League of Secrets

Good evening. I'm still working out whether or not it's a pleasure, but it's certainly an honor to be here this evening for what I understand is an audition for inclusion in a very select and very secret group. I do not take this lightly, and I appreciate what this assembly does in its counseling and other outreach projects. I especially appreciate that there is an organization, so veiled as to be unknown outside its membership, created by and exclusively for those of us who have killed another human being, honorably and personally. My story certainly meets the personally criteria - I am most pleased you have decided it was honorable as well.

I understand that I am to recount my story here. To that end I want to thank Chief Peterson for ensuring that I have requested and been refused my constitutionally guaranteed of a Miranda warning, therefore making any and all statements of mine this evening inadmissible, as would be any fruits of those statements. That recitation done with and duly recorded, I am turning off this tape recorder. It's off.

I returned late one night from a business trip to my farmhouse home out beyond the suburbs. I had raced to catch an earlier flight back, gotten favorable connections and favorable winds for a change, and landed eight hours earlier than I'd planned. Since it was almost midnight when I landed and had been pre-dawn local time when I started, I didn't have time to call to report my fortunate connection, so my wife didn't expect me until the afternoon of the next day. It turns out that the burglars at my house didn't expect me either. I don't know how well they had cased my house, but my trips typically took longer than this one, so they could have been watching closely, or they could have just happened upon our house in a drug-induced stroke of questionable luck.

When I drove up to the house, I saw that there were a few lights on, somewhat unusual, but I figured my wife had fallen asleep in front of the TV, so I entered the house quietly in order not to disturb her. As I entered the kitchen from the garage, I thought it would be fun to surprise her, sweep her into the bedroom and have our way with each other. Quietly, I shed all my clothes and tiptoed toward the den, expecting to see her dozing. Instead, as I passed through the dining room, I heard male voices, and my blood froze.

Moving toward the den, I could hear that they were making lewd remarks, and degrading comments. I instantly figured that there were burglars, maybe rapists, who'd broken in and already had my wife, Rhonda, captive. I've got to admit that a thought later, it occurred to me that maybe I'd interrupted something salacious but not against anyone's will, and continued with both ideas vying for dominance. To be safe, I crept through the living room, naked, not yet seeing into the den, and went down the hallway into our darkened bedroom. Moving to my bedside table, I was vastly relieved and thoroughly scared as my hand clutched my Glock .40 cal. I pulled back the slide to chamber a round, then (for whatever reason - I wasn't planning this, just did) I quietly eased open a bureau drawer and pulled out a pair of gym shorts and donned them. Thus fortified, I stepped silently out of the bedroom back into the hall.

As I returned through the living room to the den, I stood by the door and slowly looked into the room from the shadows. Two men were in the room. One was stocky and blonde, one was taller, slimmer and looked to be of Italian descent. They were both naked, and the Italian was holding a gun, pointed toward my wife. Rhonda was standing between them, stripped down to a bra and panties. In any other situation, she'd have looked great, her red hair mussed a bit and her pale skin perfect as ever. The two guys were pawing her, laughing, grabbing at her ass and breasts. The look in her eyes and her shrinking from their grabbing made it clear that she was not a willing participant. I was instantly enraged, and I struggled to take a moment to clear my head rather than go with the emotional tidal wave of anger. After a count to five, I felt calmer and started to assess things. First off, I knew that as long as the Italian had the gun, she was in danger. Secondly, my three greatest assets were surprise, keeping a cool head, and that .40 cal.

The Italian said something to the effect of, "That's right, baby. This gun means you get to be real nice to us, and as long as you're real nice, nobody gets hurt." I was relieved that his words indicated I was early in the proceedings and that nothing had happened yet. As I took in the scene, I could see the stocky guy had an erection. It was pretty thick, but not all that long. I guessed about the same length as mine, and I'm in that not all that long category.

I couldn't see the Italian's front side, but expected he'd be sporting one, too, and I knew that they'd rape and then probably kill Rhonda if I did nothing. They'd rape her and kill us both if I didn't do everything right, and maybe even then as well. I'm no Jack Reacher, although I've read plenty of paperbacks - too bad I wasn't a former Seal, former cop, current something or other, but I was just a guy, albeit thankfully a guy with a gun as well.

"Take a handful of this, doll," the stocky one said. Rhonda sat stock still. "I said take a handful, and I said if you're nice nobody gets hurt. You figure out the rest," he growled. Tentatively, Rhonda reached out and encircled his cock with her hand. As she did it, she happened to look toward me and saw me in the shadows. I held up the pistol so she could see that I was going to help her out. For a moment, I thought they'd see her looking, but she quickly shifted her eyes to the Italian, still holding the blonde's cock.

Plans were racing through my head, but all of them seemed too risky. I knew the basics of handgun handling and shooting, from my local concealed carry license training, but I'd never shot anyone, and I knew if I blew my chance, I was liable to give the Italian a hostage, prevent none of the crime, and get myself killed in the process. The only thing I could come up with was letting the scenario proceed, hope that the Italian would put down the gun at some point, and thus make himself vulnerable. I never even considered that there was any moral imperative except for me to stop them. As I thought through my options, I also realized I'd have to stop them before she got raped, or it would be an insurmountable bar to our marriage in the future. All of this happened in about thirty seconds, I guess, but time was passing very slowly, as my mind raced to take it in and find some sort of way out.

Rhonda and I had joked over the years about screwing other people, but we'd been very monogamous, and neither of us had any interest in pain, given or taken. I'd fantasized about doing her along with some other guy, and it had always excited me, and she knew it. She could always push me over the top by sharing the details of some past premarital affair with me, or by inventing an extramarital fling for my benefit. None of that was in my mind as I plotted and watched.

Meanwhile, Rhonda had decided that keeping them distracted was the best thing she could do to contribute. She started to slowly masturbate the blonde, as the Italian looked on. The Italian certainly did look on, and as he did, his excitement grew, which I was gauging by the enthusiasm with which he was massaging Rhonda's breasts. Before long, he had removed her bra, and I could see her breasts exposed. Whether it was due to the friction or to her actually getting excited wasn't something I knew, but her nipples were obviously erect, and her breathing was heavy.

I receded further into the shadows, glad that the lights in the den were so bright, the track lighting pointed toward them and away from me as they stood on the far side of the den. I thought that I might be able to get a clear shot at the Italian's head, and I braced the gun in both hands, the dining room hutch under my elbow, sighting at his skull to see how steady my hand and the position were. I figured if I could take him out with one shot, the surprise and confusion would give me enough time to get the blonde with a second shot before he could react to get the only gun I could see. I hoped he wasn't a lot cooler than I would have been if I were getting a hand job from a beautiful woman and someone else in the room got blown away.

As I gripped the gun and sighted in my target, the Italian continued his lewd remarks, his back still to me, his gun hand still at Rhonda's head, but seemingly now less pointed and more rested on her shoulder. He was telling her how he was looking forward to fucking her, that between him and his friend, they could keep her going all night, that he'd let his friend have her first to get her opened up before he really gave her his own cock. Rhonda wasn't saying anything, but she had the blonde even more erect than before, and now she was vigorously jacking him off. He had his left hand on her ass, now naked, curling it up under her, and I suspected fingering her vagina if not her anus by then.

As I sighted them in and prepared for the shot, the Italian decided to shift around, and he positioned himself sideways to me. Not only did he spoil the shot that I was working up my cajones to take, but he also exposed himself to me for the first time. His prick was simply enormous - thick, and longer than any I'd seen outside of a porn movie. It was twitching but apparently not fully hard, as it stood out from his body and drooped in an arc downwards. "Want to stroke this too?" he asked Rhonda, and without hesitation this time she reached for it, sliding her hand along its full length, now starting to jack both of them in unison rhythm.

"Get down on your knees, cunt!" the Italian growled. Rhonda was now facing me, on her knees, with a cock on each side of her face, her hands pulling back and forth at face level. It was pretty obvious what this was leading to. The Italian had moved the gun so he could stroke her breasts with it. It looked less than erotic to me, quite erotic to him, no doubt. Rhonda's breathing was still ragged and her nipples still hard, their cherry tips being kept perked up by the cold barrel rubbing across them, no doubt. The motion reminded me of and emphasized the heft of her breasts, momentarily distracting me. Ahem, back to it.

I had become mesmerized by the scene in front of me, and my anger and fear were becoming undeniably mixed with erotic excitement. I had a clear shot now, and I realized I wasn't taking it, wanting to see what would happen next, arguing internally over whether or not to shoot, still not registering any concern for the ethics, morality or even legality of the act or its consequences. I felt my cock harden in my trousers.

Maybe I should let her jerk them off, and then take them out as they climaxed and would be maximally distracted, I thought. Then I knew that was stupid. Yet, with the scene before me I kept coming up with ways to watch just a little longer. I started wondering as well if Rhonda was as excited as I was, expecting that she'd have to be, since she'd be trusting me and thereby relieved a bit of the stress. OK, maybe a very slight bit on the relief part. She was probably better off figuring I'd screw up and that it would be up to her to think up and execute a away out. That could really put us at odds, if our plans conflicted, and I tried to figure out where she might go with this and bounce that off where I was heading, all while being distracted as hell by the increasingly erotic scene in front of me.

We'd joked along the way of our relationship about other men's cocks, how big her lovers had been, how I compared with this one or that one. While she claimed to have little interest in that, there were the times when she'd admit that the source of her pleasure was sometimes linked to being filled and pounded. She had glorious orgasms, always several in a session, sometimes up to more than a dozen, sometimes multiples in rapid fire succession. I loved to bring her to them, loved to watch her eyes glaze over, feel her hands gripping my ass or shoulders or see them form fists around the headboard slats.

She always made sounds, sometimes gutteral sighs, sometimes cries as she came, sometimes even laughter at the end of a particularly long string of orgasms. She also got wonderfully wet, sometimes moreso at some times in her cycle, and I knew that this was one of her easily lubricating stages. If she was aroused, the men were bound to know that soon, and they'd remark on that, and they might change their plans quickly. I knew her wetness always made me want to just jump her - how could they not want the same?

Snapping back to reality, I sighted the scene in again, seeing that she'd gotten the Italian even bigger and probably harder. She paused from her stroking to grab both men's scrotums, squeezing their balls and eliciting grunts of pleasure from them.

"Ah, that's good!" the Italian continued, "Now it's time for a taste!"

Rhonda nodded obediently and turned her head toward the blonde, still holding the Italian by the balls. His big rod jerked up and down eagerly, knowing he'd get the same treatment in a moment.

Rhonda opened her mouth just slightly and guided the blonde's cock to it. Keeping her lips pursed, she let it press forward and slowly work its way into her mouth. I knew that mouth so well, and I knew that, absent the fear and anger parts that might be playing out now, she really, really loved sucking cock - it always made her wet. I also knew that she could take me without much of a stretch, but now that he was in, she was having to stretch to her limits, her jaw way down, her mouth opened to its capacity. No way she could deep throat this guy - there just wouldn't be room to try without gagging, I thought. Once about halfway in, she stopped, and I wondered if she was licking it all over as she does mine, or if that was possible. The blonde's reaction hinted she was as he hoarsely gasped, "Damn, that's great, lady! Keep that up! Oh..."

She did as he wanted, and then started to suck more of it in, bit by bit. Apparently the Italian was impatient. "Do us both!" he commanded.

Rhonda let the blonde's cock spring upwards out of her mouth as she sat back on her haunches and let the Italian move closer. As the Italian moved forward, she turned to his cock, holding the blonde's cock, shining with her saliva, in her hand. The blonde had no doubt been a challenge, but the Italian was so thick, I wondered if she'd be able to get her mouth around it at all, and knew that if not, he'd be enraged.

That was enough for me. As she did the pursed lips move, he humped forward and she stretched her jaw and sucked in the big Italian cockhead. I took my breath, let it partly out, focused on the task at hand, watching the front sight of the pistol frame the Italian's head, his eyes closed in rapture, and squeezed the trigger, filling the room with sudden and deafening noise.

There could be worse ways to go, I reflected momentarily as his head burst, his body following in what seemed to be slow motion. His cock was swept out of Rhonda's mouth, and she jerked back from the surprise and the sharp report of the blast, followed close aboard by her scream. I shifted and took another shot, too quickly, missing the blonde but noting that he was ejaculating into the air as the surprise pushed his nervous system over its undoubtedly close precipice. The shot went into the wall, we later determined, but I wasn't interested in that, as I fired another four shots in quick succession, hitting him in the chest with at least two, and hurling him back to collapse at the fireplace. I wasn't thinking totally clearly, I realize, but I continued to shoot after that, emptying the 9-round clip into him as he lay.

Rhonda was stunned but unharmed. I was stunned and erect, my cock sticking out of the leg opening of the shorts. It must have been a comical scene worthy of Quentin Tarrentino sort of way, but we weren't laughing.

It would be a better story, I suppose, if we'd had animalistic sex next to the corpses. But after a moment of embrace, we both held each other as we both got the shakes, then calmed down and methodically dressed, took stock, made sure we knew what we thought had happened, then called the police.

We told the officer who was first on the scene that the two had broken into the house, and that I was fortunate to have shot first, surprising them so much that they never got off a shot. Before he got there, since there was only one gun between the two of them, we placed a butcher knife in the blonde's hand, setting up the proof that our lives were in danger and I shot in self defense.

We did a pretty good job, if I do say so, of quickly setting up our story so that it was convincing enough and met what we knew of the legal requirements. We included that the blonde had kept coming after the first shot at him missed, and I had emptied the clip without thinking in my panic. Frankly, I don't know if he sensed anything was false about it. He did recognize the Italian, knew he was a bad guy from whatever sources police come by that information, and remarked as to how I'd probably done the community a favor. Other than a few administrative details, that's all we've heard from the authorities, and it's been years, so I think we're clear. I will also categorically state that this was a fiction if it is ever revealed that I detailed the story, of course, but we've already covered that.

I found out from Rhonda later that she went from scared to death at the intrusion and treatment, to thinking it was something I'd set up, since I'd intimated I'd be turned on by her having sex with others, and since I appeared to her to be naked when she first saw me with the gun in the shadows.

So, from just after the first grasp of the blonde's cock, she thought she was just acting in an especially well crafted fantasy of mine. No fear of death, no fear of being raped. Hmm... After a bit of time, it occurred to me that she surely kicked into the role quickly, and was probably thoroughly enjoying it when she was rocked back in another direction by the blast, the blood, and the continued blasts. She's recovered completely, I'm glad to say, and I won't go into how it's changed our sex life except to say that it has, and it's fine.

There's probably some ACLU type somewhere who thinks I should have appealed to their better nature, that they were misunderstood as boys or something. I don't regret it at all, and if I failed to meet some legal test of self-defense in my actions, well, that's tough. I did what I did, it was what it was. I'm honored, as I said, to be inducted into your society, and if there are any of you who would like to do some role playing sometime, you'll know where to get in touch.