The AMFOP

"Asshole!" he said, commanding her attention.

"Yes, sir?" Amy answered, chafing at her guest's crudity.

"Before the next hand, you must choose. Truth or dare."

Amy was caught off guard. In her drunken state, her thinking was cloudy and slow, but she suddenly realized that the game was going in a disturbing direction. She was starting to feel alone and unprotected as the men's eyeballs drilled a hole through her big hooters, very imperfectly concealed under a flimsy spaghetti-strap tank top. She knew that taking off her sweater had encouraged them to gawk, and she regretted that, but she couldn't put the sweater back on. Doing that would be like admitting that the men were bothering her and she didn't want to give them that power. Not in her own apartment. The young woman felt her resolve returning. She had already handled Mr. Donelan earlier in the day; she could handle these horny old fucks, too, she thought. "Truth."

Slim remained expressionless and stoic, although he was secretly ecstatic. The little bitch is about to walk tits-first into a trap, he chuckled to himself.

"Truth, eh?" Slim said, toying with the young wife. He enjoyed watching her blush and squirm. "Ok. Then tell us the truth, Amy." His tone was suddenly menacing. "Did you agree to a date with Barry today?"

As the question left his spittle-flecked lips, time seemed to stop, Amy felt a bolt of panic run down her spine. She was too flustered to wonder how Slim knew her boss' name. The air seeped out of her lungs. Her heart raced. Her mind went blank. The truth was... complicated. She had been under severe duress from her boss, so she was too afraid to tell him no. But she hadn't said yes either -- not exactly. And it was none of this fat old fuck's business, she thought, growing indignant. She had told Mr. Donelan whatever he needed to hear to leave her alone, and she was going to do the same thing with Slim.

"I certainly did not," Amy replied, not sure why she was letting a virtual stranger pry for highly personal information. She wanted to just tell Slim straightaway to fuck off and leave. Shit, he was so fat he could roll right out the door, Amy thought, and take Doug with him. Hearing Mark snoring on the couch, however, reminded her that she should play nice with her husband's co-workers. Or were they his bosses? She wasn't sure, but they had bailed her out of a tough spot last Friday, so she choked back her anger, smiled, and began to deal another hand when Slim stopped her.

"Hold on there, my dear," he said, "Did you forget something? When you said 'truth,' you forgot to call me 'sir,' and you forgot again just now. That's twice. You owe me ten minutes."

Doug nodded with approval as Slim's tone grew serious and scolding, like a disappointed parent. Amy felt her anger returning. After she spent the day warding away one pushy old man, now she felt two more closing in on her. She was becoming desperate to get rid of these guys, but the alcohol made it difficult for her to think about how to do it. She furrowed her brow and twirled her blonde hair as she tried to come up with a plan, but things were moving too quickly and she couldn't keep up. Her breasts heaved, sending a cresting wave of tender white flesh out of the tank top. Slim took control of the laptop, searched for a video, then used a fat, hairy old hand to spin the screen towards the glassy-eyed young wife.

Nothing happened at first. The screen was dark, except for a timer in the bottom right corner showing the elapsed time. Amy heard nothing coming through the headphones. At least they dampen the sounds of Mark snoring, she thought as she braced herself for whatever sick video this old tub of lard was making her watch. When the action finally began, Amy found her fears confirmed. The scene showed a young woman with big fake tits wearing lots of makeup and a skin tight nurse's uniform. She was pushing a wheelchair, in which sat a gray-haired gentleman wearing nothing but a hospital gown.

Amy did not consume pornography, finding it vulgar and gross, but she knew that's what this was. She wanted to roll her eyes, but she was too afraid that Slim would manufacture some excuse to make her watch even more, so she kept her eyes on the screen as the nurse took her patient back to his room and went to help him out of the chair.

With the nurse lifting and supporting him, the elderly patient rose to his feet, his spindly legs wobbling beneath him as he stood unsteadily, gripping the nurse's arm for balance. When he finally let go, the man suddenly took a fistful of the nurse's hair, snapped her head back and planted a hard kiss on her lips, smashing his face into hers.

Amy found the scene intensely erotic and she stared wide-eyed as the nurse in the tight dress took her elderly patient's tongue down her throat. The gorgeous wife's skin felt flush and her pussy tingled with arousal as she witnessed the old man devour the hot young nurse's lips and manhandle her fat titties. He was in no hurry as he sloppily kissed the much younger woman, but the sly old man made sure she knew who was in charge. He held the back of her head while his tongue thrust aggressively into her mouth, then pulled her back by the ponytail, exposing her neck to his nips, licks and bites before he returned to her mouth, suffocating her with hard kisses. The nurse's pretty face was growing red from the friction of his rough stubble as he slobbered over her face like a dog on a bone. As he tongue-fucked the nurse's throat, the elderly patient lazily pulled down the top of her uniform and began tugging, pulling, pinching, rubbing and rolling the young nurse's nipples with his craggy old fingers. Soon the nurse was moaning into the old man's mouth as he pinned her against the wall, his slimy tongue exploring her mouth from every angle while he continued playing roughly with her tits.

Slim and Doug stared at Amy like two starving men as she watched the video. Amy didn't notice. As she sat there entranced by the sights and sounds of the movie, her pupils dilated and her breathing grew more rapid, causing her huge rack to swell, nearly breaking the thin straps of her tiny tank top. Amy didn't move or so much as blink. She was riveted as she watched the old man stop pawing the nurse's big silicone jugs long enough to raise a liver-spotted hand to her bare shoulder and callously push her down to her knees. The nurse was a hot mess. Her lipstick was already smudged, her uniform was half off, and her ponytail was coming undone, but she tucked her arms behind her back, opened her mouth, and looked up at the old man with eager anticipation in her eyes. He slapped her smartly across the face, then took off his gown, revealing a crooked old dick, thick like a tree branch and just as gnarly. His pubic hair was course and gray. Amy's breathing grew so ragged and shallow that her beautiful breasts heaved in their tight, cottony confines.

"Just look how excited that little slut is," Doug said, loud enough that Amy could just make out his words even through the headphones. In an instant, Amy felt her indignation and resentment flare up. Who the fuck did these two old dinosaurs think they were? Leering at her all night, forcing her to watch disgusting pornography, treating women like dirt... fuck these guys. It was time for them to leave.

Amy ripped off the headphones and lashed out loudly at the men. "Women aren't sluts. That poor woman probably just wanted to act in movies before some sleazy man conned her into doing -- "

Amy didn't get to finish her sentence before Doug coldly interrupted. "I wasn't talking about her," he said.

If Amy was angry before, now she was livid. She glowered at Doug. "Oh! So, you were talking about me? I will not be called a slut in my own home! I think you two need to leave!"

She was loud enough that Mark stirred on the couch. Before he awoke, Slim tried to calm Amy down.

"Whoa there, little lady," he said soothingly, gesturing for her to lower her voice. "There's no need to get upset. We're just playing a friendly game here. And you were getting a little excited."

"I was not getting excited!" Amy exclaimed. "I was just trying to keep my eyes on the screen so I wouldn't have to watch any more of that filth than necessary."

"Oh yeah?" Slim sneered. "Check out the timer," he said, pausing the video.

Amy looked back at the laptop. The timer read 16:22.

"Admit it," Slim said, his voice still quiet, but his tone biting. "Women are all sluts and you're no different. You kept watching even when you didn't have to because you're a slut and it turns you on to see a slut get what she deserves, doesn't it?"

Amy was shocked by his audacity, but she was determined to be equally vigorous in defending her virtue. "I am not a slut and that disgusting video did not turn me on!" she shouted back. The kerfuffle roused Mark from his slumber and he lifted up his groggy head off the couch just in time to hear his wife say to Slim, accusingly, "You're the sicko who likes that video. It probably has that tiny old cock of yours all stiff."

Mark was confused and his head was throbbing, but before he could figure out what the fuck he had missed, Slim raised the stakes.

"I'm not surprised that you're thinking about my cock, Amy," he said while blatantly staring at her tits. "It's only natural for a slut like you."

"I told you, I'm not a slut!" Amy fired back.

At this point, Mark tried to intervene and smooth the situation over, but everyone ignored him, even Amy, as the heated discussion continued. "Well," Slim said condescendingly. "Maybe we should test that proposition. What do you say, slut?"

"I say I'm not a slut, you misogynist piece of shit, and you can test that however you like!" Amy spat back, her eyes wild with anger.

Mark sat in stunned silence, his head pickled in vodka and tequila. He could not believe the hostility that was erupting between his co-workers and his wife but it was already beyond his control. He resolved to stay out of it for now, while looking for an opening to step in and patch things up. It seemed vanishingly unlikely, but he saw no better choice.

"Do you hear that, Doug?" Slim asked, turning to his friend. "The slut says we can test her virtue any way we want."

While Amy fumed, Doug tried to curry favor by coming to her defense. "I think our lovely hostess should be considered a lady until proven otherwise," he told Slim in a scolding voice. "So, if this wager is going to happen, you'll show some respect," he commanded, before adding, "at least until we win."

His ploy worked perfectly. By appearing to chastise Slim, he made Amy relax and listen for a moment, only to rile her back up by taking Slim's side and predicting victory. Lost in the confusion was the fact that Doug had subtly shifted the terms of discussion. No one had actually mentioned a wager, but now they were angrily hammering out the terms.

The discussion that followed was chaotic and heated, with the men proposing all manner of bold and perverted ways to prove whether Amy is a slut, and she, in turn, demanding increasingly extravagant concessions from them in the event that they fail. Both sides confidently predicted victory. Amy knew she was a perfectly respectable young lady and she knew that men of a certain age -- like these two fucking Boomers -- were just incorrigibly sexist and needed to learn the hard way that the patriarchy is dead. For their part, Slim and Doug knew some things that the feisty little feminist wasn't counting on.

Drunk on booze and their own invincible self-confidence, the three of them continued to rage at each other. Mark, witnessing the madness escalate as his wife and co-workers took turns hurling insults and proposing lewd wagers, tried valiantly to restore harmony, but all three of them told him to mind his own damn business, so he was forced to watch in grim silence as Slim and Doug continued luring his wife into their sick wager.

"I know why you don't think you're a slut. I know how your generation thinks," Slim hissed at the beautiful blonde wife less than half his age.

"Ok Boomer," Amy retorted with perfect timing and sarcasm to spare. "Tell me what your ancient ass knows about how my generation thinks."

"Your generation," Slim said, summoning his most pedantic tone, "thinks there's no such thing as a slut. You think the very idea of a slut is just a tool that men use to shame and control sexually liberated women -- especially men of our generation." As Slim talked, he nodded toward Doug, causing his giant belly to ripple in the process.

Amy had to admit, that was a reasonably good summary of her views on the subject. She was surprised Slim had the intellectual sophistication to state the feminist position so fairly. But he wasn't finished. "And that's all rubbish," he said sternly, locking eyes with Amy. "The truth is that all women have a little slut in them, if a man knows how to bring it out. A slut can't control her sexual urges and behave respectably. Sluts can't get enough dick. Sluts can't be satisfied, so they do whatever they have to do to get what they need. Married sluts flirt with other men and lie to their husbands about it. Sluts get aroused by men who dominate and abuse them - the filthier his sexual demands, the wetter a slut gets. And sluts have no solidarity: they love to see other women get treated like worthless fucktoys, too. I've got $1000.00 that says you're just like all the rest. What do you say, Amy?"

"I say that you're full of shit," Amy spat back. "And it's going to take a hell of a lot more than a grand for you to find out."

Slim and Amy reverted to tossing barbs at each other until Doug broke the impasse. "Name your stakes, young lady," he said with smarmy faux-politeness, "and we'll name the terms."

Amy didn't hesitate. "When you lose this bet, you sad, desperate old assholes, you will pay me my annual salary, lump sum, so I can quit my job. You will also do all of my husband's work for a year, while making his student loan payments. And you will leave my apartment."

Mark was astonished by Amy's demand and even more astonished when Doug agreed to it, a sinister smile spreading across his face. "Done," he said. "That was easy. Now, Slim, what if we win?"

"We will test her based on my definition of a slut:" Slim said, taking over seamlessly from Doug. He looked Amy dead in the eye and asked, "Do you lie to your husband about your interest in other men? Do dominant and abusive men make you wet? Do you enjoy watching other women used for men's pleasure? For each test you fail, I get to add a rule for your date with Barry."

Amy nodded her head.

Mark wondered how Slim knew Mr. Donelan's first name, but he was more concerned with the casual way Slim had referred to Amy's "date" with him. What date? His wife had turned him down! Hadn't she?

Amy saw Mark looking at her quizzically. Damn it; she thought, he picked up on that date comment. In her haste to get dinner ready for their guests; she hadn't had time to tell her husband what happened at work with Mr. Donelan. She wanted to explain it all to him in context so he would understand that Mr. Donelan had been harassing her and the only way she could make him stop was by letting him think he had a chance to go out with her. She certainly didn't want Mark thinking that his wife voluntarily agreed to a date with her perverted boss. She couldn't let Slim portray her as a slut.

"I told you I never agreed to a date with that creep!" she protested bitterly.

"Then you can't lose," Doug said, calling the young wife's bluff.

Amy knew that getting dragged into this wager was exactly what these old lechers wanted her to do, but between the booze and her anger, she was not thinking rationally. Her emotions were running high. Her feminist hackles had been raised, "Fine, you old fogeys have a bet. Test me however you want, but do it quickly and without touching me. You fucked around, now you're about to find out."

"When we fuck around, you'll know it," Slim muttered quietly as he reached for the laptop, keeping one eye on the busty blonde's heaving rack.

Doug beamed with delight, impressed with Amy's fiery response. "All right, young lady," he said with emphasis, making it clear that her virtue as a lady was very much in question, "prepare for your first test."

Amy's defiant glare exuded confidence, but Mark noticed that her hand trembled just a tiny bit as she lifted her glass to her lips and quaffed some liquid courage.

When Slim finished cuing up a video, he spun the screen towards Amy. "Remember what I said: sluts flirt with other men and lie to their husbands about it. But you say you don't do that. Let's find out." His voice was flat and his tone neutral, but the smirk on his fat face said it all. Amy rolled her eyes, threw down another swig of her drink and reached for the headphones. Slim slapped her hand, startling the young beauty. "No headphones," he said, his voice cruel this time. "You made sure everyone heard you disrespecting me and my friend here," he continued, pointing to Doug. "Now I want everyone to hear what a slut you are!"

As the video began, Amy was puzzled and anxious. This was footage from inside the Starbucks where she worked. The camera was not moving, she noticed. It must have been hidden in the store. The images and sound that it captured were remarkably high quality. She could see everything -- the coffee machines, the tea cannisters, the mugs and merchandise -- in minute detail and the sound coming through the laptop speakers was rich and clear. She felt a pit growing in her stomach.

From his seat on the couch, Mark couldn't see the screen. He wanted desperately to know what Amy was watching, but he felt frozen in place. Getting up and moving to look at the laptop would make it seem like he didn't trust his wife. So, he just sat and listened.

Amy's sparkling blue eyes were wide open and glued to the screen. She was riveted, even though the video showed nothing unusual. The store was mostly empty, except that occasionally the diminutive Mr. Donelan entered the frame to carry out some tasks. Amy couldn't help noticing that he appeared even shorter on camera. The first few minutes of footage were agonizingly uneventful. There was nothing but boring shots of an empty Starbucks. With no action, there was nothing for Mark to hear. He found himself scrutinizing his wife's pretty face for subtle clues about what might be happening on screen. But when the clue finally came, there was nothing subtle about it.

It was Amy's voice coming through the laptop speakers. The audio was clean and clear and the voice was unmistakably hers. Mark's head was swimming with questions. What the fuck was going on? Had Slim secretly filmed his wife? Where?

He got an answer to that last question when he heard Amy announce her arrival at work. "Good morning, Mr. Donelan!" she said, but something was disconcerting about the way she said it. Her voice sounded girlish, coy and sing-songy -- not the way he expected her to talk to the man whom she describes as a hostile, harassing freak. Mr. Donelan didn't even look up as she spoke to him. He just grunted a hello and continued stocking the refrigerator with milks and creams.

The video showed Amy stand there for a moment, preening and sticking out her chest in an obvious attempt to make Mr. Donelan look her way. When he didn't, she pouted, then redoubled her efforts to get his attention. As she watched the video, Amy was confronted with the hard truth. The video showed a young woman infatuated with a man who was ignoring her -- a far cry from story she had been telling. She continued watching, mesmerized by the hidden camera footage that showed her walking up behind Mr. Donelan. Amy dragged her big firm tits across her boss' back as she squeezed past him. Mark couldn't see the screen, but he could see his wife's face and it turned crimson as she continued watching herself. The video was remorseless proof that Amy had painted a false picture of her boss. Although she claimed that he obsessed over her and subjected her to a suffocating barrage of unwanted touching, the video proved her to be an unreliable narrator: it showed the busty young beauty shamelessly use her body in an effort to flirt with an older man who appeared indifferent and uninterested.