Author: Virtual Scott
Title: Viewpoint
Summary: Can a weird folk cure save Stan and Gretta's marriage?
Keywords: MF FF MM mc mdom reluc

Viewpoint
by Virtual Scott

"All I can say is that it really changed our marriage," Will enthused.
"Give it a try!"

Stan looked dubiously at the little crystal trinket dangling from his
hand. His marriage was on the rocks, but he'd been hoping for something a
little more useful than half-baked folk remedies.

Both men took a moment to appreciate the curves of Tracey's ass under her
short tennis skirt as she collected their empty beer bottles. Will's wife
ignored their gazes and exited the room as silently as she'd entered.

"Seriously? I remember you worrying about Tracey playing the field. And
weren't you telling me last year that sex addict rehab program you checked
her into was just a big waste of money?"

"That? What a joke." Will chuckled. "This is totally different. She hasn't
looked at another man since our 'intervention'. It's like magic, man!
Yeah, I know it looks stupid -- but you go with what works, right?" He
took a moment to shift the respectable bulge in the front of his shorts.

Stan moved his hand slightly, watching the mobile sway. It didn't seem
appropriate to mention that he'd been one of the men Will's wife had
fucked -- more than a few times. Neither did he want to admit his own
marital crisis stemmed from his wife walking in on a rebuffed attempt to
restart that affair. It was true enough Tracey had practically ignored
him, but that didn't matter to Gretta -- and it probably wouldn't matter
to her lawyer, either. "Well, it can't make things any worse, can it?"



Gretta thought it was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. It took her a
long moment to calm down enough to listen to Stan's words again.

"...if you'd see things from my viewpoint," he concluded.

"Oh, yeah? You should try mine!" she huffed, staring angrily at her
husband.

Stan nearly lost his temper. "Nothing happened! I can't help it if Tracey
is always advertising." His withering look of contempt raked her
comfortable slacks and shapeless top. "You certainly don't dress up
anymore, and sharing a bed is supposed to mean more than just taking the
covers. A man has needs!"

"I have needs, too!" Gretta, stung by his criticism, snarled. "I am not
just a waitress and maid service, and I'm certainly not going to stand by
and watch you screw the neighbors."

"Okay, look," Stan said after a deep breath, "let's just say we both have
valid viewpoints, okay? Will says we both just need to concentrate on the
other's viewpoint. We hang up this" -- he lifted the mobile again --
"where we can see it; it's a reminder, see?"

Gretta rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine." The irony of getting marital advice
from Will was enough to make her smile; he was a stud, and he'd boned her
enough times to know he was better in the sack than her husband, even if
he'd gotten a little kinky lately.

Unfortunately, a divorce would cost Will nearly everything -- Tracey
apparently had laid some high-powered lawyers -- and Gretta wouldn't get a
penny from a separation that wasn't Stan's fault. It was exasperating, but
the best her attorney could recommend was trying to make things work and
waiting for Stan to make a mistake.

Rising from her seat, Gretta managed to take the mobile from Stan without
touching him, and carried it over to the doorway into the master bathroom.
She suspended it from the small nail that, in better days, had held a
sprig of mistletoe during the holidays. Who knew? Maybe this stupid
visualization thing would even do some good.



Gretta walked past the mobile, not really paying attention to the way it
twisted, alternatively showing slivers of herself or the empty bedroom.
She looked critically at her body in the mirror. "I'm still good-looking,"
Gretta told herself. "Hell, I'm at least as sexy as that slut Tracey --
even her husband thinks so."

It pained her to admit it, but Stan might have had a point about her
wardrobe. Gretta considered the contents of her walk-in closet, and
selected a flouncy skirt suit she hadn't worn in a while. It was still
business-appropriate, but looked good; it looked even better after she
slipped into a pair of heels instead of her usual flats. She left for work
in a good mood for the first time in days.

Stan made it home before Gretta. He walked through the empty house,
enjoying the quiet and lack of recriminations. The sparkle of the mobile
caught his eye, and he reflected on her complaints. When Gretta arrived
home, she found the dinner table set with dinner already prepared and a
bouquet of fresh flowers at her place.

"For me?" she asked, recognizing blossoms from the landscaping behind the
house.

"The most beautiful things in the house, except you," Stan told her. "The
meal, alas, is Lean Cuisine."

Gretta laughed. "A man should know his limitations! Thank you; I'm sure it
will be delicious."

Their mood lasted through dinner, and the conversation gradually became
less stilted. When they finally retired to the bedroom, Stan was a little
surprised to find himself aroused by watching Gretta as she undressed, and
she realized his interest was making her wet.

The subsequent sex was good, if not great, but Stan came quickly and fell
asleep, leaving Gretta wide awake and unsatisfied. She masturbated herself
to orgasm and then lay beside him, watching stray beams of moonlight
reflect off the crystalline pieces dangling in the doorway. It would be
nice, she mused, if he was a little more interested in pleasing her --
but, really, it was an improvement on the last several months.



Gretta caught her breath and enjoyed the warmth of the sun after swimming
her usual 100 laps of the pool. The exercise was relaxing, and it did good
things for her figure, too. She frowned, looking across the hedge to where
her neighbor also was basking in the sun.

"What a slut," Gretta thought, looking at Tracey's skimpy string bikini
without trying to be obvious about it. "She must shave herself to wear
that." Grudgingly she conceded to herself that with that figure, Tracey
was worth looking at. Academically, Gretta could understand why Stan would
be attracted to the other woman, but that didn't mean she was planning to
forgive him for straying. Her body was better than Tracey's, anyway --
well, equally as good if she was scrupulously honest.

Stan accepted a fresh beer from Will and leaned back in his chair. A game
was playing on the widescreen television, but neither of the men paid it
much attention.

"It's hard, bro'," Stan admitted after a quick swallow. "Things aren't so
good at the office, and Gretta's busting my balls at home."

"I know what you're going through," Will sympathized. "How's the
visualization thing going?"

"Well, better, I have to admit. I thought Gretta was going to blow a
gasket when I explained it, but she played along. It still seems pretty
stupid to me, but I can't knock it if it works."

"Tell me about it. Just remember Rome wasn't built in a day."

Stan sighed. "Yeah, I know. I just wish Gretta would be a little more
supportive and understanding. It's sort of like she's just humoring me."

"Well, that's better than phoning her lawyer, isn't it?"

After the double-header ended, Stan walked back to his house, wondering if
they should just order out for dinner. Gretta was playing some truly
tasteless music in the bedroom, so he walked in to see what she was doing.

The music turned out to be the soundtrack for some adult movie. Stan's
attention was completely engaged by Gretta, who lay sprawled on the bed
naked. He watched her dip a finger into her bare cunt and stroke herself,
intent on the television. The actress was rather unattractive, with
absurdly large tits and a body showing minor signs of flab. The guy
pounding her was much fitter, with buns that clenched above sinewy thighs
with every hard thrust.

Stan quickly shed his clothes and joined her. Soon they were fucking
furiously, and Gretta's foul mouth urged him to greater efforts. She was
dripping wet when they started, and climaxed before Stan did. "Is this
what you want? Some fucking slut?" He jetted his scum into her.

Gretta didn't bother covering up before walking to the kitchen to find
something to eat. Stan, feeling drained, lay on the bed and watched the
couple fucking on television. Sure, it was a porno movie, but the actors
were still going at each other hot and heavy, while his real-life tryst
with Gretta had lasted a fraction of the time. The way the blonde's tongue
caressed the stud's gleaming tool distracted Stan before he got to
thinking about his own behavior after their previous encounter.



"Nice," Will commented, after watching Stan's tee shot drop to the middle
of the fairway just to the side of a pair of bunkers. His own shot had
gone a little farther, but ended up in the rough. "Doing as well at home?"

"I don't know," admitted Stan, dropping his driver back in the bag. "I'm
trying, and I think Gretta is too, but..." He shrugged. "I mean, she's
dressing more like she did when we got married, and I've gotten laid more
this week than the past six months, but it's not the same."

Will raised an eyebrow.

"It's like Gretta is more detached, emotionally distant. You know, I got
home after the game last night, and found her getting herself off watching
some adult movie."

"That must have been hot," Will chuckled. "You tapped her, right?"

"Hell, yes! She came like a crazy woman, too; it reminded me of our
partying days. But afterwards, she just got up and walked out of the room.
No cuddling, nothing." Stan collected his thoughts for a moment before
giving voice to his fears. "I'm worried I'm going to lose her, man."

Will surprised Stan by hugging him. "It'll get better -- just stick with
it." Stan just stood there, embarrassed.

It was over so quickly that Will was climbing into the cart before Stan's
brain could start thinking about what had happened. There wasn't anything
exactly improper about a hug, but it wasn't really a guy kind of thing,
was it? Stan darted sideways glances at his friend on the drive down the
fairway; he was almost sure he'd felt Will's cock against his thigh during
their brief embrace.



Gretta walked out to the pool for her morning swim and looked across the
hedge. As she'd expected, Tracey was already out sunning. Her neighbor's
bikini top was sitting on the deck beside the chaise, and it appeared
Tracey might be watching her, although the dark sunglasses made it hard
for Gretta to know for sure.

"If that slut thinks she's going to tease me, she's got another thing
coming," Gretta told herself. Resolutely not looking in Tracey's
direction, she pulled off her suit and dove into the pool naked.

After Gretta finished her laps, she was breathing a little more heavily
than usual, even though would-be voyeurs would have had to be standing on
the patio or overhead in low-flying helicopters to see anything. She
didn't think Tracey had been standing up. Determined to make her point,
Gretta hoisted herself out of the water and picked up her towel. She
patted herself dry, staring defiantly at her neighbor.

Sure enough, she could see Tracey's hand moving between her legs. "No
wonder Stan was chasing her," Gretta mused, "the tramp is just asking for
it." A trickle of moisture that didn't come from the pool punctuated the
thought.



Gretta still hadn't gotten around to dressing by the time Stan returned
home; he found her in the bathroom applying lipstick.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, brushing by the mobile in the doorway so he
could toss his shirt in the hamper.

"I hadn't planned on it, but you could give me a ride," she replied,
noticing the bulge in his slacks.

Stan didn't pretend to misunderstand her. He quickly removed his slacks
and underwear, then roughly pinned Gretta to the counter from behind,
finding her as wet as he was hard. She braced herself as he started
pumping into her energetically, but Stan's attention was focused on their
images in the mirror. He clenched his buttocks with every thrust, like the
man in the video, and watched the contrast between his muscular body and
his wife's softer figure. What did it feel like for Gretta? Did Will look
the same way when he was fucking Tracey?

Curiously, Gretta was wondering much the same thing. She panted as she
watched her tits sway in the mirror. Would Tracey's look the same, up
close? Would they feel the same? Would her neighbor's eyes have the same
heavy-lidded look when she shuddered and came? Gretta remembered the
rumors about Tracey's orientation, but forced the scandalous thought aside
and concentrated on the feel of her husband's tool buried inside her. It
wasn't as satisfying as she'd hoped, and a finger drifted down to her clit
to help out.



Stan had a difficult time holding up his end of the conversation during
his morning run with Will. His eyes drifted repeatedly to the outlines of
Will's tight ass beneath his shorts, and the fullness of the erection in
his jockeys was beyond distracting.

They were cutting through the undeveloped wooded lot at the end of the
subdivision when Will called for a brief halt. "Too much coffee this
morning, man," his friend explained, nonchalantly fishing the head of his
semi-erect organ out the leg of his shorts.

Embarrassed but unable to look away, Stan stared at the meaty head of
Will's cock and the heavy stream of urine gushing from it. Without
touching himself, he exploded in his shorts, filling the front of his
briefs with hot scum.

The rest of the run was an exercise in torment. The sticky residue of his
climax coated Stan's cock and balls, reminding him of its presence with
every stride, and making him feel dirty and unclean like some whore. He
ran behind Will the entire way, petrified something would leak past his
shorts and reveal itself to his friend. Despite it all, Stan found himself
harder than he'd been his entire life.

When he finally made it to the safety of his unoccupied house, Stan loped
into the bathroom and quickly removed his shorts. His underwear was dark
with moisture and he pulled it tight, massaging his spunk into his balls
while admiring the look of the fabric pulling between his cheeks and
tenting over his throbbing tool.

Finally the lure of the musky fabric was too great to ignore and Stan
pulled off his abused underwear. He inhaled deeply, savoring the male musk
of his secretions, and then excited himself to another searing climax
while sucking at the semen-permeated fabric. A little masturbation while
his wife was unavailable didn't make him gay, did it?



Gretta couldn't concentrate, either. For the second time that morning, she
closed the door of a bathroom stall behind her and hiked up her
inappropriately short skirt so she could reach her dripping slit. Her
thong was as wet as if she'd peed herself, but Gretta knew the moisture
was much sweeter. She bit her lip to stifle a gasp while she rubbed her
clit with a lubricated finger; somebody had entered the adjoining stall.

She imagined what might happen if the unknown woman was Tracey, but shook
her head with an amused smile -- that slut had never worked a day in her
life and was probably jilling off on Will's expensive wrought-iron chaise
lounge right now.

Gretta's finger increased its pace and her entire body tensed as she tried
to hold off her climax a little longer. "I bet Tracey would already be
screaming her lungs out if I did this to her," she thought, and lost her
battle for self-control.

"Are you okay?" came a concerned voice from the next stall.

"Yes," Gretta half-whispered, half-moaned. She fought the urge to say more
-- she'd be a fool to cheat on Stan this way, and she wasn't a lesbian
anyway.

Her traitor mind formed a vision of Tracey touching her, and she just had
to start stroking herself again. The tramp would probably even eat her
out. Gretta's legs started trembling and her feet arched inside her
high-heeled pumps.



Both Stan and Gretta were on edge that evening. It had taken her forever
to get the damned draft proposal reviewed, and the deadline meant she
hadn't been able to leave until it was finished. By the time she finally
pulled into the driveway, it was after dark, the dinner on the table was
cold, and Stan's cock was practically raw.

Only the last object was of any practical concern to her, and the couple
left a trail of discarded clothing behind them as Gretta dragged Stan into
the bedroom. Frustratingly for both of them, he was limp.

Gretta was desperate enough to kneel and take him in her mouth, although
Stan smelled like he hadn't showered in days and his scent was so strong
it was repellent. Sucking and licking didn't seem to be having any
positive effect, and when one of his wiry pubic hairs caught in her teeth,
it was the last straw.

"What?!" she screamed at him, crying and caught between frustration and
anger. "Aren't I good enough for you anymore? Damnit, I have needs! Fuck
your new age therapy!" Gretta jumped to her feet and started to run from
the room. She stopped briefly to tear the mobile from its hook and hurl it
into the bathroom wastebasket. Then, at her wits' end, she stomped out of
the room and headed for the kitchen; maybe chocolate would take her mind
off her arousal.

Stan silently watched her go, confounded by his totally unexpected lack of
performance. Readiness was something he'd taken for granted his entire
life; true, he'd jacked off four or five times already that day, but he'd
never failed to please a beautiful woman before. He touched himself,
wondering what the problem was, and felt a faint stirring in his organ.

Gretta broke off another square of dark chocolate and popped it into her
mouth. She chewed it more slowly than the piece before it and stared
sightlessly out the window, trying to understand what had gone wrong.
Eventually she realized she was watching the play of the underwater pool
lights next door against the landscaping.

Curious, she let herself out the back door and, still naked, crossed
through the hedge between the yards until she stood beside the pool.
Tracey, wearing her micro bikini, was swimming a lazy backstroke. The
tightness inside Gretta increased. "Slut!" she accused.

Tracey finally noticed her and coasted to the shallow end of the pool
before standing up. "What?" she asked.

"Whore! Did you ever earn anything except on your back or your knees? That
suit isn't a cover-up; it's a come-on -- no wonder Stan ignores me! Can't
you just leave him alone?"

"Oh?" Tracey cocked her head. "I'm sorry you've felt so threatened.
Frankly, I don't see you have much to worry about." A long look reminded
Gretta she was naked and heated her body. "If you're worried about the
dress code..." A moment later, she was as bare as Gretta.

"God, you are such a slut!" exclaimed Gretta, watching the other woman
swim to the edge of the pool and deposit the scraps of spandex on the
patio.

Tracey retaliated by grabbing an ankle and toppling Gretta into the warm
water with her. "Haven't you noticed that I haven't been showing off for
Stan?" Tracey asked after Gretta surfaced. "Do you know how hot you are?"

"Stay away from me," stammered Gretta. She backed away from Tracey until
she was leaning against the side of the pool, but kept staring at the
other woman as she bobbed closer.

"Stop kidding yourself, Gretta," Tracey laughed. It was a low, sultry
sound that resonated inside Gretta. "I know you want to fuck me as badly
as I want to fuck you." Tracey licked her lips, and Gretta realized her
mouth was dry.

She also realized her neighbor was right; if Tracey was a slut, Gretta
wanted Tracey to be her slut.



Stan stood on the porch, gaping at sight of his wife and neighbor writhing
together in the pool beyond the hedge. Rather than arousal, he felt a vast
emptiness inside. Had his marriage come to this?

"Pretty hot, eh?" Will asked, startling Stan. His friend returned his
attention to the camcorder in his hand, keeping it focused on the women in
the water.

"I didn't think she even liked women, much less Tracey," Stan said,
feeling like he needed to say something; at least Will hadn't asked why he
was outdoors naked.

"Well, she looks like a lesbian now," Will chuckled. He zoomed in on the
sight of Tracey helping Gretta out of the pool and held his silence while
the two tumbled into a 69 atop the chaise lounge. "It's lucky for me
Tracey was bisexual."

"I don't understand," Stan admitted, caught off-balance by the
non-sequitur.

Will turned off the camcorder and set it down next to the grill. "You
never did Gretta in the ass, did you?"

"Why?" asked Stan, suspiciously.

"I thought not. Well, it turns out Tracey was even more oversexed than I
thought she was." Will adjusted himself, and Stan belatedly realized his
friend was wearing only a wet Speedo that struggled to contain his
erection.

Stan could feel blood starting to fill his own organ, and tried vainly to
conceal his growing arousal. With no clothing or cover, it was a lost
cause; his face heated, but not as quickly as his cock.

"The bitch was hungry to fuck anything on two legs. We didn't plan for
this to happen, but it did, and she wouldn't even look at me afterwards --
she only had eyes for Gretta."

Stan started at his wife's name, but was completely lost by Will's
rambling.

"You know she'll take me to the cleaners in a divorce, and I have a
certain standing and image to maintain. There aren't that many rich
heiresses around, right?"

They both laughed at the old shared joke.

"So, I took Gretta's anal cherry," Will continued. "Man, was she tight
that first time, but I already had her wrapped around my finger."

"You were screwing my wife?" Stan growled, feeling some emotion for the
first time.

Will snorted. "Like you weren't sticking that into Tracey every chance you
got?" He gestured towards Stan's throbbing tool. "Not that it isn't almost
the equal of mine, mind you." He pulled down his swimsuit, revealing a
hard-on nearly identical to Stan's.

Really, there was little to choose between the two of them, except that
Will apparently waxed or shaved. Stan couldn't take his eyes off it as
Will started smearing something on it and resumed talking.

"Anyway, we kept at it. After a while, Gretta told me she liked it just as
much as normal sex, and it was sweet to hear her talk about 'saving her
pussy for Stan'. I knew we were ready when she'd come just from having me
up her back door, without going near her cunt."

Will placed the tube next to the camcorder. "Then I just made sure Gretta
found you and Tracey. Bet she didn't mention I was leaking out of her ass
that day, did she?"

Stan stared at the turgid flesh gleaming in the night air and grappled
with the concept of anybody fitting it inside their rectum. "This is some
kind of joke, right?"

"Nope. I've known Tracey was gonna fuck me -- figuratively, especially
since the change. But that's okay, now, 'cause I'm gonna fuck you -- and
you're gonna love it."

Stan shook his head, but he was trembling and a stream of precum was
leaking from his penis.

"And even if Gretta soaks you in a divorce, which she won't since we have
proof she cheated first, you'll still have more money than I do now. And
we'll always be together, 'cause you're my little man-slut, aren't you?"

Will pulled him close for a quick kiss that was unlike any he'd had
before, but intensely exciting, and then roughly turned Stan to face the
stone counter. There was a searing pain that didn't keep Stan from
thrusting himself backward to meet Will, and then he felt his bowel
distending to accept the intruder violating it.

"Fuck, yeah!" hissed Will, who reveled in the tightness of the
recently-virgin hole surrounding his heated organ. Stan was nothing like
any of the women he'd fucked, but there was something about the build of a
man, and the power of those muscles thrusting back against him, that was
even better. His ass twitched, but Will had already decided there was only
going to be one pair of pants in this relationship.

Stan moaned when Will started pumping him hard, and quickly shot a huge
load onto the countertop in front of him. His tormentor pushed him
forward, rubbing his face in his own spend, while continuing to plumb the
depths of his clutching ass. It was totally degrading and totally exciting
and Stan begged for more like the slut he was.

Will just laughed and slammed forward again, and then Stan felt his
lover's man-seed scalding his churning insides. "Oh yeah," Will exclaimed,
"you're a fine piece of ass, Stan! Maybe even better than your wife!" He
laughed again.



"Bastard!" Tracey growled, listening to the grunting and laughter coming
from the other side of the hedge.

"Give it a break, love," Gretta suggested, pulling Tracey into a tighter
embrace and kissing her. There were two chaises by the pool now, but as
usual they seemed to end up sharing one. "I think you came out ahead,
remember?" It was still hard for Gretta to think of the house she shared
with Tracey as hers, even six months after their divorces. It wasn't at
all hard to think of being with the woman who could still excite her like
nothing else in the world with just a look or touch.

Tracey made a face, but relaxed with a sigh. "I don't care how much of his
money I have. It still feels like that cheating bastard came out on top!"

"Beg for it," Will's voice carried to them from the house that was his in
all but name. "Beg for me to fuck you until you scream like a little girl!"

"I still don't understand why he's so cruel to Stan," Gretta admitted.
"You were never like that, were you?"

"No," replied Tracey. "I think the switch is just a starting point. I
mean, who got me hooked on anal beads? Are you seriously going to claim
Stan was into that?"

Gretta giggled. "No, I just thought they might be interesting."

"Still," Tracey mused, "I wish I knew what happened to that mobile." She
noticed her lover was still giggling. "What?"

"Last night I snuck next door and hung it from the wind chime!"

Tracey squinted and caught a stray glint from the large chime suspended
just beyond where her ex was skewering his rampantly erect companion.
"Gretta! You are so bad! I love you!"

"Prove it," Gretta purred with a smile, and blocked the view with her body.