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CougarGirl
Star
- Joined
- Nov 5, 2013
It was Sara who found the body. She’d got up early to clear away of the debris of their party the night before and to get breakfast ready for their guests. She happened to glance out of the kitchen window and there it was. A man, white, wearing blue shorts. And from the position of his body, it was obvious he was dead.
She’d just finished explaining what she’d found to the 911 operator when Julie blundered into the kitchen. Bleary eyes and still hung over from the night before, she asked Sara if she’d seen Tom. And that was when it dawned on Sara: the body was Tom.
The officer who attended was cute and efficient. Efficient at consoling Julie and discovering that she had only the most hasty recollection of the previous evening and night. Efficient at finding out who else was in the house. That was easy, only Paul, Sara’s husband. He was still asleep after returning from his shift in the early hours of the morning. And efficient at getting some sense out of Sara. It came out in a shock-induced jumble, but it all helped to establish the likely time line.
Sara and her guests, Tom and Julie, had had supper and then sat down to wait for Paul to get back from his shift work. They started drinking and kept on drinking and in the end they couldn’t wait any longer and just went to bed.
At 2.30 exactly, Sara was woken by noises from the guest bedroom. Tom and Julie were fucking. The bed was creaking and the headboard was banging into the wall that separated the bedrooms. And Julie was moaning and screaming. ‘They must have forgotten I was there,’ Sara said. ‘Probably they were too drunk to realise where they were.’ It was over by 2.45 and Tom crawled into bed beside Sara a few minutes later. He was tired from his shift but Sara, having listened to heavy sex from next door, didn’t intend to be left out, so with a bit of encouragement Tom did the same for her.
When Tom finally woke, he confirmed his time of arrival and said he’d not seen any sign of anyone in or around the house. It was in darkness and he just felt his way around to his bedroom and collapsed into bed. ‘Yes,’ he admitted sheepishly, ‘his wife was horny, she’s often like that, so we have sex before I fall asleep.’
The officer was just as efficient at questioning all the neighbours, but they had nothing to tell him, having all been sound asleep. And the autopsy was inconclusive. Tom had died from hitting his head on the corner of the patio. But why was he outside? And did he fall or was he pushed? In the end, without any suspect, the police decided it was just one of those unexplained accidents.
A few weeks later, Sara was sitting next to Paul on the sofa, sipping some wine and chatting about this and that.
‘I know it was you,’ she remarked casually.
Paul looked round.
‘What do you mean?’
‘It was you who killed Tom, Paul. I know it was you, and I know how you did it and why.’
Paul stared at her.
‘What on earth are you talking about, Sara?’
‘It had to be you. I knew that. You were the only one around and the only one with a motive.’
‘Motive, what motive?’
‘You knew Tom and I had had an affair.’
Paul said nothing.
‘Tom must have gone outside for some fresh air. You saw him when you got home and hit him or pushed him.’
‘No, Sara, it can’t have happened that way. You said Tom was alive just before I arrived back. Remember.’
‘I was wrong, Paul. I assumed the awful noise was Tom fucking Julie, but it wasn’t, it couldn’t have been. He was too tired to perform like that and probably too drunk to get it up at all. I know him, remember. No that wasn’t Tom fucking his wife.’
‘Then who was it?’
‘It was you, Paul. You saw the bottles and knew we’d all be drunk. Julie wouldn’t know who was fucking her. You just went in, climbed aboard and made sure you woke me up. Then, having created your alibi, you came into our room as if you’d just arrived back from work.’
Paul put down his drink.
‘And another thing. It took you a while to get hard. That’s not like you, you’re always up for a fuck when you get back from work, however tired you are. Except this time you were extra tired after that fucking you’d given Julie and you’d just cum.’
Paul was very quiet, unnaturally quiet.
‘You see,’ Sara concluded, ‘that the only way that everything makes sense. It had to be you. But don’t worry,’ she leant across and kissed her husband, ‘I’m not going to tell anyone. In fact, I’m rather proud that you love me enough to kill my lover.’
Paul took Sara by her shoulders.
‘No, Sara, it wasn’t like that. For a start, I didn’t know you and Tom had had an affair. Julie and I were having an affair, still are in fact. I came back a bit earlier than usual and found him outside. Julie and I had talked about divorcing and getting married. I saw my chance to make things a bit easier for us. Then I went upstairs and gave Julie a good fucking. We never intended to wake you. But she didn’t know Tom was dead, so she was really excited thinking he might walk in on us any minute.’
Now it was Sara’s turn to stare.
‘So the question is,’ said Paul coldly, ‘what am I going to do with you?’
She’d just finished explaining what she’d found to the 911 operator when Julie blundered into the kitchen. Bleary eyes and still hung over from the night before, she asked Sara if she’d seen Tom. And that was when it dawned on Sara: the body was Tom.
The officer who attended was cute and efficient. Efficient at consoling Julie and discovering that she had only the most hasty recollection of the previous evening and night. Efficient at finding out who else was in the house. That was easy, only Paul, Sara’s husband. He was still asleep after returning from his shift in the early hours of the morning. And efficient at getting some sense out of Sara. It came out in a shock-induced jumble, but it all helped to establish the likely time line.
Sara and her guests, Tom and Julie, had had supper and then sat down to wait for Paul to get back from his shift work. They started drinking and kept on drinking and in the end they couldn’t wait any longer and just went to bed.
At 2.30 exactly, Sara was woken by noises from the guest bedroom. Tom and Julie were fucking. The bed was creaking and the headboard was banging into the wall that separated the bedrooms. And Julie was moaning and screaming. ‘They must have forgotten I was there,’ Sara said. ‘Probably they were too drunk to realise where they were.’ It was over by 2.45 and Tom crawled into bed beside Sara a few minutes later. He was tired from his shift but Sara, having listened to heavy sex from next door, didn’t intend to be left out, so with a bit of encouragement Tom did the same for her.
When Tom finally woke, he confirmed his time of arrival and said he’d not seen any sign of anyone in or around the house. It was in darkness and he just felt his way around to his bedroom and collapsed into bed. ‘Yes,’ he admitted sheepishly, ‘his wife was horny, she’s often like that, so we have sex before I fall asleep.’
The officer was just as efficient at questioning all the neighbours, but they had nothing to tell him, having all been sound asleep. And the autopsy was inconclusive. Tom had died from hitting his head on the corner of the patio. But why was he outside? And did he fall or was he pushed? In the end, without any suspect, the police decided it was just one of those unexplained accidents.
A few weeks later, Sara was sitting next to Paul on the sofa, sipping some wine and chatting about this and that.
‘I know it was you,’ she remarked casually.
Paul looked round.
‘What do you mean?’
‘It was you who killed Tom, Paul. I know it was you, and I know how you did it and why.’
Paul stared at her.
‘What on earth are you talking about, Sara?’
‘It had to be you. I knew that. You were the only one around and the only one with a motive.’
‘Motive, what motive?’
‘You knew Tom and I had had an affair.’
Paul said nothing.
‘Tom must have gone outside for some fresh air. You saw him when you got home and hit him or pushed him.’
‘No, Sara, it can’t have happened that way. You said Tom was alive just before I arrived back. Remember.’
‘I was wrong, Paul. I assumed the awful noise was Tom fucking Julie, but it wasn’t, it couldn’t have been. He was too tired to perform like that and probably too drunk to get it up at all. I know him, remember. No that wasn’t Tom fucking his wife.’
‘Then who was it?’
‘It was you, Paul. You saw the bottles and knew we’d all be drunk. Julie wouldn’t know who was fucking her. You just went in, climbed aboard and made sure you woke me up. Then, having created your alibi, you came into our room as if you’d just arrived back from work.’
Paul put down his drink.
‘And another thing. It took you a while to get hard. That’s not like you, you’re always up for a fuck when you get back from work, however tired you are. Except this time you were extra tired after that fucking you’d given Julie and you’d just cum.’
Paul was very quiet, unnaturally quiet.
‘You see,’ Sara concluded, ‘that the only way that everything makes sense. It had to be you. But don’t worry,’ she leant across and kissed her husband, ‘I’m not going to tell anyone. In fact, I’m rather proud that you love me enough to kill my lover.’
Paul took Sara by her shoulders.
‘No, Sara, it wasn’t like that. For a start, I didn’t know you and Tom had had an affair. Julie and I were having an affair, still are in fact. I came back a bit earlier than usual and found him outside. Julie and I had talked about divorcing and getting married. I saw my chance to make things a bit easier for us. Then I went upstairs and gave Julie a good fucking. We never intended to wake you. But she didn’t know Tom was dead, so she was really excited thinking he might walk in on us any minute.’
Now it was Sara’s turn to stare.
‘So the question is,’ said Paul coldly, ‘what am I going to do with you?’