Shared By The Soldiers (5 page)

11

AMY

S
o today’s the day. It’s finally here. WE are finally here, Chris and I, me and Chris.

These past two weeks, ever since Chris sent me that link to Parker’s Facebook page, have been wild with emotion, crazy with arousal, filled with fantasies, overwhelming with erotic daydreams.

Yes, the moment I saw those photos of Parker I felt a new respect for my Chris, a sense of that desperate love for my man that I know other hotwives feel sometimes. Because Chris isn’t sending over some average-looking guy. No, this guy Parker is a goddamn HUNK! He’s shorter than Chris, but God is he ripped! I mean, my Chris has a clear six-pack when he’s in shape, but this guy Parker seems to have an eight-pack or something! Is that even possible? How many muscles can one man possibly have?

There were a bunch of photos of Parker without his shirt, and I have to admit I’ve spent hours browsing through, staring at his tattooed arms, his chiseled face, his gigantic chest. I’ve imagined those thick fingers of his inside me, getting me wet, opening me up. I’ve fantasized about undressing him, seeing his erect cock spring out of his tight underwear, the tip of his penis brushing my cheek as I bend down to suck him. I’ve moaned my way to orgasm as I imagined his cock pushing its way deep inside me, exploding in my depths, filling me with hot cum, a SOLDIER’S hot cum. Oh, God, it’s been so long since I had that feeling of a man pouring his semen into me, into my mouth, dripping down to my tits and stomach, then finally deep inside my cunt.

And I am absolutely looking forward to feel the heat of this man pour into me, I think as I sit down in front of the mirror and stare at the smooth skin on my face. I am on the pill, and Chris told me how the Marines get tested frequently, so Parker’s certainly very clean.

I reach for my makeup and smile as I think about that for a moment, think about the fact that it was CHRIS who told me that Parker was clean and so if I was still on the pill I didn’t need to use a condom if I didn’t want!

Yes, because along with the escalating fantasies over the past two weeks, there have also been escalating CONVERSATIONS between me and Chris. We are talking about things I would never imagine bringing up in a million years! Stuff that would have made me cringe in horror just a couple of months ago! It’s crazy how much this has changed us—and we haven’t even DONE anything yet!

I force myself to stop smiling so I can apply some light foundation to my face, but inside I am happy like a sparrow on a spring morning. Everything is perfect, I think. My marriage is safe, my husband loves me, and I’m about to have some wonderful sex! Oh, how good it is to be alive!

I glance at the clock and realize that it is almost noon. Parker is supposed to be here by twelve-thirty in the afternoon. Chris and I decided we’d do it in the daytime, partly because the sunlight in the room would make watching the scene a lot easier for him on the webcam.

But there’s something else about doing it in the bright light of day, I think as I walk over to the bed and look at the simple yellow sundress that I’ve chosen to wear today over my black bra and matching panties. Yes, I think as I slip my robe off and pull those panties up over my hips . . . yes, there’s something symbolic about the first time being in the middle of the day. It’s almost like a reminder that we need to let go of any ideas of shame or guilt, that we’ve made this decision together, for our PLEASURE, and there’s NO need to hide, no need to do it under cover of darkness, in the black of night. This is good and it should feel right. Or else why do it?

So I hitch my bra on and take a look at myself in the mirror. My skin is smooth, although there are slight hints of cellulite around my thighs and ass, I know. My boobs are still quite perky, though, and my gut is visible but just fine, I think.

I run my finger under the elastic of my panties, touching my pussy gently. I have cropped some of my hair, but I am by no means clean shaved. Chris always liked my dainty little bush of light brown hair, and so it stays.

Now I smell my fingers quickly, feeling slightly relieved when they smell fresh and clean, and with a deep breath I slip my yellow sundress over my head and smile one last time in the mirror. I am ready, I tell myself.

Am I ready, I ask myself.

Yes.

Yes.

I am ready.

So bring it on, Parker Stiles. Make me howl like I know Chris wants you to. Make me howl like I know I want you to.

Make me into a hotwife.

12

CHRIS

T
oday my Amy becomes a hotwife, I think as I check my computer’s Internet connection in one of the private reading rooms in our makeshift library just off from the mess hall. This is it, man. This is fucking IT!

My connection is fine, but Amy isn’t online yet. We’ve still got about thirty or forty minutes, and I’ve already told Amy to only turn on the camera when she’s feeling comfortable. I mean, although I feel a strange pit in my stomach when I think about it, I figure she may want to just relax and talk to Parker a bit before they get into it. And I don’t necessarily need to see all that. In fact, in a weird way the idea of imagining what’s happening when the camera is off is arousing too! Holy FUCK, I can’t believe how far I’ve come with this!

Now my cell phone rings and I answer it immediately. It is Jason Miller, my “backup” guy. Jason is in my unit, and I know him reasonably well, though we didn’t train together. Still, Hale suggested Jason along with Parker, and I suspect Jason “knows” Hale’s wife Susan too, just like Parker does. It surprised me at first, and I am embarrassed to admit that for a moment I thought, “Wow, Susan must be a slut!” Of course, that feeling was quickly chased away by the knowledge that Amy and I are heading down the same path, the path where we leave behind these sexist, old-fashioned ideas of what a slut is, what sex is all about, what MARRIAGE is all about.

And my marriage has already changed. I can fucking FEEL it. I feel it in the way Amy and I have been talking, connecting, communicating over the past two weeks, ever since the introduction of Parker Stiles made this REAL. Yes, my marriage has changed, WE have changed—and all of it is for the better, I know, despite the feelings of conflict, fear, uncertainty, even rage that pass through me every so often as I mentally prepare myself.

“Yo,” I say to Jason over the phone. “Where you at, brother?”

“Just pulling into your driveway, man. I’m a little early. You want me to wait outside before knocking? Or I could take a drive and come back in thirty, if you want,” he says.

I take a deep breath now, a tiny voice in my head saying that you can still call this whole thing off, still back out. But I shake it off and remind myself that I WANT this. I remind myself of what the Marines has taught me—that you need to follow your fear, because your fear will always point true north. Conquer your fear by doing what scares you, and the battle is yours, soldier. The victory is fucking YOURS!

“Nah,” I say. “Just ring the doorbell. Amy’s expecting you first, anyway, so you might as well get settled.”

“Yup. Will do,” says Jason. “Cool.”

I blink now, swallow once, and then, in a low voice that carries an emotional seriousness that surprises me, I say, “And Jason . . .”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, brother.”

13

AMY

“
Oh, hi, you must be Jason,” I say as I stare at the tall, handsome Marine standing outside on my porch.

He has short, sandy brown hair, and he’s wearing his green-and-khaki service uniform along with some dark Aviator sunglasses. There is some light brown stubble on his face, and I notice that his teeth are very white as he smiles.

Jason is tall, and he stoops a bit as he walks through the open door and takes off his sunglasses. He is still smiling, a warm, gentle smile that puts me at ease immediately, chasing away that nagging feeling of “Ohmygod, what does he think of me, of what I’m about to do!” Of course, Chris told me that Jason’s been there and done that, that he understands what we’re about to do, perhaps even understands it better than we do at this point. Still, I am grateful at the way he has immediately made me relax with his non-judgmental smile.

“Can I get you something?” I ask as I lead him into the living room and point at the couch. “Coffee? Water? A beer?”

Jason smiles and shakes his head. He is still standing in the middle of the room, hat in his hand like he is waiting for me to sit down first. “No, Ma’am. Thank you. I’m just fine, Ma’am.”

“Oh, God,” I say, smiling wide without realizing it. “Call me Amy. Please.”

He smiles again, and I can see that he is blushing even through his tanned skin. “Thank you. I prefer Ma’am, if you don’t mind.”

I just shrug and smile as I look into his light brown eyes for a moment and then walk across the room to where my computer and webcam are set up on the dining table. Our couch is pretty big, so Chris and I decided to do it here in the living room instead of the bedroom because of the better light.

The dining table is by the window, its longer side facing the couch, which is bathed in sunlight right now. I fiddle with the camera for a moment before managing to turn it on and get the feed on my computer screen so I can check the angle. Of course, I checked and double-checked the angles and all that with Chris many times last night, but I do it again anyway.

“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

“W
hat 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.