Play it Again Sam Pt. 01

Friday July 15^th, 2016

"What is love? Baby don't hurt me...don't hurt me...no more"

Shit...not again...

I slowly opened my eyes, wondering for the thousandth time why I had picked that song as my alarm. And answering- because I thought it was funny, because I thought it would get a rise out of Julie, my wife.

...

The first morning it went off I let it play until she finally sat up and demanded to know why I wasn't silencing my alarm?

Bingo! That was my cue.

Eyes still closed, I started to slowly bob my head. Then faster. Soon I was doing the full Night at Roxbury dance (which is really just a head bob with some stank on it). That got me the reaction I was looking for. She slapped my arm and made a little snorting sound as she tried not to laugh.

But my mission wasn't over. I had to sit up a little and play goalie as Julie tried to reach over me to get to my phone. I waited till she was almost there, her chest right over my face, and then sprung my trap.

I quickly lifted up and sealed my mouth right over her nipple through the long t-shirt she was wearing. Simultaneously I wrapped both arms around her and rolled us over onto her side of the bed.

"Aaaaack!" she squealed. "Lay off the goodies! Cut it out Sam!"

She was beating my head a little, but her heart wasn't really in it as I alternated sucking, licking, light nibbling. Soon her protests turned to moans as she started getting in it.

By this time my phone had automatically gone into snooze mode, but it started up again mid-suckle.

"What is love? Baby don't hurt me...don't hurt me...no more"

"AAhhh! Turn that off!"

I slowed my breast work, like I was about to stop. Still with a mouthful of shirt and nipple, I started up my head bob again.

"You asshole!" she laughed.

That was the start of a great morning as we rolled around, tickling, grab-assing, playfully fighting over my phone. Playing turned into groping, turned into love making. It was perfect.

...

That was Monday. Today is Friday, and there is zero chance of a repeat.

By now I was thoroughly sick of that song. What is Love by Haddaway. I wished like hell I could change it. I reached over and silenced my phone, then sat up. The scenery was a little different then Monday. I was in the guest room. Julie said she had a sore throat and might be coming down with something. Funny how when I'm sick I get sent to the guest room. And when she gets sick...I get sent to the guest room.

I briefly debated going into work, but immediately dismissed it. It was 5 a.m. Julie would sleep till 6:30 before starting her day. I needed to be up earlier because I took the train into New York every morning. Julie worked at a local hospital here in Trenton as a clerk in the billing department.

Since I had no burning desire to do...anything really, I decided to have a little fun today. I got up and put on a pair of shorts and t-shirt, moving quietly when I went into our bedroom so as not to wake Julie. I looked at my shoes before opting for my fuzzy slippers by the bed. Comfort today.

I got in my 10 year old Ford Taurus and drove through our sleepy middle class neighborhood. I passed the train station where I would normally park and commute into the Big Apple. I had some time to kill so I went to an I-Hop.

I couldn't decide what I wanted, having ordered everything on the menu many times over. When the waitress walked up I still had no idea so I just said to hell with it.

"Are you ready to order sir? Do you need a few more minutes?" asked the slightly haggard looking middle aged woman.

"Give me one of everything."

"Sir?"

"One of everything on the breakfast menu. Entrees, sides, drinks, everything."

"Umm.."

I could see she was worried I was just messing with her, maybe working up to doing a runner. So I said, "Here's my credit card. Go ahead and ring me up. Add a fifty percent tip for yourself and send the food out as it's cooked."

Now she was all smiles. "Yes sir. Would you like to move to a bigger table? You'll need the space."

"Good thinking Flo."

Her nametag said Janet, but she didn't correct me. I thing I could have called her Fun Bags and she just would have smiled and said "yes sir." She led me to a ten person table in the middle of the restaurant, practically bowing and scraping like a feudal serf to her lord. She even moved like she was going to hold my chair for me before stopping herself with an embarrassed blush. I had to smile at how happy she looked, I'd probably made her whole week.

The restaurant was about half full, with more people coming in as the breakfast rush hit. I probably made quite a spectacle sitting by myself at a table for ten with plates covering it from end to end, some stacked partially on top of each other. I got a lot of strange looks and noticed quite a few of the younger patrons were taking pictures. I wondered how much play I was getting on social media?

Around 8:00 the place was packed and one man with a family of six was waiting for a table to open. He was looking over at me and glaring because I was taking up so much space. He kept angrily gesturing at me as he talked to the hostess.

So I slowed down.

I had hadn't really eaten much. I was surfing the web on my phone, occasionally reaching out with my fork to randomly stab something. Now I put my phone down and methodically started going from plate to plate, taking one bite from each. Sometimes I closed my eyes in exaggerated rapture, but mostly I maintained constant eye contact with Angry Dad.

His face got redder and his wife stepped up to put a restraining hand on his arm. He shook her off and made a step in my direction.

I jumped straight up. My chair flew backward with a crash. I flung my arms wide and screamed at him.

"YOU WANNA GO BIG MAN! COME AT ME BRO! THIS IS MY I-HOP! ALL YOUR PANCAKES BELONG TO ME!"

You could have heard a pin drop. The entire restaurant was staring wide eyed at me. Some of the younger folks were filming me with their phones. Out of the corner of my eye I scanned my tables. Without looking away from Angry Dad I reached down and grabbed a handful of blueberry and vanilla crème pancakes. I took a huge bite, getting it all over my face. I raised my hand out over the table and let the pancakes drop.

Then I walked right out the door. Angry Dad's son gave me a thumbs up when his dad wasn't looking.

Once out in parking lot I regretted not grabbing a napkin on the way out, but it would have ruined the effect. I wiped my hand on a shirt laying in the back of my car and took off. Not for the first time I thought that my particular situation could be incredibly freeing.

It wasn't lost on me that my behavior was becoming increasingly unstable. Not so long ago the very idea of yelling at a stranger in public would have been unthinkable. That's some Jerry Springer shit. But when you are completely sure that your action don't matter, that you are leaving no mark on the world, you can start to come unhinged.

More on that later.

It was only 8:30 and I still had a couple hours to kill. I thought of seeing a movie, but I had already seen them all.

There was a mall close by and I knew there would be a flash mob at 9:15. I could go watch, maybe try to join in. No. The flash mob was mostly teenagers out for the summer and I was feeling especially old today at 27.

So what did I do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I just sat in my car, not even listening to the radio, just zoning out.

At 11:30 I snapped myself out of it and went to Home Depot. I bought the longest garden hose they had, along with a nozzle that experience had taught me put out the best spray pattern. It was basically a long cone that focused the water into a narrow beam. It had no shut off valve so I would have to crimp the hose to stop the water flow.

I drove home, arriving a little after 12:15...perfect.

As I knew it would be, Julie's Honda was in the driveway, along with a red Porsche Cayenne that I knew belonged to Dr. Richard Peters. Dick Peters, a fitting name. I just call him Dr. Dick. I parked behind the Porsche and hauled the hose over to the spigot on the front of the house. Before turning on the water I went inside to the garage. I could hear some bumping and grinding up on the second floor, but I knew they wouldn't hear me. I got a pair of pliers and carefully crimped the end of the metal nozzle, until it was less than half its original size. Then I walked back outside, attached it to the hose, and turned the water up full blast.

The 100 foot hose was more than long enough to reach up the stairs to our bedroom door. On the way there I grabbed a little footstool from the kitchen that Julie used to reach the upper shelves. I placed it just so in front of the door, looking back at the wall on the other side of the hallway to check it was in the right spot. This was the most sensitive part of the plan. Then I stood behind it with the crimped hose and slowly opened the door.

The sight never got easier. It was mostly Dr. Dick's hairy ass pumping up and down, with my wife's legs listlessly kicking. They weren't very loud, just grunts and the occasional "uh" or "yes." My dear wife and Dr. Dick having their daily nooner.

'd watched the whole thing before and didn't feel like seeing anymore, so I decided to get the party started right away.

They still had no idea I was there until I let loose with the hose.

That nozzle? With my modifications? From ten feet away? I'll tell you it stung like a son of a bitch. The first feeling is not cold or wet, but stinging pain. I wasted no time and went right for the nut sack. Dr. Dick squealed like a little girl and desperately tried to roll away from the pain. He fell off the bed on the door side and as soon as he was clear I had a perfect beaver shot of my wife. She was just wet and confused at this point. Confusion turned to panic as she got an industrial strength turbo douche. The water jet wouldn't do any real damage, but that area is...tender.

She screamed and rolled off the other side of the bed with a thud. By this time Doctor Dick was getting up and had assessed the situation. I think his first instinct was to talk me down.

"Samuel, I know how this must loo...AAAUUGHGH"

It's hard to talk with 6 gallons a minute in a tight stream hitting you in the crotch. He twisted his hips to try avoid it at first. Julie was peaking over the bed with a look of horror on her face. Dr. Dick realized I wasn't stopping, so he bellowed and gathered himself to charge me.

Have you ever played that carnival game where you shoot a stream of water into a plastic clown's mouth? Well I'm here to tell you that the live action game is much more fun. I caught him mid yell right in his open mouth. He took a breath involuntarily and then he was gasping and choking, bent over with his hands on his knees, while I continued to work him over with the hose.

Ear...eye...bald spot...mouth...across the bed at Julie to keep her head down... ear...mouth...crotch... crotch...crotch...crotch...crotch...

Eventually Dr. Dick got his breathing under control and ran at me full speed with his arms out. His mouth and eyes were closed tight. He was going to run right into the teeth of the assault and take me down.

If I didn't know it was coming it would have worked.

I kept the spray on his face so he wouldn't open his eyes, while stepping to the side till I was just leaning into the doorway. This is where the stepstool came into play.

Dr. Dick ran full speed through the doorway and tripped over the stool, his momentum carrying him across the hallway. There he crashed straight through the sheetrock. This is why the placement of the stool and where I stood was so important- the wall joist are 16 inches on center. Instead of knocking himself cold on a 2X4, Dr. Dick was lying dazed and naked half in the hallway and half in the upstairs bathroom, wedged between two wall joists.

That pretty much took the fight out him.

I crimped the hose to stop water. I moved over to put my foot on Dr. Dick's lower back, just to keep him in place.

My dear wife, sensing a lull in the action, decided to do some damage control.

"Sam, I...I...I'm so sorry. I don't know what to say."

I'll give her credit. We'd had this conversation many times and she never tried to minimize her cheating. Never put it on me. Never said it was the first time, or it meant nothing, or it was just sex. And while she wasn't exactly open and honest, she never really lied either.

But I wasn't in the mood to go down this same old path today.

She was slowing coming closer, wrapped in the comforter. One hand at chest level, one holding the bottom up so she wouldn't trip.

She looked like death warmed over. Soaked, crying, and babbling. Whatever she was saying was just white noise to me.

I was more interested in how close she was getting to me and Dr. Dick.

"Baby, please talk to me. Tell me there's something I can do. Tell me I haven't ruined everything."

I didn't say anything. Dr. Dick was quiet as a mouse, maybe hoping I had forgotten about him. Fat chance. I waited until she was about three steps away.

This next part required precise timing.

Step 1- When she was mid-stride, I unleashed the water, sending a blast right into her right at crotch level. She instinctively used both hands to try to block it and lost the comforter, which got tangled in her feet.

As she was still falling, I turned my attention to Dr. Dick. He of the upturned ass.

Step 2- High powered enema. As a hetero male this made me a little squeamish, but sometimes we have to challenge ourselves for art.

Luckily he was pretty relaxed, not expecting a nozzle shoved up his ass. That changed quickly as he squealed like a stuck pig and began to struggle, but he had no leverage.

Julie was now on hands and knees after her fall, legs still tangled in the comforter. She was just close enough for me to reach out with my free hand and grab a fistful of hair. Didn't want her leaving before the show.

Step 3- Wait 8 seconds.

Step 4- Release.

I jumped backwards hard, letting go of Julie's hair and the hose.

Dr. Peters had been clenching hard, trying to avoid the inevitable, but what goes in must come out. The nozzle came out, followed by a spray of...well you can guess.

Julie, four feet away at eye level, had no need to guess. She really shouldn't have had her mouth open.

I watched Julie retching and Dr. Dick softly sobbing for a few seconds, then walked out.

...

I was halfway to my car when I stopped.

My little revenge over, I suddenly felt deflated. Getting in the car seemed a monstrous task, deciding where to go from there more so. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do, none of it meant anything. I wasn't anything.

Instead of getting in my car I walked three doors down to my neighbor Ted's house. I used the key he kept in a fake rock under a window. I went upstairs to his bedroom, to his bedside table.

Opened it.

Took out the Glock 17 he kept there.

Put it in my mouth.

Pulled the trigger.

...

Friday July 15^th, 2016

"What is love? Baby don't hurt me...don't hurt me...no more."

I slowly sat up in bed.

"Dear god, when is this going to end?"