Curing a Brat Girlfriend

It all started, I think, because I couldn't get her to stop singing Melissa Manchester songs. Not that I particularly hated Melissa Manchester, mind. She is a fine singer, and under other circumstances I might even appreciate her. But not now. Not with Cheryl.

Cheryl is my girlfriend. Of course, she's a lot more than that now, maybe better, certainly different. You might meet her later. See, Cheryl has gone from being a dandy piece of ass and a good looker, though clearly a problem child to deal with, to someone who is as, well, compliant as one might wish. And I do wish. Oh my, yes, I do wish a lot. And she answers those wishes, every damned one of them.

As I mentioned, the issue was Ms. Manchester. The song in question was, if memory serves, "You Should Hear How She Talks About You," an up tempo piece with some sort of neo-disco beat. Cheryl loved that song, had it on a cassette she'd almost worn out, which was bad enough entirely. She played it a lot when we were first together, and it was cute for a while. In her opinion, it was Our Song. Gad. In my opinion, I preferred something by Zeppelin, thanks, or even Genesis, for God's sake. I could even have gotten behind another of Manchester's pieces, "Don't Cry Out Loud." But no. She thought that particular Melissa tune rocked, and that the song was perfect. I went along to get along. I guess I went along too much.

We had had an awful week. My business was in a periodic decline (they happened like clockwork every Spring, and things revived in late Summer), she was under stress at her work, and we were squabbling a lot. I would come back to the apartment all stressed and frustrated, and I would grab a beer and turn on some Miles Davis or John , maybe even Louie or The Duke, and just chill. I'd calm down enough to grab a shower, and by the time Cheryl got home, I'd be in a pretty good mood. Then she'd blow in stressed, turn on Melissa, and start slamming cupboard doors and acting bitchy. I guessed that she just had to blow off the steam accumulated during the week, and I was generally ok with being the designated target, but after awhile, she stopped apologizing. And she stopped asking if she could change tapes. She'd just do it, regardless of what else was happening, and storm around the place. And she had a stinky temper.

Now, the thing is, I have a temper, too. Not a bad one, and I had been taught long ago that gentlemen don't hit ladies. You just don't, and I never did. But, boy, there were moments when it was right up to the edge, and only the sound of my Daddy's voice in my ear kept her from getting her block popped. But I did and do have a temper. And mine was like pretty much everyone else's in my family. It was sneaky, and onlookers never could quite get a handle on exactly when it would blow, because we all made the effort not to let anything show. Which worked up to the point where the thing was triggered, and then all Hell would break loose. And Cheryl had never actually seen that side of me. Keep that in mind.

So, the night when things started to blow up big, I was chilling after a shower, listening to Miles. Cheryl stomped in all hot and pissy, started throwing things all around, and went rummaging through the refrigerator for something cold. She found it, then came out into the front room and went for the stereo. She grabbed a CD, and started to reach for the eject button. "Leave it alone," I said. She turned and looked at me, clearly even more pissed than before, if possible. "You heard me. Leave it alone. Go take a shower or something and calm down."

Well, that's where the screaming started. I caught such unbelievable hell that you'd have thought I kidnapped the Lindburgh baby and helped Hitler take the Sudetenland. I sat there and just let it wash over me. She screamed a bit more, something about "who the fuck do you think you are anyway, my goddamn father?" When I replied "if I was, I'd wash out your mouth with soap," she stamped off, went into the bedroom, and slammed the door. I heard the shower going for a bit, then the hairdryer. A few minutes after that, she came back out, her mood not much improved. "Did you make dinner," she asked with a scowl. "There's a pot of vegetable soup on the stove," I answered, trying, vainly, not to set her off again. It didn't work. Apparently, vegetable soup was probably the worst damn thing I could have done short of murdering her mother.

Well, after she ranted for a bit, acting like a spoiled brat, I gave it up. In mid rant, I went to the closet, got my running shoes, and laced up. "Where the fuck do you think you're going," she asked, vitriol dripping. "I thought I'd go somewhere a little less loud. Like a steel foundry or a race track." I was losing patience. She came over, got right in my face. "Why do you have to be such a shit?"

I stared at her evenly. "Dunno. Why do you have to be such a bitch?" Which was when she slapped me. I felt my hand draw back, and it almost…almost fired out. She saw the look in my eye and stumbled away. I dropped my arm to my side. Then I turned and walked out.

I ran for about an hour, and then got into a pick up basketball game up the street. All told, it was about two hours later when I got back. She was not there, as I'd hoped, and there was a snide little note to the effect that I oughtn't wait up. Like I was going to. But she wrote down where she would be. She was out drinking with her friends, and I knew pretty much what that meant. She would get hammered and be even more unreasonable than before. Which is how it shook out. She stumbled in a little after two, futzed around in the bathroom for a couple of minutes, then staggered to bed. She threw off her clothes, and got in, curled up, and began to snore. Obviously, she was drunk. Just as obviously, it became apparent within an hour or so, she had been doing something more than drinking. I woke back up with all the covers over on me and her bald naked on the other side of the bed. She was laying there spread out, snoring like hell. I was still kind of cranky at her, but I loved her.

The thing is, Cheryl was and is absolutely gorgeous. Dark brown hair, deep blue eyes, and an olive complexion made her attractive, but 36D tits and a round and highly functional ass made her a knockout. She would look good wearing a paper bag, and laying there spread and nude, I wanted nothing more than to tear off a little. We hadn't been fucking much lately because we were too busy dealing with the fact that she was a constant brat and bitch. I figured what the hell, and started to caress her anyway. Stone asleep, she nevertheless started to respond. I caressed her tits, then leaned over and lightly licked the nipple nearest to me. It pinched tightly and stood up sharply. She moaned a little, then ran her hand across her chest. I gently started to light her up with little kisses under her tits, then nuzzled her neck, lightly leaving tiny amounts of moisture and then blowing gently across them. She shivered, and her nipples crinkled even tighter. Then I ran my hand down her belly in little circles, lightly. She started to move a bit around her hips, then they rose upwards and around. Obviously, she was getting aroused. I heard a little moan in the back of her throat. I stroked down to her pussy, playing with the lips a bit, then ran my fingers over her moistening slit. And then stopped and leaned over to get a closer look and a whiff. I checked her out carefully and got incredibly pissed off. There was no doubt. She had been laid earlier, and I knew damn well that it hadn't been me doing the deed.

It was all I could do not to wake the bitch up and confront her. Instead, I decided to see who she was fucking and how long it had been going on.

It didn't take too long to find out who. By calling and leaving a message on our machine telling her I'd be home very late, I accomplished the first task. I was waiting down the street in my car, and a Mazda Miata rolled up about a half hour later and one of Cheryl's co-workers clambered out and up the steps of our apartment. I went and got a cappuccino, then returned, walking up to the back of the place. I had left the curtain on our bedroom strategically opened before, and I positioned myself to observe the action.

It was a little intense. I got myself situated outside the window just in time to see my girlfriend in a full-body lip lock with her buddy. She was wearing a robe, but I recognized it as one that left little to the imagination, and it was apparent that she wore nothing under it. They kissed, almost frantically, hands all over the place. He started down the front of her, kissing her neck and then moving on to her tits, caressing them, licking the nipples, hoisting them and squeezing them like cantaloupes. There was something almost clinical about the way I watched them. I know that all sorts of other guys get off on watching their wives or girlfriends make it with someone else, but I found it pretty unappetizing and kind of disgusting on a really basic level.

See, she and I had moved in together, and while there wasn't a marriage involved, there was clearly an intention to be monogamous. I hadn't fucked around on her, even when one of my employees made it absolutely clear that she would be receptive to my advances..as well as open to a good, quick buggering. She had a thing for anal, Gretchen did, and the thing was, she was ok with people knowing it. At least certain, select people. Like me, for instance.

So I stood there watching this guy worik his way down to her pussy and then back her into a wall and spread her out. Then he went to town on her, licking, fingering and playing with her G-Spot until she was breathing like a steam engine and the sweat was pouring off of her forehead. She kept trying to get over to the bed, but he had her well and truly trapped against the wall, his face buried in her crotch, and her face was a study in the frantic quest for orgasm. She finally had her hips shoved at him, her cunt opened up and her hands all over her tits, yanking on her nipples and kneading the things, but she still couldn't cum. I had to give it to the guy; he clearly knew what the hell he was doing, and I actually learned a trick or two. Then, at the point where I figured she would either shoot off like a Roman Candle or explode into a puddle of goo, he pulled back. She cried out and threw her fingers at her crotch, but he grabbed then and tossed her onto the bed on her knees. And the thing was, her ass was pretty much pointed directly at me.

It was a swamp. She was wide open, red as a baboon's butt, and soaking wet. He got up behind her and fired a six inch moisture missile into her cunt and started slamming away like he knew I'd be home in a few minutes. She started whooping almost immediately, banging back against him with obvious pleasure, and then went almost insane when he got his hands onto her tits and started working them. Then suddenly, things changed. He pulled back, pulled out, spread some of her lubrication all around her asshole and then -BOOM! – plunked his dick inside her. And if she was going nuts before, this clearly made her even happier and even more excited.

This might have been the most annoying part. She had always claimed that she didn't care that much for oral sex and didn't like performing it, but I could deal with that. But I also remembered that she had been loud and clear about her idea that anal was gross and disgusting, and that she could NEVER have anything in the world to do with it. Uh-huh. Right.

Slowly at first and then with more speed, he pounded away at her ass with everything he had, and her shrieks filled the room. Finally, I could see him tense up. He reached underneath her and did something interesting with her clit, and she screamed and torched off. Her wails filled the room, and she grabbed her tits hard as she came. Which is about the point where he filled her ass. And then collapsed on top of her.

They lay there for quite a while, and she finally got them moving. He ran through the shower while she cleaned up the room, and then they smooched for a few moments and he left. I knew he couldn't see me where I was, but I went around and watched him leave anyway. Then I came back, watched Cheryl finish cleaning up, padding around in a terry cloth robe with wet hair, and then left. I needed to think this one over.

A couple of evenings later, still undecided as to how I was going to proceed (though my basic reaction was to throw her out on her ass, I was resisting it for the moment), we had another row and she headed out for fun and games with "the girls." Like I believed that. So I tailed her. Our town isn't so big that I couldn't find her anyway and I already knew where she liked to go, but I was a bit surprised when she went to the only strip joint in town. I was less surprised when I saw the sign that read "Amateur Night." I knew that the thought of stripping turned her on, and she was a bit of an exhibitionist anyway, but so far as I knew, she'd never stripped in a nightclub.

So I went in and lurked around the bar drinking bourbon and nursing a grudge which only got worse as the night wore on. In a room full of howling testosterone, about thirty girls got up and showed titty, either through a wet t-shirt or bare as God intended. And as individual girls were eliminated, the contest got filthier and the girls got wilder. The first round had everyone simply standing around in bikini bottoms and a wet top. The emcee walked up to them, put a hand over the girl's head, and the crowd would either roar approval or yell sporadically. The girl either continued in the contest or left the stage, in the latter instance, I assume, to slink out the back door and go home to drink huge amounts of vodka. The "winners" stayed around the perimeter of the stage waiting for the second round. Cheryl, as owner and operator of some prize-winning hooters, stayed through the first round after the crowd gave a banshee scream when she posed for them. The second round followed form and a half dozen more girls went away to drink beer, sulk, and get picked up by onlookers. The third round was a bit more licentious. The first girl, a knockout blonde with small tits and a dynamite ass upped the ante by tearing her shirt off and playing with her tits. The next girl, better equipped in the tit department, did much the same, but also played with the bikini bottom, almost but not quite giving the crowd a beaver shot. The following girl, with little compunction, did all of the above, then pulled the crotch of her bikini aside momentarily and danced away from the shrieking mob clustered just in front of the stage. The next couple of girls either left their tops on, or just kind of stood around once they had them off. Cheryl was next, and she moved to the next level by simply ripping the top away and pulling her bottoms off. Then she started shimmying around the stage and the place went berserk. A couple of girls coming after her seemed deflated, and had no wish to go that far, and didn't. The last girl, however, a really stunning redhead, not only got nude, but went to the front of the stage and did the splits for the dogs up front. She lay down and threw her legs wide open. From where I was, you could feel the testosterone level rise to incredible heights, and the girl's eyes sparkled and glittered, knowing she had the crowd in her…ahem, well, had their attention.

None of this had escaped the attention of the other contestants. The crowd screamed their votes for the finalists, and five girls stood in a line behind the emcee.

"Ok, ladies! Here's your last chance to convince the crowd that you ought to be the winner here this evening! You have three minutes each!" The emcee stood back and waved the small-titted blonde forward. "First up, here's Donna!" She strutted front and center, presented her tits to the panting onlookers, then pulled firmly on the nipples to make them perk up. She moved around, bending over every so often to let the crowd fancy her ass. Finally, on one particularly nasty looking bend over, she reached back and dropped her bottom onto the stage and spread wide. She was shaved smooth, and it seemed possible to count every wrinkle around her cunt. She looked delicious, and if it could be said that a room got a hard on, that one did. She finished and sauntered over to the others with a "beat that" look on her face. The next girl, Alex, gave it a real college try. She was nude before she got three paces downstage, and proceeded to writhe about on the floor as though she was in the throes of a particularly exquisite orgasm. She kept tossing her long, light brown hair over her face, and repeatedly spread her pussy out wide, once using her fingers. She knelt and showed gash, stood and showed gash, then crouched and really showed gash, which was when she pried her lips open and shook her 34C boobs at us. Entertaining. And definitely uncomfortable when you wear tight jeans, as I do.

Lois was next, a girl whose gimmick, apparently, was her glasses and apparent shyness about being a naked flirt. Well, she pranced around with her bottom on for quite awhile, then "shyly" pulled it off, taking care to reveal as little of her nether anatomy as she could…until it could look like an accident. Well, the guys liked that one a lot, because who can resist a girl that just can't help herself? Raucous cheers and hoots from the crowd.

Cheryl followed, and the difference between her and the rest was night and day. There was an earthy sexuality about her that simply burst onto the stage. While the others pranced and teased, suggesting that the sex might be great and the view, at any rate was real damned nice, you almost didn't pay attention to the view for thinking about how unbelievable good the sex would be with her. Now, the thing is, she was always a good lay. Always, and sometimes better than that. But the girl out there moving around was something I hadn't quite seen before, and in spite of my anger and sense of betrayal, I wanted her now. Right now, and badly.

I looked away after a moment because I didn't need that complication in my head, and looked around at the others in the crowd. Let's put it this way: if there was no law against it, the entire place would be lined up to rape the ass off of that girl, and if it was possible at that moment to buy a piece of her, you could have funded a public swimming pool.

Finally, she was done, and then moved back by the redhead, who took her turn up front by doing some of the nastiest things I've ever seen in public. Not content to show her tits and ass, which were world class, she topped the others by getting into dog style position, snaking a hand between her thighs, and masturbating for the crowd. She was going at it luxuriantly at first, and by the wetness that flashed under the lights, it became readily apparent that she was enjoying herself richly. She spent the remainder of her time spread wide open with her hands both working her crotch. Unbelievable.

The winner seemed to be a foregone conclusion, but when the howls died down, it was apparent that Cheryl and Brenda, the redhead, had tied. At least that's what the emcee said. So there would be a sudden death strip off, both going at the same time. Cheryl moved around, flashing ass and opening her pussy for the crowd while Brenda resorted to the same tactics as before, only more so. She had fingers up inside of herself, and could be seen to be near cumming. Cheryl appeared to make a decision not to be out-slutted and went over to the other girl and started to kiss her and play with her tits. Brenda's eyes flew open and looked panicked for an instant, and then settled in to the possibilities. Cheryl quickly worked her way down to Brenda's crotch and started eating her energetically. The redhead went ballistic. The place got really quiet while the girl moaned and screeched her pleasure. Cheryl had her ass out to the audience, and it became evident that it was turning her on as well, given the rivulets of lubrication streaking her thighs.