[Reluctant] My first marraige in the 1970's

[milkman56]

This is a series of stories (and maybe photos of recreations).

Excerpt:

My first wife was just out of high school when I married her in 1969. We were married only three years and then I divorced her.

She had gotten so she could not help herself and I just could not stand it. I am thinking maybe it was the repressed up-bringing, being a Mormon, that made her the way she was, but I don’t know. Even at the end she seemed so confused about her feelings. She was ashamed of it of course and very emotional when I found out and made her tell me all about it, but she just didn’t seem to understand what had happened. She had not wanted me to be hurt. She had just wanted me to love her.

For that matter she just wanted Mr. Miller to like her or love her. Or at least that is how it started, she said. He said he loved her and she wanted him to love her. He was her boss at the Jewelry store where she worked. And I should have guessed things by the way she was kept hours after closing and the jewelry he let her “borrow.” What she did, she said, was because he needed her, but it didn’t mean anything. But why did she do it for the others?

And she said to me sobbing it was only because she wanted Mr. Miller to be happy....

Then the “big event” happened. She started inventory at the jewelry store and had to work a Saturday. She came very home late, exhausted, was obviously drunk and went to the bedroom, put on her nightgown, and got into bed and went to sleep without a word.

They next morning she did not want to go to work. I don’t know why but I looked in her purse and found a roll of cash, ten-dollar bills. I asked her where she got it from and she was evasive. Then told me Mr. Miller had given it to her instead of paying her overtime. This made some sense but later, I had other reasons to be suspicious and I asked her again and she broke down crying and confessed.

She told me a lot of it, but not all of it. She confessed her “affair” with Mr. Miller and then with much sobbing and tears she admitted that was not all, that he had persuaded her to take her clothes off in front of some men at a bar. That is where the money came from.

The bar, as it turned out, was a Bob’s bar. A bar that I and many of my friends used to hang out at, and where one of my friends still worked as a bartender.

I was certain she had not told me everything. There had been several late nights, as well as that Saturday. More than just stripping for some of Miller’s friends had taken place. But she just wept when I pressed her and said how sorry she was.

[milkman56]

Excerpt:

It had always seemed to me that she wanted to do what she seemed uncertain to do. She was hesitant, but never reluctant. She was timid, but not unwilling. She was shy and embarrassed, but not ashamed. And if she felt humiliation in any of things she did, if she felt embarrassed, truthfully she could not distinguish between the warmth of that blush and the warmth of the sexual flush that she also felt at the same time. Perhaps, because her mother had repressed her feelings and taught her to be so uncertain of herself sexually, she needed the anxiety of humiliation and a sense of coercion to make her fully sexually aroused. I don’t know. But the way she responded to what happened to her, I think this is true, even if she would never admit it. How they treated her made her want to do what she did, even if she would never admit it.

Anyway, I think Mr. Miller saw all of this in her instantly, just as I did. I thought about it right after I met him when he had hired her. I saw it in the way he looked at her. I said something to her about it, but she did not understand me. She said he was a nice man. And he paid her very well. Too well, as I should have known.

He had a small jewelry shop downtown, had had it for years. Never made much money at it and had been robbed ore than a few times and was barely hanging on, really. His wife was a b*tchy nag. I only met her once and I could see why he preferred to work all the time. So, I was not surprised when Karen’s hours begin to get longer.

I asked her about it—what are you doing so late?—and so on. And she said they talked. He was teaching her about gems. And it was true. At least at first.

He would make tea after he closed the shop, and they would sit side by side on stools at his workbench, and he would take gems out of this little packets and give her a loop so she could examine them with him while he explained them to her. She really did learn a lot. Well, that turned out to be true in lots of ways.

This long evening work became more and more frequent, and then one day he had her stay on a Friday night, although the shop was always closed on weekends. She explained to me later that his wife had gone out of town and he was lonely.

She did not get home until almost ten and I could tell she had been drinking. That was not quite the first time things happened, but it was the first serious incident.

Actually she’d been coming up with a bit of booze on her breath for a couple of weeks. And she had admitted that he had started putting brandy in the tea that the two of them drank together.

Later I pieced together the whole thing after she told me, and after Bob had told me more. It happened this way. It started with an arm around her as he showed her things. It progressed to a kiss goodnight. It went from this to his sitting beside her and telling her about how unhappy he was with his wife and intimating things about a lack of a sex life, which embarrassed her, but which she permitted. She tried to make him feel better. She felt sorry for him. And he would ask her if she liked him and she would say she did.

Then, inevitably, he confided that he was in love with her, that she was so beautiful, and that he knew she was married and that he would do nothing to hurt her, that he wanted to help her, that he wanted her to have things, he wanted to give her things. He gave her a ring. He insisted she take it, although she knew it was a genuine diamond. She must have known this was wrong, because she hid the ring from me.

He wept when he gave her the ring, and she had to accept it, she said. That was the first night that he kissed her mouth, and she was docile to him at first, and then when he kept up, she felt sorry for him and kissed him back. They kissed for a while. Warmly, I think. She said nothing more happened, but I wondered if he did not put his hands on her too. But she insisted nothing happened.

But now this became the common thing. Drinking and then kissing and he putting his hands onto her and she said he took her hand and put it on himself and she rubbed his erection through his pants....

[milkman56]

Excerpt:

So now we come to that Friday night. Mr. Miller was more certain himself and more determined to have his way. When he made their drinks that night, he made them very strong and when they began kissing he almost immediately unzipped the back of her dress, and this time unzipped it all the way to bottom so that her dress was loose about her shoulders and he could reach in and feel her back and the slip she was wearing, which he did, and which my wife did not resist.

She had come to expect this routine, but still she did not think anything would really come of it. She expected him to want to masturbate him, but this was just a kindness really. He was as old as her father. She wanted him to be happy. She really did love him and he really did love her. It was just a kindness.

He already was in shirtsleeves as he always was afterhours. But he stood up and took off his tie and she smiled and asked him what he was doing when he started to take off his shirt. He wore an old-fashioned sleeveless undershirt, like those her father wore (I only wear the regular T-shirts myself so his sort of struck her poignantly).

“What are you doing,” she repeated sheepishly....

Then unexpectedly he took his pants off in front of her. She felt a sudden pang and an anxious uncertainty, staring at his legs and undershorts in embarrassed disbelief, but still meekly curious: “What do you want?”

She sat before him on the stool where they usually sat side by side and necked, or looked at gems, while he laid his pants on the work bench and stopped to stand before her in his undershorts, his penis swelling, bulged in it. And this being at eye-level where she sat next him, she could not help to glance at it, and partially see the swelling flesh of his penis through the parting gap of the vent of his undershorts, and wondered innocently what an uncircumcised penis must look like. She had never seen any penis other than mine, until this night.

He looked at her fixedly, seeing where her glance had gone, and without any misgivings he said to her: “Take off your dress.” .........

[Big_prick69]

Please write more I'm enjoying this story.

[milkman56]

Excerpt:

She called in sick for work on that Monday, and again on that Tuesday. On Wednesday morning I made her go to work because we needed the money.

Mr. Miller left her alone that night, and in fact he let her go home on time every night that week.

And somehow my wife thought it was over and felt more warmly toward Mr. Miller again.

But then on the following Monday he told her he wanted her to stay late again and she tried not to think of what it meant.

As usual they had their brandied tea and as usual he kissed her and drew his hand to his penis, but nothing more.

Tuesday again she stayed late and the same things happened, more or less. This time he wanted her to take off her dress and her slip but let her sit in her bra and underpants as he took off all his clothes in front of her and then he guided her to masturbate him, and for the first time she saw a man ejaculate....

[milkman56]

Excerpt:

So Mr. Miller approached her gently and, as he spoke to her softly, words that Bob did not hear, he gently took her hands and drew them apart and she put them down to the floor so that Bob saw her breasts, her nipples still pressed to, covered by her knees, and then, gently taking hold her knees, Mr. Miller parted them, drew them down so that she exposed herself completely, and sitting with her legs splayed, Bob took in the full view of her tits and her gaping randy raw c*nt. Karen looked into open space, and sat tautly, aware of their stares on her body, especially between her legs, and her erect nipples revealed her feelings. She looked distressed, but she did not cry.

Bob saw this her tension, her shame and also her evident sexual arousal. Miller backed up to sit on his stool. He said to Bob: “What do you think?”

“Wow,” Bob said.

“Yes,” agreed Miller.

Bob could not help himself. “Can I fuck her?”

Miller laughed at Karen’s reaction, a look of instant shock and confusion, looking back and forth at Miller and Bob and when Bob moved toward her, she cowered in the corner.

Bob reassured her: “I won’t hurt you….”

Miller admitted he had not fucked her. Bob looked at him incredulously.

Miller said, nodding at Karen’s dismay: “She wasn’t ready.”

Bob looked down at Karen’s face too; she turned her head away.

“She is now….” Miller added quietly....

Miller and Bob did not kiss her, and not kissing her added to the shame she felt. Not kissing her, this was not “love-making,” but fucking her for the sake of fucking her. And she knew it.

Still they gave her a lot of foreplay, watching her expression as they did, tenderly teasing her nipples, touching and teasing the slit of her c*nt, especially the sensitive area at the top of it, against her pubic bone, and talked sweetly to reassure her; Mr. Miller telling her he loved her, and kissing her, while Bob used his hands or mouth on her.

Miller was behind her while Bob was in front, Miller groped her buttock, Bob her breasts, fingered her, slathered her nipples with his mouths and tongue, and both together fingered her, and she so stood, submissively, without refusing, and occasionally responded to sharp sensations she received. I suppose that this was the first night she had abandoned herself to a real orgasm. I was not an inattentive lover, but I did not value her pleasure as they did....

[milkman56]

a face for the young wife Karen... as she might have been

[milkman56]

Excerpt:

.... What I know about what happened after I left her at work, and for that matter most of everything that follows, comes mostly from what Bob told me. When Karen confessed she put the emphasis on the first events, when Mr. Miller seduced her, as she saw it. How she succumbed and changed after that or because of things he made her do, how she surrendered to what he wanted, she could not admit to; she preserved in this way her own strange sense of innocent shame, although in fact she seemed to relish the emotion of her shame as much as the degrading perversions that she permitted them to do to her. The emotions she felt in either her sexual humiliation or embarrassment or her sexual abandonment were all indistinguishable to her, or rather they were all the same compulsion. I am certain it was her own sexual compulsions that they keenly exploited, seeing them so abjectly revealed by her sexual surrender. They were drawn to her like a pack of slavering dogs to a wanton b*tch in heat, her swollen c*nt dripping with her rut.

I do not mean any of this bitterly. She did not know what she was doing really. I think something broke inside her. Her sexual repression simply burst and she was overwhelmed by her feelings. And she insisted in the end upon the simple naiveté that she only wanted some one to love her, and that is why she did what they wanted. You can believe what you want.

[milkman56]

Excerpt:

. It amused Mr. Miller, as Bob told it, who described how he deferred the customer to her and while the customer was shown a tray of rings, stepped behind Karen and lifted her dress and began fondling her bare buttock, wedging his fingers into the moistness between, and into the folds of her vagina and fiddling with her there. She, trying to talk, was disconcerted, and lapsed into inattentive moments which put-off the customer so much that he left.

The customer having left, Mr. Miller turned Karen and before she could speak began kissing her again and his hand now to the front of her, her dress raised to her waist began to finger fuck her vigorously, and she, so Bob said, put her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and enjoyed it.

Miller claimed he got her to cum on his fingers and that she had been so pent-up she burst into tears when she did and collapsed to the floor on her knees. He kissed her head and leaning over her he reached down her back and unfastened the top of her dress, and unzipped it to the bottom of the zipper. She did not resist or speak. He reached over her and seized the hem of the dress and with one violent motion drew her whole dress up and off of her. She not resisting, letting her arms go up with the motion, as he stripped the dress from her, he straightened and commented how she ought to be naked all day and left her to huddle naked behind the counter. He took her dress away and put it in a cabinet where she should not find it. She still was sobbing softly and he heard her from the workroom, so he came out, holding his cup of tea (brandy) and spoke some kindnesses, then left her to compose herself, leaving her naked as she was, and went the backroom, sniffing his hand with satisfaction.

Bob said: “You know, he did not wash his hands until he could come and have me smell her on his fingers that night at the bar and tell me all about it. What a dog!”

[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?