A short story showing the trials and tribulations that a marriage can bring. No hard sex. Nobody physically damaged. No editors mentally stretched.
Please enjoy!
+++++++++++++
Dring Dring ...... Dring Dring ...... Dring Dring......
I looked up from the TV that I was watching, and came back into the real world as my mobile went off on the table in front of me. Oh well, the pretty young blonde on the screen in front of me probably wasn't actually going to take her bra off as she'd promised. At least not at six thirty in the evening, on prime time TV.
Pity!
Leaning forward, I picked up the phone.
"Hi," was all I said. Why say more? It could well have been some double-glazing salesman, so why would I say more?
"We need to talk Tony!" I heard Glenda, my wife of nine years demanding angrily.
So ---- What was new?
"Talk away," I replied. "I'm all ears, Glenda darling."
"We'll talk when I'm damn well ready to Tony, you cheating asshole," she screamed down the line. "There'll be plenty to talk about when I see you later this evening."
"You seem upset about something Glenda."
"You bastard Tony," my wife shouted over the phone. "Of course I've got something to be upset about. I know you've been with that blonde bitch again you bastard. I warned you the last time so you've got this coming."
I just grunted. What the hell was she on about?
"Well you can just listen in on your phone to hear what your payback's going to be you cheating bugger," Glenda carried on furiously. "I've got Tom here with me and he's going to get what you thought you were going to get tonight."
'Tom?' I thought to myself. 'Who could that be? Tom Blandish perhaps, our neighbor probably.'
"Well just you listen in you bastard,' she carried on. "Just listen in if you've got the guts, and see what your cheating has cost you."
"Grunt."
OK, not exactly the most eloquent response, but bloody hell, this was the last thing I'd expected. Caught me out to be honest with you; on the hop as it were. What the fuck was going on?
I looked down at the phone in my hand in astonishment, not knowing what the hell to think. Almost hoping that a solution would pop out like some genie perhaps.
"Glenda," I cried into the mouthpiece with some anguish. "Is that you Glenda? What the hell's going on?"
But alas, to no avail. The phone was still connected sure enough, but no answer was forthcoming .
Just noises!
Oh bloody hell, such noises.
Have you ever heard the noises that a couple make when they are getting it on together?
Maybe you have. If your walls are thin, then probably you have.
Have you ever heard the noises that some bugger makes when he's making out with your wife?
When you haven't given permission that is. When you don't approve!
Have you ever heard what it sounds like when some other guy is fucking your wife?
Probably not.
Not nice. Not nice at all. In fact it's fucking awful!
Slurp slurp ---- Oh my God ---- That's wonderful ---- Stick it in lover ----- Oh Christ you're so big! ---- Deeper, deeper sweetheart ---- I'm nearly there..........!
I got the bloody lot!
I just sat there in front of the forgotten television, the program forgotten; yes even the little blonde; my whole attention riveted on the phone I had clasped to my ear, as my loving wife Glenda gave everything to that Tom guy that he could ever have dreamed of.
My wife?
I couldn't believe it. Not with our neighbour Tom. It was simply so sad.
----------------
"Are you still there Tony?" Glenda eventually came back to me, some ten or more minutes later. If they hadn't run out of steam, then I'm sure her mobile phone would have exhausted its batteries before long. "I've just let Tom fuck me in every hole I've got you pathetic bastard. That's what you get for cheating on me."
"Grunt."
Well it was a bit more than a simple grunt this time, not that it made any difference.
"Is that all you've got to say you hopeless wanker?"
"All your holes?" I ventured, somewhat unhappily.
"Yes all my holes Tony," she shot back in temper. "Is that all you've got to say? No other questions Tony?"
"Just one honey dear," I managed to mumble. 'Just one question."
"What's that Tony," my wife all but screamed at me. "What damned question you pathetic article."
"Who is Tony?"
"What?"
"I asked, my dear, who is this Tony you keep talking to?"
"What?"