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  1. The Claiming of Steff Michaels
  2. The Claiming of Stephanie Michaels

The Claiming of Steff Michaels

Categories Fiction, Blowjob, Cheating, Consensual Sex

Author: badboy1958

Published: 25 October 2017

  • Font:

The Claiming of Steff Michaels

A Case Study in Landlord-Tenant Sexual Relations

Pete, our landlord, was a big man. Six four at least, 240 pounds or so. He towered over me and was very strong. Biceps that bulged. Thick, long, tree-trunk legs. Pete had a very sturdy base. He was in his early forties now, but probably would have made a good NFL lineman, or at least a linebacker. Some stubble always seemed to grace his chiseled face, and his hair always seemed a bit ruffled. My wife had described Pete after first meeting him as having “rugged good looks.” But he definitely was not the sort of guy you’d want to come across at night in a dark alley.

I was “in between positions” as the saying goes, so money was short. Steff, my beautiful, blue-eyed, blonde bride of 28, was a waitress at a local diner. She got hit on several times a day. No wonder. Five eight, 120 pounds, 35-24-35 Figure 8 figure, gorgeous face, dimpled smile, mouth-watering cleavage, apple ass. But, for the same reasons she got hit on, she almost always got very generous tips. So she made enough that we were able to keep food on the table, have beer or cheap wine with dinner and pay for our utilities and other ordinary household expenses. Larger expenses, however, were a problem. We were already behind two months in the rent. A new month was now due. And the landlord had darkened our doorstep to collect it.

“Look, Mr. Michaels, I know you’re struggling right now, but I can’t afford to carry you much longer. I’ve got bills to pay too. In fact, the tax bill is due next week. So what can you give me?” he glowered. “Nada, right now,!” I replied. “Have a couple of promising interviews for sales positions coming up next week, but I can’t give you what I just don’t have, ya know?” The look on his face made clear he was not happy with my answer, not at all. After a long pause, Pete glanced over at Steff and gave her the once over once again. It was no secret that he ogled her every chance he got. Then he turned back to me and said: “Well, then, Jack, you’ll just have to give me a little taste of what you do have. I’m going to take this sweet young thing of yours to the bedroom and get much better acquainted with her, ya know? Should give you some special incentive to make sure at least one of those interviews actually lands you a job, ya know?”

At first, I thought Pete was just kidding, mocking and mimicking me with the “ya knows”. But his aggressive tone and the glare he gave me told that wasn’t so. He was quite serious. He really wanted his money. But, if he couldn’t have that, he really did want to fuck my wife, right then and there. And he wasn’t about to take no for an answer. I gulped. My face reddened. And, just as I was about to tell him to fuck off, my wife intervened: “Honey, can we talk?” So we stepped into the kitchen out of Pete’s earshot and began a whispered conversation that turned into an argument.

I couldn’t believe my ears: my wife was actually for letting Pete have his way with her!!! Ever the pragmatist, it was her view that we really had no other choice unless we wanted to be “on the street tomorrow” looking for a place to live and having no funds for even a security deposit on a new apartment. And, after all, it was “just sex” and “just one time,” and “Jeez, we’ve both slept with many other people” before we ever met and had even done “that swap thing you asked for” with another couple on a vacation getaway just last summer. “Oh, come on,” I rejoined, they were “close friends” and being promiscuous in college was “ancient history that doesn’t really count anymore.” She rejoined: “They may have been your ‘close friends’ in bygone days, but I hardly knew Chip and Sally until we started screwing around with them, which, as you’ll recall, we both enjoyed very much without fucking up our marriage.” Steff had a point. My vacation dalliance with Sally, the wife of one of my fraternity brothers in college, remains one of my more cherished sexual memories. I certainly was no prude and would never win any sort of sexual-innocence contest. Neither would Steff for that matter. She, indeed, was the one who had taught me many of the kinkier positions we had in our sexual portfolio as a couple. And she never viewed porn, so she had to have learned of them through personal experience. Still, I was not at all happy with the idea of my landlord’s fucking my wife, and I felt really guilty about putting her in a position of having to do that just because I was out of work. It felt really emasculating.

Steff would not relent, however, demanding that I come up with a “viable” alternative. I had none, so I reluctantly applied the happy-wife-happy-life rule to settle our argument: I just gave in. It never occurred to me then--only later-- that Steff may have actually wanted to fuck Pete, if only for variety’s sake. I mean, after all, her “rugged good looks” comment obviously suggested there had to have been at least some small measure of initial attraction.

We emerged from the kitchen, and Steff went over to Pete, thanked him for his “understanding” and “patience with our circumstances.” Then, without makes explicit reference to his demand, she acknowledged it by gently taking his hand and starting him off towards the bedroom. I growled at Pete: “You really going to go through with this, Prick?” “That I am,” Pete answered, “and your wife is going to be the beneficiary of it” he snickered. I moved into their way, challenging their passage. Pete immediately let go of Steff’s hand, grabbed me by both forearms and squeezed them tightly. His strong grip was vise-like, and I winced in pain. “Get out of our way,” he roared and shoved me onto a couch. “Take a nap or go for a walk. But leave us alone,” Pete demanded. My wife blanched in response to our exchange of angry words but resubmitted to his touch as he reached for her hand. “The bedroom’s that way,” she pointed with her chin. Pete replied: “I own the place. I certainly ought to know where the bedroom is.” Staring intently into her eyes, lust blazing in his, he exclaimed: “And now I’m going to own you for a bit.” Then he swept her off her feet, grabbing her by her knees and sculpted calves, slung her over a broad shoulder and carted her off to our love nest.

Steff was facing towards me while being carried away, and a startled look graced her pretty face. But there was something else there-- some other emotion embedded in her facial expression besides surprise. At first, I couldn’t figure how to describe it exactly. It was not anger or fear, but rather some sort of anticipation. “Oh my God,” I thought as I sat there on the couch, “I know what it is.” It was a hint of carnal excitement. Steff didn’t know exactly what was about to happen to her, but she did know that she now was in the arms of a very powerful man who absolutely lusted for her and who simply was not going to be deterred from slaking his sexual thirst. My God, Steff was excited that she would have to submit to his carnal greed for her, thrilled that the lust beginning to well in her too made her WANT to submit to it! Pete reached the door of our bedroom and turned back towards me to shut it, which generated a view of my wife’s ass dangling over his shoulder. The Prick then grinned at me, gave that apple ass a playful slap and shut the door forcefully. The next thing I heard was her bouncing on the bed where he had apparently tossed her. My wife was now in Pete’s hands, totally in his control.

I slammed my fist down on the arm of the couch and then laid back on it, wondering what to do. I quickly realized that there was nothing I could do. Pete was much larger and much stronger than me. I was no match for him, not at all. So force was out of the question. I could call the police. But what would my wife say to them? What, for that matter, would I say to them? She, after all, was an adult CONSENTING to this. And I had agreed to ALLOW her to consent to this. This was not rape or an assault or battery. And I certainly didn’t want to claim that my wife was a prostitute for giving her body to the landlord in lieu of rent. No, the police were out of the question, especially as I didn’t believe Steff was in any real physical danger. Despite the glimmer of carnal desire that I saw on Steff’s face, I refused to believe that she really wanted this or would have chosen it voluntarily. It was just the better of evils under the circumstances. But, as long as Pete didn’t hurt her, I was confident that Steff would submit without a struggle and try to relax and enjoy the experience to the extent possible. As she had said, it was “just sex” and “just one time.” Accordingly, there was nothing to do but wait. I began taking deep breaths trying to relax myself. I tried to meditate to clear my mind. But I could not keep images of their fucking out of my head. Pete’s a big man, I thought, and I began wondering about the size of his cock.

Just then the noises started coming from the bedroom—not more than ten minutes after they had entered. A loud moan—Steff’s I think. And a loud grunt—Pete’s for sure. More moaning, rhythmic panting and grunting. Then I heard Steff cry out, loudly: “Oh, Pete, You Are Just Sooooo Fucking Big! Yes! Oh Fuck Yes! Right there! Yes, Yes, Yes! For God’s sake, Don’t Stop!” Pete responded with some sort of seismic growl: “AAAARRRRGGGHHH!” And the bastard actually started snorting loudly like a pig. A minute late he asked her, “Who’s Your Daddy Now, Darling?,” and commanded her: “Come for me, You Horny Bitch, really let yourself go and COOOOMMMEEEEE for me Slut!” And she did. The sounds that came from Steff were unlike any that I had ever heard from her before. She was moaning and orgasming, repeatedly, totally out of control, periodically shrieking his name, and keening as the carnal pleasure flooded every pore of her body, every fiber of her being. As she would climax, emitting high-pitched unintelligible yips and yelps, Pete would flap his hips against hers frantically, obviously trying to thrust ever more deeply into her and generate yet another epic orgasm. Gradually, their carnal whimperings stopped, and the bedroom fell silent.

But they were not done. Just pausing to collect themselves before having another go at it. They would start up again five minutes later, and in no time at all the moans and groans and grunts and dirty talk and shrill cries of carnal pleasure would fill our apartment again as if the bedroom had no walls at all. What was most hurtful for me was not that Pete’s cock was pleasuring Steff so much better than my own, or that her lust seemed totally out of control and insatiable, but rather that she was crying out his NAME, over and over and over again, passionately and, worse yet, GRATEFULLY!

Their cycle of fuck and orgasm, pause for a just a little bit to renew sexual energy, then fuck and orgasm again, seemed to go on forever. But it probably lasted only an hour. I knew from personal experience that Steff could be multi-orgasmic and even go all night long when in the right mood. But, with me, after she climaxed she needed at least twenty to thirty minutes of respite and tender foreplay before being able to work herself up to another orgasmic state. So this come-totally-out-of control-every-five-minutes orgasmic FRENZY was just beyond belief. And how Pete could work that episodic magic and call up more cum from his cock that quickly without fail was a complete mystery to me. His ballsack must be GIGANTIC to house so much cum I thought to myself.

Eventually, the bedroom fell silent. All I heard was murmurings between them and an occasional giggle or guffaw. They obviously were caught up in the afterglow of their fantastic fucking and engaged in pillow talk. Then Pete emerged from the bedroom. He gave me a big shit-eating grin of satisfaction, a two-thumbs up gesture and left without saying a word. It was finally over, forever I assumed.

I entered the bedroom and slid onto the edge of the bed. The room reeked of sex, and the sheets were soaked with carnal slop, wet spots all over—the commingling of puddles of Steff’s pubic juices and Pete’s cum. I threw the top one off, laid down on the bed next to my wife and just stared at her with a “Well tell me what happened, I’m really interested,” look on my face. She sighed, looked away at the ceiling because she simply could not bring herself to look directly at me while making her confession: “To say that was fucktastic would be a gross understatement. Never had a cock nearly that big. It was ENORMOUS. Must have been a foot long. Or one that energetic . . . or so fucking insatiable. Never had orgasms like that before. Never had so many before, never had them come so quickly, one right after another. Never FELT the way Pete MADE me FEEL before. So fucking WANTED, so CLAIMED by his big cock, so TAKEN and COMPLETED by it, so CONSUMED by his carnal lust for me, so totally LOST in my own lust for him and his big cock.” She paused in her narrative, seeking a final summary of the experience, trying to find a justification for her behavior, or at least an explanation for it: “Jack, the sex was so awesome, so mindboggling, so all-consuming, the carnal bliss was almost spiritual. His cock was so big and his fucking so feverish, I just couldn’t help myself.”

My wife of five years then turned her head to face me again and announced: “I’m so sorry, Hon. I know you must have heard us going at it and must have been freaking out. On the one hand I feel really badly about that because I still love you and know you must be really hurting right now, angry and really, really jealous. On the other hand, I don’t care how you feel because I just couldn’t, just couldn’t help it. I feel so completely satisfied right now, so sated, so totally USED and so damn HAPPY about having been used—over and over again. I just don’t know what else to say right now. I’m trying to be comforting but I can’t be that for you and be truthful too. Look, I’m totally exhausted and have to sleep now, just have to. We’ll talk more in the morning. But please know this: I do still love you and want to stay with you. Then she kissed me, giving me a little peck on my cheek. It did not escape my notice that she did not venture anywhere near my lips. The next thing you know Steff was sound asleep, sleeping the deep sleep not of the just, but of the satiated.

Steff’s confession, if that’s what you want to call it, obviously was quite disturbing to me. The worst part was coming to grips with the fact that the lust Pete and Steff had had for one another seemed to be truly obsessive and insatiable. If so, I was really worried that this was not going to be the “one-time thing” Steff had described when I signed on to the deal. I finally dozed off after an hour or two of tossing and turning. Then I was startled awake by some movement in the bedroom, and faint morning light was flickering through the windows when I saw him: Pete was standing at the foot of our bed. His eyes were ablaze with raw, unbridled lust as he looked down at Steff. She had fallen asleep without changing into bed clothes, so her apple ass and luscious tits were on full display as she lay curled up on the bed. Pete was almost consuming them with his eyes. Finally noticing my presence, he commanded: “Leave! Right now! Or I won’t be responsible for what I do to you! JUST LEAVE! NOW!” I stood up groggily, and Pete pushed me towards the bedroom door, knocking me up against a dresser. I was afraid he was going to come after me. But he immediately turned back to Steff, who had been awakened by his shouts.

Pete slipped out of his shoes, tore his socks, shirt and pants off. and knelt before Steff on the bed. He was wearing no underwear so his erecting-but-not-yet-fully-erected cock was fully exposed to her. It WAS enormous, as big as a champion bull’s. Now I finally understood what Steff had said to me, why she just “couldn’t help it.” Steff gasped, “Oh, Pete,” and instantly moved to claim his sex organ with her mouth. It was like an involuntary muscular reaction! She did not think; she did not look around; she did not recognize that I was even there; she did not pause; she simply saw Pete’s peter and instinctively jerked forward to please him orally. She could barely get her lips over the gigantic head and groaned when she finally did so. Steff began licking the big dick, all the way up from the hilt to the tip on one side, and all the way back down on the opposite side of the cock. All twelve inches, up and down, both sides, several times. This provoked several spurts of precum from Pete’s cock, which Steff slurped into her mouth with greedy lips. Next she flicked the tip of her tongue frantically all over tip of his big cock. Pete grunted his carnal satisfaction as Steff then began bobbing her beautiful blonde head up and down, trying-unsuccessfully-to deepthroat him all the way to the hilt. Her eyes were closed as she did so, and I was pretty sure she must have been fantasizing about how it would feel inside her when the huge prick later claimed her pussy.

I was standing by a dresser in front of our bed, quiet as the proverbial church mouse, watching Steff give Pete what looked to be the most fervent and provocative fellatio I had ever seen her perform. Pete paid no attention to me at all. He must have just assumed I had left on his command after shoving me towards the door. But I was not about to go and was confident Pete would never make me simply because that would cause coitus interruptus. And there was no fucking way he was about to be interrupted as Steff serviced him.

I was mesmerized by their reactions to one another. Steff paid no attention to me either. I doubt she was even aware I was in the room. She obviously was totally addicted to Pete’s cock and had eyes only for it. As soon as she had rendered it fully grown with her oral antics, Steff proceeded to mount it. She gasped “Oh, Pete, It’s Soooo Damn Big!” as she claimed it with a pussy that was already sopping wet even though she had been awakened just minutes before. Pete thrust up to meet her downward push as she sought the hilt but never got there because the damned thing was so MASSIVE and, now, also was becoming as rigid as an iron pipe. Steff twisted herself on the penis, trying to achieve a more comfortable seating and tighter grip while Pete continued his thrustings. I could see rivulets of Steff’s pussy juices streaming their way down his foot-long dick. Then he moved her from a sitting position to her back so he could get deeper inside her missionary. Instinctively Steff knew what Pete was trying to accomplish and cooperated instantly by spreading her legs as wide as they could possibly go. The repositioning caused her to catch a glimpse of me, and a startled look flashed across her face. But it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared as the bastard began stretching her pussy, inch by inch, immediately reclaiming her full attention. Steff grimaced, her pretty face twisting with carnal pleasure, and a shit-eating grin appeared on Pete’s face as he slowly rutted in and out of her, going just a tad deeper with every stroke of his cock. Finally, his entire monstrous shaft disappeared inside my wife. She groaned convulsively and started coming immediately. Steff was soon orgasming—repeatedly and very loudly. This set Pete off as well. He started grunting uncontrollably and thrusting in and out of Steff frantically. Her pussy was wet as rain and now capable of receiving his full member with little resistance. The shaft was lathered with her juices and glistened in the morning sunlight. She was heaving, having one orgasm on top of another in rapid succession. Steff was so flooded with carnal pleasure it practically paralyzed her, and she had to fight to breathe. Then Pete climaxed too, sending millions of his sperm swimming frantically to her eggs. He bellowed his carnal release loudly and uncontrollably like some sort of rabid animal. They convulsed together, and their mutual climaxing filled the room with unintelligible high-pitched utterings and low-pitched grunts and groanings. The two of them stayed locked at the hips together, belly to belly, as their noises gradually diminished and they slowly came down.

Finally, Pete pulled out of Steff’s vagina, and a FLOOD of cum rushed from her pussy drenching the bedsheets yet again. It was like some sort of dam had broken. I could not imagine how anyone’s penis could even generate the rivers of cum that spewed out of her. Pete grabbed his cock and shook it all about to clean the jism and pussy juices off, like an animal shaking water from its wet fur. Cum splattered and pussy juice splashed all over the room and sprayed on me. My attention was riveted to his dick. It was only half-erect yet still enormous, the shrunken twelve-inch shaft coated white by Steff’s pubic juices. A remnant of cum still adorned the head of the monster. It was very long. It was very thick. It was very heavily veined and looked like it belonged to some huge spent bull. Attached to it was an ENORMOUS set of balls surrounded by a veritable jungle of dark, coarse pubic hair. I felt totally intimidated by Pete’s genitals-- like a scared little boy again-- like the useless cuck I had become, and humiliated that I could not protect my wife from Pete's beast, even more humiliated that she did not seem to want any such protection.

Pete finally noticed my presence. He glared at me, then looked back upon his spent cock, still huge and quivering, smirked at me and growled: “This owns your wife now. I will take whatever I want, whenever I want it. And don’t you ever try to impede our pleasuring of one another.” Then he bent over my wife and kissed Steff passionately. She responded in kind, quite eagerly too, as he seemed to know she would. They were already sexual co-conspirators. Pete then hurriedly donned his shirt without even buttoning it, leaving his hairy chest exposed. Then he legged into his pants, zipped them up, grabbed his shoes and socks and headed for the door. As he passed by me, he looked me in the eye again and waggled a forefinger at me, “Never again. Don’t touch her sweet, sweet juicy pussy ever again. I claim it as mine now, all mine!” Then he turned back towards my wife and commanded agreement: “Right, Steff?” She looked up at him, right into his eyes, ignoring me entirely. And she just smiled, a smile of such complete peace and utter carnal satisfaction that all I could do was just be happy for her! Words were unnecessary. Paul glared at me again and pronounced his final judgment on the situation. Casting a thumb in my wife’s direction, he bragged: “You see her face, don’t you? You get it, don’t you? Never again. And don’t ever interfere with my takings of her! There will be many. Many, many more!” Then he left, swinging his hips as he did so, like a spent bull stomping back to reign over his pasture—unchallenged.

After Pete left, Steff and I just stared at one another with glazed eyes. We were both thunderstruck. She broke off contact and stared at the ceiling as if looking for some sort of absolution there, or some sort of explanation for what she had just done to and with Pete—right in front of her husband. Minutes went by. Finally, she looked at me and asked: “How did he get in here? Did you let him in?” I responded: “Hon, he’s the landlord. He has his own keys. He has the capacity to come into our apartment, into this very bedroom at ANY time.” “Anytime? Really? Oh my God!” Steff exclaimed. She trembled as she began to consider the implications of her body being constantly exposed to, and available to, Pete’s big cock. Then she refocused on the issues at hand between her and her husband. “I’m so sorry. I just, I just couldn’t help it, can’t help it.” Ssshh,” I told her. “I didn’t really understand what you told me last night until now. Didn’t get it until I’d seen the enormity of Pete’s genitals for myself. Never seen anything like it. Not in any locker room or rest room or anywhere else I’ve been. Now I get it. I forgive you. You couldn’t help it. I get it.” Steff said: “Thanks for that, your understanding. You know, I didn’t think it would be like what it was like. I mean back when I said we should accede to his demand. I had no idea, no idea at all that, that, well, that I would love it so much, that I would come to love HIM so much, that I would get so fucking ADDICTED to his big cock and so quickly!” I replied: “I know. How could you anticipate the size of that thing? It’s MONSTROUS!” “Jack, it’s not just the sheer size of the thing, you know,” Steff added, “but the FEROCITY of it as well. Paul’s lust was, is, all-consuming.” “I know,” I said, “He’ll be back for more. He said so.” “Hon, I knew that last nite. He told me he’d be back. I fucking INVITED him back! I just didn’t think it would be so soon.” “Oh my God,” I replied, “exactly when?” “During our pillow talk after our fucking last nite. He was enough of a gentleman to ask my permission to come back and see me again. And I told him, well I’m not proud of this, but I told him that, well that I’d cut his big, beautiful nuts off if he DIDN’T come back for more! But I had no clue it would be so damn soon. Makes me feel, well, unhappy that he barged in while you were still here, but very happy that he wants me so badly that he just couldn’t stay away a minute longer!”

“Oh my God, Hon! And what about the forbidding thing, his forbidding us sexual contact again, prohibiting us from even kissing again? Are you really okay with that?” I asked. “That was mean of him. I get where he’s coming from. I really do. But that was just his lust talking. I don’t think it matters anyways," she mused, leaving her thought unfinished, unexplained. “Why is that, Steff? Why doesn’t it matter? You mean you don’t care about his prohibition because you intend to just ignore it.” “No, Jack, you really don’t get it just yet. It doesn’t matter what Pete has prohibited because, well because I just don’t want your cock anymore, hon, just his! I don’t want your kisses anymore, just his! You see? I have to be faithful to him now. I WANT to be, whether he requires that of you or not, whether he demands that of me or not.”

“Oh my God, Steff!”, I went on, crestfallen: “So where does that leave us with our husband and wife thing? How do we continue as such under the circumstances?” “I don’t know,” Steff answered, “just don’t know. I still love you. I really do and still want to make a home with you, have a life with you. But the sex part is all over between us. I have no room in my pussy for your cock anymore, hon, just Pete's. But we’ll figure something out. We always do. I mean we both had to deal with emotional aches and pains for awhile in the wake of the ‘swap thing’ with Chip and Sally, remember? But we made the transition, we went on. We worked it out. We hung in there and got through it.” We both fell somber and silent, lost in the implications of what had just been said between us. Some things, you know, can never be taken back.

Then Steff’s face seemed to brighten as if she had gotten a brilliant idea, had found a way out: “You know, speaking of the ‘swap thing,’ it’s given me a notion, a perspective. Maybe you should look at this development with Pete as creating an opportunity for you, instead of an obstacle to be overcome. You have to find your own sexual release now, Jack. But just think of this. Sexually, you’re a free man, now. We agreed to take a vacation from our vows of fidelity when we went on that vacation with Chip and Sally, remember? Now the vacation will just have to become permanent. I now have a new Chip, his name is Pete, and you can find yourself a new Sally, or a new one every week, or every day for that matter. What do you think of that? Remember how thoroughly you enjoyed fucking her? I heard “Sally, Oh, Sally” from you in bed for months afterwards, remember?”

I sighed deeply and responded: “That just doesn’t work for me, Steff. I don’t want a new Sally. I want you, all of you! But let me consider the implications of all of this, try to hold them in my heart and mind for awhile, okay?”

“That’s my guy. You’ll figure it out!” Steff said and proceeded to give me a warm hug and long, sweet kiss on the forehead. But not my lips. She ended the conversation with a “I’ve got to grab a shower, do some grocery shopping and get to work, hon. Catch ya later tonight at dinner.” And off she went.
. . . . .
As the day wore on, I realized the world would go on even if my own life was falling apart. Preparing for and going through one of my job interviews both grounded me in the gritty demands of the present and gave me some hope for the future. For it looked like I might well get the job. And the pay would be great, as long as I made the sales. And I expected I could. The product the company offered was a ‘hot’ one, and they would give me leads. It was straight commission, but it wouldn’t be a cold-calling type of situation. So I was hopeful. I touched base with Steff at work via cell phone to ask how she was doing. She admitted she was “still shaking” from the events of the nite before and the early morning but was “hanging in there” and “hoping the two of us will find a way forward.” That made me happy. It meant she still wanted me in her life somehow. The questions for me now were whether I wanted her in mine, and whether I was willing to play second fiddle whenever Pete wanted to diddle in her middle. We didn’t talk about the situation at dinner, just my job interview and small talk about the goings on at the café and what was happening in the world. We pretended there was no question about whether we would have a future together, probably in the desperate hope that the pretense would create the reality. We made plans for the rest of the week and the weekend.

Pete knocked on our door as we were finishing dinner. Steff did not seem surprised to hear someone at the door and leaped up to let him in, greeting him with a long kiss on the lips when he entered the apartment. Then they strolled over to our dinner table, hand in hand. Pete then stuck his hands in his pocket and asked Steff to take a seat next to me. Then he gave us a short speech: “I’ve got just three things to say. First, I don’t want you guys to move. Forget about the back rent. You can stay here for free until Jack’s employed again and you’re on a better footing financially. Second, what happened last nite, and again this morning, happened. It will happen again. I can’t help it, and I hope Steff feels the same way. As long as she does, it will keep happening. Third, I know that can cause a problem between you two, and among all three of us. I want to apologize, and do apologize, to Jack for my belligerence last nite and this morning. Sorry that my lust for Steff just got the better of me. And I just want you to know that I’m willing to do my part, whatever it takes, to ease the tensions between and among us. Just tell me how I can help short of, well you know, short of telling me I can’t have Steff in bed anymore. That’s all I’ve got to say.”

Steff smiled quickly and broadly. I thought she might start clapping and wondered if she had help Pete rehearse the speech. I could not bring myself to smile, but I knew it was my turn to speak: “Thanks for the apology Pete. Same back to you. I was just trying to defend my territory, you know. Now I unfortunately know it’s not really mine to defend anymore. And I’m not happy about that. Not happy at all. But maybe, just maybe, I can live with that. I don’t know. We’ll see. I’m still working through a lot of things in my head and my heart. Right now, I need to go out for a long walk. If you two want to take the opportunity to, well you know what, be my guest. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

And that became our routine. For the first few weeks thereafter, Pete would knock on our door shortly after dinner every night. And I would go for a walk because I couldn’t stand to listen to their carnal commotions anymore. I thought their lust might burn off in time. And, gradually, Pete’s after-dinner “visits” did become somewhat less frequent, ultimately a three-times-a-week occurrence. What I didn’t know until later was that Steff was taking her lunch break at his place almost every damn day. And there were nights when I would wake up early in the morning and she would simply be gone—hours before she was due at work. I wouldn’t see her until dinner. Didn’t have the heart to ask Steff for details about such ‘disappearances’ or the frequency of their sexual contact. But I have to assume their fucking went on and on and on without much abatement. Good for them, I guess.

After three months of this routine, I concluded that I needed to find a new “Sally” after all, maybe several “Sallies” to relieve my carnal ‘grief’. Some say revenge fucking is the best sex. I don’t know. But I’m bound and determined to find out if that’s true.
The End.

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