tagLoving WivesBecoming A Slut Wife: Ericka

Becoming A Slut Wife: Ericka

byJust Plain Bob©

Like so many people in the National Guard I had joined for the educational opportunities and that little extra bit of cash you got each month. Wanting to be a computer technician and being from a perpetually cash strapped family with no chance at college I jumped at the chance to get the computer training that the Guard offered.

Going to war was the last thing on my mind.

The Guard hadn't gone to war since the Second World War. All the Guard did was work things like flood relief and other national disasters. Occasional they got activated when there was civil unrest like the riots in LA and Detroit, but they didn't go to war. The Guard didn't go to war in Korea in 1950 and, with the exception of the Air Guard, the Guard didn't go to war in Viet Nam or the first Gulf War. So I joined, got my computer training and went to work as a computer technician. I attended my monthly meetings, two weeks of summer camp and refresher courses in my specialty, the monthly checks came in and life was good.

I met Ericka, fell in love and set out to convince her that she needed to spend the rest of her life with me and was surprised as hell when she agreed. We were married and settled down to make a life together. Again, life was good.

And then that idiot Bush stole the election and pushed us into an ill-advised war in Iraq and suddenly the Guard was on its way to war.

At first the letters from home were cheery and upbeat, but as the months passed by they became more and more gloomy. Guard pay wasn't enough to meet the bills even with Ericka working. In one letter she described how she had just barely kept the electricity from being turned off. In another she told me how a loan from her parents helped pay the rent that she was behind on and kept her from being evicted. I and other members of my unit were becoming more and more bitter over the fact that we were bearing the brunt of Bush's stupid war and not even being paid the same as regular members of the Army, Navy or Air Force. The letters from home were full of doom and gloom as family after family fought for survival.

There are rabid Bush supporters (who by the way were not there - and neither were their sons and daughters) who will say, "Stop your whining, you signed up on your own. You knew, or you should have known, that there was always the possibility that the Guard could get called up."

That is true and I accept that, but in all previous call ups the Guard received the same pay and allowances as the regular army troops - but not this time! Next, I was trained to fix computers, not walk down a street in Ramadi with a rifle at port arms while I scanned windows and doorways for some asshole who thought that he would get seven virgins for killing me.

Anyway, enough of this rant.

Suddenly the doom and gloom letters stopped coming. They never got back to the cheery stage, but I didn't hear anymore about the lights, gas, or phone being shut off or about the possibility of being evicted. Then luck took a hand - good luck, bad luck, who's to know - and I got what was called a "million dollar wound." I was on patrol just outside of Ramadi when some one set of a car bomb. I was just close enough to the blast for a piece of the car to slice through my leg. The pipeline took over and six weeks later I'm at La Guardia and waiting for my flight to leave for Kansas City. I made the fateful decision not to call Ericka and tell her I was coming because I thought it would be a kick to surprise her.

My flight got into Kansas City around eleven in the morning and I caught a cab for our apartment. Just as we were pulling into the apartment parking lot I saw Ericka getting into her Honda Accord and as she pulled away I told the cab driver to follow her. He turned to look at me, "You're kidding, right? Follow that car? Just like in the movies?"

"Yeah, that's what I said, follow that car."

We followed Ericka across town until she pulled up and parked in front of Blackie's Sports Bar and Grill. She was already inside by the time I paid off the cab driver and got my duffel bag out of the trunk. I carried my bag over to the Accord meaning to toss it inside on the back seat, but it was locked so I headed into the bar. I saw Ericka sitting at the bar talking to a man who was standing next to her and showing her something from his wallet. I saw her nod her head yes to something he said and the man waved at a man sitting at a table. The man got up and walked over to them, a few words were said and then the man took out his wallet and showed something to Ericka and she nodded her head yes.

Now, all of this was going on while at the same time all kinds of other things were running through my mind. One, it was one in the afternoon on a Tuesday so why wasn't Ericka at work? Two, she was wearing a short skirt, a very low cut blouse with her tits damned near falling out and "Come Fuck Me" pumps with four inch heels - not exactly the clothes that you would wear to work or go out wearing that early in the day. Three, she had on heavy makeup and her hair was highly teased, either that or she was wearing a wig. In short, she looked like a tramp. Four, what was she doing in a bar in the middle of what was supposed to be a work day for her and five, who were those men and what was Ericka making them show her?

All of this rattled around in my head in the first few seconds after I walked in the door and as I was getting ready to drop my bag and rush over to her. Before the bag hit the floor a voice in the back of my head was saying, "Take a seat in a dark corner Ted and watch, because something isn't kosher here." I kicked my bag to the side and slid into a booth where I could watch what was going on.

Ericka and the two men stood there and talked for another minute or two and then Ericka got up and the two men followed her as she went out the front door. I got up, picked up my bag and walked outside just in time to see Ericka and the two men walk across the street to the Shady Oaks Motor Lodge. Ericka opened her purse, took out a key and the three of them went into room 104. Now I might love my wife, be crazy about her in fact, but that did not make me stupid. My mind raced through the possibilities and quickly decided that two and two do indeed equal four. The clothes, the physical appearance, the bar, the checking the men's ID's and having a key to a motel room all added up to Ericka working as a hooker.

My first inclination was to storm across the street, kick down the door to unit 104 and demand some answers, but then that little voice in the back of my head was saying, "Let's not be hasty now. Maybe we are overlooking a five, six or seven that might make the answer something else." I know now that all that little voice was doing was trying to make me go into denial, but I listened to it and went back into the bar and headed for the same stool that Ericka had been sitting on. The bartender was an old guy and when he brought me my beer he pushed my money back at me.

"For servicemen the first one is on the house."

Turns out he was in War Two and Korea and we talked about the differences between the Army of his day and the Army of mine. During a lull in the conversation I asked, "That woman who was sitting her a little bit ago, you know her?"

"Naw, but if I could get it up anymore I sure would like to know her" and then he laughed, "In the biblical sense of the word if you know what I mean."

"She come in here often?"

"Three maybe four times a week, why?"

"I think I know her from some place and I'm having a hard time figuring out from where."

"Don't know pal. I got no idea where she used to work out of before she started working out of here."

"Working out of here?"

"Yeah. She's a hooker. Most places don't allow stuff like that, but I'm an opened minded guy and besides, she's good for business."

"Good for business?"

"Oh yeah. She's got a great reputation as a superb piece of ass and lots of guys come in here looking for her and while they wait, they drink."

"Can't be the one I think I know then. Last I heard she was married and had kids."

"So is Jackie; at least she is wearing wedding rings."

"Jackie? Now I know she can't be the one I thought she was because the girl I knew was named Susan."

"Names don't mean nothing pal. Jackie could be like a stage name or something like that."

I finished my beer, had one more and then grabbed my bag and went outside. I stared across the street at unit 104 for a minute or so and then I flagged down a cab and had it take me back to the apartment.

My pickup truck was sitting in the rear row of the apartment parking lot. Ericka was supposed to have driven it at least once a week while I was gone, but I don't know that she had since it looked like it was parked right where I had left it. I went around to the back and reached up inside the rear frame for the magnetic key box. Inside of the box were a spare key for the truck and an apartment key. I tossed my bag in the back of the truck and then went and let myself into the apartment. It didn't look like anything had been changed since I'd been gone. I went into the bedroom, took off my uniform, got jeans out of the closet and a T-shirt out of the dresser and then I went snooping around to see what I could find.

The drawers of the bedside stand revealed an assortment of sex toys, creams and ointments and three cartons of rubbers. Ericka's dresser yielded dozens of pieces of extremely skimpy lingerie that she hadn't had before I left. In the closet I found several pair of high heeled boots and high heeled shoes, none of which Ericka had when I was still at home. In the kitchen I found a Daily Planner on the kitchen table and I opened it and read some of the entries:

Jules - 7:30 at the Marriott Smitty - Best Western/7PM (confirm with Gail)] Steve/House call - All nighter? Check with Gail

There were no entries for that day. While I was thumbing through the planner the phone rang and on the second ring the answering machine picked up the call:

"Ericka honey, it's Gail. I have a bachelor party for you on Friday at seven. Fifteen in attendance and it pays twenty-five hundred. Nothing special needed, just high heels, nylons and a smile. Oh, one other thing --they are all black, but that hasn't bothered you in the past. Call me for details."

That blew my mind.

After what I had seen at Blackie's and after hearing what Phil (the bartender) had to say I knew that my wife had become a whore, but fifteen guys at a bachelor party? It was just too totally unbelievable to me that my sweet, young innocent wife could have changed that much in the eight months that I had been gone. That she had there was no doubt, but I still had a hard time believing it. I saw that Ericka had set up a small makeshift bar in a corner of the living room and I went over to it, built myself a drink and then settled in to wait for her to come home.

I was sitting on the couch and looking out the front window when Ericka pulled into the parking lot. She was just getting out of her Accord when another car pulled in right behind her and a tall black man got out. Ericka stood there and waited for him and then together they walked toward the apartment. I could have just sat there and yelled "Surprise, surprise" when Ericka walked in the front door, but then we would have had to go through a bunch of bullshit as she tried to explain the man with her. I could just picture it:

"Oh my God baby, you're home" and she would rush into my arms. The man would be standing there and Ericka would be all flustered and say something like, "This is Bill sweetie and he's here to fix the garbage disposal" and hope that I wouldn't pick up on the fact that the guy was wearing a suit and tie and had no tool box. No, I decided that the way to go would be to catch her in the act. I picked up my drink and headed for the bedroom. I made sure that the closet would accommodate me and then I stood just inside the bedroom door where I could hear, but not be seen. I heard them come in the front door and I heard Ericka say, "If you want a drink you know where the stuff is."

The man laughed and said, "Alcohol deadens the senses sweetheart. I want to get full enjoyment for my money."

"Speaking of which, what do you want this time?"

"I want the full boat this time baby, oral, anal and all night."

"All night? How are you going to explain that to your wife?"

"Don't have to, she's out of town for three days. If the price is right I just may spend all three days here."

"Sorry sugar, but I have other commitments, unless you would like a lot of sloppy seconds."

"It's an idea. I'm not entirely opposed, but we can talk about it later. What about now?"

"The full treatment and all night will cost you a grand."

"Oh come on sweetmeat, cut me a break. I do a lot of business with you and I should get some kind of discount."

"Sorry lover, I do this to pay the bills, not because I love doing it. Besides, I know you. For anyone else an all nighter would mean a blow job, a fuck followed by one more blow job and a last fuck and then we would go to sleep until the morning. One more fuck when we wake up and he would be gone. With you there won't be any sleeping involved, just non-stop sex and if I'm going to do it I'm going to get paid for it."

"Okay, a grand it is, but for that much money I want to be a little kinky."

"Kinky how?"

"Nothing really weird, I just want to have you in every room. I want to fuck you on your living room floor, the living room couch, the kitchen table, standing up in the shower, sitting on the pot with you bouncing up and down on me; stuff like that."

Ericka laughed, "Kitchen table huh? Well then come and get it sweetie."

I heard some chairs being moved and a minute or so later I heard a low moan and then I heard Ericka say, "You know what I like about you Rick?"

He laughed and said, "My money?"

"That too baby, but what I really like is that you are big; God but you are big and you totally fill me up."

The moans got louder and I chanced taking a peek around the door frame. Ericka was on her back on the kitchen table, legs spread wide and up on the man's shoulders. One of her high heels was dangling from her foot and it swayed back and forth as the man shoved his cock into her. The man had taken of his suit coat, trousers and underpants, but he still had on his shirt, tie, shoes and socks and I was suddenly struck by how erotic his black skin was against Ericka's white skin. I ducked back behind the door frame and stood there and listened as the man grunted and Ericka moaned. Several minutes went by and all I heard was the slap, slap of flesh smacking into flesh, Ericka's moans and an occasional grunt from the man. Then the man said, "Get ready baby, get ready, here it comes" and Ericka cried out, "Not in me, not in me, pullout, you don't have a condom on."

"Not this time baby; this time I'm going to bathe your tonsils."

"You cum in me Rick and it will be the last time that you ever fuck me. Now pull out damn you, pull out now!"

"I'll give you an extra five to let me cum in you."

"God damn you Rick pull out, pull out now."

"Shit!" he said and I took another quick peek around the doorframe. I watched him pull out of Ericka and stroke himself and then he shot cum all over Ericka's belly. I admit to being a little envious when I saw the size of the cock he was stroking, but I was more interested in what Ericka was doing. She was rubbing a couple of fingers in the cum on her belly and then she took them up to her mouth and sucked them clean.

"You are not only big Rick, but you taste so fucking good. If you want to cum in my body my mouth is always available."

"Yeah, you say that now, but what happens when your husband comes home?"

"Once he comes home and things get back on an even keel financially I won't have to fuck for money and all my fucking will be for pleasure. I'll find a way to see that you are able to push that gorgeous cock into me."

Rick helped her up and she told him to go into the bedroom and get ready for her while she went into the bathroom and cleaned herself off. That was my cue to get into the closet.

We almost had a chance, albeit a small one, for our marriage to survive. I knew why she had done what she did, and while it had pissed me off and made me very angry, I still understood the need to survive. Others had managed to survive without doing what Ericka had, but everyone's circumstances are different. I knew the why, but I had no way of knowing the how or when that it started, but as long as there wasn't any emotional involvement between Ericka and her customers, and as long as she would have given it up as soon as I got home we might have made a go of it. But I'd just heard her tell Rick that she was going to be available to him even after I got home and that killed any chance we might have had.

Rick came into the room and took off the rest of his clothes and then he sat down on the edge of the bed and once again I got envious of what I saw. It wasn't a whole lot longer than mine, but girthwise the thing was huge. I'm not exaggerating when I say that it was about as big around as a beer can. Minute's later Ericka walked into the room. She had taken all of her clothes off, but she was still wearing her heels. She walked up to Rick and then went to her knees as she reached for his cock and smiled up at him.

"Now let's see what we can do for him."

She put both hands around his cock and lifted it to her lips and licked the head, which was still wet from his discharge, and then she licked his cock and balls clean before opening her mouth and taking him in. My cock got rock hard as I watched that pretty white face take in that huge chocolate log. In minutes Ericka had him hard again and she reached inside the bedside stand for a condom. There was something very erotic in watching her small white hands roll a rubber on that big, black dick. Once it was on she pushed him onto his back and then she moved over him. She held the lips of her pussy open with the fingers of her left hand as she guided him into her with her right. She moaned as she sank down on him.

"Good, Oh God do you feel gooood in me. If I was some rich bitch and not a poor housewife I'd pay you for this. Come on baby, fuck me, fuck your white whore."

It took Rick ten minutes to let loose his second load of the afternoon and then Ericka rolled his rubber off, tied it and dropped it on the floor. Her hand ran down his flat stomach to his limp dick and she started stroking it.

"Why won't you let me cum in you? Don't you know what a turn on it is for a black man to shoot his seed into a white woman? You say that you are just in this for the money so how can you turn down the extra I'm willing to pay to fuck you without a raincoat on?"

"Because the last thing that my husband needs is to come home to a pregnant wife."

"Not a very open minded guy huh?"

"Not in the least."

"You could always get an abortion."

"No way lover. Women who have abortions can end up not being able to have babies ever again. I want to give my husband babies, lots of babies, I just don't want to give him any black ones."

There it was - the moment of truth! I had really wanted to see Rick push his beer can sized cock up Ericka's ass - he did pay for the full boat - but I couldn't pass up the exit line that Ericka had just offered up on a plate. I pushed open the closet door hard so it would bang into the wall and both sets of eyes turned toward me..

"Actually Ericka, you can fill the apartment full of black babies and it won't bother me at all because I won't be living here anymore."

A look of stunned disbelief and horror was on her face as I said, "Goodbye Ericka" and walked out the door.

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