The Bridge Club Ch. 01

Big Tits

This chapter is a prelude, introducing characters and explaining the situation. We will get to the action, eventually. Hopefully it will be worth the wait.


“The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult, I vowed revenge.” The Cask of Amontillado, Edgar Allan Poe

Massimo was an asshole.

In high school, we belonged to the same circle of friends, but he went out of his way to be a prick. He was considerably taller than me, a fact he chose to remind me of by constantly patting me on the head. He would also lean on me, with his elbow on my shoulder (a practice I put a stop to by the simple expedient of punching him in the nuts).

He was the better athlete, by a wide margin, in basketball and volleyball. He could outrun me, and was physically stronger. Baseball, on the other hand, was my domain. I was a pitcher, while he was a star with the bat. But he couldn’t hit me in practice.

Massimo just couldn’t seem to figure out that I wasn’t going to try to blow a fastball by him every single time. Curves and changeups were ‘faggot’ pitches, he said. It drove him nuts.

So he retaliated in juvenile ways, mostly centred around showing off the size of his dick. Even in high school, Massimo was well-endowed. To tell the truth, he was hung like a horse. As fate would have it, I was a bit of a late bloomer. Massimo made a point of comparing our relative sizes as often as he could.

– “Mass,” I told him, “this obsession you have with my dick – it’s not healthy.”

– “C’mon, Normie. Not my fault you have a pencil dick.”

That I was another thing which annoyed me – being called ‘Normie’. I resolved to simply avoid Massimo whenever I could. But for some reason, he just had to take the competition that one step further.

Susie was my prom date. Massimo wanted to get into her pants, so he decided to break us up, by telling Susie that I had cheated on her. It wasn’t true, but Susie couldn’t believe that my teammate would lie. She dumped me.

The only consolation was that she never went out with Massimo, either.

After high school, I went away to college. Eventually, I got a good job in a small eastern city. The work was demanding, which didn’t leave much time for a social life. It took a few years of the rat race for me to realize that I needed a change. So I joined the fitness club, and took up tennis and squash.

Maybe six months later, I heard a sound I had hoped never to hear again.

– “NOR-MEE!”

Massimo had come to town.

-“Normie, baby! How’s it hangin’?” Did I mention that Massimo liked to call everyone ‘baby’? Another thing about him to dislike.

-“Hey Mass.” I replied. “What are you doing here?”

-“The job. Got transferred.” he said.

-“Oh? Sorry to hear that.”

-“Nah – it’s all good. Got a raise, plus my new department is just chock full of hot little mamas, all thirsting for a piece of the Mass … you know what I’m sayin’?” He laughed out loud. “Besides – now that I know you’re here, Normie baby – you and me, we’re gonna light this town up!”

Now at this stage, you may be wondering: why didn’t I just brush Massimo off? Or, considering how much he annoyed me, and how he had broken the ‘Bro Code’ and tried to steal Susie from me, why didn’t I just tell him to fuck off?

Two reasons: first, mutual friends and ex-teammates back home. I didn’t want to lose any of my old buddies. Many of them still considered Massimo a friend.

Second, and most important: Edgar Allan Poe. Every time I saw him, Massimo made me think of the Cask of Amontillado. One day, I would get revenge. I would find a way to cock-block him, or steal a girl he really cared about. It would have to be epic … monumental. I wanted the kind of revenge they make movies about. I could wait for that.

We exchanged numbers, and email addresses. Massimo immediately began calling and texting me, wanting to ‘hang out’. I told him that work kept me really busy – which was true.

But I couldn’t stop Massimo from getting a membership at the Fitness club. He saw my name on the tennis and squash ladders, and immediately joined those, too.

-“I’ll catch you up in no time, Normie baby.” he promised.

Massimo was as good as his word. I was only 6th out of 15 in the tennis ladder. Massimo had a booming serve, and a powerful İstanbul Escort forehand. When I had to play him, I tried to keep the ball on his backhand. I also tried dropshots, to get him running. But his serve was too much for me.

Over a beer after the game, Massimo pointed out the flaws in my game.

He worked his way up the squash ladder equally quickly. I was 3rd. To my chagrin, Massimo beat me in our first match. He just overpowered me. But I identified a few weak spots in his play, and waited patiently for our rematch.

The top two players in our squash ladder were simply untouchable. Massimo had his ass handed to him, and stayed at number three. I challenged, and dropped him back to number four. He was not happy about that.

We went for a beer after the game. I had no intention of rubbing it in, or of trying to point out the weaknesses in his game. But Massimo wanted to talk about something else.

-“You play cards, right, Normie?” he asked. “I seem to remember you playing cards back in high school.”

-“That’s right.” I agreed. “Euchre … some poker.”

-“You play bridge?” said Massimo.

Did I play bridge … my parents taught my sister and me before we were out of elementary school. It was like a religion to them. I didn’t play too much in high school or university, because Mom had warned us: “It can be addictive. Be careful that you don’t spend all of your time playing bridge.”

But I continued to read about bridge, and played marathon sessions with my folks at Thanksgiving, and over Christmas.

-“Yeah. But I haven’t played in a while.” I told him.

-“Listen, there’s this group at work – they’re trying to form a bridge club. Mixed, four dudes and four chicks. We’ve got three guys – just need a fourth.” said Massimo. “What do you say? You want in?”

-“Sure, Massimo. That sounds good. I wouldn’t have taken you for a bridge player, though.”

-“I know.” he shrugged. “Poker is more my style, y’know? But wait ’till you see the chicks in this group …”

You may be wondering why I would agree to spend more time with Massimo. Well, my social life was still non-existent. Meeting some new people – four of them women – couldn’t hurt. Also, I wasn’t worried about bridge interfering with my studies anymore. And I loved the game.

Last reason. Massimo, me, and bridge. It was going to be baseball all over again.


We went together to the first ‘bridge club’ meeting. Massimo had some last minute instructions.

-“Don’t fuck this up, Normie. Don’t make me look bad.” he said.

One of the guys he worked with, named Darren, was hosting the inaugural session. Darren’s apartment was upscale, and well-maintained. He had a nice dining room table, but the second table was a portable affair, surrounded by folding chairs.

Darren seemed to be a nice enough fellow – maybe a bit high-strung. Massimo handed him a six-pack, while I gave Darren a decent bottle of wine.

He introduced us to Jake and Beth. Jake was a lean, athletic type of guy, with a firm handshake. He wasn’t especially friendly, though.

Beth was a looker. She had dark, shoulder-length hair, and brown eyes. Her nose was perfect. She wore a fair bit of make-up – too much for a bridge game – but it accentuated her eyes and definitely got your attention. Her shirt was open at the top, revealing some impressive cleavage.

Jake must have noticed where my eyes were focused. He put a proprietary arm around her shoulders. Massimo had already told me that Jake and Beth were a couple, but I guess Jake was feeling the need to mark his territory.

Beth didn’t seem to appreciate that. She shook off his arm. Then she pointed to the wine in Darren’s hand.

-“Ooh … Chilean. Who brought that?” she said. She had a delightful accent.

-“Oh – Norm did.” said Darren.

Beth gave me a fantastic smile. “Looks like we are going to get along, Mister Norm. Are you a good card player, too?”

-“You have a beautiful accent, Beth.” I told her. “Puerto Rican?” I guessed.

-“Cuban.” she said, with another of those devastating smiles. “But that is not a bad guess.”

Next to arrive was Carmen. While Darren greeted her at the door, I was able to get a good look at her.

Lord Have Mercy.

Carmen had lovely eyes. Let me say that first. They were huge, and beautifully Escort Bayan shaped. Honestly, that was the first thing I noticed about her. But a moment later, I was completely distracted.

Because Carmen had tits like footballs. There is no other way to describe it. They were in a different time zone from the rest of her body. And she didn’t try to hide or conceal them in any way. Instead, she wore a brightly patterned shirt to draw every eye in the room. It was open to the third button. Thank God we weren’t playing poker tonight; she had two unfair advantages.

It took a few moments for me to find any flaws with Carmen’s appearance, but there were a couple: her nose was large, and a bit crooked, and she was built like a linebacker. I don’t mean that she was fat – because she wasn’t at all. But Carmen was a big girl, with wide shoulders and hips. Built like a truck, as my grandfather would have said.

It was going to be difficult to concentrate on cards. My parents had taught me everything they knew about bridge. But none of their lessons had ever included what to do when you are confronted with tits like Carmen’s, on open display.

Darren introduced us. I managed to say hello without embarrassing myself. For her part, Carmen subjected me to a fairly thorough examination before holding out her hand.

-“Pleased to meet you.” she said, in a deep, sultry voice. What made her greeting even more interesting was that she was blatantly checking me out. She was frank and open about it. I had to smile.

The last two girls were only a minute behind her. Abigail was a slender blonde, with the pretty face of a girl-next-door type, and the body of a runner, or an athlete. Her friend Christina had light brown skin, a cute upturned nose, and a little mole, or beauty mark, just above her lip near the corner of her mouth. Her hair was up in a bun.

When the introductions were done, and everyone had a drink, we got down to business. Massimo had hinted that it would be guys against girls, but Beth had other ideas.

-“We don’t know each other very well, yet – especially Massimo and Norm, here.” she said. “So to keep the playing field even, we’ll draw for partners before each rubber. Is everyone ok with that for now?”

They had evidently discussed it before; the others just nodded. I wasn’t about to disagree – I was only too aware that as the new guy, I was on probation.

I drew Christina as a partner. We were matched up against Carmen and Jake.

Jake, it appeared, was just as distracted by Carmen’s cleavage as I was. I tried to avoid staring, and concentrated on studying my partner and her bidding patterns. It was hard to learn much, at first, because the run of the cards was against us.

I did come to a few conclusions about our opponents. Carmen was an aggressive bidder, but not very adept at counting cards. She misplayed a couple a couple of hands, and ended up one down on each occasion.

Jake had evidently played with her before. He seemed to be even more aggressive, as if trying to make sure that he, and not Carmen, would be playing the hand. Or maybe he was just paying too much attention to her tits. Either way, we were able to double him.

The cards were against us for a long time. Jake and Carmen eventually won the first game.

Then our luck turned. I managed to finesse my way through with a weak hand, and then Christina wrapped up the game for us. The final game wasn’t even close: Christina and I both got monster hands, and I watched her skillfully make a small slam.

We shook hands across the table.

-“Nice job, partner.” she said. Christina had a dazzling smile.

-“Your small slam was a thing of beauty. Well played.” I replied.

-“I think your little finesse on the 2 clubs bid was even prettier.” she suggested.

-“You guys had the cards.” complained Jake. “Especially that last hand. Shit.”

Carmen wouldn’t let him get away with that. “We could have won early,” she said, “if you weren’t overbidding.”

-“I need a beer.” said Jake. Carmen rolled her eyes as he stood up.

For the next match, I drew Beth as a partner. We were up against Abigail and Christina.

We should have won. Abigail was a cautious bidder, and a hesitant player. Beth and I got greedy, and narrowly missed making a few hands. Christina, as I already knew, was a solid player. Eskort She also seemed to know exactly what Abigail meant with some of her more curious bids.

Beth wasn’t disappointed that we lost.

-“We’ll get them next time.” she said.

That sounded encouraging, to me. It seemed to suggest that there would be a next time. Best of all, I hadn’t had to play with Massimo. First impressions can be misleading, but I thought that I would enjoy playing with these people. Four attractive women, and bridge.

Beth took me aside.

-“So? You think you want to play with us again?” she asked. “You seem like a nice guy, and you obviously know your way around a bridge table … so, if you like, we can make you a regular.”

-“That sounds great.” I replied.

-“We play every two weeks.” she explained. “Tonight, we quit early – everybody has to work. Next time, we play on a weekend, and go on a bit later. Everyone takes a turn hosting. Is that alright with you?”

I assured her that it was. We exchanged contact information, phone numbers and email.

-“What if somebody can’t make it?” I asked.

-“I’m working on it.” answered Beth. “Trying to line up an alternate or two.”

Carmen saw us with our cellphones out. “Here,” she said, “you’d better give me your number too. And you should take mine. Just in case.” Then Carmen looked me in the eye. It was obvious that she wanted me to call – and that it had nothing to do with bridge.

We stayed for one more drink, and then Massimo drove me home. He was on a high, being the only person there other than Christina who had won both matches. Fortunately, I didn’t live very far away, and so I didn’t have to listen to his bullshit for very long.


Massimo wanted a rematch on the squash court. It was a pleasure to kick his ass again. After the game, he started griping.

– “Stupid game.” he muttered. “The court should be bigger. Like tennis – now there’s a test of skill.”

– “Like bridge?” I asked.

– “Nah. Bridge is mostly luck. It depends on the cards – and who you get as a partner. But hey: was I right, or was I right?” Massimo punched me in the shoulder.

– “About what?” I asked.

– “The girls, Normie. The girls! Are they hot, or what? I swear,” said Massimo, “I would bang all four of ’em. In fact, I probably WILL bang all four of ’em.”

At that precise moment, I had an out of body experience. It was as if I was hovering in the air, looking down at myself and Massimo. Edgar Allan Poe materialised beside me, and he whispered in my ear: “The Cask of Amontillado.”

The vague outline of a plan was beginning to form.

– “All four of them?” I repeated. Then I snorted. “In your dreams, Mass.”

As I had hoped, he was offended. “You don’t think I can do it? You don’t think I can nail all four?”

I laughed. “I know you can’t.”

– “Hey – fuck you, Normie.”

Then I baited the hook.

– “Give it up, Massimo. It’s not going to happen. Hell – I would have a better chance of sleeping with all four than you would.”

I said it slowly, and enunciated every word, as clearly as possible. I also made sure he was looking at me, and that he didn’t miss a single syllable.

He could have laughed it off. He could have mocked me for my arrogance. But he didn’t. Massimo did exactly what I expected: he took it as a challenge.

– “Are you fucking kidding me? You? Seriously? You think you can do better than me?”

I just nodded, very slowly and very deliberately.

– “Fuck, no. Never in a million years!” he shouted. Then Massimo uttered the fateful words. “No way, Normie boy – it’s time to put up, or shut up. Time to put your money where your mouth is! I BET you that I can bang those four chicks before you do!”

– “A bet?” I repeated.

– “Yeah! A bet! That’s what I said.” The hook was set. It was time to reel Massimo in.

– “What kind of bet?” I asked.

– “What do you mean? A bet!” He was still angry, but the idea of a competition – especially against me – appealed to his nature.

– “For money? How much? This is no $50 wager … and what about proof? Do we just take each other’s word for it? This could take some thinking …”

Massimo didn’t say anything, but I could see the wheels turning.

– “Let’s think about this a bit. Look, how about a tennis rematch on Wednesday?” I suggested.

Massimo smiled. “You’re on, Normie baby. You’re on.”


Thank you for reading. This is my first submission to Literotica. I would appreciate any and all feedback, especially if you see any areas where I can improve.

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