Me, You, My Wife, and Yours Pt. 05

Franky frowned and shook his head. "I never carry that much on me." He looked distraught.

"Just give me that gold chain and bracelet, then," I said.

Franky's eyes widened. He grabbed at his gold chain, shaking his fat head. "The necklace alone is worth more than two grand."

"Not at a pawnshop," I said. "I'll need the bracelet, too."

Franky grimaced, shaking his head, but I knew I had him on the hook. I yanked the line hard. "She gives the best head I have ever had. No gag reflex, and she... 'chugs ALL the charlie'... every last frigging drop. I'll make her blow you first to prove it."

Brad gasped. "Harry!" he said. "That is so completely fucked! This is Helen your--"

I threw my hand up in front of his face and yelled, "Brad!" cutting him off. "What do you say, Franky?"

Franky said, "I'll do it. the six. grand and all my gold. It's a fucking deal."

I put my hand out again. "Deal."

We shook and Franky said, "How soon can she be here?"

I said, "Give me thirty minutes to an hour. Is that a kitchen? Is it unlocked? Can she blow them all in there?"

Franky nodded. "Yeah, that's exactly where I was going to set up the whore I hired. I put a couple of old sleeping bags on the floor for her to kneel on. It's ready to go."

"Good," I said. I pointed at the group of guys. "Tell them not to react or even to look at her when I come back here with the girl. I'm going to bring her right into that kitchen and then, when I come out and wave, they can come into the kitchen - one at a fucking time - and get their dicks sucked and their... charlie chugged."

"Holy shit! Okay, boss," Franky said. "I'll tell them."

Just then a pretty blonde white girl arrived with a tall black dude. She was dressed in high heels and a black tank top and mini-skirt, obviously a stripper and her bodyguard.

All the guys applauded, hollered and whistled.

I pointed at them applauding and said to Franky, "There better be none of that when my w-... I mean, when my whore gets here."

Franky shook his head. "There won't be. I guarantee it." He shook his head, smiling. "Are you her pimp, Dude? Like in 'Risky Business'?" He laughed.

"No," I said, suddenly not caring if he knew who Helen was. "Actually, I'm her husband."

The smile on Franky's face vanished. He said, "The fuck, Dude. Really?"

I frowned at him.

He put his hands up in surrender. "Okay, Boss. I get it. None of my business."

"Oh," I said, "And give Brad that $40 baggie."

"Absolutely," Franky said, fishing in his pocket and coming out with a bubble baggie of white powder. He handed it to Brad.

When we got back in the truck, Brad turned to me and said, "What the hell are you doing? Helen will never agree to that. She won't. I can't even believe you... I mean... Harry... It's... it's just plain sick. There are forty guys in there."

"Just drive."

Brad shook his head. He started his truck, put it in gear and said, "You know she's just going to say, "fuck you," and divorce you, right?"

"Good," I said, truly not giving a shit.

He hit the gas and peeled out of the parking lot.

I said, "Best orgasm she's had in ten years? Well, fuck her, too."

Brad mumbled, "At least YOUR wife didn't squirt."

We were silent for the rest of the ride home.

We walked into my house, and the girls were sitting at the kitchen table, smiling and warmly chit-chatting like best friends again. They were both drinking coffee and wearing our his-and-her, terry cloth bathrobes.

I didn't think Helen was upset with Janet when we left, but I knew Janet had been pissed at Helen.

Now Janet didn't appear to be angry at all. Was she that good an actress? Her smile and even the friendly tone of her voice as she talked to Helen about something to do with the kids seemed completely genuine.

I had a wife to sell into sexual slavery, so I figured the best way to deliver my message was direct and to the point. "Hi, girls," I said, "I just made a deal for Helen to blow forty guys at that bachelor party."

Both Janet and Helen turned their heads, their smiles still lingering. Then those smiles quickly faded as what I had just announced sunk in.

They both stared at me with blank expressions.

Helen's changed first - into an outraged and exasperated scowl. "Excuse me!" She shouted, jumping to her feet and knocking over her chair.

Janet just remained seated, looking panic stricken.

"Brad's friend, the coke dealer, will pay me eight grand for you to blow forty men."

"Forty men!" Helen screamed. "Are you fucking insane?"

I shrugged. "Same deal as last week in the van, Helen. It wil just be a lot more guys."

Her mouth opened and closed, nothing coming out. Then she burst into tears, covering her face in both her hands. She wailed crying as she said, almost incoherently, "Bu... but... yoooou seh-heh-hed, 'No moooore random co-hah-hocks!"

Okay, so now I felt like a piece of crap. I had promised her I wouldn't make her service any more random cocks after I made her service three that day, but I still didn't really care.

After what Helen had said to me right after she fucked Brad, my wife obviously didn't give a goddamn about my feelings. Why the fuck should I give a goddamn about hers?

"Well, Helen," I said loudly and coldly, as she sobbed into her hands, "I've changed my mind back again. Now, tonight, I want you to blow a room full of guys to save our marriage... or I'll just pack up your shit right now and I'm sure Brad will give you a ride to your mother's house." I shrugged. "It's a simple fucking decision. I'm good either way."

Janet, who had seemed frozen in terror, like I had run into the house shooting a gun, jumped up from her chair and screamed, "You sick fuck! Go fuck yourself!" She scampered around the table and took Helen into her arms. Helen buried her face in Janet's shoulder and sobbed.

Janet glared at me with hatred in her eyes. "She isn't fucking blowing anybody! You... sick... disgusting... asshole!" Janet held Helen's head, patting it, and said, "It's okay, Helen. Brad and I will take you to your mom's house. The kids are there. Everyone who loves you is there."

Helen shook her head, lifting it off Janet's shoulder. She sniffled, stretching the terry cloth robe up from her chest and wiping her face with it.

"No," Helen said, "No. I'm doing it."

Brad, who had been standing next to me, shouted, "What?" so loudly that he made my ear ring for the second time that night. "No way! No fucking way! Why the fuck would you do that? Harry's being a complete fucking asshole!"

Helen looked over at me, her make-up a dreadful runny mess, but she still looked beautiful. Her eyes locked on mine, sorrowful and pleading. "He's just angry at me, Brad..." her lip quivered and she nearly burst out crying again, but she held it together. "Harry's just angry... about what I said... after fucking you." Fighting off more tears, she cried, "Oh, Harry!"

Helen broke away from Janet and ran right at me, falling into my arms. I would have dodged her attempt at an embrace a few moments before, but Helen had hit the nail right on the head. So, I took her in my arms.

She hugged me with all her might and wept.

Janet screamed, "Screw that asshole, Helen."

Brad said, "That is still no excuse for Harry trying to turn you into a fucking whore!"

Helen's next reaction shocked me, and I don't shock easily. She turned and shrieked in Brad's face. "I am a fucking whore!"

Brad jumped, taking two steps back, and cringing away from Helen's vicious outburst.

Helen spun her head toward Janet, spit flying as she shouted, "I am a filthy fucking whore, Janet! And you know it!"

Both Brad and Janet looked even more shocked than I was, eyes wide and mouths agape.

Helen shook her head and she took a deep breath. In a much calmer, but hoarse voice, she said, "Look. I'm sorry, Janet, but I've been a whore since high school. The only reason we became such good friends--"

"You are not a fucking whore, Helen," Janet said, "You are just a normal--"

"No!" Helen shouted, cutting her off. "The only fucking reason we're such good friends is because you're a fucking whore, too! We were outcasts in high school. Why, Janet? Why wouldn't any of the other girls associate with us?"

"I am not a whore and neither are you. The other girls only shunned us because they were jealous. Boys just liked us more."

Helen chuckled ruefully. "Yeah, because we fucking put out!"

"That's not why!" Janet shouted. "We were just prettier and more popular. We weren't fucking whores!"

"Really?" Helen said. "How many guys did you blow in our last year of high school, Janet? Be honest."

Janet clammed up. She shot a worried glance at Brad. Looking back at Helen, she shrugged, and said, "Yeah, but that was my choice. Nobody made me fucking do that."

Helen nodded. "And it was my choice when I cheated on Harry. I was being a fucking whore for ME. Now..." her lip turned and she cried openly as she said... "Now-how-ow... I am going to be... to be a whaw-haw-hooore for Hah-harry." She pushed her face into my shoulder and sobbed.

Hearing Helen confess like that, aloud, and with Brad and Janet both right there, made me forgive her.

Sure, her words about how hard Brad had made her cum still stung, but I couldn't be mad at her anymore, not for telling the truth, not for that, no matter how much that truth hurt.

I caressed her hips and kissed her wet cheek. I whispered, "Thank you, Baby. I love you. I won't make you do this. Let's just forget all about it."

Helen lifted her head, and wiped her nose with the front of her wrist. "No," she said, "I'm fucking doing it. I hurt you so much, Harry, and I keep hurting you, even by accident. I want to do something, once and for all, to prove how much I really do love you."

Janet yelled, "That doesn't mean you have to blow forty guys, Helen!"

"Yes!" Helen yelled back. "Yes, it does!"

Brad said, "But Helen, Harry just said you don't have to. What the fuck?"

Helen looked at Brad and said, "I love my fucking husband, Brad, and I intend to prove it. And I will blow the whole state of Rhode Island if that's what it takes."

The words were laughable, and Helen turned her face back to mine as soon as she finished spewing them at him, but Brad's jaw dropped open, and tears welled up in his eyes.

He looked truly overwhelmed as his tears began to flow.

I had never seen the big brute that emotionally impacted by anything anyone had ever said to him before, and I had been there the day his Mom had broken the news that his Dad died in a car accident.

Helen hadn't noticed Brad's silent breakdown at all. Looking only at me, she said, "Now can you two please leave the room? Give us a few minutes so we can talk.... just me and Harry... alone."

"Fine!" Janet said, "Let's let them talk, Brad. Come with me, Baby." She hugged her husband to her and lead him away. I heard her speaking softly to him as they left. "Why are you crying, Brad? Tell me what's wrong."

Brad and Janet disappeared into the living room.

Helen wiped her face with her robe. In a very low voice she said, "I wanted to talk to you before you left, because I wanted to tell you something very important." Her face screwed up and she nearly cried again, but she regained control. In a faint whisper, she said, "I fucking faked my orgasm with Brad."

My world flipped over. "What?" I said, not daring to believe her. My heart raced in my chest and my face felt hot. I could barely breathe.

Helen smiled her movie star smile, looked deep into my eyes and nodded her head. "It's true, Harry. Brad didn't make me cum. Didn't you pick up on that at all? I really thought you would pick up on it. I never make those sounds after an orgasm." She threw her head back, clenched her teeth and whispered, "Ooooh yeeeeah.... Oooooh yeeeeah..." then she put her face nose to nose with mine, shook her head and giggled a mischievous giggle. "How the fuck could you think that was real?"

She was right. I had never seen her do any of that before, and I knew every single sound and breath Helen ever made when she had sex.

Beyond that, though, I could tell she was telling me the truth just by the way she was saying it, with a giddy and mischievous glee, thrilled to the core at finally being able to share her secret with me.

I was so relieved and full of joy that I burst into tears and pulled my smiling wife into me in a bear hug. I squeezed her so hard that she tapped my shoulder a bunch of times in distress.

"Okay!" she croaked, her voice strained. "Okay! Enough! Can't breathe!"

I let her loose, but immediately kissed her. We melted into one of the more passionate kisses of our marriage.

I had my wife back.

As we disengaged from our kiss, Helen used the sleeve of her robe to wipe my tears away.

She whispered, "I am so sorry you thought that horrible thing I said afterward was true... I mean I wanted to be convincing for Brad's sake... but what the fuck is wrong with you? I would never say something so cruel, especially if it were true. And then you left, and you were so upset, but I had to wait for you to get back." Helen shook her head. "I understand completely why you booked me for that bachelor party, and I really will do it for you if you still want me--"

Finally able to speak again, I interrupted her, and said, "No! No fucking way, Baby." I laughed and picked her high up in the air.

Helen let out a little shriek of surprise and kicked her feet, giggling as I held her aloft. She brought her movie star smile down to my lips and we kissed again.

As we broke away, she said, "I love you, Harry," caressing my face with both hands.

I dropped her back onto her feet.

She whispered, "Oh, by the way, while you two were gone I told Janet I faked it, too, and she practically cried she was so happy. I only did that for Brad, Harry. After what he saw happen between you and Janet, I wanted to give him his pride back. He can never know what I--"

"No, of course not. You did great. I just wish you had clued me in on it before hand. What the fuck, Helen?" I shook my head. "Watching that whole act of yours was like a gut punch to my--"

"Fuck you!" Janet screamed so loud from the other room that Helen and I jumped.

We both turned and rushed into the living room.

Brad sat on the cushion-less couch, looking completely relaxed with his work boots propped up on the coffee table and his muscular arms spread wide, nearly spanning the full length of the sofa's back.

Janet's head spun in our direction. She looked furious. "He wants me to fucking help you! Do you fucking believe that? I can't even fucking believe it!"

Neither I nor Helen seemed able to grasp that statement. "Wait," I said, "Help who do what?"

Janet screamed, "He wants me to help Helen blow all those fucking guys!"

Helen and I both talked at the same time. She said, "Really, Brad?" and I said, "What the fuck! Why?"

Brad shrugged. "Janet just admitted to blowing like way over two hundred dudes... maybe over three hundred." That hung in the air for a moment. Then Brad shrugged and added, "I guess without access to a super computer we'll never know for sure."

Janet screamed again, her whole body shaking with the effort. "I was in a fucking motorcycle club after high school, Brad! It was over like five or six years! I didn't..." she mimed jerking off dicks, violently waving both her cupped hands into her open mouth, "Suck them all off in one fucking night! Jesus Christ!"

Janet clasped her hands together. Turning to us and pushing her clasped hands back and forth in a pleading gesture, she shouted, "Please somebody tell him that's normal!'

I let out a single chuckle, just one little "Hehe," before I could catch it, but that's all it took.

Everyone turned their eyes on me, my wife with a disgusted, 'oh, how could you, Harry' look, Janet gasping loudly and utterly aghast, and Brad with his eyes popping wide in vindication, as if my single escaped chuckle had, somehow, confirmed beyond any doubt for everyone in the room that his wife was nothing but a filthy, cocksucking whore.

"See!" Brad shouted, jumping up to sit high on the couch with his boots planted back on the floor, and pointing at my suppressed chuckle. "See, Janet! NOT fucking normal. And if Helen is okay with blowing forty guys for Harry, then why can't you blow a measley twenty for me?"

Janet's mouth dropped open. "Oh my God!" she said, her face twisting up. "A measley twenty? I cannot believe you are actually asking me to do this."

"It's okay!" I said, holding my hands out. "Hey, Guys. It's okay. Helen's not blowing anyone." I chuckled again, this time at how absurd this whole conversation was. "We're not going through with it. Helen and I have decided--"

Brad, speaking loudly and interrupting me, which is completely out of character for him, said, "Then I'll take Janet there alone. She can blow all forty." He shrugged. "Plus, we could really use that fucking money."

Brad stood up.

I saw a fire in his eyes I had never seen there before. He looked at Janet and said, "So where are we going, Janet, to the bachelor party... or back to our house so you can pack your things?"

That line made me feel responsible for this. He had taken a page right out of my playbook.

Janet stood there, glaring at Brad. She breathed heavily through her nose with her lips tightly pursed and tears welling up in her eyes.

"Fine!" she said, "I'll do it. You want to see me blow a room full of fucking guys. Let's go then."

As Janet tried to stomp past Helen, Helen put her arms out and stopped her, holding both her shoulders.

Janet fumed, looking angrily into Helen's face.

"Janet, wait, guys," Helen said, looking back and forth between them. "Please, let's just talk about this a little long--"

Janet shouted, "No! What's it matter? I'm just a whore, right? This is all your fucking fault! Just leave go of me!" Janet shrugged out of Helen's grasp, and walked straight toward our front door.

"Brad!" Helen cried. "Please, stop her so we can all talk about this."

"The hour's almost up," Brad said. "There's nothing to talk about."

As Brad strode by her, Helen yelled, "Janet! I'm sorry. Just hold up while I at least get you something to wear! Janet!"

Neither of them paused, as Helen pleaded with them.

"Please, don't do this!" Helen cried.

Janet pulled Helen's robe off, dropped it on the floor, and snatched her trench coat off the hook where I had hung it.

Helen shouted, "I'll go with you! Just hold the fuck up!"

Janet put her coat on in the entryway, and as they both left, the door swinging shut behind them, Helen screamed, "We'll be right behind you!"

Helen looked at me and said, "I'm going to wash up quick, and grab a bunch of shit we might need. You get the car started."

"What?" I said, "Why? You don't have to do this now. They're fucking adults, Helen. They can--"

"Yes, I do," Helen yelled, rushing toward the downstairs bathroom. She shouted back at me, "I'm not letting my best friend do that alone!"

"Holy shit," I mumbled to myself, suddenly elated. Both our wives were about to suck a bunch of strange dicks.

Smiling, I headed straight into the living room, grabbed the video camera, the tripod and a fresh tape, and put them in their carrying cases.

As I walked out to the car, got in, and started the engine, I realized I had been whistling "Deck the Halls" the whole time. Luckily, I noticed and stopped whistling a Christmas tune just before Helen threw a loaded laundry bag in the back seat and jumped into the car with me.

I put on an appropriately somber face, as Helen brushed her hair, chugging Peppermint Schnapps. I even managed to suppress a smile inspired by picturing all the cum she and Janet would soon be forced to chug.

No wonder I had been whistling Christmas tunes. It was Christmas in July.