‘It looks to me that the poor bastard had been being cuckolded for some time; perhaps even years,’ I thought as I pondered the events of that night.
I’d thought about going after him, but I’d dropped my car off at home and had walked back to the club. The local police constable had had me in his sights. I’d ignored his flashing lights after he’d followed me home one night and I’d turned into my driveway. Having only had one beer on that occasion, I was as sober as he was and had offered to submit to his breathalyser test. For some obscure legal reason, he couldn’t test me in my own driveway, so the officious little dickhead had put me on notice. I knew he was out to get me.
As I sat at my table finishing my drink, I overheard the young blowhard boasting about his achievement. It appeared that — according to him, at least — because his cabin was still occupied, Marleen had spent a couple of hours cleaning and preparing the other three cabins in preparation for the incoming guests. She arrived at his cabin at about nine-forty-five, and he offered her a cup of coffee before she started work on his accommodation. She apparently accepted.
“One thing then led to another,” he said, “and the next thing we were both naked and were going at it like rabbits in my bed. ”
“Was that your first time with Jimmy Brown’s wife?” one member of his audience asked. I looked around me, and it appeared that all the married men — at least all those whose wives had been in attendance — had been hustled out of the club.
I’d finished my beer, so I walked over to the bar and requested a refill. I had intended to leave, but I wanted to know just how much damage this bastard had done to a man I had come to consider a friend.
“Nah,” the young man responded, “Jimmy Brown’s wife and I have been going at it for years. In fact, I’d be surprised if most of his kids weren’t mine.
“Except for the first one,” he said. “you’ve only got to take one look at her to see which father fathered that one.” A snide chuckle came from a few of the older members of his audience.
I found it interesting that they all knew Marleen’s name, but they always referred to her as Jimmy Brown’s wife. That had to be the ultimate put-down. It was clear that none of them had even an ounce of respect for the man. Neither, obviously, did his wife.
“Or they could belong to one of you blokes,” he continued. “Hands up all you bastards who have sent Jimmy Brown’s wife home to him with the taste of your cum in her mouth and a pussy full of your sperm for him to clean out of her.” I had my back to them, but I could see seven hands raised in acknowledgement reflected in the plate glass window through which I was looking. From my reflected view, I could only identify the owner of one of those hands. It belonged to Ian Henry. My boss.
“Well, you’ll be pleased to know that you’ll now have another hole to plunder,” the horsebreaking Lothario told them. “I broke her to arse-fucking today, and she loves it. She’s still only new at it, so you’ll have to take it a bit easy the first few times. She was only able to take me twice, but I emptied my balls into her both times. She also took two loads in her mouth and three in her twat.