Desperate Measures 4

As always, I thank my team of terrific editors. Girlinthemoon, norafares, Hal, Pixel the Cat, and GeorgeAnderson. They take my jumble of words and make them into something readable. Harddaysknight is my mentor and gives me a critical peer review. I am very grateful to him for his friendship and all he does for me. Sbrooks103x gives me a pre-post read and offers his valuable advice and input and I am very appreciative. Thanks, I love you all.

Author's note: Sometimes you just want a quick romp of a tale that is fun to write and read. This is one of those. One cannot always write serious and emotionally devastating tales. Sometimes, girls just want to have fun. This was such an occasion for me. I hope you have fun reading it. If you are a cuckolding or cream pie fan, you should skip. If you're here for the graphic sex, this is not for you. If you enjoy seeing cheaters receive their just recompense of reward, read on. Randi.

*****

There is always a nagging doubt in your mind when you take desperate measures. What could I have done to avoid this situation? What actions could I have taken so that I wouldn't be here? I was fairly certain that I could have done nothing. I had few options. How do you convince an adult that their actions are going to destroy everything they profess to hold dear? You can't force them to do anything, you can only watch helplessly and deal with the consequences. That's where I found myself.

My loving wife decided this would make us stronger, demonstrate our love for each other, how strong it was and what we meant to each other. I felt it demonstrated how weak her love for me was, and how selfish and spoiled she was.

I'm just an ordinary man, living an ordinary life. I'm no strong tender romantic hero; I have faults like anyone else. I don't pay enough attention to anyone other than myself, I work too much, I get angry sometimes when I shouldn't. I don't do it deliberately, it just happens. I'm human; life is like that. Work and events get in the way.

I'd been married to Amanda for 19 years. We had sex two or three times a week. It was always good and we both enjoyed it. We were both up for more whenever we could find the time. Other things, football, a good book, a TV show, distracted us, or maybe the girls wanted us to do something. We made time when we needed to, or one of us was feeling horny. I'd never turned down a chance to make love to her and she'd never done that to me.

Life was sailing right along, finances getting better all the time. We had two daughters, Olivia and Audra, 16 and 14. I may have been ordinary, but they were something special. Our marriage was flowing smoothly, the girls happy and beautiful, and then my dear wife got ideas. We were plain vanilla, she said, and we needed to spice things up. I was game. I wasn't at all unsatisfied with our sex life, but hey, if she was, I'd play. At first, it was different positions. I was athletic and in good shape and I enjoyed the hell out of it. This was great! I was down with all of it. We even tried anal a couple of times. Neither of us cared for it. I didn't mind; there was an awesome tight hot wet pussy right there. Everything else was spectacular.

Next, it was role-playing. I had no idea where that came from, girlfriends, women's magazines or some moronic TV show. It was fun for about three times, and then it was just stupid. I had too much trouble concentrating when I was inside a hot pussy to maintain my Leonardo Di Caprio character, or remember that she was Scarlett Johansson. I refused to do it anymore. Suddenly, she was displeased.

"Corwin, how long has it been since you went on a date?" she asked one day.

"Last Friday I took you out to that Italian place you've been wanting to go to," I said. "We went to the movies and your mom kept the girls overnight, remember?"

"I don't mean with me," she said. "How long has it been since you went out with someone else?"

"Jesus, Amanda, are you accusing me of something?" I asked.

"No, no, honey, that's not it at all. I just wonder if you remember the name of the last girl you went out with besides me."

"Yes, I do," I said. "Her name was Donna and it was about two weeks after I met you. I think you might remember her, too. We kind of had a big argument about that date."

"Do you ever miss it?" she asked.

"God no." I laughed. "I remember how awful it was. Not that date, it was pretty good, but the whole dating thing: working up the nerve to ask a girl out, worrying about being shot down, awkward first conversations. It was traumatic as hell."

"But wasn't it exciting and mysterious?" she asked.

"More like absolutely terrifying," I said. "What brought this on, Amanda?"

"I was just wondering if you ever felt like you'd like to go out on a date with someone else," she said.

"No, I've never felt like that," I told her. "I guess everyone has fantasies, but no. I seem to remember you being extremely pissed off when I went out with Donna, and you told me you wanted us to be exclusive. I decided that's exactly what I wanted, too. If I felt differently, I wouldn't have asked you to marry me. I'd just have dated women. That's what being married means; you don't go on dates with people other than your spouse."

She let it drop and I didn't hear any more foolishness for a month. It was a Friday night and we'd just finished making love. It was good, and no pretending to be Bobo the Clown or tying her up or some silly shit. It was just her and me, a man and his wife, fucking each other's brains out. I came twice and she must have gotten off half a dozen times. She was laying half on top of me and we were kind of floating in that post-orgasmic bliss, and then she blew the mood.

"Corwin, I saw how Seabra was looking at you tonight. She wanted you to ask her to dance."

Seabra is our friend from where Amanda works. We've known her forever. We'd met her and Angela, another friend from work for dinner, and then we'd gone out to a club. Seabra is a really sweet, really hot lady about five years younger than us.

"Well, that's very flattering but I only want to dance with you," I told her.

"I wouldn't be jealous if you asked her," she said.

"That's nice, but then you don't have any reason to be because I'm not going to ask her," I said.

"Would you be jealous if I danced with another man?" she asked.

"I guess your brother would be okay," I said. It was a joke, but she didn't laugh. "I've never cared if you danced with guys who asked me nicely and kept their hands where they belong. Was there someone there you wanted to dance with? I don't remember anyone asking me."

"No, I was just wondering," she said.

I had no idea where this was going but I didn't like it. I didn't think I could get to sleep, so I got up and went into the den. I was playing a video game and I saw her come to the door and watch me for a minute. I didn't look at her and she went back to bed. I waited until she was asleep before I joined her.

Everything was quiet for two months, until we went to Angela's promotion party. It was at the White Rhino, and there was a good band playing. We were all sitting around in a big circular booth and Amanda was talking to Seabra.

"Corwin, Seabra wants to dance," Amanda said. "Would you be a gentleman and dance with her?"

What the hell? I remembered the conversation from two months ago. Now, I was in a very awkward position. Sea was a good friend and I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but I sure as hell didn't want to dance with her. That lush body up against mine wasn't going anywhere good, but I didn't know how to get out of it gracefully. I liked to dance, but I wasn't not any good at it. Sea was like a big cat, graceful and smooth, and I was going to look clumsy. There wasn't a good way out, so I stood up.

"I think they're playing our song." I held out my hand to Sea and she slid gracefully out, brown gorgeous thighs flashing below the short blue dress she was wearing. The song ended and the band started up a slow number. Shit, why now? Sea fit up against me like she was made to go there. I could feel those luscious big breasts against my chest and her mop of black curls was nearly covering my face. She smelled nice, too. When she looked up at me, her big brown eyes were liquid pools and her teeth flashed white in her dusky complexion. She isn't a dark black girl, kind of a coffee with cream color.

"Thanks for dancing with me, Corwin," she said. "Amanda said you wouldn't mind, that you like dancing. I haven't danced since I broke up with Bruce."

"Well, you're a very good dancer," I said. "Actually, I do mind dancing with you, Sea. I like you a lot. Hell, I love you. You're the sweetest girl I know, but you're smoking hot and this isn't a good idea for me."

She giggled. "You're safe with me, Corwin. I love you, too. If you weren't married I'd be all over you, but Amanda's my best friend. Let's just enjoy this one dance, okay?"

I squeezed her a little and we finished the song. When we got back to the booth, Amanda wasn't there. I looked around and spotted her black and white dress. She was out on the floor with some young Nordic looking guy. She was laughing up into his face and his hands were a lot lower than they should have been. She noticed me standing and looking for her. She smiled and shot me a wave. I was pissed, very pissed, in fact. She had sent me off with Sea so she could dance with that asshole.

I threw a couple of twenties on the table and started walking toward the exit. Seabra watched me halfway to the door, and then she came running after me. She caught me when I was about halfway to the car.

"Corwin, stop, where are you going?" she was a little out of breath.

"We were being played," I told her. "Amanda has been talking about dating other people and asking me if I ever thought about it. That's what this was. She's testing the water. She set me up for this by getting me to dance with you. That gave her the excuse she needed to dance with Romeo in there."

"So what are you doing?" she asked. "Are you just going to leave her here?"

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," I said.

"Well, you can't leave me here," she grabbed my arm. "I rode with you guys."

I felt like a heel. "I'm sorry, Sea. I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's okay, Corwin. I don't like being played any more than you do," she said. "Take me back to your house so I can get my car."

We were nearly home when my phone buzzed. I ignored it and Seabra gave me a look. Her phone went off and she answered it.

"We're nearly to your house," she said. She looked over at me and mouthed "Amanda."

"No, it wasn't my idea. I rode with you guys, remember? My ride was leaving and I wasn't about to be stranded. No, look, Amanda, I'm not in this. Don't you put me in this position. We've been friends a long time, girl, but if you fuck with me, you'll regret it." She ended the call.

"She wants you to go back and get her," she said.

"Well, I want a wife who doesn't play stupid games," I sighed. "Where did this shit come from, Sea?"

"Marcy, from work, I think," she said. "She's always talking about her and Herb having an open marriage and how great it is and how it's made their sex life so much better and their marriage so much stronger. It's a line of shit. She and Herb hardly talk and spend all their time trying to fuck all their friends. He's been hitting on me as long as I've known them, the creep. She's been filling our ears with this crap for two years. I didn't think Amanda was stupid enough to fall for it, but I guess I was wrong. I think she's trying to set us up, Corwin. She knows I love you and that I've always been really attracted to you."

I nearly choked. "Thanks, Sea. This is really awkward. I mean, I think you're gorgeous, but I'm a one-woman sort of guy. I'm not good at sharing my toys, either. I'm sorry she got you involved."

"Why should you be sorry?" she asked. "You didn't have a thing to do with it. I got to dance with my dream man and I'm not at all sorry about that. Corwin, will you let me know what happens?"

I assured her I would and she got in her car and left. I went into the house and thought a minute and then got my stuff out of the master bath and put it in the one in the guest room. I went back, got my stuff for work the next day and put it in there, too. I locked the door and went to sleep. For some reason, maybe the drinks I'd had, I went right to sleep. I half woke up when the door slammed downstairs and I heard footsteps in the hall. The knob to the bedroom door twisted a few times. Someone tapped on the door.

"Corwin, what the hell is going on?" I heard Amanda's stage whisper. I guess she didn't want to wake the girls, who were asleep just down the hall.

She tapped and whispered for about ten minutes and I heard her footsteps retreating down the hall to our bedroom. Well, it had been our bedroom. I had no idea what it was now. I discovered that I hated the bed in the guest bedroom. I mean, how many people have ever tried to sleep on the bed in the guest bedroom? I tried to get up and slip out the door before she woke up. Yeah, it was a coward's plan, but who cares? I just didn't want to see her. It didn't work. She came down the stairs as I was putting some files in my briefcase.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Corwin?" she sputtered. She was mad all over.

"I think you should be asking yourself that question," I said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she was a little loud. "You left me at the club last night, locked yourself in the spare bedroom and you're trying to sneak out of the house an hour before it's time for you to go to work. Now you think something is wrong with me?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I think," I said. I picked up my briefcase. "Everything I did is in reaction to what you did. I don't even want to look at you right now. You have no idea how close you are to making me permanently pissed off at you. Get your shit together, make sure all your points are checked off and be ready to talk about this when I get home. I'll pick the girls up and take them to Mom's house. We're going to settle this."

Her face went pale. "I have no idea what you're talking about, What if I had something planned tonight?"

"Up to you," I told her. "If you're interested in fixing what's broken in this house you'll be ready and you'll stop with the bullshit. If you're fine with the way things are, do whatever the hell you want. Oh, yeah, one more thing. Move your shit into the spare bedroom. I like my bed. You aren't welcome in the same bed as me."

She puffed up like a toad, but I wasn't going to listen to it. I just left her there and went to work. I picked up the girls from school and they were happy to go to Gram's for the evening. I told Mom that Amanda and I were having some problems and we needed some time to ourselves. She just hugged me and told me she loved me. I was grateful not to have to answer a bunch of questions.

Amanda was there when I got home. She'd made cookies and there was a plate of them and a cup of coffee waiting for me. She stood up and clung to me for a long moment before kissing my cheek and sitting down beside me on the sofa. I helped myself to a cookie. They were very good, oatmeal with chocolate chips and M&Ms in them. "Good," I said.

She smiled and it seemed like we were off to a good start. I hated to spoil all this amicability. "Amanda, that was some nasty shit you pulled last night," I told her. "It's bad enough that you did that to me, but you got Sea involved. That was humiliating to both of us. It was disrespectful to me and to that sweet girl who's supposed to be your friend."

She had trouble meeting my eye. "I'm sorry, Corwin," she said. "I shouldn't have done that, okay? I've just been trying to talk to you and you've just shut me down. I thought maybe... maybe this would be a way for you to see some possibilities."

"Possibilities for what?" I asked. "What is it, exactly, that you're doing and thinking, Amanda? Just ask me, tell me, or whatever. You're playing games and it's pissing me off."

She hesitated for a minute and then just blurted it out. "I was just thinking that we might try dating other people."

"Well, there's a little problem with that," I told her. "Actually, there are several problems. The first one is that both of us happen to be married."

"Other married people do it," she said. "Things aren't like they used to be. Lots of people have open marriages and they love each other more than ever. It just makes their love for each other stronger."

"How do you know that?" I asked her.

"Everyone knows that," she said. "The girls at work talk about it all the time."

"Are these girls married?" I asked her.

"Yes, that's how I know about it."

"Give me a name," I said.

"Marcy," she said. "Marcy and Herb have an open marriage and their marriage is stronger than it's ever been."

"How do you know?" I asked her.

"She told me," she answered.

"Well, that definitely means it's true. How do you know she's not lying? I have an idea," I told her. "Let's look it up. Google knows everything. Let's take a look at all these 'loving' open marriages."

She seemed a little shocked, but she came and sat beside me while I fired up my laptop. I got the browser open and typed in, "How many people have open marriages." I had no idea what we were going to find, but I wanted to know, now.

I clicked on the first link. According to the survey we read, less than one percent of Americans have open marriages. We checked several other links and the result was the same, less than one percent.

I think she had expected something different. "That's still a lot of people," she said. "That's three million, at least."

"That's not right," I said. "I doubt very many children are married, 'open,' or otherwise. Okay, let's try this," I suggested. I typed in, "How many Americans expect their partners to be faithful?"

We clicked the link and found out that it was more than 95 percent. "So, what do you suppose that means?" I asked.

"I guess that most people aren't very open-minded," she said. "I thought there'd be more people with alternative lifestyles. I hear about it all the time."

"I wonder how many of those 'open marriages' end in divorce? Want to see?" I asked.

I don't think she did. Well, I did and I wanted her to know. I typed in, "How many open marriages end in divorce?"

The answer turned out to be that 92 percent of open marriages end in divorce in five years or less. "Okay," I said. "Let's see. Less than one percent of Americans are in an 'open' marriage. That means that out of a million people, fewer than 10,000 are in 'open' marriages. Ninety two percent of 'open' marriages end in divorce. That means that out of that 10,000, there are 800 that don't end in divorce in five years. That's 800 out of one million, Amanda. You do the math. If 92% of one percent fails, how many successful 'open' marriages are out there? What are the chances that ours would be one of the ones that work?"

Her voice was quiet. "Not very good," she said.

"The paltry few that do succeed are the ones where both parties are on board," I told her. "Look at the screen. One hundred percent of the ones where one party is coerced into doing it fail. Ours would be one of those, because I'm sure as hell not doing it willingly. Can you imagine how my feelings of resentment, competitiveness, jealousy, insecurity and betrayal and lack of security would affect us if I were to allow this? The only possible reason I would do something so absurdly painful would be if I were desperate to keep you. I'm not that desperate. Other women are attracted to me. One told me so last night. If I were some pathetic loser that couldn't get a date or a sick freak that likes watching his wife fuck other men, maybe I'd be interested in playing your game. I'm not that man, Amanda. I'd rather you shoot me in the head than break my heart."