Do the math. I suppose no story would be complete without a descriptionof the characters.Carol (my wife) isn't a tall woman. She stands about 5'-4"... She'sblonde. But not a natural blonde. She's really a brunette. Brown eyes.With no intent to fuel a fantasy, she's got a very large bust and a smallframe. She and I both keep ourselves fit. I don't go to the gym anymore,for reasons you'll see. I do however use our exercise equipment in therec room. I am a retired teacher, she is co-owner. "Shit Coop! You been workin' out? That fuckin' hurt!" He asked, rubbing his sore arm. He looked proud. He protected me from all the bullies through middle and high school, and always bitched at me to toughen up a bit, and it seemed to sink in. I was a far cry from the skinny little nerdy k** with the huge cock I was then.I nodded, and flexed my arm for him to see like a little boy wanting approval from his father. He grabbed my bicep and squeezed. "Maybe we could hit the gym together. Randa'. Feel free to make use of it." Thank you, sir," I said. "That's very generous of you." Think nothing of it, my dear," he smiled. "Now run along. You know how to get there."I took my leave of this wonderful older man and smiled to myself as I made my way to the officer's cabins. I had just rounded the corner into what was termed "officer country" when I came nose to...er...bosom with a force of nature with ash blonde hair and flashing green eyes. It was everything I could do not to run for. Martha might still have been an unfaithful slut, but I would never have known. And believe me when I say that not knowing was a hell of a lot more comfortable than knowing.There isn't a whole hell of a lot you can do to kill time on a Sunday morning and I had exhausted my options by noon. I couldn't avoid facing Martha forever so I headed on home. There wouldn't be any confrontation because I was honest enough with myself to know that I had no business throwing the first stone, but even though.