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This story is copyright ©2002 by Adam Gunn. All rights reserved. Comments are welcomed. Please email me by clicking here.
Please Note: This is part 2 of a continuing story. I strongly suggest you read part 1 before you read part 2.
The Sailor's Wife II: The Shroud Stephanie woke, troubled by something, a noise perhaps. What time was it? After 10, she was late for work! No, wait, it was Sunday, everything's all right. Was she going to sleep the entire day away? Why not? She'd done it before. At least when she slept she was clear of the pangs of loneliness. She turned on her side, tugging at the flannel nightgown she'd wrapped herself in before she fell asleep, and gazed over the bedside to the portrait of her husband. The glass was cracked, and she recalled how it was broken, just the night before. Suddenly, she felt the tears welling. Unfaithful again! The memory of the young man came flowing over her, how she'd seduced him, attempting to assuage both her seclusion and the physical needs of a young woman. She felt a good cry coming on, the wracking sobs of a woman whose conscience wouldn't allow peace. Suddenly the noise returned, a banging on the front door. Who could it be? She roused herself, throwing a bathrobe over her shoulders to protect her modesty, and made her way to the front door. Through the peephole, she spied Chuck, the young man she'd invited into her bath and bed the night before. Cracking the door, keeping the chain latched, she asked, "What are you doing here?" "Hi," he replied. "Thought I'd come over to see you. Is it okay?" "Yeah, I guess so. Listen, I'll open the door, but don't come in for a few seconds, okay? I'm not quite decent." Then she remembered just how indecent she'd been when he saw her just twelve hours before. "Okay." Stephanie unlatched the door and left it ajar, then sprinted for the bathroom. She couldn't let Chuck see her this way, disheveled, teary-eyed, ugly. She heard him come in after her, and called to him, "Be a dear and put some coffee on, will you?" She began her toilet, only to be disturbed by a call, "How many scoops?" "Two," she replied. By the time she emerged from the bedroom clad in shorts and sweatshirt, brushed and perfumed, she was feeling a little better, not only physically, but morally as well. "So," she began, "how did you get here?" "I walked." "Walked? It's over five miles!" "Yeah, but it only took me a little over an hour. I can walk pretty fast after all, I'm on the cross-country team. Hey, can I have some milk?" She got the carton out and poured him a glass, then spilled some into her steaming coffee. Why was he here, she wondered? Did he expect her to strip, throw herself on her back again, and let him have his way with her? Luckily, he said the first words, and picked just the right ones. "I thought maybe you'd like to go over by the lake, or maybe up into the hills. It's a really pretty morning." It certainly was! But weren't they all in this wonderland they called California? The fog had already burned off, and the picture window displayed a world filled with crisp images of trees and mountains. And here he was, just trying to be a friend. Maybe he wasn't like all the other guys who, she imagined, had only one use for a woman. "Sure, let's do something." Stephanie made sandwiches and put some fruit into a plastic bag. In the garage, she had Chuck put two bicycles onto the rack on her VW bug she figured he could ride Glenn's bike well enough. Soon they were on the way up to the redwoods and began a long ride through the hills and trees. 45 minutes into their trip they were both sweating. Chuck pulled his T-shirt off, displaying the trim torso Stephanie had enjoyed so much the night before. She pulled off her sweatshirt, exposing the halter top and hoped he wouldn't notice her nipples, crinkled with the remembrance of last night's passion. A half hour farther on, they stopped in a high meadow overlooking Oakland and the San Francisco Bay below them. They spread the picnic in the grass, thirstily gulped the water from the jug and began to munch on the provisions. "Chuck," Stephanie began, spouting the words she'd rehearsed during the bike ride, "I want you to know just how much I enjoyed last night..." "Yeah," he interrupted, "It was great, wasn't it? You're really something." Suddenly she remembered twenty-four hours earlier, he'd been a virgin. "But you've got to remember, I'm a married woman. What I did was wrong, I shouldn't have led you on. I'm a little ashamed of myself." "You mean..." "What I'm trying to say is, I like you, I like you a lot, but, well, I guess I don't want you to think . . . I mean, I just can't... It's just not right..." The carefully polished speech crumbled under the weight of her emotions, and she realized just how incoherent her thoughts were. "That's okay, Steph. If you can't, you can't. Just the one time was great. But, maybe, I could just hang around with you, if that's all right." It was the perfect retort, and suddenly the gloom that filled Stephanie's soul lifted. A friend was found, one who could be counted on. A rush of conversation followed. They discovered each other, what she did at work, the hobbies he had. They began to become comfortable with each other. The ride back took longer, interrupted by bits of conversation and frequent stops for views and water. Once Chuck put his hand on her shoulder, sending a thrill through her body, but she willed it to cease and almost forgot the physical attraction she felt for the youth. Returning to the house, she offered him a beer and put some chicken on the hibachi. For hours they talked, playing Yahtzee and cards, rarely remembering the passion of the previous evening. Finally, near sunset, Stephanie said, "Listen, why don't I take you home?" "Okay," he agreed. He rose first from the couch and offered his hand to pull her up. She accepted, and as she rose in the gloaming, she tripped over the leg of the coffee table and stumbled into his arms, her face next to his. "Thank you," she said, and then, suddenly, desired a kiss. She pressed her lips against his and they fell back onto the couch. His hand was on her breast, feeling the nipple through the bra, and she pulled him to her. He was on top of her, his crotch on hers, and remembering the feel of his penis within her, she was quite sure what she wanted. When he unsnapped her jeans and tried to put a hand down her pants, though, she recalled her resolve and cried, "Chuck, stop. Please, dear, don't." Waiting for him to respond, she was certain that if he didn't restrain himself, she wouldn't have the strength to ask him again. But he did stop, and shyly got off of her. "I'm sorry," he said, "I shouldn't have . . . ." "No, that's okay dear," she replied, closing her pants and straightening the rest of her clothing. "It's just that . . . ." During the drive back to Alameda, she reminded the boy that Glenn would be returning Thursday afternoon. "Well, maybe I could come over one night before then," Chuck suggested. "Maybe. Why don't you call me?" She dropped him off a block from his house with just a quick handclasp. He did call that week, and when Steph answered the phone they chatted, but she resisted the temptation of his company. She'd rather be lonely, she decided, than unfaithful. And if he came over, she was afraid this time she wouldn't be able to stop his advances, or was it her advances? Thursday evening, just after work, Stephanie was on the dock of the Naval Air Station, waiting for the aircraft carrier in a silky gown. Soon it pulled in, gray and immense, and young men began to pour down the gangplank. She watched as Glenn joined them, a little late she thought, and there was something wrong, instead of the dress whites the rest of the sailors were wearing, he was in dungarees. They met on the dock, and she was in his arms, kissing him, fondling him. But an unknown something kept them at a slight distance. "Listen, sweetheart," he began, "one of the guys got detached, and they switched my section. I'm on watch." "Oh, no," she said, realizing that he wouldn't be coming home with her that night. "I'm afraid so. But hey, if you want to come aboard for an hour or so, the chief says it's okay." And so, instead of getting into the car and heading for their retreat in the hills, she found herself climbing onto the ship, walking the passages, trying not to stain her dress. They entered his workspace, she'd been in there a dozen times and they were alone. "You've been all right?" he asked. "Sure, I missed you." And she was in his arms, and she knew she wanted him, desired his attentions. Her hands caressed his back. Their lips met. After a long kiss, she suggested, "Let's make love." "You mean..." "Right here. In back of those racks." "Honey, if anyone caught us, I'd get busted. It's not that I don't want to..." "Please," she begged, "It will be all right. You can lock the door, maybe there's somewhere else we can go." And of course, with perfect timing, the chief walked in. "Oh, sorry," he apologized as the couple broke from each other. "Chief, this is my wife Stephanie." "How do you do, ma'am?" After a brief exchange of pleasantries, the Chief looked to Glenn. "Don't mean to break this up, but we need you on a work party. Get down to the second deck ASAP, okay?" "Sure, Chief." After he was gone, they kissed once more. "Sorry, honey, I've got to go." And he escorted her back to the gangplank, with whispered promises that tomorrow they'd be able to care for each other's passions. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at 5:15, right after work," Stephanie promised. But as she descended to the dock, Stephanie felt not just disappointment and loneliness, but an overwhelming physical need. Soon she was in her car on Webster, and passed the string of fast food joints. Suddenly, she was pleased to see a familiar figure walking along the street. "Hey, Chuck," Steph yelled, pulling the car to the curb. Just the ticket to assuage her solitude. "Oh, hi!" he responded, realizing who was stopping to greet him. "I was just driving past. Can I give you a lift home?" "Sure!" He got in the passenger side, and Steph drove through the residential neighborhood. "I thought your old man was going to get home tonight." "Well, his ship pulled in, but he's got to stay on board tonight." "Bummer." "Yeah, real bummer. Listen, I need some company right now, someone to talk to. Do you need to go right home?" "My mom will be looking for me in half an hour or so. What do you want to do?" "Can we just drive down to the beach?" "Okay." Soon they were in the parking lot, gazing at the lights of the City across the Bay. For a few minutes they chatted about inanities, but soon the depression returned to Steph and she began to weep again. It was only natural for Chuck to put his arm around her, to comfort her. He remembered her warning, he didn't expect anything to happen, and when he felt her lips pressing against his, nibbling at the corner of his mouth, he was astounded and unsure of himself. But the instincts of love are not so easily dissuaded, and he kissed back. They embraced over the stick shift, and he allowed his hand to fondle a breast though the silky fabric of her dress. For her part, Steph was suddenly overwhelmed by passion. She wanted not so much to make love as to have a release of tension hers, Glenn's or Chuck's. Her hand dropped to the boy's lap, caressing the ever-strengthening rod inside the slacks. She knew it wasn't safe to do it here, too many police, but there was one thing she could do for him. Unzipping his pants, she stuck her hand into his boxers, stroking his penis. She remembered how Glenn liked her to gently rub his dick, and the smoothness of the boy's rod reminded her of something else Glenn enjoyed, something she rarely performed because some part of the Victorian society she grew up in told her it was 'dirty.' At that moment she didn't care about rules, and so she bent over and took the penis into her mouth. The boy slumped back, letting her minister to him, and she licked the tip of the nearly virgin cock and let her saliva drip down, supplying lubrication for the strokes of her hand. Soon she was bobbing up and down on the prick, and he moved his hips in unison. Just a few seconds later, she felt the slight tremors that indicated he would be releasing soon. This was the point where she almost always backed away, letting Glenn spill his seed into the air or over her face, but this time she stayed with Chuck and allowed him to erupt into her mouth. Greedily she sucked the sperm from the young penis, thinking all the while of how it could be Glenn's, how much he'd enjoy this, but that he was too selfish to be with her tonight, he needed to do his duty, and so she performed the act on another man in substitution. Soon Chuck was finished, and she spit the milky fluid into a tissue, futilely trying not to taste the acid, not to gag. But she remembered that he was new to this and unready for any kind of rejection. "Did you like that?" she asked. "Oh, yeah," he moaned. "I'm glad. You better zip up," she said, as headlights swept the side of the car. Luckily, it wasn't a cop. She started the engine as Chuck rearranged his now flagging dick, and began to drive the few blocks to his house. She stopped on a street filled with adobe bungalows, a few houses past the one he identified as his and told him, "Glenn will be leaving in ten days. Give me a call then, okay?" She drove off into the night, thinking what she'd done served Glenn right. The next day at work, keypunching, she realized she wasn't up to her usual efficient self. She kept thinking about what she'd done the night before with Chuck, and what she could do with Glenn that night. Concentration on her job was suffering. After the next clerk had verified three batches and corrected the dozens of problems, her manager called her in. "You okay, Steph?" "I'm fine, Mr. Donegal." "Did your husband get home all right last night?" "Well, no. He had the watch, and had to stay on board." "Oh. That's too bad." "I'm sorry I'm not at my best today," she apologized, hoping to placate the boss. "Don't worry about it. Everybody understands what you're going through. Listen, your boy is shipping out soon, isn't he?" "A week from Tuesday." "And the ship will be in port until then?" "Yes, sir." "Listen, if you want to take off a couple of hours every now and then until he leaves, just let me know, all right? It's pretty quiet here right now, and I'll let you make up the time after he's gone, okay?" "Really, Mr. Donegal? Oh, that would be so nice. Thank you!" "Don't worry about it. I was young once, you know. You just take care of that sailor of yours, okay? What time does he get off today?" "He can leave at 4:00." "Okay, then you leave early, and go get him." He thought for a moment that she was going to hug him, but she bounced out of the door. Her performance improved markedly. At 3:45 she packed up her purse and left to the cries from her coworkers of "Have a good time," and "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Instead of heading for Alameda and her husband, she went home and showered. She took her time drying her hair, applying make up, perfuming herself, and donning just the right outfit. By the time they'd arranged to meet, she was standing on the pier waiting for her husband, and the other sailors and dockworkers were leering at her. Glenn almost didn't recognize her, mainly because, like most men, he started looking at the bottom. Black high heels, nylons, red miniskirt and top, bare midriff, and a come-hither look. At first, he thought she might be a hooker, but when his eyes rose to her face, he took her in his arms and kissed her, winning the admiration of the onlookers. He couldn't wait to get her home. He drove as quickly as possible through the rush hour traffic, occasionally stroking her legs when he wasn't shifting the stick, gazing at her beauty, peeping into her cleavage. At long last, they pulled into the driveway, and chased each other up the stairs to the apartment door. Stephanie poured a beer into a frosted glass for her returning hero, and when she took it to him in the bedroom he was already reclining on the bed, garbed only in his boxers. "Come here," he requested, and she joined him on the bed. They began by kissing passionately, hungry for each other after their enforced separation. Glenn pawed hungrily at her bosom, stripping her of her bra and sucking gratefully at her nipples. A warmth kindled within her, not only from the physical attention she was needing and receiving, but also just from the closeness of her husband. Soon she was fondling his sac through his boxers, and he had removed her skirt, pleasantly shocked to discover she'd "forgotten" to wear panties. His eyes and hands explored her thick bush. He was ready for her, three weeks and one very long night ready for her, and now he was so excited by her state of undress, just high heels, garter belt and nylons, that he forgot to continue the foreplay. He rolled her onto her back and began to sink into her. Stephanie wanted him to slow him down, to play with her a little more before the sex. Her sense of duty, however, told her not to interfere with his desire. She spread her legs wide and he pounded into her, shoving his manhood deep within her almost moist vagina. His movements caused the elastic of the garter belt to dig into her stomach, rubbing off a bit of skin, but Stephanie knew her place was to give pleasure to her man, so she endured the punishment. Too soon, his excitement and the friction got the best of him, and he spewed into his wife. Afterward, unsatisfied and no longer aroused, Steph asked, "What would you like for dinner, dear? There's ground beef, some tuna, or we could go down to the Safeway and pick something else up." "How 'bout let's go out? We could just walk down to Kelly's." "Sure." It was a bar and restaurant on Fruitvale where they went every once in awhile, when he was around and they had a couple of extra bucks. "And would you mind putting that outfit back on? You're awful sexy in it." While Glenn put civvies on, jeans and a shirt, Steph packed herself back into the getup he'd been so anxious to get her out of. "Hold on a few minutes, hon, and let me put some makeup and lipstick back on." Soon she was looking foxy again, and they strolled the three blocks down to the business district. Steph was glib, enjoying the company of her man, and she joked with him and held his arm warmly. But as they approached the door of the bar, Steph remembered the last time she'd entered the place, over a month ago. It had been without Glenn, and she'd left it with a man. For a second she froze, considering how she'd taken the guy home, gotten screwed the first time she'd ever had a man besides Glenn. "You okay?" Glenn asked. Steph knew she'd gone white, and wondered if she'd throw up. "I'm fine. Just let me catch my breath." She plucked her courage, and they entered the joint. It was early yet, not quite 8:30, and the place was still a little quiet, just four or five guys and a couple of women at the bar, the tables not quite half full. The bartender was the same guy as that fateful night, but he showed no spark of recognition. They sat, and a waitress came by to take their orders, a hamburger for him, a fish sandwich for her. As they ate and drank a couple of beers, the place started to fill, the jukebox got cranked up, and a few of the couples began to move to the small floor. "Come on, let's dance," Glenn asked. "Okay." She couldn't move well in the high heels, but it didn't seem to matter. Every guy seemed to be looking at her, taking in her nyloned legs, short skirt, naked stomach, and haltered breasts, sticking out towards her husband. She'd neglected to put a bra back on, and the frank stares of the men excited her the nipples hardened and the entire place knew about it. Four or five fast songs were played, and then a slow one, a dance where she could hold him close, and could feel him hugging her to him, as if they'd never be apart again. Finally she begged for a respite, her shoes were killing her. They sat, having a sip of the beers, and soon Steph excused herself and went to the ladies' room. After taking care of her bladder, she refreshed the mascara and lipstick, and made sure that her hair was brushed back. Looking at herself in the mirror, she was pleased with the image, and thought that Glenn should be proud of his "date." Returning to their table, she walked proudly, and once again every man in the place watched her strut. She gave her hand to Glenn and they returned to the dance floor. As she was grooving, she took in the looks of her admirers, and then she saw him - the guy she'd screwed standing at the bar, a bottle in his hand, looking directly at her, trying to get her attention. She stumbled, and Glenn caught her. "Is anything wrong?" "No, I just need to get a breath of air. Let's go home, honey." "Okay. Just let me finish my beer, okay?" She wanted to scream, 'No, let's leave this very moment,' but being a good wife, she let him sit and sip the brew. Her back was to the bar, and she saw Glenn look up. Then she felt the hand on the back of her chair, on her back, and heard his voice. "Hi, I'm Jim. Mind if I take your lady out on the dance floor?" "It's okay with me. Go ahead, Steph." "No, just let me sit here." "Oh, come on, just one dance," the other man said. "Sure, just one, honey." And she found herself going back out on the dance floor, crowded by now, with this stranger, the one who'd been inside her. As they danced, Jim felt her back, then lower to her rear. She knocked his hand aside, hoping Glenn hadn't seen the advance. "Hey, you're a great piece of ass," the guy loudly whispered into her ear. "I wondered why I hadn't seen you around lately. Why don't you dump that dude and let me take you home again?" "Get away from me. That's my husband." "Oh. Shit, he doesn't know about us, does he?" "There's nothing for him to know, and never will be again. Now leave me alone!" Steph broke off the dance, and walked back to Glenn. She didn't sit down, just stood there, and pleaded, "Honey, take me home." "Sure." They left the bar, and once again, every guy watched her, hoping she'd be back the next night without the guy. The walk back was quiet, and although Steph felt a little teary, she refused to let the sentiment out. When they got back to the apartment, they stripped and got into bed. Once again Glenn was ready for her, and she accepted his advances. After a preliminary kiss and suckling of her breast, he moved down to place his mouth between her legs and began to lick her clit. Surprisingly, she found herself aroused. Was it the men who'd watched her, wanted her? As Glenn sucked and put a finger into her, she began to remember how Jim made love to her, how he'd been just a little rough. She remembered the pressure of his body on her, and soon she willed herself to climax. Thinking of Jim, letting Glenn work on her, she groaned and pressed her vagina up into his mouth, making him go deeper, positioning his tongue for her maximum fire. Glenn kept up the tongue action, letting her come, and then he climbed on top of her and entered her. As he thrust in and out of her, she accepted the movement, and pushed back. Soon, Glenn was straightening, coming himself, and Steph held him, drew him into her with her legs, making sure that his climax was as good as hers had been. At last he collapsed on her, breathing heavily, and she held his head, stroked his back. He rolled off of her, and she turned on her side and put her head on his shoulder. "You're beautiful," he flattered, "every guy in the bar wanted to come home with you tonight, you know." And then, she couldn't hold the tears back any longer. Softly, silently, she wept, and Glenn held her, comforted her, kissed her eyes to wipe the sadness away. "Shhh, shh, it's okay." When she stopped sobbing, he asked, "What's wrong?" Was this a good time to tell him how she'd betrayed him, not once but twice? Was there ever a good time, would there ever be? After a few moments she responded, "It's just that I'm going to miss you so much when you leave again." "Me too, honey. Can I ask you a question?" She knew he could feel her nod. "Did you like the way the guys paid attention to you?" She knew she did, hungered for it even. "Yes, but I liked you being with me better." "Honey, when I'm out at sea, do you ever go down there?" "Just a couple of times." "Do the guys hit on you?" "Yeah." "What do you do when they do?" "I tell them I'm married, and they stop it." "Have you ever felt tempted to . . . well, you know." "Would you be ashamed of me if I was tempted?" "No, good lord, no. Hey, you're a beautiful woman." "Well, then, yes. I've thought about it once or twice." "But you've never done anything, right?" She hesitated, then she lied, "No, never." "But if you had, you'd tell me, right?" "Of course! But I haven't, I haven't." She was stepping into dangerous territory here, and she knew it. So she brought out the ultimate weapon, a woman's tears. Once again he comforted her, and whispered, "I know you haven't baby. I just wanted to hear you tell me, that's all." She allowed herself to be comforted, and then they slept in each other's arms. The next day, a Saturday, a wonderful day they could spend enjoying each other's company. Steph was up before he was, and by the time he woke and splashed water on his face, she had the coffee percolating and slices of sourdough dipped in egg batter, waiting to become French Toast. The late morning was spent on a trip to Berkeley and a stop at Moe's Books. Glen bought two cartons of used paperbacks, fodder for the nine months of separation he and his shipmates would endure. Later that day, they drove across the Bay Bridge, parked near Market Street and strolled the streets of San Francisco. As they walked through Upper Grant Street hand in hand, they chatted about their families, their plans for what would happen after the cruise, their hopes. Somewhere during their conversation, Stephanie asked, "Glen, why did you ask me about going to bars while you were away?" "Oh, that. I'm sorry honey. I didn't mean to accuse you or anything. It's just that there's this guy in my division, and on the last cruise he spent a lot of time with hookers in the Philippines. We got to talking while we were out this last time, and I asked him if his wife knew about it, or what she'd think of it. He just told me that it didn't matter, that his wife was probably out screwing too, like all the other navy wives did. "It just got me to thinking, that's all. Last night you were looking so good, and the guys were looking at you and all, and I just wondered how you handled them. I'm sorry if I hurt you." Stephanie felt a gush of relief. So he didn't know, didn't really suspect after all! Wait a minute though, was he telling her . . . "Honey, have you ever gone out with a prostitute?" "What! No! I wouldn't do that on you." Prodded by a few of her questions, he told her about the scene in Olangapo, where the carriers docked every month. About the hookers in the bars who wouldn't leave you alone until you bought a drink for them, sugared water. And then they'd sit there with you, trying to get you to take them to a hotel. When they realized you just wanted to sit and drink a beer, they'd leave you alone for a little while. "Did you ever think about taking one upstairs?" Stephanie asked. Glen blushed. "Well, yeah, I guess I have every once in awhile. But I've never done it." "Have you ever kissed one of them?" "Yeah." He looked ashamed of himself. "Once when I was real drunk, one of the girls sat on my lap, and . . . well, I'm sorry honey." "Oh, that's all right, baby. You get tempted out there, too." Later, Glenn bought her dinner at a restaurant down near Fisherman's Wharf, and then they took a cable car back to their car. It was a wonderful ride, up the hills into the fog, and Stephanie sat on his lap as the trolley sped around the curves and down the hills. When they returned to their apartment, Stephanie disappeared into the bathroom and put on a negligee Glenn liked. When she came into the living room, they made love on the floor, sweet rhythmic love, and it lasted for a very long time, ending only when Steph finally faked an orgasm. Afterwards, she laid face down on the floor, letting Glenn rub her naked back, and asked him, "Am I as exciting as those girls in the Philippines?" "Oh, Stephanie," he groaned sadly, "you're much more beautiful than they are." When she heard the pain in his voice, she realized how much the jest had hurt him. She sat up and hugged him. "I didn't mean that, dear. I was just joking." She felt him relax in her arms, and then a slight hardening in his dick. She decided she owed him, and bent to take his manhood into her mouth. He leaned against the couch and let her lick and suck him into a full erection, and, eventually, to a state of near orgasm. As she worked on him, and felt the first drops of clear liquid ooze from the tip of the penis, she remembered the last time she'd done this, to Chuck. She kept working on him, and decided that when he came, she'd let him have everything she could give him. But when she felt the first gush of sperm hit the back of her throat, it was almost involuntary she released the cock from her mouth and forced him to release into the air. When he was done though, she wiped most of the sperm from the tip, and licked it, giving him a little more pleasure. As she brought him down, she heard herself say, perhaps a little guiltily, "Dear, if you ever did go to bed with a prostitute, just because you were lonely and missing me, I don't think I'd mind. Just as long as she didn't mean anything to you, and you remembered you were married to me." "Honey, I'm not going to do anything like that," he protested. "But if you do, it'll be okay." And that closed that subject. The next day, Stephanie told Glenn he could pick anything they wanted to do. She thought maybe he'd want to drive down to Monterey, or up to Mount Tamalpais or Muir Woods, but he surprised her; he decided that he'd like to go over and swim and sun at Alameda Beach. As soon as he said it, she blanched; why did he have to pick out the only other spot she'd picked a guy up? She tried to talk him out of it sweetly, reminding him of all the other things there were to do in the Bay Area, but he was adamant, reminding her she gave him the choice. She gave in, reluctantly, and when she picked out a black one-piece suit to wear, he begged her to wear his favorite, the yellow bikini. By the time they'd packed the beach bag she was in a tizzy, thinking about how she might run into Chuck, but there was little she could do; she felt trapped. By the time they'd stopped by a fast food joint for lunch then headed for the beach, she was feeling better; what were the chances Chuck would be there, anyway? And she'd better learn to live with her mistakes, after all. For an hour they swam and played frisbee, then they sunned themselves on the sand. Glenn wanted to swim again, but Steph was warm and happy. "You go ahead, dear." She watched him playing in the bay, leaping in and out of the waves, and knew she loved him. Suddenly, she was startled by a voice behind her. "How 'ya doin'?" Her heart leapt to her throat. "Just fine. How long have you been here?" she replied to Chuck. "About half an hour or so. Is that your old man?" "Um-hmm." "He's leaving soon, isn't he?" "Next Tuesday." "Can I have a beer?" "No." Suddenly, she saw that Glenn was coming out of the water and would be approaching soon. "Listen," she said to the boy standing over her, "you better get out of here. I don't want my husband to suspect anything, okay?" "Sure. See you around." He lurked off, and before he'd walked 20 yards, Glenn was back, lying beside her again. "Who was that?" he asked. "Oh, just some kid." "What did he want?" "Nothing. Just wanted to know what time it was." "Was he trying to pick you up?" "Maybe. I told him to go away." "He was pretty young," Glenn observed. When Stephanie didn't respond, he said, "Looks like they try to pick you up everyplace, don't they? Can't say I blame them. You're beautiful, and sexy too. Particularly in that swim suit. It doesn't hide very much, you know." Stephanie smiled at him, and turned towards him. She stroked the chest hairs lovingly. "You like that, don't you, how I'm half naked?" "Yeah." "Do you mind if other guys look at me, too?" "No." "But you know my body is only for you, don't you?" "Yeah, I guess so," he replied. She thought she detected suspicion in his tone of voice. Stephanie wanted him to believe her, to accept her promise of fidelity, even though she knew it was false. His ambivalent response ticked her off. "What do you mean, 'I guess so?'" "Geez, I didn't mean anything." "Don't you trust me?" "Of course I do, honey." He should have stopped there, but he continued on, "It's just that I saw the guys last night, and that guy today, and I don't know, I just wonder, that's all." "So you think I'll go screw around on you?" "No, that's not it at all. Well, I mean . . ." He was flustered now, wanted to get out of the brewing argument, but he was trapped. "It's just that, I don't know, you're so sexy, and you'll be alone for nine months, and there's all these guys around, and, oh hell . . ." She sprang to her feet and began to angrily pick up the blanket, bag and her shoes. "Maybe I will go have an affair then! If I'm going to get blamed for it, I might as well do it, don't you think?" By the time he thought of a reasonable response, she was halfway to the car. When he caught up with her, he said, "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean it. Please, forgive me." There on the sands of Alameda, he took her in his arms and kissed her, hoping she would forgive him. The rest of the afternoon and that evening weren't easy though. They both knew their time together was drawing to a close, and they silently worried about it. The work week went slowly by. Glenn had the duty on Monday and Friday, nights he couldn't come home. In their time together, the dinners, the evenings, the nights some of them spent in making love and the wakings, they counted the moments until he was gone. Nothing was said about other lovers. The subject had become taboo. She picked Glenn up on Saturday, just after morning muster, and transported him back to the apartment. In the kitchen she asked him what he wanted for breakfast, and he didn't surprise her when he pulled her closer to him, sitting on his lap. Hungrily he stripped the clothes off her, revealing her midriff, then her brassiere, her breasts, with the rosy circles surrounding the proud nipples he chewed until they rose from the tit. Then he made her stand up and peeled her jeans and panties down, exposing her pubic hair to his sight, his touch. He got her to sit down on the dinette and put his lips to the deep gully. As he excited her with his tongue, she let her mind go, and images of another lover came into her fantasy. Her husband put his finger into her pussy, but it was someone else, and it excited her. Slowly she inflamed, and he stayed with her until she was gasping for breath, letting the pangs of passion overcome her, flow within her. He stopped and rolled her over until she was lying, face down, on the table, and he unzipped and entered her. Strongly he thrust into her, in and out, over and over again, and still she came, thinking not about Glenn, but about another man, any man. He was pushing her around on the table, and she grabbed the far end of the table so she could shove back. Glenn kept lunging at her, burying his prick inside of her until it would go no further, pulling it out again and savagely pushing it into her again. She whimpered in pleasure, and then she felt him stop and go rigid, having his own orgasm, grunting as the spend poured into her. Her own come slackened, and she felt him resume the motion, this time less fervently, finishing himself off. When he released her, she turned to kiss him and he put his hand between her legs, feeling the slimy residue of their love making. Later, she scrambled eggs for him, dressed only in her birthday suit, letting him take in the sight of her young body, hoping that when he was thousands of miles away from her, he'd remember the bliss. That day was spent as so many other days were, doing nothing in particular, enjoying the company of the other, being with their only lovers. That night, after they'd crawled into bed, Glenn attacked her again. Oh, there was foreplay, but Stephanie wasn't able to become excited, and when he finally climbed on top of her and put his prick at the entrance to her womb, she faked pleasure, hoping that he wouldn't discover the ruse. She tried to tighten her vaginal muscles around him as he bellowed in rapture. As he lay there, winded, she stroked him and told him how good he was. "Am I really?" he asked. "Of course you are," she fibbed. "Am I big enough for you?" It was the first time he'd ever brought up the subject, and it shocked her. "Sure, honey, you're just the right size for me. Why do you ask?" "One of the guys had a magazine on the boat last night, a real raunchy one, and the guys had really big ones. I just wondered what you thought, that's all. Do you think other guys might be bigger than me?" She remembered the two other pricks that had previously skewered her, how they'd seemed to be about the same size as Glenn, and just as quickly remembered that she could never, ever let him know about them. "I don't know, honey, how could I?" "But if some other guy was bigger, do you think you'd like him more?" "Oh, no, I love you!" she protested. "Do you ever wonder what another guy would be like, though?" "Once in awhile, I guess." "And . . ." He waited. "And what?" "Well, what would you like the other guy to be like?" As he asked the question, he put his finger to her button and started rubbing. This time, the stroking, coupled with the fantasy brewing within her, began to bring a flush to her cheeks. "Do you really want me to tell you what my dream man would be like?" "Yeah," he whispered, putting a finger inside of her. For a few seconds she considered the question, letting the illusion rise, responding to his digit pulsating inside of her, and then she asked, "Are you sure?" "Tell me," he ordered. "He'd be a lot like you . . ." she began. "No, make him different than me." For a few seconds she hesitated, and then he encouraged her, "Maybe that guy in the bar the other night, the one who tried to feel your ass." "That guy?" Suddenly she remembered Jim. If this was what Glenn wanted, she decided, she'd give it to him. "Yeah, him. What would you do to him at the bar?" "I'd dance with him, some fast dances, and then a slow one would come on. He'd put his hand on my butt, and I wouldn't make him take it away." "Cause you want him, right?" "Yeah. Then it would be time to leave, and he'd offer to take me home." Glenn was continuing to push his finger in and out of her, and the friction was beginning to have the desired effect. "Uh, we'd get into his car, and I'd let him kiss me." "Would he try to feel your breast?" "Yes, he'd put his hand under my blouse and pull my bra down. Then he'd start pinching my nipple." The hand that Glenn wasn't using to stroke her clitoris stole to her tit and began to tweak the nipple, just as her fantasy man was doing. "Harder than that," she told him, and a quick twinge of pain and pleasure excited her. "Then he'd drive me home, and he'd ask if he could come upstairs with me." "Would you let him?" "Yes." She was pushing back at his finger, trying to get it further up, and then Glenn asked, "What would you do when you got into the apartment?" "We'd sit down on the couch, and we'd start kissing again. He'd pull my blouse off me and I'd take my bra off for him." This was exactly what had happened with Jim, she was reliving her first time with someone other than Glenn. "He'd start sucking on me, first one tit and then the other." Glenn mimicked her whimsy. "Then he'd go down further on me, and get my pants down." "Your panties, too?" "Yes, he'd take them both off." "Then what, after you're naked?" "Then he'd start kissing me down there." And Glenn went down on her, licking her clitoris, bringing her closer to eruption. "Keep going, tell me what he'd do to you." "Well, then," she gasped, "I'd say, 'let's go into the bedroom.' I'd get up, and he'd follow me in. On the way he'd take off his clothes." She was close, so very close, and she took a few minutes to experience the pleasure. Glenn kept eating her, pushing his tongue into her as far as it would go, then tickling her clit, until at last she felt the passion burst. For long seconds she writhed and Glenn kept with her, licking the button and once again forcing a finger into her in simulation of intercourse. Steph groaned, enjoying the way Glenn was touching her, remembering the other man. When his wife's breathing slowed he knew that he could stop, and so he moved up beside her and began to kiss her. She responded, and for nearly five minutes they spooned, holding each other tightly. Stephanie thought the game was over, and was glad - she wasn't sure she could go on. But then Glenn said, "So, there you are in the bedroom with him. What would happen next?" Suddenly Steph remembered the experience, how she'd pulled the covers down, laid on her back, and soon, without additional foreplay, he'd climbed on top of her, entered her and brought himself off. She hadn't come, hadn't even come close. But this time, since she was able to decide what her dream was like, she choose a different reality. "I pull the covers down, and I make him lay down." She pushed Glenn on his back. "And then, I get to feel what he's like down there." "Is he big?" "He's huge. He's so big I can barely get my hand around it. So I use two hands, and he's long, too." By this time, she was stroking Glenn just as she was doing to her mythical lover. "I like doing that to him, and then I start sucking on him." And she did that to Glenn, too. He was already hard again, thinking about what another man would do to his wife, and when he felt the lips around the tip of his prick, he started groaning. She went deep on him, letting it go back into her throat as far as she could without gagging, then bobbing her head up and down, letting Glenn get stiffer and stiffer. But then, when he was as rigid as he was going to get, and she tasted the first telltale drops of cum, she stopped, and started licking the side of his prick. "But he's so big, and so long, that I can't do that to him for very long. So then I get on top of him," she straddled her husband, "and then I let him FUCK me!" This was the first time she'd ever used the word with Glenn, or anyone else, the first time he'd ever heard her use any profanity. It affected them both the same way, and she ground her pelvis on his, making his dick fill her slit as much as it would. "And he'd fuck me and fuck me and fuck me and fuck me," she screamed. And she did fuck Glenn, and soon they were both coming together, he spewing his sperm deep into her womb, and she pushing down onto his prick, screaming in ecstasy. When he was done, she was still orgasming, and he grabbed her hips and helped her move on top of him. At long last she was through, and she collapsed on top of her real lover, forgetting about the mythological creature she'd conjured. "That was so good, baby," he cooed. And they laid together, feeling the others nakedness on their skin, enjoying the intimacy of the afterglow. Glen broke the spell. "Can I tell you something I've been thinking about?" He felt her nod in the darkness. "You know how you said that I could go see some of the girls overseas? Well, I don't think it would be so bad that if you wanted to, maybe you could invite a guy over once or twice." "You mean, for sex?" she responded, a little dumbfounded. "Yeah. Not a whole bunch or anything, and not too often, but one or two guys, it wouldn't hurt, I guess. It's not like everyone else isn't doing it." For a long time they laid there, holding each other, considering the cusp they'd just passed. Stephanie remembered the three times she'd been with another man, and she wanted to tell Glenn about it, to confess her sins. Just as she was about to unburden herself, she heard the unmistakable sound of a snore emanate from Glenn's throat, and she decided against it. The next day, the last weekend day they'd have together for three-quarters of a year, they drove to a park on the base for a crew family picnic. This traditional get-together was a time when the sailors could meet the women their wives would be spending all their time with while they were gone. In the past, Stephanie had taken it as an opportunity to show Glenn she'd have chaperones, but this time the gathering had a different atmosphere. Somehow, the women seemed to be more skimpily dressed, more seductive. The couples held each other, clinging to their lovers, but Steph wondered how many of the men would be visiting the brothels in their ports of call. And then she recalled the gossip she'd heard about some of the wives, how it was rumored that they had boyfriends on the other ships that docked while the Ranger was gone, or sweethearts on the shore. She wondered if anyone suspected she'd already joined that group. In the evening they returned to their apartment. She could tell he was excited, ready. "I caught you looking at some of the wives at the picnic." "No, I wasn't. Really, honey," he protested, "Yes you were." She tickled him, letting him know she wasn't angry, didn't mind he had thought about them. "You were checking Betty out, weren't you?" Betty was large breasted bleached blonde, she'd worn a tight T-shirt to the party, and clearly she didn't wear a bra. The gossip was that she screwed around like a rabbit when her husband was at sea. "You'd like to see what Betty has under her shirt wouldn't you?" He still wasn't sure of himself they played sex games so rarely that he didn't trust her, wasn't positive it was safe to admit that he'd like to give attentions to another woman, just for variety or fun. "I don't know," he meekly responded. "Sure you do," Steph teased. "She has the biggest tits of any of us, hasn't she?" As she played with him, with his mind, she knelt on the floor in front of the couch and unzipped his pants. As she expected, the thoughts of another woman excited him. "You'd like her to do this to you wouldn't you?" He just watched her take his pants off him, and then strip her own shirt and bra off. "You want to feel her big boobs, don't you?" Steph cupped his hand, and placed her own breast in it, a smaller substitute for the other woman. "And then you'd like her to put her tits all around you, wouldn't you?" She encircled his dick with her own mounds, began to rub it with the smoothness of her breastbone. Every third or fourth stroke, she'd lean down and give the tip a little lick, exciting him further. For a few seconds, she took the tool completely into her mouth, and used the opportunity to take off his shirt. He assisted, pulling it over his head. She stood up, unzipped her jeans and let them drop to the floor. She stood in front of him, playing with her panties, pulling them down and then up again. "What do you think she'd look like down there?" For the first time, Glenn joined in the repartee. "She'd have just a little bit of hair." "I saw her once, in the showers." It was a complete fabrication, but Stephanie told the story with such conviction that Glenn believed her. "She's blonde down there, too. Just a little peach fuzz." Steph's panties joined the jeans, and Glen gazed at her body, completely naked, except for the wedding band. "You'd like it if she sat on top of you, wouldn't you?" He grabbed for her, and pulled her down. He fondled the breast, suckled on it. "Yeah, baby, suck on her tit. She really likes it when you do that. Do you want to put your hand down there, feel Betty's pussy?" Another word she'd never used! His hand descended, and began to feel his wife's, or was it Betty's? cunt. It excited Stephanie that her man was thinking about doing it to another woman. Glenn held his hand there, and she gyrated on top of it, exciting herself, coming dangerously close to release as she felt the finger in her pussy and the mouth at her nipple. "You'd like to stick your cock into her, wouldn't you?" "Yeah, I want to screw her." "Then do it baby." She reached down, positioned the prick at her entrance, and lowered herself onto him, feeling his rod impale her. "Screw her, baby, screw her hard." In the kneeling position, Steph could control the movements, could position herself so that with each descending motion she could irritate just the perfect portion of her insides with the dick filling her up. Combined with Glenn's biting on her right nipple, and his pinching her left, she soon felt the wash of relief begin deep within her cervix, spreading down to her toes and up through her breasts to the back of her neck, making the small hairs on her back tingle with excitement. She was coming, a huge come, and for a few seconds she forgot about Betty, about Glenn, and let herself be satiated with pleasure. For once, Glenn held off his own passion, thinking about anything other than Betty, or Stephanie, or naked women. He let her go, let her move anyway she wanted to, and when he saw that her spasms were beginning to calm, he pushed her off him. "But then," he began, "when she'd had enough of that, I'd put her on the couch, put her legs over my shoulders and do it to her some more." And he positioned Steph to his whim, and kneeling on the floor in front of her he pierced her again, this time driving to his own rhythm, moving up and down for maximum friction on the head of his prick. Stephanie was still excited, and as he screwed her, she gasped in torment, in rapture. Soon he was joining her, releasing into her, letting her have everything his loins could produce. He didn't stop until every drop of his spunk filled her deeply in the act of love. He fell to the floor, sweaty and fatigued, and Stephanie joined him as soon as she was able to. "You liked the idea of screwing Betty, didn't you?" "Sort of," he admitted cautiously. "Don't kid me, you'd screw her in a second if you could, wouldn't you?" "Yeah, I guess I would." "And honey, listen, if you ever get the chance to, go ahead. I want you to, to... fuck... her if you can. You've never had any woman but me, have you?" "No." "But you're wondering what it would be like, aren't you?" "Yes." "Well, you should find that out sometime. Promise me something?" "What." "When you get over there, promise me you'll take a prostitute to bed. Okay?" "You really want me to?" "Yes, I don't want you to feel like you've missed something." He kissed her. "She won't be as good as you are. You're great." "But she'll be different. And, Glenn, listen to me. Are you sure you won't be upset if I go to bed with somebody else?" "Do you want to?" "A little bit. I wonder what it would be like, too." She held her breath, waiting for the answer. If he said yes, her conscience would be salved, relieved. And if he said no? What would she do then? "If you need to, honey, go ahead." The next afternoon, Glenn got off early, a parting gift from his chief, and they spent the day walking through Oakland, stopping into a pizza palace for a maudlin dinner, holding each other tightly while they watched television together for a very long time. Three or four times Stephanie was on the brink of explaining to Glenn how she'd jumped the gun, how other men had already visited their bed. But each time she tried, words failed her at the last moment, and finally they were making love for the last time. Early in the morning, Steph prepared a final breakfast for Glenn, and then they were off to the Naval base. As they drove through the tunnel to Alameda, Glenn turned to Steph and said, "Honey? You know how we sort of agreed to..." "Yes," she responded, understanding the subject completely. "Do you not want to do that after all?" What would she do if he changed his mind? "No, that's not it. But honey, if you do decide to do anything, don't tell me till it's all over, okay?" Once again, Steph felt a need to placate her husband, to make him feel as if he was the only man in the world. "Don't worry, honey, I could never do that with anyone else." She walked him from the parking lot to the dock, and they kissed one last time before he walked up to the carrier. She stood there for an hour, waiting for the huge ropes to be cast off, for the tugs to begin pushing the ship out to sea. Three or four times she caught a glimpse of Glenn waving at her, and she silently wished him 'Godspeed.' When the Ranger was turned and well out of the harbor, Stephanie began the long walk back to the car. Once again, loneliness descended upon her spirit.
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