neighbor is once again trying to get into my damn panties. That's old news. Ever since moving here a year ago, the sick fuck has regularly made it clear to me that he wants our neighborly relationship to have an extra dimension that is thoroughly unacceptable.
Well, unacceptable for any decent woman, that is. That is not even mentioning that I am a married woman, a fateful wife.
And we all know that a decent wife just does not engage in any sort of sexual activity with others. That is just not something a decent and self-respecting wife engages in. And that is what I am, I tell myself as my eyes flash daggers at Sam for disappointing me again .
“Well, tell him to keep dreaming and that from now on, he can look the other way when he sees me,” I say through clenched teeth. Sam grimaces as if my words burn him and all I can do is wish he could at least be man enough to stand in front of me as a man, not like this, ill at ease and filled with shame.
He wants his own wife to spread her legs for money and he cannot even be dignified enough to say it straight to my face and take my rejection without being hurt. What did he expect? Did he really think that I could do a thing like that?
Play the whore.
Then what? Wait at home until he brings me another customer to serve with my body? Or maybe he was already counting on Carl being a repeat customer .
Then what? Was he thinking our life could possibly be the same after that? Did he even think that far ahead? Did he think that even if I were to do such a degrading thing our marriage would be the unaffected? Or is the promise of money enough to blind him to the harsh reality that he already created by just daring to present the lewd proposal?
In a flash I realize that he actually did and my anger is instantly framed by a contempt that hurts my heart.
"Tell the sick fuck he can go fuck himself instead of me," I hiss, my hands balled into tight fists and my legs trembling from raw anger and hurt.
“Yeah, of course, baby,” Sam says, scurrying hesitantly to the backdoor like a little weasel.
Sometimes I feel the moment he lost his job, he lost his balls too. I want to feel the affection that I know is there in my heart for him, but right now it is overshadowed by pure contempt. Whore myself out to Carl. I just can’t believe he even shared that with me.
He hesitates for a moment before he opens the door, but I guess he knows what is good for him and out he goes. Good. Cause right now I can't stand the sight of him.
I count to ten, breathing in and breathing out, trying to regain my equilibrium. God, I’m angry enough to want to punch something, anything, anyone. Instead I just stand there in my own kitchen boiling in my own anger.
I know things are bad financial wise, but Sam just made it bad in every other way too. My respect for him blown to pieces. Closing my eyes, I try to center myself and keep them closed when I hear Sam reenter after a minute. If he is smart then he’ll apologize or just stay silent.
He does neither.
“He is doubling his offer, he says, his voice as weak as his spine is today.
I open my eyes with the intent to give him a piece of uncensored truth, but the sight of the money in his hands shuts me up instantaneously. Fanned out are hundred dollar bills and Sam is holding it out to me with a pathetic look on his face that I imagine is his idea of looking sorry. Tick tock the kitchen clock goes and seconds pass by in total silence.
“Fine, tell him I’ll do it,” I finally snap right in his face, anger flowing through my veins like hot lava. He doesn’t even flinch and I guess that tells me how he thinks of me, his own wife.
And the sad truth is that it isn't even the money that pushed me over the edge despite how repulsed I am at the very thought of actually giving it up to my pig of a father, it is the sudden but real need for revenge that did it.
And what better way to tell hubby to go fuck himself than by fucking Carl?
The sad truth
Well, unacceptable for any decent woman, that is. That is not even mentioning that I am a married woman, a fateful wife.
And we all know that a decent wife just does not engage in any sort of sexual activity with others. That is just not something a decent and self-respecting wife engages in. And that is what I am, I tell myself as my eyes flash daggers at Sam for disappointing me again .
“Well, tell him to keep dreaming and that from now on, he can look the other way when he sees me,” I say through clenched teeth. Sam grimaces as if my words burn him and all I can do is wish he could at least be man enough to stand in front of me as a man, not like this, ill at ease and filled with shame.
He wants his own wife to spread her legs for money and he cannot even be dignified enough to say it straight to my face and take my rejection without being hurt. What did he expect? Did he really think that I could do a thing like that?
Play the whore.
Then what? Wait at home until he brings me another customer to serve with my body? Or maybe he was already counting on Carl being a repeat customer .
Then what? Was he thinking our life could possibly be the same after that? Did he even think that far ahead? Did he think that even if I were to do such a degrading thing our marriage would be the unaffected? Or is the promise of money enough to blind him to the harsh reality that he already created by just daring to present the lewd proposal?
In a flash I realize that he actually did and my anger is instantly framed by a contempt that hurts my heart.
"Tell the sick fuck he can go fuck himself instead of me," I hiss, my hands balled into tight fists and my legs trembling from raw anger and hurt.
“Yeah, of course, baby,” Sam says, scurrying hesitantly to the backdoor like a little weasel.
Sometimes I feel the moment he lost his job, he lost his balls too. I want to feel the affection that I know is there in my heart for him, but right now it is overshadowed by pure contempt. Whore myself out to Carl. I just can’t believe he even shared that with me.
He hesitates for a moment before he opens the door, but I guess he knows what is good for him and out he goes. Good. Cause right now I can't stand the sight of him.
I count to ten, breathing in and breathing out, trying to regain my equilibrium. God, I’m angry enough to want to punch something, anything, anyone. Instead I just stand there in my own kitchen boiling in my own anger.
I know things are bad financial wise, but Sam just made it bad in every other way too. My respect for him blown to pieces. Closing my eyes, I try to center myself and keep them closed when I hear Sam reenter after a minute. If he is smart then he’ll apologize or just stay silent.
He does neither.
“He is doubling his offer, he says, his voice as weak as his spine is today.
I open my eyes with the intent to give him a piece of uncensored truth, but the sight of the money in his hands shuts me up instantaneously. Fanned out are hundred dollar bills and Sam is holding it out to me with a pathetic look on his face that I imagine is his idea of looking sorry. Tick tock the kitchen clock goes and seconds pass by in total silence.
“Fine, tell him I’ll do it,” I finally snap right in his face, anger flowing through my veins like hot lava. He doesn’t even flinch and I guess that tells me how he thinks of me, his own wife.
And the sad truth is that it isn't even the money that pushed me over the edge despite how repulsed I am at the very thought of actually giving it up to my pig of a father, it is the sudden but real need for revenge that did it.
And what better way to tell hubby to go fuck himself than by fucking Carl?
The sad truth
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