tagLoving WivesZ Axis = X2-5Y

Z Axis = X2-5Y


*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, using Microsoft's Spell-Check. You have been forewarned.


Dr. Roger Taylor James came to. His head hurt tremendously; it hurt to even try and open his eyes. His eyes felt grimy; his whole face felt sticky, grimy.

He scrunched up his face against the throbbing pain in his head. As more awareness crept into his fogged brain he realized his stomach also felt raw, tender. There was a terrible thirst in his throat, but the thought of water made his raw stomach lurch.

He tried to sit up and immediately regretted his movements. The blinding, searing, throbbing pain in his head and in his belly made him gasp out.

Taking in a deep breath to gasp, Roger noticed that his nipples hurt. He reached a cautious hand up and felt his scrawny chest. His flesh was clammy, cold, with a sheen of sweat.

And his nipples had two rings threaded through them. He could also feel the dried, crusty blood on his tortured flesh.

"Oh God," he grunted and again tried to open his eyes.

The small lamp next to the bed was on. The forty watt bulb seared his eyeballs with a blinding light.

Looking around through just one eye, Roger saw that he was on the bed in their guest room. There was the rustic bedside table of honey blonde stained wood, the brass lamp with lace shade, the wagon wheel headboard and the honey blonde armoire.

Part of the reason for his thumping headache became apparent. Music was thumping and grinding and booming throughout the house.

Roger again tried to rise and became aware of another pain. The thick foreskin of his cock felt constricted, sticky.

Reaching his hand from his sore nipples, Roger tentatively felt his cock.

"God!" he croaked, throat raw.

His foreskin had been pierced. He now sported two rings through his foreskin. The rings were on the underside of his cock, peeling the foreskin back slightly.

"Jesus, Cheryl, what the hell, huh?" he sobbed out.

As he managed to work himself into a seated position, he also noticed a sharp pain in his left buttock.

"They didn't, huh?" Roger asked himself and reached down to feel.

No, there was no piercing on his buttock. But there was an area of tenderness, of pain.

Roger chanced getting to his feet. Thankfully, the armoire caught him before he tumbled to the floor. He leaned against the heavy piece of furniture, trying to catch his breath, fighting off the waves of nausea.

He weakly staggered to the closed door of the bedroom and opened it. The booming, thumping music became even louder, assaulted him.

He peered around with his one eye and saw the lights were on in his, their master bedroom. Roger weakly lurched toward the door and managed to catch the doorjamb.

Inside the room, Cheryl James, his wife of three months was being fucked, quite roughly by one of the basketball players at Missouri River State University, where Roger was a professor of Mathematics. In her mouth was the cock of another black man.

Next to his beautiful blonde wife was Rebecca Durst, Cheryl's best friend. The beautiful red head was taking three black cocks.

Even over the loud thumping booming music, Roger could hear the seven people groaning in pleasure.

Roger fought down the sudden rush of bile and lurched toward the stairwell.

He was thankful he'd insisted on heavy bannisters. The handrails supported him as he staggered down the stairs. He was shivering, even though his body was covered in a sheen of sweat. His nude body had goosebumps and he felt clammy.

Finally, he managed to reach his home office, his 'man cave' as Cheryl called it. He shut the door, wincing at how loudly he had slammed the door. Then he realized, there was very little chance the people upstairs could have heard the door over their own passion, over the insistent music.

Roger lurched toward the wastebasket and vomited heartily. The exertion to travel from guest room to bedroom, from bedroom to stairs, from stairs through living room to his inner sanctuary had been a grueling, arduous journey.

"Nine one one, what is your emergency?" the operator intoned.

"I'm, I'm locked in my office," Roger hissed, then retched again.

"Sir? SIR!" the operator called out.

"I'm here, sorry, got sick again," Roger whined into his cell phone. "My wife, my wife and her lovers, I think they drugged me, no, I know they drugged me."

The operator dispatched an ambulance and two patrol units out to 1811 King's Court, Colfax, Missouri. She also stayed on the telephone with Roger until the police arrived at the home.

"What the fuck? Someone at your door," one of the black men told Cheryl as he pulled his spurting cock from her pussy.

"What? Who?" Cheryl asked.

"Fuck, girl, I look psychic?" the man asked.

Cheryl pulled on a robe and walked down the stairs. When she opened the door, two uniformed officers entered.

"Ma'am, could you please turn the music off," the taller of the two officers said.

It was not a request. Cheryl quickly did hit the switch for the stereo system.

"Ma'am? Where is your husband, please?" the other officer asked.

"He's upstairs, in the guest room," Cheryl answered, puzzled. "When he learns his place, he can come back to the master bedroom."

"Please go get him," the first officer ordered.

"What the fuck is this?" one of the black men demanded.

"Sir, stay right where you are," one of the police officers ordered.

"He's not in there," Cheryl said, returning.

"Ma'am, where's his office?" a third police officer asked, the paramedics nervously waiting behind him.

"Right there; why's the door closed? The door's never closed," Cheryl said.

The police officer opened the door and they saw Roger sitting in his desk chair, unconscious again. The police officer quickly took a few photographs of the man before waving the two paramedics into the room.

"Is he on any kind of medication? Ma'am, your husband, is he on any kind of medication? Has he been drinking?" one of the paramedics demanded as they put the nude man onto a gurney.

"No, no, well, he had a couple of beers, you know, to give him strength while I brought my lovers over," Cheryl whined.

X. x.

Roger came to. The pillow under his head was a stiff one, of unyielding foam. The pillowcase had a harsh chemical smell to it. The mattress underneath him was also of unyielding foam, covered by a stiff material.

The recessed lighting was soft, soothing. He still had a headache, but it had lessened in severity.

"Dr. James, how you feeling?" an Asian man in a crisp suit asked. "I'm Detective Kin."

"Detective?" Roger wondered.

"So, care tell me what happened?" the man asked.

"Wife tells me she's bringing her lovers over and I tell her like hell she is; it's my house, Roger spat bitterly. "Her friend Rebecca's there and they're both laughing at me, I mean, God damn it! It's my house! It's my house and they're just laughing at me."

The police detective looked away, uncomfortable as the young professor sobs out in anguish. After a moment, Detective Kin cleared his throat.

"She uh, she suggested that it was actually your idea," the man said, referring to his tablet.

"Yeah, right," Roger snarled bitterly. "It's my idea have my nipples pierced and my schlong, huh?"

"She uh, she said it was a fantasy of yours? To be a cuckold?" Detective Kin offered.

The Asian man chuckled as he continued to look at the screen of his tablet. Then he remembered that Roger was still in the room and wiped the smirk from his face.

"Said she had to look up the word see what you were talking about," Detective Jimmy Kin admitted.

"Yeah, right, God damn if that isn't just like her, pretending be a dumb blonde, huh?" Roger spat.

A moment of silence passed. Roger's face twitched.

"Well, it's no fantasy of mine. Maybe of hers, but damned sure not one of mine," Roger said bitterly.

"And something about cream pies?" Detective Kin queried. "When you were brought in, there were traces of semen and vaginal fluid around your mouth?"

Roger began to retch. The detective moved quickly and shoved a wastebasket into the man's hand. Because he had thrown up three hours earlier, at his home, all Roger James could do was give dry heaves.

A moment later, Roger sat back weakly. His stomach and throat were raw.

Roger then remembered something. He gingerly touched his left buttock and winced. It was still tender.

"Look, Detective Kin, all I know is, I come home, been a bitch of a day getting ready for finals and Cheryl and Rebecca tell me they're having their lovers over and next thing I know, I'm coming to in the guest room. My nipples hurt, my cock hurts, and my ass hurts," Roger said.

"Ah, yes, your wife says she has no idea where that syringe came from," Detective Kin confirmed.

He looked at Roger, studying the man's face. Then he referred to his tablet again.

"Hell of a cocktail someone prepared for you, actually," the man said. "And they obviously hadn't taken into account that you're what? A hundred and thirty, maybe a hundred and forty pounds?"

"I'm a hundred and forty seven pounds," Roger said, almost indignantly.

"Before or after you empty out your pockets?" Detective Kin asked sardonically.

After a few moments of silence, Detective Kin asked Roger how he and Cheryl had met. After a moment's hesitation, Roger started by telling the detective that he'd been a child prodigy, a genius at Mathematics.

He had met Paige Woods when he was a teacher's aide at Connelly College, in Oakleaf, Texas, and she a freshman in Algebra 101. The gorgeous Texas cheerleader Asked Roger for help, then seduced him.

"Hey, it was my first time," Roger smiled in way of explanation. "Ever had a blow job from a blonde cheerleader? Even if she's just sucking your dick for a good grade, she puts all she's got into that blow job."

"I'll have to find out as soon as I can," the detective chuckled.

"Anyway, Paige convinces me she's in love with me, we get married and I want to go to Wyoming, go skiing for our honeymoon; we got married during Thanksgiving break. But, no, she wants to go to some shit hole Mexican place. Turns out? Her ex-boyfriend is there."

"Fascinating, but what does this have to do with Cheryl James?" Detective Kin asked.

Paige disappeared with Matthew and Michael Priestly, leaving a thunderstruck Roger in the lobby of the Mexican hotel. The staff, witnesses to his humiliation, will not make eye contact with the young professor.

Roger jumped on the next flight to Houston, Texas. Then he informed Chelsea Priestly and Annie Priestly, Matthew's and Michael's brides of the infidelities he'd been witness to.

"And that's how a good old Texas boy winds up here, in Missouri," Roger said.

"And Cheryl?" Detective Kin pointedly asked.

Cheryl Wingham was a stunning blonde cheerleader for the Missouri River State Pioneers. At five feet, nine inches, the young blonde had three inches on Roger James. She'd put on tight tops, low cut tops and short skirts, or Daisy Duke Shorts. She would sit right in front, cross her long tanned legs, lean forward, lick the eraser of her pencils.

And still Cheryl Wingham was failing in Algebra 101. Every time she approached Dr. James, asking for help, he would brusquely tell her to try the Math Lab, or speak with his teacher's aide.

"Dr. James, if I don't at least get a 'C' in this class, I'm off the squad," she whined, actually stamping her foot.

After a few phenomenal blow jobs, Cheryl did get her 'C' and did continue to stand on the sidelines, screaming and kicking. Fans of the Missouri River State Pioneers did appreciate her presence; a very good thing because their record that season was dismal.

Four months after she'd passed his class, Roger ran into Cheryl at a coffee shop. She was there with Emil Franks, a forward on the college basketball team.

Cheryl said she did not remember what had started the argument and Roger was too far away to hear their conversation. He did hear Emil getting loud so took out his cell phone and started recording the couple. He caught it all, in high definition, as Emil reached across the table and slapped Cheryl hard enough to knock her out of her chair.

Coach Art Doyle tried to intimidate, bully Roger into 'losing' the video footage, then spluttered in outrage when he discovered that Roger had recorded his visit. Dean John Demonte put Coach Doyle on unpaid leave while they sorted out the matter.

"My gun!" Roger suddenly remembered.

"Hmm?" Detective Kin asked.

"When a few of the basketball players thought they'd slap me around a little, I'd bought a gun, a little thirty eight," Roger said. "Then, when I went into my office that was the first thing I went for."

"Why's that?" Detective Kin asked.

"Kill them mother fuckers," Roger snarled. "Every last one of them."

"And...?" Detective Kin asked, motioning with his hand for Roger to get to the point.

"It wasn't there, in the drawer I always keep it in," Roger said. "God damned bitch must have figured I'd go for that."

After a moment, Roger told Detective Kin about Cheryl coming to his office and thanking him for helping her. Roger had just broken off with Nina Soo, a beautiful Asian-American girl that was completing her residency at Northlake Hospital. Remembering Cheryl's phenomenal blow jobs, Dr. Roger James did encourage Cheryl to thank him on her knees.

"There's no policy at the university regarding fraternization between staff and student?" Detective Kin asked.

"Yeah, the 'don't ask, don't tell' policy," Roger sneered at the question.

"Hmm," Detective Kin grunted.

He had a step-son and step-daughter attending the university, one majoring in Sociology, the other in Theology. His own daughter was indicating she'd like to go to Tulane University, in New Orleans. Detective Kin believed the girl's interest was due in part to the Mardi gras celebrations she'd seen on television.

"Anyway, think I would have known better, I mean, shit, look at what Paige Woods did to me, huh?" Roger spat bitterly. "But, dumb ass me, fell in love with another blonde cheerleader slut, married her."

Detective Kin left Roger's hospital room thirty minutes later. He then arranged for a search warrant for the four vehicles that had been parked in front of the James house when they'd arrived there.

"Aw no, nuh uh, ain't none of you mother fuckers looking through my car, here, let me wipe my mother fucking ass with that fucking warrant you got," Emil Franks barked angrily when presented with the search warrant.

He was taysered and handcuffed. When he quit grunting and jerking, he screamed obscenities and threats from the rear of the squad car. The three police officers ignored him as they meticulously searched Emil Franks' car.

"Detective, found one handgun and a few plastic bags of a powder," one of the men said.

"Sue you for every God damned cent you got, this is racist," Emil spat bitterly at Detective Kin when the man got into the car.

"Uh huh," the detective said calmly.

"Ain't joking here, mother fucker, going call Black Lives Matter," Emil threatened.

"Oh, please do; I've always wanted to be on television," Detective Kin said.

One other car yielded some crystal meth and a few handguns. Rebecca's car also yielded some marijuana, a few packets of meth, and quite a few of the ingredients to manufacture methamphetamines.

"I don't know anything about any of that stuff, Rebecca Durst tearfully claimed as, for the second time in twenty four hours, she was handcuffed and read her rights.

Ben Upjohn of Upjohn, Mei & Associates sprang into action. The lawyer obtained a restraining order barring Cheryl James from contacting her husband, barring her from the marital home. He also obtained restraining orders against Rebecca Durst and the five men that had been in the James home at the time of Roger's transport from home to hospital.

"And, since we don't know who pierced your nipples or your uh, your genital region, we'll sue each of them for assault," Ben chortled happily.

"You would sue your own mother for her last dime, wouldn't you?" Roger glumly asked the sleazy attorney.

"What makes you think I didn't?" Ben asked.

"What makes you think he has a mother?" Courtney Banks, Ben's paralegal muttered.

"And, it's a foregone conclusion, I want a divorce," Roger continued.

"Courtney?" Ben asked.

"On it," the young woman said.

Roger checked into a cheap but comfortable motel until someone from Upjohn, Mei & Associates notified him that Cheryl James had been served and had been ordered to vacate the marital home. The local Wal-Mart supplied Roger with some clothing, some toiletries. And the Rooster Pull lounge provided Roger with an ice cold beer and a good hamburger. He also appreciated the beautiful young women that swiveled and gyrated on the stage.

x. x. x.

"You could have had Ms. Banks contact me," Roger said when Ben Upjohn called to let him know that Cheryl had been served the restraining order, the order to vacate and the petition for divorce.

"Yes sir, but I feel it's important to give each client..." Ben said glibly.

"Especially since its three fifty an hour, minimum one hour every time we talk, but it's only two hundred an hour, minimum one hour to talk to your assistant," Roger said. "Next time? Have Ms. Banks contact me with trivial shit like this, hear?"

"Yes sir," Ben said, chastened. "I uh, but, Cheryl James has been served. And she has agreed to vacate the home within forty eight hours, Dr. James."

Again, Coach Doyle wanted Dr. James to forget about Emil Franks and Jacoby Greene. And Coach Somerset, coach of the Missouri River State University football team wanted Dr. James to drop the criminal and civil complaints against Cyrus St. George, his star left cornerback.

"Need to get restraining orders against you too?" Roger snarled at the rotund man. "Get your fat ass out of my office."

The week was a busy one; final exams were given out, final projects were gathered up. Final grades were tallied.

Due to several prior arrests and a few convictions for minor infractions, Emil Franks was in jail during finals week. Therefore, he did not pass any of his classes. This made the forward ineligible for the basketball team. Cyrus St. George was also still in jail; his bail had been set quite high because of the drugs and firearms found in his car. He too failed and was ineligible.

Cheryl and Rebecca did manage to pass, barely. Neither girl did plan to return to Missouri River State University the next semester.

Cheryl's parents did hire her a good lawyer; she was an only child and had been born to two parents that had despaired of ever having a child. The Winghams put a second mortgage on their house to pay for her lawyer.

Rebecca's parents told her that if she wanted to fuck black men, maybe she should get black men to pay for her lawyer. They'd paid for her education, they'd paid for her bail.

So, Rebecca was saddled with a Public Defender. Her attorney was a competent lawyer, but he was quite overworked.

"You have any proof that uh, James Rogers consented to uh, any of this?" Chad Bernsen asked.

"Roger James," Rebecca corrected. "Uh, no, not really, but you can ask his wife, Cheryl; she'll tell you."

"Huh? Oh, his wife," the man said, reading through the paperwork again. "And uh, she's uh, yes, she's also being charged with felonious assault, you guys pierced his nipples? And his uh, his uh, his genital region?"

Rebecca nodded her head in agreement. Chad looked at the paperwork again. It was obvious that he needed glasses, but he squinted at the paperwork.

"And whose idea was it to drug him?" Chad asked.

"I don't know," Rebecca admitted.

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