Two of a Kind


Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Reluctant, Science Fiction, Tear Jerker, Rough, Anal Sex, Pregnancy, 2nd POV, Violent, cheating wife sex story, drama sex story, erotica sex story, pregnancy sex story, violent sex story, romantic sex story.

Desc: Romantic Sex Story: A friend showed will something that made him realize that his wife might be cheating

Hi folks, please be forewarned. This is a very long story. I haven't written one of those in a while and i keep getting e-mails asking for them, so as fall approaches and we all have more inclination to sit down in front of the fire with a nice long read, I decided to indulge. Those of you who want a quick story with a lot of sex scenes should probably skip this one. Also I have to warn you that I am again without the services of my regular editor and definitely in the market for a new one, so any experienced combat editors out there can feel free to contact me. I think that Callie did a good job here but she's back in school and doesn't really have the time. I must also regretfully inform some of you that I had told that I'd probably start slipping brief interludes that will lead up to this year's Hallowen story in, that this story because of its length will not include one of those. Lastly look out for a bunch of old friends in this story. SS06

"Hey, Will, have you seen this one yet?" yelled my best friend and office manager from the large shared space outside of my personal office."

I looked up from my computer screen and glanced in his direction. I took a sip of my now warm wild cherry Pepsi and looked at the clock on the wall of my office. I realized then that I'd missed lunch again. It seemed to happen a lot when I really got into a project.

I wiped my eyes and let them adjust to focusing on something other than the computer screen that was right in front of my face. "What?" I grumbled as I stood up and stared in his direction.

Danny was my exact opposite. We were so different that our close friendship amazed even me.

Danny is six foot four and weighs closer to three hundred pounds than to two hundred. People often make the mistake, because of his bellicose voice and aggressive yet friendly demeanor, of thinking of Danny as a former athlete. They think that is the reason for his bulk. They're wrong. Danny's bulk is all donuts and fried chicken. He has very little muscle it's all lard.

Danny is probably the least athletic man I know. He once missed three days of work for a back spasm that he got while bending over to tie his running shoes.

On the other hand, I'm five foot ten and weigh a hundred and seventy pounds. I actually have a gym in my house and work out every day and run at least six miles every morning. On days when the weather isn't good, there are two treadmills in our gym.

Danny is a friendly and outgoing person. He constantly talks to every member of our team. While doing that he keep each person on the straight and narrow project wise, but also makes sure the keep them on the healthy side of stress and burn out. His impromptu parties and lunches make our office a fun place to work. He's also in charge of hiring and counseling employees. He's the first person they see when they walk in every day and the last person they see before they go home.

I on the other hand rarely talk. I'm usually so involved with whatever I'm working on that I hardly ever leave my office. The only things that can ever get me out of my office are meetings with clients, Danny forcing me, or my wife. But since my name is on the door, I'm the one who fires people when it's necessary or unavoidable.

I wander over to Danny's desk. It is of course the opposite of mine. The funny thing is that we have the exact same set up. We both have two HP touchscreen computers powering three monitors.

In my case one PC and two of the monitors are for running AutoCAD. I'm an architect so I keep all kinds of designs and specs on that computer. In my case, the design computer isn't networked. It isn't even connected to a printer. If I need to transfer anything from that computer or print anything, I use a flash drive to transfer it to the other PC. That one is used for general office stuff and internet access.

Danny's system is of course outfitted differently. He has one monitor for office stuff. He has another monitor for internet stuff and his last monitor is for him to watch TV on.

My office is pretty stark. Except for a few photos on the wall of my wife, it is pretty much unadorned. I could take those pictures down and everyone would think the office has never been occupied.

Danny's desk is cluttered with every souvenir and collectable piece of crap you can find. His desk blotter proudly proclaims that a neat desk is the sign of a cluttered mind. He smiles at me as I approach.

He's staring at his internet monitor and grinning from ear to ear.

"Why didn't you tell ME at least?" he asks, pointing a finger that is still greasy from the Coney dog he's eating.

"Tell you what?" I ask.

"That Becca is making the transition from modeling to movies," he gushes as if he knows everything.

"Because the only transition that Becca is going to make is from modeling to motherhood," I said. "At least once a week, she tells me that she wants to have a baby and soon."

"She's high," he spits out. "She needs to grab all of the dinero she can, while she's got that body. Then the two of you can sit back and get fat together, later on. Shit, any woman can lay back and spit out a kid. The trailer parks are full of girls who aren't even out of high-school and have a couple of kids. But how many women can say that they were a genuine super model?"

I looked at him as if I was puzzled.

"Will, think about it," he said.

"I don't get it," I told him.

"Shit, Will, you've been working too hard, dude" he said. "There's millions of trailer trash hotties out there, but how many super hot models are there? It's a case of rarity, dude. Do you get it now?"

"No," I said. "I know at least ten or twelve women that you'd call supermodels. I don't know anyone who lives in a trailer though."

"Grrrrrr," he growled at me.

"Besides, what makes you think Becca wants to go into film?" I asked.

"This encounter that I got from one of those super-secret internet entertainment sites," he said. "They have all of the news that most of the celeb media doesn't get or can't run."

He clicked his mouse and I watched as a nearly six foot woman ducked out of a building, trying to avoid being seen. She was clutching the hand of a shorter greasy looking guy, with glasses and a general unkempt appearance. She wore a hat and a long trench coat and kept sticking her hand in front of her face to obscure it from being seen. She was holding the man's hand and trying to avoid the reporters and photographers.

"See," said Danny. As we watched the reporters swarmed the woman, firing question after question at her. It just seemed off to me. Normally, Becca would always stop and politely answer any questions that she was asked. She was very grateful for what she did for a living. Even if it sometimes meant that she lost a bit of her privacy. We also had a pretty good way of dealing with it. Becca had two sets of ID.

One set that she used while working, that proudly proclaimed her as Rebecca Miranova. The other set that named her as her actual legal name Becca Temple. After a shoot, she'd just throw her hair in a ponytail, take off her make-up, throw on a baseball cap and get onto a plane as a tall and thin but unassuming wife of an up and coming architect. She'd even taken classes with several speech therapists and could for a few moments hold a conversation in which she'd sound like a typical Midwesterner.

But there on Danny's monitor she sounded like a formerly Russian supermodel and she wasn't taking any time to answer any questions.

"See," said Danny again.

"Okay, Dan, work with me, here," I said. "What did you see in this interview that makes you think she's going into film?"

"Well she's clearly trying to avoid the reporters," he said. "Your wife doesn't do that. She even let's high school reporters interview her. She's nice to everyone. Two, look at that little nerdy dude that she's with. He's obviously some kind of movie producer. That's why there's all of this secrecy. They're discussing exactly the kind of film she needs to break into acting. A lot of models try to go into film and let's face it, they suck. Just because they're good at being a mannequin, or strutting their tiny little asses down the runway, it doesn't always translate."

I watched the monitor again and saw Becca duck into a car with the man. The alarm bells went off in my head then as once they got inside of the car the camera caught a fleeting glimpse of her leaning over to kiss the man.

I didn't need to drag Danny into it so I pretended I hadn't noticed it. He was so busy making plans for my wife's movie career that he hadn't seen it.

"Danny, I missed lunch," I said. "I think, I'm going to call it a day."

"Sure, you're the boss," he smirked. "You get to just up and leave in the middle of the afternoon on a fucking Wednesday. Bosses often do that and..."Oh I get it," he said smiling broadly.

"You want to go home and give your hot assed wife the bone train. Just seeing my little video here has started your salmon swimming upstream, huh?" he quipped.

"Whatever?" I said.

I grabbed my coat and my laptop from my office. I stopped and downloaded my work files onto a four gigabyte flash drive. I have a similar setup at home so I can work there for a while if I feel like it.

I smiled and waved at several of my employees on the way out. Once I got to out parking lot, it was easy to spot my car. It was the only screaming yellow 2013 Mustang GT around. Becca thought it was odd that my car wasn't like my outwards personality.

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