My Husband's Party Games Read online

  MY HUSBAND'S PARTY GAMES

  By

  Laran Mithras

  Cover Photo by www.Shutterstock.com

  My Husband's Party Games is a work of fiction. Names, locations and incidents either are a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2015 - All Rights Reserved

  If you aren't as kinky as your husband, your marriage isn't going to last. If you're kinkier than your husband, he'll love you like no other.

  CHAPTER 1

  "What? Sex games? You've got to be kidding me." I shook my head.

  My husband Archer frowned at me. "Loosen up, Faith."

  "Loosen? I thought this was just going to be a friendly party?"

  "It is. But we'll throw in a sex game for the end."

  "No way." Are you crazy? Sex?

  "Relax, would you? It'll just be a bit of fun."

  "Having sex with other people is not my idea of fun." I'm not a slut.

  My husband gave me a dirty look. "Is that why you seem so frigid? Sex with me is technically sex with another person?"

  "What? No—"

  "Rather play with yourself because it's more pure?"

  I wanted to slap him. "I didn't mean it that way."

  "Oh?"

  "I meant outside of our marriage. And I'm not frigid."

  My husband is a good-looking guy. Why did he have to have wandering eyes? What's wrong with me?

  He gave me a look of disbelief. "You can't imagine touching another man, can you?"

  "Of course not. Don't be gross."

  "What's gross about touching?"

  "Nothing, you know what I mean."

  Archer crossed his arms and lifted his chin. "No, I don't. What's wrong with touching another man?"

  I coughed and lifted my eyes to the ceiling. We had chewed over this once before when I found him looking at hotwife porn. "Because we're married. Married people don't play sex games and wives don't run around touching other men."

  "A lot do."

  "A lot of sluts," I said with some heat.

  "Yes, of course. Sex is dirty."

  I groaned in frustration. "I didn't say that."

  "But touching other men is dirty."

  "Totally."

  "So sex is dirty."

  Why don't you get it? "We made a commitment to each other."

  "And I think you touching other men is just fine."

  "What, are you going to line up fifteen guys and have me wank them all? Will that make you happy?"

  He raised his eyebrows, made a considering pout with his lips and said, "That's a start."

  I threw up my hands and laughed.

  ~ ~ ~

  The truth was, I had a secret fantasy of being taken and ravished – even if by someone not my husband. There was no way I could tell him that; he'd probably arrange it and wank while it happened.

  I wasn't about to put my marriage on the line so he could get off by seeing me with another man or just so he could blow a load on some blonde's tits. What was I for?

  Fantasies are too dangerous, even for the one you love most: telling him would destroy everything. I can't tell him, ever.

  Nope. When I had found him looking at hotwife porn, I was at first shocked, thinking he was looking at other women. Then I saw that he was looking at special kinds of pictures with captions. He had been embarrassed and apologized, but I had been curious.

  When he was at work, I went through his history and looked at the pages he had been at. The pictures were graphic and some of them were gifs – moving pictures. I had become hot looking at them and reading the captions. I had even fingered myself in frustrated lust at what I was seeing.

  No way could I ever admit that to him. I loved him; I wasn't going to risk ruining our marriage by engaging his kinky fantasies.

  No matter how hot it made me.

  Some things have to be denied. Some passions have to be crushed. Some fantasies can never see the light of day.

  I wasn't frigid, I was being smart. I would have the perfect marriage where everything was clean: no fantasies allowed. Not his and not mine, either. Fair was fair. I was going to be the perfect wife: shopping and being a homemaker.

  We were in our new condo. It wasn't much more than a glorified apartment, but it was what we could afford on his manager's salary at the organic foods chain. We spent quite a bit in decorating it with wallpaper and extras that made it seem rich.

  My income had gone to hell. I had been writing children's picture books when the rules got changed and my income dropped over ninety percent. I was looking for other avenues of income now. That was the polite way of saying I was unemployed and there wasn't any work to be had.

  When Archer told me he wanted to throw a party for our new place, I agreed. What fun it would be to show off that in such a depressed economy, someone was actually moving up.

  But an end-of-party sex game? What was our place supposed to be? The Playboy Condo?

  ~ ~ ~

  I watched Archer run down his list of friends. He said, "Twelve people, not including us."

  I glanced around. "I don't think we have enough chairs."

  "We'll get a couple of office folding chairs."

  "I don't like the sex idea."

  "You've told me. I'll be putting it to a vote anyway, so don't chafe at all that ice in your panties."

  I sighed heavily.

  He heard it and said, "It's going to be a vote. If everyone is as prudish as you, there won't be any game." He was still looking at his list.

  "I'm not a prude."

  "Of course you are. The very idea of even talking about a sex game and your thighs clench shut in prune-faced horror."

  He wasn't looking at me, but I realized I was doing exactly that. The fact that he was right made me more certain than ever to oppose his idea. It was only fair. "I don't want naked people all over the house."

  He looked up at me with patience and understanding. "Of course you don't; you might find it's actually fun."

  I steamed.

  ~ ~ ~

  I rode Archer's cock in our bed. I liked being on top, despite my fantasy of being taken.

  That suited my husband just fine as it gave him an opportunity to run his hands all over my skin. I loved that.

  He was grinning that wicked smile of his. "You might get to see some cock at the party."

  I sighed. "I don't want to see anyone's cock."

  His hips moved under me. "Oh, come on. Aren't you even curious? Benjamin might play. Ever seen a black cock? Or I bet you like Terence."

  "No. And I don't want to see either of those."

  "Yep, you have a thing for Terence, don't you?"

  Terence was an old friend of Archer's, and nice-looking, at least. "Nope." I tried to block any images out of my head, but I couldn't. It was Duke that I thought was sexy. Muscular with spiky hair, Duke looked like a total panty-shredder. What would his cock look like? I gasped, riding him a little faster.

  Archer smiled wide. "Oh? What's this, then? Thinking of the black cock?"

  "Um, no. Not interested." I wasn't. As nice as Benjamin was, it just wasn't my thing.

  "Who then?"

  I tried to banish Duke from my mind; it didn't work. "No one." It was a secret that wasn't ever going to come out. Only by carefully avoiding the fulfilling of fantasies could anyone ever truly live a happy life.

  My husband thrust up into me and I closed my eyes, imagining Duke underneath me. I shivered with desire.

  He said dryly, "Don't think of my dick, either. Just think of me as a dildo. Cleaner that way."

  But thoughts of what Duke might feel like up inside me brought on an orgasm so sudden that I gasped in shock. It was a quick one, t
hough, and not very satisfying.

  My husband chuckled. "See? Mention dildo and you cum. Mention dick and you're all turned off."

  I coughed in indignation and laid myself on his chest. At this point, he could do the work. He did, moving his hips to slide his cock in and out of me as I lay on him.

  I said, "I love you."

  He stroked my back. "I love you, too."

  CHAPTER 2

  I turned on his computer. He was gone an hour already to work. With the laundry in, I had nothing to do.

  I could try to figure out something else to write, but I didn't have the patience to write anything other than children's books. A few simple sentences with a moral message and some pictures… It was work, but I didn't have to flesh out real stories with characters and a plotline.

  Little girl finds dinosaur egg. It hatches, she raises it and they become friends. Easy.

  But a real story? No way.

  I browsed to his history and began looking at some of his hotwife sites. I began clicking thumbnails, reading the captions that went with the sexy pictures. I loved the moving ones where the wife says to her husband, "Don't worry, the flirting is all harmless" and the moving gif is of the wife being passionately fucked.

  I fingered myself. At least here at the computer, I could live out my secret fantasy. I especially liked the ones where the wife was forced to have sex with a friend or group of friends.

  I would spend hours doing this, almost every day.

  ~ ~ ~

  Archer was at his lists again. "Got the chairs, Terence will be bringing the pizzas—"

  I grimaced. "I hope it's not Pizza Hut or something like that."

  He looked up. "No, he assured me he would be getting Danny's Naturals. No chemicals or GMOs."

  Thank God for small favors.

  He went back to his list. "Six cases of diet soda for those that drink it, two extra five-gallon water bottles for the cooler, six twelve-packs of stout, and game dice."

  I made a face. "Everyone's going to vote no."

  "Only you will, dear."

  That made me mad, because he was right that I would. "We don't need to play sex games."

  He tapped the paper. "Neither do we need beer. Or pizza. Or anything, for that matter."

  "I only need you."

  "Maybe. A dildo would be better, wouldn't it? No fantasies? Just mindless—"

  "Stop it."

  "It's what you were thinking about when you came last night."

  "It wasn't." I can't tell you what I was thinking about. If I told him it was the idea of Duke's cock, it would be one short slippery slope until he was banging some blonde and our marriage was over. If I tell him my fantasies, he'll take it as license to explode with his own. Blondes and bimbos. Where would it end?

  He mumbled dryly, "Mm hmm."

  "What kind of party game are you going to try to get everyone playing? Something juvenile like strip poker?"

  His grin was saucy. "More juvenile; Spin the Bottle with a few twists."

  My tone was very, very dry. "Twists?"

  "One person spins and rolls the two dice. The dice tell him what he has to do to the person the bottle points at. Either can refuse, but the one who refuses has to remove an article of clothing."

  I rolled my eyes. "How ninth grade."

  His smile didn't lessen. "It'll be fun."

  "I won't be playing."

  "Don't be such a frigid ice-witch."

  "No one else will want to play, anyway."

  He gave me a look. "How about you play if they do or you can laugh at me if they don't?"

  "Why should I agree to that?"

  "You're telling me no one will want to play. I'm challenging you. If you're so right, Miss Perfect, then you have nothing to worry about and you can elbow everyone, point at me and laugh when they all turn the idea down."

  I pouted. "I don't want to laugh at you."

  "Then don't laugh, whatever. If you're right, prove me wrong."

  "By agreeing to play?"

  "Only if everyone else does. In other words, don't be an icy drag on the rest of the party."

  I couldn't lose, though I had nothing to win except bragging rights. "Whatever."

  ~ ~ ~

  I'm not a vain woman; I don't wear makeup except for eyeliner and lipstick. Sometimes a little eyeshadow, but I have to be in the mood. Never caught the fever as a little girl to put so much makeup on that you couldn't tell who I was.

  I did spend time with my hair, but that's only because hair can make or break a person. Without a little bit of flair to my hair, I wasn't very pretty. With what I did in styling my hair, I got smiles from men. Took several extra minutes every morning in the mirror; the smiles were worth it.

  My husband looked in on me as I checked my hair. "Quit primping; you look great."

  "I'm not primping."

  He rolled his eyes.

  I sighed. Men would never understand. They came out of the shower, ran a brush once through their hair and immediately thought all women should be able to do the same.

  He snickered. "How many cans of hair spray have you gone through today?"

  I scowled. "Three quick blasts, just like normal."

  "Uh huh."

  "Don't you have something to do? Like polish the stupid bottle for your game or something?"

  "The game you're going to play?"

  "You mean the game no one will want to play, except maybe Terence?"

  He chuckled. "Are you still going to be in the bathroom hiding and messing with your hair when they arrive?"

  I put a fist on hip. "No."

  The doorbell rang.

  Archer gave me a dubious look and said, "Why don't you get that?"

  I sighed in disapproval at him. "Fine, I will."

  He grinned like a Cheshire cat.

  I passed him, and went and answered the front door.

  Terence stood there with a stack of pizza boxes; he was barely peeking over the top of them. "Hey, Faith."

  "Oh my goodness, come in. We aren't going to fit more than three or four of those in the oven. How many are there?" I shut the door behind him.

  "Seven."

  "Ugh, leftovers for days."

  "I wanted to be sure. Can I set these down? The bottom one is hot."

  I pushed at him towards the kitchen. Terence was a nice guy with a sly streak. I liked him, but was wary of him. Who knew what sly men would do?

  He settled the pizzas down on the table and began fiddling with the oven.

  I slapped his hands away, feeling jealous of my new kitchen equipment. "I'll do it."

  His frown was petulantly indignant. "I know how to work an oven."

  "Just keep your paws off. Here, you want to do something? Slide those racks down."

  I watched him tug out the spaced racks and stack them differently. He put them all on the very bottom of the oven.

  I said, "Those don't go there. There are slots for them."

  "If we use the slots, we won't be able to fit more than three pizzas in here." He began stacking pizza boxes directly in.

  "They'll burn that way."

  "They won't."

  Are all men so difficult? I wanted to kick him.

  He stood and brushed off his hands as if just finishing an arduous task. "There. All but one."

  "I told you they wouldn't fit."

  He sighed very slowly. "I got six in there."

  I shook my head. Men would never understand when they've been beaten. I left him in the kitchen as voices neared the front door.

  It was Benjamin and his wife.

  I smiled. "Benjamin, right?"

  The tall black man smiled a gentle and open smile that indicated he was used to being happy. "That's right. This here's my wife, Richelle."

  I shook his hand, then hers. She was a short little thing with long, wavy hair. With slightly darker skin than her husband's, the whites of her eyes shone prettily in her face.

  Richelle said, "Pleased to meet you."
r />   "Come in."

  Behind them, coming up the walkway was Mary Marie, a sexy-looking woman who worked with my husband and caused me worry.

  I had met her before when I visited Archer's store. My greeting was so very neutral. "Hi Mary."

  She looked at me like competition. "Hello." Her greeting was a little airy and she looked around as if already dismissing me.

  I let her in without any further interaction. Screw her. Why did Archer have to invite her? Just to rub it in my face? Will she be the first one to say yes to his dumb sex game? Suddenly, I didn't feel certain I was right about everyone declining.

  ~ ~ ~

  I ate a slice of pizza. It was actually very good for being a supposedly wholesome, non-GMO food.

  They were all here and interacting: Skinny little Whitney and her hunk of a husband Duke; single Natalie with wild gray strands in her blonde hair; homely Hillary and her very handsome husband Hugh; the happy black couple Richelle and Benjamin; the sexpot Mary Marie; and sly Terence.

  I didn't like that Mary Marie had already claimed a spot on the arm of the recliner my husband sat in. Bitch.

  I couldn't spare too many glares; Natalie was talking to me. "Any luck in the book market?"

  I had told her and showed her my book-writing career that was now no longer a career. "No. I haven't really looked – too depressing."

  She patted my knee. "Maybe things will change."

  "I'd have to find a publisher, really. Or go another electronic route other than Amazon."

  "Well?"

  I sighed. I didn't tell her I spent a lot of hours looking at my husband's porn sites. "I know."

  "Chin up, girl. If you don't knock, doors won't open."

  "I know."

  She leaned closer to me, her fine wrinkles at her eyes becoming more apparent. "If you're afraid of opportunity, you'll always be stuck, going nowhere."

  I made a face.

  She leaned back. "Who wants to live their lives stuck doing nothing?"

  Mary Marie touched my husband's shoulder.

  Get your damn paws off him you hairy ape. I glared, then turned back to Natalie. "I'm not a nothing."