Don't Get Mad

Where is she? Bob wondered, for the hundredth time that night. He perched, bored and dejected in front of his computer, idly going through porn sites, occasionally typing one-handed, but just taking up time. Someone had once found that married men masturbated more than single ones did, but that didn't make it any the less lonely.

His wife, Jennifer, was out at her bridge club (who plays bridge in the 21st Century? What's next, whist?), loading up on gossip, which was unfortunate, but they seemed to be playing a lot more of it lately. He ran his fingers through his business-cut hair, blue eyes starting to water from hours of waiting. Why someone would start playing several days a week, instead of just one, didn't make much sense.

And the amount of time it took her seemed to be longer and longer, until he questioned her story. If it hadn't been an all-woman quartet, he might have worried. But no, Jennifer was faithful to him, always had been. She even told him so, from time to time. Still, after all this time, he wondered if he was lying to himself. What if she's cheating? Why would she do it? Why did she always shower right after coming in, was bridge a contact sport? The evidence was adding up, and he smelled a rat.

Looking at the clock, he realized it was 11:30 and both of them had an early day tomorrow. The one thing that made it worth waiting for was when she got home, she usually wanted to drag him upstairs and jump his bones. That was fun, but lately it was kinkier. She'd taken to deep-throating him with more and more ease, and even letting him try anal. The tight, hot hole she presented him with took a lot of the frustration out, but still something empty had replaced the normal sex...

Grumbling, he understood what it was. She'd let him in her pussy, but only to lube him up for the other hole. He tried to remember the last time he'd come inside her, and realized he couldn't. It had been months. Most married men would have been ecstatic to have nightly blowjobs, and their spouses swallow the load, but like a missing tooth, the lack of regular sex seemed to be nagging at him. What one can't have one is wanted the most.

He sighed, going back to his porn parade, when the phone rang. Looking at caller ID, he saw that it was Michael, his college roomie and co-worker.

"'Lo," he said, trying to fake a cheerfulness he didn't feel.

"Bob, you going to be home for a while?" it was Rachel, Mike's wife. That was odd. Rachel didn't like him much, and only because she and Jennifer were friends did they interact at all.

"I'm waiting for Jennifer to get home from bridge."

There was a silence on the other end of the line, and he looked at the Smartphone, puzzled.

"Listen, I'll explain everything when I arrive."

"Something wrong?" he asked, straightening in his seat.

"I'll explain. And don't worry about Jennifer. I'll explain everything.." He looked down at the phone, but the signal was already gone.

That was strange, he thought. He fastened his pants, partial erection already fading, and went downstairs. Mike and Rachael lived about five minutes' drive away, so she'd be at the house soon. He did some preliminary cleaning, policing up the leftover TV dinner and beer, and had the recliner back up to vertical when he heard a car in the driveway. He opened the door, and saw Rachael already out of the car, and heading towards the house.

She was dressed in some sort of thick coat, nothing showing underneath, and her shapely legs were marching on fuck-me-pumps as she looked at him. She slammed her car door with excessive force, looking mad enough to spit nails.

"Close the door behind me," she commanded, as she breezed past him, heels clicking on the entryway tiles. Mutely, he did so, as she turned, standing in the living room, legs apart, looking angry and...He wasn't sure.

"So where's Jennifer?" she asked accusingly.

"She's at her bridge club."

Rolling her eyes, Rachael collapsed onto the couch, and started to cry. "No, she's not, Bob, she never was."

"What do you mean?"

From out of her purse, the distraught woman pulled a DVD case, and thrust it at him like a dagger. "Play that on the computer. I'll be here."

The mystery deepened. "Rachael, what's wrong?"

"Just play the fucking movie. You'll know," she said, tears in her eyes making her mascara run. This was serious. He took the proffered disk, and went back upstairs. Behind him, he could hear her crying. He felt like trying to comfort her, but she just waved him away. He turned and marched up the stairs, as if he climbed a scaffold. Maybe he was.

In a few seconds, he had the disk in, and found it a self-executable, so a full-screen movie appeared. It was a hotel room, unfamiliar, seedy, but empty. A beep and a time code appeared across the top, and started to count. The screen flickered, and the time changed.

The door opened, and he saw Mike enter the room...Jennifer behind him? The image quality wasn't all that good, but damn, a man knew his wife.

She closed the door with her ass, hungrily looked at him. "C'mere," she said, "I want it." She sank to her knees slowly as he came forward, undoing his belt, kicking his shoes off-camera. His pants fell to the floor, his shirt hanging (thankfully) over his now-exposed ass.

As the distance closed, he saw Jennifer turn towards his crotch, licking her lips, her hands rising to take him. What the fuck was she doing?

"Gimmie that monster cock," she begged, as he chuckled. She directed him to take his shirt off, and he stood naked before her, as she opened her blouse and threw it away from her like it was on fire. Clad only in her bra and panties, she arched her breasts towards him.

"Take it off of me," she said, and he reached down and parted the clasp expertly in back, exposing her B-cup breasts, tweaking the nipples as she opened her mouth, moaning softly. From the distance between them, he saw Mikes asscheeks clench as she made a slurping sound, and her head bobbed back and forth. That was something he'd need mental floss to remove from his memory.

There wasn't much to see from the angle, but from the length that she was moving, she had to be taking him deep into her throat, moaning as she moved against it, the room filling with the slick sound of her saliva coating his thick shaft, moving in and out past her lips. Her hands were busy stroking the thick hardness, and he saw her having to move higher and higher as his obvious erection strained upward. Slurps and 'pops' of the suction being broken made it obvious what she was doing, and how it affecting Mike as well.

She played with herself with the one hand, and he watched dumbfounded as he saw her rubbing under her panties, frantically working on her spreading legs. I can't watch this, he told himself, yet he couldn't move. She was on fire, filled with a lust he remembered from their honeymoon and now nearly absent from their shared bedroom.

She pulled away from him, a loud 'smock' sounding in the room as his cock left her sucking mouth. She stood up. "C'mon, lover, I need this," she growled, taking his cock and pulling him towards the bed.

"Don't you get enough at home?" Mike chided her lightly.

"Meh. He's only average, and I want exceptional," she shrugged. "Don't tease me."

"Fuck!" Bob mouthed, shocked and hurt. Average? Seven inches is average? He looked down, and found himself hard as a rock. Someone's fucking my wife, and I'm getting a boner!?

And then he turned around, and he saw what she was working on. Mike was...hung. His cock wasn't even at full hardness, yet it had to be, oh..a foot? And thick. Waves of jealousy consumed him as he saw her slide a pillow under her ass, and pull him down on top of her. Wait, why a pillow?

Mike positioned the head between the glistening lips of her pussy, and pushed forward. A long, low sigh came from Jennifer, her head shaking back and forth as she wrapped her legs around his ass and shoved him ever deeper. "Ah, fuck yeah," she said, "It's so much better..."

Better? Than what? Bob whispered to the screen. I try, I do. He found himself shaking; with rage, but with something else. The clip continued.

From the length Mike was traveling, up and down, she took him, all of him, without a murmur of anything but lust. "Oh gawd, so good, so big, so big," she kept repeating. The bed shook as she egged him on, thrusting her own hips to get every precious inch of him. Her moans and his harsh breathing got louder and louder, as the bedpost smacked into the wall repeatedly, shaking the ugly generic painting above it.

Why? Why is she doing this to me?

"Fuck harder!" she yelled, "Come in me, come inside me...I want it, I need it, Mike" She grabbed his ass with both hands, trying to speed him. Bob could see her nails cutting into the pliant flesh. That's going to smart in the morning, he thought. Asshole, he amended.

"I'm gonna come in you, Jen, I'm going to fill you with my cum. I love bareback," he said, and something more intimate that the sound didn't catch.

"Yeah, get me pregnant! I want your baby Mike, yours, yours!" she shouted out, grinning as she thrust her lips against him. Jaws opened, and they were dueling tongues against each other, as they pulled closer.

Please, no, no. Bob stared slack-jawed as he saw his wife totally repudiated him completely.. He slumped against the desk chair as they sped up even more.

"I'm coming!" Mike shouted, as she grabbed his back, pulling him against her hard nipples, which disappeared under his sweating body.

Fuck, don't come, stop it now! Bob thought helplessly, though he could see the action happening in front of him. She yelled, "I'm coming again!" while she grabbed his ass, holding him in place. He roared like a bull, shaking, and it was too late, Bob knew..

They came to a stop, frozen on the screen, and began laughing at each other. Later, he would have to admit that it was the laughter that broke the final straw, casting him loose from his former life.

The time index jumped, and he saw them sitting, naked, against each other. Jennifer stroked him, trying to get him up again.

"So you weren't kidding," Mike said..

"I told you, I get what I want. Bob's fertile, but ever since I saw this," she gave it a loving squeeze, "I wanted you to be my baby-daddy."

"You're pregnant."

She nodded.

"It's mine," he added.

She nodded again. "I had to pull some fast ones with hubby to make sure. He's about the size for anal and blow jobs, but this, this fucker is mine."

Mike snorted. "And he doesn't suspect?"

She laughed. "He thinks I'm playing bridge with the girls. When all these years we've been playing 'hide the salami' instead." They both laughed, as she leaned over and kissed the head of his stiffening member.

Years!?

She looked at him seriously. "And what do we do about Rachael?" Mike grimaced, but sighed as her mouth opened and licked along his shaft.

"Tricky, she's a paralegal, so the divorce is going to be a bitch. If you want me for my money, you can kiss that goodbye."

"And he can," said a voice behind him. Bob jerked in his seat, turning to see Rachael behind him. Bob turned off the screen, and stood. He felt embarrassed, with someone watching the intimate scene.

"The rest of that looks like it concerns you, I shouldn't watch it." He looked at her; wounded, angry, and aroused.

Rachael made a cursory look at his own cock, tenting out from his slacks, and nodded. "About what I thought. How do you feel?"

He tilted his head, wondering what she meant. "Mostly...angry. hurt, and a little..." he blushed for a second.

"Aroused?" Rachael unbuttoned the coat. "You feel like you played by the rules. You think 'I'm a pretty good lover;' you've never had any complaints. And someone who loved you, you thought, dismisses you like a used napkin."

He nodded, coming closer. "Yeah, I'm sorry, I just want to fuck her brains out now, show her I can..."

"And you can't, because she's already with my...with him," she spat. "I know we haven't gotten along that well over the years. I thought you're a nice guy, a little clueless about the slut wife, but mostly harmless."

"Rachael, that's..." he stopped. "No, right, she is a slut. I don't know where I went wrong." He motioned towards the door to the office room. "You want anything?"

"Yeah, Bob, I do. Please sit down," she said, pointing towards the couch behind him.

They sat, looking at each other. He could understand how she felt, he did.. She reached behind her, and undid the barrette holding her hair, and he watched it tumble down her back. She was a beautiful woman, kissable lips, captivating eyes (though now they read more like 'take no captives.') She started undoing the buttons, and when she let it drop to the floor, she was wearing...well, she wasn't. It was all Rachel; hiding nothing. His jaw must have hit the floor, though he couldn't tell. Like any red-blooded man, he took stock of the sight in front of him.

Her fake breasts, a hefty D-cup if not more stood proudly outwards, and he looked at them before looking back into her eyes. He'd spent years looking at the outline of them, at parties, visits, wherever the two couples were together. And now, they were, squeezably protruding in front of him, nipples already erect. Her bush was trimmed, and he could see the shiny, pouted lips that said she was ready. The sensible part of his brain that told him to tell her to cover up shut down, leaving him speechless.

"Bob, I feel hurt and angry as well and also turned on as hell. Mike was everything I wanted in a man, and he was...gifted, shall we say. I never could take him down my throat like she does, and anal? He'd rupture me. But, I gave him everything. And he pissed it away."

After a second, he discovered his mouth and brain worked after all. It must be the rush of blood to his cock that stunned him. That, and the fantastic body before him. Trying to compose himself, he breathed out slowly. She sat down opposite him, naked and ready.

"I can see. And all this time I trusted her...I thought she was happy.. And the sex was...well, getting kinky, but now I see why."

Rachael leaned forward, elbows on her knees, looking into the distance. "She just wanted a big dick, and kids. All the other things that make a marriage, she could care less."

"I know, you're right."

He found himself mirroring her position, looking over at her. "So what do we do?"

"We?" Rachael smiled. "Funny how fast it becomes 'we'. Well, I," she exclaimed, "am divorcing his punk ass, and yes, he won't have two nickels to rub together, as grandma used to say, by the time I'm done with him." She leaned back, pushing the discarded coat to the floor.

If there had ever been a mystery about what her body looked like under all the outfits he'd seen her were, it was gone now. The tits shouted to him to suck and fondle them, to have his way with her. She turned to him, putting a hand on his thigh, and licked her lips.

"Bob, you ever have a 'grudge fuck'?" she said, rubbing her taut nipples in front of him. He tried to get his mouth to close, but it just hung like some fly catcher.

"I...now that you mention it," he responded, "no, but I think I could learn." He felt his rod grow even harder, and she spared an appraising eye to see the result of her exposure.

"But Rachel, this is kind of a 'two wrongs don't make a right.' How does this make us any better?"

"I need a man tonight. I need to feel a man inside me, one I can trust. I need to know that I've still 'got it'. I'm offering myself to you; I know you're as worked up as I am. Don't you want to take me? To have me, my husband had your wife? Don't you feel like revenge? Don't worry about it, let's fuck."

"Why Miss Rachael, such language!"

"Bob, please. This is as much about you as it is me." She spread her legs, revealing herself completely to him. "Not going to turn down free pussy, are you?"

"I..."

She smiled evilly. "You know why I'm letting you do this?"

"Revenge?"

"Not enough to divorce his ass; if he's going to cheat on us, I'm going to cheat on him. Whatever happens tonight, I'll always be able to throw this back in her face, even his. I know I'm desirable, I know men want me, but tonight, I want proof. Please don't turn me down."

He looked at her, shaking with a dozen different emotions. She moved closer, and put a knowing hand on his crotch, rubbing up and down...

"I need to know, Bob." she pleaded. This is wrong, he thought. I'm a married man, and Jennifer...and Jennifer had rejected him. She'd shot him down, dismissed him, ridiculed him. Was Rachel right? Did he 'still have it?' You fucked my wife, Mike. Now I'm going to fuck yours.

"Ok, Rachel, sure." Standing over her, he started to undo his trousers, though she brushed his hands aside, and pulled the belt away, undoing the snap and zipper, and hiking them down to his ankles, before he could even help. Stepping out of them, he saw her recline on the couch, legs spread, motioning him closer.

He slid over the top of her, trying to get in position. She grabbed his cock, and guided him.

"I haven't even kissed you," he chided, as she shook her head.

"Maybe later, Bob, I'm past that. I want it hard, fast, and relentless. Show me what you can do with this cock, and I'll show you what I can do with my cunt."

He plunged in, feeling himself easily slide in . Of course, Mike had been screwing her for years, so she was stretched out and distended from that thick slab. Still, he felt her clamping down, trying to find the hardness. She moved under him, teasing his shaft, rocking her hips in a rhythm as old as the species, impaling herself on him, pulling him.

"Uh..." she started, and felt him slide to the balls."I can do this," she said, more to herself than him. She rotated her hips against him, touching all of her insides against the rigid shaft. She experimented against him, trying on a new man, attempting to discover what buttons to push, what would spur him to give her the hard fucking she was demanding. She made a long, low groan against him.

"Not bad," she murmured, "yeah...just like that."

Bob started pumping into her, watching her face as she closed her eyes. "Fuck that's good," he whispered, as she nodded.

"Yeah. Does it feel good?"

"Yeah."

"You think I'm a good fuck?" she challenged him.

"Yeah, great," he sighed. He started to up the pace, feeling harder and thicker already. She rocked under him, looking up into his eyes.

"I, I felt like he didn't want me," she panted, "I am a great fuck, I gave myself to him totally, and he ignored it. At least you're paying attention."

She squeezed him again, using her muscles to tightly grip him . "Feel that?"

"Oh, yes," he said, slamming a couple of times into her, bouncing off her clit, changing the angle to touch the smooth, liquid walls of her pussy. She sighed as she felt him touching the right places, making her tingle with pleasure.

"Hey, suck on my tits," she offered, thrusting her back upwards to give him better access. Who could turn down an offer like that? Bob leaned forward, tonguing her hardening nipples, causing her to squirm with delight.

"Yeah, just like that. Damn, that feels good, "she moaned, as he grabbed a breast, firmly squeezing it ."That's it, yesss..." she hissed, as she felt herself being overcome with a tenseness that signaled her orgasm getting closer.

Bob felt the round; heavy globes in front of him bobble back and forth, hypnotizing him as he fucked harder.

"Oh, keep that up, I'm getting closer," she whined in his ear, as she thrilled to the constant plunging of his cock. "I'm gonna...oh, fuck..."

Bob started fucking in earnest, quickly and firmly slamming his thighs into her, as she started to shake. "Yes, yes, yes!" she shouted as she started to succumb to the overpowering waves of ecstasy that seized her body in a storm of bliss, her eyes closed, her body spasming as she felt him start to expand.