Monday, August 31, 2015

Screw Him (2)

“You're early! Was the play that bad?” Brenda was in our kitchen putting away leftover snacks she'd absconded from her event.

“Worse than bad,” I groaned, tossing the theater program on the table. “How were the old folks?” Clamping her buttocks, I pulled her toward me for a smooch. “Did they enjoy their tea dance?”

“Yes, they did. That little swing band we hired even had me trying to jitterbug along with them.”

“Hope you didn't break anything.” 

“You mean at the senior center? Or inside me?”

“Both.” Wrapping my arms around her, I swayed back and forth, slow-dancing to the hum of our open-door refrigerator light. “Suzie hated what was happening on stage worse than I did.” Twirling us within range, I closed the fridge door with my knee. “Thankfully, she was ready to leave after the second act. So happy to see her house, she was, and as you can see she kissed me all over before I could even park in their driveway.” 

“Yes,” Brenda stopped our dance so she could inspect my face. “You will notice I gave you time to explain this mess.”

“Is it a mess?”

“You haven't looked?”


“Why are your lips red, Mike, my darling? Been biting them?”

“Nuh-uh. Have you showered yet?”

“No, silly. I just got home. Are you hungry?”

“Everywhere. Go fix us a bubble bath. I'll pick through the booty you brought home.” 

Naked and in our tub, Brenda leaned against me, her reddish-brunette hair tickling my nose, her buttocks between my thighs and the small of her back nestled into my belly. "Okay, Mike," she purred. "Tell me about Richard theThird."

“Oh, please,” I licked the back of her neck, nibbled her ear. “The only point of interest was how he killed husbands so he could marry their wives.”

“Is that what you're planning for Eddie? So you can have Suzie?”

“Hardly.” My soap-slimy hands massaged Brenda's belly, moved to her breasts while my thumbs stimulated her nipples. “But it gave Suzie some ideas. Made her horny, too.” 

“How do you know that?”

“She couldn't sit still. On the way home she told me why.”


“Eddie. She wants to murder him, and she wants us to help.” 

Brenda scooted forward and turned. “Oh, Mike! Really, now, be serious.” 

“I am. She wants me to get him in a wrestling hold so you two can beat the crap out of him.” 

“I still don't believe you. She can't be that angry with him. And besides, why would that make her horny?”

“I don't know. Are you horny? Thinking about it? Poor Eddie, all stretched out and primed for a beating? That big ol' hairy chest of his? That fat slab of meat bulging in his jock strap?”

“All right, Mike. That is enough.” She stood, opened the drain.

I reminded her, “You didn't answer my questions.” 

She never did answer verbally, just turned on the water and ran it through the shower head, rinsed herself while motioning with her finger for me to do the same. After toweling, I followed her to our bed. She peeled the covers, lit a candle on our bedside table, turned off the lamp atop that same table and sprawled upon our mattress. 

Brenda and I had discussed the topic before. Dating back to the beginnings of our wrestling matches and several times since. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her. She'd asked me to describe his penis, even though I'd only seen it in its flaccid state. I, in turn, had queried her for descriptions of Suzie, the shape of her breasts, the color of her nipples, design of her vagina and shade of fur surrounding it. 

Our shared fantasies of the Caldwells had many times entered our bedroom conversations, so on this night, as I lay atop Brenda with my rigid tool targeting her clitoris, I spiced up our imaginations with the latest revelation. "Suzie says Eddie asked her about swinging with us." 

"Partner exchange?"

"Yep. You need to call and talk to her, so you can hear all the details. Suzie's pretending to be pissed off at him for staying home to watch the Stanley Cup. She'll be giving him the cold shoulder all week, and then when we wrestle Thursday night, Eddie will get his comeuppance." 

"So, we three will gang up on Eddie?"

"At this point, my dear, you should think of what might be. Let Suzie tell you about it later. Assuming, of course, that you are still interested in swinging with the Caldwells." 

"Your assumptions are correct, lover." 

Nothing more needed to be said. Visions of Thursday night's possibilities brought heavenly, orgasmic sounds the likes of which Brenda and I hadn't produced for quite some time. 

The floor mat in the Caldwells' basement measures twenty by twenty feet, a handsome burgundy color, but a bit dull from years of use at the high school from whose rummage sale it was purchased. Rules simple. Brenda wrestles Suzie until one of them tires and calls for her partner, and then Eddie and I do battle. When Eddie or I call for it, Brenda and Suzie take over, and so on. 

Our attire also is simple. T-shirts and gym shorts. Brenda and Suzie go barefooted and bra-less. Eddie and I sport jock straps under our shorts, and all-purpose athletic shoes and socks on our feet.  

Before making our way to the basement, Suzie sent Eddie ahead of us. “Get the lights on,” she barked. “And make sure there's clean towels and bottles of water down there.” 

Done by design so we could whisper. “Did you freeze him out?” I queried.

“Mike, I haven't said but a couple dozen words to him since you dropped me off.” 

Brenda wondered, “Has he asked why?”

"Of course not. He knows, or at least he thinks he knows. Every time I give him the cold shoulder he smirks at me, like he's more intrigued than angry. He knows I'm up to something and he's anxious to see what it is."  

“Good!” Brenda giggled. “Let's go get him.”

We stood as couples on opposite sides of the mat, Suzie turning to Eddie with a sneer of sarcasm. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

“Yes, dear,” his reply oozed with the whine of a henpecked husband, and with that, Suzie and Brenda began the contest. 

Circling one another, they clasped hands to shoulders and jockeyed for first offensive maneuver, while Eddie and I enjoyed watching their bra-less, bouncing titties under tight-fitting T-shirts. Brenda wrapped her arm around Suzie's neck, hooked her leg behind Suzie's leg and twisted her to the mat. Suzie laid on her back with Brenda on top of her, Suzie's face smothered by Brenda's pectoral with nothing of her head but her flowing blonde hair in sight. Planting her feet flat, she sprung herself upwards and thrust Brenda aside, forcing her to release the headlock, as Suzie pounced on her, grabbed an arm and twisted it into a reverse arm lock. Brenda's breasts were smashed against the mat, and with Suzie's weight bearing down on her, her arm bent in a position she didn't like, Brenda called for me. 

“That's enough! Mike, I need a tag.” 

“Hmph,” Eddie huffed. “That's what I call a half-assed effort, Brenda.” 

First, I verbally defended her. “Are you trying to rile me, Eddie?” Next, I challenged him. “Come on, big-mouth. Show me what you've got.” 

He lunged for my chest and I moved to the side, but his was a feint, as he crouched and grabbed hold my leg. With both arms wrapping my thigh, he lifted and turned me, throwing me onto the mat face-down as he deftly released my leg and secured one arm and my neck into a half-nelson. The tread on my boots came in handy. Pushing with one foot I twisted out from beneath him, broke his hold on me and grabbed his arm, stretching it into an arm bar while my feet pushed against his neck and ribs. Eddie laid on his chest, tried to raise by drawing up his knees, but before he could I bent his arm into a hammer lock, rose to one knee and planted my other knee atop his shoulder. Very uncomfortable, Eddie groaned, the points of his boots pounding the mat as he repeatedly failed in his attempts to gain leverage and lift me off him. Tiring, he conceded, asking for relief. 

“That's enough! Suzie, I need a tag.” 

“Hmph,” huffed Brenda. “That was a half-assed effort.” 

“I agree,” Suzie snarled. “Hell, Eddie. Don't be such a wuss. Stay in there and fight.” 

With a grunt, Eddie protested. “Hey! Come on now. You know the rules. I want out, so let's switch.” 

Brenda stepped onto the mat. “You know what? There's something I've always wanted to do.” She grabbed both his ankles and raised his legs in a Boston crab, and as she put a severe backward curve to his spine, I released the hammer lock and moved in front of him. Taking his wrists, I tugged both of his arms past his head, planting the soles of my shoes into his trapeziums, as Brenda completed her thought. “Get me a close-up look at his legs.” 

Straining his neck, Eddie glared at me. “Mike! What the hell is she doing? Trying to break my back?” All he got from me was a sadistic grin, so he tried Suzie. “Come on, babe. Do something with these cheaters, would ya?”

“Oh, all right,” she chuckled. “Honestly, Eddie. You are such a baby.” Entering the fray, she took one of his legs from Brenda. “Hairy things, aren't' they?” 

“Indeed they are. Think I'll cop me a feel.” 

They both did, securing him with one hand while rubbing up and down his fur-covered shins and muscular calves. 

“God damn, you. What the hell is going on here?” Eddie's pain could have been much worse and he knew it. His protest matched the severity of his discomfort – half-way serious – and when Suzie took control over both of his legs, raising him higher so that his T-shirt fell to his rib cage, he merely exhaled, “Hmm,” when hands touched his exposed belly. Brenda's hands, as she straddled him and rubbed his middle. 

“Mm-mm,” she approved. “His abdominals are like concrete.” 

“Carpet-covered concrete,” added Suzie. 

“Shag carpet,” finalized Brenda. 

Grinning wide, I told Eddie, “Looks like you might as well lose the shirt. Do a push-up, buddy, if you can.” He could and did, as I released his wrists and stripped him from the waist up. “Looks like Eddie Caldwell is in some deep shit.” 

I began a play-by-play, mimicking the voice of a sports announcer. “His partner has betrayed him, and now it's three against one. They're trying to break his spine. Suzie Sadist bending him in the Boston crab while Brenda Banshee digs into his stretched muscles with the dreaded belly claw. He's moanin' and groanin', fighting 'em with all his strength, but little by little they're wearing him down.” I nodded to Brenda and she tapped Suzie. The crab was released and toes of his shoes fell to the mat, as I maneuvered on top of him. “Oh, no!” I moaned in sympathetic voice. “Mike the Mauler is clamping on the full-nelson.”

“God, no,” Eddie grunted. “My spine can't take any more.” 

“They're rolling him over. Banshee and Sadist grabbing his legs to turn him. He's laying on top of the Mauler, locked in the full-nelson, his arms pulled down, chest raised up and belly stretched. He's at their mercy, as these two heartless females circle him, stalking their prey. They kneel on either side of him, their hands rubbing on him, his chest, his belly. They're taunting him. Tormenting him, and there's not a damn thing he can do about it.” 

Eddie said nothing. Merely groaned with each exhale of breath. Didn't fight me either. Kept his heels on the mat, his legs sprawled and arms limber. 

“All right. Listen here, mister,” Suzie snarled as her claw dug into his belly. “Next time I ask you to take me somewhere, you better do it with no questions asked. Understand?”

“Sure,” he gasped. “As long as it's not that damn theater.” 

“Really? Maybe this will change your attitude.” With a nod to Brenda, they lowered their faces to his chest, their tongues lightly flicking his nipples. He flinched, groaned, raised his head for a look. “Well,” she continued. “Since beating you senseless didn't work, perhaps we should try other methods to change your attitude.” Taking each his titties between fingers and thumbs, they twisted on them, pinched on them, and then covered them with their mouths, sucking and nibbling to their heart's content. 

His groans grew louder. Voice deeper. He lowered his head, expanded his chest, arched his back, nearly lifting himself completely off of me while grunting like a caveman, “Ugh, you sadistic wenches.” 

“Ready to obey me now?” Suzie questioned between sucks. 

“Never,” he lifted his chest even higher. “Go ahead. Do you what you've gotta do.” 

Abandoning his nipples, they lightly scraped him with their nails from his sternum to his belly, as Suzie moved the play to act two. “All right, mister. You leave us no choice but to strip you down.” 

They started with his shoes, tugging laces while I kept Eddie in the mood by whispering in his ear. “Damn, buddy, why don't you give it up?”

“Never,” he snapped, as both shoes came off. “No woman's ever going to break me.”

“I don't know, Eddie. I can't even guess what they're gonna do to you.”

"It doesn't matter," he snorted while they peeled off his socks. "I will never give in." 

With no fanfare, Suzie and Brenda grabbed the waistband of Eddie's gym shorts, yanking them off his hips, past his feet and to the floor. This left but one garment covering him. His jock strap, but before exposing his cock and balls, they hesitated.

His wife asked, “Eddie? What the hell is this?”

Brenda answered. “Looks like a piece of paper stuffed in his jock strap. Shall we?”

“We shall,” said Suzie, and I peered over Eddie's shoulder as she opened the wad and read it. "Looks like an airline confirmation... to New York... for this weekend.” 

“What is that handwritten part?” Brenda asked. 

“It says, 'Dresser, top right drawer under your undies.” She stood, folded the paper. “All right, Eddie. I'll play. Brenda, you and Mike come with me. Knowing him he probably put a plastic mouse or something in there.” 

With Eddie completely limp and non-resistant, I released the full-nelson and pushed him off of me. He sprawled onto his back, eyes closed, corners of his mouth slightly up-turned, and we left him there. In the drawer, another piece of paper folded in half. Another print out, this one for a double room at the New York Marriott Marquis. 

Suzie determined, “It's for this Saturday night, and look what he wrote.” 

Brenda and I read it. Instructions for us to look under his recliner. Skedaddling to the living room, I tilted the chair while Suzie grabbed a white envelope, opened it and removed four tickets. “Oh, my God!” she shrieked. “These are for The Book of Mormon. A Sunday matinee. This Sunday!” 

How on earth? When on earth had he done all this? Apparently, while Suzie and I were plotting against him and he was supposedly watching a hockey game, Eddie Caldwell had instead plopped down at their computer and relieved himself of all guilt. 

Her husband remained in the basement and out of hearing range, but still, Suzie spoke to him, shouting, “Damn, you Eddie!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I love you to death. Do you hear me?”

He probably heard but did not answer. Probably still laying there sprawled, wishing someone would yank away his jock strap and set his penis free. 

“Well, I think it's time we all get naked,” Brenda suggested. 

“Suzie, do you think it's time he sees all of us naked?” I queried. 

“No time like the now,” she replied. 

“OK, you two,” I lifted my shirt up and off. “Let's get to cutting this tape.” 

* * *

part three in a week

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