Tommy and Helen

by Jedd Clampett

Copyright© 2017 by Jedd Clampett

Romantic Story: A loving wife and a bet gone bad.

Caution: This Romantic Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Heterosexual   Fiction   Cheating   Petting   .


This is another story I’ve been thinking about. I hope you enjoy it. It is a loving wives story, but don’t look for any sex. I promise I’ve got a sexy one coming. Meanwhile I hope you’ll like this. I’d like to dedicate this to woodmanone in appreciation for some good advice.

Two people in love.

It’s dark and the road’s dangerous. It’s a two lane high speed highway, it’s raining, and I’m still at least an hour from home. I don’t know how it came to this. I halfway feel like just turning the wheel, flipping my SUV, and saying good bye to the whole shitted up mess. I won’t though. I won’t because I love my two kids, and in spite of everything I still love my wife.

An hour from home and I wonder what kind of home it will be when I get there. I admit it; I’m angry, angry and confused. My wife couldn’t be cheating on me, and certainly not with the cad with whom I’m afraid she is. I’ll find out soon. I’ll find out when I get home; within the hour I’ll know for sure.

I checked the clock on the dashboard; its 5:00 p.m., Friday, November 14, 2013, it’s dark and cold and wet. I should have had my tires replaced or at least checked. I know they’re nearly bald, but this is my ‘run around’ truck not my good truck. No one uses this piece of shit but me. I’d never let Helen near it; it’s too dangerous. I only used it today because I wanted my nephew Wayne to use my good vehicle.

Wayne just turned nineteen. He’s fresh out of high school and had decided to take a year off and work before he went college. Wayne’s a great kid; he’s my oldest brother’s oldest son. Wayne’s been working for me. Lately since he sprained an ankle he’s just been splitting firewood.

OK I admit it I’m a farm boy; well not just a farm boy. I graduated high school and went to college, finished in four years too. I’m no tough guy. I just work my ass off for my family. I don’t have any special skills. I just work hard. I did join the Army Reserves though; yeah I wore the uniform, and I wore it proudly. Only made E5, never got called up for anything overseas, and thank goodness never will now. Hell I’ve been out for fifteen years. OK, it was only the motor pool, but I’m still proud of what I did. I love my country.

My dad and mom raised five kids; I’m the middle child, third in five.

This road is dangerous; it’s slick, there’s been a light rain, more mist than rain and everything’s slippery. I think people are more careless when the roads are like this. Man I’m in a hurry.

According to Wayne if I kick out I might get ‘there’ before it’s too late.

OK where is there? There is a Motel Six just off Interstate Route 81 in Pennsylvania ... and who might be at the Motel Six, why my ever loving, piss me off, wife Helen with her ‘alleged’ lover Jim ‘the mother fucker’ Carpenter. I have to get there. I have to stop her before she does something we’ll both regret.

Wayne’s had my good truck today so he could keep tabs on Helen while I drove to Martinsburg to settle accounts with a couple assholes who thought they could fuck over a couple kids who worked for me. The boys had hauled eight cords, that’s two truckloads of good seasoned oak firewood to this guy’s house. He got all shitty saying the wood wasn’t good enough and he wasn’t paying them. He’d had his brother with him for intimidation purposes.

Martinsburg nowadays is part of the outermost ring of the D.C. suburbs, housing is expensive, and firewood is selling for $200.00 a cord. Look cutting and splitting wood is hard and dangerous work. Nobody’s getting into me and my workmen for $1,600.00. I had a baseball bat on the back seat to guarantee it. I got our money.

Helen knew I had to be gone, and I guess she thought this might be her big chance to get away with something. I don’t think she thought about Wayne.

Wayne’s been keeping me up to date on the whole Helen-Jim thing for the last several weeks. Jim’s a real bird dog, and he’s been sniffing around my quail. Nothing’s happened yet, but it looks like today, or tonight is going to be their big opportunity.

I see I’m low on gas; better pull in, I’ll call Wayne and see what’s happening. Man, this is tearing me apart.

Helen has always been one ‘grade A’ bitch, but I have to admit I’m the classic hard assed prick. We’ve been married fifteen years. We have two kids; Jamie who’s twelve and Janice who’s eleven. They’re both great kids. I love em. I love their mom too.

Me and Helen met through my younger sister. My sister and Helen were sorority sisters in college. Helen’s one of the types who has always had everything she’s ever wanted. Helen’s parents are rich. She was her high school’s prom queen, lead cheerleader, and just generally all around most popular girl. Things didn’t change for her in college either. Guys followed her around like she was some bitch in heat.

How did we meet? My sister took me to the fall apple festival outside Gettysburg one September. I guess it was 1995. Helen was there scooping up those utterly tasteless French fried sweet potatoes. I know a lot of people like them, but I think they taste like shit. I was bitching at my sister about having to wait in line with her while she bought this crap when the girl behind the table smacked me on the head with an umbrella.

This girl hit me and said, “If you don’t like my fries, then why are you even in line?”

I couldn’t be one upped; I leered at her and said, “Who are you, Elephant Girl?” I said that because she was clearly taller than me.

That’s when my sister intervened, “Helen,” she said, “I want you to meet my little brother Tommy.”

The ‘tall one’ smirked, “I can see why you call him your ‘little brother’. Where’d you get him, Munchkin land?”

That’s how it started. A few minutes later we were all at a picnic table with me and Helen exchanging barbs. Had I fallen in love? Damn right I had, but I knew I could never let her know.

She was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever met, and she’d caught me on the rebound. My college sweetheart had moved to California looking for her version of ‘Mr. Right’. Lucky for me, I’d caught Helen on the rebound too. Her most recent boyfriend had two problems; first according to Helen he couldn’t keep his pecker in his pants, and second he expected that she’d put out for him. When she wouldn’t he left.

I found out the stuff about the boyfriend on one of our first dates. I think Helen was putting me on notice about a couple things; first she wanted me to know right up front that if I was dating her I wasn’t dating anybody else, and second, she wasn’t into giving anybody anything until she was married. She as much as told me she was a virgin. Yeah, like I believed that! They don’t make them like that anymore.

We dated for a year before I asked her to marry me. I was scared to ask her. I figured she’d only been dating me till somebody better showed up. I gave her a ring, and asked her if she thought she’d like to finish what we’d started. She laughed and told me nothing had started yet, but she was ready to give it a try.

I pulled in, got some gas, bought a cup of black coffee, and a bag of chips. I’m not supposed to eat things like potato chips. Helen’s put snacks like that on the ‘forbidden list’. I’m not allowed sodas, white bread, candy, ice cream, chocolate, or any pastry either. Helen says my cholesterol is too high.

I had to take a piss. While I was standing there holding my Johnson I wondered why she’d even think about fucking around on me, and why would she do it with a piece of worthless shit like Jim Carpenter?

It was tearing me up inside. It’s not like I’m one of those men who spend all their time on the road. I’m not lazy. I’m a good provider. Look I went to college; I’m not stupid. When I got out I knew I wasn’t going anywhere with my dad’s farm; I have two older brothers. I mean if I stayed on the farm I’d never be anything more than a hired hand, but I wasn’t some ‘house mouse’ either. By that I mean I knew I had to be outside. I just didn’t see myself in an office.

I got some help from our grandparents. I bought some lawn equipment and started my own lawn service. That worked pretty well except the competition is fierce so I contracted with some farmers who owned large tracts of woodland. I went into the firewood business. That worked pretty well, but I still had a lot of dead time in the winter so I started buying snow removal equipment.

Now I’ve got a lawn service, a firewood business, and in the winter I’ve worked out deals with several businesses and one of the counties to help clear their roads and parking lots when it snows.

I’d say Helen and I are doing alright. Helen does our books, manages the payroll, and does most of the hiring and firing.

I stuffed my dick back in my pants, bought my coffee and chips, got back in my SUV, and called Wayne. Wayne picked up on the first ring, “I’ve some bad news Uncle Tom.”

I’m not one to hide from the truth, “What is it Wayne?”

“Aunt Helen and Mr. Carpenter got a room at the Motel Six. They’re there now.”

“OK Wayne’ I answered, “I’m on my way.”

Wayne asked me, “What are you going to do Uncle Tom?”

I told him, “I don’t know yet.”

I turned on the ignition and got back out on the highway. I figured another forty minutes would tell the tale. I took off and drove as fast as the law allowed. I guess I was going faster than I thought. I got pulled over. I wasn’t speeding. I had a tail light out. Why would a state trooper pull me over in the dark in the middle of a misty foggy rain? Well I guess the guy wanted to get hit by a passing motorist while he was standing behind my driver’s window. I took the inspection ticket, thanked him and was back on my way. I’d lost another fifteen minutes.

The whole thing with this Jim Carpenter was a joke, a bad joke. He was new in the area. He was a braggart and a bull-shitter, but he had money and finagled a membership in the country-club my Helen said we absolutely had to be members of.

Helen is a blond goddess. She’s a statuesque 5’11”. She has beautiful blue eyes, and the kind of face and figure men fight wars over. Her name is Helen after all. Homer said the Spartan girl had a face that launched a thousand ships; well my Helen is so beautiful she’d probably make the D-Day armada look small.

She knows she looks terrific, and for more than fifteen years she’s used her glorious beauty to make a fool of me. I don’t care really; I give her tit for tat.

Helen is two inches taller than I am, and when she puts on her high heels she towers over me. Of course she does it deliberately. Usually at the club when she’s there in one of her slim and trim sexy black dresses, black nylons, and patent leather black heels I sometimes deliberately wear heelless moccasins. She wears the shoes to piss me off. I wear the moccasins to get back.

It’s been that way since I can remember. We fight with each other over everything. At least we do in public; at home, well that’s different. In public I can never do anything right; at home well I’m never wrong.

It’s just unimaginable that she would be out fucking the likes of Jim Carpenter. Of course everybody knows how Helen and I fight and argue. That, according to Wayne is what prompted the mess we’re in now. I said Carpenter was a blowhard. It seems according to Wayne ‘Mr. Blowhard’ made a bet that he’d be able to get between my wife’s legs before Thanksgiving. Well Thanksgiving’s only a week away! Wayne said he’d been taking bets, and lately he’d been giving odds.

This is heartbreaking. I can’t imagine Helen doing anything like this. I’m sure if she knew it was over a bet she’d be pissed to shit, but Helen’s not a gossip hound. If there was gossip about a bet, she’d never listen.

Still she’s been acting kind of strange lately. She’s been distant around the house. There’d been times when she’s been on the phone and I’d walk in; she’d either leave the room or start to talk real quiet. There’d been other times I’ve called and I couldn’t reach her. This last thing, her not being available is especially disquieting since she’s so much a part of our business. She’s always been easy to reach, but not lately. It’s like she’s been preoccupied lately too; like she’s got other things on her mind. Oh please let not Jim Carpenter’s slimy balls and diseased penis be what’s on her mind.

I pulled to the side of the road and punched in Wayne’s phone number again. He picked up right away.

“Hello Wayne?” I said.

“Yeah Uncle Tom, it’s me.”

“Is it?”

“I’m sorry Uncle Tom. I didn’t get a good look at her face, but it’s her dark brown raincoat, and you know how she wears her blond hair in that long French braid, and it was her hat alright. I didn’t see her Lexus; he drove the both of them. I guess she met him some place.”

I heard Wayne sniffle back some tears so I told him, “Stay with it Wayne. I’m on my way.”

Something else was bothering me too. This was November 15th. My birthday was the twelfth; it was my fortieth. Helen never said or did anything.

Ever since the kids came along we’ve always made a big deal out of birthdays. I don’t mean a lot of presents and stuff; I mean we do things like cake and ice cream and candles and singing ‘Happy Birthday’ and all. I like to deliberately sing off key. I only do it to piss Helen off. I also always tell her not to make a fuss over my birthday, but the truth is I enjoy it. Sure my feelings got hurt a little when Tuesday came and went and nobody said anything. Oh well I guess I know why ... now.

I picked up speed. God damn it I was going to find out. I was going to catch her! Maybe I should call home? I pulled over and used my cell to call the house.

My mom picked up, “Hello.”

“Hello mom? It’s me. Where’s Helen?”

“Oh Helen? Helen had to go out. I’m babysitting till she gets back.”

“Do you know when she said she’d be back?”

“No Tommy she didn’t say exactly. She only said she’d be a while, that I wasn’t to call her, and that she’d be back before you got home.”

“OK, thanks mom,” well that does it. Helen’s out with the ‘Big Shit’ unknowingly helping him win his bet while my mom is home with my kids. I felt like crying. I didn’t of course. I only felt like it.

Helen and I had talked about things like fidelity before we got married. I’d fooled around some before I met Helen, but not very much. Helen of course was everybody’s wet dream. I couldn’t imagine her not having at least as much experience as I did. All throughout our dating and then our yearlong engagement she swore she was a virgin. I didn’t believe her, but I never called her out on it. We had the big wedding.

We’re both Methodists so that made choosing a church easy; we chose hers. My mom and dad didn’t care. They’d fallen in love with her the first time they met her, so did all my brothers and sisters. There were close to three hundred people at the wedding; it was in June, it had to be one of the hottest days of the year. We went to Niagara Falls for our honeymoon. Where else would we go?

Through all the time we dated it was like I was always under surveillance. What with four brothers and sisters and myriad nieces, nephews and cousins all in love with Helen, I couldn’t take a shit without someone reporting to Helen how long, dark, and fat each and every turd was.

About me watching Helen; I never gave it a thought. First I believed if she really loved me she’d keep the faith, and second, if she did step out on me I didn’t want to know. Of course the thing about her being a virgin; I knew that was bull shit.

I believed she was lying about the virgin thing right up to our wedding night. Then I found out she really was a virgin. I got Helen’s cherry! She’d never been with another man! Shit why now? Why after seventeen years of public combat and private adoration would she sell us out, and sell us out for a creep like Jim Carpenter?

I had to stop thinking about this. If I didn’t stop thinking I knew I’d end up crying. I know I wouldn’t, not really. Men don’t cry; not in my family they don’t.

I remember our wedding night. I remember how small she was. I remember how scared she was. I mean for the two years we’d dated I’d listened to all her bravado, all her talk about how popular she was, how many boys she’d turned down, how she’d managed to break a dozen hearts, and how unbelievably lucky I was. Hell, she didn’t have to tell me; I knew I was lucky.

I remembered the time her last serious boyfriend came back. Roy Orbison wrote a song about that; it was called ‘Running Scared’. I knew she’d loved him; she loved him enough to almost, that’s almost, give him her most special possession. I’d been running scared for months. He showed, and just like in the song she turned around and walked away with me. I felt like I was ten feet tall that day. Of course a little later on she had to burst my bubble; she told me she was only staying with me because she felt sorry for me. I thought, ‘Oh so what; as long as I get to keep the prize.’

Actually we didn’t consummate our marriage that first night. Oh we made love. I kissed her all over. I manipulated her vagina. I teased her clit. She even touched me. I got down there and licked her labia, but I didn’t gain entry until the following morning. No, she couldn’t be out fucking Carpenter; we meant too much to each other.

I checked the dashboard clock; ten minutes more. In another ten minutes and I’d be at the motel.

What was I going to do? I had no idea. I saw the light up ahead; they’d kept the light on for me. Was that even the right motel chain? I pulled in and parked beside my good truck. Wayne got out.

Wayne came over, “That man, Carpenter. He already left. They weren’t in there together that long. She’s, I mean Mrs. MacMillan my auht; she’s still in there.”

“Thanks Wayne,” I started for the door. My whole life was about to implode. I remembered when she gave me my first blow job; she’d been so scared.

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