Wayward Wife's Punishment
Chapter 23
The next morning I awoke with a slightly sour taste in my mouth and a
mild headache from imbibing a bit too much. I had a few recollections of brief
parts of what had played out on the movie screen located somewhere inside my
head, but they meant nothing, a good sign. Over some strong coffee I mulled over
last night's ugly little surprise. I still was greatly concerned that things
were getting way out of hand down South.
I tried to reach Allie and Rod, but there was no answer; not too
meaningful since it was the weekend, the time most swingers did their thing. For
all I knew, they could be in another state doing the nasty. There were other
things to be done at home, important things like doing the damned laundry,
replenishing my refrigerator and planning for what would be required of me when
I returned to the rabbit warrens tomorrow. I dreaded Mondays, and now I had a
new reason to add to the regular pack of concerns, Jillian Jones.
There were slim pickings at the supermarket and the trim at the
laundromat was deplorable. Most of the hot chicks were not wasting their
weekends doing the laundry. They were too busy picking and choosing from the
hordes of sex-mad males desperately trying to land some ass before the winter
set in.
You have no idea how bad the winters can be in Minneapolis. Below zero
is a way of life and god help you if it snows early, because you'll be slipping
and sliding through that crap for three months. Sure, some of the locals lived
for driving their snowmobiles through the wilderness, and others with money
could fly out and do some weekend skiing. The rest of us had to hunker down in
the stygian darkness of a Minnesota winter and tough it out with only the
assistance of massive quantities of alcohol which had the potential to kill lots
and lots of brain cells.
Returning late in the afternoon, I took a chance and gave my in-laws
another call and got through to Allie. As I had suspected, they had been out and
about, swapping bodily fluids with some friends and acquaintances. As soon as I
brought up the subject of Jill and the Nurse Nora tape she started getting very
defensive. I pressed her for information on Jill's health and current location;
I did not like the answers I got.
My wayward wife was in the hospital, this time as an in-patient,
recovering from the injuries she suffered from her encounter with Nora and her
nasty friends. Allie made light of this, stating that her sister had just gotten
what she deserved, and wasn't worth my time or sympathy.
"Your wife is a whore; she's still a whore, and it's my guess that once
she gets out of the hospital and meets up with the parson she may just turn into
a dead whore. That's no great loss to society since she wasn't even smart enough
to get paid for it."
I sputtered and fussed, trying to figure out what to say next. I had
just been told to mind my own business and let nature take its course, even if
it meant my tramp of a wife would no longer be occupying the same dimension as
those of us who claimed to be alive. Rather than continue this one-sided
exchange, I inquired as to when Allie expected her sister to be well enough to
face the meat grinder known as the parson.
There was a long pause, a sigh, and then Allie broke the news that her
sister might be permanently crippled as a result of the damage done while she
gave "birth". There were some rather severe internal injuries that might take
months to fully heal, and there were other problems that would never be totally
resolved. Then Allie laughed and added.
"She's got a nest of hemorrhoids from this little clambake that will
make taking it in the ass nothing but major pain and suffering for as long as
she lives. That's poetic justice if you ask me."
I took my leave at this point, telling her to send my regards to Rod and
let me know if there were any major changes in my wife's situation. Allie
grunted and mumbled something to the effect that she didn't think she'd be
calling me for at least a couple of months. I sat there listening to the dial
tone for quite some time before I hung up.
Ten minutes later it was a whole new ballgame. I picked up the phone and
heard a familiar voice cursing my ancestry and asking if I'd missed her. WooWoo
had returned from the wars. All I could do was stutter and try to think up
something clever to say. I gave up and told her the truth.
"I've been thinking about you lately. I'm glad to hear your voice, very
glad. Sorry I didn't plan a welcome home speech that might have impressed you.
Things have not been going well these days."
The little man in my head responsible for dialogue kicked me squarely in
what passed for my slats in the metaworld in which he lived. I noted having been
suitably chastised for my breach of propriety. Shirley's giggle interrupted my
musing; it was good to hear laughter, even if I was the butt of the joke.
"I've been kind of busy taking care of some personal business and now
that it's done I decided to come back to the land of ice and snow to see if a
certain rat-bastard of a round eye was still in town. Looks as if he is. Wanna
fuck, big boy?" Her offer floored me to put it mildly.
"To tell the truth I'd much rather just cuddle if you don't mind my
wimpiness too much." I replied.
Shirley snorted and said, "Nice try asshole. Who do you think you're
dealing with, some dumb, gum chewing bimbo whose IQ is less than her bust size?
That line is out, old, stale, dated, passe, all words that sort of describe you.
I must be suffering from some disease to even bother thinking about you, let
alone waste my time on this lame call."
There was one of those pregnant pauses and then her silvery giggle
tickled my eardrum. Actually it felt more like she had just stuck her narrow
tongue inside my ear and was cleaning the wax out. Little Mikey woke from his
long slumber and stretched his worm-like shape into something resembling
rigidity. A variety of fantasy scenes involving me and a naked Shirley Wu
flashed across the silver screen as the trailer repeated the words " Coming
Attractions". All was well in Minneapolis.
"Look Jon, I just got in today and my place is a fucking mess. I did
miss you and yes, I do want you to fuck my brains out among other things when we
get together. The best I can offer is my bare body in your bed no later than 9PM
tomorrow night. That means you provide the take out and it damned well better
not be Chinese either; I am so fucking tired of eating Chinese food I could
scream."
Her words made me more than just a happy camper. They sort of restored
my faith in myself. I hadn't been lying to her when I said things had not gone
well. I debated about whether or not to make a clean breast of it all, but
tabled that decision until I survived tomorrow at the tunnels.
All things considered, the day went as well as could be expected for a
Monday. The only real downer was another close encounter of the nasty kind with
Mistress JJ, my new nickname for the ball buster. She had upped her generous
offer for my services, promising me access to her roommate on an on-demand basis
for the next three months. As she so nastily put it, "This will keep all of us
busy during those long, cold, dark months of winter, and solidify my position as
the mistress of the house when it comes to the relationship between me and dear
Frances."
It was a tempting offer, but it still let her get off the hook without
allowing me to do any payback when it came to putting things right with her. I
told her a little white lie, I was getting good at shading the truth, and said
her offer was a most tempting one and I'd like some time to consider it more
closely. From the look on her face, I knew that was not the answer she was
expecting. Things between us were far from settled, and we both knew it. I still
wanted the chance to tear up that broad ass as a down payment on what she owed
me.
My bell rang a little after 7 that evening and there she was, or what
was left of her, Shirley Wu. It was hard to believe that she could have lost any
weight considering her skinny frame, but it looked as if she had perhaps dumped
ten percent of her body mass, which put her in the concentration camp category.
I was almost afraid of hurting her when we got close enough to embrace, but I
chanced it and was richly rewarded with perhaps a foot of WooWoo tongue that
snaked its way into my mouth as she rubbed her super bony bod against mine. In
contrast to her I felt like the Pillsbury doughboy or maybe that weird character
that represents the radial tire maker.
"I guess you didn't like Chinese food much, or is this a ploy to get
some sympathy from me so I won't punish you for not dropping me a postcard?" I
said, trying to make light of matters. Then I added, "No enema for you tonight
young lady, not until I can crawl in bed with you without worrying that one of
your sharp elbows or hip bones will stab me in some vital place."
WooWoo was still quick on the uptake as she shot back, "Hey, no fair!
I've been counting the days until some nice guy will give me two or three quarts
of really hot soapy water and make me hold it while he abuses my naked body.
Don't tell me that in my absence you've turned into one of those sensitive,
smarmy, wimpy excuses for a man."
"Any more talk like that trooper and it will go hard on you, very hard
and in many places." I said, doing my best imitation of a British sergeant
major.
"Promises, promises, that's all I've been getting for the last six
weeks. No one in Hong Kong seems to want to fuck anymore. They're all too busy
making money to spend any time making a nice Chinese girl happy for the few
brief moments they need to shoot their little peckers off. I don't know how many
batteries I've gone through since I left. If I'd been smart I would have bought
stock in the company that made them."
The emaciated, but still exotic-looking, black haired teen wolfed down a
pizza that was bigger than her head, a sure sign that she was happy to be back
and hanging around with yours truly; at least that's what I was hoping. She may
have her quirks, who doesn't, but at least she seemed to be able to play things
pretty straight unlike a large portion of the female population. I, for one, was
getting tired of being the victim or fall guy for something that some other
asshole had done to the woman who was making me pay for it.
A few minutes after finishing the pizza WooWoo made a beeline for the
bathroom where I could hear her puking her guts out. I waited discretely until
the sounds of her upchucking were replaced by coughing and then a few choice
curse words in what was probably her native tongue. I knocked on the bathroom
door, inquiring if there was anything I could do for her. She hollered for me to
get lost and then I heard her start to cry big time, and it wasn't about that
damned pizza either.
These are the moments most men try to avoid like the plague, because
there isn't usually a damned thing you can do about what triggered off the
crying jag in the first place. I had a pretty good idea, but broaching that
matter was like sticking your head into a lioness' mouth after she's spent the
night being jumped by a randy lion thirty times or so. That is, by the way, the
only reason that this pile of lazy big cat holds the title of king of the
beasts. For a moment I had an image of JJ staked out in the veldt being jumped
by a pack of randy lions. Now that's something I'd pay to see.
In time WooWoo exited from the bathroom and joined me in the kitchen.
"My eyes were too big for my stomach. Got any bread?" Shirley asked. I did and
watched as she ate three slices without anything on them, chewing slowly and
seeming to relish the taste of such pedestrian fare. When she was done I
suggested she join me for a nice hot shower before we called it a night.
Seeing her naked wasn't the turn on I thought it would be. There was way
too much bone poking out of her pale skin. Counting her ribs was now a no
brainer, and I noticed that for some reason her pussy was freshly shaven. I
dismissed the idea that it was an invitation for me to go down on her, since
pubic hair was never an issue when it came to having lunch at the Y. I remember
we had discussed this matter one afternoon while we were resting up for round
three or was it four?
We played a little grab ass in the shower, but our hearts weren't really
in it. I did however rub the palm of my hand up and down her slick slit and she
gave a shiver that told me there was still some life in that shrunken form. I
toweled her off and she stood there like a little girl and let daddy do all the
work. I started to get aroused for the first time this evening. Little Mikey was
up and about, sensing that there might be work for him shortly.
Once in bed we made a half hearted attempt to do the nasty. Although the
spirit may have been willing, the body, namely Shirley's, was dry, too dry for
Mikey to get any kind of a purchase. She suggested we try some lubricant which
meant I had to remove myself from the warmth we had just begun to create. When I
returned, tube in hand, daddy's little girl was fast asleep. I could only hope
that her dreams were pleasant ones, possibly involving a bulked-up version of
yours truly. Slipping beneath the covers I cuddled her against my body and fell
into a dreamless sleep. It's funny how my little joke of last night had come
true.
The next morning it took a major effort of the will to leave the warmth
and comfort of my bed, not to mention having to release the physical bond that
had joined the two of us together as though our bodies had fused into one. To
add insult to injury there was that eerie sound known to those of us who have
previously dealt with a Minnesota winter. Sometime during the night a mass of
cold air had dropped down from our neighbor to the North, the first of many. It
was a bit ahead of schedule if one dared to attempt to understand the vagaries
of Mother Nature. WooWoo was still asleep when I left for another day in the
tunnels.
Two calls drew nothing but my answering machine telling me to leave a
message. Even though I shouted into the phone for WooWoo to pick up I never got
her. That evening after returning home and freezing my butt just going from my
car to the apartment door, I discovered that Shirley had left me something. I
picked up the composition book, the kind we used in grade and high school, and
opened to the first page. My heart nearly stopped when I read what was written
there.
Trainers Log
Subject: Willa Cabot
( To be continued )
