tagLoving WivesKickback



Many thanks to techsan for editing this story.

My name is Tommy Janson and I'm regarded as an average Scandinavian man. Earlier in this year in my early forties, I saw myself to be a man without any personal problems, living in a happy marriage when the events, which got me to write this story, began to happen. At least in my own opinion, I couldn't by any reason be regarded as some kind of wimp though I began to realize that my wife ruled an increasing part of our lives.

Much of it was my own fault because I had, much too often, chosen "the easy way" and giving in to her when we had different opinions in something what I regarded as a less important matter. The problem was that I had noted that those different opinions had appeared more often and it was high time begin to dig in the heels and stop it before they became too common.

Sandra, my 39 year old very pretty wife, used a simple tactic. Fair sex was available at my request and good cooking when things went in her way and quite the opposite when I had objections and didn't change my mind in her favor.

However, the main reason for me to choose the "easy way" had usually been that I was too busy to care about all those daily matters.

I was working as engineer at the local branch of a nationwide construction company in a Scandinavian county capital and we were usually very busy at my job. During the summers I spent some time at the Golf Club, which Sandra didn't like very much. The last year I even spent much time at the Rider Club's stable where our thirteen-year-old daughter Lina had her horse, which she had gotten from Sandra's parents. Sandra was afraid of horses so she demanded that I go there and help Lina taking care of the horse.

In the beginning I didn't like it all but now Marie-Anne, a good looking and easygoing mother to one of the other young girls in the club with a horse in a box next to Lina's, had turned my visits there to a great pleasure. When Marie-Anne noted that my knowledge of horses was limited to knowing the difference between rear and front end of the animal, she took her time showing me what to do and how to do it. In return I used to help her with all heavy jobs because her husband pretended to be allergic of horses and refused to come to the stable. We had a very good time together but only as friends, not any affair in sight so far.

I can't deny that my heart went a bit faster when one day she said to me while laughing to some good new "under the belt" joke I had told her, "I would seduce you within seconds if we were singles."

Obviously she noted some signs of hope in my face because she immediately continued by telling me that for the time being she was very pissed at her husband and asked me, "Are you the same nice guy at home as you seem to be here?"

I suggested her try me if we became single and she promised to do that.

Both Sandra and I made good money, so we could afford to have a pleasant life. Thanks to the good bank connections at my job, I had invested in a house in a nice area, where we had many good friends in the neighbrhood.

Many of our friends envied me because they only saw the "sunny side" of Sandra, who was the perfect hostess when we had a dinner or a party for our friends.

Sandra and I met at a line to the check-in desk at the nearest airport during a holiday trip to the Spanish island Mallorca. Both she and I went there with friends and our parties met in that line and thereafter a few times at party spots at the island where I got her cell phone number, called her, invited her to dinner for two at a nice restaurant and afterwards got a quickie against a palm tree in a park. That was the beginning of our love story, which continued even when we were back from the island.

She was hot and tight and I didn't care very much that she only sucked my cock when she had gotten boozed at some party. Neither did I care that she wasn't much for trying new positions. Both of us were usually more than satisfied after our hot actions in her preferred missionary position.

Though Sandra's snobbish friends had accepted being fucked by all kind of cocks during the holiday in Spain, they didn't accept me as Sandra's boyfriend back home. In Spain they had no hesitations about fucking with my friends, even those of them with simple backgrounds and some of Sandra' friends even hired local gigolos for extra excitement. But back home many of them made no secret of their opinion that what happened on a Mediterranean island ought to stay there forever.

Some of them regarded me as trash due to my "Y" first name" and my background of been grown up in an infamous area of our city. Such simple matters as the area wasn't bad when I grew up there and my nice job and present way of living didn't mean anything to some of them. To my great pleasure Sandra never agreed with any of her snobbish upper class friends in that matter. Though Sandra probably was a trophy for me, I didn't ever see her in that way. For me she was only a lovely girl who happened to have more wealthy parents than me.

After a few months she had problems with the pills and her doctor suggested that she skip them for a while. However, fucking like rabbits and forgetting now and then to have condoms at home could only lead to one thing. Her unexpected pregnancy a few months later caused us to quickly marry as both of us wanted to do that before we had the child. To my relief her parents had no objections.

Sandra was her parent's only child and they gave her an expensive summerhouse situated at a very picturesque lake outside our hometown as private property for a wedding gift. As Sandra would get the summerhouse some day anyway, it was a clever step of her parents to give it to her and get rid of all maintenance problems, which fell on my shoulders. Of course they could still use it as much as they wanted, even when Sandra owned it.

I had owned our house in town before we married and kept that as my private property for compensation for her summerhouse. We shared everything else and there was never any talk about "my house" or "your house".

I really liked Sandra's parents. They had owned and run a successful furniture factory, then sold it for a good price and bought a nice house at Marbella in southern Spain when her father turned 60. I enjoyed our visits there, but Sandra didn't like the hot climate at all and I understood that we would have some problems if she inherited that house.

Sandra worked at one of the leading insurance company's district office where she had been recently promoted to some kind of vice department boss for special projects at the district. To my disappointment I slowly began to find out that it had a negative effect on our marriage. She wasn't the same Sandra as before and when I asked her about whether she had any problems, she only said that she had so many new things to learn at her job, which was the only reason why she was much more tired than before. But she promised everything would be better as soon as she had got a bit more skilled in that job.

Of course, even our sex life began to suffer with her new behavior though I didn't see any visible signs of an affair: no overtime, no new sexy dressing and no "wrong number" calls when I took the phone. The only sign was that she had gotten totally angry when I had joked about her possible affair after a lousy Saturday night sex.

She never mentioned much about her job at home but had been bragging during the last two weeks that she was working with a very important contract. Though she said she trusted me 100%, she had not told me any further details about her project. Of course, I knew a lot of what was going on in our city and had my guess about it but as it wasn't of any main interest for me, I never pushed her in that matter.

Then the shit hit the fan one Tuesday evening when Sandra came home from her job. She had a strange look at her face and I understood at once that something had happened to her and asked, "What's the matter with you? Have you been fired?"

"Of course not! Quite the opposite, indeed. We've almost closed our big project with a successful deal."

I knew her so well that I had immediately saw that something was bothering her. She was far from in a jolly mood for celebrating a successful deal. I said, "Please don't try to make a fool of me. I can tell that there's something that bothers you."

"Yes, you're in some way right because I've got one more important project to think about and it is linked to the first project."

"Yes, such things happen so what is the problem?"

"The second project is out of town and needs some traveling and probably even staying overnight now and then. The first trip will be on Friday this week, if you don't mind."

I got a strange feeling about "a buried dog" in her attempts to tell me the good news about a successful deal before she mentioned her main problem, the strange Friday night business, which would make any sane man suspicious. She sounded far from happy about telling me that silly matter so I asked, "Where to?"

Sandra told me the name of a small town on the coast, only 45 kilometers from us, connected to us with a good road, which had me almost falling out of my chair in surprise. Now I began to suspect that she had become involved in some damn crap. However I still pretended not to know anything further than she had told me and asked, "Stay over night there when it doesn't take more than a half hour to get home?"

"Our customer's responsible manager can't be there before five o'clock and it will take us a good time to walk around and see the property before we'll have time to sign the first deal. Thereafter it is my job to be hosting at the dinner my company has invited him to at the Seaside Inn to celebrate the first deal and our further business connections. Nothing strange about that."

Though I was sure I knew her reply I asked, "It depends on what kind of property you, with your education limited to economic matters, are going to see there?"

"It is a large leisure area with 45 holiday chalets."

Just what I had suspected the whole time. Sandra had been involved in business with Oscar Pihlborg, who obviously had conned the crap out of Sandra and her incompetent boss. I knew Oscar since our childhood because we had grown up in the same area. When he worked as a car salesman, Oscar sold a car to the local slumlord's lesbian daughter, befriended and married her. After having two children, their marriage turned to some kind of strange open marriage with her having a secret girlfriend and Oscar bragging about having affairs with several, usually married, women at this leisure area where he had a well equipped chalet. Oscar and his wife had an important agreement to keep all of their affairs out of their hometown.

Oscar was very welcome to his rich wife's family because the slumlord's own son wasn't bright enough to be of any advantage in the growing family business. But Oscar was ruthless enough to be the perfect man to fit in that business. As involved in the local construction business as I was, I had heard all the rumors about Oscar's doings and knew that recently he had bought an entire area with about 500 more or less worn out apartments from the community. They couldn't afford the necessary expensive maintenance and therefore wanted to get rid off the bad reputation of being connected with owning an area in rapid decline to becoming a genuine slum. Oscar never had any such problems.

I decided to play in her game for a little while longer and told her, "It seems to be a very strange matter, indeed. Will that dinner really take the whole night? How many people are going from your office?"

"Only me this time, and there will be some good wine included in such an important celebration dinner. Do you really want me to be a drunk driver?"

"Only you? Do you really believe you have the necessary qualifications to survey those 45 worn out chalets, which are in very different state of repair? I can come with you and help you with that, of course for free. And drive you home after your dinner."

"It is not a final survey, just a simple inspection to get some more information about the project. No, thanks. In my position I don't want you involved in my job."

"And you never heard about taxis. They still exist in this country, and will probably even be cheaper for your company than a room at a decent hotel at the coast."

She began to show signs of feeling uncomfortable when she understood that she was painting herself into a corner in our dispute. But she continued, "I'll get a guesthouse in the leisure area for free and will be paid both for my overtime and a subsistence allowance."

"Who demands that you go there for a Friday night? Your boss, the customer or is it your own suggestion?"

"My boss, of course. He had intended to do it himself but he is busy elsewhere so he suggested that I represent our company in this very important deal. It will be a great pleasure for me and there are no reasons for you to interfere in my work."

Now I had had enough and shouted, "A great pleasure to be fucked in your ass by the damn pervert, Oscar Pihlborg, and be starring in his porn DVD for as little as a low subsistence allowance. Is the damn company whoring a condition of your promotion? You ought to know there are candid cameras in Oscar's damn chalet! "

She was shocked at my shouting and remained silent, so I continued, "Oscar used to share his new private porn DVD with his admirers at the Golf Club and I'm sure that his first penetration of your prudish virgin ass would be a great show among his admirers."

Both Oscar and I were members of the same Golf Club, where he had bragged about his hidden cameras in the overnight apartment to which he probably had invited Sandra for business discussion. He had a well equipped private chalet in his leisure area with an office and a guestroom with a door to his own bedroom. Once when he had shown pictures to his friends and admirers at the golf club of him fucking a painting business owner's beautiful wife after "business negotiations" about a maintenance job, he had showed them to me and offered to let me fuck her if I became more interested about co-operating with him. I suggested that he take a one-way trip to a hot place.

Oscar had bragged loudly that such pictures were the best possible aphrodisiac because the involved woman usually agreed to even kinkier sex after she had seen the pictures and received his "word of honor" that only he and nobody else would ever see those pictures if she was a good girl the next time he wanted to have a date with her. Of course, not all of those women he fucked in the chalet were blackmailed to do that because many of them enjoyed having some kinky sex with an infamous bastard like Oscar and many of them volunteered to join his nasty sex sessions.

I was a bit surprised that he dared to try his tricks on my wife, Sandra, but it could be a revenge move against me because my company had refused to do any kind of cheap and unapproved jobs for him. He held me responsible for that and had made some sour comments about "paying back with interest" when we had met at the Golf Club.

Many of Oscar's dirty tricks were well known among people in the business and ought to have been known even by Sandra's boss. The knowledge that the creep who was her boss somehow had succeeded in persuading my prudish wife to spend a night in Oscar's chalet for getting that contract almost knocked me to the floor. She wasn't stupid and ought to understand what a night with Oscar must mean for her.

Now she sat sobbing at the table, "It is not what you think. It is not anything like that."

"No, it is much worse, probably a hell of a mess. But remember if you want to fuck that damn pervert Oscar, you can forget this marriage. Do you understand?"

She didn't reply, so I shouted with a loud voice, "Do you understand that fucking with Oscar will terminate our marriage?"

She nodded.

I took the phonebook, rang Oscar's mother, introduced myself as a childhood friend and got his secret home number and dialed it. His wife replied, "Emmelie Pihlborg."

I told her my real name and that I was a construction engineer who had an important business matter to discuss with her husband and asked her politely if my friend Oscar was at home. When she told me that he was at the Golf Club, I thanked her for the information.

I told Sandra, still loudly sobbing, that I had some important business to handle and started out the door.

Sandra was still obviously in shock because I hadn't reacted in my usual soft manner. It was a new and unexpected experience for her. But what could I do? I felt like the camel which had its back broken by the last straw.

When I opened the car door, she had opened the entrance door and shouted after me, "Don't do anything stupid and harass Mr. Pihlborg. I'll file for divorce if you dare to do that."

I went straight to the Golf Club. Got information about what time Oscar with two others had begun to play and expected him to be somewhere at 14 or 15 and started walking at that direction.

They were at the green of no. 15 and when Oscar saw me in the distance, he understood my errand. He threw his club to the ground and began to run away from me. It took me almost 100 meters to catch him and get him down. I didn't waste any time arguing with him.

I did my very best to beat the crap out of him. He had damaged or destroyed my marriage and he deserved to get paid with interest. I knew that I had only a very limited time to do that before his friends and other players put a stop to it, so I really did my best to give him a memorable day, which he never would forget.

A couple of hard hooks to his face had put him down on the ground and then I used the remaining time until I was interrupted by kicking his balls. I interrupted the kicking when his friends and some other players came to us. I told them not to try to stop me when I walked away against the clubhouse where I had left my car.

A police car with two young policemen stood waiting for me there. They asked me in a polite manner if I preferred to have it done the easy way, to which I agreed and got into the backseat of their car. There wasn't much talking during the trip to the police station, where I was taken to a small office where another police officer asked me a lot of questions.

I told him my story about my childhood friend, Oscar, who had always envied me for my pretty wife and his intention of demanding that she act as some kind of company whore for getting his contract. I continued my story with the tale of going to the golf club and how he tried to get me away from the others where he could attack me. To my great luck, I had succeeded in defending myself against his aggressive attacks. I don't think the policeman believed many words of my story, but obviously he didn't care because he wrote down what I had told him. I signed it and was locked in while he contacted a prosecutor.

About five hours after I had arrived at the Golf Club for the first time, I was released from the police station and driven back to the clubhouse by a police patrol.

I knew that my odds of avoiding a trial were very good indeed, because such cases usually were stacked on a high pile and if nothing had happened within two years, the case would be outlawed.

Sandra was still in the kitchen when I came back to the house. She asked me, "Where have you been?"

"At the police station."

"Police station? What the hell did you do there?"

"Not much, only answered their questions about what happened to your friend, Oscar, at the Golf Club."

Suddenly she became ashen gray and shouted, "Holy Lord, what have you done to Oscar Pihlborg?"

"Not my fault that such a creep is so fragile. He attacked me and got taken to the hospital."

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