69 comments/ 65175 views/ 22 favorites A Cheating Cliche -- Almost By: amischiefmaker This tale has a married cheating best friend fucking my wife and me finding out using a video camera in my bedroom. Totally cliché except for what happens next. I don't kill or maim one or both, don't serve divorce papers on them during copulation, don't slash their tires, don't get turned on by or agree to my wife fucking someone else, and don't get them fired from their jobs. The circumstances are unique and so are the results. At the most relevant time of this saga the four main characters, my wife Denise, my best friend Jim, Jim's wife Gabriella, and yours truly, Bryce, were thirty two. Jim and I are roughly the same height and weight as each other, both with swimmer's builds, and many people who met us concluded that we were related even though I have blond hair and blue eyes and he has brown hair and green eyes, and he is an extrovert and I am an ambivert. Jim and I have been best buddies since the swim team in High School; we attended the same college and were in the same fraternity and live within two miles of each other in the suburbs of Denver. While best friends that doesn't mean that we weren't competitive primarily in swimming events in High School and intramurals in college, cards, tennis, and foosball. Jim and I first met Denise when we were sophomores in college. She's was, and still is, a very sexy woman, more sexy than beautiful but sexy enough to turn almost any man on. She is a tall brunette with dancing brown eyes, a shapely ass and hips, and – at least to me – perfect melons. Like me she is an ambivert. Denise was the only cause of tension between Jim and me since when we met her we both got crushes on her and it wasn't like the other competitions that we reveled in. We really did not like the other guy horning in on our "action." Denise dated Jim and me – separately of course – probably three times each in college. I never got past a very nice petting session which confirmed in my mind that Denise had tits to die for, and I'm sure that Jim didn't get any further, although it was one of only a handful of subjects we never discussed. Denise "dumped," if you could call it that because of course neither of us were her boyfriend, both of us and got together with a guy named Andy who had a football player's build. I wanted to hate Andy but I got to know him through a service project and he was a nice guy. Even though Jim never met him and I told Jim that Andy was a nice guy Jim expressed distain for him throughout college simply because he dated Denise and Jim wanted to. I assumed that Denise and Andy eventually would hook up permanently. I excelled in coolness under pressure in college, something that came fairly naturally but that I developed my skills in through real life situations. I bailed our fraternity out twice, and Jim out once, by acting rationally when others were going out of control, and became known as "Cool Hand Bryce." I never had a relationship in college that lasted more than three months. Jim, on the other hand, met Gabriella at the start of his junior year. She was, and still is, a total firecracker, medium height and build with shapely legs, a very cute face, and an over-the-top personality. She is extremely smart and funny and can swear and cut-up with the best of them. I could see why an extrovert like Jim would be attracted to her. While Gabriella definitely was not my "type," she and I have always gotten along well, especially since I know to stay out of her way if she has a burr up her ass. Jim and Gabriella fell in love in college and they got married two months out of college. I was Jim's best man and organized a bachelor party that was wild, but which I save Jim's bacon at by insuring that he didn't fuck one of two strippers that we hired since there were guys there that definitely would have told Gabriella. I knew Gabriella well enough to know that if Gabriella got a report that Jim fucked a stripper that would have ended her relationship with him on the eve of the wedding. Jim and Gabriella's wedding and reception was the most lavish I've ever been to. Gabriella's father is a high profile attorney with family money besides – can you say "megabucks" – and Gabriella was his pride and joy and only daughter, so no expense was sparred. Jim had no interest in following in either his father's CPA footsteps or his father's lawyer footsteps and became an insurance agent with a mid-sized firm in the Denver area. He specialized in home and small business insurance and being a bright and hard-working guy became successful. I have always been good in math and science and took a combined Bachelors/Masters program in college that allowed me graduate in five years with a Master's degree in Robotics Engineering. I have always had entrepreneurial tendencies and after only working in the field for just a little over one year – but working so hard and with the right people so that I got the equivalent of about five years' experience – I decided to go on my own as a consultant. In taking a week long entrepreneurial seminar as my vacation about a month before I quit my job who should I run into but Denise. She was also taking the seminar and we recognized each other immediately. She told me point blank that I looked better than I did in college – I didn't think I looked any different but who was I to argue about that. I didn't have to verbalize how I thought she looked since my eyes did that for me. Yeah, she was awesome with a capital A. She was very straightforward in telling me about her life, and expected me to do the same. She realized just before she graduated that her nice-guy football boyfriend Andy was not a long term match for her and let him down gently the last month of college. Since then she had worked in event planning and, like me, wanted to go out on her own. Our several years of maturity and experience since we briefly dated in college combined with the atmosphere at the seminar put our relationship into warp drive. We attended all sessions together and were inseparable at meals and at the health club and swimming pool where I got to ogle her spectacular body, including those world class tits. The third evening of the seminar we went dancing after dinner By the time of the first slow song we both were in heat. We mauled each other on the dance floor. By the time the second slow song ended we mutually decided to return to the hotel. We felt each other up in the elevator to her room, and within five minutes of the door closing behind us we were both naked and I was sucking her clitoris like my life depended on it while simultaneously massaging her soft but firm boobs. After I brought her to one orgasm I moved my face up to her boobs, sucked one nipple, stroked the other with one hand and fingered her pussy with the other. She squeezed my cock while biting my shoulder. As she got close to another orgasm from my activities she abruptly pushed me on my back, pounced on me, and guided my overexcited cock into her pussy. She rode me like a rodeo champion while I kneaded her tits until we both exploded in virtually simultaneous orgasms. When we recovered we lay next to each other giggling, groaning, and purring. We fucked again in the middle of the night, and when we woke up the next morning, unmistakably the three best fucks of my life up to that time and unless she was an award winning actress her best or near-best too! We used our sexual energy to team together and excel in a project that had to be completed from start to finish on the last day of the seminar. The team that won – most teams had four members – would get half of their tuition for the seminar refunded. Denise and I worked as well together for the project as we had in bed and won, leading us both to believe that we were good under pressure and good together. When I said that our relationship proceeded at warp speed I wasn't kidding. Within two weeks after the seminar was over she had moved in with me, and we fucked at all hours of the day or night and in places no ambivert would be expected to go, including – my favorite – the office of the president of the company she worked for while he was out to lunch. Within four months after she moved in with me we got married. Of course Jim was my best man. Jim was very surprised when he saw that Denise and I were together shortly after she moved in with me. He told me on many occasions what a lucky guy I was. When he gave a toast at the wedding he called me "The luckiest guy in the world for marrying the totally awesome Denise!" Fortunately for him he saw Gabriella's reaction out of the corner of his eye and added "except for me, of course," getting a nice laugh. Since Denise and I paid for our own wedding – our parents wanted to help but we declined since they still had siblings of ours to put through college – it was not a lavish affair but it was perfect for us. By the time that we were thirty two Jim and Gabriella had two girls seven and five and Denise and I had fraternal twin five year old boys. Jim and Gabriella appeared to be happy, although in keeping with her personality Gabriella would go off on him occasionally especially as it related to child care. She was loving but strict and he was a pushover. Gabriella looked almost as good as in college, having gained maybe three-five pounds but otherwise the same. Denise and I appeared to be happy too; I know that I was since she was the only woman I had ever loved. She looked exactly the same as when I met her at the seminar. We both had our own businesses which we ran out of a nice size house that we bought in a nice neighborhood with excellent schools. I worked full time in robotics consulting and Denise an average of maybe twenty hours a week in event planning, although sometimes it was forty, other times zero. Jim had gotten us the best business, health, and home insurance policies, with the most generous evaluations, possible. Though I was and am really in love with Denise I'm by far not a perfect husband. I need to admit to two incidents of cheating. The first occurred when Denise was pregnant with the twins and the last place on earth I wanted to be was away from her. But my most important client had his most important project in Boise, Idaho, and I had to be there a week. I really missed Denise, resulting in long phone calls, but also in something else. I was staying at a so-so hotel, convenient to my client's facility, which had as its only special feature a large swimming pool. After talking to Denise one night and getting hot and bothered I decided to go for a swim, my ultimate exercise and relaxation. It was late when I walked into the pool area, so late that the pool was officially closed. Since it was in a separate wing of the hotel and, not only were there no lights on but dark surroundings, I went in anyway. "The perfect time to go skinny dipping," I said to myself considering that my conversation with Denise had left me at more than half mast. I shed my trunks and dove in. I had completed one lap and was turning facing the other way for a second lap when I heard a giggle at the same time that I saw a figure in the water at a part of the pool I couldn't see well when I dove in. I stopped short. I determined that it was a woman with just her head and neck above water. "Oh, shit, I'm really sorry," I said, I didn't know anyone else was in here. Close your eyes and I'll get out and put my suit back on. "Don't bother," she giggled. "I don't have mine on either. I don't mind swimming laps side-by-side – it's really dark. "OK," I said, shrugging my shoulders. We swam slowly a couple of laps while chatting. It was clear that she had a buzz on, although by no means was she drunk. She was very cheeky and bold. I quickly learned that she was in worse shape – in the horniness department – than I was. She had been away from her husband for ten days and had two more days to go, and swimming was to be her release. For whatever reason I told her of my state too, especially after having just gotten off the phone with Denise. She started doing the backstroke. Though there was almost no light there was enough, at certain places along the pool, to see that she was small with a nice tight body, shaved pussy, and little boobs with big nipples. That did nothing to relieve my hard-on. We continued chatting, me still swimming on my front, normally the breast stroke, while she continued doing the back stroke and was unconcerned that I was looking at her while she did. After about twenty minutes, her buzz apparently not having decreased but her libido having increased, she stopped near the shallow end and stood up. Her entire upper body was above the water. I stopped swimming when she said something about asking my advice regarding some inane subject while wading toward me. She moved quickly the last two steps and reached just under the surface of the water, grabbed my cock and grinned. I didn't move her hand away. I just stood and grinned too. I'm 6'2" and she couldn't have been more than 5 feet tall, not 100 pounds even if soaking wet. My rock-hard cock looked enormous in her little hand. "What are you doing?" I asked, obviously a rhetorical question. "Seeing if we can help each other out," she said, stroking me very lightly. "How so?" I asked, wanting her to take the lead. "I have a really tiny pussy; my husband is a short guy with a dick commensurate with his size. I've always wanted to try a bigger dick but he keeps me well satisfied at home so I've never been bold enough to. I like the looks of your cock and want to see if it fits inside me," she said. Seeing the expression on my face, which even in the dark probably looked like a combination of fear, lust, surprise and excitement, she continued speaking as she grabbed my hand. "See what I mean?" she said as she brought the fingers of my right hand into contact with her shaved pussy. I really did want to stop but my fingers had a mind of their own and started a little exploring. She wasn't exaggerating. Her slit was really petite. After I determined the approximate dimensions of her pussy she moaned then grabbed my left hand with her right and led me to the stairs out of the pool saying "Let's do a little experimenting, stud." I followed her like I was one of the automatons that I design and build. "Lay down on this deck chair," she said, smiling and pointing to a padded chaise lounge. By this time my dick really hurt and was in control of my body obviously having drawn most of my blood away from my brain. She straddled me and lowered herself ever so carefully onto my cock. I don't think that the entire thing got buried but she was able to get it far enough in that it didn't hurt but that she could generate some movement. She started bouncing up and down. I started to buck back and she let out a little yelp and said "Please let me control the movement – if you're completely buried it hurts." With this little woman and snug pussy my cock felt like it was a foot long and beer can thick. Considering my horny condition, her tight cunt and her energetic movements I blasted her full of cum in about two minutes flat causing her to start spasaming. She had to lift her pussy off my cock to stop shaking, and then collapsed on top of me. Wow, did that solve my problem! When she regained awareness she said "Come up to my room, will you?" "More experimentation?" I asked with a smile. "Maybe," was her coy reply. Neither of us bothered to put our suits back on but did put our robes on. When we exited the pool area I finally got to see what she looked like in the light, at least with a robe on. She was blond with a pixie cut and really cute. When we got into her room she immediately dropped her robe and I was impressed by her nice hips, thighs, and ass as well as her miniature pleasuring slit. Without many words I got my head between her legs and starting licking and fingering that little pussy. Her clit was surprisingly big for a woman her size, and very sensitive. I almost made her pass out twice by abusing her oversized clit with my tongue and fingers. By then I was hard again. She mumbled something about lubrication generally motioning toward the nightstand drawer. I opened it and found a small dildo and some KY jelly there. I lathered up my cock, put her ankles on my shoulders, and slowly penetrated her. It was probably a combination of her being more relaxed, her three orgasms, and the lubrication, but I was actually able to bottom out in her, although I needed to be careful about how hard I pounded her. Then again there was no need for hard pounding with that taut vagina and again I filled her to capacity resulting in an extremely rewarding sensation for me, and a series of chirps interspersed with screams by her. The next morning I finally found out her name. It was Shelia. I would have fucked her again but for the fact that she was late for work and sore. "I'll be fine tonight and look forward to another episode," she chirped with a big smile on her face as she finished up putting on her makeup. Dressed in a sundress with light eye shadow and lipstick and four inch heels she really looked good. "Can you meet me for dinner?" I asked. "Sure, how about 5:30," she said as she put on the last touches of eyelash makeup. "Why so early?" I asked. Shelia smiled broadly into the mirror and chuckled. "We need time for our food to digest and I'm expecting an all-nighter with you because I have to leave at 6 a.m. tomorrow for the airport. "Fair enough," was all that I said as I watched her walk out of her room bow-legged. That day at work I felt a few tinges of guilt but the experience with Sheila was so different than with Denise I was able to compartmentalize it. I talked to Denise just before I went to dinner so I was uber-horny by the time that I saw Sheila again. We had lots of things to say to each other at dinner so the conversation never lagged. She was a very interesting woman, with a provocative personality and bearing. Having already buried my cock in her compact hole I was anxious to do it again. After a post-dinner hour leisurely walk, holding hands when no one who could possibly recognize it was around, we both were ready for some action. She again made me feel the size of a porn star by barely being able to get her tiny mouth around my cock as she sucked me while I fingered her pussy. With adequate lubrication and a real desire to make it work by both parties we fucked again three more times before she had to leave – again walking bow-legged – the next morning. "That was really fun; I enjoyed myself," were her parting words as we briefly kissed goodbye. "Yeah you got that right," was my grinning reply, "Thanks, you really are a spectacular woman." That got me a big smile. Only when I was on the plane going home two days later did I start to feel guilty. I rationalized it by saying what a different experience it was, how she was someone I would never see again, and how it clearly was completely recreational and biological for both of us; all of which were true, but no excuse. After doting on Denise and catering to her every whim through the rest of her pregnancy and at least the first six months of the twins' lives, I basically forgot about my two nights with Sheila. Those events did not come into my mind again until the events forming the basis of this story started to unfold. My second experience with cheating was much different than the first. Again I was out of town, this time in San Francisco, just after the twins' second birthday. I had had a long but very economically rewarding day. I had already talked to Denise on the phone but our call was short because the kids were acting up and her parents were visiting. While she was happy with my success she really wasn't in the position to celebrate with me. A Cheating Cliche -- Almost Too jazzed up to sleep I went to the hotel bar. The hotel was very fancy and the bar crowded. Out of the corner of my eye I saw probably the most beautiful woman I had ever seen live in my life. Even though I was brimming with self-confidence with women ever since I got the gorgeous and sultry Denise to fall in love with me, and certainly enhanced by my experience with Sheila, I simply gave her an appreciative glance and said "out of my league" to myself; not that I would have tried to seduce her anyway since I had resolved after Sheila that she would be my one and only extramarital fling. I did occasionally notice that almost every guy in the bar area approached the live wet dream at one time or another, but she didn't leave with anyone. The crowd started to thin slightly when I felt someone's arm brush against mine. I turned to look and was startled by the vision in front of me. Up close she looked even better with a face out of a cosmetics ad and a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition, or better, body. "Can I ask you a favor?" she whispered while pretending to laugh and touching my shoulder with her hand. "All I can do is say yes or no, so ask away," I replied, smiling. "Can you pretend that you know me; my name is Sherri. There are two guys over there I don't want to be associated with that are hitting on me and don't seem to want to take 'no' for an answer. I told them that I'm with you, so can you pretend that I am?" she said softly, again every once in a while giving a fake demonstrative laugh. "Sure," I replied, "I'm Bryce. What are you drinking?" "Just club soda, I'm working," she replied. I ordered a club soda, looked over to where she had been sitting and noticed two chubby homely guys that seemed to get dejected looks on their faces and then start exiting the bar. "Don't turn your head too obviously but I think that your 'friends' are leaving," I said. "I hope that I helped." "Oh, you certainly did," she said, smiling. Her club soda arrived and she took a sip. Then while chatting with me she looked in the mirror in back of the bar and saw the two guys she wanted to avoid actually exiting. "You don't have to leave now that they're gone, do you?" I asked. "I have something to celebrate and no one to celebrate it with me." "What are you celebrating?" she asked. "The largest advance I've ever gotten on a contract, and the highest profit margin I've ever built into one," I responded with a gleam in my eye. "Well that is something to celebrate," she said, and gave me a peck on the cheek. I was now officially in a good mood. We chatted some more – she was very friendly but not physical – when I noticed that her drink was empty. "Another club soda?" I asked. "Thanks," she grinned. After ordering it I thought back to her comment when I got the first one. "You said you're drinking club soda because you're working; what's your business?' "I'm a high priced escort," she matter-of-factly quietly replied. I was barely able to avoid spitting out the remnants of my scotch and soda that I had just sipped. I thought that I recovered well. "What does 'high-priced' mean?" was all that I could think to ask, although it was not because I was considering purchasing her time. "It really means two things. One is that I charge $1200 to spend the night, lesser amounts for shorter lengths of time with a minimum of $400. Secondly, I'm very picky. Tonight alone I've shot down six guys who were willing to pay the fare, including the two chubby guys that you scared away who were willing to pay $2000 for a threesome," was her cool reply. "Do you enjoy your work?" I asked for lack of a better question. "Very much so; I love sex and meeting new guys. If someone doesn't enjoy it they shouldn't be a call girl – I mean escort," she shot back, then laughed. "Do you work for an agency or do you freelance?" "I freelance; I don't need anyone's help getting clients, especially at top-of-the-line hotels," she smirked, almost like she was insulted by the question. "Have you ever paid for sex?" she asked. "Not except with an exotic dancer at a bachelor party when I was twenty one and single," I laughed, thinking back on the bachelor party before Jim's wedding. I had fucked the stripper that I prevented Jim from fucking. "Why, do I meet your standards?" "As long as you're married and live out of town, you do," she replied. "Why does that make a difference?" I asked. "Local or single guys can be so messy, especially local and single guys" she replied with kind of a disgusted look. "They want to date afterwards. I get all of the sex I need in my job and am not ready to start a family so I don't date." During the entire time that we talked I ogled her body. With the exception of Denise's tits every part of her body appeared to be better than any part of any other woman I had ever seen in my life, and she exuded enough sex appeal to drown an elephant. I had quickly become interested. "Sherri, I would love to hire you but I'm not going to write a check and I have only about $300 in cash," I said staring at her intently. "Do you have an ATM card?" she asked. "Of course," I replied. "And enough money in your account?" "Yes, I do," I said. "There's an ATM machine in the hotel right outside the bar which will dispense $400. I'll spend the night with you for $1100 – you can get the other $400 tomorrow morning since you can use the machine every eight hours. Plus, I have a guarantee," she said biting her thumb. "What's the guarantee," I said now truly interested. "Actually, two of them. The first is that if we get into your room and you don't think that I have the best naked body you've ever seen live then I'll give you a free blow job and leave. The second is that if sex with me isn't the most physically – not emotionally but physically – satisfying of your life you only pay me the $700 you'll have after the first ATM run, not the extra $400 you'll need to get tomorrow morning." I slipped her a key card for my room. "Room 2121; I'll be up after I stop at the ATM, Sherri." She gave me an evil smile and left. I actually had $426 in cash already so I paid the bar bill with cash, went to the ATM, and then went upstairs. I'm not going to describe the sex with Sherri in detail because words can't do it justice. Let me just say that she started out with a naked blowjob that was the best that I ever had by a mile, and then two fucks. Even though the fucks were with condoms they were phenomenal, as was her extreme body contact. In general it was an other-worldly experience. Needless to say she delivered on her guarantees and after a morning shower together I invited her to breakfast. After we ordered I got the other $400 from the ATM and surreptitiously passed it to her under the table while we were eating. After we finished breakfast as she left she asked "Do I have a satisfied customer in you, Bryce?" "More than satisfied – thrilled," I replied smiling. "You do have one problem, though, Sherri." "What's that, Bryce?" she asked with a quizzical look on her face. "You don't charge enough!" I replied with a big smile. She liked that. We squeezed hands goodbye since we were in public and a smooch wasn't called for. I was able to rationalize the Sherri incident even more easily than the Sheila one since it was "Just business." Also, Sherri taught me a little trick called the "Sicilian Corkscrew" that I used on Denise when I got home that caused her to go wild. That may not have been the smartest thing to do right after coming home from a trip, however, since once she regained her senses she asked "Where did you learn that?" I'm not sure that she bought my explanation of "I just stumbled across it in an article in some magazine," but she never complained when I used it on her. So it's clear that I'm not the perfect husband when it comes to fidelity although in my defense I had been hit on in the Denver area on at least a dozen occasions, including by some beautiful, if flawed, women and including even when Denise was out of town, and never even went to square one with any of them. That brings me to Jim and Denise. I saw the signs at least about four months before the main event, but ignored them, writing them off to just a plutonic fascination that Jim had had with Denise since college. The signs included: Jim and Denise being chummy at parties, dinners, or simple get-togethers; noticing a second cell phone in Denise's office (both of our offices were at home) that I had never seen before; unusually long meetings by Denise with clients while I was with the kids; calls to our house that went unanswered when I was out-of-town, though followed up relatively soon afterwards with return calls; little love notes from Denise on my desk; Denise sometimes immediately showered when she came home; and much more frequent changing of the sheets on our bed. Our sex life, either frequency or intensity, did not get one iota worse, however, nor did her non-sexual affection toward me. That may have been what caused me to rationalize the other signs for several months. There wasn't one event that triggered installation of six state-of-the-art HD cameras in my house while Denise was with the kids visiting her parents for two days. Rather it was the culmination of events and my recognition that they had started to distract me. The cameras were motion activated and designed to transmit images and sound in real time over the Internet. The data was easily retrieved, using a password, when I turned my laptop computer on but cloud-stored even if my computer was off. I hadn't really thought about what I would do if my suspicions were correct, most likely because I convinced myself that I was paranoid and that the cameras would just prove it to me. Two days after Denise got back from her parents' house I had a trip to Colorado Springs, only about an hour away. However, I told Denise that it was to Casper, Wyoming, about four hours away but close enough that she would not be suspicious that I decided to drive there. I told her the trip was for four days, not the two it really was for, although I was going to stay an extra two if necessary to appease my suspicions. The first night, and the next morning, that Denise was back we had two really excellent love-making sessions, one after I practiced the Sicilian Corkscrew on her, which almost rendered her comatose before I could fuck her. The night before I was to leave, however, she turned me down – very unusual for her – making me more suspicious. The first night I was gone there were thunderstorms throughout most of Colorado, the worst expected to be in the Denver area. While watching TV in my hotel room I had my laptop fired up and all of the camera images displayed at once on split screen, but the sound off. I called Denise and the boys just before the boys' bedtime and was actually able to watch all three talk to me. Denise was lovey-dovey when she signed off. As soon as the boys went to bed Denise changed into sexy negligee. "Oh shit," I grumbled to myself. She was in the bathroom for quite a while – I didn't see what she did there because I had no camera in there – but I can imagine. When she came out she went to check on the boys and apparently found that they were asleep because she then went to her office. From a locked desk drawer in her office she took out the second cell phone that she had once inadvertently left out on top of her desk the day that I saw it. I immediately switched on the volume. "Hi, Hon, it's me. The boys are asleep so get your ass over here pronto," Denise said with a devilish grin. The call wasn't made to me. Jim showed up in ten minutes – about the time that it would take him to drive from his office – and parked in the driveway. He ran from his car to the front porch of my house holding an umbrella, and got a big kiss from Denise at the entryway. Jim took off the wet part of his clothes on the first floor then followed Denise upstairs, pinching her beautiful round ass on the first few stairs. There was no longer a camera covering the action on the rest of the stairway. When Jim got to the bedroom he stood there smiling while Denise undressed him as he removed the top of her negligee and rubbed her nipples on her perfect tits. He smiled, she giggled. Once Jim was naked Denise got on her knees and sucked his cock. While I had never seen him hard before it looked to be virtually exactly the same size as mine. She gazed up at him as she did, and he couldn't take his hands off her fabulous tits. Once Jim started groaning Denise stood up, led him to our bed and giggled even more as he pulled off her negligee bottom and dove into her obviously recently shaved pussy. She was clearly enjoying his activity and had a significant orgasm. Once she did he got on his knees and turned her over. He reached over and pulled a tube of lube out of the nightstand – he knew exactly where it was – then lubed up his dick and Denise's asshole. I had never asked Denise for an ass fuck and she never indicated any interest in one. I would have accommodated her if she were interested – I just like her pussy so much I never saw a need for it. This clearly was not their first ass fuck. Jim lubed her asshole in what looked like a ritual including one, then two, then three finger penetrations. Denise encouraged him throughout. As soon as Jim extracted his three fingers he shoved his cock in and pounded Denise hard as she moaned in pleasure. There was no doubt when first he, then she, had an orgasm. What happened after Jim withdrew his cock from her ass was the most disturbing part to me. So far it had just been sex; then it became love. They cuddled, stroked each other with Jim obviously enjoying Denise's tits, then the worst thing possible. "I love you, Jim." "I love you Denise," followed by a passionate kiss. I almost stopped watching it. It was lucky that I didn't. After about five more minutes Jim said "I've got to get back to the Italian Tyrant. When is 'robot man' coming back from Casper?" I assume that I was "robot man," something that Jim had never called me to my face or in my presence. "Thursday night. Can we have another session Wednesday night? I'll ride you reverse cowgirl!" Denise giggled. "Well at least she didn't say something derogatory about me," I mused. "You can ride me reverse cowgirl as long as I can finger your ass while you do," he laughed, getting him a playful punch. "What's this fascination with my ass lately? Don't you like my pussy?" she laughed. I didn't like the use of the word "lately," or his reply. "Your pussy is the best; but so is your ass," he laughed then headed into the bathroom. By then I was almost ready to throw up, and my heart was broken. Denise, still naked, leaned back against our metal headboard with a satisfied look on her face, inspecting her nipples and pussy. While Jim was in the bathroom I heard the shower running then I saw him come out and get dressed as he and Denise exchanged more comments about their body parts and sex. Jim was almost fully dressed when disaster struck. A bright light came on my bedroom camera screen and Denise was knocked away from the metal headboard and off the bed. Jim was knocked down but quickly got back up. Obviously lightning had struck the house and apparently went through the headboard into Denise's body. Jim rushed over to Denise but she was unresponsive. A fire had started on the sheets and mattress. Jim picked Denise up and started carrying her out of the room. I immediately called 911 in our suburb to report the lightning strike and fire. Although I didn't always have a view I saw Jim exit the front door and lay Denise on the ground about thirty feet from the front door – she was still naked. By then it looked like the fire was moving quickly. Jim ran back upstairs and I saw him enter the boys' room. He took him quite a while in their bedroom, probably because they weren't cooperative and didn't know what the hell was going on. Eventually he exited their room carrying one of my sons in each arm, although they were screaming and squirming. Jim did great until he got to the bottom of the stairs when Chet, though only five as large as most eight year olds, lurched. He jumped out of Jim's arm. Jim carried our other twin, Dirk, out to where Denise was, then went back in to get Chet who was crawling up the stairs, totally disoriented. By the time that Jim grabbed Chet with both arms the fire had progressed more than I would have expected. A timber fell, hitting Jim on the shoulders and causing him to sprawl out the front door as Chet flew out of his arms onto the rain-soaked grass. Because I had immediately called 911 and because the firehouse is only about two miles from our house I saw a fire truck and ambulance arrive shortly after Jim went sprawling, as he lay – apparently unconscious but at least dazed – at the front of the once. Once I saw the ambulance I threw all of the clothes that I could easily get my hands on into my suitcase, grabbed my laptop, and ran out the door. I yelled out my room number and the reason for my haste to the hotel front desk clerk as I flew by her and she yelled back "I'll take care of it!" I called the fire department on my way home, fortunately just an hour's drive. I got the name of the hospital the victims were sent to. The thought that Denise might die did two things. It made me realize how much I loved her regardless of her infidelity since I couldn't imagine life with her gone; and it snapped me into my "Cool Hand Bryce" emergency mode. Rather than being overwhelmed my mind worked as clearly as it ever had. In the hour's drive I quickly, sharply, and rationally went through in my mind what I would do in response to dozens of possible scenarios to deal with my family's health as well as my Jim-Denise problem. When I got to the hospital thankfully our next door neighbor, Sandy Moore, was there with Chet and Dirk. Neither was seriously injured – flying onto the ground is duck soup for a five year old – but terrified. They were very happy to see me. I told them "I'm going to check on Mommy – you stay here with Mrs. Moore." Denise was unconscious. The doctor was straight forward. "Your wife has a high probability of surviving, on the order of 90%. Unfortunately there will be damage to her nervous system and the chance that the damage will be long term is on the order of 80%. We'll know about her survival by tomorrow morning, but it will likely be five-six months or so before we know if there will be permanent nerve damage." I held Denise's hand for a few minutes, called my sister to report what happened, asked Sandy Moore to take the kids to my sister's house after giving them big kisses and telling them that Mommy would be fine, then went and held Denise's hand another half hour. As I held her hand I both begged her not to die and firmed up my plan in my mind. In my heart I was sure that she would recover – I just felt it – and I promised her and myself that I would do whatever it took to help her. I then went to see Jim who was on a different floor in the same hospital. He had gotten a significant, though by no means life-threatening, injury and was being kept overnight for observation. I was told that he most likely would be fine in a couple of days. He was already lucid. After I walked into his room I closed the door. "Jim, I want to sincerely thank you for saving the lives of my family members," I said walking over to him and shaking his hand. I could tell that he was apprehensive. "I was glad I could help, Bryce, I love your family too," he replied before realizing what he had said. "I know that, Jim. Because you saved my family I am taking a much different approach to the next subject than I otherwise would have." A Cheating Cliche -- Almost "What other subject, Bryce?" "Your affair with Denise." "Where did you get that wild idea...." I cut him off. "Stop Jim; I have you on DVD eating her out, fondling her tits, and fucking her ass tonight." His eyes got wide; he shut up. "Listen to what I have to say, Jim. While I am so very grateful to you I also am more angry than I ever have been in my life – more angry than at the Bagdad Brawl party," I said with steely resolve. I went ballistic at the Bagdad Brawl in college. I put two other guys in the hospital and Jim had to admit me to the hospital also. The "Bagdad Brawl" comment got his attention. "I'll bet you haven't called Gabriella yet because you had to figure out how you could justify being at my house 9:30 at night." "You're right," he mumbled, looking down. "I have a way to prevent 'The Italian Tyrant,' as you so disrespectfully referred to her tonight after fucking my wife, from killing you." He looked like a drowning man ready to grab anything to save his life. "This is how it's going to play out. I called you from my trip panicked because I had forgotten an insurance payment. Denise didn't know where the valuation we had done was in my office, and I had a special safe with the papers in it. I gave you the combination and asked you to get them out and take care of them by fax or email before tomorrow morning. That's why you serendipitously arrived just as the lightning hit." "You'll back me up on that story?" Jim incredulously asked. "Yes. I'll call Gabriella as soon as we're done and I'll give her the story myself. You'll tell her that you can talk the insurance company into an extension given the circumstances." "OK," he replied, as wide-eyed as his condition would allow. "That way you're a hero not a fornicator." He didn't respond to that, just looked down. "After an initial appearance together for the benefit of the press I will not have any contact with you ever again. You will have someone else in your office handle the insurance fallout from the fire. Except for ten minutes with her, alone, once she regains consciousness, you will not, under any circumstances, talk to Denise until she has recovered fully from her injuries, likely six months. You will not return her calls if she calls you, you will not contact her in person, by email, or in any other way. Understood?" Jim nodded, although more hesitantly than before. "If you do have contact with Denise I will give Gabriella a copy of the DVD with your activities and words in my bedroom last night and tell her the whole truth. I wonder what your father would do with that little tidbit?" I rhetorically asked. "Tell me 'yes I understand, no contact with Denise until she's healed.'" With a stammer indicating that he realized that he had no choice Jim repeated, "I understand that I shall have no contact with Denise until she's healed or Gabriella gets the DVD." "At the end of six months, or when she's healed," I continued, "I will give Denise a choice. She can stay married to me and move with me at least a thousand miles away and never have contact with you again, or we get divorced and she can do whatever she wants including pursuing you and breaking up your marriage. So if you really do love her, like you said on the DVD, you still have a chance to have her. Understood?" After a long pause and with the strangest look in his eye – one that I could not possibly interpret – Jim replied "I understand." "Good; I'll call Gabriella." "One last thing, Bryce," Jim said; "how did you get here so fast, I thought that you were in Casper. "I was in Colorado Springs; I was watching you live and I was the one who called 911. If I hadn't you might very well have died from the fire where you fell unconscious on the front porch because the firemen may not have gotten to you fast enough to save you," I softly replied. Jim's eyes almost popped out of his head. Things went as planned. I told Gabriella our story and she was at the hospital within twenty minutes hysterical with glee to be with her hero. The next afternoon the press ate the story up when Jim and I gave a joint press conference at the hospital entrance, with Gabriella and his daughters beaming at Jim's side. I laid it on thick about how grateful our family was that serendipity put Jim in the right place at the right time and how he "rose the occasion." I couldn't see his reaction but I'll bet that he didn't smile what I used the phrase "rose to the occasion." Thankfully the morning of the press conference Denise had regained consciousness and was lucid, although she would be in the hospital another week or so before starting rehabilitation. Therefore after the press conference I took Jim aside. "Denise is lucid," I told him. "You have ten minutes with her alone. Do NOT – I repeat NOT – tell her about the DVD and tell her that in view of what happened it will be a while before you see her again. Got it?" "Got it," he glumly replied and then excused himself from his family. Jim returned about fifteen minutes later, still glum. I folded my one man consulting corporation and Denise's one woman event planning company. I called each of my and her clients personally and explained the situation and thanked them for their business in the past. They all wished us well. The house was totaled by the lightning, fire, and water from the rain and fire hoses. The only contents saved were photo albums and baby books in a sturdy metal filing cabinet in Denise's office, and all our important papers, and computer files which were on discs or other media, in two fire proof safes in my office. No clothes, furniture, or art work survived. Jim had done an excellent job insuring us and one of his partners at the insurance agency was a real zealot on our behalf. With the insurance payouts for the house, personal property, and business losses (we got a full year proceeds for each of our businesses), and the sale of our lot since we were never going to rebuild, we got well over a million dollars, tax free or after tax. On a short term lease we rented a very nice furnished house on a park with all sorts of playground equipment and a large indoor swimming pool. I spent virtually all my waking time either helping Denise rehabilitate or taking care of the kids or both at the same time. Denise's Mom, her sister, and my sister, each stayed with us for about a week on two separate occasions to help out. Denise could barely walk when she got out of the hospital and there were gaps in her memory. Most of the nerve damage was from her waist down, although other parts suffered too. The many, many therapy sessions with professionals were almost 100% covered by the excellent health insurance Jim had secured for us. I took Denise to the pool almost every day since swimming was very helpful in her recovery, and we took the kids with us two days a week for swimming and diving lessons. Being with Denise all of the time and tending to her needs and getting her truly appreciative hugs, kisses, and words in return, made me remember as vividly as possible that her nature and personality, as much as her physical beauty, was why I had fallen in love with her. I know that Denise tried to call Jim on several occasions but he never answered or returned her calls. On many occasions when we were alone she said "Bryce we need to talk about that night," but each time I held her face in my hands, kissed her lips, and said "I promise we'll talk as long as you like once you're healed, but not until then. The doctors say that you could regress." Of course the doctors said no such thing, and she likely knew that, but didn't push it. Our friends, including Gabriella who often brought us home-made treats and whose kids played with ours, were very supportive too. Gabriella thought it odd that Jim never accompanied them but he always had a reason and she didn't push it. Denise's willpower, her recuperative powers, and all the loving labor I and everyone else put in, worked wonders. I like to think that my daily manipulation and sucking of her tits helped, as did the several blow jobs that she gave me. Whatever the reasons at the five month anniversary of the lightning strike we made love – gentle, heart-felt love. We repeated every second day after that until at six months and two days from the lightning strike she went in for what we hoped would be her final physical. Denise insisted that I come into the doctor's examination room with her. After an examination with associated mental, coordination, and physical tests, lasting more than two hours, we got great news. "Except for some minor loss of strength and coordination in your legs, which might even come back over the next few years, you are completely back to normal," the doctor said with a big smile. Denise's mother was watching the kids while we were at the doctor's office and of course was as thrilled as we were. Our whole family including my sister and her husband and daughter, and Sandy Moore and her husband, went out to celebrate. The celebration was even better when we got home and Denise pushed herself to her limit successfully trying to make me sexually satisfied. While her mother was still at our rental house two days after our celebration I told Denise that I was taking the kids to see my parents until she came to a decision about something. "About what?" she asked. "I left you a letter on our bed. Read it whey we're on the plane," I replied. Then the kids and I kissed her goodbye. Denise was starting to melt down as we left, realizing what the letter might be about. I didn't look back and encouraged the kids not to look back either. I texted Jim – my only contact with him since the press conference – telling him that he could talk to or see Denise if he wanted to. My letter said: "Dear Denise: I'm sorry for putting this in the form of a letter but I don't have the intestinal fortitude to talk to you face-to-face at this juncture. Now that you're well you have some choices to make. I have accepted a job with a former client in Spokane, about an hour away from your parents' house, to work full time for them. The job pays about 60% of what I was making my last year of consulting but the benefits are good and there is virtually no business travel; plus we still have well over a million dollars in the bank. I want you to come with me. I want you to tell me that you're coming with me, that you love me and only me, and that you want to remain my wife and will be faithful hereafter. If you chose to come with me I will wipe the slate clean regarding your relationship with Jim. There is one caveat. You will never, under any circumstances, see or communicate with him again once we leave for Spokane. If you don't want to come with me I will be hurt, but will understand. We'll file for divorce based upon irreconcilable differences and split everything 50-50. I will try for sole custody but will not sully your reputation in any way in doing so. Aside from my gutlessness another reason for this letter is that I really want you to think about this for at least 48 hours. Please don't call me with your decision until 48 hours after you read this and after you've talked to Jim, but as soon as you make your decision after that please call and the three of us will come back immediately. You don't have to tell me your decision until I return to face you. With hope and love, Bryce." I was on pins and needles after just 24 hours. Thirty hours after the time that I thought she must have seen the letter she called. "I know I wasn't supposed to call until 48 hours, but I had to," she said crying into the phone. "Why?" I genuinely asked. "Because I want you to know right now, not later," she sobbed into the phone, "that I desperately want to go with you and the boys to Spokane and to be your loving faithful wife forever. I love you and only you. I know that I have to seek your forgiveness and some explaining to do..." I cut her off. "Explaining is not part of the deal. When we get to Spokane the slate is clean and any past indiscretions are not just forgiven but forgotten. Have you met with Jim?" "Yes I have. We talked for two hours then kissed goodbye, never to see each other again." "We'll be there on the next flight – I'll text the details," I replied then ran to tell my parents what was news to me but didn't make sense to them. A smiling but sobbing Denise and her mother met us at the airport in the middle of the night about six hours after I terminated our phone call. That was three years ago. I've had the perfect wife and family life since then with two well-adjusted kids with their biological loving parents, and a completely loving household. Denise has completely recovered from the lightning strike and the sex with her is the most passionate and incredible ever in our relationship! I think that my two instances of cheating – the last there ever will be – helped me come to a rational approach to the Jim-Denise problem. Every day I'm grateful that I approached the situation as I did because I could not stand the thought of losing Denise, but would never settle for a less than completely monogamous relationship.