My Pimp Wife E-Book

Eric Culpepper

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 179

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

My Pimp Wife is the raw, lasciviously juicy tale of how my loving wife evolved into a cold, heartless pimp and the core primary reason that I chose to write this book is that, as A Grand Inquisitor Level Pimpnological Decryptologist, in the public interest, I wanted to write about one of the more common, yet rarely recognized, ominous aspects of earnestly aspiring to be a true master Pimp.

Leseprobe

MY PIMP WIFE

How My Loving Japanese Wife Evolved Into A Cold, Heartless Pimp

ERIC CULPEPPER

In The Wind Productions

Publisher: In The Wind Productions

Copyrighted Material © 2017 Eric Culpepper

Names have been changed for legal purposes.

For information, contact In The Wind Productions

ISBN: 978-1-3709494-1-0

Contents

ABOUT THE COVER

INTRO

MEETING MOMMY

THE KOKO INCIDENT

THE DEATH OF GOD

SEXCAPADES

THE MINIATURE KINGDOM

ARE Y’ALL READY FOR THIS?!

MEDICAL DIAGNOSIS

CURTAINS

ABOUT THE COVER

The image on the cover of this book is a multitasking Asian woman, which very poignantly represents the various dimensions of greed, hatred, hyper-industrialization, ultra-feminism and, subsequently, my wife’s mental disposition.

INTRO

My Pimp Wife is the raw, lasciviously juicy international tale of how my loving wife evolved into a cold, heartless pimp and the core primary reason that I chose to write this book is that, as a Grand Inquisitor Level Pimpnological Decryptologist, in the public interest, I wanted to write about one of the more common, yet rarely recognized, ominous aspects of earnestly aspiring to be a true master pimp.

MEETING MOMMY

The beginning of this lurid inter-continental adventure finds me as a 19 year old kid obliviously ice skating at The Mall Of Memphis in the Summer of 1988. At this point in my life, I had just been ripped off by a trucking school and I was experiencing the unspeakably unpleasant experience of attempting to date in North America.

During this time, I spent every spare moment ice skating at the mall and I happened to meet a Japanese university post-graduate ESL student named Masa and a small group of his fellow ESL students.

I was also beginning to, once again, experience some of the more rarely acknowledged and discussed aspects of the phenomena of pussy power.

For example, there was a girl named Jody that I went to junior high school with, as students, Jody was just another face in the crowd that I absolutely did not get along with. As a matter of fact, given that Black women are so obsessed with the idea of being totally hideous so-called strong, totally independent, Black women there were a lot of young women that I didn’t get along with in junior high school, which I often refer to as, the age of cruelty because children at that age take such immense pleasure in bullying and degrading as many other students as they can . . .

However, that was never, ever a problem for me, because I was very good at thinking that low-lives were totally irrelevant and their completely worthless opinions meant absolutely and completely nothing to me, not to mention the fact that I was soberly aware of the fact that I was completely surrounded by a group of people that, upon graduation, I would very likely never ever see again in life . . . Which suited me just fine in several cases.

However, all of this is not to say that I did not enjoy attending junior high school, I in fact did enjoy junior high school to the point that, given that I completely hated attending school in general, enjoying junior high school became suspicious to me to the point that it required some in-depth analysis in which I concluded that, we were quite literally being tricked into running to school everyday because the vast majority of our instructors were forty plus year veteran educators who had educated us, and most of our parents, as children instead of trying to force us to be the highly focused adults that we were not . . . Which became quite helpful when I quite unexpectedly became an ESL educator of kindergarten, elementary and junior high school students myself in a foreign country.

Some of the things that I immensely enjoyed about being a student at an all Black junior high school, aside from rarely succeeding at trying to talk my way out of my daily ass-whipping by my civics teacher for being a highly accomplished class clown and grinding on some of my more voluptuous classmates, was racing the entire school of young negro boys to lunch, which was a highly intense daily race in which I only just barely managed to make it first once in three years because I had to run from the completely opposite end of the building. However, being first in line to lunch, just that once, was so exhilarating that I still feel an extremely great sense of accomplishment, even at the age of forty.

Jody and I didn’t go to the same high school, however, somehow I encountered her several times and we wound up exchanging phone numbers, visiting each other, meeting each-other’s parents, going to the movies together and I even somehow managed to wind up with Jody’s picture in my wallet . . . Which guys at work said was extremely nice, which kind of made me take a second and even third look at her photo.

An interesting episode of my various experiences with Jody is that, one day, when I was about 19, I was at home and I had a migraine headache and Jody called me and told me that she wanted me to come over to her place and I told her that I really didn’t feel well.

I guess that she told me that she would make me feel better because I wound up driving over to her house and when I got there I discovered that the real reason that she had called me was because she was extremely horny and she wanted to have sex with me . . . But she didn’t tell me this when I walked in the door.

When I walked in, she gave me something to drink and a kiss on the cheek and she invited me up to her room where she undressed me and attempted to quite literally molest me. It had in fact been quite a long time since I had had a teenaged girl undress me and completely have her way with me . . . I hadn’t experienced such ecstasy since I lost my virginity to my teenaged babysitters when I was in kindergarten.

However, the problem was that, since I was an extremely healthy and well-endowed teenager and neither of us had any real experience sexually, I was so big that I could not get into her vagina and she eventually got mad and gave up . . .

After I eventually left, as I drove home my head started hurting again and I realized that the moment that I got out of the car and walked in her front door my migraine headache completely disappeared and it didn’t come back until I had made it back home again . . . What had that pussy done to me?

Like any total dumbass young woman, Jody started dating thugs, whom she found far more exciting and attractive than people who stayed out of shit and worked for a living.

During our long hiatus from seeing each other I was introduced to a Japanese lady tat we'll call Takako.

Though I initially thought that she was 17, Takako was in fact a 25 year old Japanese economics graduate from Minamata, Japan, a place that I had never heard of before and therefore never even remotely imagined was a fact that would one day completely destroy everything that I had ever loved and worked for in my entire adult life.

My days with Takako and her fellow ESL students were by far some of the happiest days of my life. It seemed as though there wasn’t a single day that passed that we didn’t all put in $10.00 each, buy tons of food and drinks and bar-b-que together. Since she didn’t have a car, I became Takako’s chauffeur and we went absolutely everywhere and spent every sleeping and waking moment together and I was naturally starting to like her and develop feelings for her . . .

What I wasn’t sure about, however, was the fact that she wasn’t very voluptuous like Black men generally like women, but, she also wasn’t a total wacko like Black men generally experienced women, so given the choice between a total nut job with a big ole butt and a bad attitude and a super nice Asian lady with an average figure, I took the smaller ride, rather than one of the big crazy ones.

When I eventually asked Takako to be my girlfriend, the very disappointing answer was a firm, “ No, I can’t be your girlfriend, because you’re too young!” As a matter of fact, I was younger than her youngest sister . . . However, she was willing to be friends, which kept us literally glued together every day . . .

Though I was quite disappointed, as her chauffeur, we were still cruising around daily and soon it was her who was developing feelings for me . . . Especially, after she started curiously probing me and rubbing my hair and studying me more closely and I eventually kissed her . . . It was one of the most wonderful experiences of both of our lives, as it continued to be for the full length of what would eventually be our more than two decade long relationship.

We eventually spent so much time together that without knowing it we just literally melded into a couple. Just before we met, I had lost my dad to a freak car accident and I used the small portion of what my grandmother had determined was my share of the insurance settlement that I eventually got to buy Takako some clothes and a small television for her dorm. Takako appreciated those clothes so much that she literally wore them for years, even after we no longer lived in America, and when she eventually had to move out of her dorm for a couple of months, I told her that I was sure that it would be perfectly ok with my grandfather if she stayed at our house and by the time that we moved out of that house we had been there for eight years and had had three children together.

I can recall that when she first moved in and started washing my clothes and cooking for me, completely without me asking or even thinking of her washing my clothes and cooking for me, she asked me if I liked rice . . .

I can remember telling her that I absolutely hated rice because it was nasty . . . Then she went into this huge lecture about the innumerable breeds of rice and how it was just American rice that tasted horrible and once we were able to get our hands on some good rice I would totally love it and we eventually got our hands on what I didn’t know was some of the best rice in the World and I totally loved it.

Takako managed to get along extremely well with my grandfather and sister, who absolutely loved her, and she even got along with my grandfather’s hideous sister, who unfortunately lived right next door.

Though our lives were dreamy, there was one scare from her family.

The phone rang one day and it was a very anxious sounding international operator, “Does Takako live here,” she asked anxiously?

“Yes, she does,” I answered.

“Could you put her on the phone?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Takako,” I called out . . . While listening to someone chatter on the phone in an incomprehensible language.

“I think that it’s from Japan,” I told her . . . As I gave her the receiver.

“Oka san,” she exclaimed loudly!

“It’s my mother,” she told me.

They had a seemingly intense conversation for about 15 minutes and then she hung up the phone and told me, “That was my mother, she thought that I had been kidnapped and when I told her that I was living with my boyfriend she told me to pack all of my things and come home immediately.”

“Oh dear,” I told her. “I never thought about anyone thinking that you had been kidnapped.”

“It’s ok,” she told me . . . “My parents are very prejudice and they always worry . . . Before I came to America, they told me not to get involved with a Black man and now that I have, my father is angry, but my sister Yuko, who told me to find a husband in America, is very, very happy for me.”

I was very, very happy too to finally have a super-awesome woman who wasn’t an absolute and complete psycho . . . In fact, Takako was so even tempered that I literally couldn’t wait to get into her pants, just to see if she was really a woman and when I found that she actually was a woman I absolutely couldn’t believe it. I had literally never in my life met a woman under the age of sixty who wasn’t absolutely and completely fucking insane, especially when they were menstruating.

After about six months, we started sleeping together and Takako eventually became pregnant with both our first child. About halfway into her pregnancy, Takako started insisting that we get married, I believed in marriage, but I had seen so much divorce and so many couples part that I felt that we would stay together far longer if we remained extremely good friends who lived together . . .

“No,” Takako said . . . “If we’re having a baby together, we must get married,” so seeing as how she was extremely determined to get married and actually stay married and how much I really and truly loved her combined with the slim chance of me ever meeting a woman that possessed even an iota of sanity, on the advice of my grandfather, instead of having a huge ceremony, we went down to the courthouse and got married . . . We could always have a large traditional wedding ceremony later if we liked.

When the judge saw us walking toward him with her stomach sticking out, he already knew what we wanted and we were able to get a broom from a janitor, jump over it in the old slave tradition and we were officially married.

However, being a nineteen year old kid, I was $20.00 short of the fee to get married and I had to go back home and get $20.00 from my grandfather and bring it back to the courthouse to get our official marriage license.

For the most part, Takako thoroughly enjoyed her first pregnancy, I would occasionally see her smiling and hugging her stomach when she felt the baby kicking . . . Being impregnated was a deeply satisfying experience for her, especially given that she had never had a boyfriend before.

One day I came home from being out taking care of business of some sort and when I entered the door, Takako told me that Jody had called and said that she was coming over, even though Takako had told her that I was not at home.

I was quite surprised, I hadn’t talked to Jody in months and she almost never called me, it was always me who had called her . . . I had absolutely no idea of what was going on, I thought that her mother had died or something.

Within a few moments, sure enough, the doorbell rang, I looked out of the door and it was Jody . . .

I was like, “Jody, what are you doing here, I haven’t seen or heard from you in months . . . Has something happened?”

“I just wanted to see your new wife,” she retorted!

“How did you know that I had a wife?”

“I called you to see how you were doing and a foreign woman answered the phone and I knew that she was your wife . . .”

“And I see that she’s pregnant . . . Congratulations,” she said sarcastically as she abruptly left!

When we eventually made it to the delivery room I was a nervous wreck to the point that Takako grabbed me by the arm and said, “Why are you so scared, I’m the one who is having the baby?!”

I told her that a childhood friend of mine had lost his mother in childbirth, she had actually died having him and it had always haunted me . . .

If my wife had died delivering our child I would have dropped dead on the spot . . .

Mommy lived, however, we did not manage to escape tragedy . . . Though we took the absolute best of care of our new baby, we unfortunately lost her to SIDS, commonly known as Crib Death and when we did, both our mothers did not take the news of the loss of their first grandchild very well. As a matter of fact, they both told us in two different languages from two different corners of the world that we didn’t know what we were doing and that is why we had lost our first daughter . . .

We were inconsolably depressed . . . However, we eventually had two other daughters who brought us a tremendous amount of joy in both their youth and infancy and when our third daughter turned about two years old, Takako’s mother and sister came over to visit their first niece and granddaughter.

When Takako’s mother arrived in America, we rented a large sedan to take them places, because both my grandfather and I had pickup trucks . . .

My grandfather absolutely would not buy me a Cadillac or any other Pimpmobile type of vehicle because he had in fact adopted us from the state when my mother lost us because of her totally relentless strong, totally independent, Black female hideousness that nearly landed her in federal prison for every kind of senselessness under the sun. And since grandfather knew that I had literally been raised by Pimps, which all started at his chain of restaurants when I was a toddler and our restaurant catered largely to night-lifers, he thought that I might get myself in trouble if he bought me too big of a car.

My grandfather’s astoundingly hideous sister had a big coupe, but she acted such a huge idiot when anybody asked her to drive it that it in fact just sat there and rotted . . . Especially, after she created a huge scene years earlier when I had asked her to use it to take Jody out on a date and she came over and cursed me out in front of Jody which caused Jody to get totally pissed off at me because I didn’t curse my grandfather’s sister back out right in front of my grandfather.

Who does that?

Jody criticized me for months behind that, however, my grandfather was so proud of me having real sensibility that Black women have proven time and time again that they absolutely do not possess that he bought me a Chevy Silverado pickup truck and firmly chastened me to never ever ask his sister for anything ever again . . . And I never did.

When Takako’s mother made it to the house, she did a thorough inspection of the entire house, including the fact that we weren’t living alone, we were living with my grandfather, which she highly approved of . . . We had two 50 pound bags of high grade rice, check. We had plenty of food in the deep freezer and refrigerator, check . . . And she also inspected her grandchildren, who spoke fluent Japanese as their first language, final check . . . We passed the inspection, with the exception of Takako tossing my keys down to me, at my request... Her mother did not approve of her throwing things at her husband.

After that, it was off to inspect a few restaurants, during which her mother made me laugh by screwing the caps off of several of the seasonings that she encountered and smelling them . . . I think that she was pretty pleased with what she saw, until someone served her some Miso Soup, she smelled it and took one sip, made a highly perturbed facial expression and absolutely refused to eat it . . .check. No pass for the sub-par Japanese-American Miso soup...

Her sister was pretty much enjoying the trip and the girls took to their aunt and grandmother like they had spent their entire lives together, which it had been planned that they eventually would, because I sure wasn’t having them raised with the totally witless, strong, totally independent, Black women who had spent more than half of a Century claiming that they didn’t need anybody which had quite literally turned Black America into a huge slum.

Takako told me that her sister was completely shocked at how loud people were at restaurants. Which caused me to be shocked, I told her that we hadn’t even been to any loud restaurants, we went to an upscale Japanese restaurant in Memphis that we frequented and we went to a pretty quiet Pizza Hut in Hot Springs, Arkansas.

If they found these places shocking, what would they think of a really loud restaurant in a place like say, Baltimore or Boston, where, especially the Black kids are extremely high decibel.

Her family stayed for about a week and wrapped up their trip and went back to The Land Of The Rising Sun, which I think ultimately made our eventual move to Japan easier since her family at least had some familiarity with our children.

THE KOKO INCIDENT

One day, Takako