Chinese Take Out 3 Redux
- 1 year ago
- 53
- 0
True Lies – Redux free porn video
T
I’ve started another serial. I can hear the groans now. It’s just a start with this chapter and the whole thing is NOT finished so it will be at least a week. As always for me it’s a ‘Loving Wives’ core but pretty darn non-erotic. More of a spy genre. I was motivated by QHM1’s ‘Mr. and Mrs. America’ follow on story and of course the Arnold S. ‘True Lies’ movie with it’s own almost strayed ‘loving wives’ sub-plot. Enjoy and please vote and comment.
**************
What can I say?
I’m a spy. Sort of.
Well, it’s complicated.
And my wife doesn’t know that and is about to leave me. I’m pretty sure she is cheating on me and it’s a done deal. He’s a billionaire and what’s that old line? ‘You had me at billionaire!’ my wife sub-vocalized, undoubtedly, the first time he showed any personal interest at all in her body. It’s just Lucifer Principle shit and I know all about that! Damn it.
He’s taller than me and handsomer. I don’t know how big his dick is but I could find out easy enough. But everyone knows Grayson Peterson III is a billionaire. He flaunts it along with the arm candy he’s always seen with. And lately that arm candy is one Rachel Johnson (nee Rosenbaum.)
My name is James Raymond Johnson and I am 29 years old now. Yes, growing up in my small blue collar/redneck Tennessee hometown I was called Jimmy Ray. And Rachel is my 31 year old wife of five years – at least for now.
She thinks I’m just a Government drone – one of innumerable file clerks working at the huge GSA records building in College Park, MD. – at the GS-14 level making $90,000 a year. Not bad for a cover, but not even close to upper middle class money that close to Washington, DC. Rachel is a lawyer for a large firm and very close to a partnership and made just south of $300,000 last year with her bonuses. She’s very smart, very motivated, and very beautiful, and she’s looking to trade-up big time. Rachel has a lovely face and thick and luxurious raven hair she wears shoulder length. She has wonderfully soft and expressive brown eyes, a perfect nose and great lips and a killer smile complete with dimples. She is five feet and just shy of six inches tall. In even 3 inch heels she is taller than I am. She weighs 119 lbs. And that is ideal to show off her firm 36C chest atop a 23 inch waist and 35 inch hips. She has good tits, great nips, and a firm and jutting ass atop shapely dancer’s legs. Her normal business attire is a dress or skirt worn always just above the knees. Lately she’s been wearing thigh high stockings and practically transparent lace panties in boy-short style, or just a classic black thong that’s invisible from behind under her business attire. In other words she’s suddenly started dressing sexy as hell and not for me. I’ve noticed and caught glimpses but she’s not flaunting it for me. But she is for someone, I’m sure.
Shoot, I can’t hardly blame her and can’t really confront her – since just about my whole life with her is nothing but smoke and mirrors, and one big, long, motherfucking lie. So – what now, Kemosabe? That’s merely a hypothetical question I’m asking myself and how can I accuse her with ‘cheating’ given my own constant lying to her? Yes – the term hypocrite certainly comes to mind. The chickens are coming home to roost and Karma IS a bitch.
She has no clue who I really am, what assets I can control, or even how strong and trained I am. I’m in a part and have to play it – ‘run my string right out to the end’ in that classic ‘The Wild Bunch’ dialogue.
I’m playing softball tonight with my faux co-workers in a league totally comprised of GSA employees from that one huge facility. It’s part of my cover and I’ve been doing it for years. And I’ve never been anything but an unexceptional center fielder until tonight. Rachel is actually in the stands ‘cheering’ me on. Ha. She’s texting constantly and otherwise looking bored. It’s the top of the seventh inning and my team is 2 runs down. I’m more than pissed watching my oh so beautiful but stuck-up and spoiled wife ignoring it all. Undoubtedly dreaming of something else – belonging TO someone else.
There is one out and the bases are loaded. I just want to get the game over with. There is a long fly ball headed my way deep. I back up all the way to the 300 foot fence, jump up and catch the fly, then take one step and throw the ball as hard as I can (finally!) and the ball literally whistles as it flies flat as a laser beam as if shot out of a cannon all the way and is a strike to the catcher who easily tags the runner out at home. Then he takes his catcher’s mitt off and shakes his hand out with his mouth open just like everyone else on my team.
‘Where the hell did that throw come from?’ My left fielder asks as we trot in.
‘Don’t know – it just did,’ I reply with an embarrassed grin.
‘That’s like a major league throw…’, he kind of muttered to himself. He would know since he played college baseball at Arizona State and was considering a pro minor league contract when he wrecked his ankle in a silly motorcycle accident. Most of the Federal government employees in this league played high school and even college level sports before entering the real world and working for a living. But the little boy games continued in great fun if just once a week. It was both good cover for me but also served as a gentle reminder of just what I did was maybe worth it to keep millions and millions of Americans able to just live their lives as they wished – including some silly entertainments like this or bowling or golf or just watching football.
Rachel didn’t notice my great throw.
It’s our last at bat and I’m finally up with 2 outs and 2 men on base. This is slow pitch softball and I’m still pissed. I finally decide to hit like I can and just screw it. Maybe I’m cracking up a little. My boss, Ron Feldman, is also our coach and watching me closely. He’s my pretend boss at the GSA but also my handler for the NSA (maybe – I’ll explain in a bit.)
So – I hit the ball like I can and crush it. It flies probably 500 feet and that is further than anybody on this field or in the park has ever seen a softball hit. I just trot home and that’s a walk-off homer and we win. But I’m not smiling and again Rachel didn’t even notice. Some of my teammates want to congratulate me but they’re mostly just in shock from that throw and then that hit. Generally we’d all stop off at the local bar and drink after the game, win or lose, and Rachel and I used to like to do that. But Rachel hasn’t even come to any of my games or my work social events much the last two years and neither of us want to do that tonight, so I make the excuses and we head home.
She’s very quiet in the car and I know what’s coming. So, I start it even before we get back to our large and fashionable condo. ‘We need to talk,’ I say. Classic, eh?
She looks at me kind of funny.
‘I’m not happy, anymore. I think I need some time and space. I’m going to move out.’
She continues just looking at me with no expression at all. Perfectly neutral like a good poker player or professional lawyer shark. Well, both ARE human sharks, come to think of it. She probably thinks she’s good at this but she has no clue I’m the real master at subterfuge and acting.
‘We both know you make a lot more money than I do and I can’t really afford this place on my own so I’ve already gotten an apartment lined up.’
She’s starting to crack a little bit – just a little doubt creeping in because she cannot quite fathom how I’ve gotten this way and this far without her actually noticing. That shakes her. She thought I was just the dumbass clueless one that was going to be totally blindsided tonight. Well, I sort of was and the apartment I am going to move into is a ‘company’ one I had used before and could always get access to, as long as it was open. And it was right now.
Yeah, I’m playing a game but that’s really all I can do – all I could do since I
signed up as a freshman at Notre Dame. I’ve been taught very well to be flexible and nimble and that’s what I’m doing right this minute.
Rachel realizes she needs to say something but is still very confused – because she’s getting everything she wants right now without fighting or arguing at all and she doesn’t want to blow that.
‘Well, OK, sweetie, I guess. If that’s what you really want?’
I just stare at her hard. She finally blushes a little and looks away. I can read her mind. She cannot believe she is not the dominant one in this whole exchange. She’s the obvious top dog in our relationship. She’s the lawyer with the billionaire client – and lover – while I’m the ‘nobody’ drone. She makes the big bucks with a big future assured and I don’t and my future is only assured of more of the same droneness. Period. And yet maybe she IS remembering just how hard my body is, when she bothers to feel it. Maybe someone did mention that throw and hit today and just how exceptionally physical it was. Maybe she lost all respect for me in economics terms, social status (money/power) terms a long time ago. But just maybe she feels a touch of concern, if not fear, that I AM so much more physically powerful than she is and even her new lover…’No! That can’t be it,’ she thinks so hard I can read her mind.
And she straightens up and stares back at me.
‘Yes. That’s what I want,’ I continue.
‘Why don’t you just disappear for a few hours or all night, like you’ve done so much lately, and I’ll get a few more of my things and be out of your hair.’
And she looks away again and just nods and leaves.
Oh, well. I KNEW this wouldn’t last way back when – and yet I did it anyway and even worse I really did start to get emotionally attached to her, after all. Damn it.
*******
Rachel –
I left ‘our’ apartment for the last time without even saying goodbye to Jim. Strange that I just thought of him as ‘Jim’ right now instead of ‘little Jimmy’ as I had been thinking of him – and calling him to others – for the last year or so…
Well, that went well, I kept telling myself. But did it, really?
Damn it, he keeps surprising me. Just like always. Just when I think I really know him and I have got him all figured out, he does something strange, if not downright weird.
Why did he do this? Why am I even worrying about it? Yes, I was going to basically kick him out tonight, myself – but I was pretty sure he had no clue this was coming. Our sex life together was basically the same, two or three times a week just like it has been for the last three years, whenever neither of us was traveling for business. I always came when having sex with ‘little Jimmy’ and never had to fake it. Jim was quite adequate in that department and with his equipment. It wasn’t gigantic but quite big enough – high average size wise, I’d say. But Jim had an almost endless supply of little tricks and just fun things he’d do to keep us both spiced up in the sex life department.
But I wanted more out of life than good sex, or even great sex – and I always HAD wanted more. And nothing Jim could do in bed could really compare with the excitement of a new lover with his own rather more than adequate sized tool AND a man who was immensely wealthy, powerful, and influential. A man who commanded respect from everyone – from Kings to Prime Ministers to Presidents. How could I possibly have turned down that kind of man? That kind of aphrodisiac?
I called Grayson as soon as I got in my car. He had wanted me to be with him tonight but I begged off for this one night to basically end it with Jim and I figured it would take all night of him whining and pleading and crying, and I was even willing to give him a final pity fuck to ease his pain. Or to remind him what I was taking away from him and maybe even keep him dangling just in case Mr. Wonderful and I didn’t make it together after all…
‘Hey, Honey! It’s done. I’m free now and every other night for you from here on out! When can I see you?’
‘Hello, Rachel. Why don’t you just head over to my place? I have this critical dinner meeting with Senator Reyburn I have to attend tonight and I’m already almost there. I’ll be home later and I’ll certainly try not to be too late. OK?’
‘Looking forward to it, dear. I’ll be ready for whatever you want to do later – and I do mean ready for ANYTHING! See you very soon…’ I sure hoped I sounded as sexy and ready as I felt.
He had some party, or dinner with other rich and famous people, or affair like a state dinner or NGO/charity fundraiser just about every night it seemed like. Such a glamorous and exciting life and so different from my social life with Jimmy. Lately I had been on his arm for the majority of these affairs. Our own very personal affair started soon after I met him.
Initially I was an associate lawyer assigned to help one of my firm’s partners in handling some of Grayson’s lobbying. More than half our revenue came from lobbying efforts. Once Grayson was introduced to me he definitely started pursuing me but I played it fairly cool.
I DID start dressing more provocatively but always stylishly. Even my new underwear was stylishly slutty. I made sure he caught sufficient peeks at it – especially easy when climbing out of his limo. He learned the rewards he could get merely holding the door and helping me out. I always flashed him quite demurely.
But I also figured doing an excellent job for him was the best way to merely spending more time with him plus further my own career anyway. Luckily I already had some real influence with the key Congressmen and Senators that we really needed to advance Grayson’s business interests. The key thing and his primary goal was normalizing USA and EU relations with Iran. Obviously this President and his administration wanted that to happen as well.
But the President and State Department could only go so far in the normalization process. At some point Congressional action would be necessary. It was my discussions with Senator Sandberg in several long meetings where we conceived that ‘bypass Congress’ strategy – and it played out very well. Not only the President but Grayson himself and all my law firm’s partners were ecstatic.
Grayson’s enterprises should get at least a billion or so from that $150 billion almost immediately freed up in the Iranian Nuclear and normalization negotiations. I received quite a personal bonus myself from Grayson. Just a little diamond and emerald and platinum necklace. Maybe $100,000 worth that he presented to me in his limo on the way to his massive townhouse in Georgetown for a private celebratory dinner. I thanked him as a lady of my quality should – the best fellation I could deliver. Long, slow, deep and very enthusiastically. He certainly responded with great vigor and I was impressed with the length, thickness, hardness, and heat of his manhood. Not to mention the sweetness and forceful volume of his release. I did not spill a drop and certainly did not stain my dress.
I rearranged myself and sat back up besides him on the back seat, but also left my dress hiked up with my bare thighs and black thong showing if he wanted to look or feel. He did both and had me squirming by the time we arrived at his place. Dinner was fabulous and the chef and servants all disappeared as we headed to his master bedroom. That night was exhilarating and exhausting, but he had a marvelous supply of feel-good chemicals and Viagra that we both partook of judiciously. He was a master of pleasure (almost as much as I was with what Jimmy had taught me…) and he didn’t need to even take a little Blue pill until after his third explosion deep in my loins. Jimmy never noticed I didn’t come home that night – or the next three nights – because he was out of town on a two-week class for business he had to attend every year.
We were together a lot after that and I was really surprised Jimmy never seemed to notice or say anything abo
ut my greatly increased absences from home at night and on the weekends. But he didn’t. He gave no indication of any concerns at all, until tonight.
********
Jim –
Just thinking about how I got to this point in my life as I packed and moved out of my home.
I had a pretty normal childhood, I think. Both my parents were alive and together. Dad was a functional alcoholic but worked hard every day. Mom didn’t work outside the home, but worked hard making it a home for us all. Money was always tight but we never went hungry.
I grew up playing hard with the neighborhood kids. Baseball in the summer, tackle football (sans pads) in the fall and winter, and basketball pretty much year round. This was all ‘sandlot’ stuff, unorganized – just kids playing. Lots of time also spent bicycle riding and hunting in the woods, dam building on various creeks, cabin/tree house building, swimming in lakes, swinging on ropes, tree climbing, and doing chores around the house and our one acre lot.
But I didn’t grow up very large, just 5’8′ and 160 lbs. by age 18. But somehow I grew up strong and fast. In fact, freakishly strong. I certainly don’t look it. I don’t have bulging muscles, but both my arms and legs are thick and hard. I have a 34′ waist, as well. I don’t have the nice shapely washboard abs but again, just a thick and hard muscled midsection. Maybe it was something in the water, as three of my friends from my small neighborhood ended up as pros in major sports. One in baseball, one in football, and one in basketball. And I was their equal in every sport growing up.
I wrestled in high school as the only organized sport I was interested in. I had a so-so record and didn’t really stand out. My coach couldn’t understand it and used to really rag on me. See, we used to wrestle one another during team practices, and even across the different weight classes. My sophomore year I wrestled our senior heavyweight starter and reigning sectional champion. I weighed 135 then and he was 210. I pinned him in under 20 seconds by scooting behind him, then lifting and throwing him over my own shoulder so both his shoulders hit the mat.
I said it was just a fluke and even he kind of just laughed it off – but he never wanted a rematch. The truth was that even then, I was just as strong as he was and much faster and more athletic. But I just didn’t want to stand out, so I self ‘managed’ my own career and did my best to never hurt any of my opponents and every year lost at least a couple of close matches on purpose. It often just seemed like bad luck.
I also had some private judo and karate training during high school and finally as a senior started some MMA training in a ‘full-service’ kind of martial arts gym in Memphis, after I got my driver’s license and acquired a junker pick-up truck for that 35 mile trip. The owner/coach there REALLY wanted me to go pro after seeing me in a couple of sparring sessions but I just didn’t want to.
Maybe it was my Catholic upbringing. It seemed like just a bit too much a prideful and egotistical thing to use my God-given strength just for my own personal aggrandisement. I wanted to serve and ‘be part of something larger than myself’ but I didn’t know what. Obviously I considered joining the military and that was my plan, eventually, but first I wanted some kind of education.
I ended up graduating in the top 10% of my high school class but only really stood out academically in languages. All A’s in English, Latin, Spanish, and French. I also had a talent with the spoken word, not just freakish athleticism.
That was enough to get me a partial academic scholarship to Notre Dame, but also some help from my own Parish Diocese in a ‘pre-Seminary’ majors track. Yep – the Priesthood was also a possibility in my mind as definitely something ‘larger than my myself.’ I really couldn’t afford any private martial arts training now but there was a club that I could join and workout with other collegians. I also took fencing as a Phys. Ed. course and even joined the Notre Dame fencing team as a walk-on after learning the basics. I soon switched from foil to sabre and our sabre coach was an old world Hungarian. For basically centuries the Hungarians were sabre masters, with innumerable world and Olympic sabre champions produced. I learned a lot fairly quickly.
Pansy
- 03.12.2021
- 23
- 0
