I Guess You Want Me To Text Him, Then?

Justice served.

MAGA Dick.

It was the morning of the election and I told Tara that I would pick up some breakfast on my way home. She had voted early a few weeks ago, but I was sticking with my tradition of voting on election day. We were anxious, but excited, looking forward to going to our friend’s house that night to watch the results come in.

It was tricky pulling the car out of our driveway because our asshole neighbor’s truck was parked on the other side of the street, taking up way too much space in the road. It was this huge behemoth of a truck plastered with rightwing stickers. I just hoped he wouldn’t do anything crazy, like vandalize our house, after the election (we had “lost” some Harris yard signs in recent weeks).

I had known John, the owner of the truck, since high school. He had always been a bit of a jerk, but recent years had really changed him to someone who was a very aggressive bully. I mostly tried to avoid him, but that was hard to do with him living so close. Tara hated everything about him.

That morning, I tried to not think about him and focus on our plans to go to the inauguration. Tara was especially excited to see the first female president take the oath of office. It would be a historic moment to make up for what had happened in 2016.

Our polling place was busy with a fairly long line that wrapped around the building. After patiently waiting for quite a while, I was about 5 spots from entering the door to the building when I saw his truck enter the parking lot, blaring music for all to hear. A woman in line said something along the lines of how he must be compensating for something. I laughed along nervously.

John approached the line and then I saw his eyes meet mine. He came up and started talking to me and the next thing I knew he was cutting in line and getting in front of me, which pissed everyone off. The woman who made the joke about him shot both of us a dirty look. It felt like a betrayal that I hadn’t stood up to him and told him to go to the end of the line. I had to listen to him rant about how his side would definitely win if there was no cheating. It was so uncomfortable and felt like an eternity for it to be our turn to vote. Finally, we checked in and went to our booths to cast our votes. On my way out, I waved at him and quickly left to pick up breakfast before heading home.

While we ate breakfast, I told Tara about what had happened, which set her off. She was also mad at me for allowing him to cut in line. I tried to explain that he didn’t really give me a choice and that I thought the wisest course would be to give in and let it happen. Plus, I said that anything we could do to make him less angry given the election was that night would help avoid some sort of January 6 type of incident, maybe. If we just let him have his way, it would go much easier for us. Tara didn’t agree and said I really should have stood up for myself.

I tried to lighten the mood and mentioned the comment about him compensating for having a small dick and she laughed and agreed. She said, “you men with your little dicks trying to fool us with big trucks, but we know better. Probably also explains why John seems to spend so much time at the gym…big muscles everywhere except where it counts.” I winced, but laughed along nervously. She knew that I was well below average in the size department, but had always reassured me that there were more important things. I was also a little bothered by the comments about him having muscles. He was a big, intimidating guy, probably 6’4”, and had played football in High School.

That night we went to our friend’s house to watch the election results. We drank some beer, ate some tacos, and were in good spirits at first. However, after dinner Tara said she didn’t feel well and wanted to go home. She insisted that I stay and that she would take an Uber home to lay down until her head felt better. She said she hoped to come back later in the night to celebrate. I kissed her goodbye and waited with her for the Uber to show up. I asked again if I should just go home with her, but she said she just wanted to lay down and close her eyes and take her migraine medicine. I asked her to text me when she got home.

As the night went on, the results were not good and it felt like one bad thing after another. Tara had texted saying that the Uber had dropped her off, but she was annoyed because there was a loud party with trucks parked everywhere. She said she would rest for a while, but text later.

Around 11:30, I hadn’t heard from her and had sent a few texts that were unread. I called Tara, but got her voicemail's. I assumed she was probably asleep and decided to let her rest, there didn’t seem to be any celebrations coming soon anyway.

Around 1am, I decided it was time to give up and go home.

As I approached our house, I saw several cars and trucks still parked on the street and John’s huge truck was parked in our driveway. Even worse was that he was pulled partly into our garage, with the garage door mysteriously open. His truck was too large to fit all the way in, so most of the bed of the truck was still hanging outside. I was so upset and confused by this I decided I would have to confront him about it, but I had to first find a spot to park on the street somewhere. It took a few minutes, but I was finally able to find a spot a couple of streets over. I was walking up the street towards John’s house, primed to knock on his door and ask him to move his truck.

Someone answered his door, but it wasn’t John. Several guys with MAGA hats were celebrating and when I asked them where he was, they said they weren’t sure, but probably with some girl he left with.

I thought to myself, “great, this is just perfect” and decided to just go home.

While walking up my driveway, I resisted the urge to scratch “fuck you” into the paint of his truck with my keys. Somehow the truck sitting in my garage was already telling me that it was going to be a long four years.

Normally, I would enter the house through a door inside the garage, but his truck was blocking that route, unless I wanted to climb over the hood. So, I entered the house as quietly as I could through the front door, hoping to not wake Tara. That is when I heard it, the unmistakable sound of her having sex.

For a moment i thought maybe she was masturbating, which excited me for a moment, but then a feeling of dread came over me. I checked my phone, still no messages from her, but a news notification saying that Trump had almost certainly won.

I went upstairs to our bedroom and found Tara being vigorously fucked by John. They didn’t notice me in the dark hallway, but the lights were on in the bedroom. The rumors about big trucks and small dicks were definitely not true in this case. I couldn’t tell how long he was, but he was very, very thick. He was pounding her with long slow strokes. She was on her back, her eyes closed, with her head hanging off the side of the bed, making these whimpering noises as he penetrated her deeper than I ever could.

As had happened that morning in line, I surrendered and let it happen, watching helplessly, but trying to stay hidden in the dark.

They changed positions and I watched the love of my life, my beautiful wife, take his massive cock into her mouth, struggling to take much more than the thick, bulbous head. It reminded me of the image of his truck struggling to fit in our garage. He laughed at her struggle, stroked her hair and then put his red MAGA hat on her head while she went down on him. This sight completely broke me and I felt like I was going to throw up despite my erection.

He was so forceful, holding her head like she was some sort of sex toy. She nearly gagged as he forced himself farther into her throat than I thought possible.

i couldn’t understand what was happening or how this was happening. What led to this? Was this the first time?!? A part of me admitted that she probably always was attracted to him.

They changed positions again, deep kissing before she climbed on top of him. Before this point, it all looked like this was happening “to” her, which made me feel ashamed about not bursting in to try and protect her from him.

However, watching her ride his big cock, I could see that she truly wanted this. He forcefully grabbed her breasts while she rode him hard, the hat still on her head as she experienced a body shaking orgasm.

I quietly unzipped my pants to free myself so that I could jack off to this horrible sight. My cum was dribbling over my right hand in just a few strokes.

Meanwhile his pace increased and I began to fear whether they were using protection or not.

That was when my phone lit up with a buzzing alert saying that Trump had been elected. I looked up from my phone to see them both looking at me, illuminated with my shrinking penis in my cum covered right hand.

Tara had a look of shock and shame at being discovered, but John had a look of triumph while pulling her close to him, kissing her deeply while cumming deep inside her. She realized what was happening and tried to stop it, but it was too late.

…yes.

Sometimes, the truth doesn’t set you free.

The marriage counselling has not been going exactly the way that you expected.

Can’t unring that bell.

Restoring the natural order.

Getting to be by her side throughout her journey from Wife, to Hot Wife, to Cuckold, to Beta Boi, to Friend Zone would be an amazing journey.