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'Damn women,' George thought angrily, 'can't live with them, can't live without them, no deposit, no return.' He rolled over in his bed and looked at Lynn sleeping peacefully, then slid out of bed and padded into the living room. He slumped on one end of the couch, punching one of the little pillows into a more comfortable position as he lay back on the arm.

It had been five months now since he had found Lynn and brought her back home with him. Five months since he found his wife being beaten on a street by a pimp and his enforcer. He'd listened to her story and found it plausible. He'd made doctor appointments for her and had asked that she be tested for all kinds of diseases.

He'd known Dr. Baker since he was a child. Well, ol' doc had delivered him into this world, after all. She had a case of Syphilis and some 'residual diarrhea', whatever the hell that was, but no AIDs or anything else. Doc had also told them that she had scars from the rough vaginal and anal sex she'd been subjected to, but it wouldn't cause her any problems with having children. If indeed they wanted children. He did seem somewhat surprised that she hadn't been forced onto hard drugs to keep her in line. That was the usual practice.

He also confirmed that the scars on her ankles were from the plastic handcuffs Joseph used to tie her to the bed when she wasn't working. He'd kept her purse and her clothes and locked her up in the motel room until it was time for her to go to work. Then he'd cut off the plastic cuffs, hand her clothes back, and take her to the bar for work.

"Well," Dr. Baker said, "plastic cuffs were a damn sight cheaper to acquire than hard drugs. This way if they were busted, they wouldn't be facing any drug charges. Plus if she wasn't found wearing the cuffs, it would be a simple case of he said, she said as to whether she was kept captive or kidnapped."

'Christ, eight months of hooking for Joseph and only one case of clap,' he thought. He'd known guys in the Army who'd been there done that every month. And, after all, she'd been forced into it. There was no doubt of that.

George had been vigilant since he brought her home, but had not noticed anything or anybody out of place in his neighborhood. He'd wondered for a while how much Willie was pissed about not getting her since he'd paid Joseph, but George figured that the problem was Willie's and Joseph's, not his. He had changed his working hours some so he was leaving and coming home at different times and he tried to take different ways back and forth to work. He'd also talked to his cousin Larry over in Junction City about borrowing a gun, and then he had stashed it, loaded, in the back of the house. He didn't know how long he would have to be watching his back, but after this much time, he was thinking that things had blown over and they were safe. Of course, Joseph did have her purse with her ID in it. Well, rather safe than sorry, he'd keep his guard up for a while longer.

No, it was just that after this long with her back in the house he still had problems thinking about her with all of those men. Every night of the week, bringing home as many men as she could fuck and then giving the money to Joseph. That was a hell of a lot of sex. He knew that the AIDs would show up at the six month mark at the latest and it had been five months now. She wasn't positive so far, thank God, and she had taken her fifth test last week.

So why couldn't he make love to her? She hadn't forced herself on him, choosing to let him make the choice for them. He had held her, cuddled her, stroked her back, let her know he was there and she was safe, but he hadn't made a move to have sex with her. Not even a blowjob, even with a condom. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what tricks she had learned while away.

'To go from multiple times nightly to nothing overnight and then longer must be hell on her,' he thought. 'Maybe we should have gone in for some marriage counseling or something when I got her back home. I think I will talk to her about setting it up when I get home tomorrow from work. Maybe a third party could help him sort out some of his feelings.' Finally feeling a little better, he went back to bed. He did have to get up early tomorrow for work.

The next day at work, Jimmy the new guy was getting a box in the back room when everyone heard him scream in pain. George was one of the first ones back there and was moving the box off of him when Harold his boss arrived. Jimmy had slipped off a stepstool and landed on his back with the box on top of him. After they got him up and looked him over, they decided that maybe he had dislocated his shoulder. He didn't have any obviously broken bones. He would have some nasty bruises for a while, that was for sure.

"George, take Jimmy to the hospital and then take him home after that," said Harold. "I don't want him to work any more today. After that, just go on home and I'll see you tomorrow."

Then turning to Jimmy he said, "You just take it easy for a couple of days. I'll take care of the workman's comp paperwork. Don't worry about your job or anything else, just get healed up, ok?"

Jimmy said, "Okay."

George nodded and helped Jimmy out to his truck. Two hours later, George helped Jimmy to his front door and explained what had happened to Jimmy's wife, Maureen. After he gave her the pills for Jimmy from the doctor, George drove on home. When he got to his street, he kept driving past the house. A black foreign car was sitting in his driveway and he didn't know who owned it. He also noticed that all the curtains were closed across the front of the house.

With a bad feeling in his heart and a cold block of ice in his gut, he drove around the block. He pulled into the alley and drove slowly until he was behind the neighbor's house. He stopped and turned off the motor. There were trees, shrubs, and board fences along the alley. He was sure he could get to the back of the house to see what was going on inside. His cousin's gun was just inside the back door in a closet. He moved into his back yard and waited a moment between his garden shed and the lilac bush. He didn't see anyone in the yard and these curtains were all drawn also.

'Crap,' he thought. 'Let's just hope the back screen door is still unlocked'. He edged up to the door and gave it a tug. It was unlocked. Pulling the keys from his pocket he quietly unlocked the inside door and moved into the mud room. He stood still and listened for any sounds, but all he could hear was the pounding of his pulse.

He retrieved the gun from the closet, checked it again to make sure that it was loaded, and slipped the safety off. His hands were sweaty and he gripped the gun tightly so it wouldn't slip. Then he quietly opened the door into the kitchen and looked to see whether anyone was waiting as a lookout. Nobody was there. Good. He moved through the kitchen towards the living room and could hear low murmuring sounds. It didn't sound like a conversation. He dropped to his knees before looking around the door.

He saw some naked black guy sitting in his easy chair looking towards the sofa and stroking his dick.

'That must be Willie,' George thought. 'Looks like the shit is going to hit the fan.' George held his position for a moment listening to the sounds. Now that he was closer, he realized it was the sounds that Lynn made when they were making love. Just then, Willie stood up and moved towards the sofa.

"All right now," he said. "Carl, you just hold her tight on your black snake. I know you got her pussy stretched out, so let me see if I can tighten her back up for you. Grab her ass cheeks and hold her open. You just relax now bitch, and let ol' Willie check your plumbing for you." Then he laughed.

It was a cold evil sound that made the hair on the back of George's neck stand up straight. He lifted the gun up in front of him using both hands to keep it steady. It was a S&W .38 and was the heaviest gun he had ever held. He heard a muffled scream and guessed that Willie had just invaded her poop chute.

"Ha, bitch," Willie laughed again, "you thought I was going to lube you up first, didn't ya'. Well guess again, whore. Willie likes a tight ass and lube don't make it tight. You ought to know by now that I'm not your wimpy ass husband. I do what I damn well want to with my whores."

George heard the slap slap of balls on wet ass as Willie pounded Lynn. A cold rage filled him as he heard what was going on, but he wasn't sure how he could get her out of there while they were still using her.

Then Willie said, "C'mon Joseph, quit messin' around and dump your load down her throat. She's going to lick her shit off my dick when I get through and I don't want you standing in my way."

That was too much. He couldn't stand it anymore, so George rose up off of his knees and stepped all the way into the room to cast a quick look around. It was just the three of them fucking Lynn in her three holes. Joseph was the first to spot him and his eyes opened wide when he saw the gun. He didn't have a chance to say anything before the slug went through his head. The noise caused everyone to jump, including George. He had to re-aim and was looking at the back of Willie's head when Willie leaned down and forward over Lynn's back. It didn't matter. George pulled the trigger and brains and blood spattered all over the living room wall. He moved slightly to the side to take out Carl, but it didn't matter. He stood and looked at Carl and Lynn. Oh, shit. The bullet had gone through Willie and then both of them. Putting the gun down, George moved to call 911.

The police detectives and crime unit were in his house the rest of the evening. They took George to the station for questioning. Phone calls were made and inquiries were answered. Time moved slowly for George. He replayed the whole scene in his head, over and over again, like some cheap porn flick that was stuck on permanent replay. Finally, Larry arrived from Junction City still wearing his uniform.

He looked at George for a moment then asked, "You okay George?"

Slowly, George nodded his head and answered, "Yeah, I'm fine. Physically, anyway. I think I'm going to be fucked up in the head for awhile, but yeah, I'm okay."

Larry watched him carefully while he answered, then said, "They're all dead, but I guess you knew that. I didn't know that a bullet from my gun would go through three heads at one time, but damn, I do now. Hell of a way to find out that little fact."

He stood still for a moment then added, "I'm really sorry about Lynn. If it is okay with you, I'll make the funeral arrangements for her. The rest of the family doesn't need to know the details of what happened. You just leave that part to me."

He turned to leave the room then said, "Oh, and Harold said you get the next two weeks off and he'll see you when you get back to work."

Then Larry nodded as if he was mentally checking things off on a list, and then he left.

Detective Watson came into the room as Larry left. "Damn, George. I didn't know your cousin was the Police Chief over in Junction City. I gave him back his gun. We don't need anything else from you. No charges will be filed against you since a jury would just toss the case out anyway. Temporary insanity, jealous rage, whatever some lawyer would call it.

I'm really sorry you lost your wife, but I'm damn glad those other three are gone. You are free to go. One of the guys will give you a ride home." Then he got up and left the room.

George sat still for a while, feeling a hundred years old. 'Well,' he thought, 'guess I don't need to worry about marriage counseling.'

Then stopping himself short he thought, 'I wonder who I can get to help me clean up the mess?' Then he vomited all over the floor.



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