Over The Top?

As this story begins:

I'm the male half of the married couple Dirk and Gretchen Van Vleet. We're both 42, tall, trim, blond, and blue-eyed, not surprising given that we both have Dutch heritage. I don't know how our Indian and African-American friends would view us but on average our Caucasian friends would probably view us both as an 8 on an attractiveness scale of 1-10.

There are three Van Vleet children. There are two Van Vleet male children, Jurgen (it would be Jürgen in the Netherlands) 18 and Finn 14, and a female child, Tess 16. All are tall, blond, and blue-eyed. They are the joys of my life, and I do believe Gretchen's too.

Our marriage was, for lack of a better word, "comfortable." We got along well, rarely fought, had similar politics, and similar child-rearing ideas and resolve. We believed that you set rules that are always enforced unless there is a really good reason for an exception, and that you give a child all the love, attention, and support that you can while not in any way coddling them. I believe that has worked in the case of the Van Vleet children since they are all well-adjusted, kind yet resolute, and ambitious.

Gretchen is a successful commercial real estate agent and I am the engineering manager of quality control at what was a startup when I began working for it but is now a large multi-national corporation. We don't have any money issues and live in a nice house in a Northern Virginia suburb of Washington, D. C.

Gretchen and my sex life -- or at least mine -- was also comfortable. We had what I considered good quality sex on average twice a week, more on vacation or if the kids were out of the house for an extended period of time. It was much more love-making than fucking, unlike my sex life before I met Gretchen.

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

I was a major pussyhound before I met Gretchen when we were both twenty two; we married only eighteen months after we met. Before Gretchen I had had only one relationship that lasted more than a month or two, and that was with Gina Martinelli when I was twenty years old and between my sophomore and junior years of college.

Gina could not be more different than Gretchen. Gina is a little Italian descent firecracker, 100 pounds soaking wet. I'm more than a foot taller than she is, and her olive complexion makes a stark contrast to my alabaster skin. At the time Gina was a twenty nine year old recent divorcee with two little kids. She was as volatile as Gretchen and I are calm.

Gina and I met when I bumped into her car in a mall parking lot the day after my last final exam. It's a miracle that we ever got together because she was so hot that I had damaged her car that if her kids weren't with her I think that she would have hit me with a tire iron. By giving her all of my contact information and driving with her to a repair shop and telling the shop that I was responsible for the repairs, and then driving her and her kids home, she calmed down.

I couldn't help staring at her exquisite thighs protruding from her short skirt when I drove her home, and she obviously noticed and got a big grin on her face. Exactly how we clicked and how one thing led to another I can't say for sure, but within three days after I plowed into her car we were fucking like minks, and within two weeks I had moved into her small house for the summer, telling my parents that I got a better summer job in another location.

While Gina was cute, sexy, street-smart, and -- as previously indicated -- volatile, her most outstanding characteristics were passion and sexual intensity. The woman could fuck like no other in my experience, and wanted it all of the time. There was nothing, that wouldn't cause injury or disease, that was off the table; however she liked it best when I doggy-fucked her snug pussy while reciprocating a butt plug or vibrator in her ass with one hand and pinching one of her tiny but highly sensitive nipples with the other. Her orgasms -- and mine in sympathy with hers -- were earth-shattering. If earthquakes they would have been a 9.0 on the Richter Scale.

We actually fucked at least once a day -- most often three times -- during the entire three months of the summer that I lived with her. Even when she had her period (during which she was bitchy but even hornier) we fucked in the shower or outside and never missed a beat. Gina also actually visited me for four weekends over the next two months while I was back at college, leaving her kids with her parents and younger sister, who were only too happy to babysit. We fucked at least six times each weekend that she visited me in college.

Neither Gina nor I ever looked upon our relationship as leading to marriage; it wasn't just the age difference, and the fact that she had two kids, but our personalities didn't actually mesh, and her heritage was important to her and her family. The last weekend that she visited me in college on Sunday night before she left she told me that she had met a rich, older, Italian-descent guy by the name of Vince Allioto who was nuts about her and who her parents approved of (they never would have approved of a big Dutchman marrying her, although neither they nor her sister objected to our relationship because they knew that I treated her and her kids well and I helped Gina recover from her acrimonious divorce). While I was sad, Gina gave me an experience that has never been topped, and probably could never be topped, the hour before she left. She rode me cowgirl, then switched to reverse cowgirl while I was still buried to the hilt in her, and back to cowgirl at least a half dozen times. All the while she had a butt plug up her ass, and when she was cowgirl she was kissing me with an other-worldly zeal, and when she was reverse cowgirl she somehow was able to suck my testicles. My ejaculation and her screaming clamping of her pussy on my cock seemed to last forever, before we both temporarily passed out.

Gina and I fucked so many times during our five month relationship that I do believe that Gretchen and I had been married a year before the number of all of the other fucks I had had in my life with all other partners matched the number of times that Gina and I had fucked.

For whatever reason -- maybe because I felt love for Gretchen rather than just the animal attraction that I had for Gina -- Gretchen and I did little more than missionary, doggy, and once in a while cowgirl, and never with any "toys."

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

There was really no reason why I should have been in the lobby of the W hotel in Washington on a Tuesday afternoon in May, but a spur-of-the-moment request from a good customer who was staying there before he left for Europe found me at that location. Imagine my surprise when while I was at the front desk I saw Gretchen exit the elevator arm-in-arm with a brown-hair brown-eyed man about her height and age. Gretchen was too involved with her companion to be looking around. Once I had the front desk call up to my customer's room I surreptitiously observed Gretchen and her friend.

Their parting kiss and look -- and his quick pinch of her bulbous ass -- were passionate. While I'm normally calm I felt almost as volatile as Gina, and it took all of the self-control that I could muster -- and thankfully my customer calling my name as he exited an elevator -- to stop me from kicking the shit out of Gretchen's paramour and then chasing after her and throwing her through a window.

My customer asked me "What's wrong, Dirk? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"Oh...uh...sorry Jack; I thought that I saw an old nemesis from college that I was never able to get revenge on and it boiled my blood for a couple of seconds; but I just realized that it isn't him, so I'll be my normal calm self in a few more seconds," I replied, trying to smile.

Jack chuckled, we engaged in some small talk, and then we went into the coffee shop to conduct our business. I was able to concentrate on Jack's issue, but when I left to drive back to my office an hour later I almost got into several accidents I was so flustered by what I had witnessed.

I had only one business matter to deal with when I got back so I had time to think. I rarely acted impulsively, and with something this important there was no reason to break precedent even though this was the most emotional I could remember being. By the time that I left my office at 6:00 p. m. to pick Tess up from High School tennis practice I realized that I would need more time to figure out what to do, so I needed to take a fake business trip.

My greeting from my sweet, bubbly beautiful daughter Tess temporarily picked up my spirts, especially as she excitedly gushed about all that had happened that day as we drove home. It also caused me to realize that regardless of anything else I had to maintain daily contact with my kids; I could never be a weekend-only father.

Given the side-looks that she gave me, when I got home Gretchen likely knew that I had some sort of problem that I was dealing with, but the excited and pleasant dinner banter with the kids seemed to ease her suspicion and allowed me time to squelch my raw nerves. By the time that we went to bed that night everything seemed to be in order. Luckily Gretchen did not seek sex that night, or more than a normal amount of cuddling and touching, otherwise I could have gone ballistic.

I called Gretchen's cell phone as soon as I arrived at work Wednesday morning and told her of my unexpected "trip" out of town. I told her that I'd swing by the house to get some clothes and would call her and the kids on my cell phone that evening. I spent the evenings Wednesday and Thursday in one of several apartments that my company owned in Arlington, Virginia, and talked to Gretchen and the kids for about an hour each night. By mid-day Friday -- the day that I was ostensibly returning from my "business trip" -- I had sorted out what I needed to do.

While I did some actual business-related work Wednesday -- Friday, I primarily did research on the different ways that my situation could be handled. The research included consultations with a family law attorney and a tax attorney, meetings with two different P. I. firms (I didn't like the first one), a phone discussion with a psychologist, a meeting with a medical testing laboratory and a disgraced pharmacist that one of the employees there sometimes dealt with, a meeting with an International banker, and all sorts of Internet research that ranged from the bizarre to the mundane to the sublime.

The major conclusion was that I had to stick my marriage out until fourteen year old Finn left for college. One thing that really helped that situation was that Gretchen had developed a taste for sherry and often had a 3 oz. cordial glass after dinner or before bed, including almost every Friday and Saturday before we turned in. The major things that I needed to accomplish in the next four plus years before Finn went to college were secreting money, obtaining a P. I.'s report, getting DNA tests on my kids, pre-paying the kids' college tuitions, working with the disgraced pharmacist to develop a "special compound," and getting all of my ducks in a row for an eventual divorce. These things included getting Gretchen to agree to start filing separate income tax returns starting with the next taxing period "on advice of tax counsel in view of changed circumstances at my place of business."

By purging my mind of unpleasantness I was actually able to have virtually "normal" sexual encounters with Gretchen over the next month. During this time I was waiting for the P. I.'s report, the results of DNA testing, and the perfecting of a compound from my pharmacist. I didn't want any of these quicker than a month because once I had some of this information I might not be able to act normally around Gretchen, and I badly needed to do that.

As far as DNA testing was concerned, I knew that the man I saw Gretchen with could not likely be the father of one of my kids since he had brown eyes and hair and wasn't any taller than Gretchen; also none of my kids looked anything like him. In fact, all three kids really looked like a combination of Gretchen and me so I didn't expect the DNA testing to come up with anything negative, but I needed it just the same. However, what I did NOT need to know was if one or more of the kids was biologically mine and one or more not mine. Therefore I did the DNA testing in an unusual way.

I did not label the three vials that had the kids' DNA swabs in them, and intentionally mixed them up so that I would not know which was which when I gave them to the lab. My DNA vial I labeled "#1." I simply asked the lab if the person whose DNA was in vial #1 was any relation to those in the three other vials, and if so what the relationship likely was. I also made sure to tell the lab that they were NOT to in any way identify the sex of the individuals in the three unlabeled vials when they gave their report.

It's really fortunate that I proceeded like I did because almost exactly a month after I submitted the samples, and a day before I was to visit the P. I. and get her report, the head technician at the lab called me (by then we were on a first name basis). "Dirk, I have the results of the DNA tests."

"Good -- right on time. Give me the bottom line then any comments, will you Tom?" I replied.

"Sure thing. Note that we arbitrarily, just for reference purposes, denoted the three unlabeled vials A, B, and C, and per your instructions we did not record results of the sex of those individuals. The individuals corresponding to vials A and C are definitely strongly biologically related to the individual in vial #1. Most likely, the individual in vial #1, since we did determine sex there and it is a male, is the father of the individuals in vials A and C," Tom related.

At that point I gulped, and hesitantly asked "And for vial B."

"Well, even though the person corresponding to vial B has a number of alleles in common with the person in vial #1, and a biological relationship with the individuals corresponding to vials A and C, the person corresponding to vial B is not in any way related to the individual corresponding to vial #1. While they likely have the same hair and eye color and some other distinguishing characteristics in common, there is no way that the person corresponding to vial B is any close relative to the person corresponding to vial #1," Tom continued.

"Wh...wh...what does 'close relative' mean?" I stammered.

"That means that the person corresponding to vial B could not be the parent, grandparent, child, grandchild, aunt, uncle, niece, nephew, or for first cousin, and likely not even second cousin, of the person corresponding to vial #1," Tom clarified.

That was somewhat of a relief since my father, brother, and one cousin looked a lot like me.

"My final question: What is the probability that either of the parents of the person corresponding to vial B had brown hair and brown eyes?" I inquired.

Tom chuckled. "The probability is about one percent."

"Thanks so much Tom. I trust that you'll be sending me your report to my business address, and that there will be no male/female information about the individuals corresponding to vials A-C," I replied.

"You got it. Also, the cash payment that you gave me with the instructions to proceed is sufficient to cover everything -- in fact we can refund $50 -- so I don't need anything more," Tom responded.

"Keep the $50 with my gratitude," I chuckled, despite the fact that I was anything but happy.

Now I knew that one of my kids wasn't biologically mine but likely had a blond blue-eyed biological father. I didn't know which kid -- that was the way I wanted it because I didn't want there to be any chance that I would unconsciously treat one of them differently -- and there was no way, having known them for at least fourteen years each, and never even suspecting anything based upon their appearance -- that I would even try to "guess," and wouldn't have been able to guess right even if I tried.

What the results also meant was that in addition to the guy that I saw Gretchen with she had had at least one other affair -- with the biological father of one of my kids.

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

The information from the DNA lab almost made the information from the P. I. superfluous on some issues -- but not on others. As expected, Judy James, the supervisory P. I. assigned to my case, found out the details of Gretchen's present affair. Judy was very professional in giving me an oral report before handing me the complete dossier that she had collected.

"The guy's name is Winston Tangren. He's 41 years old, lives in New Jersey, has a wife of twenty years and two fifteen year old fraternal twin daughters. He works in commercial real estate and that is how he and your wife met. In the month that we have been observing them they twice went to hotel rooms, a Hilton Hotel in Rockville, Maryland and another one in Springfield, Virginia. In both cases they were in a hotel room together for about two hours, plus or minus fifteen minutes, had obviously recently showered when they exited, were very touchy-feely, and exchanged passionate good-bye kisses and hugs. The time in Rockville was on a Tuesday between about noon and two p. m., the time in Springfield on a Wednesday between about two and four p. m. They arrived and left in separate cars," Judy related.

"Did you get any information about how long it has been going on?" I asked.

"We can't be sure of that; however, we do know that they met almost exactly a year ago, and one paid gossip -- the only person we found who apparently suspects an affair -- postulates about six months," Judy responded.

I sadly nodded my head.

"There is one thing in our written report that for reasons that I can't get into is greatly understated; and I'll deny that I told you this if called upon to repeat it later," she stated with a smile.

I listened closely as she continued. "We indicate in the report that an operative 'may, although he can't be sure because obtaining phone records would be illegal,' have determined that Gretchen has a second cell phone with the number 571-555-xxxx that she uses for communication with Tangren, and maybe others. Again, I can't tell you why, but the 'may' is a gross understatement."

That got my attention; I simply nodded an acknowledgment.

"I can tell you more, but all the information that I have is written in the dossier and photos are also included. Need anything else?" Judy continued.

"No, that's good. Do I owe anything more than the retainer?"

"$308.40," she replied handing me a bill.

"You're quite precise, aren't you," I chortled as I handed her three hundreds and a ten. "Buy yourself a cup of coffee with the $1.60 extra," I smiled.

"Thanks big tipper," she smiled back.

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

The disgraced pharmacist was happy to have my assignment. I didn't give him my real name, and used only a burner phone to communicate with him aside from our first initial meeting, and the one the day after I visited the P. I. The task I had assigned him was compounding a drug that would be undetectable in sherry, would really sexually loosen up the imbiber, but would completely dissipate within eight hours with no lasting adverse effects whatsoever. The guy was a crook, but also a very skilled chemist. Apparently he had really put effort into this project.

"So what have you got for me Mr. Sun?" I asked him.

"I have four possible compounds. You should experiment on which is best and when you find it I'll make more for you," he replied.

"Excellent," I responded. "Please describe them for me."

"The first one, which I call Alpha, is based primarily on the Mucuna bean. It contains high concentrations of L-dopa, which produces dopamine in the body. It is enhanced by a very small amount -- I repeat small amount, not enough to do any harm -- of MDMA, also known as Ecstasy, which releases serotonin and norepinephrine. I have mitigated any adverse effect of MDMA by adding a version of Pycnogenol which in addition to mitigating adverse effects of MDMA has an aphrodisiac effect on women."