My Brother's Wife

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jack_straw
jack_straw
3,218 Followers

I opened the door to see Cindy standing there with the girls huddled behind her and several suitcases sitting around them. They were all soaking wet – and it was a cold night – and Cindy looked awful.

She had a black eye, a bloody nose, a cut on her cheek from where he'd slapped her, a split lip, a sprained wrist and I would subsequently find bruises on her side. Not only had he slapped her and punched her, but he'd also pushed her hard against the dresser.

Cindy was absolutely hysterical, and the girls were crying as well. I got them inside, got a fire going in my fireplace, got the girls changed into dry clothes and made them huddle under some blankets until they warmed up. Then I put them to bed.

They were almost in shock, because apparently the commotion woke them up and they'd seen it all. My heart nearly shredded when Mary, just 7-years-old, told me they didn't like "Father," as Gordon insisted they call him, and asked me if I could be her daddy from now on.

"Sweetheart, I've always tried to be Daddy to you," I said. "I love you both as if you were my own. Now try to get some rest. We have a lot to do tomorrow."

I found Cindy still sitting in front of the fire. She hadn't been able to work up the strength to get dressed, and she was still wrapped tightly in a blanket. Her shivering was under control, but she still had a vacant look in her eyes.

"Cindy?" I said tentatively as I sat next to her on the floor. And that's when she lost it.

"Oh, Scott!" she wailed and just buried her face in my shoulder.

I just held her, then, but at an elemental level I could feel something stirring in my groin as the blanket slipped off her shoulders, revealing her peach-sized breasts.

I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but suddenly we were kissing, and kissing with the passion of long-overdue lovers. My hands had a life of their own and they were sweeping over her splendid body, squeezing her tits and lightly pinching her nipples.

In spite of my principles, in spite of everything, my body was telling me to go for it, and I think Cindy's was too. But before I plunged ahead, we broke our embrace, and I backed away.

"I'm sorry," I said, sheepishly. "I ... let myself get carried away. We can't do this. Not yet."

"No apologies necessary," Cindy said with an enigmatic smile. "God, you don't know how long it's been since I've kissed a man where it had any meaning. Scott, please help me. I honestly think Gordon was close to killing me tonight, and I'm afraid of what he'll do when he finds I've taken the girls and left him."

"I told you a long time ago that I'll always be there for you," I said softly. "I'm ready to help you any way I can. Anything you need, just ask."

I gave her the name of the shelter that Gloria had given me months ago, I told her we'd call first thing in the morning, and we'd also see her about starting divorce proceedings. Cindy said she was finally ready, that she was ready to end her marriage to Gordon.

"I never should have married him," she said. "You're twice the man he is, and I should have listened to my heart when it told me you were the one I really wanted."

"Cindy, don't blame yourself," I said. "You were under a lot of pressure to marry Gordon, you still didn't know me very well and you made the decision based on what you knew at the time. There's no sense looking back. All we can do is look forward and make the best of it."

Then I helped her up, got her into some clothes and put her to bed. She looked exhausted.

Before I did, though, I got my camera and I took close-up pictures of her injuries. I wanted clear documentation of Gordon's abuse.

While she and the kids slept, I paced the floor as the time crept by. I too worried about what Gordon would do once he learned that Cindy was gone. He had been a winner all of his life, in everything, so I truly believed that emotionally, he couldn't handle losing Cindy, especially to me.

That feeling was confirmed the next afternoon, and that's what began the fatal process that ended with Gordon dead and me on trial for his murder.

As soon as it was light, I woke Cindy and the girls and told them they needed to go to the shelter. I followed them in my Jeep and saw them to safety. While we were there, Gloria met us and we mapped out a strategy for getting Cindy out of her marriage.

Then I headed home and set about working on some instruments that I had going. I made it a point to stash away everything that might have indicated Cindy had been there, because I had a feeling Gordon was going to show up.

Sure enough, about 2:30 that afternoon, I saw him through the window of my shop. He didn't stop to knock on the door or anything. He just barged in like he owned it. I took one look at his face and I'll be honest, I was afraid.

"Where is she?" Gordon said tersely.

"Well, hello to you too, big brother," I answered as calmly as I could. "To what do I owe this rare gift of your presence."

"Cut the shit, asshole," he bellowed. "Where is she?"

"Where is who?" I answered.

"Cindy. You know, my wife," Gordon growled again. "I know she was here, because I saw the tread of her car out front. She came running to you last night, because that's what she does when she needs a sympathetic ear. She goes running to my loving brother. You think I don't know about you and her? You think I haven't seen the little looks you two exchange, the conversations you have when you think nobody's around? What I want to know is how long have you been banging my wife?"

"Gordon, you've got it all wrong," I said evenly. "I've never touched her, because unlike you, Cindy takes her marriage vows seriously, and I respect her too much to talk her into anything she doesn't want. And she doesn't want to cheat, which is more than I can say about you."

"That's a damn lie," he said, and now he started coming toward me in a menacing way. "What do you know?"

"I know all about you and your whores, your mistress," I said as I searched for something with which to defend myself. "And I know about the beatings. You aren't much of a man if you have to beat up a woman to prove yourself."

That did it. He came at me, and the only thing that stopped him was the large axe I happened to stumble over as I scrambled away from him. I held it in front of me, and now the fire was in my eyes.

"Unless you want me to chop you into little pieces, you'd better back off and get out of my house," I said loudly.

"If you know what's good for you, you'd better tell me where she is," Gordon yelled.

"Over my dead body," I yelled back.

"That can be arranged," he shot back.

"Are you threatening me?" I said.

"Take it however you choose," he said, realizing, I guess, that he'd gone too far. "Just know this. If my wife and kids aren't back home by noon tomorrow, I'm having you charged with kidnapping."

"Then you'd better be prepared to answer a charge of domestic abuse," I said, still holding the axe at ready. "I saw what you did to her last night, and you've got a lot to answer for. I'm sure the media will love it. Family-values conservative representative charged with beating his wife. Great photo op, don't you think? Leave her alone, Gordon, or the media gets the photos. And that's not a threat; that's a promise."

Actually, I had no intention of not letting the police and everyone have the photos. I was going to ruin my brother, ruin him good. In fact, I ruined him too good, because it left him mentally unhinged, in my opinion.

As soon as Gordon left, I called Gloria and told her that Cindy and the kids needed to be moved to a safe house, somewhere that I didn't know about, so that I could be honest when I was asked where they were. Then I called the shelter and told Cindy to be ready to move as soon as Gloria arrived.

I knew the shelter wasn't a safe place for Cindy. As a legislator, I was sure Gordon knew about the place, or knew how to find out its whereabouts. And he did, in fact, come around looking for them, long after they had fled.

As I sat in my shop that afternoon replaying the events that had just unfolded, I made a critical decision. I realized that the isolation in the country that I had so prized was now a threat. I needed a way to defend myself in the likely event that Gordon came calling again.

The prosecution in my murder trial would make a lot out of what I did next, but I did what I felt I had to do. As I said, I'm a pacifist by nature and I'm slow to anger. But I also said that I'm a realist, and I wasn't going to sit by passively and let Gordon attack Cindy and me with impunity.

So I drove across town, to a gun shop, and bought me a pistol. I looked at a lot of types and settled for a 9mm Glock. I wanted something that could bring a man down with one shot, if necessary, and I realized that a .22 or a .38 really didn't do what I needed.

I had to wait 48 hours before the purchase was final, during which time the police visited my house seeking information about Gordon. Cindy had pressed charges and had filed for divorce, and I had thoughtfully provided the extra evidence they needed.

Of course, as expected, it was front-page news when Gordon was arrested. He proclaimed his innocence and suggested that it was "her lover," who had beaten her up. With the evidence the police had collected, it was a defense that most practical observers didn't buy.

It was hard, but I knew I had to stay away from Cindy as much as I could, because I knew Gordon had the resources to have me watched. And over the next few months, while their divorce was being contested, he peppered me with harassing phone calls.

It wasn't just him, either. I got dozens of calls and e-mails from his infuriated constituents, calling me a liberal pinko fag who was out to destroy a strong voice for family values because of jealousy.

I actually had to laugh at the notion. Gordon had nothing for me to be jealous of, but his campaign of harassment started to cost me work.

For Cindy, fighting Gordon in the divorce case was equally distressing. She rented a small house in a quiet neighborhood under an assumed name and got a job, then sent the girls to live with one of her two sisters, who lived in another state, for the summer.

I guess Gordon's legal team, including Karen, advised him that it wouldn't look good if it was suspected that he was stalking Cindy and threatening me. So he backed off somewhat, and he did his best to stall both the criminal proceedings and the divorce.

Cindy, however, prudently stayed away from him, kept him in the dark as to where she lived, and made sure that any contact she had with him was through the lawyers.

In the end, when push came to shove, Gordon was forced to plead no contest to the domestic abuse charge and he finally relented on the divorce settlement. All Cindy really wanted was her freedom, plus custody of the girls, and that's about all she got.

Gordon didn't bother to show up when the final divorce decree was signed, which I thought was odd. After it was over, I took Cindy and the girls out to lunch, then we went for ice cream. The next Saturday, two days after the divorce was final, Cindy got a babysitter and I called on her for our first formal date.

God, she looked good when I went to pick her up that night. It was a beautiful autumn evening in mid-October, and she looked like a million dollars. We went to dinner then we drove out to a hilltop near my cabin, sat under the stars and looked down on the lights of the city.

"When you wish upon a star..." I heard Cindy softly sing, then she pulled me to her and we kissed, slowly at first, but with mounting passion. Our time had finally come, and I couldn't wait. I drove my tongue into her mouth, and I could feel the trembling of her body.

I pulled her body to me and let my hands roam, and this time I didn't stop. I filled my hands with her breasts, and I felt her hand drop into my lap. I was bursting hard, but I was willing to wait a little longer to treat this goddess like she deserved to be treated.

"Let's go back to my place," I whispered, and she just nodded her head.

We were like two newlyweds as we entered the house. I did lock the door behind me, for all the good that did.

When we got in my bedroom, I turned on the bedside lamp and looked deep in Cindy's eyes. I saw reflected in those luminous globes all the hopes she had for a new life with a man who truly loved her, as I did.

Gone was the vacant look of depression that had clouded her eyes in the months before she left Gordon, replaced by an excitement I hadn't seen in a long time.

I reached behind her and unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts were covered by a thin black bra that did little to hide her charms, and a pair of bikini panties that I quickly discovered were damp with the dew of her arousal.

She got my shirt off, then my pants. We were panting by this time, ready to finally consummate the passion we had held back for so long. We didn't bother with trying to be seductive about finishing the job of undressing. We simply got naked and climbed in bed.

We were kissing frantically as I rolled Cindy onto her back, got on top of her, while she grasped my cock, and I eased myself into her hot pussy. She was wet and tight as I slid in all the way, and she immediately wrapped her arms and legs around me and went positively crazy.

"Oh God! Oh God!" she cried lustily. "I've wanted this for sooooo looooong! God, please fuck me Scott! Fuck me and make me come!"

I wrapped my arms around Cindy and gave her what she wanted, what she'd needed for so long. I drove my cock relentlessly in her spastic pussy and it only took a few minutes before she was coming hard and fast. Her body twitched and jerked as she let out the feelings she'd kept buried for so long.

I would love to say I fucked Cindy for hours on end, but the truth is I'd been so long without myself that my control didn't hold up for long. Once Cindy had separated from Gordon and I started to see a real future together for us, I put my other physical relationships aside and focused on her.

I could feel the rusty tingle of incipient orgasm, and I drove back and forth in Cindy's delirious cunt with added intensity. She was working her hips hard, meeting my incoming thrusts with equal power and passion.

"Oh yeah!" I groaned, and she urged me on, urged me to fill her up with my hot creamy cum, and I did just that.

With a grunt and a groan, I plunged extra deep then let it all out. I jerked, she jerked, and I released a torrent of spicy-hot semen as we clutched at each other with everything we had. We kissed wildly as we gave ourselves over to each other's mutual pleasure.

For long, precious seconds, I kept driving my cock into her pussy, shooting little mini-bursts of cum into her, and she kept humping back at me, trying to milk me of everything I had to give.

Finally, I was drained, and I felt my sated cock slide from her dilated hole, followed by a flow of hot cum, then I rolled over, gathered Cindy in my arms and felt total contentment wash over me.

In the classic Western, "Little Big Man," there is that moment on a snowy dawn when Jack Crabb has just met his new son after spending the night with his wife's three sisters, in the finest Cheyenne custom.

It was the moment when everything in his life was perfect, when he had the beautiful wife, a new baby, a contented life with the Indians – minutes before Custer and the Seventh Cavalry descended upon the camp and massacred everything in sight, including his wife and new-born child.

That's about how the next few moments unfolded for me.

I was lying in bed after finally getting the woman I'd been in love with for years, after she was finally free – legally free – of her abusive husband. I was going to have her and the two adorable daughters I'd always loved as if they were my own, the way I'd always dreamed of.

Life was perfect.

Then Custer arrived, in the form of my brother.

I was lying in the sweaty afterglow of sex when I heard a noise from the front room. I got up and retrieved my pistol from the nightstand. I was taking no chances.

I had just crossed the threshold of my bedroom when I felt something hard hit me across my stomach. I doubled over in pain and I just managed to roll back into the bedroom. Fortunately, I kept hold of the gun, and managed to avoid the swing that Gordon took with an aluminum baseball bat.

Cindy screamed as she saw Gordon looming in the doorway.

"You lying sack of shit!" he yelled. "You two couldn't even wait until the ink was dry before you started shacking up. You little shit! You thought you could defeat me, but I always win."

"Gordon, please get out!" Cindy yelled. "I'm not your wife any more and I can do as I please."

"You think I care what some lezzie judge says?" Gordon raged. "You think you can just walk out on me, take my children and not face the consequences? You're my wife until I say so, and now I'm going to take what a husband takes from his wife."

He strode toward the bed, but stopped short when I stood up, holding the pistol in front of me.

"Gordon, get out of my house before I shoot you," I said softly.

"Scotty Boy, you won't shoot me," Gordon said. "You haven't got the guts to pull that trigger. You're just a pussy, a liberal tree hugger who can't stand violence. Isn't that what you've always said? See? I'm going to beat you senseless, like I did when we were kids, I'm going to fuck my wife – MY WIFE! – then I'm taking her back home, where she belongs. I don't give a rat's ass what you two think, what some liberal judge thinks. Cindy belongs to ME! And I'm sure as hell not going to lose her to you."

"Bad move, Gordon," I said, and I pulled the trigger.

The first shot hit him in the right shoulder, he staggered back and got this shocked look on his face like he couldn't believe I'd really shot him. Then his face darkened, he picked up the bat with his left hand and started to charge at me.

But he only managed a couple of steps, because I calmly pulled the trigger again and this time I dropped him with a shot to the heart. He was dead before he hit the floor.

See, I hadn't just bought a pistol and kept it around. I'd practiced with it, a lot. One of the benefits of living in the country was that I could walk out my back door and take target practice any time I wanted, and I'd had plenty of time to practice.

Still, shooting at a tree and shooting at a live target are two entirely different things, especially when the live target is your own brother. Nevertheless, I'd done what I had to do, and I'd do it again if necessary.

Time seemed to stand still as Cindy and I stared at each other, then at the body lying dead on the floor. I realized that somehow Gordon had burned a copy of the key to my cabin and he'd let himself in. I firmly believe he was prepared to kill me, and Cindy too, once he'd raped her.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "Scott, what are we going to do?"

"Back off the bed carefully, throw on some clothes then let me call 911," I said. "Don't touch anything."

The sheriff came out, along with the crime-scene techs and the investigators, and the detectives interrogated us quite intensely, and with considerable hostility.

I knew the moment I saw the sheriff arrive that this was going to be trouble, because he was a crony of Gordon's, a Republican like him, and I had to figure he was going to put the worst possible spin on what had happened.

They didn't arrest me right away. But it didn't take them long to decide that I had committed a crime, regardless of what I'd told them, what Cindy had told them. About a week after the shooting, they came to the house, arrested me, and I was charged with first-degree murder.

Turns out, Gordon still had powerful allies in the Republican Party, which controlled the Legislature, the governor's office and the district attorney's office, and they wanted to see Rep. Luke's killer charged with murder, especially since the killer was the representative's "hippie" brother.

jack_straw
jack_straw
3,218 Followers