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His voice was soothing, but his eyes were very hard. His muscles weren't the only thing that was gleaming. His eyes were menacing and cruel. "All just a dream. Now close your eyes and go back to sleep," he said, pulling the blankets up to my chin and tucking me in. Despite my best efforts to fight it, my eyes started to shut. The lids closing with a mind of their own, disobeying every order my brain was firing to my muscles.
Then he stood and turned to my wife. "There, I took care of that. C'mon, let's go into the bedroom."
My wife didn't protest. Before my eyes shut, I had one last glimpse of my wife. She looked at me as if shrugging and apologizing in a 'Sorry, you understand, right?' kind of way.
Then Brett scooped up her naked body easily in his arms. She threw her arms around his neck and giggled excitedly, kicking her sock clad feet in the air and having the time of her life as he carried her across the threshold into our honeymoon bedroom.
I had one final glimpse of Brett's naked frame filling out the doorway, his butt flexing, and my wife's arms around his neck. Then he kicked the door shut. My eyes came down, and consciousness stole me away into blissful ignorance.
***
The daylight behind my eyelids was so bright that it pulled me to the surface, kicking and screaming. My head hurt so bad, that when my eyes opened, all I wanted to do was cry out in agony. It was the worst hangover of my life, and I could feel it all the way throughout the inside of my skull.
My pulse beat behind my eyelids.
The sun streaming in through the cabin windows wasn't really sun. It was just gray overcast clouds... but it was morning and it was horrifically bright.
I forced myself up on my elbows. Last night felt like a foggy nightmare. Had it all really happened? Or did I imagine it?
I glanced at the TV. The DVD menu was playing on repeat over and over again.
When I tried to roll over, I was surprised to find my wife spooned up on the couch beside me. Her chin was resting on my chest. She looked peaceful and beautiful. Innocent, as though nothing had happened. When I lifted the blanket, I found she was fully dressed in her pajamas.
Across the room, Brett was dressed and out cold in the arm chair. His arm was draped across his eyes, and he was snoring audibly.
I sat up slowly, looking around. I rubbed my head, hoping that would clear away the cobwebs and confusion. Everything looked innocent. Like we had all just fallen asleep watching the movie. That was perfectly plausible. Maybe I had dreamt the whole terrible sex act between Brett and my wife. Maybe my insecurities of the past few days had done an evil tango with all the booze I consumed, and fueled by a sex charged movie about a cheating girlfriend, had manifested into the worst nightmare of my life.
I checked my pajama pants. They were crusty. I really had cum in my pants. But the dream could have inspired that too. I'd had a few wet dreams in my life. And despite the horrible nature of that movie last night, it was hard to deny the eroticism behind it.
I glanced at Brett and Alex again. They both looked innocent, like they hadn't moved since the movie ended. I took a deep breath.
A dream, I told myself. All just a dream.
But as I rolled over to get up, I spotted something on the floor, wadded up near Brett's arm chair. It was something unmistakable: my wife's gray sporty thong that she'd been wearing last night. The one that Brett had stuffed into her mouth as he'd fucked her right in front of me...
*** To be continued... ***
