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
- 6
- 7
- 8
“You know, I think this whole incident might’ve been a blessing in disguise,” Sydney said, serving the family—or whatever you wanted to call it—her latest experiment in brown rice.
Irving had thought Rosalyn was the only crackpot he had to worry about, but here he was—grinding his peanut butter through a machine, a working man having cabob for dessert after a dinner of udon noodles with cabbage. It was shameful. Unamerican.
“We can all eat better,” Sydney said. “Healthier.”
“Can’t you eat healthier without me?” Rosalyn asked, picking up a spoonful of her brown rice and letting it fall back into the bowl. Like Irving, she had an aversion to food with ‘brown’ right there in the name. Didn’t even like brownies. “You and Irving can have your whole wheat—“
“So much whole wheat…” Irving muttered.
“And I can take Danny out for some nice Chinese food.” Rosalyn reached over and rustled Danny’s hair.
Sydney gave her a certain look. “I thought we were going to be showing Irv our solidarity. We’re all in this together, you know, but if you want to cut and run—and instill Danny with unhealthy eating habits…”
“I am full of solidarity!” Rosalyn insisted. “I just love my sweet Irvie, whether he’s nice and plump or all thin. Like a wind instrument.”
“Him being a wind instrument will help him live longer!” Sydney argued.
“I think it just seems longer,” Irving mumbled.
“What’s daddy mumbling?” Danny asked.
Irving suddenly found all eyes at the kitchen table directed at him.
“Do you want to have another heart attack?” Sydney asked.
Rosalyn was just as quick on the draw. “You know, this unprocessed food, they just pick it up off the ground…”
Irving threw his hands up, warding them both off. “Maybe, I don’t know, once in a while you guys could get a nice meal without me. Like if I’m working late, you could have a treat, order in. That sound fair to you, Danny?”
“Yeah!”
Irving smiled to himself. Oh yeah. Who’s the grafter?
“And that wouldn’t bother you?” Sydney asked worriedly. “Us cheating on your diet?”
“I’m pretty sure we could eat caviar on his dime, so long as we did the Friday night thing,” said Rosalyn.
The Thing was how they’d come to refer to their arrangement—not that they ever really talked about it when Danny was underfoot.
Sydney, of course, wasn’t a lesbian, didn’t enjoy the Friday night thing like some sort of man-hater. Sure, she came, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed it. It was just the best way to motivate Irving, and as a good wife, she was willing to make that sacrifice. In the past two months, he’d lost twenty pounds and kept them off. He’d quit smoking, cut down on booze—it was getting so he could climb more than a few flights of stairs without skipping a breath. So if the price she paid for getting Irving healthy was to do those dirty, disgusting, homosexual things with Rosalyn…
Besides, Rosalyn liked it way more than her.
***
Irving had to admit, Rosalyn looked better than Olivia Newton-John in her spandex work-out clothes. His, on the other hand…
“What was wrong with my old track suit?” he asked her as he tried to keep up with Rosalyn’s routine, shimmying around on the Twist ‘N’ Tone she’d bought from the store at a bargain of five dollars. It felt like he was using a hula-hoop without the hula.
“That ratty old thing you wore cuz you wanted to be Bruce Lee?” Rosalyn demanded. “Baby, look at your sauna suit. It’s all scientific, aerodynamic, those people at NASA probably wear them. All your body heat is sealed in so you’re sweating twice as much.”
“I don’t think that’s a good thing,” Irving said, wondering if his lightheadedness had more to do with that or, again, Rosalyn in Jane Fonda gear.
“Sweat is bad for you, Irv, everyone knows it. You gotta work it out of your system. You don’t want a sweat build-up! Alright, stop.” Rosalyn stepped off the Twist ‘N’ Tone. “Time for a jog.”
There was nothing, of course, that Irving loved more than running around a perfectly good street (for cars) at seven in the AM, wearing a silver trashbag, so he could give his one wife and his other wife an excuse to sleep with each other. But hell, it was better than a divorce. Everyone knew that crap was ruining the American family.
***
“Hey, where are my girls?” Irving called, striding through the door to deliver his coat and hat to the hall tree, his briefcase onto the ground. He remembered before his heart attack, he came home just a lump, no energy to do more than watch the boob tube. He could only screw on weekends, that’s how much energy he had. Now he felt like a new man and he owed it all to lesbian sex.
Sydney came out of the kitchen, scowling mock-seriously. “Shh, Danny’s asleep.” She gave him his smile as she kissed his cheek. “Welcome back.”
Irving heard Rosalyn’s rapid footsteps around the corner, before she slowed to turn it. Her face flattened with dismay, seeing Sydney had greeted him first. Nonetheless, she grabbed hold of Irving and kissed him passionately on the lips. “It’s not the same without you, daddy.”
“Well, as long as we’re kissing…” Sydney nipped at Rosalyn’s shoulder. “Why don’t we move this party to the bedroom? Gotta reward our man for bringing home the bacon.”
“She’s been trying to fuck me all day,” Rosalyn whined. “She’s some kind of pervert, you know.”
Sydney glowered at her, though she’d long since given up on Rosalyn ever admitting she was the one who got off on it. Hell, hadn’t she been flouncing around in that polka dot halter top all day, just daring Sydney to make a pass at her, even when it wouldn’t do Irving any good? And that was the only reason she was doing it. She didn’t need Rosalyn to get off. She could do it herself, all she needed was a fresh pack of batteries.
Irving slapped Sydney’s ass, signaling her to cheer up. “Hey, I wouldn’t have my little pervert any other way. Like the lady said, let’s party.”
One arm on Sydney, the other undoing his tie, he started for the bedroom when Rosalyn stopped him with a hand on his chest. “What’s this?” she demanded.
“What’s what?” Irving asked, turning his body protectively away from her.
“What’s what,” Rosalyn repeated mockingly. “This!” She tugged out his collar to expose the splotch of red there.
“It’s not what you think!” Irving insisted.
“Marinara sauce?” Sydney cried.
“It’s nothing, me and the boys were getting lunch—“
“I made you lunch!” Sydney said, her voice raising an octave.
“We thought we’d go out to eat, talk some business, shoot the breeze, you know how it is. I had a martini or two, made some contacts, probably drummed up a lot of business for the gallery. I had to eat something, it would’ve been weird if I didn’t. I told them I would prefer wheat germ, they would’ve thought I was a kook!”
“So you had a deep-dish pizza?” Rosalyn sniffed at his collar. “Extra cheese? Provolone? Anchovies?”
“It was Bill’s idea! He ordered for us! I only had one slice, I told ‘em I had a big breakfast, I swear!”
“You know the rules, Irv!” Rosalyn brandished her finger at him like it was a riding crop. “We only do this for you, because us girls have needs and you can’t satisfy them with that bum ticker of yours!”
Sydney nodded along, not even noticing how strange it was for her to be allied with Rosalyn. “You think I want to eat her pussy? Or grab her ass, or suck on her breasts, or kiss her? Kiss her?” She threw her hand out to indicate Rosalyn, which Rosalyn thought was a bit unnecessary.
“Ladies, c’mon, it was just a little slip. Just a teensy, tiny, little-bitty cheat on my diet. Look at me, look at my tummy!” He pulled his shirt up. “Look at it! I don’t even have that muffin thing anymore. You really think I have to stick to every little tiny thing the doctor says when I’m so much better?”
“That’s the deal,” Sydney said plainly. “I’m going to bed.”
“Me too!”
Irving groaned as they walked out on him. He’d been waiting for their Friday night thing all week.
He wondered if Danny still hid those Playboys under the loose tile in the bathroom.
***
“I’m so fucking pissed!” Rosalyn said, putting in her curlers. At the counter beside her, Sydney brushed her teeth. Irving had bought a house that was way too big for a single-child family, but with Crazy Aunt Rosalyn (as Sydney thought of her) moving in, they’d sectioned off the many bedrooms and bathrooms into male zones and female zones. It was incredibly freeing to go to the bathroom and not have to put up with beard hair in the sink or a raised toilet seat.
Rosalyn often thought one of those great girl comics like Lily Tomlin should make a joke about how men couldn’t put the toilet seat down. It’d probably get a lot of laughs, since it was so true.
“Here we are, two gorgeous women,” here Rosalyn threw in a slew of furious gesticulating to convey, in three seconds, that while she admitted Sydney’s beauty, she still saw herself as much sexier than the other woman, a more moral person, more intelligent, a better mother, etc. “Willing to degrade ourselves for a man as long as he does one simple thing and doesn’t have a heart attack. And what does he do? Men!”
“I know. Irving’s probably the best in the lot you can get without moving to Hollywood and dating Harrison Ford, and he still ain’t much. Makes you wish you could just date a girl, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Rosalyn agreed, before frantically disagreeing. “Not that I would! Having sex with a lady is one thing, but dating one? I mean, c’mon, why would you wanna be so weird? I’m glad he had his marinara sauce, since now we don’t have to have sex. I’m gonna thank Jesus tonight, for not making me have sex with you.”
The thing was, as rational and objective as Sydney considered herself compared to Irving, and especially compared to Rosalyn, she still felt the need to prove a point sometimes. That’s why she said what she said next.
“You know what would really teach him a lesson, though?”
“Jesus?”
“Irving.”
Rosalyn put her hands on her hips. “No, what?”
“If we had sex without him. Didn’t let him watch, didn’t even let him listen. I bet it’d tear him up inside, knowing we were making it and he couldn’t even get a peek.”
Rosalyn’s eyebrows fired up. “That’s a great idea!” Then she kissed Sydney, who had honestly thought she would take more convincing.
***
Irving knocked on the bathroom door, much relieved after a brief conversation with the Playmate of the Month. “Girls, you alright in there? You’ve been a while. C’mon, come to bed. It’s late.”
“Sydney can’t talk,” Rosalyn reported. “She’s going down on me. It’s so hot and sexy!”
“What?” Irving dropped down to look through the keyhole, but they’d thought of that, even if the architect hadn’t. The hole was plugged up—Irving thought by a pair of panties. He tried to see under the door. “Listen, I know you ladies are upset, but that’s no reason to do anything rash now! Why don’t you let me in and we’ll talk about it?”
“Oh Gawd, Irv—she’s licking my pussy! I always knew she was a slut, but I had no idea she was such a fucking rugmuncher! I wish you could see how crazy she’s going for my cunt! She lives for it! Can’t get enough of it!”
Inside, Sydney briefly removed her mouth from Rosalyn’s sex. “You know what would really drive him crazy? If we gagged you. That way, he wouldn’t even be able to get off on hearing you moan in pleasure.”
Rosalyn’s eyes sparkled. “Do it!”
So silenced, they made love. Both enjoyed it more than they thought the other did.
***
The diary went on in purple-prosed detail halfway between the lesbian pulp books Raven had found in Rosalyn’s room and the Harlequin romances she’d found in Sydney’s. It was clear to Mystique that they’d both enjoyed it more than they thought the other was. Rosalyn was glowing in her descriptions of Sydney’s beauty, even if she was insistent on she herself being stunning, a ‘one-of-a-kind beauty’.
Well, she was half right. The woman’s biggest problem was being unwilling to admit her lust for the woman she was fucking. Human foibles. So odd. Raven wondered what she could do to help out her ‘sister’… repay her for the kindness of allowing Raven to borrow her life for a few days.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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