When Marvin Was Good 1

Remember that poem about the little girl who 'when she was good she was very, very good, but when she was bad she was horrid'? That's my Marvin.

Simple story. He was insufferable to me and our eight-year-old son. So why did I stay married so many years? Because I have a condition the doctors can't explain. I need sex every day. Often a couple of times a day.

Those doctors probably have a name for my condition, some fancy word for nymphomania. I was glad I had Marvin for that reason. Call him my Prescription Man. He'd pleasure me with his fingers, lips, toes, cock for hours — really — till I was flying off the ceiling and screaming for more.

Oh, and another reason for staying. Marvin had money from his folks' oil patch. Both of us barely graduated high school, but Marvin got to be a manager at Robertson's department store just for something to do. No worries when you have a bank account that's fat and sassy.

Our life was a ball. Like the time we were drinking at the Christmas party for Robertson's employees when he took it in his head to fuck me. Okay, so maybe I encouraged him. We went in the storeroom where they put racks of clothes and old mannequins and Marvin stripped me naked. Just a little chilly, but that made my nipples hard. And it was a turn-on to see all these dress dummies standing with poles up their asses and some of them with no heads. Weird.

He laid me down on some dresses and really fucked me. Jeez, I'm sorry if anyone buys a dress and finds Marvin's cum all over it! I lay there swooning when Marvin climaxed into my love box, blessing life and thanking God for making me a woman with a lustful appetite. Ooops, maybe I had too much to drink cause I just wanted to lay on those silk clothes forever.

Marvin had on his pants when the door opened and his boss, the owner's college boy manager, came in. Marvin motioned me to stand next to the mannequins and shut up.

"What are you doing?" the dope asks.

"Big sale next week and I wanted to make sure the manufacturers shipped the right outfits."

The manager looked half bagged as he stared at the mannequins. I knew from Marvin mouthing off that this bright-eyed kid had his thumb up his ass. When his eyes came to me, standing stiff as a board, he points at my cunt and asks, "Why's that mannequin have pubic hair?"

Marvin sighs dramatically and says, "Realism. New outfits are so tight and the fabric so flimsy that they need to make it realistic. "

"And nipples?"

"Of course nipples!" Marvin roared. "You don't want Robertson's sued for discriminating against nipples!"

The guy gets embarrassed and goes back to the party. Enough time had gone by that Marvin had another hard-on and told me to bend over. He had me spread my legs for another bang going in under my bubble ass.

We made love regularly. In the back seat of our car, one time on our friend's couch while he ducked next door to borrow some ice (total 90 seconds time), once behind our church altar on what we called Really Good Friday, once in a telephone booth (with the door closed for privacy and the light on to see what we were doing).

For Mother's day, Marvin bought me a 10-speed vibrating egg with a remote. I'd insert it in my twat, drive Little Hank to school, and then do the shopping, all the while this egg meowing away inside my pussy. Waves of sensation rolled over me driving with the windows down singing to the radio at the top of my voice.

"My, you're looking chipper, Mrs. Stankowicz," the dry cleaner told me when I got Marvin's suit.

I smiled. "Everything's just humming along inside me."

Marvin thought the egg was so terrific that he borrowed it back and increased the wireless range from 20 yards to a couple miles. That way, I'd be sitting in the dentist's chair and suddenly the Hallelujah Chorus would go off inside my vagina. Or once Little Hank's teacher was marveling at how good our son was at reading when the egg went off at high speed. I jumped and shouted, "Holy shit!"

"Are you okay, Mrs. Stankowicz?" he asked all worried like he might have to do some CPR on my boobs. (Don't laugh. He wanted to fuck me else why did we have parent conferences every two weeks?)

My hand went to my brow in a Romeo and Juliet gesture and I said, "It's just this...condition I have. I can't talk about it."

That was Marvin's whim. He was manipulating my pussy and making me think of him whether I wanted to or not.

Have I covered all the good stuff? This is a memoir so I have to be fair and tell you Marvin could also be a total shit. For no reason at all, he once threw all my clothes out of the bureau and filled it with auto parts. Another time, he left the freezer door open so a couple hundred dollars worth of food melted. "It's my house. I can do anything I want," he said. "That's why God gave men a dick, so they can run the world."

One night he clumped into the house and screamed for me to give him a beer. Oops. My bad.

"No beer? What the fuck do you do all day?"

"I wash your clothes, make your meals. Today I scrubbed the kitchen to get all the grease off the walls and stove. So I forgot your beer."

Well, he hauled off and socked me a good one in the stomach.

"You bastard!" I shouted.

"You talking back?" And he clocked me in the jaw.

"Mommy!" Little Hank screamed.

"And you too! I got a book for you, Hank. Ever read

Curious George and the High Voltage Fence

? Keep it up and I'll show you the magic world inside an abandoned refrigerator."

"Marvin, just stop it or I'll call the cops."

Marvin slapped me on the side of my head and then ordered Little Hank to bed. "Want to know why Daddy drinks? Because you cry all the time!" And the door slammed behind him.

We sent out for pizza that night and I slept in Little Hank's bed. When Little Hank was snoring I pulled out the vibrating egg and threw it across the room, hearing it break into little pieces. Dumb. Those things are expensive and my fingers get tired masturbating.

Sometime after midnight I heard Marvin come home. Bang the front door closed. Throw his shoes against the wall. Kick a chair in the kitchen. Heard him rattle around the fridge looking for something cold to drink. Then a

whoosh

and a scream like the Devil had bit him in the ass.

I finally got out of bed and found Marvin lying on the floor. He was smoking. Not a cigarette. His body was smoking like a piece of cheap beef on the gas grill.

I could see what happened and I told the truth to the firemen and cops when they came. Only way to get the grease off the kitchen walls and appliances was to use cleaning fluid. I filled an empty vodka bottle from Marvin's can in the garage and then stuck it in the fridge so the fumes wouldn't stink up the house.

Marvin must've drunk the liquid, spit it out all over, then lit a cigarette to get rid of the taste. Dumb.

Ah, I'll miss Marvin, but I got another vibrating egg. And Little Hank's teacher is a really educated guy. He fucked me among the shelves in the town library. And during halftime at Little Hank's soccer game, but that was in the ass so it doesn't count

I'll miss Marvin's sex, but I got his bank account and the TV remote. And my new egg.

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