Badass

Chapter 1

I've been married for almost twenty years. In all that time, I thought we had the perfect marriage. However, recently, I came to learn that all was not as I had imagined. Much to my shock, apparently, my wife Natalie wasn't satisfied with our sex life. It was too dull for her, too vanilla, and I was too mundane, too gentle, and loving. My wife, it turns out, wants to be treated like a whore and fucked by a badass.

That's her word, not mine. I've heard her use it a lot over the years, always to describe other men. Not once has she ever thought me or anything I've done as "badass." Stable. Loving. Considerate. Caring. Those are words she uses to describe me. The hot guy at the gym, with the bulge in his shorts, he was badass. The slick-talking car salesman who kept flirting with the ladies, he was badass. The lead singer of a European metal band we bumped into at a bar one night, he was badass. Not me.

I have never fucked my wife; I make love to her. We have great sex, but it is loving and gentle. I always make sure she cums two or three times each session, and I never go for the wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am approach. Sex is always long and filled with passion. I love her so much that after cumming, I have occasionally cried as I held her close in the warm afterglow of our love-making.

Clearly, I'm not a badass.

Badasses fuck, they don't make love. They are aggressive and take what they want. If the woman gets hers in the process, that's fine, but the goal is his satisfaction. That's what a badass does. That's who a badass is.

And, according to the post that Natalie recently made in the #cheatingwives forum, that's what she wants: to be fucked mindlessly by a badass.

Yes, I've been spying on my wife. I'm not proud of it, but I'm not one of those guys who will just sit back while my marriage falls apart, and my wife starts fucking other men. If she ever had sex with someone else, our marriage would be over, right that minute. So, instead of ignoring the tell-tale signs and burying my fat head in the sand, I took action. I hacked her computer and her phone.

Call me a shit. Call me a prick. It doesn't bother me; I deserve it. But, I believe if you value something, you fight to keep it, and I don't share well.

So, for the past couple of months, I've been monitoring Natalie's emails, the websites she goes to, the chats she has, the porn she watches or reads. I've learned more about my wife and her desires in this short period of time than in the entire time we've been married. At first, I was hurt. Then, I got pissed. At no point did the idea of her fucking someone else turn me on. I hated it.

I decided that I had to stop her. I had to do something to snap her out of it before it was too late. I would confront her and have an interdiction, as you see on TV. I would demand that she get counseling, or we get couples counseling. Something. Anything. I wouldn't give her up so easily.

And then Natalie met her badass.

His name is Carl. He and I are nothing alike.

Carl rides a Harley. Of course, he does. Natalie never let me get a motorcycle. She told me it was too dangerous and that it didn't match my personality. I told her I had a hog before we met, but she refused to believe me. She just chuckled at the possibility that I had done something manly.

Carl works in construction, whereas I work at a desk designing software. He plays in a rock band in his spare time, whereas I play Magic the Gathering. He does MMA and lifts weights, whereas I watch WWE and lift beers.

Surprisingly, when he described himself to Natalie, we sound pretty similar. He was about my height, about my weight, and had a cock about the same size as mine. Eventually, he sent her pics, and he didn't look so different. There was nothing super special about him that I could see.

In his writing, he came across as macho and somewhat arrogant. He was the kind of smug prick I've always hated, not the type of guy I would have ever expected Natalie to find attractive. I guess his cockiness struck a nerve with her. She seemed to get turned on by it.

Ironically, it wasn't all the macho-shmacho bullshit that seemed to seal the deal with her. It was when Carl showed his sensitive side by reciting Shakespeare to her, something I used to do! Not only that, but his chat nickname is CaviarIsAGarnish, which is a line from You've Got Mail, which has always been OUR movie.

I couldn't win at being a badass, and now he was beating me at being sensitive, too! I felt like I was completely losing her, but I would not go down without a fight.

I wasn't sure how to proceed. Should I confront Natalie, reveal what I knew, and demand she stops all correspondence with Carl? I tried to imagine how that would turn out. Knowing my wife, I don't think it would play out well. First, she would be shocked and embarrassed by being caught. That would quickly turn to outrage at having her privacy violated. In the end, she would resent my ultimatum, and I could see her continuing to see Carl just to spite me, just doing it more carefully.

Instead, I decided on a subtler approach. Instead of confronting Natalie, I would do everything I could to remind my wife why we married in the first place and win back her affection. I would change and try to be the kind of man she seems to want. I would become a badass.

That evening, I was home when Natalie walked in the door from work. As she came in from the garage, she called out, "Mark, are you alright?"

I stepped into the kitchen, smiling warmly. "I'm fine, honey. I just came home a little early as a surprise. I know I've been so busy lately that I've neglected you. I want to make it up to you."

She dropped her keys and purse on the table and smiled. "That's sweet, Mark, but you don't have to do anything. I understand you are a busy person." She was clutching her cell phone, so I stepped up and took it out of her hands.

"I have something planned for tonight, and you won't need this," I said as I put it in her purse and zipped it shut. "I made reservations for us at La Taverna, and the Uber is on its way here now. It'll be here in five minutes."

"Five minutes?" Natalie asked. "I just got home, can't I have some time to rest?"

"Nope, not right now," I told her.

"I should change," she argued.

"You look lovely," I countered.

"Really, Mark," Natalie said, more strongly, "it's a Wednesday. Why don't we go out on Friday, instead? I have things I wanted to do tonight."

"Yeah, like Skype with Carl," I thought.

"Do them tomorrow," I insisted. "Come on; we need to go out front." I took her hand and pulled her through the house and out the front door, making out way down to the curb just as the Uber Black, luxury SUV pulled to a stop. I opened the door for her, then walked around and got in next to her.

We rode in silence. Natalie seemed fidgety. "I wish you had let me bring my phone," she said.

"Your boyfriend will have to get by without you. Tonight, you belong to me," I said with a wink. Natalie had a guilty look on her face.

"I don't have a boyfriend," she replied quickly.

"Even better!" I said with a slight laugh.

When we arrived, the hostess led us to a private table in the back. I pulled out Natalie's chair for her, like a proper gentleman. Natalie smiled but appeared nervous as she sat down. I ordered a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, and Natalie seemed surprised.

"A bottle? On a work night?" she asked, head tilted to the side, staring at me. "Are you sure you're ok?"

I assured her I was and made small talk, asking her about her day, being as attentive as possible. She was hesitant, at first, uncomfortable and not interested in opening up. As I persisted in listening, however, Natalie began to relax and discuss her day. It made me realize how out of practice we had become at sharing the simple parts of our days.

When the wine came, the server poured our glasses. I raised mine and spoke softly, "When I saw you, I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew."

Natalie stared at me, unsure whether to smile or to run in panic. I could see the pulse throbbing in her neck. I had quoted Shakespeare to her. Did she suspect that I knew about her online lover? She chose to smile.

"I love you, too, Mark," she replied, taking a sip of her wine.

"You say you love rain, but you open an umbrella," I said, quoting more of the Bard. "You say you love the sun, but you find a shadow spot. You say you love the wind, but you close your windows. This is why I am afraid when you say you love me too." I looked hard into her eyes, trying to will her to abandon her lover.

I could see her gasp slightly in response to my words, and her brow furrow slightly. "That's an odd thing to say," she said, setting down her glass of wine. "Do you doubt that I love you?"

I forced on a smile. "No, Natalie, I know you love me. Though, at times, I feel like we live more like roommates than lovers. I sometimes feel I'm losing you, and that would destroy me. I want us to remember why we fell in love, and all the wonderful years we've had together. I want us to be like we were when we were young."

"You're not losing me, Mark," Natalie said, trying to sound sincere. "I know I've been distracted lately, but I've just been trying to deal with getting old. In case you haven't noticed, we don't act like we're young anymore because we aren't young."

"Yes, I see that more and more every day," I admitted, "like when I look in the shower and see large clumps of my hair going down the drain."

"Or when I look in the mirror and see my breasts sinking lower and lower," Natalie responded, with a grin. "It sucks. I don't want to be old. I want to be young and pretty, and wanted."

"You have no idea how beautiful you are to me and how much I want you," I said, taking her hand.

"You have to, you're my husband," she retorted. "It's your job. It's nice sometimes when other men still look at me like they want to ravish me. It's different. It makes me feel better about being me."

"They can look all they want," I told her. "So long as they don't touch. If you ever were to let another man..."

"Is that what all this is about?" she asked defensively, cutting me off mid-sentence.

"What?" I asked, looking up to meet her gaze.

"Is that what you think? That I'm cheating on you?" Natalie asked, holding her breath.

"No, I don't think you are," I said quickly, as Natalie slowly exhaled. "Yet." I let the word hang in the air for a moment, "I think you're not happy with our relationship, and you're possibly wondering what it would be like to have an affair."

She didn't speak.

"I think you miss the excitement of being pursued and the unexpectedness and newness of a beginning romance. I think part of wanting to feel young again is wanting to feel what it was like before routine took over back when we were lovers first and family second. I think a part of you wants to be able to be daring, wild, and free without concern for the repercussions."

She tried to respond. I could see tears forming in her eyes, and her bottom lip quivered a bit. I went on before she could get any words out.

"But, there are repercussions," I told her. "If you had an affair, it may be exciting and fun and new, at first, a hot flame that burns quickly instead of the slow embers of a twenty-year marriage. But, that fire burns too hot and would consume everything in its path. It would destroy us, our relationship, our marriage. I want to have some of my youth back, just like you, but I also want to grow old together, with you by my side. If you have an affair, that would be stolen from me. I would not sit by, waiting for you to get it out of your system and come back to me when you're done. I would leave you immediately and burn down everything we've ever had, leaving nothing but ashes and ruin."

A single tear ran down from her eye and dripped onto the white tablecloth.

"I want to grow old with you, too," she managed to say finally.

"Great!" I said a bit too happily. "So, then let me propose a toast: to the first day of the rest of our lives! I promise to try to be everything you want in a man, a lover, and a husband going forward. I don't want to lose you, and I don't want you to have an affair."

"I'll drink to that!" Natalie replied and took a big sip, then wiped the tears from her eyes. "What are you going to have?" she asked, putting the conversation behind us. "I'm suddenly starving."

We had a great meal and finished off the bottle of wine. Natalie had three glasses, which is one glass past her standard weeknight limit. I could tell she was tipsy, but not drunk. I was about to order tiramisu, but Natalie had a better idea.

"Get it to go," she instructed me, "then let's go home, and you can eat it off my naked body."

I immediately signaled the server and asked for it in a doggy bag, handing her my credit card. "And, can you take care of the check, we're in a hurry."

In the Uber on the way home, Natalie pulled me to her and began kissing me passionately. I felt a mixture of emotions welling up inside me, not the least of which was lust. We made out like teenagers the whole way home, then stumbled into the house, tossed the tiramisu on the kitchen table, and were shedding clothes as we ran upstairs. Natalie was naked before we made it to the bedroom.

I wasn't far behind her and shut the doors as I stripped out of my boxers. As I climbed on the bed with her, I told myself that I was forbidden to make love to my wife. This night, I was going to fuck her. I was going to be her badass and give her what she needed.

She put her arms around me and tried to kiss me. I pushed her back on the bed and said, "I know what you want."

"You do?" she asked seductively, with a naughty grin on her face, "what do I want?"

"You want to be a bad girl and play with fire!" I said. "You want to be fucked by some badass, not made love to by your weak, dependable husband."

She stared at me, but her intense breathing told me I was right. I reached over to the closet door and pulled the belts from her silk kimono and my terry bathrobe loose, then climbed up onto the bed on my knees, my raging erection pointing at her. I took her right hand and tied it with the silk belt.

"What are you doing?" she asked, eyes wide.

"You'll see what happens to bad girls," I told her as I looped the belt around the right post on the headboard.

"Oh my!" Natalie exclaimed, with a slight chuckle.

I tied her left hand with my belt then tied it to the same bedpost, securing her hands high above her head. Her extended arms made her naked torso and breasts project, looking even sexier than usual. By binding her to one post, I could move her body freely, but she couldn't do much to stop me.

"This isn't fair," Natalie protested. "I like using my hands!"

"Nobody said this was going to be fair," I told her. "This isn't about you and your needs. Tonight, it's about me. I'm taking what I want."

"Ohhh," she said playfully. "What's gotten into you?"

Just then, I noticed a sleeping mask lying on Natalie's dressing table. I grinned and retrieved it, then slipped it over her head and covered her eyes with it.

"Awww," Natalie pretended to complain. "I want to watch!"

I slapped her left breast, leaving a pink handprint on it, causing Natalie to gasp, shocked by my action. I'd never done anything remotely like that before. "Quiet!" I snapped. "Bad girls don't talk back; they just take what's coming to them."

Her nipples were rock hard and sticking out longer than I'd ever seen before. I pinched them both, and Natalie squealed, then moaned as I rolled them around between my fingers and thumbs. "Oh, you like that, do you?"

"Mmhmm," she replied. "I do."

I grabbed both tits in my fists and squeezed them, then slapped them both back and forth several times, not hard enough to cause pain, but enough to make them sting and burn. Natalie whimpered with each slap. She was breathing hard.

"Your husband is too much of a wimp to give you want you need," I said with a snarl.

She didn't respond, so I pushed harder. "You want it rough, don't you, slut?" I demanded, my hand moving between Natalie's legs to rub her pussy aggressively. She was soaking wet.

"Oh, God!" Natalie cried out. "Yes! Yes, I do!"

I pushed two fingers into your pussy hard, all the way in and began fucking her with them. She groaned and bucked her hips, fucking my fingers back.

"Your wimp of a cuckold husband never treats you like this, does he?" I asked with my mouth next to her ear.

"Oh God!" she replied. I could tell she was struggling with responding. I slapped her right breast harder than I had yet. She squealed.

"Answer me, slut! Does he treat you like this?"

When she didn't respond, I slapped her left breast again. Both were turning a lovely shade of red.

"No!" Natalie shouted, "no, he doesn't!"

I pinched her nipples and pulled on them until she cried out. "You love it, don't you?"

"Yes!" She cried out immediately. "Oh, God, yes! I love it!"

I climbed up on the bed, next to her, and tapped my cock on her cheek. "You know what bad girls like to do to big cocks, don't you?" I asked.

"Yes," Natalie whispered.

"You hate sucking your husband's cock, don't you?" I asked. "You never want to do it for him, do you?" I tapped the head on her lips. She stuck her tongue out, trying to get to it.

"No! I hate it!" she replied.

"But, you want to suck my cock, don't you? You dirty fucking slut!"

"Yes! Yes, please!" Natalie begged. "Please let me suck it! I want to so badly!"

"Open your mouth!" I demanded. My beautiful wife did as I told her and went even farther, sticking out her tongue. I pushed the head of my cock into her open mouth and past her lips. She gagged but instantly began to suck me hungrily. In all our years together, she had NEVER sucked me that aggressively, that wantonly.

For my part, I wasn't gentle. I fucked Natalie's mouth. She seemed to love it. The harder I did it, the more she responded. I felt myself about to cum and abruptly jerked my cock out of her mouth. She whimpered, wanting more.

I stood up and forced her onto her knees facing the headboard, arms up, hands clinging to the bedpost. She stuck her ass up in the air and wiggled her hips like a slut.

I spanked her ass, and Natalie yelped and shook, then pushed her ass back. "More, please," she moaned out. I spanked her other cheek, and she groaned, then wiggled her ass. I forced her knees apart then moved behind her.

"I'm going to fuck you like the slut you are and claim this cunt for myself," I told her. "Make you my bitch!"

"Yes! Yes, please!" Natalie shouted as I pushed the head into her wet pussy. I short stroked a few times as her cunt opened for me, driving deeper with each thrust. Within seconds I was balls-deep in her and began to hammer her juicy cunt with my cock.

I could feel my orgasm already getting close. I was a little worried that I wouldn't perform well and might leave Natalie more desperate for Carl than before we started. I needn't have worried. Suddenly, Natalie began to buck wildly, screaming profanity as she came all over my cock. Her juices splashed out of her pussy, drowning my cock and balls.

The feeling of her gushing from my fucking her was all I needed. I rammed into her deeply and shouted as I shot my load into her pussy. I came harder and louder than I ever had before. Natalie responded by fucking me wildly and cumming a second time. I let her keep going until she stopped, and my limp cock slipped out of her.

I untied her hands and took off the blindfold as we curled up together on the bed, in a dry area, and drifted off to sleep. I woke up some time later with her sucking my cock. When she realized I was awake, she straddled me and took me inside her, then proceeded to fuck my cock as hard and fast as she could.