[sinclairfan]

Dear TABSK,

My name is Kathy.  I'm a stay-at-home mother of three school-age children.  I live in a well-to-do suburban cul-de-sac.  Father's Day is coming up, and I don't know that I like the behavior of one of my married neighbors.  She's bringing Father's Day gifts to my husband .....  EVERY TIME she returns home from shopping.  If she comes back from the grocery, she brings a mini-bottle of Scotch, which he likes to drink.  If she comes back from the department store, she brings a set of socks, which I have trouble keeping up with in the family laundry.  If she comes back from dining out, she brings him home leftovers of some dish she knows he enjoys.  I don't know which gets me more riled up--when she brings it home and gives it to HIM, or when she brings it home and gives it to ME.  Our kids play together occassionally and I don't want to rock the boat.  Should I just bite my lip until Father's Day is over?

A:  Dear, sweet Kathy.  Your maternal hormones from so many years of child-rearing have dulled your wifely defend-the-home instincts.  The concern isn't that this homewrecking neighbor is tending to your husband's tastes.  Rather, it's this:  HOW THE HELL DOES SHE KNOW THAT HE LIKES SCOTCH AND THAT YOU OCCASIONALLY DEPRIVE HIM OF CLEAN SOCKS?!?  Neither of those factoids are any of her damn business!!!!  Wake up and smell the affair before your kids are more than playing with hers--if you don't smack this broad into the next county, they'll be half-siblings by Thanksgiving!!!  Do I make myself clear?

[Vanessa]

Interesting beginning. Can’t wait for more

[JT Edson]

This looks like it could be something really good. I'm looking forward to the next part.

[sinclairfan]

Dear TABSK,

Hey, me again, Kathy--a now-wiser, more jaded, less trusting neighbor and wife.  Father's Day came and went, but the gift giving from my overly-friendly neighbor did not--the purported occasion for the perpetual shower of gifts simply shifted from Father's Day to Independence Day.  I have insisted to my husband that he cease and desist from accepting and gifts for any reason, and I have done the same.  In response, my overly-interested rival for my husband's attention has done ..... nothing.  She continues bringing the gifts, making my husband and I look like the bad guys and forcing us to ostentatiously snub her.  I've explained to my husband that no woman I know what voluntarily and repeatedly put herself through the humiliation of repeated rejection without reason to believe her actions would be reciprocated, but he insists on his complete ignorance of the motivations for her actions.  What's protocol here?  Now that I'm on to this woman's game, how do I get her to modify her behavior?  I just want to live and let live.

A:  Kathy, Kathy, Kathy.  You're onto your rival's game, but not the rules.  You're fighting with Marquess of Queenbury rules as sanctioned by the State of Nevada Boxing Commission, she's fighting with 1526 Sultan Suleyman the Magnificent rules from the destruction of King Louis II and the Hungarian nobility at the Battle of Mohacs, or the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V's sack of Rome and capture of Pope Clement VII the following year.  And those outcomes, make no mistake, are her objective--the destruction of you followed, shortly thereafter, by the capture of your husband.  Protocol?  Protocol, you ask, in defending your home and family???  Protocol is that your home is your castle, and any threat to it is an invasion.  Any attempt by her to infiltrate it with unsolicited gifts and, now, unwanted gifts is no different than her tunneling from her yard to yours and, for example, smoke bombing the interior.  Would you write me and ask me how to handle such as situation as you heard her chisselling the last 5 feet of dirt between her and your hearth and home?  This is no different.  The next time a gift presentation is made, you look her in the eye and say, "This is the last time I'm telling you this politely.  Your gifts have stopped being welcome here."

[sinclairfan]

Dear TABSK,

Me again.  Kathy.  Call me Kathy the Cuckold.  I'm here doing my husband's laundry, and there's monogrammed women's panties mixed in.  Monogrammed with my neighbor's initials.  Now, my question isn't whether they've fucked or not.  They have--I get it.  My question is--did HE want me to find the panties, did SHE, or did I find them by accident?

A-- Kathy, my ace student.  Look at you, making such excellent progress.  You are asking the right questions.  Text her.  Ask her how her monogrammed panties got in your laundry.  See what she says.  Then you'll know what you need to do next.  Good luck.

[sinclairfan]

Dear TABSK--Hey there.  Kathy again.  I expected to be writing you with a recap of a cul-de-sac chickfight with this letter, but my text exchange with my backstabbing neighbor did not go as planned.  I need to "hit the reset button', and need your thoughts.  Here are the texts:

Me:  Hello, neighbor.  For the past 8 months, I have stood by patiently while you ignored me, and nurtured an emotional affair with my husband.  I trust my husband, so I stood aside and let you make a fool of myself.  I also did not want to deprive our kids of each others' company.  But I now have physical proof of your betrayal in the form of your monogrammed panties.  Perhaps I can return them to you, alone somewhere, and we can engage in some long overdue "girl talk".  Looking forward to it.

Her:  Oooooooooo, big words from a little woman, Kathy.  Your husband isn't half the man mine is; not in the community, not in the checkbook, and not in the crotch.  Yes, he has my underwear.  To SNIFF, you bitch!!  He has no interest in fucking me--nor I, him.  He gets off on women's panties.  Now, true, I was a dumb-ass and gave him mine.  And, yes, maybe I was hoping it would be a prelude to some action.  But it wasn't, ok??  You happy?


A:  Kathy, Kathy, Kathy.  There's no way to resolve the you-said--he-said-she-said any other way than in-person.  BOTH the who-pursued-whom part of your husband's sordid not-so-secret admirer, but also the WHY A GODDAMNED CATFIGHT STILL HASN'T HAPPENED BETWEEN YOU AND HER!!!!  Meaning:  are you avoiding a physical meeting, is she, or ARE BOTH OF YOU?  You've had ample opportunity to slap her in the cheek, and now she has had AT LEAST ONE CHANCE (the classic "let's girltalk" text), and yet we still have not arranged for 20 paces at dawn with pistols, or whatever damn way we're going to settle this thing.  BOTTOM LINE::Cul de sac chicks are always afraid to catfight for fear of losing their dignity, but trust me, you are both in a way deeper hole in that department than even a bachelor party mud wrestle would have brought.  Just fight, already!!  Fight!!

[sinclairfan]

Dear TABSK,

Hey, Kathy again.  Kautious Kathy.  You'll be happy to hear I got into a fight with my flirtatious neighbor.  Her husband and my husband took our kids to the cul-de-sac common area the night of July 3rd to watch fireworks.  I was home alone and she was home alone, and we both knew it.  I took a page out of my high school playbook, from when there was a boy-next-door in my neighborhood who I wanted to fuck and who wanted to fuck me.  I waited for a day when he was home alone and just walked over and knocked on the door and didn't say anything and just started "doing it".  Well, this catfight went down the same way.  As soon as the husbands and kids were out of sight around the corner, I strutted over in my jeans and halter top, hair down past my shoulders, and knocked on the side door, not the front door.  The bitch opened the side door, which leads into a mudroom-slash-laundry room type thing, maybe 8 feet by 8 feet, and closed and locked the door behind us as soon as I slipped in.  She was dressed about the same as me.  We snaked our arms around each others' heads, and dug our claws into each others' scalps, our foreheads and breasts and hips pressing close together.  Our bodies entangled, and our shoulder blades and butts crashed into coat hooks and appliances and door handles and a wooden bench with sharp corners.  We did our best to act indifferent to the pain and wounds we were inflicting on each other, but our ability to muffle our gasps dwindled as our battle extended in duration, from 5, then 10, to 15 minutes.  The town's fireworks display got louder and drowned out our cries, crescendo-ing as we orgasmed in exstacy at the intensity of our hatred for each other.  I was consumed by pain and wanted to crash to the ground, but the closeness of our quarters suspended us each in a standing position.  "Shit, the kids will be coming back now," said I.   "Dammit, then get out, bitch," said she.  I ran home into shower, warm blood dripping from my scalp and shoulders.  My question is this:  is our fight over?

A:  Two very simple answers, Kathy.  First, whew, way hot.  And, second, no.  No, it is not.  There was no winner.  And no loser.  So, uou two will fight again.  Think back to your high school neighbor.  What if you and he had had the hottest make-out session ever, and just as he and you were about to do it, his parents came home?  Would you two have met again to fuck??  Obviously!!  Best of luck in round two.

[sinclairfan]

Dear TABSK--Kathy, again.  Kathy the Katfighter.  Another text exchange with my rival.  How did I do?  What do I do next? 

Here it is:

Her:  Ooooo, I bet you think you're tough, Kathy.  Coming over here, knowing full well that the men and the kids would prevent me from working you over once I inevitably kicked your ass.  Well, you're not tough, and moreover, you apparently want a fight, even though I assured you there was nothing between me and your loser husband.  So, guess what, bitch?  You want a fight?--well, it's on.  Your husband prefers panty sniffing to actual fucking, and it must be YOUR fault.  He must not be aware of how A REAL WOMAN fucks.  Well, guess what?  I'll show him.  And once that happens, THEN you'll have a reason to want to fight me.  And I'll kick your ass, sweetie.  Count on it.

Me:  You didn't prove to me that your kicking my ass was inevitable, hun.  Just the opposite--I thought our fight was even at best, and perhaps 10-9 in my favor, even though we were on your turf.  But you think you can seduce my husband??  Fine, have at him.  He's loyal to me.  Will you be able to say the same about YOUR supposedly All-America husband after he sees what I have to offer?? I doubt it.  And, count on it, slut.  He's going to know what my body has to offer him.  And real soon.


Dear Kathy:  Bravo.  Well done.  Only thing we at TABSK would have maybe done differently is to not involve the Dads:  the MILFs should have at each other, and only THEN to the victor goes the spoils, as they say.  But have it your way--the gauntlet has been thrown.  Sounds like some extramarital suburban sex is imminent.  And then one helluva catfight.  Keep us updated.

[sinclairfan]

Dear TABSK:  Kathy, again.  I had another text exchange with my rival.  Everything I said to her was true, by the way.  Asking for your comments.

Me:  I did it.  I let your husband fuck me.  When you were away at the amusement park, I asked him if he wanted to jog on the bike trail behind our street during his lunch hour.  We weren't even a quarter-mile in and we were already joking and pinching each others' waists.  Two miles later, at the block with the unfinished lots, I went into the woods behind a tree, pulled down my sweats, and bent down forward, leaning on the tree for support.  He took me from behind, thrusting in me until he came.  I asked him not to pull out, and he didn't.  We finished our jog without talking about it.  I guess you All-Star lovemaking still leaves "something missing" in the eyes of your All-America husband.  Imagine that.  Who'd have thunk it, sweetie?

Her:  Oooooo, Kathy, sex against a tree--that must have been such a turn on for you ...... NOT!!!!!  My husband got off in you, and you got ZERO arousal out of it, and you write me all proud?  When your huband and I do it, I'LL be the one wearing the pants, trust me.  And the one receiving the pleasure.


Dear Kathy:  Push.  You have a point--impressive seduction of her man, both from the perspectives of speed and nastiness.  And quite direct foreplay with the waist-pinching.  But she has a point, too--no man will decline a quickie-freebie stripped of all expectation of reciprocation.  You've "trained him" now that when the two of you get together for lunch, you both come home hungry, but you and only you come back hungry AND .... well,  ... hungry.  Beware the collateral consequences of your war.  But by all means, do send us updates. 

[sinclairfan]

Dear TABSK:  Kathy, here again.  Kathy the Learner, this time.  Hopefully my finest incarnation.  Kathy the Learner, and Kathy the Listener.  I listen to you, in your constructive criticism of my tactics in my battle with my nosey neighbor.  And I listen to the husbands involved--hers AND mine.  I've been noticing that what gets my rival's husband's attention, even more than dropping my sweatpants for him on a lunchtime jog, is to just .... listen ... to him.  Listen to how his day is going ..... his career .... his relationship with his kids .... what he's been reading ... what he's been investing in .... where he wants to travel.  Who knew??  And, after I listen ....  HE peels down MY sweats .... but not his own  .... and gets me off with his tongue.  Win/Win/Lose.  A win for him, a win for me ..... and a loss for The Bitch.  He only does THAT for HER on Mother's Day and her birthday.  I know because he told me.  And of course I told her thst he told me.  In other words ... Advantage Kathy.  Agree?

Desr Kathy:  We at TABSK will acknowledge that you are one of our better students.  So many of our letters to TABSK aren't really asking for advice, but rather validation of a pre-existing belief.  You have already made a couple of mid-course corrections since you first contacted us as a clueless cuckold--excuse the direct language,  and the alliteration.  And yet, we can't help but wonder:  whence this culdesac cat-and-mouse game?  What IS your endgame, Kathy?  A subdued husband, WITH the lunchtime fuck buddy?  Good conversation with neighborhood dads?  One-upping a flirtatious female?  Change is good, Kathy.  But don't lose sight of your core self, and your true needs.  Wars are easy to start ..... but not always easy to end.  Especially when you're winning.  Good luck.

[Vanessa]

Great premise hon. Love both of these story lines.

[sinclairfan]

Dear TABSK--Kathy, again.  My culdesac war has been in the summer doldrums, I guess.  I've done some thinking about what I, my core self, really wants.  The lunchtime walk fucking with The Bitch's husband is still exciting but has gotten awkward--we can always read each other when one or the other doesn't "want it" that particular day.  So we end up going thru the motions--in other words, married sex, except standing outside in the sun and the bugs and with our pants at our ankles.  I guess my question is this:  do I end this whole episode with a bang, or with a whimper?  Do I have one final donnybrook with The Bitch (seeing as our one brawl ended in a draw), or do I just move on, having made my point?

Dear Kathy--TABSK agrees you have made a profound point.  Culdesac chick came after your man, you went after hers.  Tit for tat.  Punch.  Counterpunch.  No one can blame you for declaring victory and retreating, if that's what you decide to do.  And yet ....... the contrarian in us at TABSK can't help but wonder what The Bitch wanted.  Candidly, we smell a rat.  Methinks the lady doth protest too much when she feigns disinterest at your husband's panty proclivity.  What if .... for the sake of argument .... your rival gets the same spark out of sharing her panties as he does out of receiving them?  What if they (your husband and The Bitch) have achieved symbiosis, WITHOUT the (as you describe it) sun/bugs/anklepants tradeoff you have finagled?  If true, then YOUR candle is waxing away while HERS is still burning bright.  Now, to us at TABSK, that just doesn't seem very fair.  Now, Katherine the Great, since we at TABSK adhere to the "if you bring me a problem, then give me a solution" philosophy, we present for your consideration:  pose (online, or in writing) as your husband and ask for her panties.  If she reciprocates, they're cheating on you.  If not, it's over.  Your choice, but that's what we'd do.  Good luck.

[sinclairfan]

Dear TABSK--Kathy, again.  I followed your subterfuge plan.  I'm not proud of my tactics, but I went into my husband's cellphone while he was at the dentist and sent The Bitch a text, hoping against hope that she wouldn't respond.  But she did.  Here's what happened.

Him (which was really me):  Hey, babe.  I saw steam coming out of your dryer exhaust.  Was it your own laundry you were doing?  The delicates, I hope?  You know how I like thinking about it.

Her:  I sure do, hun.  In fact, it was my own laundry that was drying, the folding--my bra's, my stockings .... and my panties.  I know what you like doing with them .... rubbing them on your cock.  I like that, too.  :-)

Thoughts?  You taught me to defend my castle.  But she's not trying to take my castle--she's personally content with being Baronness of hers.  But she's added another title--Comtessa of MY realm--without any of the responsibility.  I know many of your readers would tell me to march on over to the Barony and loot and pillage, and then engage in a single combat duel with the Lady of the Realm.  And, perhaps by the time you respond to my note, that will have happened--I don't know that I can suppress my temper whilst awaiting your response.  But I feel like doing so just emphasizes my impotence.  TABSK, I need allies.  Consider this our War Council.  What do I do next?  Kathy.

Dear Kathy:  We at TABSK spent a long meeting deliberating about your situation and the latest twist.  We appreciate your thoughtful analysis, and agreed to conform to your medieval feudal Counties and Baronies and Duchies metaphor.  You seek allies, Kathy.  Well, you know what Bismarck said about Germany's alliances, correct?  "Germany has no permanent friends and no permanent enemies, just permanent interests."  So, Kathy, time for a heart to heart.  We like you.  We're on your side.  But our permanent loyalty in to our readers.  You're in a sticky situation, that's for sure.  But this situation is yours.  You'll be living with the consequences.  It's time for us to step aside.  We trust your choice will be the right one .... for you.   TABSK

[sinclairfan]

Dear TABSK--Kathy here.  Long time, no talk.  I'm the culdesac MILF locked in siege warfare with my next door neighbor.  After due consideration of your valuable advice, I asked myself, "What did medieval nobles do when stalemated in combat with a pesky rival?".  I hit the history books, and turns out one of the things they did was attempt to turn the lord's own subjects against him.  Another was:
use marriage alliances, and changes in said alliances, to one's own advantage.  So, my job is to turn The Bitch's husband, the root source of her sovereignty, against her.  I did so by nonchalantly telling said husband (who, you'll recall, I've 'had relations with') that, I'm not sure how, but his Lady's panties seem to have ended up in my laundry, and could I return them, or could he (or she) please pick them up at their earliest convenience.  Confusion was duly sown, as evidenced by choppy texts from said Lady to MY husband, demanding more discretion if he was going to continue to receive the slatternly/wanton favors/tribute (said tribute being paid in the form of used panties) he has become accustomed to receiving from said Lady.  With discord/Discord loosed, and bedtime rendex-vous's between the Lord and Lady minimized, her Lord resumed taking lunchtime walks with moi, and our customary tree resumed being a location of gym-shorts-at-the-ankles action.  Now, siege warfare is unpredictable and long, so it is impossible to say if it is at the middlegame or endgame.  But it almost always ends in the slaughter of either the besieged town or the besieging army.  That's my prediction in this case, and likely before winter draws a curtain on the Campaign Season.  I suspect my next dispatch to you with be a chronicle of the outcome, and the aftermath.  God willing, the news will be good for Lady Katherine.  Fare the well.  Kathy

Dear Kathy--well, if nothing else, you've spent a summer enriching your knowledge of Medieval European power politics.  TABSK leans, in most situations, to what we've described in numerous responses as the pistols-at-dawns approach:  set a fixed date for a climactic showdown with a rival (also known as the "rip off the bandaid" approach).  But there are exceptions, and yours may well be one.  Good luck with the siege, and let us know the ending.  TABSK

[JT Edson]

Love to see where this goes next.