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From: "Mr Backgammon" <mr_backgammon@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Sailor's Wife Note
Date: Sun, 10 Dec 2000 15:10:02 -0500
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A formatted and illustrated version of this note, along with my other 
published works, is available at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/mr_backgammon/www.

The only reason I put up this site is to share my stories with you, and to 
find out what you think of them. Please, take a moment to send me a note by 
emailing me at mr_backgammon@hotmail.com

All stories on these pages (unless otherwise indicated) are copyright 
(c)1997,1998,1999,2000 by Mr. Backgammon. All rights reserved. Please do not 
post them on other web pages, or distribute them electronically or in any 
other format without the previous permission of Mr. Backgammon. For 
permission, please email Mr_Backgammon@hotmail.com

-------------------------------------
A note on 'The Sailor's Wife'
By Mr. Backgammon

Available on the web site, or in a text version at swife.txt

I'd like you to think of this story as historical fiction, if you would.

I was stationed on an aircraft carrier sailing out of Naval Air Station, 
Alameda, through the last four years of the Vietnam War.  It was tough duty 
on everyone, but on young married couples, it was hell.

I married my wife about nine months after I enlisted.  We'd been sweethearts 
during my last year of high school (she was a year ahead of me,) and there 
was little doubt in anyone's mind that we were a match made in heaven.  
After high school in a small mid-west city, I spent a year and a half in the 
hometown college, but wound up flunking out simply because I didn't apply 
myself.  Stephanie didn't mind, she came from a working class family, and 
was working as an assistant manager in a restaurant / grocery chain.  I had 
to do something, and the military beckoned.  Because I already had a 
relative in the Navy, that's the branch I choose.

We made a deal - in return for two years of schooling in advanced 
electronics, I agreed to enlist for six years.  During boot camp and the 
first six months of the schools, I missed my girl (and sex,) badly.  In 
addition, she got very close to another guy.

Think back to when you were twenty.  The world seemed black and white to me 
then.  If I lost her, if she didn't wait for me, my world would be over.  So 
I married her, and took her out to California.

I don't think either one of us have ever been happier than those first 14 
months spent at Mare Island, north of San Francisco.  We were devoted to 
each other, as most newly wed couples are, and the romance of the Bay Area 
gave us plenty to look forward to.  Then, when I graduated from the 
technical school, I put in first for shore duty anywhere that people weren't 
shooting at each other, and then for a ship in the Mediterranean; sources 
told me that Steph could find a nice cheap apartment in the home base of 
Naples, and I'd see her twice or three times a month.  Instead, I got the 
dregs - an all expense paid trip to the Western Pacific.

A cruise for an Aircraft Carrier at that time took nine months.  You left 
the West Coast and got to the Philippine Islands, stocked up, and then 
floated out to the Gulf of Tonkin, where you rode around in circles for a 
month at a time.  The planes took off and landed 12 hours a day, bombing the 
hell out of the Viet Cong.  Then you got a few days back in the P.I.s, then 
do it all over again.  After 5 months, you got a break by sailing into Hong 
Kong or Singapore for a few days, and then back to the grind.  After 8 'line 
periods,' the ship headed back for home.  Then you had six or seven weeks of 
repainting, straightening up, and putting in new equipment at the homeport.  
Most of the guys took a couple of weeks leave during this period.  Then, 
just to make sure everything was okay, we'd go out a couple of times to the 
channel islands, off Los Angeles, and pretend we were bombing the hell out 
of the sea lions. These 'sea trials' usually lasted for two or three weeks.  
  Another couple of weeks at home, and then it was bye-bye to the Golden 
Gate Bridge for another nine months.

Every three or four years, the ship was beat up enough to require an 
extended stay in a shipyard, lasting anywhere between three and nine months. 
  There were two places that could handle a carrier on the West Coast, 
Hunters Point (near Candlestick Park in San Francisco) and Long Beach, 
mainly for the boats out of San Diego.  If you were married and got the 
wrong straw, it meant either moving your wife down for a relatively short 
period, making her quit her job and basically throwing even more uncertainty 
into your lives, or driving seven or eight hours home whenever you were able 
to get a three- or four-day pass.

Other ships, such as destroyers, cruisers, tankers and submarines had 
schedules similar enough so that this story could have happened to sailors 
on those duties just as easily.  And of course, let's have sympathy for all 
the rest of the services; it was even worse on the guys who were actually 
slogging through the jungles.  They have my ultimate respect!

Young Navy wives have always had the reputation of being easy targets.  
They're away from their husbands most of the time, and at that  point in 
their lives, they're at their sexual prime.  Whaling ships out of 
Massachusetts used to sail for up to four years at a time; it's said that a 
third of the wives had infants when their men returned with the whale oil.

But the 1970's, and San Francisco, were an even worse (or better) time.  
Most venereal diseases could be cured simply by taking an anti-biotic, the 
pill had been invented making birth control a relative snap, and the spirit 
of free-love was sweeping the country.  Wives were lonely and wanted sex, 
and the prevailing attitude was, as long as nobody gets hurt, it's okay.

After five years of marriage, most of it spent away from each other, 
Stephanie asked me what would happen if she had an affair.  She hadn't gone 
out and done it yet, she was just thinking about it.  At first, I didn't 
like the idea.  But after a lot of late nights (and pretty good sex,) I gave 
my okay, based on two factors.

1) I figured if she could do it, so could I.  She was, in effect, giving me 
the right to go hunt unlimited nooky.
2)
3)  Like many other men, I found the thought of my wife getting screwed by 
another man to be exciting.  That's a point that the fans of monogamy try to 
gloss over, but many cuckolds, including myself, enjoyed (and still enjoy, I 
presume) talking with their wives about the affairs they've had.

Steph started pretty much as I described.  She went out one night, picked up 
a guy and got laid.  Her feelings about it were pretty ambivalent, although 
not quite as bad as I made it seem in the story.  I'm sure many wives didn't 
talk about it beforehand, and did feel tremendously guilty afterwards, which 
is why I wrote it up that way.  She had two or three other one-night stands 
before she met Chuck.

The basic facts about the Chuck story are true. Stephanie and Glen, of 
course, are fictitious names.
She did meet the boy at the Alameda beach, she did seduce him by taking a 
bath with him, and he really was jailbait. Later, she told me the story, and 
I asked quite graphic questions, and the details of the story are based on 
my memories of what my wife told me over 25 years ago.  (If by any chance 
you are Chuck and are reading this, please drop me an email; I'd love to get 
your side of the story, and there might even be a reward in it for you.)  
I'm not going to tell you how the story ended, because I'm thinking of 
writing a sequel.

When I did depart for my final cruise, Steph and I agreed that she could 
continue to date other guys, but I asked her to keep it within reason.  
Instead, she got herself into a lot of trouble.  Discrimination wasn't one 
of her faults, you see.  For awhile she prowled the hangout spots, picking 
up any guy who made a pass at her, and having a couple of bad experiences 
along the way.  Then she met a rich guy who passed her from friend to friend 
(reference 'You're So Vain' by Carly Simon.)  Abuse of drugs may have been 
involved.  Without a firm moral base, her 'love affairs' turned out to be 
filled with very little love, and she eventually wound up having a nervous 
breakdown over it.

Me?  Oh, the only pussy I got during that period was a couple of prostitutes 
in Olangapo.  They were neither pretty nor skilled in their trade, and I 
wound up getting a terrible case of the clap.  I've not been back to see a 
hooker since.  On the other hand, the nights spent with Steph talking about 
what she did with other guys still linger happily in my memory.

When I got back to the States, we decided that screwing around was a little 
dangerous given her nervous state at the time, so we both stopped.  We had 
two children, and then years later we both had affairs.  Unfortunately, for 
reasons other than having sex with other people, we got divorced.  Steph now 
lives back in that mid-west city we started in and after a second divorce is 
quite happy with her children and grandchildren.  I often wonder what they 
would think about her if they knew what she'd done in her youth.  Of course, 
every generation thinks they're the ones that invented sex.

If you've had similar experiences or questions about my experiences or 
stories, email me, and let's chat.

Sincerely yours,
   Mr. Backgammon



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