I've Dreamed Of This Very Moment

Thank you to the members of the armed forces, past and present. I have never served, but have always respected and admired those who have and do. The military aspects of this story might be all wrong. If so, I apologize. If you can excuse those mistakes, you might find this an enjoyable read.

Thank you Blackrandl1958. There is a reason you are the absolute best.

I've dreamed of this very moment...When I can tell the love of my life to fuck me.

They were right. Liz was there and dancing with a man. Dancing was a relative term. Her arms were around his neck and his hands were on her ass. He said something to her and her head fell back. Her long hair hanging down. It was obvious she was drunk.

I went to them and took her arms from around his neck and started to pull her away.

"Hey, dude. What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Her dance partner asked.

"She's my wife and I'm taking her home," I said.

Any resistance he wanted to put up, died immediately. "She's all yours," he said. "She's never a good fuck when she's drunk anyway."

"How about when she's sober?" I asked him as I picked her up to carry her out.

"Oh, then she's great. Ask anybody. We all think she's one of the best."

Someone opened the door for me, and I carried her to my pickup and dumped her in the passenger seat. It took only a few minutes to get her to her parents' house where they watched as I unceremoniously dumped her on her bed. She was out like a light. Hell, she was probably out when she was on the dance floor having her ass fondled. I didn't say a word as I walked out.

Ruth was my older sister. She was one of my two sisters. The other was Esther, Esther Jacobs. I also have two brothers. Matthew and Luke Reynolds. My name is Mark Reynolds. Our parents were life-long Southern Baptists, so we five children were all baptized in Citico Creek, in Vonore, Tennessee, and grew up going to church every Wednesday evening and all morning on Sunday. We never had a TV, but we did have a radio; which was only allowed to play gospel music on Sunday. Of course, when we were away from our parents, or they were away from us, all of the hidden devices came out and we became normal kids. We were all positive we kept them well out of sight of Mom and Dad, but I'm sure they knew about them.

Our parents learned to read so they could read the bible, and that's the only thing they ever read. We grew up dirt poor. All five of us children knew early on that we didn't want the same lifestyle as our parents.

As each of us graduated from high school, we couldn't wait to leave Vonore. Ruth and Matthew made it to Nashville. Esther and Luke only made it as far as Madisonville. None of them went to college. Ruth always had a knack for cooking and started working as an assistant cook in a diner. Matthew went to truck driving school where he fell in a pile of dung and came up smelling like a rose. One of his instructors took him under his wing, and when he graduated that instructor got him a job driving for one of Nashville's mega-stars. Those jobs are worth their weight in gold and normally only senior, well-connected, experienced drivers get them, but his instructor had an "in." Matthew turned out to be a much better than average truck driver, and he had a personality to go with it.

I was a bit different. After high school, I went to Vanderbilt University on a four-year Army ROTC Scholarship. Upon graduation, I was commissioned a Second Lieutenant.

My first assignment after Officer Basic Course, was to Headquarters, 8^th Army, in Korea. I was there for 13 months before coming home for a thirty-day leave and reporting to my next assignment at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. I spent a few days with my parents before going to Nashville to visit Ruth. Our brother Matthew was on tour someplace. He drove one of the several trucks the star's show equipment was in. Lights, rigging, all the stuff that goes into putting on a bigtime Nashville show, was in the trucks.

Ruth had a small apartment, and I slept on her sofa. She was dating a man she met at a cooking class she was taking at the local Community College. His name was Gerald Thompson. Gerald had a sister named Elizabeth, but everybody called her Liz. The four of us went to dinner one night. Then, Liz and I went by ourselves. Then we went again.

By the time my leave was up, Liz and I were pretty much in a relationship.

Fort Campbell was only an hour or so from Nashville, so I spent a lot of time there and Liz spent lots of time at Campbell. She loved sex. Any way, shape, or form except anal. I wasn't a fan of that, either, so it was no big deal. We had sex on our fourth date and never slowed down. Eighteen months after we met, we were married. Liz was a native of Nashville and had never lived anywhere else. Her father was a urologist and her mother was a stay-at-home mom.

Liz and I completed our three-year tour at Campbell before being sent to Germany. Germany was a huge culture shock for both of us. Liz got involved in the Newcomers' Club and the Officer's Wives' club. She learned to play bridge and played with other wives, weekly. We also joined a travel club. Once a month, we went someplace different: Italy, Switzerland, Spain, and on and on. The last few months of our three-year tour, she started to really enjoy European wine. I grew up in a non-drinking household and never acquired a taste for alcohol, in general.

Our next assignment was right back to Fort Campbell, which made both of us happy. We moved into government quarters and were happy for about six months. That was when Liz started spending a lot of time in Nashville. We would go for the weekend and she would want to stay an extra day or so. That became an extra three days. At the end of a year, she was basically living with her parents. I would go there on weekends. My only indication of trouble was when I went to her parents' house one Friday and Liz wasn't there. They had no idea where she was. I had gotten off early so arrived right after lunch. Her mother made the excuse that they didn't expect me quite so early. I started to take my overnight bag into Liz's room, but her mother tried to stop me.

"Give me a chance to straighten up, first," she said.

"It's okay," I said. The room was a mess. Dirty clothes were all over the place. I thought it odd that the bed was covered with dirty clothes, but it was obvious it was made and hadn't been slept in. With the amount of dirty clothes piled on, it was obvious it hadn't been slept in for at least a couple of nights. Her mother tried to pick up some dirty clothes and I saw her kick some panties under the bed. I managed to get her out of the room saying that I had to use the bathroom. When she left, I took the panties from under the bed. There were two other pairs under there, and I took them as well. One pair had all the indications of semen in them. I sat on the bed and looked at them. I wanted to smell them to see if it smelled like semen, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I took them to the living room. Her mother was on the phone, but hung up as soon as she saw me. I held the panties up. "How long has she been sleeping with other men?" I asked.

"I think that's something you'll have to discuss with her." Said her mother.

I went back in the bedroom, picked up my overnight bag, stuffed the panties in a side pocket and started out the door

"Are you coming back?" her mother asked.

I didn't answer as I headed straight for Ruth's house. She and Liz's brother stopped dating a couple of years earlier, but stayed friends. Since then, Ruth had met and married a music store owner named Eric Windham. Liz and I had come back to the States for their wedding.

I called Ruth on my way to her house and she told me where she had a key hidden. She was busy, so we couldn't talk. She did manage to tell me that she wouldn't get off work until midnight because she had to close the restaurant that night.

At her house, I tried to call Liz, but no answer, so I left a message. "This is your husband. You know, the only man you are supposed to sleep with. I would like to hear your explanation as to why that is no longer true. I would also like to know exactly how many others there have been and why."

Eric came home around seven, and I filled him in. Ruth called a little after eight. She told me that she had just received a phone call from her ex-boyfriend, Liz's brother. He, in turn, had just heard from a friend of his that Liz was drunk and flirting with a couple of men at the Count of Monte Music bar. He was on his way over to get her and take her home. Ruth told him to not bother. I was there and would take care of it.

When I dumped her on her bed, both of her parents were there. Her mother started berating me, saying that whatever Liz had done, it was my fault because I took her to Germany where she learned to drink and do all sorts of vile and evil things.

I looked at both of them, walked out and headed back to Ruth's house. Eric and I talked until Ruth got home, then we stayed up and the three of us talked until after three. I slept on their sofa again. I awakened at seven, brewed myself a cup of coffee and sat on their front porch, steeling myself for talking with Liz.

Both Ruth and Eric joined me at nine. We talked for another hour or so. They were interested in what I was going to do, and I told them I had no idea.

It was after ten the next day when I rang my in-laws' doorbell. Liz's father opened the door and stepped aside for me to enter. Liz was sitting on the sofa with a cup of coffee.

I walked over to her and dropped the soiled panties on her coffee cup. She picked them up, dropped them on the floor and lifted the cup to her lips and sipped

"Why?" I asked Liz.

"You don't have to answer that, sweetie." her mother interjected.

"Stay out of it." I said coldly. "Why?" I repeated to Liz.

She looked up at me. "I needed to be loved and you weren't here."

"How many times have you needed love and I wasn't here?"

"What?"

"How many times have you had sex with other men?"

"I don't know."

"Guess."

"A couple of dozen."

"How many different men?"

"I don't know."

"Guess."

"Six. Maybe seven. Maybe ten. I'm not sure."

"Does our marriage mean anything to you?"

She lifted her head and looking straight at me took another sip of her coffee without answering.

I walked out and went back to Ruth's. It didn't take long to tell them what happened.

"And she had no remorse? Made no apology?" Ruth asked?

"Nope."

"Man, that's one cold-hearted woman," she said.

"My thought exactly," I said.

There was no reason to stay in Nashville, so I headed for Fort Campbell.

I was surprised on Sunday afternoon when Liz walked in our house. I was stretched out on the sofa and she sat on the arm at the end my feet were. She sat there for a couple of minutes.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't say another word. If the only reason you have for cheating is that I wasn't there when you needed sex, that's pretty pathetic, because you intentionally stayed away from home so that I wasn't available to take care of you or your needs. You preferred getting drunk and sleeping with strangers instead of coming home and sleeping with your husband. That's a pretty sorry excuse for destroying a marriage. And your parents are just as guilty as you are for allowing you to do it. The only thing you can do now is pack your clothes and leave."

"I don't want to leave. I said I was sorry. It won't happen again."

"I don't care how many more times it happens. As far as I'm concerned, we're no longer married so you can do who you want and what you want. All I care about is you leaving." I picked up the remote and turned on the TV.

She grabbed it out of my hand and hit the mute button. "I'm not leaving. You are my husband and this is my house." She tossed the remote back to me and walked out of the room.

She fixed dinner, but I fixed a sandwich and ate in the living room. She ate whatever it was she prepared and stayed in the kitchen.

At bedtime, I took my shower and went to bed. She took a shower and came to bed getting as close to me as she could. I rolled over. "Do you seriously think that I would ever have sex with you after six or seven or ten other men have used your body?"

"I said I was sorry."

"And you think that makes it all better?"

"Yes."

"You are seriously in need of help. I can't stop you from sleeping in this bed, but I don't have to stay here and think about all those men having sex with you." I went to the living room and fell asleep on the sofa. When I awakened, she was sitting in a chair watching me. I ignored her, took my shower, shaved, put on my uniform and went to work.

After reporting in, I talked to my commander and brought him up to speed on my situation. "If I were you, my first visit would be to an attorney. Take all the time you need."

I talked to several attorneys that day and settled on Kirby Dickenson. He was a retired Army lawyer and knew what military members had to deal with.

"What do you want from me and why?" he asked.

"I want your advice because I have no idea what I'm doing," I answered.

"Do you want to try to save the marriage?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because she cheated and I won't tolerate a cheating spouse."

"How do you know she cheated?"

I told him.

"That doesn't mean squat in a court of law, Lieutenant." I was First Lieutenant by then. "She could tell you and a hundred other people she had sex with both the Army and Navy football teams on the fifty-yard line with a full stadium watching, then deny it when she gets in front of a judge and the judge will believe her unless you have proof." He shook his head. "Those are just the facts." He paused. "So, since you don't want to save the marriage, that must mean you want a divorce. Am I right?"

"Yes, sir. I suppose you are."

"And I'm thinking that you don't want it be easy on her. Am I right again?"

"Yes, sir. You're right again."

"Good. I like it when people agree with me. It reinforces what I already know."

"And what would that be?"

"That I'm a smart son of a bitch." We both laughed. "Now here's what I think you should do. If she is living with you, give her the silent treatment. Ignore her even when she screams, yells and throws shit at you. With any luck, she will leave and go home to momma or her boyfriend or someplace away from you. When she does that, she will, in all likelihood, revert to her old adulterous ways and find someone to sleep with. When she does, all we have to do is make sure we have someone there to film it. When we get to court, even if the judge declares that we can't use the video, he will know that you are telling the truth and your wife did, in fact, cheat on you. I can almost promise he, or she, will find in your favor. That's the way it works here in Kentucky.

"Now, the downside of this plan is that someone has to be available 24/7 to film her shenanigans and that isn't going to be cheap... but I guarantee it will save you in the long run. You game?"

"Absolutely."

"Good. Write a check to me for my fee, then write one for the detective I'm going to get for you."

I felt better, but poorer, when I got back to my office.

Liz called me at six that evening and per instructions from Kirby Dickenson, I didn't answer.

It was after ten when I walked in the house. She was waiting for me. "How long is this going to go on?" she asked. "I apologized. Now we can get back to living our normal lives."

I ignored her and headed for the shower. Twenty minutes later, I was in bed and I heard her car leave. I got up, looked in our shared closet and most of her clothes were gone. I went to back to bed and slept.

The next morning, I called Kirby Dickenson and told him she was gone, probably to Nashville.

"Great. I know some people there. Do you know where she might go?" I gave him her parents' address. "Good. Game on," he said.

It took less than a week, and I had a video of her having sex with two men. Forty-eight hours after I received the video, she was served with papers demanding the dissolution of our marriage because of adultery. Less than an hour after she was served, she called in tears begging me to forgive her. I hung up.

I kept my boss up to speed. He had gone through the same thing years earlier. The big difference was, his wife cheated while he was in a combat zone. That is, without a doubt, the absolute worst thing a spouse can do: cheat while the military member is in harm's way.

My next move was to tell Post Housing that I was vacating quarters. I moved into BOQ (Bachelor Officers Quarters) the next day. Three days after that, Liz called and told me she couldn't get in the house. I told her it wasn't our house anymore. I moved out because she deserted me and I wasn't eligible for Post Housing as a single officer.

"But you aren't single. You're married," she said. I laughed and pushed the end call button. I suppose she went back to Nashville.

As I've already mentioned, I am not a drinker of alcohol. It started with my Southern Baptist upbringing, but even as an adult I never developed a taste for it. It was the same way with profanity. I never got used to cursing. Other people drinking and using coarse language was perfectly okay; they just weren't for me.

Likewise, I am not a prude. Close dancing is hot when you are dancing with your wife or girlfriend. Seeing naked or near-naked women is also hot. I love the female body and if she wants to show it, I am certainly willing to look.

That night, however, I used all of the four-letter words I ever heard, and some I probably made up as I watched the video of my wife having sex with two men.

I put the video in my computer.

It started with her dancing on a dance floor with two men at the same time. All three were taking liberties meant only for secluded places like bedrooms. One man had his hand between her legs and was rubbing her pussy through her jeans. The other man had his hand inside her shirt and I could see his fingers moving like he was pinching her nipples. She, of course, was busy herself with one hand on one man's dick and the other hand on the other man's dick, rubbing them through their trousers.

That went on for several minutes until they moved off the dance floor, out of the building and into a car. The detective followed them to a cheap one-story motel, where they got a room. He walked around outside until he came to a room with the window and curtain open. A couple was in there fucking, but it was the wrong people, so he continued to walk until he found Liz's room. Its window was open, as well, and the three of them paid seemed not to care. They wasted no time getting naked.

Watching my wife take her clothes off in front of two men was surreal, but nothing compared to what came after. At first, I thought she might be drunk, but the way she talked didn't indicate she was.

"Come on, guys." she said, pulling on her nipples with both hands. "Show me what you have for me." She spread her legs and her hand went to her pussy where she started rubbing herself. "I've never done two at a time. This should be fun."

"It will, cunt," said the taller man. "You'll have more dick in and out of you than you could ever imagine."

She stopped rubbing herself. "Don't call me cunt. I hate that word."

The short one stepped out of his shorts, walked to her, grabbed her hair and jerked her head back. "You're a cunt and we'll call you cunt." He pulled her hair again and she went to her knees. "Now suck my dick... cunt."

She reached for it, put it in her mouth and started sucking. The tall one grabbed her hair, pulling her off the first dick, "Suck my dick, cunt." She did. I could see her chest heaving which meant that she was getting really hot and wanting to be fucked.