The Games People Play

On the surface the two couples were more similar than different. They were stereotypical middle class white folks in the suburbs. Yvette and Mark were a few years younger. Colin and Allison were a little taller. Other than that, all four of them were in jeans, all four drank domestic beer in bottles, and none of them smoked openly but now all stunk of tobacco. Both women were blonde and although they were built differently could share a closet. Both men drove trucks and coached youth sports.

They were still individuals though. The little sports bar with live music on weekends brought them together weekly but they were each there for their own reasons.

Collin was there to see people that he didn't have to sell something to. He liked to get a couple of drinks in him and bullshit about sports, cars, or women with the men and flirt with the women, any that would talk to him.

Allison didn't like the drinking but loved the dancing, the music and the attention. Collin didn't dance with her but didn't mind the men who wanted to. That evening one in particular was paying her considerable attention. It was going well. She was just drunk enough to let it happen and Collin was just sober enough to make sure it was all okay.

Mark drank slowly. He didn't like the country/classic rock cover band or the crowded bar inside. He sat on the patio. He chatted with the bartender when she had time and with whoever was sitting next to him when they were willing. Mark was there for Yvette.

Yvette liked happy hours to take the edge off. She liked bars for the people, the music, and how they reminded her of earlier times. She had been a little wild when she was younger and although Mark had tamed her, she still remembered being the party girl in a tiny bikini paid to sell shots. Hanging out late on Saturday nights and waking up with a hangover reminded her that she wasn't old. She couldn't help herself she liked bad behavior. She didn't even need it to be her own bad behavior. She was sitting beside Collin watching the band in general but Allison more specifically.

"You don't mind that?" The groping and rubbing of hips that was taking place in front of them perplexed Yvette - how Allison would do it in front of Collin and how Collin seemed to accept it.

"She's having a good time." Collin said.

"I had good times once," she said sadly.

"Really?" Collin was just shooting shit, talking out his ass. He was busy watching Allison. She was now kissing the man she was dancing with. He was not an active participant in the conversation and didn't feel the direction it was going in.

"Yeah, before Mark. God, before mark I never would have just sat here like this watching. I probably would have taken you to the parking lot already. I doubt she would notice we left."

Collin turned to her. Sometimes she surprised him with how pretty she was. He didn't normally look at her in that way. "Is that an offer?" He wondered if she knew what she was starting.

"I couldn't do that to my friend."

Collin smiled at her. He was tempted to let her in on a secret, a closely guarded secret. He stared at her appraising her with intent most sinister.

She knew the look she was getting. She liked the look. She arched her back a little and used a finger to brush her hair away from her face.

He liked that she teased her hair. He knew what it meant for a woman to touch her hair while he was thinking the things he was thinking. She was thinking similar things.

Bad things.

"Do you want to dance?" he asked her.

"Like that?" She nodded toward Allison and the stranger who swayed lips locked in the far corner of the dance floor.

"Come, let's smoke," he told her. They walked together until they had to either go out front or continue to the patio where her husband sat. Collin took her hand, led them past Ray, the 600 pound black man at the door. Out front he led her around a dark corner. She had been reaching into her purse. She had found a pack of cigarettes but couldn't find a lighter.

In the dark hidden by a shrub he didn't go for the cigarette she offered him but instead went for her. He kissed her taking her breath away. She fell backwards against the building. His lips were firm, his tongue insistent. Her lips were soft and her mouth welcomed him. His hands moved over her. He traced her silhouette running his hands from her hips, over her waist to her ribs until finally held a breast in each. She gasped.

She gripped his ass and felt his cock swollen in his jeans pressed to her belly.

She bit his lower lip.

He moved one hand to her lower back as if covering her tattoo, a finger slipped into her jeans. He stopped at her panties. His other hand moved up her belly. She felt him trace the bottom of her bra. "Yes." She whispered. He forced his hand beneath it. Her hips moved slowly against him.

Fuck she loved kissing. She loved the feel of him against her. She loved the urgency of it all. His hand found her nipple. He teased it. "Harder," she whispered. He pinched and she squeaked. His hands were large and strong.

He wanted her. He had liked her well enough but now, his hands on her, his lips on her, her eyes fixed on his he forced his hand inside tight jeans. A button gave way and he gripped her ass. It was smaller than he expected, her breast larger than he had expected. Her kiss, which he had expected to be tentative, was anything but.

Voices around the corner caused them to stop what they were doing.

Desperately she put herself together as he gathered her purse from the ground. He fumbled with her cigarettes and dropped them twice. She was shaking when she finally took one from the pack. He flicked the lighter. Only after they each had taken a long drag did they step out from around the corner.

"That was so bad," she said, thinking of the punishment she would receive for such unacceptable behavior.

"I was going to say how good it was," he said thinking about Allison's reaction with no clue what she would think.

The man that had been dancing with Allison beamed broadly having fount the two of them. He was younger. Yvette thought he was neither as cute, nor as sexy as Allison's husband but she recognized her objectivity had been compromised.

"Hey, Collin, right?"

"Yup."

"Name's Dean. Allison is looking for you. She is uh... ready to go."

"I bet," Collin said.

"I'll go find her." The man went back inside.

"Do you have a secret you feel like letting me in on?" she asked, suspecting she already knew.

"We all have secrets," he said. "You show me yours, I'll show you mine."

She had known Collin for years, they had been hanging out regularly for six months or so. He was friendly but not inappropriately so, and never like this. This was... dangerous.

"Do you watch?" she asked him point blank.

"No, no. Everyone's involved."

"Damn."

"We should go see what everyone's doing," he said. Ray opened the door for them.

On the patio they found Allison talking to Mark in hushed tones. The stranger stood behind her. He had a hand wrapped around her, his thumb hooked in the belt loop of her jeans.

"Should I object to the goings on around here?" Mark husband his wife, she had the guilty look of the kitten that had eaten the canary.

"No, Daddy. Mr. Reed was a complete gentleman," she cooed. Jealous of the attention Allison was getting from the stranger she reached behind her, took Collin Reed's hand and pulled it to her placing it on her belly. She held it in place with both of her hands and leaned back into him.

Allison studied her friend and her husband with suspicion and curiosity.

Marks lips twisted into something between a grin and a grimace. She had called him Daddy.

The stranger stood, eyes opened wide, excited to be in the middle of what seemed like the beginning of a group sex porn video.

Collin fed off the tension, the excitement and the anticipation. He replayed her use of "Daddy," in his mind studying it for clues and communicated with his wife through a series of looks and mouthed words.

Mark and Collin settled their tabs with the bartender and the five of them boarded the complementary shuttle. Collin suggested the driver drop Mark and Yvette off first but Yvette didn't let that happen arguing the easiest route led to Collin and Allison's house first.

"What is up with the two of you?" Allison asked watching the exchange.

"Yvie is fishing for secrets." Collin said suggestively.

"Kitten, I think has been a bad girl." Mark said in a weird firm but calm way that caused Yvette to look down at her high-heeled boots.

"What, she wants to know if I am going to fuck you both of you? I didn't know that was a secret. I thought it was pretty obvious."

"Is this it?" the driver asked.

"Have fun," Yvette called out as the three of them stepped off the old white bus.

"Kitten, do you need to tell me something?" Mark asked her when they were alone.

"I tried to stop him, Daddy. I did. But he... he was so strong. He kissed me."

"Is that all?"

"I might have kissed him back. A little."

"And..."

"He touched my breast," she whispered. Despite the use of the term Daddy, there was no little girl to her voice. That wasn't their game. He just didn't like the use of the term Master. His maternal grandmother was African American.

"And..."

"He tried to touch me there, he couldn't though."

"You should have worn a skirt," he said in his deep soft voice. She looked at him. He had sharp features to begin with but the seriousness on his face made him look positively evil and she loved it.

"Can I Daddy? Next time."

"If you are willing to accept the consequences, yes."

"I am, Daddy."

When it was their turn to get off the bus he tipped the driver and watched her walk ahead of them towards the house. She walked slowly, shifting her weight, tempting him with her ass as it swayed from side to side.

In the home on Lavender Way Allison's heart pounded in her chest. She had made a glass of water for herself and opened two bottles of beers for the men. She found them waiting for her in the bedroom. Collin had set the stage and explained the rules. She handed the men their beers and sat of the edge of the bed and unzipped and removed her boots and her socks. The rest was for them to take off of her.

She took the stranger's beer from him and took a long swallow wrapping her lips around the neck of the bottle. He husband began to undo the buttons on her shirt. She sat the beer down and four strong hands went to work undressing her.

In the much larger house on 42nd street Yvette climbed the stairs and checked on her children. They slept soundly. Downstairs, Mark paid the sitter and sent the girl on her way. In the bedroom she undressed. Naked she went to her jewelry box and removed the small key to the trunk that sat at the end of the bed. She removed the collar and buckled it around her neck and took her place kneeling in the center of the floor. To strangers the thick rubber pad was explained away as her dance space, it was where she exercised. The truth was it was like all of the other oddities in their bedroom. It was sex related just like the four-post bed and the thick hooks along the wall where she hung potted plants.

When mark entered he smiled at her. She had pleased him and this was good. He turned and locked the door behind him. She waited without moving as he relieved himself. She listened for him to finish. He returned to her undressed. He moved naked to the trunk.

Mark was a big man. He didn't run and found cardio a bore. He lifted weights and had thick strong arms, a wide chest, and although he was too "prosperous" to have Abs his back rippled with musculature. He had a broad strong ass and never skipped leg day. He bent into the truck and removed a jumble of leather straps and chrome rings. He handed it to her.

His cock was not exceptional, at least it didn't appear so compared to the mass that was the rest of him, but it was more than sufficient. She didn't need it to be monstrous. She slipped his still soft dick through one of the chrome rings and his balls through another. He turned around and she fastened the leather buckles around his waist and up over his asshole. When he was in the "device" he turned and she stroked him. He grew hard; his cock turned a deep purple. When it stood erect in front of her she stopped her ministrations and turned her eyes back to the floor. Her heart raced.

"Fifteen, I think." He said quietly.

"But Daddy, he didn't even touch me."

"Twenty then."

She had been expecting six, maybe eight. She had no idea he had been this excited. Had she known she would have pressed her friend to be invited to join in their fun with the stranger.

Stripped naked, the men pawed Allison. They were both fully clothed. She liked this part. The stranger gripped her ass and pinched her nipples. She kissed the two of them briefly; kissing was not her thing really. She had gotten her fill on the dance floor.

"Ouch," she said. The stranger had pinched her nipple too firmly. Her husband held her breast differently; he squeezed it in his full hand. The stranger moved to the one Collin squeezed almost as if it was a coordinated effort. "Ouch!" she said more loudly. A hand moved to her pussy. A mouth was on her neck. She closed her eyes and let them play.

She knew the basic rules. She trusted her husband explicitly to fill in her lovers.

Whatever was happening, "Stop," meant stop, no matter what.

Condoms were a must. Don't even try. Don't even think to ask.

Head was likely but she would do it if she wanted to do it. If she didn't go for it, don't force it.

Her ass was off limits. No cocks, no fingers, no nothing.

This was for her. She would see to it her guest was pleased but in the end, they needed to remember it was all about her.

She didn't know about the little things he had added.

If she was on her knees and sucking her husband's cock as her guest fucked her, grabbing her hair was always a good move. Allison would have denied she liked this but he knew her better than she knew herself.

"Ow," and "ouch," were both good. "Fuck," was good. "Shit," was bad. If she said "shit," back off or go more softly.

When fucking- harder deeper and faster were all good. Slow and soft was for other times and Collin took care of that himself.

The stranger had paid close attention. He was a pretty good-looking kid but had gone through a nasty breakup a while back and needed this. The older woman was fucking hot. A threesome was hot. He wanted to make sure he didn't fuck up.

With one hand in her pussy and the other pinching her tit he remembered his briefing. He pinched until she said ouch and then when he fingered, he followed the instructions and was fast and rough.

"Ouch! Fuck!" the woman moaned. She spread her legs so he had better access. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck yeah! Now. Like that!" she groaned. She dripped all over his hand. "Fuuuuuuck!" she growled. Her hand gripped his hair and pulled hard as she came. "Okay. Stop," she said. He immediately removed his hand."

"Take those pants off," she barked at him. "You too," she said to her husband.

Allison went to her knees. She normally didn't come that fast. This was going to be good. The stranger's cock was stupid long and thin. She smiled. Collin's was shorter but fat, thick as a log she always said. It was hard to suck him off.

On her knees she went to work. She sucked one and then turned and sucked the other. Normally she would be fucking someone at this point but since she had already come so hard she had decided tonight she would break out of her routine a little. She looked up at her husband. Taking a break from sucking she yanked the both of them, she loved to have a cock in each hand. She loved the power of it. That's what no one understood about her little proclivity. It was about power. She loved the power she had when it was on her to please two cocks.

Unlike so many things in life that you can never tell if you are any good at, pleasing a man was easy. They couldn't fake it. There was physiological evidence when she did a good job.

"You're wife is going to be a little cum slut tonight. You like that?"

"You know I do."

"You gonna come for me Drew? You have a big fat load for me to swallow?"

"Dean," he corrected her. "Yeah, I got a huge load for you."

"Mmmmm," she moaned. She took the young man into her mouth and went to work.

"Twelve," he said quietly. She stifled a cry. He had begun softly, spanking her ass almost playfully.

She had responded almost playfully at the start. "Ooo!" "Oh!" she had said. He had been taking it easy on her. Twenty was a lot, almost the most ever. Still, their game was not about taking it easy and she knew he didn't appreciate the teasing.

Since eight her ass had begun to burn. It was now pain and she was only just past half way.

"Thirteen."

SLAP!

"Fourteen."

SLAP!

"Fifteen." His voice was never raised. There was no aggression or animosity, simply an inventory. He sounded almost bored. She had teared up. She knew her eyeliner was running everywhere. She had bought waterproof eyeliner once. It wasn't the same; she liked the evidence. He liked the tracks of her tears.

"Sixteen." She had to be careful. She didn't want her gasps for breath to turn to sobs. She didn't want to cry yet. He rewarded her for not crying.

"Seventeen." The paddle was not thick, it was wide and thin, almost the shape and size of a tennis racket. It was intentional. It distributed the force across her skin. Her ass would be bright red. It would sting to wear panties tomorrow but there were no bruises or injuries.

"Eighteen." It fucking hurt though. She tossed her head side to side. She drew in great sobs of air. Tears, snot, and drool covered the matt and her face. She couldn't wipe it away. Her wrists had been placed in thick black leather cuffs and fastened to similar cuffs on her her thighs just above her knees. Her ankles were cuffed as well to either end of a thick heavy metal bar. She was not uncomfortable but movement, other than the thrashing about of her head, was essentially impossible.

"Nineteen." She held her breath to prevent her cries from escaping.

"Twenty." The last one was the hardest. She didn't feel it any harder, she was essentially numb, but she heard it.

"You can let it out now, kitten," he said softly.

With her ass in the air she began to cry uncontrollably. She had pleased him by not letting it out until now.

She squealed with the comforting cold sting that was the pitcher of ice water that he poured over her ass. She squealed again when she heard the buzzing.

"Thank you, Daddy," she moaned. Her response signaling her appreciation of the relief he was about to deliver, her reward for being such a good girl and taking her punishment. She could have stopped it at any time. Their safe word was Alabama. She didn't though. She never did.

She had gone back and forth sucking one and then the other for her amusement but she was ready to fuck. She still wanted the cum, she wanted all the cum, and she had a deliciously filthy idea what to do with it. It was something new. She hoped Collin would like it.

She finished Collin first. It was easy - she knew his trigger. Unlike what she learned from watching porn in the sorority house for tips and tricks twenty years ago he liked it slow. She took just the tip of his cock in her mouth and worked it with her tongue as she locked eyes with him and gripped his hips.

He still surprised her and the first shot she took to the back of her throat. Normally she preferred to take all of it into her throat. She didn't understand spitting; it was much cleaner to just swallow it. Tonight though, she pulled him free of her lips and jacked his cock as it rewarded her with a thick and sticky load of jizz. She rubbed it onto her lips; she let it drip off her chin onto her tits. Porn star style she aimed it onto her face making sure to keep it clear of her eyes. She wasn't into that.