Intervention Wife

==

One day I came home at lunchtime and heard music blasting in my house. Tracy was in my workout room, lifting weights to the beat of the Christian rock on my stereo. Her back was to the door so she didn't see me. Her skin was wet with sweat and her sports bra and leggings were soaked.

I stripped out of my suit in record time.

The song ended and the room became silent. "Tracy," I said.

"Ahh!" she yelped and jumped a foot in the air. "John! You scared me!"

"What are you doing here?" I asked and slowly stepped toward her.

"I'm working out," she stated the obvious. "I didn't think you'd mind." Her eyes scanned my naked body and settled on my hardening cock. She swallowed hard and backed away from my advance. "John, don't. I'm sweaty and gross."

I stepped closer. "You look gorgeous."

She backed further until she bumped into the wall. "I'm all stinky," she complained.

"I don't care." I stepped closer.

Suddenly she tried to dodge around me to escape. I grabbed her and pushed her up against the wall. She squealed like a little girl and giggled. I got my fingers under the bottom of her sports bra and she raised her arms to enable me to pull it off. Then I pushed her booty shorts down her long legs and she stepped out of them.

Tracy looked me in the eye and said, "This isn't our day."

It was a Tuesday. We "dated" on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. "Yeah, I don't care," I responded.

I grabbed her under her thighs and lifted her into the air. She inhaled sharply and held my shoulders to balance herself. My muscles flexed and I raised her above my rigid cock.

"God, John. You're soooo strong," she marveled. One of her hands left my shoulder to grasp my prick and position it at her opening.

"Have you ever done it standing up before?"

She shook her pretty head no.

I relaxed my arms a bit and let gravity impale her on my fat cock. Her eyes rolled up and she moaned, "Ooooo."

I let her gradually bottom out, then raised her up again. Her fingers scratched at my shoulders.

I took a long and loud smell of her neck. Tracy giggled and leaned away from me. "Don't sniff me, you freak," she teased. She was still embarrassed by being so sweaty.

Slowly I lifted her up and down my cock. She twisted her pelvis, enjoying it immensely. I loudly sniffed her again and she giggled merrily.

I began to bounce her up and down, harder and faster. Her glorious tits bounced. "Ugh ugh ugh," she grunted. Her back arched to present her bouncing tits to me fully. "HAH!" she gasped and her body shuddered in her first orgasm of the afternoon.

A little while later we shared a shower. She washed my broad, flat pecs for an unnecessary amount of time. "I'm going to be late getting back to work," I told her.

"Sorry," she said, but she was grinning and not sorry at all. "Call in sick and stay here with me."

"I can't. I've got things to do."

She sighed, "I get bored and lonely at home by myself every day."

"It sucks that Bob is such a neanderthal that he doesn't let you get a job," I commiserated. "But I guess you do have a job, sort of. Saving me."

She smiled and said, "Yep. I'm an amateur interventionist. Cures guaranteed."

"Anytime you get lonely, text me and we'll meet here for lunch."

"I'm lonely every day."

"Then I'll be here every day."

"Will we actually eat lunch or just fuck?" she teased.

"We might each lunch sometimes," I replied and we laughed.

==

On Monday evening, Tracy and I were relaxing in my living room. I was laying on the sofa with my head resting on her lap. Her delicate fingers toyed with my hair. Hey, we didn't spend every minute in bed humping like animals.

"John, my birthday is Wednesday," Tracy told me. "Bob is throwing a party and invited some people we met at church."

"That's fine," I replied. "We'll cancel our date. Have a nice party, birthday girl!"

Her eyes opened wide in alarm. "No, John. We can't cancel our date. The Guaranteed Effective Christian Method says you might be suicidal if we interrupt the intervention."

"I'm sure it will be okay."

She emphatically shook her pretty head. "No. I'll come to your house after the party, but... will you come to the party? Please?"

"Is that appropriate, Tracy? Bob won't like it."

"I already asked him and he's okay with it," she answered, surprising me. "I tell him about all the progress you're making and he's proud of you. Proud of us both actually. He calls me God's warrior princess." She giggled. "So will you come to the party? Please? You're my best friend and I want you there."

"I'll be there," I promised.

On Wednesday evening I walked next door. I wore a dark blue shirt and khaki pants. No "fruity" colors that might trigger a rant from their church friends.

Tracy answered the door. "Hi, John!" she greeted me, all smiles.

"Happy birthday!" I exclaimed and held out her present. It was a planter filled with blooming plants.

She looked around to see if anyone was watching, but they were all out back on the patio. She gave me a hug and a quick kiss. "Thank you, John. It's beautiful," she said softly. "I was afraid you'd give me lingerie or something."

"I should have, just to see the reaction of your church friends."

"Come on. I'll introduce you to everybody."

Tracy introduced me to several people. Their names went in one ear and out the other, except for a woman named Rachel. She had dark hair and was about 30. Fairly good looking except for carrying some extra weight.

Needless to say, Tracy's tall slim beauty completely eclipsed Rachel and every other woman in the room.

Instead of shaking my hand, Rachel gave me a warm hug, and she stayed by my side for a half hour, chattering and flirting nonstop. Her husband Timmy watched with a gleam in his eyes. I guessed he was one of those weird cuckold guys.

Sorry buddy, I thought. I won't be fucking your chubby wife.

Tracy came over and stood by my side. "What have you two been talking about for so long?" she asked, sounding a bit perturbed.

"This and that," Rachel answered with a feral grin. "John is very entertaining."

"Well, I'm glad you're having a good time," Tracy said with a forced smile. She left us and went inside.

I waited a minute then told Rachel I needed to visit the restroom and followed Tracy inside. Tracy was standing by the kitchen window. She glared at me but I took her hand and dragged her into a bedroom.

"Why are you flirting with her?!" she demanded in a loud whisper.

"I'm not. She flirted with me. I can't hang out with you all evening, Tracy. People will be able to tell that we're more than neighbors." I wrapped my arms around her tiny waist and pulled her close.

She resisted a moment, then leaned against me. She hung her head and said, "I know I shouldn't be jealous, but I am," she confessed.

I put a finger under her chin and lifted it. Our eyes met. "There's only one woman I want." I brushed my thumb across her lips until she smiled.

"I wish we could go to your house right now," she sighed.

"Me too, but we only have to wait a little longer. Let's go back to the party." I kissed her and groped her ass, then ushered my sweet young lover back out to the patio.

I mingled more and didn't let Rachel corner me again. At one point Bob caught me alone and said quietly, "Tracy tells me all about your progress, John. It's truly a miracle! Let me tell you, I had my doubts at the beginning but obviously the Guaranteed Effective Christian Method really works. I couldn't be more proud of you and my wife."

My mind boggled. This guy was totally clueless. "I owe everything to you and Tracy," I told him. "Y'all are the best."

He puffed up with pride. "Happy to do God's work," he stated. "I've got a project of my own I'm working on. A few details to work out but I'm excited about it."

"Good for you, Bob. I look forward to hearing all about it."

Finally the last of the guests left. I helped clean up the mess. When we had things tidied up, Tracy flung herself into my arms and planted a passionate kiss on my lips, in front of her husband.

Bob just chuckled. "John, you better take her to your place before she strips you right here."

I was beginning to wonder about that guy. It seemed like he was becoming another one of those wimpy cucks like Rachel's husband Timmy.

Later that night, I was fucking the stuffing out of Tracy in the good old missionary position. She'd already come twice but it looked like she was working up to a real mindbender. My cock pistoned relentlessly, angled perfectly to rub her g-spot on every stroke. Her fingernails scratched lightly at my back and her long legs wrapped around me.

Then the doorbell rang. "What the fuck?" I grumbled. It was 2AM! Assuming it was a prankster, I ignored it and fucked on.

The doorbell rang again. "God damn it," I swore.

"Maybe it's an emergency," Tracy said, worried.

"Ignore it. It's got to be a prank." I wanted her to come explosively, but she clearly was getting distracted.

The doorbell rang a third time. "Fuck!" I exclaimed. I pulled my raging hard cock out of the girl's clinging pussy and jumped into sweatpants.

I stomped to the door and yanked it open. My dumbass neighbor Bob stood on the other side. "What?!" I demanded.

He was taken aback by my belligerent attitude. "I... um... I need to ask Tracy something," he explained.

"Tracy!" I yelled. "Bob wants to ask you something!"

Tracy hurried out of the bedroom, naked as the day she was born. Her hair was a tousled mess, her skin gleamed with sweat, and her pussy was puffy and red. She looked well fucked and it made me proud. "What's wrong, Bob?" she asked.

Bob gawked at his sex-bomb wife. His mouth hung open until he recovered his wits. "I... I can't find the cheesecake," the asshole said.

"What?!?" Tracy responded. "We ate the last of it last night."

"Oh. I, uh, I was hungry and..." he trailed off because he knew he sounded stupid. His eyes darted between his naked wife and half-naked me.

"Bob, you shouldn't come over here when I'm on a date," Tracy told him.

"Okay," he sadly said. "But since I'm already here, can I stay and watch? Timmy says he watches Rachel all the time."

"No you can't watch! I'm on a serious mission for God, not putting on a sex show!" Tracy's voice spat venom. "And I want no part of whatever demented stuff that slut Rachel and her stupid husband Timmy get up to."

"Of course, honey. I'm sorry," Bob groveled. "Um, have a good night."

Tracy slammed the door. She turned to me and asked, "What is wrong with him?"

"He's turned into one of those cuckolds who gets off watching his wife have sex with other men," I informed her.

She made a face. "That's perverted. Sex should be private," she definitively stated.

"I couldn't agree more." I opened my arms and she came to me for a hug.

"Darn it, now I'm hungry for cheesecake," she said and laughed.

I didn't have cheesecake, so we shared a bowl of chocolate ice cream.

"Why didn't you put on your robe before you came out of the bedroom?" I inquired.

Tracy shrugged. "Bob has seen me naked a million times."

"But not freshly fucked by another man," I pointed out.

She grinned. "I guess not. Do you think he liked it?"

"Uh huh. He's probably jerking off right now."

"Eww," Tracy replied. "That's so gross."

==

"I've never been to a concert," Tracy told me. We were on our way to a country concert at the Tennessee Theatre downtown.

"Never?"

She shook her pretty head. "My family was too poor to do stuff. And Bob thinks concerts are for heathens."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's okay," she replied and scooted over to kiss my cheek while I drove. "I just wanted you to know how much this means to me."

We parked and I helped her out of my car. She was wearing the infamous red dress that looked painted on her spectacular body. Her tits bounced and I stared. "I didn't think you'd ever go braless in public, girlfriend."

She smirked. "I knew you'd like it. You're obsessed with my boobs, just like all the straight guys." She loved to tease me about that.

"I'm not obsessed."

"Pfft," she scoffed. "Yeah, right."

"Maybe a little," I admitted, because in fact I was completely obsessed.

"A lot," she countered and giggled.

The concert was terrific and we made slow, gentle love when we came home. Hell of a night.

I was pleasantly drifting off to sleep when Tracy said, "I want to have a baby."

When the girl you're sport fucking says she wants a baby, you wake up real fast.

"Obviously you'd be a much better father than Bob," she continued. "Cause you're smart and strong and big and nice and Bob isn't. And that's not even mentioning him becoming a perverted cockhead or whatever you call it."

She paused and looked at me like she expected me to say something. "Um..." was all I had.

"But you might have a relapse into gayness and that would be a disaster, right? It's a risk I have to consider."

She paused again but my brain had crashed and it showed no signs of rebooting.

"And we have to figure in that Bob is a real gun nut. If I tell him I want a divorce, I'm pretty sure he'll kill us both. It's a puzzle. I hope Jesus gives me a sign about what to do. Goodnight, honey." She rolled over and went to sleep.

My brain was nothing but static and I didn't sleep a wink.

==

On our next date we went to the new food hall downtown. We were enjoying our meal until one of my ex-girlfriends approached us. Oh fuck, I thought. This was not good. I was with Pam for about 6 months and she thought we were getting serious. I wasn't and I dumped her when she got too clingy. The woman harbored a grudge.

"Hello, John," Pam said. "I see you're robbing the cradle now."

Pam was my age. Much older and much less attractive than Tracy.

"Hi, Pam," I replied.

"I'm one of John's many many exes," Pam acidly explained to Tracy.

Tracy looked back and forth between me and Pam, obviously confused. "John is a... womanizer?" she asked Pam.

"You could call it that," Pam chuckled. "I call him a male slut. Don't get attached to him, sweetie, because John likes variety." She strolled away without looking back.

Tracy stared at me and tears formed in her eyes.

"Tracy, I'm sorry. Let me explain."

"Not here, John. Take me home."

I thought she meant her house, but when I pulled into my driveway, Tracy stomped into my house. I followed, dreading the coming confrontation.

"You're not gay, are you?" she immediately began.

"I've never been gay," I admitted.

"So what's all this about?" she asked. "Did you want to make a fool out of the stupid hillbilly girl?" Tears ran down her pretty cheeks.

"No. Bob decided I must be gay because I happened to be wearing a pink shirt when I met him. Then you sprung the intervention idea on me, and, um, things spiraled out of control. I swear I wasn't trying to bed you. Not at the very beginning."

Tracy paced back and forth. She was mad, frustrated and distraught. "I'm so stupid," she exclaimed. "I thought I was doing a miraculous intervention, but you're just another horny guy who wants in my pants. I must be the most stupid, gullible, idiot girl in the whole world!" She stopped pacing, put her hands over her eyes and stood there bawling.

I put my arms around her. She resisted for a moment, then threw her arms around my neck and clung to me.

"How could you be so mean to me?" she sobbed.

I felt like the lowest turd on the planet. "I wasn't trying to be mean, I swear, Tracy. Somehow it all got out of hand, and because I'm such a jerk I took advantage of the situation. I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry."

It took a few minutes for her to get her crying under control and look up at me. Her arms cinched tighter around my neck. "You are a jerk," she stated.

"Yeah. Guilty."

"I can't tell Bob," she surprised me by saying. "He'd go berserk and kill both of us. He's a gun nut," she reminded me.

"Why would he kill you?"

"Because I'm the slut wife who slept with you, like, a million times."

"You're not a slut and none of this is your fault. You're innocent and naive but that's no crime."

"That's not how Bob will see it," she told me. "I don't want to die, so we're going to continue the intervention."

"We are?"

"Yes. We're going to keep going out three times a week, and they better be darn good dates, buster, because you have a lot of making up to do." Her lips curled in the slightest of smiles.

Relief flooded through me. "I'll spoil you rotten," I promised. "I'll buy..."

"Don't, John," she cut me off. "I don't want you to buy me stuff. Just be my best friend and awesome lover like I thought you were before today."

My hands slid down her back to cup her round ass. "Awesome lover?"

"And best friend," she reminded me and wagged her ass against my big hands. "No more being a jerk."

"I'll do my best."

Her expression became serious again. "Don't chase any other women while you're dating me, John. If you do, I swear to God I'll get one of Bob's guns and kill you myself."

I quickly nodded. "No problem. I only want you."

She smirked. "Good. Now take me to bed. You can show me how sorry you are for being a jerk."

I scooped her off her feet and carried her into the bedroom, where I carefully laid her on the bed. "There's one good thing about this," she said.

"What's that?"

"If you become the father of my baby, I won't have to worry about you reverting to being gay," she said then giggled.

I exhaled in relief. "Tracy, why aren't you mad at me? I mean, I'm glad you aren't but I don't understand."

"I am mad, you stupidhead. But I love you, so I'll get over it."

"I love you too," I replied without thinking. It might be the truest thing I'd ever said to her.

"I know."

"What about Bob?"

"We'll figure something out," she sighed and pulled me into bed with her.

==

In the morning Tracy received a text from her husband. "Bob wants us to come over as soon as possible," she told me, looking alarmed. "He says it's important. Do you think he figured out that you're not gay?"

"I doubt it," I answered. "If he did, he'd shoot us, not text us."

"That's true," she answered.

We'd already showered and dressed, so we went next door right away.

"Last night, Timmy and I struck a blow for Christian decency!" Bob announced the moment Tracy and I walked in. Timmy was one of his wackier fundamentalist buddies.

I instantly got a very bad feeling. "What did you do, Bob?" I asked.

"We blew up the yoga studio!" the twerp proudly told us.

Our jaws dropped. "You what?!" I yelled.

"I liked that yoga place," Tracy whined.

"Yoga is the devil's exercise!" Bob proclaimed. "It had to go!"

"You blew it up? With what?" I asked.

"We made our own bombs," the idiot crowed. "It's easy. There are plans and videos on the internet. You should have seen it. Boom! The windows blew out and a fire started that burned the place down. It was awesome!"

"Was anyone hurt?" Tracy worriedly asked.

"No. We did it in the middle of the night."

A thought came to me. "Bob, you're not storing any of the bomb making stuff here, are you?"

"It's in the basement," he answered. "Want to see?"

"No, I don't want to see," I growled. "That shit is dangerous, you idiot! I'm not going to let Tracy stay here until that stuff is gone."

"That's not for you to decide!" Bob argued.

I ignored him. "Go pack what you need to stay at my place for a few days, Tracy," I told her.

Tracy nodded and scampered off.

"You can't boss us around!" Bob fumed.

"Shut up," I replied. "Tracy's safety comes first. Let us know when that shit is out of here."

Tracy appeared with a loaded suitcase and we went back to my house.

While Tracy unpacked her clothes, I went to another room to call the police department's anonymous tip line. I told them who blew up the yoga studio and where to find the materials for making more bombs.