Brad and Janet disappeared into the living room.
Helen wiped her face with her robe. In a very low voice she said, “I wanted to talk to you before you left, because I wanted to tell you something very important.” Her face screwed up and she nearly cried again, but she regained control. In a faint whisper, she said, “I fucking faked my orgasm with Brad.”
My world flipped over. “What?” I said, not daring to believe her. My heart raced in my chest and my face felt hot. I could barely breathe.
Helen smiled her movie star smile, looked deep into my eyes and nodded her head. “It’s true, Harry. Brad didn’t make me cum. Didn’t you pick up on that at all? I really thought you would pick up on it. I never make those sounds after an orgasm.” She threw her head back, clenched her teeth and whispered, “Ooooh yeeeeah…. Oooooh yeeeeah…” then she put her face nose to nose with mine, shook her head and giggled a mischievous giggle. “How the fuck could you think that was real?”
She was right. I had never seen her do any of that before, and I knew every single sound and breath Helen ever made when she had sex.
Beyond that, though, I could tell she was telling me the truth just by the way she was saying it, with a giddy and mischievous glee, thrilled to the core at finally being able to share her secret with me.
I was so relieved and full of joy that I burst into tears and pulled my smiling wife into me in a bear hug. I squeezed her so hard that she tapped my shoulder a bunch of times in distress.
“Okay!” she croaked, her voice strained. “Okay! Enough! Can’t breathe!”
I let her loose, but immediately kissed her. We melted into one of the more passionate kisses of our marriage.
I had my wife back.
As we disengaged from our kiss, Helen used the sleeve of her robe to wipe my tears away.
She whispered, “I am so sorry you thought that horrible thing I said afterward was true… I mean I wanted to be convincing for Brad’s sake… but what the fuck is wrong with you? I would never say something so cruel, especially if it were true. And then you left, and you were so upset, but I had to wait for you to get back.” Helen shook her head. “I understand completely why you booked me for that bachelor party, and I really will do it for you if you still want me–”
Finally able to speak again, I interrupted her, and said, “No! No fucking way, Baby.” I laughed and picked her high up in the air.
Helen let out a little shriek of surprise and kicked her feet, giggling as I held her aloft. She brought her movie star smile down to my lips and we kissed again.
As we broke away, she said, “I love you, Harry,” caressing my face with both hands.
I dropped her back onto her feet.
She whispered, “Oh, by the way, while you two were gone I told Janet I faked it, too, and she practically cried she was so happy. I only did that for Brad, Harry. After what he saw happen between you and Janet, I wanted to give him his pride back. He can never know what I–”
“No, of course not. You did great. I just wish you had clued me in on it before hand. What the fuck, Helen?” I shook my head. “Watching that whole act of yours was like a gut punch to my–”
“Fuck you!” Janet screamed so loud from the other room that Helen and I jumped.
We both turned and rushed into the living room.
Brad sat on the cushion-less couch, looking completely relaxed with his work boots propped up on the coffee table and his muscular arms spread wide, nearly spanning the full length of the sofa’s back.
Janet’s head spun in our direction. She looked furious. “He wants me to fucking help you! Do you fucking believe that? I can’t even fucking believe it!”
Neither I nor Helen seemed able to grasp that statement. “Wait,” I said, “Help who do what?”
Janet screamed, “He wants me to help Helen blow all those fucking guys!”
Helen and I both talked at the same time. She said, “Really, Brad?” and I said, “What the fuck! Why?”
Brad shrugged. “Janet just admitted to blowing like way over two hundred dudes… maybe over three hundred.” That hung in the air for a moment. Then Brad shrugged and added, “I guess without access to a super computer we’ll never know for sure.”
Janet screamed again, her whole body shaking with the effort. “I was in a fucking motorcycle club after high school, Brad! It was over like five or six years! I didn’t…” she mimed jerking off dicks, violently waving both her cupped hands into her open mouth, “Suck them all off in one fucking night! Jesus Christ!”
Janet clasped her hands together. Turning to us and pushing her clasped hands back and forth in a pleading gesture, she shouted, “Please somebody tell him that’s normal!’
I let out a single chuckle, just one little “Hehe,” before I could catch it, but that’s all it took.
Everyone turned their eyes on me, my wife with a disgusted, ‘oh, how could you, Harry’ look, Janet gasping loudly and utterly aghast, and Brad with his eyes popping wide in vindication, as if my single escaped chuckle had, somehow, confirmed beyond any doubt for everyone in the room that his wife was nothing but a filthy, cocksucking whore.
“See!” Brad shouted, jumping up to sit high on the couch with his boots planted back on the floor, and pointing at my suppressed chuckle. “See, Janet! NOT fucking normal. And if Helen is okay with blowing forty guys for Harry, then why can’t you blow a measley twenty for me?”
Janet’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my God!” she said, her face twisting up. “A measley twenty? I cannot believe you are actually asking me to do this.”
“It’s okay!” I said, holding my hands out. “Hey, Guys. It’s okay. Helen’s not blowing anyone.” I chuckled again, this time at how absurd this whole conversation was. “We’re not going through with it. Helen and I have decided–”
Brad, speaking loudly and interrupting me, which is completely out of character for him, said, “Then I’ll take Janet there alone. She can blow all forty.” He shrugged. “Plus, we could really use that fucking money.”
Brad stood up.
I saw a fire in his eyes I had never seen there before. He looked at Janet and said, “So where are we going, Janet, to the bachelor party… or back to our house so you can pack your things?”
That line made me feel responsible for this. He had taken a page right out of my playbook.
Janet stood there, glaring at Brad. She breathed heavily through her nose with her lips tightly pursed and tears welling up in her eyes.
“Fine!” she said, “I’ll do it. You want to see me blow a room full of fucking guys. Let’s go then.”
As Janet tried to stomp past Helen, Helen put her arms out and stopped her, holding both her shoulders.
Janet fumed, looking angrily into Helen’s face.
“Janet, wait, guys,” Helen said, looking back and forth between them. “Please, let’s just talk about this a little long–”
Janet shouted, “No! What’s it matter? I’m just a whore, right? This is all your fucking fault! Just leave go of me!” Janet shrugged out of Helen’s grasp, and walked straight toward our front door.
“Brad!” Helen cried. “Please, stop her so we can all talk about this.”
“The hour’s almost up,” Brad said. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
As Brad strode by her, Helen yelled, “Janet! I’m sorry. Just hold up while I at least get you something to wear! Janet!”
Neither of them paused, as Helen pleaded with them.
“Please, don’t do this!” Helen cried.
Janet pulled Helen’s robe off, dropped it on the floor, and snatched her trench coat off the hook where I had hung it.
Helen shouted, “I’ll go with you! Just hold the fuck up!”
Janet put her coat on in the entryway, and as they both left, the door swinging shut behind them, Helen screamed, “We’ll be right behind you!”
Helen looked at me and said, “I’m going to wash up quick, and grab a bunch of shit we might need. You get the car started.”
“What?” I said, “Why? You don’t have to do this now. They’re fucking adults, Helen. They can–”
“Yes, I do,” Helen yelled, rushing toward the downstairs bathroom. She shouted back at me, “I’m not letting my best friend do that alone!”
“Holy shit,” I mumbled to myself, suddenly elated. Both our wives were about to suck a bunch of strange dicks.
Smiling, I headed straight into the living room, grabbed the video camera, the tripod and a fresh tape, and put them in their carrying cases.
As I walked out to the car, got in, and started the engine, I realized I had been whistling “Deck the Halls” the whole time. Luckily, I noticed and stopped whistling a Christmas tune just before Helen threw a loaded laundry bag in the back seat and jumped into the car with me.
I put on an appropriately somber face, as Helen brushed her hair, chugging Peppermint Schnapps. I even managed to suppress a smile inspired by picturing all the cum she and Janet would soon be forced to chug.
No wonder I had been whistling Christmas tunes. It was Christmas in July.
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