Ain't I Got a Great Gal?

First one here. Love betrayal stories like the ones from TheTalkMan. But since I'm not a fan of (translation: I suck at) writing long, convulated storylines, I hope you guys enjoy this one.

My woman is my world.

No matter what, she's always got a smile on her shiny face and lips that make every kiss as salty as a sea breeze.

Can YOU say the same about your spouses, gentlemen? Sure, you're gonna talk my ear off, telling me how good your old lady is at cooking or cleaning or.....ooof, sex!; as if THAT was the most important thing in the world!

But once you've met MY missus, you ain't gonna forget those beautiful eyes that could enchant even the most clueless man. Guess I was the luckiest one, 'cause I fell completely under her spell.

Ahhh! Ain't I got a great gal, fellas?

Not a day goes by where I don't come home after a hard day's work and hear the the sound of the shower running. She's just that cleanly. While we have our usual talks, I smile as I hear her hands massaging loads of gel on her, well...., quite admirable bosom. A lot of smacking and squeezing. You get me, dontcha?

Though, I do think the thick curtains she had me buy make it hard for me to spot anything on the other side. Honestly, there's hardly anything else I can see except maybe the shapely outlines of her gorgeous body. The curtains do such a good job at blurring my vision, sometimes I could swear there's more than one person inside of them. Crazy, right?!

But she insisted I buy these, and by God!, you'd rather catch me dead than not following my cute commanders orders!

And once we're done telling each other about our day, she'll do the funniest thing ever and start dancing like crazy while I start shaking my hips myself to the sounds of her happy moans. Boy, she sure does work up a sweat in there.

I mean, just by the way I constantly hear flesh slapping on flesh, I assume her, uh.....umm..., well, y'know....her cheeks...must be working overtime. Sometimes, I can't help myself and loudly tell her to go faster and faster, just so I can hear more of those clapping noises, hahaha. Makes her sing at least octave higher. Thank God the water dissolves all the sweat and filth, huh?

While some might feel weird about it, I don't mind when my sweetie asks me to wait in the kitchen for a few minutes while she tidies up the bathroom.

What, you want me to go in there and find something I shouldn't? Don't you dare call her a cleaning freak; she's just a woman who cares about keeping things neat.

Though, I do wonder why her procedure always includes opening and closing the front door. Eh, maybe one of her many superstitions.

Ahhh! Fellas, ain't I got a great gal?

Don't get me started! Do NOT get me started on her personality, 'cause she's got more brains than beauty, and that seems implausible when you see get to meet her.

While other housewives waste their days binging low-brow entertainment dramedies on their TVs, she's constantly at the library or the book store, somewhere on the other side of town, where there must be exotic literary. Ah, my smart little bookworm! From German classics over French romance to Indian anatomics and a lot of Japanese graphic novels. For latter, she's even got an entire shelf, believe it or not. "Neto-"-something it's called, I think.

Her kindness know no bounds. She often tells me about these poor meatheads, all of them big and hunky and wearing loose jogging pants, whom she'll let accompany her to the reading areas where she'll teach how them how to read. Her voluntary reading sessions happen up to six days a week. I listen with pleasure as she recounts how rock hard each and every case is, and how she still persists in taking in all the guys' attention.

My poor baby! Works so hard, she hardly ever gets time to pee. She has to hold it in 'til she gets home, where she'll jump past me with crossed, shakey legs and race to the toilet. Once, she didn't last, and a few drops spilled onto the living room floor.

I didn't make fun of her or even tell her about them, of course, and quickly wiped them off with pride. With clear white chunky droplets like these, you bet your behind my superstar never forgets to hydrate well and keep her protein in-take above regular. She really does love her proteins, especially yogurts!

Fellas, don't tell me! Ain't I got a great gal?

Everybody loves her. My best bud probably the most. After me, obviously, he he.

See, I put that man through most of high-school and college by letting him copy my answers. I know, I know, it ain't very righteous.

You'll probably call me crazy when I tell you I even donated half my kidney to that guy. But I've known him for half my life and will hopefully do so for the rest of it. And, while he might be childish and irresponsible, he's practically halfway almost always there for me when I need him. Most of the time.

Boy, once he gives you that signature pout of his, you can't refuse his request or advances. Yet, still, he's single, can you buy that?! That's why I don't blame my naïve wifey at all when she told me she'd go over to his apartment once a week to instruct him on how to find true love and lock it down.

It's been going on for five years now.

I was surprising them with a video call that one time. By the look on their close faces, which was the only thing I could see, they seemed already so done with each other, hahaha! Vividly do I remember my strong-willed honey bee huffing and puffing and moaning jn anger, obviously, when she was asking me not to call again, as they were close to finishing their exercises. Man, don't ask me who I think gave which one a harder time pounding the nerves out of the other.

But hey, that's the guy who served as my best man during my wedding. He even had a long 40-minute talk with her when the party was over and before my wife and I, ahem....well....y'know...'consummated' our marriage. Well, we did actually consummate it the next night, 'cause she looked so tired when I entered our honeymoon suite, with her dress in a disshelved state--it probably clung to a door handle and ripped--that I didn't want to bother her with petty stuff like that.

I'll always keep in my heart the moment I softly interrogated her what my bud's speech was all about. She had that dreamy look on her smiling face and told me he simply begged her never to leave me, because he saw how happy she made me. She assured him she would be by my side numerous times. With tears in my eyes, I sniveled and asked how many times he made her come....

*sniff, sniff*

Sorry, I always crack up when I recall this moment. When I asked her how many times he made her come to that commited oath, she gave me a long, innocent peck on the cheek and whispered something about six or seven.

Man, can a guy ask for two better soulmates?!

Ain't I got a great gal? I know, fellas.

Don't let my words fool ya, however. She can be tough as nails when the situation requires it.

See, our landlord's quite an....undesirable person. An old widow, he constantly oogles at the bodies of our married female neighbors whenever their husbands aren't close-by. It's sad, really. I mean: does he really think any of these, admittedly, attractive and assertive women will give him the time of the day just because he chats them up and tries to impress them with some.....what was it again?....a twelve inch long rooster he got?

Yeah, dude. I'm sure those happily married ladies, some of them mothers, will throw it all away for a chance to see your pet bird. Urgh, I can't believe someone actually used to be married that creep, may God bless her soul.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah.

So, on a random hot summer day, when my wife and I came back home after I had picked her up from the airport--in case you need to know: she had returned from her annual all-girls trip in Miami; what? Why should I be worried? Her best friends, my sisters and my own mother go always along to keep any eye on her, as if that was necessary.

Sorry. As I was saying; we were just walking up the stairs to our apartment, when we saw him. The elevator had been defect for a month and, instead of repairing it like our lease requires, we saw that....I'm really this close to using the 'B-word', fellas; we caught him rubbing himself again the backside of our sweetest and most innocent neighbor, a newlywed 20-year old gal. Right in her open doorway, for everyone to see.

While she was bending over, probably looking for a lost contact lese, wearing tight black leggings that, uh, complimented her figure, his....*sigh*......his pants were pulled down around his upper thighs. And he had his organ out. I'm sure glad I, and my wife, too, of course, averted our glances before we'd get traumatized by the view.

Disgusting, right? Only my morals kept me from jumping that obese, although slightly muscular, pervert. And the fact I didn't want to drop my wife's lightweight suitcases.

I yelled at him to let her go. The poor girl shrieked when she saw us, starting to stammer and begging us not to tell her husband. I shook my head in pity. No way she could've done something against him, probably paralyzed in her state of discomfort. Dear Lord, what must've gone through that poor angel's head that her marriage was the first thing on her mind? She's a good wife, I tells ya!

So was mine. Before I could even begin one of my well-known tirades, she marched in-between them. She whispered something reassuring I couldn't make out into our neighbor's ear who sighed happily, thanked us profusely and went back inside her apartment.

Man, I'm not kidding you; I thought the love of my life was about to tear that molester a new one. Judging from my position behind him and by how I couldn't see her hands and how rapidly her arms were moving back and forth, there's no way she wasn't shaking with rage and balled fists pressed against his fat stomach.

Hell, I almost giggled with Schadenfreude when that creep started moaning in pain. I was so focused on the anger and concentration in my gorgeous lady's eyes, I didn't pay no attention to the threats she obviously was whispering into his ears.

After about a minute, she turned to me and asked me to wait upstairs in our home while she'd 'take care' of the landlord. Oh, boy!

I gulped, unsure of whether or not I should leave her all alone with that pervert. But she insisted. And I'll be damned if I have no confidence and faith in my spouse!

With a last glance of disgust towards him--he didn't even bother to pull up his pants the whole time!--, I blessed my dame with a chivalric air kiss and walked the rest of the four floors back to our apartment. Throughout, I kept grinning to myself as the landlord's groans increased in volume. Served him right, right?!

Once I audibly closed the front door, my impatient goddess didn't waste no time. Fueled by nothing but utter exhaustion from two weeks of full-on partying under Florida heat and some expensive snacks I'd bought her at the airport, she went to town on him.

I pressed my ear against the door and listened with eyes as the fight began. Boys, believe me; you do NOT want to know how graphic it must've been.

A lot of smacking, and in-between, a HECK load of intermittent slapping. My hands were shaking. I closed my eyes and listened in wallowing pity, as I heard my little lady take him on. His groans of surely nothing but painful agony mixed in well with her earth-shattering battle cry.

Dang!

And when she started yelling at him to give it to her, I clasped my hands in prayer, 'cause that dude would be as dead as a dead could be. Him moaning and begging her to go just a bit slower told me all I needed to know. To  this day, I wonder how many times she must've punched the senses out of his arrogant, peeping-tom face and made him beg for more in his deluded state. Haha, yeah, that's MY baby! Always knows how to handle any guy!

But hold onto your horses, when you hear this: with all the slapping and squishing noises going on, I nearly dropped the glass in my hand due to the powerful voice echoing throughout the entire complex. And I dang sure everybody heard it when my sweet angel defeated the very rest of that pathetic person's self-esteem by shrieking....uh...what was it again?....

Ah, yes! She said she didn't care how much bigger the landlord was than me, her husband; that he was more than three times my size; she would take him ANY day!

Then, a last powerful scream from both of them. After that, nothing but silence. Throughout it all, I manned my post, knowing too well I could trust my wife's abilities.

Look, I'm not into body-shaming, but that man really does have a big, thick, girthy waist! Let's bet all that fat meat he got became his undoing, eh?

Nah, I'm just joshing ya! He didn't pass away, obviously. He just understood what would happen if he ever messed with me or my spouse again. I watched in awe as she finally entered the door, where I hugged her deeply and promised a long shoulder massage and self-cooked delicious meals to my hero. Heroine, my bad.

Surely you wanna know what happened next, huh?

Well, lemme just say that, apparently, the entire building listened to that brutal showdown and practically all the other residents and out neighbors had watched it unfold, or so they told me. And get this: no matter whom I asked what exactly happened between my gorgeous fighting spirit and that creep with a huge rooster, each and every one of them just shook their head, placed a hand on my shoulder and assured me I didn't want to know.

It all sounds so unbelievable, right? Guess you could say my wife gave him a ride to hell and back, hahaha!

And boy, did it work, 'cause, the elevator works smoothly, again. The landlord keeps his distance to me, probably out of shame,' cause the first time I spotted him after their tussle, he was practically limping with spread legs. Ouch! Don't wanna know how sore his body must've been after he got a taste of the unyielding banshee that is my darling. He's become so tame, he barely comes over for repairs, only in emergencies. Unfortunately, they often seem to happen in the apartment of the poor married girl I tolf you about. But I doubt that dummy will even risk looking at her, knowing my saint of a wife happens to be visiting her at almost every occasion.

He even keeps his distance to me and, with a grimace, shoots pitiful smiles my way in the rare cases we see each other. He probably thinks my wife gives me the same treatment she gave him, oh Lord! Hahaha, don't worry, I don't get it.

You know what I got, though?

Say it with me, fellas: Ain't I got a great gal?

Yessir, my partner in crime knows how to move her hands when it comes to other men. A lot of it comes from the martial arts training she sometimes receive from her ex who is a black belt in, uh.....I think it was Judo? Not sure.

Anyway, before y'all lose your minds: yes, she knows I know he's her ex. No need for secrets between us, ya feel me?

I'm sorry for any of ya who don't have at least that amount of faith placed in their significant other, but from all that she's told me about that guy, I just know hell would have to freeze over before she'd start any funny business.

When they were together, he'd always make jokes about 'cracking' another guy's girlfriend. Right IN FRONT of her! Crazy, right? No wonder she had me wait in the car when we went to his place to pick up some of her stuff. She must've argued with him for hours. Bet he instantly changed his mind about that whole adulterous 'girlfriend' stuff after that.

And since she's not my girlfriend but my wife, there's twice as little worry for me to have. I mean, look, do I tolerate what he does? No, of course not. But who am I to tell a man, an obviously broken man, what to do with other guys' women? They made their choices. And you can see I'm not a judgmental guy, right?

Speak of the devil, did you know his dojo is actually called 'Hell'? Well, I mean, with all the obscene tattoos he's got on his sleeves, biceps and six-pack, I wouldn't really expect a person like him at Sunday mass. Seriously, if you ever come across that guy, like I had the misfortune of when picking her up from training that one time, do NOT ask him about that one imprint underneath his belly button that read.....ugh.....I'm sorry to all the lighthearted people......its title read "A**f*cked, But Promised To Never Let By Hubby"; and it was quite a long list of women's names. I think in the dozens or more.

Forgive me, guys, for the vulgarity. Believe me, I wholeheartedly waved my hand when that 6.5 foot tall walking painting tried explaining the list's meaning to me. Thankfully, his loose white polyester shorts barely showed his crotch, where I had the displeasure of spotting a giant name in what appeared to be a Comic Sans font.

I know, right? Comic Sans?! What was he, ten?

Nah, dontcha worry, I ain't got bit by the green-eyed jealousy bug. I'm an adult. Even when my wife admitted to me that her ex used to be crazy about her--he even got her name tattooed on his body, can you belive that? Man, laser removal must've been quite expensive.

Where was I? Oh, yeah. Look, whether I like it or not, she'll always be a fond memory to him. A fond memory, nothing else.

Were there times I became a TEENY TINY IT'S BITSY bit worried he could try something with her, when I wasn't looking? Gee, let's be honest; we men can be real sleazebags. And those of us who are tattooed--I'm not--even more.

Like I said, he could try. And once his feisty ex, my little little fighter, would be done with him, he'd never even think about trying.

Remember that horrible blizzard that swept over the whole state last year? You'd have to either be  dying or have a rage-filled suspicion to race on them roads. I remember how it hit me out of all sudden when I was on my way to pick her up from training.

Boy, I tell ya: I nearly drove into a ditch. With all that frost, I went off the highway and parked on an empty field in the middle of nowhere. Hahaha, I must've looked like a poor shmuck when emergency services managed to come in the evening to tow my broken car and found me nearly freezing my butt off, with the air-conditioner as still as my wife's ex's dojo.

Oh, didn't I tell you? The entire building he owned was snowed in, and there was no way to get out or in, lest you had a welding torch with you. As far as I know, they did, actually, since he had been doing some renovations around that time. Obviously, it must've been an old model that didn't work well, or else he and my wife would have been able to get out way earlier.

Yeah! As if fate itself wanted to teach him a lesson, the blizzard hit the building in the exact same moment after every other woman from his course left--I think it's a specially cheap one, only for married mothers; my wife was allowed in as an exception, since, y'know, we might never know--but right before my wife had her stuff packed and was ready to leave. Can you believe his 'luck'?

Hahaha. Consider the awkwardness between them. Silence in the air. Oof, what an unpleasant thought. Heck, I almost hope for him they talked as little as possible and didn't face each other while waiting for the weather to change.

Of course I felt bad for him when I found out. How unimaginably boring that entire afternoon must've been for them. I mean, knowing my spouse, she probably killed some time working on her yoga poses. She's practicing them for as long as I can remember.

So, while she stretched and moved her cute fit body in one of them typically bulky gi's, her dumbfounded ex most likely groaned and moaned out of boredom. After all, what else was there for him to do, except maybe follow her lead and do some posing on his own, I guess?

Keep this to yourselves, but I think that, if my wife hadn't beat him to it, he'd have been the first to swing his arms around me in a tight hug, once the brave first responders and I managed to get the front door unfreezed and then, for some reason, unlocked. He really must've hated all that time alone, judging by the look of exhaustion on his face.