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Subject: {ASSM} Surrogate Entertainment (M+/F+)<*>
Date: Wed, 1 Mar 2000 07:10:04 -0500
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Surrogate Entertainment (M+/F+)
Notso Rednek <palmccNOpaSPAM@one.net.au.invalid>
The very best kind of stripper you can hire, I belatedly discover,
is the kind that, after the three-car pile-up, calls from casualty
to say she can't make it. What a trouper. The professionalism
didn't help that there was now no stripper for Pete's birthday
party. Everything else was going like clockwork. Eleven couples
present and correct and working through the booze towards a buzz.
Birthday boy due in five minutes, stripper due in fifteen except
that they were wiring her jaw and putting her leg in plaster
fifteen miles away. Disappointment. Took forever to organise.
Eleven couples gathered together on a Sunday afternoon, secret
kept from the birthday boy--the only bachelor in the whole group.
And a professional cutie hired to embarrass the hell out of him in
front of all his friends, who'd been looking forward to it
tremendously. I found lots of faces looking at me for leadership.
It was my house and mostly my idea anyway. "Only one thing for
it," I said, "One of you girls will have to take over."
Stunned silence. Roars of protest from some wives but not,
interestingly, all. Roars of protest from some husbands but not,
interestingly, all. I waited for it to be all over. "Think about
it. Eleven in the ballot. Only one chance in eleven you'll be
chosen."
Thoughtful silence. "Think about what fun it will be for ten of
you. Much better than the original plan," I said. Devilish
advocacy was my major. Malicious Louise, reputedly the
least-married wife present, had got there already. "What a hoot,"
she laughed. "Damn, let's do it."
Semi-pandemonium. Only semi: some of us were definitely
interested. "Wait a minute," said Carol loudly, interrupting. "Let
me see if I've got this straight. One of us will take off her
clothes in front of us all and do something lecherous, messy and
highly visible to big old Pete while he's tied down on the coffee
table. That was the plan, wasn't it?"
"Yes," I confirmed, "That's the plan, all right."
It looked like an argument was going to develop. I didn't want
anyone arguing us out of this. "Look," I said, "there's no time to
discuss the fine points. Pete will walk in any minute. Are we
going to do this?"
"Yes," said Louise, instant ally, "I say, 'Yes'. I'll get 10
playing cards and a joker."
She turned to the wives. "It's one for all," she said. "Anyone
says no, we're all out. If we say we're in then we're in, though.
No backing out, joker gets the job, end of story."
Another pause for more thought. Feet shuffled. Eyes looking
anywhere except at anyone else. "Personally, I can't wait," said
Louise. It's going to be the best thing this year."
She was good. Her leadership skills must have been the terror of
the playground at school. I wasn't going to ruin it by saying
anything. "Anyone saying no?" she asked, remorselessly. There was
a fair degree of doubt but no-one was going to be the spoil-sport.
"All right," said Louise. "So be it. We go forward. Let it not
be me, is all I ask."
At this point, Pete arrived. "Pete! Ol' buddy boy! Happy
Birthday!" Everyone surged towards him, totally overdoing the
welcome. He was puzzled but not, initially, suspicious and
accepted his first beer happily. He really should know us better
by now. Louise went off into the kitchen, beckoning the wives to
follow. "What are they up to?" asked Pete, swilling back the
lager. "Off to discuss recipes," I said firmly. "Let's us talk
about the football."
Pete was now suspicious. "They're not the recipes type," he
pointed out. "Look," I said, my duplicitous voice sinking to a
confidential whisper, "they're fixing up a little surprise for
you. Be a sport--don't spoil it."
You can always rely on Pete to be a sport. "Give me another beer,
then" he said amiably and scooped up some peanuts. There was a
scream from the kitchen. "Ah-ha!" I thought. Louise appeared
suddenly, looking slightly flustered. I went to her but she
avoided me. "Now, big boy," she said to Pete, in a determined
manner, giving me an odd sidelong glance, "we've got a surprise
for you." He had the good sportsmanship, the sucker, to try and
looked surprised. "I need you to sit here," she said, and plonked
him down on the end of the coffee-table. "Thank you kindly, sir,"
she said. "Now... get him, boys!"
Before he could react, his ankles were roped to the table legs and
he found the beer snatched from his grasp. We laid him flat on
his back on the little table and cuffed his wrists together
underneath. "You bastards!" he shouted, "What's going on?"
"Now, settle down," rapped Louise, "You're going to enjoy this."
He subsided obediently under the born leader's voice of command,
like a good-natured Labrador. She scuttled back to the kitchen,
again giving me that odd look--not wanting to catch my eye.
Curious, I went too. There was an embarrassed shuffling when I
arrived. Louise seemed disconcerted to see me and I got the
feeling she wished I'd leave. "So," I said, "who got the joker?"
No-one wanted to answer. Finally, Jenny said quietly, "It was
me."
Jenny. My wife, Jenny. That Jenny. I hadn't seen that coming.
Hell and damnation. What to do? I looked at her. She looked
cornered and miserable. "Come along, missy," said Louise. "All for
one, remember?"
"I don't want to," whispered Jenny, almost whining. She looked to
me for support. I drew her to one side. "If you didn't want to,
why didn't you speak up?" I asked. "Yes, why?" said the combative
Louise, appearing at my elbow. I tried to brush her aside but
she's not the brushable type. "I didn't think I'd be picked,"
mumbled Jenny, barely audible. "Too late to go back now," said
Louise. Her manipulating voice grew deliberately louder so
everyone in the kitchen could hear. "You mean you were prepared
to let everyone else in for it but not you?"
There was an aghast rumble and indignant whispering broke out.
"All for one" had temporarily collapsed. According to plan, Jenny
gave in. She looked at me resignedly and turned to Louise. "I'm
up for it. I guess."
Indignation was quickly replaced by cat-like smugness from the
good sports with good luck. Jenny caught the mood. Her chin went
up, the way it does, and she beckoned me over. "Listen," she said,
"I'm going to do this. I don't know what to do or how far I can
take it. But I know one thing. I'm going to turn this around,
okay? These bitches will end up jealous I got the joker and they
didn't. Okay?"
"Ummmm. Okay, I guess."
"You only guess, you bastard? Look here, I'm the one who's doing
this. It was you bloody bright idea!"
"Sorry. It's okay. Do what you have to do. Do your best."
But I didn't feel good about it. I gave a brave little, "If you
can, I can" shrug but I had a ball of freezing ice in the pit of
my stomach. She nodded briefly. "Fix up the music," she said, and
vanished upstairs with the conniving Louise. I went back into the
front room. "What's going on?" said the pinioned Pete. Everyone
ignored him. They were too interested in me. "What's going on?"
said Andrew quietly. "It's Jenny," I said. "Ooooh, shit." But he
still had time to look relieved that it wasn't his wife. Bastard.
The wives had now filtered back and they automatically stood round
the walls, leaving a space round the coffee table. Meantime, I did
the damn music. "What's going on?" asked Pete, again. No-one took
any notice. Again. Louise scampered in, looking knowing. She
cast an appraising eye over her supporting cast, gave a little
approving nod and hit the button. My-wife-the-stripper's cue to
enter. I was a little surprised to see that she was wearing the
same, simple, buttoned-through dress as before. But she now had
high heels, black stockings and much more make-up. Moving to the
music, with bumps and grinds, starting embarrassed but getting
more brazen, she took centre stage to a round of applause and the
obligatory cries of "Get 'em off, baby!" She toured the room,
vamping each man a little, blowing kisses, touching a little,
winking, seductively licking her lipsticked lips. I got a
crotch-squeeze, an admiring gasp and a theatrical widening of the
eyes. Very flattering. Jealous cat-calls from the other husbands.
Jenny then sauntered over to Pete, the main attraction. She stood
at the foot of the table between his roped legs. He looked at me,
uncertain. I had no help to give him. His eyes went back to her
as she lifted her left leg and wriggled the toe of her shoe into
his crotch. He looked up at her with wide eyes as she poked him
slowly and deliberately. She smiled down at him. "Later," she
said. But for the music, silence. Tension. Anticipation. She had
them on a hook already. My Jenny. She turned and approached
Andrew, the nearest male, and pointed to the top button on her
dress. He undid it and dropped his hand to the next. She stopped
him, shifting his hand and moved to the next man. Four men and
four buttons later she reached me. Her black bra was peeking out.
She considered me for a moment with a faint smile on her face and
an unfamiliar look in her eye. As my hand came out, she bypassed
me and moved on to Ken. He undid the button and on she moved
again. When the dress was unbuttoned she moved to the centre and
eased it off. She bundled it and threw it to me and I caught it.
I found I was holding my breath. She looked good. No woman is
ever content with the state of her body but she was just fine. Her
black, close-cropped hair, her pale skin, her grey eyes, her trim
figure in black bra and panties. The dark stockings; the sort that
stay up on their own because they have lace-trimmed elastic at the
top. And the shiny black high heels. She looked very good. She
turned four ways, relaxed in her stance, and moved back to Pete.
She sat next to him on the table, bent her head and poked her
tongue into his ear. She reached down and slowly unzipped the fly
on his trousers. She stood up and looked down at him. "Later,"
she said. I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was
looking at me again. There was no way in hell that I was going to
catch his eye, maybe ever again. This undressed woman, my wife,
had built up a sense of tense expectation which no professional
stripper could have matched. I did not know what she was going to
do. None of us did. Neither did she, I suspected, as again I
noted that unfamiliar look in her eye. Then, as she stood before
us, I saw a tiny tremor pass through her. Yes, I thought. I knew
that little shudder and it explained things. Jenny was deeply and
seriously aroused. She walked briskly, heels clicking on the
polished wooden floor, around the perimeter of the watchers and
back to the centre. She halted, deliberately and theatrically.
Then, in a flurry, she reached around, unclipped her bra, drew it
down her arms and threw it at me. Without pausing, she drew her
pants down her legs, stepping out of them carefully in her high
heels and flicked them to me in a backhand toss. She straightened
and stood, naked but for the stockings and the shoes, and swept
her eyes around the group. She went back to Pete and stood beside
him, hands on hips, considering. He turned his head, looking up
at her body; her small, dark nipples standing out sharply and the
tufted triangle of her black pubic hair. "No," she said to him,
shaking her head. "Later."
Instead, she walked over to Andrew and drew him into the centre of
the room. "Put your hands anywhere you want," she said to him. She
reached up her hands, pulled his head down and clasped him deeply
in a kiss. It lengthened and his hands came around to caress her
bottom. She had one arm around his neck, holding him in. The
other unzipped his trousers. I heard a sharp intake of breath in
the room as she snaked her hand inside. After a moment she broke
the kiss and stood back, her hand still in his pants. She was
smiling, was Jenny, and I thought I saw a glint of triumph in her
eyes. She withdrew her hand, zipped him up and pushed him gently
in the chest, dismissing him. She crooked her finger at Craig,
summoning him. Short, stocky Craig, grinning broadly, stepped
forward and cupped her breasts with his hands. She leaned into
him, kissing him, and she unzipped him and slid her hand into his
trousers. I wanted my turn badly. I ached for it. Even though it
was Jenny, it was a Jenny I barely knew and I wanted her like all
the men in the room wanted her. But when it came to me in the
line, she slid her eyes past and looked smokily at Ken. He cupped
her pubic mound and plainly inserted his index finger into her
vagina. She dropped her hand, drew him out and up, and rubbed his
finger across her lips. Then she darted her head forward and
kissed him firmly. Somebody laughed, a short bark. She completed
the circle, having curled her fingers around the stiff dicks of
every man in the room except mine. And Pete's. She turned to
him. "Now," she said. "the birthday boy." She stepped onto the
low table and stood astride him. The weather was no warmer than
pleasant but he had sweaty blotches on his shirt. Abruptly she sat
on his chest and the wind rushed out of him in a gasp. She leaned
forward on her elbows and dangled her breasts in his face. Then
she rose and stepped to the floor and walked around, quick-clack
on her high heels, between his legs. She unbuckled his belt and
dragged his trousers and then his underpants down to his ankles.
"Pete has been tied down for too long," she said, dropping to her
hands and knees. "Look, he's gone all stiff."
His penis was hard against his abdomen, thickish and blunt. Jen,
my Jen, picked it up in her hand and pointed it at the ceiling. On
her hands and knees, and I could see the tufts of hair between her
legs, she bent her head to it, her mouth opening and her lips
rounded. She looked up at us, sideways. "Who wants me to do
this?" she asked. There was a chorus of male encouragement. She
considered, her hand wrapped around his shaft. "I think all the
girls should give Pete a birthday kiss," she said. More male
encouragementment. "Like this." She rose and went to Pete's face
and kissed him on the lips, cradling his head. "And then like
this." She returned to her place between his legs, bent her head
and took his erect penis into her mouth. She bobbed her head
three or four times, lifted it away and looked back, smiling
broadly. "Come on, girls. One at a time."
Nobody moved. "Oh well," said Louise, eventually "I guess I helped
get us into this."
She walked forward, squatted and kissed Pete on the mouth. "Happy
birthday, sweetie," she said. Then she moved beside Jen, grinned
at her for a moment, took hold of his penis and bent down to put
her lips over it briefly. She stood up and already Sharon was
kissing Pete on the mouth. The girls were moving around, almost
lining up. In a few minutes it had been completed. "Just think,"
Jen said to Pete, standing beside him. "Somebody might ask you
what you got for your birthday. You can say you got 11 blow jobs
from your friends' wives. Plus, of course, a nice friendly fuck
from one of them too."
"Ah," I thought, she was going to do it. She reached and dragged
the trousers from his legs and withdrew his wallet from the back
pocket. She opened it and fished around to produce a flat
package. "Ah-ha!" she said triumphantly. "It is true, after all,
what they say. Every bachelor carries a spare condom."
She unwrapped it, knelt down and rolled it down his stiff penis.
She straddled him on her knees, grasped him and carefully lowered
herself. Gradually, she sank down, slowly, all the way. Then,
with a toss of her head, she started to fuck him. Watching his
eyes, she moved with a comfortable rhythm and he responded,
clenching his buttocks and thrusting as best he could. The table
creaked in protest. Funnily enough, he wasn't looking at me any
more. "Bet you never thought it would come to this," she said to
him. "Then again, neither did I."
That was enough to get him over the edge. He shuffled his feet
and banged a heel on the floor but said nothing. His head went
back with a sigh and a smile to rest on the table. Jen rose
quickly. "Show's over," she said to us all. She took her clothes
from me, grabbed my hand and pulled me along with her to the
stairs. She turned back to them. "One more thing," she said.
"That business we sometimes discuss about who's got the biggest
cock. Well, now I know."
"So who?" asked Karen. "Find out for yourself," Jen said. We went
into the bedroom. "Whew," she said. "I didn't think I was going
to make it."
"I had no idea you were going that far."
"What makes you think I did? Anyway, now you have to fuck me.
Hard and fast, because I badly need to get off."
"What, now?"
"Right now, mister. Or I do it myself."
I pushed her to the bed, tearing my trousers open and sank into
her. After several hard thrusts she came quickly, and
thunderously, shuddering and panting. "Wow, I really needed that,"
she said. And then, looking over my shoulder, "Shit! How long
have you been there?"
I twisted my head. It was Louise, standing inside the closed door
with her hand still on the handle. "Long enough," she said
brightly. The woman has no shame. Jenny rolled away from me. "I have
to take a shower," she said, "Do me a favour, Louise, and finish
him off for me. I was too quick for him today."
She grabbed her clothes, went into the bathroom and shut the door.
"Honestly, the things one does in friendship's name..." said
Louise to me, eyeing my stiff, wet cock. She slipped the lock on
the door and came towards me. "Let's have those trousers off for a
start," she said.
--
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