Chapter 9: Melissa and Ryan and Ernie

Fortunately, it was a short ride home; otherwise I might have run my car off the road. I wanted to floor the accelerator, but held my speed down only because the tears dimmed my eyesight. That fuck, that no good fuck; I should have left him years ago.

The car door slammed behind me, followed quickly by the front door of the house. Silence, except for soft music from upstairs. There she was, sitting up in bed, nursing the last bit of a cold with the aid of two fingers of her favorite taxable remedy. She always had a smile for me.

"Hello, dear." She said it expectantly, knowing that there must have been some reason for me to come crashing into the house. She was as beautiful as ever, and I think I look like her more and more each day. I hoped that I looked that good when I was her age. Not that she's so old, sixtyish, really. She was sixteen when she conceived my mother in the back seat of some guy's car, and my mother was the same age when one of my father's sperm found its target. I've seen some of the men that she's turned away, always politely.

"I'm going to kill him, Granny; I'm going to fucking kill him. Then I'm going to cut off his balls and feed them to the cat."

"And how will you dispose of his cock, dear?"

I fell onto her bed, sobbing the hurt that I felt, a sobbing which soon turned to giggling as I began to picture her question.

"I suppose we're talking about Michael, aren't we, Melissa?"

I started to sob again.

"And I suppose that means that you caught him with another woman, or suspect that he's been with another woman."

I began to wail. She lifted me up to face her.

"It's not a boy, is it?"

"Jeez, no."

"So let me understand this. Since almost the day you were married, you've been fucking anything that walks; teen age boys, members of the parish, pit bosses and assorted drunks in Vegas when I was supposed to be chaperoning you, even one night in the next bed when the hotel was full."

"Well, I offered to let that one take care of you too."

"If you recall, he was too drunk to get it up a second time."

"Oh, yeah."

"It might have been nice though. Anyway, here you are, slut of the century, and you want to kill your poor husband just because you think he's having it on with some other woman."

"Two of them."

"Who?"

"Elizabeth Underwood and her daughter. He's either fucking them both, or fucking just one and the other knows about it. I could see it; it was so obvious the way the two of them looked at him when we were shaking hands on the receiving line. I thought one of them was going to go down on him right in front of me."

"Tell me, Melissa, why should you be able to fuck around with impunity and not give the same privilege to your husband?"

"Because... because..." I ran out of words and began to sob again. Granny took me in her arms; my body shook as she held me. She rubbed my head and bent to whisper in my ear.

"Do you need me to take care of you before Michael comes home, dear?"

I had only gotten it on with Granny a few times. The first time was back in high school, when I came home from a date in tears, with dried cum all over my blouse.

"What happened, Melissa?"

"What happened is that I sucked off Joey Kelly and I had spat his cum all over my blouse because it was too much to swallow, and once he was done, he refused to make me cum. Now I'm going up to get myself off."

"Let me help you, dear."

Holy shit, I had never known previously that Granny was a muff diver, and that was the night she taught me how, also; better than any movie I've ever seen. Since that night, I've never smelled a pussy as sweet as hers. We didn't get to sleep until five in the morning.

So that afternoon, while Michael was busy calling on parishioners, or making hospital visits, or getting laid, whatever, Granny and I snuggled up in her bed, munching each other's carpeting, making each other cum. And cum. And cum. Too bad you guys can't cum so often. Ha ha ha. Shit, it's too bad for both of us.

But while that took care of my pussy for the time being, thank you, Granny, it did nothing for my brain. I was still seething; Michael was going to have to be punished somehow. My first tendency was to confront him the moment he set foot in the house, to bite his head off. The head with two eyes, not the head with only one eye. But what good would that do? He would either admit or deny, or if he had any inkling, confront me in return. If he confessed and promised not to screw around any more, I would have to do the same thing. I knew it was a promise I could never keep, but still, I hate it when my conscience rears its ugly head into my thoughts. Granny slowed me down.

"Remember, Melissa, revenge is a dish best served cold."

"Oh, cute, Granny, but right now is when I want to kill him."

"Relax, dear, we'll think of something, but it takes time for the perfect revenge. Just remember that to keep it in line with the crime, the punishment will have to be sexual."

"Enough of the fucking clichés, Granny." But I was laughing when I said it.

The problem was that Michael had humiliated me, or at least that's how it seemed to me, in front of the whole congregation by what I saw as a blatant handshake with the Underwood cunts. I on the other hand had been doing most of my fucking on the frequent weekends in Las Vegas, when I was supposed to be watching out for Granny as she played the slots. The fucking I did around the parish was very limited; Richard Davis and his father had been the last ones.

So we came around to the idea of taking on someone local again, someone who might just shoot off his mouth. I didn't intend to solicit that exposure, but was willing to run the risk, actually hoping that it would come out. That would probably ruin Michael here, and who knows how far the news would spread; he'd have to move clear across the country. If that were to happen, Granny and I would just pack up and leave; I had a ton of money that I inherited from my parents, and Michael would have to fend for himself. Fuck him.

A couple of week later, it fell right into my lap. As we stood outside shaking hands, who should come by but the Underwood boy, Ernie, with his friend Ryan.

"Ernie, do you have a little time to help me rearrange some furniture? I can make it worth your while."

The poor kid didn't comprehend the double entendre.

"Can Ryan come along and help?"

I blinked, trying to remember how long it had been since I'd taken on two guys at the same time. I was wet just thinking about it. Two virile young men, and the great possibility that one or both of them would shoot off his mouth, totally ruining Michael.

"Surely. Why don't you boys go get into some old clothes and I'll be at home. The Reverend won't be home until about five." That last remark was gratuitous, but hopefully they would remember it when things got started.

I went home to change also, into a loose blouse and shorts. The blouse was opaque; teen age boys get all excited when they see a bra through a blouse, and I wanted these boys to think that the sex upcoming was their idea, not mine. The shorts though were white and tight. I would have left my panties off but I was in the middle of my period and I needed panties to hold the pad in place; I didn't want tell-tale stains. I knew that it cut down on the odds of me getting my pussy eaten, but I was pretty sure that I could still get them to fuck me. Or, worst case scenario, stick it in my mouth.

"Granny, I'm having company in a little while, to help me rearrange furniture in the basement."

"That's all?"

"You know very well that it's not."

"Who, dear?"

"Ernie Underwood, and he's bringing his friend Ryan."

"Oho, you want to punish Elizabeth and Ginny by taking Ernie to bed. That's too rich, but of course, he won't think of it as punishment. Where do you want me?"

"Well, you might start out by having a headache and being stuck in your room. Then, after maybe an hour, you might want to come down and catch us."

"Are you kidding?"

"Why not? How long has it been since you've gotten laid by two guys at once?"

"Ah, too too long. We'll see."

It didn't take too long for the boys to get there. I could see appreciative glances at my legs, and some sort of signal passing between them. Very good. There were just a few pieces to rearrange downstairs; Granny and I could probably have moved them ourselves.

"OK, boys, all I have left is to straighten out the top shelf in this closet. I just need you to hold me so that I don't fall off this stepstool."