"Alright, God damn it, settle down," the voice of my childhood friend, Dave Peterson grated in my ears. Dave was standing over me, staring down at me as I tried to explain my part in the incident. Dave was the county sheriff now in our small town in Ohio.

Above my head, very bright lights beamed down on me. It was like on one of those old TV shows where they try to sweat a confession out of the nefarious perpetrator. It was so cliché and so funny that I kept laughing, even though this was serious business.

I looked around the room to see if anyone else thought it was funny too. The chunky figure that was Martha Erikson, theDistrict Attorney, didn't seemed to be amused as she listened to my statements. Martha constantly tapped her pen against a stack of two or three legal pads. The one thing going through my mind as she continued to tap that fucking pen was, "Jeezus woman, it's the twenty-first century, get yourself a fucking i-Pad."

Martha is ten years or so older than me. She's divorced and chunky, but pleasingly so. As she leans forward, all of that pretty brown hair cascades towards the front and spills over her shoulders. Her frontal lean also gifts me a view of her sweater melons, which are quite substantial and exceedingly fine. I know what you're wondering. And the answer is nope. Not that I don't find Martha sexy as all get out, but I'm a one woman man. That so far unnamed woman is also the reason this man is in this predicament.

Next to Martha was Joe Colston. Joe is my lawyer. For a small town ambulance chaser he's not too bad. Sure he could and used to work for one of the high pressure automotive firms up in Detroit. He could still be there if he wanted to, but Joe is lazy as hell. He only wants to work one case at a time and then only when he feels like it. The rest of his time he spends lying on his ass, giving out legal advice for a fee, over the internet.

Joe is in his fifties with a balding head. His hair is completely gone in the front. He has one of those Donald Trump comb-overs that polite people smile about but never mention. Joe could be far more imposing and probably more attractive to women if he'd just let the hair thing go. Fuck, it's the twenty-first century people. Joe you've got three choices, bud. All of them involve you admitting you're bald.

Number one, just deal with it and comb your hair normally. Get it cut and styled. Everyone has seen the way men lose their hair. It's a part of life.

Number two, get a hair transplant or those plug things. If they work for Elton John, they'll work for anyone.

And the last choice, just shave that shit off and go for the professor X look. It certainly hasn't hurt that prosecutor down in Florida. The one they call, "The Angel of Death."

As soon as he shaved his head, that guy was knee deep in pussy and even got a cool sounding nickname. You can just hear trumpets in the background when someone says that name. Try it. Say, "The Angel of Death." You know you heard that "Da Da," trumpet fanfare. I'm sure that guy is way more imposing as a lawyer than my guy. Let's face it, if you were the opposing counsel, who would you find yourself more worried about meeting in court? "The Angel of Death," (da da) or comb-over Joe. (Insert sarcastic smirk here)

Anyway back to the scene. Next to Joe, separated from me by Dave, sits the woman in my one woman man status, Allyson Pane. Okay the name thing is mostly my fault. Her maiden name was Allyson Scott, but then I married her and made her name the butt of hundreds of jokes.

Allyson is very pretty. She's petite, but curvy. Everything on her is perfect. Her hair is silky straight and as red as a fucking fire truck with ketchup splattered on it. Her skin isn't that Irish skin that looks like milk and never tans. Her coloring is healthy and perfect. Her green eyes draw you in and her smile just latches onto you and makes you want to listen to her. I loved her from the first second that I saw her.

I know some guys who get so into watching her talk when they first meet her, that they never really hear her saying all of those wonderful things that come out of her mouth. Things like, "Get the fuck away from me, asshole. I have a boyfriend."

Guess what, I'm the boyfriend. Oh shit, I got that wrong again. I'm not her boyfriend anymore. We got married. Anyway, to continue setting the scene for you, Allyson's petite, so if you're expecting me to say that she has huge hooters and that's what gives me the willpower to keep my eyes away from Martha's you're wrong. Allyson's breasts are probably cupcake sized but very pert. They're perfect for her. Her ass, though tiny, is curvy and again, perfect for her.

Right now Ally is smiling and she's aiming that smile with utter perfection. That smile bounces off the wall beside her and banks around Joe so it reaches me. I'm smiling right back at her. It is so fucking wonderful to be in love. Nothing else matters when you feel this good. Everything else just takes a backseat to it and becomes a minor inconvenience.

Even the "assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder and intent to do great bodily harm," charges that are hanging over my head right now pale in comparison to the fact that right now Ally is smiling at me and she loves me.

Those charges are something else that we're sharing right now. Ally also faces kidnapping and wrongful imprisonment charges too. That's my girl.

Across the room, Tammy-Joe Dichslukker just glares at us. Her anger, hatred and outright jealousy of Ally are almost sucking all of the fun out of the room. Tammy-Joe's parents as you can imagine have an astounding lack of imagination, but they're nice people and totally un-responsible for the way she turned out. Her mother's name is Tammy and her father's name is ... Steve. But he'd always promised to name his first child after a guy who saved his life when he was in the service.

Tammy-Joe likes to be called TJ and her friends, all two of them, try to remember that. Most people call Tammy-Joe, "the Dick sucker." Nope, it's not a pun on her last name; it's pretty much what she is.

I have my own affectionate nickname for Tammy-Joe. I call her Skankzilla. That is when I call her at all. I guess I should have mentioned that Skankzi ... I mean Tammy-Joe, is my ex-wife. (I'm sure when I said that you were hearing the O'Jays singing, "She used to be my girl," inside of your head, weren't you?)

Anyway, Tammy Joe and Ally are nothing alike. Tammy Joe is a bit taller, a lot curvier and not nearly as nice. Alright, since I'm trying to be honest with you, TJ is a porker now. But she wasn't always. She used to be really fucking hot. Time, gravity and depression have taken their toll on her though. I guess in my younger days, I was a creature of excesses. I figured if I liked something, I should have the biggest and the best one of whatever it was.

I really admire women with great legs. Tammy-Joe has the thickest curviest legs you're going to find. I really love a big butt. Tammy Joe's ass would be perfectly at home on one of those rap star's girlfriends. I love titties and Tammy-Joe wears a 46 quadruple Z bra. Or something like that. I really don't know anything about bra sizes, but those things are huge. She has long wavy dark hair and icy blue eyes.

Tammy Joe was my first love. We got married as soon as I got my degree. And if she wasn't such a slut and a bitch too, we'd probably still be together.

"Alright," screamed Dave again. Are you or are you not responsible for cutting off the victim's ... equipment?"

I calmly look up at Dave and said, "I'm not, well ... maybe WE are. But it's not my fault."

"Now we're fucking getting somewhere," said Dave. "It's her fault. She did it."

"Well that's not true either," I said. "Look at her, Dave. She's the prettiest, most perfect thing that God ever made."

"That's Sheriff Peterson, when we're on a case," spat Dave. "And I don't care how pretty your wife is. I just need to know who the fuck, cut off the Mayor's son's tally-whacker."

"I have your answer, Dave ... I mean Sheriff Peterson sir," I said. I was tempted to give a little salute. But I knew if I did, I'd be laughing my ass off. Then Ally would start laughing too. And we'd have to start this shit all over again.

"It was an accident," I said. "I was actually trying to save that asshole when it happened." I noticed Martha furiously writing notes as I spoke. I looked at her pad. "Martha, asshole has two "S's," I said.

Then I looked back at Dave. "Actually, this whole thing is her fault," I said pointing across the room at Skankzilla, I mean, Tammy Joe.

"Danny, how the fuck is this, Dic ... I mean Tammy Joe's fault? She was back in Michigan, over a hundred miles away from here when this all happened."

"Dave, the events that transpired this evening are the culmination of a shit storm that all started three years ago when I was still married to Dicks ... I mean Tammy Joe."

"Well, Sherman, crank up the way back machine," said Dave. "Let's hear it. The asshole's gonna be in surgery for at least another couple of hours. And none of us are really going anywhere until we figure this shit out. There's coffee and stuff over there on the table for anyone who wants it."

I saw Ally raise her hand. Dave turned to look at her. "You don't need to raise your hand Allyson. This ain't the public schools." I could tell Dave was trying to be tough. So how attracted he was to Allyson, didn't show to everyone else in the room.

"I was just wondering if I could sit there?" she said. "This may be a long story and I'd be more comfortable." She pointed at the chair I was sitting in.

"Danny's sitting there," he said. "If he wants to give up his seat it's fine with me. Let's just get this shit started."

"Oh, I don't want him to give up his seat," she said. Allyson stood up and even the two deputies guarding the door sighed as she walked over to me. And lifting one elegantly sculpted leg after another, settled into my lap. She then wrapped her arms around me and laid her head on my shoulder.

The collective gulp from the men in the room was loud enough to be audible and I was really glad I had on jeans. No other material would have been strong enough to contain my erection.

As Dave looked at her quizzically, Ally smiled at him. "I figured that just in case we have to go to jail for a while, we'd better have all of the up close time we can get." Dave nodded and I swear his eyes didn't blink once that whole time.

"Hell no," screamed Tammy Joe. "I don't want that little whore sitting in my husband's lap."

"Ex-husband," I snapped.

"You'd still be my husband, if that conniving little tramp hadn't stolen you away from me during a minor bump in the marital road," hissed Tammy Joe.

"You mean our divorce," I screamed back at her. Tammy Joe had a way of just killing everyone's buzz.

"Does anyone else object to Mrs. Pane sitting with her husband?" asked Dave.

"Nope, let's just hear the story," said Martha. "Actually, I think it's kind of cute."

"Whatever makes my client happy is fine with me," said Joe. I'm not sure, but I think I caught Joe staring at Martha's legs.

"Okay," I began. "This all started three years ago. I was making really good money and kicking life in the ass. Myself and a couple of guys I went to school with had all graduated from the University of Michigan with degrees in engineering, I'm a manufacturing engineer. I specialize in automotive manufacturing. My partners, George and Marty are engineers too. George is an electrical engineer and Marty is a mechanical engineer.

This isn't the eighties and jobs were hard to come by, but we'd beaten the trend by going against the grain. Instead of looking for a job with the big three or another automotive company, we went into business for ourselves before the ink was even dry on our sheepskins.

We started our own consulting firm and soon had clients out the wazoo, trying to hire us. I was still with my first love, Tammy Joe and it wasn't a question of if we'd get married, it was only a question of when. Tammy Joe had always been kind of wild throughout college. She'd been her daddy's little girl growing up and had intended to stay a virgin until she got married. We went to different colleges after high-school and where I'd respected her decision to stay pure until marriage, some of the guys at her school didn't. Tammy Joe had apparently gotten taken advantage of at a party on her twentieth birthday.

One of the guys she'd dated a few times had decided that her cherry was rotten and needed to be removed before it infected the rest of her body. He and a few of his frat buddies got her so drunk she couldn't walk and then initiated her into the joys of sex. When she woke up the next morning she knew something was different but couldn't put her finger on why she was so sore down there.

She kept running into guys who were there and they all tried to black mail her to keep quiet about her taking on nearly their entire fraternity. Almost all of them came up with the same offer. They'd keep quiet if she gave them the occasional blow job. So she did. At first it was as I said, just to keep them quiet, but after a while, apparently she started to enjoy it and the uhm ... Dick sucker legend was born.

After a while, there was no keeping anything she was doing quiet. But Tammy Joe did notice that none of the men involved ever went out with her. No one wanted to be seen in public with her either. Because of her reputation, none of the guys would fuck her either. They all assumed that she was fucking everything that wasn't nailed down. None of them wanted to risk getting whatever disease cocktail was brewing in her nether regions.

Tammy Joe took stock of her life during the summer when she came home. She was the laughing stock of her entire campus. No one wanted to date her. No one spoke to her. Not only did she not have any male friends, she had no female friends either. Even her room-mate had moved out to avoid being linked to her. She was the campus bicycle, but no one wanted to ride her anymore.

The funniest thing about it was that except for that first time when the guys took her cherry, Tammy Joe had never really had vaginal sex. And she'd been so drunk that she didn't remember most of that. So when I met back up with Tammy Joe that summer and we started to hang out, she saw the chance to change her stars.

Tammy Joe had always been a very classy girl. Even to this day, she's a bitch, but she's a classy bitch. In fact, I probably wouldn't be remiss in saying that Tammy Joe could probably be the classiest woman in any bowling alley or trailer park she chose to hang out in.

That summer, Tammy Joe and I reconnected and fell in love. I fell in love with both Tammy Joe's voluptuous body and the personality inside of it. I really believed that she loved me and would do anything for me. It was really interesting that all during our courtship and the first few months of our marriage, she was never a bitch to me. Within six months we were engaged. Within nine months we were married and with the success of my fledgling consulting firm we built our dream house.

I gave Tammy-Joe anything she asked for. And it always seemed like she bent over backwards to please me. Nothing was off the table. During our first year together, we did and tried everything sexual that was humanly possible. If only I'd known. It started innocently enough, the drama that ruined our life together. Tammy Joe and I were taking a walk on the beach near our home, when we saw her.

Her name was Laura, as I was to find out a few days later. And she was the perfect complement to Tammy Joe. Where Tammy Joe was voluptuous and thick, Laura was tall and slender. She was playing tennis on a court right next to the beach and the legs underneath her tennis dress caught the attention of every man in the area.

"She's really fucking hot, isn't she?" asked Tammy Joe. I was kind of surprised by the question.

"Not as hot as you are, baby," I said. "Her legs are nice, but they're a bit thin. They don't excite me nearly as much as the thought of these being wrapped around me, while I pound what's between them." I rubbed one of Tammy Joe's thick legs as I said it.

"Ooh, you are going to get some pussy tonight," she gushed. A few moments later she was back on the subject. As an engineer, I really should have been more observant.

"If you had the chance though and I didn't mind. Would you fuck her?" asked Tammy Joe. "Be honest."

"Maybe," I said, looking at her tentatively.

"Your birthday is coming up in a few days," she said. "I think I know what to get you."

I really wasn't worried about my birthday. For once I'd splurged on something for myself. We had Ford as one of our customers. I got a nice discount and bought myself the car I'd always wanted. Yep, I'm sure you all know what I bought. Instead of one of those foreign made sports cars, I bought myself a Ford GT. The GT was made for only a few years as a tribute to one of Ford's best ever racing cars of the bygone era. It was and is the fastest production car that Ford has ever made.

It is Ford's version of the supercar. It runs with Lambos and Ferraris and it was the most expensive thing I'd ever bought outside of our house.

I spent most of the day driving it around the area we lived in and getting used to it. I was about to take it out on the freeway and let it loose, when my cell phone rang. "Danny, come home and open your present," said Tammy Joe.

I walked into the house a short time later and looked around for Tammy Joe. She was nowhere to be found. "I'm up here in the bedroom," she called from upstairs. I ran up the stairs as fast as I could, taking them two and three at a time. I was breathless as I got to our room. As I walked into the room, I saw Tammy Joe bent over with one leg up on our bed. Her huge tits were dangling over the edge of the bed and I think even the neighbors heard the "sproinnngggg" sound as my dick went from fully flaccid to painfully erect in a Pico-second.

There on our bed, with all of those stupid pillows that only women understand the purpose of, were the two things I loved most, spread out waiting for me. Tammy Joe's ass and tits did me in every time. By then all of the rich living and food had caused her to chunk up a bit, but she was still sexy as hell.

I dropped my pants so fast you'd have thought they were those tear off things that the strippers wear. "Hold on Cowboy," said Tammy Joe turning around to face me. She stood up and my mouth still watered even after all of this time, when those sweater melons dropped nearly to her waist. The tiny droplets of dew in hair of her lightly furred pubes told me that she was ready.

"What the fuck are we waiting for?" I wondered.

"I guess this was a test," she said smiling. "I still wanted to see if you still wanted these." She lifted her heavy breasts as she smiled at me.

I nodded my head quickly up and down.

"It's good to know that I'm still appreciated and I haven't turned into some useless fat assed house wife who doesn't turn you on any more," she said.

"That will never happen, TJ," I said. Remember this was back when I still thought I loved the bitch. So she was TJ then.

"Well, be that as it may," she said. She must have been watching PBS again or the BBC.

"You will not be using this pussy tonight," she said smiling. "At least, not at first."

I was fine with it, we'd done anal lots of times and pushing my-self between her big globular hips and feeling those tits from behind was one of my favorite positions.

"In honor of your birthday," she said. "I got you this. The door to our bathroom opened and Laura came out, wearing nothing but a ribbon and high heels. The ribbon went around her smallish breasts, wrapped around behind her and circled her tiny waist. It plunged between her legs from the back, came up and covered her vagina in the front. It bisected her torso longitudinally and tied around her neck. There was a big white bow right over her pussy. The shoes she wore were red with tiny white bows on the instep.

"You can un-wrap me, whenever you'd like," she said.

Okay, the first thing you need to know is that I've always been a one woman man. But shit, it was my birthday and there was just something about Laura. She had qualities that Tammy Joe just didn't have. She was really pretty. She was also very nice. Tammy Joe had a hellacious body and I loved her but she was a butter face girl. Tammy Joe was also not very nice. She'd always been kind of a bitch, just not to me. And us having money only made it worse. If I'd told Tammy Joe that I didn't want her gift, she'd have been pissed. I'm not a wimp, but I didn't want to bring that bitch that I knew was boiling just under the surface out, and have her aimed at me.

"I'll be back in a couple of hours," said Tammy Joe. "Unless you call me and tell me to stay away longer.

All kinds of alarm bells were going off in my head as the door slammed. I looked at Laura and she looked back at me and smiled. She started walking slowly towards me, with those high heels clunking, k-thunk, k-thunk, all the way across the floor. On paper she was far sexier than Tammy Joe. But for some reason my dick didn't seem to agree. It deflated and I pulled my pants up.

Laura had a crestfallen look on her face. "You didn't do anything wrong," I said. "In fact you're the best birthday present I got. You're even better than my car."

The look on her face changed immediately. "What kind of car?" she asked.

"A Ford GT," I said.

"You're shitting me," she said. "Can we go for a ride? Can I look under the hood?"

We spent two hours becoming friends. We drove the car around and I did let her look under the hood. We discussed all kinds of performance ratings and engine mods."

Laura told me that she felt very comfortable with me. She was just giving me a birthday kiss, when Tammy Joe pulled up in front of the house. Tammy Joe was grinning from ear to ear as she watched Laura get into her own small car and drive away.

"Did you have fun?" she asked. I nodded my head and I wasn't lying. We really did have a good time.

"That wasn't nearly as bad as you thought it was going to be, was it?" she asked.

"What?" I asked. I was just about to tell her that nothing had happened. When she floored me by launching into the same shitty thing she'd been hinting about for weeks.

For over a month Tammy Joe had been hinting and bringing up the possibility of us joining a swing group. Nope, I know what you're thinking. Not swing dancing, where you dress up in clothes from the forties or fifties and do energetic dances to the music from bygone eras.

This type of swinging involved you taking your clothes off and fucking someone else's wife, while they fucked yours. I'd tried telling Tammy Joe several times that I wasn't into it. But she just wouldn't take no for an answer. She'd been beating that same horse from every possible angle. The look on my face when she brought it up then told her that she'd fucked up so she let it die for that evening.

A week later, Laura was back. I asked her if she'd forgotten something and she said that she was there for the same reason as last time.

"Tammy Joe convinced you to try this again?" I asked.

"She didn't have to convince me," said Laura. "After I got to know you last week, I really like you. And I like the way you kiss."

"Where's Tammy Joe?" I asked her.

"She said she was going shopping," said Laura. "She says that she loves you too much to watch you the first few times. And that her being here might make you nervous. She says eventually you'll get used to it."

I just sat down and frowned. Laura came over to me and started rubbing my shoulders. Her touch really felt good. "Why don't you tell me about it?" she said.

I told her how I was probably stupid and old fashioned, but that I really loved Tammy Joe. I didn't need anyone else in my bed or in my life, unless it was as a friend. She told me that Tammy Joe loved me just as much. It took an extraordinary type of woman to go to the trouble that Tammy Joe did for me to try to make me happy. I nodded my head in agreement but wished that Tammy Joe could see that she was all I wanted. And that was how we spent the second time that Laura came over.

The third time that I saw Laura changed things. Tammy Joe told me that we were having a barbecue when I got home from work that evening. It would be us and two other couples. The first couple I knew from our neighborhood. They lived a couple of blocks over and I'd spoken to the guy a couple of times about my car. In fact that was how we met them.

When the second car pulled up I was shocked. It was Laura and she was dragging some shifty looking guy with her. He was way too old for her and something just didn't seem right about them.

"You know Laura already," said Tammy Joe. She had on a bikini top that was simply inadequate to restrain the girls. "This is Laura's boyfriend Ken."

The guy held out his hand for me to shake and I looked at him. There was something not right about him. First his smile seemed to be more of a smirk than a smile. Kind of like he knew something that I didn't know and it was really fucking funny. I took an instant dislike to him. I just pretended that I hadn't seen him extend his hand.

The second thing was that his reaction to Tammy Joe was off. The neighbor guy, Bob couldn't take his eyes off of TJ's boobs, most guys couldn't. Tammy Joe should never have worn that fucking top with people around and I told her so later that evening. But Ken didn't react at all. So, either he was gay, or he'd seen my wife's tits enough times that they didn't affect him anymore. Tammy Joe's hooters still affected me and I was married to her.

After we ate, the neighborhood couple thanked us and had to leave. They had a small baby and their sitter could only stay for so long. As we relaxed by the pool Ken sparked up a conversation.

"God damn that's some car," he said. "Laura never stops talking about it." Laura was looking down at her feet. I thought that maybe she'd been bragging about my car and it had caused bad feelings between them.

"It's just a car," I said. I didn't believe that for a second but I was trying to lighten the mood.

"She's dying for a ride in it," he smiled. My spider sense was tingling because shit, she'd already been in the car. She'd even driven it.

I reached in my pocket, took out the keys and tossed them to him. "Be careful," I said. "The clutch is kind of stiff and the power comes up fast."

He threw the keys back to me. "Could you take her?" he asked. "She really wants this badly and I want her to have the experience and to enjoy it. But I don't know how to drive a stick."

"Go ahead Danny," said Tammy Joe. "You love driving that care and talking about it."

So blind, stupid, naïve, old Danny, took Laura out for a ride, hoping someone would explain what the fuck was going on to me.

Laura who'd put on a swim suit too, told me that she'd go and put something on over it. As she stood up I could see that though I'd never noticed it. Laura was excited. Her nipples were sticking up like erasers. As I've said, on paper she was far more beautiful than Tammy Joe. But seeing them next to each other brought a whole new set of variables to the equation. Laura was beautiful, but Tammy Joe was just plain sexy.

Laura was the kind of woman you'd put into an evening gown or a little black dress and go to a gala or a party with. Every man there would envy you when you walked in with her on your arm. But Tammy Joe was the kind of woman that as soon as you saw her, you just wanted to fuck her. You needed to fuck her. It was something written into every man's and even, some women's DNA code. She just made you want to put your seed into her baby basket, again and again.

Looking at her I smiled and told her I loved her. I was so glad she was mine. Fuck dinner parties and galas. What the hell is a gala anyway?

And that was another weird thing that I failed to notice. As Laura said she'd put something on, Ken told her to just go as she was. What kind of guy sends his woman off with another man in just a skimpy swimsuit? I looked at Tammy Joe. "I'm going inside to change right now," said Tammy Joe.

Laura and I went out and drove around. We got out on the freeway and tried to get the car up to its 200 mph top speed. About a half hour later, far sooner than anyone expected, we drove back up. Laura sat down by the pool and I went into the house and saw them.

Ken was fucking my wife from behind and tugging on her breasts as he did so. He was fucking her so hard that she lifted off the floor with each stroke. Her big tits were flopping and flying and Ken was grunting. "Oh, Oh baby, fuck me," cried my wife. "I thought you said you couldn't drive a stick."