Edited by DB448
"Tell me again why I have to come?" I asked my wife of 10 years.
I'm Eric Sanders and the apple of my eye, Beth, sat beside me as I drove down the road.
"Susan's brother is in town, and she didn't want him to be the only guy there while we have our hen party," said Beth.
"Besides," she continued, "If you're good I'll really make it up to you later."
Beth's make ups were worth anything you could name, so all of a sudden I was really ready to be good.
We pulled into Marge's driveway and I readied my provisions for the day. My survival kit had gotten me through lots of bad situations. The kit contained all of the necessary supplies for keeping me occupied during any long boring situation. It consisted of a pack of wild berry skittles, a plain Hershey bar, a small bag of chips and a wild cherry Pepsi. These items, when added to my ever present iPhone, would, allow me to deal with anything.
"Eric, while we're here, try to communicate with someone. Don't just lock yourself away on your phone and forget the rest of the world," Beth said.
"Well what do you expect me to do while you hang out with your friends?" I asked.
Beth knew that I hated her friends. I couldn't understand why my beautiful wife hung out with those "depraved skanks". I guess she really didn't care for my friends either, but at least I didn't force them on her.
We went through the house and out onto the deck. I looked around and half heartedly gave a wave to Susan, Marge and Amy. They were so busy talking and hugging my wife that they either didn't notice or didn't care that I kept my middle finger extended during the wave. Why were they always hugging each other, were they closet "lezzies" or did they just miss each other so much since yesterday?
I looked around and didn't see any other men, so I loudly cleared my throat, and when Beth turned towards me, I gave the universal, both hands out, "where the fuck are the guys" shrug.
As Beth shuffled over to me, her tight white shorts looked like they were painted on.
"Honey Susan's brother went out last night and didn't wake up yet, he'll be by later," she said.
"So what am I doing here now darling," I snapped through closed teeth.
"Just hang out sweetie, take a dip in the pool, oh, you could talk to Brandy," said Beth as an after-thought.
"Beth," I asked "who the fuck is Brandy and why, can't I just leave and pick you up later?"
"Marge says that wives spend a lot of time waiting for their husbands to do things, and the sign of a healthy relationship is the husbands' willingness to reciprocate," said Beth.
"Marge can suck my dick," I said smiling, just loud enough for Beth to hear.
"That's my job," said Beth rubbing my crotch. "Don't forget I'm going to make this all worth it," she said.
"OK," I purred.
I looked around and sure enough there was a woman sitting at a table across the deck. She appeared to be reading, and had several notebooks and other items on the table in front of her.
Beth ran back to her coven. The triumvirate of evil is what I called them. There was Susan, who was going through a painful divorce. Beth had told me about it but for the life of me I couldn't remember the details. Susan was the reason for the meeting today, she was heart- broken and needed the support of her cohorts. Susan was 40ish but looked older, her thin features and sour disposition made her look 50 normally. But today, with her whining and caterwauling, you could add another 5 or 10 to the total. Susan did however have a nice trim body, slim hipped and small breasted, but tight. Not really my cup of tea, I preferred women who were built like women, but if you're looking for the thin lipped, shrewish, 50 year old supermodel type, Susan is your girl.
Amy was the newest recruit to the fold. She was Italian or Mediterranean in appearance. She had beautiful eyes and long wavy dark hair. Her hair was so thick I could imagine running my fingers through it and getting stuck. She had large breasts and a big round ass. Unfortunately she also had a big round stomach and was only 4' 11. Her hook nose and slight mustache were also not big features in any of my masturbatory fantasies. Amy wanted so badly to fit in with the group that she bordered on ass-kissing.
Finally, there was Marge. In the back of my mind I always called her large Marge. Marge was an Amazon of a woman, and had the temperament to back it up. Whatever you talked about, Marge was a fucking expert on it. She had seen everything, been everywhere, done everything and had the whole collection of T-shirts to prove it. Marge was the type of woman who could tell you what it felt like when she got her dick sucked. Add that to her grating, over modulated, voice and you get the picture. I hated Marge with a passion. Just as I was thinking it, the bitch looked across the deck and smiled at me. I swear that whore was psychic.
I made my way over to the table where the other woman sat. Although I dearly love my wife, this woman was beautiful. She was slender with largish breasts and long tanned legs that she showed off in shorts. She was doing that thing that women don't recognize as being overtly sexual where one of their shoes hangs precariously off of their toe and just dangles there. She had a leonine mane of tousled tawny colored curls framing a heart shaped face. If I wasn't happily married I could have made a fool out of myself over her.
I quietly took a seat directly across from her so I wouldn't disturb her. She looked over her glasses at me and went back to studying. I snickered when I saw the book she was looking at. It was a college Physics book. She also had a work-book, a lab manual, several notebooks and a programmable calculator. It brought back memories from when I was in college.
I very quietly pulled up a movie on my iPhone and settled in. I cracked open the top of my soda and rustled my chips.
"Sorry," I said, as she looked at me, when I crunched a little too loudly.
"Actually, you just reminded me that it's been a while since I've had any real junk food," she said, "Anyway I'm stuck so I should probably take a break instead of just beating my head against the wall."
"What are you stuck on?" I asked.
"Oh nothing, just a couple of problems from the Chapter Review," she said. "May I?" she asked pointing towards my chips.
"Please," I replied.
As she grabbed a healthy handful of chips, I looked at her neat figures on the page of the notebook.
"You're using the wrong numbers," I said.
"What?" she asked, looking at me like I was a moron.
"This is Newton's laws of motion right?" I asked.
"Well yeah," she said with an exasperated tone.
"Force equals mass times acceleration?" I asked again.
"Yup," she said "that's what they claim."
"You're using velocity instead of acceleration," I told her.
"The problem didn't give us acceleration," she said, realizing that I might be right.
"But they gave you final velocity, and they gave you cycle time; acceleration is simply the change in velocity over time," I explained.
I went to the programmable calculator app on my iPhone and showed her. She did the same calculation on her calculator then input the new numbers into her equation. She consulted the back of the book and the answers matched; she was overjoyed. She came around the table and hugged me.
This of course got noticed by the caldron stirrers across the deck and my petite little wife gave me a quiet nod.
"I'm Brandy," she said, after letting me go. "Marge's sister," she threw in as an after- thought.
I almost spit out my soda upon hearing that.
"Well, sister in law," she clarified.
"I almost barfed," I said.
"Why, don't you like my sister?" she asked.
"Well, I'm sure she'll grow on me over time," I sputtered. "But I'm 32, and I don't think I'll live long enough for her to take root," I smirked.
That was the start of a great friendship. That afternoon I helped Brandy with her physics and we talked about everything we could think of. It's really strange, but we just clicked, in no time it was as if we'd been friends all our lives. I have to admit that when it was time to go, I was a little saddened.
A couple of hours later after eating a pizza Beth and I had picked up on our way home, I was lying on our bed waiting for Beth to join me. She stepped out of the bathroom in a filmy blue Fredericks of Hollywood Cover-up that didn't cover anything up. She lay down beside me and asked, "Honey, do you have any thing you can think of that you would like us to try?"
I sat up because my BIBSD was going off big time. For those of you who don't know what that is, women are supposedly born with what they call women's intuition; men are born with a BIBSD. The BIBSD stands for the built in bullshit detector and it's a man's version of psychic powers.
I knew then that something was up.
"Well Marge says... ,"she began
I immediately frowned up, and crossed my arms because I didn't want to hear shit from Marge if she had a mouth full of it. I didn't trust Marge as far as I could throw her which wasn't very fucking far because the bitch was way bigger than me. And she probably had a bigger dick.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"To cut the grass," I replied.
"No wait, you're going to like this," she said
"Not if it came from Fucking Marge," I said.
.... There is more of this story ...