Ashes to Ashes and Dust to Dust

"Where did you fuck him? Did you fuck in the house or did you get a--"

"You know me, Henry, we fucked in every room of the house," she said with a dirty, sexy laugh that made him want to choke the life right out of her.

He thought that was something they only did. To hear that she fucked her young lover in every room of the house and that John was wearing his shirt, and that his shirt looked better on him, and that she sucked his cock and swallowed his cum, and that she loved him, he was beside himself with rage. He wanted to slap her, but he didn't.

"You're nothing but a slut, Kathryn, that's what you are. You're a slut, a whore, and a dirty cunt," he said pushing her away, standing up, and putting his cock back in his pants. He couldn't get an erection anyway. Perhaps, had he been able to get hard, he would have had her blow him and he would have experienced cumming in her mouth for the first time, but with so much on his mind, he couldn't.

"Henry, how dare you talk to me like that? I'm your wife."

"Not for long," he said.

"So, you'll give me my divorce?"

Still there on her knees, when he looked down at her, she was looking up at him smiling, as if happy with the thought that he was agreeing to a divorce. He didn't answer her. Hurt that she loved John, it was worse knowing that she didn't love him anymore. Just as she didn't love him, he knew that John didn't love her.

John, no doubt, just wanted his house. He was just trying to weasel himself into everything that he had worked so hard to have. He's worked the two jobs all his married life. Working hard for everything he has is the only way he knows.

Along with his wife, John, no doubt, wanted his life. It made him insane to think about John sitting in his recliner, drinking his beer, and watching his big screen TV, while fucking his wife in his bed. Then, when he thought about her blowing him, sucking his cock, and him cumming in her mouth and she swallowing him, well, who'd blame him for being angry enough to kill? Right?

Having known his wife for more than 30 years and being married for most of that time, he never knew his wife was like that, a slut and a whore, hungry for the cock of another man and willing to fuck some kid, nearly half her age. How could she do that to him, after all he's done for her? There was no way that he could reconcile with her now. It was over. Everything was a mess. How could he compete with John? There was just no way. He couldn't. In his heart, no longer his wife, as if she was already dead, she was gone from his life. It was then, even before she died, that he mourned the loss of her.

She made him feel old, empty, and rejected. He felt like such a fool not knowing that all this was going on behind his back all this time. Now to know that they fucked several dozen times, lots of times, too many times to remember to even keep count was more than a betrayal. It was an organized attack perpetrated on him. After all they were to one another, how could she do that to him, to the children, and to herself?

Enraged and wanting to bash her over her head with something, but not wanting to make this a police matter, he controlled his temper. Something that he needed to take care of himself, this was his personal business and he wanted it kept private. He didn't want anyone to know that he knew about their affair. He'd bide his time. He'd wait when they were alone together. He'd wait until he had a solid alibi.

Since he's good at digging, he did some digging on John's background and discovered that, as a juvenile, he spent a year in Juvie Hall for setting fires. He did his time for his crimes and after being released, he had to serve a two year probation. Now, it was easy for Henry to put a perfect plan in place.

Gossip travels fast in a small town and he spread the word around town that John was stalking his wife, after she had rebuffed his advances. He wanted to paint John as a scorned, vindictive lover and Kathryn as a loving and faithful wife. It wouldn't take much to cast doubt in the eyes of the town folk that his wife was the unwilling victim. Everyone loved Henry and they all liked Kathryn.

Having moved to town a couple of years ago, John wasn't born here. He wasn't a regular townie. No one liked him. Certainly, no one trusted him. Henry had public opinion on his side. None of his friends and neighbors would ever think that Kathryn was a dirty slut and a no good, two timing, cheating whore.

Only, an unfortunate accident and an act of rage, he hadn't planned on killing Kathryn, too. It just happened, when his rage escalated out of control. John was the one he wanted dead and not his beloved Kathryn, but when he told his wife that he had just torched her lover, she tried to hit him with a marble statue and when he grabbed it away from her, she spit in his face.

"I don't love you anymore," she said. "I love John! You killed him and for that, you'll rot in jail for the rest of your life!"

When she turned to call the police, in a rage, he bashed her across the back her head. Reflexive, it just happened. As if made of water, he watched her crumple to the floor. He thought she was dead, but she was still breathing. In an act of love, he put his photo in her hands and, in an act of desperation, he wiped off his prints and planted a pair of John's gloves in the room, beside the statue. Even though he knew she wasn't dead, he couldn't finish her off. He couldn't kill his beloved wife and the mother of his children, not now, not in cold blood. He wasn't himself, when he hit her that first time. Even though she could kick him, when he was down, he couldn't hit her again.

It was easier for him to give his fate up to God. His destiny was in God's hands now. He figured he had several minutes to make good his escape. If she awakened before the smoke filled the house and killed her, he'd go to prison. If she didn't awaken, she'd be dead, too, and he'd be free. With John in the garage on fire, he left Kathryn where she fell and returned to work.

Within minutes of returning to the cemetery unnoticed by co-workers, he received a call and a message on his cell phone that his house was on fire. He left his cell phone in his truck and headed for the men's room. He stayed in the men's room, until his supervisor received a call and came looking for him. Already over, it was enough of a delay that, by the time he returned to his house, he was the last one on the scene.

With the flames already extinguished, his friends and neighbors rushed to his side to keep him away from his house, as the coroner removed the bodies.

"I wanted you to know, Henry," said the coroner laying a hand on his shoulder. "Kathryn died peacefully from smoke inhalation. There wasn't a burn mark on her body. She must have hit her head trying to flee the house and was knocked unconscious."

"Thank you," said Henry. "That's comforting to know."

"We found a pair of gloves lying in the room with Kathryn and an unfinished cigar. Knowing you don't smoke, Henry, we sent them both to the lab to analyze, but my guess is that John's fingerprints are inside the gloves and his DNA is on the cigar. There was a marble statue lying beside Kathryn's body. I figure that's what he used to knock her unconscious, before going in the garage to set the fire to the house," said the Police Chief to Henry. "She was in the living room holding your picture, when she died, Henry. That must have been the one thing she thought of saving from the fire," said the Police Chief.

"And what about that bastard?" Henry appropriately cried.

"We found him in the garage. The gas can he was holding exploded and was the origin of the fire," said the Fire Chief. "Unidentifiable, he was burnt to a crisp, but his truck was parked outside."

Henry hid his face in his hands, crying. He was comforted by the thought that no one knew that he doused John with gasoline, before setting him on fire in his garage.

A few days later, unable to keep him from work, with the town getting ready for the upcoming Earth Day celebration, Henry was hanging Earth Day decorations in the town square. After an investigation, the arson investigator ruled that the fire that destroyed Henry's house and killed his loving wife was arson and set, no doubt, by John in a murder/suicide plot. They identified the gloves and the cigar, as both belonging to John.

After Henry filled in his wife's grave, adorned it with fresh flowers, and said a prayer, he left her grave to fill in John's unmarked grave on the pauper's side of the cemetery. When word got around town that he was a grieving, albeit wealthy widower, the single women in town flocked to his new house with baked goods and offers of condolences. Now early retired, Henry goes to the gym and lives the good life with a new wife, Susan, one who allows him to cum in her mouth, swallows, and truly loves him.

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