A Friend's Final Act of Revenge

Shaking my head, I turned to walk back to the couch I'd slept on, just in case I'd left something there. I'd only walked a couple of steps when I kicked a can on the floor causing me to look down at where I was walking.

And then I saw it, lying near the ashtray that ran along the front of the bar near the foot rail – some clothing or something, something white.

Putting the can of Coke on the bar, I stooped down to reach for it and picked it up. The light wasn't all that good so I walked nearer the small window a few feet away and held the garment open with both hands.

I felt like a shot of adrenalin had been injected straight into my heart!

It was my wife's favourite crochet top!

What the fuck was going on!

I felt a wave of panic wash over me – what the fuck was she doing leaving her fucking good top here?

And then I thought of the bra behind the bar!

No!

Hastily, I raced around to check it out too. It was her size; it was a good French brand that she liked – but that was all only circumstantial – the dead-give-away was the smell – I took a deep whiff...and there was no doubt in my mind now, for nearly twenty years I'd enjoyed her body aroma – it was definitely hers!

My heart pounded like an AK-47 going full noise – where the fuck was she?

I raced back around to where I'd picked up her top – looking for more evidence, but of course hoping I wouldn't find any. It was like an unbelievable nightmare!

I turned looking around the room again...

...and there, over on the floor near the pool table I discovered something else.

"The fucking bastards! I'll fucking kill 'em," I swore to myself as I picked up what I thought could be Claire's jeans. A quick check of the pockets erased any doubt I may have had, as I brought out a credit card invoice with her name on it.

"Nooo...not my wife!" I cried.

I racked my brain as to how this might have happened – but for some reason, most of the night was a blank – apart from a vague recollection of Claire talking to Mick by the bar – Mick and some young punk....

I was having trouble figuring out how I'd gotten so messy...it didn't make sense...I could handle my alcohol quite well...something of which I'd been famous for...

I looked at the two men still sleeping on their chairs – and I felt and urge to smash their skulls in.

Resisting the urge to go ballistic – and breathing so hard I was almost hyperventilating, I found myself looking at the pool table, thinking the worst. I wasn't fucking stupid! There were no balls or cues on the red felt top – and who didn't leave at least a cue or two on a table after they'd finished a game. Nup, it had been cleared – unlike anywhere else in the room!

I did not want to believe it – and standing there shaking like a leaf at what may have happened I looked over to where I'd slept, and there sitting on the small table next to it, amongst the stubbies and glasses, were my wife's high-heeled shoes – side by side as if put there carefully. I did not know how I hadn't noticed them earlier.

But where the fuck was she?

Quickly, I stormed over and picked up the shoes – then headed over to the darkened hallway that ran up toward the front of the old house and started checking the few doors on either side. The first couple were locked – from the outside – great latches with padlocks on both of them - but the third door wasn't.

Cautiously, I turned the old wobbly doorknob and opened the door inwards, almost afraid at what I might discover inside.

It was quiet inside, I noticed, too quiet. The room stunk! Far worse than the bar area – the stench of smoke, grog...the pungent aroma of sweaty bodies...and the unmistakable scent of sex wafted out like a miasma to assault my befuddled senses!

My eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness; I could only barely make out that there appeared to be no furniture in the room at first – but then a breeze wafted in from a tiny, curtained window opposite – no doubt encouraged by the door I now held open. And a sliver of light broke the gloom momentarily.

At least four mattresses were spread out on the floor – the place was a fucking pigsty, with bottles and glasses lying everywhere, like there'd been another party going on in there too.

The light faded back to darkness as the curtain fell back into place – and I fumbled along the wall for the light switch that surely was there somewhere...

Yep, found it, I sighed, my heart doing a millions miles an hour.

I flicked the switch down – and a blue-coloured globe hanging from the ceiling cast a feeble glow down over the room....

....and there she was...my lovely wife for over ten years, and companion for the better part of twenty. Claire was lying on her back with her arms spread out above her head, her hands facing upwards – as if reaching for something no longer there; her long brunette hair splayed out like a halo around her pretty face – she appeared to be in a deep sleep.

I looked quickly around the room – bedding was strewn everywhere; old blankets and pillows; sheets and even a few bathroom towels – all of it was dirty and smelly, but no one else appeared to be in there with her – a small mercy I knew, as I looked back down at her...

She was quite naked of course – this I had certainly expected, as I now held all of her clothes – with the exception of her lacy g-string that matched for her bra – no, I hadn't found that dainty garment yet...and I could now clearly see my wife was not wearing them still either – admittedly, I was not all that surprised.

I watched Claire for a few moments longer as she slept – a feeling of total betrayal at my discovery had me standing there seething in anger, totally frustrated by uselessness at what had obviously happened while I slept in the next room. Not my wife, you bastards, I thought furiously!

....and then I stepped into the room and knelt down next to her. She appeared to be smiling – but I knew it was probably unlikely.

I looked up and down her body for signs of injury – and noticed some bite marks on both of her breasts – some of the welts were quite near her unusually swollen nipples; erect no doubt indicating she was possibly cold, I mused.

Looking back down her nakedness, over her little pierced bellybutton, and past her thin strip of cropped pubic hair, I could see her legs were askew – one knee bent outwards and the other raised slightly, just off the dirty mattress. A condom dangled loosely from one of her big toes, and I reached over to remove it....fucking thing was used, I noticed with disgust as I tossed it across the room contemptuously.

I closed my eyes for a moment, shaking my head in total disbelief – wanting to look further, and then not wanting too.

I just had to, didn't I, even though it was pretty fucking obvious what had happened to her – I just had to look?

My god – she was a swollen mess. I'd never seen her pussy look so utterly fucked before in all the time we'd been together – and we certainly used to fuck a bit in our younger days!

Her normally barely noticeable inner labia were distended, reddened and swollen like I could never have imagined possible! Crusty semen covered parts of her thighs and matted what little pubic hair she did have, and a large wet patch was staining the mattress directly beneath her pussy. Her clitoral hood, with its little golden ring was just as battered looking too.

Christ, she'd been done over!

But not one mark on her pretty face, luckily.

"Claire!" I whispered to her, shaking her shoulder gently, "Claire!"

"Mmmm...nooo more...pleassse...nooo more....not now, I'm sore...maybe...maybe later..."

"Wake up! Wake up would ya!" I said to her, shaking her a bit firmer

"Jus'...lemme sleep would you...come back....later..." she groaned softly.

"It's me Claire, Garry, your fuckin' husband!" pangs of jealousy gripping my stomach at her nonchalant responses.

I watched as her eyelids flickered open – and she looked up at me with a bewildered look on her face.

"You! You...ya bastard...where the heck have you been...you prick?" Claire stammered, still sounding quite drunk, "You know...you know what they did to me?"

"Pretty fuckin' obvious, hey, the fuckin' bastards! I've got ya clothes...let's get the fuck out of here!"

Claire groaned mournfully and tried to sit up.

"We can go to the police, Claire, we'll get the bastards!" I said to her as I slipped her top over her head.

"Police!" she exclaimed, looking up at me with a wild look in her eye like I was suggesting something crazy, "Hmmph....you reckon they raped me or something, do ya?"

My heart skipped a beat, I didn't understand, of course they would have had to rape her, I thought, and I could certainly tell more than one had fucked her.

"Who were the bastards...that young prick that was talking to you at the bar...was he one of them?" I demanded angrily, my jealousy rising like an enraged bull elephant.

Claire grabbed her jeans from me and started to slip them on her legs as she sat up properly.

"Can...can you get me a drink...a drink of water, please?" she said somewhat subdued.

"Well? Was he?"

"Does it matter now?" she said, lying down to pull the tight jeans up over her hips.

"Claire...of course it fuckin' matters...I wanna know!"

"Are you sure?"

My heart was pounding worse than before, and I felt horrible bile rising into my throat, "Yes!"

Claire shock her head in disbelief, and looked up at me through her bleary eyes, "He was first...yep, he did me first...there...are you happy?"

I felt like slapping her, "Oh, fuck's sake....why?"

"Can we talk about it later?" she said, almost casually.

I looked at her as she stood up on shaky legs and finished doing up her jeans, and then straightened up her top – without her bra on, I could almost clearly see her areoles through the loose knitting of the crocheting and one of her still erect nipples stuck out through a hole provocatively.

"Claire!" I growled at her thoughtlessly, as she stepped off the mattress and turned for the door, "Stop for a second..."

She stopped and looked at me, wobbling slightly from side to side, "What?"

"How many were there? How many of the arseholes fucked you?"

She screwed up her nose, "Listen, Garry, I don't think you would wanna know...truly!"

My darling wife was obviously still inebriated I figured, but I was totally confused as to why she had apparently let them – for fuck's sake, I didn't think she had a promiscuous bone in her body!

"Why?" I heard myself saying, as she walked out the bedroom door.

Poking her head back around the corner, she almost sneered at me, "I heard a few stories about you last night...you're not sooo damn innocent you know!"

I truly didn't understand it; it was as if I'd done something wrong?

I followed Claire out into the bar and watched as she walked over to the pool table – she appeared to be rummaging around in one of the side pockets. And then she looked back at me, and smiled sort of sardonically, as she pulled something out.

"Found 'em."

Claire held up her little black g-strings for my viewing pleasure before popping them into one of her jeans pockets.

"Thought they'd be gone, for sure!" she exclaimed with relief as she wobbled around a bit.

I went and got her a big glass of water – which she skulled in one go, and I then poured her another one. She took a little longer with the second one, and we just stood there looking at one another for a few moments, both a bit speechless.

It all still felt like a dream – or should I say a fucking nightmare!

Without saying another word to each other still, I led her out to our car parked down the street a couple of doors down. The sunlight hurt my eyes at first but I came good in a minute or so – Claire on the other hand, walked with her head bowed and her hands covering her face till we got in the car.

"We going to the motel?" she asked me.

I looked at my watch, "Checkout in twenty five minutes."

"That'll do...I want to get cleaned up a bit, won't be too long."

I sighed, and started the car up and headed off toward the motel a few blocks away. Claire looked melancholy all of a sudden and I guessed the stark reality of what had happened was starting to set in – and no doubt the stomach full of water was helping to sober her up a bit too.

"Sooo...what happened to me ol' mate, Mick?" I asked her, "Didn't he try and stop them from assaulting you?"

Claire laughed; she looked at me and laughed like I was a fucking idiot!

"Your old mate?" she laughed again and shook her head several times patronisingly, "Garry, your 'old mate' fucked me last! I can still feel his cum dribbling out of me now!"

I felt like an ice pick had been jammed in my chest, "What! I don't believe you; Mick wouldn't do that to me!"

She sniggered again, "Don't believe me....it doesn't really matter now you know," she hesitated for several moments, before continuing, "But he did...he wasn't all that good I must admit...too busy telling me a story of someone who once fucked his own wife many years ago to put any real effort in....but it didn't really matter, I'd pretty much had more than I could take anyway."

Suddenly it dawned on me what it was all about, and I knew she was telling me the truth – and I looked over to her, just as we pulled into the motel parking lot – suddenly engulfed in my own guilt.

"You know you got her pregnant, don't you?" Claire informed me coolly, "Mick knew it wasn't him 'cause he'd had a vasectomy a couple of years earlier, just after their second child. He'd found out quite by accident....found a pregnancy test kit in their bathroom one day when he'd come home early."

I sat there totally shell-shocked a second time in less than two hours as I listened to her.

"He apparently went off his brain....Kim had no choice in the end but to tell him," she continued, "Your old mate fucking hates you, you know? Said Kim was never the same after it...after the abortion...and her guilt put her down so low she was on anti-depressants for a couple of years....and she put on weight too, she's still quite fat, you know?"

Claire picked up the room keys from the console and got out of the car, unlocked the motel door, and hesitated a moment to look back at me for a moment, then went inside.

It all made sense now – Mick had setup an act of revenge!

My last drink; he'd given it to me with the top already off – he'd dropped a micky in it for sure. Fuck me, talk about holding a grudge!

I looked into the motel room – Claire had left the door open and I could see her getting undressed again. I wondered what they must have given her to get her to fuck a few of them. I wasn't up with the drugs they used these days, but I figured it had to be something; my wife just wasn't the type to play around – a bit of harmless flirting yes, but to allow her self to be tossed up – uh aah, not likely.

I went into the room and listened to Claire showering, and then picked up the kettle and went into the bathroom to fill it up – a cup of tea before we hit the road for the long drive home was in order, and I knew Claire would want a coffee.

After filling the kettle in the hand basin, I turned to look briefly at my pretty wife in the shower still washing herself – and she looked at me silently, while rubbing herself between the legs with a face washer.

"Are you going to be alright?" I asked with honest concern.

She nodded, "I'll be right...but don't think you'll be having sex with me for awhile...a couple of them had really big cocks you know," she said, smiling lewdly at me.

I shook my head in disbelief; never had I dreamt I'd be hearing my wife say something like that to me – not ever!

"Really?"

"Really!" she nodded smugly, "You bastard!"

Just as I was walking back out of the bathroom, Claire piped up again, "Do you wanna hear all the juicy detail, hmmm....what happened to me on the pool table as you slept not more than ten feet from me, hmmm....wouldn't you love to hear all about what they all did to your poor, innocent little wife?"

Turning back to her, I noticed her rubbing her breasts in slow circular motions, soaping them up quite sensuously – her long nipples standing out quite noticeably through the bubbles, "Not really, Claire, I think I could imagine it if I tried," I answered her honestly – quite ironic actually, as less than half an hour before I had wanted to know everything!

"Well my dear unfaithful, home-wrecking husband...oh yes, and one, not so blessed with what I now know to be pretty much as just an average-sized penis – guess what?" Claire said melodiously, "We'll be in the car for the next two days before we get home....and I'm going to tell you the lot!" she smiled derisively, "Whether you like it or not!"

Standing there with my stomach in knots, watching her for a moment longer, I could not but help notice that she seemed to be sexually charged, like nothing I had seen in her for years. She was even smiling at me with a somewhat whimsical look on her face as I watched her, whereas normally she would have been quite annoyed if I'd checked her out in the shower longer than she thought was polite.

I was about to leave the bathroom, when she turned around so her back faced me, and I couldn't help but notice that her lovely firm round arse, with its distinct tan lines from the small bikinis she wore, had several red welts crisscrossing her flesh – and a couple of quite obvious bite marks just above her thighs near her cleft.

The bastards!

"Your butt looks a bit sore," I observed, quite understatedly.

Claire looked over her shoulder at me; the shower water was trickling down the centre of her back in small rivulets, where it converged to run between her buttocks. She ran a soapy hand down to her bottom and sniggered, "Hmmm, my dear....it's sore alright....aah haa....and not just on the outside either!"

It was quite obvious as to what she was implying, although I found it hard to believe – Claire had never, ever been tempted with anal sex before, well not beyond a finger stuck up there occasionally. No – I think she was playing with me now, and stretching the bounds of truth just a bit too far – yes, that's what I thought.

"Have a better look, if you like...." Claire offered smugly, bending over and leaning on the edge of the bath, her posterior jutting outwards toward me just an arms length away, "....do you think it will be alright....hmmm?"

I know I should not have humoured her – I know I should not have looked – but of course I did, didn't I? Her legs were slightly apart; her back concaved with a degree of exaggeration made her display look quite prominent. And I looked with a morbid curiosity – her pudendum was still quite swollen and red looking, although her inner folds had started to contract a bit – no great surprises there, I thought, considering.

Claire looked back over her shoulder at me, and reached backwards with both hands as she supported herself against the shower wall with her shoulder, and she gripped a cheek of her arse in each hand...then pulled them apart.

"Well...do you think it'll be alright....hmmm?" she inquired croakily.

My eyes focused with intensity between her cheeks, "It doesn't look too good from here! For fuck's sake, Claire, what in hell were you thinking, you...you...fuckin' slut!" I said to her angrily.

My wife's little rosebud was also a reddened mess like her vagina – her sphincter still looked quite relaxed and I could see partway inside her stretched rectum, leaving me in no doubt as to the cause!

"I'm a slut? Hmmph..." she snapped back at me, "that's a laugh, you bastard! I've only been a slut for one night....you on the other hand; have been one for most of your rotten life! I think I've got a lot of catching up to do!" she suggested forcefully, as she straightened herself back up.