Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 With a twinge of excitement in his gut Dylan took off from work early one
afternoon and drove to the seedy part of town, where he stopped in front of
a ramshackle, one-story office building in a bleak dirt lot.  He got out of
his car and locked it, casting an uneasy glance around.  If they hadn't
told him this guy was the best he'd never come to these parts.

   Dylan walked through the front glass door, his entry announced by a cow
bell hanging on the handle.  A plump secretary, adorned with thick layers
of makeup, looked up from her book.

   "Help ya?" She said.

   "I want to find out about my wife," Dylan said.  Without a pause the
secretary pushed the microphone button with one finger.

   "Got another happy groom," the secretary called into the mike.

   A voice came back.  "Tell him if he suspects she's messin' around, it's
true.  He doesn't need me." The secretary looked at him with an arched
eyebrow.  Dylan shook his head.

   "I don't know for sure," he said.

   "He doesn't know," she said to the mike.  A tired sigh came over the
speaker.

   "Alright," the voice said, "send him back."

   Dylan went to the back office, separated from the rest of the office by
a cheap partition.  He saw a stocky, balding man, with a thick mustache,
his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, thumbing through a stack of photos. 
He stood up when Dylan entered.

   "Afternoon," the man said, shaking Dylan's hand.  "Bill Parker.  How can
I help ya?"

   "They told me you were the best private detective in town," Dylan said.

   Parker shrugged.  "I work hard and I'm resourceful."

   "I've got a problem."

   Before he could finish the sentence Parker held up a palm.  "I gotta
warn ya, mister, I'm not cheap.  There are ways you can check on her and it
won't cost you a dime.  Cell phone records, ATM records--"

   "Well, it's a little more complicated than that," Dylan said.  "I've got
a strong suspicion she's messing around.  I even think I know who with."

   "Oh, then what the hell do you need me for?"

   "Well, I've got this other problem.  Even if I catch her, there's no way
I'm going to make her have sex with me.  It's been so damn long since I got
laid.  So I've resorted to porn.  The only problem is the shit I'm finding
in stores is the same.  Some sleazy guy banging a sleazy woman, utterly no
originality at all, start with the blow job, then eat out her pussy, then
doggy style, etc.  You get the picture."

   Parker looked at him quizzically, his mustache twitching.

   "So what I was thinking was that I need some porn with originality,
something that means something to me--"

   "Look, buddy, I think you came to the wrong place," Parker said.

   "Now hear me out.  I'd like you to do more than just go out and tell me
that yes, she's messing around.  I want you to make a tape of it.  I want
you to make me a porn video that means something to me."

   "Look, pal, that's not what I do--"

   "I'll pay you $10,000."

   "But I'm sure I can find someone who can help us out," Parker said,
holding out his hand to shake, a big grin on his face.

   Dylan put $1,000 down and waited.  A month passed.  Things went on as
normal with his wife.  He made sure to work a lot, giving her plenty of
opportunity to do her thing.  Finally, one day at work a plain, padded
manila envelope arrived.  He tore it open and found an unmarked DVD inside,
along with an invoice from Bill Parker.

   Dylan's wife, a 27 year-old Korean native named Sung-Kyung, went to bed
early that night.  He went to his briefcase and pulled out the DVD and put
it in the player.  On the TV there was a moment of blankness, and then a
shot of a small apartment, a converted garage, came into view.  Dylan
recognized it, but it wasn't the place he expected his high-maintenance
wife to be frequenting.  It was too dingy.  But what really shocked him was
who lived there.  It was Greg, a skinny nerd, really, a Star Wars buff and
graduate student.  He had thick glasses and a thin jaw, and bony hips.  It
had to be a joke.

   But then the scene shifted indoors, and he saw Sung-Kyung leaning
against the washing machine in the tiny kitchen, sipping wine.  The clock
said it was 3 p.m.  on October 12.

   "They did this in the afternoon?" Dylan said, incredulously.  He thought
back to the 12th.  He looked at the calendar.  It was just another work day
for him, a week prior.  He hadn't suspected a thing.

   Sung-Kyung seemed alone.  She was dressed in tight slacks that Dylan
knew showed her dynamite ass, and she had on a tight, white tee-shirt that
revealed the ample mounds of her breasts.

   Sure enough, Greg came into the shot.  He was wearing an untied bathrobe
and boxers, He set his wine glass down in the sink and took hers out of her
hand.  She smiled agreeably as he put hands on the edge of the washer on
either side of her.  He leaned in and they kissed once.  Then, as if they
liked the taste, they leaned in for another, and another.  The kisses got
deeper.  One of Greg's hands came to her side, then her breast.  He leaned
into her.  The contrast between her hotness and his geekdom was so shocking
that Dylan wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't watching it.

   Her hand came to his chest, then dropped down.  It came to rest between
his legs, atop his boxer shorts.  Then, as he nibbled at her ear, she
laughed and started to rub between his legs.  She rubbed and rubbed.  The
audio kicked in.

   "Oh, baby," Greg mumbled, into her neck.

   "Hmmmm," Sung-Kyung whispered.  "You like that?"

   "Holy shit," Dylan mumbled.  "How the hell did they get this video? 
This is good stuff!"

   But he watched with a little horniness and a little trepidation as
Greg's hand slipped up her shirt and she giggled.  As she rubbed his crotch
he pawed at her breast, and their kisses and hand strokes grew more
enthusiastic.  He lifted her shirt off, revealing her black bra.  Dylan let
out a little sigh and grabbed his cock.  He loved that lace bra.

   Sung-Kyung hoisted herself up onto the edge of the washing machine and
spread her legs.  Greg moved forward and kissed her, pressing his crotch
against hers.  She wrapped her knees around his hips.  Then she pushed his
robe to the floor.

   As he kissed at her neck she pulled at his ass.  He rocked his hips into
her, rubbing his crotch against hers.  Dylan knew her slacks were paper
thin, meaning that she could probably feel his cock through the material on
her pussy.  She sure acted it, as she rolled her head back and moaned.

   Greg's hands reached behind her and unhooked her bra.  It hung there for
a second and then he pulled it off, revealing her perfect, orange-sized
breasts.  He bent his head down and licked at her dark nipples, in a way
Dylan knew Sung-Kyung loved.  His tongue danced off the end of her nipples
and she moaned happily.  Back when they were hot and heavy, Sung-Kyung used
to tell him that it set her body on fire when Dylan did that.

   "Oh baby," Sung-Kyung said, in the video.  "You put me on FIRE..."

   "Bitch," Dylan mumbled, but he began to stroke his hardening cock.

   Greg fumbled with her button.  Part of Dylan cried, 'Don't go there,
asshole!' But another part urged Greg on.  Either way, Greg made progress,
and Sung-Kyung helped his cause.  When he unbuttoned her slacks she arched
so he could pull the pants off.  They fell in a whispy heap at Greg's feet.
Greg ground his boxer-covered crotch into her panty-covered pussy.  She ran
her hands over him furiously, a signal Dylan knew meant she was really hot
to trot.

   Sure enough, her hands finally found the strap to his boxers and she
pushed them down.  Dylan's mouth dropped open.  Now he knew what made his
wife overlook Greg's bony body and shithole apartment.  His cock looked
like a fucking moray eel.  It was huge.

   Sung-Kyung took some delight in seeing the thing pop out in the open,
and she took it in one hand and stroked it.  Greg moaned.

   "Oh baby," he said.

   "Getting excited?" Sung-Kyung said.  "I like that.  Oooo, I like that."

   "Take your panties off," Greg breathed.  She smiled.

   "Are you ready?" She said.

   "Do I look ready?"

   "Put this on," she said, handing him a condom.  Dylan let out a small,
small sigh of relief.

   She arched her hips again and Greg tore off her skimpy panties.  They
caught on her ankle and she kicked them off.  Greg rolled on the condom,
then leaned into her and she spread her legs to accomodate him.  The camera
angle was such that Dylan couldn't quite tell what was going on between
their legs, but there came a point when they both moaned deeply and his
hips kind of sunk up against her.  It didn't take a genius to figure out
what they had achieved.  Sung-Kyung's hand flew back to the machine,
fumbled with the controls, and suddenly the washer started to shake in its
spin cycle.  They laughed and sighed in pleasure as the machine did the
work for them, propelling Greg's enormous, swollen cock into her hot pussy.


   She wrapped her arms up through his armpits and squeezed his torso with
her legs, her beautiful yellow skin contrasted against his white skin, as
the washer rocked and rolled.  Sung-Kyung's head rolled back and she cried
out.  Greg's testicles jiggled and bounced from the vibrations of the
machine.  Inside her pussy, Dylan knew, his penis was doing the same
jouncing dance.

   Just as it seemed they were going to climax the machine stopped. 
Sung-Kyung let out a disappointed cry but Greg backed up, pulling out of
her with a pop, and took her by the hand.  THe scene shifted to the bed. 
Suddenly they reentered the shot, hurrying.  She flopped down on her back
and spread her legs, breathing hard.

   "I want to take off the condom," he said.

   "It's not a good time," she said.  "I could get pregnant.  Next time."

   "Oh baby," he moaned.  "I'm so hot for you."

   "And I'm hot for you," she said, rubbing his chest.  "I just can't right
now."

   "Just for a minute?"

   "Greg..."

   "Just a minute, then I'll put on a new one," he said.  "Come on, I want
to FEEL you..."

   She bit her lip.  "I wanna feel you too.  Okay, just a minute, okay? 
Then you have to come out.  DON'T come inside me, okay?"

   He smiled and nodded.  He pulled off the condom with a snap and leaned
over her and kissed her.  She arched her back and thrust her buttocks into
him, and in a moment his penis caught on the folds of her skin and dove
back inside.  His long shaft began to thrust inside her bare pussy.

   "Ohhhh Greg," she moaned.  "Do you like it?  You like feeling me?"

   "Oh I love it, I LOVE it," he moaned, and thrust longer, harder, Her
knees came up on either side of him and squeezed him.  Her feet planted on
his ass.  Her breasts swayed up and down with the momentum and she rubbed
her hands against his chest as he fucked her.  Their contrasting skin
ground against each other.  Apparently she liked Greg going bareback, too.

   "Oh, FUCK, Greg, FUCK..." she gasped, and grabbed his ass.

   "Careful," Dylan whispered.  "You gotta stop before..."

   "Oh yeah, baby, YEAH," Greg moaned, his hips slapping into her now. 
"There it is, babe, there's the real stuff, right there, right THERE..."

   "You like it, huh?" She said, her voice urgent.  "You like fucking that
Asian pussy?"

   "You like this cock between your legs?" He moaned.  "You like it?"

   "Oh I LOVE it," she moaned back, with a big smile.  "I love this BIG,
hard STIFF one filling up every INCH of my pussy..."

   "You naughty girl," Greg said, his hips bouncing between her knees. 
"You're supposed to be in class, or doing homework, not FUCKING me, of all
people..."

   "Oh but I love it," she said, pounding his sides with her knees.  "I'm
SO glad I let you drive me home that night..."

   "So glad I fucked you in you and Dylan's bed?"

   'Best fuck I ever had there..."

   "OhhhhHHH Sung-Kyung," he moaned.

   "Uh oh," she said, tapping his shoulder.  "Better come out.  I think
somebody is gonna come..."

   But Greg shook his head.  "Not yet..."

   "You're not coming yet?"

   "Oh, I'm gonna come alright," Greg said, smiling as he thrust his stiff
rod deeper into her pussy.  He grabbed her wrists.  "I'm gonna come deep
inside that hot twat of yours!"

   "Greg!  You can't!" The excitment had drained from her voice, replaced
by panic.

   "Ohhh baby, you shouldn't have told me you were ovulating," Greg moaned,
his ass bobbing.  "I wanna get you pregnant..."

   "Greg, THINK about it, you can't--"

   "I HAVE thought about it," he moaned, gripping her thin arms with his
hands, trapping her as he plunged his engorged cock into her pussy.  "And I
wanna...  see you pregnant...  with my baby..."

   "Greg!"

   "I wanna see your belly swell because my seed bloomed in you..."

   "Come out!  PLease!"

   But he was churning his hips, grinding the full length of his penis
along the wet shaft of her pussy, the head of his cock mere inches from the
egg Dylan knew was likely dropping from her ovaries at that instant.

   "I want everyone to think it's Dylan's, but I'll know whose it is," Greg
moaned.  "I'll know who put that baby in your sexy belly..."

   "Greg!!!"

   But a shudder passed along Greg's spine and he cried out.  The camera
actually zoomed on his cock, which Dylan saw was convulsing in orgasm.  In
a moment cum spilled out of her pussy, but Dylan knew a good amount of it
had been ejaculated straight where her fertile egg would rest.

   In a moment Greg pulled out of her sheepishly.  She sat up and slapped
him around his neck and shoulders.  Then Dylan saw that she was smiling.

   "You asshole!" She cried, but she was laughing.

   "You're not upset?" Greg said.

   She rolled her eyes, then gave him a kiss.  "Whatever will be will be,"
she said.