Where the Hell Was She?

As always, constructive comments are always welcome and appreciated. Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. And remember, this is a work of fiction, meaning that it is not real in any way, shape, matter or form.

I had just finished supervising a major install in Spokane and was heading east on Interstate 90 to see an old friend, Joe Neely, who lived along Lake Coeur d'Alene in northern Idaho. It wasn't my first trip to the Pacific Northwest, but it was the first time I had ever been to this part of Idaho.

Joe and I served together many years ago, at Cherry Point, North Carolina. I had met his wife and the first of his three kids and eaten dinner at his place many times. When he left, we promised to stay in touch, and frequently sent each other cards and letters over the years. I hadn't heard from him in several months so when I told him I would be in Spokane, he invited me out for a visit.

I followed his directions and eventually found myself pulling in front of his log house, built on a wooded bluff overlooking Lake Coeur d'Alene. As I pulled up, he came from the back of his house and we exchanged hearty handshakes and manly hugs. He looked quite a bit older than I remembered, but was as strong as ever.

"How're ya doing, you old salt?" he asked.

"Fair to middlin'," I told him. "How about you?"

"I could complain, but it wouldn't do any damn good," he answered, laughing. "Come on out back, I've got elk steaks on the grill and some beer in the icebox." I could smell the barbecue and the invitation for elk steaks made my mouth water.

"Where's that lovely wife of yours?" I asked when he handed me an ice cold beer.

"She passed away a few months ago or so," he said sadly. "They diagnosed her with pancreatic cancer, but by the time they caught it, it was too late."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I said. "I thought the world of Wendy."

"Thanks," he said. "She was a damn good woman. The best."

"Are you dating again or what?" I asked. He shook his head.

"Nah," he said. "She made me promise to find someone after she died, but to be honest, I just couldn't do it. Once you've been married to the best, everything else pales by comparison." He dished up the elk steaks and we dug in. I had never eaten elk before, so this was a real treat.

"How are you holding up?" I asked.

"I'm doing okay," he said. "At least I get to enjoy this view every day," he added, looking at the lake. "Wendy and I fell in love with this place when we first saw it, so we decided to stay. Kids come around a couple times a year and I get to spoil the grandkids." He looked at me for a minute before continuing.

"You know, Wendy wasn't my first wife," he said.

"No, I didn't know that," I told him.

"I never did tell you about my first wife, but if it hadn't been for her cheating on me, I never would've met Wendy," he said. "Don't know if I've ever told you, but I've read your stories on Literotica. Enjoyed the hell out of them."

"Thanks," I told him. "It's just something I do as a bit of a hobby while I'm on the road. Just for fun."

"You really poked a hornet's nest with a couple of them," he said, smiling. "Fuck the critics, that's what I say. You keep on writing."

"I appreciate that," I told him.

"Maybe you'd like to write a story about what happened to me and my first wife," he said.

"I'll certainly listen," I told him, pulling out an audio recorder. "Would you mind if I recorded this? I want to make sure I get it right."

"Go ahead," he said. He began telling his story after I set the recorder on the table between us.

...

Joe's story:

I enlisted in the Marine Corps right out of high school, in 1974. It was either that or spend the rest of my life working at my dad's hardware store. After boot camp, I ended up at MCAS El Toro in California. That's where I first met Marcy. She was a year younger than me and we hit it off great. We dated for several months before I popped the question.

She accepted, and her father -- a career Marine who spent three tours in Vietnam -- approved. We got married in a small church ceremony and went to Vegas for our honeymoon. I thought I had it made. Marcy was a beautiful girl with all the right curves in all the right places. She had long curly blonde hair that went over her shoulders and she was a real wildcat in bed. That woman knew how to give a world-class blowjob. And yes, she swallowed.

On top of that, she was a bit of an exhibitionist. I'll never forget one night we were in the pool at the apartment complex where we lived in Anaheim. No one else was around, so she took off her bikini and tossed it on the side of the pool. Next thing I know, she had spread her legs wide so I could see her shaved pussy. Yeah, she actually shaved her pussy for me that night.

I wasn't stupid. I took off my swim trunks and made my way to the side of the pool where she was standing, her breasts just above the water. As I got to her, she wrapped her legs around me and we fucked like rabbits right there in the pool.

After we finished and got out of the pool, I wrapped a towel around myself and grabbed my trunks. But not Marcy. She simply got her towel and bikini and walked completely naked to our apartment, which was on the second story in another part of the complex. Hell, everybody could've seen her if they looked.

After we got in the apartment, she spread herself out on the bed and started masturbating for me, spreading her pussy lips wide. Hell, I didn't need an engraved invitation, so I dove in and ate her out until she had another orgasm. Then we screwed some more and finally fell asleep early in the morning.

That's the way things were with us and I thought I was the luckiest man alive. About six months after we got married, I got a set of orders to Okinawa for a one-year unaccompanied tour. There was a lot of crying, but we managed to work it out.

Since she was taking night classes to become certified as a nurse while she worked, we decided to keep the apartment. I got an allotment to take care of the rent out of my pay so all she'd have to worry about was utilities, which wasn't that much. She had her own car and hated driving my truck so that wasn't a problem.

We made love the night before I left and promised to stay true to each other and write every day. I hated leaving like that, but I had no choice. For the first ten months or so, we wrote every day -- hot, steamy letters. I loved getting her letters, since she always put perfume on them and I always got hard reading what she said she wanted to do with me.

About six weeks before I left Okinawa, she told me that a friend of hers from school, Bridgit, was going to San Francisco for a couple weeks during a break, and she asked if she could go. I figured it wouldn't hurt so I said yes, so long as she kept writing and let me know how she was doing and where she was at.

She agreed and kept her promise for a little while, but then the letters quit coming. I kept writing, but heard nothing back. About a week before I was set to rotate out, I went to the USO and called the apartment, but got no answer. So I called her friend to find out what happened.

Bridgit was getting ready to head back east to join her boyfriend and told me that Marcy decided to stay in San Francisco for a bit longer to visit with some friends from her high school. She didn't know who they were and had no contact information. Hell, I didn't know she had friends up there. Then the letters I sent to her in San Francisco began coming back, unopened and marked "Address Unknown."

"What the hell," I wondered. "Where the hell was she?" I started getting scared, thinking that maybe she had been kidnapped or worse.

I called Marcy's parents, who were in San Diego at the time, to see if they knew where she was, but they said they hadn't heard from her in weeks. You have to remember that in those days, we didn't have cell phones or the Internet or anything like that. They did offer to pick me up at March Air Force Base when I got back if I hadn't heard from Marcy.

As I thought about it, I realized there could be a number of reasons for this. Maybe she was on a bus heading back to Orange County. So I decided to wait until I got home and hoped that she would be there. A day before I was set to leave, I called home again but no one answered the phone. So I called her parents and told them. They weren't too happy with Marcy, but agreed to pick me up and take me back to the apartment.

True to their word, they met me at March and drove me back to the apartment. It was dark by the time we got there and I saw no lights from the apartment windows.

Her father helped me carry my gear up to the apartment. I opened the door and walked in, hoping to find Marcy. Instead, I found a dusty apartment that was devoid of any life. The place had been picked up -- Marcy was a fastidious housekeeper -- but a fine layer of dust was on everything, as though no one had been there for some time.

Her father and I looked around, hoping to find clues, but there was nothing to suggest she had been there for a while. Most of her clothes were gone as well as nearly all of her jewelry. Her father noticed a pawn ticket on the dresser and handed it to me. I had no idea what she might have pawned, but decided to call the shop first thing in the morning.

"Let me know if you hear anything," her father said as he began to leave. "If there's anything we can do, call." I thanked him and put my gear away. I looked but found nothing to indicate where she might have been. I went down to the garage and found that my truck was still there. Marcy usually kept her car parked in a marked spot under an overhang, and it was still there.

"Where the hell is she?" I wondered. I called the local police to file a missing persons report, but got the runaround. "Screw this," I thought and went to bed.

The next day, I got my first clues. I called the pawn shop number on the ticket her father found and learned that she had sold her wedding and engagement rings for $100. I was outraged. I had saved for those rings for months and paid through the teeth for them. The shop offered to sell them back to me, but I refused. Enraged, I took off my ring and pounded it with a hammer.

Later, as I was cleaning and packing up, I ran across a stack of letters addressed to Marcy from someone in San Francisco named John. The letters dated back to six months before she told me about her trip. I couldn't believe she would dump me like this, but I had to know what was in the letters, so I began reading them.

As you can imagine, they were every bit as steamy as the letters Marcy and I wrote to each other. But I learned something else. Reading the letters, it became clear that Marcy and John knew each other in high school and had been seeing each other the whole time we were married, meeting before school or on evenings I was stuck on duty at the base.

"I hope your stupid jarhead husband liked eating my cum from your pussy last night," one letter said. I thought I was going to puke reading that. But there was more. "Maybe I can get you pregnant and your husband can raise the child. Wouldn't that be a blast?" another letter said. There was more, and every letter pissed me off even more than the previous one.

Finally, it became clear that Marcy and John planned for her to stay with him in San Francisco. The trip with Bridgit was just a cover story as they would try to make it look as though she simply disappeared.

It also became clear to me that she had finished her schooling and was looking forward to getting a nursing job in San Francisco. Of course, she failed to tell me she had finished her education, but that was part of their plan.

Angry didn't even begin to describe how I felt. How could she do this to me, to us, I wondered. I had plenty of opportunities to cheat on her but never did. I called her parents and spoke to her mother, Ginny.

"Hi Joe," she said. "Have you learned anything about Marcy?"

"Yeah," I said. "She's shacked up in San Francisco with some creep named John."

"John?" Ginny asked. "John Calloway?"

"Yes," I said. "Did you know about this?"

"No, I didn't, Joe," she said. "Marcy and John were an item through high school, but I thought she cut it off when you guys started dating."

"Nope," I said. "It seems that her and John have been cheating on me behind my back for our entire marriage. They've been planning this for a while."

"Oh my God, Joe," she said. "I'm so sorry. What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to divorce her," I said.

"I understand," she said. "Is there anything we can do?"

"Yeah," I said. "Y'all can come up and take her stuff. I don't want it. All I want are my clothes, my television, tools and my stereo. Her car is still here, too."

"Okay," Ginny said. "I'll talk to her brothers and we'll come up and get her stuff this weekend."

We ended the call and I started going through the phone book to find an attorney. Damn, there were so many of them around, I didn't know where to start. I started calling and found one who could see me on Friday at the earliest. Friday, I thought. That was three days away. Mind you, this wasn't how I planned to spend my leave, but I had no choice.

That's when I decided I needed to find her and verify where she was. I looked on the letters John sent her and got his address in San Francisco. Time for a road trip, I decided, so I checked out my truck, grabbed a few things and headed out.

I stopped at the bank and closed out our accounts, taking everything in cash. Marcy had already gone to the bank and took about half of what we had, but I still managed to withdraw a little more than $3,500.00, which I figured would be enough to see me through this if I was careful. I still had money left over from my time in Okinawa, which I thought would help get me over the hump.

It took me a good eight hours to make the trip, after fighting the traffic in LA and Orange counties. I stopped and got a motel room after I arrived and bought a small camera and a fairly detailed map of the city and the surrounding area.

I studied the map and located the street and block that matched the address on John's letters. I decided to grab a bite to eat and a few hours of sleep before doing any reconnaissance. I wasn't planning to confront the bitch, but I did want to get a photo or two of them together to show her parents and the attorney.

Early the next morning, I drove to the area where John lived and located the apartment complex where he and Marcy were staying. I parked about 100 feet away from the main gate and watched. I put on a ratty old baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses, hoping that would provide sufficient camouflage.

It didn't take long for me to spot the two cheaters. John and Marcy came out of the gate and went to a red Mustang convertible. John was wearing cutoffs and a t-shirt while Marcy wore a sundress. I grabbed the camera I had with me and took a couple of pictures.

From the way they were dressed, I figured they wouldn't be gone for long, so I waited. As he pulled out, I took note of his plate: JONMRC.

I ate one of the sandwiches I had with me and waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally, that afternoon, they came back. John got out of the car and opened Marcy's door. He wrapped her in his arms as she got out and kissed her. While they were kissing, he lifted the back of her dress over her waist and I could see she had no panties on. As they kissed, she ground her crotch into his. She broke the kiss and looked around for a second and pulled her dress over her head and tossed it into the front seat of the car.

John kissed her naked body and licked her pussy as she leaned on the car door, spreading her legs. I was taking pictures of the entire encounter, thinking they would make good evidence for my divorce. She reached for the zipper on his shorts and I thought she was going to fuck him right there. It took everything I had to keep from rushing them and beating the crap out of them right there.

After a few minutes, Marcy pulled John back and I could hear her tell him to take her to the apartment and fuck her. Marcy remained naked as they walked through the gate and headed for his apartment. I waited a bit to see which apartment they were going to, and noted that there were no windows in the apartment where they could see John's car.

I waited a bit longer and realized I need to piss badly. I had a wicked idea and walked to John's car and pissed all over Marcy's dress, making sure no one saw me. Then I felt the urge to take a crap, so I did the only logical thing. Making sure no one could see me, I dropped my drawers and took a shit all over her dress, making sure to cover as much of the interior of John's car as I could.

Trust me, I hated doing that to a car as nice as his, but I figured, what the fuck. If they were going to shit all over my marriage, it was the least I could do in return. I also knew I was taking a risk that someone could see me and tell John, but I really didn't care at that point.

I wiped my ass with a towel John had in the car, then quickly pulled up my pants and ran to my truck. I had all the evidence I needed, so I quietly headed out.

After checking out of the motel, I drove back to Orange County. I stopped off at one of those quickie photo places to have the film developed and, two hours later, had the pictures and negatives in my hand.

I had just about enough time to grab a few hours of sleep, so I racked out for a bit, showered and shaved for my appointment with the attorney. I grabbed the photos, the pawn ticket and the letters from John and hit the road again.

That's when I learned that California was a no-fault divorce state. It didn't matter that she abandoned the marriage, sold her rings and cheated on me the whole time we were married. Everything was to be split 50-50. The lawyer asked how much we had in the bank and I told him the truth -- nothing. I also told him that she had already taken half of what we had. Besides, I added, she made more than I did even though she only worked part-time and now has a nursing certificate. I showed him one of her pay stubs that showed her take-home pay was almost twice what I made before taxes.

He warned me against trying to hide anything and I explained that I had just returned from a one-year tour to Okinawa and was heading out for the east coast, so I wouldn't be able to just drop everything and run to court. He assured me the law provided for that and I wouldn't have to personally appear in court.

I gave him the address where Marcy and her lover were living and suggested she be served there. The lawyer took all the information and said the papers would be drawn up and she would be served in a few days. If all went well, he said, I would be a free man in six months. He gave me his card and asked that I call him when I had a good mailing address in North Carolina. I gave him a retainer in cash and left.

After I got home, I visited the apartment management office and told them I intended to be gone by Monday morning. Then I scheduled the utilities to be shut off and set about packing and cleaning. When Marcy's family showed up Saturday morning, they cleared the place out and took Marcy's car back to San Diego.

"So, what's going on?" her father asked before he left. I pulled out the pictures I took and the letters from John and showed him. His face turned white.

"That stupid girl," he said. "I'm so sorry, Joe. I thought I had raised her better than this. You didn't do anything to hurt them, did you?"

"No," I said, "I wanted to kick that fucker in the balls, but I didn't. I figured she wasn't worth going to jail over. No offense. I did do some custom work to his car, though." He looked at me funny.