Where Is That Bitch Hiding

Part One

Where is that Bitch Hiding

I'm Charles. A car rammed our car at a stop sign. My wife got whiplash, I got Post Traumatic Stress Disorder among other things; luckily our daughter and son was not with us at the time. The PTSD really fucked with my head. Subtle changes in personality occurred. Psyche traits that were minimally acted upon became prominent and features of my personality that used to be strong became less prominent like good character and humility.

My wife became moody and different too. We became angry at each other often, sad, striking out at each other blaming each other for all the bullshit. She kept going to her church and taking me too. That was bullshit. The pastor preached and preached and nothing happened. He suggested we come to Sunday school and help out with the services and such. My wife did that every other week; I did not.

One day we were walking around Portland, Oregon shopping and arguing. My PTSD kicked in and there was no way she was going to win. My attitude was fast becoming arrogant and without quarter. It was like this bitch, this fucking bitch didn't know her ass from someone else's.

"Fuck you, bitch. You don't know. You think you know."

"Charles, don't talk like that. Did you take you mental pill?"

"It's not a mental pill—stupid wife; it's a chemical imbalance. Come over here."

"I don't want to go into a dirty alley."

"I'm sick and tired of your hypocritical bullshit. Righteous Sunday school teacher, preacher's pet; get in here. See this cock; suck it. Make it hard."

"Charles, people will see—the police."

That first time I went way over the line I had to grab her hand and pull her down the alley near the shopping mall. It was around noon and I was afraid someone would see and think I was raping her, but she pissed me off. I told her a hundred times it's not a mental pill. PTSD is a chemical imbalance not a mental one. When we were down the alley a ways I pulled out my cock, took her by the hair and shoulder and steadily applied pressure till she was kneeing. "Now suck it Sunday school teacher. Think about all the little Sunday school boy's cocks and suck mine."

"Tell me if anyone comes."

"No I won't; suck, and if anyone sees they will know you are a slut. And maybe I will let them have some too. Shut the fuck up and suck."

See did, and every time someone looked down the alley I told her about it. "Tomorrow you teach Sunday school; won't that be interesting. You can remember what a reckless slut you are. You can remember that next time you piss me off you will really know what it means to be My Slut."

"Can I stop now? Someone is going to come down here."

"Shut the fuck up and make me cum. If they do it is your fault for taking so long. If they do come down here I will offer them a suck job from you, so hurry up."

She did hurry and she swallowed it all. That was when I realized she would do whatever I forced her to do. My cock got hard, and as we walked down the street shopping, I played with her ass and tits as I pleased. She hated it; but she didn't stop me. She loved me, worried about me, and was scared I was hurt more than the doctors knew. I was hurt just enough to not care about her anymore only about my sex and power needs. And she was the hot lady-bitch to help me play a one sided game.

Next day, back home, I'm dozing late, "Charles I going to Sunday school now I'll be back later."

"Yeah, fucking right. I bet you wanted someone to come down that alley yesterday. I bet. OK, so that is not your thing then." Out the door and down the street she did not hear but that's OK. I went to our attic looking for some of our daughter's old clothes; she's 14. Looking for my wife's next outfit.

I called my neighbor, Joe. He lives about two miles away. "Joe, think your boy wants to make 25 bucks mowing my back yard?"

"Absolutely. When?"

"Today."

"I know he is at Sunday school right now. Sunday school is over at noon. Have him to come over about 1. Should only take a couple of hours. If he has other plans that is OK, I will hold it for him." Just out of high school and no job I was sure he would go for it.

"OK. I'll tell him when he comes in."

"Thanks." After Sunday school she had to go across town to take care of shopping for groceries for an old lady, neighbor, and so would not be home for a couple hours after school got out.

When Joe's boy Bob showed up I took him in the house and offered him a beer with a smile and he accepted. We sat in the living room. I was waiting the bitch to show up. Bob was sucking on his beer. He sat in the big leather chair, his clothes were dark and the chair was across the room and he blended in quietly like he wasn't even there.

Interesting fucking thing about this story is it is true and happened just a few days ago and I am working on some more slut training for the wife as I write this.

"Charles, I'm home. Have you had lunch yet?"

"No, come in here." Bob started to get up. I whispered that he should just sit quiet and suck his beer. He did.

"Honey Bunny, I want you to try this outfit on for me. I think it will make me happy and my cock hard."

"Now?"

"Right the fuck now, yeah—yeah." Bob was turning a little red in the face. I tossed her a bag, she caught it and said OK and went off to change. I let her go instead of demanding she do it there and now. She yelled, from another room, "Charles, this is Ann's old skirt. Lucky it has an elastic waist I would never fit. And it is way to short, but of course that is what you like, right. Should I take off the panties?"

I told her to leave them on. When she came back in she was barefoot and the pleated skirt was short enough that Bob and I could she an inch of white panty in the front and more in the back. The top was a cut off type t-shirt.

She stood in from of me with a big smile. "Dance for me. Slow." She began by swinging her hips around and up and down. The little skirt was exposing a lot of her panties. "Take the underpants off." She did; now Bob was getting a terrific view of her great ass. He was smiling ear to ear.

"Bob loves your dance, Bitch. Go over and let him see the front too. We want our guest to have a hard on too."

She turned looking like a scared rabbit. When she saw her Sunday school student, she turned again to go but I beat her to it and was standing in her way. "Where the fuck you goin; get over there and entertain our guest." She stood staring at me holding her skirt tight to her ass. "NOW, Bitch. Get over there and give Bob some of what you were giving me. Go." I turned on the radio and she walk to the center of the room into Bob's best view.

"Bob. My wife is an in the closet slut. She knows it but she hasn't accepted it yet. Still seeing crosses and all that I suppose. No matter though, she's coming out; watch this. "Bitch put your foot on the arm of that chair dance your pussy up close for our guest's entertainment. I get him another beer.

When I returned she was in complete confusion. Her foot was on the arm of the chair and she was spreading her legs back and forth and pushing her pussy into the cool air for our guest; but her eyes, the windows to her true state, dripped as if her psyche was a glacier still clinging to the mountain.

"Here." I gave Bob his beer. It took a few seconds for him to find it even though it was practically in his face. "Take your cock out and my loving wife will suck you off. But let her know when you are about to cum. So she can be sure swallow it all."

He unzipped his pants and started fishing for the hard but couldn't get it out. "Bitch, help Bob get that cock out—take his pants off, but you have to ask his permission first. Ask Bob if you can suck his cock." She turned her face to me. The tears freed themselves from her cheeks and were splashing on the denim of Bob's pants. The look said, "You're a fucking idiot. I can't do this."

"ASK BOB if you can suck his cock."

Bob said, "It's OK" and started to get up to leave. "Stay where the fuck you are Bob. Bitch, ask him." Bob was not into it but she asked and he changed his mind by taking a long suck of his own on the beer can and watching her take his shoes off, his pants off, and his underpants off. When she kneeled and took the head of his dick into her mouth he put his head back and she suck and then licked. "Don't forget to lick his ass hole, Bitch. Give him a cum job he will never forget."

I stripped off my clothes and sat a few inches from then jacking off my own meat. Comparing cocks. His was longer and fatter. Fuck it so what. I got the Bitch. "Is she getting your ass hole Bob?"

"No."

"Lick his ass hole, damn it, beat his meat and lick his ass hole. He is a guest in my house; don't embarrass me. Make him feel welcome. Do you need another beer Bob? Bob?" Not listening? That's good.

"OK, Bitch climb up here and let him suck some pussy. Put your feet in the chair and kneel on the arms. That's it; go ahead Bob such my wife's pussy and then later you can fuck it too. He dug in like it was a rib eye after a hard day's work. I took his cock in my hand. Stroking his cock I asked, "you know what I want my wife to do Bob?"

"No answer. Though I think he shook his head. "Before you fuck her, strip off that t-shirt and then—HEY BITCH—"

"Well, Bob, you just sit there. I'll get you another beer, and find out where our slut is hiding."