By the time Adele returned to the parlor, the husbands had moved to the sofa. All three sat side by side—there were Roger’s blond curls, Pat’s chestnut brown hair and Elliot’s salt and pepper on the end. She stared at the backs of their heads before gazing up at Sissy sitting in the chair Adele had abandoned, and Hue perched on its arm. They looked at Adele as if to ask permission. That was her impression, at least until she circled the sofa to find her husband’s belt unbuckled and fly unzipped. His familiar cock sat limp outside the pin-striped gabardine slacks she’d picked out for him. Adele bought all her husband’s clothes. Had Sissy selected Roger’s deep blue dress pants? And had Hue purchased Pat’s impeccably creased black trousers? They were all so well dressed and all owing to the women behind the men. Without their wives, the boys would flounder in all things. The women held the power.
Try as she might, Adele couldn’t keep herself from peeking at the half-hard cock poking out of Roger’s fly. Sissy was right—it was big. Not frighteningly huge, but certainly a good size. On the slim side, in fact, but long and curving to the right as though it were reaching for his hand. It leapt like an excited dog’s tail as it waited for action.
Pat’s dick rested still against his thigh, quietly drooling precome onto the black fabric of his trousers. Pat had a fat cock. It was hard to tell just by looking, but his girth seemed to surpass Roger’s or even Elliot’s, for that matter. Elliot had a very middle-of-the-road cock. Adele had always thought so. It wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small. It was neither fat nor thin. She knew what to expect of it, and it delivered each time. To see it set like the third place recipient against their friends’ winning cocks, she almost felt sorry for her husband, though she didn’t know why. It really was a very pleasant dick.
“Well?” Hue said. “Are we going to sit here staring at our husbands’ pricks all night, or are we going to get down and dirty?”
The business world had rendered Hue shameless, but Adele felt a blush coming on. Sissy simply sat staring. At what? Her eyes were glazed over, likely in delayed response to the evening’s many cosmopolitans. “How do we decide,” Sissy said in a small voice, “who starts where?”
“We should all start with our own husbands, shouldn’t we?” Adele said, not knowing where to look. She tried to stare at her manicure, but her eyes kept wandering back to the line of growing penises on the couch.
The husbands sat still as strip club patrons—not that Adele had ever set foot inside a strip club…but she’d heard things. They seemed to avoid looking at each other’s laps, or accidentally touching thighs. A childhood memory flashed before Adele’s eyes, of waiting in line for vaccines at school. The whole class had fallen silent in wait. Even the class clown was too nervous to rouse their spirits.
Rising from the chair where Sissy sat like a lobotomy victim, Hue approached the couch like a jaguar. “I say we finish off with our husbands rather than start with them.”
“Oh. Really?” Adele disagreed, but she didn’t want to admit the reason why. Different men’s come tasted different, she’d heard. Elliot’s wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t the most appetizing substance on Earth. She wouldn’t mind tasting somebody else’s, for comparison.
Pat began to fidget, until his leg brushed Elliot’s and then Roger’s. The boys on the ends tried to squirm closer to the sofa’s arms, but they were already as close as they were going to get. All three laughed with nerves. Now they obviously didn’t know what to do with their hands. Set them on their thighs? Cross their arms? Fold them behind their heads?
Sissy emerged from her alcohol-induced stupor to toss her hair back with a critical cackle. “Oh, give it a rest, boys.” Crawling over the coffee table, she tumbled to the floor at Pat’s feet. “Touching thighs won’t make you gay.”
Without another word, spoken or implied, Sissy held her blonde curls back with her fingertips and leaned toward Hue’s husband’s fat cock. For a moment, she hovered above it, seeming not to know what to do. Her breath on Pat’s exposed skin obviously excited the man, because he tossed his head back and let out a deep groan. His untouched dick surged forward to whack Sissy’s lips, and she burbled with amusement.
“Pat’s prick is after you, Sissy,” Hue chuckled. “Better open wide and say ‘ah!’”
The whole room watched as the pretty blonde sucked Pat’s cockhead between her lips. He groaned, placing his hands on the back of her head and pulling her forward until his entire cock was lodged in her mouth. Sissy didn’t even sputter. She sucked in until her cheeks went gaunt and then pulled away to see if she’d left pink lipstick along the top of his shaft. She had.