Before I begin, I have to express my gratitude to all the readers who left comments on my last post. Sometimes, when life is at its darkest, a complete stranger will shine a ray of light. I am happy to report that your "rays of light" have helped guide me through a very dark time. So, to all you random souls out there, thank you from the very bottom of my heart.
Of course, a few of you made disparaging comments as well. I put these comments in the "tough love" category. I know you all want the best for me. It must be frustrating to witness me make the same mistakes over and over again. All I can say is that I'm trying. And ALL of your comments, each and every one, make me want to try even harder.
To the reader who called me the "worst writer ever" I will make no attempt to dispute you. I will, however, point out that my posts are not "stories." They are episodes from my life. And as bad a writer as I may be, I am a real person with real problems. I'm not trying to win any writing contests. I'm trying to save my shattered sanity.
To the person who hoped I would "fade into obscurity," you can take solace in the fact that I did fade, nearly to the point of non-existence. But as I was poised on the precipice of total oblivion, something in me fought against the darkness. I clawed my way back to reality and now I stand once again in your midst.
Finally, one or two of you have implied that I am not being truthful. Let me state for the record: The tale I am telling you is true. Or essentially true. Yes, I exaggerate from time to time. And, yes, I occasionally use metaphors. But I do these things to expose elusive truths that facts alone cannot reveal.
But enough of this blather. Let me recap the events. My loving wife Maria has been having an affair with a male stripper named Thor. Thor's dick is much bigger than mine, which causes me to feel inferior. He is also an insufferable jerk. I agreed to let my wife keep seeing him, but only because she threatened to leave me. Then I made the mistake of letting her invite him over for dinner. It was a truly awful experience. Thor had sex with my wife as I watched and made her orgasm several times. I was devastated. And when I started to cry, he used my tears to lubricate his penis. As for my loving wife, instead of comforting me, she took a sick delight in farting in my face, spraying my tear-stained visage with her lover's semen. I have never felt so degraded.
As I write this I find myself faced with a terrible truth: my loving wife enjoys seeing me humiliated. I would do anything to make her happy, and for this reason I have allowed myself to be bullied for her amusement. Is this healthy? Absolutely not. I recognize that I have a problem. But I still believe I can find my way back out of this mess.
After the events that I described in my last post, my wife started acting a little nicer towards me. For a while she was the loving wife that I remember. She even gave me a few hugs. It was during this happy period that I read all the comments on my earlier posts. One helpful reader pointed out that my wife was a highly-sexual woman and suggested that I purchase a dildo to keep her happy. Thank you, kind reader. That is a most excellent idea. I want you to know that I took your advice to heart.
I took a trip to the local adult bookstore. As I perused the products they had on sale I remembered my wife's hurtful comment about my dick being smaller than any dildo. Scanning the shelves, I realized that she was right. My dick was smaller than the tiniest butt-plug.
Dear random soul, if you don't already know this, let me re-state the obvious. Having a little dick is the worst curse a man can have. I would gladly have my arms and legs amputated if it meant adding even a quarter inch to my penis. After all, what is a man without a big dick? I know what some of you are thinking. You're asking yourselves: Would having a bigger dick really improve my inner well-being?
Of course it would!
By why torture myself thinking about what I can't have? Instead I will focus on an attainable goal: namely, keeping my wife happy. To make a long story short, I ended up buying the biggest dildo they had. I took it back to the car and gift-wrapped it. I used wrapping paper with little pink hearts on it, to make my intentions perfectly clear. Having taken this first step, I was starting to feel a little better about myself. As I drove home I heard the song "Straighten up and Fly Right" by Nat King Cole. I turned it up and sang along. Do you know that one? It's an oldie but a goodie.
I felt better than I had in weeks. But as I drove up to the house my heart sank. Thor's Thunderbird was parked in our driveway. I had to park my car way up the street and walk several blocks to get back to the house. Rather than let myself in with the key, I decided to knock on the door. I knew Maria would be upset if I just barged in.
Before we go inside I must advise the reader. What you are about to read involves my loving wife, but it is not your average Loving Wife tale. What you are about to read is a nosedive into the depths of Hell. My experience has surpassed mere tragedy and has become a hall of horrors. What sort of horrors, you ask? Degradation, domination, and a blurring of the real. An unprecedented probing of orifice and Id. Yes, all of that and a bit of homoerotic hoodoo besides. I mention this in due diligence, so that the unsuspecting reader will have some idea of what lay in store. If you are absolutely sure that the details of my ordeal will not affect you, by all means press on. But if you have even the slightest misgiving, I urge you to stop reading. You may be saving yourself from a night of unpleasant dreams.
I knocked for several minutes. When Maria finally answered the door my mouth opened in a gasp. My wife was wearing her shortest black skirt, her fishnet stockings, and her six-inch high-heels, along with a top that barely concealed her breasts. For a split second I was elated, but then I realized she had dressed this way for Thor.
Although I felt a little discouraged, I was still excited about giving Maria her present -- the giant dildo that I would use to make her happy. My plan was to wait until Thor departed and then unveil the gift that would restore our sex-life. This thought kept me from being totally crestfallen.
Maria remained silent as she let me in. I put the gift-wrapped box on the foyer table and walked into the living room. I immediately saw Thor sprawled naked on our couch, with his cock dangling between his legs. Even in its flaccid state his penis was enormous.
Maria sat next to Thor and put her arm around his shoulder. I pulled the ottoman over. My wife didn't even glance at me. She was completely absorbed with her boyfriend. The two of them rubbed their noses and kissed. My heart shriveled to the size of a prune. After they nuzzled for a minute, Maria finally looked in my direction.
"Dexter, I'm so happy!" Her brown eyes twinkled.
I tried to smile. "Why is that, dear?"
"Thor bought me a gift!"
My heart shriveled even smaller.
"And what might that be?" I asked, forcing the words from my throat.
"Let's find out!"
She picked up a gift-wrapped box and started to unwrap it. She tore off the paper, opened the box, and pulled out a dog collar.
"It's lovely!" she squealed.
Thor smiled. "It's to show the whole world that I own you."
I swallowed dryly as my wife -- the woman of my dreams -- threw her arms around her lover and gave him a long and passionate kiss.
My heart was in the pit of my stomach. My loving wife was giving herself body and soul to another man.
I watched in dismay as Thor put the dog collar around my wife's neck and then attached the collar to a leash.
"Stand up," he growled.
Maria obeyed without hesitation.
Thor appraised my wife with an evil glint in his eyes. "Take your clothes off."
My wife stripped out of her slutty clothes as her lover held her leash. By this point I was relegated to the role of silent observer. Neither my wife nor Thor seemed to care that I was in the room.
