I've been hearing my husband talk about his old army buddy, Robert, for many years. Unfortunately, distance and time took their toll and they eventually lost track of each other, something Alan said often happens to men who become very close while in the military, but fall back into their own lives upon returning home.
According to Alan, Robert wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, but they had become fast friends and were inseparable for the two and a half years they were in Europe. But that wasn't all he told me about Robert.
Neither Alan nor I were virgins when we married at twenty-five, and over our fourteen years of marriage we'd told each other the intimate details of all of our previous sexual experiences. That was one of our methods of early foreplay and it would usually get us turned on enough to get it on.
Hearing my husband talk about the wild and sometimes crazy things he did when he was younger never failed to turn me on, and I have no doubt that my recounts had the same effect on him. He especially liked it when I would use dirty and graphic words to describe a past sexual experience. Okay, I'll confess to embellishing some for his benefit. While telling him about giving my first blowjob in the backseat of my boyfriend's car, I'd really go into detail about how it felt and how much I enjoyed the taste of his cum and that kind of thing. In reality, I'd been so drunk I could barely remember any details of it at all.
Alan would tell me about having sex with his girlfriends too, and a lot of one-night stands with strange girls at parties and such . . . oh, and with hookers in Europe where it was legal and inexpensive.
Several of his stories were about he and his friend Robert having threesomes with German girls they'd picked up in the NCO Club or local taverns. Evidentially, they did that a lot. After the first couple of those stories, most of the details were the same old bla bla bla except when Alan would talk about Robert's monster cock. According to Alan, it was the largest he'd ever seen, including on porn movies.
Those stories would always get a bit funny when Alan would describe himself trying to keep the girl quite while Robert fucked her so they wouldn't get kicked out of the hotel or be discovered when they'd snuck one of the girls into their barracks room. According to Alan, he always had to use a pillow over their faces, being careful not to totally smother her, of course.
The first time he told me about Robert's huge cock, I had to ask "How did it make you feel being compared to that? I mean, your cock is great, but that must be a humbling experience for any man."
Alan just laughed at my question and told me that just the opposite was true. He said that, while the girls loved looking at Robert's cock and playing with it and admiring it, most of them couldn't deal with it in other ways. They couldn't get more than its head in their mouths. A blowjob was little more than a double fisted hand job with them licking it and sometimes taking the head in their mouths. They wouldn't let it near their asses, and some didn't even enjoy it when he fucked them. It was just "too big". But he always added "They damn sure loved looking at it and playing with it though."
One of his stories was particularly funny. He and Robert had gone to a very popular house of prostitution. It was a large place with three separate buildings, three or four stories each, with enclosed walkways between the buildings on each floor.
The women who weren't "busy" would stand in their doorway or sit on their bed with the door open and wait for men to size them up and hire them. According to Alan, there would be a hundred or more available at any one time.
Alan hired a girl a few doors down from the one Robert hired, but a minute later, sounds of the woman screaming echoed through the halls and rooms. There was so much noise in the hallway from people yelling and running past, Alan and his hooker stopped what they were doing to go investigate.
Sure enough, the woman who had been screaming was the one Robert was fucking, and by the time Alan got there, the door was open and there were two male bouncers in the room and a dozen or more women looking in from the hallway. When Alan squeezed past them, Robert was standing against the wall with a bouncer's hand in the middle of his chest to hold him there and his monster cock hard and waving in the air in front of him. The other bouncer and a couple of hookers were tending to the hooker.
After figuring out that Robert hadn't been beating her up, the bouncers apologized to Robert and made the woman give him his money back. But then, several of the onlooking hookers took Robert into another room. As word spread, more and more hookers entered the room where Robert was, and according to Alan, Robert didn't emerge from the room for over three hours.
Almost every time, I would respond with something like "Gawd, I can't imagine", which was the absolute truth.
* * *
One day, Alan came home from work, and while sorting through his mail, yelled at me to come quick. "Robert, my old army buddy . . . he's coming to town and wants to get together." Robert had used an internet service to get Alan's address, but since we don't have a home phone—only cell phones, he couldn't call. Alan called the number given in the letter, and soon was talking to his long lost friend.
When he hung up, smiling from ear to ear, he said "You're finally going to meet Robert. He'll be here Friday afternoon."
My reaction caught my husband a little off guard "Gawd, how am I going to look at him and keep a straight face?"
But then, it dawned on him what I meant and he started laughing.
* * *
My god, I'd never seen my husband act like such a kid as when Robert showed up at our front door. They hugged and then wrestled around like teenagers, laughing all the while. It was ten minutes before Alan thought to bring him into the kitchen to introduce him to me.
Robert was nothing like I expected. The only pictures I'd ever seen of him were in his army uniforms or in sloppy old clothes. But he was neatly groomed and very nicely dressed in slacks, a short-sleeve polo shirt, and a pair of Italian shoes. His watch, bracelet and ring looked very expensive, but not gaudy. He had obviously done quite well for himself. I was impressed, especially after hearing Alan refer to him so often as "a bit on the slow side".
After the introductions, I went back to the kitchen and the men retired to the den for drinks. I could hear them still laughing and recounting memories of their exploits in the army.
At one point, I heard them joking about their trip to the whore house. I'm not sure why, but I just couldn't resist listening. While they were still laughing about it and telling the same bits of the story from their different perspectives, I walked into the den to make myself a drink—well, that was the only excuse I could think of for going in there. For some reason, I just wanted to make an appearance.
Robert was telling Alan about what happened after the hoard of hookers got him into the other room, but he stopped in mid sentence when I entered the room. But as I made my way to the wet bar, Alan said "Oh go on. Beth knows all about it—at least as much as I witnessed."
As I turned around with my drink in hand, I noticed a slightly stunned expression on Robert's face. So, to put him at ease, or at least I hoped it would, I chuckled and said "I think I've heard about everything you two ever did."
But even after Alan urged him to continue the story, Robert changed the subject, mentioning how good the smells were coming from the kitchen and how nice our home was. I was disappointed, but I took the hint and returned to the kitchen to finish preparing our meal.
After dinner and the hot Texas sun had settled on the far side of the house, shading the backyard, Alan took Robert outside and they sat at the poolside table, sipping their Jack Daniel's, swapping more memories, and laughing all the while.
I decided to let them alone and stay out of their way. I'd peek out occasionally to see the status of their drinks, taking them fresh ones when they ran low. When I appeared, if Alan was talking, he wouldn't miss a beat, but if Robert was talking, he would clam up instantly.
On one such occasion, I arrived with fresh drinks just in time to hear Alan saying "Holy shit, did that babe have a set of knockers on her or what?" But when I glanced at Robert, his face was bright red and I could tell that he was really embarrassed at Alan saying such things in front of me.
Perhaps I was just feeling somewhat left out. I'm really not sure. But I made another attempt to let Robert know that I wasn't hearing those things for the first time and that hearing them didn't bother me in the least. "Oh, you must be talking about the one you guys picked up at the carnival in Stuttgart."
"Yep, that's the one." Alan chuckled. "What are you doing in there? Why don't you grab a drink and join us?"
I put my hand on his shoulder "Nah, I don't want to inhibit your conversation. I'll go on back inside so you two can talk about your little sexcapades without having to worry about embarrassing me."
"Like we could embarrass you!"
I turned to go back inside while saying, "Don't be so naïve. I meant without embarrassing our guest." And I was gone.
When I got back inside though, I headed straight for wet bar and mixed myself a strong highball. I was upset with myself for feeling left out of their conversation, or jealous of them for having all that fun recounting their past experiences. I downed that drink quickly and mixed another. Drink in hand, I went upstairs and peeked out of the window. I just watched the two of them sitting there, joking and laughing and having a great time. Yep, I was jealous.
After a few minutes, I realized that the reason I was jealous was because, after hearing so many stories about Robert's and Alan's sexual adventures, and most often getting turned on by them, I could only imagine what effect it would have on me to hear those same stories directly from him . . . or at least with him sitting right there.
When I thought it was about time to take them fresh drinks, I went back downstairs, still feeling a bit sad that I was being left out of their reunion. But when I went outside with the drinks, Alan wasn't there. He had gone inside to use the bathroom.
As I sat the drinks down and took up their empty glasses, I said to Robert "You really don't have to worry about embarrassing me, you know. I've heard it all many times."
Perhaps it was the amount of alcohol he'd consumed, or perhaps he was just starting to relax and settle in a bit, but he reacted differently this time. "Yeah, Al keeps telling me that, but those aren't things most wives want to hear."
I let out a chuckle, "Hell, you don't have to worry about that with me. We've told each other about everything we've ever done . . . and I love hearing his stories. Of course, I'm sure he exaggerates them a lot, just like I do when telling him about the things I've done. It's all in good fun."
"Well, if you're sure . . ."
"Of course I'm sure. Besides, I've only got to hear one side of them. I'd love to hear 'the rest of the story' as Paul Harvey would call it."
He laughed and then said, "Okay, you asked for it. Pull up a chair."
"Let me go get my drink."
* * *
A few minutes later, the three of us were sitting and exchanging more small talk. I must admit that I was feeling a bit tipsy by then, but nothing compared to how tipsy Alan appeared to be. "So, Robert, I'm sure you have a story or two about Allen that he hasn't told me . . . any little goodies that I might be able to tease him about for the next twenty years or so?"
That caused both Robert and Alan to burst out in laughter. Alan scolded "Don't you dare" when Robert asked me if he'd told me about the time the three German girls invited them to go swimming. "No, he neglected to tell me that one. What happened?"
"Oh god!" Alan said, rolling his eyes. "I'll just go hide somewhere now."
"Oooo, now I'm really curious." And then I said to Robert "I'm all ears."
He started "Well first, you have to understand that Europeans aren't as hung up about sex and nudity and things as we are, so they're more open about it. Anyway, these three girls invited us to go swimming with them and--"
Alan interrupted him "Rob doesn't go swimming in public. He has swimsuit issues." Alan added with a hearty laugh.
Robert shot him a scolding look and then continued "Anyway, when we got to the swimming pool, there weren't any dressing rooms. Alan asked the girl who spoke the best English where he was supposed to change, and she repeated his question in German to her two friends. They all started laughing and peeling off their clothes. They just stripped right down and put on their swimsuits right there in front of us and the hundred or so other people sitting and walking all around us."
"Here it comes" Alan winced with another roll of his eyes.
"I'll bet I know what's coming." I giggled.
"Yep" Robert said, shooting Alan a wicked grin. "When they all had on their swimsuits, they just stood there waiting for Al to change into his. He postponed it for as long as he could, but finally had to drop his pants . . . and he had a . . . you know."
