The Sailor's Wife Ch. 02

Returning to their table, she walked proudly, and once again every man in the place watched her strut. She gave her hand to Glenn and they returned to the dance floor. As she was grooving, she took in the looks of her admirers, and then she saw him - the guy she'd screwed standing at the bar, a bottle in his hand, looking directly at her, daring her to return his gaze. She stumbled, and Glenn caught her. "Is anything wrong?"

"No, I just need to get a breath of air. Let's go home, honey."

"Okay. Just let me finish my beer, okay?" She wanted to scream, 'No, let's leave this very moment,' but being a good wife, she let him sit and sip the brew.

Her back was to the bar, and she saw Glenn look up. Then she felt the hand on the back of her chair, on her back, and heard his voice. "Hi, I'm Jim. Mind if I take your lady out on the dance floor?"

"It's okay with me. Go ahead, Steph."

"No, just let me sit here."

"Oh, come on, just one dance," the other man said.

"Sure, just one, honey."

And she found herself going back out on the dance floor, crowded by now, with this stranger, the one who'd been inside her. As they danced, Jim felt her back, then lower to her rear. She knocked his hand aside, hoping Glenn hadn't seen the advance. "Hey, you're a great piece of ass," the guy loudly whispered into her ear. "I wondered why I hadn't seen you around lately. Why don't you dump that dude and let me take you home again?"

"Get away from me. That's my husband."

"Oh. Shit, he doesn't know about us, does he?"

"There's nothing for him to know, and never will be again. Now leave me alone!" Steph broke off the dance, and walked back to Glenn. She didn't sit down, just stood there, and pleaded, "Honey, take me home."

"Sure." They left the bar, and once again, every guy watched her, hoping she'd be back the next night without the guy.

The walk back was quiet, and although Steph felt a little teary, she refused to let the sentiment out. When they got back to the apartment, they stripped and got into bed. Once again Glenn was ready for her, and she accepted his advances. After a preliminary kiss and suckling of her breast, he moved down to place his mouth between her legs and began to lick her clit. Surprisingly, she found herself aroused. Was it the men who'd watched her, wanted her? As Glenn sucked and put a finger into her, she began to remember how Jim made love to her, how he'd been just a little rough. She remembered the pressure of his body on her, and soon she willed herself to climax. Thinking of Jim, letting Glenn work on her, she groaned and pressed her vagina up into his mouth, making him go deeper, positioning his tongue for her maximum fire. Glenn kept up the tongue action, letting her come, and then he climbed on top of her and entered her. As he thrust in and out of her, she accepted the movement, and pushed back. Soon, Glenn was straightening, coming himself, and Steph held him, drew him into her with her legs, making sure that his climax was as good as hers had been. At last he collapsed on her, breathing heavily, and she held his head, stroked his back.

He rolled off her, and she turned on her side and put her head on his shoulder. "You're beautiful," he flattered, "every guy in the bar wanted to come home with you tonight, you know."

And then, she couldn't hold the tears back any longer. Softly, silently, she wept, and Glenn held her, comforted her, kissed her eyes to wipe the sadness away. "Shhh, shh, it's okay." When she stopped sobbing, he asked, "What's wrong?"

Was this a good time to tell him how she'd betrayed him, not once but twice? Was there ever a good time, would there ever be? After a few moments she responded, "It's just that I'm going to miss you so much when you leave again."

"Me too, honey. Can I ask you a question?" She knew he could feel her nod. "Did you like the way the guys paid attention to you?"

She knew she did, hungered for it even. "Yes, but I liked you being with me better."

"Honey, when I'm out at sea, do you ever go down there?"

"Just a couple of times."

"Do the guys hit on you?"

"Yeah."

"What do you do when they do?"

"I tell them I'm married, and they stop it."

"Have you ever felt tempted to . . . well, you know."

"Would you be ashamed of me if I was tempted?"

"No, good lord, no. Hey, you're a beautiful woman."

"Well, then, yes. I've thought about it once or twice."

"But you've never done anything, right?"

She hesitated, then lied, "No, never."

"But if you had, you'd tell me, right?"

"Of course! But I haven't, I haven't." She was stepping into dangerous territory here, and she knew it. So she brought out the ultimate weapon, a woman's tears.

Once again he comforted her, and whispered, "I know you haven't baby. I just wanted to hear you tell me, that's all." She allowed herself to be comforted, and then they slept in each other's arms.

The next day, a Saturday, a wonderful day they could spend enjoying each other's company. Steph was up before he was, and by the time he woke and splashed water on his face, she had the coffee percolating and slices of sourdough dipped in egg batter, waiting to become French Toast. The late morning was spent on a trip to Berkeley and a stop at Moe's Books. Glen bought two cartons of used paperbacks, fodder for the nine months of separation he and his shipmates would endure. Later that day, they drove across the Bay Bridge, parked near Market Street and strolled the streets of San Francisco.

As they walked through Upper Grant Street hand in hand, they chatted about their families, their plans for what would happen after the cruise, when he was discharged, their hopes. Somewhere during their conversation, Stephanie asked, "Glen, why did you ask me about going to bars while you were away?"

"Oh, that. I'm sorry honey. I didn't mean to accuse you or anything. It's just that there's this guy in my division, and on the last cruise he spent a lot of time with hookers in the Philippines. We got to talking while we were out this last time, and I asked him if his wife knew about it, or what she'd think of it. He just told me that it didn't matter, that his wife was probably out screwing too, like all the other navy wives did. It just got me to thinking, that's all. Last night you were looking so good, and the guys were checking you out, and I just wondered how you handled them. I'm sorry if I hurt you."

Stephanie felt a gush of relief. So he didn't know, didn't really suspect after all! Wait a minute though, was he telling her . . . "Honey, have you ever gone out with a prostitute?"

"What! No! I wouldn't do that on you." Prodded by a few of her questions, he told her about the scene in Olangapo where the carriers docked every month. About the hookers in the bars who wouldn't leave you alone until you bought a drink for them, sugared water. And then they'd sit there with you, trying to get you to take them to a hotel. When they realized you just wanted to sit and drink a beer, they'd leave you alone for a little while.

"Did you ever think about taking one upstairs?" Stephanie asked.

Glen blushed. "Well, yeah, I guess I have every once in awhile. But I've never done it."

"Have you ever kissed one of them?"

"Yeah." He looked ashamed of himself. "Once when I was real drunk, one of the girls sat on my lap, and . . . well, I'm sorry honey."

"Oh, that's all right, baby. You get tempted out there, too."

Later, Glenn bought her dinner at a dive down near Fisherman's Wharf, and then they took a cable car back to their car. It was a wonderful ride, up the hills into the fog, and Stephanie sat on his lap as the trolley sped around the curves and down the hills.

When they returned to their apartment, Stephanie disappeared into the bathroom and put on a negligee Glenn liked. When she came into the living room, they made love on the floor, sweet rhythmic love, and it lasted for a very long time, ending only when Steph finally faked an orgasm. Afterwards, she laid face down on the floor, letting Glenn rub her naked back, and asked him, "Am I as exciting as those girls in the Philippines?"

"Oh, Stephanie," he groaned sadly, "you're much more beautiful than they are."

When she heard the pain in his voice, she realized how much the jest had hurt him. She sat up and hugged him. "I didn't mean that, dear. I was just joking." She felt him relax in her arms, and then a slight hardening in his dick. She decided she owed him, and bent to take his manhood into her mouth. He leaned against the couch and let her lick and suck him into a full erection, and, eventually, to a state of near orgasm. As she worked on him, and felt the first drops of clear liquid ooze from the tip of the penis, she remembered the last time she'd done this, to Chuck. She kept working on him, and decided that when he came, she'd let him have everything she could give him. But when she felt the first gush of sperm hit the back of her throat, it was almost involuntary - she released the cock from her mouth and forced him to release into the air. When he was done though, she wiped most of the sperm from the tip, and licked it, giving him a little more pleasure. As she brought him down, she heard herself say, perhaps a little guiltily, "Dear, if you ever did go to bed with a prostitute, just because you were lonely and missing me, I don't think I'd mind. Just as long as she didn't mean anything to you, and you remembered you were married to me."

"Honey, I'm not going to do anything like that," he protested.

"But if you do, it'll be okay." And that closed that subject.

The next day, Stephanie told Glenn he could pick anything they wanted to do. She thought maybe he'd want to drive down to Monterey, or up to Mount Tamalpais or Muir Woods, but he surprised her; he decided that he'd like to go over and swim and sun at Alameda Beach. As soon as he said it, she blanched; why did he have to pick out the only other spot she'd picked a guy up? She tried to talk him out of it sweetly, reminding him of all the other things there were to do in the Bay Area, but he was adamant, reminding her she gave him the choice. She gave in, reluctantly, and when she picked out a black one-piece summing suit, he begged her to wear his favorite, the yellow bikini. By the time they'd packed the beach bag she was in a tizzy, thinking about how she might run into Chuck, but there was little she could do; she felt trapped.

By the time they'd stopped by a fast food joint for lunch then headed for the beach, she was feeling better; what were the chances Chuck would be there, anyway? And she'd better learn to live with her mistakes, after all.

For an hour they swam and played frisbee, then they sunned themselves on the sand. Glenn wanted to swim again, but Steph was warm and happy. "You go ahead, dear."

She watched him playing in the bay, leaping in and out of the minuscule waves, and knew she loved him. Suddenly, she was startled by a voice behind her. "How 'ya doin'?" Her heart leapt to her throat.

"Just fine. How long have you been here?" she replied to Chuck.

"About half an hour or so. Is that your old man?"

"Um-hmm."

"He's leaving soon, isn't he?"

"Next Tuesday."

"Can I have a beer?"

"No." Suddenly, she saw that Glenn was coming out of the water and would be approaching soon. "Listen," she said to the boy standing over her, "you better get out of here. I don't want my husband to suspect anything, okay?"

"Sure. See you around." He lurked off, and before he'd walked 20 yards, Glenn was back, lying beside her again.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"Oh, just some kid."

"What did he want?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to know what time it was."

"Was he trying to pick you up?"

"Maybe. I told him to go away."

"He was pretty young," Glenn observed. When Stephanie didn't respond, he said, "Looks like they try to pick you up everyplace, don't they? Can't say I blame them. You're beautiful, and sexy too. Particularly in that swim suit. It doesn't hide very much, you know."

Stephanie smiled at him, and turned towards him. She stroked the chest hairs lovingly. "You like that, don't you, how I'm half naked?"

"Yeah."

"Do you mind if other guys look at me, too?"

"No."

"But you know my body is only for you, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess so," he replied. She thought she detected suspicion in his tone of voice.

Stephanie wanted him to believe her, to accept her promise of fidelity, even though she knew it was false. His ambivalent response ticked her off. "What do you mean, 'I guess so?'"

"Geez, I didn't mean anything."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Of course I do, honey." He should have stopped there, but he continued on, "It's just that I saw the guys last night, and that guy today, and I don't know, I just wonder, that's all."

"So you think I'll go screw around on you?"

"No, that's not it at all. Well, I mean . . ." He was flustered now, wanted to get out of the brewing argument, but he was trapped. "It's just that, I don't know, you're so sexy, and you'll be alone for nine months, and there's all these guys around, and, oh hell . . ."

She sprang to her feet and began to angrily pick up the blanket, bag and her shoes. "Maybe I will go have an affair then! If I'm going to get blamed for it, I might as well do it, don't you think?"

By the time he thought of a reasonable response, she was halfway to the car. When he caught up with her, he said, "I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean it. Please, forgive me." There on the sands of Alameda, he took her in his arms and kissed her, hoping she would forgive him.

The rest of the afternoon and that evening weren't easy though. They both knew their time together was drawing to a close, and they silently worried about it.

The work week went slowly by. Glenn had the duty on Monday and Friday, nights he couldn't come home. In their time together, the dinners, the evenings, the nights - some of them spent in making love - and the wakings, they counted the moments until he was gone. Nothing was said about other lovers, the subject had become taboo.

She picked Glenn up on Saturday just after morning muster, and transported him back to the apartment. In the kitchen she asked him what he wanted for breakfast, and he didn't surprise her when he pulled her closer to him, sitting on his lap. Hungrily he stripped the clothes off her, revealing her midriff, then her brassiere, her breasts, with the rosy circles surrounding the proud nipples he chewed until they rose from the tit. Then he made her stand up and peeled her jeans and panties down, exposing her pubic hair to his sight, his touch. He got her to sit down on the dinette and put his lips to the deep gully. As he excited her with his tongue, she let her mind go, and images of another lover came into her fantasy. Her husband put his finger into her pussy, but it was someone else, and it excited her. Slowly she inflamed, and he stayed with her until she was gasping for breath, letting the pangs of passion overcome her, flow within her. He stopped and rolled her over until she was lying, face down, on the table, and he unzipped and entered her. Strongly he thrust into her, in and out, over and over again, and still she came, thinking not about Glenn, but about another man, any man. He was pushing her around, and she grabbed the far end of the table so she could shove back. Glenn kept lunging at her, burying his prick inside of her until it would go no further, pulling it out again and savagely pushing it into her again. She whimpered in pleasure, and then she felt him stop and go rigid, having his own orgasm, grunting as the spend poured into her. Her own come slackened, and she felt him resume the motion, this time less fervently, finishing himself off. When he released her, she turned to kiss him and he put his hand between her legs, feeling the slimy residue of their love making. Later, she scrambled eggs for him, dressed only in her birthday suit, letting him take in the sight of her mature but young body, hoping that when he was thousands of miles away from her, he'd remember the bliss.

That day was spent as so many other days were, doing nothing in particular, enjoying the company of the other, being with their only lovers. That night, after they'd crawled into bed, Glenn attacked her again. Oh, there was foreplay, but Stephanie wasn't able to become excited, and when he finally climbed on top of her and put his prick at the entrance to her womb, she faked pleasure, hoping that he wouldn't discover the ruse. She tried to tighten her vaginal muscles around him as he bellowed in rapture.

As he lay there, winded, she stroked him and told him how good he was.

"Am I really?" he asked.

"Of course you are," she fibbed.

"Am I big enough for you?"

It was the first time he'd ever brought up the subject, and it shocked her. "Sure, honey, you're just the right size for me. Why do you ask?"

"One of the guys had a magazine on the boat last night, a real raunchy one, and the guys had really big ones. I just wondered what you thought, that's all. Do you think other guys might be bigger than me?"

She remembered the two other pricks that had previously skewered her, how they'd seemed to be about the same size as Glenn, and just as quickly remembered that she could never, ever let him know about them. "I don't know, honey, how could I?"

"But if some other guy was bigger, do you think you'd like him more?"

"Oh, no, I love you!" she protested.

"Do you ever wonder what another guy would be like, though?"

"Once in awhile, I guess."

"And . . ." He waited.

"And what?"

"Well, what would you like the other guy to be like?" As he asked the question, he put his finger to her button and started rubbing. This time the stroking, coupled with the fantasy brewing within her, began to bring a flush to her cheeks.

"Do you really want me to tell you what my dream man would be like?"

"Yeah," he whispered, putting a finger inside of her.

For a few seconds she considered the question, letting the illusion rise, responding to his digit pulsating inside of her, and then she asked, "Are you sure?"

"Tell me," he ordered.

"He'd be a lot like you . . ." she began.

"No, make him different than me." For a few seconds she hesitated, and then he encouraged her, "Maybe that guy in the bar the other night, the one who tried to feel your ass."

"That guy?" Suddenly she remembered Jim. If this was what Glenn wanted, she decided, she'd give it to him.

"Yeah, him. What would you do to him at the bar?"

"I'd dance with him, some fast dances, and then a slow one would come on. He'd put his hand on my butt, and I wouldn't make him take it away."

"Cause you want him, right?"

"Yeah. Then it would be time to leave, and he'd offer to take me home." Glenn was continuing to push his finger in and out of her, and the friction was beginning to have the desired effect. "Uh, we'd get into his car, and I'd let him kiss me."

"Would he try to feel your breast?"

"Yes, he'd put his hand under my blouse and pull my bra down. Then he'd start pinching my nipple." The hand that Glenn wasn't using to stroke her clitoris stole to her tit and began to tweak the nipple, just as her fantasy man was doing. "Harder than that," she told him, and a quick twinge of pain and pleasure excited her. "Then he'd drive me home, and he'd ask if he could come upstairs with me."

"Would you let him?"

"Yes."

She was pushing back at his finger, trying to get it further up, and then Glenn asked, "What would you do when you got into the apartment?"

"We'd sit down on the couch, and we'd start kissing again. He'd pull my blouse off me and I'd take my bra off for him." This was exactly what had happened with Jim, she was reliving her first time with someone other than Glenn. "He'd start sucking on me, first one tit and then the other." Glenn mimicked her whimsy. "Then he'd go down further on me, and get my pants down."