The Bank

What she really wanted to do was to go to her husband and say, "Look Honey, I'm tired of the bank. I want to quit." But she didn't know how he'd take it.

I found all of that out the first afternoon I spent with her. I'd walked into the bank and started giving her the story about being an advance man for a movie company that was interested in shooting a film in her town. I told her I'd probably at some point want to make several large deposits and establish a line of credit. I needed someone in town to help me scout locations and get the lay of the land. In typical small town friendliness, which really meant that she was so fucking bored she'd probably try peeing on her own shoes just for something different, she volunteered.

I started telling her how pretty she was. She's okay looking but not really pretty. Her husband probably used to tell her all the time that she was pretty, but had stopped because he was sure she knew he thought so by now. Then again, six or seven year ago she probably was pretty, but had simply withered on the vine. So my flattery went a long way. I backed up the flattery by accidentally bumping into her whenever I could, to get her used to me touching her.

Then I started just looking at her longingly. After a while she got the idea and started blushing. I backed that up by innocently mentioning that I thought her husband was a fool. If I was married to her she'd already be pregnant and we'd be homeless because I'd never go to work. There was no way we'd ever get out of bed. A few touches here and there that were initially apologized for led to me copping a feel here and there. Those feels became normal and led to that first kiss. From then on, there was no turning back and now the bitch acts like my dick is hers.

I know realistically that the only thing I have going for me is the newness of the experience and in time she'll realize that I don't give a flying fuck about her, but by then all of the bank's money will be gone and me with it. If she's smart she'll keep her mouth closed, stay married and spend a few months making it up to her husband and no one will lose anything. She'll even have a nice fantasy to remember in her old age.

I wonder if she'll ever know how much I hate having sex with her. I mean pussy is pussy, but sex is an art form. It's like any other sport, some of us do it for the love of the game, and others do it for money.

When you love the person you're fucking and they love you, it can be a wonderful experience. There are simply no right or wrong moves you can make because you're doing it to please your partner and they have the same goal in mind. Your body's reactions are triggered and influenced by the emotions you feel for that person and the happiness you want to share with them.

Her husband probably loves the shit out of this bitch because she's awful in bed. She's one of those small town almost cute bitches, who think that fucking her is the highest honor that can be bestowed on any man. In other words, she pretty much just lays there and takes it. Occasionally, she whimpers out a tiny little "ooh," or two. I almost fall asleep fucking her now. The only difference between her and one of those new high tech blow-up dolls is that she has a pulse.

After it's over, she looks at you with that expression on her face like she's just done something so great for you that you owe her your devotion for the rest of your fucking life. I don't think so Angela.

It's not even fucking her that's the worst part. It's just looking at her naked. Angela has nice legs, they're a little on the thin side like those fashion models, but that's it. Those legs lead up to her small-town booty. There isn't an extra ounce of fat on her ass anywhere. It's the kind of ass that women think they want and men hate. Her ass is merely something to sit on, nothing more. There is so little curvature in her ass that the line from her lower back to her upper thighs is nearly unbroken.

Her stomach is flat but there is a slight pouch starting to form. But it isn't sexy. Even the fat girls with their bulging tummies have certain sexiness to it. I think it comes from the bulge creating a counter point to their rounded hips on the other side. It gives their bodies that "S" shape that seems to symbolize fertility and makes males just want to implant their seed. Hers seems to say that your seed will just be wasted because anything in her womb will wither on the vine. I later found out that I was wrong about that.

Her breasts seem okay when you see her in clothes. They fill out the tops of her dresses but that has to be due to her bras. When you see her naked she does have breasts but they're banana titties. For those of you who don't know what that means, her breasts are longer rather than fuller and they hang down to nipples that are pointed. Her breasts also are very thin so if you look at her from the front it seems like they don't extend past the sides of her body at all. You can actually see space between her breasts and her arms. It's not sexy at all, unless you happen to love her and of course, I don't.

So anyway, here I am trying to blend into the crowd and enjoy myself at something called the Declaration Drag. I just don't get these fucking yokels sometimes. Did they think the founding fathers had drag races down the middle of the fucking street?

At any rate, it looked kind of cool. If things were normal and I wasn't working, I'd have probably wanted to steal a car and get in on it. I looked over all of the cars to see if I could predict who'd win each race and also who I thought might win the whole thing. It was a tough decision because there were so many great cars. Who'd a thunk they had this many cool ass cars in this town? I saw a Chevelle SS that I'd have killed someone for. A Nissan 350 Z that was just beautiful, was lined up to race a Brand spanking new 2012 Dodge Charger SRT that still had the dealer's sticker in the window. There were great cars all over everywhere.

Just as I was really getting into it, I heard a voice beside me. "My husband is probably going to win this," she said. I looked down and there was old banana tits herself, smiling at me like the cat that just ate the canary.

I went into acting mode pretending that seeing her had just made my fucking day. I steadied my stomach by reminding myself that in only a few days I'd be out of here and I'd never have to look at this bitch again.

I knew that seeing me, here in the middle of all of these people who knew her but didn't know about our relationship, was turning the bitch on. It was the thrill of possible exposure that was whetting her juices.

I looked over to where she was pointing and saw a decent looking guy sitting in an outrageous Mustang. It had a custom lime green paint job. I'd never seen one of those new Boss 302s in that color. As he revved the engine, I could tell that the car was nowhere near stock. The car was almost shaking from the engine vibrations. Then I noticed the hot little Betty he was talking to. She was my type of girl. That made two things in this town that I actually wanted. The first was some time with that hot little woman and the second was banana tits' husband's Mustang.

His performance in the race only served to underscore two things for me. The first was that I wanted that fucking car. And the second was that banana tits is married to a sucker.

He made short work of his opponents in the first three rounds. His third round victory over a guy in one of those new Chargers was especially sweet, but I almost missed it. Banana tits, while looking at the race made a grab for my dick as the race started. As I said, she thinks it's hers.

His semi-final was very close though he was the winner. He raced another Mustang and only eked out the victory over the last few yards.

The final was set. Hubby's beast of a Mustang was matched against a bright orange Camaro LS1. I already knew what would happen. From talking to Ban...I mean Angela, I knew that her hubby's Stang was putting out somewhere north of 600 horsepower. From doing my homework, I also knew that the Camaro put out closer to 450 and the Mustang weighed over 200 pounds less. Unless Hubby had the reflexes of a snail, it shouldn't even be close. At least it would be a good show for the kids, I thought.

And I wasn't fucking wrong either. It WAS a good show for the kids. The two brightly colored latest generation, (which meant making them look like they did thirty years ago) muscle cars revved their engines and flexed their technical muscles. A little blond cheerleader waved a flag and jumped up into the air as both cars let out a roar that sounded like an enraged beast. The Mustang rocketed away from the line, the Camaro started and then sputtered as its owner, overcome by nerves missed a shift and stalled the car. Halfway down the street the Mustang skidded to a stop. The driver got out and waved at the crowd. I thought he was flaunting his victory. He got back into his car and backed up all the way down the street stopping near the Camaro.

I was laughing my ass off because I thought he was giving the guy the finger or something. Then I heard the announcer say that the drivers had decided to have a "do over."

I was aghast. That's not the way racing works. There aren't any fucking, "do overs." What a loser, I thought. This guy has read one too many comic books. The crowd loved him though. Even the people around us were patting Angela on her shoulders and telling her what a good guy her husband was. I did notice then that the stupid bitch who only seconds ago had been sneaking feels of my dick had moved away from me. Fuck her, I thought. Then I remembered that I already had.

Angela was so busy nodding her head and talking about her husband to people in the crowd that she apparently didn't notice that hot little woman with the clip board smiling at him too. I know women and that woman wanted Angela's husband and badly.

The entire crowd was watching as the two drivers reset their vehicles. Apparently, I was the only person there who was pissed. I was still running that shit over in my mind. I'd seen all kinds of fucking racing but I had never seen anyone do a God damned "do over."

The cheerleader waved the flag and they took off. Hubby had a little too much wheel spin and the Camaro lurched ahead. At the halfway mark the Camaro was just a bit ahead; the entire crowd uttered an "Ohhhh!" at the same time. I was probably alone in thinking, "okay dumbass, that's what you get." Then the pony car just surged ahead and by the time they crossed the line he was well ahead of the Camaro. Both drivers got out and shook hands. They raised their hands together and that fucking crowd went wild.

I'd made arrangements to see old banana tits tomorrow, but for now it was clear that she'd rather be with him. Not that I minded, she'd be back sucking my dick again sooner rather than later. It also gave me a chance to find out who the hell that woman with the black hair was.

* * * * * *

Angela

Seeing Jerry in the crowd was a surprise. At first, I'd decided that I should avoid him. After all, anyone could have seen us together and maybe remembered that they'd seen us together some other time as well. After a few moments though, lust won out over decorum and I had to just go over to him.

I don't know why I let things with him get as far as they had. I love Lucas with all of my heart. Maybe it was just that I'd gotten so bored with this town. Of course, it could also have been the fact that I simply hate my job. I feel like such a fool there. I mean I busted my ass in college for four years to get a degree that cost my parents and me over a hundred thousand dollars. And what kind of job did it get me? I make one fucking dollar per hour more than four high-school graduates and one high school drop out.

The saddest thing about it is that when you look at our checks, because of certain unspecified bonuses, the high-school drop-out makes the most. I spend all day checking over their figures and correcting their mistakes. I even get sent out to run errands and anything else that no one else wants to do. So in January, in the middle of the biggest snowstorm in history when the manager decides to boost the morale of the staff, I'm the one who has to go out in the storm to bring back coffee and donuts for these fucking sluts. And to add insult to injury, he never even asked if I wanted anything. It was insulting.

Jerry coming to town recently was the only thing that kept me from quitting. After his company got here, made their movie and left, I was quitting the bank. For now though, Jerry made my job worth it. I did feel a little bit guilty about what I did with him, but it was so exciting and years from now it would never matter. I'd also made a solemn promise that when he left town I'd never cheat on Lucas again. Besides, Lucas got all of the sex that he could handle from me anyway. I had never once refused him. So it wasn't like he was losing anything.

As he watched the cars getting set up for the races, I edged my way closer to him and then when he wasn't expecting it, spoke to him. "My husband is probably going to win this," I said. That way if anyone around us was actually listening, they'd only hear me talking about Lucas. Jerry turned and hit me with that beautiful smile of his. He said something about the cars that I wasn't paying any attention to. Actually my attention was on moving closer to him and during the commotion caused by the cars, I grabbed a quick feel of his male anatomy.

Actually, Lucas was bigger, in terms of endowment, but Jerry was just wilder in bed. He made me do things and enjoy them that my husband would never think of.

Then they got to the last race and I noticed that everyone was patting me on the back. Apparently, Lucas had done something great, I hadn't noticed. I moved away from Jerry but he knew that we'd see each other tomorrow on my lunch hour.

Lucas won the race much as I'd expected. I ran over to him with the rest of the crowd. He saw me and turned away from me. It actually hurt me. I'd never done anything to hurt him so I wondered what the hell was wrong with him. I didn't find out until we got home that night.

"Who was that guy you were smiling at during the race?" he asked me point blank. At first I was at a loss for words. I hadn't even realized that Lucas had seen me with Jerry.

"That was Jerry," I said. "I know him from work." I really didn't like the look Lucas had on his face.

"Are you jealous?" I asked smiling. "You are, aren't you?" I started laughing so hard I almost couldn't stand up.

"Honey, Jerry's company is going to make a movie of some kind here in town. He's setting up a line of credit with the bank. I'm the only person he knows in town so he said hi to me while he was at the race. You're the only person around here that I'm married to."

"Jerry wouldn't even look at me twice," I said. "He can hang around with all of those actress types. Why the hell would he be interested in an old, married, housewife?"

As I made dinner for the two of us, I noticed that the trophy Lucas had gotten from the race was on the back porch. In typical fashion, he'd won the thing but didn't really care what happened to it. For Lucas, the event itself was the thrill. He wasn't into trophies or any kind of accolades.

After dinner we watched TV for a while and I tried to get Lucas to come up to bed with me. That was my normal pattern. I'd have sex with Lucas the night before I met Jerry. That way, my husband was the one getting his sex first. Jerry would be the one who got seconds whether sloppy or not. Plus, that way if things got a little wild with Jerry, I could always simply tell Lucas that he had worn me out the night before.

What was unusual was that for the first time since we'd known each other, Lucas told me that he wasn't in the mood. Since when did he have moods? I don't think he sensed anything concrete but Lucas was fairly intuitive. I was sure that if I gave him any reason at all he'd start snooping around and this town simply wasn't big enough to hide anything. I decided right then and there that I'd have to call things off with Jerry. I'd miss him but after all he was only a fling. It would have run its course sooner or later anyway. But Lucas was the man I loved. I couldn't lose him for anything.

It made me start thinking about what I'd been doing and how wrong it was. I knew I'd have to stop, but it was also wrong to give your word and then go back on it. I'd promised Jerry that I'd meet him tomorrow and I knew what was going to happen. I decided that tomorrow would be the last time. And if Lucas got out of his funk and decided he wanted me tomorrow, then I'd be the one who wasn't in the mood.

The next morning I woke up and got dressed. As usual on a day that I was going to see Jerry, I wore a skirt. Beside the fact that my legs were my best feature, it would give him quick and easy access.

Since the skirt was a long one I didn't even bother putting on panties. My fling with Jerry had actually never been about sex for me. The actual copulation was okay but for me it had been more about the way he made me feel. He made me feel like I was a part of something other than this God damned town. He made me feel like I had a secret that those stupid high school whores I worked with didn't know anything about. He also made me feel wanted and lusted after. He made me feel like I was just as sexy as those young sluts, only better. I was better because the person other than my husband who lusted after me wasn't some 55 year old bank manager with a bald head and a pot belly. I realized that morning that giving Jerry up might be harder than I'd thought.

I kissed my sleeping husband goodbye or tried to anyway. He seemed to roll over just before my lips touched him. I was sure that it was intentional and that he was still pissed off at me about his suspicions. In a way, I thought it was cute. Lucas being jealous and acting like a love sick school boy only served to underscore how devoted he was to me even after all of this time. On the other hand, if he didn't feel like kissing me, I knew someone who did and Lucas acting stupid just left more kisses for him.

I drove into town and parked in my usual spot behind the bank. I opened up the bank and went inside. Once inside, I locked the door behind me since we wouldn't open until nine a.m.

I started the coffee pot and checked over yesterday's figures again. Seeing the numbers again with fresh eyes would make sure that I hadn't missed anything. I poured myself a cup of coffee and thought again about my situation and how it had changed over the past few weeks. Three weeks ago, closer to a month ago actually, the only thing I'd wanted was to quit this fucking job. Now I looked forward to coming in on certain days of the week.

A month ago I'd been trying to work up the courage to tell Lucas that I wanted to alter our plans. I still wanted the same end goals that we'd always shared; I'd just wanted to speed up the timetable. I was ready to quit working then and start making our babies. Was I really ready to be a mom or was I just so God damned tired of the bank that I'd seen that as the way out?

I certainly didn't feel like mom material sitting here with my pussy already wet thinking about what Jerry was going to do to it. Maybe what Jerry had just done was to show me that I really wasn't meant for this town. All of the places he talked about seemed so exciting, maybe that was the life I was supposed to have. Lucas could set up his business and be successful at it anywhere. Why did we have to stay here? We really didn't. The only reason we were here was because we wanted to bring our kids up in a safe environment. There were pockets of safety in every city if you could afford them. Lucas made very good money so we could afford to live wherever we wanted.