I've Dreamed Of This Very Moment

The short man spoke. "Cunts suck dick, don't they, cunt?" She kept sucking. He jerked her head off his dick. "Cunts suck dick, don't they, cunt?" She nodded. "Answer me."

"Cunts suck dick," she said meekly.

"You're sucking my dick. What does that make you?"

"A cunt," she almost whispered.

"I didn't hear you."

"A cunt."

"Who's a cunt?"

"I am."

"Why are you a cunt?"

"Because I suck dick."

"Do you want to suck my dick?"

"Yes." He pulled her head to his dick and she started sucking him.

She sucked first one then the other until the tall one grabbed her hair and pulled her toward the bed. "Cunts also fuck. Do you want to fuck, cunt?"

"Oh, God, yes," she said.

"What do you want to fuck?"

"Your dick. I want to fuck your dick."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a cunt and cunts fuck dicks."

He jerked her legs apart, grabbed his dick and with one thrust buried himself in her.

"Ohhhh myyy Goddddd," she moaned and almost passed out. "Again. Do it again. Fuck my pussy. Fuck my cunt. Hard."

She couldn't speak anymore, because the other dick got rammed in her mouth just as hard as the first one went in her pussy. Then the rhythm started. One dick in, one dick out, then again. One dick in and one dick out. That went on for several minutes until they picked up speed and it was easy to see that they all came at the same time.

They lay side-by side for several minutes before the short man spoke. "That wasn't bad. Do you want more?"

"God yes."

Have you ever had a dick in your cunt and one in your ass at the same time?"

"No, and I'm not going to."

The two men laughed. "The hell you're not." Shorty pulled her down to his dick.

"Get me hard again, cunt." She smiled and started sucking again. While she was sucking him, tall man was jerking himself off. The two got hard at the same time. They rolled Liz over, she sat up and put Shorty's dick in her pussy. Tall man pushed her upper body down exposing her ass. "Spread your ass open," he said.

"No. You're not going in my ass."

He slapped her ass hard. "Spread those ass cheeks, bitch."

"No." She tried to get up, but he pushed her down.

He slapped her harder. "Spread 'em, godamnit or I'll pull your fucking hair out.

Slowly she reached back and spread her ass open. "That's better."

He spit on his hand and rubbed it around his dick then he spit on her asshole and aimed his dick. Then he shoved.

Liz screamed bloody murder, but that didn't stop him. It was tight and dry, but he started pumping all the while she was screaming. After a while the screaming stopped and moaning started. Then she started moving. One dick was in her while the other was almost out. Then the opposite. Finally, both dicks were going in at the same time and out at the same time, and her head was thrown back in ecstasy as she started begging for more.

"Oh, God. Fuck me. Both of you bastards. Fuck me hard. Harder, cocksucking motherfuckers. Harder. Faster. Jesus, God. More. Don't stop. Fuck my cunt. Fuck my ass. Fuck my mouth. Fuck everything."

I looked at my wife with one dick in her pussy and one in her ass begging two men to fuck her harder. I pushed the pause button.

I turned my computer off. There was no way I could rationalize her conduct. She said that she did it because she needed love and I wasn't there for her. I had no experience with cheating wives before, but that had to be up there with one of the flimsiest excuses for cheating in the history of cheating. When I confronted her, she hadn't even tried to deny it.

That was because her parents knew that I had taken the pair of panties, and they guessed what was in them. They probably waited until she got up the next morning and talked to her, so by the time I got there, she knew the jig was up.

That week at work after I viewed part of the video was a Godsend. I stayed busy all day every day, so the memory of the video faded somewhat.

Kirby Dickenson called me on Friday to tell me we had a meeting with her and her attorney on Monday.

When I got there, her parents were with her. I asked Kirby to tell them that we intended to show a graphic video and it might be better if her parents weren't there. He told Liz's attorney. We saw him talking to the three of them. I could see Liz shaking her head no. I heard her say, "I don't believe them."

Okay. Gloves were off, and as Kirby said before, "Game on."

It didn't take long. Her attorney demanded adultery be dropped as the reason for the divorce. In its place, mental cruelty should be substituted because I had caused so much mental anguish to her she couldn't stand to be around me. That was why she was forced to virtually live with her parents.

Kirby and I looked at each other. My computer was on the table and the video was cued right where I stopped it. I looked at all of them. "Elizabeth," I said. I only called her that on very rare occasions to get her attention. "Are you sure you want your parents to see this?"

"See what? Me holding hands with some guy. Or dancing with him. Take your best shot."

I hit play and the whole room saw her with a dick in her pussy, a dick in her ass, and her head thrown back in ecstasy begging for more dick.

"Stop it. Oh my God. Stop it." She screamed almost as loudly as she screamed when that dick went in her ass the first time.

Her mother was passed out and her father was trying to revive her, all the while glaring at his daughter. When her mother came around, her father looked at her. "I want you out of our house. Today." He and his wife didn't seem to have any problems with her cheating until they saw the extent of her debauchery. He gently helped his wife up and started out of the room. He stopped when he got to me. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Would you have believed me if I didn't?" I asked.

"No. Probably not. But there could have been a better way."

"There was. Your daughter didn't have to cheat."

We never heard from them again, and when we were scheduled for court neither Liz nor her attorney showed up. Six weeks later I was a free man with all of our meager assets and no alimony to pay.

Another six weeks and I was on orders to go play in a mid-eastern sand trap. I spent two days with Ruth and her husband before going home to spend time with my parents and other siblings. I drove my truck to my parent's house and left it for my father to use and look after while I was gone. Matthew was on another tour with his mega-star. My other two siblings were still in Madisonville. Both were married with children.

I made it through my year in the sand trap with nothing more than some bad memories. I did come back as a newly promoted Captain, which was nice.

My new assignment took me to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, and command of the garrison at the Command and General Staff College. It was a choice assignment for any Captain, but to be assigned there as a very junior Captain with no command experience had to be a mistake. I even called my branch assignment office in Washington, DC, to confirm it.

"Are you complaining, Captain Reynolds? Because if you are, there are a couple of hundred other Captains who would love to take your place."

"No. No. I'm perfectly happy. I just wanted to make sure someone wouldn't recognize the mistake and reassign me in three months."

"No, Captain Reynolds. You're locked in for three years unless, of course, we need you back in the sand trap."

"If that happens, you are welcome to send one of those couple of hundred other Captains you mentioned in my place." We both laughed at that.

It didn't take long for me to fall into a nice, steady rhythm. Of course, it didn't hurt that I had a seasoned First Sergeant to run things for me.

One Saturday I was at the auto-repair shop on post. It provided space and equipment for us to do minor repairs on our personal vehicles. There was even an expert mechanic to assist those who needed it. I wasn't an expert, but I grew up in the country and knew the difference between a spark plug and a lug nut, so I pretty much handled myself pretty well.

It wasn't crowded when I arrived, and I started to change my oil. There were three pits for changing oil and working underneath your car. I had been in my pit about five minutes when another car pulled across the pit next to me. I never paid any attention until I heard "God damn piece of shit." It came from a soft but determined feminine voice. It was quiet again until a wrench fell and hit the concrete floor. "Ouch. Damnit," I heard.

I chuckled to myself and decided maybe the voice needed some assistance. I tightened my drain plug and climbed the steps out of the pit. I went down the steps and into the pit next to mine. She was wearing a pair of coveralls about two sizes too big. "Do you need some help?" I asked.

She turned to look at me and I could see there was probably an attractive face beneath the coat of oil. She spit out a mouthful of oil and looked at me. "Why do you think I need help? Because I'm a female and females don't know how to change their own oil?"

"Well, no. It just sounded like you might be frustrated and I thought I might help."

"No thank you. I know what I'm doing. I just hate this piece of shit."

"Okay. Have a nice day." I went to my car, filled it with oil and left without seeing her again.

The next week I was at a cocktail party hosted by the Commanding General. I was only invited because I was the Garrison Commander, not because I walked in the rarified atmosphere of the three General Officers and countless Colonels assigned to Fort Leavenworth.

I had gotten a coke and was meandering around, wondering if there were any other officers my age and rank I had something in common with. I really didn't expect to find any, and I wasn't disappointed. I looked at my watch and determined that I had another fifteen minutes from a protocol standpoint before I could gracefully make my exit. The backyard looked like a promising place to hang out, so I headed there. I was just going out the door when I heard a voice. "Anyway, Dad was on me to learn how to do things for myself in case I ever got stranded so I decided to change my own oil. It took me over an hour and I had oil from my hair to my fingernails, including in my mouth. I had even spilled it on the instruction manual, making it almost impossible to read. But the worst thing was this incredibly cute guy offered to help me and I told him I didn't need any. If I had any sense, I would have asked for help just to get his name and phone number.

The group she was with all laughed until another feminine voice spoke up. "What do you mean you would have asked for his name and number? You've never done that before."

"I know, but there was something in his face that made me... I don't know. I can't explain it. There was just something about him. And I saw it even though I was angry and frustrated."

"Wow. He must have been something."

"I think he was."

I grinned to myself and tried to see who had been talking. I wanted to see what she looked like without the oil. I walked through the doors onto the patio and glanced to my left, then right. On my right were three women. One of them was about my age, maybe a couple of years younger, but who knows? Our eyes met for the briefest of moments before I turned and went back inside. I knew she recognized me.

I found a corner where I could stand out of the way and watch. The three women came inside and went immediately for the front door. In most military homes there is a stand with a bowl, saucer or metal tray immediately inside the front door where military guests leave one of their calling cards with their name and rank; and you left one every time you were a guest in that house.

The women went to the calling card tray and started going through the cards. They found one and gathered around each other to look at it before looking at me. I tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, but being the only Company Grade Officer (Second Lieutenant, First Lieutenant or Captain) in a house full of Field Grades (Major and above) was pretty funny.

It wouldn't have been difficult for them to figure out which card was mine. I was in uniform and was the only officer below the grade of Major. All they had to do was look through the cards until they came to mine. Plus, the nametag on my uniform said "Reynolds" as big as day.

I tried to decide if I should ask her about her car, thereby identifying myself, or wait and see what they, or rather she, was going to do. I hadn't had a real date in a very long time and was almost desperate to have sex, but I decided to wait.

When my mental protocol timer went off, I made my way to the hostess, the wife of Major General Morris T. Woodley, thanked her for a wonderful time, found my hat, which was easy because it was the only one on the table without scrambled eggs (Gold Braid) on its bill.

Twice I surreptitiously glanced at the three women who were just as surreptitiously watching me.

The mystery lady and I had two areas in common. First was the General's party, and second, the auto repair shop. I couldn't very well hang around the General's house hoping she would show up, but I could hang around the shop.

Saturday morning found me washing and waxing my truck at the shop. I took my time and was almost finished when I saw her car pull in. She got out and she wasn't in coveralls. She was in jeans and a white tee shirt with gold sparkling things on the front.

My truck was inside the building and she parked outside. She was out of her car and headed in my direction when she was met by a man I recognized as a Major from the BOQ. He started talking to her and it looked like she wanted to get away from him, but he kept her engaged in conversation. We locked eyes for a full second before I turned away. I was finished and there were two people waiting for my place, so I couldn't wait any longer, I had to leave. Her eyes never left me as I got in my truck and drove away.

I pulled over to the side of the road and waited. In less than five minutes I saw her speeding in my direction so I pulled out and headed for the Post Exchange (PX-The Army equivalent of Walmart). It was busy and I had to park quite a distance from the door. There were several reserved parking spaces right by the front door. The one nearest the door said reserved for the Commanding General. Her car was parked in that slot. I almost turned around and went home.

I'm glad I didn't.

She was standing right inside the door as I walked in. "Playing hard to get?" Was the first thing she said, but she said it with a smile.

"No, ma'am. Why? Are you trying to get me?"

She laughed out loud. "Interesting question. I'm not sure. Can you be gotten?"

"Probably. But I'm not cheap."

She indicated the snack stand down the corridor. "Would a coke do it?"

It was my turn to laugh. "As long as you don't expect too much."

At the snack stand, we each had a coke. Hers was diet and she paid for both of them. We sat at a table and three hours had flown by before we realized it. Her phone had rung at least six times and she ignored it. She did finally glance at her watch and jumped up.

"Crap. I have a date. I have to go."

I stood. "Now who's playing hard to get?"

We walked to her car and she left to go on her date.

I hadn't had a nice dinner in a long time, so I decided to go to the Officers Club. Their Prime Rib was excellent. I went to my BOQ, hung out for a while, showered, put on a civilian suit and headed for the club.

The dining room was closed because of a party, but the Grill was open so I sat there and ate. After eating I headed for the door and glanced into the dining room as I walked by. Right in the doorway, dancing close together, were the Major from the BOQ and ... uh ... it dawned on me that I didn't know her name. After all of our conversation I never asked her name, and she never volunteered it.

I stood watching them dance until they were bumped by another couple and she looked in my direction. I turned and headed for the door.

The BOQ was within walking distance of the club, so I headed there. There was a large lobby with two large TV's, a bar, and a snack table which was kept loaded by the Officers Club. I sat, had a coke, and watched some NASCAR race rerun. I had been there about two hours and was ready to go to my room when the Major came in. He got himself a beer and sat in a big chair close to mine.

He asked me about the race and I allowed as how I wasn't paying any attention to it. "You're the Garrison Commander, aren't you?" he asked.

"I am."

He stuck out his hand. "Ernie Bigelow. Post G-3 (Operations)."

"Mark Reynolds. You already know where I work."

We sat and talked. He was a nice, friendly sort who was easy to talk to so after a while I told him I had seen him dancing earlier at the club. "Your date looked familiar."

He chuckled. "She should. She's General Woodley's daughter, Christina."

"Not to be personal, but do you and she have something going?" I asked.

He laughed. "Hell, no. Nobody has anything going with Miss Iceberg. I've dated her a few times and each time I think I'll get to first base she cuts me off at the knees."

"Then why do you keep going back?" I asked.

"Again, I don't know. Either I'm hoping to thaw her out or I'm a glutton for punishment." He looked at me. "It's funny you should ask me who she is, because she saw you tonight and asked me if I knew who you were." He laughed. "Not wanting any more competition, I told her I didn't know."

Ernie Bigelow and I became friends.

Three days later, Christina Woodley called me and asked me out to dinner. I accepted. That very evening, I was sitting in the BOQ Lobby and Ernie sat beside me. He looked at me. "I hear you have a date with Christina."

"I do. Friday for dinner. How did you know?"

"Because I called and asked her out. She wasn't the least bit shy about telling me she had a date and with who, or is it with whom?"

"It came as a surprise to me," I said.

"She's pretty close hold with her phone number. Mind telling me how you got it?"

"I don't have it. She never gave it to me."

"Then how did you ask her for a date? You can't just walk up and knock on her door."

I hesitated. "I didn't ask her. She called and asked me." I hadn't given much thought as to how she got my number. She had my name on the calling card I left at her house and she had access to the post telephone directory. Easy peasy.

He looked at me and started laughing. "Well, I'll be damned. I've known her for almost two years and she has never asked a guy for a date. You must be pretty special."

"I don't know about that."

"Listen. She dates, but rarely. Since I've been here, she's only dated me and two others. We're a pretty close group and we keep tabs on each other hoping to hear that one of us has made some progress. So far, a few close slow dances and a couple of kisses on the cheek is as far as she goes."

We sat and talked and, as I said, we had become friends. He was sincere when he wished me the best of luck with Christina. "Just keep me informed and I'll make sure the other two know about you and your progress."

Our dinner date went well. So well, in fact, that I asked her out. And so on and so on. Ernie learned he was being reassigned to Korea and he asked her to go out for a farewell dinner and she told him no. Her exact words, or so he said, were, "I like Mark, Ernie. I like him a lot. And I don't want to jeopardize it."

I always picked her up at her house for our dates and had interactions with both her parents. They certainly didn't seem to hate me, but by the same token they never welcomed me with open arms.

Christina and I had dated for six months, and if you define "second base" as touching her breasts, I made it to second base. She told me no one had ever gotten that far.