Chapter 8: The Choker

Our colleagues ask about Mary’s choker.

After the unfortunate celebration of our wedding anniversary, we carried on with what had been the usual routine since Matthew’s arrival in our lives, with the new addition of Mary wearing the choker Matthew had given her every day. Every time I saw that choker around her neck and looked at the red and green pebbles set in it, I couldn’t help but think of what Matthew had said it represented: the men who had enjoyed Mary over the past few weeks.

On Friday, we had one of our regular co-workers’ lunches, and during the meal, one of the women, a regular assistant who worked in the accounting department, noticed the choker and asked Mary, “Is that a new choker? I’ve never seen it on you before. I like it; it’s very original.”

Mary said quietly, “Yes. It’s new.”

The woman continued to ask, “Did you get it as a gift?”

Mary again replied, not wanting to say too much, “Yes.”

“But it’s odd; it’s defective, isn’t it? It’s uneven. It’s got more beads on the red side than the green side. Shouldn’t they be equal?”

“I don’t know,” Mary replied, trying not to talk too much about it.

“Yes,” insisted our curious colleague. “On the green side, it has many more beads than on the red side. It should have the same number. Maybe they’re missing.”

This caught the attention of another colleague, who also took a closer look. A few other colleagues joined in the debate about whether the choker was like this or defective. Doubts about the choker were becoming the general topic of conversation at lunch.

Then Matthew intervened: “The truth is, because I stay with Mary and Charles, I can’t help but find out things. I’ll tell you that the choker is a gift Mary received for their wedding anniversary.”

As he said it, everyone thought I had bought it for her.

Several people in the audience commented, “Congratulations!” “How many years have you been together?” “How sweet!” and “Great!”

The curious woman asked, “So, Charles, is it like this or is it defective?”

I was at a loss for an answer. Finally, trying to cut the conversation short, I said, “It’s like this.”

But Matthew intervened again: “They’re very shy. Since I heard them talking, I can tell you that the beads have a meaning; that’s why the choker has the colour pebbles in it. I don’t know exactly. Charles, why don’t you explain to us what the different coloured ones mean?”

Hearing how Matthew was playing with us and getting us into trouble, I hated him even more. I did not know how to respond. Evidently, I could not tell our companions the meaning Matthew had given each stone.

I weakly replied, “I don’t know; I don’t remember.”

Mary’s head was down, I guessed, eager to get the meal and the conversation over with as soon as possible.

Matthew kept playing with us, spouting phrases that had a different meaning for Mary and me than for the rest: “Since they’re shy as well as romantic, I don’t think they want to say it. From what I’ve heard, I think each of the beads refers to special moments or events they’ve enjoyed, and specially Mary. I don’t know if they were gifts or activities intended for Mary to enjoy. I also seemed to understand that the red ones are more special or intense moments than the green ones.”

Diners broke into comments: “Oh, how romantic!” “After all these years!” “What an idea, remembering special moments!” “And what kind of occasions? A dinner?” “A weekend?” “A dance?”

A colleague added mischievously, “The red ones wouldn’t be particularly intense nights of sex between the two of you?”

Matthew replied, “I don’t know what they were, but what I did hear is that those stones don’t involve any sex between the two of them. Right, Charles?”

No, I thought; they certainly don’t imply any sex between us, only Mary’s with other men. I kept quiet and didn’t answer anything.

Then someone at the table said, “Well, if they mean such special moments, it’s a pity the choker doesn’t have more red beads in it. Charles, why don’t you organise some more for Mary? I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

I replied, trying to close the subject, “I don’t know...”.

But little by little more colleagues joined in: “Organise something for Mary”, “Yes, do whatever it takes to put another red bead”, “We want to see another red pebble”, “Come on, do it for her”, “Don’t you dare come on Monday if she doesn’t bring another red bead in the choker”, “Come on, don’t be boring”, “That way the choker will be more symmetrical.”

I didn’t know what to say and was silently waiting for the subject to be closed when Matthew spoke up, “Don’t worry. From what I know of them, I’m sure by Monday Charles will have earned Mary wearing another red stone in her choker.” He added, looking at me with a menacing look on his face, “Isn’t that right, Charles?”

Clearly, Matthew was giving me an order that I could not disobey, so, resigned, I replied, “Yes, of course.”

Our companions rejoiced, cheered us on, and said they would check on Monday to see if the choker had another red stone in it.

I was worried. I knew what the red stones meant, and I wasn’t sure what Matthew would want us to do to add a new stone.

That night, at home, I brought up the subject to probe him: “Matthew, about adding another pebble stone to the choker...”

“Yes?” he replied.

“Our colleagues want me to add another red pebble.”

“Yeah.”

“I need another bead to add to it.”

“Well, you know what it means, so you know how to win it,” Matthew replied wryly.

Mary and I looked at him in horror.

I asked him, almost stammering, “But ... But ... don’t you mean...? Do you mean...?”

Matthew said very satisfiedly and flatly, “Yes. Exactly. Every red bead means that a new man has fucked Mary in the ass. Our colleagues have asked you to get Mary a new red bead by Monday, so you’ll have to find a man to fuck Mary in the ass.”

“Please don’t.”

“You’ve done it before, haven’t you? And this time, you can choose the man. I’ll just impose the place on you.”

“Please, isn’t there another option? Please”

“Let’s not talk any more. Tomorrow we’ll go to another bar; you’ll choose a man; you’ll tell him the same as the last one, that you’re impotent and want your wife to enjoy; and you’ll ask him to fuck her in the ass.”

I saw that there was no way to convince him, so I resigned myself to the idea of having to carry out the task the next day, humiliating for me and unpleasant for Mary, of finding a man to fuck her ass.

The next night, Matthew told Mary to wear only a short skirt and a very low-cut blouse, as she ‘had to pick up a man’ and we drove off. I drove to the address Matthew gave me, while he, in the back seat with Mary, took the opportunity to grope her breasts and make her give him a blow job, ‘to get her warmed up before the audition’.

When we arrived at the place and parked, I saw that the chosen bar was right next to a gym, so apparently most of the attendees were those coming out of or coming to train. Matthew gave me the same instructions as last time: I was to activate the mobile phone so Matthew could listen in on the negotiation with the chosen man and make sure I wasn’t cheating in any way, and then I was to videotape the encounter; he would wait in the car.

I took a deep breath, looked at Mary, and we both headed for the bar. As we entered, I saw that it was mostly men, although there were a few women, and that most of the men, as well as the women, had that muscular, somewhat deformed look of bodybuilders. Bodies that are supposed to be perfect but which many of us have always found unpleasant and ‘fake’; achieved by exercising only to increase muscle bulk, not strength or agility, and in many cases by taking protein, steroids, and many other drugs, some of them illegal.

It was a place where most of the drinks and food were ‘healthy’ (juices, smoothies, salads, fruit salads, vegetable sandwiches, etc.). We went to the counter and ordered two fruit juices. When we were served, we sat down at a free table, a bit out of the way, to look around the place and see who we were choosing.

It was a very strange and humiliating situation that we didn’t know how to handle. I thought that we should look for a man who would make the task as least unpleasant as possible for Mary. And that possibly meant that he should be nice and attractive in appearance, not too sexually aggressive, and perhaps, thinking from a purely physical point of view, with a cock that was not too big, considering where in Mary’s body he had to insert it. But it was not something that could be rationalised or posed as a scientific problem, nor did we know the personality or physical characteristics of any of those present, except what little we could see of their behaviour and physical appearance in their clothes.

Moreover, we had to take into account that the chosen one had to accept the proposal. Since I also had to tell him the story of my impotence and ask him to fuck Mary’s ass, it didn’t seem advisable for it to be someone who was in a group with other people.

Finally, with all these ideas swirling around in my head, I saw a young man sitting on a stool in the corner: dark-haired, tall, with a proportionate body, he was eating a sandwich while looking at his mobile phone. I pointed it out to Mary, and she nodded. I called Matthew so he could hear the conversation, put my mobile phone in my pocket, and I walked over to him with the glass of juice in my hand, sat down on another stool next to him, and said, “Good evening.”

He looked up from his cell phone and replied, “Good night,” and looked back down at his cell phone.

I hesitated for a moment, and after plucking up my courage, I continued, “I wanted to make you a proposition that might seem a little strange to you.”

He looked up again and stared at me, “Yes? A proposition? What is it?”

“You see, it’s a bit delicate ... The thing is, I have a problem ... a problem of impotence,” I said, finally daring to take the plunge after much hesitation and embarrassment.

“Well, I’m sorry, and what have I got to do with it?

“The thing is, my wife has always wanted to know what anal sex would be like. And with my problem, that’s impossible. We were thinking maybe someone could have anal intercourse with her.”

“And you want it to be me? I’m sorry, but no. Indeed, this all seems very strange to me. And besides, I’m married, and I don’t want to be unfaithful to my wife,” he said, holding up his hand and showing a ring.

I mumbled, “I’m sorry. Excuse me.”

I walked back to the table with Mary, and on the way, I picked up my cell phone and said to Matthew, “You saw that I tried.”

He replied sharply, “Well, keep trying. Don’t come out of there without getting it anyway. You still have an hour until closing time.”

At the table with Mary, I checked again and suggested another candidate to Mary. I went to him and again repeated my explanation and my request. Again, I was rebuffed, thinking it was some sort of hidden-camera TV show.

After a fourth equally unsuccessful attempt, I spoke to Mary and said, “I think we are running out of single, more ‘normal’-looking men. Maybe we need to look for someone a bit more ‘brainless’, with a brain full of testosterone and muscle-building hormones.”

“Yes,” she replied sadly. “Whoever you see. It’s going to be equally unpleasant, so the sooner it’s all over, the better.”

I noticed a rather young man chatting noisily on his mobile. He was very tall and blond, with very short, military-style hair, wearing a T-shirt that tightened around a broad, muscular torso and revealed huge arms. The T-shirt had a picture of a military plane on it, which led me to suspect that he might indeed be military. I thought maybe a military man on leave might be looking forward to a night of sex.

I waited for him to finish talking on the phone, and, as on previous occasions, I activated my mobile phone, put it in my pocket, and, with my second juice of the night in my hand, walked towards him.

“Good evening,” I greeted him.

“Good evening,” he replied.

This time I decided not to try such a direct line from the start and explore the terrain, so I said, “Are you military?”

“Yes.”

“On leave, right?”

“That’s right.”

“So you’re in the mood to party?”

“Yes, of course. After many months in the barracks, I’ve come to burn off some energy in the gym before I go out and burn it off tonight.”

“I can tell you work out a lot. Bodybuilder?”

“Yes. In addition to the exercise I do in the army, I like to sculpt my body. I’ve entered a few contests already with good results. Lots of exercise, protein shakes, and steroid, testosterone, and growth hormone tablets, and look at the result,” he said, standing up in a posture that highlighted his muscles.

“Fantastic. Listen. I guess your idea of ‘burning energy’ tonight was to do it with the help of some hottie, right?”

“Yeah, right!”

“Look at that woman over there at that table. What do you think?” I said, pointing to Mary.

“She’s really a hottie! I wouldn’t mind spending a night with her. All this time I haven’t been able to stick my cock in any horny pussy, and on top of that, with the testosterone supplement, I’m just bursting at the seams.”

“Well, you see, this is your lucky night. If you want, you can spend the night with her.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, the thing is ... I’m her husband.”

When I said that, he just stared at me with a face somewhere between surprised and quizzical.

I continued, “I have an impotence problem, and I can’t make love to her.”

“Wow, with someone like her in bed and not being able to fuck her, I’d go crazy.”

‘Yes, if you knew everything. I’m actually crazy with desire to be with her,’ I thought, and we kept talking. “The thing is, she’s looking forward to anal sex, and since I can’t, we thought maybe she could do it with someone else.”

“What! Are you proposing that I fuck your wife’s ass?”

“Exactly.”

“So, you don’t mind another guy sticking his dick in your wife’s ass?” he said in amazement.

“I love her very much, and, since I can’t satisfy her, I want her to at least enjoy another man.”

He thought for a moment and said, “You’re not tricking me? It’s not some kind of trap?”

“I assure you it’s not.”

“Well, the truth is that with my training and my body, even if you both tried to do something to me, I could handle both of you with no problem. I accept. How do we do it?”

“Let’s go look for a motel nearby. By the way, what’s your name?”

“Jack.”

“My name is Buck, and my wife is Molly.”

Jack grabbed his sports bag, and we walked over to the table where Mary was, and I introduced them. Jack was staring intently at Mary, noticing especially the cleavage and breasts that stood out, pressed against her blouse.