Author's note
I would like to thank Hubby77 for taking the time to reimagine a story idea I was kicking around. I sent him a rough draft, and he sent me this story based on my idea. I think it's a great story, but I'm afraid it will disappoint all you cuck haters.
Movie Night!
When my friend, Dave, invited me and my wife over to watch movies (on his new 80 inch, 4K flat screen) and have a few drinks. I knew he had broken up with his girlfriend a few months ago. I also knew that if it wore a skirt, he would be after it. I just never considered that Dave would be after my wife!
~~~
It was getting late when our host, Dave, excused himself and headed for the bathroom.
"You just don't give a damn!
Do you
?" My wife angrily huffed as soon as she heard the bathroom door close. When Joan is mad, there is no stopping her.
"Of course I do. I just don't think Dave kissing you is such a tragedy, that's all," I replied in a low, calm voice, trying to avoid an argument. Oh, I was pissed about Joan trying to deny what
really
happened. I just didn't want to air our dirty laundry in front of the two other couples Dave had invited for movie night.
Joan crossed her arms and glared at me.
"Oh... No, it wasn't a tragedy, Pete! It was god-damned oral rape! Jesus, the crude bastard shoved his tongue in my mouth and grabbed my ass;
and you don't give a damn!"
she hissed.
The other couples were casually sipping their drinks and making small talk, pretending to ignore us, and I didn't see the point in holding back anymore.
"Well, what the hell did you expect, Joan? You followed him into the kitchen like an alley-cat in heat! And something tells me that if I hadn't seen what you two were doing, you wouldn't be making a fuss about it now," I shot back. "Hmm... Yeah! And now that I think about it, I'm wondering why you were so worried about
me
wrinkling your dress before we left the house? You
obviously
weren't worried about it when Dave was
grabbing your ass
," I added with a little more venom than I had intended.
Joan had on a basic black mini dress with a neckline that was showing plenty of her double-D cleavage and a hemline that had been exposing her legs to mid-thigh,
or higher
, all night!
"I don't think you'd care if he mauled me! No... You don't care. Not even a little bit.
Do you
?" Joan spat.
Judging by her reply, I'd hit the nail on the head.
"Yeah, well... If you weren't enjoying the attention, I would have stopped him. But let's face it. You weren't exactly objecting," I retorted.
"So let me get this straight. You're saying it's OK with you, as long as I don't object?" Joan asked flippantly.
That was an obvious challenge!
"Yeah... Yeah,
that's right!
It doesn't matter to me. Go ahead,
do whatever the fuck you wanna do!"
I angrily quipped.
~
After fifteen years of marriage, we certainly knew how to push each other's buttons. But I was in no mood to put up with her; a strong offense is the best defense, crap. I know what I saw, and it was a hell of a lot more than a neighborly "Hi, I'm happy to see you" bread and butter kiss.
~
The other couples were no longer ignoring us and had swiveled their attention to Joan. But before she could launch her next volley, the bathroom door opened. Joan and I gave each other one last childish sneer. Then everyone settled back in their seats and tried to act as if nothing was amiss.
You could cut the tension with a knife when Dave walked into the living room. The two other couples started making "it's time to go" moves, and it looked like the night was about over as Dave stood there with a puzzled look on his face.
I downed my last swallow of cheap bourbon, thinking, great. Now Joan and I can continue our fight at home, where the decibel levels won't be limited by politeness.
Then I set my empty tumbler on the coffee table and gave Joan an "it's time to go" tip of the head.
Joan just glared at me with disdain, picked up her more than half-full glass of wine (the one Dave had been attentively topping off all night), and casually took a sip as though she had no inkling that I wanted to go.
~
For me, the whole evening had been a bust. As usual, Joan took forever to get ready, and we were
fashionably late
. When we arrived, the other couples had settled into the couch and loveseat.
There wasn't room on the couch for four to sit comfortably, so Dave graciously offered Joan his plush recliner. Then he correctly assumed that I didn't want to be a third wheel on the couch and grabbed a chair from the dining room.
Dave placed the chair, more or less, across from Joan on the other side of the coffee table, next to the couch, and gestured for me to sit with a cheesy grin. I was a little taken-aback. But I didn't want to be impolite to our host and took a seat.
Then Dave retrieved another chair for himself, and I thought he would sit next to me. But, to my dismay, Dave placed the chair by his recliner and sat next to Joan as if he belonged there!
Then, as I sat through not one but two
girl movies
with my ass going numb in that uncomfortable chair watching Joan and Dave (who were obviously enjoying the movies) whisper and giggle like teenagers, I just figured the stars and planets had somehow aligned to make my night miserable.
But, in light of recent events (like my wife insisting that she help Dave make and serve this last round of drinks. Then, noting that there were more than drinks being mixed in the kitchen when I decided to go to the bathroom), I was beginning to think there was more to it than that.
~
The other couples got to their feet, and everyone exchanged brief pleasantries. Then Dave saw them out, returned, and started to collect the empty glasses.
"Would you two like another?" he cheerfully inquired. I shook my head, no, and Joan waved him off with a satiated smile. "All right then," Dave said and took the empties into the kitchen.
I just wanted to get the hell outta there and started to get up. Joan cleared her throat and gave me a "you're being impolite" scowl as she swirled her wine, indicating that she planned to finish it.
All things considered, I couldn't understand why Joan wasn't in a hurry to leave too. But I figured, what the hell, our fight could wait. Then I sat my numb ass on the now-empty couch and gave Joan a "hurry up" scowl.
The back of Dave's recliner was near the kitchen entrance, kitty-corner to the main thoroughfare between the dining room and the living room.