And some friends come over

Authors Note: Hi everyone! Short chapter, but there’s 4 more chapters on Patreon/SubscribeStar waiting for you and a new Mom’s The Frat Pledge next week:

https://www.patreon.com/c/BadgerAttack07

https://subscribestar.adult/badger

If that’s not your style, I hope you’re still able to enjoy this one on its own and, as always, I appreciate your feedback.

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Dear Michael,

Today has been quite busy as we get ready for the big game happening tonight. Of course, I had no idea that it was happening until my wife texted me to stop by the supermarket to make sure that I get wings, fries, and a hell of a lot of beers because apparently Brady was having some friends over.

I was sitting at my desk sifting through yet another mountain of automated claims when my phone buzzed. “Hey honey! Brady says the playoffs are tonight. Can you stop by Ari’s on the way home? Need wings, frozen fries, and at least three 24-packs of Coors. Maybe some dip too? Thanks love you!”

I stared at the screen for a solid two minutes. Three 24-packs? We usually keep a single six-pack of craft beer in the back of the fridge for months. My mind immediately went back to the last couple of days. Things for sure had been a little strange. For one, I wasn’t used to not sleeping with my wife, but the couch had grown so gosh darn comfortable that after the third night, I stopped asking if we could end the arrangement early altogether. Truth be told, I kind of hope that when the week was over, Catherine would just join me on the couch.

But now, I was being drafted as the personal grocery boy for my former bully’s sports party in my own home. Even for someone as nice as I am, I could tell that was one step too far. Part of me wanted to text back and say no. I wanted to hold firm, to be that grounded, assertive guy I know I can be. But then I pictured Catherine’s face, and I remembered her lecture about hospitality, forgiveness, and finding humility. One more night, I promise myself. One more night of having things Brady’s way and then we would go back to how it was. I am the man of my own house. I earned it.

So, at 5:01 PM, I found myself pushing a squeaky cart through Ari’s grocery where I ran into Mr. Henderson, my old history teacher who works the registers now in his retirement.

"Big night ahead, Michael?" he asked, eyeing the mountain of cheap beer and chicken wings sliding down the conveyor belt.

"Oh, you know it, Mr. Henderson. Just hosting a few people," I said, trying to sound like a popular, casual guy who throws roaring sports parties every Thursday.

"Good for you. Tell Catherine I say hello," he smiled, wiping a stray hair from his forehead.

I wondered, for no reason at all, if a guy like Mr. Henderson, so nice and unassuming, ever fantasized about my wife. I don’t really know why, but the thought stayed with me as I went back to my car.

When I finally pulled into the driveway, my arms were practically breaking under the weight of the grocery bags.

I opened the front door with my foot after knocking 10 times and the smell of cheap body spray and stale air hit me like a wall. The living room was already transformed. Brady’s “friends”, were just two guys who looked like they had peaked in high school were sprawled across our furniture. Unfortunately, for me, I recognized both of them. There was Tank, a fucking idiot, who wasn’t in remedial classes because he was good at football. Kevin, one of the nicer dickheads. They were big guys, but there was absolutely no way they were going to eat all of the food that I just spent hundreds of dollars on.

"Yo, the delivery guy is here!" Tank shouted in his deep voice. He was wearing a backwards cap and a jersey that was a size too small.

Brady looked up from the couch. His ass was sitting directly on the pillow that I slept on, and let out a loud fart as soon as he saw me. He was already holding a half-empty can of beer. "Hey, Mikey! Sorry about your pillow bro. Complete accident. Just in time though, bro, seriously. If I knew you were this cool about hosting, we would’ve put you in a friend group a lot sooner.” he stood up and gave me a firm hug and the painful slap on the back. “Put the beers straight into the fridge, we're burning through the ones from yesterday." he went back to his seat on the couch without even saying thank you and let out another fart. If I wasn’t so angry, I would’ve said something.

Catherine came running out of the kitchen, looking flushed and entirely too energetic. She was now wearing a simple white tank top and a pair of high-waisted mom jeans. But, true to her words from breakfast, she hadn't put a bra on underneath the tank top, so the thin fabric and plunging neck line did absolutely nothing to hide her breasts, which bounced casually as she hurried over to me. I felt a sudden tightening in my throat. I tried to shake off the jealousy I was feeling.

This was what Catherine wanted. She didn’t want to be controlled by the patriarchy anymore and I shouldn’t sexualize her. It was hard to maintain those thoughts as her “fuck bags “as she called them bounced up and down.

"Oh, thank goodness, honey!" she beamed, taking the heavy bags from my hands and giving me a quick peck on the cheek that smelled faintly of garlic powder. "Give me those wings, the oven is already preheated. You're a lifesaver."

I followed her into the kitchen, desperately needing a square inch of space that didn’t involve a massive guy shouting at a pre-game show. "Honey, I wanted to talk to you about the parties and everything we’re doing. And... uh, your shirt? It uh looks great" I whispered, gesturing vaguely toward her chest.

"Oh, isn’t it a blast! It was Brady's idea. He said the house just feels kinda lonely!" she whispered back, happily dumping the frozen fries onto a baking sheet, completely unbothered by my look. "He ran into them at a football game at the park and realized they didn't have a good TV to watch the game on.”

“Well that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I don’t know if we should turn our house into some sort of party den. I kinda liked our board game and quiet vibe.”

“Don't be a party shitter. Go sit down and make some friends!"

“Party shitter?”

“It’s a term Brady taught me when he told me you were going to get like this.” I knew my frustration was showing but she assured me, “I vouched for you, of course.”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. I walked back into the living room and tried to find a place to sit. At least she was still vouching for me.

Our love seat was completely occupied by Tank and Kevin. The only remaining spot was the floor, or the very edge of the couch right next to Brady. I sat myself on the floor and tried to figure out something about about the game so I could make a comment, but Kevin beat me to it.

"So, Michael," Kevin said, leaning forward. "Brady tells us you're in insurance. That sounds... thrilling bro."

"It pays the bills," I said, trying to match their deep, resonant baritone voices. "Lots of Excel sheets. It's a lot of data management, really."

“Yeah man. Im in cryptocurrency.”

“Like you trade or invest?” I asked.

“Yeah, man.” Kevin said.

"Right, right. Hey Cat!" Tank yelled toward the kitchen. "Can we get some napkins over here? Kev already spilled salsa on the rug!"

“I did fucking not.” Kevin stood up and the two started rough housing which spilled more salsa.

"Coming right up!" her sweet voice echoed. A moment later, she jogged out, carrying a roll of paper towels. She dropped to her knees right in front of Tank to blot out the stain, leaning forward so that her tank top hung loose, entirely exposing her tits shaking as she cleaned if anyone got the right angle. None of the guys even attempted to look away. In fact, Brady leaned back on the cushions, taking a slow sip of his beer with a look of absolute contentment.

"You guys want any drinks refreshed?" Catherine asked, looking up at them with those innocent hazel eyes as she stood back up.

"I'll take another Coors, beautiful," Tank said, flashing a grin.

I felt a sudden spike of heat in my chest. "Hey, man, maybe don't call her that," I said. It came out a little quieter than I intended, but the room went completely quiet anyway. “In fact, I don’t know how I feel about this whole party thing.”

Tank blinked, looking at me like an insect he’d just noticed on his sleeve. Brady immediately threw a heavy arm around my neck, pulling me into a rough headlock that smelled like deodorant and beer. "Whoa, chill out, Mikey! He's just paying a compliment. Don't be insecure, bro. We all know you're the lucky guy." He rubbed his knuckles against my scalp for a brief second before letting go, leaving my hair completely disheveled. "Go help Cat with the wings. Why don’t you?" as soon as I left, I heard him whispering to his friends behind me.

My face was burning. I looked at Catherine, expecting her to look outraged on my behalf, but she just giggled, her chest shifting under the white cotton. "Yeah, Michael, come help me carry the platters. "

In the kitchen, I grabbed a platter of hot wings, my hands shaking slightly. I took a deep breath, counting to three just like my therapist suggested. One, two, three. I was overreacting. They were just sports guys being sports guys. It was just a casual atmosphere and heck maybe he’s right, maybe our house could use more people.

For the next three hours, my house was filled with shouting, cursing, the heavy thud of fists against our coffee table every time a referee made a bad call. I sat on the floor against the wall, drinking a single beer very slowly and occasionally commenting on the ball movement. Catherine, as always, did her job perfectly as she constantly refilled bowls and fetched beers. Every time the home team scored a touchdown, she would jump up and clap, entirely unconcerned with how much she was revealing to the room with every jump as her underboob kept shooting out from underneath the fabric. Every time it did, the guys would roar and hoot, slamming their cans together louder than when their team scored.

By the time the game ended the living room was covered in a layers of crumbs, empty cans, and discarded napkins. Brady’s friends stood up, stretching and groaning about the score.

"Great house, Brady," Tank said, slapping Brady on the shoulder. "We gotta do this again next week."

"Anytime, man. This is the spot now," Brady replied, guiding them toward the front door. They didn't even look at me on their way out, though Kevin gave Catherine a polite wave. "Thanks for the snacks, Cat. You're the best."

“Wait boys, Brady said, “as much as I would love to take credit for this, that’s not who I am anymore.” He put a hand around my shoulder, “It’s this guys house. He’s the big man so it’s up to him.” Everyone looked at me. These guys who had once been so popular in high school were at my mercy.

“Sure.”

The boys cheered and slapped each other back. When the door finally clicked shut, the silence in the house was deafening. I stood up from the floor, my knees cracking. "Well, that was... a lot," I muttered, looking at the disaster zone.

"It was so much fun!" Catherine beamed, stretching her arms high above her head, pulling the tank top taut against her skin. "They're so full of energy. It really felt like high school again."

I could’ve sworn she didn't like these guys in high school, but oh well.

Brady walked back into the living room, kicking an empty can out of his way. He looked exhausted but completely satisfied. He crashed right back down onto the middle of our couch, sprawling out across the cushions and letting his head fall back with a heavy sigh. “And Catherine. Wow.” He looked straight at her tits. “Those things stole the show tonight.”

She blushed. I didn’t even know what to say.

"Man, I love this couch," Brady muttered, closing his eyes and turning his head toward the TV. "Seriously, Michael, best seat in the house. I could just pass out right here."

I stood there, staring at him as he made himself perfectly at home in the center of our living room. I looked at my beautiful, braless wife, who was already picking up empty cans around him, and with nothing to do or say, I left.

-Kindly, Michael