tagLoving WivesCoincidentally By Design Ch. 02

Coincidentally By Design Ch. 02


Author's Note: This is my story, I wrote it, stealing is lame. If you don't like it, don't read it. Thanks for any comments, votes, feedback, or favorites. This second chapter is by request; this is the end (I swear, but not really). Hope you enjoy:


The memory of one of Steven's hate filled attacks cut her mind against Albert's wild twisting of her heaven pointed nipples: "Well if you tried some 'reverse-cowgirl' shit, I might go for you more." Beulah cried out in pleasure and laughter, almost sobbing.

Albert had made this kink happen; Albert had never asked, he just knew what to do to her to make the positions feel right; he was blowing her mind.

Beulah's ass was continually repelled skyward from his hips, Albert almost throwing Beulah's thighs into the air and letting gravity bring her down on his shaft. His thumbs balanced the weight of her body, on her back, against his palms, while at least two of the fingers of each hand worked on her chest.

Using the strength in his wrists, he played puppeteer on the angles of her body.

The grip on his member was intense and dripping; Albert could only thank his luck for pleasuring himself in the shower, or he would have surely lost himself already.

Her body wracked and shook with tension from her near climax. The sensations were far too much to contain on her back, urging Beulah to push her shape against his hips and hands, forcefully sitting up to grasp the situation.

Albert followed her, grabbing her ankles and pulling them past his sides while deftly holding on. When Beulah fell to her hands and knees from his action, her shivering and sweaty body instinctively rode his lap wetly through orgasm.

Her heat only seemed to increase, setting her free and into her second wind. Beulah kicked free of his hands, pushing forward on the bed with a hop, still coming down, while pulling his manhood free and swirling her shining ass in a tease.

Albert, needing no instruction whatsoever, scooted up on to his knees, holding himself with a fist to aim and enter her slick embrace. He planted a firm slap on the slick and shining globe with his free hand only moments before diving in.

"Alby..." came the cry of the sexily embarrassed voice; she had enjoyed the smack too much for her own conscience.

Beulah thrust at his targeting; taking the lead and pushing back with her hands, resulting in endless sweaty slapping sounds to soft background music from the other room. Albert was on edge, bound to lose his load in seconds from her style.


This was supposed to be Gerald's night off, but instead he stood, foot tapping, waiting for the elevator from the fifth floor. If he had never taken the hotel suite package with his pay, he would not be in reach of security, and he would not have to deal with this crap at just over a(n) hour before midnight.

At least the police were on their way, and the man at the monitor desk was already making the tape with the correct audio. All Gerald had to do now was stop the prostitute, and tell the cops where the john lay.

Gerald had not counted on the hooker being quite so flexible, pliable, nor limber in her hasty escape. The woman of the night was stumbling out of the side door by the time the cruiser pulled up out front.

"She got away," was all he had to utter to the nodding and smirking officers as he led them to the fifth.


"Do you feel guilty?" Albert was the first to speak, and both were still naked and dripping. He lay on the bed at an angle, splitting the mattress into two isosceles; he used his right forearm behind his head - since the pillow was long gone - and daintily rubbed Beulah's back using his left.

"Ah do." Beulah lay sprawled on her stomach in the center of the bed, hips on top of Albert's lap, and twisted to stare his way with her face half covered by the blanket. Half of her mouth and face squished while she spoke into the bed.

"More than you thought?" Albert steadily tickled her back with his finger tips, occasionally palming her round backside and massaging the back of her neck.

"Less." The mumble held sadness and clarity; Beulah had been thinking of her husband and waiting for Albert to speak.

He stopped his hand on the small of her back with fingers dipping into the curve, building up his speaking voice, and sitting slightly up to stare at her.

"You first," Beulah interrupted him, teasing from nowhere with and adjusted head and a devilish grin.

"Fine, but answer me this: Did you come here to just fuck me and then go home pretending like it never happened?" Albert looked stern.

"In th' beginnin'?" She didn't move.

He nodded.


"Did you care about the consequences, at all?" Albert was more curious than angry, things had obviously changed.

"Not after you opened the door.. I forgot whatchu were like up close. Boyyou've grownup." The last part came from her lips in a whisper.

"You too." Albert spoke as he lay back down on his arm. "...but you don't feel diff'rent."

"Neither d'you." Beulah rolled to his left side as he settled; straddling his thigh and holding his chest, while smushing her own breasts and bent right arm. "So why are you lookin' all guilty?"

"Steven is my best friend, Bee Lah." Albert was eyes at the ceiling, studying the finish and not seeing a thing.

"He's you're employee," she was speaking into his nipple using the hottest possible breath.

"He's still my friend, and I owe him for the things he's done. I am guilty, even if I don't feel it."


"So why are you single, Bert? What's up? Some chick give you a STD or su'umn?" The level of danger and the altitude did not seem to bother Steven; he was chit-chatting through the speeding crosswinds.

"No, nothing like that." Albert - glad for the OSHA safety and tie down lines - continued to toil with the pressure valve at the top of the tank, only slightly nervous for caution's sake.

"Then what? Broken heart? Man you gotta get over that shit and go get laid and be happy. Just don't get hitched." Steven, never missing a beat, continued to assist without interfering in the least. He could work and talk while making the job seem easier.

"No..." Albert wanted to tell him about the girl from his youth, he chicken out; Steven had not worked for Albert for very long, it seemed too personal. "No, she was a good one. I would marry her if I found her..." Albert stopped wrenching for a pause, staring off into the distance; just as quickly he resumed his effort.

"I can see that," Steven was speaking through a laugh. "What are you going to do if she's already married? What if you had to steal her?" Steven spoke before diving right in to clean the mating surface of the tank as Albert removed the worn valve.

"I don't know. I've been with another woman, but.. it's not the same...." Albert began to disassemble to old valve for a refit, tying his secondary line to it's weight for stabilization.

"Only two?" Steven Laughed. "Well I wouldn't worry about it man. Even if you don't get some other pussy, all you gotta do it wait." Steven only looked up for a moment before resuming his task.

"Why's that?" Albert stopped, curious at the statement despite the rising wind, and thinking mostly about connecting a third line just to be safe.

" 'Cause if it's anything like my marriage, it'll be over in a few years." Steven said as the gust hit with a massive intensity.

Albert's primary safety line snapped as the massive valve fell over and his body was flung towards to edge that owed no railing.

Steven, oblivious to the falling tools, dove, catching the valve before it pulled Albert down and catching Albert's wrist the instant before he and the valve almost tumbled over the edge to fall twenty stories: Steven clicked his second line to his boss's belt within a second, well before Albert had opened his eyes.


The thumping in his head made him feel sick. It would stop and then start again; four continuous but intermittent beats.

Steven realized someone was beating on the door and not his head by the fourth instance of it's interruption. While he rolled over, and placed a hand on his head, the door clicked and opened, blaring in the hallway lighting along with two alien floating beams.

"Keep your hands up and don't move." The voice of god was loud and pounding his ears; god had brought along the brightest pair of his glimmering chorus to be shown upon Steven's face and naked body.

By the time Steven figured out that they were police officers, they were already searching his pants in the lit room, flashlights still on.

"Um.. What's goin-" Steven was unable to finish.

"What do we have here?" The officer, standing in the door, highlighted the smallest of lime green baggies with his flashlight; one full of an obviously white powder. Gerald, standing in the well lit hallway, started to shake his head to an odd ticking noise.

The wallet thief, who unknowingly stole a wedding ring, was also quite clumsy.


"He's still not ans'rin his phone, he must be sleepin'." Beulah was climbing onto the hammock to join Albert on the un-lit second story deck.

She had brought two fresh bottles to go along with the cool evening. Albert clinked her drink when she settled into place at his side. The pair lay silently, occasionally imbibing, naked and swinging slowly. In coupling they counted the stars with their bodies pressed together; a lovers' constellation.

Beulah lay on his bent arm, his head on the hand of the same. She was slightly turned, holding her beer with her left as she lay on his left, slowly fingering the muscles of his upper body - beer in hand. Ever so slowly, she began to point into the unpolluted glowing of the sky.

"Which star is that?" It was a particularly shimmering dot, slightly alone, but not really. Albert craned his neck to follow the angle of her outstretched arm.

"Keep looking, it's not a star," Albert said followed by a long sip.

"It's not?"

"What color is it?" Albert looked down upon her studying face, barely lit from a light far off inside his home.

"It looks.. pink? It's red... Ohmy," she started laughing, placing her hand on her own chest for support. "Is it Mah-rs?" Albert nodded his head in reply, smiling at the classic mistake.

"So what's making you feel guilty?" Albert had waited for her giggles to subside, for her to take a sip, and for her to become re-lost in the sky.

"I don't feel guilty, I am guilty." Beulah said, quite serious and using his words.

"What do you mean?" He knew what she meant, but Albert wanted to hear it.

"He's the father of my two babies, Alby, and I don't give no shit about 'im anymore. He's changed, an' I committed adultery 'cause of it."

"Has he? He's been foul-mouthed since I met him, that doesn't change who he is."

"Well he never swore at me, not until recently. He means what he says ta me, he's tryin' ta hurt me." She sipped her beer in the insect free silence, pausing for a time after.

"He use ta love me, but he never loved me like you did. Ev'ah... I'm guilty because Ah don't feel guilty. Ahm to th' point that I'd leave him in jail if he were 'rested. That makes me a bad wife."

Albert laughed at her statement. "Steven? No way.. No way. He talks a big game, but he's not the type. I don't think he's ever been in a fight in his life, let alone arrested."

"Ah think that's the prob'm," Beulah said quietly, contemplating.

"I should be the one to tell him..." Albert seemed sullen, dowsing the quiet that stayed after she spoke.

"We'll both tell him, at the same time, Alby." Her words brought unspoken agreement.

They lay, swinging on the hammock in their nudity, with Beulah casually continuing to touch his body. "I'd get the telescope and show you Mars, but I'm enjoying this too much, even if it doesn't last." Albert had closed his eyes.

"Ah can tell," she mumbled, gripping his growing member. It wasn't two strokes before Beulah's cell phone, nearby on the wooden railing, started to ring.

They both froze for a second, Beulah snapping out of it at the third ring, answering directly after. "Hay," she said into the phone, knowing Steven's number.

"Somebody call for Jocelynita? Yous looking to party?" The voice on the other end of the phone oozed street level trashy, and it sounded nothing like Steven.


Rocky - her dealer whom was slowly becoming her pimp - had paid her in contraband for the two no limit corporates; he gave her cash for the ID, Social Security, and Platinum cards from the wallet; not to mention he gave her some more work - away from the corners - for the cellular codes. He let her keep the phone, to her surprise; he even showed her how to use it and he gave her a charger.

Jecelynita currently held more money and drugs than she ever had in her life, but she was still blowing the manager of the upscale hotel for a reduced room rate. She would soon fuck the desk clerk for room service and complimentary champagne.

She was not an unattractive woman, just tired, worn, and illiterate.


The cops, real jerks if you had asked Steven and most of the other individuals locked up, led him down the cell corridor to loud whistle not unlike construction workers; all of the cells were along the same wall and separated by concrete.

Steven, red, slightly chubby, and only wearing his boxers, suddenly regretted every wolf call of his life as hands reached out of the bars and men laughed away in chorus.

"Don't I get a phone call?" He said while the cops pushed him into the nearly empty cell, the last at the end of the long row.

"Sure, solicitor," the police officer was pointing, with a nightstick, to a pay phone on the wall of the cell with the shortest cord possible. "You won't be processed until Monday anyway, pal, 'cause you ain't got no paperwork."

"I don't have any quarters, man," Steven said, placing his hands on the freshly closed cell bars.

"Are you married, solicitor?" The officer had put away his staff, leaning back on the opposing wall next to his partner, both cops with arms crossed.

"Yeah...?" Steven was only confused at the question.

"Then neither one of us are going to give any change. Pieces of shit like you give the rest of us husbands a bad name," he said, moving a thumb from himself to his partner and back again.

The two decorated officers, laughing, walked from the cell hallway to the yells from other prisoners in lock-up; one of the two threw out "Hope you used a condom, asshole!" over their shoulder as they went through the door to the station.

Steven, suddenly hopeless, smacked his head against the bars in an effort to stir his thoughts. He couldn't try Beulah, her cell phone would not take a collect call, and this would be just the excuse she needed.

"Call the bat-phone!" Steven yelled aloud. "That's it!"

The red phone, the emergency phone for work automatically routed to Albert's house number. Albert would help; Albert would keep his mouth shut, even if he did get pissed.

The automated voice on the bat-phone offering the menu would not accept a collect call.

"FUCK! fuck!fuck! fuck! fuck! fuckityfuckfuck!" Steven yelled, hopping in place and stomping his bare feet against the sticky floor. His man breasts were jiggling, and his boxers could barely contain his flopping dick. "FUUUUUCK! I hate the fuckin' future!"

"Hey, sugah... calm down and relax," came the deep burly voice from the only other person in the nearly empty cell. "Is somethinthematta?" came further words from the bed in the corner opposite the toilet, farthest away from the door.

"You have no fuckin' idea..." Steven stared longingly at the phone, feeling much like he were about to cry and slightly cold from the chilly drafts of the underground concrete construction. He started rubbing his own arms to stave the nips.

"Well, if you need some change for the phone.." the overly well built man sat up on his cot, arching up to grab the upper bunk and flex more than he should have been able, "..then I got it right over here, baby." The voice was more felt than heard; the man was easily twice the size of the newcomer.

Every hair on Steven's body stood tingling while the massive man began to rub himself in the wrong place; it had to be near midnight.


Jecelynita spit out her tainted gum onto the carpet while sliding the card into the door for access. The lights were on, her shoes were off, and the contents of her purse were dumped on the bed by the time the door to the posh hotel room closed.

She scanned the space, smiling at the two bow wrapped baskets and the chilling champagne, while separating out her make-up from her drugs from her money. She flipped open the stolen billfold, slowly checking every slot for any thing of value left over.

She stared at the pictures in one hand while spinning the white gold band in her other. The pictures, three in all, held a beautiful wife, two beautiful girls, and the smiling husband Jocelynita had fucked before robbing.

She understood the subtle look to the wife's face despite the innocence of the children; both women knew what Steven was made of, even if the wallet held near a thousand dollars - pay day scores were great, men on business trips were better.

Jocelynita was scrubbing herself and crying in the shower when her new cell phone started to ring for the first time. It was ringing for the third time while she was drying her hair.

With the towel still in hand and rubbing her head furiously, she looked down at the glowing words 'Missed Call: Strifey' but remembered only: "I'll start giving out the number for you, just hit this button if you miss a call," uttered earlier from Rocky. The letter characters made much less sense than Rocky's words.


"Bitch I don't know yo husban!" came the earpiece.

"Put Steven on th' phone now!" Beulah was beyond pissed and confused, ready to flip out for real compared to her simply loud words. Albert, though, was momentarily distracted from the confusion by the sound of the ringing bat-phone in the nearby, and attached, kitchen.

The bat-phone, his emergency/weekend work phone, only rang in such cases as emergencies. After leaving the yelling Beulah on the hammock, and while he reached for the phone on the wall - still naked - he prayed to all things holy that Steven was not on the other end of the line.

"OH FUCK YES!" came Steven's voice yelling through the phone after Albert said the proper business hello. "Thank god.. thank god!" Steven sounded very much like he was crying.

This conversation was going to happen, here, now, whether he wanted it to or not; Albert's face locked sight to the equally matched and gazing Beulah's just as Jocelynita hung up the phone in her ear.

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by Anonymous

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by Anonymous08/04/17

Unbelievably bad.

perhaps the writer smoked too much of the pot...

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