Bad Things

by Just Plain Bob

Caution: This Fiction Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Slow, .

Desc: Fiction Story: Bad things come in threes right?

I pulled into the parking lot of Bud’s Bar, shut off the engine and then spent five minutes staring at the wall of the building in front of me as the voices in my head fought it out. One voice was saying:

“Go on in there and get shitfaced” and the other voice was saying “You need to remain calm and be cool about this and you can’t do that if you get drunk out of your mind.” “Bullshit!” said the first voice. “Right now you need to blot it out of your mind and the only way you can do that is kill it with alcohol” and the other voice said, “You can’t make rational decisions if you are bombed out of your mind.”

I finally decided that I needed a drink even if I didn’t get drunk and I walked in and took a stool at the end of the bar. Bob, the bartender, came over to me and asked if I wanted my usual (which was a bottle of PBR) and I told him to bring me the beer and two inches of Jim Beam.

“What’s up Ryan? You never drink whiskey.”

“Got to be a first time for everything Bob.”

He left and a minute later came back with the PBR and a shot glass of JB. I knocked back the JB and chased it with the PBR and then told Bob to bring one more shot of the JB. It went down followed by the beer and I told Bob he could take the shot glass away as I was through with the hard stuff. He brought me another PBR and then I sat there taking sips and peeling the labels off the bottles. I don’t even remember when or why I started peeling labels of the bottles, but it had become a habit and I did it without thinking.

They say that bad things happen in threes and I wondered how often all three happened on the same day. The day started out bright and sunny. My wife woke me with a blowjob and then proceeded to try and fuck me to death.

“I need enough to hold me until you get back” is what she told me.

I had a five o’clock flight to Dallas that afternoon and would be gone for three days. It was a very important trip for me. If I could land the Evan’s account it should be enough to get me the promotion to the regional manager’s slot that would open when Chris Mellon retired. The only other person being considered was Marge Walton, but I had more seniority, more experience and a better sales record. Landing Evans should clinch the job for me.

I spent a very productive day at the office and at three I headed for the airport and the first bad thing. I was passing through the intersection of Clairmont and Dexter when a drunk ran the red light and t-boned me on the passenger’s side. I was shaken up, but luckily I wasn’t hurt. The drunk wasn’t as lucky. He didn’t have his seat belt on and the sudden stop caused him to be thrown forward and his head smashed into something, probably the door post and he was bleeding like a stuck pig when the EMTs reached the scene.

By the time the police were through and my car was towed away it was too late to catch my flight. I called John Heinz at Evans and explained what was going on and rescheduled our meeting for late the next day instead of the early morning meeting we were supposed to have.

I called my insurance and let him know that I would be filing a claim, called the airline and arranged for a set on the first flight out the next morning, and then called a cab to take me to the nearest rental car agency. I drove back to the office to fill my boss in on what was happening. It was after five so all the office help would be gone for the day, but Barry (my boss) would still be there. He never left before six.

I expected the lot to be empty except for Barry’s BMW so I was surprised when I got there and saw that Marge’s Mustang was still there. I let myself in the building and headed up the stairs. Before I reached the top of the stairs I knew what I was going to find. I could hear what was going on. It seemed that Marge was a very loud piece of ass.

I moved up quietly and slowly moved to where I could see what was going on. Barry had Marge bent over his desk and was fucking her from behind. Marge’s sweater was pushed up around her neck, her bra was laying on the floor next to her high heeled shod feet and her skirt was bunched up around her waist. Her tits were hanging down and swaying as Barry pounded into her. Marge was a sexy looking bitch and being a bit of a tit man myself I’d always envied her husband being able to play with those 38DDs.

When she moaned, “That’s it baby fuck my ass, fuck it hard” I went instantly iron bar hard. I’d always wanted to try anal, but my wife had always refused me. The combination of those swaying tits and her moaning for Barry to fuck her ass harder made me pull out my cell, put it on video and start recording. I wanted to pull out my dick and stroke it while I watched, but didn’t dare because it might somehow call attention to me. I just stood there as still as I could and watched, listened and recorded the action.

I need to say up front that I was not taping them for use as blackmail material. The only reason I was videotaping the action was so that I could use it when I was alone in my hotel room. I’d never been unfaithful to my wife, but I did sometimes get horny on my trips and I would find some porn to watch or read while I took matters in hand if you catch my drift. I could see where what I was watching would fuel my fantasies for a long time to come.

Barry hissed, “Here it comes slut” and Marge cried “Fill my ass, fill my ass” and I guess Barry did just that.

Then the second bad thing of the day happened. They stopped fucking and started talking.

“If we are going to keep this up you are going to need to get a sofa bed or a couch in here.”

“Why? It is easier to bang your butt when you are standing and leaning over the desk.”

“Maybe for you, but it is uncomfortable for me. What is it with you and my ass anyway?”

“My wife won’t let me have hers and you seem to like it.”

Marge laughed and said, “Bill (her husband) would kick me out of the house if I didn’t let him pound my pooper at least twice a week. While we are on the subject of you fucking my ass when are you going to announce my promotion to regional manager?”

“As soon as I can find some way to handle Ryan. I can’t afford to lose him.”

“Just tell him the truth. That I’ve got a pussy and a tight ass and he doesn’t. You promised me the job if I would put out for you and I’m holding you to it. Give him a raise and tell him I’ll sweeten the pot by giving him some of my tight ass too.”

Barry laughed and said, “Mr. Straight Arrow? You would stand a better chance of winning the lottery that getting him to cheat on his wife.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. I’ve seen the way looks at my girls. I’d bet money that he would like to get up close and personal with them.”

“Don’t be stupid Marge. You can hide us from Bill, but you would be taking a hell of a chance taking on another lover.”

“Not a problem sweetie; as long as we keep it here in the building and don’t start using motels or hotels he’ll never find out.”

I’d seen and heard enough and I very silently got out of the building, got in my car and headed for home and the third bad thing.

I hadn’t even thought about calling home and letting the wife know of the change in plans. I just assumed that she would be at home watching television or curled up on the couch reading a book so imagine my surprise when I turned onto our street just in time to see her get in a car that I didn’t recognize. She slid over, kissed the driver and then moved back over to the passenger side of the seat.

The car pulled away and I followed along behind. I didn’t bother to stay way back since I was in a rental and I doubted that she would be looking over the seat to see what was behind her. I followed them to the Texas Roadhouse and watched them park in the lot. I was surprised when they got out of the car. The guy was Mark Houser and he had been the wife’s steady boyfriend all the way through high school and college. They broke up just before graduation and I never heard the reason why. I heard that he left town to go to some college back east to get an MBA. Wharton I think it was. Word was that he found a job with some big outfit on the east coast. That had been about twelve years ago.

They walked, holding hands, into the Roadhouse. That and the kiss I’d seen when she got in the car added to the fact that I was supposed to be in Dallas told me how the evening was going to end for them. I debated going in here and confronting them, but public scenes were not my thing so I just muttered “Fuck it” to myself and headed for my favorite watering hole.

As I worked on my PBR I went over the happenings of the day and what they meant as far as my life was concerned. My marriage was toast. Didn’t matter to me if that night was just a ‘one off’ as our British cousins would say or the start of an affair. For all I knew it was the continuing of an affair since I had no idea of how long Houser had been back. It could be their hundredth meeting for all I knew. All I knew for sure was that the wife and I were through.

She damned sure knew my mind set when it came to infidelity. My mother had destroyed our family when she cheated on my dad and I had watched my brother and sister both go through divorces because of cheating. My stance, and the wife knew it well, was if you were going to look for someone else to play with at least have the decency to end the marriage first. If you didn’t do that then in my mind you were a worthless cheater and as far as I was concerned no one in their right mind would stay with a cheater.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Heterosexual / Slow /