felt so damn good—Danny wasn’t above pulling off to the side of
the road, having her roll to her stomach and paddling her ass. Of course, he
always found a somewhat secluded spot for discipline, but the added thrill of
them being discovered still cranked things up to heat level warp ten. If it was
night, he might bend her over the trunk to paddle her ass and then fuck her.
Her clit throbbed with the clench of her pussy muscles.
Hannah plunged her finger into the dripping well of her cunt. Just a little more
and—
The blast of the car horn behind her snapped Hannah from her
sweet daydream. She waved an apology and turned onto the main street.
Who would listen to her talk about how much she missed her
husband? No one, because her feelings for Danny were so complex, so inherently
supreme, it was impossible to put into words. Some things were simply too sweet
to savor with anyone but the one person who knew exactly how she felt.
Her cell phone rang yet again. Hannah dug it from her purse
and punched it off. There was only one person she wanted to talk to and he was
half a world away. Anyone else could wait until tomorrow when she was at work
and couldn’t escape them.
God, if she heard one more complaint she’d explode! What was
the matter with these women? They bitched all day, screamed at their kids
constantly, and the letters they sent to these poor Marines. As if the guys
didn’t have enough to worry about. As if they could do anything about the
situation except survive.
Yes, they were all under pressure here, but where was the
happy medium? She’d tried to tell her fellow wives to keep occupied and roll
with it. That conversation went in one ear and out the other. Hannah was fairly
certain her advice had never actually gone in any ears. These wives didn’t want
solutions. They wanted to complain.
She’d tried organizing potlucks, movie dates, even offered
babysitting. Tried to be upbeat, supportive, positive and all that crap. And
still all the others wanted to do was complain. Where was the love, the
devotion?
“Screw it.”
She had a half bottle of merlot and a steak waiting for her
at home. Maybe she’d even find a good movie on pay-per-view. That would pass
the hours. Then she’d shower, crawl into that big bed, pull Danny’s pillow
beside her and write her nightly letter to him. It was always the perfect way
to end the day. As if he were right with her, sharing it all. She’d work their
favorite dildo into her and come a few times while pretending it was Danny.
The thought made her smile and helped chase the day’s
aggravations away. She pulled up to the line of mailboxes at the end of her
street in a much better mood than when she’d left work. Finding a letter from
Danny right on top of the junk mail set her heart racing. Hannah tore it open
in the car, heart pounding at the connection to him.
Hey, hot stuff! (And there’s no one hotter than you,
baby.)
Don’t have a lot of time to write today. Not much news I
can share either. Love your daily letters. Makes me feel like I’m home. Of
course, I’m still getting them in stacks instead of one a day. Poor mail clerk
gets a little tired of me hounding him for mail. Keeps wanting to know why we
can’t do email like “normal” people. Little does he realize how personal
written letters are to us. I think the other guys are actually pissed because
their wives don’t write so much. Must be the smile on my face that makes them
jealous. We all get the goodie boxes, though, and share. Thanks for the new
toothbrushes. We split them up. We still stink, but at least we have minty-fresh
breath…sometimes (wink). Miss you bunches. Miss you so much I can barely stand
it. I just want to wrap myself around you and shut out the world.
Love, love, love you,
Danny
Hannah clutched the letter to her chest. “I just want to
wrap myself around you and shut out the world, honey.”
She pressed the paper to her nose, trying to catch a whiff
of
the road, having her roll to her stomach and paddling her ass. Of course, he
always found a somewhat secluded spot for discipline, but the added thrill of
them being discovered still cranked things up to heat level warp ten. If it was
night, he might bend her over the trunk to paddle her ass and then fuck her.
Her clit throbbed with the clench of her pussy muscles.
Hannah plunged her finger into the dripping well of her cunt. Just a little more
and—
The blast of the car horn behind her snapped Hannah from her
sweet daydream. She waved an apology and turned onto the main street.
Who would listen to her talk about how much she missed her
husband? No one, because her feelings for Danny were so complex, so inherently
supreme, it was impossible to put into words. Some things were simply too sweet
to savor with anyone but the one person who knew exactly how she felt.
Her cell phone rang yet again. Hannah dug it from her purse
and punched it off. There was only one person she wanted to talk to and he was
half a world away. Anyone else could wait until tomorrow when she was at work
and couldn’t escape them.
God, if she heard one more complaint she’d explode! What was
the matter with these women? They bitched all day, screamed at their kids
constantly, and the letters they sent to these poor Marines. As if the guys
didn’t have enough to worry about. As if they could do anything about the
situation except survive.
Yes, they were all under pressure here, but where was the
happy medium? She’d tried to tell her fellow wives to keep occupied and roll
with it. That conversation went in one ear and out the other. Hannah was fairly
certain her advice had never actually gone in any ears. These wives didn’t want
solutions. They wanted to complain.
She’d tried organizing potlucks, movie dates, even offered
babysitting. Tried to be upbeat, supportive, positive and all that crap. And
still all the others wanted to do was complain. Where was the love, the
devotion?
“Screw it.”
She had a half bottle of merlot and a steak waiting for her
at home. Maybe she’d even find a good movie on pay-per-view. That would pass
the hours. Then she’d shower, crawl into that big bed, pull Danny’s pillow
beside her and write her nightly letter to him. It was always the perfect way
to end the day. As if he were right with her, sharing it all. She’d work their
favorite dildo into her and come a few times while pretending it was Danny.
The thought made her smile and helped chase the day’s
aggravations away. She pulled up to the line of mailboxes at the end of her
street in a much better mood than when she’d left work. Finding a letter from
Danny right on top of the junk mail set her heart racing. Hannah tore it open
in the car, heart pounding at the connection to him.
Hey, hot stuff! (And there’s no one hotter than you,
baby.)
Don’t have a lot of time to write today. Not much news I
can share either. Love your daily letters. Makes me feel like I’m home. Of
course, I’m still getting them in stacks instead of one a day. Poor mail clerk
gets a little tired of me hounding him for mail. Keeps wanting to know why we
can’t do email like “normal” people. Little does he realize how personal
written letters are to us. I think the other guys are actually pissed because
their wives don’t write so much. Must be the smile on my face that makes them
jealous. We all get the goodie boxes, though, and share. Thanks for the new
toothbrushes. We split them up. We still stink, but at least we have minty-fresh
breath…sometimes (wink). Miss you bunches. Miss you so much I can barely stand
it. I just want to wrap myself around you and shut out the world.
Love, love, love you,
Danny
Hannah clutched the letter to her chest. “I just want to
wrap myself around you and shut out the world, honey.”
She pressed the paper to her nose, trying to catch a whiff
of
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