Jean squeezed C's hand and he immediately squeezed back. It was a trick their therapist Dr. Frost taught them. In keeping with the spirit of their marriage only Jean could initiate it. C, however, had veto authority. If he didn't squeeze back it meant he wasn't on board. Jean was not to question why but to stop. Dr. Frost described it as a nonverbal safe word whose purpose was to protect C.
He believed in treating adults as adults and told them they needed to develop their own safe word but felt it was better to say no before than trying to put a stop after they began. Jean's need to dominate brought to the surface her cruel streak. Unfortunately for C, his desire to be treated badly made it all too easy for Jean to go overboard.
The goal of Dr. Frost's therapy was to make C stronger without undermining Jean. It was also to give C time to look before he leaped. At the beginning of therapy C didn't return Jean's squeeze. He trusted her but he didn't trust himself. He let Jean behave in ways he knew would end badly.
Both C and Jean assured Dr. Frost they wanted to preserve their marriage, not alter its dynamics. Theirs was a female led marriage with a heavy emphasis on female sexual empowerment and male subjugation and demasculinization.
Jean squeezed C's hand a second time wanting to be certain he wanted this as much as she. He immediately squeezed back. She looked at him and mouthed, "I love you."
He smiled, a boyish grin on his face, replying, "I know you do." He was older and he hoped wiser, but what he was really feeling was time travel. Running into Jose was akin to being transported to the late summer of 1982. He knew Jean was having the same feeling and he couldn't blame her. It had been a wondrous time in their relationship.
He sensed the night was going to be very interesting. He wondered what Jose had in mind; he suspected running into him had been an accident. Jean was always willing to go with the flow, to depart from a timetable or plan. He wondered what else she had in mind for the evening or was he to expect a complete change of plans.
They got to their table and sat down. Jean picked out a bottle of wine and ordered oysters on the half shell for C and roasted red peppers for herself. The waiter left to fill their order. C looked perplexed as to her choice of oysters. She smiled, "Trust me C. You'll really appreciate the oysters later."
He smiled but deep down wished she had ordered his favorite, calamari. He didn't have much faith in their restorative powers. Erections and climaxes came easy for him even in middle age. Penis size and lack of stamina were his problem, not the quantity of his ejaculate. He was a heavy cummer.
Their table was in its own room accessible by a sliding door the waiter opened when he entered and closed when he left. He returned a few minutes later with their bottle of wine.
The waiter proffered the bottle to C only to have C decline it and nod his head in the direction of Jean. The waiter looked confused so C felt he needed to clear it up and prevent future faux pas. He did it diplomatically, "I'm her date."
He looked at their hands seeing wedding bands but thinking they were either stepping out on their respective mates or more likely business associates and she was trying to win over a client. It didn't make sense but he decided to go with the flow.
He apologized to Jean for his mistake. She smiled and told him, "Happens all the time. I understand your confusion, but our marriage is quite different from most couples."
"Ma'am, how so?"
"I'm the head of the house; he just pays the bills and waits on me."
"Oh."
"I see you're married too. And I can see by your expression you're not sold on the idea. Before you knock it you should try it. I'm good at reading people and my woman's intuition tells me you and my husband are a lot alike."
The waiter turned red in the face. He wanted to tell her off, to assure her he was very much the man of the house, but he didn't choosing instead to pretend he hadn't heard her. He poured her a few ounces, allowed it to breathe, and offered it to her. She inhaled its sweet aroma reminding her of apples, took a sip, and after swallowing told him to go ahead.
He poured her glass then C's glancing at him and thinking to himself how rude she was to compare him with her mouse of a husband. Bitch that she was he had to admit she was smoking hot. If given the chance he told himself he would show her who's boss.
She studied his face knowing he was upset. She hadn't misread him, but struck a chord. She kept her expression unchanged but inside she was gloating. The truth hurts she thought but if he embraces it, it will set him free.
He finished pouring and asked if there was anything else she needed. Jean was half tempted to tell him, "A good fuck, the same thing your poor wife needs." She didn't, but instead, looked at his name tag, Carlo, smiled, and said, "Carlo, just the appetizers and soon as I'm starving. By the way, are you Italian?"
He smiled thinking she was an idiot, "Of course I'm Italian. From Napoli," keeping his voice as sweet as hers.
She dryly replied, "I wouldn't have guessed it." She left it at that leaving it to him to figure out what she was implying. Carlo walked away fuming.
C wondered why Carlo had gotten under Jean's skin. His mistake was common and he had recovered nicely C thought. He wanted to ask, but didn't want to set Jean off. She would tell him when she was ready.
Jean turned her attention to C, raised her glass, and offered a toast, "To my carino, my cornudo of a husband."
He touched his glass to hers. They each took a sip. She looked at him, "Now your turn."
He thought a moment, raised his glass, "To strong women and female led marriage." He thought about adding as a joke, "and to the weak men who worship them," but it would detract from the toast's sincerity. Besides he reminded himself, being married to a strong woman who captained their marriage was not for the weak.
She touched her glass to his and linked her arm around his. He followed her lead and they took another drink from their glasses. Untangling their forearms she took a longer drink from her glass before putting it down.
She stared at him. She adored him on so many levels. He remained after all these years her best friend. Only the best of friends would tolerate her antics. He had proven himself countless times. Here she was scheming to have him prove his love, loyalty, submission, and friendship again. What she wanted was a lot to ask of anyone. Their life was perfect in so many ways. She wondered if she was about to upset the apple cart. She knew she was often selfish and rationalized her choice in marrying someone so selfless. She needed a husband who was her opposite.
He returned her stare thinking to himself how radiant she looked. He considered her still a goddess and wasn't the least surprised she attracted men like the ice cream truck attracts kids. Who wouldn't want a piece of her? He still couldn't believe his luck in meeting her. She understood him completely. He no longer wondered why she stayed with a man completely her opposite. He did believe opposites attract. She too was his best friend. He couldn't imagine a different marriage or life without her. What they had wasn't for everyone, but it worked for them.
Whenever they had staring contests he was always the one who looked away and tonight was no different. Her stare was intense like her personality. Glancing down he signaled defeat; she was the stronger, dominant one and he the weaker, submissive one.
She smiled when he broke eye contact chalking up another victory. She owned this man, her cornudo of a husband. She basked in being the envy of her friends.
She slipped her shoe off and placed her left foot between his legs. He opened his legs and her toes with their bright red nails located the lump in his pants and softly rubbed it. He was she noted hard.
She stared at him pondering how she was going to approach him with her idea. What she wanted was huge and more than a little insane. Completely selfish she thought, but she really wanted it. The question is did he want the same thing and could she handle him saying no. She decided she wouldn't force her desire on him no matter how tempting it was.
She decided on her tactic, a trip down memory lane. Running into Jose had been a stroke of luck. She could tell by C's behavior he wanted Jean to openly cuckold him on their night out. It had been a very long time since he had witnessed firsthand other men having sex with her. They rarely had date nights; she went out while he stayed home. She returned her vagina full
of another man's cum, her body showing the wear and tear of another man's hands and mouth, the bruises and hickeys badges she proudly and defiantly displayed, reveling at the look on his face of her cheating yet again, of another man leaving his mark on her.
With her cuck she craved gentleness, his mouth glued to her sex, slowly and gently bringing her to orgasm. She wanted her body to bear bruises and be visibly sore. She knew it tore her cuck up to see how roughly other men treated her and how they showed her disrespect by treating her as a piece of meat. What hurt even worse is knowing she relished being manhandled. The rougher those men were the better she orgasmed. Knowing she got off on it hurt him in other ways as it was treatment she never wanted from him, but it was also humiliating to know his wife wanted what he couldn't give her. He loved and respected her too much, but instead of it making her more faithful, its effect was opposite.
She traced the outline of his penis with her toes then brought them to his scrotum. She could feel his twin eggs. One hard push and he would need a trip to the E.R. to remove their shattered remains. She wouldn't do it but she knew if she wanted to she could. He wouldn't just let her but insist to the police it was an accident, rough sex that got out of hand. She pressed her toes rather firmly against his sac feeling his balls flatten out watching the pain it produced on his face. She repeated her action again but harder. He didn't say a word, but she knew it hurt. She also knew it turned him from hard to soft. She rationalized her actions telling herself it was to bring him from the brink. It was still too early in the evening for him to climax.
She moved her foot to the edge of his seat. She looked at him as she took another sip from her glass. He looked confused wondering what prompted her to go from hot to icy. It wasn't like her to punish him out of the blue.
She decided to be upfront, "How aroused were you?"
"Very," he answered.
"I could tell. You were about to cum weren't you?"
He nodded yes.
