I had been away for six months and our reunion was meant to be a memorable one for my wife and I. We had no idea just how memorable it would turn out to be.
My flight was ten hours long, plus a two-hour wait for a transfer in Singapore. Usually I'd sleep, but one thing had kept me awake for more or less the whole journey - the fantasy of what Julia and I would get up to once we were both safely home.
Julia is 34 years old but is still as beautiful and youthful as the day we met at university, not to mention funny, sweet and smart. She has sleek black hair, sparkling blue eyes, gorgeous, full, pink lips and a winning smile. She exercises when she can and never seems satisfied with her figure, but she's slim by the standards of most women in their mid-30s. While she can't stand the couple of excess inches on her belly and butt, it's perfect for my tastes. I like to grab onto something, and she's just the right amount of woman. After six months of sleeping alone in the unremarkable hotel accommodation my work had set up for me, the thought of sharing my bed with this woman was, understandably, stopping me from sleeping.
The time away had probably been good for us. Like most couples who have been together for over ten years, our sex life was waning. We still made love once or twice a week, but it was often perfunctory. We knew each other so well, we'd just do what we knew would work, rolled over and fell asleep. After half a year of not even touching one another, though, I had a newfound appreciation for how stunning she is, and couldn't wait to get her undressed again.
I knew she was going to meet me at the airport, but I was taken aback by what was waiting for me when I finally made it through customs. I was sweaty, groggy and tired after a gruelling journey, and Julia was waiting for me in a black cocktail dress, black high heels and the expensive pearl necklace I'd bought for her birthday a couple of years ago. She looked glamorous, sexy and ready for a night out. As we wrapped our arms around each other, I said "you didn't have to get dressed up." "I hope you slept plenty on the plane," she replied, "we're going for dinner and drinks." I was exhausted, of course, but she'd gone to the effort of surprising me and I didn't want to spoil it. "And when we get home," she breathed into my ear, "I'm going to fuck your brains out." No arguments.
I dumped my luggage in the boot of the car, got inside and we headed for town, with Julia in the driving seat. "You look fantastic," I said, and she turned and smiled at me. After a pause, she reached out for my hand and pulled it onto her thigh. It felt smooth and warm. "I've not even touched myself since you left," she said softly. "I wanted to save myself for you." That's why she's so affectionate and forthright then, I thought. She's horny as hell.
I pushed my hand slowly up her dress and located her underwear. I could tell from the feel that she was wearing my favourite - an insubstantial, lacy black thong she didn't much like, but wore for my sake if I'd done something to deserve it. She let out a little gasp and her thighs parted a little, so I pushed my luck and found the middle ground. Hot, damp. She gasped again and then clamped her thighs shut. "I'm driving!" she smiled, "behave yourself." I said I could be patient a couple of hours longer, and we pulled into the restaurant car park.
Dinner was fine - a fairly posh restaurant, good food and a nice glass or two of white wine - but I was glad when it was over, because I thought it was a step closer to bed. I was secretly dismayed, then, when Julia announced we were going for a cocktail at a new bar she'd heard about round the corner. I quietly protested, nibbling at her ear and saying I wanted to get her to bed, but, smiling impishly, she pushed me away and told me to have a little patience.
By the time we arrived at the bar, I'd resigned myself to staying out for as long as Julia wanted, as she'd clearly planned us a special night out and I didn't want to disappoint her. We talked about how much we'd missed one another, and as we spoke I was struck again by how beautiful she was. Her big blue eyes beamed at me, and she kissed me and whispered slowly, teasingly in my ear, "as soon as we get in the door tonight, I'm going to drop to my knees and suck your cock." I maintained my poker face but I was doing somersaults inside. She'd never talked dirty like this to me before. "Oh, really?" was all I could manage. "Really. And when you're done fucking me, I'm going to swallow your cum. Like a good wife." I'm not going to lie, I was the luckiest person in the world at that point.
My voice must have cracked when I suggested we get going, because Julia burst out laughing. She said she wanted a drink, so I left her alone and went to order.
I'd volunteered to drive home so she could drink, so I waited patiently for her Caipirinha and surveyed the bar. It was reasonably busy, with pockets of well dressed friends drinking and dancing, and some good dance music to accompany the night.
I noticed I was standing next to a soldier, leaning on the bar, playing with his phone and drinking a mineral water. He was a good height, maybe 6'2", and in his late 20s at a guess. He looked like a caricature of a soldier - muscular, chiseled jaw line, handsome, and a serious, controlled expression. He nodded at me. I smiled, he stared. He held his gaze for long enough for me to feel uncomfortable. "Do we know each other?" I said. He ignored the question. "Is that your wife?" he motioned towards Julia, sitting on her own at the far side of the room. I confirmed that she was. "She looks like a fucking slut," said the soldier. It was a pretty strong opening gambit, and I was thrown a little off course. "She's not, and we're happy together. Thank you." I turned away. "Don't turn your fucking back on me," he snapped.
I weighed up my options. I didn't want to get into a physical altercation - for one thing, he was a lot bigger than me, and for another I don't think it was quite in Julia's plan for a perfect evening for me to have the shit beaten out of me in public. I turned around to face him, smiling ruefully. "Good boy," he said. "Now, what's your wife's name? I'm going to fuck her." It's a pretty emasculating moment, when someone looks you in the eye and informs you, matter-of-factly, that he's going to fuck your wife. "Julia," I breathed. "And believe me, you're not." A flicker of contempt spread across his face, and he leaned back with a grin. He lifted up his phone and I realised he was getting the conversation on video. "I'm going to fuck your wife," he taunted. "No, you're not. Put that down." I said.
The drink arrived. I paid up and walked back to Julia, his words ringing in my ears. "Have you made a friend?" asked my wife. "Something like that," I said. "Come on, we've got to go." Julia looked dismayed. "Why?" Why indeed. I didn't know what to say. Because a strong, handsome soldier had muttered that he wanted to fuck my wife? Why would we have to leave, because I was afraid that he was going to succeed? What kind of man was I? "I just... want to get to bed." Julia sighed. "I thought we could have a dance." "I'm just so tired." "Well, I'm going to dance. You can do whatever you like." The magic of the evening was broken. I asked if she was alright and she said yes, of course she was. I knew I'd fucked up, though. Even though it was perfectly reasonable for me to want to get back after that flight, she'd invested six months of thought into this night being perfect, and I'd punctured that.
She downed her drink and said she was going to the dance floor and that I could come if I wanted to. I sat and thought about how I could rescue the evening, and by the time I'd stopped dallying, my soldier had stepped in and was dancing with my wife. He looked a different man - he was smiling, light on his feet and, to be fair, a pretty good dancer. He was keeping his distance, and only touching her hands occasionally - I could see he was eyeing up her tits though. Julia looked over towards me once or twice, but she was clearly determined to enjoy herself, and when they took a break it was to get another drink. After about half an hour, when he dared to put his hands on her waist, I decided to break up the party before they got too close for comfort. I sidled up and she greeted me with a smile. "This is Mark," she said, "he's in the army!" "I can see that," I said. This conversation with Mark was far more cordial than our previous one, and he was obviously putting it on for her. I could see the sarcasm in his smile as he told me what a pretty wife I had. Julia giggled and pushed him in the chest. "He's a great dancer!" she said, slurring her words a little. She wasn't a big drinker and it didn't tend to take a lot to get her drunk, so three glasses of wine and two cocktails had her well on her way.
The three of us sat down and Mark ordered three whiskies. I explained that I was driving, so I couldn't indulge, and Mark said Julia could have mine instead. She laughed and said she never had that much to drink, but Mark said "I thought you guys were having a special night? You can treat yourself." I guess she'd confided a bit about how long we'd been away from one another. Julia savoured the first whisky and shot the second before going to the bathroom.
Mark and I sat in silence for a minute. It took a while for me to realise he was smirking at me. "What?" I said. "You can't stop it from happening, that's what." I stared into the dancing crowd. I was exhausted. I thought to myself that I just wanted to go home, so I ignored Mark's words. Julia came back and I said we were going home. She made a little disappointed sigh, but conceded that it was pretty late now. "Great to meet you guys," said Mark. Waves of relief passed over me. He was giving up. "Oh, hold on - do you guys live on the East side of town?" "Yeah, you want a lift?" said Julia. My heart sank. She must have told him earlier where we lived. Another 30 minute drive until we get rid of this guy, I thought, unhappily.
Mark got in the back of the car, and Julia was climbing into the front seat when he objected. "Hey, I thought I was going to have some company from a beautiful woman back here!" he said. She was drunk enough, and flattered enough, to acquiesce. I was sullen. "What's the matter, honey?" said Julia. "Nothing's the matter, I'm just tired," I said. "Where are we taking you, Mark?" I wanted to get him out of my car as soon as possible. "I don't want to be any trouble, sir, I'll just walk home from your house." Julia cooed, "sir! He's so polite." "I was just brought up this way, I guess. I've always been taught to be humble and put others before myself. The military kind of reinforces that." I watched in my rear view mirror as Julia's big blue eyes stared at him. She said softly "it must be hard for your girlfriend, you being away so much." "Oh, I don't have a girlfriend. I don't think it'd be fair." "But you must get lonely," said Julia. Mark shrugged. Silence prevailed. "I suppose a guy like you has a girl to fuck in every port though," Julia blurted out, and then laughed at her own impetuousness. Mark laughed too, "I do okay," he said, and then added quietly "but none of them are real women, like you." Julia stared at him. She probably thought I wasn't meant to hear that part. I'm betting I was.
We pulled into the driveway and Mark helped her out of the car. I put the key in the door and tried to say goodnight to Mark once again, but as he was setting off, Julia asked him in for a nightcap. I was tired and sulky. It all seemed to be pointing towards one thing; that Mark would get what he wanted. My wife. And she was the one asking him in. I was fed up and tersely pointed out that we were both tired and wanted some time alone. Julia was angry. "Don't be so fucking rude," she said. "Go to bed if you want to, I'm having a nice time." I was forced to apologise to Mark, the man who was apparently, inevitably, going to fuck my wife tonight. He accepted my apology, and if we didn't mind he'd just stay for one drink. He carried my luggage into our home, for which I thanked him.
