Gifr Package

Mr. Naïve and Ms. Gullible got married one day. They had a baby named Cheryl. Luckily, they were apparently good looking because their daughter was absolutely gorgeous. The first time I met her, she had long, black straight hair, bedroom eyes, and a 34-23-35 body that stood a statuesque 5'10". Every man's wet dream.

I am Raymond, or Ray, or Ray-Ray, or R.J. thanks to the comedian R.J. Johnson. I was in a bar the first saw the woman I found out was named Cheryl. She was with a herd of young women that had attracted a pack of wolves. They had culled Cheryl from the herd and were closing in for the kill. I watched as one would order a liquor straight, then when Cheryl was not looking, dump the liquor in her drink, thereby doubling its potency. It seemed to be having the intended affect. She was fighting off their hands less and less.

My rescuer senses were on alert. I was fidgeting on my bar stool trying to decide whether or not to intervene, especially since she was not asking for help and there were four wolves to my one rescue dog. Suddenly, Cheryl's herd decided to leave. They said something to her and left. Cheryl looked stupefied but was soon distracted by the attention of the men.

As the women passed me on the way out, I asked why they were abandoning their friend. The red-head said, "She does this every time we go out. She attracts the men for us, but sometimes, like tonight, the men only want to be around her. They think she is easy after a few drinks, and they are right. Don't worry, one or more of the guys will take Cheryl to his place and then take her home after they're done with her."

The red-head's attitude pissed me off. I edged closer to the pack to catch the conversation. The men were competing on who could tell the most vulgar double entendre they could think of. Cheryl never caught on and wondered out loud why the men were laughing. The man were pressing for Cheryl to go out to the car with them. She said she had a ride, so she didn't understand why she had to go to their car. Cheryl complained that they said they wanted to 'show her something' but wouldn't tell her what the something was. They appeared to have just about talked her into it when I intervened.

I came up to the group and asked Cheryl to dance. The men objected, saying she was with them. Cheryl protested that she was with her girlfriends although she didn't know where they were. "I came to dance, and you guys just want to get me outside." Luckily, I must have looked good enough to Cheryl that she accepted my invitation, much to the chagrin of the wolf pack.

On the dance floor, Cheryl plastered herself to my body. I stopped and asked her to put a little distance between us. She was surprised. "All the guys seem to want to dance really close. Why don't you?"

"I would like to get to know you a little better before I feel your breasts against my chest, and you feel my bulge against your mound."

Cheryl's mouth dropped open. "Is that what they were doing? OMG." That's when I first became sure of Cheryl's parentage.

She was having trouble standing up, she was so intoxicated. I informed her that her girlfriends had abandoned her. Cheryl asked out loud, "How will I get home?"

I said that I would like to take her for a cup of coffee at Starbucks, and then I would take her home. She said, "Okay." It didn't phase her in the least to have a perfect stranger take her home. I sighed in disbelief.

We went back to the table where the wolfpack was waiting. She grabbed her purse and said, "Thanks for the good time, guys. I'm going home now."

The wolfpack protested and the guy who had groped Cheryl the most stood up, so he was right in my face. "You ain't taking her anywhere, asshole. We've been paying for her drinks all night. If anyone takes her home, it will be us. So, fuck off man before I put you down."

I pulled Cheryl away from the standoff. "Wait there. I will only be a second." I was hoping my apparent confidence would lower his. It didn't.

Just as the fight was about to commence, one of the guys said, "Wait a minute. Aren't you Ray 'The Annihilator' Johnson?" I nodded. The guy informed his friend of my reputation as a MMA fighter. "Dude, he's like undefeated. Puts most of his opponents in the hospital." I corrected the guy saying I was 13-2. By then the bar fight that never was, ended. They wished us both a good night.

Cheryl commented as we left, "I thought MBAs were like accountants." Thus started my first of many explanations to Cheryl. I was smart enough to explain without appearing to 'teach.' I never wanted her to feel like she was dumb. Naïve and gullible, yes. Dumb, no.

We sat down over a cup of coffee and talked. Well, she talked mostly. It seemed to be her nature to do so. I didn't object as I figured her brain cells needed activity to counteract the dulling effects of the alcohol. She basically told me her life story. Here is my spin on what she said.

Cheryl had been very popular in high school. She had a series of steady boyfriends and breakups. Somehow, she missed the connection between her requiring them to go steady and her giving them the privilege of bedding her. Her grades were too low for college, so she became a teacher's aide for a kindergarten class. She loved the job and was very good with young children. Cheryl stayed popular and had been engaged three times since high school. Again, no ring, no nookie. Her hope was to find a good man and have a family. She only looked, however, in places where good men seldom frequented, current company included.

By the time I took her home, I knew there was more to her than beauty, although I sure didn't discount the value of that. She was a warm, caring, trusting, vulnerable, compassionate woman. I was a goner.

I walked her to her front door and said, "Good night" and turned towards my car.

She said, "Wait. I thought you had a good time."

"I did. Why do you think I didn't?"

"Well, usually the guy wants to kiss and caress me and try to get me to invite him in."

"Cheryl, you are a special girl. I want us to take our time to get to know each other. I think our relationship might be able to last a long time."

"A few months?"

I sighed. "No, longer. A lot longer."

"Oh." She smiled and went inside.

We started dating. I tried to take her out every available night, partly because I wanted to be with her and partly because I wanted to protect her. She needed protection because in the battle of the sexes, she was too often bringing a knife to a gun fight. Our progression in physical expression of affection escalated as time went on. She was never hesitant to take our lovemaking to whatever the next level was. We were getting close to the 'ring or no nookie' level.

I called Cheryl for a date one night. She said that the girls had called her and begged her to go out with them. I assumed they had trouble attracting guys without her. I said I didn't think that was a good idea. I didn't dare tell her why. Instead, I said that I was afraid that the girls she was with would drink too much. I was afraid of her being in an accident. Since she seemed determined to go, I made an offer: Go out with the girls. Then at a set time, I would come pick her up. That way I could be sure she got home safely. She thought that was wonderful and praised me for being such a good guy.

The first time I went to pick her up, no one was happy: the flirting guys hoping to score, the girls needing the honey to attract male flies, and me because Cheryl was wanting to stay longer. I was not having it. It was obvious she had been making out with the guys-her lipstick was streaked and her blouse halfway unbuttoned. I told her she had to come because of the important things she had to do the next morning. She agreed and came with me, asking me to remind her of what it was she had to do tomorrow. Luckily, she fell asleep in the car without my having to answer her.

When I dropped her off, I decided it was time. I needed to be THE man in her life for my sake and hers. I did the special dinner at the fancy restaurant bit. Champagne was brought to our table. A big diamond ring was in her flute. She went to take a sip and saw the ring. Her response was immediate, "Has anyone lost a ring? I found one in my glass." It took a while to explain to her that it was her ring and what it was for. Once that was accomplished, she started crying while blurting out, "Yes!" The other patrons that night got a good laugh, but applauded once Cheryl accepted.

Cheryl's enthusiasm stopped abruptly. She asked, "Are you marrying me for me or just my looks?" Good question.

"Sweetheart, you are God's gift to me. It helps that the wrapping paper got my attention, but it who you are inside that makes me really love you." Her happy mood resumed.

My mother and Cheryl's mother handled the wedding planning. Everything was going well, but I began to worry about the bachelorette party. Cheryl's friends had arranged the entertainment. I was smart enough to make sure my sister was invited. The next day, my sister reported that a male stripper had been hired. Almost all the women, including the perspective bride, welcomed him enthusiastically. The stripper was going down the row of girls, and each of Cheryl's friends took their turn blowing him while he massaged their tits. Cheryl was about to take her turn. My sister intervened. She told Cheryl that everything was being taped and asked if she thought her husband to be would like to see her blow another man just before the marriage. Cheryl said, "But we're not married yet."

My sister said, "If you want to be left at the altar tomorrow, blow away." She walked away from Cheryl. Cheryl looked at the dick in front of her for a while. Finally, she shook her head no. Her girlfriends begged, cajoled, threatened, and insulted her to get her to do it. Cheryl refused. Although I was hurt that Cheryl had even considered having oral sex with another man, I was glad my sister had talked her out of it. I knew that Cheryl did not think oral sex was 'sex' per se and would not have thought she was cheating on me. Most women who say oral sex is not sex say that in order to rationalize cheating. I felt sure that Cheryl honestly believed oral sex was not sex.

After the wedding and the weeks that followed, Cheryl and I had many talks about what was and was not acceptable behavior towards the opposite sex by a husband and a wife. She seemed a little surprised in what I said based on what she had seen from married men and women at the clubs she had gone to. By the way, going to clubs without me was now a banned behavior. I was not sure that what she had agreed to would last after a few drinks.

Our married life progressed well for the first few years. The sex was absolutely fantastic as expected. Cheryl proved to be a proficient housekeeper and cook although I probably helped out in those regards more than the usual husband. I rewarded her randomly with flowers, candy, and small gifts. When I had to go out of town on business, she took off work and went with me. We created many good memories. Life was good.

I guess I got complacent. Our life changed with entrance of a villain. Marty Overstreet became the principal of her school. Marty was my nemesis from the sixth grade on. He was the neighborhood and school bully. He was a couple of years older than me and much larger. Somehow, I became his favorite target for abuse. The only good thing I can say about my early fighting skills was that I kept coming back. For several years, I got my ass handed to me on a platter on a regular basis. I never would tell my parents or the school who was beating me up. One day, another kid told on Marty and the school suspended him for three days. I got beat up worse those three days than any previous time.

In junior high, I noticed that I started landing more and more punches, although I still lost each battle. I talked my father into karate and, later, ju-jitsu, lessons. Month after month, I got better and better and the margin between my skills and my bully's grew less. Then that glorious day arrived. I beat him! I stood over him in triumph. The other students applauded. I was happy. I was suspended from school. That destroyed my respect for authority, bureaucratic authority at least.

I kept working on my martial arts skills through high school and college. Marty graduated and moved away for college. He never asked for a rematch. My sensei suggested I compete in the new Mixed Martial Arts tournaments. I lost my first match but learned what the game was all about. I won the next thirteen in a row before I faced the guy who would go on to become a champion. He knocked me out after wearing down my body with the hardest blows I had ever felt. When the doctor examined me, the x-rays showed the effects of several concussions. He told me that I should quit fighting. The next blow to my head might not do anything, but it might cause a lifelong disability. That was the end of my MMA career.

I got on at the factory where my father worked. Between my ability to do physical labor, my knowledge from business school, and just being well liked, I was promoted quickly and was soon in management. I made a good salary and started looking for a woman. Most people might not remember the song, 'Never make a pretty woman your wife,' but after I had seen and/or heard of divorces when the pretty wife was caught cheating, I took the advice to heart.

My first wife was intelligent, hard-working, and friendly. Girl-next-door material. Not particularly pretty or well-built but was very adventurous in bed. Unfortunately, she was adventurous in bed with others besides me. So much for letting a song title guide a life decision.

My 'trust but verify' motto now tended to lean towards the 'verify' end of the motto. With Cheryl, I knew that 'verify' would have to be even more the case than with some other women. That's part of the reason I made sure we went out together, or I was sure where she was and with whom. I still got burned.

After a few months of hearing from Cheryl how wonderful the new principal was, I got a phone call. It was Marty. "I just wanted you to know that you have a real sweet wife. She's going to beg me to fuck her. I'm going to have every hole of hers and there's not a thing you can do about it." He hung up before I could respond. I knew I had to act.

When Cheryl came home that night, I told her about how as a kid Marty had bullied me until I finally bested him. I told her that he had called and told me he was already having sex with her. Her response was totally unexpected.

"He said you would say that. You were the bully in school, not Marty. He wouldn't hurt a fly and you're . . . 'The Anni' something or other. He has been very good to me. We talk about all kinds of things. Unlike you, he thinks I am intelligent. He doesn't talk down to me."

"Cheryl, he's lying. He's trying to get into your panties. Don't you see?"

"He said you'd say that too. You didn't know about his experience in the military. He couldn't do anything even if he did get into my panties. Marty was injured in the war. He can't get it up."

"What? What war was he in?"

"I don't remember. One of those with the Arabs."

"How do you know he was injured?"

"He showed me."

"What? What the hell did he show you?"

"Stop yelling or I'll go in our room and lock the door. I know he was injured because . . . I'm afraid to tell you because I know you'll make it seem like I did something wrong."

I calmed down and softly asked, "What did you see?"

"Well, he said that he could not get it up any more and said he could prove it. I asked how. He said that he figured that a woman with my figure would be able to make most men have an erection. He asked me to show my breasts and he would show he couldn't get an erection. Marty made it sound like I would be showing about the same as if I had a bikini on. "I took off my blouse and sat there with my bra on. He asked me to pull my bra down as a real test. I did. He told me to look at his crotch. He said, "See. There's no erection."

"I looked and there seemed to be a bulge. He said that was his natural state. When he was able to have an erection, he was much larger. He asked me to feel it to be sure."

"No, please tell me you didn't."

"Well, he is my principal and he wouldn't lie to me. I felt it and I couldn't tell if he was erect or not, so he pulled it out. He was telling the truth. He was not erect. I pulled on it a couple of times and nothing happened."

"And you believed him? He probably took one of those libido reducing drugs. Cheryl, don't you remember what we talked about as far as acceptable behavior with other people. He's tricking you into having sex with him."

"Marty said you'd say that too. He's not tricking me. Every man I've done that with has gotten an erection. You certainly do. R.J. he's an honorable man and treats me like I was a teacher. Marty thinks I am doing such a good job that I should go back to school to become a teacher. He believes in me, which is better than what I get from you."

"Cheryl, you need to resign immediately and get a job at another school."

"You can't tell me what to do. I love my job and I'm good at it. You need to quit with the jealousy and have some feelings for a disabled veteran."

I knew better than to argue when she put up her brick wall. "Okay. Marty's the pinnacle of virtue. You and he will both get naked soon and surprise, surprise, Marty's ability to have an erection will have been cured. Of course, he will have to try it out first and, guess who will be there, naked and willing? I will feel happy for him. You, however, will have to suffer the consequences."

"What do you mean 'consequences?"

"Dear, what happens when one person cheats on another in a marriage?"

"Are you talking about a divorce? Marty predicted that, too. I haven't done anything wrong. You don't understand because you don't want to understand. And if that's what you want just because I am trying to help a friend who is suffering, go ahead."

"Not at this time. Not at this time. I want to wait until you finally figure out what he is really doing. Then I'll decide what to do."

"You seem to think I'm too stupid to know what's going on. I know what I'm doing, and I have not been unfaithful. Since you're being this mean when I tell you things, I'll just not tell you any more about Marty and me." She headed for the guest bedroom.

We lived separate lives together for about a month. I took the time to see what my options were. I also had a private investigator look into Marty's past. The knowledge that he had been transferred because of accusations of sexual harassment from staff at his previous school would be helpful if I wanted to sue the school board. There was one course of action that I kept coming back to, but it would be risky for me. No other alternative, however, seemed to satisfy my gut.

The day I expected came. It was worst than I had anticipated, though. Cheryl was waiting for me at home. She had been crying, a lot, and when she saw me the volume of her cries went up and the volume of tears increased.

"R.J. you were right. He lied to me. That bastard lied to me. I can't believe I was so STUPID. If you want to divorce me, I would understand. I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose you. Help me, please."

I took her in my arms and said as calmly as I could. "I don't know how to help you if you don't tell me what happened."

"I'm afraid you might yell or even hit me. I did something really bad. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

"What did you do that I need to forgive?"

I took her to the kitchen table and got both of us a beer. After waiting some time to settle down, Cheryl finally started talking. "Marty and I continued our meetings after the last time. He kept telling me how lucky you were to have me and how you neglected me. He told me all the things he would do if I were his wife. Then he started to cry. Marty told me how much he missed being able to perform for his wife. He said his wife wouldn't even let him pleasure her with his fingers or his tongue. He said he wasn't sure he would ever have the chance to do that again.