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Henpecked no more [mf, yng] pt 1
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
n an adult man and a young teenage girl. If this offends you for any reason,
please read no further.
The following is a work of fiction, and any similarity between the characters
and events described in this story are purely coincidental. I apologize that
the first part of this story is mostly setup; it will get better as it goes
along.
As I am fairly new to this, I welcome your comments and suggestions, either
directed to me directly or posted to alt.sex.stories.d. Enjoy!
HENPECKED NO MORE
Part I
By John Anais
I lost my job as a computer programmer seven months ago due to the takeover
of my company by a larger, more prestigious firm. Within four hours of
taking us over, I found myself on the street without a job. It's not as if I
haven't tried to find work, it's that there's no work out there to be had.
My wife, who is a vice president in one of the large downtown banks, turned
my resume in to their personnel department, but nothing ever came of that.
I've been working with headhunters all along, but every job they come up
with seems to involve relocation, and Carolyn (my wife) has shot down every
one of the opportunities. "It's taken me ten years to get where I am, Jeff; I
don't want to throw that away just so you can earn what you were making at
CRS."
If that sounds like a putdown, it is. Carolyn and I have been married for
eleven years now; we were high school sweethearts and married right after
college. In the beginning I worked as she finished her bachelor's degree,
then her master's in business administration. I was terribly proud of her,
finishing both of these degrees in less than three years, the master's while
she was working at the bank. It was always our intention that I would get my
MBA after she graduated, but after three years of working, I decided that it
wasn't worth the time and effort. After all, data processing was the place
to be, and I was right there swimming with the sharks.
I noticed a change in Carolyn after she received her MBA. She began to dress
more professionally, and began to act as though she was entitled to spend her
entire salary on herself. She bought herself a BMW with the bonus she
received from the bank, and every payday seemed to bring with it a new suit,
or silk blouse, or piece of jewelry. In the meantime, I was left to pay the
lion's share of the bills, including the mortgage and all of the food, out of
my salary. She would tease me sometimes, telling me that programmers were
supposed to be haggard and overworked. In the meantime, she was spending
eighty hours a week on her job, leaving me with the housework.
After I lost my job, Carolyn's attitude towards me swung in the direction of
treating me as though I were the hired help. I was expected to look for work
while keeping the house immaculate, and have dinner on the table by the time
she got home in the evening, whenever that was. Sometimes it was six,
sometimes seven, sometimes not until after midnight. I had begun to suspect
that she was having an affair with someone at the office, so I began to call
her at hours when no one but she would be at the office, and every time she
would answer. "What is it NOW, Jeffery? I'm in the middle of something
here."
Needless to say, our sex life dropped off to nothing. It had never been that
good, but now she seemed to treat me as though my passions were a nuisance.
In fact, she threatened one night to call the police and have me arrested
for attempted rape. This led to my sleeping in the guest bedroom from that
point on.
Nevertheless, we projected the image of the happy yuppie couple. Our
neighbors would often stop by and chat, and would treat each other with the
greatest affection until they were well out of earshot, then Carolyn would
turn on me, claiming that I had made her "look bad" to the neighbors with the
most innocuous comment. I was miserable, but needed Carolyn to support me
until I could get my act together. Then, I told myself, I would assert myself
. Yeah, right.
About two months ago, the house across the street from us sold. Our old
neighbors, Margie and Jim, came over to tell us that they had sold to a nice
Italian couple from the city who were anxious to move to the suburbs. We'd
like them, they assured us; they were about our age and the husband was
involved in computers somehow.
When she closed the door, Carolyn said, "oh, great, Jeffery, a bunch of damn
dagoes are moving in from the city." I felt terribly hurt, since I have an
Italian grandmother who lived in the city, but I said nothing. Carolyn knew
what she had said, and she had her reasons for saying it.
The following week, a moving van pulled up in front of the house across the
street and a large black sedan pulled into the driveway. I watched as a man
about my age got out of the driver's side and a large but very pretty woman
got out of the passenger's side. They walked up the walk, talking to the
movers as they carried large pieces of furniture out of the van.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the back door of the sedan open and a
small dog scamper out, then my heart stopped as a slender young leg reached
out. This was followed by another leg, then a mass of blonde hair. At first
I thought it was a girl of about ten or eleven, but as she stood up and
stretched I could see that there was nothing little about her. She was about
fourteen years old, with hair that hung down to her waist and stopped in
bangs above her eyes. Her eyes were so bright that I could tell that they
were green from where I stood, and her creamy complexion was interrupted only
by a spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She was absolutely
beautiful, but one look at her body nearly sent me into convulsions: she
could have easily passed for twenty or twenty-one. Her bust was easily bigger
than Carolyn's and stood high and proud on her chest. From there, her sides
narrowed to a slender waist and flared out into nicely rounded hips. She
turned to walk up the path, and I could then admire her firm, shapely butt
and coltish legs.
I was in love, but I didn't know her name....
Suddenly the woman leaned out the door and gave me my answer. "Gina! Come
see your new room!" My true love's name was Gina.
********
About a week later, our neighborhood had a block party and the guests of
honor were the Torellis. Guido ("call me Joe") worked for a large computer
manufacturer which was having its problems as well, and he feared that he
would soon be out of a job. Lydia worked as a secretary in her father's law
firm, and Gina would be starting high school in September. She was pretty
quiet most of the evening; of course, compared to her parents, anyone would
be quiet.
Except my beloved Carolyn. She had several glasses of wine before leaving
for the block party and was already pretty mouthy by the time we got there,
whereupon she proceeded to drink several more glasses and talk in loud tones
about how she was working her fanny off to keep the two of us afloat while
"my knucklehead of a husband" tried to find work. I was really embarrassed,
but said nothing; I had learned early on that when Carolyn gets on a roll,
trying to stop her is like trying to stop a runaway boulder, and just like a
runaway boulder she crushes anything who tries to stand in her way. The
neighbors tried to come to my aid, but to no avail; it made her only more
obstinate and ugly. When she began to discuss my other unsatisfactory
qualities as well, the party began to break up, with the Torellis saying that
they had to get their daughter to bed. Gina was quite obviously upset by all
of this talk, and looked at me with sad eyes as she said goodnight. "Listen,
Gina, if you need anything, I'm right across the street," I said. She smiled
and winked, but said nothing.
All the way home, Carolyn continued to berate me. She seized upon my
statement to Gina as a new whip to beat me with. "I'd better not catch you
looking at that little guinea slut, you asshole, or I'll tear your balls
off!" "You'd have to sew them back on first," I said under my breath.
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