The Demise of Billy Deacon

It was with some dread that Rhea realised that Billy was going to cum again, and knew that she was unlikely to be spared a mouthful of cum. Billy's movements became more and more erratic, but his hand had a full grip of her hair forcing her mouth back and forth over his cock. She was unable to escape his cum when it arrived, the warm salty mass flooding her mouth causing her to swallow before she choked. She gagged as the revolting taste reached her taste buds, but Billy continued to pump into her filling her mouth for a second time.

"That's it my little sweet." Billy whispered as he released his grip on her hair. "That's right, drink it all up."

Rhea swallowed and coughed as Billy allowed his cock to fall from her mouth. She frantically tried spit out what was left in her mouth as Billy wiped his cock all over her face.

"Lick it clean." he demanded.

Knowing that the end to all this was now in sight, Rhea cleaned his cock as best she could with her hand before allowing it back into her mouth. She tried to ignore the lingering taste, but it was too strong and she gagged and coughed at the same time.

Billy laughed at her, "Never had it so good eh, better than your husband I bet."

Rhea looked up at Billy with pure hatred in her eyes, but this time wisely kept her mouth shut. He acknowledged her anger with a wink, and then began to dress himself.

"Shall I send the boys in for a quickie?" he asked.

"No, you promised." Rhea replied in a frightened voice.

Billy laughed, "Okay, I just thought you might still be in the mood."

The thought Rhea had never been in the mood never occurred to Billy as he watched as she gathered her clothes and quickly slipped them on, again with her back to him.

"For a woman your age, you've still gotta killer body." he commented watching her pull her panties up her thighs.

Rhea didn't answer; she didn't want Billy to see the tears streaming down her face. Billy wandered out into the kitchen to find Mickey and Carlos sitting at a table full of empty beer bottles. They had managed to put a fair dent in Brian's beer stock by the look of things.

"Hey boss, how'd it go?" Carlos asked.

"Fuckin great." Billy replied. "Killer body and she can sure suck a mean dick too."

Billy looked over at Brian who was still trussed up in the corner, "Give you any trouble?"

"Nah, quiet as a church mouse." Mickey replied taking another mouthful of beer and then burped loudly. "Got good taste in beer though, fuckin good this stuff."

Rhea flew through the door and straight over to her husband ignoring the three intruders, she knelt beside him and was about to free him when Billy stopped her.

"Leave him." he demanded taking her by the arm and dragging him away. "I'm going to put you in the car with us and drop you off up the road. By the time you walk back and free him, we'll be long gone. But you remember, if you go to the cops, I'll come back and kill both of you. Do you understand?"

Rhea's eyes blazed with anger, but she nodded, "We won't go to the cops."

Billy smiled, "That's good Rhea, because I wouldn't want to have to hurt you."

A few minutes later, Billy opened the door of the Chevy and let Rhea out. Without hesitation she broke into a run back towards the farm and her husband. She ignored her own pain as tears for her husband ran freely down her face. She knew in her heart that he would be a broken man.

Three months later

Billy had long since forgotten about Rhea, since that day he had bedded many other women and had participated in a couple of threesomes. Business was good, in fact better than planned, and he was happy and content with his lot.

The last day of Billy's Deacon's life started just like any other day. Being a morning person, he rose early and took a healthy breakfast. He liked chilled freshly diced fruit with a glass of orange juice to wash it down. He then liked to wander down the secluded beach, he enjoyed watching the gulls swooping down over the golden sands and breaking blue waters. It was the time when he did his best thinking, his mind fresh from a good nights sleep. His favourite place was a tall dune from which he would stand and gaze out to the sea for a few minutes as the warm sun floated over him warming his body.

On this day, his attention was drawn to a green Toyota Previa people mover parked distantly on a grassed area adjacent to the road. It was unusual in that this particular part of the beach was mostly deserted at this time of the morning. The last thing that Billy Deacon ever did on this earth was to raise his hand to shield the sun from his eyes as he squinted inquisitively across at the vehicle.

The 7.62mm cartridge left the M21 snipers rifle at a speed of 2,800 feet per second and hit Billy Deacon squarely in the chest passing through him leaving a fist sized hole in his back. The cartridge continued its murderous flight before falling into the distant cool ocean waters where it would never be found. The impact knocked Billy from his feet and was dead before his broken body hit the sand six feet from where he had been standing. Carlos and Mickey who were some distant back from Billy, recognised the sound of the gunshot dropped to the sand and wisely stayed where they were.

An eighth of a mile from where they lay, Brian Mitchell, ex-special forces sniper turned farmer ran his telescopic scope over the sands through the slightly ajar rear doors of the Toyota. Not finding Carlos or Mickey, he removed his ear plugs and turned the scope back to where Billy lay. He'd seen enough dead bodies to know that Billy was never going to get up.

He turned towards the driver's seat, "It's done."

Rhea Mitchell turned the ignition key and started the engine, putting the transmission into drive she pulled quietly onto the road and drove away while wiping tears from her eyes. By the time they had reached the main road, the M21 rifle had been broken down into a case and hidden under a pile of farm produce. Brian climbed over into the passenger seat and reached for his wife's hand.

"I love you." he said with conviction.

"I love you too." she replied squeezing his hand tightly.

The death of Billy Deacon was put down to rivalry in the drug world. There were a lot of people pleased to see the back of Billy, and his demise was not unexpected in some quarters.

Life returned to normal for Rhea and Brian, well as normal as it could ever be. They talked about what had happened, and in some ways it brought them closer. At first there was guilt on both sides, Rhea felt she had betrayed her husband and was undeserving of his love. Brian felt that he had failed to protect her in her time of need, but as the months passed by the hurdles between them diminish in size. But it was an unwelcome knock on the door on a Wednesday afternoon that brought it all flooding back to them.

Detective Winston Jola had been a homicide detective for more years than he cared to remember. He was a good detective, maybe even a great one, and he hated mysteries. He had been assigned Billy Deacon's case on the day of his murder, and he had doggedly pursued the trail of his assassin. One of Winston's talents was reading people, and his gut feeling was that he was on the right track with Rhea and Brian Mitchell. The mention of Billy's name got one of those special little reactions that he was always on the lookout for. Seated at their kitchen table, Winston removed his black leather notebook and thumbed through a few pages, then looked across at Rhea and Brian over the top of his glasses.

"See, I've been following Billy's movements before he got himself shot. I know he was down here for a funeral sometime back. I took a drive down here for curiosity sake and got talking to few locals." Winston smiled across at Rhea, "Funny thing about locals in small towns is that they like to talk a lot. I got to hear about you giving Billy a slap at the grave site. What was all that about?"

Rhea shrugged her shoulders nervously, "Me and Billy go back awhile. He was always trying to hit on me when we were at school. I never wanted to have anything to do with him. I was surprised to see him at the funeral, but seeing as it was his uncle being buried I should have put two and two together and stayed away. At the funeral, he told me he wanted to fuck me up the arse. I whacked him for it; then things got ugly."

Winston nodded as he made a few notes in his notebook, then he turned to Brian, "What about you, how'd that make you feel."

Brian held his gaze, "I wasn't there and I've never met the guy, but I don't hold with my wife being insulted either."

Winston looked down at his book and thumbed back a page or two, "Brian Edward Mitchell, Captain Special Forces in Somalia and Desert Storm. Decorated sniper with thirty one confirmed kills. Pretty damned impressive if you ask me."

"Did my job, no thing more and nothing less." he replied.

"Do you own a gun?" Winston asked.

"Yes, I've got an old thirty thirty, but I haven't fired it in a long time. You can have a look at it if you want."

"Not anything that fires a 7.62 cartridge."

Brian shook his head, "Those days are long gone."

Winston looked over at Rhea and Winston and smiled as he snapped his notebook closed, then got to his feet and offered Brian his hand. Brian reached out across the table and accepted the offered handshake. Winston gripped his hand tightly and held it.

"You know Mr Mitchell, I hate people like Billy Deacon with a vengeance. I knew Billy of old, and I reckon this world is a much better place without him." Winston said with a wry smile on his face. "I always vowed that if I ever met the man that shot Billy, I'd want to shake his hand. It's been really good meeting you two, and I hope life treats you both well."

With that, Winston released Brian's hand and gave Rhea a warm smile, then turned and headed for the door. Rhea held her husband's hand as Winston's Crown Victoria negotiated the winding driveway towards the main road.

"He knows doesn't he?" Rhea asked.

"Yes, he does." he answered.

"But its over isn't, they'll never come after us."

"No, its over."

Rhea turned and kissed her husband, "I love you very much."

He smiled, "I love you too."