No Way Back

by StangStar06

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, NonConsensual, Cheating, Interracial, White Female, Hispanic Male, Violent, .

Desc: Sex Story: A marriage is ruined by the wife's meddling friend

Edited by DB448

"Tell me again why I have to come?" I asked my wife of 10 years.

I'm Eric Sanders and the apple of my eye, Beth, sat beside me as I drove down the road.

"Susan's brother is in town, and she didn't want him to be the only guy there while we have our hen party," said Beth.

"Besides," she continued, "If you're good I'll really make it up to you later."

Beth's make ups were worth anything you could name, so all of a sudden I was really ready to be good.

We pulled into Marge's driveway and I readied my provisions for the day. My survival kit had gotten me through lots of bad situations. The kit contained all of the necessary supplies for keeping me occupied during any long boring situation. It consisted of a pack of wild berry skittles, a plain Hershey bar, a small bag of chips and a wild cherry Pepsi. These items, when added to my ever present iPhone, would, allow me to deal with anything.

"Eric, while we're here, try to communicate with someone. Don't just lock yourself away on your phone and forget the rest of the world," Beth said.

"Well what do you expect me to do while you hang out with your friends?" I asked.

Beth knew that I hated her friends. I couldn't understand why my beautiful wife hung out with those "depraved skanks". I guess she really didn't care for my friends either, but at least I didn't force them on her.

We went through the house and out onto the deck. I looked around and half heartedly gave a wave to Susan, Marge and Amy. They were so busy talking and hugging my wife that they either didn't notice or didn't care that I kept my middle finger extended during the wave. Why were they always hugging each other, were they closet "lezzies" or did they just miss each other so much since yesterday?

I looked around and didn't see any other men, so I loudly cleared my throat, and when Beth turned towards me, I gave the universal, both hands out, "where the fuck are the guys" shrug.

As Beth shuffled over to me, her tight white shorts looked like they were painted on.

"Honey Susan's brother went out last night and didn't wake up yet, he'll be by later," she said.

"So what am I doing here now darling," I snapped through closed teeth.

"Just hang out sweetie, take a dip in the pool, oh, you could talk to Brandy," said Beth as an after-thought.

"Beth," I asked "who the fuck is Brandy and why, can't I just leave and pick you up later?"

"Marge says that wives spend a lot of time waiting for their husbands to do things, and the sign of a healthy relationship is the husbands' willingness to reciprocate," said Beth.

"Marge can suck my dick," I said smiling, just loud enough for Beth to hear.

"That's my job," said Beth rubbing my crotch. "Don't forget I'm going to make this all worth it," she said.

"OK," I purred.

I looked around and sure enough there was a woman sitting at a table across the deck. She appeared to be reading, and had several notebooks and other items on the table in front of her.

Beth ran back to her coven. The triumvirate of evil is what I called them. There was Susan, who was going through a painful divorce. Beth had told me about it but for the life of me I couldn't remember the details. Susan was the reason for the meeting today, she was heart- broken and needed the support of her cohorts. Susan was 40ish but looked older, her thin features and sour disposition made her look 50 normally. But today, with her whining and caterwauling, you could add another 5 or 10 to the total. Susan did however have a nice trim body, slim hipped and small breasted, but tight. Not really my cup of tea, I preferred women who were built like women, but if you're looking for the thin lipped, shrewish, 50 year old supermodel type, Susan is your girl.

Amy was the newest recruit to the fold. She was Italian or Mediterranean in appearance. She had beautiful eyes and long wavy dark hair. Her hair was so thick I could imagine running my fingers through it and getting stuck. She had large breasts and a big round ass. Unfortunately she also had a big round stomach and was only 4' 11. Her hook nose and slight mustache were also not big features in any of my masturbatory fantasies. Amy wanted so badly to fit in with the group that she bordered on ass-kissing.

Finally, there was Marge. In the back of my mind I always called her large Marge. Marge was an Amazon of a woman, and had the temperament to back it up. Whatever you talked about, Marge was a fucking expert on it. She had seen everything, been everywhere, done everything and had the whole collection of T-shirts to prove it. Marge was the type of woman who could tell you what it felt like when she got her dick sucked. Add that to her grating, over modulated, voice and you get the picture. I hated Marge with a passion. Just as I was thinking it, the bitch looked across the deck and smiled at me. I swear that whore was psychic.

I made my way over to the table where the other woman sat. Although I dearly love my wife, this woman was beautiful. She was slender with largish breasts and long tanned legs that she showed off in shorts. She was doing that thing that women don't recognize as being overtly sexual where one of their shoes hangs precariously off of their toe and just dangles there. She had a leonine mane of tousled tawny colored curls framing a heart shaped face. If I wasn't happily married I could have made a fool out of myself over her.

I quietly took a seat directly across from her so I wouldn't disturb her. She looked over her glasses at me and went back to studying. I snickered when I saw the book she was looking at. It was a college Physics book. She also had a work-book, a lab manual, several notebooks and a programmable calculator. It brought back memories from when I was in college.

I very quietly pulled up a movie on my iPhone and settled in. I cracked open the top of my soda and rustled my chips.

"Sorry," I said, as she looked at me, when I crunched a little too loudly.

"Actually, you just reminded me that it's been a while since I've had any real junk food," she said, "Anyway I'm stuck so I should probably take a break instead of just beating my head against the wall."

"What are you stuck on?" I asked.

"Oh nothing, just a couple of problems from the Chapter Review," she said. "May I?" she asked pointing towards my chips.

"Please," I replied.

As she grabbed a healthy handful of chips, I looked at her neat figures on the page of the notebook.

"You're using the wrong numbers," I said.

"What?" she asked, looking at me like I was a moron.

"This is Newton's laws of motion right?" I asked.

"Well yeah," she said with an exasperated tone.

"Force equals mass times acceleration?" I asked again.

"Yup," she said "that's what they claim."

"You're using velocity instead of acceleration," I told her.

"The problem didn't give us acceleration," she said, realizing that I might be right.

"But they gave you final velocity, and they gave you cycle time; acceleration is simply the change in velocity over time," I explained.

I went to the programmable calculator app on my iPhone and showed her. She did the same calculation on her calculator then input the new numbers into her equation. She consulted the back of the book and the answers matched; she was overjoyed. She came around the table and hugged me.

This of course got noticed by the caldron stirrers across the deck and my petite little wife gave me a quiet nod.

"I'm Brandy," she said, after letting me go. "Marge's sister," she threw in as an after- thought.

I almost spit out my soda upon hearing that.

"Well, sister in law," she clarified.

"I almost barfed," I said.

"Why, don't you like my sister?" she asked.

"Well, I'm sure she'll grow on me over time," I sputtered. "But I'm 32, and I don't think I'll live long enough for her to take root," I smirked.

That was the start of a great friendship. That afternoon I helped Brandy with her physics and we talked about everything we could think of. It's really strange, but we just clicked, in no time it was as if we'd been friends all our lives. I have to admit that when it was time to go, I was a little saddened.

A couple of hours later after eating a pizza Beth and I had picked up on our way home, I was lying on our bed waiting for Beth to join me. She stepped out of the bathroom in a filmy blue Fredericks of Hollywood Cover-up that didn't cover anything up. She lay down beside me and asked, "Honey, do you have any thing you can think of that you would like us to try?"

I sat up because my BIBSD was going off big time. For those of you who don't know what that is, women are supposedly born with what they call women's intuition; men are born with a BIBSD. The BIBSD stands for the built in bullshit detector and it's a man's version of psychic powers.

I knew then that something was up.

"Well Marge says... ,"she began

I immediately frowned up, and crossed my arms because I didn't want to hear shit from Marge if she had a mouth full of it. I didn't trust Marge as far as I could throw her which wasn't very fucking far because the bitch was way bigger than me. And she probably had a bigger dick.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To cut the grass," I replied.

"No wait, you're going to like this," she said

"Not if it came from Fucking Marge," I said.

"Marge said that to make our relationship stronger I should try to act out your fantasies, or try new things that you're interested in. If I don't like it, then we compromise or maybe try something else, but that we should experiment and try to make each other as happy as can be. It's the only way to make sure our marriage doesn't get stale," she said.

"So I was trying to find out if there was anything you wanted to try," she smiled.

"Well... ," I remember saying, with a smile.

Over the next week, we tried everything I could think of. Our sex life had always been good, but now it was like a v-8 firing on ten cylinders. On a scale of 1 to 10 we were a 12. She gave me blow jobs until her jaws ached. We tried anal for the first time but I don't think she liked it.

We tried dressing up and role playing. My beautiful little wife was becoming the personal slut of my dreams. Some nights we'd make soft slow romantic love that gave us that wonderful glow and brought us closer together; other nights we just fucked like monkeys, hard fast and rough until we couldn't move. I loved every minute of it. She showed up at my job and blew me under my desk while I was going over plans for a project with a co-worker. I t was awesome. I loved her more than ever. Shit, I loved Marge, because after a gazillion, useless suggestions, the bitch finally came up with something good. What a sucker I was.

When the weekend came we went Susan's place, Beth of course wanted me to come along. I didn't mind at all, I even managed to say hello to Marge without being sarcastic. Susan's divorce was imminent, counseling had broken down, and now it appeared that Amy wasn't feeling too strong in her marriage either. I felt truly sorry for Amy.

Beth and I had absolutely no problems in our relationship and as a matter of fact I think that we were better than ever. Even Marge's suggestion had only served to make us stronger. I worshipped the ground Beth walked on, and I knew that she loved me just as much. I guess Amy's husband had cheated on her, or maybe she had cheated on him, and they needed to work it out. That would never happen between Beth and I, we loved and respected each other far too much to cheat on each other. We had a good marriage and Marge had unknowingly made it better.

Unfortunately, I didn't realize it then but the enemy of good isn't bad; the enemy of good is better. What that means is when you have something that's good, you should just stand pat, because a lot of the time when you try to make it better, you fuck it up.

I spent the whole time that we were there talking to Brandy again. We could talk about anything it seemed. We also got in the pool and splashed around some. We even ordered a pizza, and devoured it while the witches had their finger sandwiches and tofu.

I finally couldn't help myself and asked her "Brandy, you're young, you're beautiful, you're wonderful so why the hell are you single?"

"I'm 24, I'm divorced, and there aren't enough guys like you to go around," she said quietly.

"What do you mean guys like me?" I asked.

"Eric, you're a really special guy," she began, "You and Beth have a great marriage," she said quietly. "Even Marge is jealous of the way you treat her and the things you do for her. You surprise her with little gifts, just for the hell of it. You split the household chores with her, you really talk to her and you guys communicate. She knows that she's the most important thing in the world to you, and you to her. My asshole of a husband cheated on me, before our first anniversary," her eyes looked downwards as she said this.

"Do you see anything wrong with me?" she said turning around and doing a little pirouette in front of me.

"Nothing at all," I said.

"Some guys are just cheaters," she said with venom."The first time, it hurt me really badly but I forgave him. When it happened again, I took him to the cleaners," she said smacking her open palm with her fist.

I wanted to put my arms around her and make her feel better. Telling me was obviously hard on her, but I saw Beth heading my way, so I didn't think it was appropriate.

"If you need someone to talk to about it, you can always call me," I said softly.

On the drive home, Beth seemed really chipper. She had one of those "cat that swallowed the canary" smiles.

"You seem to be getting along well with Brandy," said my loving wife. "That's great" she said, but something in her tone told me it wasn't great.

Later on after dinner, we were lying in bed, and I could tell something was up.

I decided to break the ice myself this time, since last time was so good.

"Go ahead Beth," I said, "I know you want to talk about something."

"Well sweetie, Marge says that experimenting and trying things is good for our relationship."

"Yay Marge." I said, "Woo hoo!"

"And," she continued, "There are a few things that I'd like to try too."

"Like what?" I asked; my curiosity was piqued.

"Well, I think I'd like to try having sex with another man," she said softly.

I was stunned. I couldn't find the words to express how pissed I was, but I tried to remain calm.

"Marge is out of her fucking mind!" I yelled.

"Marge said that, if you really loved me, if our relationship was really strong, that this would only make us stronger," Beth said quietly. "But if we're only based on sex, and not love, then sex could come between us," she said with a straight face.

For a second I wondered if she was quoting Marge or the Holy Book of horseshit, or both.

"This isn't about me loving someone else, because I could never love anyone else nearly as much as I love you. It's just about trying out another man to compare to you, so I'd know what someone else feels like," she said.

"No. Not in a million years," I said firmly.

"So you don't really love me then," she said.

"If letting some other guy fuck my wife is part of love, then I guess I don't," I snapped.

"Beth, maybe you should stay away from Marge," I said.

I turned off the light and rolled over to the edge of the bed. Beth put her arm around me, but I shook it off. She tried to roll over and snuggle up to me and I got out of bed and went to the couch.

The next morning, for the first time since we were married, we didn't have breakfast together because I got up early and went to work. The whole day I barely got anything done because I couldn't shake the image of my Beth with another man from my head. Beth called me 3 times during the day but I didn't answer any of them. After the 3rd call I just turned my cell off. Normally at lunch time I called her or just showed up at her job and took her to lunch, but today I did neither. When I got home that night, Beth was already making dinner. "Not hungry, I'm going out to run," I told her.

"I'll run with you, wait up," she said.

"I want to run alone. I have some things to think about," I said.

"Well I'll wait and eat with you," she said.

"I've got a better idea," I told her, "Why don't you have dinner with fucking Marge."

I drove to the park and clipped my iPod to the waistband of my shorts. I started running hard and fast. I loved to run because it gave me time to clear my mind of all of the junk that jumbled around up there.

Why the fuck did Beth need to try out some other guy? We'd just spent the last week trying out so many things that I'd wanted to try.

That was it, things that I'd wanted to try. Was I being selfish? Hell no, why is it that everything I wanted to try involved her? The things we did that she didn't like, I never asked for again because I love her too much to subject her to something she doesn't like. So why would she try to force me to do something I don't like? Then she goes and quotes the "Queen of all Skanks", Marge, who tells her that if I love her I'd let her just spread her legs for some other guy. What happens when Marge tells her to try running a train, or a gangbang? To me I guess I've always thought that a marriage is between 2 people.

I don't care if it happens to be 2 girls, 2 guys, or one of each, but the number needs to be 2.

Love is when 2 hearts become one, not one plus one plus someone else occasionally for fun.

During the run I also found myself thinking about Brandy. What kind of a dickhead would a guy have to be to cheat on that woman?

When I got back to the house, I took a shower and then went downstairs into the kitchen.

Beth was there, she obviously had a sad face and a story to tell.

"Don't you want your dinner?" she asked

"No thanks," I said, harshly, "I can't afford it."

"What does that mean," she asked.

"I smell Marge," I replied. "Everything about that bitch is the carrot and the stick. You offer me something I want, something nice; but the payback for it is so harsh that I don't want anything nice ever again," I said.

"Marge is just trying to make our relationship stronger," Beth cried, "Boredom and insecurity doom most marriages."

"I want you to see that you don't need to be insecure about me and any other guy. I love you Eric, and only you," she said.

"This would just be sex, nothing more, no emotions, just bodies," she continued

"My heart beats only for you, not for some guy just because he fucked me," said Beth.

"Anyone could fuck me," she said.

"I could be raped on my home from the store tomorrow, it wouldn't make me love you any less," she said thinking she was making a point "and it certainly wouldn't make me love the guy who raped me."

"But you see, that's the point that Marge is trying to make, you see me as your pristine little wife, your property. But if I were sullied, or used by someone else, you wouldn't want me anymore. Just that one little act and all of the love you claim you have for me would disappear" she said.

She paused and looked at me with pleading eyes.

"What about you?" she asked "Aren't you curious to see how I'd feel about you being with another woman?"

"Nope" I said, "Because I'd never do that to you. I love only you and I don't need to try out anyone else" I replied.

"What about Brandy?" she asked, "You guys seem to have a little bit of a connection. I have to admit I was getting a little jealous of the 2 of you Saturday."

"Nope," I said, "Not going to happen."

Then Beth left the room. I made a turkey sandwich and ate it in front of the TV.

I don't know a lot of things but I know my wife. This was not the last time we would talk about this. Over the next week things around our home only grew more and more tense. I no longer recognized us. Where we used to do everything together, even to the point of her dragging me to her hen parties, we now barely spoke. I missed her badly, but I couldn't give in on this because this could be the end of us.

I got into the habit of sleeping in my den, and several times over the next week or so I'd awaken in the middle of the night to see her standing in the doorway, silently watching me. In over 10 years together this was the very worst thing that had ever happened to us.

Then one night I got a phone call that I wasn't expecting.

"Hey stranger," said a feminine voice

"Who is this?" I asked

"It's Brandy," she replied.

"Hi" I said perking up.

"Don't try it Romeo, your voice sounded like you lost your best friend and I know why. Marge has been talking to your wife daily, pumping her full her crap and her new plan is to try and make up with you, and then do it without you knowing it," she told me.

"What?" was all I could say.

"Yep, you heard me," said Brandy, "Then after the dirty deed is done she's going to fuck your brains out, and after you guys are back on solid ground, she'll tell you that she did it, and show you that it didn't make any difference in your relationship."

"Thanks Brandy," I said, "you're a good friend," and I hung up the phone.

The next day I called my lawyer, and had him start on the divorce papers. He couldn't believe that Beth and I were in trouble. "Is there no way to work this out?" he asked.

"That depends on Beth," I told him.

I separated all of our accounts by taking my name off of the joint accounts after transferring half of the money in each to a new account in my name only.

I removed Beth's name as beneficiary on my insurance and retirement accounts. That only left the house. The house was mine before I ever met Beth, so I hoped that I could keep it, but if we had to sell it and split the proceeds at least I wouldn't have to worry about living among all the memories of things we'd done in that house. I also got the name of a good fast locksmith who could be called 24/7 in case of an emergency.

When I got home that night, Beth was waiting for me. She hit me with the "we need to talk" speech as soon as I opened the door.

"Eric, I love you and I miss you, can't we go back to how we were?" she asked "Why do we have to fight about this?"

"Beth what we have is called irreconcilable differences, and unless one of us gives in, we can't go back to how we were. And "we" aren't fighting because thanks to Marge, "we" haven't said a word to each other, in 2 weeks," I said.

"Beth "I'm" the one who's fighting. I'm fighting for my marriage, for the woman of my dreams," I told her. "You're willing to just kick over the apple cart because Marge says to."

"Beth, have you ever heard the expression 'If it ain't broke, don't fix it"? Before Marge started filling your head with shit, was there anything wrong with us?" I said. "Also, if Marge is such a fucking expert on relationships, why has she been married and divorced 3 times. If Marge knows so much about how to keep a man..."

"Why is she alone?" I asked.

"Anyway, Beth, I love you, I always have and I want us to grow old together, just you and me. Not you, me, Marge and the guys she wants you to fuck. Take some time and think about it. I do not own you, I understand that, no matter what Marge thinks, but I thought, that I did own a little piece of your heart, the same way that you've always owned a huge chunk of mine," I said.

I left Beth standing in the doorway, went upstairs to take a shower, and went into the den.

She knocked on the door at about 10 p.m. and asked me if I was coming to bed. But as much as I wanted to go with her, I shook my head no.

Maybe I should have gone up to our bedroom with her and made love with her. Perhaps that would have turned the tide towards my arguments, and maybe we could have gone back to the way things were. God knows that that was what I wanted more than anything else. But I needed to know that my opinions and feelings mattered to Beth more than Marge's did. If they didn't we'd have no future anyway.

I guess I drank way too much soda that night, because in the middle of the night I had to piss really badly. I went to the upstairs bathroom and on my way there I heard Beth crying softly. I felt like such an asshole. If this was making up maybe fighting was better.

Saturday I went out to run. I knew that this was going to be the last day of this shit one way or another. When I got home Beth wasn't there, she'd made her decision. I took a shower and headed downtown. Instead of driving my Fusion, I went to the garage and took the cover off of my Mustang. I hardly ever drove the car because I tended to feel invincible in it, and that made me drive stupidly.

I went to the movies and caught Ironman 2. When I got back to the car it was starting to get dark and I saw the message light on my iPhone. I had 12 messages in the last 2 hours.

Just then the phone rang again. I had to go to the hospital, Beth was there. I got to the hospital in no time. The argument between us was forgotten. I went to the desk and asked for Beth's room number. I was told that she had just come out of the emergency room and would be available soon. She was on pain killers and resting comfortably. I asked what was wrong with her but no one would tell me.

In the waiting room, I saw Marge, and I knew something serious had happened.

There is more of this story...
The source of this story is Storiesonline

For the rest of this story you need to be logged in: Log In or Register for a Free account