Adult-FanFiction.org : Marvel 'Verse

That Seventies Swap	By : Ksennin Category: X-Men: (All Movies) > Crossovers Views: 2020 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own neither American Hustle or X-Men, or any characters in the franchise. I make no money from publishing this work.

Chapter List
- 1-Prologue
- 2-1979
- 3-1978
- 4-1978
- 5-1978
- 6-1978
- 7-1979
- 8-1979
- 9-1979
- 5
- 6
- 7
Irving was feeling pretty good on his way to work. Okay, so Rosalyn was in trouble. He was fine. The kid was fine. Sydney was fine. It wasn’t like with DiMaso, when there’d been trouble coming in on all fronts. This was just one problem. He’d handle it before anything else came along and that would be that.
Then he turned the corner to his Laundromat, meaning to buy the boys lunch, and saw Pete Muscane and six goombas standing in front of the shop. He turned around to run, but got more turned around than he intended, and they jumped him before he could take off. “Oh no,” he said. He was too scared to find a profanity to spew. “Oh no, oh no, oh no…”
A white van pulled up and they ganged him through the side-door, sealing it shut behind them like a tomb. The van took off. Its lurching acceleration was in concert with the drop in Irving’s stomach. “I’m being kidnapped!” he shouted.
“Shut up,” Pete growled, fingers twitching like he could feel himself slapping the other man.
“I’m being kidnapped,” Irving said quieter, almost to himself. “I’m being kidnapped, I’m being kidnapped-“ He kept up the litany as Pete cracked his knuckles.
“You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you? Me and Rosalyn, we had a good thing goin’. All of us had a good thing. You had your girl, I had mine, we split the kid. Good thing. Why’d you have to come waltzing back into our lives—“
“I’m being kidnapped!” Irving repeated shrilly.
“You should’ve stayed away, Irving. You really should have just stayed away.”
Irving held up his hands in repeated, frantic ‘just let me explain’ gestures, his eyes begging for time. Pete kneaded his right fist in his open palm, waiting for an explanation.
“I’m being kidnapped,” Irving said. Then, clutching his chest, quieter: “I’m being kidnapped…”
He slumped over, head twice hitting the floor like a basketball being dribbled.
“I think he’s having a heart attack, boss,” someone said.
“I thought we were only gonna rough him up.”
“A heart attack’s pretty rough.”
Pete coughed a little. He’d never seen anyone dying before. “Maybe we oughta—let’s go to the hospital? Hey, let’s go to the hospital!”
***
When Irving woke up, Rosalyn was already talking. “It was the chamomile tea. Thank God for me, Irv; that chamomile tea I told you to drink, it must’ve saved your life. All those antioxidants. You ask the doctor when he comes in. If you’d had any more oxidants in you, you wouldn’t be standing here today.”
Irving shuffled in his hospital bed. “I’m lying down.”
“Don’t correct me, Irving. I came here to comfort you, but I will not put up with male correctionalism. Drink this.” She handed him a cup of water.
He drank it greedily, looked around for a doctor. “I’m… I’m okay?”
Her smile—when she smiled—could be dazzling. “Yeah, baby. You’re going to be just fine. The doctors say it was only a small heart attack. You were only out for so long because you’re—so—lazy.” She punctuated the comment poking playfully at his arm.
He smiled in a bit of relief, but he still felt like he had in the van. Like he was stammering, trying to get something out while it clung tight to his vocal cords. “I almost died.”
“I know, baby.”
They were alone in the tiny room. Him, her, and all their history, all the fuck-ups. The door was shut. He started to cry.
“I almost died…”
She moved to the bed beside him, took his head in his arm, and gently petted his hair. Her fingers slipped under his toupee so he could feel them on the bare skin of his scalp. That made him cry harder for some reason.
“I could’ve died… I almost died…”
Sydney came in a few minutes later. It’d taken some time for the hospital to reach her and for her to get through crosstown traffic. When she came in to see Irving and Rosalyn together, she did not feel pain or jealousy. She was simply happy that Irving hadn’t been alone.
Kneeling by the other side of the bed, she took Irving’s hand.
***
So now I had a bum ticker. Ever seen one of those edited-for-TV movies where they cut out all the good stuff? Imagine someone doing that for my life. No tobacco. No red meat. No salt. Vegetables. Exercise. JOGGING. And I still had Roselyn to deal with. I was fighting a war on two fronts, and the center could not hold.
Oh, and no sex. Which might’ve been for the best. If I did cheat with Rosalyn, I might as well drop dead on the spot, because it would be better than whatever Sydney had in store for me.
When they got back from the hospital, Rosalyn and Sydney had to steer Irving, like a zombie, from the car to his bedroom. He was so zonked out on meds that he laid down already asleep. Rosalyn had to lift his legs while Sydney pulled the sheets out from under him. They both pulled the bedsheet up to his chin.
Sydney hurried out of the room. Rosalyn stayed by his side, wanting to prove something, but she got bored pretty quickly. She went out into the kitchen, where Sydney was cleaning out the fridge of all the food the doctors had told Irving to avoid.
She was housewife enough to put some in a bag for charity, but con artist enough to fix the rest in the crockpot for some kind of stew. Or maybe it was the other way around. Rosalyn always thought of charity as a con. You gave stuff away and it was supposed to make you feel better about yourself, but did it ever really? If it did, why did people have to keep giving stuff away?
“So…” Rosalyn said, thinking Sydney would pick up the slack of the conversation. But Sydney just filled a bowl with the soup and passed it to her. Rosalyn took it, didn’t eat. “I think it’s really great what you’re trying to do for Irv. Waiting on him and stuff. That’s good.”
“Thanks.” Sydney shrugged. “It’s what any wife would do.”
Rosalyn bit her lip, thought for a moment, then piped up like they hadn’t exchanged words at all. “I’ll explain it to Danny.”
“He already knows.”
“No, the other thing.”
“What other thing?”
“You leaving.” Rosalyn ran a hand through her hair. “I mean, you’ll probably want to be leaving now. You’ve been great and all, but—“
“Why would I leave?” Sydney asked.
“I don’t know—I’m his wife. I should take care of him. It’s my responsibility.”
Sydney emitted sounds of higher and higher incredulity with each sentence Rosalyn spoke, like a piano being tuned. For the first time, she realized Rosalyn was wearing one of her Gunne Sax dresses.
“I’m just saying,” Rosalyn continued, “that I don’t think you should be trying this little domestic experiment when Irving’s life is on the line! I know how to take care of him, I know this house, I know this family—“ She put her hand to her heart. “If you want what’s best for Irving, you should just walk away and let me handle this.”
“You? You couldn’t take care of a seven-year-old boy, how are you gonna take care of Irv?”
Then Rosalyn realized that Sydney was wearing a pair of her hot pants and her two-way blouse. “I’ve been his wife for years. You’ve only been moved in for maybe a month!”
“I’ve been more of a wife to him in a month than you have in years! We both know he wouldn’t have even had a heart attack if it weren’t for you and your baggage and your mobster ex-boyfriend!”
“Me?” Rosalyn was so offended, she squeaked. “It’s all my fault? If there was anyone who was putting stress on his heart, it was you! With all your—deviant sex kinks!”
Sydney’s eyes opened further than a set of umbrellas. “What?”
“I saw you and Irving the other night, I know what you two get up to! You’re just a hot-bottomed little whore and you use him for some sick sexual glee and I bet it’s having to fuck you every night that put him in the hospital! I bet cash money!”
Sydney crossed her arms. “You’re a psychopath.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what’d be worse, if you do all your whoring with him or if you spread it around the neighborhood. I bet it’s the second one, but you’ll still such a slut you gave him a cardiac trying to keep up! I know girls like you!” Rosalyn counted off on her fingers. “I bet you fuck the neighborhood boys and the married men, maybe even the women, you seemed to really like it when I kissed you that time!”
“You kissed me.”
Her plump arms crossed, Rosalyn stared at Sydney the way a mother would stare at an untrustworthy teenager. “I bet you fuck anything with a cock hung in front. Thank Christ we don’t have a dog, Sydney. God knows what kind of VDs a dog could get from a person.”
“I don’t have to listen to this—“
“You’re a whore! You’re such a whore you had to get cock from other women’s husbands! You had to get it from me! You’re so goddamned whore-happy that you can’t even live without fucking around!”
“Well he ended up with me, so he must prefer a whore to you!” Sydney replied in a huff, her breasts shaking with the heated gobs of breath she took.
Head down, Rosalyn sulked. She was tired of looking Sydney in the eye. “You think you’re special? You really think you’re special. I was special too. It’s always great when it starts, but you’re just this year’s model of me. Sooner or later he’s gonna get bored of you and he’s gonna lose you just like he lost me!”
Sydney bore down on her, coming so close Rosalyn had to face her. “So I’m you, huh?”
“You wish you could be,” Rosalyn spat in her face. “I held onto him for so damn long. He’s only with you because I let him go.”
“If I’m you, then you should recognize this.”
Sydney grabbed Rosalyn in a kiss that, with her already overheated, could’ve set her on fire. And as much rage and pain were behind the kiss, Rosalyn could only think of how much softer Sydney’s mouth was than Pete’s, than Irving’s. She didn’t want to be kissed—why would she?—but that whore mouth of Sydney’s was really soft, really warm, really new. Rosalyn froze, just taking in the novelty. And she stayed frozen.
But as soft as her mouth was, the woman was strong. She took Rosalyn by the shoulders and backed her into the refrigerator, still kissing her. “If you saw me sucking his prick,” Sydney said between tastes of Rosalyn’s tongue, “then this cunt of yours must’ve been wet ever since.”
Rosalyn felt nothing but Sydney’s tongue, electric and stimulating, until a warm hand slid up her dress. More electricity; inside her panties now. Rosalyn felt wired up like Christmas lights. Those fingers knew exactly where to touch and how. Rosalyn gasped away Sydney’s tongue in recognition of their expertise.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Sydney said against her mouth. “I went to a British boarding school. I know how to fuck women.”
Her fingers twisted, and that was more than enough to overcome the shock of tasting her own medicine for Rosalyn. She could even put up with those big heifer tits pressed up against her own if it meant keeping those beautiful fingers in her cunt. Sydney kissed her again, and for the first time in her life, Rosalyn submitted meekly.
Or she would’ve, if Sydney had just kept kissing her and touching her, not taken Rosalyn’s hand and led it down her shorts, where Sydney was even softer and wetter and more thrilling than her mouth. Realizing what she was touching—seeing Sydney quake and tremble in the beginnings of release—Rosalyn pulled her hand back, her mouth away.
“Get the fuck off me! Fucking queer! Fucking dyke bitch!” Rosalyn wiped her own lipstick off her mouth. “I’m telling Irving.”
“Tell him!” Sydney shot back.
“I will!” Rosalyn stomped for the bedroom, nearly going down as she tried to balance on her suddenly towering heels. “I’ll tell him what a fucking rugmuncher you are! No one wants a wife who’s a rugmuncher!”
“Then why’d he marry you?” Sydney demanded, following so closely that her words hit the back of Rosalyn’s neck, dripping hot oil on her already overwarm body. “You loved every finger I put in there! You couldn’t get enough of it! You must be a real lezbo to get off so hard on another woman! I bet that’s why you can’t keep a man. Bet that’s why you’re such a frigid bitch. You don’t want cock, you want a nice wet cooch!”
Rosalyn barged into Irving’s room, finding him snoring like a broken vacuum cleaner. She pounded on the mattress with both fists, waking him up. His head jerked up to see the two women standing over him, both fuming with rage, Sydney’s hands pressed into fists, Rosalyn’s nails ready to claw her rival’s eyes out.
“What the—what’s goin’—who’s dead?” he asked woozily.
Rosalyn pointed desperately at Sydney. “You wanna know who you’re raising our kid with? You wanna know who you’re married to? She’s a lesbian, Irv! You married a big, cuntlapping lesbian slut and she just assaulted me! She tried to make me a lezbo!”
Sydney gave Rosalyn a hard shove. “She kissed me first, I was just kissing her back! She was the one who enjoyed it! She let me finger her, Irving,me.”
“She seduced me!” Rosalyn protested, raising her leg to give Sydney a kick but then wobbling unsteadily on her one remaining heel. “Everyone knows that women know how to please women better than men—“
“Ha!” Sydney cried. “Is that not something a lesbian would say? Is that not something a lesbian would say?”
“Clearly not, because I said it! I’m not gay, I have a kid! You’re gay!”
“You kissed me first!”
“I didn’t fucking finger you!”
“You were about to!”
“When I came to my senses and remembered I was married!”
“He divorced you, you stupid bitch, and don’t even pretend that you wussing out had anything to do with Irving!”
“I love him!” Rosalyn ran to Irving, bypassing Sydney like a quarterback making a run into the end zone, grabbing Irving by the face with both hands and kissing him as many times as she possibly could before Sydney pulled her away. “See how in love we are, Sydney? It must sicken you, seeing me doing this with a man. Why don’t you just get out of here, go to some lavender bar, and kiss all the girls you want?”
Sydney struggled, trying to keep Rosalyn in her grip when the other woman clearly wanted to continue her charm offensive against Irving. “I don’t know any lavender bars! Maybe you could give me directions?” Rosalyn bit her. “Fucking bitch!”
Sydney threw Rosalyn down on the bed, across Irving’s legs. She slapped the other woman silly and threw her dress up to her tits. Rosalyn’s panties she jerked down her legs. “Look, Irv. Look how wet she is. Think that’s from kissing you?”
“It is!” Rosalyn protested. “It’s all for him, I was even thinking of him while you were fingering me!”
“Bullshit!” Sydney screamed. She climbed atop Rosalyn. “I’m gonna fuck you, you bitch! I’m gonna fuck you until you admit what a lesbian you are!”
And she fell on Rosalyn, kissing her again, touching her again—hearing her moan again.
“Ladies?” Irving murmured. “You’re kinda crushing me here…?”
Both women ignored him, despite Sydney speaking to him as she quickly found Rosalyn’s clitoris, the perfect size to tickle, stroke, pinch. “Look at how big her clit is, Irv. Have you ever seen a clit that big on a straight woman?”
Below Sydney, Rosalyn’s mask had slipped. Her aggressively judgmental scowl, her blazingly assertive eyes, her scrunched-up boxer’s nose—they’d become flushed cheeks, flaring nostrils, a slack mouth with a pleasure-curled tongue inside. She was as beautiful as ever, but with her eyes glazed over with lust, she was even more exciting to behold. Irving felt himself harden, seeing that look in her eyes. Maybe not being able to feel his legs wasn’t such a bad thing.
Both women were quickly forgetting their Sapphic concerns. Sydney was becoming absorbed in Rosalyn’s pending orgasm, as was Rosalyn, obviously enough. It no longer mattered to either woman that Irving was watching, that a woman was fingering her or being fingered by her. All the three of them wanted was to experience, even secondhand, the orgasm Rosalyn was so clearly gearing up for.
“Are you going to come?” Sydney asked eagerly, her fingers raking Rosalyn hard like she meant for the blonde’s big tits to jiggle like they were. “Are you going to come from having a woman fingering your cunt like the big fat lezbo you are?”
“If I’m going to come—“ Rosalyn panted, “it’s only because Irving’s here and I’m thinking of how much better he would fuck me if you hadn’t given him a fucking heart attack so he can’t fucking fuck me you fucking—“
Irving watched Rosalyn trail off into an orgasm, the intermission of the awesome spectacle before him. The big blonde was slapped across his legs, her neatly-coiffed hair worked into a jungle by sweat and motion, while Sydney mounted her like a lion atop a gazelle, her perky breasts pushing little round nipples through her blouse.
“You’re real good at that,” Rosalyn moaned dreamily before blinking away her orgasm. “I mean—you’re really good at that for a straight woman! Bet you’ve done it before plenty of times! I bet you fuck a girl behind Irving’s back every day just so you have something to think about when you have to touch his disgusting, hideous cock!”
“Hey now—“ Irving objected.
“Don’t look at me!” Rosalyn yelped. “I love your cock, baby, she’s the fucking lesbian, she hates cock!”
“She’s the one who came! Does she ever come with you, Irv?”
Irving looked abashed. “Well, I give it the ol’ college try, but sometimes—“
“She’s thinking about other women,” Sydney proposed snidely. “That’s why.”
“That doesn’t fucking count!” Rosalyn’s shriek could be heard throughout the house; fortunately, Danny had been sent next door for a sleepover so he wouldn’t be frightened by his father’s condition. “She was fingering me, right? So I come from being fingered, so what, everyone does? Especially when they’re huge-man-dyke-hands like she has! If Irving fingered me, I’d come then too!”
“She’s gotta point there,” Irving said consideringly. He wilted under Sydney’s turning gaze. “Not that you have masculine hands, she’s wrong there, but all I’m saying is, I know some lesbians, they use dildos—big things shaped like dongs, right? That doesn’t mean they like dongs, it’s just the shape and the motion, right? You could bring in a little green man, he could finger her, she’d come… doesn’t mean she’s gotta thing for aliens.”
“She’s a lesbian!” Sydney protested. “She kissed me! What do I have to do to prove it to you?”
Irving rubbed his beard. He still wasn’t quite sure what the hell was going on, why he’d just seen a woman give another woman an orgasm practically on his lap, or if he really had died and gone to Heaven (if he had, he didn’t think Rosalyn would be there—maybe Christie Brinkley, not a guy’s ex-wife, c’mon). But he was very clear on a certain point: he did not want the world’s strangest invitation to a threesome to end.
“I don’t know—maybe you could lick her pussy a bit. I think a woman’s tongue is a lot different from a man’s. At least, it was when I kissed that guy.”
“Oh, did she take you to a gay club?” Rosalyn asked.
“It was for a con, I didn’t enjoy it, his mustache itched—“
“Tell me about it,” Rosalyn and Sydney said simultaneously.
“I’m just saying—“ Irving insisted, “if she were a lesbian, she’d get off on having her kitty licked. That’s for certain.”
Sydney’s brow knotted with determination. “You think I won’t eat her out to prove she’s a dyke? She’s gonna come so hard, Irving, you’ll see. I bet she squirts. I bet she squirts just from having my tongue in her dirty cunt.”
“You couldn’t make me squirt if you had Burt Reynolds’ mustache!” Rosalyn challenged.
Sydney sunk to her knees before her. Her clawed fingers ripped at Rosalyn’s—her—dress. It hung in tatters around her nude body when she was done. Rosalyn’s muted protests became impatient pleas as Sydney ran her tongue daringly up Rosalyn’s leg. Sydney was quick to oblige her, reaching the blonde wisps that clad Rosalyn’s pussy and thrusting her tongue through them. Rosalyn whimpered in frustrated outrage, even as her legs parted and her hips thrust forward to capture that probing tongue inside her.
“Go ahead, Sydney!” Rosalyn taunted. “Lick it! Suck it! Make me come!”
Her head fell back to the mattress as Sydney, for the first time in her life, listened to Rosalyn Rosenfeld. Rosalyn’s clit was as big as ever and for Sydney, it was almost too easy to lick it. Suck it. Make Rosalyn come.
Rosalyn grasped Sydney’s head like it held the secrets of the universe, holding it still for her to work her twat against and claim her own pleasure. “Yes! Lick it! Suck it!” she repeated, far less challengingly. “Make me commmmm…” She moaned the word into inarticulateness, humping frantically against the face of her arch-rival as Sydney brought her to completion.
When Sydney rose, it was to display a smile dripping with juices. She rubbed it in by kissing Rosalyn; letting her taste her own cunt. And Rosalyn liked the taste, judging by how her tongue met Sydney’s…
Irving arched a knee. It was the only way to hide the tent his erection had made of the bedspread. “That… seemed somewhat conclusive,” he ventured.
Rosalyn’s eyes flashed with hatred once more. She’s the dyke!” Digging her fingers into Sydney’s skin hard enough to draw blood, she flipped their positions. Fell on Rosalyn with kisses that seemed designed to suck her soul up her throat. “You hear how bad she wanted to eat me out?” Rosalyn screamed when she wasn’t kissing Sydney. “Bet she’s been planning it since we first met. I bet it’s written all over her dream journal!”
“—don’t have a dream journal,” Sydney panted as she humped against Rosalyn’s well-situated leg.
“Also a good point,” Irving said. “We should—“
Sydney cut him off. “You think I won’t get my pussy licked by a woman?” she asked. She pulled down her shorts, panties and all, like they were on fire. “I bet you love the taste of pussy, Rosalyn. It’s hot and tangy and so sweet you can’t fucking quit it.”
She clambered over Rosalyn’s body to sit on her face, but the blonde fought back, slapping Sydney across the face like she meant to knock her head off. Sydney landed on the foot of the bed and Rosalyn dove atop her. Sydney was seeing stars exploding as well as Rosalyn’s lust-twisted face up close and personal.
“I’ll show you who’s a lesbian. I’ll show you who’s a fucking lesbian!” Rosalyn cried, and ripped open her own blouse to get to the big brown nipples at the end of Sydney’s jutting tits.
She could taste the sweat right off, but that went away soon after, leaving only the taste of the nipple. A taste that was uniquely Sydney. Uniquely female. And she reached down between Sydney’s legs and felt a wet pussy, a clit as big as hers on that fucking hypocrite. She slapped them both, pinched them both, and so what if it caused Sydney more pleasure than pain? The woman was a freak. She’d get off on anything.
It felt good to have Sydney shaking and quivering as easily as she would switch on one of Danny’s toys. Finally, someone could see how powerful she was. With a curl of her fingers another woman’s hips surged. With a roll of her tongue another woman’s voice sounded in helpless delight. And when she did it all at once…
“Goddamn fucking lesbian!” Sydney exploded, her eyes flooding with embarrassed tears as she came. It literally gushed out of her, her juices stinging her thighs and slapping the mattress under her thighs, the relief as heavy as the humiliation.
“Look at this fucking dyke!” Rosalyn cried out gleefully, as she clapped her hand to Sydney’s crotch and rubbed the hot liquid of her orgasm into Sydney’s groin. “If she came any harder, she’d knock me up again!”
That said, Rosalyn dropped down and stabbed her tongue into Sydney’s cunt like she was trying to plug a leak. Sydney gasped out haltering, high-pitched noises, reaching to Irving for support. She thought she was coming again, or maybe she was still coming. It was hard to tell. All she could do was aid her body in pushing the wet orgasm out of her cunt.
She could no longer see her pleasure flowing, just Rosalyn’s wicked face sitting on her cunt. And she had to say something to that smug look on the bitch’s face. “Eat my cunt, you cunt!” she roared. “You eat me when I come for you, got it!?” She shoved Rosalyn deeper between her legs, saw her juices flow over that stupid face, and felt that beautiful tongue helping to empty her overflowing cunt.
After patting the sheets a moment, she found Irving’s leg and squeezed it. But no sooner had she gotten a grip then he pried her hand away and brought it to his cock. He was extremely erect, and when her hand wrapped around him, Irving only seemed to get more so. His manhood strained to extend itself beyond the limits biology had placed on it.
“Is this straight enough for you, bitch?” she demanded of Rosalyn. Her hand blurred. “I’m jacking my husband off while you make me cuh-cuh—“ She groaned, a shudder beginning at the base of her spine and spreading like a disease, becoming a moan of delight that Rosalyn could feel rattle her teeth. Sydney’s latest climax traveled her sex and was gulped down Rosalyn’s throat. “—come,” Sydney finished groggily.
She went limp, her hand unmoving but clinging to Irving’s cock. Her afterglow felt like a sunburst in her pussy, warming her from the inside-out. The last drops of her orgasm dripped to a saturated mattress.
Sydney watched drowsily as Rosalyn’s hand encircled her own, joining together on Irving’s phallus, and as one, they gave it the last few jerks it so desperately needed. Irving groaned, grunted, gurgled, gasped, all at once, as his cock blew thick white ropes over their conjoined hands as well as his own legs and belly.
For once, Rosalyn ignored the sticky mess. Hugging Sydney to herself, she muscled the redhead up next to Irving. She even played with Sydney’s cunt a little more, as softly as she’d hold a baby animal. Sydney didn’t know what it was between them, but Rosalyn suddenly seemed to care about her at least well enough to bring her down, sweetly, sisterly, from the sudden towering height she had reached. Shivers, warm not cold, had her quaking in Rosalyn’s arms, and it was only when Irving embraced her as well that her overworked clit finally felt soothed.
Much like her husband, Sydney was not quite sure where she was, but she was aware of milking the dregs of Irving’s climax from him and feeling wonderfully relieved, everywhere, about everything.
“Okay,” Rosalyn said, seemingly full all of a sudden with heartfelt sincerity. “I might be a lesbian.”
“Me too,” Sydney added.
“Me three,” Irving said.
“You can’t be a lesbian,” Rosalyn yawned. “You have a heart condition. You’re not supposed to have sex for two weeks. That probably took a year off your life.”
“It’d be worth it,” Irving mused. “And what do I care what some quack has to say about my heart? It’s not like any of those whitecoats kept me from having a heart attack in the first place, is it? And now they know how to keep me from having another and it’s not to have any threesomes with my two wives? Fucking disgrace!”
“That gives me an idea!” Sydney said, wide awake all of a sudden.
Which woke Rosalyn right up. “I’ll do it. Anything. Anything you want. As long as you make me come like you did. I lied about the butt stuff, I really liked it, Pete was just being an asshole about it. I am up for butt stuff.”
“Not that,” Sydney said quickly. “I was thinking that, since Irving is out of commission, you and I could attend to each other’s… needs.”
Rosalyn rolled her hands in exasperation. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking! So let’s get started!”
“I could buy a video recorder,” Irving said. “Have you seen those things? They’re amazing.”
“Oh, you can watch,” Sydney said, turning to Irving. “So long as you follow the doctors’ orders. Eat healthy, long walks twice a day, no smoking, no drinking—“
“Babe, babe, c’mon—“
Rosalyn latched onto the idea like a barracuda. “Irving, I hate the thought of cheating on you. I hate it. But Sydney’s right, this is for your own good. We’ll let you watch us fuck—“
“Which we’re only doing to get you healthy,” Sydney added in a sop to Rosalyn’s myriad neuroses.
“Yes. We’ll put on dirty, degrading, disgusting shows of lust and homosexuality,” Rosalyn tried to hide a shudder of excitement, “but only to motivate you to lose weight.”
“And quit smoking,” Sydney added.
“You need to quit smoking, babe.”
Irving thought it over. “What about toys?”
“What about ‘em?” Sydney fired back, as Rosalyn tried to conceal a sudden ‘eep’.
Irving plucked at his fingers as he counted. “Beads, dildos, whips, vibrators, strap-ons, cuffs—I’m giving up red meat here. I think I’m entitled to a little bit more than a little sorority house business.”
Rosalyn jumped in. “Lose five pounds by next month. Then we’ll talk.” She rolled away from them suddenly. “I’m not sleeping on the wet spot; not my fault Sydney had a water balloon stuffed up her cunt. I’ll be in the guest bedroom. If I don’t get my afternoon nap in, my sleep cycle’s gonna be completely fucked.”
Sydney watched her go, as adroitly as Irving did. Once the door shut behind her, she grabbed Irving by the lapels.
“You. Have got. To lose. Five. Pounds.”
- 5
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

That Seventies Swap