Why Are Men So Stupid?

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A reaction of a loving wife, when threatened by her past.
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Myhands316
Myhands316
1,180 Followers

Author's Notes:

This little story is from me reading the entire line bovine excrement put out by men who say stupid things like "Once a whore, always a whore!" or "All sluts are the same and all women are sluts." ETC, ETC, ETC....

While women are gaining in the cheaters stakes, thus increasing the amount of divorces churning through the court system. They are still lagging way behind the men. The ones that I really find funny are the men who have a wife and a few fuck buddies on the side, but gets all butt hurt when their wife says "Fuck this shit!" and goes out to find some satisfaction for herself, because hubby just isn't getting it done because he's too tired from fucking his other girlfriends.

His usual excuse is that he's a man and needs to sow his oats. But, if the woman does the same thing, "She's just a fucking slut, whore, cunt, bitch... 'Insert you favorite derogatory remark' and needs to be burned at the stake." I mean if you're a real man, you'll go all Jackie Chan on the other mans ass, burn the bitch to the ground, and thump your chest as you go find the sexiest bitch you can find and knock her up, because you're the MAN!

Oh please...!

So, this story, like it or not, is semi-biographical, and used with permission. The names have been changed to protect the guilty and my own ass from a slander suit. Because yes, there is some malice involved.

Not mine of course. Because the third time around the track, I found a winner and we have been together happily for 22 years now. And to be honest, I don't care if my two exes are still lying, cheating, backstabbing, slutty cunts. Their not my problem, and to be truthful, I wish them no ill will. I hope they found happiness. I know I sure did. So, anyway, here is the story of a real loving wife, a bunch of assholes, and the truth about if a slut, whore, or prostitute can become a good housewife.

Enjoy.

Why Are Men So Stupid?

In a bright fluorescently lit I sat still just barely dressed, writing at an old scared desk. All the men and a few of the women's eyes would travel to me automatically, taking in my lush sexy form. I still have light reddish brown hair, full breasts that are tipped with stiff, plump nipples, that were hardly contained by the rich burgundy silk teddy I was still wearing. My hips filled the almost padded chair and my sculpted legs made some of the more ardent observers wonder about where they were joined. Everyone in the room know who I am and think about how lucky my husband had to be, to have someone like me in his bed every night. Now they knew why he's always in a good mood when he came to work. I make sure of it.

Oblivious to my surroundings, I sitting in the uncomfortable chair, I was pensively trying to gather my thoughts to do what I needed to do. 'Shit, I knew Susan was going to make me write this all down. I hope my kids never read this, because they will learn things about mommy that just might shock them. Damn, I wish they'd turn up the frigging heater.' I try and ignore the chill.

These teddies might look hot as hell, but in reality, they are thinner than paper and the slightest breeze will make the bunny noses poke out. But then again, I think that might just be the point. Biting the bullet, I'll try and get this done.

Okay, I know I'm not making much sense, but I'm trying to pull it all together. Going back almost twenty years to remember some of this stuff isn't going to be fun, but necessary I guess. I think the first questions I need to deal with were the hardest.

How did I ever become a whore or prostitute? Was I really one in the first place? Is what I did all those years ago really that wrong?

Yes, once upon a time, I was paid at a place because of my good looks and sexy body. Yes, sex was involved. To be truthful, I was very good at it. Hell, I was a horny young adult, and found out I could make more money in one night of having fun, than working two weeks at "Bob's Biker Bar," with tips.

And yes, my tips were good. But, my feet would be killing me, along with my back, boobs and ass from all the meaty hands grabbing them to earn said tips.

Okay, I guess I have to go back a little farther. I just graduated high school, when I got my acceptance letter from a decent college, but only with a partial scholarship. This of course, was the same day my dad came home and told mom and I that he was moving out to live with his sexretary... err secretary.

So started the summer of the big fight, or divorce or whatever you want to call it. Was it a fight and a Divorce broke out? Anyway, good ole dad baled, and left mom and I basically broke just as I was supposed to start school.

I was lucky I guess. I was good looking enough to get a job at Bob's Bar, but I almost flunked out of school, trying to pay for school.

Then it happened. One of the other girls at Bob's, asked me if I wanted to make some extra money from a bunch of wealthy want-to-be bikers. "What would I have to do?" I asked instantly.

"Fuck their brains out and act like some mean biker bitch. They get off on it, then go home to wifey-poo and deal with the daily grind of their lives." Debbie shrugged it off. "They're clean, and the money's good and comes in handy."

"Damn, I haven't been laid in months. I don't know if it still works." I laughed, thinking it was a joke.

"Shit girl, grab a tube of lube, a spermicidal douche, and a box of he-man rubbers and you're set. I'll let you borrow a leather halter until you can get one, and wear you tightest black jeans and boots. They put their money in a big jar and we split it when they leave."

"You're not joking!" I gasped.

"Fuck no. I know you need the money. I also know you don't want to end up like Lucy, an old biker bitch, trying to get a man. So, what do you think?" She tossed her long hair like good looking girls do.

What did I think? I thought that I needed to pay rent, buy five hundred dollars of books for the next semester, and I didn't have the money to do it. I thought what the hell. I need the money and needed laid, so it might just work.

I made over two thousand dollars on my fist night and I didn't have to fuck anyone unless I really wanted to. Hell, most of the guys there I would've fucked for free anyway. Some of them knew what they were doing, so I got off too. What a deal. I got to have a ton of fun, got laid, and got paid for it too. Yeah, I could do this. It beats the hell out of being on my feet all night serving warm beer to a bunch of old bikers while they maul my tits and ass.

So what, if I had to shower all the sperm off my tits and face. I mean one guy flopped his pecker on the bar stool and I tried to step over it with my hooker boots. I missed and found part of his nut sack. He screamed, shot his wad halfway across the room and gave me a two hundred dollar tip. As a matter of fact the harder I made them work for it, the more money I made. By the nights end, they would be drained dry and happy, and I would be able to pay my rent, buy some decent clothes and still afford my books.

Within a month, I had quit Bob's and worked two weekends a month at the 'Dog and Pony Club'. I brought home over five thousand dollars a month but only had to claim like two for taxes. I had all the time I needed to study and never had to worry about getting laid. I was living the dream.

I never did what I didn't want to do. So no forced anal, or air tights, unless I was in the mood for forced anal or being made air tight. Hey, I was young and horny, so yeah, I had a lot of sex. No more or less than most of the girls I knew on campus. The only difference was I got paid and paid well, for having fun.

Like all dreams, it had to end. Fortunately for me, I had enough in the bank to make ends meet when it did. But in my senior year, when I went from almost flunking out as a freshman to honors list as a senior, I was approached by this girl I had seen from time to time around campus. Her name was Susan.

"Hey Kris, can I talk to you?" She walked up and sat down in front of me.

"What's up?" I asked, closing my book on business math.

"I need to talk to you about that club you work at." She looked around to make sure our conversation was private.

"What about it?" Hell, as far as I knew I wasn't doing anything wrong.

"They are under investigation for prostitution, money laundering and other things. I know you work there, but I don't know if you're one of the working girls there." She tilted her head and watched my eyes.

"Okay, if you implying what I think you are... then no. I don't sell my body for money. Yes, I make money from my body, but I don't sell sex, walk the street, or proposition the men to pay me to have sex. And, before you ask, yes I've had sex there, but I get paid out of the tip jar at the end of the night, and it's not for the sex."

"I hate to tell you, but that still considered prostitution." Susan kept looking at me, expecting me to flinch.

"I don't think so, but I'm not going to argue with you about it. Yes, I have sex, a lot of sex. Yes, I dance, yes, I get naked, and yes, I have fun, a lot of fun. But, I am private entertainment for a private club. I'm STD clean and protection is always used. I don't tell them prices for sex acts, it just happens or not, depending on the mood. I'm never forced and I'm not doing anything that I wouldn't do for free in a similar situation. Now, can we stop doing this word dance and get down to it? I have a test in my next class that I can't mess up."

"Wow, talk about walking a fine line." Susan shook her head in disbelief. "Unfortunately for you, the DA will not see it that way." She held up her hand stopping my reply. "And once the charge of solicitation is on your record, it will never come off, even if you get the case dismissed or a not guilty verdict. It will be on your record that you are a prostitute. Is that what you are trying so hard to achieve?"

"Why are you telling me this?" I was shocked. Until then, I never considered myself a whore, but if what Susan was saying was true, I might have to rethink my options.

"Because, I've checked you out. I know about your mom's divorce, the money issues, and how you tried everything else to pay for school before you ended up working at the club. I will never fault someone trying to better their life, but... The club is going to be raided this weekend, if you are there or not. Then I will find out if you are innocent or in collusion with the club owner."

"You bitch!" I hissed at her. "I either get labeled a whore, or a snitch, just because I'm paying my own way through school. Why don't you go fuck yourself?" Oh yeah, I was instantly pissed and on the attack.

"Why don't you stand up and get the fuck away from me, before I put it out that you are a snitch cop, that's out to fuck people over? Just get the fuck away for me before I kick your ass... and yes I know I could do it so don't fucking try me!" I gathered my stuff and got up to leave, when she made the mistake of grabbing my arm.

"I wouldn't...." Was all she got out, before she was on her ass and my foot on her throat.

"POLICE, FREEZE!" Was shouted at me by a bunch of goons running up.

"Fuck you, arrest her for assault." I shouted back at them. "She grabbed me after I told her several times to leave me alone." I threw Susan's arm down and stepped back. "Trust me I might not be a lawyer, but I have taken enough legal classes to eat you alive in court. Your call asshole!" I put my hand on my hips.

"It's okay, she warned me, and I didn't listen." Susan had a look of respect as she got off her ass and talked to the cops. "She'd win and we all know it. I never identified myself." She reached into her shirt and pulled a wire out between her tits and pushed a button on the box it was connected to.

"You know that recording is entrapment!" I pointed at the device. "No matter how fucked up this country is, I still have some rights."

"We need to go in and talk about this." Susan tried to calm me down.

"No, you need to go fuck off, and I need to get to my class. So, either arrest me so I can have all your badges on my wall, or get the fuck out of my way. I'm done with you. You fucked up, and you're not turning it around on me." I pulled out my cell phone and hit end. "That went to my inbox and my answering machine. So, now you know I have a copy for my complaint."

"Shit, this is getting out of hand." Susan huffed. "Please, let me talk to you." She tried again.

"Since you know so much about me, you can find me after class today. But, until then, stay the fuck away from me!" I walked off not listening to them mutter to themselves.

I was useless in class. I bombed the quiz and asked my teacher for a makeup, because of a personal issue. He said it wouldn't harm my grade that bad so I was screwed. All because of some bitch campus cop was trying to bust my bubble. So, of course she was the first person I saw trying to get to the bus home.

"Look, I'm sorry if I came of the bitch, but the job makes us jaded." She put her hands out in front of her apologetically. "Let m try again. Hello, I'm Officer Susan Wright of the local Police Department. We are trying to close down the prostitution and money laundering operation run by Joseph Castillo, a known person of interest, if you know what I mean."

"What, no more strong-arm threats?" I sneered.

"I'm just doing my job...." She tried to say.

"Some job, when you go out to ruin innocent people's lives. Your momma must be proud." I snapped.

"Does your mom know what you do for a living?" Susan bit back.

"Yeah, she knows I work my ass off to put myself through school. She's grateful for the extra I send home so she doesn't lose the house and her whole life. I dare you to make that into something bad" I stepped forward.

"Even if what you're doing is illegal...?"

"That's total bullshit and you know it." I stopped her again. "Being a hostess for a club is not illegal, and that is what I get paid for. What I do for tips is my own business as long as I'm not selling it, and I don't. Sex isn't illegal, or you'd have to go arrest ninety percent of the population, because sex is everywhere and yes, they are selling it! Don't point fingers when you were illegally trying to entrap me into a confession. Laws work both ways or it's no longer law but a police state and we haven't degraded that far yet!" I was on a roll.

"Damn, I hope you never become a Public Defender. You'd kick our ass in court. I thought you were a business major, not pre-law." Susan chuckled.

"What I'm not, is stupid." I huffed. "So, what do you want from me? What is it going to take to get you off my ass?" I was getting tired of it.

"We want your help...." She started saying before I laughed.

"So, we're back to the whore or snitch option? I don't think so. I won't help, but I won't get in your way. Push me any farther, and I'll be on the campus news, blabbing away before you can get the warrant to shut me up. I will not be blackmailed by you or anyone else!" I told her point blank.

"God Damn It! I'm trying to help you!" She swore at me. "We have a guy on the inside and we know what you have done...."

"If he thinks he can make me say I charged him for sex, good fucking luck. So, we're now back to, charge me or get the fuck out of my way!" Didn't this bitch get it? I won't be threatened by anyone. Not after what I've had to do to make ends meet. "And, if he's had sex with me to try and prove the prostitution charge, it's still entrapment and I'll have his and your ass on a platter!"

"Look, I know you're not stupid, but I also know you know the name of the owner of the club and what he's into. You know things like loan-sharking, coercion, fraud...."

"I know the name, but the only person who is trying to coerce me is you. Let me fill you in on some fact about the club." I pointed to a bench and waited for her to plant her ass on it.

"One, I am not forced into anything. I can say no at any time, and they have to listen. Two, I don't charge for what I'm doing. As far as I know it is a private club that members pay to get into and consenting adults do adult things. Three, I earn more tips by saying no than saying yes. So basically, I get paid not to have sex! The men want to work at it to prove their manhood. So in fact, I get paid to say no! Four, everyone has a good time and no one is getting hurt. What the owner does or doesn't do is none of my business. You say you're going to raid the place. Then I wish you good luck. Because, you're going to have a hell of a time proving your case. Will I be there to get raided? Hell no! But, we already knew that. Am I going to warn them and get tagged by the cops as a snitch? That's not happening either. So, you can either charge me right here and right now, or get the hell out of my face. I am a law abiding citizen of this state who pays her taxes that pays your salary and you are harassing me. So, are we done yet?"

"Yeah, we're done." Susan sighed and walked away.

<><><>

Now, we know that isn't the last I heard of it. Because Susan is now my best friend and we were at each other's weddings. In the wedding parties as a matter of fact, but that is how I quit my job, stopped doing what I was doing, and finished school.

As for the raid, it went just about as I expected. Yes, I was subpoenaed to testify, but it didn't help the prosecution any. The defense lawyer loved me though. Yes, there were a few divorces out of the deal. But, when it was all said and done. No one was really doing anything they could call illegal, since the courts have made infidelity legal, with their no-fault divorce system.

I was sitting in a bar after my second day of testimony when Susan walked up and said. "I told them not to call you, I really did, but they refused to listen. They swore they could turn you." She sat one stool down.

"Yeah, well I do owe you for the warning." I sighed. "Have a seat and let me buy you a drink." I ordered a wine cooler for me and coffee for my cop acquaintance.

"Are you still hostessing?" Susan asked quietly.

"Nope, that job was fun, but I'm trying to get a job that works nine to five like the rest of the working world. Are you still entrapping innocent people?" I lifted my eye brow.

"Nope, I've moved over to patrol. The stink you caused that day in the student's square made it so I was ineffective on campus any longer. It looks good in my file, so I can advance when the time comes. But that's just the quirks of the job." She tipped her cup back. "Under different circumstances I think we could have been friends. I know I'd want you as a friend more than an enemy any day." She smiled, breaking down a lot of the animosity that had built between us.

"We still can be, if you really want to try. Someone has to keep you cops on the up and up." I smiled back. Hey, one can never have too many girlfriends, even cops.

"Cool, you can start by teaching me how you put me on my ass so easily." Susan clicked her cup next to my bottle of cooler and our friendship was made.

<><><>

When I say we were friends, I mean we are best friends. I introduced her to her second husband and she introduced me to my one and only husband. Susan's first husband was also a cop, but we caught him dipping his nightstick into his personal informant's pool without consent, if you know what I mean.

It's not that we were shocked about the sex. I mean, I know I've done all that is doable, minus the pain stuff. And yes, that means I've done every hole. I've done twosomes, threesomes, foursome and more-some. I've been pivot in a circle jerk, taken I don't know how many cum baths. I know how to deep throat and am still flexible enough to get in those porn positions that look good on film, but are rather unsatisfying in real life. I've eaten my fair share of muffin and learned that 69's are distracting for all they look hot. I hold nothing back from my husband and yes he knows exactly how Susan and I met. We all laugh about it when it comes up in conversation.

Myhands316
Myhands316
1,180 Followers