A Very Sick Day

For an answer, Sofia opened wide and carefully slid her mouth down over the chocolate pole until the blobs of the other guy's jizz were inside the ring of her lips. Then she closed them tight against the shaft and pulled back, leaving the black rod shiny, but without visible cum on it.

Cooper had to bite his lip to keep from groaning out loud. He didn't spin away this time but did lean the side of his head against the door frame to gather himself. Looking down, he saw that his cock was in his hand again, the tip glistening with pre-cum.

The plump white guy staggered over and plopped next to the skinny white guy on the edge of the bed. The black kid moved around in front of Cooper's wife and put a hand behind her head to pull her mouth back onto his cock.

"Yeah, just like that, Mama. Just like that and you can have your third helping of cream. That's what you want, isn't it, Mama?"

Sofia grunted her assent around the girth of his shaft.

Suddenly the guy yelped and yanked his meat out of the slut's mouth.

"Bitch!" he snapped as he slapped Cooper's wife hard across the face.

Cooper and the two guys on the side of the bed snapped to attention.

"What the fuck?" said Kent.

"Bitch bit me," whined the Black. His hand was raised to slap Sofia again.

Kent stepped over and grabbed their fuck toy by the hair, yanking her head back. "What did I tell you about that shit, bitch? About biting or trying to hurt any of us?"

"I'm sorry," Sofia whimpered. "I didn't mean to. It's just that my mouth is tired and I'm having trouble keeping it open."

"Are you saying you can't finish what you promised?" growled Kent.

"No, I can, I can," said Sofia in a near-desperate tone.

"Go ahead, dude," Kent said, nodding to the black guy. "I'll hold her steady for you." He moved behind Cooper's wife, a hand on either side of her head.

"Fuck that, why don't we just get to her pussy?" said the black guy.

"Do you really want to put on a rubber for your first, big load?" Kent said.

"Fuckin' DNA," grumbled the black guy.

"Fuckin' DNA is right," snapped Kent. He bent down and said his next words close to Sofia's ear. "Of course, I think you're enjoying this so much that you won't be complaining to anyone anyway, will you Mama? But just to be careful you're going to take our big loads of DNA right down your throat, aren't you, baby?"

"Yes, yes, please," she replied. "Please, I'll be more careful. I promise."

"Please what?" said Kent, his tone shifting evilly.

"Please let me suck your beautiful black cock," she said while looking up at the brother's face. "Please feed me more cum."

The black dude stepped in and held his cock toward Sofia's face.

"Okay," he said. "But any more biting..."

"Any more biting and she knows we'll just wait until Carmen gets home from school and let her take over from her Mamacita," sneered Kent.

"No, please, no. You said you'd leave her out of this. I'll give you what you want, please don't hurt Carmen."

"Hurt?" said the other white guy, who'd retaken his seat on the edge of the bed. "Is anyone getting hurt here? You said you wanted this, right?"

"I do, I do," Sofia insisted unconvincingly. "I mean...I mean, please don't make me share. I just want all three of your cocks to myself, that's all."

She was obviously trying to say the last part as sexily as she could, but Cooper finally realized it was fear, not passion putting the quiver in her voice. It had been all along; he just hadn't heard it. Partly because of the flu, partly from the extra Nyquil, and partly due to the intoxicating mixture of jealousy and excitement that had overcome him when he thought Sofia was a willing participant. But this wasn't consensual, it was coerced. Asshole! he berated himself. She's not cheating, she's being raped! Clearly these three little punks had threatened their daughter and Sofia was doing what she thought she had to in order to protect Carmen.

For the third time Coop rolled out of the room and leaned against the wall, closer to collapsing than any time earlier. If he charged in right now, he would probably end up falling flat on his face. And then what? Would the three guys kick his ass? Maybe, maybe not. More likely they'd just grab their clothes and run. But again, he thought, And then what? Call the cops? Wait for however many months to try and get the boys charged and to trial? Where they would probably claim it was consensual; that Sofia had invited them to gangbang her because her husband was a limp dick. And even if after all that public humiliation the boys were found guilty, was it enough?

He heard the sounds starting again from the bedroom, the black son of a bitch was apparently face fucking his wife again. He finally thought about the guns. Sure, it was just a couple of small .22s, a rifle and a pistol that he used for target shooting and to teach Carmen to be safe and confident around weapons. Hell, he'd even been thinking of getting her a small purse gun of her own to take to college, where he thought she'd be in more danger. He'd never thought he'd really need them here in his own home.

But the gun safe was all the way down in the basement. Could he really make it all the way down and back up without alerting the dirtbags? So, the guns were out, but he did need a weapon. And he did need the cops, he decided. These three fuckers needed their lives ruined, because he knew they were ruining his wife's.

He stumbled back to the guestroom, picked up his cell phone from the bedside table and punched in 911.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?" came a woman's crisp voice.

In an urgent whisper, Coop said, "Please don't talk anymore. There are intruders in our house and I don't want them to hear you. I expect you're recording, but otherwise please just listen. This is Cooper Stillwater; I'm calling from 468 Elm Terrace in Fairview. Three men have invaded our home and are threatening my wife in another room. I don't know if they're armed, but I'm assuming so, which is why I've stayed hidden so far. Maybe they just want to steal something and will leave on their own, but if they try to do anything to her, I'll have to try and stop them. I'll leave this line open, but again, please don't make any noise since I'll be getting closer to help my wife."

He glanced up at the wall across from the bed. "Oh, and send an ambulance too."

"Sir?" he heard from the phone, but then the voice bit itself off.

He moved back down the hall until he was outside their bedroom doorway again. This time he got down on his hands and knees and after peeking around the corner and seeing the three men were still focused on his wife, he dropped to his belly so that the bed blocked him from their view and slid the phone with its open connection inside the room up against the baseboard.

He, and hopefully the 911 operator, heard a man's voice saying, "Hurry up and finish, dude. I'm hard again and ready for some nice Mexican pussy."

"Me too," said a second voice. "But I like 'em tight, not used and loose. Maybe we should wait for Carmen. You know, give her a trial run before -- "

Coop got back up on his hands and knees in time to see Kent, who was down on one knee behind Sofia, suddenly get an angry look on his face. He held one finger up against his lips as he stared at the asshole on the bed with a 'Shut the fuck up!' expression.

He also saw Sofia's eyes going wide as they too shot over to the fat fuck.

"No, no, no," Kent said in a soothing voice that in no way matched the pissed look on his face. He returned his hand to the side of Sofia's head and leaned in a bit. "Mamacita promised to take good care of us, didn't you baby? No, we don't need no green pussy when we've got such a fine, experienced piece of ass right here. Do we?" he said with extra emphasis to go with the stare he gave the seated prick.

Whatever message Kent was trying to send, fat boy apparently got it. "Yeah, you're right," he said consolingly. "And I know what I can do about the loose pussy problem. I think I'll tear up that phat brown ass instead. How about that, baby? Do you want my hard cock in your ass?"

Sofia's mouth had remained full of black cock during this whole episode, so her only response was a muted "Uh huh," which could easily be interpreted as a negative, "Unh unh," since the tone still sounded more afraid than aroused.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," agreed Kent. "Can you handle all three of our cocks up your shitter, Mama? Or should we wait for your daughter and give her the pleasure?"

"Uh uh, uh uh, uh uh," the woman said frantically. She tried shaking her head no, but her mouth rapist had a firm grip on her ears and held her still.

Coop reached back in and retrieved the cellphone, laying it microphone down on the hallway carpet. The authorities' recording had all the detail it needed. Rising to his feet, he adjusted his grip on the makeshift weapon he'd picked up in the guestroom and thought about how he would strike.

"Oh yeah, almost there, Mama, almost there," he heard in the black kid's squeaky voice. He spun silently into the room and began striding the eight feet to his targets.

Kent saw him first from his position directly behind the kneeling Sofia. "What the fuck!?" he said in amazement.

Sofia also caught the sudden movement in the corner of her vision and saw Cooper lurching toward them in boxers and a sleeveless t-shirt, holding something large on his shoulder. His face was sickly pale and his hair stood up in wild clumps, making him look like something out of that zombie show he liked so much. The look on his face was absolutely feral and it awakened the animal in her. She already had the Black's balls and cock in her hands, and she tightened her grip fiercely while also clamping her teeth decisively against his shaft.

"Fuck!" yelped the third rapist, attempting to pull his joint free, but not being able to this time. He raised his hand to slap her again, but when he looked down at her face, he saw a terrifying sight. Her eyes were wide and glowing and she'd pulled her lips back so he could clearly see her teeth. His mind unconsciously realized he would likely knock those teeth through his own cock if he hit her and so froze his swing at its top.

There was no freezing Cooper Stillwater's swing, however. It came in sideways off his left shoulder and the wide, flat part of his weapon caught the plump white guy square against the side of his face as he turned on his ass on the bed to see what was going on behind him. The thwack was both satisfying and sickening at the same time and fat boy slumped and slid to the floor, blood running freely from a split lip and some broken teeth.

Cooper had meant to hit the guy raping Sofia's mouth in the head next, but as he registered that his wife was fighting back, he checked his swing and put the narrow edge of the wood against the bastard's still-raised arm. The distinct crack told him that at least one of the forearm bones was broken.

The motherfucker screeched and cradled the injured arm against his chest, but still didn't dare to move his feet because of the teeth clenched on his manhood. Cooper went past him, stepping over the tubby asshole's prone body toward their ringleader, Kent.

The skinny punk was up and backpedaling, hands held out in front of him. "Wait, man, just wait," he babbled. When the backs of his legs came up against one of the armchairs behind him, he fell into the seat. His arms stayed up and the words kept tumbling out desperately. "We didn't hurt her, man, we didn't hurt her. So you don't have to hurt us. We'll just go, man, we'll just go."

"Didn't hurt her?" The swing came down vertically from the top, breaking at least three fingers. "Didn't hurt her?" A quickly reversed swing from below hit the tip of a bent elbow with another satisfying crack and corresponding scream of pain.

"And you weren't going to hurt my daughter either?" He raised the board above his head, causing Kent to throw his hands up again, despite the terrible pain in his fingers and elbow. This time Cooper brought the swing down in an outside-in curve that connected solidly with the side of Kent's knee, knocking the patella an inch or two to the inside. The pain was so great that Kent blacked out and tumbled out of the chair to the floor.

Coop felt like cracking him again, but instead spun around to check on Sofia. From his position behind her, he saw that her head and hands were still buried in the black bastard's crotch. Stepping to her side he saw that her teeth were no longer bared, but they undoubtedly retained a firm grip on a skin tube that had gone completely soft. Its owner had turned ashy and was trembling uncontrollably.

"You can let him loose now, baby," said Cooper.

Sofia turned her still-wild eyes to him. She didn't relax her hands or her jaws.

"Yeah, he deserves to lose it," Cooper continued. "They all do. But you don't want that memory stuck in your brain." He lifted his head, cocking it toward the open door. "Hear the sirens? The cops are almost here. He'll soon be learning all about giving blowjobs in prison."

The words and the idea seemed to finally break through her rage, and she spit out the shriveled wiener with disgust. The asshole quickly stepped back, but his legs were so shaky he nearly tripped. Cooper just as quickly followed, and his hand snapped up. Still wrapped around the round, solid cane handle, his fist cracked with devastating effect against the bastard's nose and now he did fall to his knees.

"Slap my wife, bitch?" Coop jabbed the tip of his club hard against the broken forearm the fucker still held against his chest. With a shriek, the bastard tipped over and curled into a fetal position, trying to somehow protect nose, arm, and battered privates all at the same time.

As the three sons of bitches lay there, moaning or howling with pain, Cooper crouched down and helped Sofia get to her feet. With one arm gently wrapped around her, he led her past the two downed attackers in front of her. Dropping his weapon by the door, he took her full-length bathrobe off its hook and helped her into it, tying the belt tightly, before taking her into his arms. He said nothing, just gently stroked her hair and cradled her sobbing face against his chest until he heard the pounding on the front door.

Epilogue

They'd had to call in another ambulance to take the three assholes away. It looked like all three would recover, but would carry the marks a long time, if not forever. With no deaths to account for, it would be easy for the responding cops to write their reports in such a way as to help protect Mr. Stillwater under the aegis of self-defense. The boys in blue all considered it a good outcome.

Mrs. Stillwater had refused to ride in an ambulance, so they'd had an officer drive the couple to the hospital in their own car, with Mr. Stillwater comforting his wife in the back seat. The three asshole college boys had probably intended to make her shower after the attack, but their semen on her face and chest was still in place now and the DNA would make some nice, extra nails for an already tight case. Mrs. Stillwater was in for a rough time mentally and emotionally, but the cops hoped that seeing the creeps take a beat down and go to slam would help with her recovery.

Detective Pence picked up the weird block of wood that Cooper Stillwater had used to subdue his wife's attackers. After slipping it into a large clear-plastic evidence bag he held it up again and stared at it. "It's sure a lot lighter than it looks. I wonder what the hell it is."

"A cricket bat," said his partner, Detective Baqri. "It's made out of willow wood."

"Cricket? You mean, like British baseball?"

"Afraid you got that backwards," replied the man of Pakistani heritage. "The Brits have been playing cricket since the 1600's and even my ancestors were playing the game in India by the 1700's. It's more accurate to say that baseball is like American cricket."

"Yeah, whatever. It's a weird looking thing, but it sure did the job. What's this writing on the face?"

Baqri looked closer. "Cooper Stillwater, thank you for your help in bringing Afghanistan its first World Cup victory. Afghanistan National Cricket Team, Dunedin, New Zealand, 26 February 2015." Baqri looked at Pence and shrugged. "No idea, man."

"Well, at least it helps explain why he had a cricket bat hanging on the wall," said his partner.

"And maybe how he knew how to use it so well," Baqri responded thoughtfully.

"Fuckin-ay," said Pence. "Good for him."