The Fidelity Test

As soon as the front door closed after Thelma and Louise left I pinned Rachel against it, held her hands above her head with my left hand while I ripped off her clothes with my right one, and then proceeded to fuck us both into oblivion up against the door.

After we crawled into the living room from the cold tile floor in the foyer that we had collapsed onto after monstrous mutual orgasms, I fucked Rachel's incomparable tits. For the third time in less than three weeks as we stumbled in post-coital bliss toward the master bathroom she growled "You know if you ever don't ring my chimes with one of these forcible sexcapades of yours I will swear out a rape complaint against you, you pervert."

"I'll make sure to always be on top of my game, then, vamp," I responded before planting a scorching kiss on her.

*************

Because of the sexual euphoria that I was experiencing, it wasn't until Sunday, a full thirty six hours later, that I realized that I was foolish for agreeing to the contract with the changes Rachel proposed. I read it over again and finally grasped that I had given her carte blanche to name the woman who would test me, and that unless I had clear proof to the contrary the woman's report would be accepted as fact. "You stupid fucking shit," I chastised myself -- and that was before another bolt of lightning struck me; I realized who she would get as the tester.

I liked a lot of Rachel's friends; I didn't like a few of them; and I detested one of them. Amy, the one I detested, was a friend of hers going all the way back to their High School days. Amy is single, lives about ten miles away from us, and works as a corporate attorney. On a scale of one to ten her personality is about a three, her character (at least outside of work) is also about a three, her attitude toward me is about a two, and her face is about an eight. Unfortunately, her body is a ten -- in fact if it was not moronic to go above the top of the scale I would call it a twenty. I saw her once in a bikini and almost came in my shorts -- until she started talking, which caused my cock to move to only half hard within a minute or two.

Over the next few days I tried as subtly as possible to push Rachel into nominating one of her friends with fun, likeable, personalities -- but less than killer bodies -- to be my tester. The evil look on Rachel's face whenever we discussed it belied her apparent willingness to consider my suggestions -- the bitch knew all along that it would be Amy.

It was no surprise when the Wednesday after we signed the contract that Rachel snickered "I've arranged for your long weekend away; I've decided that it will be with Amy, and I've made the plans for both of you."

I gulped hard, but tried not to look scared.

"You'll pick her up at her house at five o'clock on Friday afternoon, then drive to that new four star resort called the Pilkington. You'll stay there Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights. We'll meet with Amy at our house on Monday night when you get back home and talk about the results," Rachel ordered.

"That's three nights -- you just said a weekend, and that's only two nights," I croaked out, my mouth suddenly dry and my throat constricted.

"I said a 'long' weekend, and that's three days," Rachel sneered. "Check the contract."

I did -- she was right; yet another reason why I had fucked up. A pit formed in my stomach.

Rachel denied my perfunctory attempt at sex that night. "You're not getting your rocks off until you come home Monday -- that is unless you fuck Amy," she snarled with arms crossed. "And if you try that force-it shit I really will -- regardless of the results -- charge you with rape. I've already talked to my attorney about it, dipshit -- so behave."

It wasn't until Thursday afternoon that I completely understood what the fuck was going on. As my recent actions indicated I'm a fool -- but I'm not a damn fool! Unbeknownst to Rachel I took Friday off of work and did three things. I put small HD cameras in all bedrooms of our house, installed an audio recorder in my car, and went to a tattoo parlor. At the parlor I got my pubic hair shaved for the first time in my life and got a small tattoo just above my cock. The tattoo was a vibrant eagle eye with micro lettering around it that said "I'm not that stupid."

***************

Rachel had the most self-congratulatory look of her life when she kissed me goodbye about 4:30 Friday afternoon. "Have fun Randy," she gushed as I walked toward the car. "And remember; you have to stay with her. You can't treat her like shit, leave her alone for more than fifteen at a time, and must sleep in the same bed," she virtually cackled just before I opened my car door.

With trepidation, which built up the entire drive over to Amy's house, I arrived and knocked on her door. The bitch had Daisy Duke shorts and a halter top on, looking so sultry that she could make a eunuch cum. She pointed to her bags and said "Get them for me, will you Randy-dear," rubbing her hand over my cheek. I tried my hardest when driving to the resort not to ogle her supple legs, but was unsuccessful and got honked at half a dozen times, each honk causing a diabolical grin to form on Amy's face.

The next three days were Hell -- and I do mean Hell. While some of the activities -- such as taking kayaks out, swimming, playing beach volleyball, getting a couples' massage, and even dancing when I could keep Amy's leg out from between mine -- were fun (although not as much as they would have been with Rachel), there was hardly a moment when Amy wasn't vamping me. In fact she had temporarily morphed her personality into a nice one -- but I knew that it was only for the weekend as part of her and Rachel's ploy to seduce me, or at least to get me to feel Amy up and/or finger her.

Amy even tried -- while laying naked in bed and attempting to snuggle up to me -- "You know that we can fuck and I'll tell Rachel that you were a perfect gentleman so she'll have to sign the post-nup for the long term. Our playing around this weekend will just be our little secret."

I knew that she was lying even though she gave every appearance of being sincere, so I turned her down. I know that the turndown -- undoubtedly the first in her life -- really angered her although she caught herself and didn't visibly show her rage.

Amy's body was even better looking nude than in the bikini, and she made every effort to be naked as much as possible around me. Except for her tits -- which were on a par with Rachel's, namely the best that I had ever seen whether live or in print or on a screen -- every other aspect of her twenty eight year old body was Goddess-like, better than any mere mortal's possibly could be. When she started masturbating in front of me using a vibrator I spontaneously came in my pants. Also, every time that I showered -- and was able to keep her out of the stall -- and other times when I had a few minutes to myself, I spanked my monkey like I was an over-sexed teenager, thinking about Amy's consummate body as I did so.

I also found out why Amy's body was supreme; in addition to a major genetics factor (she showed me photos of her mother -- think Marilyn Monroe, Kate Upton, Raquel Welch, Sophia Loren -- whomever your dream woman is, and that's her), her workouts on Saturday and Sunday in the resort exercise room would put any famous TV trainer to shame. She mixed body sculpting with real weight training and aerobics. Except for the pure strength exercises there is no way that I could keep up with her.

After one last failed attempt to get me to at least fondle her tits -- if not fuck her -- on Monday morning, her demeanor changed. "You must be a fucking faggot," she snarled as she jammed her clothes into her suitcases. "Get my bags to the car for me, dipshit," were her parting words as she stormed out the door just before checkout time.

I made sure to activate the audio recorder in the car before we started on the way home. She was silent until I started goading her. "Why are you so pissed? Am I the first man ever to not come under your spell?"

"You're nothing but a piece of slime. I'm glad that you never kissed, felt me up, or fucked me. I probably would have barfed. How Rachel could possibly be content with an ugly toad like you I can't possibly understand. That's undoubtedly why she lets other guys feel her up; you're probably dickless to boot."

I goaded Amy into several other rants, each one admitting that I had never done anything that violated the post-nup provisions. As smart as she is you'd think that she would have figured out what I was doing -- but then again I was goaded into agreeing to the fidelity test, so I'm not one to question the perceptiveness of another.

I dropped Amy off at her house to change; she would drive over to our house after dinner. She snarled as she ordered me to bring her bags to the front door.

Rachel was working Monday afternoon, so she got home after I did. "How was it Randy?" she snickered.

"Hard -- Amy is a sexy woman," was my deadpan reply.

"You lost then, huh?" she chuckled.

"No -- I won; I didn't even kiss her let alone one of the three 'Fs,' Feel, Finger, or Fuck."

"We'll see what Amy says," she smirked.

As Rachel made dinner I looked at the HD cameras. It was all that I could do to restrain my anger -- but knowing what was coming I succeeded.

I knew that Amy would lie -- my plans had taken that into account.

**************

Amy was a great actress when she showed up -- although I'm sure that she and Rachel had already talked ahead of time and what she said was no surprise to Rachel -- when she pretended to be distraught. "I'm sorry to have to tell you that your husband is a cheater -- he failed the fidelity test."

"What did he do to you?" Rachel asked, pretending to be perturbed.

"He massaged my tits before it was even Saturday afternoon, and after that I tried to fight him off every time that he approached me. You know what an animal he is, though -- you've told me the stories -- so it will come as no surprise to you that he forced himself on me and fucked me three times. He brought me to tears," Amy sniffled, looking like she was on the verge of a breakdown.

Rachel continued to belittle me for the next ten minutes telling me that she knew that I was worse than she was at resisting during compromising situations, and said that unless I put the post-nup and divorce things away for good she'd divorce me and enforce the provisions of the post-nup so that she'd get 70% of our assets and alimony for at least three years.

Finally I couldn't take any more. "Are you finished?" I snapped.

"Don't get sharp with me after what you've done," Rachel snapped back.

"Listen to this, then, bitches," I snorted. I pulled out the audio recorder from my car and played the significant parts of Amy's admissions during our ride home.

"You fabricated that," a startled Amy said while Rachel nodded her concurrence.

"Really?" I chuckled. "If you're so honorable then let me video record an interview with you."

While the lying bitches didn't like it I set up a video camera on a tripod and then interrogated Amy.

After I got her comfortable with a few softball and distracting questions I started the meat of the interview. "So, Amy, I fucked you -- is that right?"

"Yes," she snarled with her arms folded.

"Did you see my body?"

"Of course dipshit."

"What parts of my body did you see? My Abs?"

"Yes."

"My chest?"

"Yes."

"My cock?"

"Of course."

"What color is my pubic hair?"

"The same color as the hair on your head, dumbass."

"Do I have any unusual characteristics?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, playing dumb.

"Any birthmarks, scars, tattoos, moles, anything like that?"

"You have a half-moon birthmark on the right side of your ass," obviously something that Rachel had told her."

"Anything else?"

"No," she sneered.

"No tattoo, and brown pubic hair then, right?"

"That's right," she snickered, although for the first time she seemed to sense that something was up; Rachel started to look apprehensive too.

"Then what's this?" I asked as I dropped my pants and lifted my shirt, exposing my hairless crotch and the eagle eye tattoo. I walked in front of the camera to show it.

There were more than a few unusual effects from my pants-dropping maneuver.

First, to my embarrassment, my cock was ¾ hard and popped out from my boxers even though that wasn't my intent.

Second, Amy clearly unconsciously licked her lips when my cock popped out. While I'm not the most well-endowed guy in the world I've been told by all of my sex partners that I have a beautiful cock, and it does have a perfect aspect ratio, and my balls are low hanging even though my ball sac isn't very wrinkled.

Third, Rachel yelled "You got that on your way home from Amy's house you bastard."

With that I pulled out the affidavit from the tattoo artist, and a dated email that I printed out with a photo attachment showing that the tattoo was applied before I picked up Amy on Friday.

Amy and Rachel were suddenly quiet, and the color drained from Rachel's face as I turned off the video camera. Then with a scowl I turned to Rachel. "You were a busy little girl while I was gone, weren't you? Fucking John Brandt during the day on Saturday in our bed and some guy named Bryce who I don't think that I've ever met Sunday night in the guest room."

"What are you talking about?" Rachel responded with false bravado.

I hooked up the master bedroom camera to my laptop, fast forwarded to the appropriate place, and watched John Brandt's big ugly ass bouncing up and down for thirty seconds before I got sick and turned it off. Rachel seemed ready to faint. "Want to see you sucking Bryce's cock?"

Rachel shook her head "no" as she started crying. Amy went to comfort her. I waved a second copy of the post-nup in her face. "You've got a week to get your ass out of here. Why not go live with your lying cunt friend Amy?"

Amy shot me a nasty look but didn't say anything.

As I unhooked the video cameras from my laptop and got ready to go to a photo/electronics store to get copies made of all of my evidence I chuckled (although I felt anything but happy) to Rachel "I know Brandt so I'll take care of him; however if you don't want your sex videos on the Internet by the end of the day tomorrow you'll give me Bryce's full name and address."

"What...what...are you going...to do...them, uh, to them?" she sobbed. "John says that you caught him by surprise and that he can kick your ass with one arm, and Bryce is a fitness trainer and can bench press 300 pounds."

"Well then you'll get the pleasure of them kicking my ass won't you?" I laughed. "Get your shit out of the master bedroom within the next half hour -- maybe your lying bitch friend can help."

"Fuck you asshole," Amy snapped as she helped the still sobbing Rachel stand and they went upstairs while I took off for the electronics/video store.

**************

I guess that Rachel figured out that I wasn't kidding because by the end of the day Tuesday she had given me Bryce's full name and where he worked. "I told him to watch out for you, so if you want to avoid getting the shit kicked out of you you'll stay away from him," she announced with false bravado. I just smiled.

I decided to take Wednesday afternoon off work and called Cindy Brandt, John's wife, at noon. After an exchange of pleasantries I said "Cindy I really need to see you about something important. Is there a time that we can meet before John gets home?" Cindy runs a real estate agency and has a flexible schedule. "Uh...sure; when and where would you like to meet?"

"How about your house at 3:00?" I replied.

"Make it 3:30 with the proviso that I can cancel with one half hours' notice if I can't get a sitter to pick up Charlene from 1st grade; what's your cell number?"

When I arrived at 3:30 Cindy was just pulling up herself. We exchanged platonic hugs and then entered her house.

"You've got me curious, Randy; what's the big deal?" she asked shortly after we entered her living room.

"Can I connect my HD camera to your TV?" I inquired.

"Sure," she shrugged.

It took just a minute to hook up and turn the TV on. Just before I pressed "play" I warned her. "Cindy you're not going to like this; it was taken Saturday afternoon while I was out of town. At any point that you want me to stop just say the word."

Cindy could only stand watching John's fat ass pumping up and down about two minutes before she snarled "Turn that fucking thing off."

After I turned the TV off and unhooked my camera I took a DVD out of my pocket and handed it to her. "This is a copy of the complete video; do with it what you want to."

As she took the DVD from me she asked "What are you doing about the cheating slut?"

"Oh, I'm divorcing her. Also, I need to warn you -- I'm going to beat the shit out of John."

I turned to walk away when she grabbed my arm. "Wait; how would you like even better revenge?"

"Like what?" I skeptically asked.

"John won't be home until 5:00 sharp. Do you have enough stamina to do me until fifteen minutes before then? It will be our satisfying secret," she chuckled as she started removing her blouse.

My eyes got wide. Cindy isn't buxom, and isn't classically beautiful, but she is really cute, has definite sex appeal, and a really bodacious ass. Once she dropped her skirt and was reaching for her bra strap fasteners my cock went "Boing!" I approached her, unfastened her bra strap while kissing her, and then pulled down her panties. She was shaved except for a landing strip and had a nicely protruding clit.

Her offer changed my plans slightly. I intended to keep Cindy occupied until John got home and saw us, and then beat the shit out of him when he attacked me, instead of waiting until some later time to do it.

If there is such a thing, Cindy was more than just multi-orgasmic; and she was very anxious to please. I gave Cindy my all, feverishly working on her so that she lost track of time. We had had a really enjoyable sexual experience when we heard John at the front door. Cindy was a little panicked and trying to cover up when I stopped her, and re-started sucking on her clit and fingering her pussy, with one eye toward the front hall.

"Say, Cindy -- whose car is that parked in front of the..." was all that John got out before he turned the corner from the foyer to the living room and his jaw dropped.

"Hi John," I chirped releasing Cindy's clit from my mouth while continuing to finger her. "I don't know why you wanted to fuck Rachel when you have this mega-hot piece of ass at home."

As I hoped, John lost it and charged me in a blind rage. I quickly leapt up and buried my head in his gut and drove him backward until he fell over. Then with three hammer blows while I was on top of him I rendered him unconscious. When I turned back Cindy was looking at me with awe.

"WOW -- remind me not to fuck with you -- that is in the non-sexual sense," she remarked, the last phrase delivered with a chuckle.

As I got dressed I profusely thanked her. "Cindy, I had an immensely enjoyable last ninety minutes."

"Am I really a mega-hot piece of ass?" she demurely asked as she ran her finger over my chest.

"No doubt about it!" I replied and then planted a scorching kiss on her. "You better call an ambulance for John. While not seriously hurt he has a concussion."

"Instead maybe I'll cut off his balls while he's unconscious," she joked -- at least I think that she was joking.

***************

I felt really good walking from the Brandt's' front door to my car. Not only did I get to beat the shit out of John, but I sure wasn't lying when I told Cindy that she was a mega-hot piece of ass. I was feeling so good that I thought that I might as well take care of Bryce Preston ASAP.