[Reluctant] My first marraige in the 1970's

[canada1]

Originally Posted by milkman56

I am rolling this out in short installments. It is completely written but I think it is best taken in portions.

I have noticed that there aren't very many who are following it, so perhaps it is not a story that interests anyone very much.

So should I drop it?

Also should I post some "photo recreations" of some of the scenes?

What do you think?

More please

[milkman56]

Excerpt:

.... Karen told me little about the things that happened in the store this week. She admitted to not wearing underwear and to sucking Mr. Miller’s cock and she confided this and the other incident in which some male customer got a peep show. Bob told me everything else.

Bob came in the shop just after this incident and so he knew about it and added details. His version was a little different than hers. I’ll explain.

She told me when he came in Mr. Miller told her to help him and she walked to the other side of the store to greet him at the counter and felt that as she did he must have seen how her skirt was hiked behind her, askew at the front of her, and showing her underpants in back. She knew she blushed and she felt ashamed of herself because he grinned and seemed wordless for a moment then pointed to the item he wanted to see. She brought out of its tray for him.

Mr. Miller offered that he had others like it in back if wanted to see them. He was not responsive, and seemed uncertain, but Mr. Miller said: “Karen, go back and get the gentlemen the tray of opal rings.” Then if he had not seen her underpants showing he certainly did then and Karen said she felt so ashamed that she did not want to return and told me: “I didn’t know what I should do….”

I thought to myself what I thought she should do, but she did not do it. She did what Mr. Miller told her and returned with the tray just as he had told her and did not fix her dress.

Mr. Miller closed the sale as Karen stood beside him and then asked: “You would like it gift wrapped, surely….” And before he could reply, he put the ring box in Karen’s hand and said: “Do you know where the wrapping paper is? I will show you…. Excuse us a minute….”

He guided Karen into the office. Of course she knew where the wrapping paper was. It was a common task. But here is where the stories diverge. Karen does not tell as Bob told me how once she was in the office Mr. Miller watched over her as she wrapped the ring box and then before she finished he explained what he expected of her. She said nothing to object, so Bob said. She faced him placidly as he explained and looked sarcastically at her discomfort and explained to her he wanted her to get used to doing this and drew her dress forward off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor so she that stood before him now wearing nothing but her underpants and socks. He put his hands on her breasts and felt her nipples though he need not do it to stimulate them, she was already affected by the anticipation.

He leaned and licked her nipples so that they shone wet with his saliva and said: “I will call you when I am ready…”

He went back to the front to complete the transaction of the sale, apologizing for being away, saying that Karen is nice young lady but easily distracted. “She just got married… you know how it is…” winking at the man.

The man looked at him in such way that Mr. Miller responded with a laugh: “O, no, not me…. Wish it were…. But no….”

The man and Mr. Miller waited for her. Finally, Mr. Miller said: “Young lady, are you ready yet?”

That was her cue and she came out as she was in her underpants and socks.....

[milkman56]

Excerpt:

When Karen returned from the cafeteria she was in a heat, a state of stunned sexual arousal, in which she felt herself almost dreaming, everything at once vivid and vague. The ordinary things, like time of day, were gone from mind, she thought about what Mr. Miller wanted. She thought of Bob waiting for her. She remembered how different his penis felt in her, how much larger it was, how it surprised her, how much she liked it when he fucked her. She felt again that sensation in the pit of her stomach and a certain warmth flooding her vaginally, and realized she wanted him. She was surprised by her feelings, she had never felt this before, this craving to be fucked by anyone, and she felt this way toward Bob even though she did not like him. That made no sense to her and when she saw the Jewelry shop on the block she felt queasy about this situation, and what was expected. “No, I can’t…” she said to herself: “I can’t do this... I am married and I am Mormon and I ….” And she thought of what she had already done, though she is married and a Mormon. She thought of the customer. She thought of Mr. Miller’s lollipop penis drooling in her mouth and how she had enjoyed when he came in her mouth. Again the pang in her groin.

In the shop she felt faint, giddy. Mr. Miller was waiting on a customer. It was a good sale for an expensive item. He said curtly: “In the back, young lady…. Bob has been waiting for you.”

Bob was sitting at a stool. He stood up when she came in. He said merely: “You look a little sick. You okay?” She nodded. He nodded, but did not believe her. He said: “Go over there….”

She did not understand what he wanted. She was confused. He said again, pointing: “Over there…” To the far corner, where the walls were bare on either side of the corner, and the stool she usually sat on was sitting. She was still confused but did as he said. Bob went out and talked in an aside to Mr. Miller. She sat down as she waited, she folded her hands in her lap; she felt queasy again.

Bob returned and shut the door to the workroom. He turned and grinned at her. He nodded. “You ready?”

Karen nodded but and then in a breaking voice said: “Yes…” Karen stood up, and began thinking about what she would do.

Bob said: “Good….” He took something off the workbench. She didn’t understand what he was doing. Then flash bulb popped. He held a Polaroid Land camera: the camera wheezed and the picture was shed from its slot into his hand. He laid the picture down on the workbench for its instant development. He watched it resolve into view. He took a second and laid it next to the first for development, and satisfied that they were what he wanted he looked my wife and said: “Okay… Go on….”

She did nothing. He aimed the camera, focusing, waiting. She was confused, this was not expected. He peered through the finder. She hesitated. “Go on…” he repeated. She reached over the back of her shoulder with her right hand and unfastened the hook at the nape of her neck. With her left hand strained awkwardly to draw her zipper down, she unzipped half way. She crossed her right arm across her chest to draw the sleeve and top of her dress off her shoulder. Exposing her shoulder, Bob snapped the picture. “Hold it,” he said. She paused as he took the next Polaroid fed into his hand and laid it on the workbench.

[milkman56]

Excerpt:

She flinched when he took the shot and looked up at the camera. She asked plaintively: “Why are you taking pictures?”

Miller said: “Put your mouth on my penis, honey….” She leaned slightly, her hands on her thighs, and leaned forward and put her mouth over the head of it. “Look at me,” he said. She looked up. Bob took that picture too. He still had that one. He showed it to me. That picture gave me an erection. I think Bob knew. I felt ashamed for myself and for her. She looked so abject.

Miller put his hand on her head and said: “Might as well finish what you started…” She closed her eyes. She obediently performed as he liked it, the light mouthing, the licking around the glans to stimulate him. He soon ejaculated. She slurped and swallowed and sat back, looking up at him and as he drew up his undershorts and pants, told her to stand.

Meanwhile Bob had taken of his pants and pulled his underpants down and Karen saw his erection again, large as it was, even though not so stiff as to stand up like a young man’s, like mine, but it was so much larger Karen stared at it and Bob nudged Miller and said: “Here,” and handed the camera to Miller.

Miller took up the position to photograph and Karen was stunned.

Bob said: “We want two more pictures. One with my cock in your mouth. And one my cock in ass.”

“I don’t think you can get that thing in her ass,” said Miller with a wink at Bob.

“Not her asshole, you shit….”

He pulled her up forcibly by the hand and positioned her roughly, turning her, slapping her buttock: “Bend over dammit….” She was confused. “Put your hands on your knees….” She felt his cock slip up and deeply into her and she held her breath instinctively. Miller told her to look at the camera. Flash!

[milkman56]

Excerpt:

Again the next day she wore the blue dress. Again the bobby sock and penny loafers. I commented that I thought the dress ought to be dry-cleaned. And she looked worried and asked if I had seen anything spilled on it. I said I had not but that she had worn everyday to work for more than a week. She fidgeted when we got the jewelry shop. She did not seem to want to get out of the car. I asked again if she had to work late. She said: “Maybe a little.” She did not want me to pick her up.

She got out of the car. Mr. Miller at the front door, unlocking it for her, smiled and waved at me and I went off to work.

Karen’s own story about the day is the best that I have. Bob was not involved, or he didn’t think it was important, or Miller didn’t tell him. She was anxious most of the day. She did not know when things would happen or how. She only vaguely knew that some friends of Mr. Miller would show up and that she must take off her clothes for them. She was nervous about every middle-aged man who came into the shop. It was an unusually busy day. Mr. Miller stayed in the shop with her all morning. She began to hope that he had changed his mind, or had not meant it.

The shop was still busy at noon when Mr. Miller usually closed up. She had a customer. Mr. Miller had a customer. There were two young girls, browsing and waiting to be served. That is when the two Arthurs came in. She saw Mr. Miller nod at them and they stared at her. She felt a sick pang, a strange twinge in her groin, like a fear of falling. The customer, a middle-aged woman with more make-up and money than was decent, was obviously annoyed by her inattention. Mr. Miller finished with his customer and interceded to help Karen, excusing her, apologizing to the customer, “….the young lady has some work to do in the back.”

Karen went to the workroom. She did not know what she should do. The stool was in the corner where Bob had put it the day before. She sat on it. The two Arthurs came in. They looked at her, but seemed just as nervous as she was. No one said anything. They stayed by the door, waiting for Mr. Miller to finish with his customer. She sat without speaking, looking at the floor. If she did not look up, they stared at her. She did not look up, feeling embarrassed and anxious.

Mr. Miller was several more minutes while the three of them waited in awkward silence—these two “friends” whom she could not look at without embarrassment, old as her father, one of whom looked like a man she knew from church, who had come to see her take off her clothes; and my poor nervous blushing wife who was about to deliberately and willingly strip naked for them.

“You Mrs.____________?” One of them spoke to her. She did not look up.

They waited for her reply. “You that girl who works for Al?” The other asked.

She replied softy: “Yes….”

“You __________ ‘s wife?” Using my first name like they knew me. When she told me this Karen had asked me: “Do you really know them?” I said I may have met them. Then I remembered: I had seen them and talked to them the next night. The night after she had stripped in front of them. I remembered the strange conversation.

They said no more. Karen did not look up until Mr. Miller came into the room. He had locked the front door but he also closed the workroom door. The two men hardly moved. He had to suggest they step into the room, so that he could close the door.

They remained then at the distance of some twenty feet from where Karen sat in the corner, her hands in he lap.

Mr. Miller understood what he must do. He looked at his two friends and nodded: “You ready?”

They nodded.

He looked at Karen and asked: “You ready?”

She nodded. “Okay….” Miller sat on his stool against the workbench; he leaned against it. He poured brandy into his tea cup and looked up at Karen. “This is Arthur. And he’s named Arthur too. They know your husband.” They nodded.

He drank more of his brandy. He said again: “Okay…. Stand up….”

Karen stepped forward as she stood. She put her arms down. She looked quizzically at Mr. Miller with her head leaning; she could not look at these men. She did not want to do this. She did not understand why Mr. Miller wanted her to do this. It seemed especially bad that her husband knew them; it was like undressing for her cousins.

“Okay….” He looked at Arthur and Arthur and said: “Okay, boys…. This is Karen, __________’s wife. You can get closer to see her better, you know.” They did not move.

He looked at Karen and said with some deliberation: “You can stay standing right where you are, but once you’ve got all your clothes off, I want you to come over here closer to these guys.”

He turned back to look at the two men, who seemed as stunned as Karen felt: ““Once she’s got her clothes off, give her a feel…. That’s okay… But no fucking.”

[milkman56]

Excerpt:

The next day she woke up very cheerful as well. Once more she wore the blue dress, and again only her bobby socks and penny loafers because she did not wear pantyhose. She has lovely legs. She almost does not need to shave them, so her legs look nice without pantyhose; it just didn’t seem right for a business office. And I thought she wasn’t wearing her brassiere. I had thought that before, but now while I embraced her to kiss her goodbye, I felt her back and I knew for certain that she was not wearing it.

She got out of the car. I held her hand to stop her and to tell her I would meet her at Bob’s bar. I knew that Mr. Miller often when there after work, so I told her to go with him and we would meet there. I did not want her to go to work.

She smiled and said she would me see later that night, and seeing that I looked worried, she blushed for no reason that I understood, and said: “It’s alright….”

What did she mean by that? I have since wondered. That she thought what she was doing was “alright”? Or that she was not unhappy anyway? Or that she expected that none of this would ever affect me? That I would not find out? That somehow it would end like an episode on a TV show with some settling conclusion that left her and everyone happy? I can’t say. Even as we divorced, though she wept, and felt ashamed, she did not understand why it ended as it had. She thought she had not wanted anything but to please others.

Bob only knew about this day from second-hand, but he told me what he could. Karen did not admit to it until after I had learned the gist of it. She never did tell me the full details. She only said to me how nice Mr. Miller had been to her that day. She did not tell me what she meant by that. Bob told me.

When she got to work, Mr. Miller was very glad to see her and kissed her warmly almost before she got into the door. They exchanged open mouth kisses. He immediately unzipped her dress though it was eight in the morning and the front door was unlocked and as she still stood in the middle of the shop he drew off her dress even as she stood placidly and submissively for him. It fell to the floor. Naked, she did not resist him. He almost immediately entered he as she stood facing him, succumbing to his embrace, his arms enfolding hers squeezing against sides of her breast, her hands tenderly at his face and neck, yielding to his kisses, and kissing him warmly in return. They were like young lovers whose sexual desires for each other were so hot and new as to be compulsive.

This was not the act of lust; to her mind, it was the act of passion and love. He made love to her passionately, and she felt happy that she pleased him.

[milkman56]

Excerpt:

She awoke to her taking another shower again in the morning. I had no need to get out of bed. I did not have to work. I was sorry she did, but it was nice to get the money.

From the bed I watched her get dress for the day: always the same practical J. C. Penny’s white cotton briefs and bra, the white cotton bobby socks which she would wear with her Penny loafers; simple neat short-sleeved white cotton blouse; a plaid pleated wool skirt. She also put on a light grey cardigan sweater, which she buttoned at the bottom, to fit it snugly about her hips. She admired herself in the mirror and put on her lipstick, a daub of rouge that she rubbed into her cheeks.

As she dressed, seeming now more cheerful than the night before—I wonder now: had she forgotten? Had she forgiven? Why did she not guess what was going to happen? Or did she know?—she explained how she would be working on inventory over the weekend, starting today, and I asked how long she would be working tonight and she said she thought it would not be very long. She kissed me goodbye and took the bus to work.

The pictures Bob showed me and his own graphic descriptions enhanced what I know about this day, but Karen had confessed to me most of it and I had pressed her for details, myself feeling a mixture of shame and sexual excitement at what she told me, just as she confessed doing it. After meeting with Bob, having seen the pictures, hearing his details, I spoke to her again, once last time before I left her for good, and she told me anything else I wanted to know. By then she was emotionally spent and was resigned to my anguish. She looked at me sadly and told me candidly what she did, how she felt, although still she was confused about her feelings and conflicted in emotions. She had been sexually aroused by what she was ashamed to be doing. She had sexually relished her humiliations and coercion. She was submissive but also wanton in her response; she had felt abused but she was also secretly intrigued and sexually craved her relentless sexual stimulation and the rolling orgasms she obtained, such as she had never before experienced. It was, as I have called it before, a sexual intoxication. She was drunk with it the whole day, only dropping from time to time in her exhaustion for a dreamless sleep. She was drunk as well with liquor for much of the time.

Mr. Miller did not tell her what was expected for the day. He had acted like nothing had happened the day before. They never talked about how he had set her up, how she had been anally ****d. He never asked her feelings about it. That was, of course, deliberate. She should submit without complaint. So he never gave her an opportunity to discuss her feelings. I have already said: this is the one thing—or well, the one of two things—which she did not herself confess to me. Even after I found out, and asked her, she did not want to talk about it. She nodded or shook her head to questions I asked. It was Miller’s suggestion that these unseen men were my own friends, peers of our own age and familiar with her, who had done this to her, had seen her naked in that humiliating circumstance, willingly stripped by her boss for them—her dress pulled up over her head—that is what troubled her. It was this shame, which she had wanted to hide from me for my sake. Otherwise, she had nodded to confess that she had gotten sexually stimulated from it, and, yes, had experienced orgasms even then. Her deep and blushing shame was evident. Especially keen for her because she believed these were my own friends, young men whom she knew, whom she had had to our home to watch TV and eat dinner, and whom she now feared had seen her abjectly naked and had shamefully fucked her in her rectum without her resistance. I, as cruelly as Miller, never told her that it was not true.

But as far she knew, that Saturday morning, she had in the space of just a little more than two weeks been seduced by Miller, had given him fellatio day after day, taking his ejaculate into her mouth, had let herself be stripped of her clothing in the presence of several men, had presented herself naked to a stranger, had permitted herself to be fucked by several men repeatedly and had given them fellatio as well, swallowing their ejaculate too, several in a row, and had most recently been naked and humiliated for the pleasure of my own friends, young men who knew her. She was tinder for flame. She was emotionally and sexually raw.

[milkman56]

Bob took this one of my wife Karen, taking her clothes off in Mr. Miller's workroom, part of the blackmail scheme.... what he would have mailed to me.... what he later showed me at the bar....

[milkman56]

Bob took this of my wife Karen, taking off her clothes in Mr. Miller's workroom... the same picture he blackmailed her with, threatening to mail it to me... he showed her later in his bar....

[milkman56]

and if Bob had used color film...