20 comments/ 62265 views/ 20 favorites It's Just Exercise By: imhapless This story could also go in the non-consent/reluctance category. If that's not your thing don't say that you weren't warned. _____________________ Amanda and I had an "almost" storybook romance in college. In the old days I would have been the football star, she the head cheerleader. After Title IX and the emergence – at least in the Eastern part of the United States in general, and specifically Ivy League schools – of previously minor sports I was the lacrosse hero and she was the field hockey phenom. We are the same age, and were the same year in school. Lacrosse has some similarities with football in that it definitely requires teamwork to succeed and defensive players have to have a nasty mindset – at least I did. While the primary requirements of a good defenseman (also called a "longpole") are footwork (drop step, side shuffle, and lateral change of direction are the most important techniques to master), stick work, and of course knowledge of the game, it doesn't hurt if you're big and strong. At 6 feet 5 inches, 225 pounds, I was one of the bigger defenseman in Division I. I made All Conference two years, and 2nd team All-American one year. Although I was good, Amanda was better in her sport than I was in mine. At 5 feet 6 inches tall, 130 pounds, she was slightly bigger than the average field hockey forward, and much quicker. She led NCAA Division I in scoring one year, and her team three years, and was First Team All-American two years. I thought that Amanda looked as good as she played. Even when her brunette hair was in a bun, which is the way she kept it when playing, and even with goggles hiding her steel blue eyes, I thought that she was beautiful. When she had her hair flowing down her back and was wearing an evening gown, her looks knocked my socks off. The reason that I say that our college romance was "almost" storybook was because we both had a major personal issue to deal with, and a significant compatibility one. My personal issue was anger management. Too many penalties on the field my freshman and sophomore years got my coaches pissed. Also, my getting mad at Amanda for relatively insignificant things our sophomore year made her question how good a life mate I'd be. A few bar fights didn't help. I got proactive in controlling my anger/temper in the summer after my sophomore year by taking tai chi. The few times that I had seen tai chi on television I thought it was really fucked-up. However, one of my lacrosse coaches insisted that it would help me and in no uncertain terms told me that I needed to do something otherwise my excessive penalties would get me a seat on the bench my junior year. Tai chi turned out to be good for me. It did help me get my temper under control, so much so that by my senior year I had only two penalties called on me the entire season and never once got mad at Amanda. I also stopped drinking, so no more bar fights. I don't think that tai chi improved my fighting ability much – but that wasn't why I took it since I never had any difficulty winning fights. However, there was one maneuver that I learned that I loved; the transition sequence from right Shoulder Stroke to right White Crane Spreads Its Wings which, when executed properly, allows one to hit his opponent in the solar plexus with any degree of incapacitation desired. You can just knock the wind out of your opponent all the way to – theoretically at least – killing him. Amanda's main issue was a poor self-image. You might wonder how a beautiful woman, smart enough to get into an Ivy League college, who was an All-American field hockey player, could have a poor self-image. I'm no psychologist, but I blame it on her parents, who always required her to seek perfection. In fact her parents didn't like me at first since I never let them put her down in my presence. I think that they "got religion" about it after Amanda went to see a shrink about the same time that I started tai chi. I'm only guessing because no one ever told me (and I didn't want to invade Amanda's privacy by asking), but I think that the shrink had the same take that I did and talked to the parents herself, causing them to back off from Amanda and suddenly like me. Anyway, both Amanda and I resolved our individual "problems" by the time that our senior year started. Our compatibility issue related to sex. I considered Amanda the sexiest woman that I had ever seen and being a red-blooded heterosexual male of course wanted to fuck her from the time that I first saw her. We did start fucking in the middle of our junior year but our approach was different. I liked it rough and tumble and gritty. She liked it gentle and warm and fuzzy. We both were passionate. In our quest to reach a happy medium, many times Amanda told me that she didn't like being treated like a slut or whore. I often countered that I didn't want a prim and proper Victorian "lady" in bed. After about fifteen tries, we finally came to a compromise that we were both less than 100% satisfied with (isn't that true of all compromises?), but given our love for each other were more than willing to go along with. That continued through our marriage, with the exception that on our birthdays, and one holiday each during the year, we would get exactly what we wanted. I'd have to say that our marriage was much better than average our first eight years. We rarely fought, when we did we "fought fair," we always wanted to please the other above ourselves, and we enjoyed both an active social and sex life. Amanda got pregnant with our first child after we had been married eight years. I thought that she looked great, and to be honest I liked fucking her when she was pregnant although she found that hard to believe. During her pregnancy some of her previous "self-image" problems arose likely due to her change in body shape and pregnancy hormones. I really didn't think that I was doing anything differently than I had since college when, during a night out together, I would take a long look at some slinky woman dressed like a skank. While I have to admit that my mind often wandered to what it would be like to fuck some attractive looking slut or the other, given my latent propensity for rough sex, I never, ever even came close to acting upon it. However, once she was pregnant Amanda started to get upset if I stared at someone with a skimpy skirt or see-through blouse, so I had to really cool it. Amanda seemed to regain her positive self-image after out little girl, Brittany, was born. Amanda went back to work two months after the delivery, but had trouble gaining her pre-pregnancy weight and muscle tone. When our son, Zach, was born two and a half years later we agreed that she should quit work and stay at home with the kids. By then, bolstered by my Ivy League education, I was doing very well in my career as a business owner, and money was not an issue. It was when Zach was two that things started to change. _____________ Amanda had been battling to regain her pre-pregnancy body ever since Zach was born, but hadn't met her goal. Again, those self-image problems were starting to re-emerge. I thought that she looked great and often told her so and I was as affectionate toward her as ever. Our sex life was between good and very good, and we both enjoyed being parents. However her take was obviously different because one day she informed me that she had figured out how to meet her body goal – she was going to start triathlon training. "Why triathlon training, Amanda? How is that any better than going to the gym?" were my first two questions. "The reason is, Blake, that you can train more with other people who support you and get more out of you than you thought possible," she replied with her hands on her hips. "You can't get that with a personal trainer?" I queried. "Oh, Blake, get modern," she said dismissively. "I'm joining a group of four men and four women who are training together and encouraging one another." "How did you get associated with this group?" I asked, truly puzzled. "Gina introduced me," she matter-of-factly replied. "Who's Gina?" I asked, even more puzzled than before. "Don't you remember? You met her once when I was pregnant with Brittany. You were staring at her so much that I had to poke you in the ribs," she responded. Apparently seeing a blank look on my face she continued in a tone that said either "you're stupid" or "you're playing dumb and I won't have it;" "She was at the leukemia fundraiser at Westwood Country Club." Suddenly I did remember. Gina was the epitome of a woman dressed like a slut that I silently stared at most of my adult life with "I'd love to fuck that," on my brain. She was the major attraction of the evening, although I could only ogle her while Amanda was in the loo – something that her pregnancy required often that evening – otherwise Amanda would either get weepy or angry. As I recall Gina was a beautiful, though slutty, little Italian firecracker. She was, at the time, about five feet three, maybe 110 pounds at most, with little tits that were darn near exposed in the leave-little-to-the-imagination dress that she was almost wearing, a pleasantly large and round ass, and sculptured thighs. She had a "fuck me" look that could get a rise out of any heterosexual male's cock. I thought that the better part of valor was to pretend that I didn't remember her. "Sorry, Hon," I said after stroking my chin a few seconds, "I can't seem to picture her in my mind. I don't think that I remember her. As I recall you were the most beautiful woman there, so I might not have noticed despite your recollection that I was staring at her." I thought that was a nice save. Amanda's response of "Yeah, right," indicated that perhaps she didn't. I quickly got back on the offensive. "So what do you hope to gain from this triathlon experience – you don't intend on competing, do you?" "Why do you ask that? You don't think that a thirty four year old mother of two can do it?" she snapped with her arms crossed. "That's not what I said or implied. For Christ's sake, you were an All-American athlete and can do anything that you set your mind to. My point is that from what I know about it triathlon training is all consuming and I was wondering how you could train to the extent necessary to enter actual triathlon events while taking care of two kids and a husband?" I shot back, devoid of levity. "I need my body back so if you miss a few dinners call Pizza Hut," she snapped back. "Pizza for the kids?" I asked, flabbergasted since she always insisted on good nutrition for Brittany and Zach. "They won't suffer; now how about supporting me instead of being an asshole about it?" she snapped again – also again with the arms folded. I could either escalate this to a full blown fight of the type that we hadn't had for years, or pretend to be all right with it, or take a "wait-and-see" attitude. I chose a sugar-coated version of the third option. "Hey, Amanda, honey. I always want to support you. I'm just a little concerned about the time commitment. I'm anxious to see how it goes with the minor caveat that we can re-evaluate sometime in the future. Is that unreasonable?" That brought down the stress level a bit. She smiled. "Sure," she replied. I took her into my arms, lifted her off the floor as she giggled, and kissed every part of her face and neck. I guess as kind of a reward for my capitulation, that night Amanda gave me what normally was only a birthday or one major holiday a year treat. A rough and tumble fuck. When she came to bed not only naked except for a devilish smile, but with her crotch shaved and lubricant already applied, I knew what was up without her even saying anything. I thought about turning it down since she obviously was playing me – yeah, right, and I was thinking about buying Yemeni bonds too. I didn't waste any time – nor did my cock which came to full attention in seconds. I grabbed her, threw her down on top of the bedspread, sucked and fondled her nipples almost raw, then unceremoniously put her on her hands-and-knees and buried my sword in her saturated scabbard in one thrust. As I pounded the shit out of her she emitted the normal grunts and groans that accompanied one of my infrequent animal fucks, and she did actually seem a little more into it than normal. What was strange, however, was that just before I was about to climax she did, which is something she normally did only just before I flooded her during a gentle fuck. Even more strange was that I hallucinated that I saw slut Gina's ass in my hands when I rocketed my cum into Amanda's pussy, maybe the hardest I had come in a decade. We fell asleep in each other's arm shortly after my semen detonation since we were both wiped out by the last uber-intense fifteen or twenty minutes. We woke up cold some hours later and had to crawl under the covers since we had fallen asleep in our fuck position on top of them. We instantly fell back to sleep. _____________ That night was the highlight of the next year. There were plenty of low lights. Amanda spent more and more time with her training group at the expense of the kids and me. Contact with them even started to dominate our social life. The first time that I met the members of Amanda's training group I was singularly unimpressed. I'm sorry to be chauvinistic about it, but the male members of the group made me revert to my High School days when I thought that guys who didn't play "macho" sports were wimps. In my defense they brought it out of me by laughing when they asked what I did for exercise and I told them that I lifted weights three times a week and worked out on an Elliptical five days. Chauncey was the leader of the group; a guy who never worked a day in his life but inherited his money – something that would have really turned me off even if he had been a nice guy. "What's so fucking funny?" was my less than polite response to their laughter. Since I was seven inches bigger and fifty pounds heavier than the biggest of the four guys, and could easily bench press any two of them together twenty times, the laughter stopped. Chauncey didn't stop being an ass, however. At one point I couldn't take it anymore. "Say Chauncey, if your 'sport,' actually more like a pastime wouldn't you say, is so great let me make a little challenge. I'll start a triathlon competing against you and you start a lacrosse game competing against me and we'll see who does the best. Let me give you a little friendly advice, though. Don't bet the farm on you prevailing because the first time that I hit you in the lacrosse game you'll be out for the duration," I said as obnoxiously as I could. The subject awkwardly changed to the stock market, and then we broke up to mingle with other guests. While at the bar getting another club soda – as I said I don't drink alcohol now since I always want to be in control lest my old anger management issues raise their ugly heads again – Gina walked up to me. Yeah, that Gina. "You were a little hard on my husband, weren't you," were her first words, without so much as an introduction. I played dumb. "And you would be..." I asked, holding out my hand. "I'm Gina Stanton, Chauncey's wife," she snickered, slapping my hand more than shaking it. "I hope that I didn't destroy his fragile ego," I snickered right back. "I just put his pompous ass in its place, that's all." "I've always wondered," she shot back, "why big dumb jocks think that they're so superior to everyone else." "I'm smarter than you are bitch, and I don't think I'm better than anyone else – but not less than them either, which is what your asshole husband as much as said. No wait, make that 'whined,' not 'said,'" I replied. "For someone who says he's so egalitarian and thinks he's so fucking smart you sure act like a typical asshole jock. Why in the hell did someone as with it as Amanda marry you?" she sniped. "For my big dick, I guess," I shot right back. [Actually my dick isn't that big, although probably a little larger in diameter than what surveys show is average for an American adult. However, it just seemed like that comment was the most appropriate one for this degenerate conversation.] Believe it or not the dialog actually went downhill from there until Amanda interrupted and dragged me away with a dirty look. And so started my "loving" relationship with Gina Stanton. We met at least three more times at social functions. Our barbs got even more cutting. I really despised the bitch. However, I also despised myself for two reasons. One, I should not have engaged in this type of "evil banter" with a woman for any reason. I should have been a gentleman, or at least should have been able to stop. Two – and this was the worst – the more that I despised Gina, the more that I wanted to fuck her brains out. _________________ Amanda's relationship with me and the kids continued to deteriorate during her triathlon training. I found out that she was "warehousing" the kids in a day care center most of the day during the week, and relying on me to take care of them during the weekends, all in the name of training. She rarely made dinners or cleaned the house so I finally hired a part time cook and housekeeper. The only thing that remained normal was the sex. Neither the frequency nor quality (it remained from good to very good) changed to any significant degree, although the first night that we discussed the triathlon training was the last time I had my preferred type of rough and tumble fuck. While the sex didn't deteriorate, Amanda acted more strangely leading up to and during sex. It was almost like she was intentionally flexing muscles in her ass, core, and thighs. I didn't really mind, I just thought it strange. Also she seemed to monitor her cell phone and computer more carefully than in the past, and always washed her clothes immediately after coming home from training. I was getting worried. So worried that I actually went to see an old buddy of mine from college, Tom Watson. Tom had become a family law attorney. Although I wasn't looking for a divorce I was concerned about her behavior and wanted my ducks in a row in case things happened that quickly got out of control. Tom counseled me to have hidden cameras record everything in the house – with date and time stamps – and to keep my own time records of her activities. He also told me to get complete records from the daycare center and to move more than half of the money in savings and with brokers into a secret account. I did as he recommended. Amanda's relationship with Brittany, Zach and I reached a nadir about three months after I saw Tom Watson when she went off with her friends to a triathlon for a four day weekend. She cavalierly left us behind despite the fact that I had an important business meeting while she was gone, Brittany had things going on in her first grade class including a class play, and Zach was scheduled to go to the pediatrician. I started to get real suspicious especially by her defensive attitude when she returned. I decided that it was time to do something. Three days after Amanda's return – she had acted like a real mother and wife for one of those days before returning to form – she was going over to the Stanton's for a virtually all day workout. They had a workout room in a small pavilion on the grounds of their house, near a long jogging/bicycling trail along the river adjacent their house. I had been there once for a party. I purloined Amanda's cell phone as part of my plan, always handling it with gloves on. I gave my cell phone to my most trusted and long-standing employee, Jack. Jack and I were supposedly in an off-site location near our office – and a cell tower – but I took the afternoon off. I gave Jack my car and took his. I also brought along two pairs of handcuffs which I again handled only with gloves on. It's Just Exercise My plan was half-assed and half-baked, because I wasn't exactly sure what I would find at the Stanton residence, but I had reached my limit and didn't have the patience to develop a more complicated and comprehensive plan. I was violating the tai chi principle of "patience," but it couldn't be helped if I was to retain my sanity. I just hoped that my temper wouldn't return. I drove Jack's car to near the Stanton residence, then went on foot and hid behind some trees until the triathlon trainees returned on their bicycles from an outside workout. Chauncey, a single guy that I knew only as "Bill," Amanda, and Gina were the only ones to go into the workout room in the small pavilion. The other three who had been with them left in their cars. As soon as the four remaining trainees enter the workout room I texted my cell from Amanda's "Im wored bout sexual assault; cum to Stanton prmpt." I had carefully studied texts that Amanda had sent to me in the past and used her same shorthand for those words that were shortened. I knew that Jack would be driving toward me immediately and would take a route deliberately by several traffic cameras. I snuck up to the workout room. I did not like what I saw. Even though I had been expecting something like it actually seeing it was an entirely different animal. I was about to lose my temper and break in before my car, with Jack in it, arrived, but by doing deep breathing and not looking into the room again I was able to control myself. However, as soon as Jack arrived – he immediately ran to his car and drove away, leaving mine with the door open – I broke down the pavilion door. There was dear Amanda, with no bottom on, bent over with her hands on a table and with asshole Chauncey – also with no bottom on – with his cock in her cunt. Off to the side was topless Gina on her knees giving Bill a blowjob. I stopped once I broke the door down to take in the scene. All four had frightened looks on their faces. Gina was no longer sucking, but Chauncey still had his cock in Amanda, although he was no longer stroking. "We're just taking the edge off a stressful workout," Amanda squealed. She really did say that. "It's just exercise, it doesn't mean anything; don't be pissed," Chauncey whined. Yeah, he really did say that too. Time for tai chi. I hit Chauncey hard in the solar plexus; as hard as possible without killing him. His cock popped right out of my bitch wife's cunt. I immediately cuffed her right hand to the table and put the handcuff key in what looked like Chauncey's shorts' pocket, lying on the ground just out of Amanda's reach. Gina was screaming at me and pummeling me with her fists. "It's just exercise," she kept yelling. Yes, she really did. I ignored her blows – I had never hit a woman and I never will – but turned my attention to Bill who was trying to put his pants on before escaping. Bad choice. I feigned a blow to Bill's head with my left hand. He ducked, directly into my right hand hitting his solar plexus; not as hard as I hit Chauncey but hard enough so that he would be out a long time. Then I turned my attention to the swinging, yelling, now cursing, Gina. I didn't have a plan on what to do with her. I wasn't actually expecting her to both be a knowing participant in what was going on and to react the way that she had to my activities. As I grabbed both of her hands to stop her from hitting me I stared into her deep set hazel eyes. There was an animalistic quality to them, and certainly an animalistic look. "Fuck her," shot through my mind. With both Amanda and Gina screaming I grabbed Gina by the hair and led her out of the workout pavilion toward her house. I pulled her to her knees, grabbed both of her tiny wrists in one of my hands, then lifted her up with the other arm and slung her over my shoulder. I barged into her house as she continued to scream. I banged doors open until I found the master bedroom. I entered, dumped her onto the bed still holding her hands. I avoided her kicking feet the best that I could while I handcuffed her to the sturdy bronze headboard, on her knees, facing the headboard. I could have removed her panties and shorts. I chose to rip them instead. I ripped up her panties to form a gag and then gagged her to stop her swearing and screaming. She still had her socks and cross-training shoes on – I removed them, not bothering to untie the shoes, and with strong, harsh strokes for the socks. Gina was still sweaty from her workout. Her ass was glistening with perspiration. Her pussy was dripping, but I was sure that it wasn't just with sweat. The look she gave me was not the least bit fearful, but defiant like you would expect from a jungle cat. I removed my pants to find my cock rock hard. I ran one hand over Gina's pussy lips and clit while the other played with a tit or her pucker hole. She twisted, bucked, flopped, yanked on the hand cuffs, and screamed into the gag as I violated her with my hands. I sniffed my hand that had been manipulating her pussy. She was definitely leaking pussy juice. I buried my cock into Gina's cunt and just lightly moved my hips in a circle as she moved her pelvis every way possible considering the position that she was in. It felt wonderful on my cock, especially since she would occasionally pulse her pc muscles, clamping on my dick. I simply enjoyed her fucking me – whether it was in an attempt to escape, as it would appear, or voluntary, I wasn't positive – until I sensed her starting to tire. Then I started pounding her with everything that I had while squeezing her ass and thumbing her pucker hole while doing it. I stroked in and out of her harder and faster than I had during any other fuck in my life – probably by a multiple of two. The bitch was no longer screaming into her gag, but just moaning. She had two absolutely gargantuan orgasms, one right after the other. I was about to scrub her vagina with my seminal fluid when I suddenly thought "DNA! I need a defense if she claims rape." I pulled out and shot all over her ass and back. I swear that I never squirted out a bigger load in my life, at least twice as much as during a masturbation session or the few times that I had creamed on Amanda or other women before her. Once I pulled out of Gina it was almost like my dick was supporting her because she immediately collapsed onto the bed, groaning. I didn't really want to get up but I thought that I needed to before my cum soaked her sheets. I dragged my ass out of bed, totally drained. I undid her cuffs. She was listless if not motionless. I carried her into the master bathroom, thankful that they had a large shower stall. I put her under the cold water to wake her up. When she did she resumed screaming, but she still had her gag on so no one outside the bathroom could possibly have heard her. I cuffed her hands behind her back and then proceeded to wash her thoroughly – with warm water. The two major thoughts running through my mind were "Shit, that was fun," and "Fuck man, does she have a body built for rough and tumble sex!" While normally I like ample tits, her fried egg sized ones looked good, and were fun. Especially her puffy nipples. She made up for lack of size by a high nipple-to-tit ratio and those aforementioned delicious puffies. When we were done showering I dried her off – she couldn't help because her hands were behind her back. I could tell that she was cursing me even though the gag muffled her sounds. I led her back into the bedroom. I was unsure about what to do next until I saw my cock coming to attention again. In a normal situation I'm a one and done guy. Apparently this was not a normal situation as far as my cock was concerned. When I lifted Gina onto the bed and removed the cuff from one hand she tried desperately to get away. All those hours of weightlifting paid off for me. She got nowhere. I quickly cuffed her to the headboard again, this time lying on her back. She tried to kick me dozens of times but I simply blocked them or moved out of the way. After five minutes of kicking and undulating her body in attempts to get away Gina tired. I knew that she would. Hours of training, then fighting with me, and then having two mammoth orgasms, had to have really taken a toll. The shower was only a temporary reprieve. I lay on top of her, not putting my entire weight on her since that would crush her, but enough so that her legs couldn't kick. Then I sucked and lightly twisted those exquisite little puffy nipples. Then I licked her clit until she was moaning with her eyes closed and the little fucker had grown to at least an inch in length. Then I put her heels on my shoulders, shoved my cock all the way up her tight little pussy, and proceeded to bang away. As tired as Gina had to be she still kept moving while I fucked her. Again it was hard to tell if her movements were to increase enjoyment or a futile attempt to get me off of her. It didn't make a difference because either way it felt superb. Actually, beyond superb, awesome, or any other superlative you choose to use. When she had another earth shattering orgasm after I fucked her brains out for a good five minutes I couldn't help myself. I had intended to pull out again. Instead I deposited a full load into her anxious cunt. It felt so fucking good that I didn't care what happened next. It was the best fuck of my life! I rolled off of her and lay next to her as we both groaned in agonized pleasure. I finally realized that I needed to get going. I removed her cuffs and her gag. Her eyes opened. "You gagged me with my own soaked panties, you asshole," were her first words. "Seemed appropriate," I shrugged. "I'll cut your balls off for raping me, shit-for-brains," was her next pleasant comment. "No one will believe that a slut like you could be raped," I shot back. "Besides, I was just here rescuing my wife from two rapists, and don't know how my cum got into your pussy. You must have drugged me and touched my prostate to get my seminal fluid and plant it in you. Anyway, thanks for the fucks. You were better than I thought that you'd be," I said with a snicker. She was too wiped out to do anything but groan and sneer and mumble "You'll get yours." I walked out the door carrying my clothes. When I inspected them I saw that one of my socks was missing. I quietly walked back through the open door into the master bedroom. Gina was laying there with a big smile on her face. With her eyes closed she stuck a finger into her cunt, scooped out some cum, and lifted the finger to her mouth, licked it, then smiled again. "Maybe she won't be reporting me for rape after all," I chuckled as I picked up the wayward sock and silently exited the bedroom. ____________ I dressed. When I got back to the workout pavilion Amanda was still handcuffed, having been unable to detach from the bolted-down table that she was cuffed to, or reach Chauncey's pants pocket containing the handcuff key. Chauncey was still out cold. Bill was groggily getting to his feet. I uncuffed Amanda. "Get dressed, bitch," I snapped at her. She complied without a word. I threw some cold water in Bill's face and he seemed to snap awake while holding his chest. "The pain will go away in two or three days, no lasting damage," I coldly told him. "Get dressed and sit down." He started to obey as I knelt down by Chauncey. "Go to my car and get the smelling salts out of the first aid kit," I told Amanda. She ran off without a word. While she was gone I got an ice pack out of a small refrigerator in the pavilion and put it behind Chauncey's head. When she returned I put the smelling salts under his nose. He jerked his head several times, then opened his eyes. When Chauncey became cognizant again I sat him next to Bill. "Listen, shitheads. If you report my kicking the shit out of you to the police I have it set up that Amanda will say that you were raping her when I saved her. If she doesn't she'll be divorced and penniless and considering that she's already a shitty mother to begin with she won't be able to provide for the kids and they'll be taken away from her." Amanda winced and then started tearing up at the last comment. "The choice is yours," I continued. Then I grabbed Amanda by the hand and led her out. I turned around at the door. Grinning at the deflated bastards I said "Oh, I almost forgot. When I get out on bail I'll kill both of you. Have a great life." Then I turned and dragged Amanda to my car. Needless to say the police were never contacted by any party. The ride to our house was quiet. When we got home I said "Get showered and dressed. We'll have a talk before I have to pick up the kids in ninety minutes." She nodded her head and went into the master bathroom. I showered in one of the other bathrooms. I almost hated to wash the caked mixture of my cum and Gina's pussy juice off of my cock and abdomen. I was really on a natural high thinking back on fucking that skank's brains out. After showering I put a robe on, went into the master bedroom and put some new clothes on. Amanda was dressing at the same time. She didn't say a word. I went into the kitchen, poured us both a glass of lemonade, and then plopped down at the kitchen table. She came in a minute or two later. "Amanda, this is what has happened, and what will happen;" I got right to the point. I told her everything I had done about keeping track of her, and moving most of our money – after taxes – to where no one would find it. "Do you really think that I'm a shitty mother?" she stuttered out, her first words to me since "We're just getting the edge off..." "You used to be a great mother. For the last year, though, you've been as shitty as a mother could be without physically abusing her kids. They hardly know you anymore. They rely on me and the cook/housekeeper for everything. If we get a divorce I'll get the kids." She quietly sobbed for a few minutes with her face in her hands. I just let her. When she looked up she said "Is that what you're going to do – divorce me? I'm sorry I cheated, but I just got so involved in the exercise, and I was so worried about my self-image, and it seemed harmless, not like real sex." "Just exercise?" I scoffed. "As silly as that sounds now, to me, yes, that's all it was," she replied. You know the bitch may actually have believed that! I didn't! "Totally ridiculous," I angrily snapped. I regained control. "To answer your question about whether I'm going to divorce you – I don't know yet," I honestly replied. "It depends mostly on you. Let me tell you what is going to happen if there is a chance." "OK," she subserviently mumbled. "You're done with triathlon, the Stantons, and all of those triathlon assholes. You'll take primary charge of the children and the household. You'll only work out – at the health club – when the children are otherwise occupied and not just warehoused at daycare, or I'm with them. When I see a change in you, I will let the cook/housekeeper go with six months' severance. Is that clear?" The last statement was not really a question, and I said it with harshness and strength in my voice. "Yes. It's clear. But I need to know if you'll ever forgive me, though, and if we can go back to what we had?" she said so quietly that I almost couldn't hear her. "I'll forgive you because you'll have to forgive me for raping that bitch Gina," I said matter-of-factly. Amanda's eyes got big? "You raped her?" "Sort of; yeah I guess I did," I replied. "As for getting back to where we were before the triathlon thing came up, I'll be willing if you meet me more than halfway." Amanda got up from her chair, sat on my lap, put her head on my shoulder and quietly sobbed until it was time for me to pick up the kids. _______________ Surprisingly things almost got back to normal fairly quickly. Amanda made a real effort, including in the bedroom, and after the first two awkward sexual encounters after the incident we returned to very good sex. The positive effect on the kids was dramatic. Amanda clearly noticed it and felt guilty. "Turn your guilt into action for the future. You're becoming a wonderful mother," I told her many times. She actually listened. Despite Amanda's progress things did not get back to entirely normal. Having had a taste of that slut Gina's pussy, I needed more of that action. Although Chauncey didn't work for living, from observation by a P I and some computer sleuthing, which may or may not have been legal, I found out that he went every Tuesday to visit his financial advisors in a city about one hundred miles away. Maybe he was having an affair, I don't give a shit, but he was gone for at least five hours every Tuesday. Gina actually did work, from her home. Once I established this schedule I had plans for Gina. As soon as Chauncey left on the Tuesday three weeks after I first fucked Gina I snuck into her house. She had left the back door unlocked. I found her in her office, with her back to the door. As soon as she got off her phone and turned toward her computer I lifted her up with my arm around her neck – with a hold that did not hurt her but rendered her immobile – and dragged her down to the thickly carpeted floor. She screamed, kicked, hit, and spit in my face. I didn't let it deter me from ripping her skimpy dress and panties off – she had no bra on. "A pretty slutty outfit even for a skank like yourself," I chuckled as I ripped the last vestiges of her clothing off. This time I didn't handcuff her. I just held her hands above her head as I lay on top of her – careful not to crush her but immobilizing her – then started sucking on those puffy nipples while fingering her already wet cunt. It wasn't long before my cock was fully buried in her tight pussy and I was banging her like my life depended on it. I even released her hands and she weakly pulled my chest hair as my tool stroked in and out of her hairless twat. I swear that her first two orgasms were just as violent – if not more so – as the first two she had when I first fucked her. My explosion into her was all time. When I rolled off of her it seemed like a gallon of fluid flowed out of her pussy. Like the first time my cock wanted a second round. We had lain almost motionless and wordless until she saw my cock standing at attention again. She started swearing and hitting again. I pulled a ball gag from my pants pocket, lying next to me, and gagged her. Then I lifted her up, pushed her against a wall, buried my cock in her pussy again, and fucked her standing up until we had an 8.2 on the Richter Scale simultaneous orgasm. My knees buckled, and I was barely able to keep us from getting hurt as we fell to the ground. Fifteen minutes later, as I buckled my belt while a prone Gina was staring up at me with a look impossible to interpret I quipped "You know, Gina. I'm really reluctant to give you a compliment; but you are an all-time fuck; ALL-Time!" "Screw you asshole," was her snide reply. Every Tuesday for the next six months, except for one week when the Stantons went out of town and one week when my family was, I raped Gina. I guess it wasn't really rape because she never reported it to the police, or took steps to prevent it. She always acted like it was the most surprising thing in the world that I came at the same time, through her always unlocked back door, every Tuesday. Whatever you call it, it sure was fun and rewarding, despite the occasional bruise that I'd have to explain away by saying that I dropped a weight, etc. Getting my quota of rough sex from Gina, I actually pleased Amanda more. We got back to fucking at least three times a week, most of the time as gentle as Amanda liked it. I put out of my mind why she was not getting it gentle from Chauncey; it honestly didn't matter to me anymore once Amanda returned to being the wife, and especially the mother, that I wanted. It's Just Exercise Then something strange happened – as if what I previously described wasn't strange, huh? ________________ "A Mrs. Stanton is here to see you," my secretary told me over the intercom on a Monday after I had been fucking/raping Gina about six months. That got my attention. "Send her in, and hold my calls," I said. Gina came into my office, dressed in her normal slutty attire. I got a weird look from my secretary. "Cousin Gina," I chimed for my secretary's benefit. "How nice of you to visit," I continued as I gave her a chaste peck on the cheek. She just got a diabolical grin on her face. I closed and locked the door. Before I could ask her anything she went and sat in my chair behind my desk, and put her legs up on the desk with her feet apart, exposing her bare twat. "You're probably wondering why I'm here, Blake," she cackled. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable," I sarcastically replied, sitting down on the opposite side of the desk from her, and getting a good look at her pussy. "Actually, I really am wondering why you're here," I continued with a smile. "As you know we've been having great monkey sex for six months now, Blake. It's the best sex of your life, and surprisingly the best sex of mine too," she chortled. "Presumptuous bitch, aren't you," I grinned. "I notice that you didn't correct me," she shot back. "Anyway, even though I can't say that I like you, despite how much I enjoy you sticking your dick in my cunt and sucking on my puffy nipples, I do admire qualities that you have. Actually, you're smarter, stronger, better looking, and more industrious – way more industrious – than Chauncey is. So I decided that I wanted you as the father of my baby." I didn't like the use of the past tense of "want" in her statement. I carefully asked "What do you mean by 'wanted?'" "You didn't think that I'd ask your permission to have you father my child, did you?" she laughed. "I don't remember you even once, when you were vigorously stroking your thick hog into and out of my pussy, asking me whether I was on birth control. I went off the pill three months ago. I'm now six weeks pregnant with your child." "How do you know it's mine?" I stammered. "Because I've had so much fun with you that I restricted sex to you and Chauncey over the last three months, and every time I had sex with Chauncey I douched afterward. However, all you have to do is give me a DNA sample and I'll have an in vivo test done to confirm," she nonchalantly replied. From her purse she pulled out the type of swab that you see on forensics television shows. I was starting to sweat. "They can test like that now?" I stumbled out. "Hell yes; this isn't the 1900s, bozo. Just run this around in your cheek and pull it down into the tube without touching it," she said, handing it to me. "You've seen CSI on TV; you know what to do," she giggled. Like an automaton I did as asked. "What is the result of this going to be; what do you want?" I asked with trepidation. "Well, what it means is that you're going to fuck me – not rape fucks like in the past since I'm pregnant, but not nice and gentle either – twice a week while I'm pregnant since my libido is increasing and Chauncey is only good for about twice a week himself. Then once I recover from the baby we'll continue our 'rape' sessions, but maybe with a few scheduling changes to accommodate the kid," she said; then stopped. "You're not going to tell anyone?" I asked. "Fuck no, moron. It's our little secret. Chauncey hates you, and if he ever found out that it was your kid he'd divorce me, maybe even kill me. He likes the idea of having an heir – I just hope he doesn't turn out to be six five, like you are. While I like Chauncey fine – especially since he doesn't mind if I fuck around, unless it's with you," she said, then interrupted herself with a diabolical laugh. "Anyway, he is a great gravy train, and we have a prenup, so I never want him to find out. However, if he does find out, I'll be hitting you up for child support;" and then she again laughed diabolically. After an uncomfortable delay I shrugged my shoulders. "I guess that would be fair; there's s price for everything in life, even great jungle sex," I said. "That's the right attitude. Let's meet tomorrow at my house to go over our preggo sexcapades schedule. Right now, however, why don't you fuck momma in your office. I promise to be quiet," Gina said with a grin. With that she walked over to the side of the desk, hiked up her skirt, bent over, and slapped her ass. When I saw her glistening pussy I got hard instantly. "You're a moron," I said to myself, "fucking in your office – are you kidding me?" When I saw her perfect ass, winking pucker hole, and trembling pussy lips, there was no going back. I fucked her good, though not nearly as roughly as usual, and she remained quiet enough not to be heard, even through two massive orgasms. _______________ Of course the in vivo test proved that the kid – a little boy – was mine. Right now Gina is seven months pregnant and because of her still increasing libido now wants me to fuck her three times a week, twice each fuck session. Even though it's not as rough as I like it during her pregnancy, her pregnant body really turns me on and I'm thoroughly enjoying "the ride." I just hope that Chauncey and Amanda never find out!