Better Advice, Better Marriage Ch. 05

Author's Note: As always, reading the previous chapters will give you more background but this chapter is intended to stand on its own also. Feedback is appreciated.

All characters involved in sexual situations are over 18. All rights reserved.

*****

From the Cineplex restroom, Sue texts her friend:

Sue: Help! Movie sucks. What now?

Lynne:???

Sue: Movie I picked is awful.

Lynne: So? Leave.

Sue: I dragged Jon to see this thing, "stupid chick flick" he called it. Supposed to be a romantic evening.

Lynne: 2 early 2 come home. Kiddos still up.

Sue: Yup.

Lynne: BMBJ

Sue:?

Lynne: Bad Movie Blow Job. If neither of you care about the movie but can't leave, spice it up by being naughty in the back row.

Sue: I can't do that!

Lynne: Sure you can. Be his little plaything. Rules of the BMBJ say you can't leave until one or both of you have cum. J

Sue: I hate you.

Lynne: Enjoy! Ttyl.

Sue makes her way back into the dark theatre finding her husband digging in the bottom of the popcorn bucket for stray kernels, not even pretending to watch the angsty teens on screen blather about their horrible, love-starved lives.

"Did I miss anything?" she whispers, snuggling in next to him.

"Don't know," he glances up. "Probably not."

"Look, I know 'chick flicks' aren't your thing. And this one is particularly bad..."

"Yaw think?" Eye roll.

"...but I really do appreciate you coming with me." She is clinging to his arm now, leaning over the armrest, brushing her breasts against his arm.

Jon glances into her smoldering eyes before sneaking a glance around the dark room. Apparently most people had read the reviews and heeded them. The theatre is not crowded and there is no one close by to notice her inappropriate flirting, nor even the whispering.

"Well, while there isn't much for me here on the screen, I do enjoy the company. And nothing beats fresh, theatre popcorn, either!"

She gives him the smack on the arm that deserves and glances back at the weepy gal-pals projected before them.

"What do you mean? The blonde has giant boobs; don't tell me you don't appreciate that!"

"But I'm not supposed to notice things like that. That would be disrespecting the beautiful, independent woman I'm with."

"But I bet my full-blooded, American man did notice."

"Uh..."

"Thank you for being respectful enough not to let on, though."

"You're welcome. I try to strike a balance between being a full-blooded, American man and a modern, open-minded, American man in a committed relationship."

"So, since the movie is so bad, you have my permission to look. You think those babes are fake?"

After a brief glance over to make sure she isn't baiting an idealistic trap for him, Jon turns a discriminating eye to the screen.

"Oh, yeah. But not as fake as her acting skills."

"Hehe," she snickers, glancing around the darkened room again to ensure they aren't disturbing the few people still trying to follow the tortured storyline on-screen.

"I, of course, still prefer your simply gorgeous, all-natural chest," he gallantly continues.

"Bullshit," she hisses back. "Don't be a lying ass. She's got great tits and we both know it."

"She ought to; she obviously paid enough for them."

Sue stifles another giggle and presses her chest against his arm again. She recognizes that she is behaving like a silly school girl on a date with her jock boyfriend but she finds that she is suddenly enjoying the role. Having freedom to be politically INcorrect is oddly thrilling and she feels the rush of excitement just like she used to have all those years ago. She hopes that giving her polite, considerate husband the same freedom will likewise thrill him.

"So which of the babes on the screen there has the better pair? "

Jon is surprised to find himself comparing and commenting on women's breasts with his feminist spouse, but he relishes the opportunity to do so. Maybe there is something to her recent apologies and insistence that she has revised her opinions in respect to their private lives.

"The blonde's are pretty impressive but have you noticed how the brunette's nips are always pointy?"

"Mm-hm. I'd noticed that," Sue acknowledges, both disgusted at herself for treating the women in the movie as mere sex objects and privately, perversely thrilled to be sharing an inappropriately sexy moment with her husband. "They probably built points into her costumes."

"Aw, man, don't go spoiling my adolescent fantasies that she is just perpetually aroused and her nipples stick out like that."

"Sorry, my horny little boy; didn't mean to crush your dreams. My pointy tips are sticking out like that, though," she whispers, sitting up straight beside him and pushing her chest forward to prove the point (or "points" as the case may be). Inviting him to stare at her aroused nipples sends another flutter of excitement through her heart. I really am becoming more slutty for him, she thinks. And I like it. Mandy would be scandalized but Lynne would be proud of me.

"Take your bra off," he demands.

In for penny, in for a pound, she shrugs. Brazenly thrusting her chest even further forward, she reaches behind her back and under her blouse to unclasp her bra. Then she does that thing that women do, pulling her arms inside her shirt and wiggling around until she is free of the restriction.

"Better?" she coos, letting the now obvious tips of her breasts tent out her silky shirt.

"Very nice. Very, very nice."

"Glad my middle-age boobs don't disappoint."

"Too bad your shirt doesn't button in the front," he comments.

"You'd make me unbutton it wouldn't you?"

"I'd try."

"I'd do it."

"Really?"

She glances around the quiet theatre. Nobody is paying them the slightest attention as their seats are very near the back of the almost empty theatre. "Only for you. It'd be hard and I'd be mortified but I would do it if you asked."

"I'm starting to believe you really would. You really are trying to change your ways for me, aren't you?"

"Lynn says that since I ask you not to look at other women's boobs, I have to be willing to show you mine whenever you like. It's only fair."

"But you told me tonight, it's okay to look at the on-screen boobs." He nods back to the front of the theatre where Bodacious Blonde Betty and Pointy Tip Patricia are pouring out their true feelings to one another.

They watch the posturing actresses for a few moments without paying much attention to the dialog.

"The director was obviously a 'breast man', huh? Looks like the cameramen are playing 'Dueling Tit Shots,'" Jon snorts.

"Sure seems that way," Sue laughs along. "And just because I gave temporary reprieve from the looking at other women's boobs rule, doesn't mean I'm going to renege on my commitment to give you rights over mine."

Jon looks back to her with a smile. "I have 'rights' now? Doesn't that go against some feminist manifesto that you've been quoting to me for years?"

"Well, yes, that's true. Just because you married me doesn't mean that you own me. But... if it is my choice and I choose to give you rights to my body because you married me, then, well, it is my choice, isn't it?"

"I suppose. And that is the choice you are making?"

Sue's heart flutters. This is it. He is not letting her gloss over this little point. Is she really committed to this and what it means in her life? With what she has seen in the last few weeks, how it seems that perhaps this path has pulled their marriage back from the very brink of disaster, how happy Jon has been and how happy, in fact, she has been to be "his"? It sure seems this is the path that she wants to take.

"Yes, Jon. I am making this choice. When I married you, 'to have and to hold', I committed to not only save myself for you, but to give myself to you. I grant you full, complete and total access to my body. You can stare at and caress my boobs anytime you want for as long as you want until I'm old and shriveled and you don't want to anymore."

"You better be careful there, missy. I might fall in love with you all over again."

"Oh, I hope so," she smiles.

The lighting changes dramatically in the room, distracting them both, as the scene changes to a darkened, romantic seduction scene. Bodacious Blonde Betty is getting into bed with the male lead, whatever his name is, and the audience is treated, of course, to an excellent side-boob shot.

Jon gazes appreciatively and then deliberately looks back at the side of Sue's blouse, sitting next to him, in obvious comparison.

"Okay, she sure has melons, but I so much prefer the natural movement of yours," he whispers.

"Hmm," she purrs, shaking her shoulders ever so slightly to create some jiggle for him.

Back on the screen, they catch a quick glimpse of the male lead's tight asscheeks as he moves over top of the object of his current affections.

"Yum. Cute butt," Sue notes.

"Really?"

"Not as cute as yours, of course," she hastens to add.

"No, of course not," he snickers, acknowledging the complete, blatant lie. "It is okay by me, by the way, for you to look at, appreciate, admire and lust after other guy's butts. I'm pretty confident that it is mine you'll be digging your nails into when we get home tonight."

"Promises, promises," she giggles back, reaching into his lap and purposefully caressing the crotch of his pants.

He settles back into his seat, spreading his legs to give his unusually flirty wife more room to play. "Somehow, this movie has gotten a little bit better." He watches, fascinated, as she unzips his jeans. Then he snickers at her fumbling attempts to extract his cock through the opening in his boxers. He watches the consternation on her face. He watches her jiggling boobs, unrestrained beneath the silky smoothness of her blouse. He watches her get more frustrated and embarrassed.

"Here, let me help a bit," he says, slipping his semi-hard manhood out into the open air. "Now I know a little bit how you feel when I fumble with your bra clasp."

"Thanks. Guess I need a little practice at that," she laughs with him, grateful that the fumbling mechanics of the act hasn't spoiled the mood.

"Oh, that's something you can practice a lot more if you'd like," he answers. "What has gotten into you tonight? I have never seen you like this."

"BMBJ."

"What?"

"Something else Lynne told me about. BMBJ. Bad movie blow job. I dragged you out to a bad movie that neither of us is actually interested in and so we can't leave until one or the other of us cums."

"Ha," Jon snorts, too loud for the quiet scene taking place in the movie and both quickly glance around to make sure they haven't attracted any unwanted attention.

"Great idea but I'm not sure it is really going to work. The armrests between us are way too high; you couldn't lean over far enough without it being really, really obvious what was going on."

"Yeah, but..." she starts to reply.

"And even me, as selfish as I am and anxious for you to complete the deed, even I wouldn't ask you to kneel on that floor."

"Oh, yeah," she grimaces at the thought of any part of her except the soles of her shoes coming into contact with the sticky floor of the theatre.

"BMHJ, then?" he offers.

"It would be my pleasure, sir," she grins back.

"Oh, no, the pleasure will be all mine."

She begins lightly caressing his erect shaft, paying special attention to the sensitive head.

"Mmm. That feels good," he whispers. "And so does this," he continues, reaching over and grabbing a handful of breast. It is not a caress or a fluttering, exploratory touch. It is a possessive, demanding grab; a clear statement that he took her at her word and considers her boobs to be his property to manhandle as he pleases.

Sue's instinctive reaction, from years of feminist dogma, is indignation and a desire to protect "the ladies" from the inappropriate assault, but the "new, submissive Sue" quickly quells the urge to backhand him. She deliberately arches her back a little to thrust them out and invite more of the same.

"Mmm, yeah, baby. You want to play? Feel me up good, stud." she invites.

Jon stares at her, surprised.

"Give this one some of that, too," she grins at him, jiggling the other breast, pleased to be able to prove her commitment and love to him. Jon stares at the wobbly form, shifting delightfully beneath the blouse, tracking the point of her nipple as it traces an erratic line in the fabric.

"You don't have to be so gentle with them," she invites, "sometimes a girl needs a little rougher treatment." This admission surprises them both: Jon, that she actually wants such a thing, and Sue, that she voiced such a thought (which she has secretly had for years) out loud. Jon's cock twitches under Sue's gentle touch and she feels a slight gush of wetness between her legs.

Jon takes advantage of her offering and rudely grabs her other breast, feeling the hefty smoothness of it in the circular motion of his palm before lifting and squeezing the entire breast in his hand. He completes his inspection with a quick pinch of her nipple between his thumb and index finger. He hears the sharp intake of her breath at his crude assault.

You're just letting him! Right here in the theatre! Sue exalts to herself. Lynne is right; letting my man do whatever he wants to me is hot.

"You can pinch harder than that," Sue goes all in, playing the slut for him. "If you want, I mean."

She strokes his hard rod lovingly as he gazes lustfully into her eyes. He finds acceptance, commitment, desire - love - burning back at him from deep within her soul.

Without breaking that intimate connection, his hands locate the erect points and he squeezes both nipples through the smooth fabric.

Her eyes flutter half closed and she groans at the sensation. His, she thinks. I'm all his.

"Harder," she hisses, need apparent in her voice.

He obliges with a cruel tug and slight twist before his fingers slip away on the silky fabric. She gasps at the pain/pleasure and feels the warmth spike up again in her pussy.

Again becoming aware of their surroundings, Jon looks around to ensure that no one has yet noticed their illicit behavior. Thankfully, the action on the screen has switched to something more lively and the louder soundtrack is covering their actions.

"Finish me off so we can go someplace where I can suck and nibble on you properly," he whispers, his hunger for her apparent.

"Yes, sir. You can do whatever you want to them."

She quickens the pace of her strokes, eager to please him.

"More gently for right now. Long strokes," he directs, laying back in the seat and letting her serve him. Sue is enjoying this tremendously. For so long, under Mandy's direction, their sex life has been focused on her, setting up a "superior woman" environment where his dedication to her pleasure "earned" him the right to be satisfied. The switch to sole concern for his pending satisfaction is refreshing and downright hot.

"Mm, that's it. Good girl," he whispers, lost in the sensations she is giving him. Sue finds that even his condescension is arousing, touching a pool of submissive arousal deep within her. She likes being his good girl.

"Little bit more now," he continues and she feels his cock swell a little more under her ministrations.

"That's it, love. Right there. More. More."

She recognizes the signs in her husband and brings her other hand into play, covering the knob of his prick, both to provide sensation to the sensitive head but also to catch the throbbing release she anticipates is moments away. She has no intention of adding to the stickiness of the theatre floor.

He tenses, eyes closed, and gives himself over to her and the pleasure she gives him. It feels good to selfishly allow himself to be taken care of, with no thought or concern for her. Paradoxically, this makes him love her more and feel even more connected to her.

She feels the throbs at the base of his shaft first as his sperm rockets up into her hand. The other hand continues to milk him, determined to provide the maximum amount of pleasure she can. She expertly grips the crown with one hand as the milky tribute gushes plentifully into her palm. She alternates between watching the fascinating spectacle of a spurting cock with the delirious beauty of satisfaction and release that washes over his face.

"Ah, ah," he pants. "Just hold. Grip."

She grips him tightly along the length, feeling the throbs and shudders that rock through him. Occasionally she pulses back, giving him a slight squeeze and release, prolonging his enjoyment as much as she can.

"That was wonderful. Awesome." he breathes. "Thank you."

"No, thank you, kind sir. I am here but to please you. What else can I do for your enjoyment?" she giggles, playfully shaking her boobs at him again so that they wobble lasciviously beneath her blouse.

"Oh, I'm pretty well spent here. What can I do for you now?"

She grins back at him, pleased at his concern for her, but determined to keep the focus on him. She stares him directly in the eye and brings her cum-covered palm to her mouth and takes a huge, obscene lick.

"Mm. Thank you for giving me such a yummy snack now that all the popcorn is gone." Jon stares at her slack-jawed as she cleans her whole hand, chasing down errant drips between her fingers. Until very recently, she has expressed very little interest in swallowing his cum. Maybe she really has changed, he thinks.

"I am so horny right now," she whispers. "My panties are just drenched."

"What can I do for you?" he asks again.

"Nothing. I'm so wound up I could probably get off on your fingers right here. But I don't want to. I want to be horny. Just to wallow in it. My need is so raw. I'm frustrated and need you. Oh, Jon, my pussy is so empty. I need you so bad. I want you to fuck me. I need to be fucked, hard." Mandy would be horrified; she preached that you should never let a man see your need, appear weak and need sexual fulfillment. That would be to let a man have power over you.

"You're going to have to wait for that, babe. I'll bet you are just gushing between your legs. And you are just going to have to deal with it until we get home." Her need is so plain - eyes dilated, nostrils flared, her breath coming in short, panting gasps, the tension in her back that arches her chest forward. There is just a glow about her that radiates sexual hunger.

Sorry, Mandy, dear. I want my man to see my need and take me.

"Yeah, baby. I want you so much. I am so on edge. I want to ache for you. I love being horny for you. Just to wallow in it. My need is so raw. Make me want you all that much more. Make me."

Jon leans over and kisses her panting lips lightly, barely grazing them and then pulling back, teasing. He does it again, his tongue licking out to tantalize her lips. She whines as the brief touch only fuels her desire without providing any concrete contact.

He reaches down and presses his balled fist on the cushion of her theatre seat just barely brushing against the jeans seam in her crotch. Her hips rock forward almost involuntarily and press against the firm surface of his clenched hand. Almost before she realizes it, she is humping him. Shit, I am just a bitch in heat, she marvels at herself, incredulous at how much that thought excites her when it should repel.

Jon marvels, too, watching the sexual dynamo his wife has become as she lewdly humps against his hand. He knows she likes firm pressure against her core; he is just stunned at the way she is displaying her desire so openly. He can see the arousal climbing higher in her and he watches the glow burn even brighter on her cheeks.