Jean’s Wounded Warrior Ch. 01

After letting out my lungful of potent smoke, I took a couple of deep breaths. My loving wife leaned in again. She rubbed her body against mine as she blew the potent marijuana into my lungs. I couldn't stop myself any longer, and I eagerly slid my hand under her top and captured her breast on the side hidden from Derek. She squirmed in my lap as my fingers closed around her nipple. I pulled and rolled her nipple until it became firm in my grasp. Jean sat back as I held in the smoke and took another hit herself. Her luscious body rolled over my hard cock as we rocked back and forth on the swing.

Jean looked over at Derek and asked, "You interested in a hit?"

"Oh, please."

Jean laughed and practically jumped onto Derek's lap. She left me with an erection tenting my shorts. Before sitting on his massive black thighs, she gave a flip to her dress, just as she had done with me. Derek looked surprised when he felt her naked ass sliding over his bare thighs. Perhaps, he thought she was wearing a thong, but I knew better.

I watched with growing excitement as Jean gave Derek nearly the same treatment I had received. She pressed her lips against his and gave him a long hit of the potent weed. She didn't push her breasts against his body, but she was giving him a hell of a lap dance while he held his breath. I knew that the only thing between her bare pussy and his cock was his sheer nylon shorts, which were much thinner than my cotton ones. Derek seemed content to keep his massive hands resting on her bare waist. His dark hands made a striking contrast with her pale skin.

She took another hit before pressing her mouth against his again. She sat there with one hand around his neck and one on his muscular chest as she blew more smoke into his open mouth. I swear she was caressing his nipple through his tee shirt.

Derek took her absent-minded play as an invitation. He dropped his hand onto my wife's bare leg just above her knee. The big soldier didn't try to hide anything. I could clearly see his coal-black hand on her pale white leg. When she sat back and took another hit off the joint, he began caressing her pale thigh from her knee to the bottom of her short skirt that had ridden up high on her dance-toned legs. When she rocked forward to give him another hit, I was stunned as he slowly slid his massive black hand under her skirt.

Jean jumped as if a hot branding iron had poked her. I suppressed a laugh as my wife spit out the joint and yelled at the sheepish soldier who'd just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Damn it, Derek, we've talked about this before. You can't just grab a woman's ass whenever you get the urge. Besides, I'm a married woman."

Derek mumbled, "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

At first, I was puzzled by her retort. Had Derek made a pass at her before tonight? Just how long had Jean known this muscular soldier? When my wife first introduced us, she implied they had met on the plane. Despite how messed up my head was, I realized she might have met Derek in the Army hospital where her brother was also being treated. After all, Derek and Robert were in the same platoon and had been injured in the same attack.

With peace restored, Jean sat between us and leaned her head on my shoulder. She took a deep breath and draped one leg over my thigh as the three of us stared at the spectacular sunset.

I glanced over at Derek and couldn't miss my wife's effect on him. If she had left me with a hill in my shorts, Derek was displaying Mount Everest. His tiny shorts barely covered his monstrous erection. There was a wet circle where the fat head of his cock pressed against his shorts. I was afraid if he adjusted his cock for comfort, the tip would protrude above the waistband. All I got was a glance before he hid it with his hand. I wondered what Jean had thought when she felt it rubbing against her pussy. Maybe that explained why she gave him a longer ride than me.

By now, the sunset was close to its peak. As the sun continued to sink behind the distant hill, the colors on the clouds slowly changed from gold to dark red before fading. My gaze was fixated on the sunset. However, my fingers were lazily tracing a path from my wife's knee up the soft flesh of her inner thigh. I should have known better, but I ran my fingertips slightly higher each time I stroked her athletic leg. Perhaps the gorgeous sunset and the lyrical notes of Mozart's Clarinet Concerto combined with the weed and wine made me forget about Derek. In any case, my thoughts focused on the soft flesh of my wife's inner thigh.

Jean's breathing became deeper as my hand began slowly pushing the light fabric of her skirt higher until her pussy was barely concealed. When my hand slid under her short skirt, I was happy to find that her pussy was wet and engorged. My next pass up her leg ended with my fingers slipping up the middle of her moist slit. Jean inhaled sharply, and I felt her leg jerk when my fingertips brushed over her clit.

I couldn't help myself and continued caressing my wife's pussy. I began each stroke by caressing the soft inner flesh of Jean's athletic leg before finishing with my fingers sliding through the curls covering her labia until they brushed over her hard clit. I was encouraged by regular shudders and moans. Jean's eyes were closed, but she was breathing heavily. She appeared to be in a trance. Perhaps, I would get lucky tonight despite everything.

My eyes flew open, and I yelled when my hand bumped into Derek's massive mitt. "What the fuck?"

Although the light was dim, I saw Jean's other leg resting on Derek's massive thigh. His hand was high up on Jean's leg, inches from my wife's sex. He jerked his hand away. I saw the flash of his white teeth as he mouthed the word, 'Sorry.'

Our clumsy actions ripped Jean from the spell our gentle caresses had put her under. She squealed and yelled at us. "Assholes! I don't want to know what is going through your testosterone-fueled brains, but the answer is no."

Jean stormed off into the house. Derek and I sat back on the porch swing. What the fuck had made me do that? Now my wife was pissed at me, and the party was over. My plans for the night were probably over as well.

I was nearly blinded when the deck lights came on. Thankfully, Jean quickly dimmed them to a soft glow. The music on the speakers switched to a waltz, and my wife joined us on the deck.

Jean said, "I put on my ballroom dance tape. Come on, Steve, dance with me."

I had practiced the waltz enough with Jean that she no longer had to count out the beat. After a minute of basic steps around the deck, I led Jean into an inside turn. I raised my hand, and Jean spun around. It was a simple move and one of the few I knew besides the basic steps. I think Jean was pleased with my progress.

Jean hissed in my ear, "Nice move. Just don't do it again."

Of course, I did it again. Next time, I gave Jean a little push with my hand on her lower back. She spun faster, and her skirt swirled around her waist. I caught the whites of our black guest's eyes flash at the sight. I'd bet he was left wondering if Jean was wearing a skimpy black thong or, by some miracle, dancing commando.

Jean hissed in my ear. "Damn it, Steven. I told you to stop! Derek saw everything."

Jean never calls me Steven unless she's angry. I grinned but forced myself to stop spinning her, at least for now. Hey, it wasn't my fault she was conditioned to do a spin whenever her partner raised his arm overhead. Nothing said she had to follow my lead.

We finished the rest of the dance, and I managed not to step on Jean's feet once. I pushed my wife into a more vigorous spin at the end of the piece. I stepped back and bowed while Derek grinned and clapped in appreciation.

Jean threw her arms around my neck and gave me what must have looked like an enthusiastic hug. Her mouth next to my ear whispered otherwise.

"Steven, you can be such an asshole. Well, two can play that game."

Jean had barely broken a sweat, but I was breathing hard, and sweat was pouring off my tired overheated body. It had cooled off some from the intense heat and humidity of the day, but it was still too warm for me. The following number on the tape was out of my league. It was a peppy swing dance. I waved Jean off as I sat down.

Jean said, "Derek, I think you said you knew how to do the swing. Come on, let's see what you've got."

I guess Derek's physical therapy was working because they were impressive together. Swing dancing is very energetic and involves a lot of quick moves. Jean's skirt swirled back and forth around her waist. I now knew why Derek had been grinning when he watched us dance. I saw lovely flashes of my young wife's firm ass and dark pubic hair.

Jean and Derek were sweating profusely by the time the number ended. I entered the kitchen and fetched a large pitcher of ice water and a bottle of cold Prosecco. When I got back out, they were performing a slow dance. Derek's hand was on the bare skin at the small of Jean's back, and she pressed tight against his hard body. When the number finished, Derek led Jean over to join me for a drink of water. The poor guy was still suffering from a massive erection. While they were gulping down the water, I popped the cork on the bubbly Italian white wine.

I proposed a toast, "Here's to a wonderful day. My wife is back home, and I get to host a brave soldier who saved my brother-in-law's sorry ass."

We clinked glasses and sipped our sparkling wine. Jean had difficulty standing still, and her body swayed to the beat of the music. On the other hand, I was crashing and crashing hard. I couldn't last any longer. I surrendered to the inevitable. The one good thing was that if I went to bed now, I could get up at a reasonable time and start working on my analysis.

I said, "Unfortunately, I have to get up early. Derek, I hope you will keep an eye on Jean. I'm still nervous about how much Dexedrine Jean took."

"No worries, man. I won't sleep until she crashes."

A slow waltz began playing, and Jean said, "Steve, how about one last dance?"

I held out my arms, and she pressed against my body. We danced this one slower and closer together. As we glided around the deck, my hand dropped from the middle of her back to massage her ass. Her athletic butt felt heavenly under the thin skirt. Jean rested her head on my chest and pressed her crotch against my thigh. I moved my other hand under her top and squeezed her breast. My wife moaned when I gently twisted her hard nipple. Jean kissed my neck and dropped her hands to my ass. She pulled me tight against her warm body. My hand found its way to her lower back and slid beneath the elastic waistband of her skirt. Damn, I loved the feel of her bare, curvy ass. All those years of dance lessons had given Jean a magnificent butt.

I knew Derek was watching, but I didn't care. We were on the far side of the deck from him in the shadows. I whispered in Jean's ear, "How about coming upstairs for a quickie? You can come back down afterward and wait with Derek until you come off the Dexedrine."

Jean pulled back and gave me a passionate kiss on the lips. Her tongue plunged into my mouth. I tasted smoky chocolate while the fragrance of a hot, sweaty woman filled my nose.

Jean broke the kiss and said, "Maybe later. I'm so twitchy right now that I could explode. Would you mind if I woke you in the middle of the night?"

I sighed, "Sure, anytime you feel like it. Sorry, I'm not the night owl you thought you married."

Jean often teased me when I went to bed early. When we met, I was a graduate student and had to work late, whether I liked it or not. As a result, Jean thought I was a night owl like her, but I am a morning person in reality.

Jean whispered what I took for an apology. "I thought Derek was doing better, but he's in a crisis tonight. I can't leave him alone. When I found out he had taken Dexedrine, I took some too, so I could stay awake and watch over him. He should be all right once he gets to Fort Drum. Derek does better when he's around other soldiers in a structured environment. I'm sorry that I spoiled your plans for tonight. I was looking forward to a night of passion with my loving husband."

It was evident to me that Derek was depressed even though I was not a trained psychologist. Despite my disappointment, I admired Jean's devotion to helping people in times of distress. I had become used to her vigils for the elderly.

"Jean, I'll survive one more night of celibacy. Do what you have to do. We have the rest of our lives to share."

"Do you mind if Derek and I keep dancing? I think it helps my mania. I can turn the music down."

"You know I can sleep through a nuclear blast. If it helps, dance the night away."

Well, that's not entirely true that I can sleep through anything. I never have trouble falling asleep if I am tired, and tonight I was exhausted. However, I often have difficulty getting back to sleep if I wake up. Some of my best ideas come when I am awake in the middle of the night. Jean assumed I always stayed asleep through the night just like she did.

I shook Derek's hand and wished him well. Jean planned on driving him to Fort Drum tomorrow.

"If I don't see you in the morning, I hope everything works out. It's been a pleasure meeting you."

Derek dropped my hand and wrapped his massive arms around me. He gave me a bear hug and lifted me off the ground.

"You guys have been great. You have no idea how much I appreciate your pulling me out of my funk."

I went upstairs and closed the squeaky door to the master bedroom. I opened the sliding door to the balcony hoping for a breeze and aimed the floor fan at my side of the bed. After pulling the blankets down, I collapsed on top of the sheets wearing nothing more than my boxers. I was left alone with my thoughts.

I felt frustrated. My plans for passionate sex with my wife had gone up in smoke. Instead, Derek and Jean were high on speed and keeping watch on each other. My wife had 'accidentally' taken a heavy dose of Dexedrine because she was worried her friend might harm himself if left alone. The big friendly soldier had promised to stay with Jean until she came down.

I wasn't worried, knowing that Derek was obviously in love with my wife. Jean was a trained psychologist and knew how to handle challenging patients. Several times tonight, I had watched her rebuff his advances with ease.

I felt sorry for Derek. The young soldier had sacrificed his dreams to protect his country. I understood my wife's desire to keep him safe. It was what she was her instincts and training told her to do.

After tossing and turning for a few minutes, I fell asleep despite the summer heat. The last sound I heard was a lively dance number and the sound of Jean's laughter.

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Author's Note

I usually post in "Nonconsent / Reluctance"; however, I believe the most suitable category for this story is "Interracial." I'll never post in "Loving Wives" again because of bad experiences with the contradictory expectations of the readers of that section. I find cheating spouse stories intriguing even though my wife and I have been faithful to each other since our marriage many years ago.

Thanks to an Anonymous reader who noticed this story had not been posted even though it was listed as already published in my post "Jean - A Chronology." I revised the story and added more chapters.

According to 'Jean - A Chronology,' the story was set in the late 1970s when the motivating event in my life occurred, but it works better in the Vietnam War era.