My Weed Dealer Made Me His Errand Boy
It was a big mistake introducing my mid-twenties wife to my 19-year old pot dealer, Slinger.
I’m a couple of years older than my wife. I’m her subordinate, she’s a senior executive. Everyone is envious of me, because I’m married to the one of the most successful and beautiful women in the city. She looks like Pamela Anderson did in the mid 90s, before the boob-job. We met at work, started dating and romance blossomed into a marriage proposal.
I was playing poker with the guys and someone passed around a joint. It was really good pot, or maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t smoked in almost a decade, because it knocked me on my ass, I loved it. The next day I asked my buddy where he got it from, and he hooked me up with the neighbourhood weed dealer, Slinger.
Everything about Slinger screamed bad news – he hung out with the wrong crowd (maybe they hung out with him?), big stocky dude, always clean-cut, cute but very assertive, the life of the party. I was very intimidated by Slinger when he pulled up in my driveway driving a sports car no 19-year-old should be driving. He let himself in, looking around after meeting me. Slinger offered to smoke a joint with me after I bought the small amount with him, and I accepted. We talked, rather I talked and he listened.
The weed was too good. I called him again and again, always asking for more. He would meet me at parks, at work, at a street corner, he never let me down. However, in addition to paying him, Slinger had me running errands for him, justifying it by saying he sees me more than anyone, and he’s a busy guy, so I’d really be doing him a favour. Once he asked me to drop off some dry cleaning, another time he had me do an entire load of laundry. Sometimes I wold pick him up dinner, other times I would make reservations at a restaurant for him and some girl.
My wife was getting pretty tired of me lounging around the house baked. She told me the only times I wasn’t high was when I was at work, or when I was being Slinger’s gofer. She put her foot down and said she didn’t want to be married to a pothead, insisting I end my little drug habit asap. I told her it was just weed, but I saw her point – I was turning into a bum.
Slinger Came Over, Put His Feet Up and Told Me to Get Him a Beer
Slinger called after not hearing from me after a while. I told him the truth, that my wife put her foot down, and that sadly, I would no longer be his customer. I thanked him and ended the conversation. Within 20 minutes, Slinger pulled into my driveway and pounded on the door. When I opened it, he made his way to my couch, put his feet up on my coffee table and told me to get him a beer.
I handed Slinger his beer after fetching it from the kitchen, but he just looked at it, unopened. I instinctively twisted it the bottle cap off and handed it to him again, which he took this time. He told me he’s not the kind of guy you just say goodbye to. I laughed and told him it’s not like I was his best customer or anything, I didn’t even buy that much. Slinger said that’s wasn’t the point, he came to rely on me as his errand boy, and that wasn’t going to end, even if I stopped buying weed from him. I was offended, but intimidated. I asked Slinger to leave, but he just kept talking. He told me I would continue to pay him what I normally did for weed, even if I wasn’t buying any. He said I would also do whatever he asked of me, whenever he asked it. I sat there listening to this 19-year-old kid, telling me how my life was going to be, and instead of putting him in his place, I asked him how could I do ask he asked if I had a job, a wife…an entire life. Slinger got up and told me that wasn’t his problem. He said he’d let me think about what he just told me, and when I get it, to come over and clean his place spotless. He gave me a deadline – by 9pm that night. Slinger finished the last sip of his beer and handed me the empty bottle before letting himself out.
For the next several weeks I did as I was told. I was way too intimidated by Slinger to talk back, say no to him or fight him off. I just did what I was told in order to keep the peace. When my wife noticed my inferior behavior and asked what was going on with me, I broke down and told her what Slinger had turned me into. She seemed less interested in my struggle and more curious about the man who broke me. She said something that resonated – Slinger wasn’t actually making me do anything, he just exploited untapped potential in me. She asked me where my backbone disappeared to, noting that Slinger has me wrapped around his finger.
Slinger started to get a little aggressive as I did his chores. Once I was on my knees vacuuming under his coffee table as he played video games. Without missing a beat, Slinger placed his legs on my back, using me as a footrest. He told me not to move and I stayed there until he removed his legs. Another time he said his toilet wasn’t spotless, and as I went to look at it, he shoved my head into the bowl, my face gulping a mouthful of his un-flushed piss. Other times he would smack me around in front of his friends, just for their entertainment. I ran and got beers and snacks for them at the snap of his fingers on demand.
My wife was wondering where all my money was going, and I told her I was the one paying for Slinger’s expenses, such as his gas, his dry cleaning, etc., and she almost hit the floor in shock. She said it was one thing to serve my big bully as a hobby, but now it was interfering with our marriage. She asked me for his cell and called him, and after a private conversation, told me to wait at home, as she was going to his place to fix the mess I’m clearly unable to get out of.
When my wife returned, she seemed to be on cloud nine. She was happy, almost euphoric. When I asked if my ordeal with Slinger was over, she came down to reality and said, “oh no honey, if anything, he’s going to be even harder on you for sending your woman to protect you”. I told her I didn’t ask her to do anything! She told me Slinger wasn’t anything like she thought he would be, that he was successful and powerful in his own way, just like her, and she was drawn to his alpha personality. She told me Slinger was cocky, had a smirk the entire time they talked, like he knew she was impressed by him. She did tell him to leave me alone, but Slinger asked her what she would do if he didn’t, and she didn’t have answer, she didn’t think it through. They ended up talking for a while after he made her laugh (we’re they laughing at me?), and she apologized to him, realizing he wasn’t such a bad guy. She even told Slinger she could see why I look up to him. I was so embarrassed. She told me she had to get ready, because Slinger was having a small get together at his place, and invited her. She told me Slinger wanted me there too…as the clean-up guy.
We both got ready separately, not speaking till we got in the car. She looked outstanding, dressed to the nines with black leather and velvet, her hair was done up and the fuck-me pumps were as suggestive as her open cleavage. She was nervous and excited at the same time. I was nervous too, because I had a gut feeling Slinger was going to humiliate me in some capacity in front of my girl. When we arrived, Slinger took her by the waist and told her she didn’t have to come, but the fact that she did spoke volumes to him, which made her smile and caress his chest. Slinger winked at me and told me to start cleaning, grabbing bottles and getting anything anyone asked me to. They both walked away, unintentionally ignoring me.
As I picked up after everyone and stood in the corner trying not to look like a total loser, I watched my wife sitting on Slinger’s lap as they hung out on the couch with his friends. The longer the night passed, the more intimate they got – at one point, her fingers were in his slicked-back hair, while his hands were subtly caressing her tits. Before long, she was whispering in his ear, I assumed because the party was too loud. People looked at me with pity, because the more they talked, the closer they got, to the point where their lips were touching. I saw him whisper something in his year and nod upstairs, which made her blush, get up, and walk upstairs into a bedroom. Slinger got up, fist-bumped his buddy and walked upstairs too.
At the Party, My Wife Walked into a Bedroom with My Pot Dealer
With my wife and Slinger behind a closed-door, the party un-winded. As I cleaned up the mess, I could hear my wife’s voice screaming Slinger’s name. I wanted to go in and pull her away, I wanted to smash Slinger in the face, but I didn’t. I just listened, not carrying that people were looking at me and snickering. They could see how awkward it was for me to pick up garbage at my bully’s house while he fucked my wife. I received a text from Slinger while he did it, a picture of my wife’s naked back with his arm stretching out, grabbing her hair from behind. Another picture was of my wife’s ass, Slinger’s hand gripping one of her cheeks, his girthy cock halfway into my wife’s tight pussy. The last picture he sent me was a selfie: they were laying under the covers in bed, she was asleep, he was clearly holding his phone up to take the shot. He was smiling and giving me a thumbs-up with her cuddled in his arms. The text message attached to the last picture read, “Thanks for cumming, chump. Go home, ur girl’s safe with me.”
When my wife returned the next morning, she told me not to worry, she wasn’t leaving me for him, it was just something that happened organically. She said she went there with the intention to fuck him after meeting him earlier that day, she was not influenced by any substance, as she didn’t smoke any pot (unlike him) or even have a beer. She had no intentions of being his girlfriend, she knew she was just another notch on his belt, and that made her wet. She said she never felt more drawn to anyone sexually so fast the way she did with Slinger. I told her he was just some punk kid weed dealer, and she said he’s more than that, he’s the bully who turned a grown man into a wimp. The way she was talking about him and me, it was like she didn’t want me to stop being his minion, or him from being my superior.
I could see why my wife didn’t look at me like a man anymore. I lost my dignity when I became Slinger’s little wimp, there was no denying it. He was confident, he took what he wanted, he was fearless.
She told me she had every intention of telling Slinger off when she met him that day, because she didn’t like the idea of someone strong-arming either one of us. But when she saw him that day, somehow all her rage disappeared. She revealed that when I told her about all the things Slinger did to me, instead of her feeling sympathetic, she became aroused. I inadvertently built Slinger up to a stud when I told her about how he picked on me. She was immediately drawn to his power. She had never been with anyone like him sexually, and the way he talked to her, even looking at her with a smirk, made her sure she was going to end the night tasting his dick. The fact that his cock was big, and the fact that he gave her the best sex of her life, was just icing on the cake.
My wife made it very clear that she wanted to fuck Slinger again, with no regard to how that might make me feel. This was something she wanted to do, and she didn’t want me spoiling it for her. She told me that I had to keep doing things for Slinger, because I was her conduit to him. The second I stop is the second he’ll likely stop fucking her. I sat there in awe, telling me how things were going to go, just like how Slinger did the prior day, and I could see traits of his personality already rubbing off on her.
I realized why Slinger was so cocksure that I was going to do whatever he told me to do. He saw this coming. Something told me she wasn’t the first girl he’s taken away from someone. Guys like Slinger create cuckold husbands without even trying.