“I thought they were coming next week,” Rachel said, her voice laced with confusion.
“I must have mixed up the dates. Sorry.”
“Who’s coming?” She inquired, her curiosity piqued.
“My poker buddies—Matt, Frank, and Cole,” Jeff responded casually.
“What time are they arriving?”
“Kickoff is at 1 o’clock, so they’ll be here between noon and 1.”
“Jeff! It’s only 10:30! How am I supposed to whip the house into shape by lunchtime?” Rachel’s voice rose, a rare crack in her usually composed demeanor.
Frustration bubbled within her, directed at Jeff for the sudden notice, but deeper still was the swirl of conflicting emotions inside her. An unexpected thrill ignited her senses, heat pooling low in her belly, accompanied by a flush of warmth between her thighs at the thought of what could unfold.
“I’ll help. It’s not a big deal. You cleaned yesterday. We can swing by Wegman’s for snacks and grab some beer on the way back. Just take a breath,” Jeff reassured her.
“Well, this wasn’t in my plans. I was going to lounge around in my pajamas all day. Now I have to play hostess for your friends.” She struggled to convince herself that she didn’t want this.
Jeff flashed a playful grin. “I bet the guys wouldn’t mind seeing you in just your PJs.”
“Really, Jeff? You want other men to see me like that?”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of hot,” he teased.
“You’re gross.” A hint of uncertainty crept into her voice. Was it really gross? Katie certainly didn’t think so, nor did Jeff. Rachel found herself torn, the tension simmering in her core intensifying with every moment this conversation dragged on. She needed a distraction.
“I guess I’ll get dressed for the grocery store. I can shower when we get back.” Rachel turned and ascended the staircase to their bedroom.
“Thanks, babe!” Jeff called after her, his grin wide and infectious.
“Sure,” she yelled back over her shoulder.
***
Rachel had just stepped out of the shower, droplets still glistening on her skin, when the doorbell chimed through the house. Great, she thought, they’re here.
I can’t believe he didn’t tell me until 10:30 this morning. I’m so pissed, Rachel typed furiously to her best friend, Katie.
You’re thinking about this all wrong. This is your chance. See how far you can push Jeff. Think of the possibilities, Katie replied almost instantly.
Rachel wrapped the towel snugly around her body, tucking the end securely.
Or throw them out now, she shot back, knowing full well she wouldn’t follow through.
‘Oh, I have a better idea, girl. Show off your goods. Have all those Neanderthals drooling over you,’ Katie suggested.
‘OMG, Jeff hinted at the same thing. What is it with everyone wanting me to be a slut?’ Rachel replied, her heart racing.
It’s called a hot-wife. And it sounds like he’s giving you permission. Did you look it up like I told you to?
I did. And I don’t know, Katie. It sounds exciting, but it’s also cheating, she admitted.
It’s not cheating if Jeff wants it. And it sounds like he’s open to it. Just imagine how hot it could be.
Settling at her vanity, Rachel began applying her makeup. She wasn’t aiming for a full-glam look, but a touch of foundation and blush couldn’t hurt.
As she finished, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Not bad, she thought, a flicker of confidence igniting within her.
With her makeup complete, she strolled back to her bedroom and selected a simple pair of panties from her drawer and slid them on.
‘On second thought,’ she muttered, digging deeper into the drawer. She dug out the black thong, which had sat neglected for months, and put it on, admiring her reflection in the full-length mirror. ‘Much better,’ she smiled, appreciating the way it hugged her curves.
Next, she pulled on her black yoga pants and a fitted Eagles t-shirt, the fabric accentuating her breasts, making them appear fuller. Her hard nipples pressed against the material, a detail she hoped would change before she ventured downstairs.
“Not bad for a 34-year-old mom,” she said to her reflection, a smirk playing on her lips.
Before heading to the living room, she checked her phone. Katie wanted to know what she was wearing. Rachel snapped a quick mirror selfie and sent it off.
Lip gloss, was Katie’s only response.
She studied her reflection again. Well, it can’t hurt, she reasoned. After applying cherry-pop red lip gloss, she took another picture and sent it to Katie.
Oh, damn, girl. I want to fuck you, came the enthusiastic reply. Rachel responded with a laughing emoji, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.
Send me updates. I need to live through you, Katie urged.
Stop it, Rachel texted back, a playful grin spreading across her face.
***
Rachel could hear the guys chatting before she descended the steps. Each voice rose above the last, with Matt’s booming laughter cutting through the air. That guy is so obnoxious, she thought.
As she rounded the corner, Frank rolled his eyes and groaned dramatically.
“Oh my God, I forgot you were an Eagles fan. This should be a fun afternoon,” he remarked.
“Why?” she asked, her tone stretched out in disbelief.
“The game of the week is Dallas vs. Philly,” Jeff chimed in.
Frank lounged in the recliner by the window, the farthest from Rachel, while Cole nestled behind the couch that divided the living and dining areas. Matt and Jeff stood at the table, each gripping a Yuengling.
Cole sported a Dak Prescott jersey and a Cowboy’s hat, a clear statement of loyalty.
“What’s the first game?” Rachel inquired.
“Redskins and Baltimore,” Matt replied.
“It’s the Commanders, Matt. Come on,” Frank corrected him.
“Fuck that. They will always be the Redskins to me,” Jeff interjected.
“Fellows, fellows, there’s a lady present,” Matt said with mock seriousness.
“You should hear her mouth when she’s mad,” Rachel’s husband added. “Or excited,” he whispered, loud enough for everyone to catch.
The room fell silent as all four turned their attention from Jeff to Rachel. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she nearly retorted but held back, knowing it would only draw more eyes. Instead, she walked around the table toward the kitchen.
“Are you guys ready for the wings and dip?” she asked, glancing back.
Cole followed her. “Sounds great. Let me help you,” he offered.
Rachel preheated the oven. “I think I can handle it,” she replied, a hint of defiance in her voice.
“Maybe I just wanted to be close to the only woman in the house,” he said with a grin.
Rachel felt her face flush again and shifted away from him toward the dining room, gravitating toward Jeff.
“Anyone need a beer? I’m buying,” Cole called out.
“I’m good,” Frank replied.
“Me too,” Matt added.
“I’ll have one, thanks,” Jeff said.
Cole turned to Rachel. “You ready?”
“I’m okay, too early for me,” she answered.
Cole nodded and headed for the garage. Rachel and Jeff stored an extra refrigerator in the garage for overflow, but during football season, they usually filled it with beer. Additionally, a 30-gallon cooler brimming with ice and more beer sat nearby. Jeff had a reputation for ensuring no one ever ran out of drinks.
The first half of the Ravens-Commanders game was a snooze. The Ravens kicked two field goals and turned the ball over inside the twenty.
Washington had done little better, managing a touchdown, a field goal, and a fumble.
The guys were downing beers, and Rachel could tell they were feeling it. Everyone’s voices grew louder, and the teasing became more personal. She needed a drink.
“This game sucks,” Frank said. “We need something to make it more interesting.”
“Like what?” Jeff asked.
“We all do a shot when a touchdown is scored,” Frank suggested.
“Are you watching the same game as me? No one is scoring,” Cole replied.
“Better if we did it on turnovers,” Frank countered.
Laughter erupted, and even Rachel giggled.
“We can Google a football drinking game. I’m sure there are lots out there,” Rachel proposed.
“Great idea, Rach,” Jeff said.
Rachel shrugged her shoulders as if to say it was no big deal.
“Oh yeah, there are tons on The Google,” Cole added. “I’m gonna text everyone the link.”
For the next few minutes, everyone read the rules on their phones. Exclamations of “Oh my God” and “Holy shit” filled the air as they absorbed the information.
“Rachel, you’ve gotta join us,” Cole urged.
“I don’t think so. Drinking games aren’t really my thing,” she replied.
“Come on, live a little,” Matt encouraged.
“Yeah. It was your idea,” Cole reminded her.
Jeff walked over to where Rachel stood and pulled her in close for a hug. “Come on, babe. It will be fun,” he said.
Rachel rolled her eyes and stepped away from him.
“Yeah, Rach, it will be fun,” Frank chimed in.
“Fine,” she relented.
“Great. And would you be a sweetheart and pick something up?” Jeff asked.
“We don’t have anything for shots. And you’re the only one who can drive.”
“Okay, fine. I need a break from you assholes, anyway.”
“Assholes!” Cole placed his hand over his heart and feigned hurt feelings.
“Yes, assholes.”
Rachel went to the door and slipped on a pair of calf-high black boots with a two-inch heel. She loved how the boots gave her a little extra height.
Grabbing her purse from the coat rack, she walked outside and shut the door behind her.
Once in the car, she texted Katie: ‘Off to the liquor store. These assholes are planning a drinking game.’
She started the engine and backed out of the driveway. Less than five minutes later, she pulled into the store parking lot. Inside, she headed straight for the vodka aisle. If she was buying, it would be something she liked.
She grabbed a handle of Kettle One off the top shelf and carried it to the counter, placing it at the closed register. Now to find something for shots.
Her phone chimed. Pulling it from her purse, she saw it was Katie. ‘Oh, you poor girl, a house full of drunk men. And you already said your husband is willing to share you,’ she ended the message with a crying emoji.
‘Haha,’ Rachel replied.
She dropped the phone back in her purse and scanned the bottles. On the top shelf, she spotted what she was looking for: fig-flavored vodka. If the boys didn’t like it, they could drink the bourbon.
Back in her car, she checked her phone. Jeff told her to hurry, and Katie asked if she could come by and enjoy the party. She only returned Katie’s text, calling her a ho.
***
Rachel could hear the guys yelling before she stepped inside the house. The game must have taken a thrilling turn in her absence. She set the vodka on the table and slipped off her boots, leaving her socks on.
“She’s back!” Frank shouted.
“Hurry, the Redskins just scored a touchdown! Everyone needs a shot. I mean the Commanders,” Jeff added.
Rachel noticed four shot glasses already lined up on the counter. Cole pulled the vodka from the bag. “Kettle One, top shelf for us, huh?” he remarked.
“That’s for me. The other bottle is for shots,” Rachel replied.
“Fig?” Cole scrunched his face in distaste.
“If you don’t like it, go to the store yourself next time. Or find something here.”
“Relax, girl. I’ll take whatever you give me,” Cole said with a devilish smile, lowering his chin and raising his eyebrows. Rachel felt her cheeks flush and moved into the kitchen.
“Only four glasses. Who’s not drinking?” Cole asked.
“Someone needs to share; that’s all I could find,” Jeff said.
“There’s more in the garage. I’ll get them,” Rachel said.
Cole opened the bottle and filled the four glasses while Rachel washed another one. After drying it, she handed it to Cole.
“Shots are ready!” Cole called out.
The other guys gathered around the bar.
“For a Dallas win!” Cole raised his glass.
“Fat chance,” Rachel shot back.
Laughter erupted as everyone raised their glasses and downed their drinks.
“Oh wow, not bad for a chick drink,” Cole said, grinning at Rachel. She rolled her eyes, picked up the Kettle One, and moved to the counter.
“I’m having a vodka and club soda. Anyone else want one, or are you Neanderthals sticking with beer?”
“Neanderthals!” Matt shouted.
“Beer for me; I don’t want to mix,” Frank added.
The others didn’t respond; they were glued to the TV, watching the game.
Rachel carried her drink to the dining room table and took a seat. With two minutes left, the Redskins were ahead 17 to 16. Baltimore had the ball at midfield, facing 2nd and 20 after a holding call.
“Everyone does a sip, penalty flag!” Frank called out.
The Ravens picked up 21 yards on the next play for a first down. The clock ticked down to the two-minute warning.
“First down, another sip!” Frank declared.
During the commercial break, Cole glanced at Rachel. “Wanna put something on the next game?”
“What?” she replied, her heart quickening.
“You know, a wager.”
“I don’t know. What would we bet?” Rachel’s fingers picked at a loose thread on her t-shirt.
“I’m sure we can think of something,” Jeff chimed in, his smile a little too wide.
Rachel sensed the pressure of their stares, a palpable energy humming around her. She parted her lips to refuse, but the words evaporated before they could escape. Memories of that poker night flooded her mind, the thrill of their attention lingering long after.
In the solitude of her shower, she often replayed those moments, savoring the heat of their glances and the undeniable pull of their attraction.
Her fingers danced nervously over her bracelet, twisting it like a lifeline as she fought against the insistent whisper in her mind urging her to seize this opportunity. Yet, a tight knot in her stomach warned her of the risks involved.
The game resumed, and everyone turned their focus back to the screen. Rachel let out a sigh of relief, still unsure of how she wanted this day to go.
The Ravens drove to the 16-yard line but stalled with a minute left. After a field goal, they led 19 to 17.
Washington returned the kickoff to the Ravens’ 35-yard line with 55 seconds remaining. The group debated whether that was a significant offensive play, but ultimately, it didn’t matter. No one was a Commanders fan, so no drinking was required.
The Commanders kicked a 27-yard field goal to clinch the victory. Matt suggested everyone finish their drinks and start fresh for the next game, a proposal the guys readily agreed to. Rachel shook her head but complied.
***
Rachel reheated the dip and wings between games. The guys chatted about work and their next poker night, grabbing snacks and stacking empty cans. The trill of the last game fading, but she sensed the undercurrent; eventually, someone would stir things up again.
At the sink, she scrubbed a wing-splattered plate when Jeff slid up behind her. He hugged her waist, trailing hands over her curves. His head rested on her shoulder; his breath warm against her ear.
“You should bet with Cole. Play along,” he murmured, voice thick with drink. There was an eager lilt, something she wasn’t sure she wanted to indulge.
As Rachel scrubbed the plates, her hands moved automatically through the warm, soapy water. Each clink of porcelain against porcelain echoed in the kitchen, a rhythm that matched the fluttering uncertainty in her chest.
The spring poker game flashed in her mind, bringing a flutter to her core that was equal parts exhilaration and shame. She’d spent nights researching hotwifing, torn between fascination and disgust at herself for looking. The hunger in those men’s eyes both thrilled and terrified her. The wives’ expressions, were they truly pleasure, or something more complicated? Something she’d regret?
“Hey, you two, get a room,” Frank called from the couch.
Jeff laughed, pressing closer. “It’s our house.” His palms traveled again, cupping her breasts.
Every eye in the house turned to watch.
Rachel gently pushed his arms away. “Jeff,” she said, soft but firm.
He stepped back, grinning like nothing was wrong. “Sorry, love, but you’re so damn sexy.”
“Hey Rach, we don’t mind,” Matt offered cheerfully.
She swallowed, stepping away from the counter. A knot twisted in her stomach, the familiar feeling of being wanted. Torn between being the good wife, and becoming a hotwife.
Cole glanced between them. “Back to the game, what are we betting?”
Frank echoed, “Yeah, you two? What’s the wager?”
“I didn’t agree to anything,” Rachel said, feeling the room tilt slightly.
“Come on,” Cole prodded. “It makes it more fun.”
Rachel sighed. “Alright…what?”
“Well,” Matt began, eyes bright, “you wear the other team’s jersey in public.”
“And post it on Facebook,” Frank added, chuckling.
“I can do that.” Rachel agreed. Relieved it wasn’t something sexual. But slightly disappointed at the same time.
“Me too,” Cole said.
Jeff scoffed. “Lame.”
“Think of something better,” Cole shot back.
“Okay, give me a minute.”
“There really is no reason to watch the game. I’m wearing my lucky underware, and the Boys never lose when I wear these babies.” Cole pulled his waistband down to show off a pair of Dallas Cowboys boxers.
“Oh, damn, Cole. Show us more,” Matt wolf whistled.
Cole unbuttoned his jeans and slid one side down. He turned and modeled his hip to everyone. “You like?” He asked.
“Pull your pants up,” Rachel muttered.
“You jealous? No lucky undies?” he teased.
“Actually, I do. But I don’t use them for football,” she grinned. The men fell silent for a moment, processing what she had just said. Not sure if they heard her correctly.
Cole broke first. Raising an eyebrow, “Are they as sexy as mine?”
“Sexier,” Rachel blurted before she could stop herself, knowing it was a mistake as soon as the words left her mouth.
“Proof!” Frank shouted.
“Proof! Proof!” Matt and Jeff chanted.
Her heart pounded. She gulped. “Fine.”
Lifting her T-shirt, Rachel rolled down her waistband until a delicate black thong peeked above the fabric. A chorus of catcalls erupted.
Heat flooded her cheeks. She felt exposed, exhilarated, mortified, all at once. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
“I can’t believe I just did that,” she whispered to no one in particular.
“Kickoff!” Matt yelled, redirecting everyone’s attention from Rachel back to the TV.
“I can’t believe I just did that,” she whispered to no one in particular.
“Kickoff!” Matt yelled, redirecting everyone’s attention from Rachel back to the TV.
Rachel exhaled slowly, a mix of relief and disappointment washing over her as the guys’ eyes returned to the television. Part of her was grateful for the reprieve; their stares had been intense, making her cheeks burn. Yet there was an undeniable hollowness that followed, a quiet deflation as their attention evaporated.
For those brief moments, she’d felt powerful, desirable. Now she was just another person at the party again.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sipped her drink, stealing glances at the group now shouting at the screen. She leaned against the counter, trying to appear casual while her mind replayed those seconds of being the center of attention. It had felt good. Better than she wanted to admit.
***
The Eagles’ kick-off resulted in a touchback, leaving the Cowboys to begin their drive from their own 25-yard line. Rachel excused herself to use the restroom in the master bedroom, her mind racing with concern over the state of the powder room. Four drunk guys could wreak havoc on any bathroom.
As she slid her panties down, the fabric clung uncomfortably to her skin. She felt an undeniable thrill from the attention she was receiving from the surrounding men. She had to tread carefully for the rest of the afternoon; otherwise, Jeff and Katie would get exactly what they were hoping for.
Sudden shouts erupted from downstairs, hinting that the Cowboys had made a significant play. Not the best start for Rachel’s team.
“Hurry, Rachel! We gotta drink!” Jeff’s voice boomed from below.
Rachel adjusted her top in the mirror, satisfied with her appearance. She headed back down the stairs.
“What happened?” she called out halfway down the steps.
“Drinking time! The Cowboys scored!” Cole replied, grinning.
“That’s three for Cole; big play and a touchdown. One for the rest of us,” Matt chimed in, glancing at his phone to confirm the rules.
At the breakfast bar, Jeff was already pouring shots, eager to celebrate.
The Cowboys had executed a screen play that went for 73 yards, resulting in a touchdown. Rachel watched in disbelief as the Eagles missed three crucial tackles.
“Gonna be a long day if that keeps up,” Frank muttered.
Rachel simply shook her head and turned to take her shot.
“So, I had an idea for the bet,” Jeff announced, drawing everyone’s attention. Rachel felt a knot tighten in her stomach, anticipating trouble.
“I think we should make two bets: one for the first half and another for the second half,” he suggested.
“Works for me,” Cole said with enthusiasm.
“Sure,” Rachel said, her voice flat and unenthusiastic, yet a flutter of anticipation danced in her chest.
“Whoever’s team loses the half has to watch the second half in just their lucky underwear.”
“Oh my God, Jeff. Are you serious?” Rachel exclaimed, incredulous.
“I’m game,” Cole said, clearly amused by the idea.
“What about the second half of the bet?” Rachel pressed.
“Still working on that,” Jeff admitted with a shrug.
Rachel moved to the kitchen to pour herself another drink, feeling the alcohol take effect. She should have nipped this bet in the bud when it first came up. Now, everyone could tell she was considering it, that her answer wasn’t a firm no.
She took a sip, noticing the Eagles were now on their own 25-yard line, facing first and 10. Maybe if she remained silent, the conversation would shift to something less risky. Yet, part of her wasn’t entirely sure that was what she truly wanted.
The Eagles’ drive began impressively. In just five plays, they found themselves in field goal range, and three plays later, they scored a touchdown. The successful drive prompted everyone to finish their drinks and take another shot.
“Games tied. You ready to bet?” Jeff asked Rachel, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Rachel understood that the conversation wasn’t going to fade away. She had to decide: either put an end to it now or go along with the flow, hoping the Eagles would pull off a win.
“On one condition,” she declared, her voice steady despite the tension in her chest.
“Name it,” Cole exclaimed, leaning forward with eager anticipation.
“If the Eagles are ahead at halftime, all you guys have to watch the second half in your boxers.”
“Done,” Jeff replied without hesitation.
“Count me in,” Matt added, a smirk on his face.
“I mean, if you want to see this body for two hours, I’m all for it,” Cole chimed in, flexing playfully.
The attention shifted to Frank, who shrugged, “I gotta say, I’m not keen on seeing you guys in your tighty-whities, but I wouldn’t mind catching a glimpse of this milf in her thong.”
Laughter erupted among the group.
“Alright then, looks like we have ourselves a bet,” Jeff announced, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.
As the two-minute warning approached, Rachel felt a surge of optimism. The Eagles were ahead by six and had possession of the ball. If they could just nail a field goal, she would be in the clear until the next half.
The next play resulted in a first and 10 at the 30-yard line, and she exhaled slightly, feeling a flicker of hope. Worst-case scenario, they could still kick a field goal.
“Gotta do a shot, Rach. Your team made a big play,” Frank called out, approaching her with a shot glass filled with fig vodka.
“Oh, thanks a lot,” she replied, rolling her eyes but accepting the drink.
Then, as Hurts dropped back to pass, he launched the ball toward the end zone. Unfortunately for the Eagles, Hooker anticipated the throw perfectly and intercepted it right in front of Stoll. Cole leaped from the couch, cheering wildly.
Rachel couldn’t tell if his excitement was for the Dallas interception or the prospect of seeing her in her underwear. She held her breath, releasing it only when Stoll was tackled at midfield. As long as Philly kept them to a field goal, she’d still be safe; a touchdown would ruin everything.
“Want me to get the shots ready?” Jeff asked, glancing at her.
“Yeah, for the touchdown,” Cole replied, eyes gleaming with mischief.
Rachel sat back in her chair, fingers crossed, silently pleading for a miracle. With just 15 seconds left in the half, Corey Clement broke free and dashed for a touchdown.
Her heart plummeted, anger bubbling within her for agreeing to this bet.
The guys erupted from their seats, cheers filling the air before they all turned to her expectantly.
“They still need the extra point,” was all she could manage to say, trying to cling to a shred of hope.
“Tie game, we all strip,” Matt shouted, laughter ringing through the room. Everyone chuckled, including Rachel, who felt a knot tighten in her stomach as she contemplated her predicament. The kick sailed straight down the middle.
After the kickoff flew through the end zone, Rachel realized she was about to spend the next few hours in her bra and panties. A dangerously sexy thong she hadn’t worn in months.
A minute later, when the Eagles took a knee to run out the clock, her fate was sealed.
***
The chant grew louder. “TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT OFF!” Matt, Frank, and Jeff pounded their fists on the coffee table.
“I’m not stripping for you animals. That wasn’t the goddamn bet,” Rachel snapped, heart hammering against her ribs.
Matt leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Oh yes, it was. You’re going to be in your undies for the second half.”
Rachel shot to her feet, blood rushing to her face. “Jeff, crank the heat up. I don’t want goosebumps. And Cole, make me something strong. I’ll be right back.”
She slammed the powder room door and gripped the sink, staring at her flushed reflection.
“What the hell are you doing, Rachel?” she hissed. “This isn’t you.” Her knuckles whitened. “But a bet’s a bet.”
She pulled off the fitted Eagles T-shirt and pants; the cool air shocking her skin. She adjusted her thong, barely covering herself. Next, she pushed her breasts together until the cleavage deepened. Better they drool over her tits than notice how the thong disappeared between her cheeks.
Once satisfied, Rachel took a deep breath, threw open the door and strutted out.
“There’s our girl!” Matt howled, eyes widening.
“Holy shit,” Cole breathed.
Frank let out a wolf whistle. Jeff froze, jaw hanging open.
“Close your mouths, boys. You’ve all seen women in less at the beach,” Rachel said, snatching the vodka soda from Cole’s hand.
She felt their eyes burning into her as she claimed the recliner, grateful for its partial shield even as her skin tingled with a forbidden electricity.
She crossed her legs, aware of how the motion drew their gazes to the curve of her thigh, a betraying warmth spreading through her belly, her wedding band suddenly heavy on her finger.
“So, Jeff, what’s the second half wager?” Frank demanded.
“Yeah, Jeff. What’s next?” Matt’s eyes never left Rachel’s body.
“Still thinking. Ideas?”
All eyes locked on Rachel. She could practically feel their gazes stripping away what little she had left.
“Let’s bet on plays,” Cole suggested, clearing his throat.
“Too many plays. What about drives?” Frank countered.
“Drives work. We each bet the outcome,” Jeff nodded.
“I’m in,” Cole said.
“Hell yeah,” Matt grinned.
“Same,” Frank added.
They stared at Rachel, waiting, hungry.
Rachel hesitated, her mouth suddenly dry. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice betraying a tremor she hated. Something wild and reckless flickered behind her eyes. “What else can I lose?”
“Your bra,” Frank smirked. The room erupted in laughter, except for Rachel.
“When you’re naked,” Jeff leaned forward, “we’ll think of something better.”
The air crackled with tension.
The stakes had been set. Eagles score, guys lost an article. Cowboys score, Rachel does.
***
Rachel’s stomach flipped when Pollard zig-zagged the entire field and slammed the ball across the pylon; the flat-screen’s slow-motion replay painted the room Cowboy-silver. The guys exploded. Frank sloshed beer onto the coffee table. Matt drummed the couch like a snare.
Frank swiveled toward her, eyes glittering. “Bra or panties, Rach? Clock’s ticking.”
She’d rehearsed this moment since kickoff. Panties, she’d decided; easier to hide under a throw pillow afterward.
She hooked her thumbs under the lace waistband, the thong already clinging to her sex, a mix of nerves and excitement. One hip roll, then the other, the fabric peeled away like a sticker. She dropped the tiny fabric onto the carpet.
Matt whistled low. Jeff shifted, denim rasping.
“Jesus, Jeff, you’re one lucky son of a bitch.” Cole said.
Rachel dropped back into the armchair, knees tight together, bra still buffering her from total exposure.
The Eagles answered with a pick-six; suddenly every guy was shaving jeans, boxers tented like pup tents.
Cole lined up five thimbles of vodka on the TV stand, “lady’s half-shots,” he called them.
They each downed them just in time to see Elliott shoot the A-gap, bodies flying as he hammered into the end zone. Six more points.
The room froze; every muscle tensed, every breath caught mid-inhale. The air didn’t just leave; it was violently ripped from their lungs, leaving nothing but the thundering of their own pulses in their ears.
Rachel turned away from the group, fingers deftly unclasping her bra. She held the lace cups over her breasts and pivoted, letting her hips sway. As she lowered the fabric, revealing just a hint of her areola, she quickly pulled it back up, eliciting cheers from the guys.
A thrill coursed through her, mingled with disbelief at her own boldness, but even more surprising was the rush of pleasure she felt under their gaze. The hungry glances ignited something within her, urging her to push boundaries.
“Don’t be a tease, Rach,” Matt called out, his voice laced with excitement.
A chorus of agreement followed, echoing around the room. With a deep breath, Rachel slid her hands inside her bra, letting it tumble to the floor. Her breasts remained covered for now.
She traced her palms down the curve of her cleavage, fingers teasingly brushing the delicate skin beneath. As her thumbs flicked against her nipples, she felt them harden beneath her touch. The room fell silent, every eye locked onto her. She met each gaze with a playful smile, pushing her chest forward, feeling empowered.
“God, this is crazy,” she murmured, breaking the tension.
Matt and Cole nodded in approval, while Frank wore a gleeful grin, like a child on Christmas morning. Caught in the moment, she glanced at her husband; he was transfixed, eyes darting between her and his friends, his hand moving deliberately over his boxers. Pulling an afghan around herself, Rachel settled back into her seat.
“That’s enough for now, boys,” she declared, trying to reclaim some control.
“Next points, blowjobs for everyone,” Frank suggested, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Oh hell no,” Rachel shot back, her heart racing. “Come on, Rach. If the Eagles score twice, you get eaten by four guys.”
“Yeah, but if the Cowboys score, I have to suck four cocks. Not cool.”
“Three,” Jeff chimed in. “I’m just watching.”
Silence enveloped the room, all eyes waiting for her response. “Just watch the game,” she insisted, though the guys exchanged knowing smiles, the atmosphere thick with anticipation.
With only two minutes left, Rachel felt a flicker of hope; the Eagles were making progress. She didn’t care about the outcome, just praying they wouldn’t fumble. But then it happened: Jalen Hurts’ pass was deflected, and Micah Parsons intercepted it for a devastating pick-six. Cole leaped from the couch, shouting, “Yes, fuck yeah!”
All eyes snapped to Rachel, and dread washed over her.
“Oh, fuck,” she breathed, the words hanging heavy in the air. No one moved.
“A bet’s a bet, Rach,” Jeff finally said, breaking the stillness.
“Agreed,” Matt added, standing up and dropping his boxers, revealing himself completely. “Don’t be shy, guys. Let the girl see them.”
Frank stood closely behind his friend, a mischievous grin on his face. He let his briefs drop to the floor, revealing his erect cock, glistening with beads of pre-cum at the tip.
Cole remained seated, shifting his gaze between Rachel and Jeff, who gave a subtle nod of encouragement. With that, Cole rose and lowered his boxers, exposing himself.
Rachel hesitated, then slid from her chair, her movements halting between graceful and uncertain as she lowered herself to hands and knees. She crawled toward the three men. Matt on her right, Frank directly ahead, Cole to her left, her gaze flickering between their faces and their bodies, as if she couldn’t decide where to look. When her eyes finally did travel upward, she met each man’s stare with a mixture of defiance and vulnerability that surprised even her.
A sharp trace of spiced aftershave lingered in the narrow space between her and the men, spiking whenever she changed direction.
The scent of beer mixed with a murkier undertone, something like nervous sweat, hung in the air, growing stronger as she drew closer.
Carpet fibers pressed sharp against her knees.
The tiny friction-sound of skin against carpet nearly disappeared beneath the steady, unblinking silence from the men, who held their breath as she advanced.
Matt and Frank had average sizes, but Matt’s was slightly thicker. Cole, however, was impressive, boasting the largest cock Rachel had ever seen up close, and an urge surged within her to feel him.
She wrapped her hand around Cole’s shaft and sucked on the head, taking more of him into her mouth with each rhythmic bob of her head. The thought of taking him fully down her throat was daunting, but she knew her pussy could accommodate him. If Jeff wanted a show, she was more than willing to deliver.
With one hand guiding Cole deeper into her mouth, her other hand found its way to his balls, gently caressing them. A low moan escaped Cole as Rachel felt his cock swell beneath her touch.
After a moment, she released him and turned her attention to Frank, guiding him into her mouth while her other hand grasped Matt’s hard cock. She expertly sucked and stroked both men, yet her mind kept wandering back to Cole, thinking about his size, how it would feel filling her completely, stretching her.
Jeff watched his bride intently as she worked on the two men, his own excitement evident as he pulled his dick from his shorts to stroke it, caught up in the fantasy unfolding in his living room.
As Rachel sensed Matt and Frank nearing their peaks, she momentarily released them to return her focus to Cole.
She glanced at Jeff, whose face radiated pride and pleasure.
“God, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said breathlessly.
“Me either, but I love it,” Jeff replied, his eyes sparkling.
She smiled back, then eagerly took Cole into her mouth again, reveling in how he filled her completely. Cole moaned, thrusting gently as Rachel took him deeper, her fingers massaging his balls while she stroked him firmly. She sensed he was close; the way he held his breath indicated he was reaching his limit.
With a deliberate pull back, she let his cock slip free, continuing to stroke him as she played with his balls. Cole grunted, releasing a hot surge of cum onto Rachel’s tits. She milked him until he softened, a satisfied grin spreading across her face.
“Wow, I can’t believe that just happened,” Cole gasped, trying to catch his breath.
“Yeah, me either,” Rachel replied, turning her attention to Matt and Frank. “Guess you two need some relief.”
Both men had been edging themselves, eyes wide with anticipation.
“God yes,” Frank breathed, while Matt nodded eagerly, presenting his cock to her.
Rachel replaced their hands with hers, pumping both cocks in a synchronized rhythm. It wasn’t long before Matt moaned, releasing another load that splattered across Rachel’s chest.
The sight triggered Frank’s release, and before Rachel could brace herself, the first spurt hit her face. She quickly repositioned him, draining both men dry.
“Oops,” she giggled, glancing at her husband who was still stroking himself, captivated by the scene. Using her fingers, she playfully wiped the cum off her face and into her mouth.
“You like that?” she teased him. He could only nod, speechless. “Jesus, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she murmured, disbelief mingling with excitement.
As the men hastily pulled up their boxers and searched for their remaining clothes, Rachel interrupted them, “We aren’t finished, guys.”
They all froze, stunned expressions plastered on their faces. “This is crazy, but I need you inside me. Each of you.”
“I’m game,” Matt said without a second thought.
“Works for me,” Frank added, looking at Jeff for confirmation. Cole turned to Jeff, seeking his approval. Jeff nodded, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Let me have the sofa,” Rachel instructed as she pushed between the men, who parted to let her settle onto the couch. “First things first, I need you hard again.”
Rachel sank into the couch, thighs wide, the worn leather cool against her flushed skin. She traced two fingers through the slick heat of her slit, parting the swollen lips until her clit throbbed under the pad of her thumb. With her other hand she gathered the warm, sticky ribbons from her chest and painted slow circles over each nipple, leaving them glistening. Matt’s breath hitched; his cock lifted, already slick with pre-come as he stroked.
“You like that?” she asked, voice low, almost teasing. He gave a single, eager nod, fist tightening around his shaft. Rachel crooked one finger, beckoning. When he stepped close, she curled her fingers around his length, guiding him until the blunt crown kissed her entrance.
“You sure?” Matt rasped, glancing once toward Jeff. Her husband’s eyes were dark but steady; he dipped his chin in a small, deliberate nod.
“No,” Rachel whispered, “but I need it.”
Matt didn’t hesitate. He drove forward in one smooth thrust, filling her so suddenly her back arched and a sharp gasp tore from her throat.
“Jesus, you’re tight,” he groaned, hips rolling, balls brushing her skin with every stroke.
She locked her gaze on Jeff across the room, letting him see every flicker of pleasure crossing her face.
Matt hooked her ankles over his shoulders, folding her almost double, opening her deeper. Each plunge sent a wet slap through the quiet room. Heat coiled low in her belly; she felt him thicken, pulse.
“Not yet,” she panted. “Wait—”
But the warning came too late. Matt’s cock jerked, flooding her with long, hot spurts. The sudden warmth inside her tipped her over; her climax fluttered, shallow but undeniable. She bit her lip, frustrated it hadn’t lasted longer.
As Matt eased out, she brushed her lips to his ear. “Get hard again. I want both holes filled.”
He flashed a quick grin, stepping aside.
The air heavy with a cocktail of sex, hot wings, and the Christmas cookie candle that had been burning all day.
Frank moved in without a word, thick cock already in hand. Rachel’s folds were slick with Matt’s cum and her own arousal; Frank slid home in one slow push until his pelvis pressed flush against hers. He set a brutal pace, hips snapping, sweat beading at his temples.
She didn’t wait. Two strokes and she was coming again, sharper this time, walls clenching around Frank’s shaft. The squeeze triggered him; he groaned, buried deep, and let go. Rachel rode the aftershocks, locking eyes with Jeff just as his own release pulsed in white arcs across his fist.
Rachel’s heartbeat hammered against her eardrums, a wet drum solo that matched the slick, insistent clench between her legs.
Frank peeled off and flopped onto the rug with a grunt.
She wasn’t done, and gave him the same lazy, crooked smile she’d handed Matt earlier, promise and dare, then turned her head.
The television still flickering, the mutters of nonsense commercials background noise.
Cole moved into position. His cock curving up almost to his navel, veins ridged and dark. She’d never taken anything that thick; the sight alone sent a flutter of panic and greed through her core.
He kneeled, palms sliding under her ankles, lifting until her knees framed her ears. The crown nudged her, hot as candle wax; he gave her an inch, paused.
“Breathe out.”
She did, and he fed her two more inches, retreating, advancing, his thick shaft disappearing into her inch by agonizing inch, until her body finally surrendered the last bit of resistance and he bottomed out with a wet, decisive slap of flesh against flesh.
The evidence of her earlier encounters trickled along the tender skin between her thighs, a warm trail that made her shiver as it escaped downward, threatening to mark the upholstery below.
Her first climax caught her off guard, thoughts splintering into a ridiculous shard of domestic practicality: Thank God for the varnish on these planks, the wipe-clean leather of the couch, so much mess, so little time.
Then the wave hit, spine arching like a drawn bow, vision whiting out around the edges. Cole didn’t pause; he ground deeper, pubic bone crushing her clit, pace turning metronomic and merciless. Orgasm two, three—she lost the tally—each rolling into the next until her inner thighs trembled and her nipples felt bruised from their own bouncing.
“I need a break,” she moaned out.
Cole slowed his rhythm. “You want me to pull out?”
“No, just stop a second.”
Cole stilled, buried to the hilt, sweat dripping from his chest to hers.
Across the room Jeff sat forward on the ottoman, fist shuttling his revived erection, eyes glassy with encouragement.
The words crawled out of her throat before she could trap them: “I want DP.”
Cole’s brow lifted. “Pussy?”
She nodded. “I’m not ready for the back door tonight.”
He slipped free, an obscene pop, and moved to the couch, shaft glistening with her and the men’s mingled slick.
Rachel rose on jelly legs, feeling warm rivulets snake down the inside of each thigh, pattering onto the floor like lazy rain.
She straddled him reverse cowgirl, sinking slowly, muscles fluttering around the familiar stretch.
Matt stepped up, cock jutting proudly. He painted her clit in tight circles until her hips jerked involuntarily; then he pressed in alongside Cole, the two crowns competing for space, forging forward inch by inch while Cole whispered, “Exhale, relax, good girl.”
The pressure verged on pain, a burning stretch that morphed into something bright and electric.
Frank hovered, half-hard, expression sulky.
Rachel winked. “Come here.”
He shuffled close, offering his reviving length; she wrapped her lips around him just as the men below found their sync, a slow, deliberate seesaw that dragged her swollen G-spot over two ridges of flesh.
The first combined climax detonated behind her eyes, screams vibrating down Frank’s shaft.
She pulled off gasping, hair plastered to her cheeks. “God, fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me,” she babbled, voice ragged.
They obeyed, tempo quickening.
Matt’s control snapped; she felt the telltale throb, the hot, rhythmic splash inside her already flooded channel. That trigger set Cole off; he slammed deep and held, a groan tearing loose as he pulsed in thick, heavy jets.
Frank tore free of her mouth, fisting himself frantically, aim drifting. The first ribbon slashed across her cheek, the next across her parted lips, the last splattering her collarbone in slow, viscous ropes.
She barely registered the warmth; her own orgasm kept rolling, crest after crest, until she folded sideways, sliding off them in a tangle of limbs and spilled seed. She hit the rug with a soft thud, chest heaving, cunt throbbing like a second heart. Cum pooled under her hip, cooling fast.
Jeff’s voice drifted down, hoarse with awe. “Jesus Christ, that was” He couldn’t finish; he just stared at the pearly streaks drying on the floorboards, at the sheen glazing his wife’s skin.
Frank managed a weak “Hell yeah,” before collapsing back.
Rachel, Matt, Cole—three sweat-slick, spent bodies—lay in a loose constellation, lungs struggling for air, the room spinning gently around them.
