The Proposal Pt. 01

For my workout plan, I usually vary my heavy lifting to every other day, alternating between upper body and lower. Sunday, I set aside for recovery. Having a balanced program where you don't over tax your muscles is important to an overall fitness plan. My name is Jason Alexander, and I've been addicted to body building since I was a teen. Fitness was my life... literally. My wife Allison is a licensed dietitian who is going to school part time to become a registered nurse. She has a daily regimen of cardio that would kill the average person. She only lifts light weights for muscle tone and core strength. Our individual plans are as different in structure as in goals; mine is for body sculpting, whereas hers is strictly for health and fitness.

Looking at us, you'd probably guess we met at a gym, but we actually met ten years ago at a church summer retreat where I was a counselor and she was a high school senior. The Camp was located next to a lake that had multiple water slides, so everyone was wearing their bathing suits. I was given the unpopular assignment of policing the camp enforcing the church's modesty rules, which I found silly but probably necessary with forty-five hormonal teenagers in attendance. After all, this was a church camp and not your normal spring break crowd. After a few hours on patrol, observing these teens, I felt we'd be lucky to come home from this trip without a bunch of pregnancies.

I'll never forget this one very developed girl that had totally ignored the dress code wearing a string bikini instead of a one-piece required by the church guidelines—and this wasn't your normal two-piece bathing suit. It consisted of three tiny triangles that barely covered her privates and a string between her butt cheeks. When the group she was with saw me approaching, there were a few boos because they knew what I was about to say.

"Miss, may I talk with you over at the leader's tent?"

She turned and flashed a smile that would melt most mortals, but I was a man on a mission. She dutifully followed me to the tent and asked, "What's up?"

"Do you wear a small or petite?" I asked, trying hard not to stare at her.

"I dunno—small, I guess," she replied.

I fished through the cases of replacement one-piece suits and tossed her one.

"Here, please go put this on so you can comply with the dress code."

"You don't like my suit?" she asked with a grin.

"It doesn't matter if I like it or not... Just wear this one piece."

She gave me a wickedly defiant smile and rather than wait for me to leave the tent, she pulled her string ties, letting the teeny weenie bikini fall to the tent floor. I froze like a statue as she stepped into the one-piece and wiggled putting it on. I couldn't speak as my words stuck in my throat. I remained motionless, gawking at the scene before me.

When she turned to leave, she looked over her shoulder, smiled and said, "Thanks for the suit. I guess I'll be seeing more of you later?... Since you've already seen all of me." She giggled.

I watched, dumbfounded as that perfect round butt swayed away.

Oh my God!

So, that's how I met Allie, the love of my life. After our memorable first meeting, I contacted her via text, and we talked for over a month before she agreed to a date. As you might imagine, it was an extremely challenging courtship, seeing our age difference and backgrounds. To make things more complicated, her father was a retired Navy Seal who had a very strong opinion on body builders. According to him, they were nothing but a bunch of "narcissistic freaks."

Allie's mom, Kay, was a completely different story. She was always nice to me, probably because she was ten years younger than Allie's dad. It was obvious where Allie got her looks. Kay was just an older version of her daughter, still beautiful in her forties and could easily pass for early thirties.

I wish I could say that sex with Allie was spectacular, but it would be almost a year until I even made it to third base with her. It was torture during our long a make out sessions. I often wondered if a guy could actually die from blue balls. I'll always remember the day when it all changed. We were eating breakfast at IHOP, early on a Saturday morning when out of nowhere Allie said, "I'm ready."

"Ready? Ready to order?" I asked, believing she was referring to her breakfast.

I choked on my coffee when she casually replied, "No, I mean I've given it a lot of thought and I think I'm ready for... you know... sex."

After her rebuffing my advances for so long, I couldn't believe what I was hearing and just stared at her, speechless.

She nervously added, "Of course you don't have to, if you don't want to."

I felt like I'd just won the lottery. I wanted to jump up and cheer but played it cool and casual. We didn't quite finish eating breakfast and ended up at my apartment in record time. At first it was clumsy not knowing each other's likes or dislikes, so during the next several hours, we consummated our relationship. Even though I was her first, our love making seemed to lack the initial virginal struggle. Allie revealed to me that she had taken her own cherry with a dildo a week earlier to avoid the awkward first-time moments. It shouldn't have surprised me. Aside from her beauty and intelligence, she was pragmatic to a fault.

She fit into my arms like she always belonged there. Her body was that of a goddess and I worshiped at her temple. This step in our relationship had changed everything. Sex quickly became a regular and natural part of our lives, and much to her dad's very vocal disapproval, she moved in with me three weeks later.

Almost a year later, I asked her to marry me while she was on her summer break from junior college. However, nothing about her was simple, including how she responded to my proposal. I popped the question after we finished an afternoon of ocean kayaking. I got down on one knee in the sand like they do in the movies. A crowd quickly formed around us as I fumbled around in my board shorts, searching for the ring.

When I presented it to her and popped the question, she didn't answer right away. Instead, she held the engagement ring up to the sun and said, "This better not be a cubic zirconia..."

"Is that a yes?" I asked.

"What do you think, doofus? Why the hell did it take you so long?" The crowd applauded and cheered.

My initial plans for a small wedding morphed into a major event when Allie's mom and her wedding planner took over. I found myself to be a stranger at my own wedding. Out of two hundred plus guests, I knew maybe six, including Allie, her mom and dad, and my parents. My brother Jack was best man and he seemed to be more comfortable than I was. I've always had trouble fitting in with large groups.

Our honeymoon in Paris was like something out of a travel magazine. It was there I discovered how much of a flirt my new bride was. I think it was mostly because she seemed to like triggering my jealousy, but what she didn't know was that I liked it, also. In hindsight, that was a harbinger of things to come. When men hit on her, it made me proud she was mine.

*****

Four years later, I was looking thirty in the face. My business had suffered through the recession, but it ultimately came out stronger. Allie was in graduate school and we had just purchased our first small three-bedroom condo, overlooking the harbor. I swear Allie was even more beautiful now than when we first met, if that were possible. I wished I had purchased a diamond ring with a flashing beacon because it seemed that almost everywhere she went, she was a prime target for every wannabe Don Juan, particularly at that medical college she attended.

This resulted in what I would call my "green period." It seemed I was constantly jealous of the stories she told me about being hit on daily. However, Allie always reassured me that I had nothing to ever worry about. Eventually, I felt confident enough to move past it, but there was one incident, where I confronted this cocky rich med student named Cal at a hospital party. All evening he spent most of his evening pawing disrespectfully at my wife. I thought he was going to pee himself when I lifted him off the ground with ease and introduced myself as Allie's husband.

Our marriage remained passionate as time passed, but the frequency of our intimacy decreased as to be expected in most marriages. I think we found our rhythm as a couple as we faced life's challenges together. However, our folks and were relentlessly pushing us for grandchildren, but we agreed to wait before starting a family. We were fully aware of the pressure children can put on a marriage. It also was bad timing with her finishing school, and the business of just started to take off. Plus, our freedom allowed us to do things and go places kids would prohibit. That was a luxury we weren't willing to surrender yet.

*****

Life was good, maybe too good. I've always thought there was a balance to the flow of life. When things were going really well, I had a tendency to start looking over my shoulder. I remember I was about halfway through my workout at the gym on a Saturday when I was approached by a huge muscled black guy I didn't recognize. He asked me if I would spot him. I could tell he was a heavy lifter by the overdevelopment of his arms and chest—something I call a "prison physique" caused by an unbalanced workout plan.

"Hi, I'm Jason," I said, offering my hand.

"I'm Martin." He smiled with a firm grip. "I appreciate your assistance. I'm new here and could use a regular training partner."

"I'm glad to help. How much weight do you want to begin with?"

"I'll start with three hundred on the bench," he replied, chalking his palms with the rosin bag.

"How about reducing that to two- hundred-and-fifty for the warmup?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

I placed the weights on the bar and looked him over. I could tell he was a serious lifter but not a body builder; he lacked symmetrical development. Martin positioned himself on the bench and twisted his grip on the bar before pumping out five reps. I added fifty more and he easily pushed out another set.

"So, what do you think about the gym?" I asked, adjusting the squat rack.

"It looks like it's set up for the serious workout enthusiast. It appears to have a good balance between cardio equipment and free weights. What about things like lockers, jacuzzi, and other amenities?"

"If you go through the blue doors, you'll find the sauna, jacuzzi, and entrance to both men's and women's lockers."

"Sounds like you've been goin' here awhile," he said, sizing me up.

"Yep, I've been coming here since the place opened... You considering joining?"

"Actually, no. I'm here in hopes of getting a job as a part-time trainer."

"Why part-time?"

"I already work as a part-time volunteer with the Harbor Patrol. What is it you do?" he asked, wiping down the equipment.

"I do this full-time."

"Teaching and body building?"

"Yes, I teach and train, but I also own this place and it just so happens we have an opening, if you're interested. My wife can help you fill out an employment application."

He looked around, as if he were trying to figure out who my wife was. I raised my hand and signaled to Allie, working out on the elliptical. She stopped, cleaned off her machine, put the towel around her neck and briskly walked toward us.

"Holy crap! That's your wife?" Martin whispered.

As she approached, I said, "Allie, this is Martin. He would like to fill out an employment application."

She took a long look at him before saying, "Nice to meet you, Martin. We've been searching for a trainer." Allie held out her hand and his palm dwarfed hers as they shook. "If you follow me to the office, we'll get your information. I've got to hurry because I have class later today."

Martin seemed transfixed on my wife's ass that was clad in spandex as she walked ahead of him.

*****

Later that evening when I got home, Allie was studying on the couch with her feet propped up on the coffee table. I walked over and gave her a kiss before asking, "How was school?"

"That damn Mr. Phillips is such an asshole."

"Your chemistry professor?"

"Yeah... him. I'd like you to hold him down while I pour a beaker of H2SO4 down his throat."

I laughed and asked, "What now?"

"I missed two fucking questions out of a hundred on the final and he said I'd do better if I spent more time on studying and less time on my body."

"Wow. What did you say?"

"I told that old perv that he should focus more on his teaching and less on my body!"

"That's my girl." I laughed.

"It's a curse."

"What's a curse?"

"My looks... it gets tiresome fending off idiots all day long or being dismissed as a dumb chick with the intelligent quotient of my bra size."

"I guess this might not be the best time to ask what you thought about Martin?"

"Well, it was almost as if he was interviewing me rather than the other way around. He's a smooth talker and obviously knows his way around a gym. However, he certainly didn't look comfortable when I told him a big part of the job would be cleanup, including the showers and toilets."

"So? What's the verdict?

"I told him we'll try him out provisionally for a month. He starts tomorrow afternoon."

"Anything else?"

"Didn't you graduate from Riverside high 2007?" Allie asked.

"Yeah. Why?"

"His application says he did, also—same year as you."

"That's strange." I paused in confusion. "I'm sure I would have remembered a big guy like him. Our class was just a couple hundred. Where's my annual?"

Allie got up, walked over to the bookcase and retrieved my annual yearbook with its easy to recognize bright blue cover. She laid it on the table and opened it.

"What's his last name?" I asked.

"Johnson... Martin D. Johnson... Here he is!" she exclaimed, pointing at his photo. "I can't believe this is him!"

I walked over to see, and sure enough, it was him. The graduation photo showed him to be a thin almost anorexic kid.

No wonder I didn't recognize him, I thought.

I vaguely remembered him as a withdrawn loner who always ate lunch alone. You know how it goes in high school: there was the "in-crowd" and then there was everyone else. He looked nothing like the confident mass of a man he was today.

"Do you remember him?" Allie asked.

"Sort of. We never really talked. How was the interview?"

"Well, he spent most of it undressing me—with his eyes, of course. He's so confident it's almost obnoxious. You know how I'm a sucker for big muscles... that's why I married you." She giggled.

"And all this time I thought you married me for my money," I quipped.

*****

Work was insane the following week with Allie in her finals. I had the task of assembling all our new equipment. German manufacturing might be top of the line, but I wish they had sent instructions in English. Fortunately, with the help of Martin and a German to English translation program, we figured it out.

Martin was a hard worker, but seemed extremely guarded, not volunteering anything personal about himself. After about two weeks, we went to lunch together. While we ate, I asked if he was married or had a steady girlfriend. He paused for a bit before replying. His answer puzzled me.

"I'm not married... but... yes, I actually have several steady girlfriends."

Several?

I wanted him to explain, but I said nothing, not wanting to seem pushy or cross any lines concerning employee/employer boundaries. However, his reply stuck in my head. A few days later, I mentioned that conversation to my wife. She seemed as confused as I was, offering only that he was probably a player. She added that he had a polished smooth approach with her—nothing too aggressive, but still extremely seductive.

I couldn't help but ask, "Did he try to seduce you?"

She laughed and said, "Of course! I'd almost feel insulted if he didn't. Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm immune. I fend off men much more attractive than him all day long at the hospital."

Allie stood up and took off her robe. She tossed it over her shoulder and said, "I think it's time for you to stake claim on what's yours and yours alone, big boy."

I followed her to the bedroom and did just that. The thought of so many guys coveting what was mine somehow made our lovemaking more intense than ever. As I squeezed her titties, I pictured some faceless guy doing the same. I silently chastised myself for such thoughts, but they persisted. When I slid into her love tunnel, I wondered for the first time if I ever totally pleased her. I knew those thoughts were baseless as she had never once given me reason to doubt her. As we lay in post-coital bliss, I tried to clear my mind of those crazy visions.

The following week I kept a close eye on Martin when he was around Allie. I noticed his subtle flirting, how he'd touch her arm or elbow when they talked. I didn't see anything blatantly inappropriate, but he was still flirting with her. Allie didn't seem bothered. Then, something happened when we went to pick up some wall tile for the shower area; something that would change everything.

"I have a date tonight," said Martin. "So, if we could be done by five, I would appreciate it."

My curiosity peaked as I asked, "A date with one of your steady girlfriends?"

He didn't seem bothered by my initial question, but there was a pause before he replied, "That gets pretty complicated. Are you sure you want to know?"

"I'm sorry. I had no right to pry."

"I guess this is as good a time as any other to explain. To answer your question, yes, she is a steady girlfriend. I've been seeing her for around a year."

"But you said you have several girlfriends? How exactly does that work?"

"This is where you must promise to keep this confidential," Martin replied, as we walked to the truck.

"Of course. But like I said, you are not obligated to share anything if it doesn't pertain to work."

He looked at me intently. "Right now I have three steady lady friends. They all know I see other women... and so do their husbands."

I almost choked. "W-what? Their husbands?"

"Have you ever heard the term 'cuckold'?"

I was shocked by his reply. I vaguely remembered the term but shook my head. "Isn't that a guy whose wife cheats on him?"

"No. Not even close. There is no cheating. The husband in most cases initiates the whole arrangement. He usually watches or participates in the encounters."

"That's weird. What could the husband possibly get out of it?"

"Good question. I don't have a definitive answer to that. I think it's different for each guy, but they seem to enjoy themselves, and so do I. So, now that you know, remember we have a confidentiality agreement."

"I remember. One more thing... don't bring this drama to the gym—and Allie is strictly off limits."

"Of course, 'nuff said."

*****

The following week, I tried not to think about what Martin had shared. I kept my promise and said nothing to Allie about what he told me. Likewise, Martin kept his distance from my wife like he promised. I attempted to clear my thoughts about the whole cuckold thing, but you can't un-hear what you heard or erase what you already know. I wondered what Martin offered to these couples for them to toss away their marriage vows and invite him intimately into their lives.

It didn't take long for me to discover one of his best attributes: the giant snake below his hips. I noticed it the first time we used the community shower together. It was almost impossible to ignore what dangled down his thigh. I had heard that big black cocks were a myth, but what I witnessed that day shattered that theory into pieces. I'm not one to stare at another man's junk, but that thing was truly intimidating. I wouldn't go so far to call it "penile envy," but he made my larger than average dick seem like a cocktail weenie.