He taps your wife

Thanksgiving. Your wife helps your mom in the kitchen. You’re opening a bottle of wine.

Your brother grins at you. Shit’s about to go down. You cover your balls waiting for the kick.

He walks past you. Winds up, smacks your wife’s big ass loudly, so hard you can see if jiggle under her dress. “How can I help you ladies?”

Your wife jumps in surprise. Looks back. Her mouth shut. She glares at you. As a man, you need to stand up for your wife.

Your mother didn’t hear the ass smack. “What about dessert?”

Your brother’s hand returns to your wife’s oversized ass. He rubs the stinging spot where he smacked it, then takes a handful and squeezes, “I’m thinking cake. A lot of cake. Can cake be juicy?”

Your wife bites her lip. She glares at you to defend her.

“It can be moist,” your mom says. “Layered.”

He grabs her under cheek. “Cream spread between the layers.”

He knows I won’t say a word. He gives her another smack before backing away. “I’ll eat cake all night.”

“Cake it is then,” your mother says smiling. One less decision she’ll have to make.

Your brother whispers in your ear, “I’m going to fuck your wife’s ass so fucking hard. She won’t be able to walk.”

You could stand up for your wife. Instead you say, “Not as hard as I’m going to fuck your wife’s tits.”

He laughs, “It’s on.”

Brotherly competition.