The Week I Cheated – part 1
Introduction:
Time away from home results in an affair best forgotten
We were just reservists – having been shipped off to Camp Pendleton for our annual 2-week duty. Our platoon commander released us early, just after lunch, a four-hour gift for good performance. The taxi drivers were charging an arm and a leg to drive anywhere in town, so the “Eagle Globe & Anchor Club” was packed. Anybody with military credentials was allowed to bring a guest on base and it seemed like every available female in Oceanside was there – along with lots of horny, aggressive young men with Casanova complexes. I’m not sure I’ve ever been in a place with so much tension.
Our large group of 20 broke into smaller bunches as soon as we got in. Four of the guys decided they were going to hustle some pool money, a few headed straight to the bar to order an armful of drinks, the suave set danced their way over to the DJ and started making requests. Pretty soon it was just me and one 18-year-old private, a recent transplant from Iowa, sitting at a table nursing our beers. He told me he’d never been in a club like this, as he fidgeted in his seat like he was being sent to the principal’s office. I was encouraging him to relax and just enjoy the atmosphere when I saw the three ladies walk around the end of the bar.
This trio was obviously a tight-knit group. They wore similar low neckline, high cut dresses; none were wearing a bra and they finished each other’s sentences. They parked themselves just a few feet from us at the end of the bar, but were talking so loudly over the music that their entire conversation cascaded our way. I don’t believe the innocent Iowan knew women spoke such words – but despite his shock, he seemed to be enjoying himself. When the most bubbly of the three leaned over and asked him what time it was, I thought he might hurt himself from smiling too hard. I, too, was intrigued by their talk – and was perhaps being too obvious about it when I looked up to see why they stopped. All three of them were looking at us with sly smiles and a look of fake horror that they had been eavesdropped upon.
“Well,” said the brunette, “if you’re going to listen to us talk, you should at least buy us a drink.”
“Yeah, we’re thirsty.” The one without the watch added, grinning her cutesy grin right at Iowa.
I looked at him, nodded to vacate the table, and we joined them at the bar. They all had favorite drinks, and since the price of booze on a military base is ridiculously cheap, it was no problem keeping their glasses full. We’d been snared by two lonely wives and one divorcee. The ladies with husbands on duty in the Western Pacific (usually Okinawa), were known as West-Pac widows – young brides typically bored, lonely and horny. Their men were several thousand miles away and communication from them was sparse. Some managed to make it through the many months that their men were gone, but the stories about the ones who couldn’t were near-legend. I had my doubts about how true these tales were, but one thing was certain, our ladies had no problem talking about sexual matters in front of perfect strangers.
In the first 30 minutes I learned that Becky, the one who made the drink demand, was multi-orgasmic and only knew that due to her own self-help because her husband wouldn’t spend more than 2 minutes at a time on oral sex. Carla, the perky one with the curly blonde bob wasn’t sure if she had ever really had a real orgasm at all. And Jessy had a husband who wouldn’t let her perform oral sex on him because, as he said to her once, “a real lady would never put a dick in her mouth”. The more drinks we poured, the more explicit the details became. There was no question Carla had her sights set on Iowa, but he had no clue. I had yet to figure out if one of the others was angling for me or not despite the fact that I was the most sober of the bunch. Just as Jessy was describing the shape of her favorite bedside toy, Becky spoke up.
“I’ve got to dance, man. Come on, who’s gonna dance with me?”
Iowa hopped right up and took her hand, not noticing the pronounced pout on Carla’s face.
“What’s the matter, you don’t dance?” Jessy asked me with a disapproving look.
“I’m just not as quick as my buddy, I guess.”
“Well you have figured out that Becky is hot for you, right?” The alcohol in Jessy was eliminating any subtlety.
I did not respond, instead I took another swig of my beer and looked out there at the two of them. Becky was giving me the full-on stare down as she danced with Iowa. It was some kind of country-rock song and he was into it – she wasn’t. Carla was dancing right there at the bar as if she was dancing with Iowa, shaking her hips and pumping her fists energetically. Jessy gave me a grin and stood a little closer.
“Look, I’m not trying to be her pimp or anything, but the only reason we came all the way over here was ‘cause she wanted to get a better look at you. She thinks you’re cute. I think she’s right, but she saw you first and that’s our rule.” She sucked down the last of her fizzy drink and turned back towards her dancing friend.
I furrowed my brow at her a bit and smiled as I wondered if any man stood a chance with motivated women like these on the prowl. I was sure they had noticed the wedding ring on my finger, and even more sure that they didn’t care. It had been a rough several months for my marriage after I discovered my wife had a one-night fling behind my back. I guess I rationalized that this opportunity was a form of payback, even though I was still pretty unsure about what was going on. In any case, I was in a “what the fuck” kind of mood.
Carla danced her way out to Iowa and Becky near the end of the tune creating a perfect chance for the pairing-off to go the ways the girls wanted it to. Becky sashayed off the dance floor towards me flicking her chocolate brown hair off of her face as she took notice of the fresh drink waiting for her.
“Are you a gentleman or just trying to get me sloshed?” she asked.
“I might be both.” I told her as I let my eyes graze obviously over her. She sipped her drink and kept looking me square in the eyes.
She wasn’t ‘beautiful’ by any means – rather a plain face with large hazel eyes. She wore little makeup. Her body was firm, but round through the hips and ass. Her breasts were probably just barely C cups, the kind that came to distinct points with perpetually stiff nipples. When she turned her body quickly, they kept jiggling a bit after she stopped. Her legs were probably her best feature – very taut and lean. I was just finishing my inspection near her ankles when she slipped off her shoes.
“I never should have gone out there, now my feet are killing me.” She rubbed the top of one foot with the bottom of the other.
“That’s a shame.” I said, peering up at the fake ouchie-face she was making.
“I need someone to rub them.” Becky said as she motioned back towards my original table – recently vacated by other patrons.
I sat down and pulled a second chair out so that it was facing me. “Well, I’m as close to a foot masseuse as you’re going to get around here.” I proclaimed as I patted the empty chair across from me. I made a show of cracking my knuckles, stretching my fingers and getting myself mentally prepared to rub her feet. She slipped into the chair with a wide grin and plopped one foot right up into the middle of my lap. She was casually dangling her shoes from one hand while she sipped her drink. Her eyes caught Carla and Iowa squeezed up close during a slower song. She was about to make a comment about them when she switched gears.
“Ooooooooooh my.” She said softly as I took her foot in both hands and firmly slid my thumbs up the middle. She turned slowly back towards me and smiled wider. “Keep that up and I might take you home.”
“I can be expensiv-“ I started to caution her.
“She’ll take you home anyways.” Jessy stated, pulling an unoccupied chair from a neighboring table and joining us again. “and she’ll hustle you out of your money if you let her talk you into poker.” I chuckled and shook my head a little at how forward these women were, but kept giving Becky a thorough foot massage while Jessy rambled. Becky almost spit her drink out, slapping her friend across the arm playfully when Jessy suggested they cut a deck and high card would get me for the weekend. That train of thought was interrupted when Carla and Iowa came bouncing back from the dance floor. I motioned to Becky to switch feet.
“I’m sure the other one is getting jealous.” I said
“I’m sure you’re right.” Becky agreed, her voicing dripping with sensuality “don’t leave me unfinished.”
Carla was ready to leave – her groping of Iowa was an obvious clue. He gave me a huge, goofy grin and a double eyebrow raise to indicate he felt like he had won the lottery. Jessy suggested the two of them just hop into the restroom and get it over with. It took all of my discipline not to burst out laughing when Carla told her to fuck off in the most polite way I’d ever heard. Jessy ignored her and seemed to be getting pissy about being a 5th wheel when Oscar, one of the wanna-be pool players, wandered by.
“What’s up, L7?” he asked, using my nickname as he slapped my back.
“Just performing some emergency first aid. This poor woman could hardly walk before I came to her rescue.” I claimed as I looked back at her. Becky stuck her tongue out at me.
“Where have you been all night?” Jessy demanded of Oscar.
“Uhhm,” he stammered, giving her a once over, “just shooting some pool, honey. What’s up?”
“I’ve been waiting here for an hour, dammit.” It was hard to tell if Jessy was faking her anger or not. Oscar was up to the challenge.
“I’m worth the wait, honey,” he laughed at himself and slapped my back again.
Carla and Iowa were making out at the end of the bar when Jessy took charge, announcing to all of us that it was time to go. Oscar nodded his head deeply as if he were bobbing to some silent Reggae beat. Becky tilted her head back as far as it would go and let out a deep sigh. Carla handed her purse to Iowa and he grabbed it like they had been married for a decade. I just kept rubbing Becky’s foot and peeking at the lovely expanse of thigh exposed to me when she leaned back. I wanted to massage her great legs and then some – I felt a sharp tingle of lust as I imagined what the rest of her skin would feel like under my fingers.
“Come on, you,” Jessy encouraged Becky, “he can keep feeling you out at my place.”
“Shut up, you slut.” Becky told her as she looked back at me. She pouted and slip her foot out of my hand and back into her shoe. “You wanna come over and play some cards or something?” Her actual invitation sounded sincere and I was flattered to be the only one of the three guys who actually got an invite instead of a demand.
“Great,” I replied, smiling back at her, “I’d like that.”
Oscar “yahoooed!” out the window of Jessy’s car as they sped off in front of us. I wondered if we would see either of those two the rest of the weekend. Carla giggled as Iowa held the back door open for her, and I made myself comfortable in the front seat next to Becky. Although we started some conversation as we headed to Becky’s off-base house, soon there were only sloppy wet noises coming from the back seat as Carla and Iowa made out like a couple of horny high schoolers. During the ride I did learn that Becky had been married for not quite three years, had a 15-month old son who was staying at her aunt’s house for the weekend, and was really worried that her car would need some expensive repairs soon. She definitely seemed less aggressive than she did in the bar, and perhaps not quite as drunk as I took her to be.
I spotted Oscar smoking a cigarette alone in front of the house Becky was parking next to, and soon Jessy appeared out of the front door two houses down the street with some bottles in her hand. She hooted loudly when she saw us all getting out of the car. Iowa seemed particularly eager to get to the bathroom as he held his coat in front of himself and fidgeted some more. Jessy and Oscar scurried right over to the kitchen and rattled the glasses and ice together loud enough to wake the neighbors. I noticed Carla leaning near the bathroom waiting for Iowa to come out – and she didn’t look as perky as she did earlier. She walked away as I knocked on the door.
“Hey, you alright farmboy?” I asked with a chuckle.
“Anyone else there?” he sounded really nervous.
“Carla just left for a second but I’m sure she’ll be right back.” I assured him.
“God dammit” he hissed – probably the fiercest words in his vocabulary, “Man, I’m a mess!”
“What?” now he had me confused, “What’s going on?”
He opened the door about 2 inches and was bright red in the face – embarrassed? sunburned? the color he turned when he got shitfaced? I must have looked really confused.
“She jacked me off in the car – all over my shirt, my pants. There’s no way I’m staying here now. I gotta go.”
Carla was walking back towards us with a towel in her hand, looking like she had broken something expensive. Iowa closed the door again – obviously beside himself with embarrassment.
“Is he alright?” Carla asked me with a pout.
“I’m sure he’ll be just fine – but he really doesn’t want to stick around right now.” I took a long look at Carla. “Is there any way for him to get back to our barracks on base?”
“My apartment is a couple of miles from here.” She looked back over her shoulder at the others setting up the drinks at a card table. “Becky might let me borrow her car.”
She pulled Becky aside and told her about what happened, Becky did a poor job of stifling her laugh. I told Iowa through the door that we found him a way back to the base and the two of them took off, Iowa with his coat over his crotch and his head down like he had just been convicted. I don’t think Iowa and Carla ever saw or spoke to one another again after that night.
“High card picks the game.” Jessy yelled as the four of us finally sat down. She was a fan of Jim Beam, and she was pouring herself doubles.
“Stud for shots.” Becky said matter-of-factly as she picked an Ace out of the deck.
We played the sloppiest game of cards I can remember. We laughed that drunken laugh – at everything and nothing. Oscar made at least a half-dozen attempts to cop a feel from Jessy while she swooned from the booze. Becky looked as lit as I felt, but I did notice her hand on my thigh when she told her jokes, and it turned me on. Afterwards I guessed we had sat and played for about 2 hours, but it felt like we were drinking and dealing all night.
All at once, Jessy stopped and stumbled to her feet, looking suddenly serious.
“I gotta go.” She said in a monotone voice.
“Me too, baby – you first,” Oscar laughed at himself.
Becky jumped up too as her friend stutter-stepped towards the front door, not the bathroom. She looked back at me and gave me a “come here” head nod. I drifted over to the two of them as Oscar slammed the bathroom door shut, forgetting his chivalry for a moment.
“Help me get her home.” Becky requested, “She’s just a couple doors down.”
Wow. She looked suddenly more pretty to me as she made her request for me to help her friend. I held Jessy up as Becky went back to the kitchen to collect Jessy’s purse. Just as we were making our way off the front porch, Oscar came galloping out, insisting to be the other helper. Becky walked ahead of us to Jessy’s front door and fished in the purse for a key.
“Jeez, she’s a slob.” Becky muttered as she pushed her hand through the bag “She probably set them down in my house. Be right back.”
She half-walked, half-skipped across the lawns in front of her neighbors home and I stared at her legs until I couldn’t see her in the darkness. But, as I turned back towards the door, I noticed it wasn’t locked, and a key would not be necessary. Oscar and I brought her to the large couch in her front room – one that she obviously slept on at least some of the time, being that there was a blanket, pillow and alarm clock nearby. Becky didn’t even ask us how we got in when she got back, but did thank us for helping out. We both walked out back towards Becky’s house while she got her friend settled in.
“Man, this is bullshit.” Oscar said as he lit another cigarette. “I knew she was all talk – shit.”
I shrugged. Oscar paused and blew a long trail of smoke up into the damp air.
“I ain’t hangin’ out here no more, man I’m headed back.” He looked down the street, “You coming with?”
“Nah, I’ll catch up to you.”
He grinned at me and took a deep drag on his cigarette “Suit yourself.”
“Where is he going?” Becky asked, watching Oscar walk down the block away from us. “It’s at least a mile to the front gate.”
“He’ll be alright – he’ll find himself a cab, or another girl to give him a ride. Always lands on his feet.”
“Hmmmm, ok – if you say so.” She seemed worried about him leaving or maybe being alone with me, I couldn’t tell which. She looked at me one more time, making sure I wasn’t joking.
I waited until she started to walk back to her house and followed her through her doorway. She wasn’t there when I turned back inside from closing and locking the front door, but I heard her in the kitchen – glasses rattling in the sink. She looked up only for a second at me as I paused at the kitchen door.
“Sorry things got so boring all of a sudden.” Her hands looked like they were doing work, but I think she picked up and rinsed the same glass four times. “I can give you a ride to base whenever Carla gets back.”
I “uh-hummed” an approving noise and nodded.
“I’ll call a cab, Becky – no problem.” I said motioning towards the phone on her counter.
“Do you have to be on base all weekend?” She asked, ignoring my cab offer.
“Nope,” I replied “As long as I’m on time to fall out with the rest of the platoon Monday morning at 8.”
“You don’t have to leave.” She said softly; so softly I couldn’t tell if she was asking a question or telling me I could stay there. But, when she set the dishtowel on the edge of the sink and walked past me back to the card table, it seemed she was feeling more relaxed than before. She turned from her cleaning up, smiled and said, “That’s good.”
I walked over and started to help – picking up cards that had been tossed in every direction, draping a crumpled sweater over the couch and wiping up a couple of bourbon puddles with some loose napkins. She was right behind me as I stood up from gathering the last of the napkins. Her eyes had a drowsy, relaxed look and she put one hand on mine. We paused for such a long time – although it was probably just a few moments – neither one ready to make the first move, but both hoping it would happen.
“Thank you,” she finally said, lifting her face to my cheek and giving it a small kiss.
The blood rushed to my face and neck making the skin feel on fire as I turned my mouth towards hers and we stood there, our hands full of junk from cleaning up, kissing. Her lips were very soft, and they trembled a little as she pursed them on my mouth. She dropped her junk first and put her hands on my shoulders, I slid one arm behind her back and pulled her closer to me. She was one hell of a kisser – moving her mouth and tongue so delicately, then firmly as her passion began to intensify. I was so focused on this wonderful kissing, if there was a marching band in the room with us, I wouldn’t have noticed.
She opened her eyes at the end of a long, drawn-out sucking of my tongue and paused. Her eyes changed for a moment. We stopped and she looked down. I took a step back, but kept a hand on her arm. She began to shake her head.
“I can’t do this,” she said to somebody other than me, “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”
“It’s ok, it’s ok really,” I assured her, ignoring my insanely uncomfortable hard-on for a moment.
She looked up at me with the most confused smile I’d ever seen. The emotional stew she was swimming through seemed to be driving her a little crazy. I rubbed her arm and tried more reassurance.
“Becky, it’s alright . . . I’ll call that cab.” I turned to the phone, then turned back, “Your husband is a very lucky man.” I smiled at her.
She gripped my wrist with the hand I’d just let go of and pulled me back to her. What I said had triggered something in her, and it wasn’t anything that would stop her from putting her hot, moist tongue back into my mouth with fervor. Our kissing was even more excited now, with our mouths pressing hard into one another and tongues probing deeply. Her hands gripped and un-gripped my neck and shoulders, pulling me even more tightly to her. I don’t think I would have minded kissing this woman until we both fell asleep, she was so good at it. She had other ideas.
“Take my dress off,” she told me, sounding impatient to move things along.
I complied, gathering up the flimsy fabric near her hips, then lifting the garment over her upraised arms. She left her arms hanging limply on the top of her head, and I set my gaze on her naked chest. Her nipples, consistently stiff throughout the evening, were surrounded by small, dark areola. I could feel her smiling as my eyes caressed her body. I placed a hand on her arms to keep them over her head and kissed her again. This time she pressed her body into me and rubbed herself back and forth across my denim shirt while our lips mingled.
I let go of her arms and moved my hands onto her breasts. Although they were obviously natural, they were unusually firm. Having her nipples poke back against my palm as I rubbed her sent a spark through me and I gripped her tits tightly while I kissed and sucked on her mouth. A low noise rumbled in her throat. She pushed her body hard onto my hands as they pressed into her flesh, then tilted her head back and moaned more loudly. I cupped one in my hand and lowered my mouth onto it. Her skin was hot and tight, the nipple feeling like the tip of her finger under my swirling tongue. When I felt her hands bunch into fists around my hair when I sucked her, another flood of adrenaline rushed through me.
She lifted a leg, wrapping it around my thigh and we became two bodies twisted into a lust pretzel. I reached down under the thigh of her lifted leg, sliding my hand along her toned leg until it was fully across her ass cheek. My fingertips were just at the edge of her panties – I could feel them shifting as my hands roamed about. I continued and soon her panties had slid and bunched almost fully into the crease of flesh just outside her lips. She jutted her chest hard into me as my fingers brushed over the thin cotton material barely covering her pussy. I pressed just hard enough to discern that she had full lips and that they were quite moist. She pulled her leg up even higher in response.
The slickness I felt as my fingers slid under those panties was amazing. Her labia were wet, hot and swollen. I slid as much of my hand as I could beneath her underwear and pushed that barrier aside. With one hand on her breast, while sucking on the other nipple, I probed her silken slit.
“Ooooh, god. Ooooooh.” She whispered hoarsely as two of my fingers traced a line between her inner lips. Her breathing changed again as I lifted my fingers up to her clit and paused. She arched her hips forward to meet my touch and put her face into my hair. I could feel the heated exhales in staccato beats. My lazy little massage of her pussy was stirring her into a frenzy and she was going to cum soon.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she hissed onto my scalp as I drew oval patterns around her clit with two fingers. My cock was twisted in my pants and agonizingly erect. I focused on the feeling of her twitching, wet pussy on my hand and steadied my effort. Her hips were rocking in time to my massage and her “yeah, yeah, yeah” mantra began to get louder.
Then her orgasm hit like the snap of a whip. Her body jolted upwards and forwards, my mouth making a soft pop sound as the nipple I was sucking pulled out. She inhaled briskly and held her breath for a few moments.
“Yeeeeaaaah!” she groaned into my head – her voicing shaking and vibrating along with her hips. It was all I could do to keep my fingers in contact with her feverishly pulsing pussy as she bucked and bounced through her orgasm. She ground herself onto my hand until my fingers slipped into her and she squeezed herself around them. She reached down and held my hand there, pressing it even harder onto her as the twitching faded.
“Fuck, yeah,” she finally said, looking at me with a crazy smile. She dropped into a squat and yanked at the button on my pants. She only unzipped me halfway, tugged the waistband downward until it was at my knees and pulled the tip of my cock towards her mouth. Her mouth was on me before she finished yanking my boxers out of the way, but as soon as they were she had both hands wrapped around the base. My eyes rolled back into my head as her tongue circled the tip and she began to move her hands up and down the shaft. She liked her cocksucking to be a wet thing as I could feel trails of her saliva dribbling along the underside of my dick and more spit flicking onto my bare thighs as she formed her hands into a makeshift pussy and fucked me with it. She stopped every few strokes and engulfed my member with her mouth, licking and sucking for a short time before resuming the double-fisted handjob. I watched her face as she watched her hands slide up and over the glistening ridge of my cock. Her intensity was so damn arousing, a sexy vixen with a grin of concentration.
When I began to push my hips against her hands, she smiled and looked up at me, “Come on, baby – come on” she was intent on drawing it out of me as she looked back at the bulging prick in her hands, “yeah, baby – cum on me right now.”
As if she were being granted a wish, my balls tightened and the nerves across my inner thighs lit up. She never slowed down at all as the first stream of cum jumped onto her upper chest, just missing her face. The second jet was more forceful and squirted across her cheek and onto her shoulder. I groaned deeply, unable to keep my eyes open as I pushed my hips as far forward as I could. I felt three more contractions push cum out of me and onto her.
“Oh yeah, baby – damn.” She made a satisfied humming sound as she slowed her tugging, but gripped me more tightly. I opened my eyes just in time to see her let some of my spunk dribble out of her mouth, roll over her chin and fall to join the other puddles on her chest. She leaned forward and sucked on the tip of my still pulsing cock as she squeezed from the base upwards – gathering the last bits of cum on her tongue. She didn’t wipe her face or body as I settled down, and my dick and balls were still drenched in her saliva as I sighed deeply.
I was feeling a post-orgasmic haze when she stood up and gave me an open-mouthed kiss of incredible passion. Our bodies pressed together tightly, sharing the various warm, slimy fluids we had just created. She didn’t seem to mind, and I didn’t care because we were kissing again – and her mouth was worth dealing with a little wetness. When we paused, she looked down at the shiny mess between us and chuckled.
“Wanna get cleaned up?” she asked. I nodded and the week I cheated had begun.
