The BBC

For such a beautiful woman, my wife is ugly as hell when she's about to cum. That was what I was thinking only moments before this shit all started.

I was on top of her, doing what we do. I loved watching her as we fucked. I loved the sight of her big old titties flopping back and forth as her body strained under my actions.

I got an evil smile on my face as I suddenly stopped moving. The look on her face was priceless. Her eyes shot open and her mouth started to gasp.

"No no no no nooooo!" she screamed. "Eric, Honey, keep going, baby! I'm almost there." I moved my pelvis just a bit. It was a hint that I COULD continue.

"Make me cum, baby," she whined. "Please! I'll do whatever you want. You can bust my ass tonight when we get home, I swear it, just keep ..."

A couple of more strokes and she was purring like a kitten again. I grabbed her around her waist and started pulling her to me harder and faster. She loved it. Her features morphed again into that tightly drawn mongoloid mask she assumed just as she let go of her senses and screamed.

A few seconds later I gave it my all. I started slamming into her unmercifully, even though she was done and lying there like a bowl of Jell-O.

Seeing her face and knowing her as well I do, I knew what was coming as her face got its own evil look. The bitch was about to cut me off. It was the whole, "I got mine ... so we're done scenario. But I wasn't having it.

I reared my hips back and slammed into her so hard that it broke the slats holding the mattress up and the bed fell.

"Ohhhh," she croaked. "I couldn't tell if it was pain or pleasure she was feeling. But all of a sudden both my balls and my backside fired simultaneously.

Of the two I think the fart felt better going out. Unfortunately, the smell prevented me from enjoying the feeling of cumming in Dana.

The look on her face though was awesome. She was still lit up from her own climax and then I added to her blissful feelings by shooting my warm sperm deep inside of her.

Her smile got ever broader to the point that the woman I'd loved for ten years was actually ugly. Then her nose twitched as she caught the first whiff of the far. Her face went from pure elation to abject disgust in a fraction of a second.

"Ewwww ... Shit!" she croaked. "Eric there must be something dead inside of you!"

I heard the sound of small footsteps running down the hall so I quickly snatched my robe off of the bed and retreated to the bathroom.

Only a second or two later, my ten-year-old daughter Erica popped her head around the corner and scanned the room.

"Oh, my Gawd!" she screamed with the indignation that only a child can muster. "What happened in here?"

With my robe wrapped tightly around me, I stepped back into the room and regarded the scene with her.

"I don't know Pumpkin," I said, affectionately rubbing her head. "I was in the bathroom ... but it looks like your mom farted so hard that she broke the bed. Let's get out of here before that smell poisons us too!"

As we turned to leave I saw an evil glint in Dana's pretty face. "Eric ... you're gonna get yours," she said lifting her middle finger.

"Didn't somebody tell ya?" I asked. "I already did. It's running down your legs."

Even as Erica pulled me from the room in the midst of telling me something about what she and her best friend were gonna do at swim practice, Dana took her finger and stuck it into the soup between her legs. She lifted the finger to her tongue and tasted it. My dick sprang back to life in an instant.

I was still running that image through my mind as my daughter and I walked down the hall.

"Somebody needs to fix this bed today," she screamed.

It was a typical suburban Saturday. The three of us were all busy and things all rested on a schedule as tightly bonded as the atoms on the edge of a knife.

I took my daughter to swim practice, stopping off to pick up her best friend Kylie on the way. The girls would do a group swim and a few practice races followed by a workout in the weight room. While some of the girls were training with weights, the coaches would pull each girl out in turn for individual coaching and or time trials to assess progress.

When Erica was younger I used to sit in the bleachers and watch her for the entire practice. I'd probably still do it if she hadn't told me that it made her nervous. Her exact words were, "Look Daddy, go out and live YOUR life and let me live mine."

So, I'll drop her off, then go back to the house and wash my car. My car is a spotless 2013 Boss 302. I have to admit that I baby the car. It has never seen rain and I'm pretty sure it has no idea that snow exists. I only drive the car in June, July, August and September on days when there is a less than 10% chance of rain.

I have another Mustang for April, May, October and November. The rest of the year and on shitty weather days I drive a Jeep. A lot of people don't know this but Jeeps love rain and snow and mud.

Anyway, while I'm washing the car and dropping Erica off, my wife Dana does the shopping for the week. She comes home and drops off the groceries. We put them away together and then we both head off to our Saturday activities. There are times when two of us or all three of us do things together, but most of the time we separate.

So that Saturday after a few veiled threats and flirtations as we put the food away ...

"That bed had better get fixed ... Mister!" she said.

"You'd better remember to pick up some lube," I said.

"I don't buy the stuff for your precious Mustangs," she smirked. "I always get the wrong stuff, remember?"

"Not that kind of lube, dummy," I said grabbing her butt. "Somebody promised to let me bust their ass, remember?" Her smile was so cheesy that I knew she was planning something.

"Well nobody's ass is getting busted in a busted bed," she said. "You put up the rest." She walked over to me and ran her fingers through my hair then ran up the stairs.

She came back a few moments later with her yoga mat and her yoga bag.

She kissed me and shook her head looking at me.

"Yeah, I know," I said. "The bed is still busted."

"No, I was just thinking how lucky we all are to have each other," she said. "I love you Eric."

"Yeah yeah," I smirked. "All of the love in the world won't save your ass. You shouldn't have offered ..." she stuck her hands over my mouth to silence me.

"Eric, do you really think I would ever say no to ANYTHING you want ... EVER?" she asked.

"Okay it that's true ... why the hell don't I have a GT500?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes at me, put on a pair of those huge ugly sunglasses that women seem to love and headed for her yoga class.

That was when I began to really relax. I had about three hours to wash my car before the car show I was going to would start. I had done the car's interior the night before, so all I had to do was the outside of the car.

Waves of love washed over me as I soaped a tiny section of my car's exterior then rinsed it. It wasn't just love for the cars, although that was there too. I was truly happy with my life.

I had a wife who loved me and whom I was totally in love with. We had a beautiful daughter who was the apple of my eye. Our house was almost paid off and my future in my chosen career field was awesome.

Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I shouldn't have stood there with a bucket of car wash solutions and cleaners and gels counting my blessings. Maybe my thoughts of love for my life were simply too tempting for the fickle fates. Perhaps they thought that I had it too good and needed to fuck with me.

On the other hand, it could simply have been numbers or the odds. Maybe it was simply time for a very long run of good luck to turn to shit.

It started out very innocuously. I felt a vibration at my waist. I answered the phone to the voice of a hysterical woman.

"Eric ... Oh God ... I'm so glad you answered. I can't get Dana on the phone. Ronnie had a heart attack and ..."

"Slow down Nancy," I said. "Are you at a Hospital?"

"We're in the ambulance," she sobbed.

"Nance ask the ambulance driver which hospital you're going to," I told her.

"Cee-Cee-Cedar Springs of Michigan," she told me.

"Nancy these days a heart attack is serious but not always deadly," I said. "It's bad but we'll get through it. Stay calm, I'll round up Erica and meet you there as soon as I can get there."

While I was talking I was rinsing every trace of soap off of my Boss 302's paint. I could always wash the car later but I didn't want to risk damaging the paint by leaving soap residue on it.

I jumped into my every day Mustang and backed out of my driveway. I tried using the car's synch system to call Dana, but I knew it wouldn't work. I also knew that it was the same reason Dana's mom hadn't been able to get in touch with her.

The yoga studio that Dana attended was a very traditional studio. Students were not allowed to bring their phones inside because the ringing of a phone could supposedly disturb the sanctity of the pure yoga environment.

I thought it was STUPID and often reminded Dana that we had a child and emergencies popped up all the time.

"WE ... have a child, Eric," she always told me. "She has two parents. And she always calls YOU first anyway.

I'm sure I don't need to point out that you have quirks of your own. Like the fact that you spend a ridiculous amount of money on probably twenty or thirty different products to wash your car, but you only spend three or four dollars on the cheapest possible shower gel you can find to wash your own ass with. Who does that?"

The antiquated "no phones," policy was only one of the reasons why I hated the yoga studio.

As I pulled up in front of the small building and saw the sign it all came back to me. The sign out front had a depiction of a huge cartoonish bear on it.

He was smiling and bent over in an odd position on a mat. The sign read, "Yoga Bare."

At first, I thought it was just spelled wrong. But it was a supposedly clever play on words. At least that was the way they explained it to me when I pointed it out to them.

"Don't you get it, Honey?" Dana told me. "The bear is naked."

"Yep the place is traditional. So traditional in fact that all of the practitioners are naked. I forbid Dana to attend. She went twice as much.

"Eric, I'm a thirty-four-year-old woman," she laughed. "I've already had a kid. Except for you, no one is interested in my sagging boobs, flabby tummy, and fat ass."

"Bullshit, Dana," I gushed. "You may not be a spring chicken anymore, but you're still hot and you know it. You just want to parade around in front of those young guys and tease them."

"Eric, drive me to the club and pick me up," she said. "Take one look at those hot, incredibly built young girls and you'll see that none of those guys will even look at me twice. Besides most of those guys taking the class are gay."

So, I did. I took her up on it and it blew my mind. There were a couple of fat women who were trying to lose weight, but the rest of the women in the class looked like the waiting room at a casting call for a beauty pageant.

They were all different too. There were long legged beauties with small pert breasts. There were thick legged cheerleader types with huge racks. And they even had some of those alien looking women that were so popular in porn. The skinny women with giant boobs and huge asses that just didn't seem natural on the same body.

As hot as I thought she was Dana barely made a ripple in that pond of pulchritude.

But God dammit Dana was mine and I didn't want her showing my stuff to freaky looking hipster nerds with long beards, weird ass haircuts and odd glasses who talked about saving the fucking planet and hated my cars.

"Do you have any idea how much damage you're doing to the environment every time you drive that thing?" One of them asked me.

"I'm a proud American," I smirked.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he asked.

"The president says that all of that shit about global warming and the environment is a hoax," I told him.

"Well what about all of the noise it makes?" he said.

"Music to my ears," I smiled. He just rolled his eyes, got onto his bicycle and rode away. I hoped his beard would get caught in it and ripped off of his face.

I put my foot down and Dana ignored it. It wasn't like I could punish her or anything ... she's a full-grown woman. So, I acted like a child. I sulked and stopped talking to her.

I even stopped sleeping with her. That got her attention. For me not to constantly pester her about sex was serious. She started trying to tease me. She was flashing her boobs or her ass at me every chance she got.

"The guys at your yoga class get to see a lot more than that," I laughed.

"Yeah but they don't get to touch it," she said.

In the end ... she won. I lasted about three weeks before she stepped into the shower with me and gave me a blowjob that turned my hair from straight to curly.

She led me straight from the shower to our bedroom and proceeded to turn me inside out. She drained me of every ounce of bodily fluid. I didn't have enough moisture left in me when she was done to even form a good gob of spit.

"Eric ... stop being an asshole," she told me. "The only one being hurt by this is you!"

And she was right, going without sex had been rough. I figured she'd give up yoga just like every other workout fad she'd been through. And there had been a lot of them. Each one of them had left us something to remember them by.

All she had left of Aerobics was the leg warmers. All she had left of Tae bo was the video tapes that were keeping the table in the garage from wobbling. The P90-X DVDs made great coasters and so on.

I gave naked yoga six months tops. We were well into the seventh month and I was still passively protesting. She had tapered her yoga sessions down to twice a week. She went on Saturday mornings and Wednesday nights.

She had noticed that we didn't have sex after her classes. The Wednesdays she always whined that I didn't massage her after the class. But we both knew that putting my hands on her would have led to sex, so I always found something else to do. She grudgingly accepted it.

But not having sex on Saturday nights, especially if we'd gone out or even if we'd done some family activity that brought us all closer together, really pissed her off. We always ended up arguing about it.

Erica had to end a couple of them. She'd knock on our door and ask what we were fighting about.

Dana always told her that I was spending too much money on those damned cars again.

"But Mommy, Daddy loves those cars ... And I love my daddy," Erica always said. And Dana usually caved. She always got a weird look on her face and to tell me the truth I always got a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. Having that little girl defend me just sent shivers down my spine and butterflies in my stomach. I always hugged her and felt so much closer to her at those times.

It always made me feel like there was no possible way for me to love her any more. It was as if my heart would burst from the amount of feeling I had for my daughter. I mean shit I love Dana, but I would literally die for Erica.

I always carried her back to bed, even though she was ten and supposedly beyond such things.

When I got back to our room the arguments were usually far from over. We just expressed our points in whispers to keep Erica from hearing us.

"Why are you such an asshole about this?" Dana whispered. "I put up with your running. I put up with your borderline insanity over Mustangs ..."

"Dana it's not the same thing," I whispered back heatedly. "When I go out to run, I'm fully clothed and I run alone. When I'm done I come right back to the house ..."

"And plop your sweaty ass down on MY FUCKING FURNITURE," she hissed.

We waited a moment before continuing because her voice had risen to the point where Erica might have heard us.

"And as far as my cars are concerned," I continued. "I always ask you before buying a car or making any major purchases. Even though it's my money I ask you because we're married so everything is OURS!"

She nodded her head.

"But if everything is ours, why do you get that sour ass face every time I ask you to drive one of OUR cars?" she asked.

"Because you have your own car," I said.

"AND?" she asked.

"And your car is all dented and dinged up," I said sheepishly.

"So, you think you have to protect OUR cars FROM me," she smiled. "And yoga is just my way of protecting my body. Yoga is the way I stay in shape so you don't have a wife with a fat, out of shape body. Eric, I can't run, I can't lift weights, but I can do yoga."

"Why can't you do yoga with your clothes on?" I asked.

"It's not the nakedness," she whined. "I just like this place and the people in it. But when you reject me, it just makes me feel like some nasty skank."

We always agreed to think about it, but we had never settled the argument.

"Hey Eric," said the receptionist at the yoga place. She always got a dreamy look in her eyes when I spoke to her. She was a twenty-year-old Indian girl who although pretty ... looked like she needed a few yoga sessions of her own.

"Hey Indira," I smiled. "I know I'm not supposed to go in there, but this is an emergency. She's gonna be pissed that I snatched her out of class, but her dad had a heart attack."

I ducked into the class and saw nothing but naked bodies. I was trying not to stare, but God damn it ... I saw a woman with an ass like two basketballs side by side. And I saw ...peeking out from between two widely spread legs a shaved pussy with lips so pink they may have had lipstick on them.

The one thing I didn't see was Dana.

The instructor came over to me. He was one of those thin, uhm ... hairy almost androgynous types with very long hair and a beard. I couldn't remember his fucking name to save my life, but when Dana and I talked about him I always called him Jesus.

"Eric, Dana is in the office getting one on one instruction from the guru," he said with what sounded like reverence or maybe lust. He looked at me like we were friends or something. Like I'd actually be friends with a long-haired yoga monkey who hated my cars, only ate vegetables and rode a bike everywhere.

"Keep this between us," he whispered. "Dana's been working her ass off to fit in, but this is a very advanced class and she's really not on this level yet. So instead of letting her hold the class back, the guru gives her extra tutelage to help her advance to this level while we do the more difficult poses."

"I won't say a thing," I lied, intending to spill my guts as soon as possible hoping to get her to quit and go to a yoga studio where she could keep her fucking clothes on. He pointed at a door in the back.

Just before I got there my phone buzzed telling me I had a text. I glanced at it just as I got to the door. It was from my mother in law, telling me the room my father in law was in.

I opened the door and everything went up in flames. Luckily, I still had my phone in my hand. With two touches, I put my iPhone into HD video mode and started recording.

There she was, my wife, the chubby love of my life doing a really advanced yoga pose with an older Indian guy. She had her leg up on his shoulder, displaying extreme flexibility.

He was thrusting a short but really thick dick into her. Dana had her arms around his back helping to pull him into her. Her head was tilted back and her eyes were closed. She had a huge smile on her face. His eyes were closed as well and he was chanting. I have no idea what the fuck he was moaning about it could have been yoga related or perhaps the language barrier just made gibberish sound like something more than it was.