A Devil's Bargain

"What?" was my startled reply.

"Didn't you know that much of your adventure was filmed?" my mother innocently inquired.

That caused me to reflect back on the first few days in my lean-to when I suspected that I was being watched. For whatever reason -- obviously once I started fucking Kim because endorphins didn't leave room for rational thought in my brain -- I stopped thinking about that after those first few days. I knew that I would have to check my devil's bargain contract as soon as I could because I didn't remember agreeing to be filmed on my excursion -- perhaps it was in what I thought was boilerplate after page 9.

On the drive to my parents' house I got on the phone and called SPR. They put me through to the present democracy coordinator -- no longer "Mary." I demanded an explanation and she readily provided it. She read from the fine print in the penultimate paragraph of my devil's bargain, which stated that I waved all rights to privacy during the excursion.

The bottom line was that to the extent feasible our adventure had been broadcast on a pay-per-view cable channel, including the times when Kim and I fucked anywhere outside of our lean-to, and one time even in there. Apparently one night as we went at it as passionately as ever in the hammock a cameraman surreptitiously filmed us with infrared technology and with very clear audio recordings of my loud blissful grunts and Kim's ecstatic screams. Four one hour episodes had already aired; two more were in the can and would be broadcast in the next two weeks. Also, an academic paper was being drafted and would be published before the presidential election.

I was down in the dumps but perked up when the kids were happy to see me. We hugged and played for a couple of hours before they wanted to know what was going on between me and Mom. I told them that I had to talk to their mother to find out for sure. Shortly after that statement the doorbell rang, my father said it was for me, and those infamous words "You've been served" were delivered by an old man in a Fedora.

I didn't look at the documents in the service envelope until the kids were in bed. It appeared to be a standard divorce petition, alleging adultery, which was a significant ground for divorce in our state.

I returned the kids to Jennifer at my former house the next day. I wanted to talk to her -- she demurred saying that subsequent communications should be through our attorneys. I talked to Kim on the phone shortly after that and found out that her husband was proceeding in the same manner.

"One more thing," Kim informed me.

"More good news?" I chuckled.

"Depends on your perspective," she replied.

"OK, shoot," I responded.

"I was told that I couldn't conceive. Apparently the doctor who told me that is a quack because I missed my period and my new OB/GYN estimates that I got pregnant the first night that you fucked me in our marathon session," Kim announced.

At first I just shook my head. Then I thought about it. Apparently I had delayed quite a while in giving a response because Kim asked "Are you still there?"

"Yes, I am; I was thinking that if we're both going to be divorced maybe we should consult about a future together," I replied.

"Give me a call in two weeks," she retorted, "that is if I can wait that long before burying your cock in my pussy," after which she ended the call with a chuckle.

************

I had essentially no free time the next two months. I was back in the swing of things at work, I went to see my kids as often as possible, and both Kim and I were constantly bombarded by the press for interviews. Kim and I concluded that giving interviews might help bipartisanship in the country in the long run so we gave interviews to Fox, CNN, The Washington and New York Posts, the Wall Street Journal, The Week magazine, and many others. When the scientific article about our experience came out that led to more interviews.

Whenever we met each other for an interview we combined it with a conjugal visit, during which I found out that Kim is one of a small percentage of women whose pregnancy ramps up their libido rather than depressing it. If she wasn't already pregnant our carnal activities were frequent and intense enough to populate a small city.

Despite our sexual compatibility, Kim was not willing to commit to a relationship -- at least not yet. "I need to think about it for a while; we definitely will need to make a decision about whether we will be exclusive and be a couple raising a child before she or he is born; I'm just not ready yet."

I had some doubts myself, although I was strongly leaning toward a commitment. I didn't want to pressure her in any way, though, so I simply said "Sounds good."

I felt bad about what I had done to Jennifer, and was willing to go along with almost everything she proposed in the divorce despite how hard it would hit me financially. Then I got a break.

After I had been back about a month the doorbell rang at my apartment, close to my office, where I was now living. Since Kim was not in town I wondered who it could be. I was surprised to see Betty Watson; she and her husband Tom were neighbors of ours (when Jennifer and I lived together in the house she now occupied with the kids, and without me).

"Hi Betty; fancy seeing you here," I smiled. "What's up?"

She exhibited a wan smile when she replied "I have some important information for you and somethings to ask you."

I was even more surprised by that statement but replied "Great, come in."

I always liked Betty; she had a sparkling personality and looked like a pixie, with short blond hair, a cute face, and a petite athletic body.

After I got Betty a glass of a well-known California Cabernet Sauvignon, and a can of craft beer for myself, we chit-chatted for a few minutes before she chugged her glass and said "Now to the business at hand."

"OK," I tentatively replied.

She pulled an envelope out of her purse and tossed it on the rented coffee table in my apartment. "This envelope contains a PI report and photographs documenting an affair between Tom and Jennifer going back to at least two days after you left on your trip."

"What?" was my intelligent reply.

"Can I help myself to another glass of wine while you look it over?" she asked.

"Uh...sure...the bottle is still open and on the kitchen counter," I replied as I reached for the packet.

I had already seen enough by the time that Betty returned with her refreshed glass of wine. The first photo, which left nothing to the imagination, was taken in my bedroom and dated two days after I left on the SPR trip. I quickly reviewed the other photos and skimmed the PI's report. I didn't need to see more.

"How did you get these photos in my house?" I asked.

Betty took another sip of wine then replied "That's part of what I want to talk to you about. I suspected Tom and Jennifer by the time of your going away party and had my PI plant a camera in your bedroom -- but to activate it only after you left. I'm sorry for the intrusion on your privacy, but I had to find out."

That didn't make me real happy, but didn't anger me either in view of what she found.

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

Betty gulped some more wine and then said "I am going to file for divorce; but I need something from you before I do."

"What?"

"I need you to sign a paper indicating that you gave your permission to film activities in your house. This paper," she continued, withdrawing a document from her purse, "drafted by my attorney says that as of the day you left on your trip you agreed to cameras being placed in your house. I can't use the photos in court unless you sign," she concluded.

I read the document over carefully, saw that it was dated the day before I left, and then signed it. "Can I make a copy?" I inquired.

"Of course," she said.

I had a portable photocopier in my apartment that I used all of the time for business so I made three copies, one for me, one for my attorney, and one for Betty in addition to the original.

When I handed the documents back to her I said "I assume that the envelope is for me."

"Yes, it's your copy," she stammered out -- and then began to cry.

"What's wrong, Betty?" I asked as I sat next to her on the couch and held her in my arms.

Betty sobbed for a good five minutes, burying her face in my shoulder and soaking my shirt. Then she sniffled and looked me in the eye. "Tom has made me feel so inadequate -- like no other man will ever want me; not just his cheating, but things he has said since then."

"Then he's a fucking idiot," I replied. "Any man would love to take you to bed."

Betty noticeably perked up. "Do you really mean that?"

"Absolutely," I replied, wiping a tear from her right cheek.

Betty smiled widely, then closed her eyes and planted a zealous kiss on my lips. After tongue wrestling for a minute I moved her away and held her at arm's length. "Please take me to bed and abuse my pussy," she moaned, looking like she was on the verge of tears again.

Flashing through my mind was first Jennifer -- I dismissed her not only because she had filed for divorce but because she cheated before I did and was hiding it from me. Then Kim came to mind; I wanted a relationship with her, and probably to marry her, but during our last contact she specifically declined an exclusive relationship. Then I looked at Betty; even if I wasn't sexually attracted to her -- though I was despite the fact that she was about the opposite of Kim in body type -- she was fragile. I could do a good deed, get back at Tom for fucking Jennifer, and have some fun all at the same time.

I had already decided to fuck her comatose when Betty said "Please..." but that is all I let her get out. I planted another kiss on her lips, picked her up (she weighed little more than half of what Kim did) and carried her to the bedroom as she joyfully giggled.

Betty really was petite all over. I had to finger and eat her through two orgasms before I had any hope of fully penetrating her tiny pussy with my cock. When she came down from her second orgasm and got wide-eyed at the girth of my cock she mumbled "Is it OK if I'm on top to control the speed and depth of penetration."

"Be my guest," I smiled as I kissed her again.

It took Betty a full two minutes to completely bury my cock in her exceptionally cozy pussy, but what an enjoyable two minutes it was, especially given the looks of ecstasy on her face during the process. Once I was buried balls deep in her tight pussy she started bouncing up and down, and when I was sure that she was comfortable I bucked back. She had an entirely debilitating orgasm less than two minutes later as I fire-hosed her vagina. When we separated, she virtually passed out, her head on my shoulder and one of her legs over my torso.

I knocked off another piece of delicious pixie ass in the middle of the night, and I was met by perhaps the most grateful sexual partner in my experience when I awoke the next morning with her lying on her side next to me and grinning like a Cheshire cat. When we showered together I fucked her again from behind -- she came so hard I thought that she'd leave scratch marks in the tile.

During breakfast I told her in every way possible what a hot fuck she was, and by the time that she left with a big smile on her face, and a squeeze of my balls, her sexual self-confidence had been restored.

************

Once I presented Jennifer with my evidence of her relationship with Tom the entire tenor of the divorce conversation changed. We ended up with no alimony or child support either way, with joint custody, and with her allowed to stay in the house. I agreed to the last provision only because shortly after my night with Betty Kim had an epiphany.

The next time we met after the Betty experience Kim said "Do you really think that we can get along outside the bedroom for the rest of our lives. Obviously our time in bed could not be better, and may even make a committed relationship worthwhile even if we are at each other's throats politically."

I smiled as I replied. "Look how great we've gotten along in interviews and meetings since our trip. I mean if James Carville and Mary Matalin can have two kids together and be happily married, and if George and Kellyanne Conway can have four kids and remain married so can we. In fact I suggest that in the upcoming election I vote for all Scorpion candidates and you vote for all Cobra ones."

She got a devilish smile on her face, passionately kissed me, and said "Tomorrow I want you to move into my house with me, but right now I want you to doggy fuck my pussy into oblivion while you maul my tits.

With a smile I obliged.

That was three years ago; we got married a month after the election when our divorces coincidentally came through in the same week. We're happily raising our little girl -- who my kids Bethany and Trent just love and treat like a doll -- together while we contemplate giving her a brother. Not only are we happy together, but we honestly believe that we had a positive effect on the outlook of the voting populace before the election. Many people told us that they were encouraged by our relationship and that our experience made them think that maybe people could work together rather than being at each other's throats.

Bipartisanship, and DD titty fucking, rule!