I think I should describe my wife before I get started. First of all Kyra is beautiful. Not pretty or cute, but drop-dead gorgeous. She looks ten years younger than her actual age of thirty-six. It's right and proper that men should think they have a beautiful wife, but it's not just me who thinks she is beautiful and young looking. Everybody says it. Several times, long after she passed thirty she was carded before they would serve her alcoholic drinks.
Kyra is only five feet three and she is really stacked. Nice rounded ass and boobs to die for. Thirty-eight C, if you must know. Kyra is aware she is fantastic looking, but it never changed her a bit. She is still the sweet natured, loving girl I married. She is fun loving and adventurous. As far as our sex life, there was nothing she wouldn't do or at least consider. Right from the very first days of our relationship. That's only kind-of true. I'll explain later.
Kyra likes sex. No, more correct to say she loves sex. She loves everything we've tried. She is one of those rare women who likes anal sex and will often initiate it. She loves sex in any position and believe me we've tried them all. However, her first love, sex wise, is oral. Giving and receiving, but especially giving. Kyra can have an orgasm just from sucking my dick to completion. She gave me a blowjob on out first date. She was in her first year at college and I was a graduating senior.
After the first date, Kyra and I didn't date for several years. She was busy studying and I was busy trying to get my fledgling computer business off the ground. In fact, I didn't see her for nearly three years after date number one. We reconnected by pure chance and my extremely good luck.
I and my business partner attended a reception for some politician. My partner, Andy Huskey, thought it would be good for business. As it turned out it didn't do a thing for business, but it was good for me. I ran into Kyra again. I was pleasantly surprised that she remembered me. Her exact words were:
"Hey, I know you. You're Henry Gant, aren't you? Hank is what they called you."
"I am that same self Hank," I said. "And I remember you. You're Kyra Becker. We went to a concert together."
"Yes, we certainly did. You borrowed two hundred dollars from me and never paid me back. Pay up."
"No, you are mistaken, you borrowed it from me and you owe me, plus interest."
"Oh," she said smiling prettily. "Good luck collecting it."
I managed to get her away from her date and out onto a balcony. We did the what-have-you-been-up to and whatever-happened-to bit for a while. I could see her date through the window franticly searching for her. I certainly didn't blame him. I knew it was only a matter of time before he checked out the balcony. So I quickly asked her if she was involved with anyone. She hesitated a moment before telling me she wasn't. Just a tad too long, but I asked her if I could call her and she gave me her number. Barely in time. Her date charged out and took her away from me, but not for long.
I didn't wait the required time whatever the required time is. I called Kyra the very next day and we went to a movie that weekend. Unlike our previous first date, I didn't get a blowjob. The following weekend we went to dinner. That was when I found out she was dating the man she was with at the reception. His name was George Dunmore, the third. The son of a bitch was filthy rich with his daddy's money. Father, grandfather, and probably great-grandfather's old money.
That news made me very nervous. Andy and I were doing okay, but we weren't getting rich very fast. I couldn't compete with George three on that level. Apparently, George, the rich prick, spent his weekends at their summer place on Devil's Island. That wasn't the name of the island, but it was some fancy island the rich migrated to in the summer. I was hard-put to accept the fact that I was just a weekend date.
Kyra and I didn't become intimate until the forth date. I got a quick hand-job before she rushed into the sorority house. Kyra was finishing up her senior year. She claimed an early night because of final exams the next Monday. Hey, you take what you can get. A jerk-off is better than lover's nuts.
I made it a point to be at her commencement ceremony. I even bought her an expensive graduation gift. One I could not afford. Of course ol' George was there having taken time off from spending money to show up. I waited close by while he hugged and kissed her and generally pissed me off. When he became distracted, I slipped in, congratulated her, gave her a kiss and the alligator briefcase. I made my mark while George wasn't looking. It was a good thing I was quick for it wasn't long before he was back. He glared at me as only the super rich can and took Kyra away with him. I didn't see her all that weekend. In fact, I didn't see her for several weekends. I was sweating bullets. In my mind, she was being held captive on Devil's Island or somewhere by that evil rich bastard.
Kyra was nice enough to call me to let me know she was back in town. I had made up my mind to break it off with her, but my resolve dissolved at the sound of her voice. The love-bug had bit me squarely on my ass.
It was our super intelligence and a shit-pot full of luck that Andy and I came up with a software program that was a hit. In fact, most computers today have it, or another generation of the program installed. Suddenly I could offer some competition to the rich bastard so I put the full court press on Kyra to ditch the rich dweeb and go out with me exclusively.
We were at the Wharf Restaurant, which was one of our favorites. There was a dining patio that extended out over the lake. That was where we were when I presented my case. I had given a lot of thought into what I was going to say to her. I practiced it until I had it firmly in my mind. However when it came time I lost it.
"Kyra, you need to stop seeing Georgie boy and marry me." Son of a bitch! That's wasn't what I mean to say. I had not even thought about marriage.
"Get real, Hank," Kyra said calmly. "George can give me everything. What can you offer?"
"I have a ten inch cock," I blurted loud enough to turn a few neighboring heads
"No you don't," Kyra said. "I know better than that, Hank. Besides George had a for real seven and a half inches. What else you got?" Yeah, like I needed to hear that shit. Rich and a big cock also. Life is exceedingly unfair.
"Nothing," I finally admitted. "I don't have a lot of money, but I will have someday. I'm sorry, Kyra, about all I have to offer you is love, but on the plus side I have a lot of that."
"Ah, so you're saying you love me?" she said suddenly looking serious.
"Well yes," I answered. "I thought that was a given. Of course I love you."
"Okay, pal; you just said the magic words." Her eyes were glistening with tears. "Here's the deal. I'll break it off with George and you and I will become a couple. Marriage, kids, and the whole nine yards. Not right away, but sometime soon. You and I will walk down life's path together, hand in hand. But," she paused and took my hand. "Do not ever let me hear you say that it's a given. Love is never a given. You must promise to tell me you love me at least once a day. Deal?"
Oh hell yes it was a deal! I leaped at it. I embraced it and we got married the following spring. I was the happiest man alive on the face of the earth. I had the beautiful Kyra and George didn't. Fuck you George and the rich horse you rode in on.
Kyra and I have lived in our present house for almost fifteen years. We move there right after we were married. Our house is big, comfortable, and actually too big for the two of us. Our plan was to start having children right away, but Kyra couldn't conceive for some reason that I never understood. It was a bitter disappointment, but we managed.
Our house has a detached three-car garage. At first, it was using the spare bay as storage. Then it begun to spread and Kyra lost her parking place and finally both cars set outside and the junk stayed inside. Quite frankly, the garage couldn't hold a vehicle larger than a bicycle now. Over the years, it became just a storage building. Everything that we didn't want in the house was moved to the garage. Again, in the interest of frankness, there were many things that should have been immediately thrown out.
I'm like a lot of people, I'm a packrat. I hate to throw away something that has any value or even may have a value someday. Hence the collection of broken appliances, lamps that don't work, old vinyl records in boxes. Never mind that we don't even own a working record play any longer. I'm sure there is a record player in the garage somewhere.
There are boxes of personal and household records dating back to even before we were married. As a wedding present my beautiful wife subscribed me to the National Geographic Magazine. I faithfully kept every single issue. I don't know why. Probably because of the great photographs. You see where I'm going, I'm sure. Just a bunch of junk. Most was in the category of too good to throw away and not worth keeping.
Five years into the marriage Kyra started badgering me to clean out the garage. Until that Saturday morning, I had successfully dodged the task. It was a beautiful spring day. The sky was clear and blue, the birds were singing and the golf course awaited. Every Saturday morning for years on end, rain or shine, and come hell or high water I played golf on Saturday mornings. I always played with three close friends as a foursome. It was a routine of long standing. It was our thing.
On that particular morning things went to hell quickly. One at a time my foursome evaporated. One was sick. Who gets that sick? The other one had a sprained back and his doctor ordered no golf. What kind of quack would do that? The other one had to make an emergency trip out of town to be at his dying father's side. Okay, that excuse is valid...almost.
Somehow Kyra sensed there was something amiss with my plans. On some level that only women and wives especially have, she pounced on the situation. I hastily called other golfing friends only to discover they were already in a group, they had given up the game of golf, or they had some other lame excuse. Being a cleaver and somewhat devious man, I loaded my clubs in the car and kissed Kyra telling her I would be home in time for dinner. I could fly solo if necessary. I almost got away. Somehow fate had conspiring against me. One of my tires was flat. Normally not a problem. I would grabbed the spare and have the flat off and replaced in fifteen minutes, but not that day. The spare was also flat. A few weeks previously I had ran over a nail and simply forgot to have the spare, which was actually the regular tire, repaired. I called the auto club and with head bowed low went to tell Kyra that I wasn't leaving.
Of course I could have taken her car, but driving her little pink convertible was just too much. Actually her car isn't pink, but it too close for comfort. I'm too large to fit in the damned thing and my clubs stuck up from the passenger's seat. It all combined to make me look silly as hell.
I poured myself a second cup of coffee and tried to think of other reasons I should be out and away from the house. Kyra didn't give me an opportunity to come up with a good plan.
"Today is the day," Kyra announced firmly. Her tone if not the actual words were enough to send shivers up and down my spine. "Look at me, Hank," she said. "Today, you and I are going to clean out the garage." I knew for a certainty that there was no "you and I" actually meant in her statement. "Let's go, chum. If you work hard and do as I say, I'll give you a reward."
"What kind of reward?" I asked, dutifully following her out the back door to the garage from hell.
"I'll give you the best blow-job you have ever had or even dreamed of," she said opening the three doors exposing the mess. "I'll rock your world, my friend."
"Big fucking deal," I muttered. "Every blow-job you gave me is the best I ever had. You always rock my world."
"Okay let me put it another way," she said turning from the garbage pit. "If you ever expect to get another blow-job or a piece of pussy from me, you'll get to cleaning."
"Can anybody get in on that deal?" My business partner, Andy, said. He lived two doors down and neither Kyra heard him approach. "I'm a cleaning fool, Kyra."
"Yeah? Prove it and we'll see about the rest," Kyra said laughing. Any other woman in the world would have been embarrassed, but not Kyra. "And you," she said standing on her tiptoes to kiss each side of my mouth and finally plant a big kiss in the middle. "I'm expecting big things from you. Don't let me down."
"I have a big thing," Andy called after her as she went back into the house. "So, no golf today, huh?"
"Shut the fuck up, Andy," I said. "And stop trying to put the make on my wife. What do you want anyway?"
"Norm-world called last night," he said. "They upped the offer to ten million and about half in stock." Norm-world dot com had started making offers on our company nearly three years ago. They sweetened the deal a little each time. Over the past three months they started to make the offers faster.
"How high do you think they will go?" I asked him throwing some magazines and other junk off of an old sofa and taking a seat.
"I don't have the foggiest idea," Andy said sitting beside me. "Last night the dude sounded almost frantic. He begged me to make a counter-offer." Andy looked at me seriously for a few moments. "You think we should sell, Hank?"
"Maybe...I don't know," I admitted. "Next time they offer, tell them they can have the whole shooting match for twenty-five million cash. No stock. We didn't bust our ass to have everything tied up in some dot com company that could disappear tomorrow. Could you use twelve and a half million?"
"I could probably find a use for it," Andy said. "Do you really think they'll go that high?"
"I don't know," I answered. "If nothing else maybe it will shut them up."
"You say 'I don't know' a lot," Andy said. "What do you know?"
"I know I'd better get my ass in gear and clean this garage up. You see anything you want in here?"
"That's a nice looking moose head," Andy said. "What are you doing with that thing?"
"I bought it at a garage sale ten or so years ago. I planned on hanging it in the den, but Kyra put a stop to that. You want it?"
"No," Andy said laughing. "I don't have any room in my garage and that's where it would go. Want some help?"
Andy and worked our asses off all morning. Talking one load after another to the curb for the city to haul away. By one o'clock my ass was dragging. I took a seat on the old sofa that wasn't all that old. Well, it wasn't worn out. Just dusty from sitting in the garage for several years. Since I looked like I had rolled in the dust, it didn't make any difference to me if it was dirty or not.
"Hey, these 45 RPM disks are collector's items," Andy said looking in a box of records. "Here's some by Duane Eddy and Link Wray. Those guys knew how to play a guitar."
"Take'em if you want them," I said. "I don't have anything to play them on anyway."
"Sure you do," Andy said. "There's a player over on the shelf. Does it work?" I didn't know so we plugged it in and discovered it did work. We were grooving to the sound of Duane Eddy twanging out "Rumble" and "Stalkin'" when Kyra came with sandwiches and beer.
"You guys are going to get the neighbors to call the police if you don't turn that racket down," Kyra yelled. Andy turned the music down to a lower roar. "When are you going to get started on this garage?" Kyra said looking around.
"Bite me, bitch," I snarled. "What we've already done would have killed lesser men." There was a mountain of trash at the curb and we could actually see most of the garage floor.
"Actually, I'm impressed," Kyra said hugging my dirty sweaty body tightly. "You boys done good."
"What about me?" Andy said. "Where's my hug. I worked harder than Hank did."
"Your hug is at home," Kyra said. "Glenda called and asked me to send you that way. You have company coming this afternoon."
"Oh shit! I forgot about the in-laws coming today. Okay, I'll go, but not before I get my just deserts. I want a sandwich and beer before I go."
"For a moment there I thought you were going to demand a blow-job," I kidded him. Andy had a thing for Kyra for years. Not that it was unusual for a man to have a thing for her. Most normal men did. Kyra and Andy joked about it.
After we ate and finished the beer, Andy went home. I went back to cleaning. By mid-afternoon the bulk of the trash was gone to the curb. I was down to mostly boxes of junk. Several years earlier I built shelves along the back and one sidewall. I pulled box after box of old worthless junk down and stacked it to take to the shredders. I know throwing bank records and the like in the trash is just asking for identity theft.
Using a stepladder I got a box off of the top shelf and set it on the floor. Unlike the others it was sealed with tape. I used my pocketknife to slit the tape. Inside were photo albums. I knew immediately they weren't mine. I've never been organized enough to put photos in albums. There were several three-inch ring binders in the carton. I took one and sat down on the old sofa Andy and I had carefully worked around. It was a fold out sofa bed and it was heavy as hell. I thought it was best to call Goodwill to come and haul it off.
I opened the album and my mouth went dry at sight of the first photograph. My heart started thumping loudly. It was an 8 x 10 nude photo of Kyra! Naked as the day of her birth and I had not taken the picture. For a moment I was consumed by rage. I flipped the page and there was another large photo of my naked wife. This one clearly showed her tits and pussy because she was laying on her back with her legs spread wide open. Her fingers held her pussy open and she was smiling for the camera.
I must state at this point that Kyra had never given me any reason to think she was unfaithful to me. Not one single fleeting moment. I stopped, took a couple of deep breaths, and went back to looking at the photos of Kyra. They looked like they could have been taken yesterday or last week. I couldn't believe that was the case and suddenly I stopped looking at her tits and ass and started to really look at the pictures. It was the hairstyle that gave it away.
When Kyra and I became seriously involved she wore her hair short. Almost mannishly short. Not that Kyra ever looked like a man. Her hair was longer these days. Down to her shoulders and had been that way for many years. I breathed a sigh of relief. They were old photos, of that I was certain. The full bush Kyra sported in the photos was proof positive. She had her pubic hair removed by electrolysis a few years after we were married when we suddenly found ourselves with some extra money. I bought a new sports car and she had her pussy hair removed. I enjoyed the car and her bare pussy.