Pushing the Ultimate Button

This is the fourth installment of the marital adventures of Jerry and Karen, following Aftermath, Limelight, and The Magic Boxers.

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"So what do women really think about cock size?"

The half chewed pizza crust flew across the table and hit me on the cheek. Bits of mushroom and green pepper littered my polo shirt. Diet Coke dripped off my forehead.

Abby, Brenda and Connie scurried to wipe me down and clean me up. Paper napkins piled at the center of the table, my new woman coaches kept repeating various forms of, "Oh God, I'm sorry!"

I, however, was smiling from ear to ear. Their sudden guilt insured that I would be getting some honest feedback. I wanted to hear the truth.

"So?"

"You're serious? You really want to have this conversation?" Abby asked.

"Yeah... I want to know what you really think," I firmly stated. "Educate me. Help me to understand."

"Why? Has Karen implied that you are too small?"

"Never. I'm just curious..."

How could I tell these girls that my brain was warped after years and years of reading stories on Literotica? I've read countless stories of loving and faithful wives suddenly worshiping giant double digit length cocks, cheating and ruining their lives, families and marriages. It was starting to affect me.

"Consider it a question that almost every male of the species has...are we big enough?" I continued.

"Insecurity isn't limited to men only, Jerry. My husband cheated on me. Do you know how many times I've asked myself why I couldn't keep my man? Millions..." Connie stated.

"Sorry, Connie. Your ex was an idiot, and certainly you deserved better. Any man would be thrilled to be your partner...and in your heart you know that's true," I stated emphatically.

Silence enveloped the table as they looked at me, slowing shaking their heads before Abby sighed, "OK, Jerry, you really want to have an honest discussion about size?"

"Yes."

"And you promise to believe us?"

"Yes."

Abby sat back in back in the booth and closed her eyes. Ten seconds later she began speaking...

"Every woman probably has a different answer about this... I will give you my honest opinion. Take it for what it's worth..."

"Fair enough."

"What is Karen's bra size?"

"Thirty four C, but..."

"Stop! Now, I bet you love her breasts..." Abby continued.

"Absolutely! Every chance I get..."

"You love the shape. Love to hold them. Squeeze them. Play with them?" Abby questioned.

"You bet!"

"I bet you suck on those big nipples just about every night."

"Damn right! Why do you think she calls me 'baby' as a term of endearment? She says I'm her adult child. Early in our marriage she used to give me a pacifier to use during her period when her breasts were sore. She wanted me to keep in practice."

"Great. Now let's say you woke up tomorrow morning and Karen's breasts were now a thirty two A cup and her nips were really tiny, would you love them any less?"

"Well... I'd wonder why, but I'd still be trying to suck them off her chest!"

"Exactly! And do you know why?"

"Well... She's my wife and I love her..."

"Exactly! Because you love her, it really doesn't matter what size her breasts are. You love them because you love her. And the same is true with wives and their husband's.....ah.....penises. We love them because they're a part of the man we love."

"Now I'm not going to lie to you, if Mike's penis was only two inches long I'd have never married him. But he's average and I'm satisfied. The truth is every woman wouldn't mind if their husband was just a little longer or a little thicker. It's human nature to want more. I drive a very nice Toyota Camry but I wish I were driving a Lexus. But my Camry's got heated seats and I like it just fine. I love Mike and that's really the most important thing..." Connie concluded.

"I dated a guy once on the football team in college," Brenda continued. "A big guy, a lineman... He was a full eight I'd guess, and thick, too. And I'm not going to lie, it was exciting... exciting to look at and exciting to play with! I was soaked with anticipation, and then when he actually started to penetrate me the reality set in..."

"It was painful, and to his credit, he took it slow and was gentle. Quite frankly, it wasn't as great as I thought it was going to be and I was sore for a whole week afterwards. Now, was I happy to have that experience? Absolutely. Would I ever want it again? No way! I satisfied my curiosity, and as I told you last lunch, I want sex all the time. Sam is just average size and he fits me perfectly. There is no pain, no recovery period, he hits all the right spots and that works very well for me," Brenda finished.

"To me, size really isn't all that important," Connie blushed. "I can work with just about any size. What's important to me is a man's tongue. If he cannot lick me to an....an.....orgasm...he's simply not a keeper. I'll take oral skills over a big penis any day!"

"Anyway, guys who are average size tend to try harder. Their insecurity works to their advantage because their effort and enthusiasm really comes through. I like it when a man is giving me his best to try to please me... Makes me feel special....that I'm worth his effort."

"Jerry..." Brenda said, "We've all seen the bulge in your pants, and I feel relatively safe in stating that I don't think size, of lack of it, is something that you have to worry too much about."

"You know, I simply don't understand why husbands get stupid this way, asking stupid questions. Why go looking for trouble when there is none? Tell Karen every chance you get what a big penis you have. Positive reinforcement! Make her feel good and lucky to be with you..." Abby chastised.

"Besides, is any wife who chooses size over true love really worth growing old with?" Brenda rhetorically questioned.

"So does that ease your mind?" Abby asked.

"So is that REALLY the truth?"

The girls rolled their collective eyes and groaned, and then asked me how the maid that they recommended was working out. I told them that Karen thought she was working out just fine.

Being the day before Thanksgiving, we parted wishing each other a nice holiday. We were not expected back to work until the following Monday...

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At 3:00am Thanksgiving morning the alarm went off in our bedroom, and Karen and I rolled out of bed to start making our traditional Thanksgiving baked sweet potato dish for her church's midday dinner to the economically less fortunate and elderly. Or typically, rather, Karen prepared the food and I assisted, however, in light of my newly discovered cooking skills, I doomed myself to greater participation this year.

Karen was a very active member in the church. From early childhood, all throughout her formative years through Sunday school and vacation Bible school, it was central to her life. Even in the rebellious teen years, and as a troubled young adult, she never lost touch with her religion and her faith. She always believed that her God would deliver her to a better life. And as any Jayne would tell you, the story of our courtship could only have taken place through some kind of divine miracle. To my wife, her faith was at the very core of her existence and her church was the house of the Lord.

I, however, considered myself more a spiritual person than someone defined by any particular religious faction. Sure, I believed in God, I mean, who could look at sunrises and sunsets, or the miracle of your children being born and not believe there was something greater out there. I may be a sixty watt light bulb in a world full of hundred watters, but even to my simple mind, God existed and was very real.

But it was also my strong belief that God was just as easily talked to while walking in Penn's woods or standing on top of a mountain. I certainly didn't need a damn building to speak with God!

These convictions were born out of watching all the hypocrites on Sunday morning at the church my parents took me to as a youth. It always sickened me to watch my friend's fathers and mothers act like total idiots six days a week, only put on their best clothes and confess their sins in great theatrical fashion, then turn around the following day and start acting immoral all over again. They used the church to cover their asses, and it turned me off to the organized part of religion.

But because I loved Karen so much, I acquiesced to getting married in her church all those years ago. Heck, I would have jumped into the fiery pit of Hell to be with her! And through the years, I continued to accompany to her regular Sunday morning services. It is the small price that you pay when you are in love.

And the truth is that Karen's church has a lot of good people attending, and their Thanksgiving dinner was certainly culinary proof that the congregation didn't just talk a good game. They really did help a lot of needy people in a very Christ-like fashion.

Sweet potatoes a la Karen are certainly easy to make. You just had to make sure that you had plenty of butter and brown sugar along with two special ingredients, cinnamon and tarragon. For seven straight hours we kept feeding lasagna sized heavy duty aluminum foil trays into the oven. At 11am we loaded up the trunk of the Fusion and drove over to Karen's church.

To see the faces of the less fortunate, as they feasted on some very tasty food, certainly warmed our hearts. To look into their eyes, and simply convey the message that we were all human at the most basic level, was always a positive experience for us. As Karen and I held each other in bed later that night, we both realized how fortunate we were, both economically and emotionally, and the true meaning of Thanksgiving overcame us.

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But as typical in America, consumerism can rapidly push aside the good feelings of the previous day, and Black Friday morning I found myself standing in line at Best Buy. Karen's cell phone battery had died, and since our two year contract had expired, it seemed like an appropriate time to upgrade our outdated flip cell phones to something a little smarter. For me, I probably should have considered a Jitterbug, since my eyesight was rapidly getting worse, but our boys had convinced us to get something on the cutting edge. God only knew who was going to teach us how to use the damn things!

I stood in line, even after doing hours of on-line research, not knowing what to get. An iphone or a Galaxy? I was going to surprise Karen with my selection, but then I remembered I was married! Buy the right phone and I'm a hero, buy the wrong phone and I'm sorely lacking in communication skills! In the end, I did what any smart husband does, and stuck a couple of hundred's in an envelope for Karen to choose for us. I really didn't care, a phone's a phone, and making my wife happy trumps any technological differences. I decided we would go shopping together when she got home from work.

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Knowing that we had plenty of leftover food from the Thanksgiving dinner, I decided to spend the rest of my Friday doing a final leaf clean up in the yard. Your mind tends to wander while performing this yearly task and riding around on the John Deere, I have frequently solved the world's problems. There is something about cutting grass and mulching leaves which lends itself to reasonable thought and reminiscing. Be it the roar of the engine or the smell of the gasoline, I have always been able to work things out in my mind.

I have always thought that the President should spend an hour every week cutting the White House lawn. Perhaps things would be better in this county. But then again, solving problems on either side of the political fence is about more than having the answers...

My grandfather, God rest his soul, used to love cutting the grass so he wouldn't have to listen to my grandmother bitch and complain. When he retired, he'd be on that tractor for eight hours each and every day the sun would shine. He always told his wife that he wanted the best looking yard in the neighborhood. He would just ride around all day and be happy. Every night he would get down on his knees and pray it wouldn't rain. He's the only man I ever saw buried with a green and yellow John Deere cap on his head.

But on the day my grandmother died, I held this old man in my arms while he cried like a baby. His life was never the same. He would often just stare out the window as the grass grew high in the yard. Many months later on the day he took his last breath, as I was holding his hand, he had the greatest smile I had seen in years plastered on his shallow yellowish face. "I love you, Pap." I spoke in his ear, tears running down my cheeks. "Don't cry, boy," he whispered back. "I'm going to see your Grandma, and I hope she has a nice peach pie waiting for me..." Even though his body had failed him, he was lucid enough that I always assumed that his final words to me had more than one meaning.

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As the afternoon quickly evaporated, I saw Karen's car pull up the driveway and waved to her as I was finishing the last of the cleanup. She waved and beeped the horn back at me as she pulled in the garage. About an hour later, my ears still buzzing from the roar of the tractor's engine, I wandered into the house, dusty, dirty and badly in need of a shower.

Karen emerged from the bathroom in her favorite jeans, the ones that shaped her ass perfectly and were a dazzling shade of sky blue. She wore a white semi-sheer ruffled blouse and you could see the outline of a black lacy push-up demi bra underneath. The top two buttons were open and she was sporting some cleavage. Topping off the outfit was a pair of three inch white satin pumps. She looked hot!

"Are we going out tonight?" I questioned, temporarily forgetting my plan for us to go pick out new cell phones.

"No, baby.... We aren't..... But I am."

"Oh..."

"I have a date tonight."

"What?"

"I'm going out on a date tonight, baby. But don't worry, I still love you."

I stood there in stunned silence as Karen came over and kissed me lightly on the lips. The faint smell of her favorite perfume lingered in the air.

"And if you're lucky, I'll have a nice sweet creamy dessert for you to eat when I get home," she giggled, "Wish me luck!"

"Huh?" was all I could manage.

Red tail lights from a car backing up the driveway grew larger in the front picture window in the 6pm darkness. A horn suddenly beeped twice.

"Oh! There's my date now..." she stated, grabbing her small satin purse off the dining room table.

"Just remember, no matter what, baby, I still love you," she winked at me and then hustled out the front door, jumped in the front seat of the car, and disappeared into the night. The whole scene took about a minute to play out...

I stood there shaking my head. My wife? On a date? With someone other than me? What the fuck?

Taking out my cell to call her, I noticed her flip phone, dead battery and all, sitting on the kitchen counter. Shit! Why didn't I buy some damn phones this morning? How freaking stupid could I have been?

I plopped down on a chair and started thinking. Did I miss something? Some obvious sign? I thought Karen and I were doing so well... How could she cheat on me? Even worse, if that's possible, how could she rub it in my face? I sat there in a daze trying to process the unfathomable.

My mind swirled. Maybe she was just teasing me... but why the sexy outfit? The perfume? She looked dressed to fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

One thing was certain; I was no God damn wimp! No, sir. I wasn't going to sit here like a sad puppy and wait for her cheating ass to come home with a pussy full of another man's cum! Fuck that! I'd find this stupid asshole that was chasing her and kick the shit out of him! Oh Jesus... what if he already caught her? I pushed this thought to the back of my mind as I grabbed my coat and raced to the Fusion.

I almost took the garage door off the hinges as I gunned the engine down the driveway. Turning left towards the city I had to assume that they would be having dinner first. Surely, my wife would want to eat before she fucked another man. Jesus, what was I thinking! My speed reached into the eighties on the twisting two lane road as I raced towards Harrisburg. Thai food. My wife would want to eat Thai food if she were going to eat dinner out. I tried to keep breathing as a light mist started to fall.

Through my mental haze I listed all the Thai restaurants where we normally ate in my mind. One by one, I raced from one to the other, showing my wife's photo to each hostess. Nothing. Perhaps Mexican? After coming up empty at six more restaurants, it dawned on me that perhaps she would be eating at someplace different. New lover, new restaurant, new experiences. I slumped back in my car seat. There was nothing to do but drive home and pack. An overwhelming feeling of emptiness overcame me.

The roads were slick and a light fog started to form. Suddenly, I almost t-boned a minivan full of kids after running a stop sign. I locked up the brakes and missed them by inches. When the Fusion skidded to its stop, I sat in the middle of the intersection for a few seconds trying to catch my breath.

Finally making it home, as I sat in the Fusion in the garage, the thought of Karen in another man's arms caused me to vomit out the car door. When my stomach was finally empty, I laid back in the seat and cried.

The smell of cleaning up the mess on the garage floor brought me back to reality. Finding the suitcases down the basement was easy. They were right where I set them after we got back from Mexico three months ago. I packed just enough clothes to get me through the following week. My legs felt rubbery and my breathing was labored. Making my way into the living room, a sense of dizziness forced me to sit down. I realized I needed to take my blood pressure medicine with me before I left.

I sat there, trying to steady myself, staring into the flames of the pellet stove. Sadness seemed to paralyze me, and the swinging of the pendulum of the grandmother clock filled my ears with a rhythmic "tick-tock." Hearing the clock strike nine times, it was like someone hitting me with a hammer inside my brain.

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I heard the front door lock turn and there stood Karen smiling at me. Damn! I wanted to be gone before she returned...

"Hi, baby..." she cooed, before noticing the suitcases sitting beside chair I was resting on.

I just emptily stared at her. I was completely numb.

"What's with the suitcases, honey? Are we going on another vacation?"

"I'm leaving, Karen. Just as soon as I can stand up without falling down."

"What? Nooooooo!" she exclaimed, her eyes suddenly getting big with understanding. "I.....I.....was just out with the girls at a Pampered Chef party."

"Yeah, right!" I rasped, "Don't make it worse by lying to me, too."

"No, really I was..." she stammered, "Look, I got a deviled egg tray for your Steeler's playoff party this year." She held up some large oval shaped piece of plastic. "It has this compartment in the bottom that you can put water in and freeze so it keeps the eggs cold."

"The Steelers aren't going to the playoff this year..."

"Baby, look at this! I brought you a piece of cheese cake from the party," as she held up another plate. "Get it? '...a creamy sweet desert for you to eat...'" her voice trailing off.

"Did you get fucked real good, Karen? Did he have a nice big cock? Was it worth it?"

"H....honest......baby, I was with the girls. Connie picked me up. She was my date. Abby and Brenda were there, too." She started trembling. "I've never and would never cheat on you, babe. I love you."

"Yeah. Sure... 'I'm going out on a date!' The sexy clothes. The perfume. That's how every woman dresses to go out to a damn cooking party. Do you really think I'm that stupid?"