Except for the physical descriptions of my husband and I, and the first two paragraphs, this story is 100% fictional. For those of you vocabulary-challenged, that means that after the first two paragraphs NOTHING in it is true!
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As anyone who's been around the block a couple of times knows, different people react differently to different handling. For example, some football (American style, not what we Yanks call "soccer") coaches are "friends" with their players, others are total assholes to the players always putting them down, some handle the players gently, and some show "tough love."
Although I've never played a down of football in my life, except Powder Puff – I'm a woman by the name of Cheryl Simms – I am a big fan and have studied football as a microcosm of how things work in the real world. I actually wrote a paper on it in college in the only course ever taught by the Head Football Coach at our school, when I was the only female in the course. To me, the coaches that exhibit "tough love" almost universally get the best out of their players. That was the thesis of my college paper, which got me an A+ and a hug from the Coach.
Despite my belief in football being a microcosm of real life, I never really applied its principles until a few years ago.
I got married at twenty two, right out of college, to my college flame, Brian Simms. He was tall, blond, handsome, and smart; he still is except that the blond is now more than half gray.
Brian is an ass and legs man. That undoubtedly was what attracted him to me, although I like to think that once he was attracted to me that my personality, intelligence and character were the reasons he married me; but who knows?
Most objective observers would not consider me as good looking as Brian, although the majority of people would consider me better looking than average. My outstanding features – previously mentioned – are my ass and long slender, yet muscular, legs, primarily genetic but also sculpted by years of running, volleyball, tennis, and weight training. Just to set the scene, and not bragging, I have been told by dozens of guys – half of whom were actually sober – that I have world class legs and an "awesome" ass.
Despite our middle class backgrounds Brian and I have become financially well off – that is "rich." I believe the main reason is because we have a treasure trove of common sense, look people in the eye when talking to them, and universally deliver on our promises. Also, I can sell anything and Brian constantly comes up with new good-to-great ideas.
Brian and I lived in a shitty apartment, and drove a clunker, when we were first married to save money to start our own company, called "Cherub," which we did at twenty three. Our main entertainment was fucking each other's brains out, and our only other entertainment – if you could call it that – was working out together, since both were "free." We fucked every night and on Sunday, the only day we didn't work (at least not more than a few hours), we fucked virtually all day. Our libidos had always been high and we were always exceptionally compatible in bed, but those years brought us to new heights.
With Brian's ideas and financial expertise, and my sales acumen and personality, Cherub quickly became successful. I continued to work for Cherub when our first child was born when I was twenty six, and stopped only after our second child was born when I was twenty eight, and we were sure that the major clients I had brought in were there to stay. I personally owned 50% of Cherub even after I stopped working there and Brian owned the other half.
I believe that our time working together caused Brian and I to bond more closely than most spouses – that and our sky-high sex life. Of course we still had our ups and downs, like any married couple with children, but all-in-all our marriage was very good to excellent. We even survived a short fling Brian had in our early thirties.
Having the shitload of common sense that I do I quickly noticed the signs in what I'm sure were the very early stages of Brian's affair. Never being the shy and retiring type I confronted him with it. I told him that if he lied to me – and I'd find out if he did – I'd kick his ass to the curb and he'd be lucky to see the kids every other weekend. I actually would not have followed through with my threat since I loved him too much and the kids needed him, but I was very convincing.
Brian came clean and did his penance wandering "the wilderness" of the local hotels for a month instead of staying in our marital bed. I forgave him with the admonition "two strikes and you're out," his first night back from "the wilderness." Then I rode him reverse cowgirl until he was begging for mercy, and licked his dick clean after he ejaculated into my pussy.
Since I wasn't in love with the bimbo that Brian had nailed a couple of times, and have a vengeful streak, she did not fare as well as Brian did. I could see why he was attracted to her since she was the only woman I had ever seen live that had an ass and legs comparable to mine – and much bigger tits.
Unfortunately for the bimbo, she worked for a company whose biggest single customer was Cherub, so I saw to it that she was fired. Also, long before the days of easy identity theft using the Internet, some savvy bitch – I'll never say who – destroyed the bimbo's already precarious credit rating by getting a loan in her name and not repaying it until it was long overdue.
When the kids were in High School I went back to work, but not at Cherub, rather in an entirely different business; one dominated by men. While we certainly didn't need the money I needed the excitement of selling again. I was instantly successful and now despite our high rolling life style we could live on my earnings alone. Much more rewarding to me than the financial success, however, was what the job did for my ego.
My male co-workers, customers, and suppliers, were constantly ogling my ass and thighs. I do believe that I helped the morale of the vast majority of males I came in contact with by wearing clothing, and striking poses, that did nothing to hide my assets. I was propositioned numerous times but deflected all of the offers in as pleasant a manner as possible; except for the one asshole employee of one of our customers who wouldn't take "no" for an answer and ended up with a bloody nose when he grabbed my ass. His boss liked me and the company I worked for more than the asshole employee. He was transferred to Timbuktu and we didn't lose a dime of business.
Because of the reaction I was getting from the adult male population I was confused when Brian started losing his sex drive, at least as far as I was concerned, when our oldest kid went to college. He also stopped working out at the Health Club, which I did almost every day, and which he had been doing two or three times a week. By then the technology made it easy for a suspicious spouse with money to find out about extracurricular activities, so I set about to do that. I really did not see the same signs as when he had his short fling many years ago, but I wasn't taking any chances.
My technology, and even private investigator, exploration found no other female companionship. It appears that Brian was just plain working too hard and exercising too little. "Why" was a puzzle to me since we both could have quit working the next day and been set monetarily for three lifetimes.
I had talk after talk with Brian over a two year period, and each time the result was the same – he swore that he'd try to cut back, and once the next project (then the next one, then the next one) was finished we'd be back to normal. The counseling I suggested was, according to him, "a waste of time that I don't have."
