Costume parties and halloween are absolutely the best way to get your wife to ramp up her sluttiness
Tag: text
A lot more then a blowjob it is his birthday
“So what if it’s his birthday; he’s your brother!”
“Family deserves the best gifts. You know how I feel about the importance of family.”
“I love my family too! But I don’t go down on my Mom for Christmas!”
“Poor woman. She could probably use it. Want me to ask her for you?”
“No!”
“Well I’ll be home first thing in the morning. Love you!”
“Morning!? You’re going back over?!”
“Oh, he has more…stamina. But I mean he’s just lonely and his birthday wish was for the whole ‘girlfriend experience.’ I couldn’t entrust my sweet baby brother to some sex worker stranger. So after we make love as much as he can, we’ll cuddle and sleep. Then I’ll be home, babe! Well maybe just a quick morning BJ… But then I’ll be right back!”
‘Princess’ had been your pet name for your girlfriend from the start. You even used it around others. Your mean coworker thought it was girly and a sign of weakness. He made fun of you frequently and mercilessly.
“You’re such a fucking beta, bro! ‘My princess!’ Eesh. But seriously dude you’re just giving her too much power worshiping her like that. A girl needs a man to take a stronger hand. Call her babe, chick, or slut even but not princess. Unless…is it like a sex thing? Does she dress up like a bimbo Disney princess and let you ravage her while she calls out for Prince Charming to save her?”
“What? Ew. No, we’re not into weird infantalizing and rapey stuff like that.”
“Yeah, right, dude! If she likes being called princess then she’d love being treated like one. You just need to make sure you get the better end of the deal. All girls secretly have rape fantasies. That’s what rape culture means.”
“I…that’s not…no.”
“You try getting raised to be a sex object and see what fantasies you end up with. I’m just helping girls who are already broken by the system achieve some joy.”
“Uh, you’re such a woke meathead, huh? That’s not us. We love and respect each other.”
“Sure you do, but she doesn’t call you her Prince, does she? Thought so. Wise up and give your girl what she craves or someone else will.”
Later that week your Princess mentioned the meathead had friended her on Facebook. She hated him but didn’t want to cause trouble for you so she accepted. You tried to get her to unfriend but she thought that would be more trouble than sticking it out.
Soon she started complaining about all the sexist, rapey memes he posted. Some to her wall! Just block him, you urged. But now she was looking at it as a sociological experiment. She wanted to understand the mind of a misogynist bro. Maybe she could change him.
That’s how she ended up agreeing to get coffee with him once a week. She didn’t tell you. He did. When you brought it up she just said she thought you’d overreact. He wasn’t as bad in person, she said. She was getting through to him. Though she did have to listen to his weird hypotheses about how women could find liberation by embracing objectification. So dumb, she told you.
So it was a surprise when she agreed to an exchange of principles. She’d dress really slutty all week and post OotD to instagram if he’d stop catcalling women and be really respectful instead. Then they’d see how much this changed each of their minds. He swore she’d like the attention if she just leaned into it for a while. She thought he’d come to find women responded to him better if he didn’t harass them. You hated this. But she wouldn’t back down.
At least you got most of the benefit of seeing her dress up. And he was nicer at work. You asked him about it.
“I figure you’re so emasculated that you’re basically a girl, dude, so I should be more respectful to you too.” Ugh. Had to ask.
At the end of the week you got this snapchat while they were out on their coffee date…
“What the fuck!?” Your burned with rage and panic. You pulled up your contacts and started texting.
“George, you fucking asshole! How could you do this?”
“Um, what, dude?”
“My wife just sent me the fucking proof.! Don’t play stupid!”
“Shit, that sounds serious. But I’m in Toronto on business, remember? I’m sorry man. Frankly I’d bet on Elias if this is what it sounds like it is.”
Fuck! Embarrassing, but George was right.
“Elias! You fucking betrayer! My wife sent me the proof so don’t try to deny it.”
In the end you texted seven friends and none admitted it. What?
You got home from your own business trip the next day.
“I’m sorry babe, that was childish. I was angry after I saw you flirting with that barista and got my brother to take that photo. Just wanted to get a little payback. You know I love you.”
“Sienna! It was just a little harmless flirting! Hardly even that! One joke. But I would never make you think I was fucking one of your friends. How could you do that?!”
Your fiance Sienna ended up crying and sleeping in the guest room. You were too angry to reconcile. Plus you had to leave for another trip for four days. Things would have blown over by the time you got back.
You got a bunch of texts all at once when you stepped off your red-eye flight the morning after. You’d gone to work the next day then gone directly to the airport. You’d had time to visit home but hadn’t wanted to see Sienna yet.
“I’m sorry honey. I went too far. You know how jealous I can get.”
“Elias stopped by and checked in on me. That’s so sweet that you asked him to even though you’re mad. You really are the bigger man.”
“Amir came by, too!”
“And George! We’re having drinks and talking about jealousy. You’d be proud.”
“PMG! You we’re so right about harmless floating!”
“Flirting! I grew up do conservative, you know. George is really heaping to teach me the difference between harmless floating and hookup flirting”
“Playing Twister! Like middle schoolers LOL”
“Living room too hot. AC problem? Can’t even keep clothes in! Look at if when you got back?”
“So drink! Love you!”
“Amir won bet. I guess your not the bigger man LOL”
“Sorry bro! This is Amir. Guess you were right to distrust us.”
“We taught her it’s not cheating if no one cums inside anyone. And if a guy is bigger it’s proper to show him respect.”
“Welp, I guess that’s cheating. We told her it’s too late now. George is up next.”
Salt Lick
He’d been so angry about your bold declaration that he’d gone off and told her about it. That had been a huge mistake. She seemed more intrigued than offended.
You really just said it aloud like that, in front of all your coworkers and his?
“Yes, can you believe the nerve?”
Barely, but she was warming up to the idea. And what did her husband say?
“Well what could one say to such an inappropriate comment in public? I wandered off while my coworkers laughed. It was humiliating”
Her husband just ran away?! And had you said anything else, she asked, flushing.
“Yeah, he said to run off and tell my wife she’d be sucking his cock within the week and she might want to practice deep throating on something decent sized. Like a big cucumber. What a dick.”
Yes, what a dick…she mumbled. So…um, her husband had done as asked then? And not challenged the coworker declaring dominance?
“Exactly, you get it. It’s not worth rising to the challenge of these stupid alpha males. Just don’t engage. I’m glad I can tell you about it.”
Yes, good job. Her husband was a good boy, she assured him. Later that night she unlocked his phone and retrieved your number. My husband told me what you said, just like a good boy, she texted.
The rules were simple. When you collected her from wherever she was, you got to bring her home and fuck her. If you could get her to cry out your name, she was “reclaimed.”
The next time you failed to make her cry out your name, she was “emancipated” and would be free to seek out other lovers. She’d send you little videos of her calling out their names while she came. Eventually she’d get bored of them and ask you to “reclaim” her.
But this time had been ridiculous. She’s been away a whole month. It had never lasted more than a week. In the videos she’d been moaning “Daddy.” Must be a new kink. Her own father was long dead. Maybe that’s how these kinks got started? You followed the GPS coordinates she’d sent, eventually pulling up to an all too familiar address. …it couldn’t be…your own father’s house.
ProblemCollectionLove 