“How’s this?” I say to Jason, feeling some nervousness rise up in me as I wonder once more what he thinks about this, about me.
Now Jason walks over and looks at my computer. Then he looks at the webcam, frowns, and makes an adjustment that widens the visible angle being captured.
“I think that’ll be better, Ma’am,” he says, backing away and waving his hand in front of the camera as he moves towards the couch. “This way your husband can catch all the action in case you guys move around the room or something. And you can always move closer to the camera if you want to give him a more intimate view.” He looks around now, then points at a heavy easy-chair that’s at the far end of the room. “In fact,” he says as he walks over to the chair and pulls it towards the center of the room, positioning it right between the camera and the couch. The backrest of the chair is quite low, and so it doesn’t obstruct the view of the couch. “There,” Jason says now, stepping back and putting his hands on his hips and smiling. “Gives you guys some options.”
I am bright red now, feeling mortified but also amused, excited, playful almost. I glance up at Jason, make brief eye contact with him, and then look away again, focusing on the armchair. “That’s good,” I say, my voice wavering a bit. Now I look at him again. “You’ve done this before, I guess.”
Jason laughs out loud now, his face going bright red under his deep tan. “Yes, Ma’am,” he says. “Afraid I have.”
I laugh now, shaking my head as I touch the backrest of that chair to steady myself. I feel light-headed, slap-happy almost, that feeling of being in a dream coming back to me as I stand here and stare at this soldier in my living room, this MARINE who is giving me advice on furniture placement that offers my HUSBAND the best view of his wife getting taken by ANOTHER Marine! How did we get here, I suddenly wonder. And what’s more, why does this feel just FINE?!
“Yes, Ma’am,” Jason says again, rubbing his left eye for a moment as he shifts on his feet. “I have had the privilege of doing this several times over the past few years.” He glances up at me now, his eyes startlingly focused, narrow with sincerity, alive with respect. “And it IS a privilege, you know, to be invited into a brother’s marriage, to share what’s most private, most precious. It’s an honor, a privilege, and a gift.” Now his voice wavers a bit as he breaks eye contact with me and glances at the floor for a moment. “And Parker understands that, Ma’am. He understands it as well as anybody.” He looks up at me again, and I feel a tingle go through me as I stare into his soft brown eyes. “Parker understands that this is a gift, Ma’am,” Jason says quietly as I feel my breathing quicken under his gaze. “He understands how goddamn lucky he is.”
That tingle is heightening inside me now as I stare at this gentleman of a soldier, this perfect specimen of a Marine, and I blink hard, feeling flattered on one hand, embarrassed on the other. For a moment I wonder why Chris didn’t just send Jason over, but then I remember that Chris doesn’t necessarily know these guys that well. He just knows enough to be certain that he can trust them, that they understand what’s happening here, that they RESPECT what’s happening here.
We are both quiet now, and I am starting to fidget as I stand there in the middle of the room, feeling a heat between my legs, a lightness in my head. But before things get too awkward, I hear the doorbell ring and I almost swoon as I feel relief followed by a surge of nervous energy.
Oh. My. God.
He’s here.
It’s time.
14
CHRIS
“What have I done?” I mutter as I stare at my blank computer screen and rub my head furiously as I refresh the page again and again, wondering why Amy isn’t online yet.
I am sweating, even though it is a dry heat here. My palms feel clammy and I cannot sit still. I look at my silent phone, wondering if I should call Amy and tell her I’ve changed my mind. I wonder if I should call Jason and tell him to break up the scene, whatever the scene is.
But the panic passes, and I take several deep breaths as I focus on my feelings, remind myself that these emotions are just the last shreds of some deep-rooted insecurity maybe, insecurity that perhaps I didn’t know I had in me. And this realization makes me smile suddenly, because I know I’m learning something about myself, bettering myself in a way, making myself stronger, more complete, a better soldier, a better man . . .
. . . a better husband.
Now I almost jump out of the chair as I hear a sharp knock on the door of this closet-sized reading room. I am about to shout, “Occupied!” but then the door opens and so I stand up quickly.
It is Hale, and I exhale as I nod at him.
“How’re you doing, brother?” he says, smiling warmly, a twinkle in his eye that perhaps hides a tiny bit of that affectionate envy I saw in him the other day. “You good? Jason call you yet?”
I shake my head, my jaw taut and clenched. Jason was supposed to call me when Parker gets there, and I glance over at my phone and then shake my head once more.
Hale smiles again. “He’ll call. They’re probably just settling in, getting introductions done and all that. He’ll call.”
I nod and smile, blinking hard. “Yeah,” I say. “Sure.”
Hale laughs now. “Hey, listen, buddy. Remember, you can stop this at any time. This is happening because YOU want it, right? I understand the fear you feel right now. Trust me, brother, that feeling’s going to evolve into something else the moment you see your wife with Parker. Your body and soul will know it’s right, and you’ll fucking feel it. Right now it’s just your brain that’s fighting this. It’s just your brain that’s telling you that normal people don’t do this shit, that normal marriages can’t survive this stuff, that good Americans don’t share their wives. But your gut knows the truth, and in a few minutes you’re going to step past that threshold into a new world. A new fucking world, Chris. So just lock this fucking door, sit back, and make sure you clean your cum off the floor when it’s all said and done.”
And this just makes me BURST into laughter, and now we are both laughing, slapping palms, thumping each other on the back like fucking schoolboys. It is a great feeling to share this moment with a brother like Hale, to share this moment right before I share my wife!
Hale and I hug once more and then he leaves, and now I am alone again. Amy is still offline and my phone is still silent, and I exhale hard and sit down, put my feet up, and wonder what the hell is going on in my warm, cozy home back in the USA.
15
AMY
“Parker Stiles, Ma’am,” he says to me as he stands there on the porch.
He is wearing his “C” Dress Blues, and I blink hard as I take in the sight of this straight-backed Marine in his tight blue pants and long-sleeve khaki shirt. He is immaculately groomed, not a single strand of his short blonde hair out of place. Parker’s face is tanned like Jason’s, but while Jason has some stubble, Parker is freshly shaved and smooth like a baby’s bottom. He isn’t wearing sunglasses, and his eyes are an Arctic blue, the kind of blue that should look cold but is instead contributing to the rising heat inside me.
I step back into the foyer as I clear a path for this barrel-chested Marine to walk into my home, and I take a sharp breath as he passes me. I can smell a very subtle cologne on him, perhaps just his after-shave. And beneath that smell I can sense something very clean about him, very composed. He is clearly in complete command of his body, and the way he carries himself, with his back so straight that I wonder if he’s got a plank under his shirt, makes me weak in the legs.
I close the door behind him and turn around. He is standing in the foyer, his back to me, as if standing at attention. For some reason the scene reminds me of when I saw Chris after his training was done, when he arrived home in these same “C” Dress Blues, that air of controlled confidence oozing from him, visible in the way he walked, the way he stood, the way he spoke.
And suddenly, out of nowhere, all these emotions just RIP through me! Thoughts of guilt, self-hatred, doubt, fear, anxiety. What am I doing?! What am I doing to my marriage! Is this really me? Is this really us? Does Chris really want this? Do I really want this?
I am shivering now, suddenly feeling cold and exposed in my skimpy sundress, those thoughts lashing at me from the inside as I think of my parents for some reason, imagine them judging me, pointing at me, shaking their heads, looks of disapproval and disgust on their faces. I think of just calling the whole thing off for a moment, but I have been preparing for this all week and I just take several deep breaths and let the thoughts and fears pass through me. I think of the conversations I’ve had with Susan this past week, the guidance and encouragement I’ve gotten from hotwives online over the past month, the intense, deeply intimate conversations I’ve had with Chris about this, with both of us confessing our fears and desires, our doubts and fantasies.
I am just about calming down when my thoughts are interrupted by Jason’s voice behind me, and I am yanked back to the scene. Jason has walked to the entrance of the living room and is smiling at Parker.
“How are you, brother?” Jason says, extending his hand and grasping Parker’s hand for a vigorous greeting. “Great to see you again.”
“Good to see you, Soldier,” Parker says, smiling but in a very controlled, almost stoic way.
I glance at Parker for a moment, and I realize that he is perhaps a little stiff, maybe a bit nervous under that controlled, perfect exterior. And this gives me a sudden feeling of relief, relief that quickly transforms into a surge of confidence. We are all just humans, I realize with a strange sense of exhilaration. Just animals when it comes down to it. There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with what’s about to happen here. It’s happening because my husband wants it and because I want it. End of story. This is about Chris and me, about our marriage. Parker’s involvement is incidental. It could be anyone, and perhaps in the future there will be many others who walk into this house, into this bed, into this marriage.
Yes, I think as I follow the two men into the living room, staring at their tight, muscular asses as they walk up to the couch and then stop and wait for me to join them. There could be many others in the future. Perhaps even this sweet, handsome man Jason . . .
. . . and I look at these two Marines standing in my living room now, and that light-headed feeling comes rushing back to me along with those vivid images of my fantasy . . . my fantasy of being taken by two men at once, two soldiers at once, two Marines at once, from in front and behind, above and below, top and bottom.
I blink hard to get those thoughts out of my mind, and I shake my head and smile at the two men. I glance at Jason, who isn’t making eye contact with me. Then I look over at Parker, who meets my gaze and smiles back.
In the sunlight that’s flooding the living room I can see that Parker is a beautiful man, with well-defined, angular features, full lips that are a deep red, those Arctic blue eyes that look devastating against his tanned skin, and a body that I could tell is ripped even if I hadn’t seen those shirtless pictures of him on Facebook.
He is still standing by the couch, as if waiting for permission to sit. I smile at him once more, blinking as I look away for a moment.
“Please, guys,” I say to the two Marines, almost laughing at how formal they look. “Sit. Both of you.”
Parker nods and takes a seat, but Jason remains standing. He almost looks uncomfortable now, and this makes me strangely uncomfortable as well, although I don’t know why.
“I’ll be outside, Ma’am,” he says stiffly, still not making eye contact with me. “On the porch right outside. In case you—”
But he stops mid-sentence, nods once at Parker, and then walks to the front door as I force a smile and nod back at him. Clearly he is a bit embarrassed to imply that he might be needed to . . . I don’t know . . . pull Parker off me in case I start screaming for him to stop? It seems so ridiculous now, I think as I glance over at Parker, who is sitting quietly on the couch, staring straight ahead at the blank laptop screen and the webcam on the dining table in front of us.
Jason is gone now, and I watch Parker for a moment longer. He is looking at the armchair that Jason moved in front of the camera now, and I can see a bit of color rush to his face as he shifts his gaze to me now, taking in the sight of my smooth legs, my rounded calves, my thighs and ass in this thin yellow sundress. He blinks as his eyes rest on my boobs for a moment, and when he makes eye contact with me I can see him turn even redder in the face.
“Hi,” he says now, smiling and blinking again as I start to walk over to the couch.
“Hi,” I say softly, feeling strange as I get close to him. I have barely spoken to this man, I realize. All I know about him is what I’ve seen on his Facebook page. I never tried to contact him, although Chris told me I could if I wanted. But no, I didn’t want to contact him beforehand, didn’t want to get to know him. In a way I LIKE the idea that I barely know this man. It excites me. It is actually arousing for me to think that I’m going to be sleeping with a man I barely know, someone that my husband, my Chris, the love of my life, has chosen for me. The anonymity makes it clearer to me that this isn’t about Parker at all. It’s about me and Chris. Parker may as well be a dildo, a sex toy, a tool, I think as I get closer to him and allow myself to glance at his heavy crotch as he sits there on my couch, his legs spread wide to accommodate what already looks like the beginning of a massive erection.
Now I glance at the camera on the table and look over at Parker again.
“Should I turn it on?” I ask, even though there is no reason for me to ask him that.
Parker smiles now, shrugging once and then nodding. “Sure,” he says. “Whenever you’re comfortable, Ma’am. It’s your show.”
I smile and walk over to the camera and turn it on. Then I open up Skype and start to get online as I feel a slight nervousness again. But this nervousness is simply the flow of adrenaline, I know. It is show time, I realize.
It is show time.
16
CHRIS
The adrenaline pounds its way into my bloodstream as I see my computer screen flicker while Amy gets online. Jason called me just a few minutes ago to say that he was outside on the porch and Parker was inside with my wife, with my goddamn WIFE!
Every second after that phone call felt like an eternity as my imagination ran wild with scenes of what was happening in my house, with my wife. Why isn’t she online yet, I was thinking. I mean, in our conversations over the past couple of weeks I did tell her that she should only turn on the camera once she’s comfortable and settled in, but now, of course, it’s a different fucking story! Although I can already feel my cock stiffening in my underwear as I imagine Parker pinching Amy’s soft pink nipples, getting them hard as he kisses her, pushing his hands up her dress, my brain is still fighting this, I know. It is still trying to use “logic” and “rationality” to counter what my body wants, what my heart wants, what my goddamn cock wants!
But the moment Amy gets online I feel a huge sense of relief. Why would I ever doubt her? She may have her fantasies, but no way is she going to do anything without me watching, without me there with her, if not physically then at least connected via video and audio. She’s my wife, my baby, my love, and this is about us, not Parker.
“Hey, baby,” she whispers into the microphone now as she presses a couple of keys on the laptop. “Miss me?”
I smile now, a full, genuine, wide-ass smile. I wink at her, blow a kiss into the camera, but I don’t say anything. I want to be in the background, watching. This is her show, I tell myself. Sure, it’s for me, for us, for our marriage—but it is her show.
Now I watch as my Amy walks away from the camera. She is in that yellow sundress that she modeled for me two days ago, and I feel myself getting harder as I stare at her ass swaying
in the sunlight-filled living room of our house. I can clearly see Parker sitting on the couch, and I feel a strange sense of PRIDE when I realize that he’s got a fucking hard-on too as he glances at me briefly before looking up at Amy, who is almost at the couch now.
I stare at Parker’s face, but he does not look at me again. He is focused on my wife, my Amy, and that’s exactly what I want. Parker gets it, I tell myself as I shift in my plastic chair in this tiny fucking box of a room. Parker understands that Amy is the focal point of everything here, and that he is replaceable, simply a role-player in this strange scene that’s starting to unfold in my living room eight thousand miles away from me as I watch on this tiny laptop screen, my cock hardening under the table.
Jason called me just a few minutes ago, which means Parker and Amy haven’t had much time for smalltalk, chit-chat, flirting, whatever. This makes me happy in a way, proud in a way, more aroused in a way, because it means Amy is fully on board with the idea that this is about her body, her sexuality, her carnal needs. She doesn’t need to be held or cuddled, comforted or loved. No, right now she needs to be fucked, and I need to see it. Oh, GOD, I need to see it!
So I spread my legs wider and start to breathe heavier. Amy is standing in front of Parker now, her back to the camera, and I can see Parker’s hands slowly caress her smooth legs, playing with the delicate hem of her loose sundress. There is no sound in the room, and the scene on my computer screen is almost surreal. Is that my wife? Is that really her with another man’s hands on her bare skin, his fingers now moving up under her dress as she slowly parts her thighs, parts them for him.
It’s for both of us, I remind myself as I push my chair back from the small table and adjust my cock and balls. My underwear is starting to feel tight around my growing erection already, and my breathing is quickening as I see Amy’s legs shiver as Parker pushes his hands all the way up her dress from behind.
Shared By The Soldiers Page 5
