Jean’s Wounded Warrior

Jean's Wounded Warrior Project

Chapter 2: Dancing Under the Stars

I dedicate this story to all the brave men and women who have served this country in uniform.

Content Warning

This fantasy includes a scene of a young wife having sex with a black American soldier while her husband watches from hiding. If stories of this type upset you, please stop reading now! I am sure you can find plenty of stories on Literotica that match your particular desires.

This story takes place in the late 1960s, during the height of the Vietnam War.

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I was frustrated when I went upstairs to bed. My goal of having sex with my wife after her long absence had been crushed by events beyond my control. It had been a long day, and I had to get up early to finish analyzing a large data set. The Professor I worked for needed the results for a conference in Europe and wanted to review my results tomorrow afternoon. My job depended on it, and I needed a good night's sleep. I couldn't afford to make any mistakes in my analysis.

Of course, I tried my best to seduce my young wife. After winning and dining Jean and her friend, we smoked several fat joints of Derek's potent marijuana. I had even gotten mellow enough to dance with my wife. Once I realized Jean would not be joining me in bed, I gave in to my exhaustion and retired.

I left Derek dancing with Jean on the porch below me. My wife had taken some of his military-grade amphetamine tablets by mistake, and the husky black soldier had volunteered to stay up and watch her. Even without the drugs, there was no way I could keep up with them since they were living on West Coast time.

All the weed and wine we consumed had seriously messed up my head. I dreamed I was taking a drive in the country when I came to a stop sign. A large, black chicken was strutting down the crossroad, followed by a flock of white hens. The blackbird was the size of a small sedan. The dark chicken stopped at the intersection and stared at me. It tilted its head and crowed loudly, proudly proclaiming to the world that it was the biggest cock around. I woke up irritated that I had been disturbed by a nonsensical dream.

I felt Jean's lips brushing my cheek. I was in a stupor and couldn't respond as she bent over me and whispered, "I love you."

Jean ducked into the bathroom and left me to wonder why I had been dreaming about giant black chickens. Jean flushed the toilet and tiptoed out of the room. The door squeaked as she closed it. At least the noisy door explained the sound of the cock crowing.

Jean must have put her dance tape on repeat since it was still playing. I tossed and turned on the warm bed and became more awake by the minute. The bedside clock said I'd been asleep for almost two hours. It was a long enough snooze that I knew I wasn't going back to sleep soon.

Jean's laughter aroused my curiosity. I rolled out of bed and crawled out onto the balcony. Damn, I was wasted, and my short nap hadn't helped much. I doubted I could make it downstairs even if I wanted. I lay on the wooden balcony floor and peered through a wall of foliage in planter boxes. From my concealed vantage point, I could see the entire deck. Jean and Derek were resting between numbers. They were chatting like old friends as they gulped down some ice water.

Derek says, "I think it is time for some more weed. The speed is making you agitated again. It seems only wine and weed calm you down."

Derek produced another joint and sat on the swing to smoke it. Jean jumped up on the swing and knelt next to Derek. When he handed her the joint, she took a deep hit. She exhaled and stared at Derek for a minute. Derek has set the swing in motion with his feet.

Jean smiled. "Do you want another shotgun?"

"Oh yes, please!"

"Oh my God, you are so polite."

"My mother taught me well."

Jean turned the joint around in her mouth and straddled Derek. She rose on her knees and blew a hit into his mouth. Derek placed a gentle hand on the back of her head. His other hand rested on her bare lower back, holding her in place. Derek's legs pushed the swing to a higher arc. Jean sat back down on Derek's lap to take a breath. The motion of the swing made her body sway against his. Jean's hand was on his chest, and she casually caressed his muscular breast.

When Jean rose to give Derek a second toke, his hand pushed up under the front of her halter top. Jean sprang back and wagged a finger in his face. She grabbed his hand in hers and pulled it down to her waist. I regretted convincing my young wife to have dinner without her bra and panties.

When she rose again, Derek behaved himself at first. Eventually, his hand dropped down her back to cup her ass. When she finished the shotgun, she tried to sit back down, but Derek's hand was clasping her ass tight. At least his hand wasn't under her short skirt. Jean squirmed as he massaged her firm dancer's ass.

Jean took the joint out of her mouth and said, "Please don't. You're being naughty."

Jean pulled his hand from her ass and placed it on her bare thigh just above her knee. She was still holding the joint and took a deep drag. Derek used the opportunity to slide his hand up her thigh. When it disappeared under her skirt, Jean jumped off the swing.

Jean held out her hand and said, "Come on, let's dance."

It was the swing dance number again. I was impressed with their energetic performance. This time, Derek performed a move where he rolled Jean over his back. Jean went flying upside down in a whirl of bare legs. I had a quick view of Jean's pussy glistening in the deck lights. Damn, my wife was aroused. At the end of the move, Jean slid down the front of Derek's body. Jean's loose top was dragged above her breasts. She must have been disoriented from her head-over-heels flip because she did not seem aware that her generous breasts were exposed. She noticed it only when Derek's fingers brushed across her nipples. She squeaked in embarrassment as she pulled her top back into place. The big black soldier laughed heartily.

After the number, Derek guided her to the picnic table, and he sat on it. He pulled Jean onto his lap, and they both gulped down more ice water. Derek poured more wine for my wife, and they sat there whispering while recuperating. I saw two empty bottles of white wine in addition to the three reds we had with dinner. Usually, Jean is a lightweight when it comes to drinking. A half of a bottle of wine is her usual limit. I had watched her pouring heavy refills for herself during dinner. I had no idea how much she had consumed after taking the Dexedrine, but it was way past her limit. Tonight, she was in a rare mood. Except for a manic exuberance, she showed little evidence of being high. Her dancing was flawless but enthusiastic.

Jean's head leaned against Derek's shoulder, and his arm circled her waist. They were both sweating profusely. Derek leaned away after a few minutes and pulled his teeshirt over his head. Derek had a runningback's powerful body with a muscular torso and thick legs. I saw his back and had to suppress a gasp. A tattoo of a snarling albino dragon covered most of his broad back. The beast was all teeth and claws. The tattoo had been made with white ink that seemed to glow on his coal-black skin. Its long tail curled around his waist and disappeared down the front of his shorts.

When Jean saw the tattoo, she was intrigued. She traced her fingers over the design as if petting a kitten. She stopped at the top of his shorts.

"That must have taken days to do. Did it hurt?"

Derek laughed, "It took a couple of hours a day over a week. I smoked some heroin and drank a lot. I barely felt it until I woke up sober. Then it hurt like a motherfucker."

"Where does the tail go?"

Derek hooked his thumbs in the waistband and said, "It's easier to show you."

Jean laughed. "Maybe not. Probably never. Right now, I want to dance."

The next song was a tango. Now, this dance is a dance of seduction. Of course, all dances are sexual. Composers even designed the stately minuet for flirting, but the tango is smoking hot. In some choreographed versions, the man angrily throws the woman around the dance floor as the moves become more passionate. Social versions of the tango are less violent and are easier to perform with new partners.

In addition to being unfamiliar partners, Derek was a foot taller than Jean and maybe a hundred pounds heavier. He used his big hands on Jean's lithe body to guide her. The big black soldier made several mistakes placing his hands. He missed her shoulders and brushed his fingers across Jean's breasts. Another move required a firm grip on her waist, but Derek missed. He grasped Jean's butt hard.

Jean pulled back and shook her finger in his face, "Careful with the hands, Derek. I'm a married woman."

Derek held his large hands up in protest, "Sorry, it was an accident. I missed my move."

"Four times in a row?"

"Well, I'm rusty. It's been a couple of years since I did any ballroom dancing unless you count the laundry woman in Nam. Hell, maybe my lousy dancing explains her firing an RPG into the barracks."

Jean laughed and went inside to rewind the tape to the start of the tango. She returned with the unopened fifth of Jack Daniels she had gotten me for my birthday. After taking a healthy swig straight from the bottle, they restarted the dance.

Derek's hand was flat against Jean's abdomen as they moved forward, with my wife's back pressed against his bare torso. Derek's hand pushed up under her top and squeezed her breast. Jean spun around and slapped Derek's face hard. Derek twirled Jean around fast and smacked her hard on her bare ass as her skirt flew up. I am sure he could hit her harder, but even so, her ass cheeks quivered under the blow, and I heard the impact. Their aggressive physical interactions fit the spirit of the tango but were too sexual for anything but a private performance.

They did a couple more passes, and Derek again pushed his hand under Jean's top. He must have pinched her nipple because she shrieked. Again she spun around to slap Derek, but the big soldier caught her wrist this time. He pulled her in close and kissed her hard. He flipped her around and slapped her bare ass twice but much harder this time.

Jean stopped dancing and rubbed her stinging ass. Derek used the opportunity to push both hands under her top. Jean spun out of Derek's grasp and backed away as Derek pursued her. My wife danced away, swishing her skirt back and forth with her hands as she continued the tango. They managed to get through the rest of the dance without another incident.

The next song on Jean's tape was "Begin the Beguine," a slow, close couples' dance popularized by Cole Porter in the 1930s. Derek's mother must have taught him this dance too. Of course, this dance requires that the male lead has his hands all over his partner's body to guide her. The man uses his hands to direct the woman while caressing her body sensuously. Derek repeatedly brushed his hands across Jean's breasts, but she spun away every time. When Derek had his hands on Jean's waist, he pushed her short skirt down. Eventually, it was riding low on her hips, and I could see the top of her butt crack. Derek bent Jean over into his arms during the dance, giving her a passionate kiss. She didn't break the kiss even when he kneaded her breasts through the thin fabric of her top. However, Jean spun away, laughing and shaking her finger when he tried to slip his hand underneath her top. Every time Derek touched Jean's breasts, it seemed she took longer to stop his assault. I regretted flipping her on switch earlier. I had left her aroused and unsatisfied.

I was a bit surprised when Jean gave up defending her breasts. I watched her dancing with her back pressed against Derek, whose large black hands were spread across her bare, pale white stomach. She was twisting her hips and grinding her ass against his obvious erection. One of Derek's hands slid under her top. The other pressed lower and lower until it disappeared under the waistband of her skirt. Jean's eyes were closed as she continued twisting against Derek's hard body. Suddenly she jumped and grabbed his arm. She dragged his mischievous hand from under her skirt and placed it on her breast. She reached behind her and wrapped her hands behind Derek's neck as she continued leaning against his bare chest. Her hips moved slowly to the music as she continued grinding her ass against his crotch. Derek grabbed the sides of Jean's top and pulled it slowly over her head. I expected my wife would surely stop him. Jean's only reaction was to move her hands from his neck and wave them in the air to help him remove her top.

Derek's hands returned to her generous breasts, with Jean still leaning back against Derek's bare chest. She did a series of dips and dragged her ass across his erection which was barely constrained by his skimpy nylon shorts. He kneaded her breasts sensuously and rolled her pink nipples between his large fingers. I heard Jean moan just as the song ended.

I should have put a stop to it then. Hell, I should have ended their flirtation a long time ago. My drunken-marijuana stupor was no excuse. Honestly, I found the scene playing out before me to be the most arousing sight I had ever watched. I freed my cock from my boxers and slowly stroked it. I was eager to see what would happen next. There was still plenty of time to stop Derek's assault on my wife's virtue. Besides, I trusted my wife completely. I knew she was just toying with the big black soldier.

Derek grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels and led my topless wife back to the swing to rest between numbers. Before sitting with his butt on the edge of the seat, he wrestled with his shorts to hide a huge black mushroom protruding over the waistband. Maybe it was a trick of the shadows combined with my diminished mental capacity, but I couldn't believe the size of the monstrous object he was struggling to hide under his clinging nylon shorts. It seemed Jean was also mesmerized by his battle. Her eyes never left his crotch as she stood before him, slowly swaying to the slow jazz song.

Derek took a long pull on my bottle of whiskey before handing it to Jean, who was now dancing between his widespread thighs. She took a couple of big gulps before passing the bottle back. She moved closer until her gyrating legs brushed against his massive black thighs. Her hands reached behind her head, and her French braid came apart. She lifted her long dark hair over her head between her fingers and draped her flowing locks over her breasts.

The big black soldier grabbed my wife's twisting ass and pulled her tight against his crotch. Jean bent over and grabbed the back of the swing seat. Her dangling breasts swayed free above Derek's head before he tilted his head up and sucked on one glorious breast, then the other. His hand wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her closer. He must have suckled hard because she arched her back and let out a scream that echoed through the night.

She struggled in his firm grasp for a moment as Derek continued nursing. I couldn't blame him. She was the one who had offered her plump breasts for him to feast on. She stood up and rubbed her tender breasts when he let her go. I saw tears on her cheeks, but she surprised me when she didn't walk away. Instead, she kept dancing and began caressing her generous breasts under Derek's fixed gaze. Her dark nipples stood out a good half inch from her pert breasts.

The big black man smiled as he stuck his hand inside his shorts. He shifted something massive around. I laughed when he pulled another fat joint out of a pocket inside his shorts. I'd wondered how he'd managed to produce one big joint after another all night long.

Jean continued dancing while Derek took a toke on the joint. When he offered the joint to my wife, she crawled up and straddled his lap. Before she sat down, she flipped her short skirt up. Jean took a long hit while she began another lap dance. She pressed her bare sex against his crotch and rotated her hips up and down over the thin nylon covering his erection. Derek's hands grasped her breasts and tugged on her nipples like he was milking a cow.

Jean sat back on his crotch and continued grinding to the slow beat of the music. She reached down and found the bottle. I was amazed as I watched my wife take a long hit of dark liquor while Derek caressed her thighs. His big black hands disappeared under her skirt when she rose to give him another shotgun.

Jean jumped back and shook a finger in his face. "Damn it, Derek. Hands off my pussy."

Derek laughed and muttered, "Sorry, but you can't blame me for trying."

Jean leaned forward again and pressed her lips against his. While receiving her shotgun hit, his hands resumed roaming over her body. One hand went back to pulling and twisting her hard nipples. His other hand rested on her bare lower back for a moment before he slowly slid his fingers under the elastic waistband of her skirt. His hand held her tight against his chest as he drove his hungry fingers far down the crack of her ass. This time, my wife didn't fight his probing fingers.

It also seemed Jean hadn't learned her lesson from just seconds ago. She rose and pressed her breast against Derek's lips. I could hear him slurping as he sucked the tips of her generous breasts into his hungry mouth. My wife pushed back and directed her other breast to his mouth.

Derek took my wife's eagerness as an invitation to push his hand further down the back of her dress. I watched her body jerk in his tight grip. She began vigorously squirming as she pushed against his chest.

"Damn it, Derek, stop. Oh God, oh God, oh God, Derek, get your finger off my pussy."

The big black soldier didn't let up. Instead, he shoved his hand further down her skirt. Jean twisted her body in desperation. I knew his thick finger had penetrated her vagina when she shrieked. My only reaction was to stroke my cock harder. Somehow, I convinced myself I didn't need to come to her aid unless she called for help. She continued to squeal as she fought helplessly in his powerful grip. I listened closely, but not once did she scream for help.

"Ah, ah, ah... Fuck no, no, no.... Oh God, please stop."

She threw her whole body to the side, desperately attempting to escape his invading finger. I heard the elastic in her waistband snap as she twisted out of his grip. She landed sprawling on the deck with her skirt up to her waist. I saw a flash of her bare glistening pussy surrounded by dark pubic hair as she quickly rolled to her knees. She stood up on shaky legs and glared at her grinning adversary. Her dress was hanging precariously on her hip. It looked like it would have fallen off except for her curvy ass.

Derek stuck his middle finger in his mouth and smiled. Jean gave him the finger and hissed, "Asshole!"

Jean grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniel and tilted her head back as she guzzled gulp after gulp. I was sure the show was over when she slammed the door as she ran into the house. I panicked when I heard the music stop and crawled back to our bed. I lay there expecting to hear Jean walking up the stairs any minute.

I was surprised when another tape started to play. When I heard Jean yell at Derek to get up off his ass and dance, I hurried back to my hiding place.

Jean was glaring at Derek from the opposite side of the deck. At first, I didn't recognize the new dance number. When I saw my wife standing with her back arched and her hands at her head, imitating horns, I knew it was a Paso Doble. This dance mimics a bullfight where the man is the bullfighter. The woman plays a wild bull, and she makes a series of passes at her partner. It is a dance of sexual domination, but as usual, the woman gets all the best moves.