Wife Pines for Buddy Overseas

When my buddy Jim showed us his orders for overseas duty assignment, I could see how it affected my wife, and she was not happy, even clearly shaken. We offered to drive him across country to Fort Campbell, Kentucky, and he accepted the offer. On our way there we stopped at a hotel just out of Phoenix and paid for two rooms. Inside his room we all collapsed on his bed, side by side, with her in the middle, on our backs, looking at the ceiling, all spent from the long drive and by the trauma of the circumstance.

Claire reached up and raised both hands in the air. Impulsively, we each took one of her hands in a gesture of solidarity, a moment of bonding I understood as special at that moment. I had known about her deep feelings for Jim since he showed us his orders, but on the bed, with each of us holding her hands I understood what it meant, what was coming, that she felt deeply for both of us.

After dinner we went back to his room and a few minutes later she walked me to the door. "I'll be staying here tonight," she said without a second thought. It wasn't a question, not asking permission, just a statement of fact, like: 'I'll be going to the store now.' She then kissed me and it was an apology kiss, an 'I'm sorry for my feelings' kiss. She was telling me by the kiss how much it meant to her to spend that night with Jim, how necessary it really was to her. I studied her face and I knew.

"I understand," I said, and I did. I knew she would be saying goodbye that night, she would be saying goodbye to my friend in the most intimate way possible. She would be making love and it would be far more than simply fucking.

"I have to say goodbye," she said, kissing me again. We stood for a minute without speaking, then she said, "When did you know?"

"When his orders came," I said, holding her loosely.

She nodded and smiled. "That would have said it all," she said shyly, nodding her head.

"I'll see you in the morning?" I said. She nodded, kissed me again and closed the door. I did not see them again until the next morning at the restaurant. They were holding hands as they came in. It was obvious to those in the restaurant that they were a couple saying goodbye near an Army base in Phoenix. It was clear she didn't want to let go of him, that they were a couple and I was their friend. It was clear they had spent the night saying goodbye. What wasn't clear to anyone watching was that I was her husband and that he was my friend.

Three more nights and she slept with him every night. On the way across the country they mostly rode in the back seat and continued to say goodbye, hugging and looking at one another with sadness in their eyes, longing, regret. When we finally got to Kentucky, after four days on the road, I drove onto the base and I parked in a large parking lot a ways from the air field and we walked to a large terrace over looking the runway and the transport waiting for them.

"Go down with him," I said. "Say goodbye the way you want to." She smiled and without a word turned to him and took his arm. He and I shook hands, said our goodbyes, then they left, him carrying his duffle on his shoulder. At the plane he put it down and took her into his arms. Their kiss was long and tender, the kind of kiss people give when there will be a long wait until the next one. As they stood holding one another in their arms his hands went to her bottom and he openly took ahold of her lovely cheeks and pulled her to him, pulled her lovely pelvis against his. My wife and my best friend were saying goodbye as lovers, and for some reason I didn't understand it didn't bother me, didn't give me a single pinch in the heart of jealousy.

I watched them like a stranger seeing two lover leaving one another for a while. I saw them as a couple, and I understood they were actually just that. I didn't know how much of a couple they would be when he returned, but I understood the reality of that moment. I also I understood at that moment that it was more than sex. The sex the night before he left, I was sure was wonderful, exciting, and passionate. I also knew there was love involved, genuine love, deep and overwhelming feelings I could not in all good conscience stand in the way of.

As I watched on the tarmac, I saw two people who needed to be together and needed to be open about it. I turned and walked back towards the car, giving them time not to be watched, time to be natural and caring. I opened the windows of the car and turned on the radio, waiting for Claire to finish saying her goodbyes.

When his letters started coming I didn't ask to read them and she didn't offer. She took them off by herself and read them many times. Once, however, she did ask if I wanted to read one and I said no. "Yeah, they get pretty passionate," she said with a grin. Once I saw her reading one and there were tears in her eyes. I asked if anything was wrong and she said no, "Just missing him."

The letters came every other day, like clockwork, and everyday she would be at the mailbox waiting for the postman. She wrote every day, and would spend an hour each time writing long, detailed letters. I could tell the two years for her was going by very slowly, and after two years he called to tell us when he would be arriving. Of course we would pick him up.

We flew to Nashville, then rented a car for the rest of the trip. On the drive to the base, forty minutes, we didn't talk much, but toward the end I could see her excitement rise and I once again knew I would send her to the plane without me to keep things from being awkward. When his plane arrived we waited on the same terrace as before and it seemed they kept them in the huge transport plane for hours. It must have seemed like forever to Jim. When we finally saw him coming down the ramp from the plane I nudged her and she looked at me, kissed me, then ran down the stairs toward the plane. Under the wing they rushed together and she jumped into his arms. Their kiss was frantic and with an energy I envied, and they pawed one another like teens after the dance. His hands once again went to her bottom and he massaged them eagerly and with pent up passion that had lingered in them both for two long, agonizing years.

That night at the airport, we again got two rooms, but there was never any doubt who would be in one of them, and they went in and closed the door without hesitation. There was no "see you in the morning," that was simply understood, and they didn't come out until nearly eleven the next day. Our flight left it five and that left plenty of time.

I didn't want to watch them, didn't want to hear about how he fucked her, to vicariously experience their sex and jack off to images of them making love. I just wanted to give them the time they obviously were desperate to have. I wasn't a cuckold getting turned on by her need to have sex with another man. I didn't want to be humiliated, I just wanted to not keep them apart, to not stand in the way. I had accepted the truth two years before, and the truth was that my wife loved someone else, wanted to be with him, and I simply could not keep that from happening. I did love her, and it was enough to let go of her if necessary.

When we finally got home he stayed with us, since he had no place of his own, and he needed to find work, and also he needed to make some big decisions, So did I. Claire announced in the second week that they'd be looking for a place for him and it was just understood that she'd be helping. They were going to drive to the desert and check it out.

When they returned the next night she said they' found him a place near Palm Spring where he he had found a job with a company there. She said it was a clothing optional apartment complex and he would be moving there in a week. I had known he was a nudist and would prefer a place like that. Then the big question was: who all will be moving there?

"I'm going to be going too," she said without my asking, putting a hand on my shoulder. "It's a lovely place, you'd love it, and I can find a job around there, too." I asked when they were leaving, not even asking about why she'd be going with him. That I had realized probably two years before, when it was clear how miserable she had been when he had to be gone so long.

I helped them move. We rented a U-haul moving truck and filled her things and his, although he didn't have much, having been in the army for the last two years. We drove to Palm Springs in the front seat of the truck, which I drove, and we carried their things into the clothing optional apartment complex and into their apartment. Once there Claire stripped off her clothes and began unpacking her things naked and happy.

Throughout the day, they would stop, kiss, and exchange affectionate hugs, and I'd watch and have to smile at how happy she seemed. There was a couple upstairs from them, Molly and Ted, who came in and introduced themselves, and Claire introduced me as her husband and they didn't even question why she was moving in with Jim instead of me. There was also a same-sex couple down the hall who also introduced themselves, Jane and Nancy. They were all nude and I got into the mood soon after we got all the things out of the truc, taking off my clothes and feeling good about it.

It has actually turned out pretty well. I visit about twice a month and when I'm there I sleep with Claire in their guest room. Their bedroom is down the hall from "ours" and I often will peek into Jim and Claire's room and gaze at the bed where she sleeps with him, the bed they have sex in. I have my privacy now, get to be with my wife, and still have the freedom to do as I please with my time. The sex with Claire is unbelievable,

Jim has brought out the tigress in her, and being able to still have her in my life and enjoy her is a bonus I never could have imagined. I like being with them, being able to be nude and live relaxed and casual, something I never would have done on my own, and still work and live in the home I enjoy is maybe having the best of both worlds. When my buddy got sent to Iraq, I never thought things would change so much. Who would figure?