Bringing Out the Bitch

Hi folks. This story was edited by the incredible Mikothebaby.

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It was a typical Saturday in suburbia. Well, maybe it was typical for everyone else, but I was unfortunately having a garage sale. I hate fucking garage sales and like most guys, I'd rather have simply thrown the shit away. But my wife insisted. Even after I told her that we don't need the money, she hit me right back with how we could simply donate the money to the school our kids attend. She's one of the organizers of the PTA and is truly dedicated to making the school a better place. She's as out of control about the PTA as I am about my car.

Anyway, here I am lying out in my back yard hammock, resting up for Sunday, when they came in. Sundays are a big day for me. I'm planning on running a fall marathon so I usually spend Sunday morning doing my longest run of the week. It's usually between 18 and 24 miles so I'm pretty much useless for the rest of the day. At least until the sun goes down. Once it gets shady in my yard, I feel a huge rush of energy that I use to wash my car.

That's my car over there in the garage. The 2009 Mustang GT with the Bullitt rims and the Magnaflow exhaust system. After my wife, she's my baby. Actually, before my wife, she was my baby. You'll probably notice that we aren't having the garage sale to clean out my garage. Nope, my garage is spotless. You can eat off of the floors and there's even a TV in it. Oh shit, here they come.

I close my eyes and hope they'll go away...But they don't.

"Excuse me sir," says a young man. His girlfriend, or perhaps wife, is holding onto his hand for dear life. They both have that frigging "we're young, intelligent and in love" look about them.

"Did you mis-price the Games Master X-Station dual screen video system? Fifty bucks just doesn't seem right. I think you meant five hundred, right?" he asked.

"Both of the 3-D monitors come with it," I said. "Plus I'm throwing in all of the games, the headsets and the extra controllers."

"We get all of that for five hundred dollars?" he asked. His face was lit up like it was Christmas. "The dual 3-d monitors alone are worth three hundred a piece. And the system should be at least four hundred. The games are sixty dollars each. Are you sure you're letting all of this go for five hundred dollars?"

"No," I said sharply. "The price is fifty bucks, take it or leave it."

His girl was elbowing him in the ribs. But he was no dummy.

"Does it work?" he asked, looking at me suspiciously.

"It's got less than a month of use on it. It's in near perfect condition," I said. "Of course it works. Look if you don't want it, I'm sure someone will buy it."

"Did it belong to your kid and he ran away or went away to school or something?" he asked.

"Nope," I said. "It was mine."

"Then why are you selling it so cheaply," he asked. I shrugged my shoulder and sighed. That's one of the things I hate about fucking garage sales. Everybody can't just get a bargain. They absolutely have to know the history and the story behind every fucking item.

Actually getting rid of the game system was one of the reasons we were having the garage sale in the first place.

I sat up and gestured to the patio set on my deck. I grabbed a couple of beers for him and his girl and a Pepsi for me and started telling them the sad story about how video games almost ruined my life.

My name is Perry Tyler. Okay, no dumb ass questions, I'm not him. I'm not a giant black guy who dresses up like a woman and writes and directs movies. My name was Perry Tyler long before anyone ever heard of him.

Anyway, I have a degree in manufacturing technology from U of M and I work for Thompson Manufacturing as lead CNC programmer. I have a comfortable home in the suburbs of Michigan, just outside of Detroit. When the story started I'd been married to Denise Ankovski for about ten years. We were happy, or so I thought. I mean we had all of the things that seem to mean happiness in this day and age. We weren't exactly rich, but we weren't missing any meals either. Like most Americans, we were firmly in the middle of the economic war.

Denise and I were exact opposites when it comes to looks and physicality. She peaked early and I peaked later. By that, I mean that the first few years right after college were her best. Denise was never a raving beauty, but she was attractive and had a hot body. Her average looking face was framed by long shiny brown hair that made her better looking than she was.

She wasn't a troll or anything, but that hair made her far sexier. Her body also wasn't Baywatch quality. But she had nice legs and big tits. Those probably made most guys overlook the fact that her gut was a little doughy even in her twenties, which is a really bad sign. Those tits also made most guys, me included overlook the fact that she had what is generally known as a "white girl's ass."

That is the kind of ass that simply doesn't stick out much at all. It's almost as if her lower back just joined her legs with no bulge of any kind. Strangely enough, the current generation of women, rarely have this trait anymore.

I think maybe it's like during the renaissance when Rubenesque women were all the rage. What is and isn't desirable in women changes. In the twenty first century, we seem to prefer our women with a little bit more junk in the trunk.

Anyway, I, on the other hand, was a nerd, plain and simple. During my college days and the days that followed, I was thin, geeky and wore huge glasses. I was socially inept and shy beyond reason. I was also hopelessly smitten with Denise.

The first few years after college were difficult ones for most of us. Denise ended up waitressing and I settled into my current job. I was making good money almost from the beginning and slowly forced to get over my social phobias. I started off as a CNC operator and gradually moved into a set-up position and then became a programmer. Each promotion brought new responsibilities and more money.

Meanwhile, I was still hanging out with some of my friends from college. Denise and I had spoken a lot during the years but had never dated. We got friendlier as the years went on until finally we started dating. Things quickly got serious between us. Denise was the first woman who actually let me have access to her body. I mean, I'd had sex before, but usually it was a hurried thing in the back of a car or in a dorm while the roommates were out.

Denise and I both had our own apartments and we took time out to actually enjoy sex. Her boobs were so large that they had already started to sag by the time we were in our mid-twenties. I was fascinated with them and she was fascinated with the fact that I was still fascinated with them. I guess most of the guys in our circle had already had their chances with them and moved on. They'd gotten to her boobs when they were still buoyant and springy. Now that I had them, gravity had already won the battle.

After dating for a year, I'd noticed several things. The first was that Denise was simply my best friend. Whenever I was away from her, I was miserable. She felt the same way about me so I asked her to marry me. She looked at me as if I was talking about someone else. I guess she'd seen a lot of the old spinster type women at the restaurants she worked in and supposed that she'd end up the same way.

She didn't even accept when I first asked her. She asked me why I wanted to marry her.

"You're already fucking me regularly," she said. "You know that I'll give you all the pussy you want even if we don't get married, so why do you want me to marry you?"

I looked her straight in the eyes. "Denise, I've always liked you. Even before you ever noticed me, I actually dreamed about you. Now that we've spent some time together, I've noticed that I'm pretty miserable when you're not around. It's not just your tits or sex, Denise. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Although you're my best friend, I don't want us to be just friends. And I shudder to think that someday some other guy could take you away from me. I love you, Denise."

"God, why didn't you just lead with that last part," she said. "Of course, I'll marry you, Perry. But don't sell yourself short. I know that you think you wouldn't have had a chance with me earlier, but you would have. Being with you is great for me too. A lot of the guys I went out with before you were only after me for sex. You're the only person I know who actually took the time to get to know me. And even after we started having sex, you're still here and still nice to me. I'd never let you get away from me and I never will. I love you too."

So ten years into the marriage we were happy or so I thought. The ensuing years had brought us many blessings. We had two boys, Bobby was a rambunctious five year-old and Johnny, his younger brother, was three. We'd waited until we were financially stable to have our kids. We had a nice house, two cars, a pool and regular vacations. We had all of the things that one needs to be happy.

Of course, over the ten years we'd become totally different people. Denise seemed to get shorter and fatter. While not a pig or a blob, she was now one of those typical suburban housewives you see everywhere. Nope take that out of your mind. Denise wasn't a MILF; she was more like a MIPWFWSEDBHHLH. Okay I won't bother trying to tell you how to pronounce that but I'll tell you what it stands for. (Mother I Probably Wouldn't Fuck With Someone Else's Dick But Her Husband Loves Her)

Yep, her hooters hung down so far over her already large gut that it all blended into one large mass. And her ass had sunk even lower into her lower back. The years and pumping out two babies had taken their toll on her once sexy frame. But I hadn't noticed. Denise was still the woman I loved and now she was the mother of my children. That forges a connection that a little bit of adipose tissue simply can't break.

It wasn't unusual for me to come home and push her down onto the bed while the kids weren't looking and grab two big handfuls of titty while she screamed in outrage. I also had a habit of sticking my hands down the front of her pants and then smelling my fingers and telling her that was what I wanted for dinner.

On the other hand, the years had been kinder to me. Being in charge of a department and having control over one of the most important components of our business had given me more confidence. Being thrust into situations again and again over the past ten years where people counted on my expertise to solve problems made me more comfortable in social situations. I also started to work out and Denise's cooking put a few more pounds on my lanky frame. The final straw was giving up my giant glasses in favor of contacts.

I think all of this really became a problem when Mary Claire Thorpe, who was our baby sitter at the time, said something.

We were having a barbecue in Mary Claire's honor because she'd just received her Associates degree in childhood development. Of course, she still had many years of schooling to go through, since her goal was her Master's degree or possible a PHD. But it was the first essential step, so we wanted to help her celebrate.

Mary Claire was a striking, if shy girl. She was tall and thin but curvy at the same time. Her breasts were no more than a handful but they had no sign of sag. She had long beautiful legs and an extremely nice bubble butt. I'd seen that butt many times when she swam in our pool but it hadn't led to any episodes of lust. I guess it was kind of like seeing a guy whose car has a supercharger. You appreciate it for what it can do. But when you're happy with your own engine it really just isn't a factor.

So there we were, Denise and I, along with our kids, Mary Claire, her brother Stewart and a couple of neighbors. We were all gathered around our pool giving Mary Claire gifts and congratulating her. MC, which was what we called Mary Claire, was so happy that she'd had a few drinks and was a bit tipsy. Denise had just given her our gift, which was a laptop computer.

Before MC opened the box, Denise had given her the box, saying, "Here's our gift MC. It's probably something car related, so you can take it back and exchange it. But what do you expect when my husband the nerd gets to pick it out."

"Mr. Tyler's not a nerd. He's hot. I'd do him in a heartbeat," gushed the obviously drunk MC. Denise's eyes had narrowed considerable even though she knew that MC was just drunk. I guess that up until that moment, she really hadn't taken a look at me in a while. In her mind, just like in mine, we were simply two mid-thirties fuddy-duddies with kids and a mortgage, just like everyone else we knew.

Hearing that I was hot, changed the equation because when we first got together, in terms of attractiveness, she was a has-been and I'd been a never was. Finding out that things had changed even if it was only in the eyes of one drunken baby sitter got her attention.

Denise and I spent the majority of our time playing with our kids and doing family things. I guess because of that some of the spark in our relationship had died down until there were only embers left. Women notice those kinds of things and they tend to internalize them.

I, on the other hand, just decided that we needed to pick up a few new hobbies that we could do together to fan the embers into a fire again.

I'd read several articles on the internet about online predators who met kids in gaming rooms and our kids were getting close to the age where they'd start playing video games. In most of the articles the authors said that one of the best ways to make sure that your kids weren't victimized or bullied online was to play the games with them. Since I'd never been much of a gamer, I figured I'd need a head start.

I went out and bought the biggest and most expensive gaming system I could find. I also bought a lot of the most popular games. I bought a professional level dual CPU, dual monitor system so Denise and I could play together and also play against each other online.

As far as games went I bought Beyond the call of duty 4, Un-Mapped and Sea Rim, all of which had excellent campaign modes and awesome online variants. When I got home and hooked up the system, Denise stared at me as if I was on drugs.

"This is going to help us to recharge things around here," I smiled lasciviously.

"How the hell is it going to that?" she asked.

"Well two ways," I began. "We'll play some of the games together. To bring us closer together and enhance our teamwork skills."

"We already have good teamwork skills," she snapped.

"I know," I told her. "But except for family things we don't often do things together just for fun. And some of the games we'll play against each other. We'll compete for prizes."

"What kind of prizes?" she asked dubiously.

"Hm...it depends on the game," I said. "It could be that the winner gets to do anything they want to the loser."

"Don't get your perverted hopes up Perry," she smirked. "I'm not going to let you fuck my ass, just because you won a video game. Why can't you be happy with what you already get?"

"Because I want all of you," I gushed.

She smiled and laughed a bit but I noticed that she was more cheerful than she'd been in a while. That happiness and exuberance lasted all the way up until we actually started playing the games. A large part of my job involved using computers and different types of software platforms so I adapted and learned very quickly. Denise on the other hand, not so much. To put it briefly, she was terrible.

Modern video games are fast paced, extremely realistic appearing challenges that require dexterity, fast reflexes, great problem solving abilities and a killer instinct. I don't think Denise had any of those attributes.

The first night that we sat down to play was awful. We acted as a two person team while playing "Beyond the call of duty." Denise was killed before she figured out where we were. We started the game over and she was killed before she took a step. In all, Denise was killed so many times during that first evening that she just threw the controller down in frustration and walked away.

The next evening we decided to play against each other offline. "So what are we playing for?" I asked.

"Not what you're hoping for," she smirked. "I'm not risking that until I get good enough to at least have a chance of keeping your dick out of my rectum." I was disappointed. Then I killed her 15 times in fourteen minutes.

Needless to say, not only did I not get any anal sex with Denise, I didn't get any sex at all. Denise barely spoke to me for two days. I was about to give up on the whole video game thing and pack it away to save it for our kids when they got older. I got an excited phone call while I was at work from Denise.

"Saturday night," she said.

"What about Saturday night," I asked.

"Saturday night, we'll play for whatever you want," she said.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Saturday night you and I will play video games against each other," she said. "If you win, you get to fuck my ass. If I win, you have to lick my pussy until your tongue won't move anymore."

"What brought this on?" I asked curiously.

"Mary Claire's brother Stewart is going to give me video gaming lessons," she said. "I was telling MC how hard you've been trying to find things for us to do together. She thought it was a wonderful thing for you to do until I told her how terrible I am at playing the games. Her brother came over to borrow some money from her. He doesn't have a job, and when he saw our game system he almost peed on himself. He offered to teach me to play the games for only ten dollars a session if I let him play on the system sometimes. So Saturday night mister, it's on."

It had been on a Monday when she'd called me and all through that week the two of us were exchanging glances and smiling. Even when we had sex during that week it was as if we'd been supercharged. I pumped away at her harder than I had in a while and she grunted and whispered in my ear. "I know what you're imagining," she said. "Go ahead, fuck that ass baby even though, it's not going to happen."

So, to make a long story short, Saturday night came. We had dinner and after the kids went to bed, Denise took a shower and perfumed herself up. I took a shower and put on just a robe. We met each other at the gaming system. Each of us was wearing only a smile besides our finest night apparel.

The game was "Beyond the Call of Duty" and we were playing against each other. The first one to kill the other five times would win the prize.

As soon as the game booted up, I dove for cover and located Denise on the simulated landscape. Then I took a breath and calmly and efficiently drilled not one but two nine millimeters rounds between my wife's eyes.

"That's one," I said. "Better get out the lube."

That first quick kill was my last one. Denise shot five times in a row so quickly and so mercilessly that I still don't understand it. The last time she was somehow directly above me hanging from a tree limb in some kind of stealth mode. That type of skill was way beyond me. I was pissed and she was smirking at me.

"Let's go, Honey," she crooned, gesturing towards our bedroom.

She got up on the bed took off her panties and spread her legs. I dutifully started swabbing her deck the way I knew she liked it. After three orgasms, she pushed me away from her and told me that she couldn't take another one. I grabbed a Pepsi from the fridge and chugged it then went back to bed.

"Don't you want to...?" she asked. "I really got off Honey. I'll do you now. Do you want to fuck me or should I just blow you?"

It was the first time in my life that I ever turned down a blow job, but I was so pissed that I barely wanted to look at her let alone fuck her.