Tricia: Settling the Score

"I gather you want to tell me about it," I said.

"I have to," she said. "You need to understand how this happened to me, and why I realize that we can't stay married. I wish there were some other way, but there isn't. I killed our marriage, and it's all my fault."

"What happened?" I said softly.

"It was the spring of my senior year in high school, not long after I turned 18," Tricia said. "His name was Darnell Williams, and he was on the basketball team at my high school. We were in the same class together, and he was trying to get his grades up so he could qualify for a basketball scholarship to a nearby college. As you know, I'm pretty proficient in math, so his coach – who was also my algebra teacher – asked me if I would be willing to tutor him after school once a week. I didn't have a class sixth period, and he had practice then, so I would go home, change clothes, come back to the school and we'd go over the lessons after class let out, usually in Mr. Banks' room. We'd been meeting, I guess, about six weeks when he asked if we could do a session at the gym. Now, the gym at my high school was real old and had all these dark halls and old rooms. We were about halfway through the lesson, when he put the book down and approached me..."

------

They were alone in the old gym, sitting at the desk in the trainer's room. Even though the season had been over for several weeks, Darnell was still wearing his practice gear that afternoon: his shorts, loose-fitting sleeveless T-shirt, gym shoes, because he was still working out some after school. Tricia was wearing a modest pair of cut-offs and T-shirt, nothing terribly enticing.

Tricia looked mildly surprised when Darnell closed his math book and stood up. At 6-foot-6, he towered over the smaller girl, and she looked up to see a strange look in his eyes.

"I got something I want to show you," he said softly, and he suddenly pulled his shorts down to reveal his half-hard cock. It was long, and deep brown in color, and Tricia shrank back in fear.

"Please, Darnell, don't do anything stupid," she said, with a bravado she really didn't feel.

"What're you gonna do?" he said. "Ain't nobody here but us. The old janitor don't come around here to lock up for another hour, so we got plenty of time. I been sitting here for six weeks lookin' at them pretty titties and that tasty booty, and I'm tired of waitin'."

"No, please, I'm not..." she started.

"You're not what?" he said.

"I've never done it before, and I don't want it now," she said.

"Oh ho ho!" he cried mirthfully. "Gonna pop me a white cherry. You may not want it now, but before I'm done with you, you'll be beggin' me to lay more of my long black pipe in your hot little twat."

"No!" she said, and she started to scream, when Darnell grabbed her by the throat and pulled her up from the chair.

"Not another sound out of you, bitch," he snarled.

Tricia's eyes were wide in fear. Darnell had never before shown anything close to this kind of behavior before, and she realized quite suddenly that he could kill her easily.

Still keeping a firm grip on her throat, he maneuvered her to the massage table that sat in the middle of the room, and laid her on her back.

"Don't move," he said, then quickly walked over, shut the door to the room and locked it. Then he turned toward his cowering victim, dropped his shorts, pulled off his shirt and walked toward the table naked except for his shoes, slowly fisting his cock into rampant hardness.

Tricia squirmed on the table as Darnell grabbed her shorts, unbuttoned them and pulled them off. He took her panties in both hands and ripped them to shreds. Tricia tried to close her legs to keep him out, but he was too strong, and he wrenched them open and began to slowly touch her pussy.

Darnell's cock was iron-hard as he drank in the sight of Tricia's pretty pussy. It was nice and pink, with a thick carpet of dark pubic hair surrounding it, the same color as the brunette color of her hair.

Tricia's eyes were screwed shut, as if she were trying to hide from the assault that was taking place, but her tears and soft cries of humiliation were real.

And that made what happened next so stunning. Instead of simply getting on top of her, Darnell gripped her thighs and plunged his face between Tricia's legs. He swiped his long tongue up her pink furrow and curled it up around her clit several times.

Tricia's eyes shot open as the sizzling sensations of lust crackled through her body. She wasn't totally unfamiliar with sex, and she had fingered herself to climax many times during her teen years. But this was different, and she was mortified as she realized that the feelings were intensifying with each passing moment.

Darnell worked his lips and tongue in Tricia's increasingly wet box, until he deemed her wet enough to fuck. He pulled his face away from Tricia's pussy, got up between her legs and pushed the head of his cock past her dripping gates.

Tricia seemed to come to herself then, because she made one final effort to prevent herself from being raped, crying out for Darnell to, "please, stop, don't."

But her pleas fell on deaf ears as Darnell smoothly pushed his cock in until he came up against her hymen. Then he backed off slightly before thrusting forward hard and plunging into Tricia's depths.

Tricia screamed then, in pain, and Darnell made no effort to silence her. He smirked to himself that she was going to quickly be singing a different tune, and that was exactly what happened.

He slowly, methodically, worked his cock back and forth in Tricia's tight, wet pussy, getting almost all of his 8-inch length into her with each inward push. He was in no hurry to finish, and he leaned over, pulled Tricia's T-shirt up, flipped her tits out of the cups of her bra and began to softly lick and nibble on her tips.

Tricia was trying hard not to give Darnell the satisfaction of her arousal, but it wasn't easy. The leisurely way he was fucking her, and the delightful feelings of his talented mouth on her nipples was building an unholy fire in her body.

She would never quite know at which point she went from rape victim to consensual sex partner, but she was dismayed when she realized that her hips were working with Darnell and her hands were caressing his sides. She became aware of the little words of endearment, the soft tones of seduction that were coming from his mouth.

And then he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back, and suddenly what had started as a sexual assault had turned into two young people letting their hormones run wild.

Darnell started working his cock harder and faster in Tricia's clenching cunt, and she had abandoned any pretense of displeasure. She was humping her hips to meet Darnell's incoming thrusts as a feeling like molten lava slowly build through her body.

"Unnh! Ohhhh!" she gasped, panted and wailed in her mounting lust, her hands gripping Darnell's butt.

Darnell's cock was like a piston engine as he felt his climax come to a boil, but he was holding back, waiting, waiting, waiting... Until he felt Tricia's body stiffen, and she cried out sharply as something she'd never felt before exploded in her body.

She writhed and shuddered under Darnell's body as her first true orgasm crashed through her. And that was too much for Darnell's control. With a gasp and a grunt, he lurched forward hard and shot a geyser of cum deep in the brunette's spasming pussy.

They held each other as the sensations slowly abated, and they floated back to earth. And with it came the awful realization in Tricia's mind of what she'd done, how she'd reacted.

"I told you that you'd like it," Darnell whispered. "You've always been such a prissy little bitch, but you're just like any other whore. Get a good length of dick in you and you turn into a regular slut."

Tricia was appalled, and angry. She reached up and slapped him across the face, but he just laughed as he pulled his slimy dick out of her gooey pussy. He walked over, put his clothes back on, grabbed his math book and left the room.

------

"He just left me there, with his cum and my blood running out of my pussy," Tricia said when she finished telling me about it. "I was crushed, both by his attack and the fact that he'd made me react like he had. And I'll be honest. Until I met you, and discovered what making love was really all about, he made me come like nobody else ever did."

"You mean...?" I stared, and Tricia just nodded.

"Oh yes, every time we had a tutoring session, we started out by fucking," she said. "I hated him, hated what he was doing, but I couldn't say no. Until I Darnell, I really wasn't very prejudiced toward blacks. After him, I couldn't stand them. And I think that's why I didn't like Archie. He reminded me too much of Darnell – and, as it turns out – for the same reason. Once he took me, I couldn't say no."

"I'm sorry, Tricia, I really am," I said. "I didn't know."

"You didn't know me then," she said, and now real tears were falling from her eyes. "Rob, I love you, and I'll always love you, but I can't guarantee that something like this won't happen again. Hell, I can't ever go back to that cabin again, because I know damn good and well that the first time you and the boys go off and leave me alone, Archie will be sniffing around, and 10 minutes later he'll have me in bed. Or, you'll hang around and never leave my side, then you and the boys will suffer for my transgressions, and besides, if you can't trust me, then what good is our marriage?"

"I have to agree with you, Tricia," I said softly. "The trust is gone, and it can never be restored."

"God, I kept that side of me buried for 17 years after we met, and I thought I'd never succumb to someone like that again," she said weepily. "I don't know if I gave off subliminal messages of availability or what, but whatever it was, Archie picked up on them and he turned me into ... his ... slut."

At that, she dissolved completely into gut-wrenching sobs, and this time I stood up, pulled her up from the chair and took her in my arms. We clutched at each other as she wept into my chest, and I could feel my eyes watering too. This was going to be one of the last times we'd hold each other like that, and it broke my heart.

Even then, however, I could feel my rage building toward Archie. Maybe Tricia was right, and she was a ticking time bomb of latent lust. But if he hadn't attacked her, taken her against her will and used her for his filthy pleasure, that bomb may have never gone off, and we'd still be a happy family.

Tricia's honesty in accepting responsibility for her actions that weekend went a long way toward mitigating the pain of the divorce. She rented a small house not too far away, we split our joint assets amicably and we shared custody of the boys, although they stayed at the house with me.

But it was still rough. Charlie started acting out at school, something he'd never done before, and started affecting a look and attitude that alarmed me. Plus, we weren't getting along, and he and Ryan were fighting more than they ever had before.

The holidays were about as depressing as anything I've ever experienced. Nobody was in a festive mood, and that just fueled the irrational rage I was feeling toward Archie.

As I said, I had reconciled my feelings toward Tricia. I had forgiven her, to the extent that I didn't hate her, and we had accepted the death of our marriage as the price that had to be paid for her actions that weekend.

But Archie hadn't suffered at all. He'd enjoyed a blissful weekend of good white pussy – married white pussy – and he'd fucked up our lives in the process, all without any negative consequences. It became an obsession for me, to find a way to pay the motherfucker back without suffering any penalty myself.

I kept going back to the steep hairpin curves on the road toward the cabin, and how I might cause Archie's truck to miss one of those curves and plunge off the mountain.

Somehow, I had to disable his brakes without arousing suspicion, and working in my favor was the fact that Archie's vehicle was an ancient Ford F-150 pickup truck that appeared to be rusty on the undercarriage.

I studied schematic drawings of the F-150 for the period that I believed Archie's truck fell, looking at where the brake line ran. I needed to figure out how I could put a hole in the line that would be sufficient to drain the brake fluid, while making it look like the hole had been created naturally, by age and wear.

It was a risk that a good investigator would figure out what had happened, but I had to assume that the rural sheriff in the area wouldn't have the kind of detectives that could find such a hole in the brake line.

I was also banking on the fact that the leak would be so slow that when the inevitable accident happened, I would be long gone from the area, and that no one would suspect that I'd been involved.

For that reason, I decided to tell no one that Archie was the reason for our divorce. Friends, family members and other acquaintances who asked either of us what happened just got a noncommittal, "I'd rather not say."

Tricia, of course, didn't want to say because of her humiliation, and I didn't want anyone connecting the dots from me to Tricia to Archie.

It was after dark when we arrived that Friday. I saw a light on at Archie's place, and I wondered what he was thinking as he heard us pulling up.

Even though we were tired there was stuff to do. We had to make up the beds and get the fan going so that the musty air would be dissipated. It had been over seven months since anyone had been in the cabin and a lot of stale air had built up. The next day we had a lot of dusting to do, and the grass would need to be cut.

The next day also brought a totally unexpected – and quite delightful – complication.

Carla Menotti, the real estate agent handling the sale of the cabin, arrived about 11 o'clock that morning, and it was lust at first sight. I was operating the lawn mower when a silver coupe pulled in next to my van.

The woman that emerged was a slender blonde of average height dressed in a business suit that was just snug enough and just revealing enough to be enticing without being unprofessional. Plus, she was gorgeous, with mischievous brown eyes and a very sexy smile.

And the attraction between us was immediate and intense. From the very start, we engaged in a sexy, spirited banter that told me that if I played my cards right, I could have her. I quickly learned that she was 31 and single, and lived in a nice house in a quiet neighborhood with a swimming pool

I just happened to glance over to the cabin next door and saw that Archie was gone, I guess, to town for some shopping, or maybe he had some work. I didn't know, nor did I care, except that I was glad his leering eyes wouldn't be casting covetous looks at the dish that had just pulled up.

And as I thought about it later in the day, it was just one more reason to hate the bastard's guts. The man had effectively emasculated me.

Thanks to him, I couldn't have sex pretty much whenever I wanted with my wife, because she was no longer in my life. And it was a pretty sexless winter for me, because I had no real desire for it. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his black behind humping Tricia, and that just killed my arousal.

Even after I finally resumed masturbating – something I thought I had outgrown in high school – that just fueled my resentment. Instead of sex with Tricia, I was having to relieve myself with my hand.

So when Carla showed up, and the sparks flew between us, I was determined that there was no way the cocksucker would get a chance to fuck this up for me – or for anyone else who moved in to the cabin.

I think that was finally made me override my conscience and decide to take him out. Leopards don't change their spots, and I knew as certainly as I was standing there, that he would pull the same shit he'd pulled with Tricia with whoever bought our place.

Carla gave the place a keen appraisal, and we agreed on a price that we wanted to list, and a bottom limit on how low we wanted to go in the event a buyer wanted to dicker.

As she was leaving, I held her door for her then looked at her frankly.

"Do you have any plans for the rest of the weekend," I said hesitantly.

"Not really," she said. "What'd you have in mind."

"Carla, I don't know how to say this, and my dating skills are a little rusty," I said. "But I'd like to buy you dinner this evening, if you're interested."

"I'd like that," she said as she fished a business card and a pen from her purse, and wrote something on the back. "Here's my address and directions."

"Is seven OK?" I said.

"Works for me," she said, then we shook hands, and held the grip a little longer than usual.

I could feel my cock stiffening as I watched her drive off.

The boys and I grilled burgers for lunch, then I took a short nap while they took off into the woods. I happened to hear the rumble of Archie's truck as he pulled in next door, and I decided to initiate my campaign against him.

Part of my strategy was psychological warfare, to get him thinking and worrying about me and what I might do.

So I filled up a little cooler with some beer, took a portable radio out front and sat down to enjoy a couple of brews and listen to a ball game. I was banking that his curiosity – and lust for Tricia – would overcome his suspicion of me, and I was right.

I had been sitting on the camp chair about 20 minutes or so, and had just popped the top on my second beer when I saw him ambling over.

"Howdy, neighbor!" I said jovially. "Long time, no see."

"Yeah, it has been a while," he said.

"Have a seat," I said motioning to the picnic table. "Wanna beer?"

"Uh, sure, man," he said.

I pulled one out of the cooler, handed it to him and watched as he opened it, sat down at the table and took a big swig. As he sat, I thought about what he'd done to Tricia on that table, that day when he attacked my wife.

After he'd raped her, after he'd gotten her to respond to him, he had convinced her to suck his cock back up to full hardness then she had walked over to the picnic table, leaned over and looked back in invitation. The last thing I had seen that day was Archie walking behind her and sliding his cock into her from behind.

I would have overlooked that incident, if she had come clean with me, but once she chose to be deceptive, and then let him fuck her again – and again – well, it was too much to overcome.

"So, where's the missus?" he said finally, and in spite of myself, I felt my anger rise. No doubt, the son of a bitch had been thinking about getting himself some pussy that weekend and was perturbed when his fuck buddy didn't seem to be around.

"We split up," I said.

"Really?" he seemed a little shocked. "I'm surprised. You guys seemed like such a nice couple. What happened?"

"I caught her cheating on me," I said, and smiled inwardly when Archie's eyes widened slightly. "I confronted her about it, and she confessed. We've been officially divorced for about a month."

"You say you caught her?" he said hesitantly. "In the act?"

"Well, they didn't see me, but I definitely saw them," I said. "Let me tell you, I was pissed. I threw her ass out of the house with only the clothes on her back, and I am going to fix her lover, but good. Those two fucked with the wrong guy. I've already taken care of her sorry ass, and now it's his turn."

I looked intently at Archie from behind my shades. He was worried; it was written all over his face. Good, I thought, let him sweat.

"What ... what did you do?" he said.

"Her, I left without a pot to pee in, ruined her reputation at work, trashed her in front of her family, that sort of thing," I lied. "Him? Him, I haven't done anything to him yet, but his day is coming. And you know the best part? He'll never see it coming. I'm going to wait awhile before I fix that bastard's ass. The cocksucker will think he's gotten away with fucking my wife, fucking me over, then, when he least expects it – BAM! – I'll strike, and when I do, he'll know. He'll know who did it and why."