Over The Top?

"So how do I administer it, and how much?" I inquired.

Mr. Sun pulled out a small bottle with an eyedropper. "Just two drops, at most three, directly into the glass before the sherry is poured in; a light stir with a metal stirrer, and you have it. It will start to have an effect in about thirty minutes, and its effect will be complete within about forty five minutes and it will last for a couple of hours."

"OK," I nodded, "what else?"

Mr. Sun went on to describe three other compounds, none of which sounded as promising as Alpha, and all of which -- even though he down-played them -- could have real side effects. He assured me several times that Alpha would not have any side effects. When he was done with his dog-and-pony show I paid him the rest that I owed him in cash, and he told me what the price of my next purchase of Alpha would be.

"How much Alpha would I have to buy to last me four and one half years?" I inquired.

"A liter," was his reply.

"Will it degrade over time?"

"Absolutely not; the ingredients and carrier are very stable. You should shake the container every week or so, but nothing beyond that."

"If I buy a liter the next time we meet, how much would that cost?"

"$5,000," was his quick reply.

We shook hands, and I left.

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

The Alpha worked so well that I never even tried the other compounds. On a Saturday night, after we returned from a party, I offered Gretchen a glass of sherry, which she eagerly accepted, with two drops of Alpha in it. I pretended to drink sherry too. After we showered -- separately -- and were getting ready for bed, Gretchen was very frisky. We ended up with a nice doggy fuck -- and for me it was no longer love-making but pure unadulterated fucking -- after which she actually sucked my cock and massaged my balls. While that wasn't unheard of in our relationship, it was rare.

By the sixth time that I had given Gretchen sherry with Alpha I had increased the dose to three drops and I had purchased a thin butt plug. She was so aggressive and desirous that night that she only made a token protest when I inserted the lubricated thin butt plug into her ass while I was doggy fucking her. With the butt plug in her ass it felt like she either had a vaginoplasty, or my dick had increased in size by 50%, or both, as I pounded her pussy. We had epic simultaneous orgasms.

I purchased a liter of Alpha from Mr. Sun, and within six months of first giving it to Gretchen she was much more open to different types of sexual activities, seemed to orgasm harder, and was anxious to go more than one round per session. I actually started taking little blue pills on Saturday nights to be sure that I could keep up with her. Our frequency also increased from two times a week, one orgasm for me per time, to four times a week, two orgasms for me per time, and many more for her. I didn't give her Alpha in sherry every night, but each night that I wanted to fuck.

During this time, on a trip to her office when I knew that she would be out and I told her secretary I wanted to leave her flowers (which I did), I found the secret cellphone in her desk drawer, and bugged it so that I could read all of the texts and recorded messages on my work computer. In this way I was able to figure out when she would be meeting Tangren -- which averaged to be once every two weeks. On nights when she would be meeting Tangren the next day I always gave her Alpha, and even though she sometimes protested getting fucked, I didn't take "no" for an answer. On those nights I made sure to take my own little blue pill and I fucked her with a butt plug in her ass twice, ate her to orgasm at least once, and gave her another orgasm by fucking her with a vibrator (again with a butt plug in her ass). I don't know how she fared fucking Tangren the next day, but she always left in the morning walking bowlegged.

About three months after I was able to find out when her liaisons with Tangren occurred, and did my fuck-till-she-drops stick, she stopped communicating with him. I assumed that the affair ended then. Of course it didn't change in any way how I was going to proceed in the future, it's just that she became even more receptive to sexual gymnastics after that.

In the four plus years that I considered myself to be living with a whore who I only fucked, and never made love to, I followed the rest of my plan. I had talked Gretchen into filing separate tax returns for the last few years, and to pre-pay our kids' college tuitions even though it did temporarily somewhat stress us monetarily; put bonuses and raises that I received in an offshore bank account -- which I did pay U S taxes on; squirreled away more than $100,000 in cash; and pretended to have significant casino gambling losses when I went to Las Vegas for a convention once a year, although that money too went into the offshore bank account.

During this time I never even thought about trying to guess which of my three kids was not my biological child, and I continued to have excellent relationships with all three, perhaps even a better than excellent relationship with Tess than with the boys. Tess never hesitated to seek my advice on anything; in fact she sought me out much more than she did Gretchen, which did seem to mildly perturb Gretchen.

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

The day, a Saturday, finally came that Finn was going off to college, roughly four and one-half years after I found out about Gretchen's affair and that one of my kids had a different biological father. We rented the largest SUV available, removed all but three seats, and loaded up his stuff to take him to college. I promised him his own car his junior year if his sophomore grades were B+ or better, the same deal that I made with Jurgen and Tess -- both of whom had fulfilled their end of the bargain. Finn was attending James Madison University in Harrisonburg, Virginia, about a two and one-half hour drive from our home in Northern Virginia. James Madison has an excellent business management school, which is what Finn was interested in.

I made sure to have an all-time fuck with Gretchen the night before we left. We both were bow-legged and almost babbling the next morning. It would be the last time that I ever had sex with her.

We left Finn off at his dorm -- he was anxious for us to leave having already caught the eye of the two cute girls in the dorm room opposite his -- about 5:00 p. m. to drive back to Northern Virginia. I made a call to confirm that by then all of the things that I wanted from our house -- that I hadn't already surreptitiously removed myself the previous two weeks -- were in my new condo, about two blocks from my office. I sent a text to the process server to confirm that we would be at the first Woodstock exit on Route 81 within forty five minutes. When we pulled off the exit, ostensibly to get gas and to make a bathroom stop, as Gretchen went to the ladies room I looked around for the process server.

The process server was way ahead of me. He sent a text telling me where he was -- no more than twenty meters away. We made eye contact, I nodded in Gretchen's direction as she moved into the travel center. He nodded acknowledgement and then I got back into the SUV and drove away. I stopped at the next exit to actually get gas and make a pit stop, having already ignored the five times that my cellphone had played Gretchen's distinctive ring tone. I went directly to my condo and had good nights' sleep both Saturday and Sunday.

To say that Gretchen was pissed would be the understatement of the decade. I knew that I would have to talk to her sometime so when she called my office on Monday morning I answered. She started screaming at me. I hung up. She called back and before she said anything I loudly said into the phone "If you yell at me I'm hanging up. If you can control your temper I'll make arrangements to meet."

While still obviously angry she didn't yell. "You are such a bastard, deserting me ninety miles from home and having a process server hand me divorce papers. What the fuck is your problem?"

"My problem is a cheating slut of a wife. I can meet you tomorrow to discuss it if you would like," I calmly replied.

She was taken aback for a second. "I never..." she started to say.

I stopped her. "Gretchen, don't lie to me like you have been for at least the last nineteen years. I said we can talk tomorrow. I suggest a conference room at your office at six p. m."

"What's wrong with our house?" she asked.

"You mean your house? Sorry, I have some really bad memories about that place, what with having to live with a cheating slut, and everything. If you want to talk it will be at a conference room in your office. Just send me a text telling me which one. Bye -- can't wait," I sarcastically concluded the conversation before terminating the call.

At exactly at six p. m. on Tuesday I walked into Conference Room B in Gretchen's office. A man in a suit was sitting next to her. Before I said anything else I looked at him and asked "Who the fuck are you and why are you here?"

"Can we at least start out without any profanity," Gretchen inquired.

"Sure, as soon as you tell me who the fuck this is and why he's here."

"My name is Dr. John Bellows and I'm a marriage counselor and Gretchen has asked that I sit in on your discussion," he said as he stood up and offered his hand. I declined to shake it.

"OK, Dr. Bellows, marriage counselor, if Gretchen wants you to stay that's fine with me as long as you sign a confidentiality agreement," I replied as I sat down opposite he and Gretchen.

"That's not necessary because by the ethics of my profession..." he started to say before I cut him off.

"Sorry, dude. But you either sign a confidentiality agreement, leave, or I leave," I snapped.

"But I don't have one..." he got out before I again interrupted.

I deal with confidentiality agreements all the time in my business, and I even had two versions in my briefcase because I always carry them along with a number of other forms. "No problem," I snickered. I took out one of our standard confidentially agreements, took five minutes to revise it in pen to fit our situation, and then said "Here look this over; if you sign and date it Gretchen and I will too, and then we'll ask my soon-to-be-ex to make a copy for each of us."

I could tell that Gretchen was steaming but had maintained control so far, and both she and Bellows read it over. "Not too onerous," Bellows said. He signed it, passed it to Gretchen who also signed, and then I did. Gretchen made a copy for her, and one for Bellows, and returned the original to me.

"Thanks," I said, returning the document to my briefcase. "OK, now what do you need to talk about Gretchen? I thought everything was clear in the divorce papers served on you."

"First of all, I want you to apologize for calling me a cheating slut over the phone," she snapped, with arms crossed.

I surprised her when I said "OK; I apologize. Even though you are a cheater and likely fit the definition of a slut too, there was no reason to use that language with you. From now on if I refer to you in the abstract rather than by name I'll use the term 'unfaithful spouse;' how's that?"

I got some happy horseshit from both Bellows and Gretchen which I politely responded to before Gretchen said "If you think that I've been unfaithful why didn't you file on adultery?"

"The first reason is because I lived with you for well over four years after the adultery that I know about took place and therefore a Court in Virginia won't grant it on that basis. Now there easily could be a more recent affair that I don't know about yet but can find, so that I can change the grounds; but I would prefer not to because of the second reason. The second reason is because I don't want to subject you to the fallout if our family and friends -- especially Jurgen, Tess, and Finn -- become privy to information about your affairs."

"Didn't you jump the gun by filing, though; you haven't met the Virginia standard for a no-fault divorce," Bellows interjected.

"Technically correct, Bellows; but my attorney assures me that by stating that as of the date of filing -- which was Saturday -- that I had legally established a separate residence the Court would overlook the technicality," I replied.

"What proof do you have of your cruel charge of infidelity?" Bellows then asked; obviously they had decided that some questioning would better come from him.

With that I took out an envelope from my briefcase which had photos of several passionate kisses between Tangren and Gretchen, photos of them leaving hotel rooms, text messages between them, and a synopsis of the P. I.'s report. As they were looking through them I off-handedly commented "By the way Gretchen, so it doesn't take you by surprise, a complete copy of what I just gave you was hand delivered to Melissa Tangren today."

Gretchen shot me a look that was between aghast and angry, and then continued to look at my evidence.

The contents of my envelope obviously took some of the starch out of Bellows, but he soldiered on. "It's obvious that you have forgiven Gretchen since you've lived with her for the last four plus years, she hasn't seen Tangren for more than three years, and you've had what Gretchen described as enhanced love-making with her over the last four plus years."

"That's where you're wrong, Doc," I countered with a smile. "I haven't made love to her since with my own eyes I saw her kissing and playing grab-ass with Tangren in the W hotel in Washington in May more than four years ago."

That caused a shocked look and frown on Gretchen's visage. I gleefully continued "Since then I've been fucking a slut who was a good piece of ass. I never made love to her again."

With that Gretchen started crying, got up, and left the room. Bellows said "Excuse us for a couple of minutes -- please don't leave; I'll try to get her back," just before he chased after her.

I waited another fifteen minutes, and was about to pack up and leave when they came back into the room. Gretchen's eyes were red but she wasn't crying any more. After she sat down she choked out "I've loved you all of our married life. Why can't you forgive me? Tangren was a big mistake. I'll never have a sexual relationship with anyone else ever again."

"Well there's the problem of the at least one other affair I know about, that was going on at least nineteen years ago. I don't know when it started or when, or even if, it ended. That's the one that really bugs me and I can't get over," I snarled.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gretchen sniffled.

Entering the meeting I had no intention of telling Gretchen that I knew that one of the kids wasn't mine -- maybe she didn't even know it even though she knew she fucked someone else. I realized by looking into her eyes, however, that things could get messy and expensive unless she knew the depth of my disgust for her. An idea flashed into my brain.

"OK -- tell you what; we revise our confidentiality agreement to provide that if you, Gretchen, ever tell anyone else what I am about to reveal to you -- with Bellows as our witness but also bound to maintain our confidence -- that you will pay me one million dollars. Deal?"

She and Bellows whispered back and forth for a while. "OK," she said.

I took out the original agreement and added a paragraph. Both Gretchen and Bellows signed and dated below the additional paragraph, as did I. Gretchen made copies for herself and Bellows and returned the original to me.

"OK, what's the big secret?" Gretchen asked, with arms folded over her chest.

"Simply put, one of Jurgen, Tess, and Finn is not my biological child. Which one I don't know and I have specifically made sure that I don't find out because I don't want it to have any latent psychological effect on how I treat them, but I know it for sure," I solemnly replied.

Gretchen was shell-shocked and at a complete loss for words. Unless she is a great actress she was herself surprised about the parentage of one of our kids. Bellows had to talk for her.

"How do you know?" Bellows asked.

"DNA testing," I responded. Taking another folder out of my briefcase I handed it over to them. "You can look at this for the next fifteen minutes, but you cannot copy it, nor will I ever provide you with a copy." I went on to explain to them that I specifically designed the inquiry so that I didn't know who the person corresponding to each of vials A-C was.

As Gretchen and Bellows read the report she got more and more despondent. After about ten minutes they were done reading.

I took the DNA file back, closed up my briefcase, and then said "So you see, Gretchen dear, why there is no hope of reconciliation, why I abandoned you in Woodstock as a petty way to vent the enormous anger boiling within me, and why you need to sign the separation agreement included with the divorce papers so that our sham of a marriage will be over in one year."

As I left Gretchen was sobbing -- I don't know if it was to Bellows or me -- "Our marriage wasn't a sham..." I shut the door and didn't hear anything else.

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

Gretchen was a defeated woman, and signed the papers. However, that was far from the end of things. Our kids were distressed although I tried to put as positive a spin on things as I could, even to the extent of promising that Gretchen and I would have a cordial relationship and that we could even celebrate holidays and special events together.

I had an unexpected gift about two months after my meeting with Gretchen and Bellows when Winston Tangren -- based upon his breath and slurred words likely emboldened by alcohol consumption -- burst into my office despite my secretary's protestations and started ranting about how I had ruined his life by sending my little package to his wife, and having several phone conversations with Melissa after that. I took that opportunity to kick the shit out of him. I only hit him once, and kicked him once, so as to be sure that my retaliation was not out-of-proportion to his attack, but I made them both count. I was at least five inches taller and twenty five pounds of muscle bigger than he was. When the paramedics and police arrived his nose was smashed beyond recognition and he wouldn't be doing any fucking for quite some time. In view of my secretary's witness statement, security camera video when Winston was storming into the building and toward my office (there was no camera in my office), and a doctor's subsequent determination that Winston had only been impacted twice, I was never charged with anything.

Unknown to Gretchen, her family tried to have an "intervention" with me, including an offer to "mediate." Gretchen's father Hans was a proud Dutchman and I was surprised that he went along with the intervention, even though we always had a good relationship. However, Gretchen's mom Lotte and sister Julia were like pit bulls in trying to salvage the marriage and I don't think that they gave Hans the option to skip the intercession. Shockingly, Julia's husband Stan also showed up. At least they had the courtesy to call ahead before coming over to my condo.

I was polite and offered them beverages and cookies. I had always liked Hans, Lotte, and Julia -- not so much Stan -- and I saw no reason to be rude to them unless things got out of hand.

The conversation went just about like you'd expect. While everyone was trying to be cordial at various points in time Lotte and Julia shed a few tears, and Hans expressed his displeasure although in a respectful way.

At that point in time I had absolutely no idea who the biological father of one of my kids was. In view of my kids coloring, height, and looks I honestly couldn't think of anyone in our past that was a likely suspect. However, when Stan made the only rude comment of the conference and had a snarky look on his face a light bulb suddenly went off.