Tell Me What You See

"Okay, where's this going?" demanded Sarah.

"Each of them had Tim and Betty visit the next day. Tim accused them of grabbing Smith and Wesson. Then he promised to kick their asses. Sometime in the next couple of weeks, he managed to find each of them in a secluded place and smacked them in the face a few times. He warned them if they told the cops, he'd tell their wives what they did with Betty's globes, so they made up lame ass stories to tell their wives and others about their health issues."

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Sarah. "That sick fuck may come after you!"

"The same thought occurred to me, so I stuffed the cue ball in a sock and carried it with me everywhere I went. Three days ago, the bastard jumped me while I was walking to my favorite fishing hole on Cummings' Creek.

"He was pretty confident. He stepped out of the bushes and started telling me just how much he was going to enjoy beating me senseless."

"That crazy bastard! Did you show him your sock puppet?" asked Sarah.

"Yeah. He no sooner got his first threat out when my sock made contact with the bridge of his nose," I replied with a little chuckle. "Who knew a cue ball would hurt so much? He went down like a pole-axed steer. He wasn't knocked out, so he tried to get back up. I think the second shot was the one that broke his nose. It was lights out for the dumb fuck."

"Why didn't you tell me this when it happened?" demanded Sarah. "I wonder what the hell is wrong with that dumb bitch that she wanted to get men beaten by Tim."

"I was still pissed about Tim ambushing me like he did, so I paid Betty a visit while Tim was lying on the path in the woods. She told me exactly what was going on. I don't think they'll try it again.

"They're a couple of sick bastards. Betty enjoyed getting Tim jealous. It turned her on and they'd have hot sex while she described what guys did to her melons. When Tim beat the shit out of some poor schmuck, he'd come home and he'd have super aggressive sex with her again. They both got off on it," I told Sarah.

"I'm surprised Betty admitted being such a sick bitch," said Sarah.

"She couldn't talk fast enough once I applied a double tit twister to her shock absorbers," I replied with a grin. "I just gave her something to tell Tim. He probably fucked her to death when he staggered home and heard her story.

"I didn't tell you sooner because I wanted to wait to see if the cops were going to be involved. I didn't want to upset you if it turned out to be nothing. I guess Tim and Betty think it's better to not bring attention to their little peccadilloes."

"You squeezed Betty's bombers? You actually had her headlights in your hands?" asked Sarah in surprise.

"Yeah, is that going to be a problem?" I demanded.

Sarah saw the anger on my face and decided discretion was the better part of valor.

"No, you did what you had to do. I'm sorry for not backing you up when Tim came to the house that day. You didn't enjoy holding Betty's coconuts did you? Are they even real? They both deserved to suffer after the shit they pulled. I just hope you'll be happy with my shirt potatoes after having Betty's bazoombas in your grasp," said Sarah worriedly.

"Why is it so hard for you to understand that your dumplings are perfect for me?" I asked as I pulled Sarah close. "Men do love to look, but what we really love is a woman who loves us back and allows her man, and only her man, full access to the upper deck."