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
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
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