Author's note: There are tons of stories on here featuring the "girls night out" trope. Most of these stories have a husband that figures it out far too late or knows what's going to happen and just sends a PI to take pictures. I don't understand it. If you know she's going to cheat, and hasn't yet, why not stop it? If you know a line was crossed, why not pull her back to your side? It isn't "cuck shit" to save your marriage if you can stop it before it's too late, is it? Who knows?
Well, I'm trying it. Our group of men aren't cucks and they aren't going to stand by and let their wives cheat.
Will their attempt at intervening work?
What's On Your Mind?
My wife Maggie and I were sitting in the lounge of our friends Damon and Kelly's house. It was the monthly get together for our group of friends. There were four total couples hanging out without our kids.
Our circle of friends had always stayed the same. The wives had been joined at the hip since grade school and we husbands just coalesced into the fold.
It took about three years after college for the group of girls to all marry and start families, and they were all stay at home moms. We all lived within walking distance from each other in a quiet suburb, west of Chicago. They called their little click "SAHM's Club."
We were the first to marry and the second couple to have children. Damon and Kelly had two children first; 5-year-old twins, Mark and Jill had a 3-year-old, we had two, aged 5 and 4, and Steve and Robin had one four-year-old. Oddly all of the kids were girls except our son Cody.
There was nothing special about any of us. Damon owns a bar/club with a decent crowd on DJ nights, I'm a CPA, Mark is a manager in a grocery store chain and Steve sells insurance.
The wives were all milf next door, cute soccer mom types in fairly decent shape and all reasonably pretty, but Jill was smoking hot in college and from what I heard from my wife, a bit wild.
We were drinking Damon's Johnny Black, the ladies were enjoying whatever white wine ladies drank and the buzzes were hitting us all pretty well.
We guys were pretty tight. Not as tight as the ladies, but we had our "guy time" regularly. Usually, it was on the golf course or in a darts league at Damon's bar.
So as we sat in couples talking about our kids and their latest activities, Jill changed the subject and said, "I love being a responsible mom, but I miss going out dancing."
The other ladies agreed and began reminiscing about their pre-kid adventures.
Maggie said, "Why don't we do a night out, and go dancing tomorrow? We can leave the men on daddy duty and go out and shake the cobwebs off our butts."
Damon said, "Why can't we go with you? Who are you gonna dance with?"
Kelly said, "Whoever wants to. We can let loose and shake our asses, and not have husbands or kids to fuss over."
"Wait," I said. "That was the point of having these monthly parties. A night out away from the kids. Now you want a night away from your husband too? Why? I don't need a break from you, why do you need one from me? So you can go out and get hit on by some lounge lizard?"
We all had already heard Damon's stories over the years, of the wild women and horny guys caught screwing in his bathrooms or in the parking lot. We heard all about confrontations between husbands and wives doing things they shouldn't be doing on the dance floor. Why would the ladies think we would let them get into those situations?
"Paul, it's not about getting hit on, it's about getting out and not being wives and mothers for a few hours," Maggie said.
Damon jumped in and said, "Fine, do it at my club. The drinks are on me."
"No way! So you can spy on us? Screw that," Maggie said abruptly.
"Spy on you! What will you be doing that you worry about that?" I shouted.
At that point the night devolved into arguments and accusations. I wasn't the only one concerned about the motivation for it and in fact, it became clear that they had already talked about it before the party. We were ambushed and I was pissed.
"Alright let's call it a night, we need to cool off. Things have escalated too far over a stupid night out," I said.
"Agreed," Damon said. "We have a 6:40 tee time at Cantigny in the morning boys."
"It's not over," Jill said. "We're going out tomorrow night and that's it."
Her husband Mark said, "We'll see about that," and walked out the door.
I was glad because he was directly behind me in the driveway, and I wanted to leave. "Let's go, Mags."
"Whatever!" She said and walked out in a huff.
I shrugged my shoulders and said goodnight to Damon and the rest.
******
The ride home was silent as she sat with her arms folded like a petulant child. All she was missing was the pout and her sulking could have rivaled my five-year-old's.
I couldn't shake my anger at the setup. They clearly planned it all out and even had the night picked. I think we all trusted our wives, but on some level, we questioned why they felt like they needed a night away from us.
It's not like we've been married for decades and our lives were stale. Maggie and I had plenty of adult nights out and they were easy to come by since both sets of our kids' grandparents lived close and loved to take the kids. They even gave us overnights without kids.
Did one or more of the ladies want to cheat? Did they want to flirt with and get felt up by men, not their husbands, on the dance floor? Why would they think we would be spying if they went to Damon's bar? What were they afraid of us seeing?
As I pulled into the garage, she had the door open and was practically out of the car before I stopped. With the kids at her mother's, I figured I was going to get an earful as soon as the garage door closed.
After three big glasses of wine at the party, she was just uninhibited enough to give me a tirade unlike any Irish blooded red-headed banshee had before.
"Why are you being such an asshole?"
I had to think quickly and decide how far I wanted to take it. I decided to just let her go and lose some of her steam.
"Well? What's your problem with me going out with my friends? Do you feel like you own me? Do you think I want to do this to go out and get laid? Answer me!"
I sighed and calmly said, "You tell me why it's so important to go out without your husbands? Why can't you dance with us and shake your asses, as you said, with your husbands? Why risk getting groped or, god forbid, worse, when you can dance all you want with us there? You've heard Damon's warnings about date rape drugs and girls taken in parking lots. He hears all of the warnings and stories from other bar owners and the police. Can't you understand that we just worry about you?"
"You have nothing to worry about. All we want to do is blow off some steam."
"Then do it at Damon's bar where X can watch over you. We'd all feel better if that were the case, and you'll save money on cover charges and drinks."
X is Xavier, one of Damon's weekend bouncers. He's 6'5", 300 pounds, and is a solid wall of "don't fuck with me."
"I'll talk to the girls. Maybe we can compromise," she said.
"I'm sorry, I don't want to fight. We have the whole house to ourselves, so how about we make good use of it?" She said with a sexy purr as she took off her blouse.
******
We shed our outer clothes walking up the stairs. By the time she sat on the bed she was in her underwear and I was nude. My iron-hard cock was leading the way as I approached her and she reached out for me.
She took my cock into her grasp and licked the head with gusto. Her blowjobs were amazing and she enjoyed giving them. I'm a lucky man.
I smelled her arousal and tapped her hip, signaling for her to get into a 69 position. She slid her wet panties off and straddled my face.
She rode my tongue for a few minutes before going back to my shaft to make some mutual music.
She tasted amazing. Her juices were slightly salty and I lapped up all that I could find and more kept coming. As I licked around her clit with the tip of my tongue, she started moaning on my dick.
I went all out on her, focusing on her small button and drove her to her first orgasm. She came off of my shaft with a pop and said, "Yes, baby. Right there. I'm... I'm... ahh! Yeah! Oh Yessss!
When she came down, she turned around and kissed me while she straddled my hips. She sat back and lined her tunnel up with my shaft and sank down. Slowly she dropped, until she bottomed out and started grinding her clit into my body, moving her hips in circles.
"I love you, baby," she said as she rode me in a faster pace. I kissed her wrist as she lowered her hands next to my head. I took her ass into my hand and squeezed hard, just as she likes and she moaned in appreciation.
Her bra encased breasts were so tantalizingly close, I had to have them in my mouth, so I unhooked their lace prison and tossed it across the room. Her C cup treasures felt into my face as she leaned farther into me. A hard nipple finding my tongue.
Licking, nibbling, and sucking, as she loved, I was in heaven. She bucked with the tremors of her pending orgasm, shooting her body up. Knowing the love of my life so well, that was her signal for me to use my thumb to stroke her clit as she came.
I felt her juices flow onto my body as she drove up and down, rocking me in and out of her tight delight. Her screams of pleasure filled the room.
In an all to familiar motion she leaned to the side, wanting me to take her from behind. I spun over and pulled her soaking wet channel towards my throbbing pole and slid into her with one push.
I slammed in and out while she rocked back and forth in a practiced dance. I licked and sucked my thumb to my desired wetness and played with her backdoor.
The slapping of our bodies was the only sound in the room as I felt my own rising orgasm.
"Yes, fuck me! Do it! Fuck me harder. Harder!" She screamed as I obeyed her command.
I pushed my thumb into her tight forbidden hole and held it there as I pumped her with everything I had.
As the beads of sweat dripped from my forehead onto her back, she screamed out once more, "I'm cumming! Don't stop! Harder!"
With a final flourish of strokes, I drove as deep as I could and shot stream after stream of cum into her well-fucked pussy.
