Movie Night

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.

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.

Joan leaned back and looked into the kitchen.

"Oh, Dave," she beckoned, with a come-hither gesture and a girlish little wiggle.

"Yes, Joan," Dave replied, then came out of the kitchen, stood behind his recliner, and bent over close to see what she wanted. They locked eyes for a moment. Then Joan stretched up, cupped her hand to his ear, and whispered something?

"Oh — Really!" Dave exclaimed, and peered up at me with raised eyebrows. "Joan says that you saw us kissing in the kitchen, and you weren't jealous. Is that true, Pete?" he asked without any deference!

I was stunned that Dave had the balls to come right out and say that to me, and I couldn't believe Joan had just said that to him.

Oh, I'm sure she expected me to admit that I was jealous and take her home. But I was pissed and having none of it!

Joan doesn't do anything, Joan doesn't want to do, and I wasn't about to let her weasel out of this. If she won't admit that she was in the wrong, she may as well just stay here with Dave! And even if she does admit it, there will be some serious discussions about boundaries and our future.

"Jealous... Why would I be jealous? I mean, what the hell! It looked like consenting adults to me," I flippantly countered.

"Well... It sure felt consenting," Dave confessed. "But then I haven't held or kissed a woman since Nancy, and I split up, and I didn't really ask," he added like it was no big deal.

"So... You just decided to hold and kiss my wife?" I asked incredulously as my fingernails dug into the palms of my tightly balled fists!

"Yeah, and I liked it a lot," Dave boldly declared.

Joan could see how pissed I was and shrunk down in the chair as she swiveled her gaze from me to Dave and back again, afraid that we were about to fight.

"Well, don't let me stop you. Help yourself! I'm sure Joan can handle anything you can dish out," I shot back, calling her bluff.

Joan sat up straight with fire shooting from her eyes!

"Excuse me! Did you just say; help yourself!" she spat.

If looks could kill, I would have been cremated on the spot.

"Hey, Whatever turns you on, Dave," I said, thinking, yeah, that's right Joan; two can play this game!

"Hmm... Whatever turns me on, huh," Dave mused and stroked his chin as he mulled over the possibilities. Then he bent down, and unbeknownst to Joan, gently placed his lips on her neck just above her right shoulder.

Joan tensed with wide-eyed surprise, and her face flushed as Dave trailed tender kisses up her neck.

Every fiber of my being wanted to launch off the couch and kill Dave, but as I watched Joan's shocked look morph into passionate defiance my anger and pride were being overruled by a part of my body that was finding this all very erotic.

Dave paused and took a moment to admire Joan's neck. "Mmmm... Very nice," he offered. "And I have to say, Pete. I'm really getting turned on here. Are you sure you're not getting jealous?" Dave asked, poking the bear!

"Not me," I replied, my voice dripping with juvenile sarcasm.

I was torn between wanting to strangle Dave with my bare hands and wanting to make Joan admit that she was in the wrong!

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, Pete. I almost forgot how nice it is to kiss a beautiful woman like this," Dave said, and without compunction began kissing her neck again!

Joan gripped the chair and glared at me as she tilted her head to give Dave better access.

"Are you going to tell Dave to stop, Pete?" she asked, her tone a mix of passion and defiance, testing my resolve.

"No! Are you, Joan?" I asked pointedly.

"It's up to you," she replied, putting the onus back on me.

"I'm not stopping anything. In fact, this could be interesting to watch!" I declared, determined to call her bluff!

Dave stood and nodded with a self-satisfied smile while Joan just stared at me. Her expression, now more "deer in the headlights" than defiant. My wife isn't one to back down from a fight, especially when she is well into her second bottle of wine. However, I think it just dawned on her that I wasn't backing down!

I intently watched Dave place his hands on my wife's shoulders and firmly work his thumbs into the tense muscles at the base of her neck. Her expression softened as Joan began to move her head in slow, small circles. Then her eyes fluttered shut, and I saw the tension drain from her body as she gave in to his skilled hands with a low groan.

"Enjoying that, Joan?" I asked snidely to keep up the pressure as I tried to ignore the pressure in my pants.

"Yes!" she breathlessly admitted.

"Tell me, Dave. Are you getting off on doing that to my wife, right in front of me?" I asked with a nasty tone.

"Umm... What do you think, Pete?" Dave countered and shifted his hips so I could see the bulge in his pants.

As far as I was concerned, Joan had already crossed the line. But I was determined to make her back down and drew a new line in the sand that she wouldn't dare cross.

"Well, it looks to me like you're ready to, uh, what did we call it when we were kids? Cop a feel! Get to second base!" I stated crudely.

That snapped Joan out of her pleasurable trance, and her eyes popped open with a questioning, almost pleading stare.

"What do you think, Joan; think Dave wants to cop a feel?" I asked, sensing cracks in her armor!

"I... I don't know, Pete," She stammered, her voice tinged with fear and uncertainty. Joan was caught in her own trap with no idea of just how far I would let Dave go?

"I have to admit, the thought has crossed my mind," Dave interjected. He knew what was going on, and he was right where he wanted to be.

"Well, I didn't hear Joan object. So, go ahead. I won't stop you," I declared, thinking (In for a penny, in for a pound), let's see how far my slut wife lets Dave go!

Dave moved his hands forward and gently traced his fingers over her clavicles until his fingertips touched below her throat, then slowly moved them downward.

Her knuckles were white from the death grip Joan had on the arms of the chair, and there was no more defiance in her wide eyes. Just shock and dismay that I was actually letting Dave play with her tits as his fingers slipped into the deep vee of her ample cleavage.

Dave stopped at the low-cut neckline of her dress, his fingers trapped in Joan's gapless cleavage. His expression was almost orgasmic as he gently opened the gap and let the weight trap his fingers again.

Then Dave began to caress and knead his fingers along and under the neckline of Joan's dress.

I could see the turmoil in Joan's eyes, and the tension was almost unbearable as Dave slowly worked his fingers a little further with each caress and squeeze.

"What are you waiting for Dave, I haven't heard Joan object," I stated coldly to keep up the pressure.

Dave just grinned at me and kept that same slow, steady pace as Joan sat there stiff as a board, her mouth agape in silent protest. Yet, there was no mistaking the two points showing through her dress.

My heart was pounding in my chest, and I could feel my breath catch and start with every involuntary twitch Joan made as Dave worked his fingers into her bra.

Was Joan about to call uncle? Did I even want her to?

Dave was at the point of no return and lightly brushed his fingertips over her nipples. Joan gasped, and my heart leapt into my throat as her chest heaved against his touch.

Dave cupped and hefted her full double D tits, obviously enjoying the weight of them in his hands as Joan stared at me with indignant lust in her half-open eyes.

I knew everything about this was wrong!

But then Dave began to roll and pinch her nipples, and I was so turned-on I couldn't think straight as I watched her shudder and writhe under his hands.

"You're not going to object, Joan? You're just going to sit there and let Dave play with your married tits?" I challenged with my lust and anger tangled in a knockdown drag-out fight as my cock strained against my pants.

"You tell him to stop, Pete," Joan countered, her voice shallow, breathy, and broken.

"Oh... I think we've already established that if you don't object, it's OK with me. Remember?" I retorted as Joan's eyes closed and her head tip back in ecstasy.

"Well, I sure as hell don't want to stop. Is that an invitation to do more?" Dave eagerly suggested.

"Sure. Go ahead, Dave," I dejectedly replied as the reality of how easily Joan had crossed my line in the sand set in. "That okay with you, Joan?" I asked rhetorically. Not sure that she heard me or even cared what I had to say anymore.

When Joan didn't answer, that was as good as a "yes" to Dave, and he pulled his hands from her dress.

Joan went limp in the chair, believing it was over.

"Lean forward, Joan," Dave urged softly.

She questioningly looked up at Dave.

"Go ahead," I said, wondering just how far my loving wife would let this go before she called uncle.

Joan tentatively leaned forward, her mouth agape in disbelief as Dave fumbled with the locking clasp.

"How does this dress work, Joan?" he asked in frustration.

"Tell him, Joan; tell Dave how to open your dress!" I goaded.

What was that Garth Brooks song? Something about

burning bridges?

"It's, uh, it's... " She stammered.

"A little tongue-tied, Dear?" I asked to keep her on the ropes!

"Oh, alright, I'll help you, Dave. It's kinda tricky. Just push the two parts together, and they'll unhook. Then you can unzip Joan's dress," I said sarcastically to hide my own anxiety.

Dave got the clasp open, then stared at me as he began to slowly unzip my wife's dress.

"Dave is unzipping your dress, Joan. Why aren't you telling him to stop?" I asked flatly, trying not to choke on the lump in my throat.

"It's up to you, Pete. He'll stop if you tell him to," she replied with a shaky, almost pleading voice.

"No, Joan. You have to call, uncle! And you know why!" I asserted through gritted teeth. My anger had fought its way through my brawling emotions. Though I wasn't sure why it mattered anymore?

"Never!" Joan blurted out like a sulking child.

I knew this had nothing to do with their stolen kiss in the kitchen anymore as I climbed off the couch, went to Joan, and reached for her.

She tightly grasped my hands with a strained smile as tears welled in her eyes, thinking that I had capitulated.

"Joan... You have to say it!" I said with an oddly tender tone.

She shook her head no, and I pulled her to her feet.

It had become a battle of wills, a matter of pride and ego!

"No, honey, you have to tell him," Joan quietly insisted, staring at the floor.

"Turn around!" I said firmly.

Joan looked up at me with her bottom lip curled out as tears spilled from her welling eyes. Then she slowly turned around and faced Dave with her head hung down.

Dave had left the zipper in the small of her back, a few inches from the bottom. I reached out, grasped the tab, and gently tugged upward. Joan raised her head, her body language almost joyful. She thought that I was going to zip up her dress, and this would all be over.

Then I yanked it to the bottom, hooked my finger into the waistband of her black lace panties, pulled, and let it snap-back.

"Are you going to tell Dave that this has gone far enough?" I asked as I traced my fingers up the small of her back.

"No, Pete. You started this; you have to tell him!" Joan replied sternly, her body language cold and defiant.

"Is this some kind of foreplay with you two?" Dave asked.

"Not, exactly," I replied as I leaned over Joan's right shoulder, slid my fingers into the back of her short blond hair, and took a firm grip. Then I tipped her head back and to the left, my mouth now only an inch from where Dave had kissed her neck.

"Would you believe this started as a fight over my wife kissing another man and trying to deny it!" I facetiously asserted. Joan tensed at my words and cringed away from my hot breath on her neck as she stood there stiff and defiant.

"But somehow, it became a battle of wills! Right, Dear?" I asked incredulously and then kissed her neck where Dave had. I felt a shudder run up Joan's spine and released her hair as I looked Dave in the eye.

"Why... Do you have a problem with that?" I snapped, my anger, ego, and lust facing off like a pack of wolves fighting over a bitch in heat!

"Not at all. Just curious. I've heard about couples who get off on that sort of thing. But-hey, it's all good!" Dave replied, truce-hands in the air, ready to ride this train to the last stop.

Joan reached over her shoulders, pulled her dress together with a shimmy, so everything was in place to be zipped!

"Well... " she emphatically said and gave me a side-eye glare.

"Well?" I parroted snidely.

"Well, are you going to zip me up and stop this, Pete?" she asked pointedly.

"Are you going to tell Dave you've had enough?" I sternly retorted as I brushed her hands away, gripped her shoulders, and worked my thumbs into the back of her neck just like Dave had.