Penny Wise, Pound Foolish

[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO EVENTS DESCRIBED ARE TRUE; THIS STORY HAS A 'HARDER EDGE' THAN MOST; BE WARNED: HERE BE DRAGONS; FOR AGES 21 OR ABOVE]

[Husband's only asset is his gorgeous wife; he also has a failing dance studio; why not save the cost of an instructor by having incredibly sexy wife teach slow dancing to well-hung students. What could possibly happen?]

*

What I'm about to tell you is a business model for what not to do with your company or your marriage. I joined the two in a way that sent both into a spiral, downwards. You want to know how?...well, fasten seat belts, because it's a bumpy ride...

My legal name is James, call me Jim or other things (keep reading.) I was an average looking guy, about five foot six, a bit overweight, and a tiny bit 'under-equipped. I married my high school sweetheart. We were chaste until marriage, so she had no idea I was hung like a new borne babe. She was an incredible brunette very similar looking to the eternally sexy Susan Lucci of soap opera fame. You just have to visualize those fantastic legs with a blouse that was packed. When she undid her bra at night, you could almost hear a sigh of relief from the overstressed elastic of that 36D bra.

So here I was built like Tiny Tim and having to retain the loyalty of the hottest brunette this side of Katy Perry. What better strategy of keeping her could there be than to have her do the 'bump' with the best hung studs in the city?

I was lucky enough to have had a grandfather who started a slew of businesses. Upon his passing, family members got to choose what they got. I picked right (a plumbing supply jobber) and wrong (a dance studio). An intelligent man would have closed the dance studio and called it a day, putting everything into the successful plumbing business. Note, I said "an intelligent man"? After you read this, you will ask the same question, 'what was he thinking?'

The dance studio was in what had become a rough part of town. The instructor, Esther,57 was a housewife and mother who had worked at the studio for years. She loved the job, was good at it, and worked for minimum wage. An ideal set-up. Problem was her $8,000 salary led to a net loss of $6,000. I got the brilliant notion that if I used my beautiful wife instead of her, we would instantly be in the black. Unfortunately that was true in every sense.

Esther was loved by all. I came to the studio and fired her right in front of some students. It was a terrible breach of decorum, acting like it was for cause and not just to save a buck. She was mortified. The students scurried out. All too late, I realized I should have done this in private. I put the 'closed today' sign out front and went back to see Esther to clarify and maybe apologize.

Esther had always had the demeanor of your old aunt—all sweetness and light. Well, I had crossed the line and she took a more serious tone.

Esther: "Are you familiar with the wiccan religion?"

Me: "No, but I have a feeling you are going to fill me in?"

Esther: "I can say only this; sometimes people spend their entire lives helping others with no reward while others seem to hurt people without punishment. All religions fight against that, praying for justice. I am not going to put a spell or hex on you, only warn you that justice will soon prevail, and in a very dramatic way." [She took the severance check I had prepared without looking at it and stormed out. That evil omen didn't scare me...it should have though.]

Back at home, I had just finished another love session with my beautiful brunette wife (Marcia, if you are keeping score) during which I was mortified again. I wished that just once she could feel me down there. She acted as if 3 ½ inches wasn't enough. In this atmosphere, I foolishly brought up the idea of Marcia replacing Esther at the dance studio.

She asked why I didn't hire a replacement.

I said that she (Marcia) would be capable and affordable.

She finally said there was no way she was going to teach slow dancing to some teenager when she had a husband at home. Instead of thanking her and dropping the subject, I insanely pursued it.

I shouted that she didn't support me. I threatened to hit her unless she did it. I literally forced my lithe, bedroom athlete sex-starved wife to rub up against the big-cocked eighteen year old and older young punks of the toughest hood in the state. Brilliant planning on my part, it was. Even as I said these things, I was second guessing myself and wondering why I was so determined to follow this risky strategy to its conclusion.

At first, there wasn't an avalanche of new students even with my wife there as an attraction. As part of my marketing genius or desperation, I moved her desk to the front window. Then I had her wear short, tight skirts and sexy shoes. As the neighborhood toughs passed by, they might see my gorgeous brunette wife shuffling papers, her legs under that desk quite an erotic display. They normally could see her creamy thighs, shapely legs, slender ankles, and sexy smooth feet. She might absent-mindedly dangle her dance pump from a red-painted toe or just sit demurely in her bare soft feet. One ankle normally had a gold ankle bracelet while she had recently added a sexy little tattoo on her ankle.

Our first student was Tyrone, a kid who was waiting for high school to officially give up on him now that he turned 18. His guardian, an aunt, brought him in, wondering what in the world he saw in learning to dance. She kindly paid the fees and left. Marcia made the mistake of asking him what he wanted to learn. He named a bunch of dances she'd never heard of, so he gave up and had her select.

She had a standard demonstration DVD which went thru all the standard dances with appropriate music. When it got to a slow dance, Marcia soon was forced to dance intimately with this hugely hung 18 year old who was much more man than I could ever be. He was wearing soft cotton fleece work-out clothes, as was she. There was no mistaking the feel of a steel hard cock pressing against the long suffering, now sopping wet, lips at the entrance of her incredibly fertile cunt. That simple math equation, hard cock plus sopping wet pussy was adding up to a solution that I might not like. The session with Tyrone ended with the re-appearance of his aunt. To the shock of his conservative aunt and the married Marcia, he gave my legally married wife a departing kiss...on the lips. She didn't object, either.

You can imagine the disappoint that my gorgeous wife Marcia felt upon returning home and having to fake it yet again. As my little 3 ½ inch doodle just poked its tiny head within the confines of her womanhood, she lay there bored. She only got excited when she thought of her new student and those slow dance sessions. The feel of the 18 year old's eleven inch cock against the outside of her sopping wet pussy was overwhelming. Magnetism alone was drawing her away from her wimpy husband and to that young stud.

Marcia: "Little Jimmy, I think mommy needs a break from this pathetic attempt at sexing me up. Your little boy's thingie just isn't cutting it. Maybe we should just admit it and stop fooling ourselves. On a brighter note, I have a new adult dance class, with two more signing up. Plus I have a young black student." [I didn't inquire about the lone student nor ask if she could handle all of this alone.]

In the midst of this discussion, I received a call from Esther. She seemed pretty cheerful given the fact that I had snatched her only job from her. I could hear a thousand odd sounds in the background, including a cat, a crow of some type, and a boiling pot. It was like some cliché-ridden Hollywood movie. She asked me how my headache was.

I told her I didn't have a headache. Then, all of a sudden, I had quite a migraine. It came from nowhere. She asked how I was getting along with my wife, the new instructress. Esther said that I would win the argument and put her properly in her place. Marcia had to be disciplined if I wanted to keep her. She hung up.

Me: [Turning back to Marcia.] "Just remember what I told you; don't fuck this up for me or you'll be sorry! If the students want something, provide it! As long as their checks clear, they should get anything they want from you, instructional or otherwise. I have a chance to finally make a profit in this place and I can't afford to screw up...now get it done!!" [For no good reason at all, I had blown up at my gorgeous still loyal wife, making the quietly growing divide all that much greater.]

Give them what they want? An angry and sexually starved brunette with a body worthy of a centerfold went back to work the next day. Determined to 'give them what they want', she did two things. She invited me to come to the studio at five sharp, right at closing. Next, she called Tyrone and changed his class to 5 pm that afternoon. He was cool with that; he was so hot for teacher that he would've come by at 4am. They had done so many slow dances with his outrageously oversized eleven inch cock rubbing against Marcia's silky thighs, then in full upright erection, tingling the slavering lips of her pussy. Marcia could feel everything under her carefully chosen outfits. At one point, she had him just stand still while she rose on demure tip toes so she could have that huge love pole rub between the sides of her damp entrance, making her sopping wet.

Well, five o'clock arrived. I came, looking dumpy, bald, and unimpressive in my tattered clothes. I put the closed sign up and drew the huge shade for the front window.

At that exact moment, some young black punk poked his head in, asking if it was too late for his appointment.

I said it certainly was and tried to push him back outside. Then I heard Marcia's voice.

She said: "Let him in, he's my five o'clock appointment. I just wanted you to see how he was doing, and how I have loyally followed your order about doing what the student demands. You remember that, don't you honey, when you threatened to hurt me real badly if I managed to 'fuck this up for you?' Well, now you can see for yourself what your words have done." [I turned and was appalled. Marcia was wearing a white leotard and not much else. There did not appear to be anything beneath that ultra thin garment. Her spectacular figure was displayed like never before. Even Tyrone gasped in astonishment. She padded out on sexy bare feet, her nails done up in alluring ruby red, her gold anklet gleaming in the indirect light. I sat down glumly, wondering what was going to happen.]

With the music slow, they started a dance. It started innocently enough and I was starting to get some semblance of confidence back. It was short-lived. The music ended and Marcia bounced up and down like an excited school girl, her breasts bouncing and jiggling and bouncing seductively thru that almost transparent Danskin. When she padded on her lovely bare feet to the DVD player for the next set, I could clearly see her nipples had popped angrily. Much worse, there was a big damp spot over her 'womanhood' that wasn't there before. That was sheer excitement. With another sexy love song playing Marcia directed him to get a sturdy school wooden chair from the other side of the room. She glared at me as she told him to put the chair where he wanted it, as the student's wants were her ONLY concern.

He put the chair right in front of me. She motioned for him to sit down. He did. She stared at me and asked him if he wanted her to go down on him. He nodded. Soon, she was keyholing his magnificent babymaker as it approached full eleven inch size. She asked him where he wanted to put all of this (she cupped his huge testes, swollen with the finest seed of darkest Africa.) He put a long crooked finger right near her pussy.

She glared at me and said: "Well, I don't want to fuck up this business, so your wish is my command. If you want to pump all of that potent black baby-making sperm into the deepest part of my fertile womb, then you will. I was warned by my sissy husband over there to do whatever it takes to satisfy you...or else! Well, as he watches, he can plainly see I am following his orders. If you want sex instruction, you will get it. If you want to learn how to impregnate a white married fertile womb, then I will provide something for that too. If you want to release the tension in your virile sack and pump all of that sperm inside my unprotected and oh-so-fertile womb, I just have to let you. And after that, the kissing and loving stops. Then we can both look at that pathetic loser watching us while he fiddles with his joke equipment. At the end of the evening, I will ask you, the all important STUDENT, what you want me to do? Clean myself out? Go to a clinic? Take a pill? Or lie on the floor with my knees up, hoping that your wonderful, precious seed takes root in my fertile garden...so something grows. Maybe a strong black baby and not a pathetic weak sickly baby with bad genes from that loser. So which shall it be? [He whispered in her ear.]

At this point, I wanted to leave. I got up to go, but Marcia told him to stop me. I started pathetically flailing at him. Marcia told him to show me who was boss.

At that command, he grabbed both of my punching arms and put them into his left hand, which easily controlled them. He then showed me his right arm, where that 18 year old punk already sported a huge 21 inch bicep. I could hear Marcia cheering in the background. He looked at her and she nodded. He hurled me back in the general direction of that chair, where I retreated, cowering before the superior physique of this superior male. Meanwhile, Marcia padded back to him after starting the DVD again, a pulsating Barry White love song.

Marcia nodded and Tyrone's powerful arms took hold of her flimsy leotard and ripped it right off of her. Marcia whispered something to him, and he came over to me. He carefully put that tattered white leotard over my head, with the damp part over my face. I could still see out, but that scent of my formerly faithful wife's searing hot passion was overwhelming. I now had to watch the systematic impregnation of my own personal love goddess, Marcia, by some young black tough who was hung like a killer whale.

If things weren't bad enough, Marcia maneuvered him right in front of me, his long black cock standing at 90 degrees, pointing towards her. Marcia then got on her knees to pay homage to his eleven inch love pole. Her mouth took it all in and began the up and down movement of love. When she felt the uncut cockhead swell in her mouth, she immediately stopped. She turned around and whispered something to him, which he really liked.

To my utter shock, my gorgeous wife padded over to me on bare smooth feet. I thought she was going to apologize for this evening's horror show, but instead, she stood right in front of me, waiting for him. Her new black lover came over, his 11 inch cock bobbing and weaving as he moved. Per her suggestion to him, he pushed Marcia roughly, making her rest her head on my left shoulder (!) He then entered her with a manly cry, his eleven inch now accommodated by my supersexy brunette. He started sawing in and out. To my surprise, Marcia looked at me, her face teary and red from passion...

Marcia: "Don't just sit there. Can't you see the superior masculine presence in the room is asserting his manhood. He's breeding his female! The least you can do as the pathetic loser is to feel me...touch my nipples...they are so sensitive!" [I sheepishly put out my shaking chubby little hands, finding her popped erect thumb sized nipples; as I lightly stroked them, Marcia moaned, then shouted in orgasm. At that exact moment, her 18 year old black stud grunted, grasping her to him with trash compactor force.]

Tyrone: "Oh, man, this is so sweet. I always fantasized about breeding some superhot white married woman, but I never dreamed it would happen. Now this horny insatiable bitch wants me to breed her, and breed her hard. Best of all, it's right in front of her micro-equipped husband. Well, one tanker load of African sperm coming up! I can, wait, no there, yes, I can feel the entrance. That fertile white womb is getting a special delivery right now!" [With that, they both did kind of a bucking bronco thing, with a simultaneous orgasm so in synch, it was as if they had made love for years. Each sigh, moan and movement was identical. When he finally came, it only took seconds for the excess to start coming out like the runoff from a bathtub. They finally stopped and silence filled the room except for the constant drip and trickle coming from her sperm soaked pussy. She turned and kissed him lovingly. He picked up my beautiful wife, they kissed, and he carried her to the back room. I didn't go back; I couldn't watch any more. Apparently they found a gym mat back there; they unrolled it and had another sizzling hot love session. Once again his uncut and bareback 11 inch cock was allowed to pump gobs of black baby-making sperm into my soon to be ex-wife's unprotected and very fertile vagina.]

I left after having to hear my beautiful wife cry out again and again in orgasm, something I never elicited from her...ever. I used the garage remote to sneak into my home with a minimum of attention from my very conservative and judgmental somewhat elderly neighbors. I was hopeful that these town gossips would never have an inkling about my wife and her voracious appetite for energetic sex.

At about 3am, I heard a noisy car alarm. I looked out and saw Tyrone laughing and turning his alarm off. He then took the hand of my beautiful wife as the lights in the neighborhood came on. Surely a dozen nosy neighbors were staring as my legally married wife and Tyrone stood at the front door, making out like teenagers. His big black hands were pawing her perfect behind while she had both hands on his broad shoulders. As they parted, she stroked his cock as he bent over and kissed her tummy. He then whispered into her ear: "Black babies." At about that instant in time, my legally married white wife conceived a pair of black babies for her new boyfriend.

So, what was the upshot of all of this? Did my great business plan designed to save dance studio wage expenses succeed? Was it all worthwhile? Umm, I guess not. As you might have guessed, we soon divorced. Marcia kept the house. She would need it, insofar as her belly was soon swollen with black children. The ultrasound indicated she had twins, both fetuses male.

As I moved out, one lanky black kid moved in. I had to sell the plumbing supply business to pay for the divorce. The biggest irony is that Marcia's female attorney could prove to the female judge that I was 'ill equipped' to provide 'marital satisfaction' to my gorgeous wife. When I objected, saying that my cheating wife was pregnant with a black child, she asked for the evidence. Of course, I couldn't provide any till months later. A continuance was denied and I lost in court.

Well, at least I learned something. The next time that I was in a nice big house with two businesses, I wouldn't force my sexy brunette wife to provocatively perform at the business just to save a few dollars.

I thought of this as I sold newspapers bound in string at the highway exit ramp. One night as I gathered up the unsold papers, I looked up and was startled. In a gleaming brand new Oldsmobile 98, window covered up by the factory sticker, I saw that old dance instructress I had fired...you know, that 'witch'. She looked me over, smiled oddly, making me turn away in anger. When I went back to give her a piece of my mind, she was gone. Odder, I didn't see her anywhere down the roads, which were absolutely empty. Oh well, nothing odd about that. I would just find her tomorrow; it was a small town and I was sure I could find a brand new Oldsmobile 98. I was sure they hadn't sold that many in this year, it being 2010.