Intervention Wife

One memorable day I arrived home from work and noticed new neighbors moving into the little rental house next door.

I only caught a glimpse of a young woman going into the house, but the man stood outside. He looked young too, and I learned later that he was 20 years old. He was fairly tall but scrawny. For some reason he was frowning at me.

"I'm John," I introduced myself to my new neighbor and shook his hand. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

"I'm Bob," he replied, still frowning. "You people sure do wear fruity clothes," he stated while glaring at my shirt.

I looked down. That day I happened to wear a pale pink shirt with my suit. I usually wore white shirts but changed it up occasionally with a blue, yellow or pink shirt. "My people? You mean bankers?"

"Gays," he said as if that was obvious.

"Oh, I'm not..."

He cut me off. "I'm not prejudiced," he said, "but the Bible says sodomy is a sin. All you gays are big sinners."

I gawked at him. What kind of idiot goes around randomly spouting stuff like that? I decided to play along for laughs. "Don't knock it until you try it," I said and rested a hand on his arm.

His eyes looked down at my hand on him, then back up at me, then down at my hand, and back up at me. Then he stormed into his house without another word.

I chuckled to myself and muttered, "What an asshole."

==

The next day I went home for lunch and saw my new neighbor's wife unloading groceries from her car.

Holy fuck, I thought. My asshole neighbor had a gorgeous wife!

She was tall and slim to the point of almost being too skinny. It appeared that fat collected on her body in just two places: her tits and to a lesser extent on her ass. God damn, she had a bouncy rack. Tits that high and proud were only possible on a young woman, and I later learned that she was 19, less than half my age of 40. She wore a long, loose, shapeless dress but it was impossible to hide a body like that.

She had shoulder length blonde hair and a classically pretty face. High cheekbones, cute little upturned nose and generous pink lips. Her eyes were icy blue.

"Let me help," I called out and quickly grabbed the last 4 grocery bags.

She flashed a bright smile and chirped, "Thanks!"

I followed her swaying butt into her kitchen. "I'm John," I introduced myself while she put away the groceries. "I met your husband yesterday."

"I'm Tracy," she replied with another smile, but then she hesitated. "Bob told me that you're gay."

"I'm not..." I started before she interrupted.

"I feel sorry for you people because you're all going to burn in Hell. It's so sad," she stated. To her credit she sounded genuinely sad.

What could I say in response? Seriously, what? I decided to continue my prank from the day before. "A leopard can't change his spots," I said in the sassiest flamboyant "gay" voice I could manage. Apologies to any gay men embarrassed by my caricature.

Tracy shocked me by rushing to wrap me in a hug. She looked up with tears in her eyes. "I hate to think of anyone burning in Hell forever," she sobbed.

Good lord, I thought, this girl is a nut job. But a super hot nut job. Her big soft tits felt wonderful pressed against my chest, and her weepy expression made her pretty face even more sensuously gorgeous. "Don't cry, honey," I tried to soothe her. "I'll be fine."

"But you won't be," she sobbed.

"Your concern is touching, Tracy. If I had a girl like you, I probably wouldn't be gay at all."

She immediately stopped sobbing and looked up into my eyes. "Do you mean that, John?" she asked hopefully. "We can do one of those intervention things and save your soul!" She'd done an abrupt emotional 180 and was positively giddy.

"Intervention? Um... I don't think..."

She interrupted yet again, "I'll talk to Bob about it when he gets home from work. Have dinner with us. Be here at 6:30, okay?"

"Dinner sounds good but..."

"I'm so excited!" she gushed. "I've never done an intervention before!" She kissed my cheek and hustled me out the door before I could say anything else.

I got nothing done the rest of the day at work because I daydreamed about my sizzling hot wacko neighbor Tracy.

I also thought about her "intervention" idea and dreaded the lunatic stuff she and her idiot husband would dream up to try to convert me to heterosexuality.

I decided to continue the prank by coming up with my own proposal for how an intervention would work. I used my work computer to create a fake instructional sheet entitled, "The Guaranteed Effective Christian Method for Saving the Souls of Homosexual Deviants".

The instructions were simple: "The Guaranteed Effective Christian Method is based on acclimatization through heterosexual dating. Effective treatment of the homosexual subject requires dates with a woman for at least 3 months to thoroughly purge him of deviant impulses. Frequent dates are recommended to discourage backsliding. 3 or more dates a week is ideal."

It continued, "The dates must be with a woman who is committed to the cause and is prepared to engage in heterosexual sex with the subject throughout the process of intervention. Sex should begin as early as possible and a wide variety of sexual techniques should be used to entice the subject away from his deviant desires."

The instructions concluded, "The intervention MUST NOT be ended before a full 3 months of dating treatments. Stopping midway may cause the subject to commit suicide. Do not interrupt the process for any reason after it is begun!"

I laughed as I reread my ludicrous creation and printed copies for Bob and Tracy.

At 6:30 that evening I knocked on my neighbor's front door. I wore a pink Polo shirt and skinny jeans I bought on the way home.

"Hi, John," Tracy greeted me at the door with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. She ushered me into the dining room where dinner was already on the table.

Bob sat there with his usual frown on his face. I ignored him. "What's wrong?" I asked Tracy.

She sighed. "We want to help you with an intervention, you know to make you straight, but we don't understand how. The information we found is psychological mumbo-jumbo."

I suppressed a laugh. "Oh," I said. "I was curious about this whole intervention thing, so I looked around on the internet and found this. It explains the process pretty simply. Very informative."

I handed them copies of the ridiculous "Guaranteed Effective Christian Method for Saving the Souls of Homosexual Deviants".

Bob began reading and quickly exclaimed, "Sex?! The intervention includes sex?"

"Well, duh, Bob," his wife replied. "How else are you going to turn a gay man straight?"

"I... it's just... I don't know," Bob sputtered ineffectually. "How will we find a woman to do it?"

"What do you mean 'find a woman'?!" Tracy asked him. She sounded highly insulted. "This is our intervention, Bob! I'll do it."

"What?!" Bob yelped. "No you will not!"

Tracy jumped to her feet and towered over her seated husband. Angry, she yelled, "Bob Tower, how selfish are you?! A man's eternal soul is at stake! I'm not going to let him burn!"

Bob's mouth opened and closed a couple of times without speaking. Then he accused, "You want to have sex with him!"

"I do not! He's old and gay!" she screamed. If she was mad before, she was furious now. She stuck a finger in his face and demanded, "You take that back!"

For the record I was not old and of course I was not gay. I was 40 and in great shape from 4 workouts a week at the gym. The reason I wasn't married is because I enjoyed the variety of women who hit on me. Anyway, back to our story...

Bob calmed himself, which impressed me because he's such an idiot. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "But you can't be serious about 'dating' John."

The gorgeous girl sat down again. "Of course I'm serious," she calmly stated. "This says the woman must be 'committed to the cause' and that's what I am. Committed. Are you committed to doing God's work, Bob? Are you?"

Bob looked defeated, which surprised me. "I am, but this is too much."

Tears welled in Tracy's big eyes. "Please, honey. You know what I did with that teacher. This is my chance to make up for that by using my looks for good instead of evil."

"Teacher?" I asked, gobsmacked that the girl had a dark secret in her past.

Tracy nodded and the tears rolled down her cheeks. "When I was an 18 year old senior in high school I was a conceited little monster," she explained to me. "I knew I was pretty and men couldn't take their eyes off my boobs. I had a crush on my math teacher, so I decided to seduce him. One day after class I got him alone and kissed him. In no time he had me bent over his desk and was doing it to me from behind. But we hardly got started when another teacher walked in on us. My crush was fired and his wife divorced him. I realized how evil I was and devoted myself to the church."

"Wow," I said. "That's, um, so sad." I imagined her bent over her teacher's desk and my cock twitched.

She nodded again and turned her attention back to Bob. "Please let me do this, honey," she pleaded, beginning to sob harder. "I need a chance to do good and John needs saving. Please!"

Any man knows that tears are a woman's ultimate weapons, and Bob was no exception. "Alright," he agreed, utterly dejected.

His wife leaped up to hug and kiss him. "Thank you, honey!" Then she turned to me and asked, "When can we have our first date, John?"

I sat there mute and stunned. What the fuck was happening? I thought they'd see right through my "Guaranteed Effective Christian Method" ruse and laugh at me for trying it. "I don't know if I can do this," I replied.

"Pleeeeease, John," she begged. "Let me help you. God must have guided us to move in next to you for this reason. Don't try to deny his will."

Now what was I supposed to say? This was completely out of hand. I sighed, "If this is God's divine plan, then who am I to say no? Let's go out tomorrow night. If we're going to be dating three nights a week, then Monday, Wednesday and Friday suit me."

Tracy beamed and Bob frowned. And just like that I had a date with the gorgeous married girl next door.

==

Wednesday night I put on my best black suit and walked next door to pick up Tracy. She opened the door and I looked her up and down with a frown. She wore one of her shapeless ankle-length plain dresses. This was a pale green one and particularly ugly. Doing my flamboyant gay man impression, I put my hands on my hips and huffed, "No, girlfriend! I cannot be seen with you wearing that!"

Tracy blushed and hung her head. "It's all I have. All of my dresses look like this, John."

I shook my head. "Tsk. Tsk. It's horrid. Simply horrid."

"Her dress looks fine," Bob declared from where he stood behind his wife.

I dramatically rolled my eyes. "Straight men know nothing about fashion," I said and took Tracy's hand. "Come along sweetie."

I led her by the hand to my car and off we went. "I'm sorry about the way I look, John," she apologized.

I reached over to pat her hand. "Don't you worry about a thing, girlfriend. I'll fix it."

"Fix it? How?"

"We're going shopping."

Her eyes opened wide. "I don't think Bob will like that."

I was sure he wouldn't. I pouted and told her, "If you're not going to take our dates seriously, I don't see why I should go out with you at all!"

"But you have to!" she responded with alarm. "I'm going to save your soul!"

"I think I should take you back home right now."

"No, please," she begged. "Take me shopping. I'll wear whatever you want. I promise."

I pretended to reluctantly sigh. "Alright, missy. But tonight you are my dress up doll. Is that clear?"

"Yes, John. I promise."

I drove to a downtown boutique and took the reluctant Tracy inside. We were immediately approached by a saleswoman. She was my age, quite a bit shorter than Tracy but curvy. Her knee-length black dress was business-like but stretched across her big tits and ass beautifully. "Hello, I'm Margaret," she greeted us and gave me a sexy grin. "May I help you?"

"I am taking my friend out for dinner and dancing tonight," I replied, "and she needs an appropriate dress."

Margaret looked at Tracy's dress and winced. She had already deduced that I was the one in charge and addressed me, "I'm sure we can help you, sir. Where are you taking her?"

"The Dove for dinner and the Royale for dancing after."

The saleswoman's eyebrows raised. "Nice. She'll need something chic." She showed us a few options but I perked up when she said, "Velvet is very trendy at the moment." She held up a dark red velvet dress.

"I love it," I told her.

"I can't wear that," Tracy complained.

"Hush," I scolded her.

She blushed and nodded.

Margaret was amused by the dynamic between me and my date. She smirked and took a hesitant Tracy into the dressing room.

A few minutes later the saleswoman pushed Tracy out of the dressing room for me to see. The tall slender girl blushed red and fidgeted under my gaze. "Beautiful," I said, and it was. The soft velvet dress fit her well, curving just right over her big tits, tiny waist and perky butt. It was hemmed a few inches above the knee, not daring at all but still uncomfortable for fundamentalist Tracy.

"It's too short," she said and tugged at the hem.

"It's not short at all and stop squirming," I corrected her. "Stand up straight." The girl followed my instructions.

"She needs stockings," the saleswoman told me. Tracy's pale legs certainly needed help. "And her bra and panties are utilitarian at best. Shall I find something more appropriate for a sophisticated date?"

"Yes, please," I replied, pleased by the woman's initiative.

She hurried off and a couple minutes later returned with a lacy sheer black bra, thong panties and garter belt set. She also brought smoky gray thigh-high stockings and held it all up for my approval. I nodded. "Yes, yes. Very nice."

Margaret herded Tracy back into the dressing room. Several minutes later Tracy walked out looking mortified. Her long slim legs looked awesome in stockings. "John, please don't make me wear this underwear," she pleaded. "It's riding up my behind."

"Quiet, Tracy," I warned. "Do you want me to take you home?"

She quickly shook her head. "Sorry. I'll be good."

Margaret suppressed a laugh and handed me a bag containing the boring dress and underwear Tracy had worn from home. "She needs shoes. Her black flats do not go with this outfit."

"Definitely," I agreed and we marched Tracy to the shoe department in her stocking feet. "Do you know how to walk in heels?" I asked.

The girl timidly nodded. "I used to wear my mom's heels when I was little."

Margaret found shoes in a color matching the velvet dress. They had moderate 3-inch heels and Tracy could walk with only a few wobbles.

The saleswoman looked Tracy over and said, "She looks terrific from the neck down, but she needs makeup. Do you have time for a quick makeover?"

I agreed and Margaret took us to the makeup counter, where Tracy was given a makeover and tutoring by another saleswoman.

While they were busy, Margaret drew me away. "She's married," she softly stated with a wicked grin. Tracy's rings were obvious of course, and I didn't have any.

I nodded and grinned back. "She's my next-door neighbor," I told her. "It's a long story."

Her eyes opened wide. "Your neighbor! You are bad."

"And her husband knows all about it," I added.

"That is so kinky," she snickered. She handed me her card and said, "When you get tired of playing with her, give me a call. I like your style."

Tracy finished her makeover with bright red lipstick, light smoky gray eye shadow, and mascara to extend her lashes a bit. She'd gone from a diamond in the rough to polished and stunningly beautiful. I took her hand and praised, "You look lovely, from head to toe."

She continuously blushed but was clearly pleased by my compliments.

I paid for everything and of course Tracy wore her new clothes out of the store.

We walked hand-in-hand out into the parking lot. "Do I really look okay, John?" she hesitantly asked.

"Better than okay. Are you fishing for compliments?"

"No," she said but I guessed she was. She needed lots of reassurance. "I don't look like a... tramp?"

I stopped and looked in her eyes. "You look beautiful and sophisticated and lovely. I could've bought you a mini-skirt and a translucent blouse, but I wouldn't do that to you. I want you to look fabulous and classy, girlfriend, and you do."

Tracy smiled. "Thank you."

I drove to the restaurant and took advantage of the valet parking. One of the young male valets opened the passenger door and got an eyeful of Tracy's long legs when she swiveled in her seat and exited the car.

She took my arm and I whispered in her ear, "The cute valet loves your legs."

Tracy blushed red and objected, "John, you shouldn't say things like that."

We both glanced back at the valet and caught him staring at my date's ass.

"What did you do to get his attention?"

She squirmed. "I... I didn't do anything. When I swung my legs out, my dress inched up and he... he saw my stocking tops. That's all."

I liked how unnerved the naive girl was by such a small thing.

"Maybe you'll get another chance to flash him on the way out," I said.

She hung her pretty head and looked dejected. "Why are you teasing me, John?"

Now I felt like a heel. I stopped before we entered the restaurant and hugged her. "I'm sorry, Tracy. I got carried away. I won't tease you anymore. Forgive me?"

She nodded but her head was still hanging.

"Thank you. You're a wonderful, giving girl and I don't deserve your help." I kissed both of her cheeks.

Tracy gasped at the shock of me kissing her in public. But she quickly got over it and smiled shyly. "You do deserve my help, John. You're a nice man even if you are a meanie sometimes."

"Now who's teasing?" I playfully protested.

She giggled and leaned against me while we walked in.

The restaurant had a casual atmosphere but the food was sophisticated. The high prices intimidated Tracy even though I was paying.

While we enjoyed an excellent meal, she told me her life story. She grew up poor in a tiny town in the hills of East Tennessee. Very poor. She was an only child and was spoiled even though the family had almost nothing. "I was an awful kid," she confessed.

"I doubt that."

"It's true. I was a brat. And once I realized that men wanted me, I became a terror at age 18. I slept with two married men before I seduced my teacher," she told me.

I grinned. "You were a very bad girl."

"Terrible," she agreed. "I'm just glad I finally have a way to use these for a good cause." She grinned and shook her torso to make her big tits jiggle.

I tried not to gawp like an idiot, and asked, "How did you get together with Bob?" They were a mismatched pair so I was naturally curious.

"After the scandal with the teacher, Bob was the only one who welcomed me at the church. We spent time together and got married a few months later."

Bob was either lucky or shrewd. Having met Bob, I figured he must be lucky.

After dinner we walked to a classy nightclub that had a live band for dancing. We bopped happily to fast songs for about a half hour.

The DJ finally played a slow song and I pulled the sexy girl right up against me. We moved slowly and naturally together. "So... two married men and your math teacher," I softly said. "You like older men?"

She looked up into my eyes and blushed but smiled too. "Some older men," she answered, "if they're fit and hot."

"I guess that leaves me out."

Her smile broadened and her hands rubbed my back. "I don't know, John," she teased. "You seem fit and you're kinda hot."

"Just kinda hot?" I asked and pulled her more firmly against me.