Hello,
I'm going to tell you a story, a true story (of course the names have been changed and some minor details) that happened to me just a few months ago that has completely transformed my life. I would even say it has liberated me unconditionally in every way.
I am still a married woman, and to my husband, sons and friends there seem to be no reasons for my newfound blissfulness. I am a much happier, more liberated and much more fulfilled woman because of this experience. I can't share this story with my husband or friends, and I feel compelled to share it with someone, so I may as well share it with complete strangers.
My name is Krystal Anderson, and by most standards I would say I am a happily married woman. I'm a proud mother of two boys; Darren and William, 19 and 18 respectively. Darren is a junior at VMI (Virginia Military Institute); he wants to be an Army officer like his father. William, my baby is in community college just a few miles from here. Mr. Anderson is a Lieutenant Colonel in the Army. He's a Battalion Commander of a Quartermaster unit in the 82nd Airborne.
My father was an infantry General in the Army and I was always drawn to strong, fit, confident men like my father. When I met Darryl my sophomore year he seemed just like that kind of man. We met at a Corps of Cadets Ball at VMI. He looked so handsome in his uniform and seemed so intelligent and sweet that we immediately hit it off. He told me he was going to be an infantry officer and I must admit, I was smitten. We married after a whirlwind 6 month courtship. Unfortunately, my husband failed out of Officer Basic Course and had to change his branch to quartermaster. Quartermaster is basically the supply people that provide equipment to the real warriors of the 82nd Airborne Division. His day consists of sitting on his ass behind a desk instead of training for war and leading soldiers like my father.
Unfortunately over the years, time has not been too kind to my husband. He's almost completely bald, he's probably 40-50 lbs over weight and to top it all off he doesn't have the sex drive that he used to. He's such a hypocrite. He marches around talking about the Army creed and values, expecting all soldiers to be physically fit when he couldn't run a mile without having a heart attack. To be honest I don't think he would have received a command had my father not pulled some strings.
I try so hard to be the consummate officer's wife, but it can be tiring. I'm a southern girl educated at the University of Georgia. I majored in education, and against all wishes of the Colonel (my husband), I teach Science and girl's volleyball at the Ft. Bragg High School. The Colonel would like his wife to be a homemaker, and while the boys were young I took a few years off to do just that. But I guess my independence and boredom lead me right back to teaching when the boys were old enough to attend school. Being an Officer's wife sure isn't what it has cracked up to be. I occasionally get to dress up and attend formal events, like the Army's Birthday Ball and various Hail and Farewell functions. Mostly, though it's about having to maintain a certain false appearance and attitude. Having to maintain a fulltime appearance as the perfect wife can really wear on your soul sometimes.
Physically I would consider myself to be an attractive woman. I don't mean to sound conceited, but I think generally people have a good idea of their physical attributes. Please don't get me wrong, I don't think I'm untouchable or anything like that, I'm very down to earth, I just happen to be pretty. I 'm 5'7 and approximately 125ish pounds and have long red hair (ok, it has a touch of grey, but I have it colored to a sexy red to maintain my youthful appearance). I'm 38 years old and I keep myself very active. I like to run, do Pilates, spinning classes and swimming. I even won a Mrs. Ft. Bragg Beauty contest a couple of years ago, so I guess others approve of my efforts. I had my breasts augmented about 5 years ago which brought my rather underappreciated B cups to an attention getting, stare inducing 36D.
The girls (the other officer's wives) and I do everything we can to support the war effort. We're always having bake sales, car washes, garage sales and soliciting local businesses to donate money and items to the troops. We work tirelessly to make sure our boys are getting the support and recognition they need. It makes me sick to see my fat, lazy husband whining about his office politics, while the 82nd Airborne soldiers are deployed in harms way. He hasn't been deployed anywhere since we were married, other than the occasional schools he attends stateside.
Finally, one day I had had enough of my husband's bullshit.
He came home around 1700 (5:00 PM) one Thursday after work bitching that he had to go to a Quartermaster conference in Washington on Friday. He was whining about how it was such short notice and that he had so much work to do, blah blah blah. Frankly, I know this sounds mean, but I was looking forward to having the house to myself and relaxing for the weekend.
William, my youngest normally came home from junior college to do his laundry and eat our groceries. This weekend he had decided he was going to Myrtle Beach with a couple of his friends. At last I had the house all to myself.
Friday morning I drove the major to the Raleigh-Durham Airport, I was back with the house all to myself by 10:30AM. I attended my Pilates class, and then came home to our house to shower.
On post housing pisses me off. We live in an old 1960's two story colonial house reserved for Field Grade Officers (Major and above) and it's really a beautiful house. It has large white columns, hardwood floors, a winding staircase and crown molding, but the hot water never works when you want it too. I had to take another cold shower. I put in a call to maintenance and they said they wouldn't be able to get to it until Sunday. "That's fantastic!" I thought.
After my cold shower I went to the salon and had my hair and nails done. I always get a French manicure, which seems to drive men wild for some reason. I don't know what it is about French manicures but if I'm writing a check, talking on my phone, drinking a glass of wine at a restaurant or doing whatever, men are drawn to my hands, then to me. I'm sure it has something to do with my hands and their dick, I don't mean to be crude but that's the way men think. ;)
My friend Suzie called and suggested some of us girls get together and grab some lunch at the "French Cuisine" in Fayetteville.
Suzie, also a Colonels wife was telling us that one of the battalions from the 82nd Airborne had just returned from a year in Iraq. She remarked "can you imagine how much testosterone will be floating around Ft. Bragg this weekend?"
Mary, a Captain's wife said: "Can you imagine how horny those young guys are going to be after a year of combat with no women in sight?"
"Mmm Hmm" I half moaned. The girls all giggled.
I went back to my place and took a nap. It was so nice to have the house so quiet and all to myself. I fixed myself a glass of wine and began to feel that familiar throbbing between my legs. I instinctively started upstairs to draw a warm bath; I like to use the removable shower head to spray water between my legs to bring me to orgasm. It's the only way I've been able to relieve myself for years.
"Shit Shit Shit Shit!" I exclaimed aloud as I suddenly remembered the hot water heater was not working.
I got my workout clothes on and went to the post gym to workout my frustrations. I couldn't believe how crowded it was, I had never seen the gym this full of young virile men! There must have been a hundred guys, all between the ages of 18 and 25, all in great shape. Some had tattoos, and shaved heads; others had hair that was long by Army standards. I became so incredibly horny just by the odor of young cock sweat in the room.
I could tell most of these guys were from the battalion that just got back from Iraq. I would hear them telling war stories, and talking about just getting back this morning. I must have been quite a sight for sore eyes because just about every pair of weights stopped moving and every hungry set of eyes in the room stared at me with almost unnerving lust.
Some smiled at me, some said "hello Ma'am" and some just stared, but just about every one of them wanted me. If it weren't for the thin veil of discipline and societal expectations on these young men, I felt as though I were a breath away from being gang raped.
I jumped up on the stair climber and began my workout. The boys started back at their workouts, but their eyes were often diverted in my direction. I knew my mature, married ass stepping up and down, flexing and relaxing must have made every cock in the room hard. I could see in the mirror my tits were firmly bouncing up and down with each step, the cleft in my tight blue tank top pushed my tits tightly together making them look like a baby's bottom. My long red hair pulled back in a tight pony tail, bobbed playfully back and forth.
A young handsome soldier with short cropped hair got on the stair climber next to me. He was wearing a tank top that revealed large ripping muscles and an 82nd All American tattoo. He smiled at me; I smiled back but tried to seem disinterested. I don't think I was fooling him in the least.
"Hello, I'm Dirk." He said with a confident, almost cocky smile.
"Mrs. Anderson, Mrs. Colonel Anderson." I said haughtily.
