Mister Gabe Ch. 01

The crowd was making the water boil, they were playing with the exuberance of youth. I'm sure that some noticed us, but they were good friends. Even Paul kept his distance. The only people who couldn't see us there at the end of the dock were Paul's folks. I rammed Jen into that dock over and over. She cried, and groaned, and even screamed, but it was well covered by the noise around us. As I finished inside her I'm sure that I heard a few catcalls, and some splashy applause. Jen's faced was bright red.

It was fantastic.

I don't know if it was on her 18th, or on the way to grandma's house, or any of the other times, but we found out that Sara was going to join us soon. We didn't hesitate as there was no doubt in either of our minds. Jennifer and I were married, and Sara was born in the spring, before Jenn's 19th birthday. We moved into my folks', now my, house. With the money from my inheritance, neither of us needed to work yet. I continued in school, going from pre-law to law school. Jen, with the help of her mother who babysat Sara for us, went on to school in search of her education degree. Two years later the twins came along in the late summer. I graduated and joined a firm downtown. Jennifer graduated and started teaching high school. After a couple of years, she went back and got her mba before rejoining the school.

Things were absolutely fantastic.

Our kids grew. I never consciously thought about it, but at home I made the rules, such as they were. I definitely leaned more towards my dad's outlook on things as opposed to Jen's father's approach. But it was still there. If I told Jen to do something, she did it no questions asked. Sara and the twins grew up with a similar understanding though not as obviously submissive as Jen.

Jen and I never lost our love for each other, and even though finding the time for making love was at times difficult, we did make the time. Rarely, but sometimes I told my bitch to spread her cunt lips for me. She did. Didn't matter where we were, or who was around, she just did it. Always, always, always with a glint in her eye.

...

The Present

I tilted the bottle of Becks up and took a swallow, and the beer was gone. Yes, Jennifer and I had had a good time while raising our kids. Some wild times, but not too many. That is the nature of having kids. I looked at the empty bottle in my hand, shrugged to myself, and setting it down on the floor beside my feet and once again I leaned over to the mini-bar and extracted anouther bottle. Becks is good beer. If I had some Smithwicks it would be better, but I was having difficulty finding a place that sold that stuff - other than at Mahoney's Bar down on the waterfront.

I could hear footsteps from the floor above me. Given the relative position of rooms on the second floor, that meant that my wife was in the dressing room above me. Otherwise the house was silent.

Then I heard the soft but distinctive sound of the door opening in the closet. You could only hear that from here when the rest of the house was as quiet as it is now which was rare, with so many others living in the house. The "door". The one that Mister Gabe had built that connected his dressing room to ours. I frowned at the thought, and swigging at the beer again, I leaned back into my couch.

Mister Gabe. My mind started to spiral down the same path it had taken many, many times in the last couple of years. What the fuck kind of hold did Mister Gabe have on Jen? Oh I know that initially it was whatever he put in the wine that he served, but that had stopped a long time ago. And what the fuck did he mean when he said that he was giving her back? Did I even want her back now? Everything was in place to just finish it off as I had been planning to happen after the kids turned eighteen. Did I really want to go through with it?

Why was my wife still in thrall to the black bastard? In mid gulp a new thought came to me. An epiphany of sorts. One that for the life of me, I should have had ages ago.

The scene at Paul's folk's cottage was still fresh in my mind's eye. I had told Jen to do something, and she had done it... even to the point of allowing virtually all of her friends see her being fucked in the water at the end of the dock.

Fact: Jen was predisposed to listening to instructions, commands, from those that she viewed as "power" people in her life. In fact her father had trained her that way, and her mother had reinforced the idea that it was natural for the woman to obey.

Fact: She did not draw any lines around what types of commands or "rules" to follow. Public fucking-on-command at Paul's cottage was a good example of that. And there were other times like that when I ordered something, and she simply did it.

Fact: That willingness or need to obey could have positive consequences. Our sex lives had never been dull.

"Need to obey," I murmured to myself around anouther swallow of beer. "hmmm. Need?" That is the key, I thought. I sat up straight, the bottle frozen in place at my lips as the line of thinking took hold. Need. Jennifer had been raised to need to obey, need to listen to the rules. When she turned 18 she transferred ownership of the rule making from her father to me.

Unfortunate Fact: Unlike her father, I just don't have a need to dominate someone, so while we played at it from time to time, it was just play. It wasn't my "go to" natural state. Sure, I made some "rules" for around the house - basically for the kids, and they were the standard father-type rules like "if you are at a party and everybody is drunk, call me and I'll come get you". Did her need require something, or "someone" to fill the vacuum that I didn't fill?

I finished the swallow, and sagging back into the couch again, I looked at the ceiling separating me from my wife who I presumed had gone through that door into Mister Gabe's. Thinking hard, I could recall at least a couple of instances where my new theory may have already been proven before Mister Gabe showed up.

...

The Past

The kids were what?, 8 or 10 years old, or something around that age. Jennifer's mom had come over to babysit as Jen and I went to a party at my friend's house. Grant and his new girlfriend Lydia had just moved into a basement suite downtown and were having a house-warming party. I was close to Grant, having gone to college with him, and we were just getting to know Lydia. Jennifer looked ravishing I recall. After the kids she had spent considerable time in the gym and jogging around the park near our house in an effort to regain/retain her perfect body. Her tummy was flat. Her legs and ass were tight. Her breasts were actually a bit bigger and hadn't sagged at all even with the fact that she had breasted fed Sara, Mike and Molly. Jen was wearing a short'ish, light weight apple green skirt - about mid-thigh - with a pink thong underneath. Up top she had a matching bra over which she wore a loose, button up peasant shirt - the kind with the blousy sleeves. I remember that she left enough buttons undone so as to give everybody a good view of the tops of her breasts, and with the blouse belt holding things together at her waist, whenever she bent over the view could be quite a bit more. As I said, she looked ravishing. I was more simply attired in shorts and a golf shirt.

We arrived at the party and parked in the lot just outside Grant's living room window. From the inside of Grants basement suite you could get a fantastic view of the undercarriage of all the vehicles owned by the residents of the block. Their "view" became a standing joke for as long as they lived there. Inside, the small suite was already crowded, with people everywhere. Jen and I knew some of them well, but most we either just recognized as acquaintances that we'd seen with Grant before, and a few we assumed were friends of Lydia's because we didn't recognize them at all.

The booze was flowing, and the music rocking... loud. We had heard it from outside as we parked the car. Jen and I stuck to each other for a while, but then found ourselves split by the masses. Eventually a small'ish area was cleared in the living room, with the furniture pushed up against the walls, or down the hallway, to make room for some dancing. As the sun set outside, and the booze took hold of everyone, the party really started thumping. We danced with each other, and we danced with anybody else that wanted to. As the booze flowed, the dancing became raunchier and the touching just a little bit more daring. Grant throws a good party, and everyone was having a good time. Jen spread herself around, dancing with a bunch of different folks - both girls and guys.

There was this one guy, and for the life of me I simply cannot ever remember his name. He reminded me of Kenny Linseman of the Philly Flyers. Ok, Linseman played for other teams too, but I remember him as a Flyer. Anyway, Linseman's nickname was "the Rat". This guy reminded me of "the Rat", so to me that label stuck, and he has always been the Rat. I did notice that as the night wore on, Jennifer seemed to be spending more dance time with the Rat then with others. I noted his hands on her hips as they moved to the faster songs, and that he pulled her in pretty tight during the slow ones. Jen certainly didn't seem to mind.

It was getting on to about midnight and I was coming out of the bathroom - after having waited an excessive amount of time in line to return the beer that I had been renting all evening - and at the end of the hallway near Grant's bedroom door - about 10 feet from me - I could see the Rat casually pinning someone up to the wall simply by leaning into her. I was about to turn away when I heard Jennifer giggle, and I saw her shaking her head as she leaned up to speak into his ear. Given the volume of noise I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I could see the Rat's response. He stood up straight, leaning in over Jen (the Rat was about my size, although thinner, so he was about half a foot over Jen). He raised his hand pointing his finger in her face and shaking it under her nose as he spoke forcefully. This I heard, "you do as you are told my little pet."

The drunken grin on Jen's face froze for a moment, and I could actually see her physically accept what the Rat was saying before I heard her response. Her shoulders slightly sagged, and her hands, held clenched between them before, relaxed as she placed her open palms on his chest. "yes sir." That was it.

I don't know why, but I stepped back into the bathroom, earning a bit of a dirty look from the drunk leaning against the wall outside the door awaiting his turn. I closed the door, and held it for a few heartbeats, and then pulled it open again, stepping out. I could see Jen going into Grant's bedroom, and the Rat was already past the bathroom door heading back into the main party in the living room. I let the drunk past me to occupy the can, and I took a step towards the bedroom and then paused, waiting. Not more than a minute passed and Jennifer stepped out the bedroom and saw me waiting.

She took a skip towards me, her face alight with a gorgeous smile, and almost fell into me as she lost her balance. Jen was a little bit more than just tipsy. I held her under the arms as she regained her balance and could immediately feel her breasts swinging free inside her peasant shirt. Looking down I first noted that she had tugged more of the shirt above the beltline, and undone a couple of the buttons. The result was that more of her lovely upper carriage was on display. Giggling, Jen held up her hand displaying the bra that was no longer inside her shirt, "see, I decided to take it off. Now I don't know what to do with it." laugh.

"You decided to take it off", I inquired, "why"? Not that I was unhappy with the fact, just that given the scene that I had just witnessed, I wanted to hear her answer.

"Because it is hot here with all of these people, and all of the dancing. Because I know that you like seeing me like this, with my tits flopping around," and she bounced on her toes to make them bob up and down. "Because I wanted to," she replied. She put on a patently insincere pout that quickly turned into her radiant smile, "don't you like me like this?" And with that she placed her bra into my hand, planted a quick kiss on my cheek, and left for the kitchen stating, "take care of that, will you?" over her shoulder as she left.

I looked at it dumbly for a second, and then simply tossed it into Grant's bedroom. Let him think about that when he finds it later. The alcohol that I had consumed, and the scene that I had just witnessed combined to leave me in a bit of a fog. But I knew, without a doubt, that Jen's bra was now on the floor in Grant's bedroom because the Rat had told her to take it off. Huh? Have to see where this leads to, I thought.

I slowly headed into the living room, grabbing anouther beer as I went, and continued to party.

About an hour later, during which I had done my level best to keep at least one eye on my wife, and the other on the Rat, the party was slowing. All except Grant and Lydia, the Rat and his wife (whose name I also cannot recall), one other couple, and Jen and I had departed. Mostly in taxi's given that there weren't many surviving designated drivers. The eight of us were comfortably ensconced in the living room. We were all very toasted by booze and feeling absolutely no pain. The Rat looked at Grant and raised his eyebrows in a question. Grant looked at him cross-eyed and shrugged as if to say, why not?

The Rat got up and disappeared into the back of the suite for a minute. When he returned he had a couple of twists of wacky with him that he proceeded to light up after he had sat down again. The first one he took a hit from and then bypassing his own wife, he passed it to his right - to the other couple, and then on to me. The second he passed to Grant, who after a big toke, passed it to his girlfriend, who with a little shake of her head, immediately passed it to my wife. She looked at the Rat, who nodded slowly at her, then at me and with a huge grin on her face proceeded to suck on that doobie like,... like it was my cock. She slowly let the smoke go, and then quickly passed the joint back to Grant, and sank back into her chair.

We all mellowed for a while, and then Lydia smacked Grant on the knee and said "I'm going to get some more snacks and some coffee out here for you wasted losers." It didn't seem to concern her that Grant fell squarely into the wasted category. As she was getting up, the other couple both rose and he said that their cab was outside and it was time for them to leave. The host was too toasted to get up, so Lydia showed them to the door. We all watched them through the window as the climbed into their cab and were gone. As soon as the cab took off, Lydia looked at us and with a little grimace and a shake of her head, she left for the kitchen.

The Rat nudged Grant and nodded with his chin towards Jen. Grant looked at the Rat for a moment, shrugged and then shifted over in the couch to be closer to Jen. He leaned over towards her and placed his hand on her thigh just above the knee.

I'm going to blame it on the state that I was in, but all I did was sit there and watch.

Grant shook Jennifer's leg to get her attention. He wasn't getting it though as she was very much in a fugue state from the smoke. The Rat elbowed Grant again and murmured something that I didn't catch, causing Grant to lean further over and push his hand up Jen's thigh, under her skirt. You could tell he had reached an important goal because her eyes focused in upon him. She giggled, but that was it. I could tell that his hand wasn't idle under there. Grant said, "now Jennifer, I think you should go and get us all anouther beer. Yes?" She slowly nodded her head while at the same time squirming her butt around on the chair, and I'm guessing, on his hand.

Grant lurched back into the couch, pulling his hand back as he did. I swear that I could see moisture on two of his fingers before I lost sight of them. Had the bastard actually had his fingers in my wife's cunt?

Jen arose on shaky legs, and left for the kitchen. Shortly thereafter we could hear the two women laughing about something. Through it all, the Rat's wife had just set like a lump beside him on the couch watching Grant finger my wife.

After a bit Jennifer came back. She quickly handed me a brew, and pulled back when I tried to lay a hand on her. "I have to finish serving, mister," she scolded me. Then with a beer in either hand she turned and bent slightly to hand one to the Rat.

"No, Jennifer. Not like that," he admonished her in a slightly scolding manner - like you would talk to a toddler. "Bend over from the hip. Keep your legs straight." As she complied, "that is better, pet. Now lean over so that I don't have to reach for the bottle." Just like that my wife was bent over the Rat. Her shirt was hanging down in front of her and with the buttons that were undone, I'm sure he could see right down her shirt to her breasts. Probably even see her nipples. He placed a hand on the beer that Jen was handing him, but his hand was on top of hers so that she could not let go. "Wait a moment, pet," he commanded. Then with his other hand he casually reached up and unhurriedly undid two more buttons. As he withdrew his hand I could clearly see my wife's fully exposed tits.

The Rat's wife seemed to sigh a bit, but that was it as she sat there watching her husband put his hand inside Jen's blouse and caress her breast, ending with a squeeze of her nipple. Jen gave a sharp intake of breath but her eyes never left the Rat's, and she didn't do anything to stop him. But then, neither did I.

He let go her nipple and gave it a quick flick with the end of his finger, "very nice, pet. Now serve our host."

My wife slowly stood up, not bothering with the fact that her breasts were still open to the world. She then proceeded to lean over Grant, who was now leering at her in a slightly comical fashion. Grant ignored the proffered beer, and with both hands undid the last two buttons on Jennifer's blouse that were above the belt, and folded the fabric of the front of her shirt back over her shoulders. Jen didn't move. Grant then took a tit in each hand and twisted them and tugged them. Jennifer's only reaction was to groan. In her position, Grants tugging was pulling her into him. She compensated by placing a knee alongside his leg on the couch and her free hand onto his shoulder. Grant pulled her in a little tighter and then leaned in to lick both tits. As he did her left nipple Grant looked at me sideways. Both the Rat and his wife also looked at me - he with a little sneer on his face, and she with a little grin. My boner was obvious to all of them, but I didn't do anything but stare. This continued for a moment until we could all hear Lydia returning from the kitchen. Grant gave each of Jennifer's breasts a swat and then pulled her blouse closed over them and pushed her upright again. He took his beer and, still with the leer, said, "thanks, pet."

Lydia returned, and while she was setting the munchies down on the table Jen excused herself to the bathroom. When she came back she had her shirt put back together, and that was that for the evening. After some food, and anouther beer, Jen and I, both very under the weather, grabbed a cab home. When we talked about the party the next day, I, of course, asked her about the Rat, and what went on. Her only reply, if I recall correctly, was that she was drunk and stoned, and it just seemed "right" to do as she was told. She also said that she could see that I seemed to be enjoying things. We left it as that - a harmless "drunk" thing.

...

The Present

Why did I leave it at that? Back to the present, I took anouther swig of my beer and noticed that a car was pulling into the drive outside of the house. Sara was home after dropping "the boy" off wherever. I continued looking out the window, but I wasn't really paying attention as my thoughts took me to the only other occasion that we had run into the Rat.