Air Possum

by qhml1

Caution: This Redneck Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, .

Desc: Redneck Story: Redneck chic.

Here I was, fifty years old and in college. Quite a life change.

I never intended to end up here, but life has a way of bouncing you around like a pinball when it takes the urge.

I had a good job in middle management with a company that had employed me nearly thirty years ago. The economy tanked and dragged us down with it. In eighteen months we had downsized by sixty percent. Suddenly there was a surplus of older middle managers. I was out. I saw it coming but didn't say anything to Sherry because I didn't want her to worry.

She had her own problems. She owned her own small real estate company. She did really well during the good years, but the last few had been a struggle. She averaged one sale every two months. She told me that was a lot better than a lot of her competitors.

When the axe fell I wasn't surprised. The parachute wasn't gold, more like copper, but it was still more than I expected. I hung around until noon my last day, mostly saying goodbye, until I couldn't take another handshake or hug.

Despite being unemployed, we weren't in bad shape. The house was paid for, as were two of our cars, my motorcycle, and her sailboat. She grew up sailing, but I got queasy out of sight of land so I didn't go with her much. Her friend Barb loved to sail also, so she had a sailing partner. It was at a marina on a nearby lake.

I decided to surprise Sherry, take her to a nice lunch to soften the news. She had three showings that day, the most she had in months. She was bubbling the night before.

"Things are getting better, babe, I can feel it."

She wasn't at the first house I checked, but I found her car at her most expensive listing, a four thousand foot plus estate with an equipped gym in the basement, a huge kitchen, and an Olympic size swimming pool. Her commission would be very nice.

She turned her phone off when she was with a client so I hadn't bothered to call. I eased the door open slowly so as not to disturb her. I'd just catch her eye and nod my head, then wait outside. We'd done it before.

I found them in the kitchen. He was leaned up against an island counter, his pants around his ankles. And Sherry, my Sherry, was on her knees, his cock in her mouth, bobbing with gusto.

The guy was talking.

"Damn, this feels great! How did you get so good?"

She pulled off and looked up at him, smiling.

"Lots of practice. Still on the fence about this place?"

Hmmmm. She didn't practice with me, said she didn't like it.

He put his hand on her head, guiding her back.

"I think my wife will really like this place."

She paused before she went back to work.

"Just think, if you buy this place, every time you see her working at this counter, you'll grin. Maybe you can get her to recreate the scene."

"Damn, that would be hot!" he said, as she wrapped her lips around his cock again.

I was so shocked I just stood there for a second, then took my phone out and started recording. I got some good video and the last part of the conversation. When I had enough I let my rage explode.

They still hadn't seen me so I angled until I could come up behind him. Sherry wouldn't be be able to see me over the counter.

I grabbed his collar and yanked him over the island, hitting him as hard as I could, catching him on the ear. It split in an explosion of blood.

"What the fuck", he managed to yell, as he went down. He instinctively covered up, so I kicked him in the stomach and ribs a couple of times before he managed to roll over. I kicked him in the ass a few times. He was gonna have some hellacious bruises.

Sherry finally popped up. Apparently he was just finishing when I interrupted them, and she got it all over her face. Her blouse was open and her bra was gone, if she had even worn one. I stopped kicking him and snapped a few more pictures before starting around the island. Her eyes were huge.

"Run!" I screamed in rage.

She took off, leaving her blouse open and her bra on the floor. I heard that Mustang she was so proud of burning rubber a few seconds later.

The guy was still down, moaning, when I bent over.

He started begging me not to hit him again. I reached into his pocket, took his wallet and removed his license.

"I'll give this back when I make a copy. I'll need to know where to find you for court."

He started begging.

"Please! I'll lose my family. I'm not the first, my friend told me about her. I couldn't believe it, but it didn't take much. Please!"

I got him to give me his friends' name, telling me if he was lying his wife would get a very interesting set of pictures.

I never talked to her again except in court. She sent me a long letter that I let lay around for almost a year before I worked up enough interest to read it. She was sorry. She didn't mean to. She did it to save her business. I stopped reading after the first page and threw it away, not caring what the next six pages were about.

I tried to keep it civil until she realized I wasn't coming back and turned into a bitch.

We met with her lawyer. Until then I had kept the photos out of it. I gave him a set.

"Tell her if she fights me these go public. He's not the first, I've tracked down two more men who experienced her sales techniques. This is still an alienation of affection state, the wives could bury her with lawsuits. It'll all come out in court. She'll most likely lose her real estate license and if she didn't no one in this area would ever consider hiring her. The deal isn't that bad. This is her only chance. I want a decision by the end of the day."

He called back five minutes before the deadline. It killed her, but she really didn't have a choice.

I would never live in my house again, so she had to buy me out or put it on the market. She nearly blew a gasket when I let her know if it went up for sale I refused to let her handle it.

The icing on the cake? She had to sell her sailboat and the Mustang to raise the money to buy my half.

Despite keeping it quiet, rumors circulate, and she was soon having a very hard time getting listings. Too bad.

I moved away when the divorce was final. There was nothing holding me there. I found a nice place, a foreclosure. Thanks to Sherry, I knew a good bit about real estate and got a really good deal. In a rural setting, it was a three bedroom with nine acres. There were several out buildings, even a small barn. Way more than I needed but such a good deal I couldn't resist. Besides, If I held it a few years and decided to sell, I could probably make a nice profit.

My employment counselor laid it out for me.

"This is an even tighter market than the one you moved away from. And your lack of a degree is killing you. We have a program you should take advantage of. You've got enough credits from when you left college that you only need about a year and a half to get your degree. It's been a while, you'll have to audit a few classes, but you could still be done in less than two years. The program pays for the books and the tuition, and you still get full benefits."

What did I have to lose?

I went to a community college that had a deal with a university. I could take their classes and still get a four year degree.

One thing I liked, about half the students were older, either unemployed like me, or going part time to better their lives. I made a few friends.

College is a target rich environment, and I dated often, some were as young or younger than my two sons from my first marriage. Caught her cheating too. Luckily the boys were in their middle teens, and it didn't hurt as much as it would have when they were younger. She moved halfway across the country and I only saw them for a while in the summer and winter holidays. We still had a good relationship.

It was fun, I got laid pretty often, but I wasn't looking for another life mate. Been there, done that twice, done with it.

I needed one more semester to get my degree, and was taking some fairly advanced classes.

I was taking a workshop that was designed to encourage small businesses. It would be good for me, I was leaning towards some type of franchise. The idea of being my own boss appealed to me.

We had gone over the material, and our final assignment was to create and market our own fake business. Our instructor put together two person teams, trying to match the people least likely to have anything in common. Said it heightened creativity.

My partner was a fashion major, about twenty years old. Smart enough, but lacking any real world experience. We eyed each other warily.

I invited her and three other teams out to the house for a brain storming session. The instructor encouraged it, saying it would expand our horizons.

I ordered pizza, and we shared ideas until our heads hurt and still hadn't come up with anything of real merit.

We stopped trying. It was a Friday night, so we began drinking in earnest. I took the keys away, a couple of spouses showed up to pick up their less than better halves, and I tried to get the rest situated.

Gail, my partner, hadn't had a lot so she helped me. Between air mattresses, the fold out couch, and the two spare bedrooms, we had everything situated.

We sat down for a second, and I was listening to her give me some fashion history.

"It's all about exposure and branding. You're probably old enough to remember Members Only jackets. They were were cheap and ill made, but they made a fortune for somebody."

I grimaced, trying to remember if I still had mine.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa /