Somebody recently wrote a story that had the spouse making a cuckold demand that just didn't turn out like she thought it would and it got me thinking about a guy I used to know who took matters into his own hands and improved the circumstances in his life rather dramatically. The interloper was worse for wear and the wife, well, she was just befuddled at it all.
*****
"I've already decided what I am going to do, Dave. This was just a courtesy to let you know what is going to happen. When the night is over, we'll go back to the way things were and I will never again look at any man but you. You do understand, don't you?"
She stood there defiantly, her hands on her waist and one hip off kilter with the other. Her eyes were fixed on mine and she unconsciously licked her lips giving herself away. It was a nervous habit of Joan's, one I noticed early on in our marriage when she was putting on her false bravado. The tip of her tongue reinforced her unsteady resolve when it touched her upper lip and compressed with the lower.
Her eye flinched first. I walked over to the closet and opening the folding doors reached inside to the corner and pulled her out. At least she was faithful even in the greatest of temptations. When I touched her, she was a full 36 every time, always firm to the touch. I called her Hilda and she had been my favorite Louisville Slugger since my brief AA league days. A torn Achilles put a halt to it.
Joan stood there motionless; her eyes wide and fastened to the instrument in my hand.
"Joan, I've already decided what I am going to do. This is just a curtesy to let you know what's going to happen and when this weekend is over, you may or may not be going back to whatever you think things were before and I'm pretty certain you won't be looking at that man ever again. You can understand that, can't you Joan?"
She looked mortified at this point and speechless. Her wet lips did nothing to fortify her stance now. I could hear the other guests milling about down stairs with the party still going on. It was after 11PM and whatever festivities these perverted bastards had planned for the remainder of the night was about to be examined under the guise of an angry husband who doesn't take this kind of shit.
With Hilda in my hand I marched toward the master bedroom that Joan had come from drunkenly a few minutes earlier. I had heard them in there, even catching a glimpse of the bastard's hand under my wife's too short skirt as I walked to my upstairs study. I knew what was going on before I ever came up the stairs. Joan's girlfriend, Carol, had tried to divert my attention away from what Carl and Joan were up to. I was to be cuckolded in front of all these people by an inadequate prick named Carl Monroe except that I wasn't going along with it. Soft mannered, gentle Dave Johnson was supposed to take it, live with it and then go back to whatever the fuck she thinks we had before the weekend.
The fucker was on my bed, naked from the waist down and kicked back resting on my pillows. Carl didn't really have a chance to react. The first swing caught him directly on his pride and joy before he could react and he doubled upright on the bed. The next swing caught his right knee and the brittle crunch told me he would need a lot of help getting downstairs. The third swing crushed his ribs knocking the wind completely out of him. The last swing connected with his lower jaw and when he dropped back onto the blood and vomit covered pillow, I leaned down real close to his battered face and told him in no uncertain terms.
"Carl, you slimy fucking cunt, when I get out of jail, I'm going kill you wherever I find you. Do you understand me? I don't give a shit what Joan does but if I ever learn you so much as walked on the same side of the street as her, I will literally skin you alive and nail you to the tree in front of your fucking house."
I meant every word of it. If I run into him again, I will kill him and he knows it. I made that clear to him. Several people were congregated at the foot of the stairs now. I stripped my clothes off and stepped into the shower. The only reason he was alive was because he had not pushed his meager dick into my wife's now undesirable cunt. It used to be a desirable pussy but not any longer.
The shower felt good and I took my time thinking it might be the only enjoyable shower I would have for a long time. I toweled off and walked naked to the closet and dressed with everybody still milling about downstairs. I took my wallet and my lawyer's card and put them in my pocket and returned to my study.
Joan was still sitting there ghostly pale as I looked at her.
"I guess things didn't go quite according to plan, did they?" I asked.
She just shook her head.
"Well, Joan, in my absence, I'm sure you'll find some fortunate prick to satisfy your pent up weekend needs but please do keep this in mind. It won't be with that sick little Carl Monroe. He knows he'll die if he ever does."
She sat there sobbing until she looked up at me speechless. I'm pretty certain she didn't expect this reaction from me.
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Joan and I had been married for eight years now. She owned a small yet profitable manufacturing firm that I sold mechanical instruments and services to. I own my own business and have done quite well over the last several years. The business has several employees and my sister Gail is my general manager while my brother Paul is my business attorney as well as personal representative.
When Joan and I married she had insisted on a prenuptial contract to ensure her business was protected in the event of a divorce. That worked to the benefit of both of us since my businesses were also excluded from marital assets.
For the past couple years, Joan has been struggling to adapt her product line to a changing marketplace. To help matters she brought in a handful of new people one of whom was the slime ball Carl Monroe. I never liked the bastard from the first time I laid eyes on him. He was one of those men that you just knew you should never leave alone with your wife. I knew a dozen Carl Monroe types when I was in Double A; combination of beef and cheese cake.
What didn't help matters was the perception that Joan wore the pants in our marriage. None of it was true but perception is nine tenths of the game. If enough people believe it, it becomes some measure of reality. Where it started going south was when Joan started believing it.
It began to manifest itself in the bedroom and at the time I actually enjoyed it. Joan started exploring a more aggressive role play in bed. She would assume a dominant role with a lot of verbalization and to be honest with myself, it turned me on a lot, in a fantasy kind of way. It was never real, at least in my mind but it made her hot as hell so I always went along.
Lately she started getting into this cuckold fantasy sex thing and to tell you the truth that never turned me on. For that matter, the last thing I wanted to see was some guy fucking my wife or even knowing he was fucking her. But, in the confines of our private bedroom I played along with what I thought were Joan's fantasies.
Adding complexities to our home life were a series of business reorganizations that Joan's new team was putting the company through. This kept her out late most evenings with working dinners and meetings with her senior team including Carl. On more than a few occasions, Joan would come home well after midnight, either driving her own car or if she had too much to drink, one of the participants would give her a ride home or Carl would drop her off in his new Lexus that Joan's company was paying for.
The company was beginning to struggle again while my own company was expanding and prospering. Her company may have been much larger with ten times the number of employees as mine but I was nearly ten times more profitable and I poured nearly all of that back into the business. My salary was a third of Joan's so from all outward appearances, Joan did indeed wear the pants in our family.
Carl Monroe seemed to pick up on that and when he was around the house for meetings with Joan, he reeked of condescension and attitude. I could also see his open flirting with Joan and that began to bother the hell out of me and I didn't see that she did a hell of a lot to put a halt to it.
Whatever the case, it led to the weekend at our place with an invitation list of people I didn't know. These were people on her new team and a couple of her new found girlfriends whom I had never met.
The party started out innocuously enough Saturday afternoon with a good social, a lot of drinking and playful banter. By the time evening had arrived, several guests had changed into bathing attire and were using the pool. Carl was spending a lot of time with Joan and I seemed to be the target of a good bit of running interference.
I expected Joan to shut down Carl's advances but she didn't. To the contrary she seemed to relish in the attention. It was compounded when a few of the guests started asking me to fill their drinks or wait on them for some other desire. For me it was getting out of hand and my anger was building.
When I saw her sitting on Carl's lap giggling like a drunken schoolgirl, my temper started to boil but I was immediately distracted. One of the girls had dropped a tumbler and shattered glass went all over the kitchen tile floor. By the time I had it cleaned up I was distracted again by a couple of girls asking for advice on some trivial matter. They were pouring on the charm and the cleavage and to tell you the truth I lost track of time for about ten minutes. When my thoughts returned to Joan and that prick Carl I went looking for them and when they were not to be seen I started for the stairs. That was when Carol ran the last of her interference and I firmly excused myself and tended to my manhood.
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The pea soup green of the cell they placed me in was lit with bright florescent lights protected behind a tough wire mesh. The toilet and sink were brushed stainless steel and the single bunk had a hard one inch mattress for comfort.
My brother Paul was with me when I appeared before the magistrate Monday morning. Carl Monroe had been taken by the EMTs to the hospital where he had his groin stitched back up and his knee and jaw reset until surgery could be performed. He suffered with a couple broken ribs and most of his front teeth were knocked out and he would be hobbling for a good long time. The bail was set at $100K and I had to wear an ankle bracelet. That was in addition to the restraining order keeping me away from Carl Monroe, my wife, her business and our home.
I ended up staying with my sister Gail since she was single and had the room. Paul had the restraining order lifted for the house because it was mine before we married and Joan agreed to leave the house all the while insisting the order was not her idea. It was entirely her attorney's doing for business liability reasons. I understood that. I would have done something similar. That's the story she gave to Paul since I was not allowed any contact with her.
I was facing up to 10 years in jail for my assault however Paul was pretty sure the charges could be pled down to one year tops in county lockup and maybe even down to 90 days with restitution. I had a clean record before this, not even a ticket in the past 15 years. We gathered all the recommendations we could and prepared for the trial.
In the meantime, I received divorce papers from Joan. In them was a note telling me she was sorry that she would do everything to make it up to me soon. What the fuck? She asked for absolutely nothing, literally nothing. She didn't want any joint assets. She was walking away with just her car and her business. On Paul's advice, I signed immediately and her attorney filed the papers before I appeared in court. Paul did tell me that through her attorney, Joan had some notion in her head that she would fix everything and make things right between us. Of course the crazy alpha bitch thought divorce was the way to do it, apparently.
