Watching several twenty-one year old men alternate fucking your beautiful thirty-seven year old wife over the course of three days and nights, might be enough to send most men to a mental institution. Up until last year, I would have been one of them. But I have learned that no one really knows how they might feel or how they would react until they are there, especially when a cosmically perfect set of circumstances falls into place.
Ever since our honeymoon, my wife and I have taken the very same vacation year after year. And I do mean the very same, the same motel, the same dates, the same suite in many cases, seventeen years running now, all the same. I’m sure that sounds painfully monotonous to some and under ordinary circumstances probably would be. But, having a very narrow window of time in the spring while trying to maintain a very strict budget, we just couldn’t top it.
First and foremost this locale had always been quite inexpensive, which absolutely topped our list, but not cheap with amenities. It also had everything we were looking for in a cheap Spring vacation; great beach, great food, quiet, and all just outside our door. We had even grown to know and love the motel owners. There wasn’t anything to dislike.
However, after the first few years of discovering this little patch of sand, we soon realized it was becoming more and more popular with the Spring breakers. They were like locusts for those of us who were only looking for down time. As soon as they invaded Panama City Beach, it was only a matter of time before they found Ft. Walton.
If you have ever been to Ft. Walton beach back in the late eighties, early nineties, you know exactly what I mean. How it used to be that great little panhandle beach with very few Spring breakers. You probably also remember not having to worry about getting a good room. A week’s stay always broke out to around forty-five bucks per night and you always had folks your own age to relate to. Sadly enough though we watched as our little sanctuary slipped into the hands of the mighty hordes.
Even after the Spring breakers discovered our little piece of paradise, we continued to go. It was our place; we had too many memories to give it up. We finally conceded though that, if we were going to keep it our little spot, we had to live with it. And as it turns out they really weren’t all that rowdy, at least not rowdy enough to run us off.
Last year however broke the mold in so very many ways. We first found ourselves literally surrounded by Spring breakers, again not unusual for late March, but this particular year we found ourselves a literal magnet for many of the college hellions.
It took them very little time to discover that we were both educators at a community college in our hometown of Columbus, Ohio. And, as it turned out, that seemed to be the source of the magnetism attracting them to us. They were absolutely fascinated by the fact that we were normal, cool, and otherwise regular people able to have a good time. Somewhere in their minds, I’m sure they must have believed that we spent most of our free time finding new ways to flunk them into oblivion.
Most were very standoffish at first, treating us like the police or some other higher authority, but after a couple of days they finally figured out that we were actual human beings. Very soon into the second day, we found that the back porch of our suite was becoming the ultimate hangout for some.
Naively, I was sure at first it had much more to do with the fact that we always had beer and liquor and a whole lot less to do with the placement of our porch, but soon found out differently. Many though, being the bright young folks they were, soon discovered that storing and mingling their drinkables with ours, stretched their supply a whole lot further; I watched it too many times to try it.
Most were a very likable sort so we just went with it. Plus, we always overbought when it came to alcohol, not wanting to run back and forth to the liquor store. Funny thing is my wife and I only drink a few times a year, but you would have thought we were mega-lushes with the amount we purchased. I have to say though, we were Nazis about who was and was not of drinking age and, to our surprise, they very much respected our one cardinal rule.
Now being that folks over the age of thirty were indeed rare during this time, you would think that they might try to be as far from us as possible, but several of the guys from the University of Georgia were awe struck with my wife, Gina. It wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Gina’s nickname where we teach is “Ultra MILF” with some of her present and former male students. It’s quite interesting too, over the years she and I both began to notice that her male students always made far better grades than did her female students.
To me it was a no-brainer; they were simply trying to gain her approval. Gina always laughingly told me it was from her revolutionary teaching skills; I always rebutted, “Having a spectacular pair of legs and a nice ass is not a skill.”
She’s the type of female college educator that you might see in a cheap class B movie, only she’s truly brilliant, naturally beautiful, very professional, and has perfect C-cup breasts that God gave her.
The fact that she was a highly sexy thirty-seven year old college educator spread like wildfire at the motel and actually got Gina even more “Hot Points,” as some of the young men began calling it. I sometimes wish I were more ignorant to men gazing at her, but hey, I’m neither naive nor stupid when it comes to what they are staring at; it’s not the bikini, it’s what’s under it.
She truly is gorgeous and will be stared at, especially by her male students, males in general for that matter. It’s been said that if men stare at a woman as she walks by, she’s beautiful, but if both men and women stare, she’s hot.
I can safely say that Gina is hot. At 5’3″, 108 lbs, gorgeous ass, perfect curves, flawless skin, and an amazingly cute innocent looking face, the fact that she is a college professor really made little difference. If she were a bottle washer, the testosterone-filled young men at this motel would have been attracted to her.
Just into our second day there, we ended up driving to her sister’s home ten minutes outside Panama City Beach. We always ended up staying the entire day hanging out and catching up. It was basically our spring routine.
Upon returning to the motel later that evening, we couldn’t help noticing several of the University of Georgia guys sitting on our back porch, not at all unusual after getting to know us. As we walked to the back side of the porch we noticed they had a small table pulled out playing a drinking game, which required the loser to down a shot, and as it appeared they must have all been losing
Gina quickly said in a joking manner as we walked up, “Boys, that’s a game where even the winner’s a loser in the morning.” They all laughed and began brutally heckling us to join them.
Now, I’m not the type to enter a pissing contest over simple heckling, never have been never will be, but Gina on the other hand can’t help herself. She’s hard-wired for it and doesn’t even know it.
She playfully began firing right back saying, “First of all, most of you lightweights are already buzzed, and second, I’m not one of your little girly buddies who follows you around and fakes being tipsy after a shot. Oh, Brian, oh, Stan, that one shot made me a little dizzy.”
That stoked them even more. After another twenty minutes or so of this back and forth banter she finally said, “Fine… Fine. Okay, even if I lose I’ll be able to walk when most of you are curled up in the fetal position on the floor.” I must say I was trying my damnedest not to laugh because I knew full well what a lightweight she was in the drinking department and full-on trying to bluff guys who majored in drinking.
After a few more minutes of this harassing joust between Gina and her antagonists, she and I went into the room to change our clothes. I arrived back out on the deck long before Gina and poured myself a large vodka tonic as we all waited for her.
We began chitchatting about everything and nothing. They must have told me a hundred times how they were going to take her to school on drinking, bragging about what power drinkers they were, how many times they had played this, and how much they could hold.
At times thinking they might be overdoing it, they would quickly begin saying, “Oh, but we’ll take it easy. Anyone can quit at any time.” I actually began wondering if anyone would be coherent by the time she came back out. With every passing minute I began thinking Gina might have been right about most of them ending up in the floor. With the game paused, they continued to pound beer and shots the entire time.
Just as I was about to see what was keeping Gina, she slid the glass door open and walked out. I noticed she was wearing a bikini with a tank top pulled over, quite normal I suppose for where we were, but not what I was expecting with six drunken college students sitting around. Instantly one of the buzzed college students said, “Mr. and Mrs. Arnett, please forgive me, but I have to say this, Gina, you are positively the sexiest college professor alive.”
She quickly giggled slapping him on the shoulder saying, “Don’t try to soften me up, buddy boy, you’ll be passed out soon and I’m gonna be laughing at you tomorrow. That is if you can eek your way out of bed in the morning after the hangover I’m gonna put on ya.”
They were all razzing one another full force. I just sat watching, cracking up as they played their drinking game. After several rounds, one of them said “Mr. Arnett, with the utmost respect, sir, I believe your wife is cheating so we might need to raise the stakes.”
I simply replied laughing, knowing almost instinctively what he might be alluding to, “Yes, she does appear to be kicking your asses. What’s on our mind?”
He immediately uttered, “Strip shots.”
Now Gina was only into her third shot when she practically cut me off in midspeech saying, “Oh, aren’t we funny, I’m winning and you’re all talking about taking clothes off? Try again!”
I should mention that Gina had been overtly flirting with these young men for a couple of days by this time. Actually, she and I had a game of our own we had been playing the last few vacations. I always enjoyed her purposeful flirting and told her many times over the years how much it turned me on.
In fact it took several times playing our little game before she finally confessed that it kind of turned her on too. From the beginning though she warned me that flirting was the limit, always reminding me that the naughtiness of it was quite enough, and the only reason she continued to do it was because of how it paid off in our bedroom, further telling me that there was “never” any reason for it to go further.
She always emphasized this because of the one and only time I ever told her about a wild fantasy of mine, a fantasy involving watching her fuck another man. It was simply a file her brain refused to process. She later told me that she thought the only reason a man would have such a fantasy would be because he wanted to justify being with another woman, basically “You fucked another guy, I’m going to fuck another woman.” I understood what she was saying, but it honestly wasn’t my goal.
So flirting in front of me became our spicy compromise.
As the night progressed, the young men continued needling her insisting that “Strip Shots” separated the chicken-shits from the real players. God love her too, she was so into winning she didn’t even see the setup being orchestrated. I knew full well that they were basically letting her win and carefully timing their moment in which the payoff would be her sitting there completely nude.
I have to say that I began getting turned on by the possibility as well. I’ve seen Gina nude a million times, but never in front of a pack of horny young men, who can say that?
I kept my mouth shut for a while when suddenly I blurted, “Awe hell, baby, you’re cleaning their clocks, they’ll be the ones sitting there looking silly.”
As she jokingly put her feet up in the chair and tightly wrapped her arms around her legs, rather like trying to completely cover herself, she began giggling replying “For crying out loud, everyone here has about three articles of clothing on. What? Is it a three minute game now? I think you all just know I’m winning and are trying to make me quit.”
Every guy there couldn’t help but glance at the crotch of her bikini as she sat with her feet up in the chair and her arms wrapped around her knees. It was wildly teasing when she would occasionally lean back. Her bikini was very tightly stretched over her crotch and pussy. The subtle outline was unmistakable.
She didn’t realize it but she was playing right into their ploy and I was basically inching it along. I too began pumping her up saying things like, “What are you worried about, you’ve only lost three hands?”
Ultimately I figured what the hell; I would love to see her slip her bikini off in front of them, but at the time had no clue whether she would go through with it. There’s no doubt she was in rare form, but in my opinion not nearly intoxicated enough to go through with it. I have been married to her for seventeen years, but seriously, in the unpredictable condition she was in, I didn’t know what she would do.
After several more minutes, she apprehensively said, “Good grief, let’s at least go inside if we are going to be this immature.” I was a bit shocked. I honestly thought she would nix the game and make any excuse not to continue.
They all immediately began picking up the cards and carrying on as they gathered their drinks, and razzing the hell out of her with things like, “Oh, you won’t play. You know you won’t.”
She and I must have winked at one another twenty times during all this, almost in reassurance to one another that it was all in good fun. After getting in the room and getting all set up, they began to do shots before the game even started. Gina wasn’t to be outdone as she too threw back a few.
At this juncture I could tell she was hell bent on going through with it, but also knew she was unwittingly confident that she had been legitimately winning all along. It was quite comical watching her sneak on a pair of flip-flops. I knew she was going to consider that part of her wardrobe as she gave me a sneaky grin.
On the very first round, she and three others had to loose an article of clothing. Gina, threw her tank top onto the bed, but still looked ultimately confident as if it were just a fluke. We all sat around continuing to drink for at least ten minutes before they even began the next round.
To everyone’s surprise Gina legitimately won the next two rounds leaving three of the guys sitting in just their underwear. Again though, it appeared as if they were letting her win to keep her in the game. And believe me, she had talked enough trash up to this point, she would have a hard time backing out.
Before dealing the next hand, and the fact that someone would undoubtedly end up nude if they lost, they actually added an addendum to the rules. Even with the new rules, I could plainly see that Gina was having second thoughts, agreeing that those who became nude could get dressed after five minutes of humiliation while the remaining players worked towards victory.
As the next round was dealt, I watched as she stared at her cards with an “Oh, shit” look. She laid down three cards and was re-dealt along with the others, when she unconsciously murmured, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
They all began chuckling saying, “Oh, the big winner didn’t get the card she needed?”
She instantly replied, “I don’t know what you’re all laughing at, two of you are about to be sitting there the way you came into this world, and all I’m loosing is my flip-flops.” They instantly began whooping and hollering about how she didn’t have flip-flops on when the game started, etc., etc., but she held to her guns and they let it ride.
Once again, they all playfully began harassing one another when Gina began riding the losers saying, “Hey this was your all’s idea. Remember, oh, let’s separate the chicken-shits. Oh, let’s separate the chicken-shits. Lose the underwear fellas.”
This went on for at least five minutes when they simply stood up, scooted their underwear down, and kicked them off. Gina watched for a couple of seconds, but as they pushed them down exposing their pubic hair and the tops of their cocks, she turned her head and put a hand over her face with a rather embarrassed smile, but quickly turned back towards them trying to act as though it was completely normal.
As a husband in this peculiar situation, I instinctively glanced at their packages. Let’s face it, if your wife is playing a strip game, and guys are exposing their cocks, you will compare yourself to what she will no doubt see, no matter how much you act as if you’re not.
I immediately noticed that one of the guys was completely average, and from what I could tell, he was nervously quite un-erect. The other young man on the other hand, had a slightly aroused thick yet limp cock that flopped out of his underwear. I knew Gina looked right at it, but played it perfectly nonchalant. It was larger than mine, and that bothered me for a split second, but not enough for me to let it interfere with what was transpiring.
Both guys draped a hand and arm over their genitals as they sat there with Gina relentlessly harassing them saying, “Oh, let’s play strip shots, let’s play strip shots… Remember you have five minutes, yep you do.”
Not more than a few minutes later she and the last guy wearing underwear dealt their cards and by this time Gina was seriously feeling the shots she had consumed over the course of the evening. As she picked up her cards, again she got that intense look of, “Oh, shit,” as she intently focused and repositioned her cards several times. She ultimately laid her cards down in a reluctant, “I’ve been cheated” manner.
After being re-dealt, she instantly threw her cards face down and said, “Ok you win. I quit… Hey, you said I could quit anytime.”
They all simultaneously began laughing high fiving one another, “Oh, no, Oh, no, you have to. Remember us chicken-shits sitting here naked, what’s up with that? Let’s put our money where our mouth is… We had to. Yes, yes, we had to, take’em off.”
She quickly looked at me grinning almost as if hoping I would say something to keep her from having to do it when I replied, “I’m out of this. This is your all’s game, not mine.”
Her knees began bouncing a mile a minute as she nervously put her hands over her face. This went on for several minutes, when she finally said, “Ok, turn your heads and I will.”
Again, they instantly began chuckling, “No, no, no, we had to bare it all in front of everyone, you do too.”
She kept bouncing her knees nervously, when finally she stood up with her mouth half opened expressing a nervous smile, and said “I see there are no gentlemen here who might insist that I maintain my dignity.”
They all began roaring, “Nope, nope, none here, Oh, no, none here,” With one eventually saying, “At least you’ll have our respect. So will it be the top or bottoms?”
She stared at me again for a couple of seconds and then turned away as she nervously giggled, “I must be nuts.” She hurriedly put her thumbs on the sides of her bikini bottoms, and slid them down to her knees as she quickly sat and raised her feet off the floor and removed them.
You would have thought this was an off-post military bar with thirty GIs the way they carried on. She then sarcastically said, “Good lord, enough. Haven’t you ever seen a woman’s bottom half before?”