Spite

As should be absolutely clear from the words of the story below, all sexual acts and thoughts are between those eighteen or older and there is no non-consensual sex.

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Although I'm telling myself that my reason for writing this is to warn others about the consequences of spite replacing communication and trust in a marriage, I'm sure that a psychologist could find many more reasons – just don't ask me to admit to them.

My story is told through my eyes, with my slant on things. Obviously I wasn't privy to everything that happened, and I have no direct knowledge of most of the sexual liaisons that my parents had; but I personally observed the majority of the seminal events and have been given detailed accounts of the others. My story starts about four months after my eighteenth birthday and when my parents, Rich and Joy Jenkins, had been married twenty three years. I'm "Link," short for Lincoln; I have a wonderful sister "Brit," short for Brittany, sixteen months older than I am.

Rich and Joy seemed to have a good marriage as far as Brit, me, and others who were most familiar with them, could tell. It wasn't storybook, and of course they had their disagreements; but there did not seem to be any deep-seated cracks or problems. I never witnessed any mental or physical abuse by either parent in their dealings with each other or with Brit and me.

Rich was a big strong guy who played Division I football in college, but rarely used his physical stature for intimidation purposes. Joy was a very cute petite woman, but if toughness of personality were transformed into physical size she would have been six foot six inches tall and would have weighed three hundred pounds. Both Rich and Joy had decent jobs and we never lacked for necessary material things, and they both seemed to love Brit and me. Perhaps one quality that got exacerbated as time went on, however, was how "steadfast" they both became (a nice way of saying "stubborn" or "pig-headed," I guess).

Also, in the year leading up to my eighteenth birthday I did notice that Joy started – for the first time that I had ever observed – to have self-esteem problems. She made more comments than I had ever noticed before about starting to look old, although I sure didn't see it. She was only forty five and I had several friends that considered her an MILF, and she got many admiring looks when in a bikini at the community pool. However even though Rich and I were always complimentary she started going to a personal trainer around the time of my seventeenth birthday and for biweekly spa sessions.

Rich and I preferred to work out at home since neither of us felt that a personal trainer had anything to teach us – like Rich I was being recruited for football by a couple of Division I schools, although I wasn't as big as he was – I'm a safety, he was a tight end. During college he was about two inches taller and thirty pounds heavier than I am. We had a nice and large home gym in our basement with a complete set of free weights, an eight position weight machine, an elliptical, treadmill, recumbent stationary bike, and StairMaster. The home gym was so nice that my girlfriend, Tracy, sometimes worked out with me there.

As best that I can determine, the first failed communication that started my parents on the road to spite happened one Saturday just before my High School football season had started, and when some college games were to be played. Joy told both Rich and I that she was going out with some friends of hers from the fitness center for coffee after her workout and would likely be gone an hour more than normal. I told her that I was leaving for my friend Brendon's house in a few minutes. Rich said that he was going to watch college football on TV.

After Joy had left for her personal training session, Tracy called and suggested that we work out together. Working out with Tracy was way more fun than going to Brendon's house (especially if his foxy mother was not around to ogle), so I called him and told him that I'd be about an hour late. Tracy arrived a few minutes later; "How do you like my new hairdo?" was her first question.

"It's not just a new 'do,' you colored it," I remarked, searching for the right words since I knew that this was dangerous territory.

"I've always wanted to be a blonde," Tracy chuckled; "well do you like it?"

I had had time to evaluate the situation. "Tracy, I always loved you as a brunette, but you just might look even more beautiful and sexy as a blonde."

That got me a kiss and a cock squeeze, so a big smile crossed my face.

When we worked out, Tracy was giving me looks far more amorous than normal, and seemed to be posing in provocative positions. Not that I minded – except that my cock was trying to split my exercise shorts and making some exercise routines difficult. We had been working out about a half hour when Rich came down to work out too. That was not normally a problem because the room easily accommodated four people, but the looks that Tracy was giving me were too sexy for my father to see, so shortly after Rich arrived we left.

"I hope that I didn't chase you out," he chortled.

"Not at all Mr. Jenkins," Tracy replied with a big smile. "We only needed a short workout. I'm going to run home – my Mom dropped me off here – for more cardio exercise and Link wants to get to Brendon's."

"OK, because if you want to be alone I can come back," Rich offered.

"No problem, Dad; it's just like Tracy said," I responded with a smile.

After an exchange of a few more pleasantries with my Dad, Tracy and I went upstairs. Once we got out of earshot of the basement – Dad had a football game blaring from the workout room TV by then so he couldn't have heard us anyway – Tracy snuggled up to me. "I feel so, so hot as a blonde; care to pretend that you want to see if I'm a real blonde?" she snarled more than said.

Tracy and I weren't virgins; in fact we had had sex with each other about a half dozen times since we had turned eighteen, but not as much as I wanted to. This was an invitation that I couldn't pass up. As I planted a kiss on her I carried her toward my bedroom – however it was such a pig sty that there was no way that we could be comfortable there – so I took her into the guest room and closed and locked the door. As I was kissing and mauling her I asked "Since we're all sweaty want to shower first?"

"Fuck no," she mumbled between kisses, as she threw the bedspread onto the floor, exposing the sheets; "I just want to fuck!"

Seconds after she said that, I had her exercise duds off and was licking and fingering her pussy. She demanded equal access so I quickly stripped and got into a sixty nine. Surprisingly the sweat on our bodies seemed to enhance our libidos rather than depress them. She orgasmed quickly, so hard that she had to stop sucking my cock, and then I spun around and buried my rock hard cock in her soaking wet pussy in one thrust.

It was the best fuck that either of us ever had. We were undulating our bodies in perfect sync as I pinched one of her pencil-eraser hard little nipples and she clawed my back while her slim muscular legs were wrapped around my waist. It felt like a Roman Candle went off when I ejaculated into her – she must have felt the same way because she let out a blood-curdling scream that Rich would have heard except for the TV blasting at high volume.

Tracy and I disengaged a few minutes after the "explosion," with big smiles on our faces, and much sweatier than when we started fucking. "Holy shit that was fantastic," she mumbled.

"You're a fucking goddess, and a goddess at fucking," was my toothy and honest reply.

After we fondled each other for a few more minutes her cellphone rang. She looked at the caller ID. "Hi Mom...OK, I'll start running home in a few minutes...Yeah I'll be there in twenty five," was her end of the conversation.

"Shit – I've got to get going – after I make a stop in the little girl's room to clean that humongous load that you deposited into my poor little kitty so that it doesn't leak onto my panties and raise questions in dear ole Mom's mind when she does the wash," she chuckled.

"You can let yourself out, can't you?" I smiled, "I'm off to Brendon's."

She kissed my cock, I kissed her pussy, she went into the bathroom, and I quickly got dressed and took off. Driving to Brendon's I could swear that I passed my Mom's car heading toward our house. I didn't think anything of it at the time except that she apparently had not gone out with her friends for coffee.

After I was at Brendon's house for about a half hour, in between playing foosball and video games with a half dozen of my buddies, Brendon's super-hot Mom came home and said hi to all of us. When I saw Brendon's Mom I started to think about Tracy and her sweet, sweet pussy so I gave her a call.

"Did you get off OK?" I asked when she answered her cell.

"You mean while your dick was stroking in and out of me or after I cleaned your load out of my pussy?" she chuckled, obviously proud of herself.

"You nasty bitch," I laughed. "Both!"

"Hell yeah! That was the best sex ever dude, and I left by your front door because I saw that the backdoor was double locked and I wanted to leave it that way, and then cut through your back yard on my run home."

"Was my Dad still exercising?"

"I heard the TV go off a minute or so before I exited, so he was probably done and headed toward the shower."

We talked for a few more minutes, often reflecting on our all-time afternoon fuck, and made a promise for a repeat as soon as possible.

When I got home early evening there was a decided chill in the air in my house; it was clear that my parents had fought and weren't speaking to each other. I wished that Brit was home and not away at college because she and I could always seem to get our parents out of bad moods when we worked together, but alone I would never even attempt it. When I walked to the guest room with the intention of changing the sheets and re-making the bed – something that in my euphoric state and haste to leave I had not done – I found the door open and the sheets shredded and on the floor. I didn't want to incur the wrath of whichever parent had shredded them, so I kept quiet.

It was only several months later that I pieced together what had happened. When Mom got home early she apparently saw a blonde leaving our house; she had never seen Tracy with blonde hair, because neither had I before that Saturday. When, with suspicions aroused, thinking that Dad had a lover in since he expected Mom to be gone longer than she was, Mom went into the house, found me gone, found Rich in the shower, and found evidence of sex on the guest room sheets, she apparently went ballistic and accused Rich of infidelity. His denials fell on deaf ears, especially since he couldn't explain why a blonde was leaving the house just as she was pulling up when he assumed that Tracy had left right after we exited the exercise room, not more than a half hour later after we had fucked.

The Friday after the fight between my parents – when they were still being cool to each other including with my Mom sleeping in the guest room – I came home at lunchtime since I had forgotten a book that I needed for an afternoon class. Both of my parents should have been at work, but I saw my Mom's car in the garage. Perplexed, as soon as I entered the house I heard noises coming from the area of the bedrooms. I crept up to the guest room – the door was open. There was an obviously male ass moving up and down over a woman who had her legs wrapped around the ass-owner's waist. When I heard a male voice moan between gasps "You really are a joy to fuck, Joy," any doubt that I had that it was my mother who was getting plowed evaporated.

Stunned, I at least had the presence of mind to get the book that I needed before I went back to school. I couldn't concentrate on schoolwork the rest of the day and almost got killed at football practice after school since I couldn't concentrate there either. After a heart-to-heart with the coach about my lack of concentration – obviously I didn't tell him that it was because I just saw some strange dude fucking my mother in our house – I was able to compartmentalize and actually played fairly well in our first football game of the season the next day.

Actually, I played better than "well" when during a few plays when I had an opposing running back or wide receiver lined up the thought of some guy fucking my Mom popped ever so fleetingly into my mind, and I creamed him; in two cases putting the opponent out of the game with a bone-crushing tackle.

Things were still frosty in our house the rest of the weekend. Although both parents had come to my game, they sat separately, and interacted with me separately after the game. I was still thinking what to do about seeing my Mom getting fucked, without realizing the misunderstanding of a week ago, when Tracy called me Sunday early afternoon. Suddenly my teenage hormones overcame all other thought processes.

"Has your body recovered from the game, All-State?" she giggled.

"Oh, you've got me making All-State already based upon one game?" I chuckled, a rare moment of levity that weekend.

"God, you crushed those guys, dude. Remind me not to get you mad at me," she chuckled back.

"The only body contact I'll ever have with you does not involve tackling," I chortled.

"Speaking of body contact," she chimed right in, "my parents are gone until about eight tonight; care to come over?"

"When?"

"Now!"

"I'll be there in ten minutes," I responded and then ended the call. I told my Mom –my Dad was out – that I'd be back about eight, and then drove as fast as the traffic and terrain would let me over to Tracy's house.

I was happy that I had hurried. Tracy was waiting for me stark naked, her hard body and perky little tits dying for some attention. After a sixty nine during which I brought her to a quick climax, I turned her onto her hands and knees and fucked her doggy style. We both groaned and moaned as we seemed to be trying to fuck each other to death as I pummeled her and she pummeled back. When I started grunting like a pen full of hogs and then deposited my load it was again – just like the previous Saturday – like a firework had exploded. Tracy let out a quick scream and then almost seemed to go comatose.

Tracy and I fondled and poked each other for another half hour before I got hard again and fucked her doing the Wheelbarrow – something that I had read about on the Internet and always wanted to try. That was as good as our previous two fucks – in other words, stupendous! We were getting ready for a trifecta when we heard the garage door opening – it was only 6:15.

"Shit, my parents must be back early – hurry and get dressed," Tracy yelled while hopping out of bed. Fortunately it took quite a while for her parents to make it into the house so we were able to quickly dress, cover up the evidence of our sexual escapades on her bed, and turn on the TV in the den and pretend to be watching National Geographic when they walked in. After exchanging a few pleasantries with them – and hoping that they didn't notice the "just fucked" looks that Tracy and I surely had – I made an excuse as to why I needed to get home and left.

My balls and cock hurt as I drove home, but I never felt better in my life. That came crashing to a halt as soon as I walked in the back door.

The yelling between my parents was so loud that they never even heard the back door open. They were in the living room, but in the darkened kitchen I could observe them – and certainly hear them – without them seeing me, or hearing me unless I wanted to be heard.

It appeared that my Dad was drunk – or close to it anyway – something highly unusual. My Mom was sober but madder than Rush Limbaugh trying to cross the street during a gay pride parade. I didn't get, or understand, everything that they were saying but I think that I got the essentials.

Mom apparently alleged that she caught Dad cheating (that Saturday when she saw blonde Tracy exiting our house), and became completely distraught because he acted like she was a nutcase when she confronted him, and suggested that she go see a shrink. She apparently then fucked a guy from her fitness facility when I saw her and made sure to tell my Dad about it and show him the evidence on the guestroom bed – the one she had been sleeping in for the last week+. Dad alleged that he had just come back from visiting a prostitute and held up a filled tied-off condom as proof.

Rich and Joy were calling each other every name in the book as they extolled their plans on how they would fuck themselves to oblivion with others.

Their argument made me sick – really. I went back outside and puked my guts out in a nearby bush. I either had to find another place to stay that night or make enough noise coming through the front door that they'd terminate the fight – I was sure that they wouldn't continue the fight in front of me.

I made as much noise as I could and then loudly opened the front door pretending that I was talking to a neighbor as I did so. When I entered I saw my Dad disappearing from the living room and my Mom with her arms crossed, stamping a foot, and mumbling under her breath.

"You OK Mom?" I asked, walking up to her; "I got home earlier than I thought that I would."

"No, I'm not really OK," was her reply.

"Is there something that I can do to help?" I inquired.

"Yeah – get me a new husband," was her snarky reply before she caught herself. "I'm sorry, Link; I won't draw you into the tension between your father and I. We're having a bad time."

I sat down and talked with her for a good half hour. I didn't inquire into the reasons for their fight, but I did offer to help either of them however I could, and I alternately held her hands and hugged her as we talked, successfully purging my mind of the guy plowing her field two days earlier every time that it popped into my head. I finally talked her into making dinner and letting me see if my Dad wanted to join us. His bedroom door was closed and didn't open with light knocking so I peeked in. He was prone on the bed, still in his clothes, either asleep or passed out.

Mom made me a nice dinner, and she sat with me although she ate very little. Whenever I could work it in to the conversation I hinted at how nice she looked, and how I hoped that she and Dad could work things out. She smiled at my compliments, and brushed off my suggestions for family peace.

Over the next several weeks things went from bad to worse. Several times I observed my father going into the house of a divorced female neighbor who lived a few doors down from us who had the reputation of being a cock hound – she even came on to me once at a community pool party when she was liquored up. There was no doubt that Rich was hunting for pussy there. Several times when I came home from school I found evidence of more sexual activity in the guest room, which Mom made no attempt to hide. When my parents were together in the house if I wasn't in the same room and they didn't think that I could hear their vitriol was outrageous.

I would have really been depressed by what was going on except for three things (in order of importance): 1) I was fucking Tracy's hard body regularly and it was phenomenal beyond my wildest expectations; 2) my football team was undefeated and I had gotten scholarship offers from two Division I schools already; 3) my courses in school were actually interesting and I was doing OK in them. However just because I wasn't clinically depressed did not mean that I was not distraught. Finally I had to call in the big gun – Brit.

I convinced Brit that we needed to have an intervention with Mom and Dad otherwise they were done, and it would be a divorce that would make the movie The War of the Roses look mild by comparison. Dad was happy to pay her way home from college for a long weekend, not knowing what Brit and I had in mind. I picked her up at the airport and we strategized on the drive home.