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Patriot Games V2.0 - Chapter 9 - Jack Confronts Rose On The Issue Of Infidelity free porn video
Chapter 9 - Jack confronts Rose on the issue of infidelity
"Infidelity in a woman is a masculine trait."
"Mike and his friends were smoking cigars all day. They even talked me
into sucking on Mike's...."
"Go on Rose, you sucked on Mike's what?"
Rose stood there naked with fury in her eyes she slapped Jack so hard his
vision blurred, "Bitch, watch your potty mouth! Don't be an ass Jack.
His cigar of course!
"By the end of the day I reeked of the smoke. I took a shower, before I
left to get the smell out of my hair. I dropped my panties there on the
floor. The shower curtain leaked and they got soaked. So I left them
with Mike. Now don't be ditzy."
A crestfallen Jack teetered on the edge of an emotional abyss. He
shuddered, his emotions alternated between anger and self-pity. The
thoughts of Mike and Rose making mad passionate love whirled around his
mind. He openly sobbed as his emotions bubbled over from its cauldron
deep inside his soul. What he perceived as infidelity by his wife was
more than Jack could handle. He mumbled repeatedly, "Rose you and Mike,
you and Mike, how could you?"
"Don't you dare imply I've been unfaithful, I'm no whore!"
Jack thought, 'I wonder how much she charged him?'
"Honey nothing intimate happened between Mike and me. Today was all
business."
Jack thought, 'All business huh, I wonder how much she charged him?'
Rose appeared angry at Jack's implication, but thought it was just the
reaction she was hoping for. She stood over Jack in an attempt to
intimidate him. She turned on the table lamp and for the first time and
saw his beautifully made-up face. Looking down at her husband she
lovingly praised him, "Oh kudos to you Daisy, you've really developed
your cosmetics skills."
Rose, truly impressed at his effort, lightly stroked his heavily lipstick
coated mouth. "Speaking of whores, you have certainly gotten the whore
look down with those Cleopatra eyes and crimson lips. Next time consider
using a touch more lip-gloss. Daisy, you are simply gorgeous tonight."
Then with just a glitter of a tear in her eyes, Rose tried to conceal her
angst under a calm fa?ade, as transparent as it was feigned. She gently
cradled Jack's head to her bosom and said, "Darling, you must trust me on
this, there is nothing going on between Mike and I. It's all a figment
of your imagination."
Jack was forced to accept her denial at face value. The alternative was
more than he could handle in his current fragile state of mind. In a
state of total remorse, Jack apologized and submissively offered to
redeem himself if Rose would come to bed. Rose climbed in bed, and
rejected Jack's romantic advances, claiming she is too sore and tired,
and told Jack to remove his makeup and take a cold shower before coming
to bed.
Sunday, Rose was up early and walked out the door as she informed Jack
she would be gone for the day. With no explanation as to where she was
going, she disappeared. Jack heard her car roar out of the driveway,
tires squealing. He stood at the window and watched her taillights
disappear into the distance. Jack spent a miserable day alone; with
nothing else to do, he weeded the flower garden and then cleaned the
house again. It was well past dark when Rose waltzed into the house.
Jack had held dinner for her. Hearing her car he dished up the casserole
and laid the plates and cutlery on the kitchen table. Sue took a brief
look at the food on the kitchen table and shook her head no. Without
saying a word, she headed straight for the bedroom, turned the lights
off, and went to bed. Her silence and apparent indifference made Jake
feel like he had been gut punched. He scrapped the dinner into the trash
and cleaned up the dishes. He tiptoed into the bedroom not wanting to
disturb his wife. He slid into the sheets as quietly as possible and had
a restless night.
A seething Jack remained mute the next morning. He ran through his
morning exercise regiment without uttering a sound. He continued his
silence throughout the commute to work. As the two separated upon
exiting the elevator, Rose smiled at Jack and said, "The silent treatment
is a bit juvenile don't you think? I am your wife. If you can't trust
me who can you trust?"
When he just frowned and didn't move, she made a shooing gesture.
Jack remained mute on the ride home and all the way to the dinner table.
Rose had had enough of this manipulative tactic and spelled it out, Jack,
"The silent treatment won't work on me. It's a mean form of emotional
abuse. You can keep this up and destroy our marriage or get over your
perceived injustice and move forward."
Then to make things worse Rose took the opportunity to bitterly criticize
him for his lack of feminine table manners.
"Jack, cut up just what you're going to eat in the next bite or two. The
purpose is not speed or efficiency. You are there to enjoy and converse
and by only cutting a few bites at a time you are giving yourself the
opportunity to flirt or to ask and answer questions, as you switch your
utensils from one hand to another. No more wiping your mouth, henceforth
daintily pat your lips with your napkin."
Jack accepted the criticism and did his best to eat like a lady. After
Jack did the cleanup the two sat down for a drink and smoke. Rose poured
doubles for them both. After his second double, the one with a valium
dissolved in it, Jack began to loosen up. Rose amusedly watched Jack
with his droopy eyes. Rose, a cigarette dangling in her hand, passed it
to Jack and ordered him to take a drag. Complying with the demand, Jack
erupted in a fit of coughing. Rose handed Jack a tube of lipstick and
ordered him to repair his lips. Rose laid her two diminutive hands palms
down on the table and stood. Glaring directly into Jack's eyes, Rose
demanded, "Talk to me you idiot. Tell me what's bothering you."
Jack related his fears concerning a possible sexual liaison between Rose
and Mike.
Rose expressed amusement and openly mocked his insecurities saying, "Is
my little Jackie frightened of losing his wife to big strong Mike?
Listen you insecure pussy, anytime I want I can have my choice of the
fattest, thickest cocks in town. If I ever decide to cheat on you, I
won't do it behind your back. I'll do it right in front of you. In fact
I'll even invite you watch, I might even let you fluff for me! Now stop
crying, check your makeup, and get ready for deportment training."
"Rose, I don't know how much more of this I can take."
"You'll take this and anything else I'll throw at you. Or pack your bags
and get out!"
A devastated Jack promised to never act jealous again and fell all over
himself apologizing for his insecurities. In retaliation for his earlier
defiant attitude, Rose added an additional requirement to his daily
routine. Jack was given very specific instructions whenever he was in
the house he was never to be outside the immediate reach of his purse.
If Rose saw he could not instantly reach his purse, Jack would lose more
eyebrow hairs. Jack learned to regularly check and recheck his lipstick.
To demonstrate what was in store, Rose sat Jack down and started tweezing
hair from his brow. For several minutes she plucked not only his hair
but his masculinity.
Rose and a dejected Jack stumbled to the living room for an hour of
schooling.
Rose started the night's training secession with a brief sermon, "Jack
dear, I want you to remember deportment is not only about walking. It
encompasses a whole horde of things. It also refers to the way a woman
carries herself, how she moves, her posture, how she walks, holds her
hands, inclines her head, her manners at the table. Jack, it's my goal
to turn you into a lady. Are you with me on that one?
"Sweetheart, we need to create the feminine impression that you are going
to need. We will be working on the psychological view as well as the
physical. Once you feel feminine, you will eventually develop the
confidence and grace needed to be a lady. The guy in a dress will simply
fade away."
Deportment training that night was as rigorous as any Jack had undergone
up to that point. Rose was harsh in her criticisms.
After an hour of practicing the basics, Rose allowed Jack a break, he
spent the next twenty minutes sitting crossing and uncrossing his legs at
the thigh. He was forced to keep at it until the action appeared totally
natural, like he had been doing it his whole life.
Jack audaciously complained about Rose's insensitive attitude and said,
"Rose you no longer ask me to do something, now you tell me to do it. I
don't like being treated like hired help."
Rose lectured her husband on what to expect concerning his future
training. "When I can, I promise I'll be kind. Don't expect me to be
timid. If you do what you're told and do it to the best of your ability,
we'll never have a problem. Now get your candy-ass over to the vanity
and freshen your makeup."
Jack hated that term candy-ass; it brought back unpleasant childhood
memories. It seemed like such a prissy thing.
Makeup lessons were painful that night. Jack felt confident, he could
handle the fundamentals. He sat down and went to work with all the
tubes, powers and creams. It cost Jack several eyebrow hairs to learn
lip liner extending beyond the lip line was a no-no. Jack furthermore,
learned about the advantages of lip gloss.
Mastering lips was a piece of cake compared to the complexities of
applying false eyelashes. Jack had become exasperated. First the ends
wouldn't stick; it was the fourth time he had tried to get the wiggly
things to stick in the correct location. He finally attached them only
to find they had been positioned at the inner corner of his eye, rather
than the outer and his next attempt resulted like the preceding ones in
failure. "Rose, that's it, I quit...'
Rose gave him a glare that would wilt a bronze statue. Jack recognized
his error, "I'm sorry. What I should have said was I need help. I can't
do this. How do you make this look so easy?"
Jack nervously waited for Rose to react, expecting her to explode.
Surprisingly, Rose said, "I had better never hear that Q word again!
Let's get into bed. My needs take precedent tonight. Jack assumed his
usual position with his lips pressed against her pussy. Rose insisted
Jack keep his lips looking luscious. She explained that watching Jack
lick her dew drops with lips coated in a deep red creamy concoction added
to her pleasure. So from that moment forward, Jack was always required
to refresh his lipstick before servicing Rose.
After nearly 30 minutes and a number of climaxes for his wife, she pushed
Jack away and said, "Thanks dear, you are wonderfully talented, I cum and
cum and cum when you are down there. Now I'm tired let's go to sleep."
Rose appeared to be utterly enjoying her commanding position. Their
loving partnership of a marriage had become an authoritative
dictatorship. Jack's needs were considered inconsequential.
Jack stood and in wonderment said, "What about me?"
Rose stuck her head from under the covers and pointed to the bathroom,
"Jack, how many times do we need to go over this issue. Be a good boy,
take your makeup off and then hop into a cold shower. I'm tired."
A frustrated Jack scrambled into bed that night.
As the days passed, Rose created a pavlovian response in Jack. He could
never pass a mirror without checking his face. At home, he could go no
more than 15 minutes without pulling his compact out and scrutinizing his
lips. Rose also required Jack to bring a tube of Chap Stick to work, so
that at all times he had a thick waxy coat on his lips.
Friday evening, Rose returned home later than usual. She stopped in the
middle of the living room and matter-of-factly announced to Jack as he
sat on the couch, "Next week Jackie, you are going to learn how a woman
satisfies her man."
Much to Rose's amusement, Jack had a massive tantrum and put his high
heeled foot down, refusing to discuss the topic. After the screaming
stooped, Rose had a good laugh and relented. "Well if you don't want to
learn how to gratify a man. How do you feel about a lesson in pleasing a
woman?"
Pausing at the bedroom door, Jack saw a wicked gleam in Rose's eyes mixed
with pure lust. Rose said over her shoulder, "Refresh your lipstick and
get in here."
She tugged at his hand almost causing Jack to stumble. Jack
lightheartedly inquired, "What would you have me do, Mistress?"
"On your knees, wench, and be quick about it!" Jack tensed at the word
wench. Still he obeyed, and kept his eyes fixed on Rose's crotch,
avoiding her gaze. Rose tasted unusual tonight, not bad just different,
a little thicker discharge that was like the difference between of
peppermint and menthol.
With Jack on his knees between Roses legs, a good 15 minutes later a
satisfied Rose said, "Dear you can get up now; I guess every night can't
be a 10."
A disheartened Jack started to immediately apologized, and pleaded for
more time to satisfy her. An amused Rose patted the bed next to her.
She simply responded, "No Jack you misunderstand. I'm not dissatisfied.
Quite the contrary, your performance tonight was rated a 12.5 by the
judges. Honey, I have to tell you how proud I am of you. You efforts
have been above and beyond; you need to know me and your country
appreciates your sacrifices and hard work. You never knew my brother or
my father. They both would consider you to be a true American patriot and
a real hero."
Jack stood and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth, he called out
to Rose, "Thanks for the compliments, but I don't feel much like Audie
Murphy or Sergeant York."
"Of course not silly, think more along the lines of Mata Hari."
Jack did a double take on that one and thought back to his high school
history class, "Wait a minute, wasn't she caught and executed?"
Rose laughed to put Jack at ease and said, "Come to bed, you need your
beauty sleep. Everything will be fine; you have my word on it."
The days all began to run together, then finally it was again Saturday.
Rose returned from her morning shower and found Jack still in bed. She
declared, "Here honey, let me help you get dressed. We'll start with
your corset; you have a full day of cleaning ahead of you. I expect you
to clean the entire house, while I go out to meet with a friend. If you
get done before I get home, the garage could use a good cleaning as
well."
When he asked her who the friend was, Rose erupted, "Jack, how dare you
ask me, is it a man or woman! In either case, it's none of your
business. Get to work. I will be back in time for a formal inspection.
The floors had better be clean enough to eat from!"
Rose dressed in a tight fitting knit outfit which accentuated her curvy
figure. She turned to a grumpy Jack, "Jack, stop your constant pouting,
and just get to work. How many times do I have to remind you, time is
critical to get you ready, we can't afford for you to take days off."
Saturday was an exhausting day of nonstop work for Jack. He scurried
around the house dutifully performing all his assigned chores, cleaning,
washing, ironing, cooking, and scrubbing the floors. Upon her return,
Rose was in a foul mood, her premenstrual cramps had started. She
inspected the house and critiqued every miniscule flaw.
She laughed her ass off when she accidently bumped into Jack as he
carried their meals to the table. The collision was violent enough to
spill one of the plates on the floor. The look on Jack's face as the
food fell on his spotless kitchen floor was precious. Rose pointed to
the pile on the gleaming linoleum, "She handed him a fork and spoon and
said, "You made the mess now clean it up."
Jack couldn't believe she expected him to eat it off the floor. He took
a fork and in resignation got down on his knees and started to eat. He
ate his banquet off the kitchen floor one scoop at a time, wanting
nothing more than to get it over with. Rose kept taunting him with
"Remember Daisy, small petite bites, no gulping." Then she handed him a
napkin said, "Remember a lady always pats her lips with her napkin."
Rose had been in a bad mode for the last few days. She had been to her
reproductive health endocrinologist (i.e. her fertility doctor) and
received a shot containing a high dosage of hormones to help her to
become impregnated, thus launching her on a rollercoaster ride of
emotions. Than tonight the curse of every woman, the red tide came a
calling.
"Few tasks are more like the torture of Sisyphus than housework, with its
endless repetition: the cleaned becomes the soiled; the soiled is made
clean, over and over, day after day." Simone-de-Beauvoir
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