The Fate of Her Lovers

"Calm down! I was just kidding with you. If you can't take a joke, you're going to have one hell of a time putting up with me in our retirement. You need to make an effort, too. It's not like you'll be spending your golden years with Brad Pitt!" I patted her on the top of her head as I left for work, smirking all the way there.

Chapter 5

Juanita had been tired (from lack of sleep) and jumpy all week. Every little sudden noise set her off—even the furnace kicking on did it once. Jack had been behaving blissfully normal, except for the fact that he hadn't initiated sex for the last four weeks, one week before her former lovers began to meet untimely fates.

After he left for work on Wednesday, she began to think about it all. "Could he know about my affairs?" she wondered. She knew him to be a passionate man from their years together. "There's no way he'd do nothing if he knew. He'd confront me, or I'd come home and find all my clothes on the front lawn. Maybe he's gathering evidence, and he only suspects something... If he only suspected, then why has he been hinting that I might know something and that I should go to the cops, especially if he could be involved in their deaths?

"None of this makes any sense! I just wish I knew what was going on in his head! One thing is for sure, I'm following him to that damn bowling alley tonight, just to make sure!"

Just then, her cell phone rang and it was her current lover, Hugo Long. "Hey sexy, I'm really looking forward to tonight. Is he still on for bowling?"

"Yes, he is, but I'm not sure that getting together tonight is such a good idea. I think he may know more than what he's letting on. Maybe we'd better cool it for a while."

"I'm sure you're just being paranoid, hot stuff! If it'll make you feel better, we'll make sure that he goes bowling and then we'll start our party. I'll watch for him to leave and I'll pick you up and we'll follow him to the bowling alley. Once he's inside, we'll rush back home and get the party started. You know you can't wait to get my big unit back inside you! You know you crave my cock like I crave your sweet pussy!"

"I guess you're right, Hugo. I was thinking along the same lines." Her better judgment was clouded by the thoughts of how great his big dick felt inside her. This would be the fifth time they got it on, (ironically beginning the same day that he found her diary) and it was showing no signs of slowing down! The romance had gone, but the feeling of being completely filled by his ten inch monster completely overshadowed any thoughts of missing the romance. She pondered that she should've found a big dick sooner as the sex was totally mind-blowing! "He usually leaves about five forty-five, so be down the block by five thirty. I can't wait, lover," she added in a breathy voice.

"I'll be there, baby, don't you worry your sweet ass about that! As soon as I see him pull away, I'll move to the end of your driveway. When you get to the car, we'll be able to take off after him. He won't recognize my car, so we won't have to follow too far behind him."

"It's a date! I can't wait to get you back where you belong—inside me!"

"I can't wait, either! See you tonight!"

Just like they planned, they followed him to the alley and he casually went inside, unaware that anything was afoot. They waited across the street for a couple minutes to see if he came back out, which he didn't, and they rushed back to her house.

"Hurry lover," she cooed, "I want you to fuck me in his bed! That stupid shit has no clue about us and it turns me on to do it right under his nose, and not get caught! He's so...clueless!"

"I knew he was stupid to let a hot babe like you out of his sight! You deserve better than a man than ignores you to go bowling—of all things!

They were so hot that clothes began flying off as soon as they were in the house. Ninety minutes later, a well fucked Juanita said it was time to clean up and she got in the shower. When she came out, she gasped at the scene before her!

Hugo was still lying in bed, with a large knife sticking from his chest, his lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling, blood covering the sheets. A short, slight, nerdish man was tying what looked to be fishing line around the base of Hugo's 'big unit.'

He spoke calmly, "I'm trying to keep it big for you, Juanita. I know how much you love it, as I heard you proclaim so many times this evening. It is so big, that I just didn't have the heat to cut it off like the others..."

She feinted.

When she woke, she was flat on her back on the bed, naked, with Hugo's somewhat deflated 'big unit' inside her again, and Hugo's crushing weight (he was six foot four, and two-forty-five) on top of her. Her wrists are tied to his wrists, and her ankles to his with cloth strips. She can't move at all and her panties are in her mouth.

"I apologize for not introducing myself earlier, but you passed out before I could. My name is Herbert." He spoke in a very calm, creepy, Peter Lorre-like voice. "I met your husband many years ago when I was in the hospital. He was visiting a sick friend and I was...under the doctor's care, shall we say. You see, I was diagnosed with Antisocial Personality Disorder, or as laymen call it, I'm a sociopath. I was beginning to torture animals and my parents took me to the shrink, and they put me in there.

"I was not making any progress, until Jack came that day and showed me how to be a 'nice guy' and the benefits of being one. We became fast friends and he visited me often, with my shrink's blessing. I can honestly say that it was because of Jack that I was rehabilitated enough to be released back into society, and until recently, my APD has never been a problem.

"I got a good job when I got out of school and got transferred to California where I was doing quite well for myself. Then, my cheating slut wife left me, and my job was eliminated in a merger. I came back here to stay with my parents after my cash ran out. It was a bad time for me, but I still dealt with my problems like a normal man.

"Four weeks ago today, I was in a bowling alley listening to a band, when I saw my friend and savior, Jack sitting at the bar, looking like someone just ran over his dog and stomped on his heart, which basically, you did. After some cajoling, he told me the whole story of finding your diary that day, and reading it about your four affairs, and he added that a fifth one may have started that very day!

"I was totally aghast! There's no way a nice guy like Jack deserved such treatment! I vowed that he would be avenged and he would never know anything about who was doing it or why. His karma would be untouched, and it would seem like those bastards' karma had caught up with them.

"I consoled him and then I probed him for more information, like that he bowled every Wednesday night, and where he'd found your diary. I broke into your house and read your diary that next day while you both were at work. I made a copy and used all the information in it to track down and plot revenge on those scumbags that felt they could fuck another man's wife and get away with defiling a marriage!

"I killed one of you lovers each Wednesday night for the last four weeks, while Jack was bowling so he'd have twenty or thirty witnesses for his alibi. Since each of these inglorious weasels was a serial womanizer, I figured the cops wouldn't be able to figure out which "wronged husband" did it, because the list would be quite long for each one, and—at best—only fifty to sixty percent complete. The nice part of being a sociopath is that I don't have the conscience that most killers have, which causes them to be less than perfect in their crime—their subliminal guilt often makes them leave a clue.

"Tonight, I will kill for the last time. When I leave, I will turn on your ceiling fan; please notice the cloth string tied to one of the blades. I have calculated that it will run for almost six minutes when that string is exhausted from the cardboard roll it's on, and will pull those papers from your nightstand onto the space heater, causing a fire. If the cops do an investigation, they will find no trace of the string, as it will burn completely away, as will the cloth binding you to asswipe here. They will think that you and shit-for-brains knocked the papers off in the heat of passion, and were overcome by the smoke, that you failed to notice while fucking each other stupid.

"So, tonight, you will die, knowing that your flagrant indiscretions have caused the deaths of your five complete jerks that knowingly fucked a married woman, and yourself, an unrepentant cheating slut. I read your diary and you really are a piece of shit, you know that?

"I can only imagine that Jack likes the news over the last few weeks; after all, each week a man he knows you fucked got his cum-uppance! Har, har, har! I should apologize for the crappy pun, but I really don't care what you think of me. I can only hope that he will agree with my decision that you die, after all he is much better off without a cheap slut for a wife—we can all agree to that!"

He got up and walked to the door of their bedroom. "It's time to bid you adieu, as the upper floor needs to be ablaze before someone calls the fire department, and I wouldn't want Jack to come home early and unknowingly call before all my evidence burns away, and you die. So goodbye, slut!" He flipped on the wall switch that started the fan, and a few seconds later she heard the back door close.

She saw the string unwinding and began to panic. She struggled to get Hugo off of her and could only move her arms slightly. She began to try to scream for help, but the panties in her mouth prevented her from being heard. Just as Herbert predicted, six minutes later the fire began, and smoke filled the room. As the smoke filled her lungs, she noticed the light fading into darkness as she passed out for the last time.

Epilogue:

Jack was on his way home thinking how strange it was that as soon as he'd decided to get the evidence of her affairs and use it publicly against her in the divorce, that someone had begun to kill off her lovers. He regretted what it would do to his kids, but the bitch had to pay for her crimes and the total lack of respect she showed him. If all of them died, she had to be wondering if he did it, and if she was next. It had to be freaking her out, and she showed signs of it. It was with that thought in mind that he arrived home, to see the fire trucks putting out the fire at his house.

Of course, at first the police looked hard at Jack, but there were so many people for his alibi, as well as security tapes at the bowling alley. Then there was the fact that the lover's manhood was still in tact, so they couldn't connect it to the other crimes. They were thorough enough to look at his finances for the last few years, and they noted that he didn't have the kind of money it would take to hire someone to do these deeds. They checked on the whereabouts of his close friends and family during the murders, and came up with nothing. Jack even volunteered to take a lie detector test and passed with flying colors.

Due to the maelstrom of emotions he was going through, Jack never connected Herbert's APD and the possibility that he could be the infamous Lady-Killer Killer. They became closer since Herbert moved back into town and Jack was single. Thirty years later, as Herbert was getting close to the end of his cancer, he confessed to his friend. Jack bought him a beer.

The cases are still open.