tagLoving WivesBonnie and Clyde Armistead

Bonnie and Clyde Armistead

byMatt Moreau©

Occasionally, I get a story idea sent to me by a reader. This story is based on one such offering. It is completely fiction, and the allusion to the infamous Bonnie and Clyde is per their names only; put another way, this story has no relationship whatsoever to the gangster pair of the 1930s. Similarly, the Ana Campanas character in the story is no relation to the "Woman in Red" of John Dilinger fame either. At any rate, here goes.

******

"Such is the pow'r of love in gentle mind that it can alter all the course of kind." (Edmund Spencer)

"I'm sorry mister Campanas. I just can't see my way clear to sign with you. You've always been a reliable distributor, but your rate structure doesn't work for me tax-wise. My accountant has advised me against this kind of contract until after the first of the year and then only if the law is changed which at the moment, he assures me, is iffy," said mister Crocker.

"Joe, we can work the contract some to better suit you. You've always been satisfied with our work before?" said Michael Campanas.

"I'm sorry, Michael. It's just not a good time. Hopefully we'll be able to connect next year," said mister Crocker.

"May I ask who your accountant might be?" said Michael.

"Clyde Armistead. He's the best around," said mister Crocker.

"Armistead? Clyde Armistead?" said Michael.

"Yes," said Joe Crocker. Michael Campanas slowly shook his head. He knew Armistead; well, he knew him to see him. Some of his colleagues used the man for their quantity control.

"I know him slightly. Got a pretty wife as I recall," said Michael Campanas, now trying to lighten the mood himself.

"Yes, I've met her. She's very pretty indeed," said Joseph Crocker.

"She's not an accountant though," said Michael, wondering why Joe Crocker would ever have met her.

"No, no, she works for Roma's salon on third. She's my wife's stylist," said mister Crocker. "My wife and I had dinner with them a few weeks ago." He didn't see the look in the other man's eyes. "I've never met your wife, have I mister Campanas?"

"Who? Ana? No, I don't think so. She kinda stays clear of my business interests. She's got a handful just taking care of the kids: we got five of 'em," said Michael Campanas.

******

"Hubby do this for you?" said Michael.

"Shut up and fuck me," said Bonnie Armistead.

"Not until you tell me who does you the best," he said.

"You do, asshole, now get busy and do your duty," she said

"And, your hubby?" he said.

"I already answered you. You do me best. Isn't that enough?" she said.

He got off the bed and reached for the pile of clothes on the floor. He didn't even look at her, but he was laughing inside.

"What are you doing! Get back here!" she said.

He ignored her.

"Okay, okay, his tiny cock is near useless and he has almost zero talent when it comes to bedroom skills," she said. "Now are you satisfied?"

"Yes, as a matter-of-fact I am," he said. "He and my wife would make a pair for sure. They could be useless in bed together! Wonder how he'd like to be raisin' a bus load of rug rats." He broke out laughing.

"Shut the fuck up, asshole, and screw me. Do it now!" she commanded.

He made a big production of remounting her and ramming his cock home. She grunted and groaned at the sudden roughness of the man. A roughness she had come to love. The man himself? Hell no, she didn't love him; she didn't even like him. He was good at animalistic sex, but he was virtually worthless in any other respect; she wondered what his wife would do if she knew he was spreading his pollen. Her Clyde had it all over him as a man and a husband. But, sadly, very sadly, Clyde was less than nothing in the love making department.

"You gotta stop putting Clyde down every time we do it," she said as they dressed. "What did he ever do to you? Let me answer my own question—nothing."

"You wanna keep doing this or not," said Michael, ignoring her apparent ire.

"Well, yes, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop talking smack about him while you and I are together. Please!" she said.

"Okay, then, this is the deal. I'll—we'll—stop talking smack about him, but you've got tell him about us and tell him that he can't have sex with you anymore. He's a wimp and a cuckold. I hate sharing a woman of your quality with a nothing like Clyde Armistead.

"You asked what he ever did to me. You're forgetting that he cost me the Crocker contract? Him messing with my business like he did has to have a consequence. This is it. I get his wife for sex, and he gets to eat my cum out of her when I'm done. But except for that, your pussy is off limits to him. Got it?" She was horrified.

"He'd never go for being cut off like that! Not ever" she said. "You've gone too far this time, Michael. The answer is no!" He shrugged. "And, he didn't cost you that contract. He's an accountant, and advised his client to watch his pennies and that's all: I was there; I heard it all. He didn't know that you were courting the Crocker account; he still doesn't!"

"Too bad, but it is still your choice. It's been nice doing you," he said. "I'll let myself out." She stood there open-mouthed and watched him leave.

"Shit!" she said loud enough to wake the dead two states away. Cutting her husband off! Oh yeah, that would go over real big with that good man. Well, it would go over good if she wanted a divorce! Which she sure as hell did not! But...

Could she get along without Michael's cock? Very few ten inch cocks existed at all let alone attached to a man-beast who could give a woman multiple orgasms virtually every time he did her. No, she had to have it. And, she had to make sure that her man, her husband, her real man, didn't leave her. Fucking asshole, Michael; he was blackmailing her; that was the only possible description of what he was doing to her.

******

I was just finishing up dinner. I leaned back in my seat and smiled at the most beautiful woman in the world, my wife, Bonnie Armistead.

"That dinner was fantastic, honey. I mean really first rate," I said.

"Well, thank you mister man," she said. "Say, honey, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course. What?" I said.

"Well, I was talking to Marie Bradshaw today. You know my friend at the salon: husband's still in Iraq. She knows Michael Campanas. That wholesaler guy we met last year at her birthday party. The one who handles all of those big clothier contracts for the department stores," said Bonnie.

'Okay?" I said.

"Well, she said that Joe Crocker shined him on because of something you said."

"Something I said?" I said. "How so?"

"Said you told him not to sign with mister Campanas," said Bonnie. I started nodding my understanding of her words.

"No, no, I didn't tell him to sign or not sign with anybody. You were there when I met with Joe and his wife last tax time," I said.

"Yes, I was, but for some reason mister Campanas evidently blames you for Joe going with another wholesaler."

"I'm not sure I follow you, honey, but I never advised Joe to go or not go with any particular somebody. I just told him he had to be careful with his reserve funds because it was a tight market and add to that the tax bite this year could be more than a little problematical.

"But, tell me, why is Marie Bradshaw talking to you about this kind of stuff in the first place?" I said.

"Well, Mic...mister Campanas, is kinda upset with you," she said, "Oh, and Marie knows him pretty good."

"Well, you can tell Marie that I work for my clients not her friend this Campanas guy. I'd be derelict if I didn't," I said. She smiled, but it was a strained smile. Something was up, and it didn't look to be something that I was going to be liking much. And, yes, I did catch her almost refer to mister Campanas by his first name.

We finished cleaning up and headed upstairs. I stripped preparatory to what I intended would be the second night in a row of a very good and very raw sex and romance. She was in the bathroom.

When she came out she was wearing her long nightie, a sure sign that she was not interested. She caught my look.

"Honey I'm just a little too tired tonight. Okay? We did it last night. Just give me a break tonight. Okay?" she said in a plaintive voice.

Her tone, her look, something cued me. "What's going on, Bon," I said. "Something's not right." For no good reason, I decided to take a flyer. "Does this have anything to do with that Campanas thing?" She sighed.

She began pacing back and forth. I could see that she was gearing up to lay something heavy on me. What I never would have imagined, guessed, dreamed in my most horrifying of nightmares was what she did in fact lay on me.

"Honey, I love you. I love no one else. And except for Bobby Russell in the ninth grade, I never have loved anyone else. And, I never will if it comes to that," she said. The words were right, the tone—not.

"But Honey—well—I have a lover. It's Michael Campanas," she said.

"What did you say?" I said.

"Please, don't get mad, and don't worry. He's nothing to us," she said.

"You're not kidding are you?" I said.

"No. But it doesn't have to affect us hardly at all," she said.

"Hardly at all? What does that mean? You mean except for the fact that we'll be divorcing now," I said. Her look screamed shock at my words, but she controlled her tone.

"Heavens no! I don't want a divorce, and I know you don't want one either," she said.

"Well, unless I'm missing something really big here, you've got one anyway," I said.

"Okay, okay. I need to explain myself. I knew I would. And, now I'm going to. Okay?" she said. I was shooting daggers at her with my eyes but saying nothing. I nodded for her to go on.

"Okay, it's like this," she started. "Michael and I have something going on the side. He's got equipment that few other human males have. I wanted—no, needed—to experience it; so I did."

"And this has been going on how long?" I said, not really caring anymore one way or the other. I wasn't quite snorting, but close.

"Since the Bradshaw's party last year. The one I mentioned earlier," she said. I nodded. I was seething inside: I'd been a cuckold for a year and not a clue.

"Honey, it doesn't have to affect us at all," she said.

"Sloppy seconds? I've been getting them right along haven't I?" I said. She looked away. "All those times I thought you were ultra-wet because you were turned on by me. In reality you were laughing at me while I sucked him out of you.

"Fuck!" I said. "Bonnie, did I ever really know you? I mean you feeding me sloppy seconds. And, you say this doesn't affect us? Are you crazy?"

"I never, ever laughed at you. I always treated you with respect. Yes, there were some sloppies, but really only a few. Mainly because you wouldn't take no for an answer, like last night. And well, I didn't see any harm in it," she said.

"You cheated on me, Bonnie, that's the harm. You let me suck his cum out of you, and you knew I would, because I always eat you to make sure you get off, that's also a harm, i.e., you knowing exactly what you were doing to me. You have any idea how humiliating this is for me? Does he know you made me eat his cum out of you?" I said. She looked away—again.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck! How could you do this shit, Bon, I really loved you. I mean with all of my heart. Wait! You said '...like last night.' You fucked him yesterday didn't you?" I said.

"Yes, and today, today's when he told me about Crocker. He's very angry with you, Clyde. I guess he kind of wants revenge because of the contract," she said. "But I told him no way. I defended you."

"A fucking cuckold. I'm a fucking cuckold; I will never be able to live this down. Never!" I said.

"Yes you can and yes you will. You are my man, my husband. I need you, and you need me. So what if Michael screws me. He never gets the real me, only you get that," she said.

"You being my cuckold makes me feel closer to you than ever. You should be proud to be my cuckold, not feeling embarrassed about it," she said.

"Are you serious? You need help. I mean really, I'm almost willing to forgive you, because I think you are off your rocker," I said.

"Clyde, there will be no divorce. And, to be honest, I'm glad that this has happened. Now, I don't have to be sneaking around. I can finally be upfront with you about what we need to do. How we need to be together. You need to deal with it, Clyde; you need to deal with this—situation. But really, it will make hardly any difference to the real us whatsoever. You've been eating him out of me off and on for a year. It hasn't killed you, and it's been a huge turn on for me. So just sit back and enjoy the ride," she said. "Like I said, deal with it."

"What part of we're getting a divorce didn't you get, Bonnie. We're splitsville. Got it?" I said. "Your arrogance pushed this—situation—as you call it beyond the pale. We're done."

"Clyde, it's you that don't get it. I will fight you on a divorce because I want and need you. But, if you insist on such a course, and if you somehow manage to get one, a divorce, you will force me to take you for everything you've got. I'll make it so hard on you that you will be crawling back to me on your hands and knees begging for forgiveness and a second chance; and yes, to be my cuckold.

Clyde, I won't be raping you in a divorce because I want to; I don't, but I will if you leave me no choice. Clyde, I will do my damnedest to make sure you remain mine. But please, again, I want you and need you; and, you need me too," she said.

"You need me, but you'll rape me in a divorce. You want me, but you'll deny me intercourse with you: make me a de facto eunuch. All to please that asshole! Wonderful, Bonnie.

"Let me put it this way. You may try to hurt me in a divorce or somehow even block it. But, I swear to you the following; you won't like living with me, not with the hatred that's building in me at this moment. The husband you intend to cuckold and deny sex to is not without resources, believe it. Also, your boyfriend is about to reap the whirlwind; depend on it," I said. She momentarily lost her poise, when I mentioned going after her boyfriend, but she steadied herself.

"Clyde be reasonable. I don't want us to fight. My God I don't," she said.

"A fight? You've got a war, missy, and you're the one who declared it. Prepare yourself," I said.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't! Could she, as she said, be so cold hearted as to actually try to rape me in divorce court just to maintain her adulterous liaison with her asshole boyfriend! I couldn't believe it! She had been the love of my life. As for ever crawling back to her on my hands and knees; well, I did say she was crazy didn't I.

******

"You actually told him that?" said Marie Bradshaw. "Wow. You have balls of Kryptonian steel"

"Believe it, I did lay it on him like that. But, in the end he decided to risk it anyway. Like I said, he dumped me and walked out without so much as a by-your-leave," said Bonnie.

"Whaddya gonna do?" said Marie.

"For the moment, nothing. It's his move. I know he needs a little time to calm down and get his head on straight. You know come to grips with things. I'm hoping that he rethinks his plans and just comes back to me. If he does, I will make it easy for him. I mean no rubbing his nose in it. I am fully aware that his ego is in a very delicate state right now. And, I will act accordingly that is if he does get his act together. But, if he goes for the divorce, well, I guess we'll just have to go to war. I refuse to lose him."

"And Michael?" said Marie. "What if he does go after him?"

"That's the one thing that I am kinda worried about. I told Michael, warned him, but he says he's not vulnerable. So, I guess that's not something I have to be concerned with," said Bonnie.

"You know your husband being an accountant makes him privy to a lot of things and maybe friends with a lot of influential folks. You sure Michael is Teflon," said Marie.

"Yes, I think so. He was pretty confident. But that asshole, Marie, if it weren't for his dick, he'd be hittin' the pavement and leaving skid marks on the asphalt in the process right now," said Bonnie. He's so fucking stupid. I tell yuh, I don't know how the guy ever made any money in his business; he's a complete fool," said Bonnie.

"He's ruthless, that's how," said Marie. "I know Michael Campanas real well. He's known for taking no prisoners—ever. It's kind of a matter of honor with him, if you know what I mean."

"Hmm, honor, as if he could even spell the word," said Bonnie.

"When are you going to see him again?" said Marie.

"He'll have me bent over his couch drilling me from behind in about an hour," said Bonnie. "I like it when he does me doggy. It gives him more ways to control me, master me. God how I love it when he takes me. It's the female submissive in me. You know, that's part of the problem with my husband: he's such a wuss; he never takes me; he always treats me like a Lladro figurine ."

"And for you that's a bad thing?" said Marie.

"Well, it would just be nice if for once he'd just do me without worrying about—what—if he were ramming me too hard," said Bonnie. "But, I do love him, and I guess gentle is just who he is, I suppose."

"Oh how horrible that must be for you," said Marie, laughing. Bonnie snickered.

"Well it's true," said Bonnie. "He's so vanilla it's almost embarrassing, even when we're alone! Anyway, you have to help me. I've got an idea." Her friend looked at her.

"Okay?" said Marie.

******

"Where have you been buster?" said Ana Campanas.

"Nowhere. A few drinks with Amos down at Bud's," said Michael.

"Hmm, Amos huh? And if I run into Amos tomorrow or the next day, he gonna have his story down straight?" said Ana. He just looked at her and snickered.

"If you mean will he remember what we were doing and where we were, yeah, probably," said Michael.

"Yeah, I'm sure," said Ana. "The kids are in bed. You need to go up and say good night to them. They were not happy when they found out you'd be working late again. You've been late too damn many times lately, Michael. This has to stop. The babies, our babies, are too precious to treat like you've been treating them, neglecting them really." He looked at her and realized he had been less than fair to the children.

"Okay, you're right. I'll make arrangements, somehow, from now on," he said. His words seemed to mollify her. She nodded.

"Let's go to bed. I hope you're up for some exercise, superman, because I am," she said. He looked a little dubious.

"Yeah, I think I can accommodate yuh," he said. "You gonna do your magic mouth thing on me?" She looked him askance.

"Okay, if you want," she said.

"If I want? You serious? What normal male wouldn't want!" he said, almost too vehemently.

He reached for a now cold burrito that was still on the tray on the kitchen table. He wolfed it down. Even superman needed sustenance to be able to perform sexually with any degree of enthusiasm. He knew he could be about to be in trouble. He'd already drained himself three times into Bonnie. He only hoped he'd have at least more one bullet left for his wife. If he failed to cum inside of her, there could be hell to pay. Oh yeah, hell to pay.

He'd been taking too many chances lately trying his best to fuck over the asshole who'd done him and his business hurt. But, if his lawyer wife figured it out, he was screwed, blued, and tattooed and those not too gently either.

He headed up the stairs. The four boys shared two sets of bunk beds in the biggest room. The room had its own bathroom too, so they didn't have the usual chicken fights that boys often did sisters. He smiled his pride as he stood there watching them breathing rhythmically in the pure innocence of children their ages.

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byMatt Moreau© 64 comments/ 42283 views/ 11 favorites

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