0 comments/ 13543 views/ 0 favorites The Terminal By: firedream35 Since today was Tuesday, Tyler knew exactly what flight he was piloting today. The 5:00 flight to Dallas. One of the easier flights and he liked the scenery. On the flight there was usually one stewardess he liked to flirt with. She was a brunette, a little shorter than him when she wasn't wearing heals, and dark hazel eyes to die for. Awhile back he had talked her into a drink after one of the flights to Dallas. That was one of the craziest nights he could remember in a long time. Her name was Michelle. After they had a couple of drinks at the bar in the hotel the crew was staying at, she followed him back to his room. Not 10 seconds after they walked into that room and closed the door they had their hands all over each other. Tyler turned her around, forced to the wall, and spread her legs wide. He unzipped his pants to let his very hard cock out of them and pulled the panties that Michelle was wearing to the side and rammed his prick right into her warm, wet pussy. He fucked her so many times that night that they both lost track. She was a very "naughty girl" behind closed doors and that was one of the attractions Tyler had for her. He had arrived at work a little early so he decided to go down to the terminal and hang out for a while. He could plug his laptop in to an outlet and get on and check his email to pass the time. As he walked down the walk way he spotted Michelle way up ahead of him. She was with a new stewardess. Her name was Jordan. She was a beautiful blonde. Her blue eyes were breath taking, but the way she filled out that uniform top was more appealing. Nice tits, you could just tell. She was quite a bit younger, so he decided that she was just "off limits". They stood at the counter and talked to another employee. Tyler noticed how close the two girls were stood next to each other. Then he wasn't sure he saw exactly what happened, but it looked as if Michelle ran her hand down Jordan's back to her ass. "Hmmm, that's interesting." he thought to himself. He walked slowly down the pathway to the counter. The woman behind the desk was left her post and walked toward him. He watched as Michelle whispered into Jordan's ear about something and noticed how Michelle kissed her neck lightly. It was early enough at the gate that no passengers had started arriving yet. Michelle took Jordan's hand and led her into the side door that was an employee bathroom. Tyler was very suspicious by then and actually a little horney by watching them. He set his bags down by the side of the seat closest to the bathroom door. He sat down and listened very carefully. He could hear the girls in the room giggling and what sounded like low moaning. That was it; he had to know what was going on. He slowly turned the doorknob and it actually turned. He peered inside and watched them for a moment. Taken by what he saw happening he stepped into the room and shut the door. Michelle was on her knees while Jordan was on the counter with her blouse unbuttoned, no panties on, her legs spread very wide, while Michelle licked and sucked on her pussy. As the door closed they both jumped. Tyler, with a wide grin on his face, just stood there. "Fuck!" Michelle said, "I could had swore I locked that door." "Nope." Tyler said, "What naughty little girls you both are." "Well Jordan, we've been caught." Jordan just laughed, "Hi Captain Tyler. Want to join the party." "Oh, by all means, I'm sure I can help out in some way." Tyler replied. "Michelle, honey, why don't you hop on that counter for me." Tyler said as he approached them both. Michelle did as he asked. "Why don't you taste her, she is very good, very wet." Michelle told Tyler. As he took Michelle's place on his knees his tongue went directly for Jordan's clit, while Michelle leaned over and kissed her. One of her hands went to her beautifully hard nipple, squeezing it and playing with it. With her tongue deep in Jordan's mouth she kissed her very passionately which made Jordan start to moan. Michelle knew Jordan's body well enough to know that she was very close to cumming. Tyler sensed what was happening also and abruptly stopped. "Your turn now Babe." He said to Michelle. Michelle pulled her mouth away from Jordan's. She sat upright and spread her legs. She brought her heals up on the table so Tyler had full access to every inch of her pussy. Wet and warm, just how he remembered. He started licking her clit and gliding his tongue down to her drenched hole. She started to moan instantly. Since Tyler had done this to her before he knew exactly what worked on her. He didn't hesitate to bring her to the brink of ecstasy over and over again. At the same time Jordan had gotten behind Tyler and unzipped his pants. He stood up, but was still bent over while he teased Michelle. She worked his pants and underwear to the floor. She got in front of him and started to suck on his throbbing hard cock. By then, with the tension that the three had created he was ready to blow quickly. While Jordan sucked his cock furiously he continued to lick Michelle's clit and pussy. "Master, I'm going to explode, please may I cum?" "Yes, my pet." He told her. Michelle came in waves of spasms. Tyler told Jordan to get back on the counter. She did. He had Michelle get off the counter and turn around. Jordan's pussy was right in front of her. "Make her cum." Tyler told Michelle. As Michelle leaned down and started to feast on Jordan's wet cunt, Tyler positioned himself behind her. He pulled Michelle's skirt up and moved her little panties to the side and slid his hard cock deep inside of her. She moaned, then Jordan moaned. Tyler started pumping Michelle more rapidly. He started to hear movement outside of the door, so he knew there was not much more time left. At that moment Jordan erupted in Michelle's mouth. Tyler was watching all of that, so he exploded in Michelle's pussy in the next moment. After he pulled out, he used a towel to clean himself off and he put himself back together. The girls, at that same time, had cleaned themselves off and pulled their skirts down and rebuttoned their blouses. After reaffirming that they looked ok to be seen in public Jordan turned to Michelle and said, "Master? Why did you call him that?" "That is a whole different story." Michelle said to her. Tyler walked out with a devilish grin on his face. The Terminal Virgin Imagine my surprise when I discovered my college age daughter was reading Literotica incest stories. Now, I'm not living in some fantasy world thinking my one and only daughter is still as pure as the driven snow. I've come to accept the fact that my freckle faced, pigtailed, and tomboyish daughter has grown up. Having spent her first year away at college, I just assumed she's been introduced to things like frat parties, internet porn and unfortunately, I accepted the fact that she's probably not a virgin anymore. I guess it's a metamorphosis every father goes through – learning to accept the fact that every guy on the face of the earth is trying to get inside my daughter's panties. While I didn't cherish the thought of my daughter on her back with her knees pulled up and some young college kid pounding away at her, I knew it was inevitable. Cathy was always an independent and smart kid. She didn't discover boys until she was almost out of high school and I never worried about her back then. But, once she got a full scholarship to a west coast university, that's when I started to worry. Her mother and I, even though we're amiably divorced, both talked with Cathy at separate times before she left for school and tried to give her a clue what she was in for during her first year at college, and to her credit, Cathy listed to everything we had to say. So, I was incredibly delighted when Cathy called me last April and asked if she could spend the summer break with me. "Of course, Sweetie," I said, "you know I'd love that." I was amazed that Cathy didn't seem to change much while she was at school, and the first week she was with me, it was just like the old days. Cathy even kissed me goodnight each night before she went to bed and again each morning. Many mornings, she made me breakfast before I went to work and we spent most nights together just hanging out. One night, I woke up about 2:00AM with a splitting headache and decided to go down to the kitchen to get some aspirin. When I opened the door to my bedroom, I immediately noticed the light was still on in Cathy's room from the crack underneath her door. Not thinking much about it, I crept into the kitchen and took my aspirin. On the way back, though, Cathy's door was now open and she'd apparently slipped across the hall into the bathroom. Walking past her door, I recognized the unmistakable blue and white screen of a Literotica story up on her laptop. Quickly making a decision to take a peek at what my daughter was reading, I stepped inside and found it to be an incest story posted in the new stories category. About that time, my nose began to notice the obvious aroma of pussy juice in the room, and glancing over to her bed, I saw her twisted up panties lying amongst the unfurled sheets. Knowing full well it would not be good for her to catch me checking out her laptop and her panties, I reached down anyway and picked up her panties. To say I was surprised to find them wet and slimy in the crotch is an understatement, and in the fraction amount of time it took me to put two and two together, I realized my daughter had probably been masturbating through her panties while she was reading the incest story on her laptop. I heard the toilet flush from the bathroom and scurried out of her room and back to my own room, silently closing my door just as she came out of the bathroom. I stood there, next to my door for a minute trying to figure out what this discovery meant. My daughter – my only child, the only thing good to come out of my marriage – was reading incest stories and getting off on them. And, if that wasn't curious enough, I had a hard-on the likes I hadn't seen in ages. I went back to my bed and tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn't. I kept thinking about Cathy and what she was doing. Was this a one time thing? Was she going from story to story, rubbing herself and she just happened to stumble upon an incest story before she had to pee, or, was she searching out incest stories and reading them in order to get herself off? So many things went through my mind that night, but I settled into one thought – was Cathy reading incest stories and thinking about me? Her own father? I tried to wipe the thought from my mind, but it kept coming back. It had been years since I saw Cathy in anything less than a swimsuit, but, based on the shorts and tops she was wearing the last week, I could only guess she had a cute, tight college girl body. Before too much longer, I had my cock out and was masturbating to the thought of Cathy thinking about me. I had a quick and monstrous cum, followed by an hour of intense remorse before I finally got any sleep at all. The next morning, I woke up with an erection that would have been the envy of any porn star and I masturbated again, this time shooting cum all over myself and leaving the sheets covered with pools of wet, sticky cum. That day at work, I couldn't get anything done because I spent the whole morning thinking about Cathy and the incest stories. I finally decided to pack it in after lunch and go on home and take a few personal hours off. I didn't expect Cathy to be there because she volunteered to go do some grocery shopping before I got home – and when I walked in the door, sure enough, she was gone. But, I quickly discovered some things that made my whole day get worse. Cathy had stripped the sheets from my bed and they were apparently in the washing machine. Now, when I left this morning, I didn't make my bed, and I'm guessing it wouldn't have been too hard for her to figure out the wet stains on my sheets were my cum, especially since there were at least two or three pools of the sticky white stuff right in the middle of the bed. Even if the cum had dried, the residue would tell its own story, and as my heart sunk, I realized my daughter knew, with absolutely no uncertainty, that I'd jacked off and cum on my sheets before I left for work that morning. If that wasn't bad enough, next to the washer I found a pile of her lingerie waiting to be washed, and even though I tried not to pay the pile any attention, I couldn't walk away. On the top of the pile sat the panties that were on Cathy's bed last night, and as I picked them up and looked inside, I found the barely moist remnants of her female secretions. Then, picking up all the rest of her panties, I noticed each one had a blotch of dried pussy juice on the crotch panel, too. My cock was incredibly hard and I almost pulled it out and jerked myself off right there, but, I pulled myself away, admonishing myself that it wouldn't be right to infringe on my daughter's privacy by using her panties to get myself off. As I walked toward my room to change out of my work clothes, I glanced in Cathy's room and saw her laptop sitting on her desk, powered on. Figuring I might be able to tell something from looking at her computer, I pulled up her favorites and found a folder labeled "Lit Stories". I was shocked when I saw the contents – there were at least a hundred incest stories bookmarked! I pulled many of them up and they all had to do with father-daughter incest. With each one I looked at, it became obvious that my innocent daughter maybe didn't have such innocent thoughts, and of course, the only conclusion I could make is that these thoughts might be of her and I. I did some more trolling around her hard drive and I found a folder named "Daddy". Opening the folder, I found a text file and started to read it. It didn't take long for me to realize this was an incest story and my eyes bugged out when I saw both of our first names in one of the paragraphs. The gist of the story was that for years, the daughter had a sexual desire for her father, but that desire had never been realized and the girl was at odds with herself on how to move it forward and get her father to notice her as a woman and a sexual partner. I ran across a paragraph that detailed how the girl had tried in vain to get the courage to say or do something to get her father's attention. But not wanting to jeopardize her father's love, she'd chickened out each time. Another paragraph talked about how much she'd love to see her father naked, alluding to the fact that it had been over a year since she'd seen his penis - and how much she longed to see it again. I racked my brain thinking when, and if, Cathy would have seen me naked. Maybe while her mother and I were married – but I couldn't think of anytime in the last two or three years when she would have seen my cock. Then, things went from bad to worse when I looked at the properties of the file and saw that the file itself was created the night Cathy arrived here from school and had been edited just a few hours earlier. Nervously, I went to the end of the thirty page file and read a passage where the girl finds wet sperm on her father's sheets and spends an hour masturbating herself in her father's bed. "Oh, fuck!" I groaned. "She's been writing this story since she got here and it's about me." I ran into my room and got one of my thumb drives and copied the file so I could read it all the way through later, and then left her laptop just the way I found it. Nervously, I sat alone on my bed and thought about all of this. Between finding my daughter's obviously soaked panties, the incest stories she bookmarked and the story it appeared she was writing, I was confused and excited – and, I was ashamed of myself. But, my shame didn't last very long when my cock wouldn't stop throbbing in my pants. The incessant erection I was carrying started the instant I found her panties lying by the washing machine and hadn't yet gone away. The nagging throb pulsed inside my pants and I finally just stood up and decided to take a shower and try to forget what I'd learned about Cathy. The shower made me feel better, but, as I soaped up my cock, I began to think about Cathy's story and wondered if any of it was true and if she was really interested in me, sexually. Before long I had another hard-on, but since the hot water was about gone, I got out of the shower and grabbed a towel. Thinking Cathy was still at the grocery store, I casually opened the master bathroom door and walked out into my bedroom, drying my hair as I went. I heard a sound, and then turning to look, I saw Cathy standing in the hallway at my door, looking straight at me with her eyes locked on my hard cock. Both of us were surprised to see each other and I was so shocked, I didn't even think about turning away, or covering myself with the towel in my hands. It didn't help that Cathy seemed to be riveted to the floor, not moving, either. "Oh!" She exclaimed. "I'm sorry, Daddy!" An instant later, she turned and left, leaving me standing there wondering why I hadn't covered myself as soon as I saw her looking at me. Holding the towel in front of my cock, I walked to my door and shut it. Realizing my daughter had just seen me with a hard-on, my mind reeled with what was going to happen next. Should I apologize? Should I act like nothing happened and ignore it? Should I try to talk to her about it? I just didn't know, and as I got dressed, I was shaking with nervous apprehension of what would follow. When I was dressed, I opened the door and peeked out. I couldn't tell where Cathy was, so I walked toward the kitchen and peeked in. Not seeing her, I tried the laundry room and the rest of the house and finding no trace of her, I knew she had to be in her room. So, thinking it was better to get it over with, I went back to Cathy's room and stood in front of her door. I knocked but there was no answer. I knocked again and called her name. Still, there was no answer. Finally, I knocked again and said, "Cathy, are you in there? Can we talk?" She opened her door and took a step back and looked at me. "Look," I began, "I'm sorry about that. I should have closed the bedroom door, but, I guess I'm not used to having anyone here yet. We're both adults and it was bound to happen sometime – one of us was going to see the other one eventually. Can we just forget about it?" Cathy replied by telling me how sorry she was and saying she wasn't trying to peek or look at me. Cathy explained she had just finished bringing in the groceries and walked back to see why I was home early and that's when she saw me. She almost started to cry while she was explaining, but, I stopped her and gave her a hug and told her she didn't do anything wrong and not to worry about it. "Besides," I said, trying to make her feel at ease, "it's probably nothing you haven't seen before." "Actually, No." She answered. "I've never seen a man with, uh, a..... uh..." "An erection?" I offered. Cathy nodded her head up and down. "Well, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, Sweetie. Sometimes mother nature is in control, and you know – men get erections." I consoled her. "Sometimes we can't control it, but, I'll be more careful from now on." "Come on, let's not make a big deal out of it. Try to forget it ever happened so I don't feel subconscious about flashing my daughter. Okay?" I asked. Cathy laughed and reached out to hug me. "Okay," she replied, "I didn't mean to stare, though, I just never saw a real one..... I mean in the flesh." "Sweetie, and you saying you're still a virgin?" I asked. "Uh huh, that's absolutely true." Cathy answered, shrugging her shoulders. "Hard to believe, huh? I'm almost twenty years old and practically never even been kissed. I've only been out on five dates my whole life." Cathy started to sniffle as she hugged me. In between tears, she told me everyone saw her as a book-worm and a goody-goodie girl. They even used to make jokes about her because she didn't seem interested in guys. As I held her, I started to think about how proud I was of her staying a virgin and then in the same moment, I thought about all the incest stories she'd read and the story she was writing. Before I knew it, I had another hard-on and after a second, it dawned on me that she could probably feel it pushing into her. I tried to pull back from the hug, but she held on tight – even pressing into me further. There was nothing I could do – my daughter had me trapped. With my cock growing harder and harder in my pants and her clinging to me, I swallowed hard knowing that if she didn't already feel it, she would any second now. "Cathy," I whispered, "I love hugging you, but, we're both going to be really embarrassed in a minute if you don't let go of me." I couldn't believe she picked that exact instant to tighten her grip around my waist and pull me into her. "Cathy," I pleaded, "you don't understand. I'm the one that's going to be embarrassed – really embarrassed. It's that mother nature thing again." "It's okay," she answered, "I already felt it. Please don't push me away just because of that." It was probably true, my daughter could feel the erection in my pants and if there was any question about it, she made it known when she pressed her mid-section into me even tighter. I know I should have pushed her away, or stepped back or something, but I couldn't. She even moved her feet further apart to get a steadier stance, not leaving a fraction of space between us. "It's kinda nice." Cathy whispered. "I can feel it." "Sweetie, it's wrong." I replied. "We shouldn't be doing this." "Why? What exactly are we doing? Can't I hug my own father?" She asked. "You know what I mean." I said sternly. "You're getting me excited." "I don't mind." Cathy answered. "Please, let me feel it just for a minute, okay?" There it was. She'd opened the box now. I thought about it for a moment and during that time, my erection grew to full strength. The whole time, she pressed into me feeling my throbbing cock between us. After a minute, I patted her back and told her it was enough. As she stepped back, she looked down at my crotch and then back up at me. "Thanks." She said. "I don't have anyone else to hold me like that, Daddy.... only you." We looked at each other for a few seconds and I saw something in my daughter's eyes I've never seen before. It was a look of longing and a look of desire that was so deep, it scared me. "I need to go see what we're going to have for dinner." I said. "Want to help?" "Damn!" Cathy hissed. "I left all the groceries out on the counter." "Come on," I laughed, "I think we both got distracted. I'll help you." The rest of the afternoon and evening went normally. While I was cooking dinner, Cathy was working on the laundry and folding the things that came out of the dryer. As she walked past the kitchen carrying my sheets, she peeked her head in to see how I was doing. I turned red when I saw her carrying the sheets that had been soaked with my cum, but, Cathy didn't seem to pay attention to my embarrassment. I made a mental note not to jack off into my sheets anymore, though. During dinner, Cathy and I talked about our day and everything was going good. About half way through dinner, she asked me if she could ask me a question. "Sure," I said, "you don't ever need to ask permission, Sweetie." "Well", Cathy said, "have you dated anyone since you and Mom divorced?" "I've been out a few times," I replied, "I'm just not sure I'm up for the single scene yet." "Have you..... uh, had sex with anyone?" She asked. "No." I answered, not bothering to look up from my plate. "Why not?" Cathy asked. "You wouldn't have any trouble finding a girlfriend." I told her that I honestly didn't have any desire to date or have a girlfriend, saying I didn't have the time or energy for that anymore. Then, turning the tables on her, I asked her why she didn't have a boyfriend or wasn't dating anyone. "They're all so immature," Cathy sighed, "and everyone I know just wants to party, get drunk and screw everyone in sight." I laughed and told her I was glad she had higher standards than that, then after a second, I asked, "And you're really a virgin?" "I'm terminal." She replied. "That's what my room mate called me.... a terminal virgin." When I asked her what that meant, she told me it was the name for a girl that was holding out for 'Mr. Perfect' and wasn't going to do anything with anyone until she met him. "You'll meet someone." I said. "One day you'll meet that special someone and everything will click. You're a very pretty girl and someday, you'll meet someone that makes your heart go pitter-pat and you won't want to be terminal anymore." Cathy laughed and said she wasn't going to hold her breath. Then in almost the same sentence, she asked me again if she could ask me something else...... something personal. I've always had an honest relationship with Cathy and so without even thinking about it, I told her she could ask anything that was on her mind. "Well," she asked, "I've heard things..... you know about how guys are horny and want sex all the time. Don't you get horny not having a girlfriend or someone to take to bed?" I didn't want to seem shocked or put out, so as I continued to eat, I explained it to her – as honestly as I could without being crude. "Sure, I get urges." I answered. "I miss having sex just like anyone would. Your mother and I had a pretty decent sex-life, even up to the end. That part of our marriage was always good. I'm kind of on my own now in that department." Hoping she'd accept my answer and leave it alone, I left it at that. "Do you masturbate?" She asked, quite matter of factly. Trying to act as adult about it as I could, I simply said, "Cathy, everyone masturbates, and you probably do, too." When I looked across the table at her, she was blushing and had an embarrassed grin on her face. "Yes," I finally said straight out, "I masturbate." I almost asked her if she masturbated, too, but, I thought better of it, especially since I already knew the answer. Although, I should have gone ahead and asked because once our laughter died down, she kept up her questioning. "Daddy, how often do you do it?" The Terminator's Daughter All aspiring athletes have their share of sports heroes, and Alexa Goodwin is no exception. As a soccer playing youngster, it was Mia Hamm. Later, when she took up gymnastics, it was Dominique Dawes. And presently, as she gains interest in competing in the martial arts, she's got one right in her own home—her dad, Jim "the terminator" Goodwin. Back in the day, Jim Goodwin was one of the most feared amateur middleweight cage fighters around. Standing around six-one, weighing close to the class limit of 185lbs, he compiled an enviable 25-3 won-loss record before retiring in his late thirties. What made Jim so formidable was a combination of superb conditioning and technique in the major disciplines of MMA: boxing, kick boxing, grappling and jiu-jitsu. He could knock a man out just as easily as he could throw on a choke hold or arm bar. He might have turned pro if not for his day job at A-1 Auto Repair, a body shop he co-owns with his brother, and one that earns him a much better living than pro fighting ever could. These days, Jim, now in his late forties, confines his involvement with MMA to watching the matches on TV. His wife Kendra has no interest in it, nor does Danielle, Alexa's younger sister. But Alexa does. She admires the fitness and courage of the women fighters especially. Carla Esparza. Miesha Tate. Cat Zingano. Holly Holm. Ronda Rousey. It amazes her the way that strong, tough chicks like Rousey, Holm and the retired Gina Carano can be so fearsome in the octagon, yet so attractive and feminine out of it. "I can do that," she says one day to Jim as they watch one of the bouts. "That's for me." Jim sighs and shakes his head. "First get through college," he says to his nineteen year old daughter, "then we'll see." In truth, he's not crazy about the idea of his baby girl stepping into the octagon, ending up bloody and bruised. He's not against women cage fighters per se; he just doesn't want his own daughter to be among them. Little does he know that Alexa already has a head start. For the past few weeks, she's been working out a few afternoons a week at Westwood 10, one of only two mixed martial arts gyms in the area. She's yet to fight an actual match. Instead, she's learning technique, plus conditioning herself with cardio work and weight training. She drops this bit of news as she and Jim lounge on the sofa, glued to their sixty inch flat screen TV in their club basement. "So I figure I might be ready in another few months to fight my first amateur bout," she tells him. "The people at Westwood are great. But you've held several championship belts whereas none of them have. Craig Lowery, one of the co-owners, was so impressed when I told him who my dad was. He even suggested that you could be my primary coach. 'Holly Holm calls herself the preacher's daughter. You can call yourself the terminator's daughter', is what he said. Does that sound cool or what?" Jim raises an eyebrow and folds his thick, muscular forearms against his chest. "You really want to do this?" She nods. "Well, okay, but be prepared to take the good with the bad. You've seen what some of these women look like after a bout, blood gushing from deep gashes, their faces all swollen and bruised. Of course, I'm prejudiced, but you're very pretty, and I'd hate to see that lovely face all messed up." By any conventional measure, Alexa is indeed very pretty: big blue eyes and thick auburn hair that drops below her shoulders and frames a face without a blemish on it. Her hundred-watt smile reveals a gap in her front teeth a' la super model Lauren Hutton. But she's hardly built like a super thin catwalk model. Standing five-foot six, weighing around one-forty, she's on the stocky side, with arms and legs that are thick and deceptively smooth, devoid of the sort of well defined muscularity of a Holly Holm or Cat Zingano. In body type, she's more akin to Ronda Rousey, a mix of endomorph and ectomorph. Alexa can't argue with the bad part, not with this man who sports a slightly crooked nose, broken more than once during his fighting days. In her opinion, it makes him look more masculine, handsome in the sort of rugged way she admires in men generally. She thinks the tattoos etched into both forearms enhance his macho image even more. She takes his hand, leans forward and gives him a peck on the cheek. "I'll be okay, dad, especially with you standing behind me, coaching me. What do you say?" "Well, you've always been a determined girl, gone after anything you wanted. And I guess you're going to pursue this new venture of yours no matter what. So okay, if you think I can help you realize your goal, I'll do anything I can to help you get there." Alexa throws her arms around him, then hops on his lap, something she hasn't done since she was in grade school. "Whoa there, little girl!" Jim says, throwing his arms up in the air. "It's great you're so enthusiastic, but—" "But what? I've just landed as a coach a former MMA champ. Who just so happens to be my big, bad-ass dad." Before he can say anything more, she kisses him again, this time on the lips and this time longer. Jim hugs and kisses her back, more to appease her than anything else. Still, he can't deny something he feels, something weirdly sensual. It makes him uncomfortable, which is why he pulls away after a few seconds. "Wow! I can see that curbing your enthusiasm isn't in your vocabulary," he says, trying to make light of this novel, unexpected happening. On impulse, from feeling a tingle between her legs, she swipes her hand over the crotch in her shorts before climbing off his lap. "Wow is right." The wow she gives is a deadpan wow, the sort with a period at the end, not an exclamation point. Her expression conveys worry and confusion, not wonder or joy. "I mean, I can't wait until you start coaching me," she says. "Sorry, I must have got carried away." She flashes him a faux smile, hoping like hell he doesn't pick up on what she's wowing; hoping also that what she just felt was just an anomaly, something more aberrant than real. Days later, she almost forgets it even happened. She's too busy with schoolwork and training for her goal. She divides her training regimen into segments, strength building/cardio and technique. The first two work at Westwood 10. Technique she'll work on with her dad at home. The Goodwin house is big, one of those three-thousand square foot McMansions, thanks to Jim's lucrative auto body business. Their basement is so big that he was able to install a basic home gym (some dumbbells, an Olympic barbell set, a couple benches, squat rack and treadmill), plus have enough room left over for the big screen TV and sofa. Squares of red and black linoleum cover that part, while rubber matting covers the floor under the gym equipment. Jim moves the benches and weights aside to make room for his first session with Alexa. He's barefoot, wearing black shorts and a black sleeveless T-shirt. "To be successful in MMA, you need to be strong everywhere," he explains. Alexa, also barefoot and wearing tight fitting blue shorts and matching shorts bra, pays close attention. "So we're going to work on boxing skills, both conventional and Muay Thai kickboxing, as well as Brazilian jiu-jitsu and other disciplines. Today I'm going to give you a smorgasbord of fighting styles we'll be working on. We'll concentrate on each of them in detail later on." While Alexa ties her hair up, he drags out equipment from a storage closet that hasn't been used in years—fingerless gloves, punch mitts and a heavy bag. He installs the bag and slips on a pair of gloves. "Okay, watch me," he says, then proceeds to pummel the bag with combinations of jabs, hooks and uppercuts. His muscle tone still looks sharp, the result of regular weight training and treadmill work. With a bodyweight still in the one-eighties and a thirty-four waist, he doesn't look much different than he did when competing. Alexa watches in awe, thinks how youthful her middle-age father looks, admiring the striations of muscle in his shoulders, arms and legs. If not for his thinning hair, she might think he's a decade younger. "You're an inspiration, dad," she says after the demonstration. "Well, I'm a little rusty, but you get the idea," he says, slipping off his gloves. "Now it's your turn." He moves in close to her as she tries to emulate. "You need to snap those jabs," he says, "make them sting. That's it. Bap. Bap. Bap. There you go. But keep your guard up. You don't want to drop your guard." After about ten minutes, he says, "Now we're going to add our feet as well as our fists. As you know, Holly Holm proved that kicking can be mighty effective if done right." He demonstrates, throwing a series of roundhouse kicks with both legs, kicking the bag high and low. Alexa finds this harder than just throwing combinations with her hands, and for good reason. It requires greater flexibility, especially when kicking to an opponent's head. If not executed right, it can leave one open and thus vulnerable to an opponent's counterattack. She falls off balance, laughs at her beginner's awkwardness. "This will take gobs of practice, I can see that. Holly and some of those other women make it look so easy." He nods. "That's because they've trained a zillion hours to get where they are. You can get there too with the right commitment." She throws her last kick, takes a deep breath and wipes the sweat from her forehead. "You really think so?" "Absolutely. You're a natural athlete. You showed that with your soccer and gymnastics." She smiles, then grabs a towel to wipe her face. "So, what's next, coach? I'd really like to learn some of those submission holds, choking a person out or arm-barring them into submission the way Ronda does." "Well, you're in luck because that's just where we're going next—to the mat." He directs her to lie on her back. Then he gets on top of her and places her hands against his chest the way fighters on the bottom tend to do in that position. Even before he starts his maneuvers into the several ways to execute an armbar, his cock starts to stir. He didn't expect this, nor does he welcome it. The old cliché about a guy's penis having a mind of its own is true enough, he knows. But could it be awakened from its normally dormant state by the charms of his own daughter? Perish the thought. Yet here he is, crotch to crotch with said daughter, and that's exactly what is happening. "Watch closely," he says, doing his best to stay focused. He proceeds with the move, making a half spin, grabbing Alexa's arm and then extending it by leaning back perpendicular to her body in the move's final phase. He goes through it a second time, then a third, doing his best to keep that pesky thing between his legs at bay. It isn't easy. "Okay, now it's your turn to try it on me," he says. Unbeknownst to him, Alexa is dealing with similar issues. That tingling she feels, not just between her legs but throughout her entire body, is normally reserved for guys she's involved with, not her own dad. His crotch rubbing against hers during those arm bar maneuvers got her juices flowing, unlocked the spigot, nudged it slightly from its off position. Now she's on top, her crotch against his, nudging the spigot a little further. She does her best to stay focused as well, listening intently as he explains the various hand positions and pre-armbar holds like the cobra. She goes through the motions, doing her best to suppress her urges. No mean feat, not with the friction of her body rubbing against his, not with her body heat rising and the commensurate rise in desire, inappropriate and alarming. At his prompting, she repeats the moves over and over until she feels ready to explode. "Okay, dad, I think I've got it. Let's move on to something else." "Hope I didn't bore you, but practice makes perfect," he says. Both of them are now standing, toweling off. She chuckles. "Bored is hardly the word I'd use. It's more like...well, interesting. I'll leave it at that." Stimulating is the word that popped into her head initially. But tell him that? No way! In fact, hours after he calls it a night, Alexa, up in her room, is re-thinking the idea of Jim coaching her. He knows his stuff, sure, but how can she retain him as her coach while plagued with these incestuous urges? It would be one thing if they weren't related. Plenty of romantic/sexual liaisons begin as platonic business deals. But he's her father, for crying out loud! How does that work? It can't, it won't, not unless this is simply a fluke, a weird phase she's going through that will soon pass. One thing's for sure, she's hot as hell right now in the quiet darkness of her room, her imagination running wild. She's back in the basement, concocting scenarios that surely would not be allowed in the octagon. She hikes up her nightgown, then slips her finger inside her panties. She rubs her clit with one hand, her boobs with another picturing her dad between her legs. He's humping her on the mat, then on the sit-up board, then on one of the benches. Her breathing picks up as she strokes herself faster and faster, her mind spinning with variations on this improbable theme—Jim bouncing her on his lap, or doing her from behind, doggy style. She can almost smell his sweaty masculine scent, feel his hard muscular body, taste his thick salty cum. "Ahhhhhhhh," she cries out in her climax, mindful to keep her voice down, least she wake her parents or sister. As the minutes pass, her breathing returns to normal, while her mind races with questions. Should she drop Jim as her coach? Keep him as her coach and hope it passes? Keep him as her coach with the idea of not only competing in MMA but turning her fantasies into reality? What perverted thinking that is! Answers elude her as does sleep. It's one in the morning already and she's got school tomorrow. She needs to sleep, to sleep perchance to dream—good dreams, she hopes as she fluffs her pillow, turns over and shuts her weary eyes. ************************************ Jim's at work, sitting at his gun metal desk, going over invoices. His brother Lewis is in the garage, inspecting work in progress. Lewis, younger by two years, sensed that something was wrong from the moment they both got in at their usual starting time of eight in the morning. "Nothing's wrong," Jim had said testily, and Lewis let it go at that. Jim and his brother have always been close, confiding in each other about matters they didn't feel comfortable discussing with anyone else. Now, a day after his first lesson with Alexa, Jim could use a confidant. But how in the hell can he tell Lewis or anybody else how he felt on that mat in the basement? He can't, at least not yet. Right now he feels like a pervert. What guy wouldn't who thinks impure thoughts about his own daughter? The consolation he took after having great sex with Kendra last night is tempered today by feelings of guilt. Why? Because it wasn't Kendra he was thinking about. No, it was Alexa, sweet, hot Alexa peeling off her tight shorts, wrapping her smooth, powerful legs around him and begging him to fuck her: "Give it to me, daddy, give it to me. Fill my hot, wet pussy with that big, bad shaft of yours." It's enough to make him sick—sick with desire, that is. He's sitting here with customer invoices nursing a huge hard-on. Of course, there's nothing sexy about paper invoices or anything else in his cluttered, cinder-block walled office that would leave him in this horny, innervating state. And that includes the girlie pinup calendar that he and Lewis see every day. Almost unconsciously, his drops his hand to his crotch and begins to stroke himself over his jeans. He looks through the glass at the top of his office door into the garage. He sees Lewis talking to one of his workman and hears the buzz of his shop's industrial equipment. If he doesn't stop, he'll shoot into his underwear, a messy business he doesn't need. Up from behind his desk, he ducks into the rest room and does what needs to be done. Relief comes quickly. But will it satisfy him for long? Somehow he doubts it. ******************************************** A few nights later, Alexa follows Jim to the basement for another training session. The questions of what to do continue to swirl in her head like laundry in a dryer. She remains conflicted, conflicted but also horny for the man who she asked to help her realize her ambition to fight in the octagon. Try as she might, she can't deny the attraction she now feels for her own dad. Is this some crazy fluke that will soon pass? She hopes so, sincerely hopes so. Like last time, Jim demonstrates punching combinations on the heavy bag. He then allows her to try it. "You're getting there," he tells her, complimenting her on her punches and kicks. Next, she tries combinations on Jim, who wears mitts to absorb the blows. "That's it, snap those jabs. Okay, let me see a hook. Good. Now an uppercut. There, that's it. Now jab some more." She's feeling good, loose and wet from perspiration, while also reveling in her improved reflexes and the sharp crunching sound of her gloves hitting his mitts. "Okay, it's mat time," he says after nearly a half hour of kicking and punching. "Today we'll work on more arm bar techniques and choke holds." She's seized by a mix of joy and angst in anticipation of what she felt last time. Stay focused, she tells herself, as she and Jim slip and slide and crawl over one another, going through the bio-mechanics of arm bar and choke holds. Try as she might to force her brain into a state of denial, her body won't let her, won't let her ignore the weirdly erotic pulse of all this. She's beginning to suspect that her attraction for her dad didn't just start here. As a psychology major, she's studied the wonders of the unconscious mind, holder of repressed and suppressed feelings. Fraud might be passé, but modern psychology doesn't deny that the unconscious plays a role in human behavior. Perhaps it's an over simplification to suggest that training with her dad unlocked part of her unconscious. Then again, perhaps not, because why else would she be feeling this way? Why else would she start dry humping him from behind, grinding her wet pussy into his lower back in preparation to execute a choke hold? "Hey, that's not part of the move," he says, swiveling his head backward. She's got her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist. "You pull back as you squeeze. You don't, um, hump your opponent's body like you're in heat. Not unless you ARE in heat. Are you?" He chuckles the way people do when they ask something they know should be patently false but might not be. She keeps her position but relaxes her arms and legs. "Ah, no, I guess not." Titters and giggles follow. "What do you mean you guess not? Don't you know?" He breaks free and turns to face her. Both of them sit cross legged. Keeping her head down, she says, "Dad, it's...Look, I'm getting strange vibes here." When she says nothing more, he tucks his hand under her chin, lifting her head to face him. "Strange vibes? What sort of strange vibes?" She struggles to find words that won't incriminate or embarrass her. "Um, well, strange vibes." He nods, grabs his towel and wipes the sweat from her face. "Yeah, you said that. Don't be shy. Say what you need to say so we can continue." She looks down again, and then he says, "Does this have anything to do with what I asked you, about being in heat?" She looks up and places her hands on his shoulders. "You're my dad and you're coaching me in mixed martial arts. I'm not supposed to be..." She looks away. "Yes? You're not supposed to be what?" She takes a deep breath. "I'm not supposed to be, well, sexually aroused from what we're doing here." She shakes her head, breathes deeply again. "I can't believe I'm sitting here telling you this." The Terminator's Daughter He nods and smiles. "Well, guess what? We've on the same page." Her eyes widen in surprise. "Oh my god, dad! What are you saying? That you're feeling the same thing?" "I wouldn't have mentioned it had you not said something first. It's embarrassing for me too, I'll have you know." They laugh and embrace. She kisses him, then says, "Okay, so now what?" "That's up to you. But if you're still serious about MMA, you might want to get a different coach." "Or," she says, adjusting her sports bra, "I can keep the same coach and see what happens. This is getting...interesting." He shakes his head and stands up. "Hmm, that word again. Now I know what you meant when you used it last time. Well, it's probably not the kind of interesting we want to explore. Inappropriate is more like it." "Agreed. But also fun in a daring, naughty kind of way." She stands up, smiles seductively and hikes her tight shorts up to her crotch. "Know what I'm saying?" Her white, luscious thighs draw him in. He stoops down and starts to feel and lick them. He runs his fingers and tongue over them, licks the beads of sweat off them. She lifts her sports bra and starts to message her boobs. He reaches for her crotch. Then... They both jump at the sound of the door opening, followed by someone bounding down the basement steps. By the time Kendra, all five-foot two of her comes into view, Alexa is pulling down her bra and adjusting her shorts to their proper length. Jim stands there with both hands over his crotch, hiding the bulge that lurks therein. Kendra stops halfway down the steps. "Sorry to interrupt, but dinner's almost ready. You two should start washing up." She lingers a few seconds, hands on hips, staring at her husband and her daughter, her face a picture of curiosity, if not suspicion. "Everything okay?" Jim abruptly turns his back and starts to put away the equipment. "Sure, everything's fine. We'll be right up." "Right. I'll, um, see you soon." She lingers a few seconds longer before going back upstairs. "Dad, I'm sorry," Alexa says after her mom leaves. "I should have behaved myself. That was a close call." "I'm equally to blame," he says, throwing his mitts in the closet. "What we need to do now is figure out where we go from here." She nods and follows him up the stairs. ****************************************** Where DO they go from here? Jim doesn't know. All he knows is that he's burdened by an overwhelming attraction for his daughter Alexa. And, judging from her actions, the feeling appears to be mutual. It almost got them both in trouble, him especially, because later that night, Kendra wants to know what had been going on prior to when she called them for dinner. "Nothing, Alexa was practicing her moves," Jim says. "Why?" Kendra, dressed in a short, mint green nightie, sits in front of the big round mirror on her dresser, brushing back her thick mane of brown hair. "What moves? It looked to me like she was rushing to hide her titties. Was she topless down there?" Jim, stripped to just his boxer shorts, climbs into bed and clicks on the TV to catch the ten o'clock news. "Hardly. It wouldn't play in the octagon." Holding her brush in abeyance, she leans to the side so she can catch his impassive face in the mirror. "Ha ha, very funny." She resumes her brushing before pausing again. "Well, you were acting kind of weird yourself." "I'm a weird guy, you know that," he says, struggling hard to maintain an insouciant facade, while his innards burn with angst. His wife's suspicion comes as no surprise. She caught him in an affair ten years into their marriage. They separated for a few months. Then, through marriage counseling, they managed to work things out, at least enough for Jim to move back in. Of course, things were never the same. They never are when a spouse cheats. A marriage is built on trust, and when that goes so goes the marriage; or at least a part of it that can never be recouped. "So you think I was acting weird," Jim says, probing to see where Kendra might be going with this. "Weird how?" Kendra puts the brush down, clicks off the light and climbs into their king sized bed. The TV remains on, bathes the room in a soft blue glow. She turns on her side to face him. "I don't know, Jim. Maybe you can tell me." "There's nothing to tell. Well, there is one thing. I'm weirdly horny right now." He slips his hand under her nightie, squeezes her right boob. He's horny, all right, but not for his wife. He shutters to think that she might suspect who he's horny for. Things might be different if Kendra took better care of herself, ate right and exercised. But she doesn't and it shows. Her once firm, petite body is no more, supplanted by cellulite on an ever widening butt and waistline, the inevitable byproducts of a high-carb, sedentary lifestyle. Regardless, he'll have to stay horny. Pushing his hand away, she says, "Sorry, but I'm weirdly not. Another night perhaps." He clicks off the TV. "Okay, suit yourself." He turns over and peers into the darkness, asking himself again: Where does he go from here? Into Alexa's room if he had his druthers, if he was the total incestuous maniac one reads about in the tabloids. He isn't, but neither can he completely ignore the attraction that calls to him like trumpets blaring in the night. ******************************************** Alexa's ambition to fight in the octagon hasn't dimmed. Not by a long shot. She still trains at Westwood 10, and is even starting to spar with other young women with the same goal. The only thing on hold is whether to retain Jim as her primary coach. It's hard to beat the individualized, one on one attention that her dad can provide. Westwood's got decent coaching too. However, she's just a face in the crowd. She's usually there in the late afternoon or at night along with others just getting off school or work. Jim, unlike Westwood, could give her the luxury of time, not to mention something else that she finds herself craving more and more with each passing day. She fights it, tries to put it behind her. But it won't leave her alone—the fantasies won't, those vivid, erotic fantasies that she can't get out of her head. They keep her doing herself while she thinks of doing him. And so, on a Sunday afternoon, she decides to make her move. The timing is good. Her mom and Danielle are out shopping and her dad is in the basement watching football. She throws on her MMA workout gear. Not a pretense because she really would like to show him what she's learned at Westwood over the past two weeks. She checks herself in the mirror. Lipstick? No, don't need it. Perfume? Okay, a touch of White Diamonds, Liz Taylor's iconic brand. Hair? She normally pins it up before getting physical. This time she decides to keep it down, letting her auburn locks fall below her shoulders in wavy, cascading layers. Upon entering the basement, she sees by the color of the uniforms that the Green Bay Packers are playing the New York Jets. "Good game?" "Boring game," he says, "unless you like low scoring, defensive slug-fests." He lounges on the sofa in jeans and a white T-shirt, one hand in his lap, the other draped over the back of the sofa. "That's great. I mean, I'd hate to tear you away from an exciting game to show you what I've been practicing at Westwood. I think I've got a variation on the rolling armbar down pat. But I'll need your help to demonstrate." "Sure, no problem. But do you think we can get through it without things getting—what's your pet word to describe it—interesting?" She laughs. "Well, I don't know about you, dad, but I want things to get interesting." He sits up and runs his hands along her bare legs. "As long as we're careful. I don't need a repeat of what happened last time. And I'm not sure when your mom and sister will be home." They go to the mat and Alexa proceeds to show Jim what she's learned. He offers no resistance as she works a few variations of the arm bar maneuver. He gives her pointers, offering up his own variations culled from his years of fighting experience. This segues into choke holds, something else Alexa has been learning at Westwood. In most MMA fights, an opponent will tap out before being chocked out, before going unconscious. It doesn't always go that way because sometimes the ref fails to stop the action in time. Just last week, Alexa saw a You Tube video of a famous jiu-jitsu coach demonstrating the art of the choke-out on a cute MMA girl named Joanne. Joanne actually went out for a few seconds, then came to and laughed about it. Alexa found it fascinating. More than that, she found it wildly erotic in a sadomasochistic way, and now wants Jim to play the jiu-jitsu coach to her Joanne. The request startles him. He's choked out his share of guys in a fight. But to do that to his own daughter? How can he? "Please, dad, I just want to know what it feels like. You won't hurt me, I swear." After much pleading, Jim finally gives in, sits down behind her and wraps his arms around her neck. His forearms form an x, with his right hand on his left shoulder, his left hand behind her head. Then he applies the squeeze, slowly upping the pressure until her eyes roll up into her head and she falls back. He gently lowers her to the mat, staring at her unconscious form, lovely and innocent. Sexual sadomasochism never appealed to him. Leather, whips, chains, etc. were never his thing. It still doesn't. Even so, he's becoming aroused watching Alexa laying there, all sweet and beautiful. Seconds later, she opens her eyes, sits up and shakes her head. "Wow! You really did it, didn't you? That was wild!" He stoops down and holds her. "Honey, are you okay?" "A little woozy but yeah, I'm okay. I'd be more than okay if you'd do something else. Something...interesting. And if you won't, I will." Before he can respond, she throws her arms around him, then pulls him on top of her. This is what she's been waiting for, a chance to act out what her imagination refuses to let her forget. She kisses him passionately, shamelessly. Sure it's wrong, but that's what makes what she's doing so fucking exciting. She lifts her sports bra over her small but firm boobs, loving the erotic, tactile sensation of his hands and tongue on her hard nipples. She dry humps her pelvis into him, giddy with the anticipation of receiving inside her the hard cock she can now sense getting harder by the second. She peels off her top and shorts, waits flat on her back, legs spread, while he disrobes, and then pulls him on top of her once again. She loves the route his tongue takes, from her nipples to her tummy and then, its ultimate destination, to her pussy—shaved, hot and very wet. It only gets wetter when he puts his head between her legs and begins to lick her clit. "Oh my god! Oh my god, dad! That's it, keep going." He does and she begins to lapse into a semi-conscious state, with her fists balled up and her body arched halfway off the mat. She can feel and see it coming—her climax and then the blackness that she senses will follow, not unlike the blackness that enveloped her from the choke-out, this time courtesy of the friction and torque of Jim's tongue. The sound of the TV fades, then darkness falls like a sudden eclipse. "Not again. Wake up, honey, wake up." Jim's voice gradually comes into focus. She feels him shaking her. She sits up and shakes out the cobwebs. "Oh my, another pass out. Stupendous, dad, you're stupendous. And that's a word I don't use lightly. If you can do that with your tongue, I can only imagine what your cock can do." "I'm almost afraid to find out." She soon finds herself on all fours with Jim behind her, his hands on her boobs, his stiff cock thrusting into her still wet pussy. "Give it to me, dad, give it to me. Shove that big thing of yours into your little girl's hot cunt." Her senses all but shut down: Her eyes barely see the sit-up board just feet in front of her; her ears barely hear the voice of sportscaster Al Michaels broadcasting the Packers-Jets game. "Oooooo, that feels so good, so good with you inside me. Oh my god! Oh fuck! You're gonna make me come again. Come with me, dad, come with me." She knows he's had a vasectomy, so she's able to take the full measure of his hot jizz when he finally shoots it into her. His timing, while not perfect, is close to it, as her climax comes at the tail end of his. They lie together on the mat, breathing hard. "I hope you're not disappointed." She laughs. "Yeah, right. I should always be so disappointed." She pauses, then says, "But there is one more thing I'd like you to do, something I've fantasized about." "Okay." "Can we do it on the sit-up board?" He chuckles. "That would definitely be a first for me. Just give me a few minutes to replenish myself." "Oh, I can help you with that." She rolls over and puts her mouth over his half-flaccid cock. He lays back, hands behind his head, watching her perform, watching the deft way she coordinates her mouth and hand. "My little girl's had some experience, I see." "A little," she says coyly. "I guess I'm still better at this than arm bars." "If you performed arm bars like you perform this, you'd be queen of the octagon. Nobody would stand a chance." She continues until he's once again at full staff. "Okay, I think I'm ready." She gives his erection a final couple strokes. "I'd think you are too." She lies down on the sit-up board, upholstered in red vinyl and slightly elevated. Then she spreads her legs wide, takes him in and closes her eyes. "Fuck me daddy, fuck me hard. Oh my god! Whoever said that fantasy is better than reality doesn't know what the hell they're talking about." "I'll second that opinion," he says, breathing hard. "Come on baby, work them abs." She laughs out loud. "Workouts like this should earn me a six-pack, yes?" "I would think so." They keep going for another few minutes before he says, "Okay, now it's time to work your quadriceps." "Huh?" She gets it when they change positions, putting her on top facing away from him, doing half squats on his cock. He helps, lifting her up and down, his hands tucked under her butt. Her hands alternate between her boobs and the edge of the board, the wood creaking in rhythm to her sweat-drenched body and burning quads. "This is truly a multipurpose gym, huh dad?" He laughs so hard he almost loses his erection. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." He manages to hold on until he comes a second time. It's a bit too early for her, so he finishes her off with his tongue, joking that they've come "full circle." By the time they get dressed, the game is in the fourth quarter. Jim suggests they take a shower. "The smell of sex can be quite pungent," he says. But they don't have time, at least right away, because just then they hear the sound of Kendra and Danielle coming through the front door. Both anticipate that either Kendra, Danielle or both of them will come down to see what's going on. Therefore, they plop down on the sofa, tactfully keeping their distance. Sure enough, Kendra makes an appearance. She wears white slacks and a yellow blouse, a sunny combo that matches her mood. She stands on the bottom step, happily telling her husband and daughter where she and Danielle had lunch and what they bought. "And I can see that you two either had another workout or plan to after the game." "We worked out during the game," Jim says. "We're now on cool down." Alexa nods. 'Yeah, mom. Dad and I worked on choke-outs and armbars. He taught me a lot." She slaps her hand over her mouth, struggles not to laugh. Kendra folds her arms against her chest; her mood darkens. "That funny, huh? Anything else? I mean, you look like you did more than just choke-outs and and armbars." "Squats and sit-ups. But that came afterwards," Jim says. Unlike Alexa, he's not close to laughing. Kendra glances over at the sit-up board, still damp with perspiration. "Squats and sit-ups. Right. Well, I hope you had fun. Meanwhile, I need to fix dinner." Alexa looks warily at Jim. "You don't think she suspects anything, do you?" "Well, with that laugh of yours..." He slaps her on the leg to reassure her. "Nah, how could she?" His worried look suggests otherwise. "But let's hit the showers before she might." He clicks off the TV and they head upstairs. *************************************** Later that night, Kendra tells Jim she's horny. It figures. Of all nights she picks this one, just hours after he'd been with Alexa. What's that lyric by Toby Keith? "I ain't as good as I once was, but I'm as good once as I ever was." Earlier, he was good twice, and now Kendra wants him for a third round. Of course, she knows nothing about that. She blows him, rubs her pussy against him, squeezes his cock between her big boobs. Still, half-mast is the best he can do. "Look Jim" she says, "I know I don't turn you on like I once did. But you should be able to get it up for me at least once. It's been a while. Like a full two weeks. So what's the problem, dude?" "Too bad we don't have any Viagra in the house." "You've never needed it before. Now all of a sudden you do? Even after two weeks of abstinence?" He shrugs. "Hey, it happens. I can't explain it." She turns on her side, props her head up on her elbow. "I have a theory." He tenses up, not unlike he did before a match in the octagon. "Okay, I'll bite. Let's hear your theory." "You've been getting it somewhere else." "Oh, come on." "And, if the source is who I suspect it is, then..." She shakes her head, brushes away a tear. "Then, then what?" "Then I'll not only divorce you, I might kill you." "You're way off base, Kendra. There is no other source. Tonight you're horny and I'm not. Last week it was me who wanted it and you didn't, remember? Yet I didn't accuse you of fooling around. Look, let's agree to a rain check and call it a night." "Sure, we can do that. Fair enough. But just remember what I said." She rolls over, leaving him with thoughts that seem obvious. She knows. Worse, she knows he knows she knows. He needs to tell Alexa. Then they'll cease and desist. She'll get another coach and things will return to normal. Only they won't. They never do after these kinds of things. A sick marriage is like a sick heart after multiple heart attacks: weak from scar tissue, awaiting death.