April The Spoiled Housewife

I'm having a very sad day.

Billy told me I was fat and that's why he's not that into me anymore.

He didn't actually say anything, or use words, but I just knew what he was thinking. He wasn't the verbal kind - instead guess he just worked long hours and paid the bills while I ran the household single-handedly.

For years I've been horribly depressed over my appearances. I knew he thought I was ugly because he neglected me so badly. I mean, yes, he touched me and told me all the right things and was always there for me but I knew he was lying and I couldn't stand that dishonesty so I gave him the space he needed. Because I was fat and ugly.

My new cell phone buzzed and it was Billy texting, asking what I wanted for dinner. I replied that I was too depressed to think about it so I'd go shopping for some clothes. He replied "OK, I'll pick up some groceries. Love you," but I knew he lied.

That made me feel more sad so I went and put on a garter belt with tan Cuban lace thigh highs to make me feel prettier. Ugly girls needed all the help they could get, and it felt good to have guys stare. It took attention away from my face. Took me awhile to pick out the right Anne Taylor skirt I bought last week, but I finished getting dressed and then put on makeup. My face was too bony and had sharp lines everywhere so I needed lots of makeup.

Picking up my quilted Vera Bradley bag, I sighed because Billy didn't think I deserved a better one this week and headed to the garage. I sat in the used Range Rover he bought me and turned on the seat warmers. Billy bought me the 2016 Evoque with 2,000 miles on it already and that made me feel like a worthless whore. Guess he didn't think a fat ugly wife deserved a new one. Sometimes I scratched it carelessly, to show him how I felt about it.

Anyhow, I pulled in the Saks parking lot and adjusted myself in the mirror. A very different face than I knew stared back: this one with beautiful opaline eyes, naturally pouting lips, a dainty nose and velvety eyelashes.

The mirror always lied. It showed me in all the false colors, with fair glossy skin and wrong geometry. The bathroom mirror lied even more, making it seem like I had firm abs and huge tits, but it was just the optical distortion because I was fat and ugly and flat-chested.

The store didn't really have anything I was interested in so I just grabbed a few random items I was never gonna wear and paid for them with Billy's MasterCard, then went to a lingerie store to get a new bra. There's nothing more tragic than a fat girl with small tits, so I felt really self-conscious browsing through B cups.

Some annoying clerk or whatever came by to suggest I needed at least a D cup an isle away, but I waved her away and kept dry fitting the bras through my top. I definitely knew I was a B cup.

Though, for some reason, I wasn't the exact B size the industry manufactured, so only the really stretchy B cups fit me. Even so, they always felt tight and made my breasts spill out somehow and I never understood why. I grabbed a few bras and matching panties.

The cashier asked me if I was buying these for my daughter, and I flushed red with embarrassment. I put up with a lot of shit over my appearances, and I wasn't going to let this woman walk all over me and put me in the spotlight so I exploded at her.

"I didn't come here for your judgemental preaching", I screamed. Thankfully, that got her to shut up and just do her job. How could she say something that hurtful, to a customer, humiliating me in front of everyone?

Some of the other clerks stared but said nothing, and I had too much pride to show them how much they hurt me so I just glared until they were done and then walked to my Range Rover. Inwardly, I was beside myself.

As soon as I shut the door, I hit the starter button, turned off the stupid eco-friendly engine feature and put on the new bra and panties while struggling to manoeuvre in the seat. My nipples kept slipping out to the side of the new bra, but I guess that's how they fit sometimes. Then, I peeled out of the parking lot.

What I needed was some affirmation that despite being fat and ugly, I was beautiful on the inside, so I texted Mike to see what he was doing. Mike was just a friend and he could be honest with me since he had nothing to gain from it. At the red light I asked him.

"what r u doin8g?"

He replied within a minute, "working from home today, all alone."

"bought new panties n bra"

Alright, so sometimes I flashed him my bra or panties to ask for his opinion but there was nothing funny about that. I just needed to know if it looked good on me.

He replied in minutes, "cant wait to feel them."

Well, ok so sometimes I needed to know if they were soft enough or if they were form-fitting enough or if they let my fat spill out so I let him touch me through my panties and bra. There was still nothing bad about that, since this was almost a clinical level of support.

I really just needed him to tell me that I wasn't ugly. He really understood me. He wasn't a selfish brute like Billy was. The phone buzzed again.

"need a bj bad"

Well Mike had an unimaginative wife and sometimes, just as a friend, I would give him head. That's just what friends do for each other when they've been beaten up emotionally by their neglectful husbands and Mike really understood me. He could be honest with me when everyone else lied to my face.

Within minutes I pulled up in his driveway and strutted toward his front door in my last week's high heels. He opened the door wearing a bath robe, and whistled.

"Damn April, you look stunning."

Even though he was honest with me, he lied about little things like that. It's okay because I trusted him enough so I could appreciate his false flattering.

I smiled and walked past him, kissing his cheek. Hope he could smell my new perfume because it was really expensive. I didn't wear it at home because I knew Billy wouldn't appreciate little things like that. As I brushed past him, he put his hands around my waist and kissed my neck. I could never understand how he could get his hands around my big waist. I was a big girl, a fat girl, like some kind of a whale, and he was a 5'8" skinny build.

He picked me up by the waist and spun me around like I weighed nothing, like I was a leaf in the wind. Despite working with computers Mike was surprisingly strong. It was as if I was a little girl again.

My skirt fluttered in the wind and I landed graciously on the other side of him, toward the bedroom. He pushed me through toward the bed gently and said, "Alright show me your new bra."

"Like this? With no music?" I demanded playfully.

He turned on some funk and I started dancing to it, pretending his bed's corner post was a dancing pole. He leaned against a nightstand and watched me shake it to the rhythm. Over the next few minutes I slowly unbuttoned my top and teased him into seeing my new pink lacy bra. By this point, my tits were straining against it for some reason and a nipple was poking out the side.

"Fuck, that's so nice" he said. "You have such a rockin' body."

Guess I could ignore a friendly lie because he meant well. I was way too fat for compliments. But, Mike was definitely enjoying the show because within a few minutes, he undid his robe. He then pulled his white underwear down to his knees and I could see his big hairy cock and balls.

He was already hard and definitely needed his cock sucked. I sat down on the bed with one leg up, spreading them wide, showing him my panties. I smiled the best way I could, and reaching down I pulled my panties aside and spread my pussy lips so he could see even better.

"Do you think they're pretty?" I asked.

He replied, "Oh my god April, fuck yes. You're fucking amazingly hot. Your legs are so fucking toned."

"No, I mean the panties, are they pretty?" I really needed to know. They cost $40.

He walked up to me and touched them while kissing me, and nodded an "uh huh."

"Even though I'm fat?"

He stopped kissing me and lied again, "Are you fucking kidding me? You're like 120 lbs. You're not fat, you're gorgeous and stunning."

I pouted and in that manner told him that he lied, "I bet you say that to all the fatties you bring over to suck your dick."

He touched my neck gingerly and looked me in the eyes, and I knew he meant some of it. "April, you're a beautiful thin girl. I'm the ugly fat guy with a big beer belly."

Some of what he was saying about himself rang true, so I didn't protest when he grabbed me by my hair and forced me off the bed, down on my knees. Normally I wouldn't let anyone do that to me, especially not Billy. Billy was a thoughtless selfish prick. But Mike explained that his wife was coming home soon so he had no time to lose.

"C'mon baby, I need you to suck me off fast."

I looked Mike in the eyes and asked him, "Am I pretty?"

He said "yeah, you're pretty" and then stuck his hard cock in my mouth. His aim wasn't exactly right and it stuck on my inside cheek. It took seconds to correct his haphazard slide.

For a few minutes I sucked it eagerly and then paused unbelieving him. I just wanted some honesty. "Really? You mean it? Am I really pretty?" I asked him while running my tongue under his cock, licking it nice and slow.

He shoved his cock in my mouth again and started fucking it, while holding my hair with one hand. He replied, "Yeah girl, you're so pretty. Especially now."

I stopped again, and asked, "You mean it?"

He grunted a yes, and then kept fucking my mouth. Mike really understood me. While he was doing that, my phone rang so I fished it out of my bag. It was Billy, so I answered it with my mouth full. "Hmm?"

He was babbling something about picking up kids from school and that made me mad. I had to do everything around the house, and he couldn't do this one thing? I took Mike's cock out of my mouth and yelled at Billy.

"Look I'm busy right now, in middle of something. Can't you take time off from work and go pick them up?"

Mike shoved his cock back in my mouth and started fucking it deep. He was hitting the back of my throat and it was uncomfortable and made me gag a few times, but I think I deserved it because ignoring people is kind of rude.

He whispered while I spoke on the phone, "I'm going to make you real pretty."

He didn't like me being distracted, and that was understandable. I did a couple more "uh huhs" to Billy and accidentally made a loud slurping sound. Billy asked what that was, so I put the phone down by the floor and whispered to Mike, "Are you really going to make me pretty?"

He answered by slapping my cheeks with his hard cock and saying "Uh huh." That made me feel like I wasn't so worthless. I knew I was ugly, but in his mind, with his state of pleasure he thought I was pretty with his cock in my mouth, so pleasing him made me happy.

I picked up the phone again and Mike rested his cock on my forehead, shoving his balls toward my mouth. Billy was making me really angry now, so I picked up the phone and after a few licks interrupted his babbling.

"No, I can't run by the grocery store later. Just go take some sick leave or whatever from work and pick up the kids and get dinner groceries."

I dropped the phone on the ground without hanging up and started licking and sucking Mike's hairy balls loudly. Come to think of it, he did kind of have a large stomach. How come I never noticed that before? Anyhow, before long I had to go so I grabbed his sides and started fucking my throat with his cock. He moaned and sputtered a slow moan that sounded like "Fuck ..... me.... that's so good..." I went really deep because I had some practice.

I stopped sucking his cock again and whispered, "Do you really think I'm pretty?"

He grabbed my hair with both hands and started fucking my mouth like he was crazy as an answer. I couldn't breathe, he was so rough. Guess his wife just laid there or something, because he soon pulled it out and started grunting like an idiot and sprayed my face with cum.

Having a guy cum on your face is the singular most degrading experience you can go through. It's really nasty. If you don't agree it's nasty, imagine your sweet old doddering grandmother treated that way by a smelly homeless man and your thoughts on the matter will change very quickly. It's just humiliating and disrespectful and wrong.

First thing in the morning, I had to get up and wash my face in the sink. Then I had to check over my pores with a magnifying mirror and make sure that my skin wasn't drying out. I'd put lotion on it half an hour before a shower, then take a very hot shower to open them up, scrub my sensitive face with harsh soap and then suffer through a cold water spray to close the pores. Then I'd spend 15 minutes shaving my legs and pussy smooth.

This is so far just routine. After the shower, I'd have to put lotion on my face again and let it moisturise for half an hour while I do my hair. That's a lot of effort so far and doesn't even involve makeup. It takes about ten minutes to apply good foundation, and of course I only buy the good stuff, and that's about $40 for a jar.

Then I do my eyeliner, and that's a lot of careful strokes. I run the pencil along the outer corners of my eyes and carefully layer the wax so not to screw anything up. It takes me about 10 minutes to do it right. My hand's not all that steady from some meds I'm taking, so often enough I have to wipe it down and start over. Once I finish this, I smudge the liner along my lash line and try to make it look neutral. You don't want to draw too much attention to the eye, and you don't want to look cheap, so I use the $15 Marcelle.

After that, I curl my eyelashes and this too takes a few minutes. There are lots of cheap curlers, but a good stainless steel one one costs a hundred dollars. Then it's mascara, and again, you don't want to look like a cheap whore - especially when you're fat like me - so that's another $20 for a good stick. And no, I'm nowhere being done yet.

Next thing is blush, and you have to do this right or you'll look like a street walker. The stuff I like to use is CoverGirl, but it's too cheap so I upgrade to a $30 Cargo canister. I love my beachblush. I've got this down to a science, and it only takes me a minute. Lastly, as far as makeup goes anyway, is a good lipstick and my glossy Armani costs $35.

That's about an hour's work to look presentable, and two hundred dollars of product.

Then a guy takes ten seconds and just jerks off all over it with his big smelly hairy dick, ruining all that work with a few warm streams of cum shooting out of his hairy balls. Millions of sperm cells swimming all over my face, dripping down and making my makeup run.

Some lands in my hair that I spent half an hour curling or straightening. Some lands over my clothes. The $80 Anne Taylor skirt will now have to get drycleaned before I give up on the stains and throw it away and make Billy buy me a replacement. I was on my knees and some dripped down on my legs. Cheap Cuban thigh highs cost $20 and you can't wash those. Only homely housewives wash nylons.

It's so nasty, especially knowing Mike's cheating on his wife doing it, and so horrible him messing up my face that I spent hours on. It makes me feel like a worthless whore, which is just what Billy thinks of me, and I want to cry.

But it makes me so horny under the right conditions. I love giving it as a gift to guys who understand me, and Mike really does. Even if it makes me feel like a dirty whore, I know his wife doesn't let him do this so he's missing out on it.

He threw me a towel and tied his robe back; I cleaned myself up then went to hug him but he said that his wife was coming home soon so I got rushed out the door. He walked me out so fast, my panties were still just pushed to the side. His wife, Sara, was sensitive so I didn't want to have her find out about Mike giving me emotional support. And she wouldn't understand the occasional inappropriate touch between friends, so I ran out fast.

Billy would never be that considerate to his wife, so I never let him do that sort of thing. Actually, I never give Billy oral because he neglects me too much to deserve it. On my way home, I stopped at the grocery store despite telling Billy I couldn't, and bought some cosmetics and some decorative gourds. Then I felt like I needed some flowers to liven up the master bathroom, so the cart got kind of full.

The cashier stared at me the whole time and judged me for the items I bought, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of making eye contact. She asked stupid questions and I just ignored her. She apparently wasn't paying attention because halfway through she had put things I bought in cheap plastic bags, so I intervened.

"No, no, no. Wait a minute, I said I wanted everything in paper bags."

She apologized and re-bagged the items. It took her forever and all the customers in line were mad at her. Good, because I've had a bad day already. Billy was so insensitive and demanding.

One of the regular courtesy clerks, a fancy name for a cart boy, asked, "Do you need help taking this out to the car ma'am?" This was like the tenth time he asked me this month and he should know the answer already.

I looked at him like he was an idiot, because he was. I wasn't in the shape to be moving heavy stuff. Because he wanted a verbal answer, I looked at him and said "yes" with as much of a stiff lip as I could manage.

His nametag said his name was Dillon. I made him follow me in slow motion all the way to back of the parking lot, because that's where I always parked. If I parked closer, poor people would ding my Range Rover. I hit the remote button and the trunk opened, and he loaded it. Just as he put the last bag in, I took out a $1 bill out of my purse and cornered him against my trunk. He turned around and realized he couldn't go anywhere. My skirt was pretty tight against my body, that I was sure he could see my camel toe.

"Dillon, do you think I'm pretty?" I asked him.

He looked me up and down, from half a foot away and was shy in responding. Finally he stammered, "Um, yeah, you're very pretty."

I didn't like half-assed answers, so I pressed him. "What about me is pretty?"

He looked again, trying to find an easy answer, and settled with my face. My face was pretty.

I swung my hips side to side and asked him about it. Was he so sure it was just my face? Were my hips pretty too? Where did it end? What stopped being pretty? He blushed and tried to escape this conundrum by saying that I dressed really nice and that my body was very thin and athletic.

While others are happy with being lied to in compliments, I can't stand being lied to my face. I took the dollar bill and put it in his front shirt pocket and told him that he should be more honest in life because I was ugly and fat. Then, I drove off home and told Billy to take groceries out of my vehicle while I showered, because I had some things to think about. He woke me up later for dinner he made and I asked him if he picked up my dry cleaning. He didn't, but would tomorrow.

The next day, I slept in and Billy left me a rose in his spot on the bed with a note. I didn't even read it, because the garbage can looked like a more appropriate place for it. He didn't even bother waiting for me to wake up so he could tell me whatever is it he wanted to.

The dinner he made last night was fine, but he didn't serve it on the dinner plates I liked. He knew what my favorites were, so by the time I finished eating, I was crying and went to bed early. Why did he ignore me so much? Oh god. Wasn't I pretty enough to be served dinner on an authentic Copenhagen plate? Does he not remember how hard I had to yell at the flight attendants to be careful with them?