Road Trip 35

by c.w. cobblestone and cuckytoher

The bus bounced wildly along the road, lurching at every turn, causing the passengers to lean hard every time we came to a sharp bend. The sun was almost gone, and the dusky scenery outside the window was a shadowy green blur as we raced past the countryside.

The bus driver must've been in an awful hurry - he was driving way past the speed limit - but I didn't mind. I wanted to get to Colorado as quickly as possible.

None of the other passengers were complaining, either. It had been a long trip from New York. Three days. Three grueling days on a TravelRight bus - and it was my distinct misfortune to be sitting in front of a couple tow-headed little brats who screamed, cried and kicked my seat throughout the entire trip.

The voyage was made even more unpleasant for me by the huge butt-plug that was imbedded deep in my ass. That was Janice's idea. Every time the bus hit a bump, I thought of my wife.

Whenever the bus would sway, it felt like my intestines were being ripped open. But the pain in my rectum didn't matter: I was on my way to see my Janice!

Janice and her lover, Roy, were on vacation in Colorado. They'd left me at home to take care of the chores. And, boy, did they leave me a long list of chores to do! I had to clean the garage, the basement and the gutters; I also had to go to Roy's house and paint his bathroom and living room. On top of all that, I was expected to carry out my normal household duties.

The idea was, they would have a marvelous two weeks skiing in Aspen, and when they got home, every little dirty job they wanted done would be taken care of by yours truly.

But when they got to their hotel, they discovered that they'd forgotten to pack their camera.

So guess who had to bring it to them?

That's right: My wife had the audacity to call me on the phone and order me to hop on a bus and travel nearly 2,000 miles to bring them their lousy camera! Hell, they could've easily just bought another camera - after all, Roy's got money to burn. And the damn bus ticket cost almost as much as the camera!

But they really didn't care about the camera; these are the kind of power-trip games they like to play with me. They keep pushing, it seems, to see how far I'll let them go. So far, they haven't reached my breaking point.

When it comes to Janice, I doubt if I even have a breaking point.

Of course, I didn't object out loud to having to take the camera to them. I'm way too pussywhipped to ever argue with my wife, no matter how unreasonable she's being. About all I could do was keep my mouth shut, and pray that maybe Janice and Roy would allow me to stay with them for the rest of their vacation. But I certainly wasn't holding my breath.

The bus finally pulled into the Aspen station around midnight. As soon as I got off the bus, I found a pay phone and called my wife's hotel room. I had to call collect - I didn't have a dime to my name.

After about 10 rings, the operator clicked back on the line and told me the call didn't go through. I kept trying every couple minutes, but each time it was the same result: No answer.

I wandered through the bus terminal for awhile, but walking was uncomfortable because of the butt plug in my ass. I gingerly took a seat at the rear of the station, feeling totally dejected and alone. I hadn't had a bite to eat since I left home, and I was starving. But my wife had told me not to bring any money with me on the bus: "You don't need money," she told me. "I don't want you stuffing your face with Twinkies at every stop - you're disgusting enough already."

"Disgusting." I hear that term of endearment all the time.

I wasn't always this fat. In fact, when I first married Janice, I was actually in pretty good shape. But as the years began piling up, so did the pounds. Eventually, my wife stopped being attracted to me.

Then she started dating Roy. The rest, as they say, is history.

* * *

My life really started going downhill a few years ago, when I lost my first job as a computer programmer. My company downsized, and left me holding a mortgage and a shitload of other bills. I desperately tried to find a job in my field, but the market had dried up like the Sahara Desert.

Try as I may, I just couldn't find a job. I could tell my wife was starting to lose respect for me. I gained nearly 60 pounds during my time on unemployment, and Janice was constantly berating me about my weight.

"Look at you," she'd say. "You're a fat loser. Nobody wants to hire a fat-ass loser, Harold."

It killed me whenever Janice would talk to me like that, but I would never say a word. I didn't want to start an argument. My wife had always been the dominant one in our marriage, but after I lost my job, she really began taking control of things. It's tough for a man to stand up for himself when he isn't bringing home the bacon.

Finally, after months of fruitless job-hunting, Janice informed me that there was an opening at the bank where she worked. I was happy for a second - until she told me it was a janitor's position.

When I protested that I was too qualified to work as a janitor, my wife was ready with a quick answer:

"It doesn't sound to me like too many people are impressed with your so-called qualifications, Harold," she spat. "If you're so damned qualified, why don't you have a job by now?"

Of course, I applied for the job the next day.

I interviewed with a Mr. Roy Halls, the vice-president of the bank. After a long conversation, Mr. Halls told me I had the job.

"Your wife is one of our best tellers, so you have a good foot in the door right off the bat," he said. "And - if you don't mind my saying so - Janice is...easy on the eyes, if you know what I mean!" He cupped his hands in front of his breasts and smirked. "Harold, your wife is absolutely STACKED! Va-voom!"

"Yes, sir."

It made me seethe inside to hear Mr. Halls talking about my wife like that, but I wisely kept my indignation to myself.

I started my new job a week later. At work, Janice treated me pretty much the same as she treated me at home: As an inferior. From the very first day, she was ordering me around in that disgusted tone of voice she uses when she addresses me. And she would frequently put me down in front of the other tellers.

One day while I was emptying the trash, I heard my wife talking to Karen, the woman at the window next to her.

"Look at him, bent over like that," Janice said. "His ass looks like a beach ball!"

Karen laughed. "Yeah, he is a hefty one," she observed. "Why did you marry him in the first place?"

"Well, it sure as hell wasn't for his money," Janice said. "And it certainly wasn't for the sex!"

I couldn't believe my wife was talking like that right there at work! And that bitch, Karen - who the hell did she think she was?

But, again, I said nothing. I pretended I didn't hear them, and moved on to the next trash can.

Each day, Janice would make me run out to the restaurant to get lunch for her and Karen. After a week or so, the other tellers would put in their orders. Pretty soon, I was the designated "lunch boy" at the bank. Every day, all the tellers and the other office personnel would bark out their orders and I'd write them down and run out and get lunch for everybody.

Mr. Halls must've picked up on the subservient way in which I interacted with my wife, because he started openly flirting with her, right there at the bank. Janice told me he'd always flirted with her a little - but the heavy stuff didn't start until I started working there.

"Roy knew I was married, and he must've just assumed that my husband had a spine," she explained. "But now that he knows you, he can see for himself that you're nothing but a fat-ass coward."

In addition to openly lusting after my wife, Mr. Halls began treating me like shit. One time, he yelled at me in front of all the tellers because I hadn't cleaned the toilets in the men's room good enough. Then he made me go back and do it again. I could see all the other tellers - including Janice - snickering as I dejectedly headed back to the rest room.

I'd only been working at the bank for a few weeks when Janice and Mr. Halls took their first "long lunch" together. They were gone from noon until nearly four.

Now, I'm not the smartest guy in the world, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened!

They started taking "long lunches" nearly every day. It became kind of a joke around the bank. "Boy, Janice and Mr. Halls sure have been gone a long time - the service at that restaurant must be mighty slow," was only one of the quips I had to endure.

Nobody at work treated me with respect. The men all thought I was a joke, and the women shared Janice's opinion of me: They thought I was disgusting. Can you blame them? What kind of man stand by and do nothing while another man was fucking his wife, right under his nose?

Eventually, Janice came right out and told me she was having an affair with Roy. Of course, it was no surprise to me, but hearing my wife actually say the words really broke my heart.

"But honey...why?" I asked in anguish.

"Look in the mirror, fat-ass!" was her dry rejoinder.

After Janice's confession, she threw caution to the wind. There was no reason to sneak around anymore, so Roy became a frequent visitor to our house - and my wife's bedroom.

At first, I would vamoose whenever he came over. I'd go to the library, or go catch a movie. But when he started spending the night at our place, I had no choice; I was forced to face him.

I hated the way he would smirk whenever he saw me. Even at work, he'd make snide little remarks, like, "man, Harold you just don't know what you're missing." Roy knew that Janice had stopped letting me make love to her, and he never let me hear the end of it.

"It's tight, Harold," he said one day as he passed me in the hall. "Just thought you might like to know."

"I'm sorry, sir - what was that?" I asked. I knew damn well what he said.

"I said it's tight. T-I-G-H-T!" He made a circle with his thumb and forfinger, and simulated sex with the index finger on his other hand. "Pussy's always best served nice and tight, Harold."

My true wimpy nature was exposed to everyone at that year's company Christmas party. Originally, I wasn't invited, but Roy said I could come along if I did exactly as he said. I promised I would. Maybe I shouldn't have: Roy had me dress in an elf's costume and hang everyone's coat up as they came in the door. Then I had to wait on all the tables and serve drinks all night. Roy told all the employees that I had agreed to work the party as valet, coat room attendant, bartender and waiter for some extra cash. In reality, everyone knew I was doing it for free.

Gradually, Roy began taking control of our lives at home as well. He began helping us pay our bills, and the favor came with some heavy strings attached. Roy had pretty much moved in with us at this point, and he began making all the household decisions. Janice would agree to everything her lover suggested; I was never consulted.

One day, Roy told Janice he wanted her to quit her job.

"I can take care of things financially," he said. "A pretty little thing like you needs to be spending her days shopping, or relaxing - you shouldn't be stuck behind a teller window all day."

So Janice quit her job at the bank and dedicated herself to...herself. She started buying all kinds of expensive clothes - things I could never afford - and she joined the exclusive health club where Roy was a member. They would spend hours at the club, working out and socializing with all the other blue-bloods. Meanwhile, I'd be at the bank, working my ass off, or sitting on my fat ass at home, eating Twinkies by the truckload.

While Janice was allowed to quit her job, I was actually given a longer work schedule. One day, Roy duly informed me that my new hours were from 7:30 a.m. to 6 p.m. - damn near a 12-hour day!

"I'm spending a lot of money around here," he explained. "So you're going to help make up for it by working more hours."

"Besides," my wife added, "if you're working more hours, you won't have time to stuff your face."

So I worked my longer day at the bank, then I'd come home and work some more. By now, my home life pretty much consisted of being Janice and Roy's maid. They constantly had me scurrying around the house, getting things for them.

We settled into a routine: Each day, it seemed, Janice and Roy would do something new to take me further into the abyss of degradation. I could slowly feel my life slipping away. Hell, for awhile there, I hardly ever got to see my own wife naked. I'd taken up permanent residence in the guest room, and I wasn't privvy to Janice's more intimate moments, like showering or dressing.

I would beg my wife and her lover to at least let me watch them make love once in awhile, but Janice always had the same answer: "I don't want to be fucking Roy, and have to look up and see your disgusting fat ass!"

It was Roy who finally relented and began allowing me to participate in their lovemaking. Of course, it wasn't in a way that I'd hoped for: Roy would make me kneel behind him and lick his balls while he fucked my wife doggie-style.

"There's a certain poetic justice about that," he often said. "That's where you belong: Kneeling behind a real man while he fucks the taste out of your wife's mouth. That's about all you're good for."

But through it all, I obeyed. It was because of Janice. I truly loved her and wanted to see her happy.

But I was insanely jealous of Roy. His looks, his money - everything about him was perfect. Not only does the guy look like he just walked off the set of a soap opera, but he pulls in somewhere in the neighborhood of $200,000 a year.

That's why he was able to take a two-week vacation to Aspen at the drop of a hat. Roy is the boss, so he pretty much does whatever he wants to.

When I found out they were going on vacation, I prayed they'd take me with them. I even put in for my vacation time during the same two weeks. But Janice told me a few days before they left that Roy didn't want me hanging around them while they were on their holiday. So that was that.

* * *

I sat there in the bus station for awhile with nothing to do. I saw a newspaper in the trash can, so I dug it out and began perusing it. But I could barely comprehend what I was reading, because I kept staring at the clock. Twelve-thirty. Twelve forty-five. One o'clock. Every 15 minutes or so, I'd get up and try to call Janice and Roy's hotel room again.

Finally, at around 2 a.m., my wife picked up the phone and accepted the charges.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded strange...as if she were either sleepy or drunk.

"Hi Janice, I'm at the bus station."

"Well what the fuck are you doing there?" she snapped. "Get your fat ass over here with our camera." She let the silence hang in the air for a moment, then I heard Roy say something in the background which caused my wife to chuckle. "Oh, that's right, Roy, I almost forgot," she said to her lover. Then she told me, "listen, slob, before you leave the bus station, check at the ticket office. I left a package for you."

"I think he's going to hate it," I heard Roy say, to which Janice laughed. "Well, frankly, I don't give a fu - "

That's all I heard before the receiver went dead.

I hung up the phone and stood there for a moment, feeling like an absolute piece of shit. My stomach was growling from hunger, my heart was aching from despair, and my ass was throbbing from the butt plug.

I waddled over to the ticket window and retrieved the package from the attendant. I was apprehensive as I took the parcel - I knew whatever Janice and Roy had cooked up, it couldn't possibly bode well for me.

Attached to the small box was a note, folded and taped to the top. I fervently glanced around the bus station to be sure nobody was watching, then unfolded the note.

The message made me cringe:

"Cucky, inside you'll find a pair of black pantyhose. I wore them last night while Roy was fucking me with that gorgeous cock of his. You can see where Roy ripped them in the crotch. He's such an animal! I want you to put them on under your pants and walk to the Sunny Hills resort, out on Blake Road. We're in Room 231. It's about an hour walk from the bus station, but you need to knock some weight off that fat ass anyway, so a walk will do you good. When you get here, make sure you thank Roy, because he was thinking about you. He figured you'd be hungry after your long trip so he left you a little snack from last night. We want you to carry it in your mouth on the way over. Don't swallow it. If you're really good, you can eat it when you get here.

Kisses,

Janice

I swallowed hard and peeked inside the box. In addition to the pantyhose, there was a huge condom with a knot tied at the end. It was full of what I knew was Roy's cum.

I didn't want to have to walk to the resort with a dirty condom in my mouth - that was the last thing in the world I felt like doing - but I knew I had no choice. So I went to the men's room to change.

First, I put on the pantyhose. They were way too tight, and the waist band only came up halfway up my legs. It was incredibly uncomfortable when I put on my pants.

Then I steeled myself for the next part of my mission. Sighing sadly, I put the condom in my mouth and quickly left the bus station.

Just my luck: It was snowing outside. Oh, well. The story of my life. I turned up my collar and plodded toward the resort.

It was a long, uncomfortable walk with the butt plug in my ass and the condom under my tongue. But I kept on pushing through the driving snow, spurred on by my love for Janice.

Finally, I came upon the Sunny Hills resort. I quickly located Room 231 and knocked on the door.

"It's open," I heard Janice's muffled voice say.

I opened the door and was greeted by the sight of Janice on all fours with Roy behind her, humping away. Both of their bodies were covered with sweat. I figured they must have been fucking since my call.

Roy glanced over his shoulder and said, "welcome to Aspen, now get your fat ass over here and get to work."

I didn't have to be told twice. I knew exactly what Roy meant by "get to work." I immediately dropped my bag, made my way toward the bed, and took my normal place between Roy's legs. I knew he wanted me to lick his balls while he fucked my wife - but I still had the condom in my mouth.

"Umm...sir?" I asked. Roy stopped fucking Janice and turned toward me, annoyed.

"What the fuck do you want, fat-ass?" he growled. "Can't you see I'm busy here?"

"Uh...well, do you want me to swallow your condom, sir? Before I...start?"

Roy and Janice laughed. "Oh yeah, the rubber!" Roy said. "Yeah, go ahead and swallow it, Harold - after all, it would be difficult for you to suck my nuts with a used rubber in your mouth, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, then - bon apetite!" he said. "When you're done, get your chubby ass up under here and get that tongue to work."

I swallowed the condom, then took my place behind Roy and started swabbing his balls with my tongue. It was difficult keeping my tongue in place, because his ass kept slamming into my face as he fucked my wife. Somehow, though, I managed to keep pace with his dancing hips.

Far above me, my wife and Roy were giving forth the grunting, squealing, animal sounds of lovemaking. Janice never screamed like that when she was with me, that's for sure!

Finally, my tickling tongue and my wife's tight pussy were too much for Roy, and he began arching his back and shooting cum inside my wife's pussy. After his orgasm subsided, Roy fell down next to Janice on the bed. They laid there for a long time, cuddling together in post-coital bliss. I stayed on my knees, my head bowed in abject submission.