22 comments/ 14183 views/ 11 favorites Spite By: imhapless As should be absolutely clear from the words of the story below, all sexual acts and thoughts are between those eighteen or older and there is no non-consensual sex. ********************* Although I'm telling myself that my reason for writing this is to warn others about the consequences of spite replacing communication and trust in a marriage, I'm sure that a psychologist could find many more reasons – just don't ask me to admit to them. My story is told through my eyes, with my slant on things. Obviously I wasn't privy to everything that happened, and I have no direct knowledge of most of the sexual liaisons that my parents had; but I personally observed the majority of the seminal events and have been given detailed accounts of the others. My story starts about four months after my eighteenth birthday and when my parents, Rich and Joy Jenkins, had been married twenty three years. I'm "Link," short for Lincoln; I have a wonderful sister "Brit," short for Brittany, sixteen months older than I am. Rich and Joy seemed to have a good marriage as far as Brit, me, and others who were most familiar with them, could tell. It wasn't storybook, and of course they had their disagreements; but there did not seem to be any deep-seated cracks or problems. I never witnessed any mental or physical abuse by either parent in their dealings with each other or with Brit and me. Rich was a big strong guy who played Division I football in college, but rarely used his physical stature for intimidation purposes. Joy was a very cute petite woman, but if toughness of personality were transformed into physical size she would have been six foot six inches tall and would have weighed three hundred pounds. Both Rich and Joy had decent jobs and we never lacked for necessary material things, and they both seemed to love Brit and me. Perhaps one quality that got exacerbated as time went on, however, was how "steadfast" they both became (a nice way of saying "stubborn" or "pig-headed," I guess). Also, in the year leading up to my eighteenth birthday I did notice that Joy started – for the first time that I had ever observed – to have self-esteem problems. She made more comments than I had ever noticed before about starting to look old, although I sure didn't see it. She was only forty five and I had several friends that considered her an MILF, and she got many admiring looks when in a bikini at the community pool. However even though Rich and I were always complimentary she started going to a personal trainer around the time of my seventeenth birthday and for biweekly spa sessions. Rich and I preferred to work out at home since neither of us felt that a personal trainer had anything to teach us – like Rich I was being recruited for football by a couple of Division I schools, although I wasn't as big as he was – I'm a safety, he was a tight end. During college he was about two inches taller and thirty pounds heavier than I am. We had a nice and large home gym in our basement with a complete set of free weights, an eight position weight machine, an elliptical, treadmill, recumbent stationary bike, and StairMaster. The home gym was so nice that my girlfriend, Tracy, sometimes worked out with me there. As best that I can determine, the first failed communication that started my parents on the road to spite happened one Saturday just before my High School football season had started, and when some college games were to be played. Joy told both Rich and I that she was going out with some friends of hers from the fitness center for coffee after her workout and would likely be gone an hour more than normal. I told her that I was leaving for my friend Brendon's house in a few minutes. Rich said that he was going to watch college football on TV. After Joy had left for her personal training session, Tracy called and suggested that we work out together. Working out with Tracy was way more fun than going to Brendon's house (especially if his foxy mother was not around to ogle), so I called him and told him that I'd be about an hour late. Tracy arrived a few minutes later; "How do you like my new hairdo?" was her first question. "It's not just a new 'do,' you colored it," I remarked, searching for the right words since I knew that this was dangerous territory. "I've always wanted to be a blonde," Tracy chuckled; "well do you like it?" I had had time to evaluate the situation. "Tracy, I always loved you as a brunette, but you just might look even more beautiful and sexy as a blonde." That got me a kiss and a cock squeeze, so a big smile crossed my face. When we worked out, Tracy was giving me looks far more amorous than normal, and seemed to be posing in provocative positions. Not that I minded – except that my cock was trying to split my exercise shorts and making some exercise routines difficult. We had been working out about a half hour when Rich came down to work out too. That was not normally a problem because the room easily accommodated four people, but the looks that Tracy was giving me were too sexy for my father to see, so shortly after Rich arrived we left. "I hope that I didn't chase you out," he chortled. "Not at all Mr. Jenkins," Tracy replied with a big smile. "We only needed a short workout. I'm going to run home – my Mom dropped me off here – for more cardio exercise and Link wants to get to Brendon's." "OK, because if you want to be alone I can come back," Rich offered. "No problem, Dad; it's just like Tracy said," I responded with a smile. After an exchange of a few more pleasantries with my Dad, Tracy and I went upstairs. Once we got out of earshot of the basement – Dad had a football game blaring from the workout room TV by then so he couldn't have heard us anyway – Tracy snuggled up to me. "I feel so, so hot as a blonde; care to pretend that you want to see if I'm a real blonde?" she snarled more than said. Tracy and I weren't virgins; in fact we had had sex with each other about a half dozen times since we had turned eighteen, but not as much as I wanted to. This was an invitation that I couldn't pass up. As I planted a kiss on her I carried her toward my bedroom – however it was such a pig sty that there was no way that we could be comfortable there – so I took her into the guest room and closed and locked the door. As I was kissing and mauling her I asked "Since we're all sweaty want to shower first?" "Fuck no," she mumbled between kisses, as she threw the bedspread onto the floor, exposing the sheets; "I just want to fuck!" Seconds after she said that, I had her exercise duds off and was licking and fingering her pussy. She demanded equal access so I quickly stripped and got into a sixty nine. Surprisingly the sweat on our bodies seemed to enhance our libidos rather than depress them. She orgasmed quickly, so hard that she had to stop sucking my cock, and then I spun around and buried my rock hard cock in her soaking wet pussy in one thrust. It was the best fuck that either of us ever had. We were undulating our bodies in perfect sync as I pinched one of her pencil-eraser hard little nipples and she clawed my back while her slim muscular legs were wrapped around my waist. It felt like a Roman Candle went off when I ejaculated into her – she must have felt the same way because she let out a blood-curdling scream that Rich would have heard except for the TV blasting at high volume. Tracy and I disengaged a few minutes after the "explosion," with big smiles on our faces, and much sweatier than when we started fucking. "Holy shit that was fantastic," she mumbled. "You're a fucking goddess, and a goddess at fucking," was my toothy and honest reply. After we fondled each other for a few more minutes her cellphone rang. She looked at the caller ID. "Hi Mom...OK, I'll start running home in a few minutes...Yeah I'll be there in twenty five," was her end of the conversation. "Shit – I've got to get going – after I make a stop in the little girl's room to clean that humongous load that you deposited into my poor little kitty so that it doesn't leak onto my panties and raise questions in dear ole Mom's mind when she does the wash," she chuckled. "You can let yourself out, can't you?" I smiled, "I'm off to Brendon's." She kissed my cock, I kissed her pussy, she went into the bathroom, and I quickly got dressed and took off. Driving to Brendon's I could swear that I passed my Mom's car heading toward our house. I didn't think anything of it at the time except that she apparently had not gone out with her friends for coffee. After I was at Brendon's house for about a half hour, in between playing foosball and video games with a half dozen of my buddies, Brendon's super-hot Mom came home and said hi to all of us. When I saw Brendon's Mom I started to think about Tracy and her sweet, sweet pussy so I gave her a call. "Did you get off OK?" I asked when she answered her cell. "You mean while your dick was stroking in and out of me or after I cleaned your load out of my pussy?" she chuckled, obviously proud of herself. "You nasty bitch," I laughed. "Both!" "Hell yeah! That was the best sex ever dude, and I left by your front door because I saw that the backdoor was double locked and I wanted to leave it that way, and then cut through your back yard on my run home." "Was my Dad still exercising?" "I heard the TV go off a minute or so before I exited, so he was probably done and headed toward the shower." We talked for a few more minutes, often reflecting on our all-time afternoon fuck, and made a promise for a repeat as soon as possible. When I got home early evening there was a decided chill in the air in my house; it was clear that my parents had fought and weren't speaking to each other. I wished that Brit was home and not away at college because she and I could always seem to get our parents out of bad moods when we worked together, but alone I would never even attempt it. When I walked to the guest room with the intention of changing the sheets and re-making the bed – something that in my euphoric state and haste to leave I had not done – I found the door open and the sheets shredded and on the floor. I didn't want to incur the wrath of whichever parent had shredded them, so I kept quiet. It was only several months later that I pieced together what had happened. When Mom got home early she apparently saw a blonde leaving our house; she had never seen Tracy with blonde hair, because neither had I before that Saturday. When, with suspicions aroused, thinking that Dad had a lover in since he expected Mom to be gone longer than she was, Mom went into the house, found me gone, found Rich in the shower, and found evidence of sex on the guest room sheets, she apparently went ballistic and accused Rich of infidelity. His denials fell on deaf ears, especially since he couldn't explain why a blonde was leaving the house just as she was pulling up when he assumed that Tracy had left right after we exited the exercise room, not more than a half hour later after we had fucked. The Friday after the fight between my parents – when they were still being cool to each other including with my Mom sleeping in the guest room – I came home at lunchtime since I had forgotten a book that I needed for an afternoon class. Both of my parents should have been at work, but I saw my Mom's car in the garage. Perplexed, as soon as I entered the house I heard noises coming from the area of the bedrooms. I crept up to the guest room – the door was open. There was an obviously male ass moving up and down over a woman who had her legs wrapped around the ass-owner's waist. When I heard a male voice moan between gasps "You really are a joy to fuck, Joy," any doubt that I had that it was my mother who was getting plowed evaporated. Stunned, I at least had the presence of mind to get the book that I needed before I went back to school. I couldn't concentrate on schoolwork the rest of the day and almost got killed at football practice after school since I couldn't concentrate there either. After a heart-to-heart with the coach about my lack of concentration – obviously I didn't tell him that it was because I just saw some strange dude fucking my mother in our house – I was able to compartmentalize and actually played fairly well in our first football game of the season the next day. Actually, I played better than "well" when during a few plays when I had an opposing running back or wide receiver lined up the thought of some guy fucking my Mom popped ever so fleetingly into my mind, and I creamed him; in two cases putting the opponent out of the game with a bone-crushing tackle. Things were still frosty in our house the rest of the weekend. Although both parents had come to my game, they sat separately, and interacted with me separately after the game. I was still thinking what to do about seeing my Mom getting fucked, without realizing the misunderstanding of a week ago, when Tracy called me Sunday early afternoon. Suddenly my teenage hormones overcame all other thought processes. "Has your body recovered from the game, All-State?" she giggled. "Oh, you've got me making All-State already based upon one game?" I chuckled, a rare moment of levity that weekend. "God, you crushed those guys, dude. Remind me not to get you mad at me," she chuckled back. "The only body contact I'll ever have with you does not involve tackling," I chortled. "Speaking of body contact," she chimed right in, "my parents are gone until about eight tonight; care to come over?" "When?" "Now!" "I'll be there in ten minutes," I responded and then ended the call. I told my Mom –my Dad was out – that I'd be back about eight, and then drove as fast as the traffic and terrain would let me over to Tracy's house. I was happy that I had hurried. Tracy was waiting for me stark naked, her hard body and perky little tits dying for some attention. After a sixty nine during which I brought her to a quick climax, I turned her onto her hands and knees and fucked her doggy style. We both groaned and moaned as we seemed to be trying to fuck each other to death as I pummeled her and she pummeled back. When I started grunting like a pen full of hogs and then deposited my load it was again – just like the previous Saturday – like a firework had exploded. Tracy let out a quick scream and then almost seemed to go comatose. Tracy and I fondled and poked each other for another half hour before I got hard again and fucked her doing the Wheelbarrow – something that I had read about on the Internet and always wanted to try. That was as good as our previous two fucks – in other words, stupendous! We were getting ready for a trifecta when we heard the garage door opening – it was only 6:15. "Shit, my parents must be back early – hurry and get dressed," Tracy yelled while hopping out of bed. Fortunately it took quite a while for her parents to make it into the house so we were able to quickly dress, cover up the evidence of our sexual escapades on her bed, and turn on the TV in the den and pretend to be watching National Geographic when they walked in. After exchanging a few pleasantries with them – and hoping that they didn't notice the "just fucked" looks that Tracy and I surely had – I made an excuse as to why I needed to get home and left. My balls and cock hurt as I drove home, but I never felt better in my life. That came crashing to a halt as soon as I walked in the back door. The yelling between my parents was so loud that they never even heard the back door open. They were in the living room, but in the darkened kitchen I could observe them – and certainly hear them – without them seeing me, or hearing me unless I wanted to be heard. It appeared that my Dad was drunk – or close to it anyway – something highly unusual. My Mom was sober but madder than Rush Limbaugh trying to cross the street during a gay pride parade. I didn't get, or understand, everything that they were saying but I think that I got the essentials. Mom apparently alleged that she caught Dad cheating (that Saturday when she saw blonde Tracy exiting our house), and became completely distraught because he acted like she was a nutcase when she confronted him, and suggested that she go see a shrink. She apparently then fucked a guy from her fitness facility when I saw her and made sure to tell my Dad about it and show him the evidence on the guestroom bed – the one she had been sleeping in for the last week+. Dad alleged that he had just come back from visiting a prostitute and held up a filled tied-off condom as proof. Rich and Joy were calling each other every name in the book as they extolled their plans on how they would fuck themselves to oblivion with others. Their argument made me sick – really. I went back outside and puked my guts out in a nearby bush. I either had to find another place to stay that night or make enough noise coming through the front door that they'd terminate the fight – I was sure that they wouldn't continue the fight in front of me. I made as much noise as I could and then loudly opened the front door pretending that I was talking to a neighbor as I did so. When I entered I saw my Dad disappearing from the living room and my Mom with her arms crossed, stamping a foot, and mumbling under her breath. "You OK Mom?" I asked, walking up to her; "I got home earlier than I thought that I would." "No, I'm not really OK," was her reply. "Is there something that I can do to help?" I inquired. "Yeah – get me a new husband," was her snarky reply before she caught herself. "I'm sorry, Link; I won't draw you into the tension between your father and I. We're having a bad time." I sat down and talked with her for a good half hour. I didn't inquire into the reasons for their fight, but I did offer to help either of them however I could, and I alternately held her hands and hugged her as we talked, successfully purging my mind of the guy plowing her field two days earlier every time that it popped into my head. I finally talked her into making dinner and letting me see if my Dad wanted to join us. His bedroom door was closed and didn't open with light knocking so I peeked in. He was prone on the bed, still in his clothes, either asleep or passed out. Mom made me a nice dinner, and she sat with me although she ate very little. Whenever I could work it in to the conversation I hinted at how nice she looked, and how I hoped that she and Dad could work things out. She smiled at my compliments, and brushed off my suggestions for family peace. Over the next several weeks things went from bad to worse. Several times I observed my father going into the house of a divorced female neighbor who lived a few doors down from us who had the reputation of being a cock hound – she even came on to me once at a community pool party when she was liquored up. There was no doubt that Rich was hunting for pussy there. Several times when I came home from school I found evidence of more sexual activity in the guest room, which Mom made no attempt to hide. When my parents were together in the house if I wasn't in the same room and they didn't think that I could hear their vitriol was outrageous. I would have really been depressed by what was going on except for three things (in order of importance): 1) I was fucking Tracy's hard body regularly and it was phenomenal beyond my wildest expectations; 2) my football team was undefeated and I had gotten scholarship offers from two Division I schools already; 3) my courses in school were actually interesting and I was doing OK in them. However just because I wasn't clinically depressed did not mean that I was not distraught. Finally I had to call in the big gun – Brit. I convinced Brit that we needed to have an intervention with Mom and Dad otherwise they were done, and it would be a divorce that would make the movie The War of the Roses look mild by comparison. Dad was happy to pay her way home from college for a long weekend, not knowing what Brit and I had in mind. I picked her up at the airport and we strategized on the drive home. Spite Brit is the smartest member of the family, and almost as tough as our Mom but much more subtle and diplomatic. My Mom greatly respects her opinion, and she is the apple of my Dad's eye, so all Brit normally needs to get anything reasonable from our parents is a little support from me. After a dinner together the first night, during which our parents were not overtly mean, but basically ignored each other, Brit and I strategized some more, and then got them together after breakfast the next morning. Brit, in her normal diplomatic way, praised both Rich and Joy as wonderful parents to her and me, and how they had great respect in the community – and then hit them right between the eyes. "I know from Link that you two have been trying to out-cheat each other. I don't know where it is coming from, but it is bound to blow this family apart. After all of the loving years that you've had together, I hope that you can stop – and deal with it, maybe with the help of a marriage counselor." Rather than the normal respect – if not deference – that the 'rents typically showed toward Brit, steam figuratively came from their ears. "You have no fucking right to tell me how my marriage should go, or who I sleep with to get revenge on your man-whore father," were Joy's first words. "See what a fucking bitch your mother is – although the slut is right about one thing, our kids are not going to tell us how to conduct our lives; you're old enough not to have rose colored glasses on," Rich chimed in. Brit and I both tried a few more things which seemed to get them madder and madder. At one point they started in on each other and the vitriol was even greater than what I had heard over the past few weeks when they didn't know that I was listening. Finally Brit turned to me and said "Let's get the fuck out of here." We left Rich and Joy screaming at each other, went to see a matinee and then out for an early dinner. Brit changed her plane reservations and I called Brendon and asked if I could stay at his house for a few days – or maybe weeks. We picked up the stuff that we needed from the house – only Mom was home and we stayed out of her way – and then left. I dropped Brit off at the airport. "I'm really sorry sis – I hope that this doesn't screw up your college life," I said as I gave her a farewell hug. "Fortunately, my tuition is prepaid – I got Mom and Dad to agree to that when they were still normal people and not cheating assholes – so I should be OK. I can find a place to work and live for the summer that doesn't involve them. I'm worried about you, though, bro." "I'll be OK too, Brit. I've gotten two football scholarship offers, and I have enough money in the bank to get me through to college, especially with a summer job. I'll get by; but we need to stay in touch," I replied. "Email every day, phone call every week; you initiate the emails, I initiate the phone calls," Brit responded, and then gave me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. I then went over to Brendon's house. He had talked with his mother and she said that it would be fine for me to live there if I contributed to board, which I was happy to do. Brendon's parents were divorced and his father lived in another state with a new family so Brendon's Mom had the final say. She greeted me warmly and showed me to their spare bedroom. As I previously hinted at, Brendon's Mom, Alicia, is really a fox in the looks department; every one of Brendon's friends considers her an MILF (not just some as in the case of Joy). Despite her good looks, however, according to Brendon she essentially never dated. Brendon thought that she was a partial head-case, and her personality appeared to be mercurial, but she was always friendly to me so I didn't foresee any difficulties in living there until my parents either made up (unlikely) or got divorced. Once I moved in, Brendon's Mom insisted that I call her "Alicia," and not anything else. I talked with both my Mom and Dad on the phone every other day or so, but I completely resisted any of their attempts to get me to move back home. I could tell from how they referred to each other that they were now going at it worse than ever – including bringing people into the house to fuck when the other person was there – and I wanted no part of it. They had started divorce proceedings but both seemed to want everything and were stubborn as mules. Numerous things, some good, some bad, some just plain weird, happened once football season was over. The best of the good – I got and accepted a full ride football scholarship to the college that I most wanted to attend. The worst of the bad – Tracy and I, for reasons that I can't fully explain, grew apart and broke up. The weirdest of the weird – well there are two that need some explanation. Weird thing number one (a good weird): After I broke up with Tracy, one weekend Brendon was going on a few college visits. For whatever reason Alicia was not going with him – it seemed to be by mutual agreement, however, and there were no hard feelings. Brendon was already gone when I got to Alicia's house from school on Friday. Aside from the fact that Alicia was really dressed provocatively, there was nothing unusual until after we ate the great dinner that Alicia prepared and that I cleaned up after – as was standard procedure. When I was done cleaning up, Alicia called me into the living room. "Say, Link – I was hoping that I can have a talk with you about something that is pretty mature – and also confidential. Is that something that you could do? It's really important to me." "Sure, Alicia; after how great you've been to me I can't really refuse you anything," I innocently replied. "That's the spirit," she said as she uncrossed her legs, giving me a beaver shot, which caused me to gulp. "I'm having a liqueur while we have our mature confidential talk – would you care for some even though you're underage and I'd be so, so naughty in pouring you a drink?" "I don't usually drink at all, Alicia..." I started to reply. She cut me off: "I know that Link; that's one reason why I like Brendon to hang out with you; you're a good influence. But this is a mature confidential talk so a couple of cordial glasses of Amaretto will be just what you need." I'd tasted Amaretto once before – and liked the taste. Alicia poured us each a cordial glass, we each took a sip, and then she sat across from me and moved her legs wide apart. I swear that she wasn't wearing panties. "So, Link, have you broken up with Tracy?" "Yeah; I'm not really sure how that happened. We seemed to be good for each other. But we've both moved on with no hard feelings." Alicia then went on to ask me increasingly more personal questions about my relationship with Tracy. Finally when I know that I turned completely red when she asked about an intimate detail of our sex life and I was stuttering a non-reply she changed the subject. "So, Link, tell me – what do Brendon's friends think of me?" "Uh...well..." I stammered after draining my drink. "Let me pour you another one," Alicia chirped as she hopped up and brought the Amaretto bottle over. She poured us each another glass and then sat next to me on the couch. "Please tell me," she purred, stroking my hand. "Uh...well...they all like you." "Do they think that I look good?" "Uh...well..." I stammered again before chugging my liqueur. "Am I embarrassing you, Link?" she asked, stroking my hand again, and then turning my face to look into hers. "I don't want to embarrass you Link – however, I see that our talk has caused you to have another, different, reaction," she giggled, while looking down at my crotch. Shit – I had a full erection. After I saw my crotch and turned my face back toward hers she chuckled. "If you aren't repulsed by a thirty nine year old woman, Link, I can take care of your problem for you." With that she undid my belt buckle and started pulling down my pants. My mind was overloaded so I was just acting on instinct and not thinking, and unconsciously raised my ass off the couch which allowed her to pull my pants and boxers to my ankles. "Oh my – such a beautiful turgid fellow" she giggled as she got down on her knees, grabbed my impossibly hard cock, and shoved it into her mouth. She had me firing a monster load into her mouth within two minutes flat – and boy did it feel great. After licking the last drops of cum off of her lips she said "I needed to get that first one off so that you don't come too quickly in my mature pussy," she cackled. "You'd like to fuck my mature pussy, wouldn't you Link?" I likely nodded my head "Yes," but whether I did or not she pulled her dress over her head – which, aside from her high heels, was the only clothing that she had on. Alicia didn't have a hard body like Tracy; it looked soft and supple, but she wasn't the least bit overweight. Her tits were much larger than Tracy's perky little A-cups and had a slight sag – which I found alluring – and big puffy nipples. With a big smile on her face Alicia sat down in a cushioned chair and lifted her legs over the chair arms. Her pussy was glistening; while she had a bush it was sparse, and trimmed; her clit was prominent. "If you chomp on my pussy for a while I promise to rock your world," she chortled. I didn't need another invitation. I didn't give a shit if this was my best friend's mother or not – she was one fucking hot woman. I dove face first into her pussy burying my tongue between her folds, flicking her clit with one hand, and pinching what turned out to be a highly sensitive large puffy nipple with the other. She held onto my hair as she moaned encouragement. I had her climaxing as fast as she had had me, but unlike her I didn't let up. Only three orgasms later did I move away from her with my face coated with pussy juice and with what I'm sure was a diabolical smile on my face. I removed my shirt and stepped out of my pants and boxers as she gazed at my hardening cock. "You little bastard," she giggled. "Were you trying to overload my nerve endings – because you did?" "I just wanted to be sure that you didn't back off your offer to let me fuck your mature pussy," I responded, now certainly with a diabolical smile. "Let's go to my bedroom," she said as she stood up and unsteadily started to walk. I picked her up, she let out a playful shriek as she put her arms around my neck, and I carried her to her bed. I got the surprise of my life when we started fucking – missionary position. She didn't undulate her body and clamp muscled thighs around my waist like Tracy had. She pulsed her pussy muscles; the woman probably did Kegel exercises every day they were so powerful. God it felt good. If my ejaculation into Tracy was like a firecracker going off, it was like a stick of dynamite exploding when I let loose a torrent into Alicia's snug pussy. I think that I blacked out for a few seconds for the first time in my life. I collapsed next to her and a loud "pop" and a subsequent spike up our spinal cords indicated that I had disengaged from that marvelous vagina. We wordlessly kissed and fondled each other, including me sucking on her delectable sensitive puffy nipples, for the next half hour or so. We regained our strength and awareness, fucked again doggy style, then showered, changed the sweat and cum-soaked sheets, and cuddled in bed. I had never spent the night with a woman before, and it was heavenly. Knocking off a piece of ass in the middle of that night was the most rewarding experience of my life, especially when afterward we spooned together so tightly that I don't think that any facing parts of our bodies were more than a centimeter apart. And so began my relationship with Alicia Hopkins, thirty nine year old mother of my seventeen year old best friend. We spent the entire weekend that Brendon was gone sexually stimulating each other, finding every erogenous zone on each of our bodies, and trying our best to mold our two bodies into one. While sex with Tracy had been great, this was on a different level, certainly enhanced by being able to sleep in each other's' arms all night. When Brendon returned home we were very careful not to let on to him about our sexual relationship, but we were able to sleep together about once or twice a week as long as I set an alarm and left Alicia's room before Brendon woke up. Every time Brendon was gone from the house, however, we passionately fucked, our satisfaction impossibly even growing with time. By now you've probably forgotten that there were two really weird things after football was over. However there was a second, even weirder, thing, and it is at the crux of my story. About a month after Alicia had started regularly polishing my knob my mother and father insisted that I come to the house to see them – they had big news. I foolishly thought that it was that they had agreed to the terms of the divorce so I was excited when I went over there. Not even close! "Link, we have great news," Mom gushed as she handed me a glass of lemonade at the kitchen table where I was sitting next to Dad, and then sat across from me. "Rich and I have been accepted on a reality TV show." "Say what?" I asked after I wiped off the lemonade I had expelled through my nose. "Yes, we weren't making any headway in finalizing the terms of our divorce and my attorney mentioned that he knew the producer of a new reality show called 'Spite' that might be perfect for us. We applied and were accepted and filming starts the first week of your summer break from school," she excitedly continued. "Here's an advertisement for the show," Dad chimed in, handing me a full color two page document. The document described the basics of the reality show; the subtitle seemed to sum it up: "Spite – will divorcing couples cut off their noses to spite their faces?" I almost vomited as I read through the document. It seemed to appeal to the most disgusting human qualities – no, I take that back – sub-human qualities. Tasks were designed to see which party to the upcoming divorce could be the most vindictive, with rewards for the party that was. The winning party could dictate the terms of the divorce – within pre-set parameters – and each party would get $100,000 for appearing on the show. "This is sick," was my comment after reading the document. "Don't be a wet blanket," Mom replied, "it's better than what we've been going through." "We need something to get us out from all of the legal fees we're incurring in our acrimonious divorce, and this is the perfect vehicle," Dad added. "Plus, agreeing on this reality TV show has actually resulted in us reaching a temporary cease-fire in throwing our mutual infidelity into each other's faces." "But how will you be able to take the time off from your jobs?" was my practical question. "Both of our companies have agreed to sabbaticals for the two weeks of filming," Mom quickly responded, "with no adverse consequences; should be no problem." We discussed things for another twenty minutes or so before they hit on the most important part of the meeting as far as they were concerned. "Uh...one more thing, honey," Joy started out – when she calls me "honey" she wants something. "The producers would really like it if you and Brit could attend the filming sessions so that they could film your reactions. You'd both be in the first week of your summer breaks from school when filming started, and they'd pay each of you $20,000." I was flabbergasted; all I could think of to say was "I'll talk to Brit." "That would be great, honey," Mom continued. "Rich and I have both talked to her by phone and emailed her the same document that you've reviewed – plus the contract for her to sign – and she had the same response that you did. Here's the contract – review it and talk to your sister and get back to us." I gave them both big hugs before I left – and they didn't seem to immediately start sniping at each other when I exited. Maybe this was the best way? I talked to Alicia about it that night. She was not as non-plussed as I would have thought. "My divorce might have gone more smoothly if we had a realty show," was one of her comments. Finally she said "I'll have my attorney review the contract and let you know what she thinks." "I can't pay for an attorney review now, I'm close to broke," I deferred. "No problem – once you get your twenty grand you take me to a resort for a long weekend and fuck me comatose; that will be perfect reimbursement for me," she replied with a diabolical grin as she stroked my crotch. Despite the fact that Brendon was home we moved to her bedroom, turned on the TV to hopefully mask the sounds of sex, and rutted like a pair of horny animals. I talked to Brit the next day; like me she thought that despite how subhuman the premise of the reality TV show was, it might be the only way to get our parents off the miserable positions they were now in, and get the split over and done with. I told her that an attorney was reviewing the contract and I'd let her know the result. Alicia's attorney turned out to be a ball-buster. She contacted the production company herself with changes she said were necessary, and made it clear that if they didn't agree Brit and I would not only not participate, but would do everything in our power to sabotage our parents' involvement. The producers agreed to five of the six changes Alicia's attorney wanted, one of which was to give us half of the money in advance, and Brit and I signed on. Filming began right on time, the first week that Brit and I were on our summer breaks. We both had summer jobs lined up for after filming concluded. We were often on location – the production company paid all expenses – so I had to satisfy myself with only one in-person sex session with Alicia during the time of filming, and phone sex every night. Talking with Alicia – and then having phone sex – kept me sane when I otherwise might have freaked out. Alicia was such a joy to talk to and be around, I constantly mused. The show was as sub-human as I expected, but Brit and I had agreed to tough it out. The producers were very happy with the completely real disgust that Brit and I evidenced as each "task" or "competition" was performed. Brit and I were shocked that the parents that we had loved our whole lives could be as malicious toward each other as they were or such bad losers if they "lost" a competition or such poor winners if they "won." Thankfully, the filming was going to conclude on time, two weeks after it started. Not that Brit and I gave a shit, but we were informed that the last competition would determine the winner. It was billed as the coup de grace by the producers, and it was beyond sick. Two motorized pivoted platforms were set up about twenty five feet above a water tank, the approximate height of the middle platform in Olympic platform diving competitions. The tank was filled with bull sharks, widely regarded as the most vicious sharks toward humans in the world. Joy would have a controller that controlled the pivoting of Rich's platform, and Rich would have a controller for Joy's platform. The platforms were about twenty feet apart and facing each other so Rich and Joy could see eye-to-eye. Brit and I would have none of this stunt. We went to the producers and told them that this was inhuman and we would not participate in our parents' deaths and would call the cops. Also, since I was stronger than anyone else on the set (with the possible exception of Rich) I told them that I would go ballistic and destroy everything that I could and that only a bullet would stop me. The producers calmed us down by assuring us that even though they would not tell Rich and Joy this – or the audience until it was over – that the sharks would be moved out of the tank under the platforms and into another tank separated by a transparent wall from the main tank before Rich and Joy could operate their controllers although because of the transparent wall during filming it would look like the sharks were still in the main tank. Also they had divers with shark prods at the ready to rescue Rich and Joy if there was a malfunction. Spite "Also, we can quickly cut off power to the controllers if necessary," the glibbest producer told us, pointing to a double pole single throw switch in the control room. While Brit and I still weren't happy about it, we went along. I didn't like the fiendish looks on Rich's and Joy's faces as they started their climbs up the ladders. Brit had talked to Joy, and I to Rich, beforehand asking them to please be careful and to not let pride or spite (despite the name of the show) overcome their judgment – they didn't really want to kill each other. They nodded agreement, but the looks in their eyes belied it. Joy and Rich gleefully operated their controllers to gradually pivot the other's platform toward the water. They were having trouble holding on after just fifteen or twenty degrees of pivotal movement, but were still at it despite that. Once the platforms slowly got to thirty degrees Brit and I started yelling at them to push the red "end" button on their controller, which would pivot the other's platform back up, but neither paid us any heed. As part of the drama, the producers had a live audience who was making lots of noise around the shark pool. It was hard to hear exactly whether they were yelling encouragement or reason, but it was loud. So loud that Rich and Joy couldn't hear the producers when they started yelling up to them to push the red buttons as they feverishly waved their arms trying to get their attention. Suddenly, first Rich, then only two seconds later Joy, fell into the pool. Screams loud enough to be heard even over the din of the crowd quickly followed as blood colored the water in the main tank. In a series of events that made the disaster at the Three Mile Island nuclear plant look like a well thought-out event the door opening from the main tank to the tank separated by the transparent wall malfunctioned, the circuits providing power to the controllers – unbeknownst to the producers – had capacitors in them so that throwing the main switch didn't immediately cut off power, and the prods the divers had were ineffective against the hungry bull sharks. Before Rich and Joy could be pulled from the tank, both had lost an arm and a leg and had numerous bites on their torso, and one of the divers had also lost a leg. By the time that they got to the hospital both Rich and Joy had bled to death, and doctors barely saved the diver's life. The only thing that kept me from going ballistic was attending to Brit, who was sobbing uncontrollably as we witnessed our parents' destruction due to their ultimate act of spite combined with the gross mechanical and electrical failures of the production equipment. The joint funeral for Rich and Joy was the saddest day of my life. The only two consolations that I had were that I still had Brit, and that before the ceremony Alicia told me that she loved me – and I realized that I loved her too, we didn't have just a great sexual relationship. Needless to say, my parents' episode of Spite never aired, although several other episodes did, viewed by almost record cable audiences. Epilogue: Alicia's attorney was not just a ball buster when it came to negotiating contracts. The legal complaint she filed detailing the gross negligence of the producers of Spite, which she threatened to make public, got Brit and I settlements that, combined with the inheritance from our parents, would be sure to support us the rest of our lives if we were anywhere close to reasonable in how we handled money. After one football season in college I gave up my scholarship; there was something in my life way more important than football. I was head-over-heels in love with Alicia, and she with me, and despite our differences in age we wanted to be together. With a baby on the way Alicia quit work, we got married with Brendon as the best man and Brit as one of the bridesmaids, bought a house in the town where I am now attending my senior year in college, and up to this writing Alicia, I, and our bouncing baby girl, have lived happily ever after. Brit used her settlement and inheritance to start up a non-profit (that I have contributed to) that provides marital counseling to couples that can't afford it, teaching them trust and communication instead of spite. Brit herself runs her own profitable chemical business. One thing is for sure – if Alicia I have any issue whatsoever we communicate and trust. We may have subsequent problems, especially in view of our age disparity, but spite will never be one of them.