A Cops Revenge Part 2

A Cops Revenge Part 2


"Terry, I swear to God! It's....it's...."

It's what? Not what it looks like? Are you fucking kidding me, Liza? Are you seriously going to use that fucking cliché on me right now? How the fuck do you think I knew what was going on here tonight if it's not what it looks like? How do you think I knew to be here at this exact moment?

Liza just stood there, horrified, trying to figure out some way of downplaying the whole scenario. But she had nothing. There was nothing to try and take away what had been going on for three years.
THREE...FUCKING...YEARS!!! For three years, Marty made his little three-day business trip to Red River Falls and scheduled it for days he knew I would be working; a schedule he could only get from my lovely wife, Liza.

Terry, Marty said, trying to get up and spitting blood as he spoke, it isn't as bad as it looks, I swear. It's just...a little fantasy, that's all.

"Bullshit, Marty. You can't even remotely sound convincing. Both of you should know that I know the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I knew what was going to go on here tonight and I know what has been going on for the last three years!"
No, Ty. It isn't like that, man. I swear! This was the first time we were goanna-

WHAM! I cold cocked, that motherfucker right in the mouth again.

Do you like getting punched in the fucking face, Marty? Because every time I hear even a hint of a lie or any other bullshit coming out of that mouth of yours, I'm going to do my level best to try and punch my fist all the way down your fucking throat! Do you understand me?

Marty just held up his hands in defeat as he laid there gasping for breath and trying to grit through the pain from my assault.

Both of you are lucky I locked my gun in my safe. I really had a strong inclination to shoot you both in your cheating fucking heads.

How...how much...do you...know? Marty stammered.
I think the question you want to ask, Marty, is 'how much do Marsha and I know?

Marty laid there and closed his eyes as he realized who had given him away.

I got-to hand it to your wife, Marty. She's obviously a halva lot less naïve and not even remotely as stupid as I am. Somehow, she figured out that you were going to be on business (finger quotes) in Red River Falls, the same town where your supposed good friends lived.
Marsha wanted to know why you'd schedule a business trip here and not mention anything. Then apparently, she looked at your schedule from last year and figured out you made a trip here back then, too....and never said a fucking word about it.

I never I mean.

Don't even waste your fucking breath, Marty. She was on to you. And she followed through. Apparently, you don't know a whole halva lot about phone security. Because she was able to get somebody to crack your phone and dig up almost TWENTY-FIVE-FUCKING-THOUSAND text messages between you and my wife going back over three years! Three years of the two of you planning to fuck around behind Marsha's and my back! Three years of you planning to dupe us and humiliate us! Three years of treating us like we were the lowest form of life on earth!

No, Terry, Marty objected. It was...never like that. We never...wanted to hurt...anyone, he struggled.

Marty's right, Sweetheart, Liza stammered, quietly sobbing. We would never intentionally hurt or humiliate either of you! That was never what this was about! It was just an attraction we couldn't control!

I dropped my arms to my side and menacingly approached my wife, still clutching my police baton in a threatening way, a look of absolute hatred and loathing on my face. Liza could see it. She had never seen that look on my face before and she was petrified.

First off, I said softly, do not ever...ever...EVER...call me sweetheart again! Don't call me lover...or honey...or babe...or any other term of affection, for that matter.

Liza just stood there shaking and nodding her head, and secondly, you most certainly did have every intention of hurting and humiliating me.

No, swee -- er, I mean, Terry, no!

Do you have any idea...what it's like to read a text message...where your wife talks about giving her cheating lover...a fucking blow job...and tells her lover...how she plans to kiss her husband...ME... later, on that day...without brushing her fucking teeth? So that she still has the taste of her lover's penis and cum on her lips and breath and tongue when she degrades and humiliates her husband later-on that day when he comes home from his ridiculously dangerous job of protecting this town and her citizens? Really, Liza? Do you have any idea how that makes a man feel? To know that his wife has that little respect for him. After twelve years of marriage?

Liza looked at me in shock and in horror. Terry, I mean how and then she collapsed on the stairs in a fit of uncontrollable sobbing.

Terry, Marty lisped through his swelling lips and broken teeth. Come on, man...don't...take it out...on Liza, bro. I'm...the one you should be...pissed at, he stuttered through the pain.

Bro? Did you just call me bro? Are you fucking kidding me? Let me paraphrase from a text message you sent Liza earlier today when you talked about how you couldn't wait to fuck Liza in our marital bed so you could claim her pussy as yours. Let me remind you of how you told her that you even wanted to go so far as to fuck her on MY side of the bed so that I would have to sleep in your dried up cum and Liza's cunt juices that very same night! Does that sound very brotherly to you, you fucking asshole???

Marty just lay there and cowered, looking away from me in his shame. But it was only shame in the fact that he got caught, not the fact that he was fucking his friend's wife in the first place.

Oh, Terry, Liza sobbed. I'm so, so, sorry! I'm so terribly sorry!
You know? I can never figure out why it is that people who get caught cheating are so remorseful when they get caught. I can't understand why it is that the idea of getting caught and all the damage it could do to the relationship NEVER crosses their fuck up minds while they're getting their fucking rocks off!

Wh...what...are you...goanna do...Ty? Marty stammered, holding a handkerchief to his bleeding face.

I paced the room for a bit, trying to get my thoughts together.
I'll tell you what's going to happen, Marty, I said, menacingly. I've been trying to do the math in my head on this, know what I mean? I'm thinking that you've made three previous trips to Red River Falls for the sole purpose of 'conducting business' and fucking my wife. So that's three years and three business trips for a total of nine days, sound about, right?

Marty nodded, looking worried and wondering where I was going with this.

As I continued, you've been here for nine days and hooked up with my wife each day that you were here. Reading over the twenty-five-thousand-plus text messages, I'm going to guesstimate a bit here and assume that you fucked her at least two, maybe three times each day that you were here.

After all, you only get here once a year so you're probably going to make the most of it, right? According to your text messages you even got Viagra so you could make sure that you made the most of it! So, that's three days times three fucks per day, which is nine fucks per annual visit, times three previous visits so far.

I walked slowly towards Marty. So, the way I see it, I said as sinister as
I could, I owe you twenty-seven bloody ass kicking’s for fucking my wife twenty-seven times!

To be continued