I had been scheduled to return home Friday evening, around eight. Dan Wilkins and I had traveled to Boston to pitch our company's products to several major buyers. We were doing quite well, or so it seemed. It would be a few weeks before we received a definitive answer from our clients. Friday morning we were notified at 8 AM that our meeting for the day had been canceled and would not be rescheduled for at least a week. Since we had nothing to keep us in Bean Town, we headed back to Pa.

I had some things that Karen had been harping on me to finish around the house, so I was glad to get home early to work on them. I had ridden with Dan and he dropped me off at my house around 2 PM. I went and changed into some work clothes and gathered up a few tools.

Years ago, we had added a bedroom and master bathroom to our house. That gave each of our two kids their own room. They were out of the house now, but things were tight when they were younger. We tried to save a little money by putting the addition on a three-foot crawl space, rather than a full basement. I had fashioned a trap door in my closet that allowed me to drop into the crawlspace from inside the room. I also had a panel on the wall in the backyard if I needed to enter or exit the crawlspace from the outside. To open the trap door, I had to close the closet door most of the way so the bi-fold doors didn't restrict the opening of the trapdoor.

I gathered everything and dropped down below the bedroom. Three feet is better than a lot of spaces under rooms, but it was still difficult to move very well. I crawled over to the pipes that led to the master bathroom with my wrenches. I noticed that the rat poison I left under the bathroom floor was mostly untouched. I had a red squirrel problem a year ago. I never told Karen, but I bought a pellet gun and spent most of a weekend down there, hoping to drop the little bastards, like a regular Wyatt Earp! It was a machismo thing, and I actually had a lot of fun.

Karen was away at her sister's place that weekend and I must have missed a couple squirrels a few dozen times. I had those pellets bouncing all over. Then I had the idea of putting an empty soda can in a corner and shooting at it. After a few hours and a few hundred shots, I was able to hit the D in the 'Mountain Dew' can at about ten feet. I had become a sharpshooter! I never saw the squirrels after that. I guess a firing range is not the type of place an animal wants to frequent. By the end of the weekend, I had grown bored with the game and had stuffed some cement in their access hole and left poison out for the varmints.

I was under the bathtub, trying to loosen the rusted fittings that held the drain. It had become clogged to the point where water slowly filled the tub when we showered, and no amount of Drano would remedy the situation. I was going to take the bull by the horns and take the drainpipe off and either clear out the obstruction, or replace the pipe.

I have found that it is necessary to first rip the skin off a few knuckles before any serious plumbing can be performed. I had just managed that task when my cursing was interrupted by footsteps. It was way early for Karen to be home, but there was no reason for anyone else to be in my bedroom. I had visions of her running the shower about the time I removed the drainpipe and a small flood washing over me. I crawled back to the trap door to warn her to not use the water in the tub.

As I reached the trapdoor, I heard a man's voice. That seemed really odd and I started getting a bad feeling. I slowly stood up through the door. I had the top half of my body showing in the closet. I had closed the closet door almost completely, so I was not seen.

Karen was undressing quite casually. At least, I thought it was rather casual considering Carson Herzog was standing by the bed! I realized I had to move pretty quickly or my faithful wife would no longer have that title.

"I love getting together with you, Karen," grinned Carson as he peeled his shirt off and unbuckled his pants. "You pussy is so tight and hot. I love fucking it!"

I then realized I was too late to prevent the dastardly deed! It sounded like it was a regular happening. Karen was naked and laughing as she climbed on the bed.

"You better hurry up and put it in this little pussy. We have about an hour. Then I have to clean up and have everything ready when Tim gets home this evening," she cautioned.

"An hour is enough time for me to get you off a few times. I think I'll cum in your married pussy first. Then, if I am feeling up to it, so to speak, I'll give you a load on your pretty face and lips," promised Carson.

I like to think of myself as a reasonable man, but my anger was building fast. I felt flushed and my knees started shaking. That always happens when I become really agitated.

"It sounds like you have it all figured out, Carson," chuckled Karen. "As long as I have time to clean up, use me any way you want. You know I enjoy everything you do to me!"

Old Carson was sitting naked next to Karen, pinching her nipples and kneading her tits as he replied, "I want you to leave my load in your pussy today. Let Timmy clean it up when he gets home, or doesn't he dine at the Y?"

"Tim is a very accomplished pussy eater, actually," chuckled Karen. "I just don't want him to get suspicious. If he knew about us he would go ballistic. Besides, I don't want to hurt him."

"You little slut!" laughed Carson. "Are you that dumb, or do you think I am? If you didn't want to ever hurt him, you wouldn't be naked on this bed with me right now. You don't give a shit about Tim, and neither do I."

"That isn't true, Carson!" Karen protested. "He is a very good husband, father, and provider. I just need a little excitement in my life. I don't want to lose him. I love him."

By this time, Carson was poised over Karen's open cunt with his hard cock.

"Well, I'm not complaining," admitted Carson, "but I think you have a strange way of loving a man. Look at my cock sliding into you and tell me you love Tim."

"Oh! That feels so good, Carson!" cooed Karen. "I do love Tim, agh, but I love your cock, too. I want both."

Carson suddenly stopped and pulled his cock from Karen's hungry cunt. I was beginning to clear my head and my knees had stopped shaking. I had attained a new level of anger, where I was very calm. I wondered if mass murderers felt the same way before they went on a killing spree.

"Promise you'll leave my juices inside you for Tim to clean up, or I won't give you this cock," teased Carson.

"Okay! I'll do it. Tim is so trusting; he'll never know the difference. He'll think he just got me extra wet. Now, fuck me for Christ's sake!" implored Karen.

As Carson plunged into my wife's willing cunt, I dropped down to the crawlspace and made my way to the outside exit. I walked around to the front of the house and saw Carson's SUV parked in the driveway. Karen must have ridden with him since her car was not in the garage or the drive.

I grabbed a hammer and my cordless drill and kneeled down by the back tire. I had a small bit already in the drill, so I drilled a hole into the tire. It hissed for a second, and then popped. It took a matter of a few seconds to flatten all four tires. Just for the hell of it, I drilled the spare tire mounted on the back door. Then I circled the car and smashed every light and window in the goddamn thing. I was beginning to feel a little better.

My neighbor hides a key on his porch and I have permission to enter his house, as I deem necessary. I went in and dialed Carson's number. I knew it because he and his wife were good friends of ours. Karen worked with Carson and we had all become close. I never realized how close, apparently.

I grabbed a towel from a rack by the sink and covered the phone with it. When Dottie answered, I told her I was a neighbor that had seen a guy vandalizing her husband's car, at Tim Stewart's place. Then I hung up and went to the back of my house again and reentered the crawlspace with the hammer and drill.

I didn't want to leave the weapons of mass destruction where they could be found and possibly point a finger at me. I see now, that logic didn't track. Who would be the first suspect? The enraged, wronged husband! The car was thrashed in my driveway! I crawled over to the ledge where I had kept my pellet gun stashed and removed it from the sealed plastic bag I used to keep it clean and dry.

I heard our phone ring several times, but I knew that Karen was far too preoccupied to answer it. The machine picked up, but I couldn't make out the message being left. It had to be Dottie, though. Her next step would be to drive the few blocks to our house.

As I approached the trapdoor, I could hear all kinds of moans and grunts. I stood up in the closet and surveyed the scene through the opening in the closet door. Carson was slamming Karen doggie-style and they were both getting very close. Then I saw him push as far as he could into Karen and hold her ass still as he emptied his nuts.

I was about ten feet, or so, behind him and I could actually see his balls contract as he filled my wife. Somehow, I knew my aim would be accurate as I raised the gun. Carson was groaning as he pumped his sperm into Karen.

The pellet hit his contracted nut sack with an audible 'whack'! He screamed and lunged forward, reflexively, I guess. Karen's head was banged against the headboard with considerable force. Man! That had to hurt! Still, it would pale in comparison to the pain Carson was feeling. As I pulled the door down over the opening, I saw him jumping around screaming and holding his balls.

I put the gun back quickly, crawled outside, replaced the panel, and strolled across the back yard. I continued until I hit the next street and walked a few blocks to a local pub. I felt I had earned a few beers. How many guys can shoot like that?

As I sipped a cold Sam Adams, I considered the havoc that was taking place a few short blocks away. It was a little after five when my cell phone rang. It was Dottie.

"This is Dottie. Where are you, Tim?" she asked.

"We are driving through Connecticut, on 84," I lied. "Why do you ask?"

"I am at Wilson Hospital. Carson is undergoing emergency surgery and Karen is in the emergency room," answered Dottie.

"The hell you say!" I blurted. I was actually surprised. "Were they in a car accident?"

"No, it is more complicated than that. I really can't tell you much over the phone. They just want to observe Karen for a few hours to be sure she doesn't go into a coma or something. She has a concussion. I just wanted you to know where she was so you don't panic when you get home."

"Thanks, Dottie. I wouldn't normally panic because Karen wasn't home, though. I appreciate you calling me. I'll stop at the house to get my car and I'll be over to the hospital."

"You will see Carson's car in your driveway. It is all smashed up and the tires are flattened, but I think you can get around it," Dottie revealed.

"Okay. That sounds bad," I told her. "If I have to, I'll just drive Karen's car."

"Her car isn't there, Tim. It is a long story and I don't want to tell it over the phone. This is just a heads-up and I will talk to you when you get here."

I hung up and considered the situation. I had been really upset, but I didn't expect to put them in the hospital! I wondered if the chickens would come home to roost with me on this one. As darkness descended, I walked back home.

There were cars slowing down at my place, and more than a few people walking past the house. They were all rubbernecking at the mess in my driveway. I left the sidewalk and cut through some back yards and entered the house through the back door.

I went into the bedroom to change. It appeared that a riot had taken place. The lamp and table were knocked over. Clothes were flung around there was some blood on the carpet. I realized I must have clipped a bleeder, a vein, in Carson's old ball sack. I grinned as I remembered him dancing around the room, clutching his gonads and screaming. He was fucking my wife, and as far as I was concerned, he was fucking me as well. He was lucky I didn't have a .38 down there. When a man decides to cuckold another man, he had better be prepared to pay the piper.