Abed Ch. 02byMungoParkIII©
The boys and girls are one tonight.
They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies.
They take off shoes. They turn off the light.
The glimmering creatures are full of lies.
They are eating each other. They are overfed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
It has always been one of my ways to spend a night between a person's sheets before letting myself think that I understand him or her, much less to criticize that person. I guess that is why I am shocked at the general attitude I receive when I describe my marriage in such lovingly intimate detail. It is so amazing how anyone can judge me for remaining as silent as a bedpost as she brings home lover after lover. Sure there are times I get tired of being treated like furniture, but how can I or anyone else expect anything different. I mean it is clear, she owns me, as a matter of fact she keeps proof of that locked away in her closet.
So yes, I have to simply watch as she slowly guides another man's cock between her legs, I have to feel her movement as he drives her against me with each thrust, or even worse, when she is on top, driving his ass against me. I watch and feel the cum spray across me, feel the dampness of their sweat, saliva and sex. Sure, occasionally I'll groan and complain, but in the end it's only so much squeaking and banging on the wall.
But that's my problem, not anyone else's. Hell I don't see anyone complaining about the sofa and damn, from what I can see in the mirror near the doorway, she has done things with men on that sofa that I know are illegal in several states. I imagine if Kafka's cockroach would hide beneath that sofa it would have some amazingly promiscuous tales to tell. But no, no one has anything to say about the sofa.
And hell the carpet, it had left more rug burns on knees and asses during her escapades than I could count on my legs. Even the carpet cleaners are amazed at the stains and still I get all the grief. Then there is the table, yes, the kitchen table, I can tell you of a Thanksgiving where the entire feast hit the floor as some guy filled her with his own special stuffing. I heard the turkey was dry that year, but she certainly made sure her lover was well basted in her juices.
Of course what pisses me off are those who insinuate that I am lacking something, calling me a wimp husband. Well, let me tell everyone here, I am king size, not a tiny twin size or queen size, I am a full blooded king size. Can any of you limp dicks out there who are criticizing me honestly call yourselves "king size?" No, I thought not. Not only am I king size, but I am an honest to god Serta Perfect. Not "sorta perfect," I am Serta Perfect in every way. So sure she plays around scooting others around the floor, in the end, when the lights go out, she sleeps quietly in my grasp. Now, that's true love.
It might even be different if she would settle down and just fuck one man in front of me, then I might question our relationship, might be afraid I'd end up on the curb, or in the back of some truck or in the junk yard, but no, she plays the field when she plays around. You know, she's even been known to bring the occasional woman home, something I'll never complain about. It is her playing around that keeps me secure in the knowledge she'll always end up in my arms, no man can give her what I can.
In closing, I do admit that it does bother me some, having to witness all this, feeling it happen all over me and though I do enjoy the times we do frolic alone, it still hurts me some each time she shows up with another lover. I have tried to take the high road, forgive her for her lusts, but frankly, being treated like just another piece of furniture does wear on me. I must now confess that I have, in fact, lashed out at her and each one of her lovers. Now I don't have the means to blow them all away like some might want, nor am I capable of really standing up to any of them, but in spite of all that, I'm sure you'll agree my revenge, though subtle, is wonderfully insidious. It seems almost poetic that I can sum up my plan of revenge in a single word: BEDBUGS!