Rally Weekend Ch 03

Conclusion of the weekend. Reading the first two parts will help you get a feel of what this guy is going through. Like I said before, I am just getting started out here and made some mistakes. Thanks to all those who took time to read the first two parts. I especially appreciate the help from those who also post stories here.

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The ride home gave me some more time to think. Traffic was light with the rain. I expect folks were sleeping in on this damp Saturday morning. Now in the cold gray light of day, what I saw last night is less exciting to me and more disturbing. I have yet to look at the video of the campground strip and orgasm that my wife had in front of about 100 people. I am not sure I want to see it again at this point. Vicky flashing on the ATV could be taken as less than innocent, but wild fun. Maybe I could forgive that. Girls going wild and just cutting loose. Something maybe she could explain. There is no fun or explanation in what I saw last night.

I arrive home and the light rain continues. I decide to snoop around a bit as I expect it will be afternoon before they can get Mike's rig back on the road after the storm. The first place a newly wronged guy looks is the underwear drawer. I see a few things I don't recognize, frilly types, none look new and they are stuck in the back. Not much evidence there. I check the rest of the 5 drawers. There is nothing out of the ordinary except the drawers are stuffed. I have a hell of a time getting them closed back up. Nothing out of the ordinary that is, until I get to the bottom drawer. It is only half full of workout clothing. I pull it out, nope just clothes. Then I notice that the edges of the dresser are banged up a bit. I pull the drawer all the way out.

Underneath on the carpet beneath the center drawer guide is a small wooden box. A cheap souvenir from Mark Twain Cave in Hannibal. Inside is a small glass pipe, a lighter, and a few grams of weed. So it seems Vicky has been smoking pot on her own, without Tina. Well that her brushing her teeth and gargling with mouthwash before we fuck. Am I getting the impression she has to be high just to do the deed with me? My depression and confusion grows deeper.

My e-mail address for work is everywhere. It is on my business card, a billboard out on 51, in the local weekly newspaper. E-mail me and get a quote on some concrete. I check my e-mail daily and this Saturday is no exception. While I am in the kitchen having a bite to eat I open my laptop and log in to my work account. Just the usual work stuff, as I am getting ready to close it down I get an e-mail from an unknown address. I think virus or scam right off, but it looks like it has a big attachment. I close down my work laptop and go the garage and grab an old outdated laptop of Vicky's we had stored away. If this e-mail takes down this dinosaur of a computer it is no big deal.

I power up Vicky's old machine and head to my e-mail server. I open the e-mail and it has a large video attachment. There is no message but the subject line has FYI. Well who would not be curious? I open the video and it takes a while to load up.

The video starts looking like something taken with a phone camera in a bar. As it plays I see it is not a bar but the inside of a metal building, like a maintenance garage. It has a concrete floor, and metal walls. There are tables set up around the walls, and as the video scans I see a bar with beer signs on one end. More like a clubhouse now, cheap construction, cheap folding chairs and tables, none matching. Just odd stuff added over the years. There look to be about 50 people in here. It is sort of loud and smoky. An old jukebox with no lighted front is playing classic rock. The cameraman apparently stands and scans the tables. I don't recognize these people but they are starting to look like bikers and their gals. I pause the video and check the timestamp. This was taken 2 a.m. last night. Saturday July 1, 2 a.m. Less than 12 hours ago.

The cameraman pauses well back from one table in the row against the wall, it is apparent he is filming this and trying not to be noticed as the angle is low like he is holding the phone waist high. He zooms in a bit and there are two women and two guys wearing casual clothes at the table. I can't hear what they are saying at first. The women are both wearing black bikini tops. The cameraman walks closer and pauses and I am able to make out faces now. It is Vicky and Tina. The guys are the two polo shirt wearing guys that were filming the party on the makeshift stage back at the campsite. One of them is putting some paperwork in a briefcase. The other is using a credit card, putting some lines on a mirror. Tina leans forward and expertly snorts her allotment. She hands the rolled bill to Vicky. Vicky hesitates. Tina says, "C'mon, it's just X Vicky, it will pick you up, make you feel great." Vicky leans down and snorts about half and swallows hard. She takes a drink of what looks like a screwdriver, leans down and snorts the rest. The screen goes dark.

I keep the video playing noting that it has time left, a lot of time. I sit watching a blank screen not quite believing that my wife being away a couple days have done this much damage to our lives. I guess it is just my life now, she has moved on without me into this world with Tina. I think back on the first part of this video. No sign of Mike anywhere here. Maybe Tina has moved on without him as well.

The video starts again. It is still phone quality but in a different room that looks to be a part of the same building as before. There are two pool tables with twin mattresses thrown on top. I see Vicky and Tina come in with a cameraman following. Still wearing the cut-offs but sporting the black bikini tops. They each stand at the end of a pool table. The music from a rather nice looking older stereo is classic rock, soundtrack of the cheaters now it seems. Another cameraman is at the end of the tables. There are about 25 people in this room, most wearing the same biker colors. The person filming with the phone seems to be making no effort to hide the fact that he is recording this now. From the side I hear a fellow say:

"Bring in the two contest raffle winners, let them see their prizes." I realize right then that my wife and her friend have been raffled off by this group. Two bikers come in from a side door. One fellow is an average looking guy in his 30's. The second guy is bald, and built like a tank. He is about 5'9 and almost as wide. Not really fat but real solid. He looks he has some hard miles on him, he has been in the lifestyle for quite a while. They eye their "prizes" and move in for a kiss as the camera rolls.

From the side a fellow I can't see but can hear, tells another guy that they raised over $2,200 dollars with this year's raffle. He adds that the gang also got $1000 for letting the Montana Coeds website tape the whole thing. These cunts even signed the waivers! The other fellow replies that the prizes get better every year. Then I hear someone from behind say that for $100 worth of X and weed, these two were hooked from Thursday night on.

I am feeling real bad now but I continue to watch. The girls by now have been stripped and the guys are taking off their clothes as well. The built old guy has paired up with my wife. She looks out of it, but excited. He reveals an average length cock that is as big around as a beer can. The guy has scars and prison tattoos all over him. He plays with my wife's tits from behind and he steps out to reveal a Prince Albert piercing for the Montana Coeds camera. He looks like a real sick fucker. He quickly tosses Vicky on the mattress, she lands on her back and he jumps up and mounts her, taking his time ramming that wide cock inside. I see that she is just letting him go, no thought of me or her former life. I hear her start to grunt, a sure sign that he is hitting the right spots. On the other table Tina is perched with her ass hanging off the edge as average 30's something guy does her slutty cunt from behind. The guy pounding Vicky now is relentless and I hear her making the sounds that she usually makes just for me. The video quality is not great, just wide angle. The Montana Coeds guys are getting the good shots with top quality cameras. However the cell phone video is good enough to capture the acts of the guilty, I shut the video off.

Now I have seen too much. I can't believe how this turned out. I know she has been getting high, but high just can't explain all this. I started out blaming Tina, and she played a part. But Vicky has to take the blame and the fall now... What she has done is too much...too damn much...

Now I go into damage control, all weekend everything for me has been out of control. It is my turn to do something. I don't know who sent this video. I am almost suspecting Mike, but who knows? It does not matter, I guess. The fact is I have it and seeing it is all I need to make a decision. I need to get my shit together before she gets back. I start by making a copy of the video, ok so that will take a while. I start packing my clothes while a copy is being made by the ancient laptop.

I gather up everything that was mine. My guns, my clothes, some tools, stuff I know I paid for from the garage. I load the truck and head to my Dad's. He lives in town, same house we grew up in. When I pull in he asks what's going on. I tell him Vicky and I are having some problems and I need to move out for a while. "No problem," he says. "The apartment over the garage is still hooked up to power and gas. I can get the city water guy here before supper, he owes me a favor." Dad is not much for sentiment. If I have a problem, he will gladly help, but as far as talking it over about Vicky, he doesn't care about details.

To say my Dad is a hard egg is an understatement. He is a Vietnam vet. 2 tours as First Sergeant. Silver Star, Oak Leaf Crests, and a whole chest full of ribbons in his desk, nobody ever sees. When I was a kid I saw a 2 Star General arrive in a staff car, step out, and salute my old man as he came down our front steps in his work clothes. They sat on the porch for hours. Talking low and drinking beer. The General's driver just waited. Me crying about my marital problems to him would be a waste of time.

The old apartment over the garage was a rental for years. It got harder to find decent tenants; one doper almost burnt it down. Our insurance guy said that are rate would go way up if we wanted to keep renting it, so we just gave up on it. The steps up there were sort of dated too. Safe but you have to be careful with the railing. The place is dusty but in decent shape. I call the lady that cleans the offices at the plant and offer $150 to clean the apartment; she says she will be there by 3. I head back home, still no call or texts from Vicky, it is just as well I guess.

I drive back to our house. On the way Vicky calls. She tells me they just got out of the campground and that Tina and Mike have been fighting badly all day. She says she just wants to get home, and that they should be there in a few hours. I cut her off, telling her that I am driving and can't talk now. I pull in our drive and realize I am going to miss this place, all that I have built here. I look around my home, make that former home. The first DVD is done and works fine. I begin copying a second. Not much here in this place I want now. I can't really do anything with my bank accounts since it is Saturday. Online banking has not yet hit this area. I do cancel our joint credit cards. I grab the smaller TV from the bedroom. I can at least watch the Cardinals on cable in town.

I take this last load of stuff back to the apartment, and start hauling it up the steps. The cleaning lady shows. I let her in to do her thing and make myself scarce. I head in the house to talk with Dad. Well not much talking with him. We sit in silence watching the Cubs. He hates the Cubs and roots for whoever they are playing against. I check my phone, not jack shit, and I am getting a bit mad. No courtesy whatsoever from her now. Not a thought about me. That is just great.

As we sit in silence watching the Cubs win, a local commercial comes on for a law firm that specializes in divorce, for men. They are all about men getting a fair shake. I have seen this ad dozens of times, as it is on the Cardinals game as well. The scene opens with a nice house that has for sale sign in the yard. Right by the realtor sign is a big red D which obviously, even to the dumbest sports fan, stands for Divorce. The next scene is the poor divorced guy sitting on the couch in his empty home with the big red D by his side. He walks to the kid's bedroom; in bed is the big red D. The narrator goes on about how they can help men in their time of need. Divorce changes everything blah... blah...Next scene, poor divorced Dad is eating in a restaurant with another couple. The other couple laughs and jokes as they eat. He sits eating his meal, sullen in the booth flanked by the big red D.

Vicky always commented on that commercial, how stupid the big red D was. She would say: "How simple do they think people are?" I never gave it much thought, but you know if a commercial gets a comment every single time from someone, they might not be such a stupid outfit after all.

After the game, Dad has dozed off on the couch, afternoon nap I guess. Yep, he is still breathing, good to go. I go out to the garage under the apartment. Dad used to do some wood working in here, fix chairs and stuff. He still makes birdhouses and gives them as Christmas presents. They are nice really, well built and painted. I have a couple and the Bluebirds use them at home. Well my former home. I work in the shop until the lady upstairs is ready to leave. I help her out with her cleaning stuff and tell her I will call when I need another cleaning up there. She smiles, agrees, and takes the cash. Not bad for 2 hours of work. I go upstairs and the place is spotless.

I load my afternoon project very carefully into my truck. I head to my former house. On the way Vicky calls to inform me that they just got out of the mud, and should be home around ten. I cut her short, saying that is fine and that I am on the road and can't talk right now.

As I enter the house I head to the ancient laptop and remove the second copy of the video I was sent. I place it on the kitchen table in my usual spot. I remove my wedding ring and place it beside the DVD. In my kitchen chair I place my afternoon wood-shop project. I head out to the garage and get a spray can of red paint. No need to mask it off. Why would I care if the chair, floor, and table get some over spray? I apply the red paint slowly, doing a nice job on the smooth wood that I have lovingly shaped into a big letter D.