Preface: Well, I am back to writing for a season. I have returned to one of my favorite genres, the cheating wife story. As I have opined in the past, I dislike the watching wimp cuckold tale. Those stories are just not my cup of tea. I tend to write alpha-male, testosterone rich stories. I still have an uncompleted project in the second part of "The Touch"; I am almost finished with it but am just having difficulty bringing it to a close. I have a Sci-fi story that is starting to materialize that will take me in directions never before attempted.
I have enjoyed my hiatus working with two extraordinary writers, Jefferson and El Sol. Keep your eyes out for their stuff, it is superior material. El Sol is currently writing "A Master's Ring", a very good example of erotica at its best. If you haven't seen it, look it up. Well I am back and I have written this entire story in the manner of the oral narrative. There is no dialog and while I know it can be disconcerting for some it is my style.
Thanks to KK and Curious 2C for their recent contributions to the wandering wife stories. For years I have enjoyed their work.
I hope you enjoy your read. If you like what you read please, send me a note I like to hear from you. If you don't like my stuff, write me at your own risk. I am a card-carrying curmudgeon.
Damn, my temper sure as hell could get me in a fix and I got myself in one hell of a fix a little more than twenty years ago. Life can sometimes do a fucking one-eighty when you hit a slick; I hit a slick spot. Abby had been my cornerstone for years, so when she fell, my whole world crumpled; hell it did not merely implode, the remains slid into the abyss.
Abby was my everything. But before I tell you about what happened let me tell about the life she saved me from. I grew up in the central Midwest the son of an elevator manager (grain elevator) and a high school mathematics teacher. I was born smack dab in the middle of the twentieth century. I was a borderline genius (over the years I tested between 125 and 140 on IQ tests) and I developed an aptitude for calculus and all things numeric and scientific. My mom pushed for me to be in an accelerated program before there was such a thing as gifted classrooms and teachers, so what happened was that I was passed from seventh grade directly into ninth where I started high school a year early. By my junior year, I had reached my maximum growth and I was three inches over six feet and weighed two hundred pounds. I was not your run of the mill egghead.
I was seventeen years old when I found myself a freshman at Kansas State University. Just like most freshmen before me I was required to stay in a dorm room. I spent a good deal of time in Aggieville getting shitfaced. It was back in an era when it was legal to drink at eighteen and I looked every bit of that and then some. I was rarely carded. My grades suffered and I ended up with a 2.6 GPA for the first semester. Dad called me up and read me the riot act.
I got in with some hippies that were living off campus and I discovered the joys of cannabis smoke and speed. I really got strung out and my grades went all the way down to a 2.1. I at least completed all of my classes. I got several C's and one B. Dad was not happy. He was threatening to withdraw all of his support so I outmaneuvered him by signing up for the draft. The year was 1968 and Viet Nam was in full swing. Mom and Dad were very upset with my decision to join the Army. Since I had just turned eighteen I did not need their permission. When the recruiter came around once to get me to sign more papers, they were barely civil to him.
You may have noticed that I have not discussed my sex life up to the time I joined the Army. It is real simple, up to that time I had no sex life; I had made out pretty heavily in high school even getting to third base. In college I fingered two or three girls and got a great blow job, once; that was my total experience up to that time. Hard to believe in these times, but true.
I was inducted in Kansas City where I went through the group physical. All that shit about the circle hemorrhoid checkup where the subjects face out and spread their cheeks so the medic can come around and shine a flashlight up everyone's ass is true. That is one fucking job I would never want. Well we got on a bus and were taken to Ft Leonard Wood.
I went through Basic Training in a company with about two hundred other guys. It was an eight week course that required a hell of a lot more physical conditioning than I had experienced during my one year of college. I was in great shape while in high school because I played on the football team and ran cross country. In college I gave all of that up and I was damn sorry that I had.
J.D. Dickens was the Drill Sergeant of the third platoon of Bravo Company. I can remember him saying, "If one of you slugs crosses my path, I will stomp a mud hole in your ass and walk it dry." I believed him and made a point never to cross his path. Several times when I lost my grip doing chin ups or running the monkey bars, he gave me a swift kick in the ass. By the end of eight weeks, I had lost twenty pounds and I was all muscle.
At the end of basic I won an award (no money) for showing the greatest physical improvement in eight weeks. When we ran the mile there were only four other jocks who were able to beat me in the whole company. At the end of Basic I signed up for three years to get Ranger training. When I signed up for the draft it was a two year hitch. I able to get the recommendation of my company commander and met the physical prerequisites.
Because of my desire to go airborne I was sent to Fort Benning, GA for Basic Airborne Training. Once I was physically buff and I had all the drugs out of my system I really got into the gung ho shit. The more physical and more gung ho I became, the faster the promotions came and the more I was appreciated by my sergeants and commanding officers. I went on to Ranger school and was so good on the shooting range (years of hunting pheasant and quail and competing in shooting matches) that they kept me around for sniper training. During that time I had little social time for women and as a virgin considered myself a sexual incompetent. The boys set me up and I lost my cherry to one of the camp followers just after graduating.
I made it over to Vietnam a year after the infamous Tet offensive. My mindset was changed instantly. It was much like blacksmiths temper steel by heating a tool up to a cherry almost white hot and plunging it first into cold water until the bands of the rainbow run up the piece. I was changed, hardened in twenty-four hours by being plunged into the blood; the brutal inhumanity was overwhelming. My own humanity was lost for a time.
In the second day of my first patrol, our platoon was caught up in a crossfire I was at the rear when the engagement occurred and we were at the edge of a small clearing. I climbed up a forty-foot mung ca and perched in its crotch at about twenty feet where I had a very good view of the field of combat. I readied my M-21.
The M-16 was the weapon of choice of the foot soldier, but most snipers preferred the M-14 and some of us were given the M-21 which was an M-14 in a National Match Rifle. The bore of my weapon was held to half the tolerance as the standard M-14 and was not chrome plated. The receiver was embedded in the stock via a fiberglass packing. Many of the rifle's parts were hand-machined and assembled. The selector shaft, sear release, selector lock and receiver sear had been welded and machined so that the rifle would fire only in semiautomatic mode and the rifle had an improved rear sight. I was also issued a sniper's scope. It really was a quite a piece.
It was heavy and the ammunition was heavy but I was damn glad to have it. I knocked off about six of their guys before it started getting too hot to stay in the tree. They finally figured out the general area where I was and started spraying the trees with automatic fire. I slid down the tree and on the way down I fell the last six feet and tore the palm of my left hand open. It was fairly deep and bone was showing but there was a medic handy and he stitched me up. I did a lot of fast talking and was able to stay with my platoon during the remaining five days of the encounter. A lot of the guys up front during that first firefight were grateful for the pressure I took off of them. I ended up with a Silver Star and a purple heart from my first action in battle.
Two days later in what became a moderately involved campaign, I had occasion to get separated from my unit and I came upon four gooks sitting at an RPD (7.62mm machine gun) slightly down from my position. I was 30 meters to their rear and the sound of the gun was so deafening that they were not ever aware of my presence. I braced my weapon on a fallen tree and took them out rapidly. Four more gooks came up to relieve them and I took them out also. I slit throats and removed ears. Then, I grabbed the machine gun and circled back around where I came upon two members of our platoon who were down and wounded. I dropped the gook gun and one at a time I carried each man back to the safety of our command post where a medic took over. I was under AK-47 fire the entire time.
The platoon leader of the first platoon of our company was in a heated discussion with a veteran squadron leader several meters away from the medic. They were arguing about what to do about the ambush when I approached them. When I explained that the machine gun and eight men were no longer a threat I got looks from both men that suggested that I was just a greenhorn and wouldn't know a gook if I saw one. That pissed me off so I returned once more to the machine gun, where I picked it up and returned to the command post. The platoon leader shut the fuck up when I threw the RPD at his feet and handed him eight left ears freshly severed from the heads of their owners.
From that time on I was referred to as Spook. That lieutenant along with my company commander put me in for a Medal of Honor for my attack on the machine gun and damned if I didn't get it. There was nothing about the ears in my citation. What really upset me about the killings was that I wasn't very upset about the killings. My humanity had been contaminated.
There was a time when I went hunting back home that I actually felt bad killing a doe. And yet, taking the lives of fourteen men in three days didn't faze me very much. In view of our losses which were light when compared to other units, I viewed what I did as self preservation. I had to take them out before they took me. I was flown to Washington DC where I joined up with my parents and the President presented me with the Medal of Honor. I was asked to take a publicity tour but when I begged off and asked to be returned to my unit they compromised. I had a five city tour and eight speech and then was returned to my unit.
I lived a charmed life over there. I had reached a point where life, including my own, didn't mean much. I actually relished the opportunity to kill enemy soldiers. There were atrocities that Charlie committed that made me want to take them all out. I managed to construct a personal code of ethics that allowed my hatred of the Vietnamese to extend only to the enemy. Once, a Vietnamese girl, probably twelve or thirteen years old, came around the corner of a hut with an AK-47 in the ready position. I took her out with no remorse.
I became fast friends with Bao Ming, my Vietnamese counterpart. Bao was one crazy fucker and ruthless as a crocodile. I saw him slice up Charlie several times to only get a little information. I had two Rapala fillet knives sent over along with some fishing gear in a CARE package and there was never a question of what I wanted the knives for. I gave one to Bao and kept one. He treasured that knife as if it were a ten-carat diamond. You can only guess what I did with my knife. There is a lot of stuff I just won't talk about.
It was Bao who introduced me to the pleasures of sex. As soon as he discovered that I was totally inexperienced with women, he took it upon himself to become my tutor. Many nights and days out on the path we would talk about women and how to give them pleasure. When we drove into Da Nang, he introduced me to his "cousin" a very cute and very young teen named Kim Cuc. We met at her house on the edge of town so I concluded that she was legitimate. I was later to discover that her family was close friends with Bao's family and there was a distant kinship. The monetary gifts that I gave Bao for Kim went directly to Kim's family for her services.
Kim was nineteen years old but she seemed much younger. She had spent time in the brothels of Da Nang and made some good money for her family. She had tired of the bar life and had retired after bringing in a small fortune that was protected by her brothers. Kim loved sex and I spent many of my free nights in her bed. She had been well trained and spoke passable English albeit broken English. She pleasured me and taught me to pleasure her and other women. She had been with US servicemen as well as Vietnamese. She taught me different styles and approaches. On several special occasions she recruited one or two girlfriends to help in my education. We smoked cannabis laced with hashish, which along with a little cocaine kept me erect for hours. I could eat pussy with the best of them.
When my first year in Vietnam was up, I returned to Ft. Benning as a jump instructor for six months. Because of my decorations and track record, I was promoted to Chief Warrant Officer. I became a jump officer where I oversaw the packing of the chutes and coordinated the air transports of the troops. I then returned to Vietnam as an advisor where I was able to get some time in the field but not nearly as much as in the first tour. The second tour was kind of a let down. Along with the reduced combat time, my sex education suffered. Kim had married a South Vietnamese Major who was well connected and that left me primarily to the bar girls and prostitutes for my sexual outlets. It was just not the same.
When my three years were up, I returned to the Midwest. The decorations I brought home included the Medal of Honor, a DSC with one oak cluster, a DSM, a Silver Star with three oak clusters, a Legion of Merit with a single oak cluster, an ACM and a Purple Heart with three oak clusters. There were several unit citations and expert badges. If you know anything about medals you could conclude that I have left an awful lot out about my military service; I have.
There were neither tickertape parades nor any fanfare beyond the joy of my family. At one of the airports a hippy type called me a baby killer, but I noticed he was gone before I could beat his ass. I decided to go back to school and take advantage of the GI bill. At the time, I did not feel particularly proud of the killing involved in winning my medals, so I eschewed any publicity as well as the monthly stipend available to holders of the MOH.
I did bring back with me the habit of smoking grass, especially the kind laced with hash. I had almost a duffle bag full of the stuff that I brought back. As a decorated officer no one dared to question whether or not I had contraband and that shit lasted me a long time. When I got back I made sure that my family knew that I wanted no big deal made of my military service. When the mayor of our town decided that we needed a Terrance Cannely Day to honor the city's only Medal of Honor winner, I told him to be sure and let me know when it was so I could be gone. He got the message. Our friends circled the wagons round and virtually kept reporters, curiosity seekers and dumb fuck well wishers away.
When I went back to K-State I looked up some of my old hippie friends and renewed some acquaintances. Many had graduated college and taken jobs several states away. I managed to maintain a 3.5 GPA in the business courses, exercise daily and still get buzzed every night. I discovered that the girls liked the new me. I was a lean mean son-of-a-bitch and a bad boy. It had required a lot of effort and sacrifice on my part to get into shape and I was resolved to never let my physical condition go downhill.
At the drop of a hat I would pick a fight just to get the adrenalin pumping. Girls loved bad boys so I never had trouble getting girls, especially bad girls. I had a decent-sized cock and I knew how to use it. Smoked up on the Cambo and with a little cocaine ointment on the dick, I could fuck all night. There was many a pussy that I wore out in marathon sex. In a short span I had gained a reputation as a real cock hound.
In the second semester of my sophomore year, I walked into a roadhouse on the outskirts of Manhattan (Kansas) and sat at the bar as I had done on occasion in the past. I was looking for some quiet time. It didn't happen. I heard a commotion over at the tables and I noticed that a couple of bikers were picking on a rather nerdish type guy. I wasn't in the mood so I went over to ask them to stop making a nuisance of themselves.
They took exception to my butting in, even if I was ever so polite. The fat one picked up a beer bottle and in the manner of the cliché, broke the end of the bottle off and came at me. Continuing the cliché, I took a cue stick off of the table behind me and whacked him across the face. I swung through on a pirouette and caught his skinny buddy on the wrist with the club; I heard bones break.
Fat boy was getting ready to try a second attack when I rammed the handle end of the stick into his breastbone. The fucker dropped. Slim was trying to get up when I whacked him on the top of his head. He also headed south. Cornelius Harrison Brown III was very pleased to make my acquaintance. He came exploring without any of his frat buddies to see how the rough-set lived. I guess he got his glimpse. Neil was a junior and therefore was a year ahead of me in college. He was taking business courses and was going for an MBA.
Neil was to become my first, last and only best (male) friend. I had several good friends in high school but never one with whom I was really close. Neil basically attached himself to me and wouldn't let go. I talked him into enrolling in a martial arts class off campus. He found a karate dojo that met his needs and trained there every week for the remainder of his time in Manhattan. He became very proficient over a few years and kind of scary in his own right.
For the summer he took me home with him to Mission, an elite suburb of Kansas City. His father, Harry, the name derived from his middle name, was the third generation CEO of a large family-owned conglomerate that specialized in commodities, produce and groceries. We spent the summer working at a grocery distribution center that trucked canned goods and produce to the small independent grocery stores in a four state area. We assisted in the accounting department that handled the invoices from the suppliers, the accounts payable. The company was run by an uncle who was ready to retire and planned turn it over to Neil.
That summer I toned it down and did just a little partying. It was a real son of a bitch to work with figures after a stoned all-nighter. On a few Saturday nights Neil and I went bar hopping and we usually ended up in a brawl. I picked up some stray pussy but because I was staying in the mansion in Mission, I just was not able to take it home with me. That year I became a part of the family.
Neil's younger sister, Abigail, had just graduated from Shawnee-Mission High School; she also was slated for K-State. It seems that even though KU was where all of the society types went to school in the state, the Brown family members traditionally attended college in Manhattan. The agribusiness emphasis of the school complimented the agribusiness nature of the family corporation. Abigail was a cute girl, while she was not gorgeous she was definitely attractive, the girl-next-door. Abby had nutmeg brown hair, a straight medium sized nose and brown eyes that wouldn't quit. She reminded me a lot of Mary Lou Retton. I did not form an immediate attraction to her because she was Neil's sister, she had a steady preppy boyfriend and that summer we just ran in different circles.
Neil and I helped her move into the dorm that summer. During the move Abby and I literally bumped heads as we reached for the same desk lamp. It was both comical and painful and I was forced to take a close look at the girl. That was the first moment of attraction for me. When she smiled her whole face lit up and at the time she was blushing from the contact. It was somewhat of an intimate moment. We went on about our business and I remember thinking that she was just too good for the likes of me.
I also moved; I went from dorm to fraternity. Neil was president of Pi Kappa Phi for his senior year and he made sure that I went through an abbreviated pledge process. This made more attractive women available and created some infamy regarding my bad boy status. For the first time ever I hooked up with Gerry Crandall, a sorority girl from Olathe mid semester and we started going steady. We really seemed to have something going and even started to talk about a future together. I started to clean up my act even more and over the break, went home and met her parents. I gave her a promise ring as a Christmas present and we were very happy.
One night in February, I found myself alone at an Aggieville watering hole because Gerry had begged off saying she was not feeling well. Gerry's roommate Sandy, came in with a group and she got a very strange look on her face when she saw me. It was one of panic or terror. I had never given Sandy a reason to be afraid of me so I knew something was up. I went over to her booth and literally coerced the information I was seeking out of her. It turned out that Gerry had met a stud who lived in their dorm and she was spending the night with him. Sandy eventually gave me the room number but made me promise not to do anything violent, fat chance.
When I got to the room, I didn't bother knocking. I kicked the door in and found them in his bed naked, humping away. I was really pissed and it took all I could not to kill them. I ended up slapping her face and knocking him out. I came very close to being expelled but with intervention from Neil's father, a sympathetic dean and promises to clean up my act, I was let off the hook. The fact that the dean had recently divorced an unfaithful wife did not hurt my cause. Gerry and her new boyfriend did not want any publicity so it was all swept under the carpet.
Two days later we had a Valentine's party at the Frat House and I was still quite pissed. As a matter of fact I really got so stoned that I was unable to have sex with the two females whom I took to my room and who were expecting more than they got. I passed out somewhat quickly once I made it to the room. From that time forward I worked my ass off to drink, smoke and fuck myself to death. I was able to keep my GPA well above 3.0 even though I often went to class with no sleep the previous night. By the end of March, I was a walking shell.
One Sunday morning in April, I awoke to a major earthquake. Abby was literally shaking the hell out of me. I think Neil had called her over to try to resuscitate me. I had been out on a two night bender and was really fucked up. I was lying on the floor of my room naked in a pool of piss and vomit; there was dried cum on my dick and in my pubes. My face looked like a buzzard had puked on it and my hair was a matted mess. I had a hangover that would make a migraine look mild. Abby gave me a couple of Excedrin and made me take a shower. She told me that I was taking her to brunch so I had better get my shit together; she looked very pissed. I put on a blue chambray buttoned down sport shirt and khaki pants.
For most of her first year at K-State, I operated outside of Abby's social circle. We had different friends and different interests and rarely saw each other. I never really thought of Abby in sexual terms. She was Neil's sister and was just unobtainable. I got a big surprise at our first date that late Sunday morning at the Holiday Inn.
At brunch, Abby explained that she had her eye on me from the moment that she met me in Kansas City. She was going to marry me and we were going to have kids and live together forever. She couldn't have me screwing up my life and her future. I was going to clean up my act and we were going to start going out on a steady basis. When I asked her if I got a say in it she said that I did and that the word would be "yes".
I explained that we didn't love each other and love was the basis of a lifelong commitment. She told me that she loved me and that I loved her. Either I didn't realize it or was in extreme denial. We were sitting in one of those horseshoe type booths. She scooted over next to me and gave me a kiss that curled my toes. I had never been kissed like that. When I realized how special she was, I was confronted with the suspicion that I did love her and my heart had just not communicated with my brain. I told her I thought that there was a good chance that we had a future together.
Abby reminded me that Gerry was on her third boyfriend after me and that she was just not capable of a long term relationship. My first attempt at long term had been a catastrophe. I had never really given monogamy a serious chance with the right person. She wanted me to start thinking with my head instead of my dick. She promised me that my dick had nothing to worry about because she was hot blooded and she would take care of all of my sexual needs once a waiting period had gone by. I asked her what she was talking about in terms of waiting. She said that she didn't know yet. I agreed to give it a chance.
We went back to my room where she helped me clean it up and put new sheets on the bed. She took all of my liquor and grass from me. She told me I would have no other women in my bedroom from now on. When I told her that I was not used to taking orders from a woman, Abby told me that she would eventually work things so that I would take ownership of her wishes and that I would just perceive that they were mine from the start. I would be the head of the household and she would stand by her man and work the controls.
From that moment on I underwent a metamorphosis from party boy to preppy. I only went to bars, night spots and frat parties with Abby on my arm. If she was not available, I stayed home. I started wearing pressed clothes and stopped wearing jeans on weekdays. Eventually we would attend cultural events and actually enjoy them.
There was not much of the school year left. I sailed through my finals. The Browns came to Manhattan to attend Neil's graduation ceremony. He was going on to graduate school, but this was a major turning point in his education. We went out to dinner the night they arrived and Abby made it very apparent that I was with her. She had been keeping her mother apprized of her progress in my seduction. When I took Harry aside in the men's lounge and explained how our courtship came about he put his head back and just roared. He told me that Renee, his wife, had done virtually the same thing to him many years ago.
He said that Renee was an expert of making him think all of her ideas were his. She played him like a fine instrument and made him feel that he was indeed the king of his domain. I told him that Abby had already informed me that we were getting married, no questions asked. Harry laughed that laugh all over again. I then told him I didn't think I would be asking for Abby's hand in marriage. Abby and Renee would just give us the details on the nuptials when they felt we needed to know, there would be no asking on the part of the women. All we would have to do is show up. He was still howling when I exited the lounge. The rest of the evening Renee shot Harry daggers when he would erupt in laughter for no apparent reason. I know what he was thinking, "pussy whipped". The problem was, I hadn't even had a whisper of that stuff.
I went home for a couple of weeks to see my parents and then flew over to Kansas City where I spent my summer that year. On the Fourth of July while the rest of the family was over at Cornelius', the grandfather's, house, Abby and I enjoyed our first sexual encounter. She took me to her room where we made love well into the night. Her sexual appetite was voracious. Mrs. Brown caught me out in the hallway as I was returning to my room. She didn't say a word; she just flashed one of those knowing smiles. I was hooked and was officially pussy whipped.
Harry purchased a nice two story house in Manhattan for the three of us. It was a four bedroom house, but Abby slept with me. I still attended some of the fraternity shindigs but came home to Abby. I was completely faithful to her and she was faithful to me. We were the perfect picture of domestic tranquility. My grade-point for that school year was a 3.8. With my history of sitting back at the oars, I was glad to have a 3.1 at the end of four years since a 3.0 is required to enter graduate school. I had no trouble taking the GRE's.
The next May it was my turn to graduate with a bachelor's degree and Neil graduated with his Master's. Neil went on to take over the vice presidency of the grocery distribution warehouse. It was planned that he would run the business within five years; it only took him three. That summer Abby and I married and we had an extravagant wedding in Kansas City. It was a blowout of a ceremony and it was held in Cornelius' backyard, an acreage in the middle of Metro Kansas City. Abby's parents paid for our honeymoon in Jamaica.
We had a great year and with some summer school Abby was able to graduate the same year I got my Masters. There was a little bit of a squabble regarding my employment. Abby wanted me to join the family business and I did not. I knew that usually an in-law had to prove himself over and over to the rest of the family. I had strong support from Harry and Neil but they were just two of nine family executives with the last name of Brown. I had an excellent offer from an accounting firm in Kansas city that was looking for someone with an agribusiness background and they were willing to pay me over 80k which was good money for the late 1970's. It would be hard for Neil's family to come up with such a salary package. It did allow Abby to live close to her parents so eventually with some support from Renee, she saw the light and I took the job.
Abby and I were deeply in love and we spent most of our free time together. We even golfed together. After two years in Kansas City, Abby gave me a daughter, Marilee and a year later a second daughter Courtney. The job was good to me but when I had a chance to buy out an Accounting firm in 1980 with Harry's help, I jumped on it.
After ten years of marriage and two daughters Abby and I were still very much in love. It was in the eleventh year that things fell apart. I had developed a killer work ethic and often spent sixty hours a week or more at the business and five hours a week at the fitness club. Where we had enjoyed a very active sex life for the first eight or nine years we were down to once or twice a week, if that. Sunday was the only time that we really had together. I did not see very much of my children; it was Abby who took them to dance, gymnastics and piano lessons. I promised her that I would slow down.
Two months before The Day I took on a partner. Jerry Davis was the son of one of Harry's friends and they had money. We negotiated a partnership with Jerry; he bought into our accounting/investment house getting 45% of the stock for just under half a million. Again, I promised Abby that I would clean up my act and start coming home at a reasonable hour.
That fateful Friday was a collection of clichés. I finally felt confident with Jerry closing up our shop. He was eager and very able to take care of business and suggested that I go home early. I got home at 1:30 well before the girls were due home from school; I wanted to surprise Abby with a home cooked dinner. She worked as the office manager of an up and coming law firm.
Our Overland Park home had a garage that was connected to the house by way of a breezeway. Therefore, it was often very hard to hear a car enter the garage from the house. As I pulled up to the house I noticed a midnight blue late model Lincoln Town Car parked in front. I remembered that Adam, Abby's boss at the law firm, had such a car.
I quietly let myself into the house fearing the worst. This was very much unlike Abby to allow a man in our home when I was not around. She had always been the epitome of propriety; also, she did not even like Adam. As I was making my way across the kitchen floor, I heard the distinctive scream that she emits when she is having a super orgasm. All doubt about what was going on dissipated.
I made my way up the stairs to the master bedroom. The door was cracked open and I was able to see that she was naked on the bed on all fours and he was behind her fucking her doggy style for all he was worth. Abby had turned into a beautiful woman after she had the children. I wish I could say that I was turned on, but I was not. I felt very sick, very betrayed.
What was worse was what Adam was saying about me. He was telling Abby that I was a wimp and I was a chickenshit who could not take care of his wife. As soon as Adam started spouting that shit, I took the micro cassette recorder that I carried in the inside pocket of my suit coat to make audio notes, turned it on and set it on top of the dresser that was next to the door opening.
Abby made some feeble attempts to disagree with his bullshit but Adam wasn't listening. He continued his diatribe against me as I was getting madder and madder while he was smacking his body against hers. He said that if I were here he would whip my ass and make me drink his cum. He would fuck her in front of me and I could watch their fun. Adam told Abby that she could expect the big raise as promised. He then said that he would make her his and said he would adopt the girls as he was fucking her. I thought it must have been a macho moment for Adam because I couldn't imagine any guy talking that much shit while he was enjoying a good piece. All Abby did was moan. A little later she said 'yes' and I don't know if it was to his proposition or because she was getting ready to come. I knew I had heard enough.
I burst into the room with a roar. Adam jumped up but he did not have enough time to defend himself. I took my palm and shoved it hard into his sternum. He went down writhing. Abbie came unglued and started sobbing and screaming uncontrollably. I reached over to my top dresser drawer where I kept my war mementoes and grabbed my Rapalla knife. I went over to the blinds and cut two lengths of cord. I hogtied Adam and then hogtied Abbie. I removed Abbie's wedding band and engagement ring.
I faced them towards each other on the bed. I advised Adam that he had fucked up. When he called a man a wimp he should be sure about his subject. If he thought he could kick a man's ass he should be damn sure before he said anything. I reached over and showed him a picture of me that Abby had gotten from Mom. It was a picture of me in my dress greens wearing the Medal of Honor around my neck. I had just been decorated by the President and I was standing in front of the Rose Garden. At my request Mom had never talked about my decorations with Abby and as far as she knew it was just a cute picture of me in my military uniform.
I told Adam that I was an ex-Vietnam veteran. I asked he had ever been in the military; I knew the answer: he had not. He turned 18 just a year after we quit the war. I asked him if he knew what the medal was and he said that he did. I told him I had not found it in a crackerjack box but rather I received it from the President of the United States. I then told him that the award came because I was an expert sniper and killer. Back then I could take a life and not think a thing about it. Not only did I do it at 700 meters, I did it up close and personal. Did that sound like a wimp? Once I met Abby, all thoughts of killing went out the window. That was until now. I had never wanted to kill more than I did right then. Adam was turning a sickly pasty white.
I reached over hefted his balls and in four quick sweeps, (slice, slice, snip, snip) castrated him. I told Abby that I could not hurt her even though I was very mad at her. I took a beach towel and pressed it against Adam's wounds wedging it between his legs. I then flushed his testicles down the toilet, called 911, washed my hands and then went over to the Country Club. Several friends were surprised to see me but they bought me drinks until the cops came to get me.
The main issue with the act was that I had not thought it through. I had assaulted a man using a deadly weapon and the fact was obvious, undeniable. I had not given any thought about what trouble my actions would cause for my loved ones, primarily my daughters. I figured that I was going to spend a great deal of time in prison.
To say that the shit hit the fan was an understatement. It was no longer possible to keep my hero status under wraps. The headlines read: "Metal of Honor Winner Castrates Wife's Lover" or "Decorated Veteran Exercises Military Skills". I had a very savvy corporate lawyer and he had a colleague down at the police station making bail. We decided I was probably in a lot of trouble. When we got back to the house I found the tape recorder still on the dresser. I played it for my attorney and he told me we had one hell of a defense. He made three copies: I kept one, he gave one to the DA, one went to the press and he kept the original.
I really felt very bad for Abby in light of the all of the publicity but I immediately filed divorce papers and filed for custody of the children. I leased a condo that was in the school district where the girls attended elementary school. I would drop the girls off at the house every other weekend so that they could visit their mother. During those trips to the house, I never got out of the car and I never acknowledged her. I never talked to Abby even though she called every day asking for forgiveness and asking for a meeting. All communication with Abby took place with a third party either Neil, Harry or my attorney. She was informed that if she expected any reconciliation, I expected her to be celibate during our separation.