A Helping Hand

"First of all, this particular bet, one of the oddest that has ever come to this club, is one of largest girth. We, the illustrious committee that now sits before you, have done extensive research; we looked it up on Wikipedia. According to this prestigious source, the average male girth is 4.8 inches." There was a rustling in the audience. "Five inches is rather larger than normal, and five and a half inches is definitely big. At six inches, we have a real monster, and the giant dildos that are sold generally top out at six and a half inches, although there are a very few that get even bigger than that." He paused to let the audience digest the information. Bob guessed that right about now there were several men who were feeling a bit better about how their size fits in with the rest of the world.

"But we're not here to discuss normal," Bob said. "We're here to find out, in our own little world, where only the best of the best reside, who reigns supreme."

We waited for the drum roll, but there was none. Bob picked up another list from the table, waved it about, straightened it in his hands, donned his glasses, and paused. He looked out at the audience, gave a very sly wink, and said, in that stentorian voice he can dredge up when the occasion demands it, "In third place, with an impressive, and one might suggest overwhelming, girth of six and one quarter inches, is Jim Gretzler!" Cheers erupted, and a few men scowled at Jim. More than a few women looked at him in a new light. It wasn't clear to me why we were talking about third place when the money went entirely to the first place contestant, but I guess some men figured they would like their day in the sun, even though it wasn't much for the thousand dollars they spent to get it.

When the cheers died down, Bob cleared his throat and started again. "And in second place, with an entry that must certainly be painful, a girth of six and five eighths..." He looked at someone in the audience. "Really?" he said. "Down to an eighth of an inch? Just how close were you when you made this measurement?" The audience laughed and a pretty woman blushed deeply.

"As I was saying, with a girth of six and five eighths inches, I give you our second place winner, Sam Carner!" This was met with more cheers, more scowls, and more eager looks. Sam was smiling and looking around, possibly for potential prospects. I noticed he got a few smiles in return. I hope he's discreet, at least.

When the cheers dropped away and people were squirming in their seats for the big finale, Bob looked over the audience and said, "Now we come to our winner." Someone in the audience yelled out "Who came??" Bob ignored her. "Before I announce the winner," Bob said, "I want to remind all of you in this room that size isn't everything or even the most important thing. Women constantly remind us that it's the motion of the ocean, not the size of the boat, that's important. What we're talking about here are men who have unusual physical characteristics. That doesn't make them better lovers. And I say that," Bob looked out over the audience, "as sincerely as a man who is woefully inadequate can possibly manage."

Bob cleared his throat again and put on his stentorian voice. "Ladies and Gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to announce the winner of the grand prize, which came in at $124,500. There were some expenses, if anyone was wondering why it wasn't an even thousand dollars." Bob looked out slowly at the eager female faces and somewhat anxious male faces. "In first place, with a girth that cannot be real, an even seven inches, I give you John Bransen!" Cheers erupted, toasts were made, hands were clapped, and I was embarrassed. I expected to win, of course, but the notoriety was not what I thought it might be. I wanted to hide someplace. Bob let the noise subside, then said, "I have to tell you, John, I can't see how that thing could possibly be pleasant." A voice called out from the back, "Oh, yes, it is." People laughed, although no one could see who said it.

There was some milling around after Bob announced the contest officially over, and I noticed I got different kinds of looks from the men. Some men seemed to almost snarl, but all of the people I knew and liked smiled and nodded approval. I decided I didn't care what the snarling men thought, especially since each and every one of them was known to be a jerk, at best. The women almost universally had only one look. It's hard to describe, but it seemed to be a mixture of want and disappointment. Quite odd.

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I was given a sack full of cash, which was pretty thrilling. A member helped me get the money into my bank account without too much trouble or suspicion. Okay, so it's money laundering; I wasn't doing anything horrible. Anyway, once the money got into the bank, it went straight out again. I started up an advertising plan I had been meaning to implement but never had the funds for. I branched out into new markets and got some punk kids good with computers to set up a web site that made it easier for people to give me money.

And money was just what they sent. It took only about six months to completely turn things around. Everything, from advertising to order fulfillment, was running smoothly, to the point where I could take a day off now and then. And I did.

It was always to spend time with Vera, of course. We'd take little day trips, maybe to the lake, maybe to walk around in the forest, or maybe go over to my place and have incredible sex. God, the things she knew and the dexterity of everything she used on me. I think that I would have sex with her 24/7, if my body could possibly handle it.

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One day, Vera and I decided go someplace, but meet at my house first. When Vera arrived, there seemed to be something amiss, something not right in the way she looked or maybe in the way she walked. When she got to me, kissed me, and said "hi," I knew.

"Come inside and sit down." I said. She sat at the kitchen table and looked up at me. "What's wrong, darling?" I asked

She looked aside for a moment, then turned her eyes to look at me and said, "I've filed for divorce."

I was stunned. And secretly pleased. That's what excited me the most. Was she saying she wants me? We seemed to be a good fit, she and I sharing so many ideas, interests, and dreams, but that doesn't mean each of us will see that. Perhaps she just wanted out of her marriage and I had little to do with it. So I asked.

"Honey, does this have to do with me in any way?" I wasn't sure what answer I wanted.

"No," she smiled a sad smile, "it doesn't." She looked at me, studied my face, saw that I was worried, then said, "What we have is, I don't know, incredible? Stunning? What I've wanted all my life? Something like that." She shook her head. "But as great as I feel about you and me, that had nothing to do with the divorce. It was more plebian, if that is possible. I just got thoroughly tired of him. Tired of not being loved. Tired of being ignored. Tired of being tied to an anchor that won't let me live. Just plain tired." She exhaled a deep breath and stared at the ground.

I let her collect herself for a second, then asked, "What does this mean for us?"

She looked up at me, shook her head, and said, "Oh, honey, I don't know. Right now, all I know is I won't have a husband and that will be a good thing. I don't have enough brain power to deal with anything else right now." She gave a pained expression, winced, and asked, "Is that okay?"

I smiled. "Of course it is," I said. "Take all the time you need. I'll be around."

We made love after that and it was one of the best times I have ever had with her or anyone else. I don't know if it was the relief of an obstacle between us going away, or maybe the grief associated with the situation brought out more tenderness mixed with the passion, or maybe a newfound freedom allowed for sexual exploration, but whatever it was, it was very effective. We slowly explored each other, gently dragging fingers here and there, sliding thumbs and tongues across various patches of skin, and finding some surprising erotic zones. Vera is quite sensitive behind the elbow, something I didn't expect, but a fact I used to great advantage later on. The build up of sensations had us both on edge.

After she had touched every part of my body, Vera stroked my cock while I massaged her pussy. She started at the base, then rose up to the glans, rubbing a finger around the underside of my cock. The feelings she could give me were amazing, toe-curling, teeth-clenching amazing. We lay side by side and I pressed my cock gently into her eager pussy, stopping when the head had just barely penetrated. Making small motions, I massaged that area of her pussy with my cock. As the motion continued, I started going in deeper and deeper, until after a few strokes, I plunged in as deeply as I could. I heard her gasp for air and moan as my balls hit her ass. I continued the cycle over and over again, with her breathing becoming faster as she reached her climax. Just as the explosion in my groin set my world off axis, she grabbed onto me and screamed and shook as her orgasm sent her on a trip she would not soon forget.

"Oh, my God," she gasped when her voice returned, "I don't think I have ever experienced that before." She looked at me, gave me a kiss, and said, "Thank you."

I smiled and said, "Believe me, it was my pleasure." We smiled and cuddled some more, drinking in the moment and the immediate past.

_________________________

Vera's divorce was surprisingly simple and free of drama. It almost seemed as if one moment she was married and another she wasn't, with not much in between. I was happy about that. I figured there would be a fight, but maybe she didn't demand much in the way of support, or maybe she didn't demand any support at all. I asked her about how she would support herself and she said she had some money saved away and she'd be okay for a while. I knew she didn't have a steady job, but she seemed to do a lot of odd jobs, although I never knew what kind; she didn't seem to like to talk about what she did. I guessed that whatever she was doing was good enough for now.

Vera and I slowly became inseparable. The members at the club eventually got used to seeing us together and accepted that Vera was on her own. In fact, once the membership figured out they didn't have to keep Mr. Prick to keep Vera, they made things uncomfortable enough for him that he left. There was a general sigh of relief.

Over the months, we explored more and more of each other, Vera and I, both on a physical and an intellectual basis. I loved finding new spots on Vera that bring her pleasure, but I also adored listening to her ideas and being exposed to her point of view. It was not very different from mine, but the details were interesting. We would discuss them for hours; never arguing, only discussing. I found, over time, that I was bound to her.

But I was reluctant to ask her to marry me. I was pretty sure I knew her, but many other men had been duped by scheming women. I couldn't believe Vera was scheming, but if she were, she'd be so good at it that I wouldn't know she was scheming. But I got to thinking about the timing of all of this and noticed that the increase in interest on her part, from what I could tell, seemed to coincide with my business turning around and money starting to flow in. I'd heard too many stories of women hooking up with the money, not the man. I didn't want to be yet another bad example.

I know I should have been sensible, and should have listened to logic, but I didn't. I decided that my love for Vera was so overwhelming that I simply had to do what my heart said, even if my mind was urging caution. I decided no time was better.

We were about to sit down to a steak dinner we had made. A slow-cooked steak, seared in a cast iron skillet, and a salad with a stunning balsamic vinegar dressing were waiting for us. We sat down at the table and commented on how good the steak was and agreed that it was probably the longer brining time. A few munches later, I cleared my throat. I swore that I saw Vera jump, but maybe not. It was just a quick flinch, but it seemed to be real.

"Vera," I started, "it seems to me that life is fairly complicated and filled with interruptions and diversions of one sort or another." I had adopted a British accent, one of my better ones.

"Oh, I quite agree," said Vera, with a British accent of her own. "To what were you referring, specifically?"

I cleared my throat. "Well, it's this business about all the women chasing me, don't you see? It's a damned nuisance being pestered for a phone number or being subjected to some of the most outrageous proposals you can imagine."

"Oh, my," said Vera, "I can imagine quite a bit."

I harrumphed and said, "Well, it just seems like it would be dashedly more convenient if we were to inform a large group of people about our attachment, but to do so in a sociably acceptable way."

"Ah, yes," said Vera, a sly smile on her face, "I can't begin to tell you how inconvenient it is to send all those suitors on their way. Why, I would imagine the man at the end of the line must wait at least an hour for me to get to him, only to reject him. It would be a real time-saver if there were a socially acceptable method of letting everyone know we are together. A real time-saver." Vera looked at me with drooped eyelids.

"Say!" I exclaimed. "I do believe there is a custom called 'marriage' that might just fit the bill. It involves informing people of the union, and they, in exchange, send gifts, for which you thank them with a dinner and some dancing."

"It sounds glorious," said Vera, laying her head to one side.

"Does that mean 'yes'?" I asked.

"It means I do," said Vera.

We made love after that, a sweet, soft, gentle love, with the sort of embers that last long. There's nothing wrong with a raging fire, but I frequently prefer the glowing embers. Vera was wrapped in my arms when she asked, "What took you so long?"

"Huh?" was my clever reply. "What took so long?"

She looked up at me. "What took you so long to ask me to marry you? Was it hard to decide if you loved me or not?"

I shook my head. "No, I had no trouble figuring out if I loved you or not. My love for you is so intense even an idiot like me can see it." I sighed. "No, I knew I loved you, but I wasn't sure you loved me." I looked straight at her. "I thought maybe you loved my money.

I'm not sure what sort of reaction I expected. I was worried she'd get angry, or maybe very sad or hateful. The last thing I expected was laughter. I generally love to hear her laugh, but this was not particularly good timing.

"Oh, my," Vera said when she caught her breath, "that is sooo funny." She laughed some more, then said, "Great minds take similar paths."

You can't help but laugh when someone else is laughing, but I didn't get the joke. "What, exactly," I asked, chuckling, " is so funny?"

Vera could tell I was a bit exasperated, so she tried to calm herself before she spoke. I waited.

"I can understand you worrying about someone marrying for money," she started, "because I worried about the same thing. I wanted to marry you, but your business was on the downside of awful and I was concerned your answer would be based on your financial situation. I tried to make sure you didn't know what my financial situation was, but I couldn't be sure you didn't find out somehow. It probably wouldn't be difficult, if you had an interest. I had to know that your answer was what your heart was telling you, not what your wallet thinks you should do. That's why I spent so much time helping you with your business. I needed it to succeed to see if you still wanted me when you didn't need the money. Do you see?" She cupped my face with her hands and gave me a gentle kiss.

"Of course I see. I had the same thoughts, and had just as little justification for having them as you do," I said. "I can assure you money is not the reason. I didn't know you had any, quite frankly." I paused. "Um, just exactly how much are we talking about here? Out of curiosity."

"Well, you'll find out sooner or later, I guess," Vera sighed. "You know about the steak restaurant I owned with that putz I got rid of, right? Well, he didn't really own any of it. It was mine from before I even met him. I hired him as a paid figurehead, that's all. In fact, none of the businesses I have had anything to do with him. I control everything. And the divorce was easy because I had lawyers do a really good job with the prenup. He's living on whatever he can afford, which isn't much. The real reason he left the club was because he couldn't afford it, not that he would let anyone know that, of course." She stared at the wall for a moment before continuing. "I've had significant money for a long time. Most of it came from my parents to begin with, but I have managed to do well with various businesses to the point where my parents' original contribution is small in comparison to my current holdings. I paid my parents back, with interest, and am now an independent woman." She frowned. "But that comes at a cost. I found out pretty early on that I could never be sure if my friends liked me for who I was as a person or if they liked the benefits of being around me. I was never sure of anyone's motives. I became suspicious, not trusting anyone, questioning everything." She paused. "But I came to trust you. I have no idea why, but I'm glad I did." She gave me a kiss, a little longer than the last one.

Vera straightened up, took a deep breath, and said, "In short, the answer to your question is I don't really know how much money I have, but the accountants tell me it's somewhere between $100 million to $150 million, depending." She looked at me expectantly. "How do you feel about that?"

I didn't know what to say. The number wasn't so big that I couldn't understand it, like the number of grains of sand on the beach, but it was big enough to be confusing. It's hard to figure out what it means so you can figure out how you feel about it. While there are many who have more money then Vera, I have never met any of them.

"Um, it's hard to explain," I stuttered. "It's a bit stunning and I'm still trying to get my mind around it. I guess I can't say what it means."

Vera winced a little and asked, "Does it make you feel different toward me?"

"Of course," I exclaimed, then saw the look on her face. "No, no, what I mean is I'm more impressed with you now, even though I was very impressed with you before. I never really understood what you did, thinking it was a bunch of casual jobs just so you'd have enough money to live on. You never asked me for money, but you also never offered to pay, which was fine with me. I didn't know just how good you are at your job. I do now." I smiled.

That seemed to placate her. I could see the tension melt from her face as she lay down beside me and we joined as one yet again.

_________________________

Shortly after that were wedding plans, mostly done by people Vera hired. My exposure was limited to identifying grooms and nodding approval on those rare occasions where my opinion was sought, even though it was clear my opinion was of no value. I was learning basic survival techniques quickly. The wedding itself was relatively small, but I calculated later that we had barely enough time to spend a minute with each of our guests. In short, the wedding was a blur.

Vera and I started off with a honeymoon in Europe and I got a chance to see some of the places known to me only by photograph. The vistas were spectacular, but the best views were at night when my wife removed her clothes. The way her breasts felt, the way her pussy moistened as I rubbed her lips, all that is burned into my memory. Before we knew it, it was time to go home.