Caught in the Crossfire Ch. 10

His mind quickly flipped over to other things Dorn told him. His comment, 'Something to help make up your mind,' Santos found particularly amusing in light of the decision he'd made. Then he remembered what Dorn's statement is in reference to: the computer disk.

At first, Santos wasn't going to bother with it, thinking it was just a video log of the evidence Dorn gathered. Once he killed Dorn, the evidence won't matter. However, out of morbid curiously he put the disk into his computer.

If finding out that Dorn was banging his wife wasn't enough to shred his pride, then what he saw on the disk would.

It was a video, as Dorn had said, and professionally done by its look. The scene opens with Brittany, alone, sitting on the edge of a bed, fully clothed. Her green eyes, bright and cheerful, stared unblinking into the camera. This wasn't some shaky, dim-lighted amateur shit filmed with a camera phone. This was a steady, high definition digital recording with a lot of good, well-placed lighting.

Hello Santos, if you're watching this, it means I'm close to filing for divorce. Before I do that, however, I want to show you what I've been doing these past few weeks, ever since finding out about all the whores you've been fucking.

A man entered the frame. Naked, except for a leather bondage hood, he laid back on the bed next to Brittany. His cock was already hard, but when Brittany ran teasing fingers across it, Santos saw it stiffen further. Brittany smiled at the camera before giving the cockhead a little peck with her lips.

Fighting against his nature to snap the DVD in half, Santos continued watching in disbelief and rage as his wife transformed herself into a whore.

Standing, Brittany wiggled out of her skirt and panties and removed her blouse, only leaving on a pink t-shirt—the same t-shirt she wore to the party. When Brittany straddled the man's chest, assuming the sixty-none position, Santos was able to read the lettering on the t-shirt.

Slamming his fist down, he yelled, "God damn, cock-sucking bitch," and braking a corner off the heavy oaken table.

Santos heard his wife say:

Tongue my pussy a little, baby.

Her eyes went soft and half-lidded as the man grabs a hunk of her ass, pulling her behind into his hooded face.

She was silent for a while. Her whole face glowing with a dream-like quality of imparted bliss.

Santos could see the man's head working and shifting behind her ass, as he pushed his face deeper into her groin. Wrapping her fingers around the base of his massive cock, Brittany continued her narration:

See this Santos. This is a real man's cock. For the longest time I didn't know what I was missing until Jack opened my eyes. Now that I've tasted it and felt it deep inside me, I don't ever want to go back to that puny sausage you call a dick.

Smiling into the camera for effect, she added:

If you want to know how much of a whore for manly cock I've become, then watch.

Santos watched with both awe and revulsion as Brittany, slowly, methodically, and completely, swallowed the man's massive tool. She held his entire cock all the way in her mouth for the longest time while playing with his balls—massaging them with both sets of her fingers—kneading them and pulling them up to caress them with her nose. Just when Santos thought she would pass out from a lack of air, Brittany slowly pulled her head back, leaving a thick trail of drool that flowed down on the guy's member and across her fingers.

Looking back into the camera, she continued:

That's how much of a cock whore I've become. I mean, can you blame me? Look at it. Now look at your puny, little sausage. Go on, compare. I know you have your little weenie out by now, and you're stroking it as I blow a real man. It's okay to admit it turns you on watching your wife suck on a real man's cock. Here, let me help you get off.

She continued to look directly into the camera as she played lustfully with his member, taking long, exaggerated licks, or slow, balls deep, sucks, until her saliva dripped profusely off his cock.

Brittany then said, as heavy strands of saliva bridged the space between her chin and the man's member:

How was that? Good? Pretty hot, watching me blow a massive tool. Did you get off? What am I saying, of course you did. Hard not to, seeing me suck a fat cock right down to the balls like the total, fucking cock whore I've become. I know how much guys like you get off watching a real cock whore wife ply her trade. Here, let me show you again.

Once more, she took a short excursion to bob her mouth slowly along his shaft, ending with a loud and exaggerated sucking bite with pursed lips to his cockhead.

God, I'm so glad Jack opened my eyes to the wonders of a big cock. Once he had me begging him to fuck me anywhere he wants, he passed me around to his friends. Let me tell you, he has a lot of friends, and they all have fucking, massive tools.

She took another break to suck on her partner for a while, this time using her hands along with her mouth as she slowly bobbed and sucked.

God, he's so hard. Now, where was I? Oh yeah, I serviced all of Jack's friends, two, sometimes three, at a time. I begged them like a slut to fill all my holes at once, and they all were more than happy to oblige. Remember all those times I wouldn't let you butt fuck me? Well, Jack helped me change my mind about that, as well. Now, about the only thing I like better than gobbling down a fat one until he shoots a hot load down my throat, is taking that fat cock all the way into my ass.

Brittany turned her head away from the camera and talked to her partner:

Eat my puss-puss a little more, baby. Get me all nice and wet so that cock of yours slides into me good. That's it. Stick that tongue deep in there. Oh god, you're good! Way better than my husband.

Her eyes narrowed, as the same dreamy glow from before encapsulated her face. She drank in the full, mounting pleasure of bliss for a moment, before continuing:

You can imagine after taking ten and twelve inchers in every hole, that there was no way I could get off with your pathetic wiener. Fucking you became such a letdown. However, I did find a use for you, Santos. Each time I played with the bulls, I made sure they dumped a big load of cum deep in my snatch. Then I'd go home a let you eat it out of me. Don't you remember, about a month ago I started begging you to eat my pussy? You're not very good at it, but I didn't care about that.

She pauses for a moment as a sadistic smile creases her lips. Then she says:

I made you clean their cum out of my pussy. I made you my cuckold bitch...

Santos threw his fist into the monitor, smashing the screen. Although there was no longer a picture, the audio continued playing:

My very own cuckold bitch with a puny wiener, sucking all of their man cum out of my pus...

This time he brought his arm down onto the computer tower, silencing the audio. The smell of melting, plastic insulation and ozone filled the room as circuits continued to pop and fry.

Within moments, Santos was speeding down the highway and on his way to the Blue Moon Motel. He was in an unthinking and unstoppable rage. He still had enough awareness to put on his siren and portable red light, but not much more than that. As he raced down city streets, he didn't bother to wait for the other motorists to get out of his way, weaving recklessly in and out of traffic while leaning on his horn, or barely making sure intersections are clear before barreling through on his way to kill his wife.

He cut his siren and lights as he neared the motel.

Taking a pass once around the parking lot, he saw Brittany's Mercedes. There are no other cars around.

Santos wasn't going to wait. He'd take care of the bitch now, using his hands instead of his revolver, making it more personal and satisfying. Then he'd wait for lover-boy to show, and put a round through his head when Jack stepped into the room.

Tapping on her door, he heard Brittany say, "You sneak. You weren't supposed to be here until eight. Now I'm not ready."

Just as Brittany opened the door, Santos kicked it in hard, slamming the door square into her unsuspecting face.

Stumbling backwards from the blow, blood flowed unabated out of her broken nose, and almost instantaneously staining the front of her white blouse a deep crimson.

As Brittany reels back, nearly unconscious, Santos quickly closed the door before grabbing her by the collar.

He screamed, "You! Fucking! Cunt! Whore," punctuating each syllable with a hard slap to her face. Pushing her up against the wall, he wrapped his fingers around her neck, and lifted her off the floor. As her groundless feet flailed about, trying to kick him, Santos bore down with his full weight to her throat.

Through the fog of intermittent consciousness, she heard him say, "You want to choke on cock, huh bitch? I'll make you choke. I'm going to enjoy sending you to a deep and dark place."

Where are you, Jack? Where are you? she repeated to herself, as hope began to fade along with her awareness.

Then, a last, terrible thought crept into her mind as she fell into unconsciousness:

What if this is his plan all along?

Santos grinned malevolently into her face at seeing tears falling from her eyes, mistaking her look of sorrow and heartbreak at being betrayed, as one of pain and fear.