Another BobWrongerer Story

Bob looked her in the eyes and continued, "Tomorrow, here, in our bed, I need to see. Please, Honey, do it for me!"

Sally was overjoyed. Sam had told her it might take a few weeks to break Bob, but here it was after just their first meeting! Sally was now in awe of Sam's, what did he call it? Oh, yes, Sally remembered, "The Superior Alpha Male" abilities. Sam had told her to watch and see how Bob would just automatically submit to "The Superior Alpha Male".

"Okay, Bob, but Sam said you can't watch. In fact, he doesn't want you around."

"I'll be quiet, I'll hide. He will not even know I am here! Please, please, Sally. I don't think this is too much for your husband to ask. After all, this will be our first!"

Sally looked in Bob's eye's. They were shining in an odd way. But, he was her husband, and so Sally decided to agree to Bob's request. After all, it was going to be the first time since her marriage she was going to have a strange cock in her. Also, truth be told, it excited her to have Bob watch. Bob would be good, so Sam would never know that Bob was there. She was tingling all over, her face was flushed with sexual excitement. She kissed Bob and got out of the car and rushed into their house.

When she got inside Sally immediately called Sam. Sally was so excited to tell Sam that he was right and Bob wanted to be cuckolded! They chatted and made plans. Sally hung up the phone and ran to Bob, "Isn't this wonderful! Now no sex tonight; we gotta save this pussy for Sam!"

Sunday Morning brought sunlight to Bob and Sally's house. Sally announced that she had time to run out for a manicure before she needed to be home to get ready for Sam to claim his prize. She left Bob standing in the kitchen sipping coffee as she excitedly rushed out the door.

As soon as Sally was driving away from their house, Bob became a flurry of action. Within the hour the house locks were changed, the alarm company had updated the 'set' and 'all clear' codes. Bob Installed some wireless cameras in the front entry hall, the living room and of course, also in Bob and Sally's bedroom. Bob synced all the cameras to his iPad. It was a pretty great system. Bob could click between cameras, he could even zoom in and out. All the cameras had mics, which he also controlled. Bob, for the first time in a long time, cracked a real smile.

Then he cleared a space in the back of the master walk-in closet. He made it comfortable. He had a lawn chair and a cooler filled with beer, all ready for the show.

The last thing Bob did was chamber a couple of rounds of rock-salt-loaded shells into his 12-gauge shotgun, which he then put up on the shelf. He nestled in, pulling several hangers of clothes down the rack to screen him from any casual observation.

It was a like great duck blind; he had a clear view of the master bed.

Sally came home and went up to the closet to check on her husband. He had moved his car and was now hanging in the closet, sipping a beer.

"Wow, Bob, this is great! You will be able to see everything!" Sally was soooo pleased.

Bob smiled at Sally, winking. He took another pull on his beer. Sally started getting ready for Sam. She enjoyed knowing her husband was watching her primp for her lover. Things were working out so well, she thought. In fact, it all almost seemed just too easy. Sally almost pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

Bob was holed up in the closet. If Bob had been a tea pot, it would have been screaming, so loud, for so long, that it would, by now, have been dry and melting, untended on the kitchen stove. But, Bob was not a tea pot. His anger and rage filled him with motivation. It steeled him. It gave him strength.

He sat comfy, yet on a razor's edge. Tense, like a massive spring being twisted tighter. Clear of mind. Totally aware. Bob had never been more alive. And, Bob was totally pissed. He had never had such ugly feelings about anyone until he met Sam.

Then the doorbell rang. Bob put in his ear buds, looked down at the iPad and hit record. Then he watched as the games began.

Sam rang the doorbell, then without waiting, opened the front door and stepped into the house, just like he owned the joint. Sam was a cocky one.

Sally checked herself out in the larger mirror in the front hall when the doorbell rang, and Sam walked in. She had shifted a bit of this that way, and stuffed some of that over the other way. She liked what she saw; a sexy empowered middle-aged woman, putting a bit of a slutty spin to it.

She rushed up to Sam and melted into him saying, "Oh, Sam, you were so right!"

Then she grabbed Sam's overly large, yet still flaccid cock. Smiling up at Sam, she said, "Oh, my, and you're so very right," giving his cock another squeeze.

She giggled.

Bob watch in some amazement. Sally was...well, it was clear, she was trying hard. In fact, she was trying so hard, it was embarrassing to watch. She didn't come across as hot and sultry, let alone sexy, to Bob. Mostly, he just saw desperation, an over-the-hill gal who looked at the world through fucked-up, rose-colored glasses. She looked just stupid in the too-tight trashy dress and the over-the-top makeup. Bob sighed to himself; he had told her the form-fitting dresses simply were not kind to her. Lots of rolls around the middle, if you know what I mean, and her tits in the too-small, cupless, push-up bra were damned near falling out!

Sam pushed her back and strolled into the house. Sally trailed behind. Sam looked around at the McMansion. He thought to himself that this would be fun and profitable for him. He smiled and started ordering Sally around.

"Get me a drink, slut," Sam barked at Sally. She scurried into the kitchen and returned with a beer. Sam had seated himself on the couch waiting for his drink.

Sam took the beer, and said "Music. Something you can dance to."

Sally picked up a remote and started some music. Sorta reggae-light stuff.

"Dance for me," said Sam, as he loosened his belt, leaned back into the couch and took a pull from his beer. Sam was in control. He reveled in it. Here, he was the master!

Sally started sway, but she was a bit uncomfortable, and Sally really wasn't a very good dancer. She never really got "the beat". Most folks, if forced to describe her dance style, the word used most often was spastic, if one was nice, that is.

Bob, up in the closet, was cracking up watching her try to dance seductively for Sam. It took her awhile to get her dress unzipped, and then she was tripped up when the dress wound around her ankles. She faceplanted onto the coffee table. Bob grimaced. That was going to leave a mark, he thought.

Finally, she was down to her sexy lingerie. Sam had her sucking his cock. Sally was starting to get pretty hot and bothered bobbing up and down on Sam's cock. She almost got three of his inches into her mouth. She was furiously rubbing her clit when Sam stopped her by pushing her back, standing up and walking away from her.

He had decided it was time to head up to the bedroom. Sally grunted in frustration, so close yet so very far away. Sam led the way. Sally wobbled behind in the somewhat comical 6-inch "come fuck me" shoes. (She really didn't do well with heels that were more than 2".) Up the long, curving staircase they climbed. Bob switched to the bedroom camera.

Sam pushed the French doors to the master suite open and stepped in. "Yes, this will do just fine," said Sam.

Looking up from his iPad Bob watching from the closet, tensing as he saw Sam. It was getting close to go time. Bob's breath was getting ragged.

Bob watched Sally lay down in their bed, spreading her legs. She reached down and pulled her pussy lips apart. "Come get your pussy!" Sally yelled, her excitement building.

Sam dropped his clothes in a pile and jumped onto Sally.

*******

They froze when they heard Bob snap closed his double-barrel shotgun.

"My, my what do we have here?" said Bob, almost calmly, through clenched teeth.

"Bob! What are you doing!??!" Sally screamed. Bob then heard Sam's extra-large dick pop out of his wife. Sam spun around to face Bob.

"Goddamit, cuck! What are you doing here! Get the fuck out, or I will kick your ass!" screamed Sam, at the very fuckin' angry Bob.

Sam charged Bob in a rage. He was going to put this cuck in his place! Bob raised his shotgun pointing it at Sam's cock and balls.

Sam skidded to a stop.

He put out his hands saying, "Now, now, Bob, no reason to overreact. It's all just fun and games. No hard feelings, man," said Sam, quickly changing his tack.

"Well, dickhead, I see even a wimp like you has a couple of brain cells that are working," Bob said, using his angry outdoor voice.

Bob could see Sam's rage return to his face. Sam had 'big man with big dick' complex. He expected to always get his way.

Bob taunted him, "You think you are fast enough for me to not take your dick, you pussy?" Sam was getting pretty red in the face; he was close to losing it. This was a battle for who was the Alpha.

"Oh, come on, you are such a wimp you gotta sneak around to get a woman...pathetic." Bob turned the screws a little tighter.

"Sam, you know your wife just loved having me up her ass. Why, just yesterday afternoon after lunch, when you were out for a drink, did you think of your wife, Sherry? What she was up to? Well, I was loving my cock up her ass. Something she said you would never get to do. You fuckin' asswipe."

Bob's taunts hit the mark; Sam was actually shaking in rage. Just this morning his wife had yelled at him, that he never would get her "virgin ass". Now he thought he understood what she meant. To Sam, this was just unacceptable. Sure, it's okay for him to fuck someone's wife...but for some other dick besides his to be in his wife? No fuckin' way!

So Sam was way pissed, but the shotgun pointing to his overly large cock held him in check.

Bob was disappointed, as he really, really, really wanted to shoot the bastard in his cock with a couple of rounds of rock salt.

Bob tossed him a pair of handcuffs. "Those go around your ankles."

"Well, Honey, seems you got a big wimp dick as a boyfriend. Just how dumb do you think he is?" Sam's eyes were brimming with anger as he closed the handcuffs around his ankles.

"Honey, up," Bob said to Sally motioning her off the bed.

He tossed her a set of hand cuffs. "One on his wrist, the other his ankle."

Sally clicked a handcuff to Sam's wrist, then pulling him down, bending him over, she clicked the other cuff around his ankle.

Bob tossed another handcuff, "Now the other wrist and ankle."

Sam was bent over, ass in the air, dick hangin' low. His face was red and his eyes were boiling with anger. No one treated Sam Rager like this!

Bob looked down at him and said, "You be one dumb motherfucker."

Sam went off. Screaming and yelling.

Bob let him yell, all hunched over his own dick smacking him in his face. Bob grabbed Sally's arm, and pulled her out the bedroom into the hallway and closed the door.

Bob looked at Sally; she was trembling, and sniffing. This was so not working out the way Sam assured her it would. She was so into Sam's big cock. She had been looking forward to having it buried in her. But that all went to shit with her husband's appearance, shotgun in hand, and him clearly not playing his assigned role in The Sam and Sally Show. It was unnerving for Sally, to say the least.

"Honey, we need to talk," said Bob, as he dragged her into one of the many guest bedrooms.

"Sally, you really have made a royal mess of things. Right now, there is only one question you need to be concerned with, which is...do you want to stay married to me?"

Sally looked up into Bob's eyes. The man that looked back at her looked like her husband, but, now, he was so very different. His cold, cold eyes had Sally unsettled. She stood, shivering in her too-small cupless bra and the too-revealing crotchless panties, and of course her kinda sexy (well they would be sexy on a sexy woman; Sally didn't look even remotely sexy at that moment) garter belt.

Things that made sense 10 minutes ago now made no sense to Sally. Her plans appeared to be utterly ruined. She knew that if Bob went nuclear she was in for a long and nasty fight, from which she knew she would not emerged unscathed. She did love Bob, desperately, and she wanted to stay married. How could that be the case when she was doing this shit? Hey, she's a woman. A complex being, being led by her pussy.

"Well?" growled Bob, as he stood tapping his toes on the floor.

"Bob, I love you; of course I want to stay married to you! I don't want a divorce. Why would you think I wanted a divorce?"

Bob just looked at Sally like she had lost her mind.

"Okay, Sally, here is what is going to happen. Soon, the cops will be here; they are going to want to talk with you. You better not say a word to them. Just cry and sob like you are doing now. But no matter what, you don't answer any questions or make any statement, at all."

Sally just nodded at Bob.

"Now, Sally, as a bit of incentive, you slip up, I am gone. I will burn this house to the ground, I will bankrupt us, and you will have nothing, and I will haunt your life 'til the end of days. You understand, wife?"

Sally nodded. Sally got That her goose was cooked. Sam was just a fling, but Bob (and the house, paycheck, 401(k) and credit cards) were her life. And the look in her husband's eye scared the bejesus right outta her. She knew, it was time to be on Team Bob...it was her only chance.

"You stay here until I come to get you. No leaving this room, and no noise. No matter what you think you hear, you better keep quiet. This is your one and only chance. You need to do this to prove to me that you want to be my wife. Blow this and it's all over," Bob said, barely keeping his rage in check.

Bob left Sally, who crumpled, weeping on the floor, and returned to Sam.

*************

"Hello, 911. Police, fire or rescue?"

"Ahh, multiple choice, eh? Well, I would say police, but if they don't get her fast enough, we might need medical help."

Bob looked at the butt naked man bent over in a most uncomfortable (handcuffed enforced) position.

"Walk, asshole," Bob encouraged Sam by sticking the shot gun on his balls.

It took them a while to get the naked man to shuffle and frog step out into the hall and then to the stairs. Alas, only four steps down the stairs Bob got fed up with Sam's slow speed and the seemingly never-ending crap flowing out of his mouth. For some unknown reason Sam seemed to think he had something to share with Bob. Bob didn't agree. Bob, "accidentally" kicked Sam in the nuts, sending him tumbling down the stairs, landing with a thud on the marble floor at bottom of the very long stair case; then Sam rolled about ten feet before coming to a stop.

That's about the time that the cops walked in.

Bob came down the stairs raising his shotgun up over his head with one hand then slowly laid it on the floor at the bottom of the stairs saying, "Watch the shotgun, folks. It has a very sensitive trigger."

Bob straightened up, continuing to hold up his hands. He addressed the men in blue.

"Hello, I'm Bob. This is my house, and I called you. This peckerwood is, ah, as I found him, like this...well, with not a stitch on him, as he and my cheating wife were getting it on. Mr. Sam Peckerwood Rager objected to me being in MY house, objecting to him being in MY bed, and in MY wife. He charged me intending to do me bodily harm. I showed him my shotgun. That calmed him down a bit. As you can see, I have restrained him, but only to protect myself, and I was escorting him to my front door to meet you fine folks. Oh, and thanks for the speedy response. I'm having trouble controlling my temper towards this asswipe. Please remember my shotgun has a very...very...sensitive trigger."

The police thanked Bob for his restraint. Domestic disputes were so often bloody, if not deadly--not the kind of calls cops like to get. So, when Bob acted so reasonably, they took his side. Go figure.

Bob pressed trespassing charges. No one had invited Sam in. Bob also strongly hinted at rape, during the interview with the cops.

The cops were having problems with getting Peckerwad out of the cuffs. Seems they weren't standard US law enforcement issue. Bob told the cops that he had special ordered them a rural Mongolian town, and he didn't have the keys. He never intended to use them; they were just more for a conversation piece. Wasn't Amazon da bomb?

Channel 5's ACTION News truck pulled up. (That was due to Bob's second phone call.) The crack News team swung into ACTION for an on-the-spot, breaking news update. They were just in time to catch Sam doing his weird, bent-over, cuffed, shuffling perp walk, ass crack and all, out to the police car whose lights lit up the whole street as evening fell. Channel 5's crack camera man earned his money as he got some great shots of Sam's face and ass, often in the same frame! The On Air talent, lean, leggy, busty and blonde, breathlessly reviled Sam Rager on air, ass crack and all. The crowd of neighbors that had gathered made for a great backdrop.

"Oh yeah, the tip paid off. This is definitely going on the 11 o'clock news," thought the on-air talent.

Bob escorted the police to his wife. Bob was calm. Sally was distraught, sobbing. The cops couldn't get Sally to say a word. She would sob and sob. At the police's request, Sally was taken to the hospital by Bob for a rape exam. At the hospital, Bob was given some names of marriage and rape therapists. Sally, was a wreck; she was given a pretty healthy drug cocktail to knock her out. Bob was given several bottles of pills for her later use.

"Sally, it's going to be ok, Sweetie. I'm here; I'll protect you," said Bob, just as Sally drifted away from the nightmare that she called her life.

The next morning Bill found his house besieged by the media. Apparently, Mr. Rager was a fairly well-known, but inconsequential member of the business community. He had married up, his wife was the boss's daughter. So, with tales of lurid sex, and the amazing footage captured by Channel 5, it was a hot story.

Around 8:30 in the morning, Bob emerged to make a statement to the press.

"Hello, folks. First, thank you for all the sympathy you have shown our family. My wife is resting under the doctors' care, and she is not going to be making any statements.

We are troubled that such creatures like Sam Rager are free to roam our streets and prey on honest women, such as my wife. We have been informed that Mr. Sam Rager also went by the names Franklin Tweetwhisler, Marvin Malstrom and Paul Kim. I implore you, if you have any information about this lowlife, we would love to chat. Please call our private investigators, R. Hardcase and Associates.

Thank you. I have nothing further to add."

Bob walked back into his house.

CNN & Fox picked up the story. Out west some very unpleasant men were holding a grudge against one Franklin Tweetwhisler aka Franky the Tweet. Their ears perked up when they saw Bob's statement on Fox. They quickly headed east.

In Miami, the DEA had spent thousands of man hours on the The Malstrom investigation, focusing on a lowlife who traveled with some Mexicans. The DEA was so close they could taste it, when, like magic, Marv fell off the grid. They were watching Fox, too.

In Washington D.C. at the F.B.I. HQ (they were watching CNN) their carefully planned witness protection plan exploded in their face. Paul Kim, was Sam's birth name. He had been relocated, now three times, and his current identity was blown. There were some pissed-off Feds in DC.

That's when things started to really get crazy.

Bob had a very busy day. He moved all their money into accounts only Bob controlled. Sally, woke up groggy. Bob, being her loving husband insisted that Sally take a handful of pills, which knocked her out for another 12 hours, freeing Bob up to continue executing his plans without any undue interference.