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Super Blow LI

I don't remember which of us had the idea to swap wives during Super Bowl LI. Could have been Moe, could have been me, who knows. Actually, it just sort of popped up during a conversation about something totally unrelated. We were talking about a new line of women's undergarments -- one of the many companies Moe and I own manufactures upscale lingerie -- and Moe said, "You know, Solly, I never knew it when I was younger, but there's lots of money in women's panties!" We both laughed at the several many possible meanings of that phrase, all of them true in their own peculiar way. And then the conversation turned from the panties themselves to what's inside them, namely, cunt.

Moe and I are alike in many ways. We are two short, balding, paunchy, smartass hucksters from Brooklyn who came up the hard way in New York's garment industry and then, thanks to incredible amounts of luck and chutzpah, managed to become filthy rich. We both like to drink expensive Scotch, smoke expensive cigars, and fuck expensive women. And right now we are fucking two of the most expensive women on earth.

We had divorced the frumps who bore our children long ago, and now we are married to shiksas who are half our age and gorgeous. Some might call them trophy wives. Mine is on the petite side, 5 foot 5 and 110 pounds, a green-eyed brunette with a Mediterranean complexion, perky, upturned breasts with nipples that poke out like bullets, and ass cheeks about the size of oversized apples that turn the color of apples when I spank them. She wears her hair short and keeps her bush trimmed so that the cunt lips just barely peek out from behind the curls, just the way I like it. I had the breasts lifted a little, not too much, and given just enough extra heft so they sway a little when she rides me cowgirl-style. A rigid diet and workout regimen keep her looking like a Greek goddess.

Moe, on the other hand, has different tastes in women. His is big, almost 6 feet tall with long limbs. She has milky white skin and blue eyes the shade of the Caribbean. She wears her bleached-blonde hair in a long, braided ponytail that hangs down to the small of her back but shaves her snatch so it is completely bald. When I first met her, she reminded me of a perfectly formed Amazon warrior princess, but Moe had some work done anyway. He had the nose shortened, the chin reduced, the lips thickened, and the stomach flattened. He had the breasts enlarged to the point of being almost too big for the already large frame. He had the nipples pierced with gold studs and the clit fitted with a small diamond ring. The only thing he didn't fix, he said, was the cunt and the asshole, because they fitted his prick like two velvet gloves and he didn't want to fuck that up, no pun intended. As Moe likes to say, we have the most beautiful wives money can buy.

But our prizes do not come without a price. The girls are gold diggers; we knew it when we met them, and they knew we knew, but no one cares. They are perfectly agreeable to letting us do whatever we want to do, to and with their bodies, so long as we pay for the privilege. And the payment is steep: a multimillion-dollar mansion in the Hamptons, a million-dollar "bungalow" on Biscayne Bay, a six-figure sports car, and any number of extravagant vacations and lavish dinners and parties at which they flaunt the latest additions to their expansive, and expensive, collections of clothing and jewelry.

But I digress. Moe had been hinting, and not very subtly, that he wanted to have a go at my wife. I played dumb and pretended not to understand what he was talking about, just to see if I could piss him off. Eventually, he got tired of beating around the bush and he just came out with it. He asked if I had ever fantasized about watching another man have sex with her, because he had heard or read somewhere that that was a trending thing. I replied no, did he? And he surprised me when he said, yeah, I'd like to watch you fuck my wife, especially while you're watching me fuck yours. And that's how the idea for the party got started.

We worked out the details that evening with the girls over drinks and dinner at our favorite Manhattan restaurant. Not surprisingly, they were cool to the idea, maybe even a little grossed out, but when we explained what was in it for each of them -- a diamond ring equal in value to a Super Bowl ring (which, unbeknownst to them, we could get at a hefty discount from Moe's ex-brother-in-law, who's a jeweler) -- they were good to go. By the time the dishes were cleared away, we had a full-blown game plan.

During the broadcast of the game and its related festivities, each wife would wait on the man who was not her husband, keeping him well-supplied with food, drink and handjobs, and she would do it in the nude. Moe and I picked teams -- he wanted the Patriots so I took the Falcons -- and whenever somebody's team scored, he got to fuck the other guy's wife. After the game, whoever's team won got to use the loser's wife for the rest of the evening, in any way the winner chose, barring violence and public humiliation, while her husband watched. The girls agreed, but argued that a field goal should be worth only a blowjob, not a fuck, and that ass fucking not be allowed until after the game. Moe and I agreed, but only if the girls would put on a halftime show consisting of a lesbian 69 followed by a double dildo fuck on all fours. The girls agreed, but added one stipulation: if a team scored a safety or failed to score an extra point after a touchdown, then instead of getting fucked the wife in question would get her pussy eaten out. Moe and I agreed, but only if ass fucking would be allowed after halftime. The girls agreed and we shook hands all the way around. While Moe and I enjoyed our usual after-dinner Scotch and cigar, the girls enjoyed looking at large diamond rings on their smartphones.

Moe christened the whole proceeding Super Blow LI, which he pronounced "Lee" because he thinks that is the name of my wife-- it is not, by the way -- who he insisted would be sucking his dick all night long, "except for when it's buried deep in her ass, right, Solly?" I just shook my head and smiled. Moe can be a real schmuck sometimes, but he's a lovable schmuck.

Moe insisted on hosting our wife-swap at his place, so right before game time the four of us congregated in what he called the "rumpus room." A pool table, a pinball machine, a refrigerator, and a fully stocked bar graced the room. The important features, however, were a huge, flat screen TV that took up almost one entire wall and two authentic leather La-Z-Boy sleeper sofas placed against the opposite wall. As host, Moe insisted that he and I stand at attention and salute the flag during the playing of the National Anthem, not just with our hands but with erect penises as well, so he instructed the girls to start jacking us off right as the Schuyler Sisters started singing "America the Beautiful." I was about to shoot my load when Luke Bryan finished the last note of "The Star Spangled Banner" and Blondie -- my name for Moe's wife since I can never remember her real name; Moe always calls her "Doll Baby" -- stopped stroking me with a hand as soft as velvet.

The first quarter was slow, much slower than either Moe or I would have liked. I had to content myself with being handled, albeit rather expertly, by Blondie for 15 scoreless minutes. She seemed to enjoy fondling my cock and balls, and she knew how to keep me erect without letting me cum. She even tickled my asshole with one of her long fingernails, licking her lips suggestively as she did. As much as I wanted to fuck her pussy and ass, now I found myself wondering how good it would feel to slip my cock between those inviting lips and feel her tongue do a number on me.

And then, much to Moe's chagrin and my delight, the Falcons got rolling. Not long after the start of the second quarter, Devonta Freeman scored a touchdown from five yards out. We had to wait for Matt Bryant to add the extra point, and once he did it was time for me and Blondie to fold out our La-Z-Boy and get down to business.

I thought my wife was a good fuck, and she is, but man oh man, Blondie does it like a pro. She had complete control of her cunt muscles, relaxing as I pushed in and squeezing while I pulled back. She hooked her long legs behind my ass and pulled me in deep, and in no time I shot a load of gooey spunk into her soft, pliable pussy. I couldn't see his face, I was too busy concentrating on the task at hand, but I hoped that Moe was enjoying the spectacle of me screwing the hell out of his big-titted bitch.

No sooner had I finished than it was time to mount up again. Less than four minutes after Freeman scored, Matt Ryan found Austin Hooper in the end zone for Atlanta's second touchdown, and my second fuck. Bryant's kick was good, and Blondie and I went at it again. Instead of giving it to her in the missionary position, like the first time, I decided to mount her doggy-style. She hoisted that Amazon ass in the air and I poked her sweet slit again. Now I really wanted to screw her in the ass, as that tight little hole kept winking at me invitingly. She seemed to be enjoying herself as she rocked back and forth, up and down, on my creaming cock, coating every inch of it with sweet cunt honey. I think she was as eager to get Moe's goat as I was; after all, this whole wife-swapping thing was his idea, and now he was getting what he had coming to him.

When it rains, it pours, and that was certainly the case for me, because with a little more than two minutes left in the half, the Falcons scored again, this time when Robert Alford intercepted a Tom Brady pass and returned in 82 yards for a touchdown. I had fucked her cunt twice already and was dying to have a go at her asshole, but rules are rules so I contented myself with screwing Blondie's pussy again. But this time I made her get on top and ride me like a cowgirl. I figured she would be good at it, and I was not disappointed. She reached back and fondled my balls while she rocked back and forth on my pecker, and in no time she had my spunk dripping out of her well-used cunt for the third time that day.

By now, poor Moe was beside himself. He didn't want to waste himself by cumming in my wife's hand, who was more than happy to jack him off to his heart's content, but it was beginning to look as if the Patriots weren't going to score at all today, which meant that neither would he. Things began to look up for him right before the half, but then a Pats drive stalled and they had to settle for a Stephen Gostkowski field goal. So, no fuck for Moe, only a blowjob. I knew he would get a good one -- my wife was a master at working a cock with her lips, tongue and throat, one of the reasons I married her -- but he was dying to poke her hot pussy instead. Well, too bad for him, I thought, I was getting mine even if he wasn't. After all, he was the smartass who wanted the Patriots, not me.

While the rest of America watched Lady Gaga fly around in the Houston sky, Moe and I were treated to a much more entertaining halftime show. There, on the carpeted floor in front of our La-Z-Boys, a Greek goddess and an Amazon princess were frolicking in the buff, their mouths full of pussy and their pussies full of tongue. I particularly enjoyed watching the colors from the big screen glint off the little diamond in Blondie's clit ring whenever my wife flicked it with her tongue. Once they had made each other sticky with their own juices, they got on their hands and knees and thrust their delectable backsides smack up against each other, anxious for what they knew was coming next. Moe did not disappoint them, or me; he produced a long, thick, black double-ended dildo which he was able to insert almost effortlessly between their puffy pink cunt lips, and for the rest of halftime we enjoyed the spectacle of those two tantalizing twats slapping their asses against each other with abandon, moaning and groaning shamelessly the whole time.

Halfway through the third quarter the Falcons scored again, this time on a short pass from Ryan to Tevin Coleman. Now's my chance, I thought, to shove my eager pecker up Blondie's tingling shitter. It was much tighter than I thought it would be -- from the way he talks, Moe loves nothing better than to rape a woman in her stinky hole -- but hey, I'm not complaining. I had her lie on her back and grab her ankles so I could watch her twat twitch while I fucked her in her world-class ass. She loved it, and so did I. Moe, on the other hand, was having a fit watching me enjoy his sweet piece of ass of a wife while he couldn't get anything better than a blowjob from mine.

The Patriots finally scored a touchdown right before the end of the third quarter, but little good it did Moe. Gostkowski's extra point attempt banged off the right upright, no good, so Moe, instead of finally getting to stuff her cunt with his prick, as he had been dying to do all game, had to satisfy that cunt with his tongue. Oh, how I howled at his predicament! As I watched him lick and suck my wife's clit and pussy to climax, her sweet juices running out of her slit and into his beard, I almost felt sorry for the rat-prick bastard.

Midway through the fourth quarter, the Patriots looked as if they were going to go all the way, but once again their drive bogged down and they had to settle for a field goal. I'd never heard a man cuss before because he was getting a blowjob, but there sat Moe on the edge of his La-Z-Boy, my wife's sweet sucking lips wrapped around his cock, which I was pretty sure was banging against the back of her throat, and all he could think of to do was complain because he wasn't fucking her sweet pussy. What a fucking asshole!

And then the tables turned. With six minutes to play, Tom Brady hit Danny Amendola in the end zone for a touchdown. The Pats had no choice but to go for the 2-point conversion. I was sure they would miss it and Moe would have to eat pussy again while his pecker pined for a slice of hot twat, but I was wrong. James White bulled his way into the end zone for the 2XP, and Moe, at long last, was going to get to dip his wick in my wife's honey pot.

You'd have thought he would have gone slow and made it last, since time was running out and it was unlikely he would get to fuck my wife again. But no, Moe threw her on her back and jabbed his short little thing into her as fast as he could. He pumped her pussy so frantically I thought he was going to hurt himself, or her. And all the while he screamed like a madman, things like "Yeah, Solly, look at me, Solly! Your wife is gonna cum on my big fat dick, you faggot! Yeah, baby, get some of this, you slutty whore!" In truth, I felt sorry for him, because my wife fucks best when you fuck her nice and slow, because she can milk a cock with her vagina almost as good as Blondie can. But I guess he had more faith in a Patriots' comeback than I did.

With less than a minute left to play, the Pats scored another touchdown, this time on a 1-yard run by White. Once again, they had to go for two and, once again, I was sure they would miss. This meant, of course, that Moe would be eating pussy again, but this time a pussy that was full of hot sperm. Well, he was the one who put it there, haha! I couldn't wait to see my wife smear his face with his own cum. But it was not to be; Brady found Amendola in the end zone to tie the game and send Moe back to his La-Z-Boy for a second go at my wife.

I guess I was right after all about him being an ass fucker, because that's where he took her. He bent her over the edge of the La-Z-Boy and called Blondie over to lick her asshole. "Get it nice and wet for me, Doll Baby, yeah, that's right," he cooed as she lapped at my wife's puckered brown anus. And, just like before, he reamed her out with abandon, making her buck and squeal the whole time. When he pulled out, I could see his cum dripping out of her asshole and running down the crack of her ass into her pussy, and the sight made me eager to get some sloppy seconds. But rules are rules, and the game was not yet over, and so her inviting asshole would have to wait until later to feel the not inconsiderable length and girth of my own stiff prick.

The game ended less than four minutes into overtime, the first in Super Bowl history, when White scored from two yards out. The Patriots' unbelievable comeback was now complete, and Moe, rat-prick that he is, now owned the rights to fuck my wife any way he wanted to until the clock struck midnight. He made her get on all fours on the La-Z-Boy and then went straight for her mouth, but he stayed there only long enough for her to slobber all over his dick and get it good and wet. Then he went for her asshole again, but this time he gave it a nice, slow fuck, one that my wife actually seemed to enjoy. Then he went back to the mouth and made her lick off the slime from her rectum. He went back and forth, from ass to mouth, until my wife clearly was exhausted from the ordeal.

He ordered her to lie on her back and spread her legs. Then he called for Doll Baby to lie next to her and do the same. Then he called me over. "This whole thing started, Solly, because I wanted to watch you fuck my wife while you watched me fuck yours. And that's what we are going to do, right now. So get busy, you nasty fucker!" And that's exactly what I did.

"Look at me, Solly," Moe demanded after we'd been screwing those two well-used pussies for several minutes. "Look me in the eye, you son of a bitch. Look at what I'm doing to your slut wife!" And then he blew his load for the last time that day.

"Omigod, Solly," he said as his limp dick slid out of my wife's cum-filled cunt. "Ain't life grand for two old fucks like us?" And as I stood there, blasting one last load of hot, thick, sticky sperm into the sweet pussy of his own slutty Amazon princess while watching my Greek goddess get fucked by my business partner and best friend, I had to admit that it was.

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