Wife Wants Experiences

Betty stood, looking at the steam rising from the engine. The truck was from the '80's and was filled with everything she had left in life. She didn't know what to do. She didn't have money to fix the truck, didn't have money for a hotel, didn't know how she was going to survive.

She looked over at the park, where Lila and Shawna were playing on the swings. They were enjoying their time in the sun, comfortable in the knowledge that their mother would take care of them. Even having to sleep in the truck last night at a rest stop had seemed like an adventure to the 9- and 7-year-old girls. Betty covered her mouth with her hand to stop the sobs from breaking out.

A new Lexus pulled up in front of her car and a tall man got out. As he approached her, Betty eyed him suspiciously, feeling vulnerable. This handsome man approached her with a confidence which the desperate woman found intimidating.

"You okay, ma'am?" The man moved past Betty to look at the overheated engine. "Car problems?"

Betty nodded her head. "It just overheated. I pulled over when it began to steam." A sob escaped her mouth.

The man looked at her with concern. "Don't worry. Let's take a look." He carefully stuck his hand into the hot engine compartment and grasped the fan, gently moving it back and forth. "Yeah, just what I expected. Your water pump is broken. It needs to be replaced."

Betty dropped down and sat on the curb. She held her head in her hands and asked, "Is that expensive? I don't have very much money." She turned and looked over at her girls in dismay.

The man followed her gaze and asked, "Are those your kids?" When Betty confirmed his assumption, he suggested, "Look, my house is just down the block. I can fix your car -- it'll take me maybe an hour or two, depending on how soon I can get the parts. They may be available at the auto parts store -- this was a pretty popular engine -- but I may have to try a wrecking yard for a used part if I can't find one. Meanwhile, you and your kids can stay at my house."

Fear and suspicion leapt to the forefront of Betty's mind. She was about to refuse the man's offer when the police cruiser pulled up. The window rolled down and the officer hailed the man. "Scott, everything okay?"

"Yeah, Ron, just a little car problem. I think I can get it fixed." The officer offered to help, but the man, Scott, said he could handle it. The officer wished him luck and continued down the block.

The policeman's familiarity with the man and his obvious belief that the man was above board reassured Betty, but she still shook her head. "No, I can't leave this truck. Look, I think you're okay, but everything I have left in the world is in this truck..."

Scott nodded. "It's okay. Let's do this. Come to my house and I'll get my neighbor, Mrs. McNulty to watch your girls while we, you and I, get the parts and fix the car. Meanwhile, the girls can have lunch and watch TV."

Scott had a beautiful house and his neighbor, Mrs. McNulty (call me Gladys, dear) was happy to babysit. When Scott offered to pay her for her time, she waved away the offer. "With all the things you do for me, do you think I'd charge you to watch these two angels." She looked at Betty. "This is really a good man. He's always ready to help, even before you know you need help."

Gladys smiled at the girls. "Now, do you girls like grilled cheese?"

Scott loaded his tools into the trunk of the Lexus, and was able to buy the water pump, gaskets, and antifreeze from the local representatives of Manny, Moe, and Jack. In less than 90 minutes, he had the truck repaired and running. While she had watched him repair the car, Scott managed to get Betty to relate her sad story.

She had been happily married to an insurance salesman, had a nice home ("Not as nice as yours, but it was my dream, complete with that white picket fence"), and was comfortably in the middle class. Then her husband had been the cause of a multiple car crash, where two innocent people had died, as well as her husband and the woman who had been performing fellatio on him just prior to the crash.

Suddenly, she had lost her income provider, her "loving" husband, and her way of life. Their savings, the equity in their home and most of their possessions had been taken by legal fees and settlements with the families of those killed or injured by her husband. She had been left with two children and the few possessions that fit into the camper on the pickup truck. She didn't really have a plan, other than going to a cousin in the next state. She didn't have the cousin's phone number, couldn't remember her married name, but had hoped her money would sustain her until she could find her. She didn't have any other relatives and her husband's family seemed to blame her for his death. Apparently, they felt that had she been a better wife he wouldn't have strayed. Betty couldn't take it. She had just packed up and fled.

Now, telling Scott her story, she realized how stupid it was. She wasn't even near the city where she thought her cousin still lived and she was already out of money. As Scott started the repaired engine with a whoop of triumph, Betty collapsed onto the curb and sobbed.

Scott sat next to her and cautiously put his arm around her, hugging her to his chest as she wept.

"Look, right now you can stay with me." As Betty began to shake her head, Scott continued. "I have two guest rooms, one with a double bed the girls can share and the other has a fold out couch you can use. It's probably not the most comfortable, but it's better than making those girls sleep in your camper.

"Tomorrow, we can sort out a job for you and once you're on your feet, you can find your own place."

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After leaving Liam's office, Jean drove west for two days. The second night, after checking into a hotel, she'd gone to the nearest bar, dressed in a short dress with the top two buttons undone. She was ready for the experiences which had already cost her the life she had once cherished.

It was only six o'clock and the bar was almost empty. The bartender put her drink in front of her. "I haven't seen you here before. You new here?"

Jean shook her head. "No, just passing through. Getting divorced and feeling frisky."

The bartender smiled and looked appreciatively at Jean's exposed cleavage. "Where are you headed?"

"Don't know, don't care. Just going." Jean sipped her drink. "I supposed I'll have to find a job soon, but meanwhile, I intend to party."

"What do you do? What type of work are you looking for?" The bartender refilled Jean's glass. "It's on me."

"I don't know. I was an English major in college, worked a little retail while I was in school, but have just been a housewife since I got married. I really don't have any experience." Jean thought, there's that word again. I really need to get some experience.

"I need a waitress. What would you think of that? It pays okay and the tips are good, and there's a room in back you can use until you find a place." The bartender, Jake, was getting a good look down her shirt. She leaned forward to accommodate him.

"That could work." A half hour later, Jean had a mouthful of Jake's cum to swallow and free drinks the rest of the night.

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Betty had studied psychology in college, getting her BA before becoming pregnant with Lila. Scott introduced Betty to a therapist he knew, and the result was Betty being hired as his receptionist. Her knowledge of the terms and diagnoses was something the therapist thought would be helpful.

Betty was over the moon at having a job. Her life was on the mend, she felt.

"How do you know Dr. Mitchell?" she asked Scott.

"He helped me through some issues. He's a good man." Scott replied.

"Did he help you with your wife? With marriage counseling?" Betty was very curious about Scott. She couldn't imagine why a woman would divorce him.

"Mitch? No, Mitch helped me with some anger issues." He paused, took a deep breath, and began to tell Betty the story of his marriage and divorce. How his wife had wanted "experiences", asking for an open marriage. He told how he had reacted, how he had gone out of his way to tell people that his wife was a whore, how her mother had had a stroke and how much he had hurt his wife.

"I'm ashamed of what I did. I don't care what Jean did or didn't do. I was wrong to hurt her like that. I was hurt and lashed out." He looked at Betty with tears in his eyes. "I never thought I was that kind of guy. But I was hurt.

"When we went to counseling with an incompetent asshole named Liam, Jean had tried to describe the problems that had led her to ask for the open marriage. She claimed she couldn't orgasm, or when she did, she became too sensitive and it hurt. Some friend convinced her that if she could just achieve three orgasms everything would be fine."

"What?" Betty was confused. "It hurt to orgasm so she had to have three? What the hell?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought too, but her friend Monica convinced her that she could teach her how to have sex without the pain. Turned out that Monica was a procurer for a pimp. She'd get women involved with her and her friend Bucky and blackmail them. Jean had had sex with Monica, but claimed she didn't enjoy it and never had sex with Bucky or any other man.

"I loved her, and was willing to try to reconcile, but in the end she thought that it was all my fault that her mother had had a stroke, that our friends ostracized her, and our church kicked her out of teaching Sunday school. She stopped the counseling and insisted on the divorce. Then she left town."

"But you weren't responsible. She was the one that..." Betty began.

"Yeah, but what I did was wrong. I didn't like who I had become. That's what Mitch helped me with." Scott chuckled. "He helped me over what Jean called my 'fragile male ego'."

Betty bristled at that. "I hate that bullshit. It seems like a cheating woman's first attack, like a kick to the crotch. It's not fragile ego, it's solid male logic."

"What do you mean? Solid male logic?" Scott looked puzzled.

"What's the purpose of marriage? Historically, for a woman, it was to provide a secure, protected nest for herself and her children. For the man, it was the assurance of paternity that monogamy was supposed to bring. Without that assurance, of security for the woman and of paternity for the man, there's no reason for marriage. If the woman's out screwing anyone she wants, there's no guarantee that the children the man is raising are his. So, it's not ego, but the removal of any reason for marriage that men object to. Those cheating women just want to have their cake and eat it too.

"If you had suggested that an open marriage implied that you didn't need to provide for her or any children, it would have been her 'fragile ego' that would have objected." Betty concluded.

Scott smiled. He liked this woman.

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Living out of the room in the back of the bar provided multiple opportunities for experiences. First it was single guys that flirted with her. She'd take them back to her room after closing. She soon found that when it was just slam, bang, and thank you ma'am, sensitivity was never an issue. It seemed like the sensual lovemaking that her husband had lavished on her was what made her orgasm so hard that she couldn't bear his further touch. Being pounded by horny young men was a whole other experience. "A really good one," Jean thought to herself.

Then there was the husband and wife who gave her what was her first threesome. Soon it was two brothers who provided DPs and spit roastings. She rarely slept alone.

Jake the bartender was married and while happy to get the occasional blowjob, never seemed tempted by Jean's offers of sex. He seemed amused by her activities, especially when Ralph, the town drunk, offered her money for a fuck.

Jean was indignant and demanded Jake toss Ralph out. "I'm not a whore," she complained.

Jake just laughed and explained, "Jean, you may not be a whore but you're definitely a slut, and it's really hard for most guys to tell the difference. You seem willing to fuck just about anyone, so Ralph just felt left out. Offering money was the only way he knew to get you attention. You might consider just keeping him happy."

Jean was nonplussed at the thought. Did people think she was a whore? She was just having fun. She thought about it until one night when Ralph was the only one left as she was closing up the bar. She was horny and thought she might as well earn the money.

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Scott loved the girls. Betty got them into the local school and Lila joined a T-ball team. Scott went to every game and attended every school function. He even accompanied Betty to the girls' parent teacher conferences. He'd always wanted a family and he couldn't imagine a better one.

Betty helped him keep house, but he avoided any intimacy, afraid that she might feel pressure and leave. He was as proper with her as he would have been with a nun. But one day as they were leaving the bleachers after a T-ball game, he offered her his hand to help her down. As they were walking to the car, he suddenly realized that she hadn't released his hand, but that it felt comfortable and perfectly normal where it was.

Thereafter, they seemed to be holding hands whenever they were near each other. Then Scott finally asked her on a date, encouraged by Mrs. McNulty, who insisted on babysitting for them. That night, Betty shared his bed. From then on, the foldout couch remained closed.

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Jean was in a panic. She'd used three home test kits and finally got confirmation from the doctor.

Jake noticed how stricken she looked when she came into the bar. "Are you okay?" he asked her.

"No," she wailed.

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"I'M PREGNANT!"

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After she had told him, Scott just stared at her. Her breath caught in her throat. Of all the reactions she had imagined, this was not one of them.

Scott mumbled, "Excuse me," and rushed out of the room. Betty sat there shocked, but jumped up when she heard the garage door open. As she ran out the front door, Scott's Lexus raced down the driveway and down the street. Betty screamed at him, but the car disappeared around the corner.

Horrified, Betty sat down on the bench Scott had placed in front of the rosebushes and collapsed into tears. Mrs. McNulty had been trimming her hedge and rushed over when she had heard Betty's wailing.

"What's wrong, dear? Are you okay?" Gladys asked as she sat down next to Betty, drawing the weeping woman into the comfort of her arms. "What's happened?"

"I, huh, huh, I told Scott that I'm pregnant and he ran away!" Betty wailed. "I thought he loved me. I mean, he never said it, but I thought, I thought.... Oh, my God."

They remained there for an hour, as Betty silently wept, her tears unabated. Mrs. McNulty was so angry at Scott. How could he do this? She'd never thought he was that kind of man.

The girls had come out on the porch but stopped when they saw their mother weeping. Mrs. McNulty silently signaled them to remain there. The girls started to cry in sympathy for their mother, unknowing fear gripping their hearts. The girls cried, the mother wept, and Mrs. McNulty fumed, when the Lexus raced down the street and whipped into the driveway.

The door flew open, and Scott raced out to fall on his knees in front of Betty, showing her the ring he had purchased. Betty fell on her knees and into Scott's arms. The girls raced down the steps to join in that family hug.

Mrs. McNulty looked with happiness at the family she had somehow been grafted to, at the children she would come to think of as grandchildren. Her heart rose into her throat with sobs of joy.

Scottie was a good man, she thought. He desires this joy in his life.

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Jean lay on her bed as the cramps took her breath away. The doctor said that there might be severe cramping from the medical abortion, but these were the worst cramps she'd ever experienced. In addition, there was depression at terminating her child's life.

She and Scott had always planned to have kids. She always wanted to be a mother, had dreamed of it and planned for it her whole life. But now, when she couldn't even be sure who the father was, how could she have a child?

Jake had asked her why she hadn't used any protection. "I used birth control, but between the drinking and the nightly sex, I've missed some pills." Jake had just shaken his head in disgust.

As she fought against the cramping pain, she wondered when the bleeding would stop. The doctor had insisted that she abstain from sex until the spotting stopped, to avoid the chance of infection.

She curled up in a fetal position, waiting for the pain to ease. She reviewed her life, from the pampered life that Scott had provided for her to now, when she was on her feet eight or nine hours a day slinging drinks and hustling tips. Then half the night she'd have someone in her bed before she would finally get to sleep. Her dreams of a home and family were fading to dim memories while the experiences she had sought were becoming the overwhelming part of her life.

She'd had orgasms but had never obtained that third orgasm that Monica had promised would free her. She never got the overwhelming flood of endless climaxes that she had sought. But she rarely felt that sensitivity that plagued her with Scott's tender lovemaking. In fact, she now had her best orgasms on those rare occasions when she allowed someone to pay her for sex. Well, not as rare now as in the past.

As another cramp gripped her, she wondered if she could indulge in oral or anal sex if the spotting continued. She really missed that human contact.