I’m a huge football fan and every January my wife throws me a Super Bowl party. The year before last, Carolyn invited all my friends and their wives to a lavishly catered lunch. After we’d all eaten, she excused herself and took the wives antique hunting out in the country, leaving us alone with our ball game and an endless supply of beer. We were especially surprised when six stunning hookers arrived at halftime, dressed in nothing but high heels and football jerseys. In the 12 minutes between the first and second halves, every one of us scored.
Well, last year my wife really outdid herself. She planned Super Bowl Sunday to include our four closest friends, two couples with whom Carolyn and I had dabbled in group sex. She told me that she and the two women, Sheri and Patricia, had discussed the entire surprise scenario and that we gentlemen, Jeff, Vince and I, were to just sit back and enjoy the game— and whatever else came our way.
I woke up Super Bowl Sunday to breakfast in bed. Carolyn left me to eat as she prepared for our little party. She had rented one of those jumbo screen televisions and set it up in our living room, having moved all the furniture aside and replacing it with giant, fluffy throw pillows. The room looked ready for an adult size slumber party.
In the adjoining dining room, the table was laden with every imaginable Sunday in front of the TV food: popcorn, pretzels and chips, lunch meat, cheeses and assorted breads, salads, garnishes and crudit s, and a big chocolate cake decorated to resemble a football field. In the center of the gastronomic extravaganza was a party ball full of ice cold beer, which I’ve always said is the major ingredient in a successful Super Bowl party.
Our guests were due to arrive any minute— a half hour or so before kickoff— and Carolyn was massaging my neck, planting firm kisses wherever her hands weren’t and purring sensuous imitations about our impending afternoon of fun. “I want this to be your most exciting Super Bowl ever,” she whispered, transferring her massaging fingers from my neck to my crotch. She ran her tongue around and then into my ear as her hands worked the growing bulge in my pants.
“Do we have time for a quickie before everyone gets here?” I panted, already wound up by my wife’s few minutes of touching and the secret promises of the coming afternoon.
“Well, I suppose we could get in one fast one,” Carolyn replied, raking her nails along my erection, “but I really think you should save your energy for the game.” And with that she turned to add her finishing touches to our Super Bowl spread.
I was about to chase after her and convince her that I had plenty of energy for the game and for a fast, furious fuck on the kitchen counter— and whatever else she had in mind— when the doorbell rang. “Matt, can you get that, please,” my wife called to me from the kitchen. “Sure, honey,” I shouted back, reaching for the doorknob.
It was all four of them and they hugged and kissed their way into the living room. “Wow, what a setup!” Vince complimented as he eyeballed the wide screen TV.
“Yeah,” Jeff added. “This should be almost as good as being in the stadium.”
Sheri and Patricia disappeared into the kitchen to see if they could give Carolyn a hand.
“So,” Jeff said, punching me playfully in the arm, “any idea what the women have on tap for us today?”
“Coors Light, I believe,” I deadpanned
“No, seriously,” Vince whispered, “what’s Carolyn got planned?”
“She hasn’t given me a clue,” I answered, shaking my head. “It’s my big day. It’s supposed to be a surprise. But, how terrible could it be?”
Jeff laughed and added, “I don’t know how the hell Carolyn’s gonna top that hooker halftime show from last year.”
“We shall see,” we mused, and laughed out loud.
“Shall we make ourselves comfortable?” I asked my guests as we moved into the living room.
We became mesmerized by the pre game patter, as we positioned ourselves on one of the big pillows. That is until a more mesmerizing distraction arrived: our wives, clad in nothing but spike heels and football jerseys, just as last year’s hookers had been. They sauntered into the room carrying frozen mugs of beer, the frothy heads dribbling down the frosty glasses.
“Anybody thirsty?” queried Patricia, the shortest of the three, her tiny aerobics rounded ass peeking out from below her jersey. Pat’s a natural blonde and her pubic hair is practically translucent. When she leaned over and offered me my beer, her pale pussy was just about at eye level. I licked my lips and replied enthusiastically, “I am!”
Sheri, who is Vince’s wife, was handing Jeff his cold one. Her mesh jersey was definitely an extra large. Sheri is a zaftig five foot nine brunette who looks like she could be a successful exotic dancer. Her tits are full and round, and every shirt I’ve ever seen her wear becomes a twin peaked tent on her bountiful chest. Her entire body is upholstered in soft pink flesh that feels even better than it looks. It’s just the kind of body you’d expect to feel if you were to fall into a Rubens oil, comfortable and womanly.
Jeff reached up, playfully tweaking Sheri’s nipples under her tented jersey. “Danke shoen, fraulein,” Jeff slobbered appreciatively.
“Bitte shoen,” she replied, turning and giving Jeff a quick flash of her full buttocks as she exited.
My beautiful wife was delivering a frosty Coors Light to Vince, winking at me as she stood over him, her dense black pussy right in his face. “Your beer, rookie,” she said, looking down at him. “Let’s see if you can catch this pass.” And with one hand Vince gingerly relieved her of the slippery mug while his other hand gamely reached between her parted legs.
He dragged his fingers back and forth along the folds of her pussy a few times and said, “I’ve been practicing real, real hard, coach.” He slipped a finger into her hole. “I hope I don’t fumble.”
Carolyn quickly moved off his hand and laughed. “Executing the plays before the coin toss! Typical rookie!” and she joined the other two women back in the kitchen.
Jeff, Vince and I looked at each other, all three of us bearing visible evidence of the effect the ladies’ little “pre game show” had had on us. It was only five minutes till kickoff.
As the ball spiraled into the receiving team’s end zone, the women returned with platters of sandwiches, salads and bowls of munchies. Then, after refilling our beers, they plopped down onto their hands and knees, one gal beside each of us. Carolyn said, “Don’t mind us, gentlemen, we’re just gonna be nice and quiet while you watch the game.”
Now, I don’t have to tell you that it’s just about every guy’s dream to have a naked babe blowin’ him. And here we were on our backs in front of the biggest game of the year with three bare pussies staring us in the face. It was ingenious!
I took a bite of my mile high sandwich, washing it down with a big gulp of beer. I held my fingers against the side of the frosty mug a few seconds, dipped them into my beer and then quickly slipped them into Pat’s proffered cunt. “Ooh! That’s cold!” she exclaimed, almost toppling my beer. Jeff and Vince followed my lead, munching and sipping, poking and tweaking as we watched the first quarter tick away.
At the break, when the between quarter commercials came on, we were in need of further refills, but the ladies had other ideas. Although we’d all maintained hard ons throughout the first quarter, we’d been so intent on the game we hadn’t minded not putting them to use. All of our probing had gotten the girls pretty pumped up. They were more than ready to change end zones.
No sooner had the first Nike ad come on than they were madly tugging at our sweatpants, shimmying them down our outstretched legs and begging for attention. I eagerly complied, climbing onto Patricia’s back and still facing the TV. I winked at the other guys as they moved into position while I slowly teased my cock around Pat’s pussy.
Jeff was the worst. Vince and I watched as he dragged the head of his hard on back and forth across Sheri’s plump behind, purposefully avoiding her cunt. “You’re driving me crazy,” she wailed, and she rotated her hips to follow his meandering cock. “Put that into me, for God’s sake!” And with a pop, he did, sliding back out slowly and then back in again, just as slowly. “Ooh, that is nice,” Sheri cooed, leaning down onto her elbows and pushing her ass up into Jeff’s crotch. Sheri looked back and said, “Just do it.”
Vince was at work on my wife, looking as though perhaps he hadn’t been paying as much attention to the game as Jeff and I had. He was wildly pumping away at Carolyn, with his arms wrapped tightly around her waist and his hips slamming into her tiny ass in short, sharp thrusts. Then he groaned and threw his head back, his ass flexing in that familiar post orgasm pose.
My cock hardened as I watched Vince and Carolyn fuck. And after a few minutes of slipping in and out of Patricia’s accommodating cunt, I spewed my load seconds after Vince’s, crying out shrilly as my orgasm peaked. Somehow we had lost a good portion of the second quarter, but at least our team was ahead! The ladies excused themselves to clean up and refill our beers while the three of us lay on the carpet, somewhat spent.
The ladies came back in as the second quarter ticked down to halftime. We had thought their football jerseys were tantalizing, but, boy, did we love their halftime ensembles! They each wore the Cowboys’ team colors, but they were more like watercolors. Their tiny T shirts were see through blue, their miniskirts were a diaphanous silver and they carried blue and metallic silver pompoms. “Now, for your halftime how!” Patricia chirped. “Ready girls? Let’s get to it.”
They positioned themselves in front of the wide screen TV and performed an enthusiastic and not too badly choreographed dance routine. Their pompoms weren’t the only things they shook. It ended in a flourish with all three women sliding down into splits, their pussies resting on the carpet. We applauded and asked what we could do to show our appreciation.
“Well,” suggested Carolyn, “you’ve all come. I would say it’s our turn, wouldn’t you?” We nodded in agreement and crawled across the carpet to their spread legs. I slopped hungrily at one pussy, my cheerleader leaning back, her legs still open wide. Judging from the sounds on both sides of me, Vince and Jeff were doing the same. Within minutes Carolyn, Pat and Sheri were shouting “Go! Go! Go!” as we worked our tongues into them, lapping like nursing kittens at their dripping cunts.
First, Sheri’s legs started shaking uncontrollably and she wailed, “Oh! Ooh, yesss!” followed by Carolyn’s sharp cries of “Yes! Yes! Yes!” and then Patricia’s comparatively timid “Oo! Oo! Oo!” We congratulated them on their well timed orgasms as they collapsed into a pile of giggles and pompoms.
We washed down the lingering flavors of the ladies’ juices with more cold beer and slapped each other high fives. Our halftime show was definitely more entertaining than anything David Wolper could’ve come up with. We had our own pyrotechnic display right here in t he living room! All six of us settled in with sandwiches, snacks and beer to watch the second half of the game. If I was gonna lose 100 bucks on this, I wanted to see it. We were all naked by this time and we must have made quite a tableau, six oversexed football fans side by side, bare buns pressing against bare buns.
As the last few minutes ticked, the Cowboys were ahead 52 17, a done deal. No money lost. But how were we going to celebrate our victory? “First, the warm up,” Sheri stated in a take charge tone of voice. She asked the three of us to stand while the ladies crawled up to us on their knees and started sucking us off, right out of every man’s blowjob fantasy. We sipped our beers, slid our cocks in and out of our wives’ mouths and wondered what the closing ceremonies would feature.
Our sex continued as the six of us made passionate, friendly, familiar love to one another. We were a chorus of squirming, groaning pleasure enthusiasts, a complete sensory overload of sex. We continued late into the night and well beyond the post game analysis. I completely lost track of who was eating who and who was fucking who and how many times I came. It was just a never ending flow of orgasms and groans and gropes, the smell of sweat and semen and female secretions hanging heavy in the air.
When I woke up it was Monday morning and the six of us were still sprawled in a tangle on the floor. We spent the rest of the day recovering from our sex marathon and nibbling on the leftovers, chattering about how the previous day had definitely been the best Super Bowl any of us had ever experienced. I can’t wait to see the extravaganza Carolyn has in store for us next football season.
— Name and address withheld
