In some ways I won the gene lottery; in others I was either at the end of the line or left out entirely.
The ways I won? I'm good looking and fairly athletic. By the time that I was eighteen I was six two, two hundred pounds, with shiny blond hair, deep azure eyes, and a cherubic face, and was an all-conference lacrosse player. As I write this I'm still the same except that I put on ten pounds (mostly muscle) and no longer play lacrosse.
The ways I lost? I am about the worst judge of character possible. I simply can't read people. I am also normally totally unobservant and completely oblivious. I've tried working on these issues, so far without much success.
In between the above attributes, I'm at least reasonably intelligent -- at least intelligent enough to graduate from college though certainly no phi beta kappa. I also have one more idiosyncrasy; even though I earned a black belt in Brazilian jujitsu no one that I know except for my parents and brother knows that because some people think you have some sort of personality disorder if you take martial arts, and I don't want to be perceived that way.
Despite my good looks, I had many relationships with women sour during High School and in college. My parents and siblings always said that it was because the girls I picked to have relationships with -- while beautiful -- had seriously flawed personalities that I never picked up on until they either made my life unbearable, cheated on me, and/or dumped me.
I started out college at a Division I state school playing lacrosse, although just on a partial scholarship. Because my parents had to put two other kids through school, lacrosse was taking up too much of my time, I didn't really like the college I initially enrolled in, and I had been approached to do some modelling, my sophomore year I transferred to a small college in the Los Angeles area. I gave up lacrosse (my school didn't have a team so that was no big deal), worked fairly regularly as a model and with bit parts on T V and in movies, and made enough money to pay for school and support myself. As my only really physical outlet I continued with jujitsu, normally working out three or four times a week.
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My senior year in college I met Denise on a modelling shoot. Denise was too petite to be a fashion model, but her looks were perfect for many other types of modelling. She just about defined "cute" with her pixie cut blond hair and extremely symmetrical and pleasing face, and she also was sexy if dressed right (or, as I found out, if she was naked). She has a perfect round ass, thighs to die for, a slim waist, and perky small tits.
Denise and I seemed to hit it off right from the start. It was fortunate that she lived with several roommates only about a mile from my dorm on campus. She had graduated High School but either didn't have the interest or smarts for college. She was one year older than my twenty one when we met. After two days of shooting together, and two dates, I found myself in her bedroom sucking on the cutest little clit that I had ever seen while trying to abuse her G-spot with my middle finger, as she was concurrently trying to swallow my cock. As I fucked her tight pussy doggy style I simultaneously stimulated her tiny but extremely sensitive nipples. We had in-sync titanic orgasms not just the first fuck, but also the second dirty dangle fuck, and the third wheelbarrow fuck. On the last one I rendered her comatose.
After they met Denise three times I was surprised that my parents, siblings, and friends didn't gush about her -- but being as unobservant as I am I never really fixated on it at that time. Only looking back on it does their reaction ring any bells. I was too busy fucking up a storm with Denise -- and WOW, could she fuck; light years better than anyone before her.
Denise and I got married a month after I got a nice apartment and two months after I graduated college and accepted a job in the financial sector. While modelling was a great way to get money for college and expenses, I was interested in mentally challenging work, so except for a few odd jobs that Denise -- who continued to model full time -- got me I gave up modelling when I graduated.
Denise's family and friends seemed more enthusiastic that we were tying the knot than my family and friends were -- again something that I focused on only in retrospect.
For a year things with Denise seemed perfect to me. One thing was for sure -- the sex. Then Denise's Mom unfortunately died in a car accident. I was very supportive of her throughout her grieving process, which lasted for about six months before she seemed to snap out of it. During her grieving period our sex life understandably suffered a little, but not real dramatically. When she did appear to end her grieving period she became even more of a tiger in bed -- if possible -- than the first year that we were married.
The circumstances surrounding me finding Denise cheating are not important to relate except for the fact that Denise should have known that it was possible that I would arrive at our apartment on the Friday afternoon at the time that I did.
At first I couldn't believe it when I saw her in our bed, on her hands and knees, with a big guy that I didn't recognize talking dirty to her as he was doggy-fucking her. I recovered fairly quickly, however, and trying to draw on my martial arts training to keep my cool got the carbon dioxide fire extinguisher out of the kitchen and hit the fuckers with a first short blast -- which immediately caused them to separate -- and then a second short blast.
CO2 fire extinguishers aren't designed to just smother a fire -- they also instantly cool it. The pressurized carbon dioxide REALLY cools when it hits skin. The cold blasts that the fuckers got would be enough to "burn" their skin if I hadn't been careful to make the blasts short.
Both fuckers screamed when I blasted them. Denise screamed even louder when she saw me and instantly covered her naked body with a sheet -- like I hadn't seen her naked before. The guy she had been fucking was not the least bit contrite -- he was, in fact, belligerent.
"You fucking asshole, why did you do that?" he yelled at me. Maybe he thought he could get away with it because he was likely three inches taller and thirty pounds heavier than I am.
"Oh, I don't know, retard -- maybe because I don't like other people fucking my wife," I sarcastically shot back as I tossed the fire extinguisher to the side.
"She invited me here -- I can't help it if you can't service her properly," he snarled as he remained naked, perhaps even being delusional enough to think that he was going to get back into bed with her.
"Well only my name is on the lease, so unless you're out of here in thirty seconds I'm evicting you, you moronic trespasser."
At this point Denise was screaming at "Joe" to leave and at "Brian" (me) not to get in a fight. Instead, Joe decided that he would teach me a lesson and approached me and swung his right fist at me. I couldn't believe my good luck!
With a move Joe never saw coming in one motion I blocked his swing and broke his wrist as I flipped him on his back. As he groaned and cried in pain, holding his broken right wrist with his left hand, I gathered up most of his clothes -- his shirt and socks got left behind -- in my left arm, and with my right grabbed his hair, yanked him to his feet, and then bum-rushed him out the door into the hallway, throwing his clothes on top of his prone, whimpering body.
I then marched back into the bedroom and started packing two suitcases. Denise was quietly sobbing. "What are you doing Brian," she stupidly asked.
"I'm putting up wall paper, what does it look like bitch?" I sarcastically shot back. Then I stared her in the eye for the first time during the incident, pointed a finger at her, and said "You have one week to vacate the premises. If you're not out in a week I will throw all of your shit out the window, and you with it you cheating cunt!"
I had never even raised my voice to Denise before, let alone called her names. She was stunned into silence while I finished packing the things that I'd need most for the next couple of days, as well as all of my valuables. Then I left with two suitcases, slamming the front door behind me. That asshole Joe had apparently recovered enough to vacate the premises because he was no longer in the hallway. When I got outside I saw him gingerly opening his car door, in obvious pain, but he had driven away before my suitcases were properly placed in my trunk and I was ready to take off.
