Three Out Of Four Isnt Bad

My name is Ryan Sunderland. I am 38 years old, a vice president of a national chemical company and I believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy.

I also believe my wife of 14 years loves me above all else.

Well, check that. Up until tonight, I believed my wife loved me above all else.

I guess three out of four isn't too bad. Fuck.

******

I suppose I should have seen it coming. She was so far out of my league. How could a creature of such beauty ever fall in love with someone like me?

Life was good in my little insulated world back at Stanford University in 2005. I was a molecular biology major in my junior year, three years removed from a Midwest high school career that saw me graduate as salutatorian and accumulate 10 varsity letters in three sports. I was 6-1, 175 pounds, blond-haired and brown-eyed. I did okay with the ladies, regularly dating women ranking up to a nine on a 10-point scale.

I didn't chase 10s because I knew my limits. The 10s went out with the top jocks, the pretty boys and the almost pretty boys with large wallets. There was no reason for me to waste my time chasing the unobtainable.

Oh, sure, I looked at 10s just like any other guy. After all, I was a normal 20-year-old with normal hormones. So, yes, I noticed her around campus from time to time. Fuck, every guy with normal hormones noticed her around campus. She was the very definition of a walking wet dream.

Jillian Bellman was sculpted out of perfection by the gods. Curvaceous almost to a fault with very large boobs and long, muscular legs, she had bright blue eyes, long brown hair and a beautiful, well-proportioned face on a 5-6, 120-pound frame. Quite frankly, most of the men at Stanford thought she was a 12 on a 10-point scale.

Never having actually met her, I was under the impression that she was completely aware of how hot she was. While other hot girls walked, she sauntered... and it was a fabulous saunter. When she took a deep breath, men drooled.

I was aware that she had walked into the Starbucks I was sitting in because I wasn't dead, but I never paid her any real attention because it was no use. So no one was more surprised than me when she appeared at my left elbow holding a cup of coffee asking if she could sit at my table.

I know I looked at her like a hungry lion looks at a wounded antelope; a look she'd probably seen thousands of times. I finally was able to respond affirmatively and she parked that beautiful ass and all the other beautiful parts down next to me.

"Have I done something to offend you?" she asked sincerely. "You avoid me like the plague."

Shit, I didn't even know the woman knew that I was alive, let alone was bothered by the fact that I didn't drool over her like every other guy.

"No, you haven't offended me. We've never been introduced, you're not in any of my classes and despite the fact that you're gorgeous, I really don't see any reason that I need to get to know you," I answered before taking a sip of my dark roast.

She looked at me as if I'd slapped her. What?

Jillian spent the next 10 minutes telling me everything I needed to know and a few things I didn't need to know about her, and why I needed to get to know her better. She made a valid argument, especially when she breathed in and out in her tight white blouse. I had to admit to myself that I might be shallower than I thought.

By the time we finished our coffees I had a date for the next Friday night.

I still wasn't sure exactly what happened when I got back to my dorm room later that night.

"You're not going to believe this, but guess who has a date with 'Sex on a Stick Bellman' next Friday night," I told my roommate, Duane, when he greeted me.

"Almost anybody but you?" he asked, laughing.

I think he almost dropped his teeth when he saw I wasn't joining him in his joke.

"Seriously? How the fuck did that happen? Did you threaten her or something?" he queried.

"I'm not really sure how that happened. She came over to me in the coffee shop and then... I think she may have asked me out," I said.

As she told me, I took her to an Italian restaurant and then to a dance club. Her version of a little black dress was amazing. I spent the entire meal trying not to stare at the bountiful cleavage in front of me, and I spent the entire time on the dance floor trying not to stare at her beautiful legs.

I found out she was smart as well as beautiful. She was majoring in English lit, and wanted to be a professor someday.

Joe Average Guy never planned on winding up in bed with a goddess on their first date, but it was an absolutely unforgettable experience. I was no virgin, but it was obvious after the first few minutes that she was way more experienced than me. She started by giving me the best blowjob I had ever had to that point in my life, and things only got better from there. After she swallowed my load, she gave me time to explore that lush body in between passionate kisses. When I got hard a second time, she pushed me down on my back in my bed and slowly—agonizingly slowly, in fact—mounted my hard dick and engulfed me to the root. I watched those fabulous boobs bouncing wildly as she fucked me into the mattress.

Jillian screamed out her first orgasm several minutes before I moved her to the side of the bed and mounted her from behind. I went back to playing with her breasts as I pushed into her harder and faster. Several minutes later she had a second climax and took me over the top with her, both of us roaring our fun.

We were lying entwined on my bed after our joining, and I was trying to decide if Jillian's half-dollar-sized areolae were mauve or rose. I rubbed a nipple and watched as it puffed out and hardened.

"I hope you're okay that I took charge," she whispered. "I've been getting hit on by men—not boys—since I was 14, and I've learned that I get more of what I want if I take it myself and not rely upon someone to give it to me.

"I know what I look like. I've been homecoming queen and prom queen, although not a cheerleader. Can't be jumping around and flipping with these," she said, pointing her index fingers at her boobs.

"I developed early and large, and the other girls all ridiculed me for about a year, until they started growing boobs. At that point, none of them came close to matching me, and I went from being ridiculed to being the alpha female. I learned another big lesson then: I don't take shit from anyone."

"So why me?" I asked. "Everyone knows that you have a thing for big guys, jocks. I certainly don't fit your type."

"Maybe I decided I needed to change my type a bit. The big guys can be physically dominant, but I don't think most of them are going anywhere in real life. I want somebody who will be able to afford to give me things in life and who doesn't look like a geek troll. I've been watching you for a while now, and I think you'll do nicely," she said.

"Thank you?" I questioned hesitantly.

"Oh, honey, you will," she said as she started caressing my dick back to full hardness.

We had a second date the next week, and this time I was ready for her when we went back to my room. I'm very proud of my pussy-eating skills, and between my fingers and mouth she spent an hour screaming out her pleasure. She finally begged me to move up the bed and make love to her. I kissed and licked my way from her sopping pussy to her sizable melons, then to her lips and neck. My face was soaked with her juices, but she had no problem with me sticking my tongue deeply into her mouth as I sank my hard cock into her molten center.

An hour later we were cuddling in my bed. Jillian was purring like a cat.

"I'll take that as your thank you," she said languidly, leaning up to kiss me.

To the surprise of virtually everyone, including myself, we became a couple. I was thrilled and amazed, but since I'm human, also extremely insecure when we went out to parties, or she was out and about on her own. It probably didn't help that she was somewhat of a flirt and had dated a fair amount of guys prior to me. I even asked her gently to tone it down a bit, explaining that, yes, it was hurtful to my fragile male ego. She giggled and said she'd try. I wasn't too comforted by that.

We were at a party on campus around midterm when my worst fears were realized. We were at the party for about an hour, had done some mingling and some dancing before I went off to get us a couple of Cokes. It took me about 10 minutes to get back to where Jillian said she was going to be. She was there all right: perched sideways on the lap of one of the scholarship football players, a big bastard who looked to be 6-5, 250 or so. She had her arms around his neck and her lips attached to his, while he had one hand around her waist and his other resting on the front of her tight jeans.

Jillian and the man-mountain were among a group of about eight people, half of them football players, when I walked up. If I was thinking clearly, I probably would have just walked away at that point, but sometimes my temper wins out over my intelligence.

"Hey, let go of my girlfriend!" I yelled as I made my way up to them, the cups of Coke now on the ground.

"My girlfriend now, fucker," he replied as he broke his kiss and glared at me.

My intelligence took back over at that point. Since she looked rather comfortable on his lap, I figured I should find out if she chose to upgrade before I decided to do something

really

stupid.

"Jill? You coming with me or staying with him?" I asked harshly.

While the two had stopped kissing, I noticed she had never taken her arms from around his rather large neck. The look on her face told me she was not under any duress from him.

"Uh... I'll be along in a little while, Ryan. I'll catch up to you," she said stiffly.

I felt my jaw drop and every head in the area turned to face me. I blushed in humiliation before I regained my ability to walk and headed toward an exit. I heard laughter behind me, but I wasn't going to look back, so I don't know if Jillian and her new boyfriend watched me leave or went back to kissing.

I left the party, found my car and drove back to my dorm, rage controlling me. Duane looked surprised to see me when I walked into the room alone.

"Uhh... what happened to Jillian?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yeah... well, that was fun while it lasted," I growled, diving onto my bed.

I was surprised when I got a text from Jillian about an hour later, asking me where I was. I didn't respond.

I'll admit that I was more than a little pissed at the world for the next several days. I knew this was going to happen someday, but damn, I thought she was

special

.

She didn't look even the least bit remorseful when she sat down at my table at Starbucks four days later. If anything, I thought she looked a little bit pissy. I stared at her, trying to keep my face passive, and waited for her to start.

"No calls. No texts. You pissed at me?" she asked.

It took everything I had not to haul off and smack this woman. Maybe in retrospect, I should have.

"Why would I be pissed at you, bitch? You only humiliated me in front of a bunch of people Saturday night. If you didn't want to be with me anymore, there were less embarrassing ways of going about it," I harrumphed.

"First off, I don't appreciate you cursing at me. If you're going to keep that up, I'll just leave now," she said as she glared back at me.

"Second, who said I didn't want to be with you anymore? I dated Robbie Latimore several times in the past. He's a nice guy, and a great kisser. I guess maybe I got a little carried away, but I was enjoying myself. Just give me a little space. I was coming back to you in a bit. But when I did try to find you, you left.

You left me!

"

"Of course I left you. I don't take disrespect and humiliation," I growled. "And you didn't come looking for me for an hour.

"Did you go somewhere and fuck him?"

She glared through me. If looks could kill, I would have been a goner, but I didn't care.

"Not at first," she rasped. "We made out for a while, but I stopped it when he started getting handsy in front of his friends. Then, when I couldn't find you, well, I went back to Robbie. I was pissed that you had left me, and Robbie and I had hooked up several times in the past."

"Well, I am happy for the two of you that you're back together," I snarked.

"We're not back together. I'm with you. That was just a one-night thing," she whined.

"Why would you think I would let you have a 'one-night thing' and stay with you?" I asked. "I don't share my women... whether you want to call yourself my date or my girlfriend or whatever."

"Me Tarzan. You Jane. How ridiculous. I'm nobody's property. I can be with whomever I want. I enjoy being with you, but I don't belong to you. If I want to enjoy being with another, I will do that from time to time," she hissed.

"Then take me out of the rotation. You can enjoy whoever you want, except me," I said, gathering my stuff off the table and leaving.

Two weeks after we got back from Christmas break, Jillian was sitting across from me in a nice steakhouse as I was trying not to drool on the tablecloth. Seated, the tight, low-cut sweater she was wearing braless was open to the middle of her huge boobs, and she was showing more cleavage than most women even have. Our waiter had the second-biggest grin in the building every time he came over to our table. Let's just say he was very attentive.

Once again, I'm not quite sure how I got the date. She called me the second day after break and just started talking as if we hadn't been split up for seven weeks. She never apologized, never showed remorse for what she had done. She just went on as if it didn't exist, and I guess I never had the guts or resolve to call her on it. Call me a weak, horny man. I'll cop to it.

I'm pretty sure I stopped breathing when she opened her dorm room door the night of the date. I'll admit to barely looking at her gorgeous eyes as the only thing I could see was an acre of white tit-flesh with big boob outline and her nipples trying to poke through the material. Fu-u-u-uck! I was toast, and she knew it. We were back together.

I have to think Jillian was very aware I was paying careful attention to her actions and her flirting for the rest of the year. I think she actually backed off some on the flirting, although sometimes I know she did it just to tweak me off. She was smart enough to stay away from Robbie, but I almost lost my shit when she let another old boyfriend put his tongue down her throat when they met at a bar one night.

"You know I hate when you do stuff like that," I said to her when I moved her away from the other guy. "I don't share, remember."

"Yeah, but you want to, don't you," she said softly in my ear.

"W-why would you think that?" I asked more hesitantly than I wanted.

"My roommate's a psych major. She says you quiet, nice, brainy guys have this thing about being... if not dominated, at least being led around, controlled a bit," she explained.

I was... nonplussed and a little worried.

"Oh, come on, Ry, all I have to do is lean over, or take off my bra, and you're lost. Once you get hard, I don't think you'd have a problem sharing as long as you're part of the equation. I don't think there's anything wrong with that. You're sensitive. I think that's very sexy," she remarked.

The more she talked, the more concerned I got. Sensitive?

We finished our junior years as a couple. We made no commitments for the summer, but we agreed we would come back together in August when school resumed.

We talked once or twice a week, but always avoided the topic of intimacy, which worked for me and, I think, her as well. When we got back to school, we fell into our old patterns as boyfriend and girlfriend. The sex was every bit as good as I remembered. The only negative was when she would occasionally pillow talk and bring up her desire for a second partner in addition to me.

"I hate when you do that," I complained. "Am I not getting the job done for you, because if I'm not I'll just go on down the road and let you find someone who can. Just tell me the truth. I won't hate you if you tell me the truth."

That at least would get through to her. She would almost always apologize to me immediately, realizing that she had stepped across a line.

About a month after we got back to school, I realized that I loved Jillian, and asked her to marry me one night at dinner. She broke down crying when I slid the ubiquitous little black box across the table at the restaurant. Needless to say, she more than rocked my world in bed that night.

At Christmas break, we each went to our respective homes for what we thought would probably be the last time we'd be separated for any length of time for the rest of our lives. As we had done over Thanksgiving, we texted or called several times each day.

I knew she was going out with several friends for New Year's Eve, so I called her earlier that evening and told her to be careful and wished her a happy new year. What she didn't know was that I had decided to surprise her for New Year's and show up at the party she was at. I was about an hour away from her on the road when I called her. I had looked up the address of the friend's house where the party was going to be, and was parked a few houses down waiting for Jillian and her posse to show up.

It was dark out but I knew I'd be able to spot Jillian no matter what... and I wasn't wrong. What I wasn't able to spot were the friends she was supposed to be with. Instead, it looked like she was with just one friend, and he appeared to be a large young man. I sat in complete shock as she walked up the driveway and into the party hand in hand with this guy... my engagement ring on the third finger of her left hand.

Did I mention earlier that I have a bad temper? It sometimes gets me in trouble. My father, though, spent a lot of time with me working on being able to control that temper. We used several different techniques to moderate my anger, including counting in Greek. That night I got up to 412 before I felt calm enough to walk into the party.

There were enough people there that I was able to just walk in the house and blend in like I was supposed to be there. I tried to stay in the background and faced the wall a lot as I walked around with a beer. I spotted Jillian and her "friend" in the third room I walked into, wrapped around each other, joined at the lips and with his hands on her big boobs.

Counting in Greek again wasn't going to work this time. In two steps I was up on the pair. I heard her moan into his mouth right before I drove my fist into the side of his head. My right hand exploded in pain at about the same time I felt bones break in his face. I heard Jillian moan again, this time in pain, as her mouth was forcibly ripped from his.

Whoever the guy was, he went down like a bag of dicks. The lights at the hotel went out. It took a second before Jillian realized it was me standing there.

"Oh shit. Ryan," she whispered.

"Yeah, oh shit. How many times you fuck him over break?" I asked none too politely as a crowd gathered around.

"It wasn't like that," she started to explain before I cut her off.

"How many times?" I asked, glaring lasers into her skull.

"Twice... but it wasn't like you think..."

"No, it was exactly like I think," I barked back. "What the fuck do you think that ring on your finger means?"

I knew that people were trying to attend to whomever it was that I cold-cocked. There was a lot of whispering going on in the background.

"It was just sex," Jillian said. "You know I love only you. It had been a while for me... and I just needed some..."

"Cock," I said, finishing her sentence. "You're such a slut that you couldn't go three weeks without it. I get it."