Katie Cucks her "Man"

They come in together. She's stunning, in her way, with her long curly hair, big eyes. She's dressed hot, turquoise halter-top under a see-through pink blouse. White tight pants. She's effusive, yet unassuming. Her boyfriend acts entitled, but thinks he's kind. Sure, he's flexible... but his non-possessive attitude conveys apathy rather than confidence. He doesn't care what she wears or what she does. She struggles to cause him just one hint of jealousy, but to no avail. He doesn't make her feel hot. If she's dreaming of a good fuck at home tonight, it's from someone, not him.

But to my eye, she's dressed to impress. She makes a real man hungry. I'm thinking I'll give her the boost to her self-esteem this guy's not giving her.

He's scrawny. Kind of a panty-waist, really. But it goes deeper than just being a wimp. He seems nervous. Guilty. Like he's hiding something. At first, I'm thinking he's a proud pacifist: deep down, ashamed of being a coward. He's never been in a fight, never stood up for a himself, let alone a girl. He's neither strong nor brave, just smart enough to slip out of the way.

But I think, there's something more he won't even admit to himself. Some shameful secret that can't be true because he's with her. He's not quite satisfied, but he's proud of being seen with this girl and thinks someday she's gonna be his good little wife. He's playing it cool, giving her space. Does he think space is what's gonna keep her loyal?

He has some humiliating secret desire, under the surface. I think he's gonna be okay with her getting a boost. Does he know that might mean her hooking up with another man?

They're around the bar a while. Hovering. She's dancing a bit. She wants attention, and the music and the buzz is making her feel free and wild. And she's getting more attention from strangers than from her boyfriend. She needs a rescue, but is too nice to leave him behind. She's committed. She loves him, for what it's worth.

I meet their eyes. She and I smile openly at each other. He glances, blushes, and turns, catching her, smiling at me. Nervous, envious. She doesn't smile for him that way.

My glass is empty. I go to the bar, next to her. I set my glass down. My hand on her shoulder. "Hi. My name's John. You here with your boyfriend?"

"Yeah." she says, almost with a little chagrin.

"I'm getting a pitcher." I say. "Why don't both of you come over to my table and we'll share it?"

While I order the pitcher, she turns to her boyfriend. They discuss. I get my pitcher, and three cups. "Coming?" I smile.

"Sure!" she says.

Once they're at my table, I fill their cups. Though we've never met, she feels comfortable. Familiar. Now, my arm's wrapped casually around her waist. "I said my name's John, but I didn't catch yours."

"Ummm. I'm Katie, and this is, umm, my boyfriend, Scott," she says. Hesitant now. Will Scott say something? He's looking at my hand on her waist. No. He's leaving objections to Katie. None are forthcoming. She's flattered.

At a lull in the music, the end of one song fades to nothing and speeds up to match tempo with another. Katie grooves into the accelerating beat, but before it reaches a crescendo, I give her a sincere compliment, loud enough for Scott to hear, and the next table over.

"You gotta know, Katie. If you were here with a girlfriend, instead of your boyfriend, Scott, there... I'd really be looking to take you home. You're really a stunning woman."

Katie blushes, never taking my hand from her waist. I can feel all her gyrations. The heat of her skin through the gauzy fabric of her blouse. I give her a good feel, brushing the back of my hand against the underside of her breast.

She's enjoying my physical attention. My hand on her waist, bumping against her breast as she dances. She isn't making eye contact with Scott. I'm a force happening to each of them, separately. She puts one hand in the air, swaying her hips to the music. Scott is trying to look away, but his eyes keep straying back, caught up in the audacity of my touch. My big hand groping his girlfriend right in front of him.

Still, he timidly sips his beer. His eyes only check my hand's progress. He's not going to limit her. He certainly won't judge her. And the last thing he wants is trouble with me.

He uses whatever pride he has left in shoving back all his jealousy until only envy remains.

Katie seems pretty buzzed. She's not meeting Scott's eyes, but staring at the crowd of people grinding on the dance floor. She's abandoned herself to the feel of my groping hand, the taste of her beer, and the beat of the hard thumping music. The unexpected arrogance of my public persistence consumes all her sober thoughts, in an unexpected, but appreciated contrast to Scott's seeming indifference. Finally, she puts her hand on the back of mine, not to try to take it away, but to acknowledge it.

And Scott continues to make his furtive glances, as that same confident hand makes its way up and down her waist, from her thigh to her breast.

The beat of the music covers our meaningful silence. My hand slowly and inexorably crosses any pretense of her physical and social boundaries, continually gaining ground, and giving up nothing. As she continues to groove, I pull her back against me, pressing her gyrating body into the firmness of my hardening cock.

Katie hesitates, but only momentarily. Feeling the size and eagerness of my cock directly against her back. She glances over at Scott, but he is, in this moment, feigning complete disinterest, looking away, toward the wall.

He shows no pretense of a claim on Katie's boundaries I'm crossing. He's not aware that it's ground I won't give up, as she's taking it all in pleasure.

Still, I want to goad him. Create a demonstration. I lean across the table, keeping Katie pressed against me. "Hey Scott," I say.

Katie loses her trance, thinking about him.

He looks over. I can't tell whether his eyes are on Katie's tits or my hand, just below them. "You know, you don't have to act like you're not watching. Tell Katie how sexy her dancing is."

"Um..." he says. "Yeah. Very sexy." It's more acquiescence than enthusiasm. Yet, his eyes are locked on my hand.

I put my other hand on Katie's hip and gently coerce a sway, still keeping her pressed against me. "Come on Katie, you've got an audience. Keep dancing."

Scott's eyes are still locked on my hand, the one under her breast. Katie still hesitates, but the ground I have gained is still mine. I slide up my hand and cup her breast, confidently.

Scott gulps, first in shock, then confusion, revelation, consternation, then embarrassment, as he acknowledges, what I'm doing to his girlfriend is turning him on. He twists in his seat, trying to adjust the hardness in his pants.

I breathe in the smell of Katie's shampoo, then whispered in her ear. "You should take his hand, pull him in, get him to dance with you."

She's clearly been wondering what to do about him, about me, not sure what to do. She's quick to see the merit of my suggestion and does exactly what I said. I can only see the back of her hair, but he smiles. She reaches out her hand, and takes his, with a quiet confidence. With a deep understanding of Scott's anxious but docile demeanor, she pulls him closer.

Our faces are over Katie's opposite shoulders. He looks out over at the dance floor as she pulls him in close. He's awkward with his hands. My hands are on her waist and breast, and groping and fondling her body at will, heedless of the press of their bodies.

He's at a loss for finding a place to put his own hands, leaving them out, awkwardly, to either side. Eventually, he picks his beer back up, just to feel a little more in control.

Katie's amazing ass is pressed against me. She's wiggling it across the hardness of my cock with every other beat of the driving music.

Still sniffing at her hair, I whisper, "Katie. Scott doesn't know what do do with his hands. Don't you think you should let him put his hands on that amazing ass?...Show his appreciation?"

But she leans forward to Scott's ear, and I overhear her, saying ``John says you can put your hands on my ass.'' She says it her own way, running with it a little. Beautifully worded. A humiliating permission. Succinct and devastating.

He turns in surprise, but she takes both his hands and guides them back. I pull back a bit and give his hands room to find their spot. Once positioned, she backs up to continue twerking her tight ass against my crotch.

Scott blushes. She keeps gyrating. His hands are locked timidly in position between us. She moves deliberately, lewdly, The backs of his hands come intimately and repeatedly into contact with the pressure of my cock.

He glances up toward me, blushing. I goad him. "Get in there, kiss her, Scott." Scott's blush turns redder, but Katie, still grooving, sandwiched between us, puts her hands on his cheeks and pulls him in, giving him a prolonged passionate kiss.

Scott's near paralyzed. The kiss, the hands, the dancing. It's just happening to him. It's seeming a good-natured game to him, which gives me the opportunity to gain yet more ground. While Scott's hands are playing a meek defense, holding dearly to Katie's sweet little ass, mine ascend forcibly up under her blouse, lifting the underwire of her bra, groping her bare tit. Scott and Katie feel the full phenomenon, because there is no space between their chests, except what is occupied by my groping hand. Yet, they never break their kiss, nor the sway of Katie's ass against my crotch.

We keep this little make-out session in our little corner, out of sight of most of the bar. They kiss as my big hands slide up and down, massaging and groping Katie's hips, waist, and breasts between them, until the D.J breaks in to make some announcement between songs. Finally with some panting, Katie pulls away, adjusts her bra, and lifts her beer. Our little group has a new chemistry. They are still innocent, but their pretenses of decorum are lifted. Katie and I have considerable sexual momentum, and Scott will not resist. I'm doing what I want with her, and he is acquiescent.

When the music starts again, I turn Katie to me, talking barely over the music. Scott turns away, unable to hear. "So, you guys just dating? Living together? Engaged?"

"Oh, yeah. We're engaged." she says, grinning. "It's a long distance relationship. He's staying the weekend."

"Oh yeah? I've never seen you around. I would notice you."

"Oh, I usually don't go out. Well, I'm dating Scott, and I know with him here, nothing will happen. It's safer for me to go out with him around."

I glanced over at Scott, who is still pointedly staring out at the dance floor.

"Yeah, I see that. Hey, why don't you see if Scott minds if I come over after we finish this pitcher?"

Katie leans forward, like a bit of a lush, puts her hand right on Scott's crotch, saying something I can't quite hear. Then she turns and fills Scott's cup half full, and hers all the way.

She turns to me with a bit of a stumble, and gulps down half her beer before she says. "Yeah, John, he said you could. We just have to finish this pitcher. Chug it Scott!"

Scott, chagrined, obediently tilts his head back and drinks his beer, quickly, though not as fast as Katie. I finished the last of my beer leisurely, knowing they weren't going anywhere without me.

"I'll just ride with you guys. You can bring me back to get my car in the morning."

"I think I've had too much to drive" said Katie. "John, you want to sit in the back with me?" she giggled.

I looked at Scott with a knowing grin. "What do you say, Scott?"

Her words stung Scott a bit. He felt another wave of disorientation. But tried to remain the calm one. "Oh...uh, sure...I can...give you a ride..."

"Heheh, it's alright." I clap him on the shoulder. "I'll ride up front with you."

Scott breathes relief, but not much. His dignity is already pretty bruised by her invitation.

I open the back door for Katie, chivalrously, then slide in the passenger seat next to Scott.

"You guys are a great couple, Scott. I can tell, Katie feels really safe with you. You must be pretty reliable."

"Oh...um...i appreciate that..."

"But it's a long distance thing? How far you live? You come visit every weekend? She's gotta be aching for it."

"Oh, um...not that often actually...I live in New York... it's a pretty long flight, so..."

"Oh man. Well, I appreciate you letting me share your time."

Scott is quiet.

"So, what kind of porn you watch, Scott? You into that sissy-hypno shit?"

He turns red and stammers "Uh...whaaat?? Uh, no... Why would you..."

"Ah come on, man. Why else you let her cuck you?"

"Uh, we...no...we don't...uh..."

"Seriously, how long you two been doing this?" Scott keeps stammering his protestations, as I keep needling, "That right? No man ever fuck your girl in front of you?"

Not that I need have asked. They were too vanilla. But what just happened, happened. I focus in: Would he acknowledge it? "No man ever grope your girl in public while you kissed her?"

"Uh...nnnno..." he continued. totally unsure of how to deflect this line of inquiry... I let it hang in the air a little while. He feels it.

"So I'm your first, huh?"

Katie giggles drunkenly in the back seat.

"It's alright. We're sharing something. Just the three of us. Nothing wrong with that."

I clap my hand gently down on his right thigh, asking, conspiratorially,

"So Scott, when you watch your vanilla porn you claim you watch, do you fantasize about being the man, or the woman whose getting fucked?"

Scott turns silent. He is consumed with the topic, but could only offer an ineffectual protest. Like an awkward adolescent who hasn't learned how to deflect an insult.

"Taking you a little while to answer, Scott. Aren't you sure?"

"Uh, the man, of course..." His voice had turned falsetto, cracking in defensiveness. His tone betrayed him, as though the truth is far from what he is admitting. Perhaps he never even watched men and women have sex.

"Huh. Little defensive there, aren't you Scott? I don't know. You sure it's not all twisted sissy-hypno videos? Seemed like you were feeling around when you two were dancing. Didn't you like the feel of my cock on the back of your hand?"

Scott protested weakly, ineffectually, against my presumptions, When I asked the question, he muttered "Uh..NOOooooo..." under his breath with exasperation.

"I think you did, Scott, but suit yourself. You can keep pretending if you want. I didn't want to leave you out, when we have fun tonight. You are at least into watching, though, aren't you?"

"W...watching?" Scott stammered, flustered

"Yeah."

"Watching what?" Scott asked, in denial

I laughed. "Come on, man! I had my hands on Katie for a good half hour in there. She liked it. Looked to me like you liked it too. Maybe a little secret part of you. Maybe the lil part between your legs?"

"I...I'm sure I don't what you're talking about..."

"Well, anyway, I don't mind you watching, but if you want to play, you have to dress up a little."

Katie is just making little funny noises to the music in back, pumping her hands and wiggling. But she looked up at the road and said, "Scott, you're distracted, don't miss the turn."

Scott started to answer, then heard Katie and steered into the turn, with an "Um..."

Once past the turn, Scott continued his clever and convincing banter: "Wha... What do you..."

Katie speaks up from the back seat. "Scott buys me outfits from porn stores every time he comes to visit."

Scott felt it like a blow to the back of the neck. Breaking into a sudden nervous sweat. She'd just totally blurted out his sex-shop stuff. Like she'd been dying to tell someone.

"What's that all about, Scott?" I ask. "You need a little extra something to get yourself hard?"

Katie continues, "He always says he's sorry for buying naughty things for me to wear. Or how did you put it, baby? Making me wear those things?" She put the stress on "Making"

Scott stammers, with the conversation out of his control, mumbling "I just thought she looked really good in that stuff..."

He'd said it to appease her, but it is just more ammunition for the thrust of my argument.

"Sure Scott." I say. "You don't think its maybe something about shopping for little sexy girl outfits? Maybe just a little fantasy about shopping for yourself?"

"Uh...what?? I don't know what you're..."

"Aw, come on, Scott. I see you. You're alright. You've got yourself a little panty-waist. You should flaunt it. Live a little. What do you think Katie? Stockings, heels, lipstick, rouge, panties, wig? He bought a wig, sometime, right?"

Scott's hands are sweating on the wheel, slipping.

"Like... three of them." Katie says.

"Wow. That almost sounds insulting. Katie, your hair's fine. What are you thinking, Scott? You really bought those wigs for yourself, didn't you?"

Scott's really tripping now, just trying to focus on the road. Even so, I take my chances. "Seriously Scott, you could be a cutie. Almost passable."

Katie lets out a shrieking giggle.

"Ahh...yeah I don't...know..." Even as something stirs against his will in his pants.

"He says he doesn't know, Katie. Definitely not a no."

"Look I...I thought we were just going to get a nightcap when we got back, I don't..."

"Oh was that your reading?" I ask.

"I mean, um" Scott stuttered.

"Listen Scott. I really had more planned than that. Like, I'm gonna fuck your girlfriend, tonight. Probably, right in front of you. Don't you think so Katie?"

Scott tries to catch her glance in the mirror, stunned into silence.

"Mmmm.. maybe!" she says. Scott's ears are burning.

"Again, not a no. So yeah, Scott. She's in. It's mainly just a question whether you want to watch or not."

"...oh oh oh." Katie adds, "And whether you want wear the things you bought, or if I have to MAKE you." she laughs.

Scott's cock twitches in his pants, even as he is realizing he is losing this battle badly,

"Scott, slow down. Don't miss my driveway." Katie says.

We pull up into the driveway and get out of the car.

Katie leads me up to the front door, turning and smiling, doing that thing with her hair.

When I get her in the door, I see it's a nice house, with the front room seeming to be a combination of many sorts of rooms. Katie isn't, maybe, the neat one. There are a number of blouses, sweatpants, skirts, and towels draped over furniture in the living room. A counter divides the living room from kitchen. The dishes are done. Books and magazines are strewn about, or on bookshelves, leaning in different directions. The entertainment center is occupied by a big screen TV, a stereo system, and great stacks of DVD's and CDs. Half the dining room table is occupied by a desktop computer.

Katie said, "Yep. Home sweet home. This is how I live. Love it or leave it." "Oh, it's perfect," I say, putting my arm round her back, pinning her against the wall, French kissing her and fondling her writhing body.

Scott stood there, rooted to the ground, just watching, mouth open, as his girlfriend is writhing like a cat in my arms. Then when it came apparent that we'd be making out a while, he complacently turned and closed the door. Then awkwardly went around the room, starting to fold her clothes. Smoothing them into neat stacks.

Katie panting, looked over to him. "Nice of your boyfriend to take care of your things, isn't it?"

But she replied, "Go to my room and get changed,, Scott. "Put on the last outfit you bought for me."

Scott's eyes are downcast. He is fetishizing every little piece of her clothing, as he folds them. Finding some satisfaction in caressing and folding his girlfriend's clothes, while I grope, fondle, probe and kiss his girlfriend's body.