by Rita Durrett
Family Feud
A Seemly Sex Story
by
BobbyB.
This story, like all Seemly Sex Stories, is pure fiction, an imaginary concoction of the seemly but mischievous mind of BobbyB. Any resemblance to any actual person or situation is completely coincidental.
Copyright 2015 seemlybobbyb
Family Feud
The internet chatroom's topic drifted onto the issue of strange marriages. This led one of the regular members to tell about a couple of marriages he thought were the strangest imaginable. Since he is an anonymous member … the handle he uses is Joe Doe … the others' interest was keenly aroused. Anonymous chatters tell things they wouldn't dare reveal if their real identities were known. So the story he would tell could certainly be expected to be interesting … and titillating. And it certainly was. Here's what he wrote.
II
What I’m about to tell you is God’s own truth. I’d swear it on a stack of Bibles. It all happened right here in my hometown, and by now everyone in town knows about it. However, they don't know the details. I'm a lawyer and also a real estate broker, and in each of these capacities I was professionally involved in straightening out the messy consequences of these strange marriages. So I know what really went on, things other folks in town can only guess about.
I’m not going to tell you the name of my hometown. I'll just call it Hometown. It’s a good conservative American community, and the town fathers would sue the pants off of me for defamation if I were ever to let on to outsiders that such goings on have gone on here. Interestingly enough, if such a suit were ever brought there would be a strange appropriateness to it, because what went on here involved pants (and panties) being frequently off in circumstances where good conservative Americans believe they should be kept on.
Hometown is fairly large as a town. But it is just a town. It’s no city. Or if it is a city, it's a very small one. There’s a center part of town with ordinary sized lots, But the town's unincorporated outskirts are semi rural, with big, half-acre lots. Several years back it seemed likely that these outskirts would eventually be included in the town limits. And since there were federal funds to help with the cost, the town's sewage system was extended to them. The original plan was to similarly extend the town's water lines once the sewer service was completed. But by then it was clear that everyone was moving to the big cities and like so many other towns all over the country, Hometown had stopped growing. So the water lines were never extended, and each of these half-acre lots has to have its own well.
Even though these lots are not legally part of Hometown, still they are right next to town and the folks who live on them are a regular part of the Hometown community. Living out there is basically like living in town but with a lot more space. And each of the two couples I'm going to tell you about came to Hometown mainly because, in their lines of work, they needed space.
Just as with the real name of Hometown, I’m not going to tell you the real names of these couples. If I told you who they really are, the same as with the town fathers, they too could sue the pants off me. So let’s call one couple the Hatfields and the other, the McCoys.
Mr. Hatfield is in the business of growing flowers. As I mentioned, he moved to Hometown to have space for his business. On the lot he and his wife bought, he built a big greenhouse where he could raise flowers to be wholesaled to retail florists in the big city. Mr. McCoy also is in business, as a mechanic. He grew up in a town like Hometown, but had to go to the big city to find work. He didn’t like it, and decided to move to Hometown and go into business for himself. He and his wife bought the half-acre lot right next to the Hatfield place. It already had a couple big garages on it, and, of course, with a half-acre, there is plenty of parking space for the various vehicles McCoy services. The Hatfields came to Hometown about three years ago, and the McCoys bought their place a few months later. As Hometown's only real estate broker, I was involved in both purchases. That's how I got to know both parties.
The two couples came to Hometown from different states, and didn't know each other till I introduced them right after the McCoys moved to town. But living so near each other, or at least as near as their half-acre lots allowed, and both couples being newcomers to Hometown, the Hatfields and McCoys soon became neighborly friends. They were always visiting back and forth, borrowing things, having each other over for coffee or for meals; all the activities good neighbors usually share. Over time these neighborly visits grew friendlier and more frequent, but nobody in town thought a thing about it because good conservative Americans are always friendly and neighborly. That's just the way we are.
But there was an aspect to the Hatfields’ and McCoys’ neighborliness quite a bit different from the ordinary borrowing of a cup of sugar or loaning of a tool. I can show you just how different by summarizing from the depositions in their divorces. I know these depositions because I was the attorney in the cases. But the townsfolk can only guess about such things because the judge, being a good conservative American, sealed the depositions in order to prevent Hometown children from being morally corrupted by reading the court’s records.
According to these depositions, the Hatfield and McCoy neighborliness came to a crisis one day when Mrs. Hatfield casually suggested to her husband that they have the McCoys over for supper. He cheerfully agreed. So Mrs. Hatfield called the McCoys, and when Mrs. McCoy answered, the florist’s wife extended an invitation. Mrs. McCoy responded with delight, saying they had nothing particular planned for the evening and would love to visit with the Hatfields.
So around six that evening mechanic McCoy and his wife came to the kitchen door of florist Hatfield and his wife. The fact that they came to the kitchen door goes to show just how friendly the neighbors had become. To go to the front door when they knew their hosts were in the kitchen preparing supper is something only strangers or infrequent, formal guests would do. Mr. Hatfield opened a can of beer for each, and the four sat around the kitchen table to talk about neighborly topics while Mrs. Hatfield's meal was cooking.
Mr. McCoy opened the conversation by asking Hatfield how the flower growing business was doing. Hatfield answered that it was doing very well. In fact, some beautiful orchids he was cultivating were beginning to blossom, and he asked his guests if they would like to go out to the greenhouse and see them. Mrs. McCoy eagerly accepted the invitation, but Mr. M. declined. Pretty flowers aren't particularly appealing to mechanics, he explained, so he'd stay behind and keep Mrs. Hatfield company while Mr. Hatfield escorted Mrs. McCoy to the greenhouse for an orchid tour.
So Mr. H. and Mrs. M., talking about orchids, exited the kitchen door and headed to the greenhouse. Mr. M. stood casually by the kitchen window, watching his wife and neighbor depart. When they entered the greenhouse he quietly announced, "There're gone!" and quickly stepped across the kitchen and embraced Mrs. H. He kissed her passionately then grabbed her in places where good conservative Americans consider one should not be grabbed. This didn't seem to bother Mrs. H. because she was doing her own such grabbing in return.
When the excited kissing and grabbing really got going Mrs. H. said, "Not here. They can look in the window and see us. In the pantry." And as quickly as a grabbing, kissing couple can, they staggered and stumbled into the walk-in pantry and closed the door behind them. Therein an instance of the pants and panties removal I alluded to earlier occurred, and Mr. M. backed Mrs. H. up against shelves of canned goods and proceeded to do vertically that which most people, and certainly good conservative Americans, do horizontally.
Now before you go getting your sympathies worked up for the pair of deceived innocents presumably viewing orchids out in the greenhouse, you should know that on a bed of bags
of peat moss, Mr. H. was horizontally providing Mrs. M. with the same kind of attention his wife was receiving vertically in the pantry from Mrs. M.'s husband.
When the pretend orchid fanciers were done fancying each other, they got up, put their respective pants and panties back on, brushed each other off, and with affected innocence and a counterfeit conversation about orchid culture they strolled back from the greenhouse into the kitchen where they expected to find their spouses discussing neighborly topics. It wasn't an unrealistic expectation. This pair had had similar encounters many times before, and never had either of their spouses ever shown the tiniest bit of suspicion about anything improper going on between them. But this time something had happened which would bring the clandestine cross-couple immoral infidelities of all these people out into the open.
What happened was that when the activity in the pantry reached its climactic moment Mr. M. moved with great enthusiasm and pushed Mrs. H. vigorously against a poorly fastened post that was just barely holding up the shelves of canned goods. It slipped to one side, the shelves slumped down, and all the cans fell onto
