The Patriotic Wife

Hello,

I'm going to tell you a story, a true story (of course the names have been changed and some minor details) that happened to me just a few months ago that has completely transformed my life. I would even say it has liberated me unconditionally in every way.

I am still a married woman, and to my husband, sons and friends there seem to be no reasons for my newfound blissfulness. I am a much happier, more liberated and much more fulfilled woman because of this experience. I can't share this story with my husband or friends, and I feel compelled to share it with someone, so I may as well share it with complete strangers.

My name is Krystal Anderson, and by most standards I would say I am a happily married woman. I'm a proud mother of two boys; Darren and William, 19 and 18 respectively. Darren is a junior at VMI (Virginia Military Institute); he wants to be an Army officer like his father. William, my baby is in community college just a few miles from here. Mr. Anderson is a Lieutenant Colonel in the Army. He's a Battalion Commander of a Quartermaster unit in the 82nd Airborne.

My father was an infantry General in the Army and I was always drawn to strong, fit, confident men like my father. When I met Darryl my sophomore year he seemed just like that kind of man. We met at a Corps of Cadets Ball at VMI. He looked so handsome in his uniform and seemed so intelligent and sweet that we immediately hit it off. He told me he was going to be an infantry officer and I must admit, I was smitten. We married after a whirlwind 6 month courtship. Unfortunately, my husband failed out of Officer Basic Course and had to change his branch to quartermaster. Quartermaster is basically the supply people that provide equipment to the real warriors of the 82nd Airborne Division. His day consists of sitting on his ass behind a desk instead of training for war and leading soldiers like my father.

Unfortunately over the years, time has not been too kind to my husband. He's almost completely bald, he's probably 40-50 lbs over weight and to top it all off he doesn't have the sex drive that he used to. He's such a hypocrite. He marches around talking about the Army creed and values, expecting all soldiers to be physically fit when he couldn't run a mile without having a heart attack. To be honest I don't think he would have received a command had my father not pulled some strings.

I try so hard to be the consummate officer's wife, but it can be tiring. I'm a southern girl educated at the University of Georgia. I majored in education, and against all wishes of the Colonel (my husband), I teach Science and girl's volleyball at the Ft. Bragg High School. The Colonel would like his wife to be a homemaker, and while the boys were young I took a few years off to do just that. But I guess my independence and boredom lead me right back to teaching when the boys were old enough to attend school. Being an Officer's wife sure isn't what it has cracked up to be. I occasionally get to dress up and attend formal events, like the Army's Birthday Ball and various Hail and Farewell functions. Mostly, though it's about having to maintain a certain false appearance and attitude. Having to maintain a fulltime appearance as the perfect wife can really wear on your soul sometimes.

Physically I would consider myself to be an attractive woman. I don't mean to sound conceited, but I think generally people have a good idea of their physical attributes. Please don't get me wrong, I don't think I'm untouchable or anything like that, I'm very down to earth, I just happen to be pretty. I 'm 5'7 and approximately 125ish pounds and have long red hair (ok, it has a touch of grey, but I have it colored to a sexy red to maintain my youthful appearance). I'm 38 years old and I keep myself very active. I like to run, do Pilates, spinning classes and swimming. I even won a Mrs. Ft. Bragg Beauty contest a couple of years ago, so I guess others approve of my efforts. I had my breasts augmented about 5 years ago which brought my rather underappreciated B cups to an attention getting, stare inducing 36D.

The girls (the other officer's wives) and I do everything we can to support the war effort. We're always having bake sales, car washes, garage sales and soliciting local businesses to donate money and items to the troops. We work tirelessly to make sure our boys are getting the support and recognition they need. It makes me sick to see my fat, lazy husband whining about his office politics, while the 82nd Airborne soldiers are deployed in harms way. He hasn't been deployed anywhere since we were married, other than the occasional schools he attends stateside.

Finally, one day I had had enough of my husband's bullshit.

He came home around 1700 (5:00 PM) one Thursday after work bitching that he had to go to a Quartermaster conference in Washington on Friday. He was whining about how it was such short notice and that he had so much work to do, blah blah blah. Frankly, I know this sounds mean, but I was looking forward to having the house to myself and relaxing for the weekend.

William, my youngest normally came home from junior college to do his laundry and eat our groceries. This weekend he had decided he was going to Myrtle Beach with a couple of his friends. At last I had the house all to myself.

Friday morning I drove the major to the Raleigh-Durham Airport, I was back with the house all to myself by 10:30AM. I attended my Pilates class, and then came home to our house to shower.

On post housing pisses me off. We live in an old 1960's two story colonial house reserved for Field Grade Officers (Major and above) and it's really a beautiful house. It has large white columns, hardwood floors, a winding staircase and crown molding, but the hot water never works when you want it too. I had to take another cold shower. I put in a call to maintenance and they said they wouldn't be able to get to it until Sunday. "That's fantastic!" I thought.

After my cold shower I went to the salon and had my hair and nails done. I always get a French manicure, which seems to drive men wild for some reason. I don't know what it is about French manicures but if I'm writing a check, talking on my phone, drinking a glass of wine at a restaurant or doing whatever, men are drawn to my hands, then to me. I'm sure it has something to do with my hands and their dick, I don't mean to be crude but that's the way men think. ;)

My friend Suzie called and suggested some of us girls get together and grab some lunch at the "French Cuisine" in Fayetteville.

Suzie, also a Colonels wife was telling us that one of the battalions from the 82nd Airborne had just returned from a year in Iraq. She remarked "can you imagine how much testosterone will be floating around Ft. Bragg this weekend?"

Mary, a Captain's wife said: "Can you imagine how horny those young guys are going to be after a year of combat with no women in sight?"

"Mmm Hmm" I half moaned. The girls all giggled.

I went back to my place and took a nap. It was so nice to have the house so quiet and all to myself. I fixed myself a glass of wine and began to feel that familiar throbbing between my legs. I instinctively started upstairs to draw a warm bath; I like to use the removable shower head to spray water between my legs to bring me to orgasm. It's the only way I've been able to relieve myself for years.

"Shit Shit Shit Shit!" I exclaimed aloud as I suddenly remembered the hot water heater was not working.

I got my workout clothes on and went to the post gym to workout my frustrations. I couldn't believe how crowded it was, I had never seen the gym this full of young virile men! There must have been a hundred guys, all between the ages of 18 and 25, all in great shape. Some had tattoos, and shaved heads; others had hair that was long by Army standards. I became so incredibly horny just by the odor of young cock sweat in the room.

I could tell most of these guys were from the battalion that just got back from Iraq. I would hear them telling war stories, and talking about just getting back this morning. I must have been quite a sight for sore eyes because just about every pair of weights stopped moving and every hungry set of eyes in the room stared at me with almost unnerving lust.

Some smiled at me, some said "hello Ma'am" and some just stared, but just about every one of them wanted me. If it weren't for the thin veil of discipline and societal expectations on these young men, I felt as though I were a breath away from being gang raped.

I jumped up on the stair climber and began my workout. The boys started back at their workouts, but their eyes were often diverted in my direction. I knew my mature, married ass stepping up and down, flexing and relaxing must have made every cock in the room hard. I could see in the mirror my tits were firmly bouncing up and down with each step, the cleft in my tight blue tank top pushed my tits tightly together making them look like a baby's bottom. My long red hair pulled back in a tight pony tail, bobbed playfully back and forth.

A young handsome soldier with short cropped hair got on the stair climber next to me. He was wearing a tank top that revealed large ripping muscles and an 82nd All American tattoo. He smiled at me; I smiled back but tried to seem disinterested. I don't think I was fooling him in the least.

"Hello, I'm Dirk." He said with a confident, almost cocky smile.

"Mrs. Anderson, Mrs. Colonel Anderson." I said haughtily.

I didn't offer my hand and turned away pretending to watch the big screen TV in the cardio room.

"Look, Mrs. COLONEL Anderson, I'm gonna cut to the chase." He said, emphasizing Colonel in a derogatory tone.

His smart-ass demeanor caught me off guard and I turned to face him.

"We just got back from Iraq, I haven't seen a beautiful woman in a long, long time and I would like to get to know you better."

I knew in guy talk that was code for "I want to fuck the shit out of you."

"That's sweet whatever your name is, but I'm not interested. "I also assume you didn't deduce that I'm married" I remarked smugly.

"Dirk, my name is Dirk" He said with a grin.

"Ok Dirk, I'm sorry, but I'm probably old enough to be your mother, I'm married, and my husband is an Officer".

Dirk smiled even bigger. "I have to be honest Ma'am; those are the three things that attracted me to you."

"This is one cocky little bastard." I thought.

"How dare you!" I said. "Do I have Fuck Me stamped on my forehead?"

"No Ma'am, it's stamped on your ass" He smirked.

"Oh my God, who in the hell do you think you are young man?" I questioned. "I should report you to the MPs" I added with an authoritative tone.

"I don't think you'll do that Ma'am" He smiled.

"How old are you anyway, 21, 22?" I queried.

"19" He said.

"My God you are cocky!" I said.

"Combat will do that to you Ma'am"

I have to be honest. I went to the gym for a workout and a little innocent flirting but this kid really got my attention. He was very handsome; with short cropped black curly hair, blue eyes, full lips and a square jaw. He was just an inch or two taller than me but was very muscular. I noticed his thighs and calves flexing as he worked the stair climber, his butt was firm, his shoulders broad.

"Nice meeting you Dirk" I said. "You might want to watch how you speak to a lady" I remarked, while disembarking off the treadmill. I marched briskly towards the exit of the gym.

The boys and men, now focused intensely on their workouts, gave me the cursory stares as I strut out the door. I was so incredibly horny and flabbergasted that this punk kid would have the nerve to talk to me that way. I'm a 38 year old, mother of two, college educated, officer's wife that has never even received a speeding ticket. This kid was no older than my two sons.

I didn't know what to do, report him to his superiors, blow it off, or let him fuck the shit out of me.

I sensed someone approaching me as I stepped through the automatic doors of the gym out in to the afternoon sun. I put my sunglasses on and got my keys ready, as I was taught in a self defense class I took last spring. "Chirp Chirp" echoed the sound of the alarm being disarmed on my red Range Rover.

"M'am don't be in such a hurry" a young, husky voice exclaimed behind me.

I turned around, relieved that playing hard to get wasn't discouraging my young pursuer, but nevertheless displaying mocked disdain and irritation toward him.

"Mrs. Anderson, if you change your mind, my barracks is in building 321 near the PX. I'm in room 121A. My roommate is out of town for the weekend" He said, still not discouraged.

"Have a good evening" He said with his usual cocky tone.

I just stood there, stunned as he strutted back into the gym, his inflated chest and shoulders swaying back and forth, his taught gluteus flexing as he disappeared through the automatic doors. He had left behind him the faint, yet familiar odor of testosterone and cheap spray-on cologne.

After I recovered from the proposal from the young enlisted man, I drove by the class six and picked up a couple of bottles of wine on the way back to the house.

My head was in a daze, I couldn't get that young cocky kid out of my mind. I poured myself a glass of chardonnay and put on my favorite Luther Vandross album. I was just starting to relax and enjoy the wine and the song "Power of Love" when the phone rang.

It was my idiot husband the Colonel. He called whining about how his flight was delayed, and flew off into a tirade about where had I been etc. etc.

Not at all in the mood for his usual self-absorbed banter, I feigned a headache and I told him I would call him the next day.

That phone call was the breaking point for me. It was the proverbial straw that broke the camels back. Here I was, a sexually unfulfilled woman in her sexual prime. The damn hot water heater is on the fritz (again) unable to provide me with my usual sexual outlet. I'm married to a whining wimp of a husband. I've had a little wine to lower my inhibitions and oh by the way, a deliciously handsome young soldier had just propositioned me.

A woman can only remain within the societal expectations of her behavior when she has a safety net in place. Had I not had any wine that night, or not met Dirk, or the hot water been working, or even if my husband had not called I would have remained within those expected boundaries at least a while longer.

As it turns out though, it only took two glasses of wine for me to make up my mind on what I needed to do.

I went next door to Sharon's, my neighbor and used her shower, which wasn't scalding but it was hotter than mine. I went upstairs and opened up my closet. I looked for the most seductive clothes I could find.

I expertly worked my long red hair into a chignon or "modern bun" and teased my long red bangs framing my face. It has a sophisticated and sexy look that I often where to formal events. It seems to consistently draw attention first to my hair, face, then my ample breasts, then inevitably to my ass and legs.

I applied my makeup a little less subtly and quite a bit more seductively than I usually do. I put on a darker eye shadow, a little more blush and a lot more lipstick than I normally wear. The lipstick is an Alexandra de Markoff lasting luxury red, shiny lipstick that seems for my lips to beg kiss me (or put something between me).

I accessorized with a gold heart pendant necklace that nestled seductively in my cleavage. It was a gift from the Colonel on our 10th wedding anniversary, but he didn't like it when I wore it because it rested in the top of my cleavage drawing even more attention than usual to them. (Thanks again Colonel.) I topped off the ensemble with a pair of silver hoop earrings that made me look like a high class slut, which I guess is what I was about to become.

I put on a silky lace red thong and matching bra. For my blouse I selected a red sleeveless top with turtleneck and cutout detail at the chest. It was cutout like a heart shape in the middle that focused all the attention on my tits. Not to mention it pushed them together giving them an even fuller look. The Colonel never let me wear it because he said it was too revealing and it made me look like a slut. Thanks Colonel, that's exactly what I was looking for. I selected a black sleek sateen mini skirt that barely covered up my upper thighs. For my shoes, my ultra-sexy slip on mule in animal print satin with a sculpted platform 5 inch heel. I was wearing what the girls and I refer to as "Fuck Me Pumps".

I had another couple of glasses of wine, sprayed on my favorite perfume "Azzaro Eau Belle", re-applied my lipstick and headed out the door.

As I climbed in my Range Rover my heart started beating faster. My mouth was dry and I started to become a bit nervous. I began to question the morality of what I was about to do.

I nervously pulled out of the driveway and was definitely feeling the wine at this point. I was so tense and excited at the same time. This was something I had often fantasized about but had never done; I was going to seduce a boy the age of my sons. I was finally going to support the troops in a way only a mother built like me and with my experience was capable.

It was difficult driving the Rover with 5" heels; it was something I wasn't exactly accustomed to doing. I took some of the back roads that were less patrolled by the MPs towards the PX. It was approaching 1900 hrs (7:00 PM) and the sun, although still bright was low on the horizon as I pulled into Building 321's parking lot.

The parking lot was full of cars and trucks of all kinds. Some old, some new, low riders, motorcycles, fast cars and lots and lots of pickups. It was obviously a parking lot for young, testosterone filled men.

I stepped out and began walking towards the barracks. I wasn't particularly concerned about being recognized, because this was the other side of post, and they were all infantrymen, not quartermaster. I didn't know anyone in the infantry, enlisted or otherwise.

I could feel my heart beating in my chest and the incredible rush of excitement as I walked toward the barracks.

As I approached the entrance to the building I could hear loud rap music, country music and heavy metal coming from different rooms combined to sound like a psychedelic orchestra. There was lots of screaming and yelling, laughing and carrying on. It was obvious these boys were blowing off steam from a yearlong deployment in a war zone.

I entered the main hallway and had to check in with the CQ or "charge of quarters". His eyes lit right up when I walked in. I could tell he hadn't seen a beautiful woman in a long, long time.

"Hello, I'm Dirk's Mom, I'm here to welcome my son home from Iraq."

"Dirk, Ma'am?" He said questioningly. "Oh you mean Corporal Caldwell Ma'am, Just sign here Ma'am" He said with a smile.

I caught him staring at my plentifully proper, semi-exposed cosmetically enhanced tits.

I leaned down to sign my new alias "Virginia Caldwell" as Dirk's "Mom." As I was writing I could feel this young sergeant staring at my cleavage as it presented itself just inches from his face. I delayed a little longer than necessary for the young sergeant's benefit. "This young sergeant is going to have something to remember Virginia Caldwell by" I thought, enjoying my new found role as Ft. Bragg MILF.

As I rounded the corner there were a couple of guys in the hallway drinking beer. When they heard the "clip clop" of my heels they looked up and their jaws literally dropped open. They were literally staring me up and down.

"Hello boys, welcome home" I said with a smile.

They said "thank you Ma'am" in unison.

I could feel there eyes burning through me as my hips swayed back and forth with the grace and seductive power of a mature woman. The "clip clop" of my high heels a mating call to all young and virile men.