tagLoving WivesSomeone Will Die

Someone Will Die


I awoke slowly, rolling away from the naked man I'd been spooning with; the urge to relieve myself was the first thing on my mind. As I forced my tired, but oh so relaxed, lean body to move from the warm comfortable spot along side his tall muscular form, I noticed that his cum was encrusted in my neatly trimmed pubic hair. My muscles were a bit stiff from lying in that one position all night--or at least from about 1:30--when our third round of love making came to a glorious end, and we collapsed into each others' arms for the night.

After returning stealthily from the bathroom, I was about to crawl back into the warm spooning embrace that I just left, when I noticed his morning wood was beginning to rise. Knowing full well that our love juices had dried on it, I took it in my mouth anyway. I don't normally do that for my husband--hell for any man, but after that wild ride last night, I just couldn't resist it.

He moaned as his soldier rose to attention under the prowess of my tongue. Once I got it as hard as it was going to get, I pushed Greg over onto his back and swung my leg over his torso, and slowly lowered myself onto his raging love muscle. My body happily accommodated the invader, as he came to full consciousness with a big smile on his face.

We soon had a regular rhythm going, and the excitement was building to a level where I began to think about my first orgasm of the day. After three rounds last night, I was pretty sure that it would take some encouragement for Greg to make it to "the top of the mountain," so I offered some verbal enticement. "Yeah, baby, that feels so good. Keep it coming, lover."

I was rewarded with several extra hard thrusts, deep into the center of my being. "Oh, yeah...that's it, baby. Put it deep in me! Fill me with your hardness! Let me have it all!"

Greg plowed into me with all he had, but from under me, he just couldn't go much deeper. He rolled me over onto my back and put my ankles on his shoulders. He put his meat back in me all the way in one mighty plunging thrust, putting me over the top. "Oh my gaaaaaaaaaaaaaawd!" I screamed. This seemed to only make him pound harder into my now almost bruised love box. "You're amazing!"

He kept pumping into me saying, "Mike isn't doing it for you anymore, is he? It takes a real man to make you cum like that, doesn't it?"

"Oh, yes!" I was almost into my second climax, and would've said almost anything to keep it going at this point, but it was truely how I felt. Mike was good, but Greg was so much more exciting. "Keep it coming, Greg! Don't stop! Make me cum like no one else!"

"Not until you tell me...whose pussy am I fucking?"

No reply from me: I still loved Mike, but I had to have Greg for sex. I wasn't ready to totally give myself to Greg yet, if ever. We'd only be having our little 'get-togethers' for about three or four weeks and I don't think I'm in love with Greg. I still loved Mike--sweet, gentle, mild-mannered Mike. Mike and I made love: Greg and I had hot, passionate, wild sex. I didn't know how long I could keep both of them, but I knew it wasn't time to commit to Greg yet, so I kept quiet.

"Whose pussy is getting fucked?"

Still no reply; then the unthinkable happened. I was right on the edge of coming, when he stopped. He didn't even slow down, he just stopped. "I'm waiting...."

Oh, shit. Here goes the whole ball of wax: "It's your pussy, damn it! Now fuck it good and hard...and fast! Pleeeeease fuck your pussy! Your pussy needs fucked, bad! Please..."

He finally began slowly sliding back and forth into me. He reached a hand under my hips and began to finger my butt hole. "Whose ass is this to fuck?"

"It's your ass, Greg. Please just fuck me harder!" He increased his speed only a slight bit. It kept me close to the edge, but there's no way I could get over it, no matter how much I squirmed and moved around under him.

"Whose tits are these I sucked last night?"

"They're your tits, Greg! All yours! Please, fuck me faster!"

"Who does your body belong to? Who owns you, now?"

"I'm all yours, Greg! Now please fuck me hard and deep!"

"Are you mine, or Mike's?"

"I'm yours, Greg."

"Mike's never gonna touch this pussy again, is he?"

"No, I'm not," calmly replied a male voice over to the side of the bed, but it was unheard by the wildly bucking couple on the bed.

"No, baby! Now fuck me hard and deep!"

"You heard her," said the male voice in the all black outfit. "Do it deep!"

Just then, a second figure in black, from the foot of the bed, took his combat boot and pushed Greg's ass, as hard as he could, towards Jessica's crotch. When they bounced back from the boot push, they were pushed again, and even a third time, Jessica's head hitting the head board of the bed. Greg started to roll off, instantly realizing that they were no longer alone. Jessica, thinking at first he was just pounding for all he was worth, took a second longer to look over and see the intruders. The closest man was standing beside the bed with a small aerosol can in his hand. I was about to scream when he gave me a shot from it in the face, then spraying Greg as well.


I awoke more slowly when I came around for the second time today, and as I cleared my head, I noticed that I was not only sitting naked in a chair, but I was tied to this chair! Jarred back to consciousness with the panic of my situation, I hoped that I could wake myself from this horrid dream—to no avail. This is reality!

I began to notice that I was not alone in this room; Greg, my lover, was tied to a chair just like mine, and he was naked as well. My last memory faded slowly back into my head. Mike, my husband, had just left for a three day trip two days ago, so Greg and I were having a morning round in bed, before we had to go to work. We were just about to climax when I heard a noise, and the world got very dark.

I was starting to panic, but looked around the room; I had never been here before. We must have been kidnapped and taken away from my home, possibly hundreds of miles away! It was a room about ten feet by twelve feet, made of concrete blocks and painted light grey, with cheap fluorescent lighting overhead. Against the far wall was a utilitarian metal desk, with a few papers neatly placed on it, and a desk chair. A computer monitor and keyboard sat over to the side of the papers. The side walls had maps of our area in frames, in different sizes and scales. I turned my head to see the back wall, as our chairs were very much in the center of this room, when I saw a closed door and a man, in military camo fatigues, standing at attention next to it. Remembering my nudity, I quickly blushed and turned away.

It was at this time that Greg's head started to move, since I wanted him awake (I'm not sure what good it would do me, but I very much wanted him awake with me), I called out his name in a frantic tone to urge him on. Finally, I heard him shake off his sleepiness and ask, "What the hell is going on here?" Like I could tell him anything.

The man by the door spoke into an intercom box next to the door, saying, "They're both awake now, sir."

A semi-familiar static ridden voice on the other end replied, "Thank you; I'll be right in."

A moment later, the door opened and closed. I turned my head to see who came in, only to have my face smacked. "Face forward!" the order was barked. As I heard his footsteps pacing back and forth behind us, the shakes began to crawl up my spine. Our heads were pushed forward until all we could see was our naked bodies and the floor. The steps came around in front of us, and a figure in black pants and shoes walked over to the desk, leaning against it. The hand was removed from my head.

I slowly raised my head to see my tormentor. He was wearing the same black outfit as the man who entered my bedroom. As I saw his face for the first time, I was happily surprised—it was Mike! My husband was here; it would be okay now. He would save me form this and he would save Greg, his good friend, too. Then I saw the anger and hurt look on his face. Then I realized that he knew about Greg and I; this was worse than I thought possible!

"Mike, I'm so sorry!" I began to cry. I had to tell him, to make him understand that I loved him and this thing with Greg was just a mistake. "Mike..."

"Save it, slut!" He blurted out.

"Mike? What the hell? I thought we were friends..."

"Shut up, asshole! I should say the same to you, because 'friends' don't screw their friends' wives, do they, 'friend'?" He cowered a bit as Mike made the last word drip with anger and sarcasm.

"Please, Mike, it just happened--with you being gone on trips so much. I was lonely and..."

"No excuses!" He slammed his hand down loudly on the desk. "Don't try to bullshit me! You can sling all the cliché excuses you can think of. It's too late, now. I offered to take you with me on those trips, didn't I? Granted, the days would have been a bit lonely, but you could've seen the sights, and the nights were ours together, at exotic locations all over the world. You chose another path; a path that lead us all to right here and now."

"Mike, it doesn't have to end like this..."

"No, it's not going to end 'like this.' I'll tell you how it's going to end in when I'm ready, but remember this: you did this to yourself. What did I always say whenever we discussed infidelity? Do you remember?"

"You always said that 'Someone will die.' I never took you serious because you're such a gentle loving man. You even dodge small animals in the road. I just knew you couldn't really kill someone; especially someone you loved."

"That's right, use the past tense, 'loved.' You killed the love I had for you the first time you spread your legs for this bastard. There's nothing left for you in my heart except the hole you will soon leave behind. Just remember my warnings—both of you.

"There's a lot you don't know about me and about my time in the military. In a way, I'm not proud of it, but the Sergeant and I were very good at what we did. We successfully completed over 200 missions with only two casualties to our team. You see, we were the government's top assassination team, with over 450 kills to our credit."

The look of abject terror on their faces was priceless, but it would not be the last time Jessica and Greg would face fear this morning. Their nightmare had just begun.


My name is Mike Reynolds, and it would be helpful at this point, to know about me what less than a dozen people on this planet know, my history. I was born in a medium sized Midwestern town, growing up with a fishing pole in one hand and a hunting rifle in the other. My Dad, my older brother, Ron, and I did our best to use one or both of those tools every weekend. My Mom spent those times at her sister's house with her two daughters. When he could get away, my uncle John, joined us. We were a close knit family group; Dad and Ron meant the world to me.

Shortly after I got my driver's license, my Dad was killed by a drunk driver. I became a very angry and bitter young man, as if being a teenager didn't make me angry enough. I got in trouble with the cops a few times, and just taunted them. "Yeah, keep hassling a kid who breaks a window, but don't keep the drunks off the road, like the one that killed my Dad. Let's make sure we have our priorities straight here, right?" That helped me get off a couple of times, but one smart cop saw the direction I was heading and locked me up for the night.

"Graduation day is coming", he told Mom the next day. "What is he going to do then?"

When she didn't have an answer, he suggested one. "Let's get him to join the Marines. He needs some kind of therapy, and he won't go to a shrink, will he? They will provide a different kind of therapy. I was an angry punk when I joined up and they put me straight." Mom finally agreed, having no better solution of her own.

They persuaded me by using reverse psychology, the perfect method for an angry, foolish, headstrong punk, like I was. They had called the local recruiter to come over before they started in on me, and by the time he got there, I was ready to sign up.

My DI (drill instructor) went totally 'Marine' on my punk ass, and retrieved my head from within after only three weeks of showing me the errors of my ways. When it was time for the hand-to-hand combat and martial arts training, he thought he was a freaking oriental philosopher. However, he had my attention from previous training sessions so I figured I'd better listen. He taught me to channel and focus my anger, and wait for the right time for attack. He showed me and taught me that experience and treachery will overcome youth and inexperience every time. He taught me a lot, and I soaked it up like there was no tomorrow.

My hunting and camping skills began to pay off big time. With my skills and his 'philosophy,' I was easily the best shot on the rifle range, earning me a shot at the sniper test, which I also passed easily. All of a sudden, it just seemed that I could do no wrong. I was passed to the covert ops team, and trained with the best of the best. After a while, I was asked to join a black ops team on a mission in South America to take down a drug lord. I was the 'back-up' sniper, because you don't get more than one chance on this kind of trip. As it turned out, I got the kill that time.

My smallish, five foot six inch firmly toned body made it easy to move quietly and without being seen. It also made many people underestimate me, a trait that is very handy in my profession. After several more successful missions, my CO told me to report to the conference room. There, two men whose faces I never saw, asked me to join an even more elite, top secret squad. It would require me to "disappear" for a while—possibly months at a time—and I couldn't know any more about it unless I made the commitment to join, which I did. That's where I met Sarge.

After being discharged, I was thoroughly burned out on the killing, and just wanted a normal life. Yes, the 'therapy' I needed had run its course, and I was no longer angry. My temper, which I now controlled, also added to the illusion that I was not a man to live in fear of, but just a nice, small, pleasant man, who was a good friend to have, and who could kill twenty five different ways with just my bare hands. However, being on a team like I was, I had to trust my men without any hesitation or doubt, and I made it clear, in word and deed, that I was someone who could be trusted, also. That kind of trust is a key component of who I am, and I did make that known."


"Mike, this isn't funny," I stated, trying to get control of a hopeless situation. "Now let us go!"

Mike stood there, with cold eyes, unwavering in his resolve. "If it weren't for the fact that I don't want to leave marks on your skin, I'd beat the shit out of both of you right now! And you're right, what you two did was definitely not funny."

"Please, Mike...."

"A little while ago, you were saying 'Please Greg.' Right before you 'gave' him your body, you selfish tramp. You are in no position to ask for anything. You obviously have no respect for me, either of you. Now, you will both pay the price for this treachery.

"As I was saying, in the military, Sarge and I were members of a top secret elite team that existed for one purpose only: to kill enemies of our nation. We killed in so many ways that most of our mission objectives (victims) were thought to have died of disease, or other natural causes. A bullet or an explosive device can be very effective, but not always the best way to go. It depends on what message you want to send.

"Right now you two traitors are sitting ten feet below our garage floor. When I bought this house, Sarge and I dug this out and built this in total secrecy. Only he and I know anything about it. There are two entrances, one in the garage floor and a 'back door' in the floor of the tool shed at the back of the lot, next to the woods. That's where I came back in shortly after you dropped me off at the airport a few days ago.

"That's right. I've been down here, watching you two betray me, for the last two days." He reached over to the computer on the desk and flipped on the monitor, showing a frozen frame of the two of them naked on the bed, in the heat of passion. "It's been a pretty wild show at times. You could easily make a living in the porn industry, Jessica. See for yourself." He hit a button on the keyboard and the picture came to life, Greg pumping her for all he was worth.

"Damn, Greg! You're fucking amazing"

"Mike's little dick can't do this, can it?"

"No, he can't. Fuck me hard and deep, babe. Give me all you got!"

He hit a button freezing the action again, her face showing the ecstasy of the orgasm just beginning to claim her. "I really love the parts like that. It makes my day that you two can't seem to get enough pleasure from just betraying everything we had together...and you have to belittle me during the process, in my own bed, no less."

I was opening crying, now. Greg's head hung in shame. "What are you going to do to us?" he asked.

"It's not what I did to you; it's what you did to yourselves. I will grant you that I did kind of 'nudge' things along a bit. That is also why I can now tell you about my top secret military career. You won't be telling anyone.

"There is a rare and mostly unknown disease that we in 'the squad' discovered. I don't know for sure what it's called, but we called it Brazilian Fire Fever, or BFF. We used this many times—quite successfully. It's transferred by blood moderately well, but sexually it's a done deal every time. The best part is; there's no cure."

"Oh, no! Mike you didn't..."

"No, I didn't," he cut me off. "Greg did."

"What? I did no such thing! I would never..."

"Shut up, dumbass!" Mike raised his hand as if to smack Greg, but stopped at the last second. Greg turned his head away to dodge the blow that didn't come. "Jessica, just in case you had any illusions about lover boy here was a 'one-woman-man,' I'm going to set the record straight, right now.

"Since I was the piece of shit's boss and good friend, I sent him to our office in Rio last week. He was there for a whole week, putting out 'fires' that I created from here. Of course, I used every excuse needed to not have sex with you, slut as I wasn't sure what disease he might have already given you. Plus I wanted the two of you to be 'good and horny.' Greg's return was to be the same day that I had to leave to go to our office in New York for three days, returning later today. Now you two had opportunity to do something about those nasty, horny, traitorous feelings. Needless to say—you didn't disappoint me. My trusted slut of a cheating wife even picked you up at the airport two hours after my plane left. You came straight back here and went at it like fucking rabbits, didn't you?"

"No...it wasn't like that..." I said, between the tears.

"Don't try to lie to me, slut! Do you want to see the tape? You left a trail of clothing down the hall to our bed, didn't you? Our bed, slut! You betrayed me in our own bed! Tell me," he said, lowering his voice, "Did you ever respect me, or were you always this much of a slut?"


"That's enough of this shit! I demand you let us go. You can't keep us here forever," demanded Greg, with a bit of a tremble in his unsure voice. "Don't treat her like that—you loved her once!"

"You're right, of course. I can't keep you here forever, and I won't need to. I did love her and gave her everything I had to give. She told me she loved and respected and trusted me, and what do I get? Lies and betrayal! All I asked for was love and respect. It wasn't that hard, if you really meant it. Obviously—you didn't.

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byBigK10© 80 comments/ 135939 views/ 41 favorites

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