Message-ID: <23018asstr$951912604@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Message-ID: <200003010601.BAA15743@sara.asstr-mirror.org> From: Subject: {ASSM} Surrogate Entertainment (M+/F+)<*> Date: Wed, 1 Mar 2000 07:10:04 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, IceAltar Surrogate Entertainment (M+/F+) Notso Rednek 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. -- --------------------------------------------- This message was sent using One.Net's Mail Man. http://mailman.one.net.au -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+