this time, as I said, Jean had been trying to hang around the edges of the group and avoid attention. Clearly being naked in a crowd was a new and awkward experience for her. She seemed to be finding it hard to concentrate on the game, and just placed small, timid bets, randomly, with no discernable system. She was nonplussed, therefore, when she hit on a column-wager. Grinning, Eddie grasped her hand and dumped way more chips than she had earned into her open palm. "That'll buy you a couple of items," he said. "See anything you like?"

Jean responded with a mortified look. For one thing, this had thrust her back into the limelight, just when she'd been getting comfortable with the idea that being naked wasn't so bad as long as no one was really paying any attention to her. And for another thing, she would have to reveal something about herself by what she chose.

She lurched a half-step toward Ben, and then stopped, wheels turning in her head. Changing her mind, she turned and paced stiffly over to her husband, not daring to meet anyone's eye. Fumbling awkwardly, she pulled Steve's undershirt over his head, mussing his thick, sandy-dark hair, and then undid his fly. Next, moving her hands to his waistband, she undid his trousers. They dropped to reveal formfitting black briefs, stretched tight by an impressive bulge in front. If I'd have been in Jean's spot, I definitely would have copped a feel.

Normally in this group, one didn't strip one's own spouse. Jean wasn't to know that of course, but Charles let out a 'boo' anyway--which Suzanne quickly stifled with an elbow to his bare ribs.

Donna is a real shark at Vegas, and she won big again now. I think she would have preferred to strip Charles the rest of the way. However, Ben was feeling a little neglected, and it wasn't in the spirit of the game to leave anyone out, so she bent her slightly-wobbly feet in his direction instead. In a trice my man went from mostly clothed to au naturale. And I'm pleased to say that although Ben may be balding, and a little slump-shouldered, he packs it where it counts. The man is hung like a horse, and his equipment was eager for its freedom--it made quite a spectacle when Donna knelt down in front to pull his shorts off, and every last inch of his glorious schlong came spilling out. With a twinkle in her eye, she stuck out her tongue and stroked it lightly along the underside of his pole, from base to tip. His face reddened, and his organ ratcheted up yet-another notch in response.

Suzanne got a hit on 26, and took the opportunity to buy Eddie's jockeys. She didn't hesitate to put her hands on the merchandise--cradling his balls possessively, and then giving his shaft a little tug. Eddie's prick is a dark, dusky red, and not long, per-se, but impressive in its girth. It was pumped up to its full diameter now.

Feeling lucky, she put all her chips on 26 again for the next spin, and went bust. It didn't really matter, she'd gotten what she wanted. And I got a win, at last--taking in enough chips to end the game on a high note (and save Jean any further embarrassment).

First, I glided over to Steve. Following Suzanne's example, I took a moment to feel him up properly--appreciating how the taut, stretchy fabric strained to accommodate his member. Then I slipped my hand inside the waistband and ran my fingers over his soft, supple skin, thrilling at how his penis twitched in response. Finally it was time, and his briefs had to go.

That done, I sidled over to Charles and gave him a similar treatment. I have to admit I enjoyed both of their cocks. I feel pretty lucky with what I've got in Ben, but in a way he's almost too big. Even though I'm not petite, he always has to be a little careful with me. Steve and Charles were both in the 7-inch ballpark, which I thought was nice. Plenty big enough to please, while still allowing the guy to just go to town when you're both in that kind of mood. Charles's equipment was maybe a half-inch longer, uncut, and sporting a particularly weighty pair of testicles. But both were mighty pretty in my book.

* * * * *

The guys were now all as naked as jay-birds, which meant the roulette portion of the evening was completed. With a girly laugh and an air of faux-bashfulness intended to attract everyone's attention, Suzanne slipped off her hot-pink lingerie too--revealing her massive knockers and plump, perfectly-bare pussy.

The final game would be keno, but again we took a little break first. I was worried about Jean--she was conferring earnestly with Steve in the corner, the ends of her mouth turned down a little. I waited for a pause in their tete-a-tete, and then butted in. "Jeannie, honey, can you give me a hand in the kitchen?"

Once there, I buttonholed her. "You're done for the evening, right?" I spoke in a low voice, presenting it more as a statement-of-fact than a question. "This has been plenty for your first time."

Jean put up a valiant front. "No, we're in. Steve's really enjoying it. He wants to keep going."

I had no intention of beating around the bush. So far, the party had been reasonably light-hearted, but there were far too many warning signs for me to ignore. Jean was uncomfortable, Steve was acting weird, and he and Charles had some kind of pissing match going on. Plus, the usually-dependable Donna was taking her eye off the ball. "Fuck what Steve wants, Jean. If you've had enough, then that's it!"

"No, no," Jean pushed back, "I'm having fun too. It's fine. Please, Gwen, don't make a big deal out of this."

"But...," and then I stopped. I didn't know what else to say. Her jaw was set in a way that signaled grim determination, and I felt like belaboring the point would only make things worse. "Ok, it's up to you. Just remember, you can stop it at any point. I mean that."

"Thanks," she said, mustering a weak, watery smile.

When she'd gone, I tried to shake off the feeling that we were heading for a major derailment. Then I shrugged. I'm not the kind of person to dwell on things that are outside my control. Maybe Donna had the right attitude, and I should just chug a couple more drinks. Anyway, it appeared there was no stopping this train--Jean and Steve would simply have to figure it out for themselves.

Back in the den, I prepped the hopper while Donna handed out the keno pads. "Ok, this is it: our main event. Write down twenty numbers. I'll draw balls, one at a time. If it's blue, it's for the boys; if it's red, it's for the girls. When we have twenty of each color, we'll see how many hits people had. The winning guy and gal each get to take the person of their choice."

The room sizzled with sexual energy. Everyone labored over their lucky numbers, hoping that fortune would favor them. A competitive format like this brought out spicy overtones of tension and anticipation that were absent from our more typical orgies. And the way the room was buzzing, I figured even the losers could expect some seriously hot sex at home afterwards.

Before we started, Jean sidled over to me and spoke in a low tone. "When you said 'take the person of their choice...?'"

"Yeah, honey, that's the finale for tonight--if you win, you have sex with whoever you want. But only if you want to. Or, you know, you could just fool around too."

"And, it can be your spouse...?"

It wasn't usual, but... "Sure Jeannie, that's fine."

"Good." She moved off, and I saw her whispering into Steve's ear.

I started pulling numbers from the hopper. "Blue 26... Red 55..." Slowly the decibel level in the room grew as some people scored hit after hit, while others flagged. Every time Suzanne had a match, she let loose with a delighted squeal; and her sense of excitement quickly proved contagious.

I scanned the group. Charles had an intense expression on his face, as if he could will the right numbers to come out of the spinning basket. Steve looked hungry and I was sure he was still eyeing Donna's naked physique as she rose to mark each draw on the whiteboard. Eddie and Ben were leaning back, relaxed, sharing a side comment once in a while and having a great time. I have to say that even Jean seemed to be having fun. She was quiet, tucked in the corner next to Steve. Her body language was still closed. But that was to be expected--it took time to get used to being unclad around other people. The point was that she was beginning to let go of her cares a little, and allowing herself to become engaged in the game.

Both the men and the women were hoping to get 20 balls of their color first. Five of the first six balls drawn were red, gratifying the ladies, but then blue made a comeback and the gents pulled ahead. It was neck and neck for a while,,, 15 blue and red balls... 16 blue and red... 17 blue and red... but then the last three draws were all blue. The boys let out a raucous, ragged cheer and started comparing sheets.

I don't think Eddie had been paying very close attention, and probably missed a few hits. He only had three marked on his card. Ben did a lot better -- seven. Improbably, however, Charles and Steve both ended up with nine hits.

With keen eyes, they looked at me to arbitrate. I'd prepared for the contingency. "Highest match is the tiebreaker." They scanned their boards.

"64," Charles said. His voice was a little stiff, but still projected confidence.

As soon as he spoke, however, Steve jumped from his seat, pumped his fist in a gesture of victory, and let out a shout that I can only describe as gleeful. "77!" Charles glanced away with a surly face. For a moment I thought he was going to argue some technicality; but with an effort he swallowed his annoyance.

Steve's outburst was a bit unseemly, but I didn't let it derail my emcee shtick. "We have a winner! And his first time playing too... All right, Steve, who's the lucky lady going to be?" Of course, this was purely for form's sake. I believed I knew who the lucky lady was. He and Jean had obviously arranged that if one of them won, they would get it on together. It'd be funny, I thought idly, if their second kid was conceived in my rec room. Would that make me the godmother?

Jean clearly harbored the same expectations I did. From her seat on the sofa, she looked up at Steve expectantly. An awkward mix of shy eagerness and intense embarrassment played over her face as she contemplated the imminent prospect of other people watching her have sex with her husband.

But as so often happens, the male libido threw a giant monkey-wrench into the plan. Instead of beckoning his wife to join him, Steve just stood there, face red, breathing heavily. The muscles of his chest and arms were flexed as if ready to pounce. His cock was fully engorged and rock hard, and struck me in that moment as uncomfortably conspicuous. And, damningly, the man wasn't looking toward Jean. No, his eyes remained fixed on my other best friend.

There was a brief pause; and then he spoke--voraciously, recklessly. "God Donna, you're so... Would you...?" He didn't appear to believe that she would, but he was determined to give it a shot. His dick strained toward Donna, straight as an arrow, as if to punctuate the request.

* * * * *

I reminded myself that all wasn't lost. I had faith in Donna. She's a sensible woman, pragmatic, no-nonsense. She herself had told me that inviting Jean and Steve was a very bad idea. Yes, I'd screwed up, and yes she'd put away several-too-many margaritas, but I was confident she'd find a way to deflect Steve (with as much kindness as possible under the circumstances), and salvage this fiasco.

Imagine my dismay, therefore, when Donna rose wordlessly and sauntered toward the man. I could see at once that alcohol was in the driver's seat now: her smile was just a bit too wide, and her frame swayed perceptibly. There was a catlike glint about her eyes, too--focus narrowed to the point that she wasn't even conscious of the rest of us anymore. Only Steve.

So--with inhibitions lowered and worries set aside, she gave herself over to the electricity that crackled across the room between the two of them. And to be fair, she was playing within the rules we'd all agreed to this evening. When she reached Jean's husband and stood before him, only an inch or so separating their bare skin, Donna signaled her acceptance of his half-articulate proposition by grasping his shaft possessively in the slender fingers of one hand, while reaching her other arm around his neck to pull him down into a passionate kiss.

I was aghast at this development, but I could understand it too. Inebriation was a factor, naturally, but it was more than just that. There was an undeniable sexual chemistry between the pair, and always had been. Moreover, Steve may have been acting like an ass, but physically he had turned out to be very attractive without his clothing. Given all that, and given the extravagance with which he had lusted for Donna all night--ardent, urgent, heedless--I understood why she'd let herself succumb to desire. It was a matter of basic biology. She was only human.

Still, it was no good. I glanced at Eddie, hoping maybe he would intervene. After all, I thought, if some woman had been as ravenous for my spouse, as Steve obviously was for Donna, wouldn't it have made me rethink the idea of sharing just a bit? I knew that if Eddie broke up the paramours now, it would cause a scene and probably end up being a real disaster. Even so, that'd be better than putting a stake through the heart of Jean's marriage, right?