M1911a1 - Aftermath

M1911A1: Aftermath, Part 01

I realize it has been some time since my last story went live. I have been extremely busy with projects that have kept me tied up - not literally, but sometimes I wonder.

Many thanks to demander for graciously giving me permission to write this sequel to his recent 750-word story,

1911 A

. I enjoy demander's stories and admire anyone who can tell a story in 750 words. I have tried many times, but they always end up becoming novels or novellas...

I also want to thank QuantumMechanic1957 for beta-reading this story. His suggestions have helped tremendously, and I want to thank those who have reached out by email and those who have offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.

The original story dealt with a man who responded to his wife's in-your-face cheating by killing himself with a .45 caliber pistol. I agree with the commenters who said suicide is never the answer, but it sadly happens far too often. There are resources available, and I strongly suggest taking advantage of them.

This story is broken into two parts. The first is from the husband's point of view, and the second is from the wife's. As this is a sequel and not a rewrite, the husband's fate remains the same but explores his possible thoughts and what could have driven him to do what he did. The second part explores the cheating wife's reaction and the consequences.

And now, the disclaimers:

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper... In addition:

Characters in this story may participate in one or more of the following: Smoking, consumption of adult (meaning, alcoholic) beverages, utterance of profanities.

All sexual activity is between consenting adults 18 years of age or older.

Statements or views uttered by the fictional characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the author.

Please refer to my profile for more on my policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I DO moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

...

Terry

I couldn't believe what just happened. Helen, my wife of twenty-four years, just walked out of the house to spend a weekend having sex with one of her fellow partners, Ray Bland.

Not once did she say she still loved me, nor did she claim it was "just sex." She didn't even give me a peck on the cheek as she walked out - just a pat on the head, the way one might pet a dog.

The bitch! How much colder could she get? And what's next? I shuddered as I considered the possibilities.

I suppose I should back up a little and explain.

We were twenty-two when we got married twenty-four years ago. I had just finished my IT degree and was starting a new job. Helen continued her education and eventually received her juris doctorate.

I supported her during those trying years and did so happily. She was my soul mate, the love of my life. And I knew the support I gave her back then would only benefit us both in the long run. So I scrimped, saved, and did everything I could to help make things easier for her.

She graduated and was recruited by a prestigious legal firm. Over the years, she built a reputation as a tough-as-nails litigator who won most of the cases she worked on. She made more than me but I didn't care about that. I was proud of her accomplishments.

We talked about children and agreed to hold off so she could ramp up her career. Eventually, she made it clear she didn't want to be tied down by children, so we never had any. I guess we could be described as "DINKS" - Dual-Income, No Kids. I didn't even know what she was using for birth control; how pathetic was that? We were pretty much always bareback, so I figured she was using something.

Even if I had managed to get her pregnant, I was certain she would just have terminated the pregnancy. Maybe not even told me about it. To tell the truth, I resented it deep down, but I tried my best to live with it and enjoy life. While I would have loved to have a child to pass on my legacy, I was glad we had no kids now.

Helen had always been the dominant partner in our marriage. I was okay with that, as I loved putting her needs before mine. Until now, that worked well, as she always respected me. Or at least seemed to.

Lately, however, her attitude had changed. Perhaps it could be because of her hormones changing. Her appetite and desire for sex had ramped up considerably over the last few months. I didn't mind, as I was the happy beneficiary of her increased libido.

Last night, however, she dropped her bomb. Right after a rousing romp in bed.

"I'm going out with Ray Bland tomorrow night. Dinner, dancing, sex at the hotel. I'll come back to you, maybe Sunday," she told me without even the slightest twinge of guilt. She might as well have told me she was taking her car in to change the oil.

"What? Why?" I stupidly asked. "Am I not enough? All these years I've been enough, right?"

"True," she agreed. "But I'm in a phase now where no one guy would be enough. You and I will still have fun. I only need new...I mean I need new cocks, to put it right out there."

I knew arguing with her would be pointless. She had made up her mind and expected me to simply go along with being her willing cuckold, the way I had gone along with so many other things in the past. I had a cold and empty void in my chest where my heart should have been, and I shivered at the thought of the pain to come.

I said nothing, just showered, and returned to bed, not bothering to kiss her goodnight. I said nothing to her the following morning as we prepared to leave for work. For the first time in twenty-four years, I didn't even kiss her goodbye or tell her that I loved her. I'm not sure if it even registered in her head, but I didn't care. She was already dead to me.

I was basically a walking zombie at work that day. All I could think about was what Helen planned to do to me that night. I had read enough stories online to know what to expect - chastity cages, cleaning up after her lover, being forced to watch them in our marital bed. No way would I put up with any of that crap.

I also knew what I could expect in a divorce. In a nutshell, I would be screwed while she got the lion's share of everything. To hell with that, I thought. Arguing with Helen was also a non-starter. I knew her well enough to know that an argument would only make her dig her heels in deeper.

And just running away seemed a bleak non-starter. If she had told me her plan a month, heck, even a couple of weeks ago, I could probably have just cleared things out, left my ring, and walked away. Good IT people can get a job anywhere, and I knew I was good. But with so little notice I felt utterly trapped.

There was only one way to deal with this, I thought. Someone would have to die.

When she returned home that evening, she said nothing and simply got ready for her weekend date. As she showered and dressed, I grabbed my .45 caliber M1911A1 pistol from my gun case and loaded it with a full magazine. My plan was simple. When Ray comes to the door, I would shoot him. Hopefully, Helen would see it happen.

I knew I would end up in jail, probably for the rest of my life, but I didn't care.

But that didn't happen. When Ray pulled into our driveway in his Maserati, he simply honked his horn. The cowardly fucker didn't even have enough balls to come to the door.

Helen patted me on the head like a dog as she walked out. She didn't see the loaded pistol I hid under a cushion on the couch next to me. I said nothing but seethed as she walked out the door with her overnight bag.

Then I really loathed myself, but I admit that even with what she was doing to me... to us... I couldn't shoot her. And running out the door spraying bullets at the retreating car seemed... I don't know... like something out of a bad movie.

After they left, I grabbed my laptop. I thought about our lives together for a long time. Looking through my photo gallery, I recalled our vacations to Cancun and Paris, and the cruise we took in the Caribbean for our tenth anniversary. We both looked so happy together in the photos. All of that meant nothing to me now.

Unlike Helen, I had no real support system - no family or friends I could count on in a pinch. My sister had died young, and my brother died in a stupid fraternity initiation gone wrong. My father died a few years ago. Helen sent me to the funeral by myself, stating that she hated funerals and had two important cases that couldn't wait.

Mom deteriorated quickly after Dad passed, but lived independently until her death just two years ago. I called once a month before her death and sent her cards at the appropriate times since I knew Helen wouldn't think of it. Mom was hit hard when it became obvious that she would never have grandkids to spoil. I ended up attending her funeral by myself - again.

I also had a crazy uncle who moved to the Australian outback over ten years ago and I never heard from him, though mom would ramble about him occasionally in a conversation.

There were people I worked with and was friendly with, but no one that I'd call a close friend that I could call a confidant, have a drink with after work, catch a game with, or go fishing with. I half-heartedly cursed myself out for building my world around my feckless wife.

I logged into our joint bank account and made some changes. Helen had her own account, as did I. That was something we agreed on when we first married. And she had her own credit card. Then I logged onto her law firm's website.

I sent an email to every address I could find on the firm's website, including her managing partner, explaining what she and Ray had done. I realized they probably wouldn't see the email until Monday, but that was fine by me.

Then I printed a short note to Helen, which I placed on the coffee table under my wedding ring. I shut down my laptop and returned it to its case, then sat on the couch, recalling the better times in my mind. It took a while to work up the courage, and I wished that I had found it earlier, but I finally grabbed the pistol and placed the business end at my head.

"I'm sorry, Mom and Dad. I hope to see you soon," I muttered before pulling the trigger.

...

Helen:

I lay on the bed sweating after Ray pumped his third massive load into my more-than-willing and unprotected pussy that Saturday night. My shots were up-to-date and he assured me that he was clean, so I wanted to revel in my freedom. We had been fucking in Ray's luxury apartment for the better part of an hour, having spent the earlier part of the evening drinking and dancing and flirting.

"Bet your loser husband couldn't fill you up like that," Ray bragged as he flopped next to me on the bed.

I hadn't thought of Terry at all since I left the house on Friday, and I didn't care too much for Ray putting him down like that, but he was right. There was a time when Terry could go all night long, but those days were far in the past. Sure, Terry was always warm and loving, but sometimes, a girl just needs to get fucked with a big dick, I thought self-righteously.

"To be honest, I hadn't thought of him at all this weekend," I said. "You put him right out of my mind. And you have to remember that he is a few years older than you, so it's to be expected. Have you given any thought to what we discussed earlier?"

"You mean, doing this in front of your husband?" Ray asked in disbelief, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Yes," I replied. "Just to remind him of how things will be from now on. You have nothing to worry about. Terry's a pussycat. He won't do anything. He didn't even try to stop me when I left the house Friday night."

"Well, pussy cats have a way of turning into mountain lions when they're pushed too hard. Remember the Connors case," Ray warned. "You said he didn't try to stop you. Did he do or say anything?"

"No," I said. "He just sat there on the couch. In fact, he hasn't said much of anything since I told him Thursday night," I added dismissively.

"Has he called or texted you?" Ray persisted incredulously.

"No, he hasn't."

"Don't you find that strange?"

"Not really," I told him. "I made it clear to him that this is what I need. He knows how I am once I've made my mind up."

"Either that or he's already left you," Ray replied pointedly.

"He wouldn't dare leave me," I declared with a snort. "He knows I love him and this is only sex."

Ray looked at me as if to say, "What the fuck is wrong with you?" His expression softened after a few moments I glared at him. "If you say so," he said, submitting like a good boy-toy should, I thought. "Now, why don't you swing those legs over here and play cowgirl one more time?"

"Not until you promise me you'll help me lay the law down to him when you return me tomorrow evening," I said, taking his massive cock in my hands. Even flaccid, Ray's manhood was bigger than Terry's in all its glory.

"All right," Ray acquiesced. "I'll help you lay down the law to him tomorrow. Now get up here and ride me one more time."

...

We pulled into my driveway late Sunday afternoon. The house seemed quiet - almost too quiet. I looked at the yard and realized that it hadn't been mowed. Terry always mowed the yard on Saturdays. I made a mental note to have words with him. After all, I expected that nothing else would change with my new... interest.

"Are you ready for this?" Ray asked pointedly.

"Sure." I flipped up my skirt and showed him that I had no panties on. I was perfectly ready. I felt myself getting wet. The fact that I was perfectly ready even after an entirely hedonistic weekend proved my point. "Let's get it on. Do you need any... stimulation... to be ready? I did set you a pretty blistering pace this weekend."

He just looked at me and shook his head. I could see his pants stirring. Reassured, I added as I opened the car door, "Don't you say anything to him. I'll do the talking and you do the fucking," I told him as I opened the car door.

I grabbed my overnight bag from the trunk and walked to the door. Ray was close behind me. I slid the key into the lock and turned it. At least Terry hadn't changed the locks - yet, I thought.

I cracked the door open and was instantly hit with a God-awful smell. What the hell? I put a hand over my mouth and peeked inside. What I saw horrified and sickened me. I quickly closed the door and ran to the yard where I vomited.

"What's going on? Are you all right?" Ray asked when he came to my side.

"It's... Terry," I finally stammered after I stopped retching. "He's... dead."

"What? Dead?" Ray nearly shouted. "Are you sure?"

I glared at him. "I'm sure. Half of his head is gone, and my brand-new couch is ruined. There's blood and... shit... all over it. What do I do?"

"Well, I'd say you need to call 911," Ray replied in a nervous, shaky voice.

"No shit, Captain Obvious," I told him sarcastically. He recoiled but recovered quickly, looking at me like I had just turned into a cobra. "I'm sorry, Ray. I didn't mean to go off on you. I just wasn't expecting... this. Could you please stay with me? At least until the cops get here." I reached out to lay a hand on his arm to steady him, and myself.

"I... guess I can hang out for a few minutes," he said, his voice suddenly oozing reluctance. "But this is your mess. You need to clean it up."

"Thanks," I shot back with a snort of disgust as I pulled my phone out of my purse. "Asshole," I thought as I called 911. The female operator soothingly said officers were on the way and should arrive within the next hour. She suggested I remain outside of the house until they could clear it. Given the stench, I was more than happy to comply.

We sat in Ray's Maserati to wait for the cops, and that's when it hit me. Terry was dead. All I wanted was some extra sexual satisfaction. I didn't want... this. I wanted everything else to stay the same. I wanted him to take care of me in my old age. As the realization hit me, I broke down crying. Ray held me as I sobbed for Terry's loss.

"You know that you're going to have to call Bledsoe," Ray said tightly after I had calmed down a little. "It will certainly be in the paper. Neighbors will talk. You'll have to submit an obituary. Even if you have him cremated and scattered quickly, quietly, and privately, there will be repercussions. And the firm doesn't like to be blindsided."

"I know," I said quietly. Wilson Bledsoe was the managing partner of the firm where we worked.

"You probably should call him now before the police arrive," Ray suggested earnestly.

"You're right," I quietly snapped and then got hold of myself. I was a lawyer, I reminded myself firmly. I grabbed my panties out of my purse and put them on quickly while looking around. This would be embarrassing enough as it was. I didn't need to accidentally flash the neighbors or the police. Then I pulled out my phone and called Bledsoe's home number. He answered after the third ring.

"Good evening, Helen," he said in his usual slow deliberate tone. "What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Bledsoe, my husband is... dead. It looks like he killed himself," I told him, my voice suddenly shaky.

"Well, that would explain why he never responded to my email," Wilson replied in exactly the same deliberate tone.

"Email?" I asked, wondering why my boss would email Terry.

"Yes. I received a rather disturbing email from him Friday evening. I didn't see it until after Georgia and I returned from our dinner at the country club, but I replied as soon as I saw it. Is it true?"

"Is what true, sir?" I asked, now concerned.

"That you spent the weekend with Ray Bland. Being... intimate? Is it true?" he persisted in that same even, inexorable tone that he used to skewer witness on the stand.

"Um, yes, sir. It's true," I said, now suddenly scared for my job. The firm has a morals clause in its employees' handbook, and I knew that I could get fired for what I had done. I also knew that with Bledsoe, getting caught in a lie would make whatever I was facing ten times worse.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, Helen. Of course, I'm sorry to hear about your husband. Have you called the police yet?"

"Yes, sir, I have," I replied.

"You're going to have your hands full for a few days. Why don't you take the week off and deal with your husband's demise? We'll discuss your actions and your future with this firm when you get back."

"But I have the Wilson case," I protested.

"Jenny Hawkins is your second on that case, isn't she?" Wilson asked. He should know darn well I did -- he had assigned her.

"Yes, sir, she is," I said, the spreading numbness in my arm meant the phone was starting to shake.

"Jenny is a competent lawyer. I'll have her file a continuation so she can get up to speed on it. You need to focus on your husband's final arrangements. But I must say, Helen, I am very... disappointed... in you."

"I... understand, sir," I said with a nervous gulp.

"Is Mr. Bland with you right now?" Wilson asked. His tone hadn't wavered during the entire conversation, and it was as devoid of feeling as a coroner pointing out a bullet hole in an autopsy.

"Yes, sir, he is," I replied.

"Kindly inform him to report to my office first thing in the morning, if you would, please," Wilson ordered. This tone was definitely an order with a strong undercurrent of 'don't even think about disobeying.'

"Yes, sir, I'll tell him," I said.

"Thank you. Please accept my condolences, Helen. We'll talk later. Good day," Wilson said before ending the call. I was stunned. You would think that he dealt with calls like this a dozen times every day. I shook myself, put the phone away, and looked at Ray bleakly.