Shared By The Soldiers (6 page)

15

AMY

“P
arker 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

T
he 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.

17

AMY

I
am shivering even though the sun is hot on my back and Parker’s hands are warm and smooth. It occurs to me that it has been almost four years since another man even so much as gave me a friendly hug, and the realization that a relative stranger’s hands are now under my dress, pressing the rounds of my ass, teasing the elastic of my black underwear that is feeling almost uncomfortable now as my body stiffens for a moment . . . oh, lord, the realization is getting me hot now, wet now, slowly but surely.

My rising arousal is accompanied by a huge sense of relief. After all, although I’ve been preparing for this moment, anticipating this moment, fantasizing about this moment for some time now, there was always that tiny bit of doubt about how my body would react once I actually got to this moment. And so now it is a HUGE relief to feel my body reacting EXACTLY the way I hoped, the way Chris hoped.

And how is Chris, my lover, my man, I think. My back is facing the camera and I cannot see Chris right now, so I turn slowly, gasping as I feel Parker’s hands slide up around my ass and massage the smooth skin of my bare stomach as I reposition myself facing away from Parker and looking directly into the camera.

Chris’s face is almost expressionless in the camera, and he is sitting there frozen. For a moment I wonder if it’s too much for him, if I need to stop. But now I feel Parker stand up behind me, his hard body pressing against mine, his erection pushing against the thin cloth of my sundress, his strong hands rubbing the sides of my thighs, moving up along my hips, tugging at the elastic of my panties, those strange hands exploring my curves as they move up along my body, now fingering the sides of my bra through my dress even as I feel his hot breath against my ear, my neck, my cheek.

I am breathing heavily now, and I remind myself that Chris can call it off at any time. All he needs to do is say the word. I don’t need to worry about him, I tell myself. I can just relax and let go, just like Chris and I discussed in those deeply personal, almost erotic conversations we’ve had over the past few days. Yes, I have his permission, his blessing, his encouragement even, and I can immerse myself in the pleasure that’s pulsing through my body right now as this stranger’s hands get closer and closer to my round breasts, my ready nipples.

And so I close my eyes and turn my head slightly, giving Parker access to my lips. He responds quickly, decisively, accepting my invitation for a kiss, and I feel his tongue slide into my mouth just as he squeezes my breasts with tremendous force even as he pushes his erection against my ass from behind.

I kiss him back hard, my ass grinding into his cock as I push my chest out, stick my tits out, feel my nipples getting hard like rocks under the firm pressure of Parker’s thick fingers. Our tongues are swirling against each other, our warm saliva mixing, and I am breathing hard, my chest heaving as I feel my bra getting tight as my nipples puff out with arousal, my breasts swell with the rise of my internal heat.

I am still facing the camera, but my eyes are closed tight now as I tell myself to let go, to release the last shreds of my self-consciousness, to accept the primal beauty, the physical purity, the raw sensation of what’s happening right now.

And as if Parker can sense me losing myself in the moment, he kisses me harder, licking my cheek from the side, biting my ear now, grinding his cock hard into my swirling ass, pulling my body into him. He is still pressing my tits hard, pinching the nipples through my bra to the point where it almost hurts. I can hear myself moaning softly, and it sounds like someone else moaning for a moment, and in that moment I open my eyes and immediately see my Chris, my husband. His mouth is hanging open, his eyes looking slightly unfocused. He has pushed his chair farther away from the camera and I can see that he has a tremendous erection that’s forming a goddamn tent in his tight pants.

The sight of Chris so turned on drives me wild now, and I grab Parker’s right hand and place it on my crotch, pushing my hips out and moaning loudly as I feel his fingers press down on my clit through my sundress and underwear.

Parker starts to run his thick middle finger up and down the center of my crotch now, and I can feel my own wetness seep through the two layers of cloth. I am writhing under Parker’s firm, confident touch, the sensation of his tongue licking my face and neck from behind combined with the pressure of his hard-on against my soft ass driving me deeper and deeper, closer and closer . . . yes, closer and closer to a first orgasm that is coming in quick, fast, heavy . . .

Now I feel so goddamn wet between my legs that I swear the front of my sundress is sticking to my mound as Parker rubs my cunt with his fingers, his long middle finger moving all the way up and down the length of my slit, the tip of his finger pushing my underwear into me, the friction of the cloth against my pussy lips and clit taking me higher and higher.

I grasp Parker’s hand and bring it up to my face now, instinctively sniffing his fingers and moaning as I smell the musk of my own sex on him. I suck on his fingers, my eyelids fluttering as I grind my ass harder into his cock, enjoying the feeling that’s rising up from between my thighs, the feeling that I need to be touched there again, quickly, urgently, NOW.

And Parker can sense it, and now he reaches down with his other hand, lifting up the front of my dress, sliding his fingers under the sides of my damp black panties, finding my wet, open slit immediately, curling three fingers around the left side of my cunt, gently pulling at my pussy lips as I shudder and shake, saliva pouring out of my mouth as I suck his fingers and gyrate my hips.

Now Parker pulls the fingers of his right hand out of my mouth, brings his left hand up to my tits again, and then just PUSHES his wet right hand down the front of my panties, his thumb resting on my stiff clit, two fingertips sliding into my slick depths.

And he RAMS his erection against me from behind, the force of his thrust pushing my mound up against his fingers, driving those fingers deep into my cunt, pushing my swollen clit against his firm thumb with startling force . . .

. . . and suddenly my eyes flick open and my mouth opens wide in a silent scream as I feel that orgasm ambush me with a goddamn FURY, and Parker is grunting now, his fingers working my cunt, his left hand supporting my quivering body as he pinches my tits, his tongue still hot and sticky against my cheek, his cock still hard and massive against my ass.

“Oh, shit!” I mutter as I gasp for air, still confused and surprised at how quickly this orgasm rolled through me. “Oh, SHIT, Chris!”