Sparty Party

by StangStar06

Copyright© 2014 by StangStar06

Cheating Wife Sex Story: I graduated from Michigan. I married a woman who went to Michigan state. Like my dad said, Those mixed marriages don't work out.

Caution: This Cheating Wife Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Reluctant   Blackmail   Drunk/Drugged   Tear Jerker   Sports   Cheating   Revenge   Anal Sex   Exhibitionism   Public Sex   Violent   .

Hi folks, I woke up yesterday and got sucked into the excitement ot the Michigan/ichigan State game. This is, for me, a short story that feeds off of that excitement. Kudos to the great Barney-R for his clutch editing performance. (it took me less than a day to write this and he edited it in only a few hours) Anyway here it is. SS06

Most of the people on the street looked up as I drove past. They were drawn by the sound, like that of a huge angry bear on steroids. My Pype bomb exhaust system announced the presence of my blacked out 2014 Mustang 5.0.

People walking down the street had several reactions. Most smiled in appreciation at the automotive masterpiece that was my favorite vehicle of all time. A smaller number, actually stopped what they were doing and stood in slack jawed worship. Those were the faithful, the ones like me who knew the score. And a very small number of people actually frowned as they watched me go by. They were either turned off by the loud visceral punch of my car's sound, or jealous Camaro/Challenger owners.

I parked the car and locked it. I was heading for a small shop that early Saturday afternoon. I had finished my morning run. Then, I'd done the yard work alone. That was a rarity, because normally I never did anything outside of work alone. But my wife Crystal had a very special customer who was getting married this afternoon. So she had decided to break her standing rule about us being apart on the weekends, just this once.

Life had a way of moving at a speed that was either ridiculously fast or ridiculously slow depending on the situation. If your heart is broken and just being alive is painful, then a year seems to last several centuries, with each month, each week, each day and every minute seemingly stretching to infinity. On the other hand when you're happy and in love, days seem to pass so quickly that a week goes by in only seconds. Your brain scrambles to remember each precious detail as time accelerates into your future.

Over the past two years, I'd had one of each. One year of absolute agony, followed by one of absolute bliss. I'd been so busy concentrating on the bliss that I had almost forgotten what weekend this was.

I laughed when I thought about it, because for much of my life this had been the most important weekend of any year for me. It wasn't my birthday. It wasn't Christmas. For me and most of my family this weekend, the annual U of M vs. MSU football game, was the best weekend of any year. It had the potential to be either blissfully Nirvanic, or heart-wrenchingly bitter.

It all depended on who won that game. The alumni of both schools lived for their schools and the rivalry only became more heated as the years went on.

After dedicating my life for so long, to that rivalry, it struck me as almost funny that this year, only hours before the game, not only was I not going. I'd had no idea that the game was going on that day and God help me; I really didn't care.

I guess I'd been so preoccupied with a thousand other far more important details to even consider a game that I wasn't playing in important. As a matter of fact, I was now a Lions fan and was looking forward to seeing them play in London, England the next morning. I had somehow failed to notice the brightly colored blue and green banners strung up all over town.

As a matter of fact, it was hearing an interview on the radio as I drove to the shop a few moments ago that reminded me of the game. Michigan's coach, Shady Hoax ... I mean Brady Hoke was being interviewed. I didn't bother listening to the interview.

I actually didn't care what Shady had to say. I changed the station and listened to some music.

As I'd gotten out of the car, looking towards the shop, I heard a voice behind me.

"Hey, Michigan Man!" I turned and saw my dad's best friend, Al, bearing down on me. The older, balding man caught up to me and vigorously shook my hand as if he was operating one of those antique manual water pumps.

"Long time no see," he yelled. The man had always spoken so loudly that it made me wonder whether or not he had a hearing loss.

"It really has been, Mr. Bundy," I said.

"Are you watching the game on the giant screen TV in the bar down the block?" he asked.

"I am too," he said before I could answer. "It beats the hell out of having to try to get out of that crowded stadium; especially, if they lose. And things don't look good for the Wolverines this year. Hey why aren't you wearing your swag?" He looked me over closely and was taken aback that I didn't have a single piece of Michigan clothing on.

"Oh my God," he said. "Don't tell me that cute little Sparty girl you married has converted you! Say it ain't so! Sparty pussy can't be that good! Step out of the dark side son. Come back to the light! Your father must be ashamed of you."

"No, Mr. Bundy, I haven't gone over to the other side," I said. "I actually don't have a side at all. I don't even follow college football anymore. I'm over thirty years old. I've been out of college for nine years. Watching a bunch of eighteen year old kids playing football is no longer a defining part of my life. I guess I've grown up."

"The hell you say!" he spat. "That Sparty bitch has corrupted you. I'll pray for your soul son. I don't want you to go to hell with the Sparties." He was holding his hands up with both index fingers crossed as if he was warding off a vampire.

He cocked his head to the side and looked at me with one eye partially closed and the other open widely. It was as if he was closely scrutinizing me to see if whatever had infected me was visible with the naked eye.

I looked at my watch and realized that I had a few moments to talk to him.

"Okay Mr. Bundy, I'll tell you my story," I said.

"As you probably know, I met Melissa seven years ago. I had just been hired by my company as a CNC programmer. Melissa was doing sales for a company that sold carbide inserts for machine tools. So my boss sent her over to me so I could look through her wares to see if she had anything that we could use.

We hit it off immediately. Somewhere in that first conversation, she stopped trying to sell me inserts and actually told me that her company's products were inferior to what I was already using. I think we both knew that we were on the fast track to a relationship.

Both of us were freshly out of school and trying to make a big splash in our chosen career fields. I asked her to dinner that evening and she accepted. That dinner lead to others and after a few weeks, we were in love. A few weeks after that, I asked her to marry me and she accepted. We were both excited and walking around on a cloud of love. I didn't realize at the time that we were headed for trouble.

I had told my parents about Melissa and they were dying to meet her. The first available weekend that I could get everyone together was Michigan vs MSU weekend. I had only told Melissa that my family went all out for the game every year. We tailgated and went to every game. Mel and I had never really discussed which colleges we'd attended and I can see now that it might have been a mistake.

Mel only told me that she was excited about meeting my parents and planning our life together. Her parents had already passed at that point and she really wanted to be a part of a family again.

When I picked Melissa up on the morning of the game, I went into shock. Melissa was wearing green. It was worse than that. She was wearing an official Spartan's jersey. It turned out that one of her former boyfriends had been a wide receiver for MSU.

My heart was ripped in two. I stood there without saying a word, just looking at her. Melissa has short brown hair and enormous blue eyes. She's tall and thin with long legs and pert breasts. I was torn that morning between walking away and fucking her on the spot.

Under her jersey she wore a black long sleeved T-shirt and black leggings. Maybe it was tribal. I was feeling what the cavemen must've felt like.

When you encounter a female from another, closely related species, the drive to spread your seed and make your tribe the dominant species is hard wired into us. I wanted to take her right there and put a wolverine in her womb.

She looked at me with equal shock. I was decked out in full U of M regalia. I even had my face painted.

"Oh shit," she said, looking at me as if she had never really seen me.

"Exactly," I replied. "And things were going so well."

After staring at each other for a very long time and doing a lot of head shaking, we drove out to my parents' house anyway. To say that the day was shocking was an understatement. My parents were shocked. My mother got over it and accepted Melissa. She was sure that over time Mel would see the light. My dad on the other hand took me to the side and told me to break up with her.

"Son, those mixed marriages just don't work," he said.

When I told him that I wasn't going to give her up and that I intended to marry her, he had a fit. He started cursing and calling both me and Melissa names. He told me that until I saw reason, I was no longer welcome in his house.

To make a long story short, Melissa and I got married and I haven't spoken to my dad since then. My mom has to sneak and visit me. But it didn't matter at all because I loved Mel so much that as long as we were together I was happy.

Our marriage was great. We loved each other fiercely. The school thing was only ever a factor one weekend a year. The rest of the time it fell more along the lines of good natured rivalry.

Early on we stopped going to the games. That was mostly because Melissa didn't feel comfortable in the Big House, and there was absolutely no way that I was going to step one foot in Spartan stadium.

So what we tended to do was to hold a party for the game every year. Every year the party was bigger and more fun. We bought a 72 inch ultra hi-def plasma TV. It was the best biggest and clearest set available when we bought it.

We had the best setup and every year we spent more on food, snacks and liquor. Some years we had to beg everyone to take food home because there was no way the two of us could make a dent in what was left over.

And every year we invited more and more people. There was always a friendly rivalry going on. All of the Michigan people stayed on one side of the living room and all of the Sparties sat on the other.

What most of the guests didn't know was that Melissa and I made all kinds of bets during the game. The prize was usually 3 minutes. If Michigan scored, Melissa would look around and say, "Honey we need some more beer. Can you get some from the basement?" I would smile or nod and she'd say," I'll go with you."

As soon as we got into the basement she would drop to her knees and start sucking my dick. The problem was that after exactly three minutes, she would stop.

It was the same if Sparty scored. We went to the basement or our bedroom and I had to lick her pussy for three minutes. Field goals were worth one minute.

The problem was that if it was a high scoring game, both of us would be in a constant state of arousal for the entire game. One of the rules was that we couldn't finish until the game was over.

Usually by the end of the third quarter we were both so ready for sex that we didn't care who scored, as long as someone did.

By the third year of the party, Mel and I started disappearing immediately after the game. The Spartans won that year with a last second field goal. Melissa grabbed my hand and dragged me upstairs.

"Don't break anything and don't come up here," she yelled over her shoulder to our remaining guests. I don't think there was any doubt about what we were going upstairs to do.

Everything changed though in year four. A woman named Candace Bennett started working for Mel's company. She had graduated the same year that Mel did. They both majored in business. The difference was that Candace had graduated from U of M and Mel graduated from state.

Mel was a salesperson. Candace was an office specialist. Within eight months of being hired, Candace was Mel's supervisor. It burned Mel up. She complained on a daily basis about a bias towards U of M grads.

As a way of showing her frustration, Mel became almost militantly Spartan. She almost popped her cork when I told her that I had invited Candace to our party.

But I was the one who ended up shocked. On the day of the game I was answering the door. I went to the door and a guy I didn't recognize was standing there. He smiled at me and I noticed that he was wearing a Spartan jersey. I knew that jersey really well. It was the same one that Mel always wore.

As the guy stood there smiling, I asked him. "Are you a Cullen fan too?"

"Personally, I think the guy is an asshole," he smirked.

At that moment I heard my wife shriek. She ran out of the living room and into the doorway where I stood. "Tommy Cullen," she screamed. She hugged him. She actually hugged the bastard right in front of me.

And then she linked arms with him and took him into the house and introduced him to everyone. The years after school hadn't been good for him. He was still taller than me, but he had the beginnings of a beer gut. He also had a slight limp and the mullet hair style he wore was just funny. But Melissa acted like the bastard was Tom fucking Brady.

I avoided her every time she tried to bring him over to introduce him to me. And instead of circulating throughout our guests regardless of school or affiliation, the way I normally did. I stayed on the Michigan side and let Melissa handle the Sparties.

We were in the kitchen a little before the game actually started and she came up behind me and tired to hug me. I moved away from her like she was on fire. Her eyes narrowed.

"Sorry, I didn't know it was you behind me," I said. She just nodded. Before she could say anything, I left the kitchen carrying another tray of snacks out.

Most of the people on both sides who had been to our parties before were whispering. They were also smiling and pointing at Melissa and me.

When the game started, the whispering and the smiles increased. Neither team scored during the first quarter. But there was an undercurrent of anticipation going throughout the house. I noticed that Cullen seemed to stay within a few inches of Melissa the whole time and that she was constantly watching me for some reason.

Maybe she just wanted to see whether or not I was watching her and her old boyfriend.

Early in the second quarter MSU marched down the field. They got into the red zone and everyone on both sides of the living room was smiling. I saw money exchange hands which didn't make much sense to me. I didn't want to see MSU score and I was already pissed about Melissa inviting her old boyfriend, so I went down to the basement to get another case of beer. From the way I was feeling, I needed one. Shit, I might've drunk the entire case myself.

While I was away, apparently Michigan had intercepted the ball and was taking it the other way down the field. They didn't get into the red zone. That Sparty defense was too tough that year. They'd just have to keep pounding away at them until later in the game when they began to break down. But Michigan did get into field goal range. They lined up and booted the ball through the uprights. Michigan was on the scoreboard. There was a huge scream going through the house from both sides of the living room.

I was confused. Why the hell were the Sparty fans cheering for a Michigan field goal?

Then Melissa extricated herself from talking to her ex. I heard a bunch of giggling from several people at the party.

"Honey, we need more beer," she said. "Can you get some from the basement?" A bunch more people started giggling.

"I'll go w..." she began.

"I went down in the basement and brought up another case already," I said, cutting her off. "I put it on ice in the big cooler in the kitchen. If anyone wants a cold one, they can just grab one or three."

Her face fell. "What the fuck?" said one party-goer as he dejectedly handed over a handful of bills to another guy.

"John, can I see you in the kitchen, Honey?" asked Melissa.

"Sweetheart, whatever it is can wait until after the party," I said. "It would be rude to abandon our guests." She just looked at me in confusion.

She was about to say something, when behind us on the screen MSU scored a touchdown. The Spartan fans started cheering and the Michigan fans all groaned. But at the same time they were all watching us. Cullen came over and stood next to Melissa. "Great Party," he said smiling. "We didn't actually meet before. I'm..."

I walked away before he could finish. For the rest of the afternoon, everyone ate, watched the game and had a good time. When the game ended, with MSU winning, the Spartan fans were happy. The Michigan fans were split with half of them being pissed and the rest wanting to string Shady Hoax up. They showed an interview with him after the game where he spouted a lot of off the cuff sound bites that made little or no sense and were usually not related to the question.

Those little statements were known as Shadyisms.

"Coach, why do you think your team lost today?" He was asked.

"We didn't exactly lose," he said. "The other team just managed to score more points. But on a moral level I'd consider our performance a victory. This is MICHIGAN."

"Your defense at times looked to have more holes in it than a piece of Swiss cheese, how do you..."

"Those were designed holes," spouted Brady. "They were designed to look like holes but they weren't."

"But the opposing players ran through those holes and scored," said the reporter.

"This ... is Michigan," said Brady. "I am so proud of those young men, that..."

"But coach, you lost," said the reporter cutting him off.

"We were victorious in defeat," said Brady. "This..."

"I already know," quipped the reporter who was clearly getting pissed. "It's fucking Michigan. Your team is from Michigan. The other team is from Michigan. There are seven or eight college football teams from this state and they're all from fucking Michigan. Can I get a straight answer from you?"

The cameraman had to intervene and pull the reporter away from the coach before there was a fight.

Cullen got up and started singing the MSU fight song. Melissa sang along half heartedly. Cullen took her hand and raised it up like they were cheering together. I was too pissed off to stay in the house. I grabbed my keys from the counter and left through the back door.

Except for Melissa, my pride and joy was my Michigan Blue Mustang. The rims and all of the trim were a golden yellow color called maize. It was what the Native Americans in our region called corn. My car had a vanity plate, GO BLUE, and it made me smile whenever I saw it. But that afternoon, I didn't care what the car looked like. I just needed to get away.

For the first time since I'd met her I just needed to be as far away from Melissa and everything else as I could get. I was really hurting. I had no idea why she'd invited that asshole to our house.

It was well into the evening before I got back to the house.

Melissa was already angry at me and started on me as soon as I walked in the door.

"Where the hell were you?" she asked. "Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"Well, I was in the car and my phone is still upstairs in the bedroom," I said. "My arm isn't long enough to answer it from wherever I was."

She just looked at me. "This could have been the best party we ever had," she said. "Everyone was ready to just go crazy. What happened?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I said.

"Johnny, I found out something today," she began.

"Yeah, I already know," I spat. "You still have the hots for your ex."

Her hand went up and covered her mouth. "What the hell made you think something as ridiculous as that?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said. "I'm going to bed."

"No you're not," she said. "Answer my question."

"For starters, you didn't even tell me that you had invited him," I said. "He just showed up. It was like getting sandbagged."

"You mean like when you invited Candace, knowing I can't stand her," she quipped.

"I invited Candace, right in front of you," I said. "And I did it for you."

"How the hell is inviting a woman I can't stand to our house doing something for me?" she said.

"Because Candace is technically your boss," I said. "I did it to break the tension between you two so you can feel more comfortable at work. So she can look at you in a more friendly light and give you better assignments, which would lead to you advancing further and faster in your job."

"Oh!" she said suddenly. "I..."

"Candace," I continued. " ... Barely said a word to me all night because she was too busy having fun with the guy she brought with her. I think he was her HUSBAND. Candace didn't spend the entire party hanging all over me like I was her DATE."

Her eyes got big as she thought about it.

"Melissa how many of the people at the party tonight arrived solo?" I asked. She looked as if she was thinking about it.

"We invited three or four single women that you work with," I said. "They came in a group and arrived together. The only person who came here alone was your asshole. And instead of taking his choice of those three or four single women, he chose to spend all of his time with you."

"But he didn't know any of them," she said.

"Melissa he didn't know anyone here until he got here. But that didn't stop him from getting them all together to brag about the things he did when he played football for good old state," I said. "By the time I left, people from both schools were leaving just so they didn't have to listen to his bullshit."

She clearly wanted to change the subject. "Honey, I found out something tonight," she said.

"Yeah I know, you should have married Cullen," I spat.

She looked at me angrily. "I found out that you and I aren't as smart as we thought. Most of the people at the party know about our little secret. Did you know that a lot of them were betting on how long it would take us to sneak away together?"

I just looked at her. "They were all waiting for me to take you off to the basement. Some of them even listen through the heating vents. Maryanne told me that she and her boyfriend were so horny after listening to us last year that they forgot the condoms when they got home after our party and she ended up pregnant. Her three month old daughter is named after us." I was shocked but I was still pissed at her.

"Why didn't you take the hint when I wanted to go to the basement?" she asked. "Your team had scored fair and square. I wanted to get down there on my knees and do my duty. Of course you'd have done a lot more to me over the course of the game, because Sparty beat your team's ass."

"Why didn't you just take Cullen in the basement?" I asked. He was hanging all over you the whole fucking time. He was always touching you or right up in your face. You barely even knew I was there."

"I barely even knew that HE was there, dummy. I spent the entire time watching you. I wanted you so badly I could barely keep my knees together. The whole first quarter I didn't even care who scored as long as we could."

It took a few days but we eventually got over our spat. Or at least I tried to. The problem was that trust is something that doesn't come easily to me. And every time I tried to put it behind us something came up.

A few weeks later, the day before Thanksgiving to be exact, I went to the door and found Cullen standing there with a big bouquet of roses.

I literally slammed the door in his face so hard that the wood around the door frame cracked. Melissa heard the noise and came out of the kitchen.

"What... ?" she began.

"It's for you," I said. She just looked at me in confusion and tried to open the door. The door was wedged so tightly in the frame that she had to struggle to open it.

Once she got the door open, I couldn't help but notice Cullen on the ground and roses strewn all around him.

She went out and helped him up. Then she collected all of the flowers together. A few minutes later she brought him into the house.

"John, you owe Tommy an apology," she said. He stood there with a smug look on his face.

"Never gonna happen," I said.

"Do you realize how stupid you're acting?" she asked.

"Do you know how stupid it is for a man to give flowers to a supposedly MARRIED woman?" I asked. "Oh wait ... Maybe you don't. You two graduated from Michigan State. Sorry, you probably didn't know."

They were both pissed. But it still didn't wipe the smug look off of his face.

"Johnny, it's not what you think," she said. "Tommy just gave me the flowers out of gratitude. He's been going through some tough times and I got him a job with our company."

"Wow, you'd think with his degree and his history as a football hero he'd be able to get his own job," I said. "Why isn't he playing in the NFL?"

"I got hurt, my last year at state," he said. "And I really didn't concentrate on class while I was there. Most of my focus was on sports."

"So they gave you a God damned degree just for fun?" I said. "Just when I think that school can't get any dumber..." I just left the room and went to the garage.

Needless to say Thanksgiving wasn't thankful and Melissa wasn't very giving. She was pissed off about the things I said about her school. For more than two weeks we barely spoke to each other. And then out of the blue she came over and hugged me.

"Johnny, it took me a while to figure this out," she said. "You're jealous of Tommy aren't you?"

I didn't say anything.

"Why the hell would you be jealous of him? I love you. I married you; not him. He never even asked me to marry him. Actually he and I didn't even go out for that long." she said. "I'm just trying to help him because we were school mates."

"Whatever," I said. I just walked away because I wasn't in the mood to hear about all of her reasons for justifying the fact that she was spending time with Cullen.

In December, we found out that there was a good chance the Spartans, who were having a great year, might go to the Rose Bowl. "Johnny can we have a party?" she asked. "Maybe we can make up for the last one."

"It's your house too," I said. "You don't have to ask me to have a party."

To this day, I wish that I had said no.

I helped her make the arrangements. I helped her buy food and even helped her set everything up. But I knew from the beginning that it was going to suck. There was no way I was going to cheer for Sparty, no matter who they played. I was automatically rooting for the other side.

"That works for me," she said. "We'll be going by the usual rules then, only you'll be rooting against the Spartans instead of for Michigan. And I expect to spend a lot of time in the basement, John. I don't care if they know what we do down there."

Our sex life had been off. I was as horny as a Billy goat and I was right with her on that fact. I hoped that the party could somehow jumpstart us back towards where we'd been.

All the way until I opened the door and saw Cullen standing there. "Hey guy, no hard feelings," he said.

I went into the house grabbed my jacket and headed for the garage. "Where are you going Honey?" asked Melissa.

"Does it matter?" I said. "Cullen is here. You'll do fine."

Less than a minute later I was in my car and on the road. I didn't want to be at a Sparty party anyway. I was only doing it for her. I just didn't understand why she couldn't see that Cullen was the reason for all of the problems that we'd been having.

The Michigan/Michigan State game had been in October, it had taken barely three months for him to almost destroy a perfect marriage.

I drove around for most of the afternoon. i heard on the news that MSU had won. I hung out for a while longer before finally heading for home. I had a really bad feeling about going. I stopped for gas at a station about three blocks away from my house.

While I was at the pump, a friend of ours came over to me.

"John, why weren't you at the party?" she asked me.

"I wasn't there because it was a party for Spartan fans. They could see their team in the Rose bowl," I said. "I don't have much use for Spartans."

"Yet, you married one," she said. I looked down.

"You know she was miserable at her own party, right?" she said, making me feel even worse. "And that asshole friend of hers was all over her as soon as you left."

My heart lurched in my chest. "I go to all of the Michigan games," she said. "But I graduated from MSU. My husband was a wolverine. We decided a long time ago that pride in your school is a good thing, but not at the expense of your family. Family always comes first.

As soon as you grow up you learn that there are a lot of things more important than which collection of buildings you got your degree from. Your spouse is more important. Your kids are more important. Your friends are more important. Hell, even your job is more important. After all you went to the college just so you could get the career you wanted.

The college you went to is really no more important than your high school or even your middle school. Yet you rarely hear about anyone getting angry because their husband or wife went to a different elementary school and doesn't recognize how cool Philmore elementary school was."

I thought about what she had said the whole time that I was driving home. I decided then and there that the whole school thing was something we needed to grow out of. I loved Melissa with all of my heart and soul. From then on anything that was important to her would be important to me.

When I pulled into the house, the lights were off. I got out of my car and opened the door. I went up the stairs into our bedroom and saw two figures under the blankets on our bed. Cullen was on top of Melissa, pumping his hips up and down.

Suddenly all I could see was rage. Cullen was bigger than I am but it didn't matter. He turned to me and smirked. I was across the room faster than a beam of light. I grabbed him with both of my hands around his neck and dragged him off of the bed onto the floor. I slammed his head against the floor several times and punched him in his face at least eight times before I realized that there were four people trying to pull me off of him.

"John stop," screamed someone. "You're going to kill him. It was a joke. Nothing happened."

As sanity slowly returned, I realized that I was surrounded by people. It didn't make sense. I also looked down at Cullen. He was unconscious. He was also fully dressed. So was Melissa. She was looking at me in shock.

"Someone, call an ambulance," said one of the people behind us.

"This was a really stupid thing to do," said someone else.

"It was his idea," said another.

The EMS truck arrived a few minutes later, followed closely by the police. Of course there were questions about who did what and why. The amazing thing was that most of the people there, tried to minimize what I had done while maximizing the reasons for it. Most of them claimed it was a misunderstanding over a joke gone bad.

Finally I just told the cops that I'd done it and they could take me into custody. The looks they gave me were extremely sympathetic.

Mel just looked as if she was still in shock. It was as if she realized for the first time that her joke would have far reaching consequences. I was lucky. In a way the Spartans had saved me from a much worse fate. Because of the history of Spartan fans doing stupid things following big games, the judicial systems all over Michigan had gotten into the habit of keeping judges and the courts in session for part of the night.

The judge looked over the transcripts of my interview with the police and the interviews of the witnesses. He looked at the fact that I had no priors and no history of any type of law abuse. I didn't have so much as a traffic ticket on my record. I also owned my own home and had a job that I had worked at since the day I graduated from college.

He set my bail at five thousand dollars. I would only need ten percent of that. Melissa showed up fresh from her interview with the police to pay it. I whispered to my court appointed lawyer that I wouldn't accept bail from her.

They put me in a cell until I could make bail. I got my lawyer to contact a few of my friends.

"What's the problem?" asked my lawyer. "It's only five hundred dollars."

"I have the money, but, I left my wallet in my car," I said.

There's a funny thing about lawyers. They will take a case on the pure speculation of making money. They will take on clients who like me were clearly guilty. On the off chance that reasonable circumstances for unreasonable behavior will exonerate them. But they will never risk their own money.

So I sat in jail all night until I could get in touch with one of my coworkers to either, go to my car and get the wallet, or just loan me the money for a few hours.

Meanwhile, Melissa asked to see me every hour around the clock. I refused around the clock. When I did get home that morning, I grabbed everything I thought I would need for a couple of days and checked into a motel.

I got dressed and went to work. I explained everything to my boss and he just shook his head. He'd been divorced twice so he understood what I was going through.

While I sat in jail, I realized that I had been too timid for too long. I had allowed Cullen to dictate what happened and to come and go in our lives as he pleased. It was probably too late but I decided to go on the attack.

I hired a lawyer and had her begin drawing up divorce papers in case I couldn't save things. I also hired a PI firm to follow Cullen.

When I got back to the hotel that night, I changed into my running gear and went out for a run. All during the day I'd turned my phone off. I wasn't ready to deal with Melissa. She had left me so many messages that she had filled my voicemail box.

When I got back from the run, she was sitting on my car. I walked right by.

"John, why won't you talk to me?" she screamed.

I turned and looked at her as calmly as I could. "When this is all over, the two of us will sit down and discuss where we go from here ... If we go anywhere," I said.

"What the hell does that mean?" she asked.

"I hurt him pretty badly," I said. "I might go to jail. I might go for a long time. And you've got what you always wanted. You've got your Sparty boyfriend back. You're reunited with your first love. This way I'll be out of your way."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" she yelled suddenly. "None of that is right!"

"I'm a big boy Melissa. I can handle it. I know that the two of you were together before I ever met you. Hell, you've been wearing his jersey since before I met you. I'm sure you've always wondered what would happen if the two of you got back together," I said. "All of those old feelings came back in a hurry. I won't stand in your way."

"Good," she said. "I'm going to have you committed. Do you know why last night happened? It happened for two reasons. The first is because you've been so jealous of Tommy that you act irrationally around him. My husband, the man I loved so much that I want to spend the rest of my life with him bailed on a party in our own home. The second is because I was so angry about you leaving that I got more than a little drunk and got talked into a really stupid joke that backfired and got someone hurt.

Johnny, I love you. I can't believe that you would think I would ever cheat on you with Cullen or anyone else. That's just another example of how crazy you've become."

"You don't think I have a reason to be crazy?" I asked.

"No, you don't," she said. "There are some things you need to know. I'm not as fond of Cullen as you think. Johnny, I didn't end the relationship that Tommy and I had in college, he did. He dumped me because I wouldn't put out. He was a big shot on campus and he told me that if I wouldn't give him the pussy, he'd find someone who would. And he'd find her before sundown.

I wore Cullen's jersey for the stupidest of reasons. I wanted an MSU jersey, I already had one of his from before we broke up and I was just too cheap to buy another one." That made me smile.

"I don't know why you're jealous of him, Honey. He's jealous of you. That's probably why he does things the way he does. You turned me into your peanut butter as soon as we met." I looked at her in confusion. She had been moving closer to me with every word.

She wrapped her arms around me and whispered "You know why I call myself your peanut butter?" I shook my head. "Because I spread so easily, for you."

She was rubbing herself against me and it was getting the reaction she wanted. "You know what makes peanut butter better?" she asked.

"Jelly?" I croaked.

"Unh Uh," she said. She grabbed the front of my pants and gently squeezed. "Peanut butter is better when there's some nuts in it." I almost came in my pants.

"Johnny, can you please come home? Baby, I'm going crazy without you," she whined. I just nodded my head. We didn't even make it home. We went into the motel to get my stuff so I could follow her home and she ended up giving me a blow job in the motel room.

I tapped her on the shoulder to warn her that I was going to cum and it was a big one. She looked up at me with love in her eyes, just as the first blast of cum gushed out of me. It shot straight onto her face and dripped down.

"Yours is the only dick I like sucking," she said. And then she opened her mouth and swallowed all of the rest.

I pushed her onto her back on the cheap motel bed and got my head between her legs to return the favor.

After a few minutes, she pushed me away. "I want to cum with you inside of me," she begged. I mounted her and she raised her legs and put them on my shoulders. "See, Baby, peanut butter," she crooned.

We humped away at each other like deranged animals until we both collapsed after we came. It took a few moments, and the cheers, before we realized that we had neglected to close the door to the motel room. A growing crowd of strangers had just watched me fuck the shit out of Melissa.

She just hugged me and told me that she was mine and she didn't care who knew about it.

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