Ron Rider unlocked the ornately carved front door of the townhouse that he and Sandra bought together after their honeymoon. "Who am I kidding?" he asked himself as he stepped into the tiled-floored foyer. "It was mostly her that picked this place out. This is really her house," he reasoned as he closed the door. The chandelier above had already been turned on, and when he looked into the first floor living room, he saw that Sandra's keys and purse were sitting atop the cocktail table. "Sandy must be home," he said to himself as he slowly lumbered up the stairs.

Ron walked into the master bedroom, which was cast in an amber hue from cleverly concealed recessed lighting, and noticed a cotton sundress and black, silk underwear carefully placed on the bed. The door to the bathroom was ajar, and Ron heard the steady spray of the shower in the background. He dropped his travel bags on a nearby settee, pulled off his tie, and slowly removed the rest of his clothes. The stereo was on, and a Jewel ballad was playing softly in the background. "It seems I have mistaken you for somebody else, somebody who gave a damn, somebody more like myself..." Jewel's lovesick words sank into Ron's thoughts as he studied what some would say a broad, muscular physique in the large mirror above the bureau. He stroked his rippled abdomen as he walked quietly into the bathroom. He could see Sandy's naked form through the etched glass of the shower door. He silently watched his wife as her hand gently glided over her body, around her taught thighs, over her mound between her legs, up her belly, and around her full breasts, leaving a soapy foam that slowly washed off her skin in streams of warm water. He opened the shower door and walked into a cloud of steam.

Sandy quickly turned around, her face at first startled and then relaxed when she saw her husband move closer to her. She looked into Ron's deep brown eyes and smiled. He grabbed the small of her back and pressed her wet, warm body against his hard torso. She leaned forward to kiss him, but he pulled his head back, then pressed her still harder against him, his large, beefy hands digging into the skin of her full breast and ass. Sandy's face strained.

"Ron," she beckoned in confusion. "You're hurting me."

Ron glared at Sandy. She felt his eyes burning into hers. She had never seen him so angry. The red hue from the bathroom's heat lamp cast an almost sinister pall over his face, and he looked like a stranger to her. She tried to pull away but could not resist Ron's powerful hold. Ron reached back and grabbed Sandy's hair, pulling back her head so that her neck was completely bare before him. She cried out in pain.

"Ron, please stop!" Sandy pleaded. Tears poured down her face and mixed with the water of the shower. Ron pressed himself still harder against her and began biting her neck.

Sandy was confused and in pain. He had always been a tender lover despite his powerful frame. But now, he was pulling so hard on her hair that she could only see the ceiling of the shower stall. She felt his hard kisses move down her neck to her chest. He began biting her breasts and nipples with a violent passion.

"Ron, please ... don't do this," she begged a second time.

"Do you tell him to stop, too?" Ron cried out angrily. "Or do you like it when he's rough? Maybe I wasn't rough enough for you is that it?" He pulled her hair again and her neck jerked back still more. "Huh!? Is that it? Am I not rough enough for you?" His deep voice resonated in the tiled shower stall.

Tears streamed down from Sandy's eyes, her face was racked with pain. "Oh God," she cried out to herself, "He knows. He knows!" In an instant, her resistance slackened. She seemed to almost turn to liquid and like the steady stream of the shower fell into Ron's arms in surrender.

Ron felt her body go limp and as he let go of her, she dropped to her knees. She hid her face in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably. When Ron saw the deep, red marks that he made on her neck and breasts, he began to cry, then visions of his wife letting another man fuck her filled his mind with hate.

He looked down at his wife and snapped. "Do you suck his cock?"

She only whimpered so he grabbed her hair and yanked up hard yelling, "Tell me damn it! Do you suck his cock?"

"Ye ... yes." She whimpered.

"Do you swallow?" he howled.

She didn't answer so he yanked up on her hair and yelled once again, "Do you swallow his fucking cum!"

"Yes." She responded through a flood of tears.

"You fucking whore!" He snapped. "In the four years that we've been married you've only sucked me off three times and then you made me pull out before I came. Then afterward you bitched about it! But his cock you'll willingly take in your slut mouth! His cum you'll willingly swallow! Is that it?"

"Please ... I ... you're hurting me..."

Naked and wet, Ron left Sandy crying in the shower toweled off and walked to the bedroom closet to get a suitcase. His breathing was still rapid, his face red and his eyes were filled with tears. He had never been violent with her before and as he walked back and forth from the closet to the suitcase in a daze, he was still in shock at what he had just done to Sandy. His heart was filled with both regret and rage as he haphazardly threw, slacks, neatly folded dress shirts and ties in the suitcase.

He had just finished packing when he noticed Sandy standing in the doorway to the bathroom clutching a bath towel that she wrapped tightly around her. Her hair was matted down around her head and her skin seemed almost raw from the prolonged spray of the shower. She watched as her husband put on a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt that clung tightly to his muscular torso. He sat down on the sofa to put on a pair of sneakers. He looked up at Sandy when he finished tying his laces.

"How long have you been fucking him?" he asked, barely able to speak.

Sandy couldn't utter a word. She didn't even know how long it had been since that first fateful day when she surrendered to Jack's advances. It had all seemed like such a blur. She didn't even understand how she could have done it or why. She knew it was wrong. She knew how much it would hurt Ron if he ever found out but somehow, on that day Jack just seemed to have something she couldn't do without.

Ron looked away. His eye caught a framed photo of them in bathing suits on a beach in Hawaii where they spent their honeymoon four years ago. It seemed like only yesterday, he thought to himself. He could still remember every moment of their reckless lovemaking.

The thought of her making love to another man made him nauseous and strangely embarrassed. He couldn't look back at her. Instead he stared out the window to the blackness outside. It had started to rain, and beads of water, shimmering from the moonlight, slowly slid down the panes of glass.

Ron took a deep breath. "Is it his baby?" he asked softly.

Sandy couldn't answer. It was as if the blood from her heart had clogged her vocal cords, rendering them useless. She walked up to Ron, held his arms, and tried to get him to look at her so that she could at least say with her eyes that she loved him. But he pushed her away as if repulsed by her touch.

"Don't touch me! You fucking whore!" he cried out. "Just answer my god damned question." He stood by the window, blankly staring at his reflection superimposed over the streetlight lit street below.

Without looking at her, he asked again, "Is it his fucking baby?" His voice grew loud and his heart refueled with rage.

Sandy's mind recoiled in confusion. Her mind raced with questions that didn't have good answers.

Ron picked up the suitcase and both travel bags and walked to the bedroom door. He turned around waiting for an answer.

"I ... It ... I'm so sorry. I'm almost certain it is," Sandy replied, under her breath stumbling over her words. She could see Ron's face instantly harden.

His wife having finally confirmed what he had already suspected he doubled over as if hit by a sucker punch. The blood ran from his face and seemed to fill his stomach, making him nauseous and dizzy

"Now everything becomes crystal clear!" Ron snapped furiously. "For the last two months you've grudgingly allowed me to make love to you what, twice? Three times? How generous! And during all that time you've undoubtedly been allowing him to screw you whenever he damn well wanted a hot piece of ass! No fucking wonder it was him that knocked you up and not me!"

"I didn't mean to get pregnant. It was an accident ... I didn't mean too ... I ... I ... I wanted him to use ... I asked him to use ... but he ... he just ... please Ron you're the one I love ... I don't know why I did it ... I don't know ... Please forgive me ... please. I'll do anything. I'll suck you off any time you want me to. I ... I'll eat all the cum you fill my mouth with. I'll ... I'll ... You can take me in my rear..."

"Take you in the ass? I wouldn't take you to a fucking McDonald's. And I'm certain my cock wouldn't be the first to be inside your ass! You've undoubtedly already given that to him as well!" He finally snarled straightening up, his voice growing loud and his heart refueled with rage.

"Oh God. Please Ron. I'd do anything to take it back if I could, you have to believe that." she told him with tears in her eyes.

"How in the hell do you take back not only letting some other man fuck you but to let him knock up with his bastard child!" He yelled as he walked away.

Sandy stood by the window until Ron left the house, watching as he plodded slowly down the rainy street, without an umbrella, slumped shouldered, lugging his suitcase and garment bags.

Ron sat inside the bar drinking single malt scotch not knowing what to do. He had suspected Sandy of having an affair for several months and just last week had finally hired a private detective to either confirm or deny his suspicions. Complicating all this was that three weeks before he was scheduled to take the business trip to Silicon Valley, Sandy had informed him that she was pregnant and he was going to be a father.

Not having heard anything from the PI, he spent the entire trip thinking that the prospect of becoming a father was exciting. A baby could make all the difference for him and Sandy and he had departed for home feeling much better than he had over the last few months.

But after landing at the airport he had phoned the private detective and learned that his loving wife was indeed having an affair with her boss, Jack Larson, where she worked.

He was devastated. He knew right then and there that it was a good possibility the baby wasn't his, but at the time he just couldn't convince himself that the woman he had married could be so cruel to not only sleep with another man but to get impregnated by that other man and then tell him the baby was his.

No he had thought, she might be an adulteress but she couldn't be that callous. Yet less than an hour ago she had confirmed that that was exactly what she had done. What a conniving bitch! Did he even know the woman he had married? He finished his drink and waved to the bartender for a refill.

An hour later Megan Stillwell walked into 'The Instant Replay' pub, which was located just around the corner from her apartment building to have a quick night cap before going home. Megan was tall, blonde, and gorgeous, with deep blue eyes. She was dressed in a knee length skirt, and as she walked, her long, shapely legs provocatively peeked out from a pair of revealing slits running up the sides, and her full, round breasts were generously exposed behind a satin blouse that despite its oversized cut was not able to hide her voluptuous figure underneath. After ordering a drink at the bar she turned and through the dim light spotted Ron Rider sitting in a dark corner booth at the back of the room.