Chapter 24: Marge

I met Marge on a weekend assignment from my Army Reserve unit. We were ‘volunteered’ to work at a convalescent home to relieve the staff one weekend a month. Marge was the switchboard operator there.

To describe her, it’s fair to say she was the spitting image of Cher, American Indian in heritage, but extremely fair skinned. Small breasted with a B cup, she was slim all over but drop dead gorgeous. Of course, all the guys in my unit were vying for her attention, but she only smiled and ignored them.

On a $10 bet, I was kinda pushed into making the moves on her and for some reason, she was receptive of them. [shoulda seen the handwriting on the wall, but more about that as I progress] Small talk led to me asking her how a PBX worked. She was only too glad to show me as this allowed her to take a break. I’d no sooner put on the headset when a group of the guys guided her down the hall to the break room. She wasn’t ignoring them now.

After an hour long break, she came back and seemed happy to sit beside me and chat as I answered calls from family members inquiring about the patients there. I finally worked up the nerve and popped the question - would she like to go out that night. After getting her address, I let her take over the switchboard again as I went off to collect my wager.

I was still driving my ‘69 SuperBee and picked her up about 7 pm. We went to a nice restaurant, then off to a club to drink a little and dance. She kept asking about my family, where we lived, what my dad did and if my mother worked. She was especially interested in my ride, explaining she had a thing for muscle cars One thing led to another and after several drinks, she suggested we head back to her apartment. The night was looking up.

We’d no sooner closed the apartment door when she was all over me. Clothes flew off all the way into the bedroom. The woman was a sexual dynamo and extremely flexible and multi-orgasmic to boot. We played hide the salami the rest of the weekend after drill.

After dating a few weeks (I worked on the railroad and was frequently out of state), I paid a surprise visit, not bothering to call first. Imagine my surprise when a Mexican answered the door. This Mexican, a Louis Alvarez, informed me I was trespassing on his territory. I shoulda just washed my hands of it and walked away right then. No, instead, I dropkicked him in the nuts and threw him down a flight of stairs.

Marge, all this time, was watching from the door to her apartment. Can you say ‘MAD!!’. I was livid and her only explanation was that Louis was a guy he used to date. Stupid, stupid me. I was already in love, or more likely, in lust with her and told her if I ever caught him over there again, we were through.

A few weeks later, everything calmed down and she was the perfect girlfriend. If there is truly a thing called Murphy’s Law, it was saddled around my neck and I was too blind to see it. We dated, we drank, dance and fucked all the time we were together. As a couple of months passed, I took the plunge and asked her to marry me.

It took her maybe 15 seconds to make up her mind - NO! Asking her why, because she claimed to love me too, she explained she wasn’t ready yet. Another weekend or two passed and she asked me when she got to meet my parents. Surprised, I thought things were looking up. We’d been to her hometown and I’d met her family.

The mother was nice, the younger sister, edible, looking like a walking fuck toy. Kat, the younger sister offered a cleavage shot whenever I looked her way and wasn’t afraid to rub those D cups on my arm as she passed. Marge’s next older sister, was a total dyke and also not afraid to make sure the world and I knew it. The oldest girl was married to a nice, gutless guy, but he had no backbone or opinions of his own. I think pussy-whipped is an applicable term here. Dad was another story entirely. 100% Indian, and very closed mouthed, barely spoke to me. Several weekends, we’d go to her home and eat Sunday roast beef.

The strangest part, [at this point] was each girl had a part in making dinner. One would take out the roast, thaw it and sear it in a pan. The next sister, would cut up the veggies and Marge would put it in the oven and start the timer.

I kinda thought this was a neat delegation of work, at least at the time, but the routine nor the chore for each ever changed. Dad seldom spoke directly to me. He did ask what my father did and was surprised he was a vice president of an oil company. Marge perked right up on that point. [another danger sign]

Another week or two passed and Marge reminded me of asking her to marry me. I was totally thrilled, but she wanted to meet my folks first. I should point out, that at this time, dad was taking a medical retirement, due to a terminal inoperable brain tumor. Marge spent 90% of our time there, talking to dad. My mother dragged me down the hall to tell me she thought Marge was a gold digger. [Something to be said for mother’s intuition. I seldom agreed on anything she said as she made my dating years in high school a terror for whatever victim I brought home.] On the way back to the city, Marge said I passed the test.

“What test?”

“I had to make sure you weren’t a bum. A lot of guys will lie about their families and make stuff up. I really like your home and your parents.”

More than I could say for her’s.

We waited a month to make the announcement and in the meantime, Marge showed me a side of her I hadn’t seen before. A guy I had played in an old garage band with, Brad, was still a good friend of mine. His trouble was he was VERY shy around girls. Marge had taken on a roommate we’ll call Betty.

I brought Brad with me on this given weekend. Marge was the first to suggest we play strip poker. The loser had to do whatever the winner suggested. We limited the time to the best of five games. Amazingly, Marge won, losing only her top and Brad lost bad, naked bad. Betty and I were pretty even with two wins apiece, but that took me down to my boxers and her to panties.

Marge’s ‘suggestion’ was that Brad had to fuck Betty in front of us all. If there were a crack in the floor wide enough, Brad would’ve crawled in it and pulled it closed afterwards. Betty didn’t seem too shocked at the whole deal and after some egging, Brad lay her down and did the deed. One thing led to another and Marge and I went at it. Brad was like a wild man after that. Betty asked Marge if I could do her and they’d just swap partners. Hell, at this point, who cares, so swap we did. The weekend progress and we took the action to our bedroom, each couple laying crossways on the double bed. This was all well and good, but two weeks later, I had a tremendous itching in my crotch, I wrote it off to heat rash until I got in the shower and a ‘scab’ crawled away. FUCK! Crabs!!

I got to a phone and called Marge to tell her the good news. First, she accused me of getting them off some skank on the road. I assured her that other than Betty, my dick hadn’t been in another pussy besides hers. I left her with that little tidbit and finished the work week and my cure. Driving to her house, I noticed the absence of Betty. Marge explained she tossed her out. My dad, after hearing about MY case, told me to make sure all bedding was thoroughly washed.

At the time, I didn’t know good old Louis had been back and HE was the carrier and Marge gave the crabs to Brad and I. I wasn’t to find out about this until much later, after we were married.

The time for the wedding approached and trouble started on her end. It seems her dad felt that since my folks were well off, WE should pay for the entire wedding. I thought my mom was going to head to their town on her own scalping party. She kept trying to convince me NOT to marry Marge. [people do really stupid thing when they’re in love]

The day of the wedding...

My brother was my best man, my dad too sick to do much more than sit in the church pew. All my relatives were there, about 30 of them, waiting, waiting, waiting for Marge and family to show up. Two hours past our time, the minister said we’d have to move on as he had another wedding to perform and told us he was very sorry for our disappointment.

As we were getting in our cars, who decided to pull in? Big rush to get back inside and get it over with. Marge’s dad had nothing to say to me, or my family in the way of apology, but her mother made up for it. We had a small reception at a Holiday Inn, then left on our honeymoon.

Dallas is a big city. There were lots of things to see and do. We hit Six Flags over Texas and spent a day acting like kids. Then, after nice meal, we took in some of the night spots. Unfortunately for me and fortunately for Marge, the Dallas Clothing Mart was being held at the fairgrounds. This is the place buyers from clothing chains come to buy next season’s hot new looks. Marge went totally bugnuts. Buy me this, buy me that ... you’d think she had no clothes to wear.

Something I considered my ‘real’ job, I was bass player in a band with growing popularity. My dad, brother and I owned a truckstop, but other than pinching in when employees didn’t show up, I couldn’t work for my relatives. However, my share of the profits rolled in every month or otherwise, Marge would have broke me with her purchases. [This was also a big danger sign- she had no cares about spending money, whether we had it or not.] You know the old saying ‘I can’t be overdrawn, I still have checks’. That would apply to Marge.

Honeymoon over, we returned to my home town as that was where my railroad crew was based out of. Finding housing was a little tricky. We hosted a major air force base and housing was at a premium. Where we ended up was a new double wide trailer. No sooner had I moved all my furniture and appliances in [Marge owned none], we set up housekeeping

The next sign of trouble began with Marge’s demand that she didn’t get married to do housework or cook. Fuck it, I was better cook than her. I soon learned why the girls had the Sunday dinner chores - none of them could cook a meal alone. Mom never taught them. I begged, then demanded she get off her recently married ass and take our clothes to a laundromat and hang them the fuck up when she was done. Damned good thing my work clothes were jeans and a T-shirt or denim shirt when it was colder.

Add to this, Marge decided she really wasn’t ‘into’ sex anymore. What? We’d been married less than a month! About this time, we got a call from Marge’s sister Kat. It seems she couldn’t get along with the restrictions her parents set for her, so she was leaving home. Could she stay with us?

Over any objection I had, Marge invited her to stay as long as she wanted, provided she got herself here. [little did I know at the time Marge had an ulterior motive for this]

Kat arrived with a couple of bags and we showed her to her bedroom. Even our double wide was nicer than her parent’s home, but they’d lived there for 30 years. As soon as she was settled, Marge read her the riot act. Unless she could afford to pay rent, she was to do all the housework and help with the cooking. [more handwriting on the wall]. Kat had little choice but to dig in to all the chores Marge had let slide while I was away at work. I mentioned Kat was a total fuck toy and after moving in and settling, she began to wear less and less around the house. That never seemed to bother Marge one bit.

After a month of near slave-like conditions, Kat made a demand of her own.

“If I’m going to do all the work YOU should have been doing, I’m more of a wife to Buck than YOU are!”

“So, what’s your point” said Marge.

“If I’m gonna act like the wife, then I get the wife’s benefits too”

“Meaning what” I had to add?

“Meaning as long as I’m doing all the dirty work that lazy bitch pushes off on me, you’re going to fuck my brains out whenever I feel the need.”

Marge stared at her a little bit, then said “fine”.

Kat grabbed me by the hand and off to the bedroom we went.

I told you all about Kat’s big D cup tits, what I failed to mention is she is one of those women with a two inch gap at her crotch, not to mention she was slightly better looking than her married sister. A hard dick has no conscience, so I plowed her wet furrow until she wrapped her legs around my waist while her clutching pussy drained my balls, screaming as her orgasm hit her. Relief! I hadn’t had sex in a few weeks and this really let off a lot of frustrations. I did make sure she was on birth control. How was Marge dealing with this?