Four Guys & Marriage

CHAPTER 2

The four guys who were best mates found their lives had changed, almost unnoticeably, but the one who noticed it the most was vehicle repair shop owner Sandy Macdonald because it became rare for all four of them line up together. Whenever one or two of them suggested going bowling at least one of the other two would plead a prior engagements. Moose or Jeff or Tully would decided to have a cookout and would invited their mates and partners and inevitably Sandy would turn up alone and leave early, feeling he was odd-man out, and that was perceptive of him. The three other guys and Pam, Clara and Ruby had a meeting and discussed what to do about Sandy.

"He felt sure he had a thing going with his personal trainer but she dropped him cold," Moose said.

"Yeah," said Tully. "It devastated our former ladies' man because it had never happened to him before. His confidence level is lower than his trouser cuffs."

"What does Sandy do?" Ruby asked.

The answer that he owned a small vehicle repair shop failed to impress any of the women.

Jeff asked, "Do any of you females have a friend you could stitch up for Sandy?"

The young women looked at each other and shrugged.

Clara said, "Well he's rather good looking and although works with cars doesn't appear to have dirty finger nails."

The guys appeared mystified by that last comment.

Pam asked what kind of woman would appeal to Sandy.

Tully said loose, sexy, athletic and interesting.

Moose said attractive, well mannered, intellectual and interested in the arts.

"Those are entirely different women with possible conflicts," Clara said. "Are you two sure you know Sandy's taste in women?"

"Most of them would taste okay to Sandy," Moose said, and everyone fell about laughing.

At the next cook-out Ruby introduce Sandy to her best friend Miranda, a dark-haired beauty but there was no ignition. Jeff had a quiet word with Ruby, passing on Sandy's comment that Miranda was too skinny to be healthy. Ruby snarled, "You friend is far too picky. No wonder he can't find a woman."

The seven of them went to a movie where Pam's cousin Stella just happened to arrive, or so it appeared. Pam was told later that Sandy would never date a woman with thick thighs and over-sized breasts. The three women held a hasty meeting at which it was agreed Sandy was an asshole and was beyond help. The boyfriends were told to severe their relationship with Sandy but the relationships simply slipped underground.

The three couples continued to socialize together regularly and the three guys went bowling once a fortnight where they were joined by their old mate Sandy. On Friday night when the girls friends had gone to a the premiere of a movie, 'A Week in Rio Without Sex' that apparently was totally misnamed, the guys met at their old bar where Sandy assumed his old leadership role and said, "It's about time you guys were married."

"Eh?" chorused Jeff, Moose and Tully.

"It is immoral of you guys to fuck yourselves stupid with your compliant babes without giving them the financial security of a wedding so they are left with assets if the crap hits the fan and you break up."

"Why would they break up with us," Jeff whined. "They love us." "What say you guys are killed in car accidents or your girlfriends get tired of waiting to be popped with the question and go off to find some more deserving guy, for instance me. Have you guys forgotten how Ruby, Pam and Clara used to look at me, licking their top lips before they stuffed up by attempting to pass off unsuitable women on to me?"

The guys looked at him wide-eyed. Moose stammered, w-w-hat do you thing w-w-we should do?"

Throw a joint engagement party and set your wedding dates. Those babes will want separate weddings because they are so full of themselves."

The three mates let that slur pass because Sandy hadn't been explicit enough.

The women of course went for the idea of a joint engagement party because it pushed the commitment to a wedding closer; their mothers were the first to point that out.

* * *

Sandy knew that the right woman to fuck would turn up on his doorstop one day, and all he had to do was to wait patiently. Oh, she'd also have to be a great companion as well. He was wrong about that moment of glorious meeting being where he lived; it occurred where he worked.

"Sandy, some babe in the red sports car just driven up wants to chat."

Sandy, his already fading red hair spilling carelessly over his freckled forehead, his searching blue eyes casting around the workshop to see who was fiddling instead of working, wandered nonchalantly out to the car. He spotted the driver watching him intently -- a female. Well the classic sports car was sexy enough to a classy female. Perhaps she was one.

The driver opened the rear-hinged front door and two beautifully shaped legs in black heels and flesh colored sheen stockings slid into view and Sandy caught his breath. This babe had sex written all over her. Then a walking stick slid beside her legs.

Fuck, what a disappointment; a glorious image blown. He'd imagined she'd step out, be 6ft 2in tall, with only the hint of a rounded belly, pert tits topped by eye-catching cleavage, a full wide mouth, misty blue eyes, slightly arrogant nose and long billowing black hair.

The woman slid out and hauled herself to her feet and then grasping her walking stick was ready to walk forward. She was 6ft 2in with no belly in view, scrumptious rounded tits with the blue gathered shirt above her short skirt, the shirt too high to reveal cleavage. Her full wide mouth and baby blue eyes and cute subbed nose looked rather familiar and the long blonde hair fluttered in the gentle breeze.

Miss or Mrs Gorgeous opened her full lips and laughed, "Hello Sandy -- you dithering jerk, you are looking as if you don't know me"

Huh?

Sandy peered intently and then knew he was looking at Angelina Ireland, eldest daughter of his mom's best friend. He'd read in the newspaper that Angelina, now twenty-six, was returning home after riding in international equestrian events on the European circuit for eight years after breaking a hip in a severe fall.

"Hi Angelina, nice to see you again. Where have you been?"

Angelina looked at Sandy uncertainly, wondering perhaps if he'd become mentally deficient since they'd last met five years ago. Sandy marched up and holding her gently kissed her thoroughly.

"God Sandy, cut that out. You scarcely know me."

"Don't moan Angelina. We have a whole lot of catching up to do."

"We have?"

"Yes, bad luck brought to and end your bubbling career. Most of your friends here are married, some have left the city, and so you are faced with making a new start. Our mother have been friends since high school, I taught you how to kiss when you were a teenager and I recall you saying I was the third guy you'd had sex with"

"I told you that?"

"Yes, but don't worry about old memories. You need regular sex and you need to get back into the social scene here and I guess that places me under the responsibility of getting you reinstated and fulfilling your sexual needs."

"Sandy, please...please slow down. You are rather overwhelming me. I'm not here to have my social needs attended to and that other thing you are going on about. I'm here to get this car inherited from my later grandmother running properly again."

"Well that too Angelina. Here, let me kiss you again. God, you have a hard body."

"Is that a problem?"

"Angelina, I'll have you lovely and supple after a half hour in the hot tub and..."

"The car, Sandy. The car."

"Oh yes, the damn care. Start her up while I unbuckle the bonnet straps.

"Her?"

"Yes, forget those European feminists. All cars are 'her'. End of story."

"Oh dear..."

Angelina jumped from the car, leaving the engine running. "That sounds expensive."

Sandy said, "Classic cars are expensive possessions darling. That's partly why they are deemed classic. The peasants can't afford the upkeep, let alone owning one. As we continue our affair I'll gradually do a superficial rebuild for you..."

"What affair? Are you talking sex again?"

"Angelina, let's keep our minds on the job, eh? When I said 'Oh dear' you asked that sounded expensive. You blower's gone.

"Cars don't have blowers."

"Yours does. It's called a supercharger and I'd say grandma and now you had been running this old beauty without oil in the supercharger and the bearings have ground to a halt and see this belt -- it's slipping around uselessly because the blower is caput."

"Oh Sandy," Angelina said taking his arm and looking up at him as if he were a great surgeon, "is she...is she terminal?"

"No darling. I'll disconnect it and send it overseas by lowest-cost airfreight where it will either be rebuilt or in the unlikely event the company will have a replacement on its shelves and will send us that replacement one. Think $800 to $1200, nearer to $1200."

"What, for that relatively small piece of metal?"

"Darling, think of it as a male appendage: It's not the size but rather what it does. This 'relatively small piece of metal" gives your lovely but very heavy car perhaps sixty to eighty more brake horsepower, changing it from a mule to a stallion."

"Sandy, this extravagance you have with words, I don't know how I'm going to handle you."

"I suggest with gingerly and with love, darling lady."

Angelina thrust a hand over her mouth and then burst into laughter. "God you are priceless."

Sandy smirked and said he'd grab his jacket and drop her off home. . He instructed the foreman to remove the supercharger first thing in the morning and to tell Sandy when the car was ready. "I'm off now Mac."

Margaret Ireland greeted Sandy warmly; she'd know him from the day he was born.

"How lovely to see you darling. Please stay for dinner."

"No!" Angelina shouted.

Mother and visitor turned to see Angelina waving her hands frantically. She dropped her arms, embarrassed.

"Oh dear, where you going out tonight Angelina?"

"No mother."

"What then?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Oh well, Sandy I'll call your mother. Why don't you go to Angelina's bedroom and help unpack her boxes. She has some exotic French underwear to unpack I believe. Now don't you two get up to anything naughty in there with the door shut, but then again perhaps I don't mind at all."

"Mother!"

"What?"

"GRRRRRRRRRR," roared Angelina in frustration, talking off to her room, Sandy following behind almost on tiptoes.

Sandy had only had sex twice with Angelina and that was years ago. He'd seen photographs of her regularly in the newspapers pictured going well in show jumping events or whatever and sometimes finishing highly placed. Her figure had formed into adult curves and she had great style and was beautiful. When learning she was coming home he thought about asking her for a date and sighed, thinking she'd turn him down. But that afternoon as she climbed out of her low-slung car he was hit by madness and decided it was the only way -- he had to overpower her passionately, but without force. Judging by her reaction he'd got through to her core, but since he'd been invited to stay for dinner the core appeared to be rejecting him. Sandy had to go in for the kill but sucking one of her tits and whispering sweet things in her ear were unlikely to reap favorable results.

Sandy walked into the bedroom smiling. "Angelina, you must have wondered if I were coming on a bit strong at the repair shop?"

"Only a bit?"

"Well let's keep it in perspective. I haven't gone out with a women for three months."

"Who you? The biggest fornicator in the entire city?"

"Oh Angelina, it's not like that," Sandy lied. "When I learned about your accident I thought that girl's coming home and will need support but where will her old girlfriends be, in hospital birthing yet another baby or being committed to mother's clubs and such things? I missed you baby, seriously missed you, and decided to take a stand and be your social crutch. I did this thinking you'd have facial scars and be bent over crippled. I have no idea you'd be able to drive a car and walk so upright and look so fabulously beautiful."

"You see me as being beautiful? You were prepared to make that sacrifice for me?"

"Baby, there are some things a man has to do and this was one of them, Sandy said, continuing with the fabrication. "I'd never forgotten how lovely you were to me when we last had sex that night all those years ago..."

"Night? It was in the middle of the day in the hayshed at Smith's farm where I grazed my two horses and you were wearing navy blue trousers and a tight blue shirt, looking absolutely gorgeous and to my horror after we finished you had cum and my pussy discharges over those blue trousers."

"Day, night, day, whatever. One changes into the other. You were so tight."

"Well at least you go that right. I thought you were going to rip me in half."

"I hope all the horse riding, men and maturing has made you a little bigger down there?"

"Yes, there should be no problem if we do it...oh god, what am I saying?"

"Mouthing the inevitable I should think."

"Sandy, you appear to be rather literate for a vehicle repair shop owner."

"Well, I did take English Lit in my freshman year before I switched to vehicle engineering and small business management. As soon as I graduated I resumed studying English Lit online and completed an arts degree and now I write articles for motoring magazines and have completed the first draft of my second novel."

"A novel, you write novels?"

"I wish. My first was rejected because the five publishers I tried said the market for a novel about a bunch a guys trying to win an international car race was too limited."

Angelina said, "I've had my manuscript about romances on the equestrian circuit rejected by three publishers, all for the same reason, that it lacks driving sexuality and I don't appear to know much about sex."

"You don't know much about sex? Well I remember..."

"Sandy, please. What they mean is I have failed to express myself more than adequately in the sex scenes and injecting an overall tone that appears to have sex dripping off the pages."

"Wow, you described that beautifully. Perhaps I should pose as your writing buddy -- I wouldn't require any credit or anything beyond just the occasional nipple to suck."

"Yes, I like the idea. It excites me but please remember I only have two nipples."

"Fuck me Angelina, you are into great dialogue already.

"Am I? Oh yes, there was originality in that wordage wasn't there?"

"Show me your sexy French underwear Angelina and try to remember everything about this scene as it unfolds. It will be rather like play acting for the benefit of the author. You'll have to undress in front of me, for the benefit of you as the author, drinking up my reactions ...what's happening with my eyes and my hands, when do you notice an erection forming..."

"Oh god, pass me that blue box by the dresser Sandy while I grab my writer's log. This is the literary stimulus that I need. You are such a good boy."

Fifteen minute's later Angelina's mother's knock passed unnoticed. She opened the door as Angelina, dressed only in heels and stockings, held a pair of green silk knickers twisted around Sandy's erection and he sent a stream of come over his tormentor's breasts.

"Dinner is almost ready darlings," Margaret Ireland said. She added dryly as they appeared to be at a crucial stage in their play, she could hold dinner for up to half an hour without it spoiling.

"He's been such a good boy mom, helping me with my writing."

"Oh, is that how authors write these days dear?" her mother said, closing the door cheerfully.

The meal went well. Peter enquired about Sandy's business and told his daughter it had one of the highest throughputs of specialty auto centers in the city and had gained an outstanding reputation.

Everyone complimented Margaret on the meal and as the remainder of the second bottle of wine was poured Angelina asked, "Any problems if Sandy stays the night?"

"No dear that will be fine," Margaret smiled.

Peter said the sheets on the daybed in his study were clean.

"And what's wrong with Angelina's bed" Margaret snapped. "Christ Peter they are adults."

"Well I don't think it's proper."

Margaret scowled. "You sleep around a great deal Peter and I don't think that's proper yet I rarely complain."

"Er Angelina and Sandy," Peter smiled to cover his horrified look. "Whatever sleeping arrangement you two decided on it's fine with me. I'll fetch coffee."

"Your father fucks around darling but at least that takes the pressure off me. Please don't share our family secrets with your mother Sandy."

"No sweat Margaret if I may call you that. I won't mention it because that might make her suspicious about whether dad's fishing club nights and his bowling nights are authentic explanations for him being away from home."

"Thank you Sandy. Yes, I'd love it if you called me Margaret. I have some sex toys I could give you."

"Mom!"

"I have a couple of unopened butt plugs and a vibrating cock ring that Peter refused to even look at and Angelina you'll have your vibrators and dildos."

"Mother!"

"That's fine Margaret and if you have any sex furniture we'd like access to that. Angelina and I need to do research and experimentation to beef up her manuscript rejected by publishers."

"Oh good," Margaret said, "I wondered what got you two together. If you can't find someone to make up a threesome, just give me the call."

"Mother," Angelina cried weakly.

* * *

The guys met Sandy on their next bowling night. They looked edgy.

"How's the idea of a joint engagement party going?" Sandy asked.

The guys' embarrassment showed. Sandy guessed what it was but decided to twist the knife. "I've purchased presents for you; I decided it was time to be generous because all through our time together you guys have been so loyal to me."

Moose, Jeff and Tully now had the look of men wishing the floor would open and swallow them.

Sandy then decided to throw a lifeline. "You guys I must give you a little piece of advice before you marry. Bend under the pressure of your fiancées and you'll spend the rest of your life wearing a ball and chain."

They played one game instead of the usual three and Sandy easily won the money. His companions then hurried to the bar, Sandy trailing them, grinning. He was having a great time.

"Thanks for the beer Moose. I was photographed by the morning newspaper today."

"Fair go Sandy?" Jeff asked. "What for"

"Aw, just something that came up. You'll read about it in the morning. Now, some more advice about marriage."

"ONE. Don't ever wash her car because if you do you'll wash it for the rest of your life."

"TWO. Don't allow her to decide which side of the bed you sleep on. You take the side away from the door, because you are smart enough to know if an axe murdered runs into the room the first person he'll chop is the person closest to the door. It gives you a chance to escape, doesn't it?"

His three horrified pals nodded.

"THREE. Before you marry you open a secret bank account and give only your attorney the account number in case you die of a coronary brought about by bad home cooking. Into that account does all your salary increases, profit-sharing, tax refunds -- absolutely every cent you can divert into that account without being found out. Then in the future when your dear wife pouts and decides to close her legs forever, you have a fund to finance a mistress."

The faces of Jeff, Tully and Moose carried the intense look as if they'd just heard the secrets of life from a great guru.

"Sandy, this is unbelievable stuff. You are a genius. Can you add anything else?"