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  • — Men Only —
    Straight Male / 49

    What is good for the Goose should not dictate what is good for the Gander. That's what I thought.

    I met her while I was bartending and she was waiting tables. She was pretty, that's enough, pretty. Her skinny butt, her perky tits, her long hair. She needed a fuck. I watched her and fantasized about bending her over one of those tables and fucking her skinny ass. She did not want to have anything to do with me. She said she was an artist, she was waiting tables to get by. I didn't care, I grabbed her ass one night after we closed and she was wiping down the tables, I grabbed her by the tits, bent her over the table, she got her jeans down and her pink panties and I fucked her good. Fuck fuck fuck, fucked her until I couldn't hold it any more and filled her with weeks of pent up desire.

    She spit and hit and spit again, and called me a lot of bad names. So I kissed her, and picked her up and carried her to a booth and told her to sit down and that she was coming home with me. She wasn't impressed with my pad, at the time I lived in this run down neighborhood, in a one room garage apartment without central hear or air, and no washer and dryer. She hated hauling the laundry down the stairs with her big belly and having to go to the laundromat. But I loved her big belly, poking out of her skinny body like an over ripe watermelon. She bitched and bitched, so I took her down to the courthouse and got married. When she had to produce documentation she was 18, and going on seven months pregnant. We got married three days later, after the mandatory waiting period.

    The bitching got worse the closer she came to giving birth. I found this place, which was more expensive, but the apartment had a washer and dryer connection and central air and heat. I sold my motorcycle to buy a washer and dryer. When I brought her home with her kid she looked so small holding that little baby, like it was going to break. I went out that day and bought a ring for her finger, so as all the neighbors would know she was properly married.

    Things were just rough, me working nights at a bar and she trying to get the baby to feed off her breast. I did what I had to do, I called my dad and asked for money for me to get her to my parents to take care of her. I got a lot of shit from my dad, so I used the GI Bill and went to college and got a degree. She didn't let me get her pregnant again until I showed her the degree. I tried working in an office, but didn't like it, so I left her pregnant with our now four year old and went to look for a good paying job at the port. Being a college guy, I got a job as a coordinator which paid more per hour, but no overtime. But I got home for dinner.

    Soon she had two more kids. The oldest turned eight and he was a handful. Fortunately the girl helped her mom with the little ones. That's the way my life went on. Doing what she wanted, living where she wanted, I spent a lifetime doing what she wanted, living the way she wanted.

    She was the best thing to happen to me. She knows it and I know better than to disagree. What is good for the Goose is good for the Gander because that is the way the Goose wants it. Shouldn't be that way, but it is.

    #39412 — Comments (0) — Feb 25, 2018 at 11:31 AM — That's Juicy! (1) Remove This.

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