Chapter 1
I was one of the more popular girls in high school, great figure, well built, 5'8"; my thick wavy blonde hair nearly reached my bum when not in a ponytail. A cheerleader, studious, had good grades, humble, friendly with everyone.
I came from a middle-income, loving family. Dad worked in the local mill; mom was a homemaker, made an additional income with Avon, and occasional sewing jobs. I was never rebellious or got into any real trouble. I didn't dress provocatively, but I was considered very sexy and was pursued by most guys; but seldom dated anyone more than a couple times; I had no interest in a relationship, 'I just waanna ; ya I jut wannaaa have fuu-uun'.
Like many teen girls I was attracted to the bad boys. Mike was likely the worst of the bad ones; scruffy, seldom combed hair, wore old t-shirts and worn Levi's, he barely passed his grades, disinterested in academics, but definitely interested in girls. He swore, drank, spent more time in the principal's office than our whole grade combined; he was expelled twice. Worked weekends to buy his own car; a red Mustang, everyone else borrowed their parent's minivan or family sedan. He was a bad boy, not a criminal. He was just bored, wanted more excitement, to be wild and free, not behaving like everyone else says he should. That was my attraction to him; I to yearned for excitement.
Mike and I dated regular, we were actually considered a couple.
Senior year we often skipped class, and went for joyrides, usually ending up in some secluded spot making out, which eventually resulted in me giving up my virginity in his back seat. That became our normal, fornicating, often more than once a date. It became a challenge to do it in places, risking getting caught; a theatre, in the warehouse of a store; in a dressing room, hospital stairway, elevators, a restaurant to name a few.
After graduating high school, he went to work at the mill, like both our father's.
I would have married him when we started out; he never asked; now I'm grateful he didn't.
I went to community college, got my therapeutic massage license, but couldn't get a job locally, so I completed beauty school and was hired by a friend of my mom's, at the local salon. During the pandemic, she closed her shop, and worked from home.
It's been almost 2 years, since I moved in with Mike; we rent this run down 2-bedroom shack, I mean many trailers are bigger, and the future shows no promise.
I have a few hairdressing clients, and the occasional massage; but we struggle monthly to pay our bills, we are in no way getting ahead. There's so little work in this town for me, so I'm a bored, trapped, unsatisfied, unmarried, stuck, frustrated housemaid. I recently came to the realization the cycle continues.
Insanity is doing the same thing over and over expecting different results. I'm going insane, I do not want more of this; It's time to create change, so I've devised a plan to start over.
Our biggest expense: Mike frequents the local tavern, 'Gullet Gulp' just a block down, a couple times a week, rarely misses a Friday or Saturday, when not working.
We used to go there as a couple for our weekly entertainment, I quit going, realizing how expensive and unsatisfying it became. I hounded Mike to stay home, our bills are more important, but he is adamant, he works hard, he deserves to kick up his heels with the boys.
A couple months ago on a Saturday, one of few times I went to the bar, we were having a good time, dancing, getting drunk. I got amorous with a gal from high school; Mike hadn't been satisfying me, I was horny. Mike assumed from my flirtatious behavior that evening, I would participate in a threesome; hi aggressive behavior killed the vibe, she went home, and we got in a fight.
After that he brought home women whenever he could, wanting a threesome, which wasn't often, the local gals know us too well.
A couple times some drunk floozy barfly did come home with him. I didn't participate in his drunken anticks; I'd sleep on the couch. It didn't bother me; I was on my way out anyways. He fucked strangers, more than me; in fact, we only fucked once last month; and once again, I faked my orgasm. I wasn't at all interested; he was drunk. That fueled my ambition to hasten my plan to leave.
A couple weeks ago he brought home a presentable woman, she wasn't falling down inebriated, I remembered her from school, Maggie. She was a year older, married, had a little girl; everyone in town knew her hubby was sleeping around. I'm confident Mike and I were now also mentioned in those same rumors. She was seeking some sort of sexual gratification, or even some companionship outside of family; I could relate and understood, but I wasn't yet bold enough to go looking for sex in public.
I was definitely attracted to her; and she knew it; however, I didn't participate in a threesome when Mike requested, I again resigned to the sofa.
I was awakened by a tongue touching my lips, and fingers sliding up my thigh, toward my pussy.
My left hand automatically went around her back, my right to her nipple. She fingered me to an orgasm, then kept me cumming as we 69'd.
I recalled how much I enjoyed my first same sex encounter; this was much better; this was also my first ever multiple orgasm. It felt naughty, a carnal collusion, secretive, an unbelievable promiscuous encounter.
It had been months since my last orgasm without masturbating as Mike rarely fucked me anymore.
Mike is always horny when he is drinking, but after those provocative, exciting high school days, our entire relationship he rarely satisfied me, generally passing out soon after he climaxed, sometimes he didn't last that long, and pass out during the sex act.
Maggie and I hooked up for sensational afternoon sex, twice last week, when both our guys were working. It was like a breath of fresh air, revitalizing, not only my sex life, but it uplifted my very existence. I pondered us becoming a lesbian couple, maybe even moving in together. I was seriously mulling it over, preparing to ask her.
Last night, Mike arrived home with someone I've never seen before; they both stumbled into the bedroom, barely able to walk.
She was reasonably attractive, sexy, heavier than Maggie; nevertheless, my newly aroused lesbian resurgence, has me consider a threesome, so I follow them to the bedroom.
She was sitting between us on the side of the bed. My hand turned her face to me, and I kissed her fully on the lips, unimpressed with her booze breath, it was a short kiss.
She's younger than me by at least a couple years, cute round face, puffy cheeks, dimples, I always wished I had dimples, I think dimples are sexy.
Mike passed out trying to remove his socks, fell back on the bed.
Relieved Mike was no longer a participant, intending to initiate sex with her, lifting her top, as her arms raised, she wavered, struggling to keep her balance; I remove her bra and was impressed with her nice round tits, maybe 36C" large dark areoles, and nipples.
She responded quickly to my mouth on her mountaintops, nipples instantly stiffened, she moaned as I squeezed and sucked. I undid her jeans as I was feasting on her boobs; she assisted with removing her pants, laid back, lifting her bum. She had a bit of a belly roll, not a thin waist, narrower hips, a bit out of proportion to what the upper part of her body would suggest.
Larger thighs, and eww, such a gnarly overgrown bush, poking out the sides of her pink panties.
I was laying on my side next to her, sucking a nipple; my fingers slid inside her undies. I wasn't getting the response I expected. I stopped sucking and looked at her.
She had passed out.
I went to the couch frustrated and fingered myself to a somewhat satisfying orgasm. I considered getting the hedge trimmers to cut back her scraggly, overgrown bush while she was passed out; I dislike unkempt pubes. I actually dislike anyone who doesn't pride themselves in personal hygiene. Mike's been failing in that category recently. She smelled good, so it's just simple trim issue, if i cut it now, then maybe in the morning, I could enjoy her for breakfast in bed.
If I timed it right, Mike would have to leave for work, and we could play much of the day.
It's early Saturday morning, the sun is barely illuminating the sky, but the brightness coming in the patio doors woke me. It's early, too early, I attempt turning over and going back to sleep, but to no avail it's too bright.
I start the coffee pot and sneak into the bedroom, I search Mike's jeans, remove two twenty's and a 5; on the rare occasion he does notice money missing he blames the bitch for robbing him. Mikes on his back, still wearing his boxer's and one sock; she's laying naked; she's on her back, spreadeagled, messy, brown hair, she is damn sexy, I entertain the thought of waking her by crawling between her legs and tasting her; devouring her pussy, scruffy pussy hair or not, I'm horny, she's enticing. I have a desire to go down on her, even if it wakes Mike.
If Mike wakes up, he'll just shove me aside, then I'll have to settle for his unsavory, salty sauce on her taco. That is if he doesn't wake up miserable, and kick her out, like most morning afters.
Then I get an epiphany, creating a familiar twinge in my twat; she can be another afternoon lesbian liaison, like Maggie.
I'll get her number and hook up with her when Mike's working.
Searching her belongings, I save her phone number and get a glimpse of who she is; she's 2 years younger, I don't remember her from school; she's single, lives across town, with her mom.
I recount my stash, hide it back in the dishwasher soap box under the sink; knowing Mike never does dishes, he'll never find it.
I've contemplated several scenarios as to how to leave Mike and this dead-end life. I'm confident I now have enough money to get far enough away, and if I do it secretively, intelligently, quickly, he won't chase after me.
Last night would've been ideal, alas, I'm not fully prepared, I still need a car if I take ours, Mike will be pissed and definitely chase after me. It's difficult to say what might happen, he's never been physical, but I have seen his temper, and it's not a risk I'm willing to gamble on; he could become violent. I've decided not to take anything to upset him, just a few clothes, my hair styling equipment, toiletries and personal items.
I've returned her items and authored a text to send later.
I pour myself another coffee, awaiting Mike's usual 'morning after' rant; to have her leave hastily; so, he doesn't have any confrontation.
2
"What the hell." I hear him holler.
There it is; Mike's awakening, hangover berating.
"My gawd how drunk was I, I don't remember bringing you home, damn, did I fuck you? did I pay you? you're not worth it if I did." He gets out of bed, standing in the doorway in his boxers, and one sock.
"Get out, Geezus, hurry up and get your ugly, fat ass out of here." Kicking off his shorts, scratching his balls on route to the bathroom, of course he leaves the door open and even in the kitchen, I hear his piss splashing.
She pulls her top on, and stumbles, still half asleep, scared, trying to pull up the zipper on her jeans, as she hurries from the bedroom, carrying her shoes and bra. I hold out a grocery bag, assist her stuffing her bra and purse, while she slips on her shoes by the door.
I speak quietly.
