A Hopper Is Stuck Inside My Wife
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One month ago while I’d been on a date with my gorgeous wife Anna, she’d been hopped by a novice bodyhopper. When I say novice, I mean this was literally the thug’s first time. I yelled for him to get out, and after a minute of feeling her up, he finally agreed to, but found out he didn’t know how. With no other choice, I’d taken him home, and I’ve been sleeping in the guest bedroom ever since, hoping that one day he’ll be gone. But he seems in no hurry to leave my wife’s body, especially after he went on a little jaunt to our local business district. He’d dressed Anna in a shirt that revealed a tone of cleavage, and men bent over backwards to give him free samples or comp some service. Unfortunately for my wife, the bodyhopper learned that the more of her skin he was willing to show, the more he got. He’d bring home bags of food, appliances, electronics, and I’d ask how he paid, and he’d wink and shake Anna’s boobs in my direction. So imagine my dismay when I come home today and Anna’s not there, and I’m freaking out, but then hear a car door slam. I look out our window, and rush to the door to let her in before people can see how very little she has on. “Hey,” the thug says, flashing a wad of bills. “Some nice guys gave me this for making a nice little movie for them. I didn’t even have to do anything gay or nothing, they just wanted to look at me while I wore this ridiculous outfit for them. They’re probably gonna put it online, but for what they paid me, who cares.” I wanted to scream at him that I very much did care, but before I could he continued. “Hey, did you see the free tattoo I got your wife? Now if I ever figure out how to leave, you’ll have something to remember be by.”
