Jean’s Wounded Warrior Ch. 01

Jean replied, "Not yet, Steve. I know you are eager as a jackrabbit, but the six months aren't over for a couple of weeks. I don't want to take any shortcuts and feel guilty if there is a problem. It will give you a chance to fatten me up. Besides, it will be nice to have some practice sex without worrying about possible problems with another pregnancy."

Maybe that gives you an idea of why I love Jean so much. She is wicked smart and a trained psychologist who works with the end of life patients at the local hospital. Of course, she always knows how to win me over. But hey, what guy could object to a bit of practice sex?

I just said, "I love you so much. Don't worry. I can wait to try making a baby until you're ready. I may even be able to wait until tonight to practice."

I pushed her top up and sucked a firm nipple into my greedy mouth. Jean closed her eyes and held my head to her breast. I shoved my thigh between her legs, and she ground her pussy against my bare leg. Jean squealed as I twisted her other nipple hard. I heard a cough, and Derek said, "Oops, sorry. I was just looking for another beer."

I turned my head and looked at Derek standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Jean yelped and pulled her top down but not until after Derek had a good look at my wife's lovely pert breasts topped with hard pink nipples as tasty as wild strawberries.

I grinned at Derek and said, "I'll grab you a beer when I bring out the steaks. I just need a second or two to finish here."

Derek backed out of the door. The whole incident took less than half a minute. I couldn't tell if our guest was blushing, but Jean certainly was.

My wife stammered, "He saw everything."

"Hardly everything. Just a lovely pair of mammaries."

Jean punched me in the arm, "Jerk! Mammaries, really? Biologists are such dorks."

"Come on, Jean, it's no big deal. Please, just set the table. The steaks will only take a few minutes."

I headed to the deck with the marinated steaks and handed Derek his beer. He was sitting down at the table, looking sheepish.

Derek said, "Sorry, man, I hope I didn't embarrass your wife. You did say you were busy with dinner and just to help myself if I wanted another beer."

I laughed, "It's OK. I haven't seen Jean in a couple of months, and I am a little excited to have her back."

"Well, I can understand why. Jean is a lovely person. Besides being beautiful, she knows how to help people. Talking to her has given me a whole new outlook on my life."

Jean came out on the deck and giggled, "Mind repeating the part about me being beautiful? I feel pretty ragged after all of those hours on the plane."

Derek said, "Jean, I'm sorry for intruding in the kitchen."

Jean said, "It's OK, Derek. I'm sure I've shown a lot more skinny dipping at the town reservoir."

I laughed as it was Derek's turn to stammer. Who knows? Maybe he was blushing. It was hard to tell with his dark black skin. The handsome young soldier had the darkest coal-black skin I'd ever seen.

Jean laid out silverware and plates while Derek and I sat at the table and finished our beers. I only had to get up occasionally to tend the steaks since the rest of the dinner was ready to be served. Jean's sighs hinted that she was annoyed that she had to work around us to get to the table. I cannot speak for Derek, but I was entranced watching Jean lean over the table. The halter top did little to conceal her lovely breasts from our gaze. If the sun was behind her, the thin material turned translucent. You could see her ample breasts hanging beneath the sagging top if she leaned over.

At one point, I was behind my wife, staring up the bottom of her drooping halter top, and saw Derek's smiling eyes staring down the top. I winked at him, but I doubted he noticed. Even standing up, her pink nipples were visible under the thin material. I got even more aroused when she 'accidentally' brushed a leg or a breast against my body. Maybe it was an accident since she occasionally bumped against Derek's massive frame.

I went inside to put on a recording of Mozart Divertimento and switched the stereo to the deck speakers. Mozart wrote this music to be played by a small ensemble as background for the nobility while they enjoyed a feast and polite conversations. Tonight, I had done my best to prepare a welcome home feast for Jean. My modest wife helped me carry the potato salad, the fresh local corn on the cob, and more garlic bread. I let Derek pull the cork on a couple of bottles of Italian red wine while I pulled the thick steaks from the Weber when they were still rare. I made a quick toast to Jean's return before we dug into the food.

We were all famished, but I was astounded at the amount Derek put away. Besides polishing off two large steaks by himself, he managed a half dozen ears of corn and several heaping mounds of the potato salad. Jean kept refilling our wine glasses when they ran empty. Since she had to lean over the table to fill them, Derek and I practically chugged the red so we could get another look at my wife's breasts. Jean laughed and tried to keep up. By the time we were all satiated with food, we had finished the two bottles of red wine and had worked up a good buzz.

During dinner, Jean had plied Derek with questions about his childhood. He told us that he grew up in a black suburb of Mobile, Alabama, as one of eight children.

I asked an off-the-wall question of my own to keep the conversation going. "What was your favorite activity as a young boy?"

I was surprised when Derek replied, "Ballroom dancing. My Mom danced professionally at a club in the 1930s. She signed me up for lessons as soon as I could walk. She wanted to keep me off of the streets. She even taught me the dances she did when she was young, like swing and jitterbug."

Jean put her hand on Derek's massive forearm and laughed. She said, "My Mom likes to sing, but I couldn't keep a tune. So, she put me in dance classes instead. I've been dancing since I was four. I've even been trying to teach Steve how to waltz. The poor man never danced as a kid. Maybe he was afraid of being teased."

Derek said, "I got a lot of teasing from the neighborhood guys when I was a skinny kid. But when I got older, I grew a lot. Playing football ended the teasing, and I enjoyed the hard contact. My dance lessons gave me balance and speed on the field. I got a college football scholarship and hoped to become an engineer. Instead, I got drafted at eighteen and was sent to Nam straight out of boot camp."

I was astounded when Jean managed to get him talking about his tour in Vietnam. Perhaps she came by it naturally; maybe she learned it in her psychology classes. From my experience, veterans will only talk about those subjects with other vets and rarely even then. I've never gotten my brothers to speak more than a few sentences about their tours in Nam.

Jean had her hand on Derek's massive bicep and stared into his eyes with a sympathetic look as she asked, "Derek, tell Steve about how you got wounded."

Derek stared across the lake toward the distant green hills. For a moment, I thought he wasn't going to say anything.

"We were about thirty clicks north of Saigon in an area full of old Viet Cong tunnels. Our company was using an old French rubber plantation as a base. Standard Operating Procedure was for our platoon to go out on patrol and attract enemy fire. Our plan was to call in air support and hopefully blow a lot of Viet Cong to kingdom come. The VC's goal was to shoot our radioman before we could call for help. Then they would go after the rest of us, starting with the Lieutenant and medic. My primary job was to protect our radio operator."

I said, "Oh, my God! Jean's brother was a radio operator. I knew it was dangerous to go out on patrol, but I didn't know Robert had a big target on his back."

Derek looked from me to Jean with a puzzled look. "Robert was my platoon's radioman. I thought Jean told you."

It was my turn to be confused. I smiled at our guest and said, "At least he had you to keep him safe."

Derek sighed, "Yeah, until I didn't."

There was a long silence. I drained my wine glass and watched my wife refill it from a third bottle.

Finally, I said, "You were going to tell me about your injury. Did it happen on one of your suicide patrols?"

Derek took a deep breath. "Nothing so heroic. We were 'safe' in an old barn we used as our barracks when it happened. There is no way to tell the Viet Cong from the good guys, so you really cannot trust anyone in the country. They change sides so often that I'm not sure they even know themselves. One day an old Vietnamese laundrywoman can laugh as you spin her around in a quick dance move, and the next day she fires an RPG into your barracks. She killed several men in my platoon. Jean's brother was closer to the explosion, and I saw that he was seriously wounded. I covered his body with mine in case there was a second RPG. Robert would have died from his head wound if a chopper hadn't just landed with supplies. I certainly didn't have his back."

I said, "I don't understand. Your scars don't look like shrapnel wounds."

Derek shook his head as he relived the attack. "A fucking roof beam fell and broke my legs. At least the old lady didn't get ten feet before someone shot her. I'll never know why she did it. Maybe, I'll re-enlist and see if I can find out why."

I was about to comment that maybe the old lady was tired of a long history of foreign invaders when Jean gave me a look, and I kept quiet. Hell, what did I know? Maybe the laundry woman was just having a bad day. More likely, she had been an undercover spy reporting on troop movements.

Instead of picking at old wounds, I asked, "Why return? It sounds like hell on Earth."

"My Mom's gone now, and no college wants a crippled running back. On the other hand, my buddies need me. Even with a slight limp, I can still work a squad automatic weapon. There aren't a lot of guys big enough to do the job."

I sighed as I listened to Derek calmly describe how his dream of using a football scholarship to pay for an engineering degree had been destroyed.

The big guy broke the spell by saying, "Hey, the sunset is getting gorgeous. Jean, why don't you move around to this side of the table so you can watch it too. I have some awesome weed that will make the sunset even better."

Jean laughed and said, "That would be perfect."

Derek and I made room, and Jean squeezed her chair between ours. Derek took a drag and passed the joint to my wife. When it was my turn, I took a deep toke. I barely passed the joint back to Jean before the drug hit like a freight train. Holy shit, this stuff was a lot more potent than the stuff I bought in college town. I sat there staring as the sun's golden orb ducked behind a faraway cloud. The whole sky was a mix of puffy pink and golden clouds. Mozart's spirited music danced in my head.

I got a brilliant idea while staring into the void. I just needed to get Jean into the kitchen where I could flick her 'on' switch." I figured that would give me enough time to serve dessert before sending Derek to bed. Then I would have Jean to myself while she was still out of control.

"Anyone interested in dessert? I made some chocolate mousse that I'll top with whipped cream."

Jean laughed, "Oh God, yes, please. Derek, you have to try some. Steve makes it from scratch using a ton of chocolate."

Derek grinned. "I never turn down anything chocolate. While you're at it, I'll roll another joint."

I said, "Jean, can you help me in the kitchen? I'm a bit wasted."

As I turned for the door, I winked at Jean's friend and said, "Derek, it might take a few minutes, so don't get impatient."

Jean protested when we got inside, "How long can it take to dish up three bowls of pudding?"

Instead of heading for the refrigerator, I pulled Jean into my arms and began kissing her with months of pent-up passion. My wife enthusiastically returned my kiss as my hand slipped under her top. She wrapped her arms around my neck and mewed with growing arousal as my fingers played with her nipples. When she began grinding her crotch against my hardening cock, I knew she was at least as horny as me. In addition, the combination of wine and potent weed had lowered my wife's inhibitions.

I reluctantly abandoned her hard nipples and cupped her firm ass. She pressed her face into the crook of my neck and moaned as my hands massaged her athletic butt. My fingers slowly bunched up the fabric of her thin cotton dress until I had worked the short skirt up to her trim waist. I slipped my thumbs into the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her long, dancer's legs as I sank to my knees. I dropped her moist panties at her feet and lifted her skirt again. I inhaled the tangy scent of her aroused sex. Jean wrapped her fingers around the back of my head as I exhaled sharply against her wet pussy. I felt her body tremble as I licked the sweaty space between her thighs and her engorged labia.

"Oh God, Steve. Please, please, please...."

She didn't need to tell me what she wanted. I knew from long experience what she needed. She would just have to wait, even if she thought I was cruel. I wanted Derek securely in bed before I fucked my young wife's brains out. Once we had dessert, my duties as host would be complete, and I could devote all my attention to Jean. All I wanted to do now was get my wife sufficiently aroused to guarantee I would get lucky later.

I licked my tongue up and down her slit a few times before slipping my middle finger into her dripping wet vagina. She ground her sex around my finger and moaned. She gave a little squeal when my tongue rasped across her clit. Her legs danced as my lips sucked on her hard-little nub. Suddenly, it was like I had flipped on a light switch.

"Oh God, yes, yes, yes...."

I had achieved my goal. Jean was moments away from an orgasm when I sat back on my heels. I grabbed her panties from the floor and stuffed them into my pocket before standing up.

"What? I was so close. Why did you stop?"

I kissed her mouth with lips still wet with her nectar.

"It's called edging. It will make it more intense when we fuck later. I know you said tonight was just practice sex, but I've read that edging makes conception more likely. The technique will be useful when we do it for real. Come on. Let's have some dessert and get Derek to bed. They say chocolate is an aphrodisiac. I think we're in for a sweet night."

"Steve, can I please have my panties back?"

"Why? You don't need them to eat dessert. Besides, you won't be up much longer, and I want you to be thinking about what comes next."

Jean was still highly aroused when we walked back out onto the deck with dessert. As promised, Derek was waiting with another joint. It had only been ten or twelve minutes, but our guest smiled when he saw us carrying three large bowls of chocolate mousse topped with whipped cream.

Eating the decadent dessert after smoking a second joint made me sleepy. I had a full belly, and I had consumed too much wine. It had also been a long, physically strenuous day, and I had worked hard in the lab for weeks.

"Why are you guys so full of energy? I'm toast."

Jean said, "Well, we're on West Coast time, and maybe your long run this morning also has something to do with it."

Derek laughed and said, "I'm cheating. I popped a couple of Dexedrine tablets after my shower."

Jean said, "Maybe Steve and I should take some."

Derek pulled out a bottle and shook a couple of tablets on the table. "Be my guest. It's the least I can do."

Jean looked at me and then grabbed the pills. She quickly swallowed both with a large gulp of wine.

Derek said, "Shit, Jean. Why did you take both of them?"

Jean laughed, "I did a lot of all-nighters in college, and now I use them when I'm holding a vigil for an end-of-life patient. I always take two."

My wife always stayed with her patients as they slipped from life. It's hard to predict when someone will pass, and often her vigil would last longer than expected. She always called me to tell me that she had a patient approaching the end of life. I was also aware that sometimes she used drugs to stay awake for an extended vigil. I admired her dedication, but she always returned physically and emotionally exhausted. If I were to look for the roots of her devotion, I wouldn't have looked further than her father, who abandoned the family when she was a young child. Jean was determined that none of her patients would die alone, without someone at their bedside who loved them.

Derek said, "Damn, Jean, those are military-grade pills. You're going to be really strung out."

Jean grabbed the bottle and read the dosage. "Oh, crap! These are 25 mg. The ones I usually take are only 10 mg. Fuck me! I'm going to be flying all night. I should be OK, but someone will have to watch me for the next five or six hours."

I looked at my wife in disbelief before examining the pill bottle. Dexedrine always left me excitable and incapable of serious work.

I shook my head and said, "Sorry, babe, I must pass. I need to be in the lab early to finish some analysis. I'm nervous about getting it done even without going on an all-night binge."

I was upset with how the evening was turning out. I had planned on Derek retiring to his room soon so I could have sex with my wife for the first time in months. Instead, the tall, muscular soldier and my wife were hopped up on speed. Even though my plan was ruined, I knew I couldn't leave Jean alone. Somehow I had to stay awake even if it meant postponing my research until late in the morning.

Without much conviction, I said, "You can count on me."

Jean looked at me skeptically before turning to Derek and saying, "Maybe another joint would take the edge off of the Dex."

Derek laughed, "Oh sure, ride the tiger."

Jean said, "What?"

"In Nam, we referred to taking an upper and a downer together as riding the tiger. Of course, we were usually talking about mixing heroin and speed. Hell, the CIA dudes had the best heroin. Sorry, I don't have any because it would give you a sweet ride."

I started to protest, but Jean got a word in first, "Thanks, Derek, but the weed will have to do."

The deck had a three-person porch swing, and I said, "Maybe we should move to the swing to watch the sunset."

Jean sat squeezed in the middle of the swing. It was a bit tight because Derek was so large. I blame the wine and weed for what happened while we were all sitting packed together. In any case, it all started innocent enough.

Derek lit up another joint and passed it to Jean. She was getting more animated by the minute. She looked at me and asked, "Interested in a shotgun?"

I smiled and nodded my agreement. Jean spun around and straddled my lap. She gave a flip to her dress before she settled her naked ass on my bare thighs. I felt skin-to-skin contact on my legs as she snuggled up to my body.

She inverted the joint in her mouth and pressed her lips against mine. Her hands wrapped around my neck as she blew a ton of potent smoke into my mouth. My hands clutched her bare midriff. The motion of the swing rocked her naked pussy over my growing erection. I was in heaven.

After giving me a heavy hit, my wife sat back on her butt and took a long drag on the joint. She nervously smiled at me before giving me a very professional lap dance. She quickly made me aware she wasn't wearing any underwear. Since I had removed my underwear the last time I used the bathroom, our private parts were separated only by the thin cotton fabric of my shorts.

That thought, combined with the enthusiastic grinding of her crotch against mine, quickly had me hard. Her movements differed from the bouncing ride she gave me when she rode me cowgirl style. It is my favorite sex position because I have complete access to her breasts, ass, and clit while she's doing all the work. I would have slid my hand under her skirt if Derek weren't sitting next to us. As she ground her sex against me, I wondered where my young, innocent wife had learned this skill. It was the first lap dance she had ever given me.