An introduction for the reader. There is no description of explicit sex in this story because the deed was completed immediately before the story began and this tells how the aftermath worked out. There were no witnesses, in fact, if there had been witnesses the deed would not have taken place and there would be no story.
*
Harold Langton stood at the door of the back bedroom of his house admiring his beautiful wife, Dawn. At 33 years old Dawn was still the most beautiful lady he knew. She was naked and lay sleeping on the guest bed. She had long dark hair that spilled over the pillow, her sweet pixie face at rest, the beautiful brown eyes were closed but Harold could imagine the look of unqualified love from them gazing into his. Those luscious red lips were slightly parted in a faint smile showing a glimpse of sparkling teeth. He was thrilled every time he kissed those luscious lips. The rosy lustre that coloured her creamy white breasts which spread across her chest contrasted with the darker areolas. Her stomach showed the slight maternal bulge from childbearing that he so enjoyed stroking his hand across. Neatly trimmed pubic hair above her puffy pink labia directed his line of sight down to the moist vagina that had delivered their babies. Her left arm was extended with her hand, the hand he placed the rings on, moving to the gentle pace of breathing. He stepped up to the bed and bent down inhaling the scent on her neck. As he breathed out, his breath blew onto her face and that caused her to roll on her side, pull up her legs and snuggle down.
Now here was the aberration. Dawn's left hand was resting on the hairy chest of an equally naked man. A man who Harold did not know, but it did not matter if he knew him or not, he felt it still had to be out of place, it was wrong. Looking at his slime covered cock and her wet pussy he could guess that they were slumbering blissfully together after some secret strenuous activities. The used condom thrown on the floor verified it.
Harold turned and left the room, only to return moments later carrying his best cricket bat. Only the best would do for his beautiful wife. In twelve years of married life Harold had never skimped in providing for Dawn, she always received the best he could give. He raised the bat and brought it down with all his force on the man's chest. At that moment Dawn moved and the bat caught the hand that was resting on his chest. Harold heard Dawn's fingers snap and saw her engagement ring disintegrate. Her wedding ring was squashed and pinched onto her finger. Ironic really, he had wanted to rip it off her finger himself and now it would not come off at all. The man coughed and gasped as he struggled to catch his breath. He attempted to sit up but a short jab in his face from the end of the bat put him down again and so instead he brought his hands up to his nose to stem the bleeding. He slumped back a fighting for air. The imprint of her rings was plainly visible in the skin on his chest. Another slam with the bat onto his chest and he looked as if he would pass out.
Dawn was screaming by now. Harold did not care what, just screaming. She was holding her broken hand and trying to get off the bed. Harold held her down again and stared into her eyes.
"Get dressed, get your things together and get out of here." He ordered, short and sharp. He pulled her up by her shoulder. She winced and held her injured hand up, crying.
"Who is he?" Harold jabbed at the man's head with the bat, blacking an eye. The man came round but cringed down and sobbed in great lungs full of air.
The man turned to say or do something, it did not matter. Harold hit him again, hard, this time striking above his right elbow. He yelled in pain.
"You get out right now before I kill you." The man grabbed his clothes and shoes and ran down the stairs grunting as he laboured with his breathing.
"And don't splash blood everywhere you arsehole." The man held his shirt to his face as he scrambled to pull his trousers on. The front door opened and closed behind him as he fled.
In the bedroom, Dawn was still crying and holding her broken hand. Her husband shook her shoulder and she winced again. "Yes, you'll bloody well cry, you fucking whore. Who is he?"
"Please, let me talk. It's not what you think."
"Not what I think? I catch my wife in bed, fucked in our house, by a stranger and it's not what I think. Just what am I supposed to think? Is it the vicar's tea party? Am I supposed to think that?"
"Well, you're nearly right." Dawn was sobbing even more. "That's who he is."
"What do you mean by that?"
"He is.., he is.., oh I can't say it .., he is the vicar." Dawn whispered.
"The fucking vicar! I don't believe it. The fucking vicar fucked my wife in my fucking house. Oh just get your stuff and fuck off."
"But I've got nowhere to go. Anyway the children will be home soon from school and I need to feed them," she whimpered.
"Doesn't the church have a refuge for battered wives? Still, no, you'd better not go there, but I'm sure you'd get a welcome if you did."
Harold realised she was right, she wanted to take care of their children and he was going to let her.
"All right, you do what you need to do, but move your things out of our bedroom; I'm not sleeping with you now. Oh, and clean yourself up and get dressed before they get home. You look like a whore. I'm going out. I don't know when I'll be back but we'll have this out then. I'm not ready to talk to you just now."
"Don't go to the vicarage!" Dawn shrieked. "Please don't hurt him, the police will arrest you!"
"No, I won't hurt that arsehole, but I may just pay a short visit to him and his dear wife."
Harold left, got into his car and drove away. He was angry and in no mood to listen.
Dawn felt shamed and dirty. She struggled to shower and dress herself, but managed. Her hand hurt like hell and she was sure her fingers were broken. Her rings were broken. Her heart was broken. She had broken them herself by what she had done.
She got the children their meals and told them she had trapped her hand in a door. They asked when their Dad would be home and she only said later. After dinner Dawn phoned her mother and asked her to come and help her because she had hurt her hand. Her mother said she would but was very abrupt with her.
Half an hour later her mother and father arrived. Dawn was crying and not making much sense when she talked to her parents. They looked at her blackened, swollen fingers and agreed she must go to the A&E department. Her father took her while mother stayed with the children.
Her father spoke, "Harold called earlier. He told us some upsetting news. I didn't know whether to believe him or not, but your hand seems to confirm what he said."
She nodded, "Oh daddy, I'm so ashamed and so sorry. He found me and the vicar in bed. Have I wrecked my marriage?"
"I pretty much think so girl, I pretty much think so. How can he take you back?"
By now they were at the hospital. As the doctor worked she told him that she had an accident with a door, it slammed shut on her hand.
The doctor stood back and looked her in the eyes. "Was it at the church by any chance?"
