Tell Me What You See

Sarah and I had just finished picking up after the party, when I decided to share an interesting situation that had occurred earlier in the evening. I always felt it was best to be upfront and honest with my wife. I found when I kept secrets from Sarah it would come back to bite me in the ass.

"Betty Thol came on to me tonight," I revealed as I prepared to brush my teeth. "She was pretty aggressive about it. I never did anything to make her think I was interested in her."

"Betty?" repeated my disbelieving wife. "She's ten years younger than you. She's built like a goddess and totally in love with Tim. Are you sure of her intentions? Was she joking or something?"

"She grabbed my crotch and suggested we get together during the week," I replied. "She was serious as hell. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Where were you when she did this? Did anyone see her do it?" asked Sarah.

"Like she'd grab my dick in front of witnesses? Get real. It was in the kitchen when I went in to get more dip for the chips. She was facing the doorway so she would see if anyone was coming."

"What did you tell her?"

"I explained to her I was happily married and she'd be foolish to anything to hurt Tim and her marriage. I also mentioned I'd never cheat on you, so just forget it," I replied as I crawled under the sheets.

"I'm glad you shut her down. It's just hard to believe she'd be chasing you. Tim's younger and makes a boatload of money," reasoned Sarah. "What could be going on in her head?"

I made up my mind to go over my security system videos Sunday afternoon. I had recently installed the system, and it would be interesting to see how well they worked under real conditions. I'd show Sarah it wasn't only possible the big-titted bombshell could find me interesting, but it had actually happened.

Things didn't work out as I planned. Saturday afternoon, Tim and Betty Thol showed up at our door. Sarah led them into the living room and asked them if they wanted a drink.

"This isn't a social call," stated Tim immediately. "Betty told me how Jack grabbed her breasts at the party last night. Just because she wears low tops, it sure as hell doesn't give men the right to grab her."

"Wait! You're saying Jack grabbed Betty's boobs?" asked Sarah. "Where and when did this happen?"

"We were in the kitchen. I asked Jack about getting another drink. He handed two drinks to me and then while my hands were full. He slid his hand inside my top and squeezed one nipple and then the other. He told me he'd like take his time and play with my "tits", as he called them, before he screwed my brains out. It was horrible!"

"We just wanted both of you to know why we won't be coming to any parties you have, or attend. If I hear about Jack laying his hands on Betty again, I won't be responsible for my actions," warned Tim.

I was stunned to hear the story Betty had spun for Tim. I was really glad I had explained the situation to Sarah. It seems being truthful had some merit.

"I'm so sorry this happened," apologized Sarah, to my total consternation. "Jack's been under pressure at work and Betty is really a beautiful woman, not that it excuses Jack's actions."

"May I reply to this accusation?" I asked quietly.

"I don't see what you can say to make it better," snapped Tim. "You fucking grabbed my wife's tits! That's way over the line."

"Fuck you, Tim!" I snarled back. "I didn't touch your wife's tits, even if they were on display all night. She's making this shit up, probably because I turned her down when she grabbed my crotch and suggested we get together during the week. You won't be invited to any more of our parties. You can bet your ass, and Betty's big tits, on that."

"You grabbed my wife and now you're calling her a liar?" demanded a seething Tim. "I was trying to handle this in a civilized fashion, but I'm tempted to kick your ass right now."

"Get the fuck out of my house and take that lying bitch with you!" I yelled. "If you fuck with me in my fucking house, I'll have you locked up for so long your fucking grandkids will have to visit you up the fucking river!"

Tim was obviously pissed, but he knew better than to go after me in my own home. What surprised me was how Sarah briefly hugged the bitch that was trying to ruin my reputation!

"You stay away from Betty or you'll be sorry!" was Tim's parting shot as he grabbed Betty's hand and led her out the door.

"What the hell was that?" demanded Sarah. "You can't be grabbing another's man's wife and then threaten him when he calls you on it. What's wrong with you, Jack?"

"I'll tell you what's wrong," I replied much more calmly that I felt. "I have a big-titted bombshell married to a former friend claiming I grabbed her big boobs. Her husband wants to kick my ass and my wife is taking his side, even after I explained to her how Betty came on to me the other night."

"It looks like you made that story up because you knew you were in trouble for molesting Betty," replied Sarah. "You're acting way out of character. I never saw you so upset with another man. I never thought you'd grab a woman's boobs, either. Maybe you should see a doctor."

"For what? Not taking that crazy bitch up on her offer?" I quipped. "Why is it so hard for you to believe me? I'm your husband and I've never lied to you."

"What about the time I asked what you were looking at on the computer? You told me it was football when it turned out to be porn," countered Sarah.

"Well, that doesn't count. I'm talking about important stuff. Telling you I'm not surfing porn isn't really a lie, since we both know I really am," I reasoned.

"We also know you always look at those sluts with big tits. You're obsessed with tits, especially big ones. Why do you think a psychiatrist would call that?" asked Sarah.

"Normal?" I answered without blinking.

"You think all the men at the party were looking at Betty and wanting to grab her boobs? Is that what you're trying to tell me? You're just a normal guy?"

"Duh! That should come as no surprise. Guys want to grab you, too. Hell, they'd grab Sue Larsen's fun-bags if they thought they'd get away with it," I retorted even as the vision of grabbing old Mrs. Larsen's sagging breasts caused my mind to rebel.

"I think you're going to have to apologize to Tim and Betty or we'll be banned from every party for the next ten years," worried Sarah. "Maybe Betty will forgive you if you promise to never do it again."

"I'll say this one more time, Sarah. Try to read my lips. I'll go very slowly. I did not touch that woman's tits. That's the reality of the situation. What you should be worried about is how we handle this," I concluded.

"Handling things is what got you into this mess," stated Sarah. "I gave you my best idea. Apologize to Tim and Betty and keep your eyes and hands off her tits. This is pretty embarrassing for me. Everyone's going to be asking me about my husband, the pervert," lamented Sarah.

By this time, I was seething. I knew I could prove my innocence, but why in hell should I have to prove I didn't molest Betty? I briefly smiled to myself as it occurred to me that I could actually prove a negative. Then I thought about how quickly Tim had believed Betty's tale.

"It's interesting that Tim totally believes Betty; I wonder why that is?"

"She's his wife! Of course he believes her. No husband will put up with another man molesting his wife. I thought it was inspiring how he stood up for Betty," observed Sarah.

"Conversely, it's disgusting how you believe lies about me. You don't believe your spouse. I think it is extremely uninspiring how quickly you bailed on me," I complained.

"She's beautiful, with breasts to die for, and you're you," explained Sarah. "Even you wouldn't believe you if you weren't you."

"I will grant you that it seems unlikely on the surface. Why would a woman like that come on to me? She might be a certifiable nut. We don't know. I doubt there's any statistics dealing with the likelihood of big-titted women being more apt to lie than flat chested women," I admitted. "My experience indicates they are."

The next week was very revealing for me. Sarah kept getting phone calls from her friends asking what the fuck was wrong with her husband. Every time she received one of those calls, she turned her bitchiness up a notch. I was running out of patience, although I admit I hadn't been blessed with much of that commodity to start with.

On Sunday afternoon our son, daughter-in-law and daughter came for dinner. My son's wife was a high school math teacher. She always seemed like a sharp girl.

During dinner, Sarah decided to bring up my perceived short comings. "Jack grabbed Betty Thol's breasts at a party a couple of weeks ago and Tim is pissed off at him, big time."

"I wasn't expecting that," admitted my son, Bob. "Did Tim sock Dad when he caught him fondling the goods?

"He didn't actually see it happen," admitted Sarah. "Betty told him about it after they left."

"I'm impressed, Dad. Are they real? They're big, but they don't sag at all. Did she have some work done?" asked Bob with a grin.

"You seem to be getting a chuckle out of your father's midlife crisis, or whatever it is he's having," admonished Sarah.

"Maybe it's because I know Dad didn't grab Betty's big hooters. It sounds like pure bullshit," replied Bob with a chuckle. "Dad, did you grab that woman's massive mammaries?"

"Thanks for asking, Bob. She actually came on to me while we were alone in the kitchen. I shot her down immediately. I told her I was happily married, which was true at that time," I added for Sarah's benefit.

"That explains it!" said Bob's wife, Sue. "I see shit like this all the time in school. Insecure bimbos with more tits than brains think they need to get revenge on guys that don't worship them. Last week, one of the senior cheerleaders started a rumor that the class salutatorian was gay."

The poor guy," sympathized my daughter Nora. "What did he do about it?"

"It's only rumor, but I heard he fucked the shit out of her Friday night. He laid those rumors to rest, and the cheerleader to nirvana," retorted Sue with a wicked grin. "I'm afraid it was positive reinforcement of a negative action."

"Mom, what did you do about Betty?" asked Nora once she stopped laughing at Sue's revelation. "You must be furious that she'd say that about Dad."

"I am," replied Sarah. "I told Jack to apologize to her and Tim. No one's going to invite us to their parties if they think Dad's a..."

"Tit grabber?" interjected Sue. "A hooter hound? A nip nibbler? A jug juggler? Maybe a..."

"Stop that!" demanded Sarah. "This is a serious situation. Jack may need professional help or something. I never told you kids, but he's obsessed with breasts."

"You're kidding, right?" asked Nora in apparent disbelief.

"No, I'm not kidding. Your father has a breast fetish or something," asserted Sarah.

"No. I mean you must be kidding about Bob and I not knowing it. How many times over the years have we walked into the kitchen to find Dad with his hands in your shirt? How about the lingerie he always gets you for Christmas? How about when I had friends over for a pool party and he drooled over Mary "Tits" Brennan?"

"You saw your father squeezing me all the time?" asked a strangely surprised Sarah. "He perved on Mary Brennan? I'm so sorry about that. I need to apologize to her and her parents."

"Don't bother. Two of my friends' fathers wound up divorced because of her. She's a slut who enjoyed seducing her friends' fathers. I heard her complaining to Brenda about how Dad stared at her big jugs all the time but he threw her out of my party when she came on to him. I was in the bathroom and heard her talking through the open window. If Dad could turn down a big-titted 18-year-old slut in her prime, I don't think Betty Thol would have much chance, even with her rack."

"Yeah, I've caught him staring at my girls now and then, and I'm only a B Cup," added Sue. "Luckily, Bob's just like his father. He loves boobs and he'll do almost anything for me if I allow him the pleasure of my body. Isn't that the way it's supposed to work?

"Bob looks at women's boobs every chance he gets, but he knows mine are the only breasts he's allowed to touch. Other women just warm him up; get his motor running for me. Mom said Dad's the same way."

"You think Jack may be normal?" asked Sarah incredulously. "You're glad Bob is like his father?"

"Normal? Hardly," replied Sue. "He's a typical man and there's nothing normal about any of them. He's like most men, if that's any consolation."

"Thanks, Sue. You really know how to make a guy feel good. By the way, I never stared at your breasts," I insisted.

"Really? If I lift my shirt, you'll turn away?"goaded Sue, as she grabbed the bottom of her blouse and lifted slightly.

"Well, I wouldn't want to insult you by not looking," I replied as I shrugged my shoulders to my grinning son.

"Please don't," requested Sarah. "Jack needs understanding and help, not encouragement. If he didn't grab Betty's boobs, why would she tell Tim he did?"

"I just told you why," answered Sue. "It's like those high school girls. She came on to him and he turned her down. She thinks she'll get revenge by smearing him in the mud. Maybe Jack should fuck her brains out to shut her up."

"I like the way you think. No wonder you're my favorite daughter-in-law!" I praised.

"Believe me when I say that's not going to happen," stated Sarah emphatically. "He needs to take care of chores at home and forget that lying bitch."

"Mom, did you just tell us Dad had to screw your brains out?" asked Nora with a big smile plastered across her face.

"Well, maybe he already did. I didn't know enough to trust him when he told me Betty came on to him. That was just stupid on my part. Can I use that as an excuse for being such a damned idiot?" asked Sarah.

"I'm not sure how that works," replied Sue. "But Bob banged me senseless this morning, so I may not be the one to ask. What do you think Nora?"

"Being single and at my parents' house, I claim to have total command of my faculties," insisted Nora. "Mom has been remiss in her wifely responsibilities by not trusting Dad. She also had the idea there was something wrong with him because he seems to go stupid when he's around breasts. We all know it's quite common in the male of the species.

"Knowing Mom like I do, I bet she's been giving Dad a ration of shit ever since Betty Boob lodged her complaint. That would include, but not be limited to, not giving him the opportunity to properly separate her from her brain."

"I have been a bit aloof lately," admitted Sarah.

"You've been a bitch," I bravely stated. "It's high time I performed a lobotomy!"

"I know they take out appendixes through the belly button," said Sue thoughtfully. "Am I to understand you plan on removing Sarah's brain though her vagina?"

"Somehow, when you put it that way, it doesn't sound like a good thing," opined Nora.

"Especially when I have such a big brain," added Sarah. "Luckily he's learned how to prep me before he operates."

"Mom! That's too much information," declared Nora.

"We've lost sight of the problem. What do I do about Betty?" I asked the group.

"I don't want to sound negative, but it seems likely if she came onto Dad, she's probably done the same to some of the other guys at your parties," stated Bob. "No offense, Dad, but I think there may have been a guy or two she'd want to motorboat her before she decided to try you."

"Motorboat?" asked Sarah.

"That's when a guy puts his face between your boobs and moves his head left and right while making sounds like a motorboat," explained Sue. "Bob's become an expert motorboating my Bs. I hate to think what he'd do with Betty's set. He'd probably wind up with two black eyes or something. I'm surprised Jack doesn't motorboat your girls now and then."

"Oh, he does!" insisted Sarah. "Don't doubt Jack's nautical skills. I just didn't know that term. I certainly know the sensation."

"Way to go, Dad!" stated Bob encouragingly.

"Could we get back on topic?" I asked.

"We are on topic," pointed out Sue. "We're discussing hooters and how you should handle Betty's."

"That's not accurate," corrected Sarah. "Jack doesn't want to handle Betty's's hooters. He wants to be able to show his face in public without everyone thinking he's the sick bastard that played with Betty's boobs at our party."

"I don't think too many guys would hold that against him," suggested Bob just before getting an elbow from Sue.

"They would if he did it to their wife," replied Sarah.

"Bob actually made sense when he said Betty has probably come on to some other men at other parties. Dad's okay, but let's face it. He's not a Baldwin or a Hemsworth," reasoned Nora. "She's probably run through all of the men in the neighborhood, or the alphabet, or something."

"Good point!" agreed Sue quickly. "Have you noticed any neighbors with black eyes?"

"Stuart Simpson!" Sarah and I declared simultaneously. Sarah explained, "He came to our last party sporting two shiners."

"Last month, Owen Jackson came to a party with a broken nose," recalled Sarah.

"Bart Lankford needed eye surgery this spring. He said a tree limb had poked him in the eye and detached his retina," I added.

"My God! I think you have a mammary macular degenerate loose in your group," declared Sue. "Jack's wholesome character saved his eyesight! Luckily, he "nipped" that situation in the bud."

Just then, Sarah's cell phone rang. She left the room as she answered it. She returned less than a minute later with a stunned look.

"That was Louise Beck. She called to ask if I had heard about Stan Benson. It seems he passed away last night at a party at Reynolds' house, to which we were not invited, I might add. They found him in the game room in the basement."

"He was pushing seventy. Did he have a heart attack?" I asked.

"The medics said it looked like he'd been smothered to death," revealed Sarah.

"Could this be the work of Betty's Boobs?" wondered Sue.

"I'll bet it was," replied Sarah. "Louise said he had a smile the medics couldn't wipe off his face."

It was the following weekend around noon. I came in from mowing the lawn and Sarah handed me a beer. She was twitching like she did when she's dying to tell me something.

"Tim Thol has two black eyes! Louise saw him at Home Depot. She said he looked like a raccoon. He must have gotten too close to those noxious knockers! It's funny it took this long for him to run afoul of those sweater stretchers. It seems like it would have happened before this. They've been married for ten years."

"I think it was probably a cue ball in a sock rather than Betty's double whoppers which caused the discoloration," I stated as I opened the beer.

"You think it was a single cue ball? I never heard them called that before," admitted Sarah. "That reminds me. Our cue ball is missing from the pool table. We need to get one before we have anyone over, if anyone will ever be willing to come over again."

"The cue ball's in a woolen sock in the trunk of my car. I'll bring it in later," I responded as I took my first slug of the cold brew.

"Whoa! You said Tim's face met a cue ball in a sock and you just happen to have a cue ball in a sock in your car? Would you care to explain this coincidence?" asked Sarah.

"Sure. I started thinking about how Stuart Simpson, Owen Jackson and Bart Lankford all had problems with their eyes or nose. I have a lot of respect for Betty's chesticles, it just seemed a stretch she could be inflicting that kind of damage on the general populace with those lush puppies.

"I decided to visit Stuart, Owen and Bart and get their stories. It took some persuading and more than a few beers, but I managed to milk the truth out of them. It seems that each of them had been at a party where Betty came on to them. They all are married men and they knew trouble when they saw it, but they all took her up on her offer. They couldn't resist the temptation to play with her lung protectors. It turns out Stan did die from a heart attack." I summarized.