Sharon

"What a great suit!" Sharon Lancaster gushed when Holly opened the door. Sharon had on what was probably one of Dylan's old dress shirts. The long white sleeves were rolled half-way up her forearms and the tails hung down to mid-thigh. With the flick of two buttons, she opened the shirt and let it slide from her shoulders. "I just wore this old thing from last summer."

Running her fingers through her dishwater blonde hair, she shook her head, trying to get the layers to fall back into place. She made adjustments to her skimpy bikini, tugging the B-cups back down to cover her breasts properly and running her fingers between the narrow band of her bottoms and her waist. Holly watched in awe and said, "You look good in anything. I don't know how you keep your slender shape."

Her envy of her friend's figure was benign but sincere. She would kill for a body like that.

"I have a simple diet," Sharon answered, twisting her torso at the waist to get the plastic bag her husband was carrying. "It's called starvation."

"Grant, honey," Irene said in the living room, "Close your mouth before you catch flies."

Indeed, the twenty-eight year old man was sitting there with his jaw hanging open as he looked at all the exposed flesh of Holly and Sharon.

Irene's words prompted Sharon to notice that her own husband's mouth was agape. As she took the bag from Dylan, she reached up to place her index finger under his chin and push it closed.

"Hrumph!" Dylan tried to regain his composure. "You look great this evening, Holly." He turned his head towards Irene and got a good view of her for the first time. The way all of her soft, white skin was on display. "Ooooh," he groaned, "And so do you, Irene."

The red-head in the green sling squirmed happily at Dylan's words. Dylan made eye contact with Matt, shooting him an accusing stare. Walking around nude in front of his friends' wives was one thing. But it looked like he was going to have to do it sporting an erection.

Peeking into the bag that Sharon passed to her, Holly saw that it contained two bottles of Brachetto wine. "Matt?" she called to her husband, "Do you want to put these on ice?"

Turning to Dylan, she pointed towards the guest bedroom, telling him that he could get undressed in there.

Matt knew that eventually this moment would arise. So with a 'once more into the breach' attitude, he arose from the couch and circled around it to take possession of the bottles of sparkling red wines from his wife. He did not attempt to try to hide his erection. No way he could have hidden that hard, throbbing cock preceding him like an angry battering ram. It was swollen to near bursting, the veins protruding and the head inflated.

There is something about a human male walking around in an excited state that is not exactly comical, but awkward. A design flaw. Each step causing the engorged organ to sway randomly to the right or left. Like an unsecured naval gun turret on rough seas.

He knew that the women's eyes were fixated on his erection, but he tried to go about his business of getting the stainless steel wine bucket from under the sink in the kitchen, taking the bottles from Holly, and walking out onto the patio to ice down the wine, as if he were unaware.

All the while his hard-on swinging and swaying in front of him.