Lightning Strikes

by Barneyr

Caution: This Fiction Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Drunk/Drugged, Fiction, .

Desc: Fiction Story: A storm is brewing and due to this storm, Bill must wage war against two enemies to reach a safe and happy home. One lightning strike tries to block his way and another tries to end life as he knows it.

The rain is coming down so hard I am idling along. I can barely see the ram's head hood ornament on my ten year old Dodge Ram 1500 crew cab pickup. I'm trying to get home to my family; my loving wife Brenda and my children Jake and Susan. I'm Bill by the way. Bill Long, I'm 39 and I'm on my way home early since this storm I'm fighting has cancelled flights all over the area. I was due to fly up to Dallas from Austin on business, but first the Dallas airfields at Love and DFW were closed due to this storm. The storm was moving so fast that they thought it would be cleared up in a few hours so our flight was still scheduled, but we would be flying to El Paso and then to Oklahoma City and then back to Dallas.

That was the plan, but like all plans, once engaging the enemy, plans are now just something on paper or in your head. The enemy, of course, was this freak storm that occurred from out of nowhere in the mountains of Tucumcari, New Mexico and headed east southeast. My flight was scheduled for 4:40pm and I had driven my beat up looking truck to the airport so Brenda wouldn't have to leave work early. She worked at an accounting firm in North Austin. She had some special project she was working on and I figured who was going to bother with a beat up truck like mine in the parking lot.

My truck had seen a lot of wear and tear over the ten years I have owned it. I bought it new and for the first few years it was always neat, clean, and shiny. Then I helped a coworker move, and the bed got a little banged up and scratched. I realized then that it was a truck, a work truck, not a showpiece. So now it had some fender dings, a couple of places that had primer covering a place where some asshole had banged into it that I had fixed, but not had a chance to paint over. But the truck ran like a top, the Hemi purred like a kitten at idle but roared like a lion when I really gave it some gas.

The plan was changed and we were supposed to fly to maybe Memphis and then back to DFW, but that was cancelled when the storm got bigger. It was drawing air and moisture from the gulf, and wind from the northwest and just kept growing. By 6:15 all flights were cancelled out of ABIA (Austin Bergstrom International Airport) and I headed home while it was still fairly nice weather in far southeast Austin. I headed north up the 130 toll road toward Round Rock and I was doing pretty well, but the rain was starting to get harder the farther north I went. It was still okay to drive in, but when I got to the US290 exit, the rain really started in heavier. It seemed that by the next exit I was the only one on the road. By the time I got to the Gattis School Exit going east into Round Rock, I knew I was the only one on the road. I saw no cars and no headlights coming toward me either, but then too I could only see about two hundred feet in any direction.

The rain started getting harder and became sheets driven by the northwest wind and getting harder and harder to see anything. I had noticed lightning in the distance as I came up 130, but now it was flashing all around me and I was almost blinded by the light and the truck shook with the thunder. I had put my sunglasses on halfway up 130 to be able to cut the glare of the headlights and overhead lights at the exits reflecting off the road surface. It helped a great deal, but now with the lightning strikes and everything I was still blinded for seconds after a strike. By now I am barely crawling along at an idle. I got off Kelly Lane and onto Wilke Lane headed for my home on Indigo Trail off of Red Bud Lane.

By now I was less than two miles from home and safety. It was also close to 8:30 on my radio clock. I had just turned on Senna Ridge Trail when lightning struck a neighbor's tree and it fell to the road taking out his car in the street. No way to get around it, so I turned around and headed back the way I had come. I could go back and take either take Forest Ridge Blvd. or go all the way back to Lost Indigo Trail to get to the other side of Indigo and get home. The tree that came down was about two houses from the corner of Forest Ridge and Senna Ridge.

I drove up Forest Ridge and rounded the corner, looking for home at last. While trying to negotiate my way into my driveway I saw reflections of a car's tail lights in my headlights. There was a car in my driveway where I usually park my truck. Brenda's car would be in the garage and I usually park to the side of the drive where she could get her car out, but there was a car there, one I really didn't recognize. I wondered who could have come here knowing I was going to be gone for three days. Well I would find out in a hurry. I hit the garage door opener, and parked in the drive behind Brenda's car and hurried into the garage, getting soaked in the process. I wrote down the license number of the car on a scrap of lumber and then closed the garage door, just as thunder boomed out loudly. I shook myself off and tried to get some semblance of dry with some of my shop rags before I tracked all this water in the house. I knew Brenda would go ballistic if I got her carpet this wet. I stripped down to nothing and then grabbed a pair of shorts from the pile of laundry in the laundry room, and put them on. I then dried myself with a towel from there too, and opened the kitchen door. I was semidry and now shivering because I was still cold from the drenching I got coming into the garage. Who would have thought five hours ago it was 105 degrees out and my thermometer in the garage was pointing towards 35 when I came in; a seventy degree difference in just five hours.

I couldn't hear much as I walked into what seemed like an empty house. The timer light for the living room had come on, so we hadn't lost power yet, but it did seem as though I heard voices, the voices weren't coming from the dining room or the living room, or even our bedroom. It sounded more like coming from Jake's room, or down the hallway, but why from there.

I walked into the house, shivering from the cold and maybe a little from fear. I walked down the hallway to see Jake's door closed, but there was a light from under the door. I checked Susan's room as the door was open and no one was in that room. What the hell is going on? I crept up to Jake's door and listened and I could distinctly hear flesh slapping on flesh. Okay, if Susan was gone, then I knew Jake would be gone too, so that only left Brenda and the mysterious guest from the strange car. This was a definite case of home invasion and invasion of my wife.

I turned around and went back to our bedroom; our bedroom, probably not anymore, huh. But when I got there I reached under the nightstand drawer, and removed my M1911A1. I had made a holster for it and attached it to the top of the shelf there. I made sure it was loaded and I chambered a round. Then I crept back across the living room to the hallway and even through all the noise of the rain hitting the roof, I could hear them still going at it. I checked the door knob and the door was not locked, so I slowly turned the knob and opened the door a crack. There in Jake's bed lay my Brenda with some guy on top of her pumping away to his heart's content. Her eyes were glazed over and her arms were being held above her head with one of his hands as he was pounding away. The bed was along the back wall of the room so their profile was what I could see. The guy was about our age, late 30's, or early 40's and he looked in decent shape and from what I could tell he had a nice long cock, but not as big around as mine. Mine's like six and half inches long but almost two and a half inches wide. His looked to be better than six inches long as that much came out on his up stroke, but it looked to only be about an inch wide. Enough of this shit; I opened the door and pointed the gun at the guy's torso and said calmly, "Please stop what you are doing to my wife before I blow a hole big enough in your body to drive my truck through."

Brenda looked at me and then turned her head away, and pushed the guy off slurring, "Get off me before he shoots us both."

"My, ain't this a pretty picture! I go away on business and my wife moves some asshole into MY house and then fucks him on my son's bed. Are you too tired of fucking him on our bed Brenda? So are you playing musical beds now? Was Susan's bed next, or was it going to be the dining room table; or how about the couch in the living room? Well Brenda what do you have to say for yourself? I noticed that the kids are gone. Did they go to my folk's house down the way so they could still go to school while you shack up with asshole here? Well answer me you slut!"

Asshole started to speak when I pulled the trigger and shot about a foot above his head. The noise was deafening. He fainted and so did Brenda, driving his cock into her again. They had not even disjoined while I was talking to them. I walked over to the asshole and pulled him off my wife and onto the floor. I looked at the small hole in the back wall and figured I had one hell of a hole outside, but right now that didn't bother me, I could fix that later. Right now I had to see if I could fix my marriage.

I sat in Jake's desk chair and tapped asshole on the head with the barrel of my gun saying, "Wakey wakey, it's time to wake up and face the music." Music, that reminded me of a song I really liked, it was a country song called "Guilty as Can Be" by Cody Johnson. There's a lyric there that goes:

" ... And if murderin' a man who didn't understand
Just what she meant to me
Means I'll rot right here in this cell for eternity
Well then mister I'm as guilty as can be

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / NonConsensual / Reluctant / Drunk/Drugged / Fiction /