My wife, Jean and I live in a large city where there is a large, military installation not far from us. Each year, generally in November, they host an annual obstacle course run.
Men and women of all shapes, sizes, and ages enter this exciting competition year on year. As with many races, the organizers award medals to the top three finishers in each age group for both men and women.
My wife, Jean, finished first in her age group of women between 50 and 55. They have a modest stage and podium where the medals are presented by the Commanding General of the base. The current Commanding General is a tall, very fit looking black man named Benjamin Davis.
When it was Jean's turn to receive her medal, she stepped onto the stage where the General placed the first place medal around her neck, shook her hand, and called up the next finisher. That was it.
On the way home, Jean was thrilled because this was the first time she had won her event, having finished second and third on previous occasions.
Just so you know, Jean is 52 years old. She's tall and trim, 5'10" and 126 pounds. She stays in shape by alternating between running and swimming at least six days a week. She's blonde, good-looking and very easy going.
Once we got home and cleaned up, we decided that this would be a good night to go out for dinner and celebrate her victory. We chose an Italian restaurant, and this would be the first time that either of us had ever eaten there.
As expected, the place was busy on a Saturday night, and we had perhaps a ten-minute wait for a table. Once seated at a table for four, even though there were only two us, we ordered our drinks.
As our drinks arrived, I looked up to see the Commanding General from earlier that day entering the restaurant. He wasn't in uniform any longer; however, he was dressed nicely and still looked large and buff.
I waved at him, and he signaled back, giving me a sort of "who the hell are you look." At the same time, my wife, Jean was giving me that "what the hell are you doing look." I gestured the waitress to invite the General over to our table because it seemed he might have an even longer wait than we did.
He arrived at the table smiling, so I stood up, shook his hand and quickly explained the events from earlier that morning at the race. I asked him if he was by himself or expecting someone to join him. He said he was by himself and had been so busy with the race all day that he had not given any thought to dinner.
I invited him to join us since we had two open chairs and no waiting. He graciously accepted and ordered his drink when the waitress came over.
He introduced himself as Ben Davis, leaving the General part out of it. He was a sharp guy as those Commanding General jobs always go to the top performing people. Also, he was humorous and quite humble, especially considering some of the hostile actions he has most likely seen in his life.
We ordered dinner, and the three of us enjoyed some fascinating conversation. The General and I each restricted ourselves to one glass of wine since we were driving; however, Jean had a few more, which was unusual for her.
As we finished dinner, Jean got up and excused herself to the ladies room. As she walked away from the table, the General looked at me and said, "damn, your wife is hot. If you weren't here, I'd be trying to find a way into her panties."
Much to the General's surprise, I said, "well, that's perfectly OK with me" as I have held this long-running fantasy of watching my wife with another man, especially a black man. I have just two requests, don't steal her and don't hurt her.
I went on to say that whether Jean agrees or not is altogether another story. I have shared with her, on many occasions, my desire to see her with another man, yet she's always smiles, touches my arm and says, "you're all I need, honey."
In the few moments we had remaining, I hastily told the General how to seduce Jean, should he get the chance. Just then, she returned to the table chuckling and said, "wow, what were you two talking about just now? It seemed like a serious conversation."
The General stood up holding Jean's chair for her, while at the same time inviting us over to his place for a nightcap. He went on to say that he had a condo nearby and he had purchased a new car and wanted to show it off.
Jean stunned me by saying, "sure, that sounds fun, let's go for one drink." We walked out to the parking area, and the General invited Jean to ride along with him in his new Porsche. She accepted, and I followed them to the car. The General graciously held the car door open for Jean, and as she got in, I could see him peeking up her skirt. I'm sure he got a glimpse of her panties.
