It had been a long nine months, but things were good now that I was on my way home to the United States and the loving arms of my wife of seven years, Traci.
My Marine special unit comprised of myself and three others had been deployed several times in the last few years, but this was the first time an assignment had taken us out of country for more than one month. I can't say what the unit is, or what our jobs are, because then I'd have to kill a lot of Literotica readers, but let's just say when they call us in, the shit has usually already hit the fan, and it's our job to fix things.
I have been with the Marines -- sort of -- for 12 years, joining them as an 18-year-old right out of high school. I apparently have some useful skills, and advanced quickly to my designation as team leader of our little special unit. In fact, the Marines liked my skills so much that when I tried to end my engagement after my four years were up, they made me an unbelievable offer to stay in on a part-time basis. They even paid for my five years of pharmacy school, and made sure that my current employer, a large national pharmacy chain, understands that there may be times when I need to take a few weeks of unpaid personal time.
The other three guys on my team got a very similar deal, so when we do get called out we all know we are working with the best. It can be an incredibly stressful way to live sometimes, but I am proud to say I am a patriot, and the guys on my team are closer than brothers. It's a bond forged in fire -- and mud, blood, guts, and booze.
Most of the time, though, I am a mild-mannered pharmacist in a small southeastern city. I make a nice living and with Traci being a school teacher, we have our share of nice toys in a nice-sized house in a good neighborhood. The only real negative to this idyllic life is the fact that my idiot in-laws live just an hour away, and Traci thinks that as family, we should share our lives with people that I think are, quite frankly, reprehensible bastards.
They always say that if you want to see what your wife will look like and be like in 20 years, take a good look at her mother. Well, if I believed that statement, there would have been no way in hell I would have married Traci. Not that her mother is bad looking -- she's pretty good for a 50-year-old, but she is a manipulative, fucking bitch -- and I think I'm probably being generous on that call.
She's not the smartest bulb in the pack, is on the prejudiced side, and smokes like a damn chimney. But somehow she just keeps getting her way, in large part due to my father-in-law being terrified at the thought of fighting with her, or, God forbid, getting the "Stare of Disapproval." Truthfully, by himself he's not a bad guy -- most little kids and animals like him -- but he needs to grow a big pair of balls. The guy could probably get away with killing her, because any court in the country would see it as justifiable homicide.
Then there are Traci's sister, my slut-in-law, I call her, and her half-wit brother.
Me, I grew up in your basic, average family -- husband, wife, son, daughter. My parents both died young, so it's been my sister and I alone for the past eight years. She lives on the East Coast with her husband, a good guy, but I don't get to see much of them.
And then there's Traci -- the light of my life. She's a 5-1 goddess with long blonde hair, big firm boobs, an ass to die for, and (big breath here) ... brains; at least when she's not around her family. Unfortunately, when she's around her family too long, she falls back into their stupidity, and it's all I can do to hustle her out of the house before her IQ falls to zero. We've discussed this many times, and while she knows she's doing it, she says she feels powerless to stop it.
I first met my goddess when I went to the University of Iowa College of Pharmacy in Iowa City, IA. After striking my deal with the Marines, I was a 22-year-old freshman, living off-campus in a small apartment. She and I both went for the same parking space in one of the lots near the campus, and being the gentleman I am, I backed off and let her have it. I parked about two rows further back, and when I got out of my car and started walking to the pharm building, she was waiting for me in the lot. We hit it off instantly, and in the three blocks before we got to where she was headed, I found out that she was a 21-year-old college junior majoring in education.
We set a date for that same day at 4 at a local coffee shop, and I spent two hours drinking coffee while she drank a latte of some sort and chattered on about everything. I was smitten.
She was pretty taken with me, too, because she moved in with me toward the end of the year and lived with me for her entire senior year. We were married soon after the school year ended, and she got a job teaching while I finished my degree.
I had told Traci about my deal with the Marines, as much as I could, and seeing as how her father was an Army veteran, she seemed to understand that there would be periods where I would have to go off on assignment.
Her parents made no secret of the fact that I wasn't their choice for Traci's husband. That honor belonged to Randy Phelps, Traci's longtime boyfriend before they broke up prior to her junior year at Iowa. They had been a couple for five years, and Randy was the son of the owner of the town funeral home, so by way of deduction from her parents, Randy was pretty much set for life, especially after his father sold him the business in the future.
I found this all out the first time I met her family, when we were still dating. We went home to her parent's house for the Fourth of July, and who should also be there but Randy. Of course. Traci's mom made it a point to tell me that Randy was practically family, and after the pair had been having sex for five years prior to the break-up, she were surprised there weren't any Randy grandchildren running around her home.
Traci blushed deeply at that comment. I kept my face a mask of neutrality, figuring it was said for my benefit, and I noticed Randy had a smug smirk on his face.
When we got a chance to be alone later, Traci apologized to me, both for her mother's remark and for the sex with Randy. I told her that what she did with Randy prior to meeting me was part of her past that I didn't need to know about, the way I had not brought up any information about my past liaisons. By the look on her face, she hadn't given any thought to my past at all, especially since I never mentioned anything about past girlfriends.
We spent four days with Traci's family, and Randy was there for three of them. He mother, Mona by the way, made sure to mention Randy and Traci's intimacy about a half-dozen more times.
"Did you tell your mother every time you had sex with the guy?" I asked her at one point when we were alone.
"I have never told my mother the first thing about my sex life," was her response, "But I'm betting Randy gave her chapter and verse."
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I hadn't tried calling Traci before we landed back in the United States, because military flight arrival times were never consistent, but I pulled my cellphone out and hit her number as soon as we landed in New York. It went straight to voice mail, and while I was annoyed at that, I left her the message that I would be home in about four hours.
As each of my team members live in a different section of the country, it was time for us to be splitting up to get home to our loved ones. I gave each one of them a big bear hug and got one in return. It's awkward for guys to tell each other that they love one another, but each of us knew what was in the other's hearts.
When I landed in Nashville, I hit the rental car company for the two-hour car trip home. I then tried calling Traci again, but again the call went to voicemail. "What the fuck?" I thought to myself. I left a message again, this time saying I was heading to the house. Five minutes later, my phone rang. It was Traci. Maybe being gone nine months makes you forget things, like the sound of her happy to see you voice, because I could have sworn she sounded more stressed that happy.
"Philly," she said, calling me the nickname only she ever called me. "I'm here at Mom and Dad's taking a few days while the kids are out on spring break. Why don't you just drive on through and everyone can see you?"
I thought I heard what sounded like positive murmuring coming from behind Traci, so I said OK and mentally added another hour to my drive. I was not in the mood to see the rest of her damn family, and after nine months without, I was definitely leaking pre-cum over the thought of some celebratory sex, which would have to wait while we were at her parents.
When I pulled up at her parents, I had expected Traci to come running out of the house and throw herself at me. Instead, I got no one. I shook my head in disgust, and then noticed the other cars parked on the street: her brother's, her sister's, and Randy's. Son of a bitch!
I grabbed my gear and headed for the door. Just as I got to the porch, Traci's father Ralph opened the door, stepped out onto the porch and shook my hand. I then looked past him to see my darling Traci standing in the middle of the living room, looking beautiful in a blue satin robe that clung nicely to her big boobs and six-month pregnant belly.
"Aaaaarrrrgggghhhh!! What the fuck is this?" I screamed while walking through the door. Nobody answered me; everybody sort of faded from my vision except Traci. She sort of shriveled up while standing there as I marched right up to her and got within a foot of her face.
"What the fuck, you cheating whore?!"
I've never been more tempted to hit a woman in my life, but fortunately for Traci, my parents taught me better than that.
My brain was going a million miles an hour in 14 different directions. Despite the fact that I was an elite military operator, I wasn't trained for this: my wife being knocked up while I was away on deployment.
"And I bet we know whose bundle of joy this is," I screamed right in her face while pointing to her stomach, which protruded enough to keep me from getting even closer to her face.
I turned to where Randy was standing, smirking. The smirk left immediately and panic set in when I moved toward him. When I got to within two feet of him, he pulled a .22 out from behind his back and pointed it in my direction.
"I'll blow your fucking head off if you take one more step!" he yelled at me.
"Not with the safety still on, you pussy!" I yelled back at him as I backhanded the gun out of his shaking hands. "You ever pull a gun on me again, I'll shoot your dick off with it!"
I sat down on the sofa, buried my head in my hands and started to cry. This was a nightmare in so many ways that I never saw coming.
I don't know how long I sat there crying, but eventually Traci came over, sat down next to me and gave me a tentative hug. That brought me out of my reverie as I pulled back from her touch and looked at her like she was a leper. By the reaction I got back, she was both afraid and hurt.
I dried my tears on my sleeve, looked at her and asked in a voice that was much calmer than I was feeling inside, "How could you do this to me -- to us? Nothing in my life mattered more to me than you."
"Oh, please! You're going to tell us that you didn't have sex with any of the civilian contractors or locals for nine months. Were we born yesterday?" my mother-in-law blurted out. "Ralph was in the army. He knows. It's what you all do on long tours."
