The pleasure before the storm.

Steve has taken in what his "new apartment" has to offer, and given how small it is, that isn't much. This Grant kid seems to have been a real milquetoast little shit - his apartment barely even has any character. A couple of generic art posters, the kind you could get at a college dorm sale. A TV, sure. A place on the desk where a laptop once sat (not that Steve's confident laptops are going to be good for much). Food in the fridge that speaks to the sort of young bachelorhood that isn't overly concerned either with health or with pleasure; just basic stuff that's easy to prepare and reasonably nutritious. Even the beer he's got is mediocre; a cheap brand that's not quite bargain basement but not worth the money it costs, either. What a little prick, Steve thinks angrily as he swills another one down. Got to figure out some way to...get my life back.

There's a knock at the door, and Steve calls out, "Go away! I'm not the one you're looking for."

"Yes, you are, dear," a familiar voice responds. Steve jerks upright and scrambles to his feet, leaving the kitchen counter to hurry to the door, unbolt it, and yank it open.

"Amanda?!"

His wife stands before him, smiling softly, wearing a long coat and the black pumps she usually wears only to formal occasions. "Hello, dear. Can I come in?"

"What are you - I mean - I guess, sure, sure. Come in. Come in." Steve stands aside to usher her into the apartment, and she clicks in primly.

"So, this is Grant's old place, huh?" she asks, glancing around with interest. She chuckles. "Very mid-20s. I'm glad he's maturing rapidly."

"Is that what you'd call it?" Steve asks sullenly. He frowns at her. "What are you doing here? He didn't...let you go, then, I take it?"

"I'm still claimed by Grant, yes. I'm not sure that can be undone," Amanda says with a little laugh. "But Grant sent me down here to tell you that he's not totally unreasonable. He wants you to know that he values you...and honors what we had. Even if you decided to stick your dick in Olivia." The words sting, but Steve bites back any response. He does feel guilty about that. It was supposed to be just a flirtation, he thinks dully. Things...got out of hand. But he was in the wrong. He can't deny that.

"So what is this, then?" he grunts instead. "Some sort of marriage counseling?"

"Not exactly." Amanda sounds amused. "Grant feels bad about claiming your women. He didn't know you were involved with us, remember. So, as long as you behave yourself...every couple of days, one of us will come to visit you. Probably me, since I am after all your wife. But occasionally...Olivia. If you're very good, who knows? Maybe both of us. It will be just like before." She smiles. "Actually, slightly better than before...because we weren't fucking much lately, and now..." She reaches up, undoes a button, and drops her coat.

Steve's jaw drops even as his prick rises. Amanda's clad in a burgundy lace bodysuit he's never seen before, and it makes him see her body in a whole new light. Her full breasts strain against the suit's bindings and her hips and ass swell deliciously in it, while the thickness of her waist is smoothed out slightly by the contours of the suit. He takes an involuntary step toward her, and Amanda raises one hand, forestalling him.

"Now, there are a few ground rules," she says sternly. "I'll be leaving here at 2 a.m. sharp. If you try to stop me, I will fight you. If I'm not back at 2:15...others will come to get me, and they won't be nice about it. You're also not allowed to injure me. If you try to do so, again, I will fight you. And I will do anything to get back to Grant and our girls." The look on her face as she says this chills him slightly - he has no doubt that she means every word. He nods, and she smiles. "I'm glad you understand. Of course...some tears, a little slapping, even a bruise or two...none of those are injuries. Grant understands you might have some feelings to work out." She steps closer to him, and he can smell the scent of her perfume, familiar but exciting - something she hasn't worn in years. "I do, too. After all, this whole...situation is my fault."

"Wha?" Steve asks, feeling slightly dizzy with the scent and warmth and presence of her.

"Well, Grant claimed me and Mel...and our apartment...because Olivia told him we were there and without a man. And she only knew that because you two were fucking. And you were only fucking because I...stopped doing what I should have, as a claimed woman." She chuckles, one hand reaching forward to lightly brush his hard cock through his pants. "I see everything so differently now...I was claimed before, just in a different way. What is marriage but tying a woman to a man, after all? But then I stopped paying as much attention to you, stopped being the hot little party slut you fell in love with...of course you went elsewhere. It's only natural. Men need to spill their seed in women, that's the whole reason our society has claiming - in its many different forms - in the first place." She flicks her gaze up to his, blue eyes deep and steady. "I was a bad, ungrateful wife, Steve. A frigid bitch. I drove you into Olivia's arms and cunt. I may belong to Grant now...but tonight, my whole body is ready to make it up to you."

At this confession, this absolution, something in Steve snaps, and he snarls as he grabs Amanda and pulls her to him, kissing her roughly as he mauls her breast with his free hand. She moans into his mouth, kissing him back, until he pulls roughly away from her. "On your fucking knees," he gasps, and he barely has to push her down as she sinks quickly toward the ground. He fumbles his pants open, freeing his raging erection, and grabs her head with one hand. "Let's see if you can still fit this whole thing down your throat, bitch," he snarls, and Amanda smiles up at him.

"Of course, dea - mmmph! GACK! HRRK!" Amanda's reply is cut off as he pulls her forward and roughly thrusts himself between her lips, violently invading her throat and making her **** and buck even on his first stroke. Amanda is entirely compliant in his hands, relaxing after her initial, involuntary response, and gazes up at him steadily as he begins to fuck her mouth. Saliva already is beginning to run down her chin, and Steve seizes her head in both hands, overcome by need and fear and rage as wet, lewd **** sounds fill the hallway. Steve lets out an animalistic snarl as he fucks her throat, trying without fully realizing it to reclaim the wife he's lost. Amanda, below, him, smiles slightly through her tears and opens her mouth wider to let him try.

"Look at her," Mary murmurs in Grant's ear. They're sitting on a chair in one corner of the bedroom, Mary on Grant's lap, and drinking in the sight of Mel before them. The younger girl is standing awkwardly in the center of the room, white lace shining in the light, as she tries to find some way to stand somewhere between a sexy pose and the shy, unassuming demeanor that seems to come to her naturally. "She's just...delicious." Grant can feel his hard-on straining at his pants, as though it's trying to make contact with Mary's skin just inches away.

"She sure is," he murmurs back. Their voices are too low for Mel to hear, and the girl just stands awkwardly where she's been told, squirming as Mary and Grant murmur to one another in the corner.

Mary smiles down at him. "She's young and pretty...I see why you picked her. But from what you said it sounds like she has an attitude problem, so I'm wondering...do you feel truly bad for her, like you said? Or did you just want to fuck her? Because I'm happy to join in, either way...and from what I've seen of her, that girl will be any sort of toy you want."

Grant hesitates. What do I want...? His cock pushes him rapidly toward one answer, but he wavers, undecided.