My wife, Ashley, and I moved to a nice, residential neighborhood after living in the big city for the better part of our relationship. We were a young couple – I had just turned 26, she was about to turn 24, and both of us had nice incomes.
Stoner Cuckold Stories: Emasculated by My Weed Dealer in Front of My Girl
I was playing poker with the guys, and someone passed around a joint. It was 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 friend where he got it from, and he hooked me up with the neighborhood weed dealer, Scoopz.
Everything about Scoopz 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 Scoopz when he pulled up in my driveway driving a sports car no guy his age should be able to afford to drive. He let himself in, looking around after meeting me. Scoopz offered to smoke a joint with me after I bought the small amount from him, and I accepted. We talked, rather I talked, and he listened. He never referred to me by my name, though. As far as he was concerned, my name was simply, “dummy.”
The weed was too good. I called him repeatedly, 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, Scoopz 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 be doing him a favor. Once he asked me to drop off some dry cleaning, another time he had me do an entire load of laundry. Sometimes I would pick him up dinner, other times I would make reservations at a restaurant for him and some girl.
My wife was getting 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 Scoopz’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.
Scoopz 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, Scoopz 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 Scoopz 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. Scoopz 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 Scoopz 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 punk 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. Scoopz 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 9 pm that night. Scoopz 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 too intimidated by Scoopz to talk back, say no to him or fight him off. I just did what I was told 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 Scoopz 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 – Scoopz wasn’t making me do anything, he just exploited untapped potential in me. She asked me where my backbone disappeared to, noting that Scoopz has me wrapped around his finger.
Scoopz 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, Scoopz 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 unflushed 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.
He did mean things to me for a laugh. Once he stuck his leg out, seeing me not paying attention as I walked towards my car, and I fell on my face to a round of laughter from his fellow hoodlums. Another time he grabbed me by the hair and tossed me in a pile of smelly garbage bags at the side of our building. Scoops even threw me in a dumpster and locked it – my poor wife had to get me out after I called her inside of it from my cell phone.
My wife was wondering where all my money was going, and I told her I was the one paying for Scoopz’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 was unable to get out of.
It was a big mistake introducing my mid-twenties wife to my 19-year old pot dealer. She left that day angry and came back on cloud nine, a complete 180 in mood swings. When I asked her how her confrontation with Scoopz went, I squirmed when she said I barely came up, which I found odd, as he had been alone with him for a while. When I asked what they did talk about, she seemed lost in thought, before revealing that Scoopz did not intend to leave me alone. He assumed I sent my wife to protect myself from him, and even though she denied it, Scoopz told my wife he was going to be harder than ever on me now.
She told me Scoopz 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 Scoopz 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 Scoopz asked her what she would do if he didn’t, and she didn’t have an answer, she didn’t think it through.
I was confused because Ashley should have been angry about that, but she was lost in her own little world. When I asked why she was with my bully for so long if they spent so little time talking about me, Ashley explained that she did, at first, verbally attack the thug, warning him to leave me alone, but Scoopz got in her face and told her he didn’t respond to threats well. He moved closer to her, bullying her body to the point where she was leaning against the wall. Scoopz leaned in, leaning his arm against the wall, and told my wife things didn’t have to be bad between the two of them, in fact, he had hoped they could be friends.
My wife was taken with the big wigger’s demeanor, reaching out her hand to formally introduce herself. From there, they walked back to a bench in a nearby park and got to know one another better. My wife was presenting me with all this information like a teen girl in the 60’s would talk about meeting one of the Beatles. They ended up talking for a while after he made her laugh (where they laughing at me?), and she apologized to him, realizing he wasn’t such a bad guy. She even told Scoopz she could see why I look up to him. I was so embarrassed.
I was flabbergasted, as my wife was making friends with my bully. I asked her if she had considered how that would make me feel. I’ll never forget how wimpy her answer made me feel.
“Honestly, babe,” Ashley said to me, finally breaking out of whatever hypnotic state Scoopz had her in. “If you want your bully to stop picking on you, you’re going to have to man up and do something about it yourself.”
She wasn’t wrong, and she wasn’t trying to be cruel either. Those were the words I needed to hear, and to hear them coming from the woman I loved really hit hard. I had to do something to stop Scoopz from bullying me, but I didn’t know what. Words proved to be futile. Kindness was rewarded with humiliation. The cops were out of the question, as there was no proof he had done anything to me. I had no friends who could stand up to him. The only thing I could do was endure whatever he put me through until I thought of a way to end my bullying torment.
My Weed Dealer Humiliated Me While Flirting With My Wife
From that day, he and Ashley were texting each other non-stop. Ashley would be lying next to me in bed but texting him while I tried to sleep. She would get some sun in the backyard with me, but talk to him on her cell while we did. It got to the point where I had to tell her how neglected she was making me feel. Ashley was defiant, unwilling to lose her new friend, reacting like I was trying to limit her social life. I tried to explain that I wasn’t saying something to be possessive, but my wife wasn’t hearing it, and just like that, I began sleeping on the couch for the remainder of the week. The second I could turn the lights out in the living room, I could hear my wife’s vibrator turn on.
There was nothing I could do to stop the blossoming friendship between my wife and my bully, so all I could do was endure it.
The subsequent Friday night, I came home late from work, surprised to see Ashley gone for the night. She came home about an hour after I did with a look of guilt on her face, and acting rather exhausted. Ashley was one to pretty herself up before she went out, so her state of disarray was intriguing. Her hair looked messy, her lipstick smeared, her makeup looked like it was running, and several areas of her clothes seemed ripped, perhaps intentionally torn. When I asked where she went, my wife revealed she had attended a house party at Scoopz place, and was by his side the entire night, not knowing anyone else but his wigger friends and fellow thugs. I asked if she was okay, and she told me she was great, that it was a fun night, but that her newfound party days were over. Ashley told me that she realized she wasn’t being a responsible wife, and that she had decided to end her friendship with my bully.
I told her I was happy to hear her say that, very modestly. Inside my head, I was doing cartwheels. No more Scoopz! Finally, we could move on without the thug in either of their lives. To my relief, Scoopz left the both of us alone afterward.
One year later, my wife and I were ready to move to our brand-new house, hiring a moving company we found online. The movers were to meet us at our new house, as everything we owned had been boxed up and placed in a room in our condo, ready for pick-up. When the movers arrived at our new place, they rang the doorbell, and when I opened the door, my heart skipped a beat. One of the movers was Scoopz.
“Whoa-ho-ho!” Scoopz said, smiling down at me. “Look who it is!”
“Oh, hey Scoopz,” I said, swallowing hard.
“It’s Sir,” Scoopz said, smacking my cheek a couple of times, making the other mover beside him snicker.
“You still married to that piece of ass?”
“Bring the bitch down here.”
I tried to shut the door to summon Ashley, but Scoopz just flung the door open with his forearm and walked right into our new place, his work boots tracking mud all over the new flooring. When my wife came down the stairs and saw her old wigger friend, she had the same look on her face I did. But instead of fear, her expression went from surprise to excitement.
The two of them hugged, and my wife had no problem with Scoopz’s sweat touching her skin when they embraced. As the two of them made small talk, the other mover stepped outside and lit up a cigarette on our front porch. I awkwardly shuffled beside him.
“That your wife, dude?” The mover said to me.
“Yeah,” I replied.
“Damn, she’s hot, bro.”
“I know. Thanks.”
Scoopz walked over to the mover and I and instructed us to start bringing in boxes.
“Alright, you two can start unloading boxes,” Scoopz said to us, thumbing over his shoulder to the moving van.
“Where you gonna be?” The mover asked Scoopz, stomping his cigarette out on my deck.
“Where do you think?” Scoopz replied to him with a wink, unbuckling his belt.
“Scoopz, I’m paying you guys to move,” I said, nervously.
“Just lift the damn boxes, you could use the exercise,” Scoopz said to me, pinching my bicep. “Don’t come upstairs for a while, either.”
Before I could say another word, Scoopz walked inside my new house, and just before he shut the door in my face, I caught his hands unzipping his shorts.
“Relax, bro.” The mover tried to reassure me. “Your girl’s in good hands with Scoopz.”
I walked over to the moving van and began carrying items into the house. I felt so puny sweating and struggling to lift a box at a time, while the other mover was carrying multiple boxes effortlessly. I could hear the voices of Scoopz and Ashley from the upstairs windows, which were wide open. After a while, voices were replaced with heavy breaths, and eventually, the pounding of something against the wall. I tried to run into the house to see if Ashley was okay, but the other mover grabbed my arm.
“Don’t cockblock Scoopz, dude.” He said to me, letting go of my arm and pointing up to the window. “Your girl’s fine, listen.”
He was right. Whatever was happening upstairs, it was making Ashley giggle. I could hear Scoopz talking before she would laugh as well. It wasn’t long before I could hear substantial commotion upstairs again, though. Scoopz and Ashley had gone from friendly banter to aggressive shuffling. When I entered the house to drop off a box, I could hear Scoopz shouting behind a closed door. He was authoritative towards her, perhaps instructing her to do something, or guiding her to do it how he wanted her to. I knew better than to be nosy, so I continued unloading the moving van with the other mover until there was nothing left inside of it. By the time we were done, the noises on the second floor had ceased as well.
Scoopz came down about five minutes later, zipping up his shorts and yanking down his t-shirt as he walked down the stairs. He saw that I was a sweaty mess from doing all the heavy lifting, and once again, smacked me on the cheeks a few times.
“Good job, dummy.” He said, chuckling to himself, pulling out a joint and lighting it up in front of me.
“Scoopz, you can’t smoke in here,” I said, as he lit up and blew smoke in my face.
“Because it’s my house, and I say so.”
Big mistake. Scoopz grabbed the front of my t-shirt and yanked me towards him.
“Gimmie that tone again, dummy.” He said to me with a raised eyebrow. “I fuckin’ dare ya.”
“Just…can you smoke outside, please?” I asked meekly. “We just bought the house, Sir.”
Scoopz nodded his head and showed some respect to that.
“Fair enough, dummy.” He said walking out the door. “That’ll be $700.00.”
“What?!” I asked, astounded on so many levels. He wanted to be paid $200 more than I had agreed to, and he didn’t even move anything into my house. Scoopz walked up to me, backing me up against the wall.
“I said that’ll be $800.00.”
“Are you…?! You just said $700!” I held up six $100 bills.
“That was before you got lippy with me. I was doing you a favor by shaving off a hundred, but now I’m going to add another $200.”
“You want me out of here?” Another exhalation of smoke hit me in my face.
“Then give me my $1000, and I’ll be gone.”
“Scoopz, I did all the heavy lifting, and I agreed to $600 with the moving company.”
“And they’ll be getting $600. I’ll be keeping the extra bills.”
“I’m not…. I don’t have that much cash.”
“Fine.” He said, dropping his cigarette on my floor and stomping it out. “I’ll be back here next week to collect the rest of it.”
“Please don’t,” I begged. “Please don’t do this.”
“You want me back here? Your wife does, you know.”
“I want you to leave me alone.”
“I’m going to keep coming back here unless you pay me not to.”
“$400 and you’ll never come back?”
“Scoopz, I can’t afford it.”
“No problem.” He said, walking out the door, collecting the $600 from my hand. “I didn’t think you would cave into me anyway. I was just having some fun with you.”
“Oh…ha-ha.” I laughed nervously. “Yeah…you got me…heh heh…”
“Shut up, dummy,” Scoopz said, one foot out the door. “You couldn’t pay me enough not to come back here anyway.”
“Just tell your wife I’ll by tomorrow after my shift. I’ll be sweaty, so I’ll probably shower here.”
“Yessss!” Scoopz laughed. “Make yourself scarce when I’m around. I like your place a lot, so you’re gonna see a lot more of me around here.”
“Later, dummy,” Scoopz said, dismissing me, and finally leaving, seemingly bragging to the other mover about something on his way out.