No Reply - Chisel Repair

This is a sequel to No Reply by HardDaysKnight. GeorgeAnderson's sequel, No Reply: Answered, introduced the idea Bill getting with Amy Emerson. My story started out as an attempt to imagine how the conversation between Bill and Amy might evolve.

Tags: infidelity, violence, comeuppance, playback, sequel

Short description: Bill advocates sexual equality.

Chisel Maintenance

Brief recap: When Bill Mason is on a fishing trip, his wife Debbie hires young Jeff Emerson to plant an orchard. Actually, she spends the week having sex with him. It was preplanned. That's what women in that community do with young men who need education in the ways to please women. It turns out that Bill's dad, his son, his uncle, and his mom all participated in the tradition.

As told by Bill.

Twenty-eight years ago, I became a despicable person. I cucked a good man, Jeff Burrows. When Jeff was out of town for a week, his wife, Janice, hired me to plant trees. Actually, it was an opportunity to seduce me. Boy, was I played. I thought that I was the seducer. I fucked Janice up one way and down the other. I thought that I was hot shit.

The next time I saw Jeff Burrows, he seemed to slump. I could not look him in the eye. I felt that I had joined the dark side. Finally, I moved my new wife and myself thirty miles away from Despair to Damascus. We had jobs in Centerville, and the commute was about the same. By the way, everybody around here pronounces the name of our town as if it were spelled desper.

I never had a chance to be an honorable kid. I figured out later that it was a setup by my mother and Janice Burrows. I also didn't catch on to the fact that this tradition had been going on for decades and involved other families. Later I learned that Dad and Uncle Steve had both cucked and been cucked. My son, Jason, had cucked Fred Fulmer. I was clueless.

My sense of shame finally faded, and we moved back to Despair.

I thought that I had put it behind me.

But I should have known that a debt to the devil must be paid. I was on a week-long fishing trip with my dad and uncle last summer when my wife called me to ask if it was OK if she hired Jeff Emerson, the grandson of Jeff Burrows, to plant trees in our backyard. She thought, perhaps, that she was being clear that she intended to screw the little fucker for seven days straight. I guess everybody knew about the tradition, but clueless Bill was still figuring it out. I didn't think fast enough to say no, and she did it.

God gave us ten commandments. He knew that the effects of adultery were so destructive that he used two of them to tell us not to do it. "Thou shalt not commit adultery," and "Thou shalt not covet." Debbie and the little fucker did both. The thing is, it's adultery, and it's destructive even if you have permission. It's harmful even if you didn't intend to cause harm. I thought Debbie was smart enough to know this. I thought she was honorable enough to never hurt me by being unfaithful. You can call it a tradition, but it is still infidelity and causes all the problems of infidelity.

I pointed all this out to Debbie, but she wasn't remorseful. That hurt.

Things were frosty at home. It looked like we were headed for a sure divorce.

Debbie decided to spend two weeks visiting her mother. Maybe her intention was to let me have a taste of living alone.

I had other plans.

---

I had noticed Amy Emerson and two of her girlfriends, Mary, and Ellie, in the pub. They weren't supposed to be there, in the pub, unless they were 18 or older, so I presumed they were. I don't usually chat up young girls, but my family and her family had history, so I felt it wouldn't be unseemly. I should mention that Amy had a crush on me for many years.

After chatting a bit, I said I would buy them a round of beer if they were all over 18, which they affirmed. I asked them about their plans. Mary had a job. The other two were going to university in the fall. I touched on women's equality issues and got wholehearted agreement.

Then I worked the conversation around to the antics of Amy's bother, Jeff. I could tell it made Amy a little uncomfortable. I remarked how much Jeff's education from an experienced woman would be valuable to him.

Mary asked, "How would it be valuable?"

"In the sexual games, of course."

"And why does that matter?"

"So, you can find a sexually compatible partner. Young people don't know what they are doing when it comes to sex. They fumble around so long before they figure it out that they become emotionally attached to incompatible people. If you know what you are doing, you can get in and get out of a relationship before becoming attached."

"And training helps?" asked Amy.

"Yes. Every woman is different. It takes a while to figure out what each woman needs. The more tricks you have, the sooner you will get right and rock her world."

I could see that the girls were getting a little aroused.

This was the time to set the hook.

"But it is a shame that our little community can come up with a tradition to help the young men, but not the young women. Don't you think that women should have the same opportunity?"

They agreed, but Mary was dubious.

"And why is this important?"

"You know the odds. Half of all marriages end up in divorce. Half of those that don't are miserable because of cheating. It's all because youngsters don't know how to do it."

Ellie piped up, "we know how to do it. We are not virgins!"

"So, how is the sex. Are you having orgasms so intense that you black out? Are you having orgasms at all?"

Ellie's face fell as she quietly admitted, "No."

Amy added, "It's been disappointing."

Mary sheepishly added, "I'm a virgin."

"That is why you need instruction."

"So, how's that going to benefit the woman? She still has to wait for the guy to figure it out."

"It's easy, Mary. If you know what gets you off, you can coach the guy. Then you can find out if you are compatible. You move on if he can't or won't do it."

"But, if I coach him, won't they all be compatible."

"Mary. I am a specialist in many tricks. But young men are sometimes too squeamish to do them. You need to know what you need. And you need some quid pro quo to get it."

"Quid? What do you mean?"

Amy answered, "He means something to trade. You get me off, and I'll get you off."

I went on, "Young folks may find themselves squeamish about things the other person craves. It's more like, I'll do it for you if you do it for me."

Mary finally noticed that Ellie and Amy were really turned on.

I changed the subject.

"Enough about that. I actually had a reason to talk to you ladies tonight. But first, I'm feeling a little randy. There's something I read. I'm sure you are familiar with the word that starts with F and ends with uck."

Ellie piped up, "Fuck? Fuck yes, we know what fuck means."

I plowed on, "Now, what is amusing is that in the 16'th century, fucking was a proper agricultural term. It meant to use a stick to make a hole in the ground for a seed. So, you see how it got applied to the other activity."

The girls chuckled.

"So, that brings me up to what's on my mind. My wife will be gone for two weeks, and while she is gone, I want to prepare a surprise for her. You know that while I was gone, my wife hired young Jeff to fuck some trees into the ground. It was a surprise."

Amy nodded knowingly.

"My plan is to put in some flower beds. You know, fuck holes into the ground with a stick to plant seeds.

It will be a surprise. And, in the interest of sexual equality, I want to hire a young woman to help me with the fucking. I know a lot about fucking, and I would teach her what I know about fucking, while she helps me with the fucking."

The girls looked a little shocked.

I continued, "So, I don't have much time before my wife leaves to find a helpful young woman. Perhaps you ladies might spread the word around."

Amy blurted out, "I'll do it!"

Ellie joined in, "I'll do it too. Can't you teach two of us at the same time?"

"Only if they are meek."

"I'm meek!"

"Me, too."

I looked at Mary and asked, "How about you, Mary. Are you meek?"

She turned red and looked down. She said, meekly, "Yes."

"Well, this is really fine. I am looking forward to being your mentor and teacher. There are a lot of techniques to cover. With there being three of you, we will have to be organized."

I thought for a minute and said, "Isn't it customary for your generation to take a summer road trip before heading off to university?

Perhaps you could tell your parents that you are taking a road trip. The three of you could then drive over to my house. We will put your car in the garage. No one would know that you had not gone far. And I think we might get away for two or three days on the coast. We'll get you some sun tans."

It was agreed. Mary was able to get off from work for a last adventure with her besties.

---

What a fortnight it was. I started teaching them the right and wrong ways to put a condom on a dick and what to do if they got it wrong. They practiced with mine. Giving and receiving oral sex. Anal play.

I taught them to eat each other's pussies. There is no way I could do them all every night. My old neck gets cricks. Besides, telling someone how to eat pussy is tough if you haven't eaten pussy.

We shaved their pussies. We spent three days on the coast. I scored some ecstasy and Rohypnol, which I let them experiment with. With the Rohypnol, the experiments were done on only one girl at a time; I wanted witnesses as to what happened each time. I let them sample the wine both before and after it was spiked. I told them that, with their permission in advance, I would attempt to fuck their asses while they were out. Of course, the attempts were successful, but not one of them remembered it happening. Later, they consciously gave me their asses.

Two days before the end of the agricultural education project, I pondered how to tell Debbie about it. I thought about leaving the sheets on the bed but changed my mind. I was sure that the girls left some evidence of their presence. I didn't want Debbie to accidentally discover what I was up to while she was gone.

I decided that I would have to get in front of it.

If I was going to save my marriage, Debbie needed to understand how I felt. The only way I could think of to explain it was to make her feel the same thing. So, with the girls' help, we decided to set up a shocking scene: Debbie would arrive to the scene of me fucking Mary's ass.

The girls helped me move the bed from the guest bedroom into the living room. I had find-a-phone on Debbie's phone, so we could time our display for the maximum impact.

When Debbie was 20 minutes out, Ellie started to warm-up Mary. At ten minutes out, they got into 69 with Ellie on her back and Mary's butt up in the air. At five minutes I was in her but. When Debbie pulled into the driveway, Ellie started stroking Mary's g-spot. This was the key. Mary could be reliably triggered with just a slight stimulation of the g-spot.

When Debbie reached the door, she wondered why a strange car was in the garage. She was met at the door by Amy, wearing a very short and very sheer negligee. At the same time, Ellie started to vigorously rub Mary's g-spot.

Amy greeted Debbie cheerfully with, "Hi, Mrs. Mason. Welcome home."

"What are you doing here? Where's Bill?"

"Mr. Mason is in the living room. He's giving Mary her final exam."

Debbie charged into the living room just as Mary had a deep orgasm.

She exhaled all the air in her lungs with a guttural growl, arched her back, and rolled her pupils into the top of her eye sockets.

Debbie fairly screeched, "Bill! What's going on?"

"This is Mary's final exam. I'm fucking her in the ass while Ellie licks her slit. Mary is supposed to be eating Ellie, but she stopped."

I swatted Mary on the ass and said, "You lose a point for stopping. Now continue eating, Ellie."

"Bill! Stop this immediately!"

"I can't do that. It wouldn't be fair to the girls. And besides, I haven't cum yet. It would be rude to pull out without finishing. Why don't you go upstairs and relax for a while? We'll be finished in a couple of hours."

Debbie stomped up the stairs, threw up in the toilet, took a headache pill and a tranquilizer, and tried to sleep. She did relax, but the sounds of fucking, moaning, screaming, and orgasming kept her awake.

When we finished, the girls returned the bed to the guest room, cleaned up, packed up, dressed, and sent for pizza.

Hearing relative quiet, Debbie made her way downstairs, where she found the girls sitting at the table, laughing and eating pizza and me.

It was Ellie that saw Debbie first, "Hey, Mrs. Mason. Did you get to relax?"

Mary piped up with, "Mrs. Mason, did you know that Mr. Mason was a feminist?"

"What?"

Amy elaborated, "A feminist. He believes in equal opportunity."

Mary continued. "He said, 'if the middle-aged matrons around town were going to teach the lads how to fuck then it was high time that their husbands got around to teaching the lassies.'"

Ellie went on, "I never knew there was so much to learn about fucking!"

Amy chimed in with, "We appreciate our fucking education. We are way ahead in the sexual games."

Mary finished it with, "I'm going to get me a man that's as good at pussy eating as Mr. Mason, or he's history!"

The girls shared a high-five. I beamed with pride at his protégées. I wore a tee shirt that said, "Best fucking teacher in Despair."

Debbie sobbed and ran back upstairs. She took two sleeping pills.

I said, "And that, my precious meek students, is the last lesson. If you fuck around on your husband, he may fuck around on you."

After they finished and loaded the car, I said, "Well, it's time for hugs and kisses all around, but before that, let me give you something to think about. You may want to tell all your friends; I don't mind if you do. But before that, you may want to talk together and agree that none of you will reveal the names of the other two."

I was slightly devious. I knew that if I gave them a secret to keep, they would be sure to blab.

---

And then there was the matter of the education of young Jeff Emerson. My wife had taught him the pleasures of fucking married women. We don't kill kids when they make mistakes; we correct them.

He just needed to learn the consequences. It would help him make better judgments in the future. As he was strolling home from the pub. He was met by me, who kicked him in the balls. He doubled over, puked, and then fell to the ground and curled into a fetal position. I could have kicked him much harder, but I didn't want to cause permanent harm.

I squatted down next to him.

"Ah, young Jeffery Emerson. This completes your education about fucking other men's wives. When you fuck some man's wife, he may kick you in the balls, cut them off, or cut your throat. I'm letting you off easy this time because you're a kid. Next time you will be a fully informed adult. Got it."

He croaked, "But they said it was OK. They said it's always been OK. It's a tradition."

"Jeffery, Jeffery, Jeffery. There is so much for you to learn. First, never trust a woman who says her husband won't mind. In fact, never trust a woman, period. Second, just because it is a tradition doesn't mean it's moral. And it doesn't mean that there won't be consequences."

He just moaned. I helped him up.

"Come on, Jeff, get up. I'm not going to hit you anymore. Be a man. Don't let them see pain. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"We're going to get some ice for your balls. The pub is closest, but it might be embarrassing. I could take you to your home, but there would be a lot of drama. I was planning on taking you to my home, where you can get some ice and privacy and my wife can get her marks as a teacher. So, what do you prefer?"

"Your house."

"Put one hand inside your pants and hold your balls. It will help."

I helped him to my house as he leaned into me and held his balls.

He puked a couple of times.

Once, someone was walking by. I made a sign like drinking a beer, and they nodded and walked on.

I got him home and helped him into an easy chair as I called Debbie to bring ice and a couple of towels.

"What happened? Did you hurt him?

"Jeff had an accident. His balls got bruised. He'll be all right. Just needs a little ice and TLC."

I started loosening his pants. He looked a little concerned.

"No need for modesty, Jeff. This is a medical situation."

He relented, and I got the ice and towels around his balls.

Debbie brought him ibuprofen.

"I'm going to call his mother."

"No!" both Jeff and I said at the same time.

"This is man's business, Debbie. He doesn't want his mother."

"I'll call his father."

"No! Please, Mrs. Mason. I'd rather you didn't. It's starting to feel better now."

Debbie looked doubtful but finally relented.

I told her, "Time it. Fifteen minutes of ice, then five minutes without."

It gave her something to do. I didn't really hit him that hard. After thirty minutes of ice and Advil, he was ready for a beer. I wished I was young again. I was prepared to talk, and he was willing to listen.

I told Debbie, "Let us have some privacy. This is man-talk."

After she left, I said, "Congratulations, Jeff. You are now a despicable person."

He looked hurt, so I quickly added, "Don't be offended. I am a despicable person, too.... Twenty-eight years ago, I cucked a good man. At first, I thought he was a stupid wimp, but later I found that I could not look him in the eye. Then I was so ashamed, I moved away until he died."

I let Jeff digest that and continued, "I never had a meeting of the minds, like this, with him. You have committed a transgression against me. I have committed one against you. I think yours is the greater sin, but you may think otherwise. Nevertheless, I consider us even. You do not have to look away if our paths cross, and you do not have to leave town. No more harm will come to you from me. Can I presume the same from you?"

He nodded his head vigorously.

"That does not mean that there are no further consequences.

"Fecundity makes women attractive. One of the reasons Debbie is attractive is that she is still fecund. She doesn't practice birth control because I had a vasectomy years ago, and many people know it. If you fuck a woman for seven straight days, you have a good chance of hitting her fertile time. In a few months, you may be a papa. That means 18 years of child support. Forget college. And there is no way you can run away. Your momma won't turn her back on a grandchild conceived within the coven."

Jeff was looking aghast.

"It probably won't happen."

He started to look a little relieved.

"There is more. Your wife may be tapped to perform the same service in twenty or so years.

That may not bother you now but consider this. Very soon, your mother will be expected to put out for some young buck. Probably an acquaintance of yours. Maybe she already has. If you see the lights go out in your dad's eyes, you will see the actual cost of your education."

Jeff was starting to look sick. I grabbed a trashcan for him, but it was an unnecessary precaution.

"Now, if you think she has already done it, you want to downplay the reason for your sore balls so your dad doesn't catch on. Just say that it was a squabble over some dame. If she hasn't done it and you want to prevent it, then tell everybody who kicked you and why. Maybe, it will head it off.... Has your family acquired a small orchard in the last few years?"

Jeff indicated that they had not.

An hour and a few beers later, we were buddies and agreed that he would come on my next fishing trip. Before he left, I gave him my last few words of wisdom, "Jeff, let me leave you with a couple of thoughts. First, fucks aren't free; secondly, never believe a woman if she tells you her husband doesn't mind if she fucks around."