Roller Coaster Ride Ch. 10

As we start toward the door, he pulls me aside and says, "I'm sorry man. I shouldn't be over here; she's still in love with you. I'm just a dalliance."

"I have no claim on her; she needs your companionship and friendship. Enjoy each other. Good night, Dub, and thanks again for your help." With that I turn and leave, walking past Susan with a simple "thanks for having us over -- the meal was delicious" as I walk to the SUV.

It's a quiet ride back. At the house, they transition to their trucks and I walk toward the door. "Bird hunting tomorrow at noon?" Art asks.

"I don't know. I'll call you. Some things I need to do first." As I turn to wave good bye I see everyone looking at each other meaningfully, but I just wave and go inside. No, I don't want to talk about it.

I look at my phone for the first time in hours and see a text from Joyce updating Katy's condition: she seems somewhat better today physically, but she's guilt ridden and remorseful. Joyce thinks Katy has internal injuries, so she's taking her to the doctor tomorrow. My feelings are all over the place: relief that she's improving and is remorseful, but angry about her actions and attitude. Once again, I sleep fitfully, but I do sleep.

Sunday, January 3

I get up early, turn on the coffeemaker, and drink a cup while everyone is still asleep. I know I need to watch those damn videos, but I dread it so badly I can't make myself. I get another cup, and force myself to open the computer.

The first file is one made by one of the youngsters; it is graphic, mostly when it comes to her sucking his cock, but not outlandishly horrible. The film does catch Malcom injecting her with something, but the recording stopped soon thereafter. The other young band member caught Malcom smearing the coke on her gums and the resultant surge in sexual energy, including her riding the youngster cowgirl style, which was obviously filmed by his friend, who could be heard cheering them on.

The iPad version is complete, and completely gut-wrenching. The entire event is filmed; beginning with the guys begging her to dance for them, then strip for them, and her doing a world class strip tease that ends with naked lap dances for all the band members, as well as Elliot, and Andrew. The frat rats are bringing her drinks, egging her on, and catcalling, but they are left out until after the triple penetration evolves and she's totally out of control.

When their turns come the rats do bang away in a practiced manner, but not artfully or well; no way a woman could enjoy that. 'Big dick Malcom' is not more than 7 inches, the others all less, except Tommy and Johnny. Johnny and Rocky started the orgy with Johnny in her pussy and Rocky in her asshole; they were quickly joined by Andrew to make her 'airtight' as they proclaimed.

That was the part I saw, and the tag team change off. What I didn't see was Tommy fucking her doggie, then laying her flat on the bed face down and giving her a thorough fucking, including two loud orgasms. There's another round by Johnny, Rocky, and Andrew, who all change places, and Elliot fucks her the second time rather than getting a blow job.

It's all fast, furious, uncaring sex; a true orgy, and that is before it moved to room 19, where it got worse.

Therefore, a couple of things are obvious from the beginning: this isn't about dick size, because I'm bigger than everyone but Tommy, and we're close. This isn't about being a good lover, because none of them are, nor are they concerned about her needs. This isn't about being loved or loving someone else, because she's used and treated like a whore throughout.

By all indications, she's just a cock-craving slut. That is the worst possible diagnosis, but the most likely based on video and audio evidence. I fight back tears and nausea.

My phone dings four times in short succession; obviously orchestrated messages of support from Bree, Britt, Angie, and Audrey. I return to the video, and it only gets worse. They've moved to the other room and she's been taking all comers in all holes, but after the injection she begins taking two in her mouth, two in her cunt, and Tommy in her asshole, which is gaping afterward. She's covered in cum from hair to feet, which brownie rat-with-the-foot-fetish used to get off.

The assholes joke about how happy they are that they used Viagra and XTC -- Sextascy - because they wouldn't be able to go again and again to satisfy the slut if they hadn't. They don't last long even drugged up, but they use her body any way they want when they want.

Malcom starts talking shit about me, asking Katy about my small cock and sissy fucking and she says, "He's got a pencil dick, and he can't fuck me like you can with your big cock."

"He's a five minute man, isn't he?" Malcom suggests, and she says, "I never get enough from him!"

I stare at the screen in disbelief, knowing what I know. She has just betrayed me in the worst possible way, and lied to these pieces of shit while doing it! We are fucking done! Her skanky ass is GONE! I call Joyce, get voicemail, tell her what I've just seen, and tell her to tell Katy to get her skanky ass out of our house TODAY!

I shut down the computer and put on my running clothes; it's barely light, and chilly, but I'm hot enough inside to not care. I run around town for an hour before I realize my children are awake and need me, and it takes me 30 minutes to get back to the house. Everything is fine, of course, and the boys are playing with their toys with Dad.

Mom feeds me, asks if everything is okay, and I assure her it is. I go back into my room and find three missed calls and a text from Joyce demanding CALL ME!

I call, and she immediately picks up. I ask, "So you got my message?"

She says "Yes, asshole, and don't worry about her moving out today; she wouldn't go to a doctor in town so a friend who is a gynecologist in Austin agreed to see her early this morning. She didn't want to go but it's a very good thing she did! She has injuries to the rectum and vagina consistent with forcible rape and torture, she has a serious upper respiratory infection of unknown origin, and she has two STDs. The respiratory infection and STDs can be cured with antibiotics, but she's also very dehydrated so they put her in Women's Hospital and started an IV. She's a very sick girl with serious injuries to boot!"

"Damn! You are her guardian angel, Joyce. I'll leave today. And I'm sorry -- the video set me off so I left the voicemail."

"No, I understand, believe me, but there is more; they think she suffered a reaction to the drugs that caused a mental break of some kind that includes hallucinations, so they assigned a psychiatrist and she is highly sedated. Don't worry about rushing up here; she can't have visitors anyway, and she specifically excluded you and her parents from visiting. Actually, I'm the only one she approved, and she did that reluctantly."

I ask, "So what do we tell her parents? And school starts again Thursday -- I assume she needs medical leave, right?"

"Before she conked out she said to tell everyone, including you, that she has a very contagious respiratory infection and they want her in the hospital on IV for a few days. I guess we play this day by day, but I don't see her teaching this week. Maybe you can inform her principal and she can be on leave for two days?" she asks playfully.

"I think I can take care of that. Now what about you? Don't you have a business to run?" I inquire.

"It's fine; my assistant manager, Sylvia, is in charge, and she says its dead anyway, so I'm going to get some lunch, check back here, and then head home. I can't do anything else here. She gave them my number as emergency contact, and I added yours after they knocked her out, so if anything changes we will be notified."

"Mil gracias, Angelita Joyce. We both owe you big time" I assure her.

Well, what a fucking mess this is! There are inevitably consequences, good or bad, for your decisions, and as I told the young band members, 'adult decisions have adult consequences'. But this...?

Angry at the world and everyone involved, I find a number the band gave me and call it. Johnny answers; with malice in my voice I inform him that "Katy is hospitalized with internal injuries consistent with rape and torture! She tested positive for 2 STDs and a very contagious strain of upper respiratory infection. You need to tell everyone involved, and all your sex partners since then. Or, you can die and go to hell -- I don't really care, just wanted you to know. By the way, I'm disease free." The last part is unsubstantiated, but I'm very sure it's true.

Silence from Johnny, and then "We really fucked up, man, and we hate that. You know we've always lusted for your wife, and we wouldn't turn down the chance that night, but we do care about her and would never, ever do anything to hurt her! Whatever happened, it happened in the other room."

Through my teeth I hiss, "Okay, sure, you're the good guys! But, unfortunately, I've got the video of the whole show from start to finish, filmed by the low-life porn-site sadists you turned her over to. And how the hell do you know that having Tommy in her cunt, Rocky up her ass and you fucking her mouth didn't cause some of that damage? Is that the way you treat people you care about?! And what the fuck were those low-life mother fuckers even doing there?!!! That's the quality of your friends?"

Silence again: "Look, Tim, there is no way we can make this up, but I promise nothing like that will ever happen again," promises Johnny.

I growl, "Right now I'm looking up an address so I can send a copy to ZZ Top, narrated to identify every fucking one of you assholes! Wonder how that will go over?"

Johnny begs, "Please, man, don't do that! We need that tour, and we need Katy and the dancers. I know you can end all that, but I'm begging you not to!"

Edging ever closer to losing control, my voice quivering with rage, I shout, "Fuck you assholes! Am I supposed to care what happens to you? You nearly killed my wife, and protestations and promises aside, why the hell would I believe it won't happen again, or you won't set up Britt, or Bree, or Angie?

"Assholes gonna asshole! I think I'll show all them the film and let them decide if they want to work with y'all ever again! And fuck you! Fuck all of you! I'm through talking! As soon as I can find you asshats, including your manager and soundman, I'll put the whole damn bunch of you in the hospital with Katy!!!"

I hang up, wishing I could slam the receiver down on my iPhone, and fume. My hands are shaking, my pulse racing, fully adrenalized. I wonder 'Am I this angry at them; or at myself because I didn't drag her ass to the room?' I know that would probably have only put off the inevitable, but we wouldn't be where we are right now. Ten deep breaths, exhaled slowly, and I can think again, kind of, through a film of rage.

I'm not sure what my next move should be: I can't go to the hospital, I don't want to go home, but I need to get back, get keys for my new jobs, and get ready for school to start. I decide to enjoy being at home and hunting today, and head back tomorrow.

Bird hunting is more social than deer hunting, so I opt for an afternoon bird hunt and decide to invite everyone that went yesterday. I send a group text "Dove hunt today at 4? I'll bring water, beer and ice." Everyone responds yes except Dub and Susan; she replies, "Yes, but only if you will grill stuffed doves and burgers over here after; I have all the ingredients." "Okay" I reply.

About that time, Dub calls "Dude, I'm halfway to Albuquerque or I'd come back and hunt again. Got a gig tomorrow and want to check the place out."

"Dang! I wanted to visit with you a bit today. There are things I'd like your advice on" I reply.

"Dude, my free advice is well worth the cost, especially when I'm giving it to you. You pretty much have had your shit together, since birth, and you've given me plenty of good advice, so if there is anything you want from me, just ask and ye shall receive."

I begin "As you saw, the New Year's Eve performance went well; but the rest of the night went... not so well..."

Dub interjects "Before you continue, let me tell you that I called Britt this morning. I was worried about you. She gave me the highlights, or lowlights, but said you would have to tell me the rest, she wouldn't."

I consider how to start: "Did she tell you Katy wanted to be left to celebrate with her friends without her husband? That the 'celebration' ended in a 10-man gangbang and now she's hospitalized with vaginal and anal injuries, a respiratory infection, and two STDs?"

Silence: "Now I know why Britt wouldn't talk," Dub says in a choked voice. "I don't know Katy that well, but that's hard to even imagine, and I can't even begin to envision how you feel. Any rational explanation you're aware of?"

Me: "None at all; she 'explored' a little a couple of weeks ago, but I was there, and we talked after and had great sex. Since then it's been lying, cheating, and unrepentant sex with multiple partners, interspersed with her normal sweetness, love and great sex. But this week it was all about 'the performance', and she's ignored me and the boys completely, even acted irritated by having us around. I'm mystified; it's like a reversal of both her personality and morality."

"Who else knows?" Dub asks. I respond "Britt, Bree, Angie, Audrey, and her friend, Joyce, who's been acting as her guardian since she told me to 'fuckin' go away and leave her alone!'. That, of course, isn't counting the 10 assholes and whoever they told, I guess. Too fucking many for it to stay contained, that's for sure!

"Joyce and I are the only ones who know where she is right now, but I just finished lighting up the band members. As a matter of fact, I told them I'm coming, and the next sound they hear may be the last."

"So now I know why you were at home hunting doves without your wife. Damnit man, I don't know what to say, but we need to keep talking. Call me anytime, and please keep me updated. I have some thoughts I'd like to share, but let me think about them a while. This mess doesn't call for my usual half-assery."

"Thanks, Dub. Feel free to call me anytime, or call Britt, or even Katy if you think you can help; I'm sure as fuck stumped" I assure him.

We hang up and I call Brittney "Hi, gorgeous. How are ya'?" "I'm okay. How are YOU?" Britt asks.

"Keeping an even keel; I'm on the 'no call / no admittance' list at the hospital, so I'm bird hunting in south Texas with family and friends."

"Joyce told me. Are you sure you're okay?" Britt replies with deep concern in her voice. "Well, considering the circumstances, yeah, I'm okay. Wish you were here" I reply sincerely.

"Me too" she says quietly "when are you coming back?" I tell her I'm heading back tomorrow with the boys and I'll give her a call when I get near San Marcos; maybe we can eat lunch together. She likes that idea and says she has a kid-friendly place in mind.

The afternoon with the boys and my parents passes too quickly, so I try again to get them to all go hunting with us and eat burgers, but they have other plans.

At 4 pm I'm parked in the trees by the tank, with a cold bottle of water and a colder bottle of Lone Star. My phone rings: the results of my STD tests are all negative! Well, hallelujah! And, if that is true, she caught them during the gangbang, just as Britt warned.

Dust on the horizon: a caravan is coming my way, including a couple of old friends my brother has invited. Susan parks her pickup next to my Suburban, and I off load the two ice chests to her tailgate for better access.

After quick greetings and before we start to get set up, my sister and SIL issue a challenge: "Let's hunt as couples. The winners get to lord it up over the losers, and no chores." Everyone laughs, including newcomers Jimmy and Nelda.

"Because you never miss, Tim, you and Susan are assigned the south side of the tank as your handicap," says Sis.

"Wait -- so Susan isn't enough of a handicap?" I respond, which draws a blow from Susan.

We accept the 'handicap' and settle beyond the tank dump, where we can't be seen but have a good line of sight on birds flying from any direction but north...which is, of course, where they are all coming from today. Gee, I wonder if they knew that when they made assignments? Maybe so, since their guns are firing every few minutes while we watch the clear blue sky.

Susan and I make the most of our isolation, enjoying easy conversation and each other's company. As dusk arrives, I've shot 8 times and have 8 birds, Susan has 4 on six shots. The other three couples have shot a box of shell or more each, but they also have more birds. Jan and Dee have the most, Gay and Art are second, Jimmy and Nelda third, and we're last.

"You two belong to us! All of us! You have to clean the birds, and then cook and clean!" exclaims Jan happily. We laughingly accept our fate, load the vehicles, and head for Susan's ranch.

Turns out the worst of the 'consequences' they have in mind are fetching their beer or drinks, and cooking. They actually help us clean and stuff the dove breasts with jalapenos and cream cheese, and wrap them in bacon, and then go set the table while we cook. By the time we're ready to eat they're all three-sheets-in-the wind drunk, while Susan and I are only mildly impaired.

When we sit down after cleaning up we are greeted with a game of 'truth or consequences' that only 'the losers' have to play. The questions, which are mostly about times long past, get ever more personal, including asking me 'the first time and place you two ever did it'.

I decline, citing my personal vow to never kiss and tell, which gets the consequence of kissing and telling Susan a secret. That is easy enough.

Then they ask her the same question: unbound by my code of chivalry she quickly tells them "After the prom. It was wonderful, even for a first time!"

Art points out that she didn't say where, so her consequence is to sit on my lap for the rest of the night. Neither of us really minds that, but I'm a little freaked that they keep trying to put us together. I'm married, she's separated and getting a divorce, and their zeal is discomfiting.

Susan wiggles around on my lap enough that when we have to go get more drinks I have to resettle my cock, which is excited by her presence. That draws a chuckle from the guys, who all are watching carefully and immediately notice.

When we finish serving they tell Susan to get back on my lap, then Jimmy asks, "Tim, does having Susan sitting on your lap give you a hard on, or are you carrying a flashlight in your jeans?"

I respond, "The bigger question is why you are checking out my cock?"

Everyone laughs, but Jimmy says I didn't really answer. "So, hard on or flashlight?" I put both arms tightly around her, hump her lightly, and reply, "Why don't you ask her?"

Loud laughter begins, and Jimmy asks Susan "Well, what is it?" Susan coyly replies, "It must be a mag light, because no cock could be that big and hard!"

Even I guffaw at that. Art says "Neither of you actually answered, so the consequence is: Susan, you have to face Tim, straddle him, and give him a five-minute kiss."

Susan stands, looks at the others, says "My pleasure, you pervy voyeurs" and puts one slender skinny-jean covered leg on each side of me, places her pussy against my cock, and starts kissing me. Before long, her kiss is open mouth and she's humping her pussy against my cock as if no one else is watching.

I'm not gonna lie -- she's turning me on big time, and my hands are all over her. The others all get up and quietly leave, with Gay saying "thanks for supper and the show. After that we're all going home and straight to bed."