If a Tree Falls

by Lucky Malone

Copyright© 2017 by Lucky Malone

Sex Story: Vanessa likes to dance at parties. Her loving husband finds her with her legs wrapped around the hairy butt of her boss. Should he bury both of them in the back yard? Or is there something else going on here? This story centers on the classic conjecture, "If a tree falls in a forest and there is nobody around to hear, is there a noise?" Except the question posed here is, "If your wife has sex with another man, when is it not cheating?

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including NonConsensual   Revenge   .

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Van was drunk. No! She was totaled!!

Ninety-nine percent of the time, she’s a wonderful wife and mother. But, sometimes she lets her freak flag fly; drinks too much, flirts with every man, woman, and child at the party, then yaks out the window on the way home.

Van is sex on a stick. She’s tiny, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and very curvy, with pert boobs and smashing long legs. All that succulent glory was on full display in a tight LBD.

Her best asset is her muscular ass, pun intended. And, she was backing it up against me, while she jived to the Latin beat. Between the butt massage and her perfume, I was rising to the occasion. I could tell that she was getting hot too. I said, “Remember ... Behave.”

She was weaving around like she was aiming a gun at a moving target. She said, “Don’t worry baby ... I won’t embarrass you TOO much.” That set off gales of laughter.

I was already thinking, “This will not end well.”

She turned, put her arms around my neck and gave me a sloppy kiss, jamming her hard-little titties into my chest. Then, she danced away, arms over her head going, “Wooohooo!!” Vanessa is all of five-two. And, she was quickly swallowed by the crowd.

The dance floor was radiating heat. I needed a beer. I fought my way out to the patio. That’s where the keg was. I slammed the first one. It tasted like horse piss. But, it WAS cold and foamy.

It was a lot quieter out there. I hate raucous parties, but Van’s a party animal. So, we occasionally get-down, just to keep our eleven-year marriage on an even keel. This was Van’s semi-annual office bash and she was right at home. Me? I was already bored to death.

Van works at a brokerage. Her colleagues are a pack of avaricious d-bags with the intelligence of a chipmunk. So, there’s no killing time with scintillating conversation. I refilled my cup. Turned and ran smack into Kim, who was lurking right behind me.

Kim is Van’s side-kick and long-time bestie. The two are like Moose and Squirrel. Kim is tall, big bodied, huge rack, and a doofus. Van is short, quick, and the brains of the operation. Van boogies, and Kim drinks. So, I wasn’t surprised to literally run into Kim, next to the beer dispenser.

She had gotten miles past drunk. In fact, she was toasted. I said, “Hey Kim, how’s work?”; as I wiped the beer off the front of my pants. I didn’t really give a shit. But it kept me from saying, “What the fuck!!! you stupid canoe?!!!?”

She eyed me warily and said, “Why?! What have you heard?!” Like I said, she’s a doofus.

I continued wiping and said, “Relax, just making conversation.”

Kim put her hand on my shoulder, leaned into me, and whispered conspiratorially, “I’m really wasted.” That was said with a badly executed, but very knowing wink.

What do you say to something like that?! I knew what she was offering and I wanted to tell her, “I’d love to smother myself in those double D’s.” But, I had to keep it unquestionably platonic. Kim has a very big mouth.

So instead, I said, “Do you want me to get your husband.”

She whined like a teenager, “Noooooo! he’ll just take me home and I want to PARTY!!!” snivel, snivel. I thought I’d better hunt him up fast. Kim weighs at least one-forty and she was wearing a very short dress. I didn’t think the world was ready for the sight of those two huge buns on display, like moons over Miami, if I had to carry her out of the party fireman-style.

I removed her hand from my shoulder. She lurched forward and collapsed against me, smashing her huge tits against my chest and spilling both of our beers. I dragged her corpse over to a handy bench and left her propped, while I went to get her husband.

Art was with a bunch of the guys from Van’s work. He is Kim’s soulmate. She’s a slightly overweight drunk and he’s a very overweight asshole.

I heard him saying, “He’s got her so drunk that she doesn’t know where she is.” There was another round of mocking laughter. I tapped Art on the shoulder. He turned and then got a guarded reaction. It was like he said something I wasn’t supposed to hear.

I said, “Kim’s dead. I’ll help you get her to the car.”

Art turned to his brothers in douchebaggery and said, “Wife’s passed out.” It was like he was saying, “The sun’s come up.”

One of the wits in the group drunkenly advised, “Fuck her in every hole tonight.” There was more loud laughter. What a wonderful group of fellows.

We found Kim slumped, almost falling off the bench. She was out cold. I suggested, “You take one arm and I’ll take the other?” Art nodded and we hoisted her between us.”

We hauled her around the outside of the house and out to their car, feet dragging on the ground. I opened the passenger door and Art dumped her in. I said, “Do you need help getting her in the house?” He said, “Yes, could you follow me home? We don’t live far.” It almost felt like he was playing me.

I got into my car and followed him four blocks to their house. It wasn’t hard to get Kim out of the car. I opened the door and she tumbled out, legs spread. I thought, “Hmmm – a thong?”

Art came around and we picked her up. I said, “Sorry about that. I didn’t know she was leaning on the door.” We dragged her into the house and dumped her on the bed. I turned to leave and Art said, “Hey buddy, how about a beer?”

The LAST thing I wanted was to drink with this fucker. We didn’t even hang out when our wives are together. I said neutrally, “No, I’d better get back and rescue Van. She must be danced out by now.” It was past midnight.

Art said, “Good luck.” That was odd, not “good night,” or “thanks,” but “good luck?”

When I got back, things had progressed well past the party phase. It was orgy time. The music had stopped and the bright lights were turned down to intimate. I did a quick sweep of the living room, kitchen, bedrooms. I even looked in the bathroom, no Van!!??

There WAS a lot of infidelity going on. Low groans emanated from each couch, somebody was being loudly fucked on the kitchen counter and the sound of female moans and cries filled all four bedrooms, a duet in one room. The shower wasn’t on. But the frantic “OH YES’s” coming from it, made me wonder what they were doing.

I had checked everything but the basement. I eased my way down the steps. There was no light. I heard somebody getting royally fucked. My heart began to sink. That sounded like Van. I popped my head around the corner and all I could see was darkness.

I followed the lurid moans and rhythmic, squishy, slapping noises trying not to trip over the junk on the floor. There was steam engine panting coming from the woman and the sound of thrashing.

As I got closer I heard “Uh-uh-uh,” and then a whispered, “Sooooo gooood!! Sooooo gooood!! Ah Yesssss, fuck me!!! Don’t stop!!! I’M CUMMING!! And the woman gave a strangled “AAAggghhh!!!” At the same time, I heard her partner begin to grunt like a rutting pig.

There was still no light but my eyes had accustomed to the darkness. They fell on a shabby, overstuffed couch. My heart broke. It WAS Van.

She had her long beautiful legs locked around some stranger’s ass and was writhing and moaning in the middle of a monster orgasm. He was jammed into her as far as he could get, just holding himself there. He was obviously filling her up. The smell of cum and aroused woman permeated the entire basement.

I took three steps and grabbed the guy by his nut sack. No, I’m not gay. YOU try moving a naked sweaty man. If you get a good grip on his balls, he’ll come along. I wasn’t gentle.

He shrieked in agony flipped sideways, landing on his hands and knees on the basement floor, head hanging down. I grabbed his stylishly long hair in my other hand and rammed him high velocity into the basement wall. There was a wet snapping noise. I think it was his nose. Maybe it was his cheekbone. Perhaps it was both. He lay there in a naked heap sobbing.

Van was returning from her monster orgasm. Her legs were spread, cum leaked out of her ravaged pussy, her delectable little titties with their aroused nipples were rising and falling with exertion. The second I got back to the couch she popped her eyes open, smiled delightedly, and said, “That was wonderful, honey. Thank you!!”

She was buck naked, and as sweaty as her paramour. She began to stir and sit up. Then she said with wonder in her voice, “Ooooooo!! The room’s spinning,” and passed out. She was lying with one leg on the couch and the other on the ground. That pose highlighted her gaping nether-lips. They were making little autonomic flutters as they discharged their goo.

The guy was still lying in a sobbing heap. I yelled, “Shut up you pussy!!!” walked over and added a kick to his ribs, just to reinforce how irritated I was with him. He went “OOOOFFF!” and substituted gasping for crying.

I slipped Van back into her little black dress. I didn’t want to scrabble on the dirty floor for her underwear. Then I picked her up, she’s all of 105 pounds, and marched through a quiet house. The adulterers were all in a state of post-orgasmic haze. Meanwhile, Van was snoring like a bandsaw.

I put her gently in the front seat and drove home. She was dead to the world. I took her upstairs and pulled her little black dress off. I examined her body. There were bite marks all over her beautiful boobs and down her toned tummy. There was also what looked like serious razor burn between her thighs. I pulled up the covers. Then I went downstairs. It was almost 2 AM. But, I wasn’t sleepy. I was too riled up.

I was more bewildered than angry. I had no idea how to react, or what to think. She had just thoroughly fucked another guy. I didn’t know what to do about that. But it was causing me no end of pain and confusion. Was I supposed to divorce her now? She had been a perfect wife, with one notable exception. What were the rules? What was I supposed to do? You never think about things like that until they happen to you.

I walked over to our big sectional couch., put my hands behind my head, lay back, and closed my eyes. I thought I’d never sleep. But, the next thing I knew it was 8 AM. It was a beautiful Saturday, birds chirping kids’ laughter and the sound of lawn mowers. I wasn’t feeling cheerful.

I needed to talk to Kim’s douchebag husband. He knew the story. So, I showered and got some clothes. Van was still out-cold, face-down in a puddle of drool. I rolled her over. She started snoring again, loudly!! It would be a while before she was coherent.

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