Hi folks. This story was edited by the incredible Mikothebaby.
It was a typical Saturday in suburbia. Well, maybe it was typical for everyone else, but I was unfortunately having a garage sale. I hate fucking garage sales and like most guys, I'd rather have simply thrown the shit away. But my wife insisted. Even after I told her that we don't need the money, she hit me right back with how we could simply donate the money to the school our kids attend. She's one of the organizers of the PTA and is truly dedicated to making the school a better place. She's as out of control about the PTA as I am about my car.
Anyway, here I am lying out in my back yard hammock, resting up for Sunday, when they came in. Sundays are a big day for me. I'm planning on running a fall marathon so I usually spend Sunday morning doing my longest run of the week. It's usually between 18 and 24 miles so I'm pretty much useless for the rest of the day. At least until the sun goes down. Once it gets shady in my yard, I feel a huge rush of energy that I use to wash my car.
That's my car over there in the garage. The 2009 Mustang GT with the Bullitt rims and the Magnaflow exhaust system. After my wife, she's my baby. Actually, before my wife, she was my baby. You'll probably notice that we aren't having the garage sale to clean out my garage. Nope, my garage is spotless. You can eat off of the floors and there's even a TV in it. Oh shit, here they come.
I close my eyes and hope they'll go away ... But they don't.
"Excuse me sir," says a young man. His girlfriend, or perhaps wife, is holding onto his hand for dear life. They both have that frigging "we're young, intelligent and in love" look about them.
"Did you mis-price the Games Master X-Station dual screen video system? Fifty bucks just doesn't seem right. I think you meant five hundred, right?" he asked.
"Both of the 3-D monitors come with it," I said. "Plus I'm throwing in all of the games, the headsets and the extra controllers."
"We get all of that for five hundred dollars?" he asked. His face was lit up like it was Christmas. "The dual 3-d monitors alone are worth three hundred a piece. And the system should be at least four hundred. The games are sixty dollars each. Are you sure you're letting all of this go for five hundred dollars?"
"No," I said sharply. "The price is fifty bucks, take it or leave it."
His girl was elbowing him in the ribs. But he was no dummy.
"Does it work?" he asked, looking at me suspiciously.
"It's got less than a month of use on it. It's in near perfect condition," I said. "Of course it works. Look if you don't want it, I'm sure someone will buy it."
"Did it belong to your kid and he ran away or went away to school or something?" he asked.
"Nope," I said. "It was mine."
"Then why are you selling it so cheaply," he asked. I shrugged my shoulder and sighed. That's one of the things I hate about fucking garage sales. Everybody can't just get a bargain. They absolutely have to know the history and the story behind every fucking item.
Actually getting rid of the game system was one of the reasons we were having the garage sale in the first place.
I sat up and gestured to the patio set on my deck. I grabbed a couple of beers for him and his girl and a Pepsi for me and started telling them the sad story about how video games almost ruined my life.
My name is Perry Tyler. Okay, no dumb ass questions, I'm not him. I'm not a giant black guy who dresses up like a woman and writes and directs movies. My name was Perry Tyler long before anyone ever heard of him.
Anyway, I have a degree in manufacturing technology from U of M and I work for Thompson Manufacturing as lead CNC programmer. I have a comfortable home in the suburbs of Michigan, just outside of Detroit. When the story started I'd been married to Denise Ankovski for about ten years. We were happy, or so I thought. I mean we had all of the things that seem to mean happiness in this day and age. We weren't exactly rich, but we weren't missing any meals either. Like most Americans, we were firmly in the middle of the economic war.
Denise and I were exact opposites when it comes to looks and physicality. She peaked early and I peaked later. By that, I mean that the first few years right after college were her best. Denise was never a raving beauty, but she was attractive and had a hot body. Her average looking face was framed by long shiny brown hair that made her better looking than she was.
She wasn't a troll or anything, but that hair made her far sexier. Her body also wasn't Baywatch quality. But she had nice legs and big tits. Those probably made most guys overlook the fact that her gut was a little doughy even in her twenties, which is a really bad sign. Those tits also made most guys, me included overlook the fact that she had what is generally known as a "white girl's ass."
That is the kind of ass that simply doesn't stick out much at all. It's almost as if her lower back just joined her legs with no bulge of any kind. Strangely enough, the current generation of women, rarely have this trait anymore.
I think maybe it's like during the renaissance when Rubenesque women were all the rage. What is and isn't desirable in women changes. In the twenty first century, we seem to prefer our women with a little bit more junk in the trunk.
Anyway, I, on the other hand, was a nerd, plain and simple. During my college days and the days that followed, I was thin, geeky and wore huge glasses. I was socially inept and shy beyond reason. I was also hopelessly smitten with Denise.
The first few years after college were difficult ones for most of us. Denise ended up waitressing and I settled into my current job. I was making good money almost from the beginning and slowly forced to get over my social phobias. I started off as a CNC operator and gradually moved into a set-up position and then became a programmer. Each promotion brought new responsibilities and more money.
Meanwhile, I was still hanging out with some of my friends from college. Denise and I had spoken a lot during the years but had never dated. We got friendlier as the years went on until finally we started dating. Things quickly got serious between us. Denise was the first woman who actually let me have access to her body. I mean, I'd had sex before, but usually it was a hurried thing in the back of a car or in a dorm while the roommates were out.
Denise and I both had our own apartments and we took time out to actually enjoy sex. Her boobs were so large that they had already started to sag by the time we were in our mid-twenties. I was fascinated with them and she was fascinated with the fact that I was still fascinated with them. I guess most of the guys in our circle had already had their chances with them and moved on. They'd gotten to her boobs when they were still buoyant and springy. Now that I had them, gravity had already won the battle.
After dating for a year, I'd noticed several things. The first was that Denise was simply my best friend. Whenever I was away from her, I was miserable. She felt the same way about me so I asked her to marry me. She looked at me as if I was talking about someone else. I guess she'd seen a lot of the old spinster type women at the restaurants she worked in and supposed that she'd end up the same way.
She didn't even accept when I first asked her. She asked me why I wanted to marry her.
"You're already fucking me regularly," she said. "You know that I'll give you all the pussy you want even if we don't get married, so why do you want me to marry you?"
I looked her straight in the eyes. "Denise, I've always liked you. Even before you ever noticed me, I actually dreamed about you. Now that we've spent some time together, I've noticed that I'm pretty miserable when you're not around. It's not just your tits or sex, Denise. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Although you're my best friend, I don't want us to be just friends. And I shudder to think that someday some other guy could take you away from me. I love you, Denise."
"God, why didn't you just lead with that last part," she said. "Of course, I'll marry you, Perry. But don't sell yourself short. I know that you think you wouldn't have had a chance with me earlier, but you would have. Being with you is great for me too. A lot of the guys I went out with before you were only after me for sex. You're the only person I know who actually took the time to get to know me. And even after we started having sex, you're still here and still nice to me. I'd never let you get away from me and I never will. I love you too."
So ten years into the marriage we were happy or so I thought. The ensuing years had brought us many blessings. We had two boys, Bobby was a rambunctious five year-old and Johnny, his younger brother, was three. We'd waited until we were financially stable to have our kids. We had a nice house, two cars, a pool and regular vacations. We had all of the things that one needs to be happy.
Of course, over the ten years we'd become totally different people. Denise seemed to get shorter and fatter. While not a pig or a blob, she was now one of those typical suburban housewives you see everywhere. Nope take that out of your mind. Denise wasn't a MILF; she was more like a MIPWFWSEDBHHLH. Okay I won't bother trying to tell you how to pronounce that but I'll tell you what it stands for. (Mother I Probably Wouldn't Fuck With Someone Else's Dick But Her Husband Loves Her)
.... There is more of this story ...