The Fidelity Test

I called the health club that Bryce worked at and pretended that I was a potential new client and that I had heard good things about Bryce Preston and wondered if he was in. "He's scheduled to work tonight, so he should be in about six p. m." the perky receptionist told me. I thanked her and looked at my watch -- 5:28. Perfect!

When I got to the health club I milled around for a few minutes looking at the layout and noticed two security cameras covering the reception area. They didn't look like the type that had audio. After she took care of two inquiries before me, the perky receptionist asked "May I help you?"

"Hi -- I'm Blake. I talked to you on the phone a few minutes ago about Bryce," I smiled.

"Oh sure," she replied with her own smile, between chews of the gum in her mouth. "He just got here and doesn't have a client for a few minutes. I'll call him."

A smiling Bryce came into the reception area a few minutes later. "Hi, can I help you?" he asked. He was about John Brandt's size, but with more muscle.

"Yeah, you can tell me how a faggot like you can get it up enough to fuck my wife Rachel," I said with a smile -- the grin for the benefit of the cameras.

His demeanor quickly soured. "Get out of here -- you can't cause me trouble at my workplace," he snarled.

"Oh that boat has already sailed shit-for-brains," I continued, with the same for-benefit-of-the-cameras grin on my face. "How would your boss react to you fucking one of your clients, even if it is with a micropenis?"

As I hoped, Bryce got belligerent. When I called him a faggot again (I have no prejudice against homosexuals but guys like Bryce usually do) he did what I hoped for. He swung at me with his right fist.

I parried his blow with my left hand, spun around, and kicked the side of his right knee causing him to partially collapse onto the ground while emitting a hoarse yell. I then swung my right elbow with all of my might breaking the right side of his cheek and nose; blood spilled out everywhere. I then turned to the startled receptionist and asked her to call 911.

Several of Bryce's co-workers came to help him and stop the bleeding. One of them mouthed off to me and -- with my still pasted-on smile -- I replied "Shut the fuck up or I'll do the same to you." He shut up.

The police interviewed me. My story was that I came to confront him about fucking my wife and threatened to tell his boss, and that he swung at me and I merely defended myself, landing only two blows -- no overkill. I told them to check the camera footage.

I waited in a squad car until the footage was checked, and Bryce was taken away in an ambulance. After about forty minutes a cop let me out and said "You can go for now. If the D. A. has a different take on things than we do, we have your contact information."

I thanked the officer and drove home.

The next night when I got home Rachel was sitting at the kitchen table staring into space. When she saw me, without rancor but with a defeated look, asked "Did you really have to put John and Bryce into the hospital?"

My reply of "Did you really have to fuck them?" caused her mouth to drop.

After a few minutes of silence during which I got myself a beer from the refrigerator Rachel solemnly asked "Is it OK if I have two weeks to vacate instead of one. I have something lined up with a friend but can't move in until about ten days from now. I promise not to get in your way."

I smiled and sat down across from her. "We might be able to work that out. Do you have any quid pro quo in mind?"

"Do I have to offer a quid pro quo?" she hesitantly replied.

"Not necessarily -- but don't you think that it would be nice, especially since your actions are the sole cause of our breakup. In fact, let me put it this way; I will agree to the extension regardless, but hope that you could see your way into apologizing one way or another for breaking up what I thought was a pretty good marriage -- at least the sex was great."

She looked at me for the longest time then asked "What do you think would be a good 'quid pro quo' as you call it?

"Why don't you leave your bedroom door unlocked every night from the one week mark until you actually leave; I'd like that," I replied trying not to grin.

She had the most unusual look on her face. It seemed to morph from puzzlement, to anger, to disgust, to acceptance, to anticipation. "Maybe I will," she finally uttered, "maybe I will." Then she stood up; "Want to fix dinner together?"

We did fix dinner together that night.

From the one week point until she left -- after another extension -- thirteen days after that she did leave her door unlocked every night. I fucked and sucked her for about an hour each night, but didn't sleep with her. It was bittersweet; the fucks were great despite almost no emotional attachment, but I did mourn the loss of our marriage when I returned to my bed.

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

Rachel did have her lawyer make an attempt to invalidate the post-nup, although she knew that she couldn't salvage the marriage and didn't try that. I got the perfect judge and she upheld the post-nup in a preliminary ruling, and after that Rachel gave up. I was cordial to her when we interacted, but not warm.

A month after my divorce became final I started to get pre-occupied with one piece of unfinished business -- Amy. The bitch had tried to screw me over by her lying so I felt the need for revenge -- although I probably could have let that be were it not for the fact that I often pictured her perfect naked female form in my mind. Finally one day when I was so distracted by thoughts of her bulbous ass, supple mammaries, and inviting crotch, that I made three significant errors that would have been a disaster if a friendly co-worker hadn't caught them, I decided that I needed to act. So the next night, a Friday, I appeared at Amy's front door.

Amy was surprised to see me when she opened her front door. "What do you want dipshit?" was her kind greeting.

"I need to talk to you about your complicity with Rachel. I think that you facilitated her affairs in addition to lying to her about our weekend together," I replied.

"I have nothing to say to you," she snarled -- but she didn't yet attempt to close the door in my face.

"I think that you should talk to me about it?"

"Why is that?" she dismissively asked.

"Because I don't think that you're as nasty a person as you pretend to be, and I think that it will do you good to come to grips with it -- and maybe even apologizing to me will sooth your conscious," I seriously replied. Of course I thought that this was likely complete bullshit, but I wanted to get into her house (and elsewhere) in the worst way.

To my shock she actually got a pensive look on her face; "Holy Shit, I may have hit a nerve," ran through my brain. Then I pulled out my secret weapon, which I had been hiding behind my back in my left hand. "Also, I have this bottle of 2010 Château Cantemerle Boudreaux," I chuckled as I held it up.

"That's my favorite wine -- how did you know?" Then she answered her own question. "From the Pilkington resort...I remember." She then actually smiled.

"I really need some answers -- and you can drink the entire bottle if you like," I pled.

"OK," she reluctantly retorted as she moved out of the way to let me in -- and then in an attempt to regain control, "but only until the wine is gone."

I opened up the Boudreaux for us, poured her more than myself, and we sat down in her living room. Fortunately Amy was relatively modestly dressed so I could control my cock's "boing" tendencies.

We chatted pleasantly about the resort and about what we were both up to now for a good half hour; I made sure to constantly refill her glass and only sipped from mine. Finally I got around to asking questions about Rachel, She was reluctant to talk for a while, but I think that my pleading submissive manner and her consumption of more and more wine finally loosened her up. Much of what she said was enlightening, but the part that I focused on and that I most clearly remembered went something like this:

"I wonder if she ever had any good things to say about me," I mused.

"Are you kidding -- of course she did," Amy laughed.

"What? By the time that we broke up I didn't think that she would have anything positive to relate."

Amy got a little flushed in the face, chuckled under her breath, then looked up and said "She said that you were the best fuck ever -- especially when you'd force yourself on her when she was either half-seriously or pretending not to want it."

"Then why did she fuck other guys if I was so good?" I asked after a long pause, trying hard to generate some fake tears -- and I think that I did succeed in forcing out a couple.

"She probably had fewer extracurricular activities than you imagine; however the ones she had were either because she was mad at you about something and it was her way of getting even, or just for a quick thrill -- like a roller coaster ride."

"Why did you cover for her?"

"She was my friend -- not you. I didn't really like it though, but it was important to her. She never wanted you to find out or to get divorced."

"Why did you lie for her about what we did at the Pilkington?"

Amy sighed, and finished off the wine; she had had about 700 ml of the 750 ml in the bottle. "Again, because she was my friend."

"Don't you think you should apologize to me?" I asked in a non-threatening manner.

"What good would it do?" she snickered.

"Depends upon how you apologized," I said, standing up while staring at her like a lion would a gazelle.

She got a look of realization on her face then said "Oh no you don't -- not going to happen."

"Yes it will," I snickered as I approached her.

As I drew her into my arms, lightly kissed her, and massaged her ass, she made only token efforts to fight me off. "Let go you asshole. I'll see you jailed if you rape me, or cut off your nuts myself. Stop it right now," were some of the things that periodically came out of her mouth. However then I felt her hand move down to my crotch, where my rock-hard cock was poking her in the belly and trying its damnedest to break free.

She continued to protest as her hand moved back and forth across my swollen member. When I ripped her top off and unfastened her bra, allowing her perfect puppies to pop free, she stopped pretending to fight me off, and undid my belt.

I found out that night that there was something about Amy even better than her female form. Her pussy. It was the most sensitive, snug, wet, velvety creation ever put on this Earth, as far as I could tell. Plus, my cock fit it perfectly. I had never gotten it up four times within a twelve hour period before; that night, into the next morning, I did. Each time her pussy muscles milked me dry, and each time she went through so many orgasms that it was virtually one continuous one.

Although close to sworn enemies at the start of that Friday night, we became regular fuck buddies; normally three times a week, with at least one sleepover. The sex -- impossibly -- got even better after that first episode, although we were usually exhausted after three sperm deposits and never tried for a fourth again. However she loved sucking cock -- until just short of ejaculation, which she required in her pussy -- and went ballistic whenever I sucked her clit, massaged her G-spot, or gave her a "shocker."

While I sure was enjoying fucking Amy, I didn't grow to really like her as a person. While her personality and character had moved up in my mind from a three to a five, they weren't good enough to actually love her. After about three months of wonderful fucking, however, there was a strange twist. Amy's attitude toward me changed from a two to a nine -- probably the highest that she was capable of. I got the distinct impression from how she reacted around me and what she said in the throes of passion that she wanted a real relationship, including possibly marriage. I wanted nothing to do with that, although the sex was so spectacular that I had every intention of leading her on as long as I could.

I probably would have continued to lead Amy on until she gave up out of desperation. That could have taken a couple of years, though, and all the while I'd be getting the best physical sexual satisfaction that a man could possibly get. However, then something unusual and even more unexpected than sex with Amy ever starting happened.

I ran into Cindy at a grocery store, with her seven year old daughter Charlene in tow. "Well if it isn't Cindy Brandt" I said with a big smile, and a quick hug.

"Actually it's not," she cackled. "I divorced John," she said aloud and then mouthed "the philandering asshole" so that Charlene couldn't hear, "six months ago and changed my last name back to my maiden name, Williams," she continued, holding up her ring-less left hand.

She introduced me to Charlene -- about the cutest little thing that you could imagine. We chatted in a friendly manner for a few minutes, including Charlene in our conversation -- which she seemed pleased about. While chatting I noticed that Cindy's body looked svelt; while she always was an attractive women, she seemed sexier than I remembered; and her outfit did highlight her world class ass.

Cindy asked if I was in a serious relationship and I said "No," entirely true since my relationship with Amy was not serious to me, just outstanding sex.

"Why don't you come over for dinner Saturday night? Charlene will be visiting John that night and we can catch up more fully," she asked/said, unconsciously sticking out her chest when she did so.

"I'd really like that," I replied. "Is 6:30 OK? And what should I bring?" I inquired.

"Yes, and a bottle of wine," she chuckled.

I said goodbye to Charlene.

That worked out perfectly because Amy was going to visit her parents Friday night through Sunday afternoon -- and I had declined her invitation to go with her. No way that was I going to "meet the 'rents" when the only interest I had in Amy was her looks and her pussy.

I had a thoroughly enjoyable evening with Cindy. After all the dessert dishes were cleared away and a second bottle of wine consumed, we started talking about the past and future.

"I still fondly remember that you called me a 'mega-hot piece of ass,'" Cindy chuckled at one point.

"As I recall, you were. I've often longed for a repeat," I boldly replied.

"Of course I have too," she grinned. "However, before you get your horny little hopes up, big boy, our first fuck was solely for revenge on my part. I'm in a different situation now. I'm looking for a long term relationship, not just a quick revenge fuck..." she said before I interrupted.

"That was far from quick -- as I recall you orgasmed at least half a dozen times," I snickered.

"Thank you for that correction Mr. Precise," she giggled. "Nevertheless, I'm looking for a long term relationship, not just an e-x-t-e-n-d-e-d revenge fuck," she cackled. "Is that a possibility for you?"

We batted back and forth the relative merits of a significant relationship versus some simple carnal fun. Cindy was really looking good to me, and I was getting a glow around her that I never had with Amy. Finally I demurred on the long term relationship possibility, and she demurred on a simple fun romp. I thanked her profusely for the meal and conversation, and then gave her a passionate kiss goodbye -- which she returned in kind.

By the time that I got to my car I was second guessing myself. I sat in the driver's seat for a good five minutes trying to analyze my feelings. Finally I got out and walked back to Cindy's front door and banged on it. Cindy cautiously looked at me through a side window and then opened it up. "Forget something Blake?"

"No -- I just changed my mind. I swear that there is a possibility of a long term relationship," and with that I burst into the house and resumed passionately kissing her while I started undressing her.

We fucked and sucked all night. It was different than with Amy, however. While Cindy's body and pussy isn't up to Amy's standard -- I doubt that anyone else in the country is -- they are the right combination of malleable, hard, snug, and willing. The physical satisfaction was 90% of what it was with Amy. The emotional satisfaction was close to 100%, however, whereas with Amy it was 10% on a good day.

Two months later Cindy gave me an ultimatum. "We become exclusive, no exceptions, or as hard as it is for me because I've fallen in love with you we separate."

I smiled. I was looking for that; a monogamous committed loving relationship. The next day I informed Amy -- who unexpectedly broke down into a Niagara Falls of tears -- that we were done. I had no compassion for her as I exited her life.

Two months after that Cindy and I got married in a small ceremony, and after fucking daily for four months after that she's now carrying my baby; Charlene is thrilled that she is going to have a sibling; John and Rachel, not so much.