My wife smirked and said, “Okay boys, let’s calm down. Poor Chike over here is already about to climax in his trousers, let’s not be cruel.” We all continued to small talk and harass one another as we drank.
After thirty minutes or so, he began daring us to drink more, and my wife kept insisting that she had had plenty, reminding him that if he hadn’t knocked on the door she would have been asleep by this time.
After several more minutes, my wife finally said,
“Fine, fine, fine, pour the damn shots, just shut up about it already.” She had already put down at least three double-shot mixed drinks, and I would know, I was pouring them. After several shots, my wife, along with what she had already drunk was quite buzzed.
Chike was damn well getting hammered, but rather than getting more tired, it seemed he was becoming more and more awake.
At around 3:15 AM, he got back on the subject of,
“Why can’t a woman just give a guy a hand job on a first date?” I know this will sound insane to some people, but after having several drinks and shots, hearing it over and over and watching my beautiful wife lean into him innocently, I slowly began to fantasize about my wife giving him this coveted hand job he kept going on about. In fact, the more he spoke of it, the more I thought about it.
My wife kept giving him the same generic advice, when right out of the blue, and I will never forget this moment for the rest of my life, I said without a great deal of thought, “Enough about the hand job. Honey will you please give him the hand job so we can stop talking about it?”
There were a very odd five seconds of silence before my wife finally replied with her chin hanging down to the floor, “Um, what was that, darling?”
I just kind of grinned and said, “What the hell just give the poor guy a hand job before he jumps off a bridge. Then we won’t have to hear any more about it.” She kept her mouth open the entire time I was speaking in an utterly shocked manner, almost as if waiting for the punch line as Chike sat there looking like a deer in the headlights.
Finally, Chike said, “Oh shit, are you serious… Oh, oh my God, you need to stop teasing. You’re kidding right?” My wife just kept staring at me almost the way someone does when they just heard a long joke and didn’t quite get the punch line.
I immediately walked to the dresser and poured another glass of drink for each of us, when Tolani finally said something. Still, in shock and with a slight yet confused grin, she said sarcastically, “Oh my God, my husband has a few drinks and wants to watch me give a guy a hand job. I suppose if you drink a few more, maybe Chike can fuck me, how will that be, husband?”
I calmly replied, “Oh calm down, don’t you feel sorry for him just a little bit?”
She paused for a second and replied, “I feel sorry for starving children in Sambisa, but I haven’t sold my car and sent them the money yet.” Meanwhile, Chike is sitting there hanging on every word continuing to wonder if he was actually hearing what he was hearing.
I handed her the glass, and she continued to glare at me with a combination of pissed off, confused, and oh damn, all rolled into one. Chike, still sitting on the end of the bed at Tolani’s feet, said, “I swear I wouldn’t tell a soul, Oh my God, this would be so….”
Just before he could finish, Tolani said, “Chike, just shut the hell up… just, shut, up.”
There were this uncomfortable fifteen seconds of silence that felt like thirty minutes. I just kept a mischievous smile on my face as she continued to stare at me. I could tell she still wasn’t quite sure if it was a joke or what.
Within an instant, her expression changed from confused to, “Ok, I’ll play along, but I still don’t think you’re serious.” I think to her it became like a game of chicken, to see who would swerve first.
She turned and looked right at Chike pointing her finger in his face and said,
“If I even get a smirk from a neighbor, a friend, or one of your friends, you will never be welcome in this house again and I will tell everyone you are the biggest liar I have ever met.” He kept completely still and wide-eyed as she spoke, and after she was done laying down the law, he agreed profusely, and I must say he looked embarrassed.
My then wife looked at me and said,
“Hand me a T-Shirt.” I reached into one of her drawers and quickly handed her a T-Shirt. As I handed it to her she just let the bedspread fall from her perfect breasts as if it was just me and her sister in the room, and slipped it over her head.
After she put the T-shirt on, she sat there and just stared at Chike with her eyebrows raised, saying nothing. Chike looked around glancing back and forth from me to her, in total confusion and terror. She finally asked,
“Do you want to do this with your trousers on?”
He nervously jumped up and began muttering
“Oh right, sorry, I just, well, yes, right…” mumbling away in pure babble. As he fumbled with his trousers, my wife threw off the bedspread from her legs and moved down to the end of the bed.
This was without a doubt the most erotic moment in my entire life, watching a 20-year-old man taking off his trousers between my wife’s legs as she sat there with her hands on her knees waiting.
As he stepped out of his trousers, he immediately grabbed at both sides of his underwear and slid them down. His dick was so rigid he had to push the front of his briefs out past his dick to get them off, and as the band of his briefs hung up on the head of his cock, his erection slapped back against his stomach.
Tolani kind of chuckled and said, “Excited are we?”
He replied, “You really, really, have no idea.”
My wife then put her hands over her face and slowly pulled them down and said, “I need just one more drink, and then we’ll do this.”
Chike immediately agreed saying, “Oh yes, me too.” I think my wife was buying time to see if I would finally flinch, or tell her this was all a joke, but I didn’t. I poured the drinks, giving Chike about half a shot and giving my wife a double.
I handed it to her, and she immediately held her nose and gulped it down, freezing for about twenty seconds as if the slightest thing would have made her throw it up. Chike too threw his back making a similar liquor face.
As they were throwing back their shots, I couldn’t help but notice that Chike’s dick was maybe only a half-inch longer than mine and about as thick, but the head of his dick was unusually large. I mean it was very disproportionate from the rest of his cock.
It looked like a good sized cucumber you might find in the store. His dick was standing straight up too, with a wet shiny smear around the tip and a clear drip of pre-seminal fluid at the opening.
As he finally got his act together and, having thrown back the shot, he walked in front of my wife not knowing what the hell he was doing, and she just glanced at me for a brief second, took a deep breath, and rather reluctantly and slowly reached up and put her hand on his cock.
When she grabbed it, the head of his dick oozed out a large drop of clear slick fluid and she immediately said, “Oh my God, look how much stuff is coming out of you.”
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