tagLoving WivesBullet 02

Bullet 02


*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Jack tried the knob; it was unlocked, just as she said it would be. He slowly turned the knob then pushed the door softly. Only the slightest of creaks could be heard, but he still froze for a moment.

He entered the darkened living room and looked around, letting his eyes get accustomed to the dark.

There was the shiny red leather couch. He'd not said anything about how gaudy it was when she was laying on it, her thighs locked around his head. He'd not commented on the surreal color of the leather when he had his cock buried to the hilt in her tight ass.

She was the first woman he'd ever fucked up the ass. He'd begged his ex-wife for anal sex so many times; hell he'd begged her for any kind of sex. She was a frigid cow that though sex was for procreation and procreation only. She had even thought playing with her titties was a sin, since those were supposed to be for producing milk for the children she was to bear.

When she found out that she was unable to bear children, several cysts in her fallopian tubes, this was ground for divorce. Obviously, in God's eyes, she wasn't meant to be married.

Thankfully the judge ruled that, since the house was his before the marriage, she wasn't entitled to half of its value in divorce. She may have used her religion to determine she wasn't supposed to be married, but that didn't deter her from being a vindictive bitch in the divorce.

But Lynne let Jack fuck her any which way he wanted to, and play with her titties, and play with her pussy, and play with her ass.

The floorboards creaked slightly as he began to creep along to the hallway. Funny, he never noticed how much they creaked before. Then again, he wasn't trying to be silent before.

Lynne wasn't very silent when she was making love.

She actually curled up her lip in disgust at that term. "Love is an emotion, you can't 'make' an emotion," she declared. "It's fucking, which is an expression of love."

And at first, that's what it was to him, fucking. He'd sidled up next to her in line at the McDonald's and asked the five foot ten inch beauty what a man had to do to get between those long beautiful legs.

"Most of my lovers just ask," she smiled and placed her order with the pimple faced girl.

"Bye," she smiled and left with her lunch.

The floorboard creaked horribly in the hall and he froze again. He saw the many framed pictures in the hallway and wondered why he'd never noticed them before.

"Because, dumb ass, you were to busy looking at her ass," he laughed to himself.

Too busy watching his come dribble out of her stretched, raw looking anus and stretched, angry looking pussy, and sticking to her muscular, tanned thighs.

There was a photograph of David when he was much younger, dressed in a football uniform. Jack didn't remember those days; he'd only been two years old at that time, but his father sure did remember it. Bender, Louisiana was proud of its high school football team, and had something to be proud of. And right in the middle of that was David Labbe, star running back. Several colleges had vied for his attention and his future looked bright indeed.

Then David Labbe, Senior had been killed in a hit and run accident. They never did find the other driver. David Junior had dropped out of high school to go to work at the mattress factory, Bender's main source of employment. His mother was busy raising five children, one of which had special needs, so David took up the role of 'man of the house.'

There was another photograph of a young smiling David, flexing his muscled arms. Dangling from his arm was a small girl, smile on full wattage. Jack could see the girl's leg braces and recognized the big smile.

Melanie Labbe had been born with spina bifida and had to wear leg braces. She walked with the use of crutches, but always seemed to have a full smile on her face. Jack liked when he'd get her window at the bank; he'd flirt with her and make her giggle and blush. Right at her window, in full view of anyone who looked, was a picture of her big brother, David.

David had told her that she was only as limited as she wanted to be. When someone tells you that often enough, you tend to believe it. And you tend to make other people believe it too. In her senior year of high school, she'd been voted 'Homecoming Queen.'

There was the picture of Melanie Labbe in her Homecoming prom dress, cheap plastic crown on her head.

Unfortunately, while everyone agreed that Melanie Labbe was beautiful, few could look past the leg braces and the crutches. Jack had heard that she had to wear a diaper. He didn't remember where he'd heard that, but the idea of dating a girl that had no control over her bowel movements was not very appealing to him.

There was a photograph of Lynne, pasties and g-string on, hanging upside down from a pole in the middle of a stage.

There was another photograph of Lynne, smiling saucily at the unseen photographer as she covered her breasts in her small hands. The g-string panties barely covered her blonde tuft of hair.

Jack remembered her cupping those magnificent breasts together so he could thrust his cock between them. She screamed and laughed as his come spurted out and coated her lips, chin, neck and breasts. Then she used her fingers to scoop the semen up. With him watching, she had that same saucy smile as she licked her fingers clean.

"Divorce is out of the question," she sadly said. "He said he'd kill me before he let me go."

The twenty two-caliber pistols were nearly untraceable to him; he'd stolen it out of a customer's car five years ago. He'd taken a soda can and duct taped it to the muzzle. The soda can was stuffed with packing peanuts. The homemade device would serve two purposes; it would act as a silencer, and also render the bullets almost impossible to perform any ballistics tests on.

He paused outside of the guest bedroom door. He smiled as he looked at the comforter.

"It was his grandmother's," she'd sneered. "Fucking ugly, if you ask me.

But they'd had fun fucking on it. Lynne laughed at the idea of 'generations of wet spots' on the ugly bed covering.

Just past the doorway were a few more photographs. There was one of Lynne, dressed in a thong bikini, draped over the hood of a 1957 Ford Thunderbird. Her tan looked good, as she'd greased herself up just before the picture was taken.

There was another photograph of her, and David; it was their wedding photograph. He smirked at the white wedding dress, she was clearly no virgin, no blushing bride.

There was a photograph of David and group of men, standing outside of the mattress factory. Jack looked closely at the photograph. The front doors were the old glass and steel ones, not the newer wooden wanes that hung on the frames now. They'd replaced the glass and steel doors after the fire. Several of the employees had been severely cut by the thick glass as they ran to escape the inferno.

Jack also saw Herman Villeaux in the photograph. They'd never recovered his body; some said the force of the blast had blown him to small chunks of flesh and bone.

There was John Laponte. John had been deafened from the blast. Dazed, deafened, disoriented, he was stumbling toward the inferno itself when someone grabbed him and carried him outside. He never did find out who it was that saved him.

"It was an angel," John would say. "An angel saved my life; being deaf is a lot better than being dead."

That was why David was in the horrible physical shape he was in now. In the photograph, he still had his 'running back' physique, instead of the bloated body he sported in the wedding photograph.

He'd gone back inside, despite the others' trying to stop him. Three times he'd come back out with a severely injured coworker. On his fourth trip in, the roof collapsed on him, burying him under flaming wreckage. He was in physical therapy for nearly a year before he could walk again, unaided.

The factory gave him a desk job and a substantial raise in salary. The entire town regarded him as a hero, although he didn't see it that way. Instead of seeing the four people he'd been able to rescue, all David could see were the seven people that had lost their lives in that horrible fire.

"Wasn't me," David told John when John asked if it had been him that carried him to safety. "You find out who it was, I'll buy that man a steak dinner."

There was a photograph of Lynne in a 'naughty nurse' costume. She'd been a candy striper at the hospital when the injured started pouring in. That was where she and David had met. Despite the fifteen-year age difference, the twenty year old had fallen hard for the thirty five year old hero.

"I'll leave the door unlocked, you come in and..." she said as she lazily played with her slick pussy lips.

"I don't know," He'd hesitated.

"I love sucking your cock, especially after it's been in my ass," she husked and deep throated him. "It's just so fucking nasty."

There was a photograph of David and Melanie, both on crutches, and both with wide smiles on their faces.

Melanie was encouraging her big brother to try, try a little harder. She reminded him again that he was only as limited as he wanted to be.

Jack Paused outside of the master bedroom door. David's snoring could be heard. He peered in and saw Lynne, long leg bare, sleeping on her stomach. David slept soundly next to her, lying on his back; the only position he could sleep comfortably in. Sometimes his back flared up horribly and he couldn't sleep at all. But Lynne, his loving Lynne, would make him lay on his stomach and she would rub and knead his back until the cramps would go away.

Jack took careful aim and...

The plan had been for him to go out the rear door and run through the woods, then cut over to his won house. That way, they'd not be able to trace him, trace the homicide back to him. But he didn't want to do that; David's German shepherd was in the back yard.

"Shoot him too," Lynne had said. "Fucking dog stinks anyway."

He walked out the front door and made sure to stay in the shadows. Once inside the safety of his own home, he took off the ski mask and let out a deep sigh of relief.

Connie sat up in the tree and waited, high-powered rifle trained on the back door of the Labbe home.

"The stupid little prick will get David out of the way, then you get him out of the way, and we can be together," Lynne told her and dipped her head into Connie's bush again.

"It's the perfect plan," Lynne told her as they lay in the bubble bath, scented candles all around. "Who in the hell would suspect a bunch of dumb strippers coming up with this shit?"

Connie slapped at the swarm of mosquitoes and waited. Dawn began to break and she realized that Jack wasn't going to be coming out. She groaned as she tried to will her cramped and stiff muscles to move.


Lynne almost screamed when David playfully tickled her exposed foot.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty," he smiled and showed her the plate of scrambled eggs and bacon he'd made for her.

"You know what, Lynne?" Jack coldly said when Lynne called him at the garage. "I almost went through with it, put the poor bastard out of his misery, being married to a cunt like you, but figured it wasn't worth going to prison over."

"Fuck you, spineless bastard!" Lynne shrieked into the phone.

"Oh, and Lynne?" Jack laughed. "Those tapes we made? They'll be on David's desk this afternoon. Might want to start packing now."

Jack took the deposits from Bruce, the garage owner and drove down to the bank. He smiled and waved another patron ahead of him and waited his turn.

"Hi Beautiful," he said to Melanie Labbe when she finally finished with John Laponte. John took a little longer to help; he was still struggling to read lips.

"Oh, stop it," she blushed and giggled.

"Hey listen, instead of depositing all that money, why don't you and I take it and head to Mexico?" he suggested and waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Yeah, right," she laughed. "We'll get real far on..."

She rapidly counted out the cash and checks.

"Four hundred and ninety two dollars," she said and smiled her beautiful smile at him.

"Oh well, I tried," he said and smiled. "But if you won't go to Mexico with me, how about going to eat Mexican food with me?"

"Are you serious?" she asked, mouth open in shock.

She'd been asked out on dates before, but as soon as they saw the crutches and leg braces, they somehow 'remembered ' another engagement they had. But Jack knew her, knew she had leg braces and used crutches. He'd gone to school with her, well, he had been two years ahead of her, but he knew her.

Jacket had decided that since he didn't know if the story about Melanie needing to wear a diaper was true or not, there was only one way to find out.

"Yeah, I'm serious," he smiled. "You got to eat, right? I got to eat. But when I eat, I like to look at a pretty woman."

"Shut up," she giggled.

"Too bad all you'll have to look at is me," he went on. "How about six thirty?"

"Um, yeah, um, okay," she said and quickly wrote down her phone number on a business card.

David looked at the package with interest; he'd not ordered anything. He rattled it a few times, then shrugged his shoulders and slit through the wrapping paper.

(Jack wasn't at all worried that David would find out it was him on the tapes; Lynne was so narcissistic that her face was the only one visible on the tapes.)

The End.

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