Revenge Best Served Pt 01

REVENGE; BEST SERVED...

By mysteriousquill

©2025 All Rights Reserved

PREFACE

It's been a while since I published anything to Literotica, not that I haven't been reading and voting on a regular basis. I'm glad to be back.

This is a fictional story that I started several years ago and finally made the time to finish it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

This is a two-part story. ( Part 1 - Revenge; Best Served... and Part 2 - Revenge; Best Served... Cindy's Viewpoint ) Due to its length, I published both under the Novels & Novella Category. To get the most out of this story, read Part 1 first. Part 2 contains a lot of spoilers that are best left until they show up in Part 2.

As a

WARNING

, the story contains something for just about anyone. Just about. It has parts that could fit into Literotica Categories of; Anal, Erotic Couplings, Exhibitionist & Voyeur, First Time, Interracial Love, Loving Wives, Mature, Romance, and even a little Toys & Masturbation. Even though they are not separate official categories, there is some cheating, wife sharing, and cuckolding, which, for whatever reason, draws a lot of hate mail in the comments.

Simply put, if any of these categories are not to your liking, go read something else.

Everyone depicted in acts of sex are over the age of 18. Any resemblance or reference to real names or places is purely coincidental.

I'm sorry to have to add this statement, but...

This is a copyrighted work, and not to be copied, altered, edited, or published in writing or other media, without the author's express written permission. ©️Copyright 2025

Enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE

Traveling by air just isn't what it used to be, even for short trips. Even for business trips, it was... fun. Passengers used to get a little dressed up for trips. But today, they wear the same clothes that they do on intercity buses and subways. Maybe that says something.

The competition between airlines killed the class once associated with flying. Airliners became nothing more than large buses that didn't have to worry about bus stops, redlights, or traffic congestion, even though the growth in the number of flights created their own congestion. Rather than striving to make all seats first class, all seats were made "business class", which is nothing more than tourist class. Four of the airline corporations that make you wonder where air travel would be had they never existed; Pan Am, TWA, Eastern, and BOAC, no longer exist except in old movies.

Even with the advanced pre-boarding security check, which claims you can be through in less than five minutes, it still requires you to be there at least an hour before the flight, and most times it's beneficial to be there at least 2 hours in advance. And that's for domestic flights. In most cases with international flights, just getting through the airport and onto the plane takes longer than the actual flight to your destination.

The conference I attended was three days in length, four if you want to count the bullshit meet and greet, hospitality reception the first night. Only one of the break-out sessions on the first full day interested me. Time; the hour drive to the airport, a half-hour ride in the shuttle to the terminal, the hour check-in, the flight took just about an hour and a half, an hour after picking up the one bag I checked, picking up the rented car and the drive to the hotel, two more hours, that's six hours. That doesn't include the check-in at the hotel. Before you know it, you've spent an entire day getting there just to attend a two-hour session at a conference. The return trip was just as grueling, which is why I cut the conference short. With a travel day on each end, attending the conference becomes a five-day ordeal. I'd have rather stayed home, gotten work done in my office,

for which I'll still be responsible when I get back,

and be home with my wife who I simply adore.

Yeah, I know, all husbands say something like that. But after almost 35 years of marriage, there has to be some truth in that, at least for me.

I wasn't supposed to arrive back home until Saturday. Instead, I decided to catch an early flight on Thursday, getting me home just around lunch time. Cindy, my wife, would be working, which would give me time to unpack and surprise her by having dinner done when she got home. My decision was made rather suddenly and I didn't want to bother her at work to tell her I was coming home early. Besides, I like surprising her when I can. The night before, when I talked to Cindy on the phone, I was still planning on getting home Saturday morning. On the plane, I had figured what time I'd be getting home and devised my plan for dinner.

It was a lovely day. Sunny and very warm. The flight wasn't crowded and stayed on schedule. Actually, we got in about ten minutes ahead of schedule. My checked luggage was actually waiting for me when I got to the pick-up area. The shuttle to the long-term parking was outside as if waiting for me. Because my flight got in between the morning rush and noon, traffic was quite tolerable. I made excellent time, taking just about an hour to get home.

I turned into the driveway and as I got ready to hit the remote to open the garage door...

Surprise, surprise!

The garage door was open and Cindy's car, a bright red Mustang GT convertible, was already in the garage. She hadn't said anything about taking off. She hadn't said anything about not feeling well. As I pulled a little further up the driveway, I noticed a motorcycle parked outside the garage. A police motorcycle. A nice big Harley, decked out with all of the lights and markings.

"What the fuck?!?"

"Is everything okay?"

I asked myself. If there was a problem, why is the cop parked that close to the garage instead of closer to the walkway leading to the front door? I was thinking, if there WAS a problem, wouldn't it be a patrol car, not a motorcycle cop?

I pulled my car up to the garage just outside where I would normally park. I checked my phone to see if the alarm was set. It wasn't. I walked to the door to the kitchen and slowly opened it. That was a little unusual too. Even when we are both home we usually keep that door locked. I slowly pushed the door open. I didn't see a thing. I listened, hoping to hear some type of conversation in the kitchen. There wasn't any. Nothing in the dining room or living room. The house was quiet. I looked out on the deck and patio from the family room sliding doors. Nothing, or should I say nobody there.

As I turned around and headed back to the kitchen and check downstairs, I noticed clothes laying over the back of the sofa in the family room. The cop's pants and shirt were folded neatly and laid across the back of the sofa. A pair of high, shiny black boots were parked in front of it, and a gunbelt was laying on the sofa.

My heart started racing. There was only one thing that I could think of. Like all women, maybe I'm safer saying MOST women, Cindy is attracted to men in uniform. I knew a few of the police in the area but none on motorcycles. Actually, it was a little unusual to see a motorcycle cop this far out of the city and this far from a highway. The county sheriff's office only had a couple, and they seldom used them except for parades and funerals and occasionally speed traps.

My senses were peaking. I could hear the birds outside, but nothing in the house... at least not yet. My nose was picking up an odor I wasn't familiar with. And husbands always thought it was just a "wives' tale" that a wife could smell another woman on their husband. As quietly as I could, I moved closer to the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Our bedroom, the master bedroom, is at the end of the hallway.

As I got closer, I could hear some sounds, noises.

The door was partially closed, that too was a little unusual. We seldom shut the doors when we were home. I got close enough to peek in. My adrenaline was in overdrive and everything seemed to slow down. My eyes immediately went to tunnel vision. I reared back on one leg and just about kicked the door open and charge in. I stopped with one leg poised and ready.

The cop, or who I assumed was the cop, was standing at the foot of our bed, completely naked. His back was to the door... and me. He was tall, dark, and handsome.

Let me rephrase that, very dark, actually black.

He looked to be around 6 foot 2 to 4 inches tall and muscular. Not huge, just... defined. His head was shaved and from a quick glimpse of his profile he looked to have a thin mustache.

Cindy was kneeling in front of him. She was wearing a gorgeous black lace bra, garter, and panties set I bought her a couple of years ago. She was also sporting a pair of black stockings and her black stripper style high heels. She looked terrific, very hot. Very slutty, the way I like her to dress when we play or when I'm in the mood to show her off.

Even though I couldn't see her face, it was obvious she was blowing him. His head rolled back as he moaned. I could barely make out him saying, almost whispering to her, "Oooo, yeah! Suck it! Ooo, baby! You like that black cock, don't you?"

Cindy, trying to talk with her mouth full again, could only get out, "Uhhhh huh!"

Quickly, but quietly I took out my cell phone and started to record what was going on.

He leaned over and lifted Cindy to her feet, backed her onto the bed, and climbed up over her. I heard her say, "Wait a minute! I don't know about this." She sat up.

Officer Friendly replied back to her, "What do you mean? Don't you want to? You're not going to tell me you can't because you're married."

Very quickly, Cindy replied, "But, I am married! I love my husband. I can't do this."

The cop held his cock out like an offering. "Come on baby, you want this. You said you've always wanted a black cock. You were just sucking it."

"Blowing you is not the same as fucking you. I'm just not sure."

"You know, making love and fucking are different too. I thought we were just going to have cheap, meaningless sex. I don't want you to fall in love with me."

Cindy thought for a second. I was as still as I could be, hoping she wouldn't look in my direction. "I know, I thought so too," she replied.

Officer Friendly took a deep breath and said, "I'm not going to force you or try to talk you into it. I thought you wanted to, you know, just for fun." He started to turn as if to walk away.

"Wait!" she said as she reached out for him. "Cheap, meaningless sex, right? That's all."

"Of course. That's what I said from the start. That's what we agreed on."

Cindy smiled and laid back on the bed.

So much for loving your husband.

Within just a few seconds he had Cindy on the bed with her legs spread wide and in the air, just about wrapping around her lover. He gently slid his black cock inside her pussy. With just a few strokes, he was fucking her... fucking her real good. I was startled that not only was my wife in our bed with another man, but a black man.

I could make out Cindy's voice barely getting out, "Oh gawd, yes! Yeah!" That quickly progressed to, "Oh fuck yeah! Fuck yeah! Oh yes, YES!"

"That's it baby! You like my black cock, don't you!" he was saying to her.

"Yes! Yes! I love your black cock! Fuck me! Fuck yeah! Fuck my white pussy! Fuck that white pussy!"

I could feel my blood start to boil. Even when we would roleplay, Cindy seldom talked like that to me. I had about a hundred thoughts go through my mind within those first few seconds.

"Could I make it to the drawer where I keep my gun?" "Should I shoot him?" "Should I shoot her?" "Should I shoot both of them?"

Although it would initially be quite satisfying, in the long run it would be devastating. I have a good job and even if a jury of my peers understood why I did it; heat of the moment, passion, temporary insanity, etc., having to move, find a new job, the embarrassment, etc. etc. etc., there would have to be a better option. Besides, I love Cindy. Even seeing her like this, I still love her.

The bitch!

Then it dawned on me. I held my cell phone up to the doorway opening. I only needed a few seconds. From my vantage point, I could see his black cock sliding in and out of my white wife's pussy. Sadly, Cindy looked like she was totally enjoying it. Her squeals advertised her orgasms.

"Oh my gawd that's a big cock! Ooo, yeah! Ooo, yeah! Oooo, fuck! Ooo, holy shit! Ooo, give me that big black cock!"

"You like it when I fuck your pussy like that?"

"Oh, fuck me! I'm cumming! I'm fucking cumming! Don't stop! DON'T STOP!"

I thought I'd been caught as Cindy rolled over, keeping the black cock impaled inside her. She was now on top of him and she kept riding him. Amazingly, neither of them saw me in the doorway. From that angle I could see that Officer Friendly was very well endowed. His cock is a good ten inches long with a girth to match. It was coated with Cindy's wetness.

After I let my cell phone record some of the action, something I seldom use the phone for, I backed away from the doorway, and just as quietly as I approached it, but slightly faster, I made my way to the family room. As I grabbed Officer Friendly's uniform, I had a brilliant idea.

Dangerous, but brilliant.

I left just his gunbelt and boots. I did however remove the keys to his motorcycle that were snapped onto the key holder.

As quietly as I could, I made it to the garage and backed my car out of the driveway. I drove to a friend's house just a few houses away and parked in his driveway. He and his wife would still be at work, and even if they saw my car there, it wouldn't raise any flags. There are enough trees and shrubbery between our houses that my car couldn't be seen from my house.

I started through the back yards returning to my house. I figured that the way I left Cindy and Officer Friendly, going at it the way they were, they were going to be a while. I'm sure they would take a little rest afterward too.

And hopefully a shower. A nice long shower.

It had been a while since I drove a motorcycle, especially one as big as a police bike. But like riding a bicycle or sex, I'm sure I could do it. I listened closely as I walked up to the motorcycle making sure I didn't hear any noises coming from inside the house, doors closing, the shower, etc. I stood the motorcycle up, turned it around, and pushed it down the driveway to the street. Even though I knew his real name, Officer Friendly, left his helmet on the seat, and being the safety conscious fella I am, I put it on. Forgetting how heavy motorcycles of this size are, it built up some momentum rather quickly. I hopped on it and let it coast down the street past my house before I tried starting it. Popping the clutch, it turned over very easily. It was a little noisy, even with a muffler, but it wasn't like I was revving it.

Just like the dog chasing a car, now that I had it, I was wondering what to do with it.

What if someone saw me?

There are several parks around. I could dump it in one of them. The main thing is that it wasn't where he left it. As long as nobody saw me driving it down the street...

But where should I leave it?

Then it dawned on me.

Another brilliant inspiration.

There is a biker bar a few miles down the road that has a very dubious reputation. A biker bar that is, how should I put it, still segregated and unfriendly to anybody not associated with an outlaw biker gang. I'm sure Officer Friendly, even if he wasn't a cop, would not be welcome. This particular bar is always in the news being raided for drugs, illegal alcohol, fights, and even a couple of murders over the years. It has been closed down, opened under new management, only to be closed down again, several times. To the best of my knowledge, it was reopened again. I was about to find out for sure.

Carefully, and as inconspicuously as possible, using side streets where I could, I drove to the bar. Although still rather early in the day, there were several motorcycles parked in front. As I turned into the lot, I killed the motor and coasted it around behind the building. There were several motorcycles and pieces of motorcycles laying back there. This nice, shiny, police bike should stand out like a diamond in a turd pile. There is a large metal garage behind the bar. It looks like it could be used as a shop.

Maybe even a chop shop.

That might explain why all of the pieces and parts were sitting around.

I found one of those old greasy, dirty red shop rags sitting on one of the old bikes. I wiped down all of the parts I could remember touching. I set the helmet on the seat, wiping that down too, even the inside the best I could. Then I casually walked around the opposite side of the building. Nobody seemed to notice me as I walked out to the street. With a big grin on my face, I walked back to my neighborhood, taking a few back streets just to avoid being noticed. It took me about two hours to get back to my car.

I wanted to go past my house to see if anything was going on, but decided I'd rather not take a chance on being seen in the area. Once in my car, I pulled up the alarm app for the house and saw that it wasn't activated yet. I started to wonder if she had actually taken the entire day off or just half. Just how long had they been fucking?

It would normally be about quitting time for Cindy's office, so I had to do this fast. Instead of calling her cell phone, I called Cindy's office. When the receptionist answered I asked for Cindy. She recognized my voice and replied that Cindy wasn't in. She said Cindy had taken a half day off. I told her that I was out of town and would call her cell phone. That satisfied part of the timetable.

I started to drive my car back to the airport when I remembered that I still had Officer Friendly's uniform. If I'd have really wanted to screw him over, I could have left it with the motorcycle.

That time of day, I wanted to avoid the highway, so I stuck to a local road that ends up at the airport anyway. I saw a state trooper pulling into a,

where else,

donut shop. I casually parked in a space on the passenger side. The driver and passenger windows were down. As I was rolling up Officer Friendly's uniform I felt a wallet in his pants pocket. I removed it and looked at it. It was his badge and I.D. card case.

So, Officer Friendly has a real name, Deputy Philip Jackson of the Sheriff's Office. For whatever reason, I stuck it in my pocket. I tossed his uniform into the back seat of the trooper's car. Being the responsible person I am, I backed across the lot from the trooper's car, just to make sure nobody reached in and took anything. The trooper came out with his large coffee and a donut, got in the car, and drove off. I wondered how long it took him to find the present I left on the back seat.

I went to the long-term lot at the airport, and parked in just about the same spot I had been earlier that day. I grabbed the shuttle back to the main terminal and went to one of the bars inside to get a beer. I could finally relax.

Relax? Yeah, right!

After taking my seat at the bar, I pulled up the alarm app on my phone and saw that the alarm was set.

The game is afoot. Ha ha!

I wish I had a camera or two or three to watch what happened. I could just picture Officer Friendly and Cindy running around the house naked looking for his uniform. I had this funny vision of a sheriff's deputy running down the street with just his gunbelt and boots on. It's a shame I didn't leave his helmet at the house.

After my second beer, with a bourbon shot, I started to wonder what brought Cindy to this. We'd been married for about 35 years. Although being mid-fiftyish, I felt I was still in pretty good shape. Cindy was definitely in pretty good shape for her age. On a normal day, she could pass for thirties easily. With a little makeup, maybe late-twenties.