My Wife's Compulsion

Prelude

I didn't turn around when I heard the door open. Since it was "girl's night out," it was also my night to enjoy my guilty little pleasure, professional wrestling. John Cena was administering a serious ass whipping and I was glad to see that he was a good guy this week. Since I couldn't watch regularly it was kind of hard to keep up with the soap opera of World Wrestling Entertainment.

"Grab a beer babe," I said, patting the couch beside me.

I watched a little more of the highly stylized and scripted mayhem before I realized that I had not heard any movement.

When I turned she was standing there, just inside of the front door, not moving.

"What's up, babe?" I asked.

And still, she didn't move.

I hit the "pause" button on the DVR and got up. As I moved closer she was just standing there, very still, head down, eyes on the floor.

"What's the matter, honey?" I asked, starting to get seriously worried.

And then she looked up at me.

God, she was a mess. She had a black eye almost swollen shut. Her lip was puffy in the classic "fat lip" that every boy knows from some schoolyard fight.

"Jesus Millie, are you all right?" I asked, reaching out to touch where her face was swollen.

She started muttering something about a fall but she has never been able to lie to me and about three sentences into her explanation she collapsed against me, crying. No, beyond crying. She was bawling, loud sobs, and clinging to me as I held her.

I could feel the tension through her body as she shook against me. I cradled her head gently against my chest and let her cry, whispering that it was okay, that I was here. Gentling her like a hurt animal.

When she was cried out she was finally able to look up at me. Tears washed her mascara down her cheeks. Snot ran from her nose, making streamers off of her chin. When she wiped at it the thick mucus-filled saliva from her mouth added to the filaments between her hand and her face.

I pulled her to me again, holding her for another minute while she quieted, patting her back through the final hiccups. Then, without saying anything, I led her to the bathroom and sat her on the toilet.

I was careful not to look at her as I ran the water, letting it get hot, and then soaked a face cloth. I lifted her chin, forcing her to look up, as I carefully, very gently, washed her face. She winced when I touched the swollen side of her face and I made myself a promise that whoever had done that was going to lose the hand that did it. Her eyes were darting around as I gently pulled her lip up, looking to see if it was truly split. There was a small cut on the inside, but nothing that would require stitches. She managed a very small smile when I bent and kissed it.

She still hadn't said anything as I led her back into the living room and sat her on the couch. I went to the kitchen and mixed her a bloody Mary, a triple, and then as an afterthought added a straw. I took the drink in to her, sat next to her, took both of her hands in mine, and said "now, what happened."

Chapter One

The story that unfolded was one that I remembered almost verbatim from one of the Psychology, or Human Growth and Development, or some such class that I had taken as part of my Education Major. I understood about ten minutes into her recital. But I let her go on. It seemed cathartic for her and she was gaining confidence as the story unfolded. She said, and I believe her, that I was the first non-professional person she had ever told it to.

Millie's mother was killed in a car wreck when Millie was 18, getting ready to graduate from high school. Such a loss was devastating, and she and her single dad had trouble coping. She would crawl into his bed at night and they would sleep together.

As these things happen, one night she crawled into bed and found him naked.

He told her that daddy loved her and that he wanted her to do something for him. As he talked and coaxed she soon found herself with his cock in her mouth. She did as he asked, and when he was ready to ejaculate he pulled out, cumming on her face.

The thing is, I could almost understand. Both of them would have been terribly lonely and hurting. And this was a physical release he needed. By his lights, by leaving her hymen intact he hadn't really engaged in incest and, to use the archaic phrase, "ruined" her.

This, then, became her life until she went away to college. Even when she was dating, her nights would be spent in her daddy's bed and his release would wind up on her face and in her hair.

When she got to college she took some psychology classes and started to understand the pathology that was at work. She had sought counseling and received help. The problem was, and this was something she hadn't shared with her counselor, every once in a while, not often, but maybe three or four times a year, she had the need, this URGE, this compulsion, to suck a stranger's dick.

She got through college and started her career as an interior decorator.

She met someone, fell in love, and got married.

And then, one time when the compulsion took her and she was caught by her husband, she went back to counseling.

This time she told it all. The therapy was intense, she was crying again as she told me this, but she still felt the need. The therapist eventually gave up on simple counseling and started experimenting with medication. Finally, he hit on the combination of pills that allowed her to function and still held her compulsion at bay.

Her husband left later that year.

"He did his duty by me," she said, with a weak smile, "and then moved on to less damaged goods."

We talked all night. I would take a break every hour or so, getting a fresh bag of frozen peas or frozen corn for her eye and a wet ice-filled washcloth for her lip, and a fresh bloody Mary.

Finally, around sunrise, she looked up at me with tears in her eyes and said "I'll understand if you're not here when I wake up."

I smiled and kissed her very carefully. "If I'm not here it's just because I'm at the store laying in a fresh supply of frozen peas honey. Nothing you have said makes me love you any less."

She gave me a little smile at that and then her eyes fell shut.