He told them if they didn’t decide now, he would decide for them. One of them dropped his pants down around his ankles and walked over to Teresa pulling his boxer shorts and shirt off. He did it so fast the others just stood there in shock at first then disappointment. It didn’t take them long to remember that they could feel my wife up. I continued to watch them from the couch and Phillip took a seat behind his desk. Since none of them could really get on top of her and there was only room for two of them, and one of them had to be the guy she was giving the hand job to, they tried to squeeze together as best as possible. She slid over a little and told the guy she was giving the hand job to, to go ahead and lay down. She then got down on her hands and her knees, grabbed the lotion and generously lubed the guy up. The other guys continued to rub on her, kneading her tits and then they were trying to stick their fingers in her pussy. She widened her legs as far as they. I tilted my head slightly and stared ahead at her landing strip bush practically shoved in to face. One flap of her vagina was sticking out from the other flap. My head was pressed against her inner thigh. Her other leg trailed off to the left, as if in mid-kick. I breathed in the plastic-tangy smell of recent sex. I raised my head and looked over the rest of her body. She was snoozing on the floor, a pile of clothes as a pillow, completely naked. She wore a dark-ish wife beater. She was attractive enough. A number of other people were sprawled out beyond her, along the floor leading up to the couch, on which two figures seemed to be trying to get busy under a large blanket. I didn’t remember anything. I stood up. I was wearing boxers but I wasn’t wearing a shirt. I looked on either side of myself and didn’t see anything resembling one of my shirts. I reached under thigh-pillow-smelly-vag’s head and yanked out a white t-shirt. She stirred, but didn’t wake up. I put the shirt on. It.
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