I guess I should be fair and start this by saying this is another long story. I have been accused to writing “porn for women” because there is always so much back story and not enough sexual detail. It is what it is and I don’t apologize. Just know up front that this is my style and if it’s not your thing, you might want to move along. My last story only got 17 thumbs up so I suspect the length is the primary factor.
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Once upon a time I was a young Marine sergeant stationed at a Marine Corps base in North Carolina. I was assigned there twice, once as an artilleryman and again a few years later as a reclassified infantry Marine teaching at a schoolhouse. This story begins during the second tour.
I should preface with that I neither cheated with anyone or on anyone. The lovely lass in question was single at the time and only became the warrant officer’s wife years later. More to that in the paragraphs to come.
While an instructor at the School of Infantry I had some pretty specific hours. I briefly wrote about the syllabus and training a prospective instructor had to endure in a previous post on my profile. That said, in addition to teaching on the platform I also participated in live-fire machine-gun ranges every week. Monday through Wednesday we taught in the classroom to students in their first two weeks of the syllabus, and on Thursdays and Fridays we ran live-fire instruction to the students in their third week; the ones who’d received the classes in the week prior.
The schedule was pretty routine.
– 04:00 reveille
– 05:00 pick-up a vehicle from the motor pool
– 05:30 draw weapons at the armory
– 07:00 be on the range setting up, signing for ammo, giving safety briefs, ect
– Shoot until noon
– Reverse the process:
* Return unfired ammunition to the ASP
* Return and clean weapons at the armory
* Return vehicle to the motor pool
* Done by 15:00
This schedule, while made for early mornings, also left some time in the afternoon and evening for other distractions. Luckily for me I didn’t like being broke, and I took advantage of a new chain restaurant opening in the town. I had been a waiter, barback, and later a bartender in restaurants through high school and into college and an opportunity arose for me to make some additional cash after normal duty hours.
Prior to say… 1996, other than the McDonalds, Taco Bell, and Burger King type fast food restaurants there was only one chain sit-down family style restaurant in town, Applebees. There was a very good reason for this. Corporate America only looked at the small town (we’ll call it “Actionville”) for its indigenous population of about 30,000 people, but completely disregarded the 50,000 Marines, sailors, and families that lived on and around the base itself. However a new restaurant chain did see that additional population and took a chance on opening a brand new Ruby Tuesday location almost directly across the highway from the competition. This is where I met the woman who would one day come back to haunt me as the wife of a warrant officer that I would be stationed with 11 years later, we’ll call her Polly.
I’ll skip all the restaurant drama in an effort to make this story shorter, which if you’ve read any of my masterpieces thus far, tend to be lengthy. Because of my Marine Corps gig, I was limited to evening and weekend shifts. This put me on the same shifts as the daytime college kids who also waited tables with me. I was about 27 years old at the time and thus closer to that age group than the 40+ year olds who worked the day crowd. As a youngish single guy this worked out rather well for my dating life. Polly was one of those college girls who waited tables at night. She was a pretty blonde with a fair (almost porcelain-like) delicate complexion. She was shorter than me, at about 5′ 2″ and weighed maybe 115 lbs soaking wet. To her advantage Polly had what most considered to be a lovely pair of 36C (maybe even D) boobs that were perky and firm and craved attention, and a nice round bubble butt. Polly had
no problems getting the attention of the other male waiters and often had a number of male customers who would wait for an opening at one of her tables.
To make a short story long, Polly and I hit it off and got along well and developed a rather overt flirtatious friendship. One night after about six months of flirting and after a long weekend shift, Polly invited me to her home after work. It was about 02:30am and we both smelled like what one would expect a restaurant server to smell like. I remember rushing back to my barracks to shower and shave and get back to her place before she lost interest. When I arrived at her house, she answered the door in a lacy forrest green romper and matching thigh high hose that absolutely made her body pop! This was the beginning of what became a sexually tense few months before I transferred to another base a few states away. Polly was a divorcee and had some experience sexually. Not so much as a raunchy bar slut type, but more in a romantic, sensual way. Every time we met, there was effort involved on her part; always a sexy but classy neglige of some sort, candles, a bottle of wine, etc. Polly was the kind of girl a guy could very easily turn into a wife, and I might have considered it, but if not for two reasons:
1. I was still very much in my slut phase
2. I had pending Permanent Change of Station (PCS) orders that would prevent me from being fully engaged in a long distance relationship
We discussed this and agreed that neither of us were ready to make drastic changes to accommodate such a young relationship. She was after all in college, and I was transferring to a Fleet Marine Force unit and could expect to deploy relatively soon. Thus, when the time came we ended our relationship on a friendly albeit sad note, and I moved away. Such is the life so common to the warrior class in America.
Fast-forward one year to late 1998. I had in fact deployed and returned and been selected for promotion to staff sergeant, and with that selection came the need to attend a resident school to help train me to lead at my new rank. Where did the Marine Corps choose to send me? Nowhere other than my old duty station in North Carolina. After reporting for duty on a Saturday, I was given a barracks room. As a selected staff sergeant (meaning that I was still a sergeant) I rated my own room with no roommate. I dropped my gear, changed into civilian attire (civvies) and went straight to the Ruby Tuesday. A few of my old friends still worked there, mostly the college girls. The guy waiters were mostly Marines like me and had moved on, having also PCSd or left the Marine Corps entirely. Polly wasn’t working there anymore, but I was told that she still lived in the area but had a new boyfriend. After over a year of no contact I decided to let it go and not seek her out. I remember having dinner and a few beers and I went back to the bricks.
The weekend passed and Monday came. I went to class and began what was the beginning of a six week course. What made this day notable was that I got knocked out for the second time of my life. I mean, literally knocked out. As in Mike Tyson kind of knock out. This event is immaterial to the larger story, but deserves to be told, simply because it is the most epic of Day 1 stories ever. As part of the Welcome Aboard process and after having been broken down into smaller subgroups called “squads” the 12 members of the squad had to give a 2 minute introduction to the group. One of the other students, a staff sergeant already wearing the rank, was cocky fucker who had a holier I’m-better-than-you attitude since the minute he walked in. He oozed ego and in no way whatsoever had a humble bone in his body.
I hate those kind of guys.
During his elevator speech he mentioned that he was a combat engineer. Those are the guys that blow stuff up, breach obstacles, and clear minefields. They’re pretty ballsy dudes, and I give them credit as I always loved the engineers that supported my battalions, but this guy… Nah! Marine Corps engineers also have a second function and that is limited vertical construction. They can make roads, build revetments, and maybe build a shitty building, and they were okay at it. But the REAL vertical construction guys are Navy SeaBees, those dudes are the shit and Marine engineers know it, and are often intimidated by this. So, to compensate they dwell on the fact that their primary task is breaking things, not building them.
And THIS is their psychological weakness…
So after the guy is done telling us how awesome he was, I asked him a simple question, “You said that you’re a combat engineer?”
He acknowledged.
“So, you’re the guys that build shelves and shit, right?” BAM!!!
That’s when he stood up and punched me square in the face and knocked me the fuck out.
A few minutes later, after I woke up, he was gone. We never saw him again as he was quickly escorted out if the room and dropped from the class. We all had to write statements as to what happened and later we were told that he was given a non-judicial punishment for assaulting a junior Marine.
***If that cat happens to read this story, all I have to say is, “HaHa Motherfucker! I bet you’re building shelves in the civilian world now!” But I digress…
Back to Polly. After a couple of weeks at the school I headed back to Ruby Tuesday for some wings and a ribeye. There was no Hooters in Actionville at the time and RT no-shit had the best wings, so back I went. I was sitting at a round table in the corner of the bar eating, drinking and watching a game when no one other than Polly walks up to my table and sits next to me. She had been sitting in the lower dining room at a large table with a group of girlfriends. Apparently she had seen me walk in and go straight to the bar, not noticing her as I did. After her group broke contact for the evening is when she came to sit down. She immediately got aggressive with me and had expressed her displeasure in that I had been in town for two weeks and not sought her out. Apparently one of the legacy servers who she still socialized with had told her that I was back for school. I explained that I knew that she was dating someone and was humble enough to not think that she would want to see me. Boy, was I ever wrong!
After a couple of hours of catching up, and a few beers she suggested that we “go to the beach”. This was code that she was horny and I knew this because we had enjoyed a couple of sexual interludes at the New River Inlet on Topsail Island about 45 minutes away. I asked her about her boyfriend, to which she quickly replied that they were casual and still relatively new to the relationship having only been dating about a month. She wasnt yet convinced that they had a future. With that she reached over and gave my crotch a gentle squeeze, and that’s all it took for me to abandon my principles and lead her out to the parking lot.
I remember that we took my car because I had tinted windows and we wouldn’t be seen – either driving together down Hwy 17 or making out parked in a random beach parking area. We got to the beach and found our old spot and started to mug. The scene got pretty heated and we quickly decided that the car seat was not the preferred venue for our first meeting in over a year. Out on the beach sounded nice, but it was now December and somewhat cold. We decided to get a room so I started driving back down south to the more commercial area of the island. As I’m driving she’s kissing me on my neck and nibbling at my ears, all the while being a safety nuisance by playing with my cock. I took notice of a new row of beach houses under construction so I pulled into the industrial parking area. We got out of the car and illegally entered one if the almost complete beach houses. We went all the way up to the 3rd floor and immediately tore at each other’s clothes. We collapsed onto the floor and had wild passionate sex on the bare plywood bedroom floor of the unknown future owner. This event, of all of our previous encounters was the most spontaneous. Most of the others having been well thought-out and meticulously planned in advance (i.e. lingerie, candles, wine, etc.) I bet the new owner of that house will never know that the first couple to bless his new home wasn’t him and his partner. 😄 I honestly can’t describe the events of that sexual congress or in what order they occurred. All I remember is hot, sweaty lust, ending in the two of us holding each other watching and listening to the waves crashing onto the beach 30 feet below and 100 feet away. If there is a word that accurately captures the scene, it would be “romantic!”
After an hour or so of cuddling, talking, and kissing she mentioned having to leave. We got up, got dressed and headed down to the car. I drive her back to the restaurant and we kissed goodbye. The next day I called her ro check in but she didn’t answer the call. A couple days later I called again and she did pick up and we chatted. She asked what the name if the course was that I was attending and after I told her that it was the Career Course at the Staff NCO Academy she got really quiet. When I asked what was wrong, she mentioned that her boyfriend was in the same course, but wouldn’t tell me his name. We agreed that with the odds being what they were that we ought not see each other for the rest of the course, that things had gotten too close for comfort. She agreed and I never saw her again.
Until 2007 on Inspector-Instructor (I&I) Duty in Massachusetts when a new warrant officer checked-in to my unit.
I was in the unit’s Operations Section which is where the guy was checking-in to work. The protocol for officers is a little different than with enlisted Marines. When they check-in to a new unit they typically bring their spouse to meet the new commander and the other officers. Imagine my surprise when this fellow is escorted into my office by the lieutenant colonel that is both of our boss. He and Polly were introduced and I mention that the warrant officer and I were students together at the SNCO Academy in 1998. He didn’t recognize me, or if he did was playing an Alpha Card by attempting to minimize me in front of his wife, the woman who I had been “romantic” with so many times before… and after… they had met. Polly’s face was red and flushed. There may never have been a more uncomfortable position that I had ever been in than those few moments that day. To make things worse, the warrant officer and Polly were living in base housing close to where I lived with my relatively new wife of just a few years. After the warrant and Polly left I went directly to the lieutenant colonel’s office and (without the pervy details) told him the whole story. He simply asked if I was professional enough to work with the guy with no personal animus and I assured him that I was, but referenced the warrant officer’s power play in my office and commented that I wasn’t so sure that he was. After all, I was the one with a history with HIS wife.
Nonetheless the next year went by without issue. He and I rarely talked and when we did we kept it professional. I saw Polly once at the base gym and once at the commissary. Neither of us spoke, just exchanged a knowing glance and a smile. It was what it was and neither of us wanted any drama. That wasn’t the last of our contact however. Both of us received PCS orders to California and while we weren’t in the same unit, we lived two blocks away from one another, again in base housing. And yet again, never speaking but seeing each other from time to time at the gym or at PT on the road.
The Marine Corps is a small place, let me tell you.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/smc2n6/the_warrant_officers_wife_truestory_northcarolina