Three Choices

by Mordant96

Caution: This Erotica Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Fiction, Wimp Husband, .

Desc: Erotica Story: A gambler loses his wife because of his addiction

This is a short story with no sex to speak of. It is not autobiographical and obviously total fiction. As the author, I have the right for my characters to behave exactly as I want them to behave. If you disagree, write your own version of this little story and post it on Literotica. You have my full permission.

I awakened in a cold sweat. The nightmare that caused a strong feeling of dread, disaster and tragedy all rolled up in the worst feeling in my 32 years. I slowly pulled the covers back so as not to disturb my beloved sleeping wife and left the bedroom to go to the kitchen for a cold drink. This activity caused the sleep cobwebs to slowly leave my brain. Unfortunately, the state of full consciousness was worse than the nightmare.

I looked at the kitchen clock, four AM, five hours from my meeting with Vito Caprese, the Miami Godfather. I knew the meeting would change my life forever; I just didn’t know the full extent of how much. I was at the very end of my rope financially. The house had a second mortgage that my wife Peggy didn’t know about. My car, and her car, had loan payoffs larger than they were worth. Six credit cards were maxed out. All the unpaid personal loans from friends and family were just hanging out there like malevolent spirits.

The truth is that I am a weak, useless excuse for a man due to my huge gambling addiction. When I had a little money and a lot of credit, I would bet on anything, football, baseball, basketball. Hell, I even bet on tennis matches. In addition to all my legit debts, I owe the Miami Godfather, Vito, one hundred and eighty-seven thousand dollars in personal markers. I naively thought I was dealing with the friendly neighborhood bookie, not the Mafia crime syndicate.

I sat at the kitchen table, consuming way too much coffee, and feeling sorry for myself, until I decided the only way out was to commit suicide. I had a $500,000 life insurance policy with a double indemnity clause that would solve the money problem for Peggy. I would just go out on the Interstate and drive into an abutment with my cell phone in my hand. Problem solved.

With that I felt a great weight lifted from my shoulders. Crazy as that sounds, it’s the truth. I had arrived at the only way to atone for my weak character that put me and my little family in this predicament. Peggy is a beautiful woman, and we had put off having children, so she will be able to find a replacement husband easily. Hopefully one without a gambling addiction.

Just as I glanced at the clock that showed ten minutes to seven, Peggy called down the stairs, “Hey, honey. Are you in the kitchen?”

“Yep, I’ve just put the coffee on,” I lied. I knew she wouldn’t be down in time for me to have a fresh pot brewing.

When she sat down at the table with a fresh cup of coffee, I looked at her, and a flood of memories hit me. She was so beautiful, so much so it was a miracle that I was able to win her heart with all the competition. When we first met, I was a senior at UF in Gainesville, and she was a sophomore. As shallow as it seems, my decision to stay in school for my masters in computer science was mostly so I could be with Peggy Owens. We had all the angst that goes with a college romance. We broke up twice, and made up, over silly things. She was totally adamant that her cherry would remain intact for her wedding night. Every time I pressed her for sex she told me it was non-negotiable and she really meant it. We settled for hand jobs and a rare blow-job until our wedding night.

In talking with my male and female friends, I realized how rare it was to have a virgin bride. During the honeymoon in Cancun, we had great fun fucking like there was no tomorrow. She brought a copy of “The Joy of Sex” and we worked our way almost halfway through it. We returned to Miami as Mr. and Mrs. Andrew Carter

All of this flashed through my mind as I gazed on her gorgeous face. She had the largest, bluest, eyes that were set just a bit wider than what would be considered normal. Uncharacteristically for a healthy male, it was her eyes that most men looked at first, even though her chest was magnificent.

She broke my reverie by asking “Honey, what time is your big, important meeting this morning?”

“Peggy, I think I’ve told you a dozen times, nine o’clock at La Quercia restaurant.”

“Are you sure? That is one of the fanciest places in Miami, and I don’t think they serve breakfast.”

I know my voice was a bit testy when I replied, “The meeting is with the owner. He has a suite on the second floor.”

Her already large eyes widened “Don’t bite my head off. It’s just that you haven’t told me why you are meeting with a restaurant owner and why I have to go with you.”

I hoped I put the right amount of contrition in my voice when I replied, “Sweetheart, please forgive me. It’s because this meeting has the potential of changing our lives completely. It is very complicated, and I really need you to support me in this. Can you please dress in your best clothes and do your magic with your make-up and hair? The man we are meeting has a keen eye for the ladies, and maybe the meeting’s outcome will be more favorable for us if you put him under your feminine spell.”

Peggy was not overly vain, but she is not stupid either. She has used her beauty to her advantage more than once in the past. I was hoping that she could give me an edge on negotiating with Vito. That was just another example of my callowness in trying to play in the big leagues. I was just another loser to Vito.

Peggy was a walking wet dream when she came downstairs in time to make our nine o’clock meeting. I had a lump in throat and a feeling of panic caused by knowing the day was not going to have a positive outcome.

It was five minutes to nine when we pulled under the canopy in front of La Quercia. Two very large men were waiting to escort Peggy and me inside. They did not hide their lascivious looks at Peggy. They ignored me as they led her to the elevator just inside the foyer of the restaurant. The elevator was crowded with the bulk of the goons. They both took advantage of the propinquity to rub against my wife’s ass and tits. I could only watch Peggy’s face as she endured the insult. My manhood was inconsequential to those gorillas; they had the upper hand and knew it.

The elevator door open directly into a large room lavishly and tastelessly furnished in a style that resembled the Trump Tower Presidential suite, or what I imagined it would be.

Although I had never met him, the swarthy rather stocky man with a receding hair line standing in front of a massive desk had to be the Miami God Father.

He had a half smile, almost a smirk, when he said, “Please come in and have a seat”. He indicated two chairs about ten feet from the desk. “Peggy, you are much more beautiful than I expected. Andy, you are a lucky man.”

His use of our first names, in the diminutive, was a surprise. It was as if he had done research on us in advance of this meeting.

The atmosphere in the room was thick. Vito was obviously calling the shots, and I really didn’t know what to do or say. I didn’t believe pleading and appealing to his sense of mercy would get me anywhere. I took the easy way out by keeping my mouth shut and hopeing for the best.

Vito looked at my shaken wife. “Peggy, I have a feeling that old Andy here hasn’t discussed with you the circumstances that prompted this little get-together.”

Peggy tried to pull herself together and answered with a drawn out, “Noooooo, I haven’t the slightest idea what is going on here.” She shifted her attention to me with a look that she reserved for when I forgot to take out the garbage, or said something that she really didn’t like. The fact she didn’t say anything more confirmed that she didn’t know why we were there and indicated to me she was intimidated by Vito. I couldn’t blame her, I was seriously intimidated myself.

Vito looked at my wife and said, “Sweet Peggy, it is time that you know exactly to whom you are married. Andy here has a problem, a very serious problem. He is the world’s worst gambler. He has gambled away everything you and he own.

The house, your cars, all mortgaged to the hilt. Also, he is into me for one hundred and eighty-seven thousand dollars.”

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Romantic / Fiction / Wimp Husband /