WILD PLEASURE {short erotic stories} Chapter 119: Blowjob(6)

"Are you crazy?"

"Take it or leave it."

"Taken." He stuck out his fleshy hand. We shook. "My name's Chuck. It's going to be a real enjoyable experience, mister, watching you suck my dick."

"I hope your wife gives good head."

"You'll never find out."

"Wait a minute, big shot," his wife said. "Don't I get a say in this?" "Shut up. This is man's business."

Such a lady's man! She fired a stare at him that could have fried his balls. I knew that, win or lose, he was in for a long, long wait till the next time he got between her lips. The ones at either end of her long frame.

He watched the game with even more intensity then, yelling each time his team gained a few yards, groaning at every decent play the opponents made. The barkeep told him he was starting to annoy the other patrons. At a commercial he hurried us up to their room. He didn't want to miss a single second of the game.

The room was much like mine except it had two doubles instead of a king. I sat in a chair while he took over the bed in front of the TV. Wife tried to read on the other bed. Were they even sleeping together? He ordered appetizers and a bunch of beers from room service, and was surprised when I refused his offer of one for me.

"I want to be fully ready for your wife," I said.

 "And I'm gonna piss down your throat," he responded. And to no one, "Where's my fucking beer?"

Neither team could score in the third quarter. My team surprised his at the end by intercepting a pass in the end zone, but he still had plenty to crow about when the fourth started. Room service arrived. He drank his beers and ate buffalo wings with some kind of greasy dipping sauce and smiled a greasy smile.

Then my team scored quickly on the turnover, a long bomb and a missed tackle translating into seven quick ones. And then WU fumbled the kickoff, letting my team get the ball on WU's fifteen. They scored again in a minute. Now they were down by only seven. He started to look worried. I started to look at the wife, who was way more interesting than the game; she wasn't getting much reading done, shaking her head at her husband's discomfort and smiling at me, a smile I could easily read. She appreciated the predicament I'd put hubby in and was enjoying watching him squirm.

Which he did, literally. And soaked his shirt with sweat. And drank more beers, and cursed his team, the idiot coaches, the fat-assed linemen, even the sportscasters and the cheerleaders, who had suddenly turned ugly. WU mounted a long, slow drive that netted nothing but used up eight minutes on the clock. During the drive the wife went into the bathroom. When she came out later she had changed from the conservative tourist dress she'd been wearing into short shorts and a thin blouse. From across the room I could see that she hadn't bothered to put on a bra, because her breasts, which were in proportion to the rest of her tall frame, bounced invitingly. And she'd put on make up. She stretched out again on the bed, showing off beautiful long legs. So I knew what side she was rooting for. And wondered if she were feeling a twitch similar to mine, which had transferred down from my brain to a more operational location.

 When my team got the ball, they moved it down the field adequately, making Chuck groan and curse, but they had to settle for a field goal. With about three minutes left, WU started down the field again, trying to hold onto the ball and their four point lead to the end of the game. They made a first down, staying on the ground, then another. There was a little over a minute left. One more first down would seal the win.

"Get ready to eat my come," he growled at me.

But the fullback slipped in the backfield, leaving them with a third and long situation, just out of field goal range. On the next play the quarterback dropped back to pass.

"No, idiot, don't—" he yelled, but it didn't help. A linebacker from Opponent U. picked off the pass, ran downfield, got a couple of key blocks, and went in for the winning touchdown.

He jumped up and down and cursed and yelled and hurled things at the wall. Basically, he threw a tantrum. An adult.

"Okay," he said to me when he'd calmed down a bit, "Name your price." He was a big guy, and looked bigger standing in front of me.

"I already have."

"No, no, that's off. Here." He pulled out a roll of bills, threw some hundreds on the table.

"I would have kept my side of the bargain." "My wife don't suck other guys' cocks." "Then you'll have to do it yourself."

He pulled a fist back to punch me.

 "Chuck!" His wife had come behind him. She grabbed his arm. "Are you telling me you're going to welch on a bet?"

"It wasn't fair. He cheated. I don't know how but he did. No one can make a bet like that."

"Then why did you take it?" There was fire in her eyes. She looked so good, a big, strong, angry woman with legs that wouldn't quit. I wanted her. "I was there, big mouth, and it looked fair to me. You owe him a blow job."

"Not in a million fucking years."

"Okay then." She stood before me. Those legs were driving me crazy. "It looks like I'm going to pay off your bet. Do you mind?"

"I've been looking forward to it."

She knelt between my legs, swept her hair back, put her hands on my thighs.

"Wait one fucking minute!"

"No!" she spat back at him. "You wait. You're the one that made the bet." She reached for my zipper.

He clenched his fists, almost made to grab her, or maybe me, but stopped himself. This woman apparently had power over her husband. Maybe a pre-nup clause if he ever hit her. He turned his back. "I can't watch this. I'm going down to the bar."

"No you're not! Chuck Olds, you walk out that door now and you'll never see me again." She pointed at the bed. "You sit right there and take your medicine. I'm going to give this guy the best blow job he's ever had, and you're going to watch every second of it. You understand?"

 He sat at the edge of the bed. I think he would have preferred the electric chair.

"Now then, honey," she said in a sugary sweet Southern voice as she pulled down my zipper, "Tell me how you like it. Don't be shy. Just mention your favorite things and Mrs. Charles Olds will do them." Out popped my cock. "Mm, nice."

She gave me head. Very good head. Excellent head. Not only did she know how to please a man with her mouth, she obviously was enjoying the sensual experience herself. What a delight it was to look down on the beautiful woman whose mouth I'd won, a yard away from the man who'd lost it, probably a long time before the football season.

"Come on, woman," he said, "Do him. Get it over with."

She pulled me out of her mouth. "You shut up over there. Just because you can't last, doesn't mean he can't."

"Bitch."