Surprise Dinner Party

After the shock of walking into the house from work and seeing my girlfriends, after the kisses and hellos and a scolding, affectionate look at my husband, I sat at the patio table and was handed a beer and got the details. My silly husband, bless him, knew how I enjoyed my nights with the girls, without our husbands, just chatting and eating things we shouldn't and laughing at our lives. He had conspired with Mona, my best friend of the group, to get the girls to my house for a night. Mona was endearingly social and outgoing; always had been, and she was the unspoken leader of our group, always the one to make plans, to get us together. She did everything with a grace and enthusiasm that made you want to follow, it was natural for her. You always knew, when were with her, that you had her complete attention and was, for those minutes, the center of her world. She and I had been close since high school, the rest of the girls were friends just as long, but Mona and I were always closer. It was her way. So of course my husband had turned to her for assistance.

We lived a distance away from the rest of my girlfriends, and normally for these occasional gatherings would have to drive to the area they all lived. He brought them to me, without my knowing, after several schedule changes and much confusion, worked with Mona to find a night they could all be there, and settling for as many as could be available. He had done the cleaning, the shopping and all the cooking, kept it secret for months. What a dear!

The girls were at least a full drink ahead of me, having arrived an hour before I got home. After greetings and kisses I sat and picked at the trays of appetizers and crackers he had laid out, way too much for this small group, and he excused himself to begin the dinner preparations which would be served inside, upstairs. As he walked up the deck steps to the kitchen, the admiring whispers and jests, some none too subtle, began.

"I can't believe he did this..."

"You are so lucky...."

"Really, the food is terrific...."

"I wish my husband..."

"You better take good care of him..."

"I will if she doesn't..." "God, he's so handsome, and ...."

"Not fair, that great body, and all this, for you...."

"Come on, we're friends, you could share..."

I had known for years that I was, what my dear Jeff had titled, 'the winner'. It's what he called himself when we were out, after mingling with the crowd, or later, on the way home. "I was the winner, again," he would tell me, whispering the words in my ear if we were still there. It was his way of saying that I was the prettiest woman there, the winner in the contest of husbands. We would smile, and I would thank him, for I knew he meant it, even if I disagreed. He loved me, and his vision was influenced by his heart.

But I knew that the reality was that I was the winner. And my friends, bless them, all knew it, too.

Not that my friends had all married losers. Okay, some had, and others were less than attractive, and others had fallen out of love, or had just settled into lives together. But Jeff and I, we were more in love now than we had ever been. Granted, he WAS incredibly handsome, with a dazzling, honest smile, and funny and charming when he warmed past his shyness, and he kept himself fit. Furthermore, not only had our sexual appetite not dwindled in the second half of our forties, but it seemed to take on a new freedom of exploration and communication. We tried new things, teased each other, talked more openly about sex. It kept us young, I thought, and youth kept us alive and in love. I was the most happily married of my friends, and to the most handsome and attractive of the husbands, and they all knew it, and teased me about it every time we were together.

And now he had done this thing for me, to get my friends here, something I would never do for myself. And he had done all the work spectacularly, and he had impressed the hell out of my girlfriends, even more than usual. And they were not, for all their flaws, shy about their feelings. They joked, for certain, but there was always more than a hint of truth in their jests, and now I heard a pang of jealousy underlying their compliments.

Jeff came back down the stairs, dressed in his dirty jeans and an untucked collared shirt, smiling genuinely for being both pleased with himself and for seeing me happy, and looking for all the world like the perfect man, and my heart swelled with pride as he dazzled them with his charm, placing the last tray of appetizers before us. I loved him, and he loved me, and even as he dazzled the group I could feel it from him. After the party tonight, I would show him how much I appreciated his efforts.

He raised his hand for their attention and we all silenced our chattering. "Dinner will be in forty five minutes," he crooned in his melodious voice, with a trace of prideful smile. Did I mention he was perfect? "Will you be needing anything before I go up?" We were sitting downstairs, in the outside den, we called it, the area under the deck with the table and chairs that he had protected from the rain and built decorative walls on two sides. I had bragged about his skills while he was upstairs.

"More wine," Felice called to him in her hoarse, throaty voice, "and can you wear an apron?" We all laughed, and he smiled his cute smile, knowing (because I told him many times) that they all loved him to death; I told him so all the time. He never let it go to his head, and I think the information made him somewhere between disbelieving, afraid and curious.

"I'll be right back," he told the group, and headed up to fetch another bottle. Murmurs of admiration again followed his departure, and then we descended again into our ceaseless prattle. We heard his steps returning, and I turned to see his feet coming down the stairs. Ever the one for fun, he had, in fact, donned an apron from the kitchen, the one he'd gotten from a vendor at work who sold cookbooks. It was a rich burgundy, and he had it tied at the waist, illustrating his slender body which was not lost on my friends. Of the husbands, only a few remained fit.

The apron got the expected amount of laughs and comments as he poured, including Felice who called out as he returned up the stairs, "No, I meant just the apron and boxers!" to everyone's entertainment. Jeff, not to be out-quipped, stopped on the steps and leaned his head under the deck to answer.

"I'm not wearing any," he intoned with a dry smirk, to hoots and hollers, "and you should have been here this afternoon, then, when I was wearing ONLY the apron!" The cheers of encouragement followed him up the stairs.

"Hot damn," Mona muttered beside me, too loudly for my ears alone, "if only."

"I hear that," Felice replied, then called out to me, joking. "Seriously, Dee, can you get him to wear just the apron?" There were a few whoops and cheers from the rest of the girls, and then the more lurid comments started.

"I'd like to see that..."

"...ass looks so nice..."

"I'd do him in a second..."

"Maybe tonight Dee will share him, let us have him..." to lots of laughs and good-natured cheers, and then Mona leaned into my ear and said, "Really, Dee, Jeff is so hot, how can you keep your hands off him? You better watch these girls!" She snickered as she said it, and I laughed with her. "Maybe I should call Mark," she laughed with an exaggerated leer; Mark is her husband. "And tell him not to wait up, and I'll stay and we'll have a threesome!" It was Mona's second-longest running joke, and I laughed as I always did. The longest joke between us was her telling me that I looked so good that if she ever went lesbian it would be with me. She'd being saying it since seeing me at her wedding. She's a hoot.

I got caught up in the conversation then; there were at least three going on at any time as we all caught up with each other. It was traditional to all get together a few times a year, and having known each other for so long, we picked up right where the last one left off, relating stories of family and friends and work, kids and events, hardships and pleasures. In due time Jeff returned and called us for dinner, and we helped bring the leftover appetizers upstairs. He had set the table and even lit the candles, my dear man, and the girls cooed and complimented, and begged him to serve, but he declined, amused, and withdrew, leaving us to our chatter and dinner.

Towards the end of the meal Mona boisterously demanded the third bottle of wine be opened, a slur evident in her voice, and I wondered if she had been drinking too much, or started on an empty stomach. We all continued talking, never running out or slowing when we got together, just leaping from one topic to the next and endorsing each other's feelings. But within the hour Mona was at my side, asking if she could lie down a while. I got her to my daughter's room; she was out for the night, and told Mona she could stay over if she needed. She had come with three others, making the far drive as a group. As she settled onto the bed, I wondered if she'd be sick. I lined a wastebasket with a plastic bag and left it by the bed, then rejoined the group.

Well, Mona was always the catalyst of the conversation, and without her, the other three from far away began slowing; we seemed suddenly to run out of steam and new topics without her. Some girls began clearing glasses and plates, and within an hour of losing Mona they were standing, and kissing goodbye. There was a lot of "tell Jeff thanks" and "I love him" and smiles and we-have-to-do-this-again's. And then they were gone, and I went downstairs to the den to find Jeff.

He was at the television, sitting stretched across the couch, and I had him move his legs up so I could sit, and he put his legs over mine. I took his hand and thanked him.

"Was the food okay?" he asked. He knew I was happy with his event, and I could see the satisfaction on his face, the pleasure he took from seeing me happy with my friends.

"Delicious; everything was perfect."

"Everyone have fun?"

"Yes, they all said thanks as well. They love you. Except Mona. She's in Linda's room. She might have had too much." I smiled. "I was the winner, by the way."

He grinned. "Ready for bed?"

Boy, was I. Between my gratitude and the admiration of my friends I was ready to have at him right there on the couch. "Let me check on Mona," I told him. "The girls helped me clean." We kissed, a little hotly; I let him know that I wanted him, and he confirmed, tongues tussling delicately. We got up and made our way upstairs, locking up the house on the way. I can't relax if there are doors unlocked.

I watched his ass as he walked down the hallway to our room, my hand on the doorknob of our daughter's room. He was gorgeous and sexy, and I wanted him to take me, hard and fast and completely, the way I like it. I had a flashing vision of giving myself to him, allowing him inside me, feeling him enter and fill me, and I flushed with excitement. I turned the knob and stepped into the room. Mona was sitting up in the bed, pillows propped behind her. She looked fully recovered and smiled at me.

"Are they all gone?"

"Yeah, I told them we would drive you..."

"Damn!" she chirped, swinging her legs from the bed, "I thought they'd never leave! Finally!" She stood and started for the door, her hair tousled and clothes mussed from laying in the bed. But I was in the doorway, and hadn't moved, and she stopped at me, looking expectantly into my face.

"What..." I blinked with confusion, wondering why she was no longer slurring. "I thought you... " And then she kissed me. My muddled brain didn't register at first, still struggling with a Mona that was not drunk, and my brain whirled as her face was suddenly in mine, her lips on mine, hot and urgent, her hand behind my neck, under my hair, pulling my face to hers as her lips caressed mine, teasing and loving and soft. I stood frozen with surprise, near shock, as my brain reeled in sensory overload, too much to comprehend. I gasped, and as my mouth opened, she pressed in, opening hers, and I felt my long-time friend's tongue slip in and touch the inside of my mouth, so slight, so wonderful, and a tingle ran from my lips to the back of my head where her hand touched the nape of my neck. My eyes cleared and I saw hers, smoky and lidded, looking into my own. I became aware of our bodies touching, her other hand at my back, her breast pressing to mine, our thighs fitted together as she kissed me. Not panicked, but immobilized by the sudden situation so far from my expectations and frame of reference, I was unable to react until, reeling in confusion, I fell back against the doorframe, our lips parting.

She stepped to me, looking into my face, an expression of smoldering desire barely registering in my head. "What..." I managed, my lips still recalling the contact of her tongue, trying to process the sensation. Her hand rested on my hip. "Mona, what... What are you doing?"

"You," she said softly. "And Jeff. And me." My ears heard the words, confused, but my eyes focused on her lips, the way they opened and moved as they formed the simple words, a delicate dance of soft tissue. My own lips recalled the touch of hers, her tongue touching my mouth, and I licked my lips involuntarily, tasting her. I struggled for a response, still not comprehending, not wanting to comprehend. Afraid, but not. She was my friend, my closest and dearest friend. She had kissed me.

"But," I stammered, "but those are jokes." There were hundreds of words in my head, but that was all my mouth could form.

"At first," she told me, "but not for a while, now," she said, stepping into me and pressing her body against mine. My arms hung limply at my sides as she pressed me against the doorframe, the hand at my hip snaking to my lower back, the other suddenly at my face, stroking my cheek lightly. I think I flinched. Her face was inches from mine and I felt her breath on my skin, could smell her perfume, and something else. My body sent familiar signals to my brain, confusing in the context. "I want him tonight. I want you, too." Her eyes held mine, imprisoned by her gaze and my confusion as she leaned to me and kissed me again, just a touch of her lips on mine. "I want you both, together, tonight." Her eyes gleamed wetly and my breath caught as realization struck. "Don't be afraid, Dee," she whispered, sensing my tremble. "You'll love it, you'll see."

And she pressed herself to me then, kissing me again, her soft lips on mine, one hand at the side of my face, and I froze again, overwhelmed by the sudden unfamiliar situation. I did not stop her, and she did not stop; her lips touched and caressed mine, and I breathed in her breath, struggling to come to grips with the situation, and then I felt her tongue, the tip licking my lips. "I have wanted this, so much, so long now," she whispered into my mouth, and my brain struggled to understand, fighting my body as it tried to respond. "I want you, I want you both." And then I realized my tongue was touching hers, my lips were parted. Still I struggled inside, then recognizing my reaction, I pulled away.

"I can't," I said, my whisper weaker than I intended. A tremble of fear stole through me as I thought of Jeff, still awake, waiting for me in our bedroom. What if he came out, saw us kissing in the doorway? I tried to imagine his reaction; lust, fury, incomprehension?

"You will," she told me, and I felt my resistance falter. "You must. I need this," she said, but there was no pleading, only statement of fact. "I want him, and you. Share him with me," came her hoarse whisper. "It will be so good, you'll see." I felt my will slipping. I wanted Jeff, needed Jeff tonight. He was right there, in our room, probably already naked, waiting. What would he say when I walked in with Mona? And why was I even considering allowing the possibility? I felt Mona's hand take mine, lifting my powerless arm. She moved, and I followed, dumbstruck. In a daze I saw her lead me to our bedroom door, my feet moving, not knowing why. Her hand was hot in mine. I saw her look back at me, smiling with conspiratorial glee and accomplishment. I saw her hand on the doorknob, and then she was leading me inside.

I saw Jeff scramble to cover his naked form, his cock flopping between his legs as he scrambled for the covers. I heard his stuttered apologies and shock, but they were cut off suddenly as Mona took me in her arms and kissed me again, at the foot of our bed. I was kissing her back, not knowing why, feeling my desire for Jeff between my legs, wanting his body, feeling only Mona's against mine.

"Holy shit," I heard him say from the bed. Mona pulled her lips from mine, and turned me to face Jeff, slipping behind me, her arms circling my waist, her head at my neck.

"Yes, Jeff," she said, her lips in my ear. "Holy shit, indeed. Tonight we are going to fulfill my fantasy. I hope it's one of yours." I watched his eyes open wide and his mouth dropped open, silent. "All of us. Together." Her words sent a tremble though me, and I wondered why, but couldn't find the strength to resist. "Please say you're interested, that you want this, too. Dee is struggling a little." I felt her hands slip up my front, and she held my breasts. I heard a sharp breath, and realized it was my own. I felt so exposed, so vulnerable, as my best friend caressed my breasts for my husband. I saw his indecision on his face, but the tenting sheet in his lap held unmistakable meaning.

"See that," Mona hissed in my ear, "he wants it; wants us both." Her tongue licked my earlobe, then circled inside, making me sigh and close my eyes. "and I want you both." One hand slipped to my waist and slid up under my blouse, up my stomach, her fingertips touching my skin. The other left my breast and began unbuttoning me; I opened my eyes to see Jeff, his uncertainty and surprise replaced with unadulterated lust. He wanted this. Mona wanted this. I wanted to resist; I never dreamed of it, never wanted it. But it was here, and my body betrayed me. The top of my blouse was opened, and her other hand pushed my bra up my chest, and I felt feminine, insistent fingers grip my tit, a fingertip flicking the nipple.

"Mona, what..." But that was all the objection Jeff could muster, and at that moment I wasn't sure I wanted him to object anymore. Mona finished unbuttoning my top, both hands now caressing my breasts. It was heavenly, and I was afraid, but powerless to stop her, and not sure I wanted to.

"It's not a dream, Jeff." Mona told him. Her hands were under my breasts and she slid them up, presenting my tits to my husband. Jeff was sitting up now, the sheet pooled at his waist, his erection plain in his lap. Mona's finger and thumb grasped my nipples and teased, then pulled and pinched, and I let out a low moan, staring at my husband. "She's so hot for you, Jeff. So am I." She released one nipple and her hand was suddenly between my legs, pressing my jeans crotch into my pussy. I gasped. "And I'm hot for Dee, too." Her words chilled me, thrilled me. I was being molested by a woman, my friend, in front of my husband. "Come here, Jeff; suck her pretty tits.

Oh, god, I wanted him to, but at the same time I knew that if he moved there was no stopping this night, and I didn't know where it would lead. I looked at him; I don't know what he saw in my eyes. He hesitated only a second, and then scrambled to the foot of the bed, naked and hard, his body exposed to me, to Mona. I saw a flash of eager desire on his face as it approached the breast Mona offered him, and then his lips were on my nipple, and he sucked, hard. I felt a surge of passion run through my chest to my pussy, where Mona was pressing me still. My hands found his head, and I held him there, feeling his lips, his tongue, then his teeth. My head fell back on Mona's shoulders and I groaned out loud as desire swept through me.