Preface: Well, I am back to writing for a season. I have returned to one of my favorite genres, the cheating wife story. As I have opined in the past, I dislike the watching wimp cuckold tale. Those stories are just not my cup of tea. I tend to write alpha-male, testosterone rich stories. I still have an uncompleted project in the second part of "The Touch"; I am almost finished with it but am just having difficulty bringing it to a close. I have a Sci-fi story that is starting to materialize that will take me in directions never before attempted.
I have enjoyed my hiatus working with two extraordinary writers, Jefferson and El Sol. Keep your eyes out for their stuff, it is superior material. El Sol is currently writing "A Master's Ring", a very good example of erotica at its best. If you haven't seen it, look it up. Well I am back and I have written this entire story in the manner of the oral narrative. There is no dialog and while I know it can be disconcerting for some it is my style.
Thanks to KK and Curious 2C for their recent contributions to the wandering wife stories. For years I have enjoyed their work.
I hope you enjoy your read. If you like what you read please, send me a note I like to hear from you. If you don't like my stuff, write me at your own risk. I am a card-carrying curmudgeon.
Damn, my temper sure as hell could get me in a fix and I got myself in one hell of a fix a little more than twenty years ago. Life can sometimes do a fucking one-eighty when you hit a slick; I hit a slick spot. Abby had been my cornerstone for years, so when she fell, my whole world crumpled; hell it did not merely implode, the remains slid into the abyss.
Abby was my everything. But before I tell you about what happened let me tell about the life she saved me from. I grew up in the central Midwest the son of an elevator manager (grain elevator) and a high school mathematics teacher. I was born smack dab in the middle of the twentieth century. I was a borderline genius (over the years I tested between 125 and 140 on IQ tests) and I developed an aptitude for calculus and all things numeric and scientific. My mom pushed for me to be in an accelerated program before there was such a thing as gifted classrooms and teachers, so what happened was that I was passed from seventh grade directly into ninth where I started high school a year early. By my junior year, I had reached my maximum growth and I was three inches over six feet and weighed two hundred pounds. I was not your run of the mill egghead.
I was seventeen years old when I found myself a freshman at Kansas State University. Just like most freshmen before me I was required to stay in a dorm room. I spent a good deal of time in Aggieville getting shitfaced. It was back in an era when it was legal to drink at eighteen and I looked every bit of that and then some. I was rarely carded. My grades suffered and I ended up with a 2.6 GPA for the first semester. Dad called me up and read me the riot act.
I got in with some hippies that were living off campus and I discovered the joys of cannabis smoke and speed. I really got strung out and my grades went all the way down to a 2.1. I at least completed all of my classes. I got several C's and one B. Dad was not happy. He was threatening to withdraw all of his support so I outmaneuvered him by signing up for the draft. The year was 1968 and Viet Nam was in full swing. Mom and Dad were very upset with my decision to join the Army. Since I had just turned eighteen I did not need their permission. When the recruiter came around once to get me to sign more papers, they were barely civil to him.
You may have noticed that I have not discussed my sex life up to the time I joined the Army. It is real simple, up to that time I had no sex life; I had made out pretty heavily in high school even getting to third base. In college I fingered two or three girls and got a great blow job, once; that was my total experience up to that time. Hard to believe in these times, but true.
I was inducted in Kansas City where I went through the group physical. All that shit about the circle hemorrhoid checkup where the subjects face out and spread their cheeks so the medic can come around and shine a flashlight up everyone's ass is true. That is one fucking job I would never want. Well we got on a bus and were taken to Ft Leonard Wood.
I went through Basic Training in a company with about two hundred other guys. It was an eight week course that required a hell of a lot more physical conditioning than I had experienced during my one year of college. I was in great shape while in high school because I played on the football team and ran cross country. In college I gave all of that up and I was damn sorry that I had.
J.D. Dickens was the Drill Sergeant of the third platoon of Bravo Company. I can remember him saying, "If one of you slugs crosses my path, I will stomp a mud hole in your ass and walk it dry." I believed him and made a point never to cross his path. Several times when I lost my grip doing chin ups or running the monkey bars, he gave me a swift kick in the ass. By the end of eight weeks, I had lost twenty pounds and I was all muscle.
At the end of basic I won an award (no money) for showing the greatest physical improvement in eight weeks. When we ran the mile there were only four other jocks who were able to beat me in the whole company. At the end of Basic I signed up for three years to get Ranger training. When I signed up for the draft it was a two year hitch. I able to get the recommendation of my company commander and met the physical prerequisites.
Because of my desire to go airborne I was sent to Fort Benning, GA for Basic Airborne Training. Once I was physically buff and I had all the drugs out of my system I really got into the gung ho shit. The more physical and more gung ho I became, the faster the promotions came and the more I was appreciated by my sergeants and commanding officers. I went on to Ranger school and was so good on the shooting range (years of hunting pheasant and quail and competing in shooting matches) that they kept me around for sniper training. During that time I had little social time for women and as a virgin considered myself a sexual incompetent. The boys set me up and I lost my cherry to one of the camp followers just after graduating.
I made it over to Vietnam a year after the infamous Tet offensive. My mindset was changed instantly. It was much like blacksmiths temper steel by heating a tool up to a cherry almost white hot and plunging it first into cold water until the bands of the rainbow run up the piece. I was changed, hardened in twenty-four hours by being plunged into the blood; the brutal inhumanity was overwhelming. My own humanity was lost for a time.
In the second day of my first patrol, our platoon was caught up in a crossfire I was at the rear when the engagement occurred and we were at the edge of a small clearing. I climbed up a forty-foot mung ca and perched in its crotch at about twenty feet where I had a very good view of the field of combat. I readied my M-21.
The M-16 was the weapon of choice of the foot soldier, but most snipers preferred the M-14 and some of us were given the M-21 which was an M-14 in a National Match Rifle. The bore of my weapon was held to half the tolerance as the standard M-14 and was not chrome plated. The receiver was embedded in the stock via a fiberglass packing. Many of the rifle's parts were hand-machined and assembled. The selector shaft, sear release, selector lock and receiver sear had been welded and machined so that the rifle would fire only in semiautomatic mode and the rifle had an improved rear sight. I was also issued a sniper's scope. It really was a quite a piece.
It was heavy and the ammunition was heavy but I was damn glad to have it. I knocked off about six of their guys before it started getting too hot to stay in the tree. They finally figured out the general area where I was and started spraying the trees with automatic fire. I slid down the tree and on the way down I fell the last six feet and tore the palm of my left hand open. It was fairly deep and bone was showing but there was a medic handy and he stitched me up. I did a lot of fast talking and was able to stay with my platoon during the remaining five days of the encounter. A lot of the guys up front during that first firefight were grateful for the pressure I took off of them. I ended up with a Silver Star and a purple heart from my first action in battle.
Two days later in what became a moderately involved campaign, I had occasion to get separated from my unit and I came upon four gooks sitting at an RPD (7.62mm machine gun) slightly down from my position. I was 30 meters to their rear and the sound of the gun was so deafening that they were not ever aware of my presence. I braced my weapon on a fallen tree and took them out rapidly. Four more gooks came up to relieve them and I took them out also. I slit throats and removed ears. Then, I grabbed the machine gun and circled back around where I came upon two members of our platoon who were down and wounded. I dropped the gook gun and one at a time I carried each man back to the safety of our command post where a medic took over. I was under AK-47 fire the entire time.
.... There is more of this story ...