Strava & Karma

Poser and Poseur are similar words and some readers may argue whether they are interchangeable. Have at it in the comments, IDC.

Thanks to BentNotBroken for her editing and critical thoughts. I never knew how helpful a competent editor can be!

This is just another cheating wife tale with hopefully a somewhat unique way she gets caught. No offense to the roadie cyclists. OK, just a little bit of offense! Lighten up guys.

* * * *

"But I want a paid subscription to Strava!" my beautiful wife moaned. "I want to see my routes and KPIs and segments and have others give me kudos for my rides!"

"Bailey, babe, you hardly ride that expensive bike you made me buy. Now you want me to pay for a subscription you won't use?"

"I'll use it, I promise," she said with that pouting look that made me always give in to her.

Little did I know how she'd use the bike, nor that the app would not only measure her Key Performance Indicators (KPIs) but also measure something else, something much worse.

* * * *

Cycling has evolved over the last hundred years from basic two wheel bicycles with no gears to a full drivetrain, shock absorbers, multiple versions of handlebars and seats, a wide variety of tires, tubes, tubeless, gearing, weight and way too many extras such as lights, trip computers, helmets, jerseys and kits, shoes, cleats, pedals, even padded underwear.

As a kid I rode all over the city on my Schwinn Continental 10 speed cutting lawns, then as I grew up and began working and met other cyclists I picked up a road bike (lightweight with skinny slick tires), then a mountain bike which led to strenuous and exciting rides, and now a gravel bike.

Gravel riding is basically riding dirt roads in the country. It's becoming a huge sport worldwide, and is a different breed of rider - more relaxed and friendly as compared to the roadies who are super serious about their speed, cadence, and time. And they never seem to smile.

Bailey and I've been married ten years now and I'm making really good money at a consulting firm. There's some traveling involved. Bailey works at a high end boutique. She sells clothes, but she insists her title is a "personal style curator."

You see, Bailey is vulnerable to social and cultural trends. Actually, she is very beautiful and gets a lot of attention but for some reason she seems to have a low self-image. She struggles with her identity and tries to fit into certain social groups or social circles by adopting a persona that isn't genuine.

Frankly, she's a poser.

We once went to Nashville as part-business for me on assignment from the Consulting Group I work for, and also a little vacation with Bailey. We stayed at the Opryland Hotel, a huge mammoth building but spent a lot of time downtown. So what did Bailey buy in preparation for Nashville?

She started out with what she thought would be a cowgirl outfit: cowboy boots, a cowboy hat, western shirt and a denim short skirt. Of course, all these clothes were fresh, not a scuff on the boots. Of course all the locals knew she wasn't country.

We walked around lower Broadway, known as the Honky Tonk Highway where all the best bars, restaurants, shops are then made our way over to Music Row. She ended up wearing a band tee with a pair of jeans and her boots but she had no idea who the band was. That's a poser.

One year we went out to Montana and did some hiking. Of course, she went shopping at REI and walked out with brand new equipment for just about every possibility one might encounter on a trail. The guide and locals looked at her and were respectful, but when she turned they all smirked at one another. Poser.

Early in our marriage we went to watch skaters at a skateboard park. She bought a pair of Vans to go with her fitted bodice and a wide leg skater jeans and a headband. She looked way too pretty to be taken for a skater and everyone knew it. Poser.

Bailey wanted to fit in everywhere but she's never been truly invested in any of the culture behind whatever style and activity interested her at the moment.

Usually, she would soon tire of whatever her current fanciful (and expensive) interest was and would begin to ignore it until something else caught her eye, or, maybe even the posing became too difficult or didn't get enough of a response.

I know, I know, why would I marry a shallow person? Well, for starters, I might have been a little shallow myself at a younger age and went after the 10s, those girls who were knockouts. Maybe they had some personality, maybe not. I just wanted the arm candy and what I hoped would be a hot bed.

Bailey was good in bed, maybe not spectacular, but with her body one's imagination could conjure up a lot of kink. I came to expect that wherever we went that men would hit on her, even when she was with me. She'd even flirt at times but always seemed to be able to turn away or say the right words to turn them down.

She was also daddy's little girl. Her parents were well off and I came to see how she wasn't really denied much as she grew up which perhaps made her think she could get whatever she wanted in order to fit in to various groups and fads.

I got a pretty good job and was making serious money when I met her, so at the time I didn't really have any objection to continuing to support her lavish habits. She looked good on my arm at functions and could hold a decent conversation without embarrassing me, though at times, given her looks, I would wonder if men actually heard what she was saying when they seemed to pay attention to her body.

Then came our vacation in Europe. I specifically wanted a biking tour of Italy. These would be about 30 - 50 miles a day through the beautiful Italian countryside accompanied by a SAG vehicle. "Support and Gear" basically is a vehicle outfitted with supplies, repair items, food, water for cyclists. It eliminates the need to weigh down your bike with the necessary extras for long rides but can also repair your bike if a flat or other mechanical breakdown occurs.

Bailey was fit enough, that is, when she actually did workouts. I admit she looked hot in her spandex tops and shorts, even her cameltoe was a turn-on for me. And every time she went to the health club her hair and make-up was done up just right. Again, a poser.

So she really wasn't ready for the long rides we were going to do, but the tour company had e-bikes as well which worked out nicely for her. Of course, the distance still made her ass hurt since she wasn't ready for sitting in the saddle that long.

Nonetheless, we had a fantastic vacation and saw some beautiful sights. On returning home she wanted to keep riding and thought it would be a nice thing to do together, since I went out Tuesday and Thursday evenings with different riding groups, and tried to do some weekends too. Of course there were the timed races I entered, so my fitness was top notch.

My fitness, though, and her beauty, didn't mean everything was well in the bedroom around this time. In fact, our mutually enjoyable activity had begun to drop off. I didn't really know why. It's been like that since Memorial Day.

We live far outside the urban core. Just outside the core city are the inner ring suburbs, then the outer ring suburbs, then the x-burbs. That's where we live. Basically mostly dirt roads around large recreation areas of forests, trails, lakes, picnic areas.

Off these dirt roads are large subdivisions of big homes on five acre lots or larger. It means a lot of lawn to cut, but also privacy. So on the Nextdoor website we have a group of several of these large subdivisions and we coordinate parties throughout the year in one of the subs, mostly on the major holidays.

These large subdivisions are all attached by trails and of course by the gravel roads. This year the Memorial Day picnic and party was at the Cedar Ridge Sub about eight miles away in one of the large cul-de-sacs, because three of the homes with long driveways off the cul-de-sacs are big on parties and like to supply a lot of the tables and tents and other things.

It's convenient for everyone, and those three homeowners in the cul-de-sac also permit everyone to use their bathrooms when needed. There's even golf carts to ride to and from those homes. The one furthest back is a single guy in his 40s, Carson Edwards.

Carson's home is huge, about a long 150 yards back of the street, backing up to a forested area with a four-car garage, built-in pool, hot tub, and large deck in the rear. It's nice and secluded, I know because he also has an ego and likes to show all the neighbors around his home.

Myself, I like a big home in the country but not that big. I'd love to have kids with Bailey if she'd ever get her mind around that, but she's always enamored with those who have more than her. Again, she just wants to fit in. She gushed over Carson's home on his tour, grabbing his arm when pointing out this-or-that piece of art or sculpture or the deck and backyard.

It irritated me because I knew she'd now want something like that for herself. Plus, I didn't like her hanging on him. Was it flirting? Probably not, at least I don't think so, but as beautiful as she is I'm sure Carson didn't mind too much.

So, we got back from Italy in time for the Memorial Day festivities. I have a bike event the following weekend, The Pine Island Gravel Odyssey in Spearfish, South Dakota. It's a major event, well-attended, and well-organized. Between travel time and the event I'd be gone for almost a week.

"Blake, I don't want to go to Spearfish with you. It's probably boring out there. Plus I don't want to take any more time off work."

That didn't seem that odd to me, but looking back now I know why. What was odd was when I returned, Bailey wanted me to buy her a gravel bike and start riding. And do you think I could get her just any gravel bike, like an entry level one for about $1,500 that is still a great bike?

No, not at all. The poser in her wanted a Canyon Endurance CFR Di2 with the sparkle stealth paint package. Eight Thousand Bucks! Shit, if it wasn't for her looks pleading with that pout I would have turned her down. But no, I got it for her.

Of course, it didn't stop there. Thank goodness for Amazon Prime return policy! I didn't know how many seats she ordered from Amazon until she found the one that fit her sit-bones just right. Did she even know what sit-bones were? And then the helmets, lights, shorts and jersey, shoes. That all adds up to a hell of a lot of money.

By the way, the joke about bicyclists is that they can't resist buying jerseys, either of the event they'll be riding in or a new design. Just ask any biker how many jerseys they own.

Her plan was to ride with me on the Tuesday and Thursday gravel rides. These are nice group rides, no-drop, and usually around 20 miles. It frustrated me to ride at her pace especially since she wasn't used to ten miles much less twenty. Her thighs were burning when we were done.

"Oh I wish I could sit in Carson's hot tub and soak my legs!" she moaned. Shit, I could have bought a hot tub for what we spent on her bike.

As much of a poser as she was in so many areas, I was surprised that she started to ride by herself shorter distances from our house to build up her stamina and endurance. Of course, it meant she needed even more jerseys but what the hell. If it turns out she can keep up with the group in the future, I was all for it.

The next time she rode with us we all went out for Taco Tuesday. She enjoyed meeting the other women and getting pointers from them, including the suggestion of getting a Garmin trip computer and the Strava app.

Of course she had to have her Strava app, so I got her a subscription and set it up for her. She was overjoyed when I put it on her Apple watch and showed her how it would automatically sync with the app. She began using it on her training rides and rejoiced at the "kudo's" that would show in her notifications.

"Look babe! Look at my kudo's! People think I'm doing great!"

"Yeah, yeah," I thought to myself. "But maybe the positive reinforcement will keep her riding more on that expensive set of wheels."

Of course, the "kudo's" were simply the Strava app's version of 'likes' on Facebook or the 'hearts' on Instagram. Lots of people use those simply to keep track of where they are in the feed, besides, even if you get a kudo for your ride it doesn't mean they're impressed with your stats. But my wife sure thought that!

The poser was now part of a group.

She'd leave from home on her training ride, telling me how her miles were increasing. She would be gone for a long time and come back wet and sweaty, so it looked like she was getting a good workout.

I pretty much ignored her Strava notifications. Yeah, I'd quickly do the thumbs up so that she'd get a "kudo" notification but that's about it. One day after one of my rides I looked up my segments on my Strava app, then for some unknown reason just looked up Bailey's.

It was curious. Was she using the app correctly? It only showed a bunch of 16 mile rides. That should only take about an hour at most, unless she was stopping.

Now, I had put her settings on auto-pause, which will automatically detect when you stop and pause the recording and will also show how long you were stopped during the activity. It can include stoplights, coffee breaks, bathroom stops, stopping for photos.

When the ride is done you can see your total moving time which measures how long you were active, compared to elapsed time which is from when you start your activity to the moment you finish the activity.

Why would she have an elapsed time of three hours with a moving time of one hour? Yet come home wet and sweaty after only around sixteen miles? That would mean two hours of stops.

How can one stop at enough lights, bathroom stops, rest stops, whatever for two hours for only sixteen miles? And where in the rural area we live can you make all those stops? And sixteen miles? That's not even a workout! And be sweaty?

I was very suspicious. But, I didn't say anything but I did have an idea. I bought an Invoxia Real Time GPS tracker and put the slim sized tracker under her bike seat. I wanted to know where she was stopping for two hours.

Was I surprised to learn she stopped only eight miles away, at a home with a long driveway off a cul-de-sac, a home with a very private backyard?

For the entire two hours!

But why was she so wet from perspiration when she got home? Why would she lie about the miles when it was so obvious on Strava? Probably because as all posers do, they lose interest over time with the culture and begin to ignore it. In her case, I was certain something else had her interest, not her KPIs but another kind of 'key performance.'

There's a bike camera that's rather expensive that records front and rear, popular among the roadies due to their riding on pavement on busy roads. Far too many cyclists have been clipped by vehicles and suffered serious injuries. The recordings are a great way to catch and prosecute the drivers.

"Bailey babe, I love how you're getting into the riding but I'm just worried someone is going to run you off the road and get away with it. I bought you a gift, a CycleIQ front and rear camera. It's top of the line, you'll be the envy of other bikers!"

She was happy for another expensive give but clearly didn't put two and two together.

The cameras had image stabilization, seven hours of recording, stereo sound recording, and wi-fi transfer to upload the video/audio. It still turned on manually, so I would run down to the garage and turn it on while Bailey was getting dressed for her ride.

But that wasn't suspicious, after all, it was always up to me to get her bike ready. She wasn't going to bother to check tire pressure, or loose spokes, or lube up the chain. That was always on me. She might break a nail. Oh my, the horror!

Her very next ride was interesting to view. It showed her making the eight mile ride to Carson's home in only 30 minutes. That meant she was making good time there and back, basically an hour.

When she pulled around the back of his home into the private backyard she propped the bike against the grill, where the wide angle camera focused on the pool, hot tub, and some of the deck chairs.

Carson was sitting there awaiting her with margaritas and got up and hugged her, then she began stripping off her jersey and bike shorts, socks, and shoes. She was wearing a bikini under her bike kit.

In no time at all they both were naked, bodies pressed together, making out like teenagers. While it was of unimpressive size, the high-definition camera clearly displayed Carson's cock nudging Bailey's mound, getting bigger every second!

Bailey was lip-locked with him, her hands roaming his chest, teasing his nipples. In turn, Carson broke the kiss and moved down to Bailey's nipples to kiss and suck on them while his hand went around the back to untie her top, and the other hand down between her legs. Obviously his fingers were in her pussy as her hips were grinding on his hand.

I could tell Bailey was starting to lose control, just then Carson had to wrap his free arm around her as her legs buckled from her orgasm. He laid her down on a chaise lounge and went down on her to lick up her juices, only to bring her to another orgasm.

By this time his dick was at full attention and he moved around and grabbed my wife's beautiful head of hair and pulled her to his manhood. The bike camera's stereo sound easily picked up the slurping sounds of her sucking him off, his moaning, his sex talk, and his eventual grunting as he unloaded in her mouth.

Bailey licked her lips and strolled over to her margarita to rinse her mouth, then dove into the pool and lazily did a backstroke, while Carson grabbed his drink and sat down on the pool steps.

Now I know why she came home wet and sweaty. It wasn't from the ride.

When Bailey swam over to him I could hear them talking. "Carson, how can you afford such a nice home? What do you do for work?"

"I have a rich grandfather who left me a nice trust fund, so I don't really work. I play around in the stock markets and do some investing and try to live off interest and gains."

She smiled a very coquettish grin, "Ooo a rich, handsome man. Do you think you could afford a beautiful, sexy, woman like me? Do you, stud?"

"Hell yeah I could! I'd do a lot of things for you Bailey if you were mine, but you're not, are you."

"Not at the moment but that could be arranged if you could help me. Then you could have me all the time, not just when I can get out for a bike ride."

"Are you serious? Don't you love Blake?"

"Yeah, I guess. He complains a lot when I need things, but, I don't know. I really like being with you. I would love to live here and add a lot of hotness to your world!" She winked at Carson.

Listening to this really pissed me off. I complain a lot? She needs things? When has she ever heard me say 'no' to her requests? I couldn't believe this was all about the size of his house and bank account.

It certainly wasn't about the size of his dick. My equipment was top of the line! You'd think my expensive wife would appreciate that.

But then again, she's a poser. She rates herself by how she looks, how she appears to other people and to Carson she appears as a beautiful sextress which she in fact is. But that's not all there is to life.

Did I lose my wife because she wanted more than I was willing to give? Did I even know how much more she wanted? I don't think so. I started to think the hole in her self-esteem was deeper than I realized, that perhaps it was an endless hole that she was trying to fill.

In any case, I was confident I fulfilled almost all of her requests during our marriage. And there was no reason to expect that she'd seek out a cock attached to a bigger house. But now that she had, I had decisions to make.

Decisions. I work for a business consulting group and we get hired to help companies streamline operations, reorganize, and become more profitable. Many times the reason companies of all sizes falter is because they know what must be done, but can't get around to making the decision to actually do it.

Consequently, they continue to hemorrhage money or run sloppy operations and lose money or lose market share.

Decisions. What do I do with what I now know? I'm pretty pissed and my feelings are really hurt and I admit I'm in pain. Am I going to be a wimp and just wallow in the pain and infidelity like some business owners wallow in the self-imposed results of their lack of decision-making?

Do I ask her why? Do I care why? The bottom line is that her pussy is not exclusively mine anymore. And I don't like sharing, in fact, that wasn't the deal. Early on in our marriage she knew some of the female riders liked me. I look good in a cycling kit and I'm fit and trim and also successful in my career.

One time Bailey saw one of the women flirting with me, and later at home read me the riot act that I better not cheat on her, that I belong only to her. But just like the latest cultural fad that she is into until she's not, I guess she's not into me anymore.

Which means I have to figure out how to get out of this intact, never having thought I'd ever be separated or divorced.

The cool thing about working for a major consulting group is you get to see so many different companies and people and situations, among them is divorce of wealthy people. So I knew the drill, knew what I had at risk. But I also knew the rules of the road and how to work them.

Fortunately, my spendthrift wife used whatever cash she asked of me along with credit cards. I did all of our banking and bookkeeping. The only numbers she wanted were the dollar signs of the purchases she wanted to make.

It turns out I had to go to Kansas City for a few weeks as I was assigned to a new client, an older man who had built a sizable business from scratch years ago and hired the Consulting Group to reorganize operations, find a purchaser, but permit the old guy some board input.

The assignment was right in my wheelhouse, and for whatever reason Mr. Woodson really took to me. In consulting one must respect the current operations and not come in with guns blazing, insulting the current methods and people. I had good people skills, and knew how to present options in a non-threatening manner.

Things came together quickly for the better, and Woodson was quite pleased with me over the length of the assignment.

When back at home Bailey seemed a little off, maybe a little more fake to me than she intended. Or maybe it was that I knew what was going on and recognized her cover up efforts.

Over the next several weeks I let her do her bike rides, uploaded the video, and groused about how much work I had to do for the firm which would involve more traveling. A lot of this was because I wasn't going to put my cock where Carson's had been. But it gave me time to set up accounts in other countries, several of which were named as if they were charities.

Then I transferred a decent amount of our joint balances into those accounts so they'd look like gifts. Most of my other funds were in my name only, but I simply transferred them to the islands. I figured if in the divorce her attorney wants to compel me to move the money back they'll have to work for it.

Sitting down with my boss I explained my situation and suggested we do the same thing we once recommended to one of our clients: Fire me, and hire me as an independent contractor and basically put my income into a side account for post-divorce distribution.

At home I began to live on our remaining savings and began to list a lot of Bailey's purchases on Marketplace, priced to sell. Why? Because when she finally asked why I couldn't pay for her most recent impulsive extravagance I said I'm out of work and we need the money.

She was appalled, after all, how could she tell her friends she had an unemployed, broke husband? That certainly wouldn't fit in with her pose now, would it?!

As she saw her overstocked clothes closet begin to thin out, her jewelry box become bare, some of her china and glassware get picked up by the purchasers, she became very difficult to live with.

I get it. It's hard to go through financial difficulties, especially if you've never had to worry about money before. One starts to look for options, for the easy way out. Her easy way out was only eight miles away, a 30 minute bike ride.

"Carson, can I come live with you? My husband somehow lost his job and we're broke. I just can't live like that anymore!"

It was interesting to watch the recording of the handsome ego at play, for all his dreams were about to be fulfilled. "You know Bailey, when I met your husband I thought he was a loser. There was no way he could afford to live out here, and spend all his time away from you riding a bike. It's no wonder he's broke.

"But if you move in with me, you should probably get a divorce started first and at least try and get some of the home equity."

"Can you help me with that? Do you have an attorney? Could you pay for it for me? You know how I'd pay you back babe!"

"Yeah, for sure. Tell you what, skip work tomorrow and I'll text you the attorney's address and fill him in on what you need."

So I knew what was coming, and it did two days letter when I received service of the divorce petition. Playing dumb, I acted surprised and asked Bailey, "Hey, I don't understand? You're not leaving me after all these years are you? We'll get through this financial mess sooner or later!"

"Blake," she said with exasperation, "we've had some good times but it's over. I need someone who can take care of me and fulfill all my needs. I never felt like I was a complete person with you, always struggling to feel comfortable with myself."

"But I gave you everything Bailey! And now you're dumping me?"

"I found someone who can fill my needs completely Blake. Just sign the papers, sell the house and give me my money. You won't even have to pay alimony."

"No alimony?" I acted confused.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's ok with you Blake. There's no alimony because I'm moving in with Carson and will probably get married to him. He'll give me everything I need. So let's keep this simple and just sign the papers. I just want this divorce to be quick."

I'd read enough legal documents in my career to know the hidden meanings and pitfalls lawyers are so fond of slipping in. Besides, I'd already discussed everything with my attorney. So I made a scene of reading each line of the documents and eventually signed them. I faxed a copy to my attorney and gave her the originals, trying to force a tear from my eye for effect.

As she was walking out the door I yelled out, "Just remember Bailey, good looks and personality won't get you everywhere in life!"

The divorce flew through easily. What's sort of disgusting is how at the court there are so many divorces that there are few words spoken, the bored judge just signs the decree and calls the next case. Everyone is lined up and moved through like an assembly line.

I was lucky with what I got away with. Partly because my wife was ignorant of our financial affairs, partly because she had low respect for me after all the time she had spent with Carson, and partly because he was arrogant enough to just push through the divorce so he could "own" Bailey all to himself.

Maybe he wasn't so smart, or maybe his attorney wasn't so smart, or maybe there's something missing that I don't see. After all, if Carson fell for a vapid woman with low self-esteem but beautiful, maybe he was vapid as well?

It's something I was going to look into. So I sold the home and gave her half of the proceeds, and moved to a smaller home just off one of the huge recreation areas that were full of mountain bike trails, with gravel roads coursing all through it.

The recreation area had over 20,000 acres including 11 lakes, excellent hunting and fishing opportunities, a hiking and biking trail system and camping options.

Word quickly got around my biking groups of my divorce and in no time I was easy pickings for some nice women, single ones (!), with whom I enjoyed my time.

One particular woman, Molly, rode an older aluminum gravel bike with caliper brakes and worn knobby tires. She was a skilled rider with a great body. Her tits were nice size, still squished down by her jersey but when we got together socially you could tell she had a nice rack. And when following behind her on the trail was a gorgeous view of her ass cheeks bouncing up and down with her pedal strokes.

On the longer gravel rides, groups begin to form A - B - C based on speed. The A-Group was the experienced riders, fast and agile, timing their ride. Sometimes it's just nice to pedal and talk with another rider in the B or C group, which is what Molly and I began to do. Eventually after a ride I asked her out and we found we had a lot in common.

She rode an older bike because she couldn't afford the higher end bikes. She had modest goals in life such as desiring a family in time but seemed comfortable with an older bike, older vehicle, modest clothing and especially comfortable conversations and enjoying relationships.

She usually wore the same jersey every ride.

I really enjoyed talking with her and felt we could talk for hours if afforded the opportunity. By the end of the summer there was a bike event coming up in Pinetop, Arizona, an 80 mile ride called the Pinewood Showdown Gravel Grinder.

"Molly, how about taking a couple of days and riding with me in Arizona? I'll pay your way and we can enjoy a nice vacation and race together."

"Oh, well Blake, um, that would be nice. I'd have to take some time off work and my budget is pretty tight right now. I appreciate the offer, but no. I can't go."

"Well how about if I help you out with the finances Molly? I'll pay your way. The travel and lodging and food and even the entrance fee. We'd have a great time!"

"That's so kind of you Blake, and I'd really love to, but I can't ask you to do that and besides I still have to work."

Disappointed is a word that doesn't quite represent my feelings at her response. But I'm an idea man, and I just had a brilliant one.

Now that I'm an independent contractor for the consulting group, I bill the consulting group for my time and expenses. Sooner or later they'll hire me back and I'll get my bonuses back now that the divorce is done. Knowing that was the eventual plan I asked my boss if I could hire an assistant, and it was approved.

Molly was both surprised and impressed and concerned. She would love the job, impressed at what I arranged, but concerned about working with me and also having a relationship. I assured her it was all above board and the company was aware of our relationship.

We packed up for the road trip, deciding to wind through a few States first and maybe even bike a little before Arizona. After I secured my bike to the rack she wheeled hers over and I said, "We're not taking that bike."

She was confused, and looked at me. "What?"

I went to the back of my garage and wheeled around a new Salsa Warbird C Force AXS bike, already fitted to her size, and lifted it up on the rack.

"Blake? What is this?"

"It's your bike Molly. My gift to you! It's all assembled and tuned up, ready to ride."

"No, Blake, this is too much!"

Remember, I said Molly was quite modest.

"Blake, this is a full carbon frame, carbon fork and electronic drivetrain. I mean it's gorgeous, even the cables are routed internally! It must have cost a fortune!"

"First of all Molly, I can afford it. Second, it's a gift to you, one that I know you'd appreciate. Third, I'm falling in love with you and our love of biking is what brought us together. I can't think of a more appropriate gift for you other than an engagement ring."

She looked at me wide-eyed.

"No, Molly, I'm not asking you to marry me, at least not yet!" I said with a smile. "But you're very important to me, and I want to spend time with you and hope we can grow even closer on this trip."

Molly had watery eyes and gave me a tender hug. We held each other long enough to let each other know our feelings toward each other.

Taking a long way around to Arizona, we drove up through Wisconsin into Minnesota, with several sightseeing stops. One of these was planned overnight at LaCrosse, Wisconsin on the Mississippi River, but we decided to unload the bikes and ride along the river to sightsee. Amazingly we saw numerous bald eagles flying to their nests in the trees.

We only rode about 15 miles south to a quaint little town called Brownsville, where on the outskirts of town is the Wildcat Park and Landing, a remote campground on the river next to beautiful meadows. Fortunately, we were able to secure one of the remaining remote sites.

Twilight was upon us but we found a nice spot on the river and explored the grounds before walking the shoreline as we admired the water in the fading light as the stars and moon began glittering brightly until we found 'our' spot - a nice, grassy, secluded glade. As Molly gazed across the lapping waves, I laid out the blanket which I brought with our drinks and 'supplies' in my panniers.

Turning, I walked up behind her to wrap my arms around her waist and pulled her close. Molly giggled and playfully swatted at me as she ground her firm butt back against my stiffening bulge as I lightly kissed & nibbled just below her ear. I smiled as she took my wandering hands and led me to the blanket. I asked if she trusted me, to which she replied, "Implicitly, my sexy man!"

Removing a kerchief from the backpack, I secured it over her eyes to blindfold her before my wandering fingers began to slowly lower the zip of her road jersey. Inch by inch, her enticing cleavage was revealed in all its glory, as I slowly unwrapped my girlfriend's beautiful tits - not huge, but definitely more than a mouthful. Molly's husky giggle teased my senses as my fingers lightly brushed her skin as I unveiled what would be mine alone.

I moved behind her once again, trailing slow kisses and nips along her neck and shoulders as I slid the jersey down over her arms and tossed aside. Wanting to ensure we BOTH enjoyed our first time together, I restrained myself from grabbing her fun bits and slid both hands under the waistband of her snug tights in order to skim them down her sexy toned ass and sculpted legs as I used my tongue to trace down her spine while I knelt to lift each of her feet clear before helping her to lie face down.

Finally seeing Molly in all her naked glory necessitated my throbbing cock's readjustment in my now too tight bike pants.

Molly jumped hearing the snap as I opened a little bottle of oil and shivered as I dribbled a bit onto her soft skin. Starting with her neck and shoulders, I began to massage away the tension and stiffness brought on from hours of driving, followed by miles on a bike.

I worked my way down her arms, trailing kisses down her spine, before pulling her arms behind her, gently securing them. The heady scent of her spicy arousal, her pheromones combined with the delicate notes from the essential oils and the knowledge that we were clearly visible to boaters and other campers caused another spike of my arousal. Working gently but consistently, I made my way down her back, maintaining focus as I continued my seduction of Molly.

When I reached her hips, she had to raise up enough to get her knees braced as I added a little more oil to my hands and massaged her ass cheeks. Avoiding her dewy lower lips challenged my self-control as I worked my way down first one leg then back up the other, Molly's whimpers and moans telling me how my touch excited her.

As I returned to Molly's hips, I briefly let my fingertips graze along her slick vulva before having her roll over onto her back. The sexy roll and bounce of her unfettered breasts as she repositioned caused my cock to jerk and throb even more, the added visual stimulation sorely testing my self-control.

I began again, working my way from her neck and shoulders down across Molly's breasts, tweaking, gently pulling and twisting her stiff, diamond-hard nipples before lightly licking each one. Molly's gasps turned into low cries of pleasure as I continued to rub my way down, following a trail of kisses and nips across her quivering stomach and stopping on her mound before skipping down to her legs - where I once again moved down one then back up the other. Her moans at this point became constant as I chuckled deviously at my sexy torture of this beautiful woman.

As I move my hands back up slowly, purposefully missing her inner thighs, I concentrated on kneading her abductor muscles, hearing her moans deepen as I moved up and groaning as I slid my hands back down. After several passes, as I returned to her hips I repositioned my hands to her medialis and started to slide my thumbs up and down, just skimming Molly's drenched nether lips, teasing her with each fleeting touch.

Finally I couldn't hold myself back any longer and used my thumbs to open her velvety petals and dipped my head to thrust my eager, gifted tongue deep in to taste that sweet, sweet honey. Easing two fingers inside of her pulsing tunnel, I started slowly pumping in and out as I licked and sucked her stiff clit, gradually going faster as her moans got louder and rhythmic.

I knew she was getting close.

I kept up that mind blowing pace until Molly violently clenched and screamed out my name, flushing the nearby birds. I smiled in satisfaction before I lapped up all of her squirting nectar, until she gradually subsided, her breathing ragged. Pulling off my clothes, I slid up next to her, released her wrists and pulled her into a loving embrace. We kissed and explored each other before we began round two which culminated by consummating our bond and left both of us feeling completely satisfied.

The night was romantic and memorable, the fragrant smell of the night air blended with our essence, the landscape lit up by the full moon.

* * * *

We slept in the next day, and took another relaxed three days to get down to Pinetop and the Wilderness Campground where we had lodging and met up with many of the riders for the event.

Molly was excited. We had registered for the 80ish mile ride. The course was mostly gravel, some dirt, possible mud, a bit of pavement while rolling over some of the most beautiful and fun dirt roads in Northern Arizona in the scenic White Mountains.

She loved her bike, the gearing, tires, geometry all fit her perfectly making for a wonderful ride in beautiful weather and incredible scenery. We did the ride in just over six hours. We kept a good cadence but were more interested in hanging together and the scenery than worrying about our time.

We both had our Strava running, and when our race finished and we ended our time the kudo's started pouring in. Most riders know about the Pinewood Showdown Gravel Grinder, so to have actually ridden it sort of made us prominent back home.

The rider social and after party was a happy time with drinks, food, and sharing stories with other riders, making contacts for future rides. We danced to live music, enjoying both the fast and slow songs in each other's arms.

That night I lay awake in bed comparing my life a year ago to now. The difference was stark: arrogance and demands as compared to humility and modesty. Vapid small talk as compared to engaging and interesting conversation. Lack of regard for me as compared to what now was someone who loved and valued me.

I turned over to look at Molly sleeping, her brunette hair splayed across the pillow, her soft breathing. This was someone I could spend the rest of my life with, someone who would appreciate what we had, someone who would partner with building a life together.

After I dropped Molly off at her apartment and went home, I was surprised to see a car just pulling out of my drive as I pulled in. It was my ex-in-laws of all people!

They waved me down and said, "We want to talk with you," so I motioned them back to the house. When I got out of my car my ex-father-in-law marched up to me and poked his finger into my chest.

"You cheating, lying, bastard! You cheated on my daughter and defrauded her in the divorce! I'm gonna wipe the floor with you in court unless you make this right!"

Tired after a long ride home, pissed at being accused of something for which I was innocent, and angry at his attitude, I probably over-reacted with my ire and was going to hurt them.

"Come into the house for a minute and we'll settle this right away." I said. They stomped in behind me, and I told them "if you want a drink you can help yourself. I'll be back in a minute."

I came back with my tablet and cast it to my TV and asked them to take a seat. You know what began to play on the TV, right? Yep, the crystal clear 4k recording of their daughter's adulterous planning with her beloved Carson, followed by their fuck session.

"Turn it off. Now!" barked her father. "That doesn't mean you didn't cheat on her. Besides, you ripped her off in the divorce settlement."

I pulled out the divorce paperwork and her attorney's card. "Did you read the paperwork and who prepared it? All I did was listen to her tell me she was divorcing me and to just sign the papers, so I did. If you've got a problem with the settlement, she and her attorney drafted it. Not me."

He looked through the paperwork, glaring at it. What more could be said? But I had a few more words.

"You know, I gave her pretty much everything she wanted during our marriage. Every latest interest of hers where she wanted to fit in, I never really rejected any of that - at least until I lost my job. But she never thanked me for it, and it was never enough.

"And when things got tight, she left me. She didn't support me emotionally, didn't encourage me, didn't tell me she had confidence in me. Nope. She just said I couldn't fill her needs completely but Carson could.

"After all, she should know how much he filled her since she had been cheating on me for weeks and hiding it. And this was well-before any financial hardship. Oh and by the way, I made it through that job loss and am doing better than ever!"

Bailey's mother started to sob and her father patted her on the back. They had spoiled her, and frankly, I did too. I got lost in the looks and the sex. Honestly, the sex wasn't that good either. I always felt she was selfish, looking after her own needs.

That is, unless she used her body to persuade me to spend more money on her.

I felt sorry for her parents as they left. I saw the way they turned out of the driveway and assumed they were going over to Carson's for a conversation of sorts. It's hard to know your child isn't the person you thought you had raised, though I think they knew they had a lot to do with her attitude.

What's interesting is that I became resentful from that visit. Obviously Bailey had spun a false narrative of what happened. While I had thought I'd gotten past the infidelity, the hurt feelings of being cheated on, the betrayal, obviously I had not. And this incident just brought all those feelings back.

The following week I had to make a return trip to Kansas City to visit Mr. Woodson's company to see how the ownership change was working and to recommend a few process changes. He was happy to see me, even called me "son."

"Son, it's so good to see you again! How are you and the Mrs. doing? I hope she doesn't mind you coming back down here to help an old man. I'd love to meet her some day to reassure her how good a man you are and tell her how you've helped me immensely."

My face must have betrayed me. "Son, Blake, did I say something wrong?"

I fell on my sword, so to speak, and decided to come clean with him and tell him what happened. He was quite distressed, up to a point.

"Blake, it's disgusting when another man goes after a married woman. It doesn't play well with me and everyone in my company knows that I have no tolerance for dalliances among employees nor for any cheating of any kind. Did you ever confront this man, have it out with him?"

"No sir. By the time I found out, the affair had been going on long enough that regardless of whatever Carson did to seduce my wife. Frankly, she probably was more attracted to his wealth and possessions at first, than to him. But certainly he fed her desire and conspired with her for the divorce."

At the mention of Carson's name the old man's face fell, his bushy eyebrows scrunched down over his narrowed eyes. "Carson you say? Tell me, where do you live again?"

I described the area we live in, the reason for the neighborhood parties and the proximity of the subdivisions to each other. He looked at me then walked around his desk and sat down, opened a drawer in his huge desk and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle Special Reserve bourbon.

"Have a seat, kid. We've got to talk."

'Now what?' I thought. I knew I could trust this wizened old man. We have mutual respect, trust each other, and have good communication. So whatever he's about to say must be important.

"Blake, the man who took your wife is my grandson. Some years ago when I made my estate plan I set aside considerable sums for my grandkids that got them through University and gave them a pretty easy ride in life. At the time I thought I was being a good grandfather in looking after them, but like a lot of grandparents we tend to go overboard with our grandchildren.

"Carson did well in school and I respected him for that, and upon graduation each grandchild got access to their trust account. I regret the way I set it up, because at least for Carson, it took away any of his motivation to do something with his life. He's basically a rich playboy financed by my money."

He paused to take a sip of bourbon while I looked at him, shocked at the coincidental relationship, perhaps serendipitous, and also curious where he would take the conversation.

"We all make mistakes even when we've had the best of intentions. And you know, Blake, after you helped with the ownership takeover of my company, I'm in the process of adjusting my entire estate for when I pass. But, and I emphasize this, it doesn't mean I was careless in setting up my grandkids. Those trusts are revocable, and further, I have full control over them. I just haven't bothered to get involved with any of their withdrawals."

"Sir, I understand what you're telling me but you've got to realize that while I'm pissed at your grandson, it's my wife I'm more upset with. And that's now in the past. The best revenge, as they say, is living a good life."

He smiled at that statement. "And that's the attitude to have, and it's why I respect you. What I haven't told you yet, is that in each of the trusts I also have a morality clause similar to what I have in the company documents. And as you might surmise, my grandson has certainly violated it. Which means, I can cut off access to those funds."

In a way I was elated to hear that, but didn't want to let on. So I sat still and remained silent.

"Without access to those funds, he'll have to start hustling up a real job. I won't hire him here or make any calls on his behalf. This is tough love from me. Maybe his parents will help him, but that's all on them. Each of my grandkids know the specific rules of their Trust, so it should be no surprise when he gets the letter or tries to make a withdrawal."

"Sir, this has nothing to do with me, I hope. Please, don't mention that you're doing this because of me. I'm moving on. If anything, this is Karma, isn't it? I don't know if Karma is male or female, but let's just use the feminine form. She can be a bitch, and it looks like Karma's going to bite Carson in his ass!"

The old man began laughing, and I started to laugh with him. He got up and slapped me on the shoulder then pulled me into a man hug.

"Look kid, you've got a bright future ahead of you. Keep moving forward and keep doing good things, keep your integrity. You'll find a good woman, you'll have a good life, you'll have a good conscience."

On the plane ride home I thought about what the old man said, especially about finding a good woman. Molly was a humble woman, modest, smart, and happy. I respected how happy she was despite her humble living conditions. And she was appreciative of what I did for her.

I decided that I wanted to pursue a relationship with this woman and see where it went. My divorce was recent, but I don't think that's a reason to delay getting to know someone. So when I got home I called her for another date, and she was happy to hear from me.

Three months later Molly and I did a gravel ride from my home along the roads connecting all the subdivisions and passed by the Cedar Ridge sub and thought we'd ride in and see if any of the neighbors were out mowing their yard, just to say hi.

As we came to the cul de sac I saw a For Sale sign in front of Carson's driveway. We just kept riding, but it made me curious.

Another month went by and things had really been working out between me and Molly. In fact, I asked her to move in with me and life together was good. Really good! The companionship was comfortable, the sex fantastic, the conversation engaging, the kindness mutual. We just fit together nicely.

A big event was meeting her parents, humble people who seemed to immediately read me like a book and welcomed me. Molly had already told them of my ex-wife's treachery, and by their response I could tell they had raised Molly with that same respect for fidelity in marriage.

As our relationship grew and blossomed in the home and on the trails, one day there was a knock on my door. Bailey.

"Blake, babe, do you have a minute to talk? Please?"

I was stunned, having largely forgotten about Bailey, putting her in my past. I was on to new and better things.

"Um, Bailey, this is a surprise. What's up?" I said in a matter-of-fact tone, realizing as I looked at her that I was over the hurt and offense.

She was a little taken aback at my calmness. "Blake, I might have made a mistake and I'm hoping you and I might be able to work things out. I'd like to come back to you."

Well, that was direct and to the point.

"That's quite a request, Bailey. Usually a conversation like that starts over the phone, maybe a coffee, but coming home right off the bat? And requesting it at my front door? What's really going on?"

She stood there looking - - - what was it? Frightened? A little. Uncertain? Certainly. Sheepish? Yes.

"Tell me what's going on Bailey. You haven't said anything to me for a long time. Now you come here unexpectedly with such a request?"

"Like I said, I made a mistake. I also need a place to live." she said as she looked down.

Then it hit me. Carson's home was on the market. His access to money dried up. He probably couldn't give her the lifestyle anymore. "A mistake, Bailey? Where's Carson?"

She started to tear up and quickly wiped her eyes. "Yes, well... he went back to live with his parents. He lost his house to the bank, he couldn't sell it fast enough. Something happened to his money and it's all gone."

"I don't understand," I said as I played dumb, "you wanted someone to take care of you and fulfill all your needs and you said he filled your needs completely. And me? Well you said you were, and I quote, "never a complete person with me," and uncomfortable with yourself when around me. So why on earth would you want to be back in that situation again?"

"Like I said honey, I made a mistake. I realize that now, so I'd like to come home to you."

"Well Bailey, what about how you told your parents that I cheated on you. And that I ripped you off in the divorce? They hate me. I don't think they'd want you coming back to me."

Embarrassed at the reminders of her own words and lies she stammered, "I, I, well, I think I could convince them to think differently."

"Well if you can do that then why don't you go back and live with your parents." Then I yelled to the back of the house, "Molly, can you come to the front door please?"

Bailey was wondering who I was calling, when just then Molly appeared at the door behind me, my beautiful Molly with her beautiful smile. "Yes, babe? What did you need?"

"Molly, I want to introduce you to my ex-wife. This is Bailey. And Bailey, this is my fiancée, Molly."

Molly, the kind person that she is, extended her hand to Bailey and said, "Bailey, it's so nice to meet you." Bailey hesitantly took the handshake somewhat limply as she stared wide-eyed at Molly.

"Oh, Blake, I didn't know." she uttered as the silent tears began to roll down her cheeks. Molly and I just stared at Bailey, who turned and walked to her car. We never saw her again.

Karma wasn't done with Bailey and her lover. It turns out Carson lost his home to the bank as he had heavily mortgaged it to stay afloat when his Trust funds were cut off. And he had no way to make the payments, so in only a matter of months the bank took the home and it sat vacant.

I was doing really well at the Consulting Group, and of all things, I had received a letter from an attorney in Kansas City that a Trust Fund had been set up for me and my next wife with access once we were married, and another trust fund for our future children.

Karma can be a bitch, but she can be so nice at times. So can Mr. Woodson.

Molly and I put in a bid at the bank and actually purchased Carson's home, that beautiful yard and pool and home. Of course, I let Molly redecorate to her satisfaction and make it a home for us and our future family.

It's said that beauty is only skin deep, but ugly is to the bone. With my experience in my first marriage, I certainly see how beauty can hide a lot of ugliness. And I was more than willing to go along with it. Why? Out of loyalty. And, I humbly admit, for some sex and arm candy.

But I learned my lesson as well.

The unfortunate thing about relationships is that the reasonable spouse is taken advantage of by the unreasonable spouse. The understanding spouse is at the mercy of the demanding spouse.

I have been generous because of love and because it's the right thing to be for a spouse. But it was also a fault, to continue that generosity to someone who doesn't appreciate it, or respect it. Yes, the sex and the pouting and flirting was great, but in the long run it wasn't really sincere.

With Molly, there is genuine thanks and appreciation. There is mutual understanding, and communication that is honest and real. There are disagreements, even marital fights, but those are also moments of communication that when paired with love and gratitude are quickly overcome and forgotten.

We stayed in that home for over 35 years and raised our family, even moved her parents in when they were aged, until we moved to a warmer climate when our wonderful kids had all moved out.

Strava certainly measures Key Performance Indicators, route segments, and timing. The segments of my life all had interesting timing, the best of which was getting out of a bad marriage and into a relationship with the perfect spouse. And the KPI?: The happy, lengthy, successful marriage Molly and I have enjoyed.

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Author's note: Some may wonder how a bicycle can have an electronic drivetrain. Instead of having cables connecting the shifters and derailleurs, the electronic shifters send a wireless signal to the derailleurs which are battery powered. The advantage is how the gears automatically trim and adjust, eliminating chain rub and cross chaining. The shifting is extremely fast and crisp, using buttons instead of levers. But these are expensive setups depending on how many components are used, whether an individual or complete groupset.