Brad waited until his wife left the house, then he arranged the cheerleading costume on the bed and began his fantasy in which a horizontal figure of a girl happily called out cheers and clapped her hands in time to the march music he'd set on infinite cycle. He saw the pom poms go up and down, stared enraptured at his dream of motion. Hours might have passed when he suddenly became aware that she was taunting him, "Brad , Brad , he is great, he knows how to mastur--" Before she could finish he threw himself flat upon the clothes, thrusting his hand inside the uniform, feeling skin that wasn't there, petting the material as if it were the smooth warmth of a girl... He lay there in a stupor, as his lust finally left him. Then he gathered up the pieces of clothing, one by one, wrapped them in their brown paper, carried them over to the closet to return the bundle to its hiding place. As he opened the closet door his wife's evening gown of dark scarlet hues furled itself around his neck and strangled him viciously. As the fabric tensed and his vision dimmed he heard it scream in a raw, silky voice, "How dare you touch that skimpy outfit on the very bed where you layed me out and tried me on my very first time!"

Story #127