Independent Women

"Going inside this place is beneath your dignity."

My wife shook her head, "Same to you! But we have to go."

"If it's weird, we're leaving. I'm definitely not going to touch the merchandise...but we always wanted to try this, right? But if it's weird, we're leaving."

"Yes, that's our universal rule. That's why we drove separate from them."

The gist of us: Jon and Rachel. married with one kid. Both pushing 36. I looked like I was pushing 36, my wife looked like a timeless 29 year old. Skinny but with great, great tits. Great legs. Beaming green eyes and long blondish-brown hair down to her shoulders that sloped across her chest. Smart as a whip. Very reserved, enjoyed crochet and basket weaving (seriously), never liked R-rated movies, became legitimately panicked if I forgot to wear my seatbelt. In summary, not the type of person to walk into a place like this. At least, not until recently.

We were parked outside of a large metal building off of a highway outside of town, about to enter into our first "swinger's club." My wife's childhood friend of thirty years, Sally, was talked into "trying" the place by her god-awful horrible husband, Thad. My wife told me she was terrified of the thought that Sally would go to this place on her own without a third-party escort. Somehow, we were dragged into their awful marriage.

How bad was Thad? I don't know...a lot of times I thought it was my own weird prejudice against the guy. He had a thin, little beard, a "chin strap," and a tiny goatee that made me want to punch him in the face. Sometimes he wore a creepy earring, sometimes he didn't. He worked out, but didn't eat right, so he was a weird mix of muscular and fat, with a little gut that just made him look...odd. I wasn't in amazing shape myself, so I don't know where I had room to criticize. Whenever he spoke to me, he talked forever about things that interested him, but didn't interest me at all.

Sports and investment banking were all the man could think about. He literally talked about nothing else. He was so bull-headed and single minded, he never veered away from those two subjects. While I was (currently) only a high school teacher, I had a masters in musical philosophy and nearly completed my doctorate before I met my wife. Listening to him drone on and on about the same topics made me feel like I'd lost my station in life. And even if you tried to reply to something Thad said, he would just keep talking over you. After eight years of marriage, and eight years of Thad, I could hardly stand the guy for longer than twenty minutes.

And then, to top it off, he had an affair. He dicked some bimbo stripper that liked to hang around him and his other slimy investment banker friends. Not just once either...he even railed her on their living room couch at home...and got caught on their security camera. Sally forgave him, and everytime we saw the couple, they'd say some fluffer insanity about "forgiveness" and "healing" just to let us know that Thad fucked someone else and Sally let him get away with it. They were all about "renewal" and "reclaiming" their love, and they blabbed about it over dinner parties like new-age idiots. I think my wife was blind to just how off-the-planet Sally had become.

What probably bothered me the most is that my wife's disdain for him never matched my own. Sure, she acknowledged his overall douchiness, but she always capped off any given insult or criticism with something nice. Such as "He's not so bad" or "I understand why she married him."

"Really?" I reacted once, "Why did she marry him? Sally is an attractive person, she's a catch, ya know?"

She took a long moment to respond.

"He's tall. Tall is important. His job means he'll always have money. His hair hasn't totally fallen out. And he's got a really, really strong commitment to his goals and getting what he wants. You can see it in his eyes and in the way he talks. He has a deep focus. There's something about him..."

I was about to retort and go off on him again, when she spat out a disclaimer:

"But I don't see that. I think she does. But you're right, honey. Thad is a dud."

Before we walked into the club, I felt a lingering dread that she was at least a tiny bit attracted to him. But...there's no way she'd put her friendship with Sally on the line, and I doubt Thad would do anything either. This was just a morbid curiosity on our part, and my wife irrationally stepping outside her comfort zone in a way only a childhood friend could make her.

This weirdness, this blind dependency on Sally, had been a growing issue with my wife. I was an educated man, and I consider myself open minded (here I was, about to enter a swinger's club, after all), but lately she and Sally had been on an absolutely insufferable "independent woman" kick. I call it this, because, every single time I offered to do something for my wife, she launched into some diatribe about her rights as a woman.

Something about her relationship with Sally, extending back to childhood, caused my wife to defer to her at a base, primordial level. Once Sally started asserting she was "free" and "didn't need a man" to do anything for her, my wife followed suit, chirping like an angry bird anytime a member of the male gender did so much as offer to pass her the ketchup. Then the 2016 presidential election rolled around and she went apoplectic. Crying in hysterical fits that Hillary lost, how it was pure injustice, so on and so forth. She really acted like it was the end of the world.

That's when the fringe articles started cropping up on her iPad. Things beyond your typical "I am woman, hear me roar" type stuff. Stuff about the male patriarchy, how men conspire against women, the idea that childrearing was a curse. I even saw her treating our son differently. Not in over the top, easily discernible ways, but rather with low-level passive aggression and pettiness. She was impatient in helping him put on his socks, answering his questions...downright nasty to him if he made simple childish mistakes or cried. There was something going on with her...and I just learned to stay the hell out of the way. Would I ever point out the ludicrousness of a woman like Sally going on a feminism bent after she let her husband get away with banging a stripper? No, of course not. Not unless I wanted my head ripped off. After all, I had to be "civilized."

--

"Ground rules...we leave if it's weird."

She nodded, "Right."

We exited the car and started walking into the creepy metal building when I nudged her on the elbow.

"Hey listen....if a guy makes you uncomfortable," I said, trying to be a little chivalrous, "I'll get him off of you. I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you in there."

I was a little surprised by her sour face.

"Uhm, I'm a grown woman and I can handle myself in these circumstances, ok? In these new, dangerous times that we live in, I'm not letting you nurse some damsel-in-distress thing. Not like I'd ever let some guy put me in a situation like that anyways. You really need to work harder on respecting me, Jon."

I physically leered back. Wow. My wife was as meek and as kind as they come. Her reaction was downright vicious given her nature. This was somehow really, really important to her.

I threw a hand up, "Fine, fine. I didn't mean to offend. I'm sorry."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, "I'm sorry too. I got ahead of myself. It just felt condescending."

I nodded, "It's ok baby. Let's just have fun and gauk at the crazy people.."

"That sounds fine. Just...no ownership, ok? I can handle myself. I'm 99% sure every guy in here will be fucking terrifying anyway. I don't even know why we're talking about this."

I nodded in agreement.

--

Three hours later my wife was a little drunk and laughing hysterically at another married man's jokes. We had met a very personable, very nice couple our own age, with children the same age as our son. The wife, Kate, was a classic hot blond. The husband, Mike, was nice and had a great sense of humor about the whole thing.

"We thought it was going to be totally gross too," he said, "But it's really low pressure and for months after we first visited, we never even swapped with anybody. We just came for the party and because it's fun to watch other people."

For some reason, listening to this guy, I was convinced. After the first hour I let my guard down a little. I let myself be attracted to Kate. For the most part, I didn't care a great deal that Mike was attracted to Rachel. He seemed like a balanced guy, and I doubted that she'd do anything too scandalous.

As for the weird duo we were supposedly friends with, we had seen them talking to essentially every couple except us. Thad had her "shopping" for someone to swap with. Even the rather elderly looking folks were getting chatted up and charmed by ol' Thad. My wife looked over at them at a regular interval, seemingly confused as to why they were almost ignoring us.

"Are you guys gonna do Midnight Attire? It's a quarter till!"

I shook my head, "What's that?"

Kate shrugged, "Nothing but undies after midnight. It's fun!"

I laughed a bit, "I think we'll probably head out soon."

They groaned in dismay and lobbied to get us to stay. I could sense my wife was disappointed, and I was as a bit miffed as well, since Kate and Mike had really made the night fun. But, I judged this would be a crossroads my wife wouldn't be comfortable with, and made the decision for the both of us.

Ten minutes later, with her pulling me aside under the stairs for a quick chat, I realized I was wrong.

"Let's just do it," she said.

I was taken aback. Doing anything remotely sexual completely took the varnish off of our voyeuristic, dismissive attitude towards the place. Yet here she was, excited by the prospect of finding deep sexual expression inside a metal building in the middle of nowhere. "Are you really sure about this? This is where we get into the weeds. You're showing strangers your breasts."

She shrugged, "I went topless when we vacationed in Europe and you gave me a hard time before I did that. Nothing happened! It's just to make things fun. This, seriously, just feels like a fun college-themed party for old married people. I mean seriously, that's what this is."

I know it sounds crazy, but she wasn't wrong. It was just kind of an excuse to make married, bored people feel open minded again. I'd seen a lot of sorority tits in school, and I'm sure my wife wasn't a perfect saint. Plus, I was drunk. And a big, big part of me wanted to see Kate's body up close. Nobody, and I mean nobody, had made us feel uncomfortable the whole night.

"Just this. Nothing else."

She kissed me on the lips and took her shirt off.

"You can put yours in my purse," she said as she unclasped her bra. Her absolutely stunning rack fell free, "You might have to hold onto your pants."

--

An hour into "Midnight Attire" and I was buzzing on a dozen different waves. First, I was drunk. Second, I had no idea where my wife was, and the thought made me feel dirty. Third, I had sat across from Kate the entire time and stolen every glance I could at her body.

"Pretty soon it's Kiss 15."

I slobbered my words a bit, "Lemme guess, you gotta kiss somebody every fifteen minutes."

She nodded, "Of course, no pressure. But I wouldn't mind it."

I shook my head, "My wife is gone. I don't want to be the first to cross the line."

Kate made a frown, "I'm sorry to hear that."

I had made things a little awkward. I think she felt we were gaining momentum. I had no idea where her husband ran off too, and I was so enamored with being within body-heat range of her tits and perfectly-pudgy abs that I don't think I cared.

"What about words?" she said.

I shrugged, "What kind of words?"

She gave a bright smile, "Can I say some words to you?"

I looked a little too deeply into her eyes. I didn't respond but I smiled a bit.

"I think we'd make a real good looking kid. You've got a real nice face."

It was...the first time I'd received a compliment like that, to be sure. She was more than a little drunk.

"I really appreciate that, I really do. You're an attractive woman. Your husband is very lucky."

She clenched her face, "Awww, you're so sweet."

In a display of humor, she pinched my cheek. In sly fashion she brought her hand down and brushed it against my half erect cock, which was straining against my boxer shorts. I knew she was looking for me to respond, and I was scaring myself because I badly, badly wanted to cop a feel. I knew it was time to get up and look for my wife. It was a betrayal, but I touched her pert breasts. And...I kissed her. Lightly at first, and then deeply. A light went off in my head, and I knew I wanted to fuck this woman. But...I'd already stepped across a line. Nothing I couldn't be forgiven for, but it was still lust getting the best of me. I needed to find Rachel.

"I'll be back, Kate. I'm putting you on guard duty, don't let anybody steal my pants."

She laughed as a I rose up and stepped away. I was a little afraid to find my wife. I had this unreasonable faith that she was just off talking to various people, or talking to Sally. Hell, even if she was watching Sally fucking, I don't think I'd mind. It wasn't outside our boundaries and it'd be a cap to a fun night. But I was feeling a deepening need to at least get eyes on her and to know where she was.

As I made my way down the hall of the weird metal building, I could sense a lot was happening behind the closed doors of the multiple "rooms" of the club. I made my way to the "dance" area and spotted my topless wife in the corner. Talking to Thad. Who was naked. With his hand on her hip and a drink in another.

My mind started running hot from the minute I saw him next to her. Did I think he would have the audacity to make a move on my wife? No. Sally would definitely leave him if he did. But she was bare-chested and his cock was exposed. I didn't want that dirtbag in an intimate setting with my wife. At all. Seeing her comfortable with his nudity was deeply, deeply fucking unsettling for me.

I turned and saw a booth in the corner of the club that was entirely in shadow, almost hidden from the low lights of the dance area. I ducked into it and sat on my knees. Only the top of my head was visible to my wife or Thad, and only if they focused with intent on the dark corner I was hiding in. I took out my phone and rested it on the edge of the booth, recording video. Surprisingly it looked fairly good taking light from the dimly lit club.

An "alarm" rang, indicating Kiss 15. I was proud of my wife as she giggled and avoided Thad as much as she could, before she gave him a friendly peck. It was barely consequential. However Thad used it as an excuse to put his drink down and to begin massaging Rachel's tummy. He had my wife relatively cornered and both his hands were massaging into her skin. I felt myself surging with the strangest mix of anger and arousal I've ever felt. I sincerely didn't know how I could feel turned on by the scene in front of me at all. It was downright treacherous. If I hadn't felt such a deep attraction to Kate, I would have been self righteous and pulled my wife away immediately.

Sally came around the corner and flat out looked like the town slut. She was completely nude and her ass was red and bruised from all manners of abuse. Her hair was frizzled as well. She was on the other side of a half wall opposite my wife, and my wife instinctively turned to face her. While they made conversation, Thad positioned himself behind my wife as she leaned at a forty-five degree angle on the half-wall and talked to Sally.

This moment is when I wanted to run out and stop the situation. My neanderthal instincts didn't want the unremarkable cock of Thad in position to mount my wife, even if it was still a "socially acceptable" situation. But I was reminded of how arrogant my wife had been in the car when we arrived...and how incensed she would be if I suddenly showed up and forced her to leave. So, I sat..and neglected to be a husband.

Thad smacked her ass cheek with his cock. She turned and was visibly perturbed by his actions, but Sally laughed so enthusiastically that my wife just turned her attention back to her. The music was booming and my wife was quite intoxicated, so she didn't notice when Thad brought her thong down below her ass cheek. In what I would call the great shock of my life, Sally clamped down on my wife's hands and held her wrists against the half wall. My wife looked at her in dismay and tried to lift up her arms.

Thad entered her. Just the tip, and maybe a little more, but the degenerate entered my wife. The look on her face and the reaction she gave, well, that's burned into my memory forever. It wasn't all shock and it wasn't all anger. It wasn't...what it was supposed to be.

He tried to back out for a deeper plunge. My primordial reaction was terror as I realized that the genetic breeding material of that....thing....was inside my wife on a microscopic level. When he tried to push into her again, my wife freaked out. She threw her hands out from under Sally and pushed away from Thad.

She hurriedly brought her thong up back around her waist and started yelling at the pair. Her tits jostled and vibrated as she went full throat with "How dare you!" and "Fuck you!" at a volume that was audible over the thundering music. I wanted very badly to rush out and beat down Thad like there was no tomorrow, but I remembered how smug and dismissive she had been of my offers to look after her. Now that she had taken the second lover of her entire life, against her will, I wanted to let her handle the consequences.

Thad, in all his glory, treated her like an irate toddler. He picked her up with the demeanor of a playful Uncle and placed her on a corner junction where the half wall met a speaker shelf. She was pushing, wildly, to get him away from her, but his sizable biceps just bulged as he held her contently. Sally rushed around and began trying to calm her friend. When Sally had a firm grip on her side, Rachel still wasn't getting physical or flailing to escape. She was wide-eyed and trying to reason with Sally, as if she was the only person who could free her from Thad's grip. I asked myself: why isn't she screaming at him? Scratching at him? Pushing at him?

Thad was between her legs and his hand wasn't visible to me. I could see Rachel jostling with Sally, and then she began to move with him. There's some kind of otherworldly dread that overcomes you when you first notice your wife moving up and down, and then it dawns on you it's because another man is inside her. With one thrust, he was back to pounding on her resolve. She turned to look at him and she was on fire with anger. He kept thrusting, and she was pushing for him to get away. But then, she wasn't. And her eyes drooped. And in the sexiest way possible, her lips dropped, and she seemed to sigh with pleasure.

I know, in that moment, she considered him. The same way she welcomed me into her intimate thoughts and feelings as a lover, she considered him in the same light. He scratched the deepest part of her. Intent didn't matter. He'd wormed his way into her.

After five good, tender thrusts, she must have realized she was crossing some kind of threshold. If she fell off that cliff, she wouldn't want him to stop anymore. And it would be consensual, pleasurable...cheating. She finally let loose with true rage and shoved, slapped, and yelled her way out of the corner. With her arms crossed against her breasts and a fuming, angry look on her face, she walked down the hall, most likely looking for me.

Thad turned and I could see his cock was slicked with my wife's juices. I thought I would be in a state of uncontrollable anger, and I certainly felt betrayed on some level, but I instead sensed a deep, swelling confusion inside me. First, something wasn't right. Thad and Sally seemed genuinely befuddled at her anger and rejections, whereas I felt I had just witnessed a rape. Why would these two people, who I had known for years, suddenly conspire to rape my wife, and Sally's best friend since childhood? Were these people completely fucking nuts?