Worthless Wife : Blowjobs-swallowing


(Part 1 from 2. Fiction.)

I’ve been married to Barbara for over three years and I’m filing for legal separation today. After reassessing my feelings for Barbara and taking a thorough inventory of our relationship, I’ve decided that it’s time to man up, grow a set of testicles and cut her from my life like the malignant tumor she is.

Let's start with sex:

We were at an amazing resort in French Polynesia on the first day of our honeymoon. We were in an over-the-water bungalows, there were lavish buffets, still, blue lagoons where the water was crystal-clear to the bottom. Wow, it was the dream trip of a life time. There were beautiful young svelte bronze bodies in skimpy attire everywhere. Was I blown away?

Then I had this great idea, "Let's have sex!" I mean what the hell? It was our honeymoon, after all.

"I'm tired," was Barbara’s whiny response.

"Yeah, but it's our honeymoon. We're in paradise, for crying out loud, let's get it on."

"I guess if I have to," Barbara whined.

Boy did that make me horny.

The next couple of days were a study in sexual procrastination and avoidant behavior on her part.

Trying to finagle sex from Barbara had, overnight, become like pulling teeth. Suddenly there were politics involved. Not like the entire year before, when she was good to go, 24/7/365. Be it blowjobs-swallowing-dog style-missionary-spankings -or whatever she’d always been ready..

At the risk of presenting a disjointed, or lacking in continuity picture let me interrupt myself and pose a question. What on earth, outside of regular, willing, and adventurous sex, does Barbara or any woman think they have to offer a man?

Does Barbara really think I married her for her company … her intellect? Does she think I find following her through Target with a shopping cart more interesting than kicking back with my male friends? Does she think she has a single insight into politics, philosophy, religion, life, sports, finance, or general trivia that has ever shed a single photon of illumination upon my perspective? She does not.

Let me be clear: there is nothing, besides the promise of regular, enjoyable sex that I wanted from her that would have ever made me consider committing to her for the rest of my life.

Once sex became an unwilling labor for Barbara, I stopped wanting even that.

Men want willing sex.

Rapists want unwilling sex.

"Women need a reason to have sex. Men just need a place." - Billy Crystal

Outside of willing, eager participation in sex, women are nothing but a nuisance, a liability, an annoying distraction, interrupting my otherwise constant state of serenity and my flow of good ideas.

Oh, back to my story: It was day four of our honeymoon when Barbara proclaimed, "I'm not expected to have sex with you every day."

"Of course not," I politely answered. "But this is our honeymoon. We're on the other side of the world, in the South Pacific. People would kill to be where we are right now."

I should have noted the huge red flag waving when, some weeks earlier when Barbara tried to make the case that it would be fun to take some friends along on our honeymoon with us. Maybe even her grandmother and we could all hang out the whole time. "Wouldn't that be fun?" she’d said.

Let me answer all women on the planet here and now: Hell no! That would not, by any stretch of the imagination, be fun.

It was about the same day that I realized how poor a conversationalist Barbara was. Somehow, over the prior year, when she was fucking me six ways from Sunday, I had overlooked and/or simply rationalized the gigantic that she was, quite simply, stupid as a post.

Anyway, there I was, ten grand into the most potentially romantic, amorous, and otherwise amazing bonding experience ever put together and I had as my companion a tyrant who refused to have sex...or who offered nastily, "If you want me to pretend I like it, I will."

It was then, immediately, that my eyes started to wander.

He was the Frenchman who worked behind the counter at our hotel...an intern from some hotel school program in France. He was a little goofy looking: , bulgy eyes, a bit of a swayback. Still, he was kind of sexy somehow. Upon checking in, I’d thought he was a typical Frenchie, who was uncharacteristically friendly.

Then one evening, as I was exchanging some traveler's checks for the local currency while Barbara laid on her already-becoming-lazy in the room, he asked, “How’s your honeymoon going?”

I was at a loss for words. I'm sure my facial expression told the whole story.

Perceptive creature that he was, he flashed an unmistakable look and touched my hand for much too long to be accidental. "Have you been to the spa?" he asked me.

I answered that I hadn’t.

"Oh, you really must see it." Then he said something to his manager in French and, in no time flat, he was kindly walking me down the darkened path to the spa. Good Lord. He took me off to the side to a dark seclude part of the spa. It was like those cheesy porn movies of old where the mailman shows up at the door to deliver a ‘package’ and the tenant's towel falls off. Wow … and when that towel fell was he ever hung. Being 100% heterosexual, I don’t know what came over me but within seconds, I dropped to my knees and was face to face with a nine inch uncut cock inhaling the heady aroma of scent of soap mixed fresh sweat. The head, oh that silky reddish/purple plum shaped head, massive, hard, soft, and warm head, was oh so inviting.


I knelt, frozen, thinking about how I got to this point, when my gaze feel on the lobes under the slit of his head.

Trance like, I lean forward and his gigantic cock was in my mouth, something that hadn’t happened since some innocent childhood experimentation.

Yes, it was that easy.

Can I just add one more ironic detail? His name was actually Maurice! How poetic is that?

Let me ask you something Barbara. Did you ever even wonder why I stopped hounding you about sex on our honeymoon? I'm sure you, in your way of rationalizing things, thought that you’d won and that I’d accepted your embargo. It was, in fact, simply because that need was being met elsewhere. Two weeks into our sham of a marriage, I was getting serviced somewhere else. Between Maurice and a couple of the muscular bronze cabaña boys, I was either sucking two or three dicks a day or banging the svelte little Polynesian girls that worked in the hotel and club.

As unbelievable as it sounds, it was happening. I have to tell you, more pleasurable than the strange, new, clandestine sex itself was the satisfaction of completely undermining your false and inflated sense of power. Let me assure you Barbara that was just the beginning. How the check list has grown and how those numbers keep moving closer to thirty.

Somehow you, Barbara took on this persona of a wife in control. I listened, almost laughing out loud, as you gave relationship advice to your girlfriends, colleagues and cousins over the phone. You were so confident. Had I closed my eyes, I would have thought Oprah Winfrey was waxing philosophical in the background.

After the honeymoon, the drought continued. Barbara grudgingly gave it up once a week for a while. And she had become rather critical. She called it ‘coaching me’ or ‘teaching me what she liked.’

Funny, Barbara had never had a single complaint before we got married. It was all wild and free back then. In a matter of weeks, the occasional sex she was willing to give up became a chore for me, not even worth the effort, too humiliating and frustrating to bother with.

Eventually, I lost all interest in Barbara.

When I did decide to give her a go, I found myself having to conjure up all sorts of visions of all sorts of illicit encounters in order to be able to perform for Barbara. In contrast, I was having no difficulty whatsoever outside the marriage. I was getting pussy and dick right and left. Eventually, I was able to use the excitement of my extramarital affairs to conjure up some grudging wood for her.

Let me be clear, so that the memories can start to click back into place for Barbara, I have tagged, slept with, blown and had trysts with almost every restaurant host and hostess with whom she ever though I was too friendly with.

I have followed up on every counter guy or girl, every book clerk, every sales-assistant, masseuse and apprentice, both male and female...even the parts girl at the car dealership. Everyone, male or female who ever gave that knowing flash...that tacit go-ahead… and, yes...Karen, one of Barbara’s girlfriends.

Anytime anyone gave me the eye, I’ve gone back later and talked to them.

I’ve closed the deal with more of them than I would ever have thought possible in my wildest dreams. The head I have received and given in elevators, in dressing rooms, in staircases, in their apartments (twenty minutes, in-and-out while out running errands). ; the soccer moms shopping at target...the men and women I’ve encountered buying oranges at Whole Foods, or walking their dogs.

I closed with Barbara’s girlfriend at a . Karen slip into the restroom and sucked my dick. Then for almost two weeks while her husband Carl was out of town on business I was by her house almost every day fucking her brains out. When she invited me over the next day, I wasn't going to pass up a chance to fuck a former beauty queen so I went.

When I walked in her bedroom, I didn't say anything I just started stripping my clothes off. As I stepped out of my pants my hard cock sprang into view. It had been rock hard virtually since I had first walked through Karen’s front door.

I moved forward so that my cock hovered between Karen’s parted thighs. As Karen watched in total fascination, I spread her legs wider. Then I grabbed her hips and Karen cried out with glee as I entered her. Her high-pitched squeal caused me to look down and smile.

Karen’s long legs were soon up over my shoulders and she was moaning and gasping in time with my steady powerful thrusting. Karen’s fingers dug into the cheeks of my ass, urging me on, as if trying to pull me in deeper each time I plunged into her. I was pumping her methodically, pushing my all the way in. The whimpered with desire as I slowly pulled it almost all the way out and then almost brutally ramming it back in so hard and deep that our flesh made slapping noises as our bodies connected.

Putting her legs over my shoulders, Karen started to work her hips, ramming her pussy up, meeting my thrusts halfway. In seconds, amid her garbled moaning, I heard Karen choke out the words, “I’m cumming, oh god, I’m cumming.”

Giving in to the moment, I gripped her hips tightly as I bucked uncontrollably into Karen as I cummed long and hard. Karen’s gorgeous ass bounced wildly on my cock, her clutching pussy sucking the cum out of me as if it were a mouth. It was then that I realized that she was a much better fuck than Barbara.

I guess I was sensitive after I started sucking dicks, but I was always offended when the guys at parties started gay bashing. Funny thing that the ones who did all the shit talking were 99% of the time the ones who were gay their selves, they were just in denial. Case in point was Karen’s husband Carl. He was always one of the most outspoken. Then at a party about 6-months after Karen and my little thing, I was at a party and forgot to lock the bathroom door.

He caught me standing at the commode taking a piss. It was like he’d never seen a dick before. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. I joking made a statement about him sucking it. He then made a few comments back that were sexual but I took as a joke. Then I said, "Suck it," and thrust my crotch at him.

I’m not even sure he realized what he was saying, when he blurted out, "OK."

Stunned I stammered, "You really want to?"

And he answered. "Yea OK."

Then I said, "You want to give me a hand job?"

But he quickly replied, "I'll give you a blowjob if you want?"

Cautiously I said, "OK then."

Then I walked over, locked the door and then sat down on the counter. As he watched I unzipped my pants and pulled my cock back out. Carl walked over and without saying anything got down on his knees and licked my cock. But this was sexual experience so he was kind of nervous and ended up just giving me a hand job.

The hand job went fine. I cummed all over Carl’s hand and he wiped it off. Carl didn't know what to say so he said nothing but I said, "Thanks man."

I didn’t talk to Carl for about two weeks. Then I found out that Barbara was going to be out of town with her mother for a couple of days so I gave him a call. When he answered we chatted for a couple of minutes before I asked him, “Do you want to come over on Wednesday?”

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