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It was Henry David Thoreau, in Walden, who remarked, “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” This statement appears to be just as true today as it was then. Perhaps it is even more valid today, considering the pressures and frequent monotony of modern society.
The majority of today’s men and women live in an overcrowded, competitive, noisy world. Most are put into slots and walk on a treadmill—going to boring jobs, living in carbon-copy houses, socializing with the same people. Their desperation is reflected in the rising rate of divorce, alcoholism, drug addiction, and at times is frighteningly released through violent and seemingly unmotivated crime.
The fictional characters in THE WIFE BLEW IT are desperate people, like their real-life counterparts. Bored, frustrated, unhappy, they seize at the first opportunity for release. In their need, they cast aside morals and scruples, determined to live only for the moment, to grab at pleasure before it is taken away.
THE WIFE BLEW IT is a novel about the quiet desperation in so many of us—and the extremes to which it may drive us.
She knew he was watching her. He was an arrogant young punk and he had himself raised on his elbows so that he could watch her lips move over the tip of his cock.
Jessica told herself that one day she would get into trouble picking them up like she did. Graham would find out and divorce her. Her husband would never stand for it. He’d go completely crazy. And it was dangerous to pick them up when they were like this one. At least she ought to have taken him to a motel. Instead they were in his place, a seedy little studio apartment.
It was his place and she knew nothing about him and he might be dangerous. Maybe that’s what turned her on. His name was Ricky and he had a thick cock with a lovely head that tasted delicious in her mouth. She could forgive anything for a cock like this, even the filth of his room.
But he was arrogant. She liked them a little more toned down, more refined. She hardly ever picked them this young, this sweaty. He drove a truck or something. Well, maybe that made it fun.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.