Chapter 1

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Cheating, Gang Bang, Oral Sex, Military, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Guy gets sent to the Sandbox, in this case, Afghanistan. Problem is, he married a slut. He's pretty sure that while he was away, She CHEATED! She cheated. Or maybe, she cheated?? Read it and see. -- I included the 'cheating' tag, but it really should be 'cheating??' -- I've gotten several feedbacks from Vets about this, thanking me for posting a positive story about coming home. To the Vets, I say, "No. Thank YOU."

I can't begin this at the beginning. That would hurt too much, right now. Maybe I'll tell you later how this all started.

Maybe I should start with me. I'm a big guy: 6'4" and about 220, and 25 years old. Rob Ortroski by name. I'm a Ranger. Not the Lone type – you know, with the Hi Yo Silver – or even the Texas type. I'm the Army type. Right now I'm in an aid station in Northeast Afghanistan, about to go into surgery for removal of a bullet or fragment thereof that is in my leg. A little higher and it would have been my ass, and I'd have to take a boatload of shit about that – but it wasn't. Sorry that I can't go into more detail about location but we're not even supposed to be here, so if I told you, I'd have to kill you. LOL. But seriously, I can't go into detail.

I got the bullet jumping on the back of a corpsman – corpswoman, actually – who was holding an IV bag for a buddy. The bitch of it was that it was one of our bullets. One of the other guys in my unit got the S.O.B. in the so-called-friendly uniform who shot me. He was aiming at the woman trying to keep my buddy alive. I'd just put my gun down to help her with the field dressing. The other Rangers in the unit filled him with about ten rounds, so I'm not dead. I'll have to remember to thank that masked man. (Sorry, Ranger humor.)

That's what we pretty much were fighting for. For the guy standing next to you. Or woman as the case may be. Not a flag, not some asshole politician's magic words, not even for the little woman I'd left at home. We fought for the guy (or gal) next to you.

Then we got evac'd out of North Pakistan to this aid station. Pretty spiffy aid station, I must admit. It had surgeons, and operating theaters, and nurses of the female persuasion. The Army's pretty good these days – emphasis on pretty.

Of course, that wouldn't matter to me. That is, if that damn ring on my left hand still meant anything. Who knew?

So I just laid in bed partially doped up and clicked the button on my iPad again to review Carolyn's video for maybe the one hundredth time. Damn, but she was a good looking woman. She was 5'9" and had broad shoulders, big firm tits, a narrow waist and a curvy ass. It was a stunningly beautiful package. Her hair was growing during my absence, and it was now down to her waist. God! With that long mop of platinum hair she'd give Lady Godiva a run for her money. She didn't look like anyone I've ever seen. She wasn't a supermodel, that was for sure. Too much tits. And, I suspect, she didn't do enough drugs to qualify. But I digress.

Well, maybe a Victoria's Secret model. You know, voluptuous figure, big boobs. Looks like a zillion dollars in a push-together bra and a silky low cut pair of panties. And when she'd look at you it was pure sex. Sorry, I digress again.

This video was pure porn. In the video, like all the others, she was talking to me. Showing me her tits and her pussy and stroking it, slowly. I could see her pussy getting wet, as she stroked it. Then she reached under herself and fingered her ass. Sometimes, she'd put a dildo in one or the other, telling me what she'd like to be doing with me, or more likely, what she'd like me to be doing to her. How she missed me and it wasn't fair that she was having to miss me for this tour in the sandbox, that had already been extended twice. That it was so hard to wait.

That wasn't the problem. She'd sent me lots of porn videos before. And there was a pattern – that was the problem. Each video was hotter than the last. Up to a point. Then she'd be mellow. Still porn, but she'd be mellow. Like something – or somebody – had taken the edge off.

They were all shot in our bedroom back near Fort Benning, our base in the U.S. And they seemed to be all shot with her laptop camera. So there was nobody I could see in the shots. I'd looked. I got a close up of every reflective surface that I could. Nothing. Nobody to see.

I checked the video she'd sent just prior to this one. She was practically panting with need. She practically melted my iPad. Like the other videos of the 'just before the event' – whatever the fuck the event was – it was longer and hotter than the other ones. She panted. She was nearly crazy-frantic. Her pussy was worked over with her hands and a dildo. In and out. It must have melted the rubber. She said she couldn't stand it anymore. Why, she asked, did I have to be away for such a long time? Couldn't I just send her something to let me know I missed her too? Something personal? Like a pic of my prick? Just come back soon and in one piece. Real soon, 'cause she was going nuts.

Instead, I sent what I could. A nice long love letter that wasn't pornographic and didn't really say where I was or what I was doing. I had to keep in mind that every outgoing email would get read by the Army's watchdogs. What was I supposed to do, go ask my Sergeant to take a dick-pic of me for my girl?

I'd contacted some buddies back at the base to keep an eye on her, so I'd know, ya know? They said they knew what to look for, and that she seemed to be a straight arrow: go to work, go to lunch with other girls who worked at the radio station where she worked, go back to work. Sometimes lunch with girls and guys from the station. Pretty much home after that. They also included several comments that she always looked real hot, how I was a lucky bastard, that she seemed to be waiting for me. Blah blah blah. If they could see the change on the videos, they'd know something was up.

She took classes at the local College on Monday and Wednesdays – she was studying accounting, still, and by now, almost finished. My guys saw her go in to the classroom, watch the doors and follow her home after. Bowling on Tuesdays. Every time one of my spies would check, she was actually bowling. The girls would go out for drinks on Friday, where there was some dancing. My spies would go into the club where they were. The most they ever saw was her dancing with some GI. If the guy started to get roaming hands, she'd slap him and walk away. One of them actually danced with her ... he thanked me for that. She was having a good time. She had a pretty sexy, short skirt and a halter top (he went in the summer). He tried to make time with her and even tried to cop a feel. He got slapped in the face for his trouble ... he didn't thank me for that. Once a month she'd go to the Touch of Elegance spa and spend half a day there, getting her hair done, a mani-pedi, a steam room and massage. I even got a female spy on my team to go in the steam room with her and check out the masseur; the female spy was the wife of one of my buds.

Yes, he was a male masseur. But Barry was as queer as a three dollar bill. My Mata Hari had gotten a 'full treatment' from him, and gotten nothing but a nice relaxing experience out of it. The guys even checked Barry, but after working all day in the spa, he went home to his boyfriend – who, by the way, was an MP. Never saw anything even remotely suggestive about Barry, nothing to indicate he played for more than one team.

It was driving me nuts, because I knew that Carolyn was a round-heeled slut when I met her, and I didn't believe she could stay celibate for a week, let alone eighteen months. Maybe it's time I told you that part of the story.


Carolyn Elizabeth Smith-Montrose was one year older than me, when he met. To be fair, I guess she was always one year older than me and still is. She was 20, at the time, so that was about six years back. She was a junior at the University in my home town. It was December and I was on a three-week leave between Basic Training and Ranger School. I was in the top five percent of the Basic group and the Army asked me if I wanted to be better than the best. I said sure. So they gave me three-weeks off before they tried to kill me at Ranger School. Anyway...

I hooked up with an ROTC Frat House on campus and they invited me to a party. One of the guys asked me if I wanted to see something special – but I'd have to keep my mouth shut about it. Sure, I said.

He led me to a mattress room – the floor was covered with mattresses and no other furniture. In the center of the room was Carolyn. "Lyn" as I later learned she preferred. She was naked, with her crotch rotating on some guy's pole, and another was in her mouth. Some guy was just pulling out of her poop-chute, which was leaking cum like Angel Falls in Yosemite spewed water. There were four or five guys standing around her with their cocks in varying states of hardness. I guess the ones that were less than hard had just gotten serviced.

My bud motioned me to the side and said softly, "Sorry, but I can't get you in tonight. She won't do it with anybody unless they have a clean bill of health from the doc. Said she didn't want to take any chances. But Christ ... just look at her."

I nodded at him. "She's something." I was in lust. I wanted some. Or I wanted all of her. Or I'd take whatever I could get. Fresh out of Basic, I hadn't had any in several weeks. "Think she'd accept my Orders showing that I've been with sixty guys only for the last several weeks? You can't get anything there."

I must have been talking a bit loud, 'cause she heard. She pulled off the blow-job she was giving, and said, "You sure can, soldier boy. Don't tell me you didn't take any showers in Basic. And besides, there are gays and women in the Army these days ... No doctors note, no nooky." Then she turned her head towards me and our eyes locked.

Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail – not real long – and there was enough light in the room to see her blue-gray eyes. The pupils got bigger. I'd seen enough CSI to know that that was a sign of excitement. I can imagine how my light brown eye pupils were expanding outside my eyeballs. She sure excited me. (Okay, I know that the pupils are the dark spot in the middle of the colored portion, but do you really care?)

Then the guy who got shorted on his blow-job poked into her mouth again and, about the same time, somebody grabbed her pony tail and poked into her ass. She closed her eyes and went back to work. But every once in a while she'd open her eyes, find me still looking at her, and she'd stare at me. Like she didn't want to be here, all of a sudden. Oh all right. That was me wishing she felt like that. In reality, as soon as one cock dropped out of rotation, she'd reach for another to fill the vacancy.

"C'mon, sweetie. You're next." She'd stare at me as she fed a cock into her cunt.

When she slurped another into her mouth, she'd stare at me. "C'mon, sweetie, feed me some cock."

When somebody filled her ass, she'd stare at me. "C'mon, sweetie. Fuck me like you mean it."

When the guy on the bottom took a nibble on her magnificent tits, she seemed to really stare at me.

It got so the guy who brought me to this party, nudged me and said "Do you know her or something?"

"Not yet," I said. "But I'm gonna marry her."

"You don't want to do that, man. She's been doing this every Saturday all semester. It was the Fiji's last year (Another frat house). She wants sex too much to settle down with one guy. Unless you could deal with this..." he gestured at the room " ... on a routine basis."

"Not me," I said. And then loud enough to penetrate to her hearing: "When I get married it's got to be one man and one woman. Period."

"That's what I mean," he said. "I couldn't deal with this for my wife. But she sure is great, isn't she?"

"Yes," I mumbled to myself. "She sure is."

I leaned back against the wall as guy after guy fucked at her. I had to take my own cock out of my pants and stroke it. When she looked my way the next time, she saw what I was doing and I swear she got a predatory look in her eye. Maybe that was me wishing that she wanted me. I was standing around the edge of the mattress room with several other guys watching the fun. But she didn't seem to be looking at any of them. Maybe I wasn't just wishing.

Finally they'd all had three or four turns at her and the guys all dropped out. Her head dropped down and she took several lungfuls of air.

She grabbed one of the gym towels handed to her and started to wipe the jism off herself. "That's it for tonight, guys. I need a shower bad," she said as she started for the door. "Hey," she directed this at me, "Can you get me a glass of juice or two?"

I jumped for the door and got there about when she did. "OJ good for you?"

She smiled, and all was just fine in my world. "Yes, OJ will do nicely."

I quick timed it down to the bar and latched on to a decanter of OJ about to be poured into the punch bowl.

"Is this spiked," I asked the nearest Frat boy.

He smiled. "I guess Lyn is done upstairs ... No it's not spiked." He pointed to the vodka bottle. "That however, is."

I took the OJ, two plastic glasses and headed back upstairs. "She'll be in the shower – end of the hall," said Frat boy.

The glass shower enclosure was all steamed up from the hot water she was using. Naturally, it would be a glass enclosed shower. Why would the frat allow a shower room to cover up a naked, wet girl with no way to watch her? She was on the inside with her eyes closed, under the shower.

"That you, OJ man?"

"Yeah." I sat on the toilet and watched.

She stuck a hand out of the shower and took the plastic glass I was offering. It (the glass and the attached hand) slithered back into the enclosure.

There were several towels in a pile on the vanity. I didn't watch them. I watched her hands soaping up and then sluicing the suds off her body. Then she leaned over and stuck that platinum covered head under the water. She started to work some shampoo in it.

"Need some help?" I asked.

She stopped, wiped the glass, and looked at me. "Am I going to have trouble with you? I said no nooky until you get the doc's ok. In writing. I'll trust the Army medics that you don't have AIDS or HIV or anything long term. But as for the rest: no pa-per no poke-her." And she turned her head back under the water again.

I smiled. "You know, you're going to have to quit this gang-bang stuff, cold turkey, right?"

"And why is that?"

"Because I won't let my wife take on a room-full of guys. I won't even let her take one guy on the side."

She laughed. It was a nice laugh, deep and rich, genuine. Her belly shook when she laughed. She put her hands on her knees. "If you knew how many guys have said they want to marry me. It's just the sex talking."

I rapped on the glass. She startled a bit, but then wiped off the steam again and looked at me. "I won't care about your past, or why you're doing this. All I'll care about is if you can keep your jeans on, after the ceremony. I'm serious as a mortar shell coming at you. Could you quit?"

"Yup," she said. "For the right guy, I'd quit in a minute. Haven't found him yet." She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She was standing on a towel I'd put on the floor. "Frankly, I don't think I'll find him doing gang-bangs either."

She looked like Aphrodite coming out of the ocean. Or whatever that famous painting is. She dried herself off. She was showing herself to me. Yeah, yeah. She just finished gang-banging a whole frat house. I watched. It was different when it was just her and me. Me on the porcelain throne (cover down, thank you), her virtually between my knees drying off. She placed one foot on my knee, to get the towel into her crotch. Of course, I looked. She had a small patch of platinum hair on her puss. It looked like it hadn't been trimmed. Didn't need to be trimmed.

She put the foot down and wrapped a towel around her head, taking the drapes (that matched the carpet) out of sight. That in place, she wiped down a long, very long, flank – down to her toes.

"Wanna dry my back?" She turned away from me. "So you like what you see, cowboy?"

Of course, I grabbed a towel and began chasing the water spots from her back. And her ass. I just ran the towel over her curves. Long after she was dry, I was still toweling her off.

"So why do you do this?" I asked.

"I just build up tension during the week. And now that it's vacation time, I can indulge myself. It's fun to be wanted. I like the way they all look at me."

"Mm-hmm. I don't like it at all." So saying, I wrapped the towel around her, and tucked it into itself over her breasts. It almost didn't reach.

She started to walk out of the bathroom. "Well maybe someday your vote will count for something," she said with another laugh.

"It will, at that. And after you say 'I do' it will be the vote that counts."

"No, cowboy. Never that. If I get around to 'I do', there will be two votes that count. It's my body, and while the guy I marry will have first claim on it, it'll always be my vote that gets counted, too."

She closed the door. I sat there for a second, then went to follow her. She was in one of the bedrooms smoothing a pair of skin tight jeans over her long, long, very long legs. I came up behind her – 'til she could feel me breathing on her neck.

"Let me help," I said, and reached down to the waist band of the jeans and pulled up. She was commando – why waste time with underwear you're going to take off, right? I pulled the jeans 'til she was off the ground. She wiggled her little ass into the jeans. Okay, it's a figure of speech. But it wouldn't sound right if I said, 'She wiggled her bodacious, breathtaking butt into her jeans.'

With a final tug up – just to make sure the crotch was seated against her pussy – I wrapped my arms around her from the back. I fed the riveted closure through the button hole, reached for the bottom of the zipper and pulled it up.

All right, I admit I did slide a finger through the open zipper and stroked her light fur.

"There you go. All closed up and ready to taunt the rest of the frat house."

She spun around, still in my arms. "That's the most fun I ever had putting on jeans. Thanks." She kissed my cheek. It was warm and wet and nice. She wriggled free of me, and shrugged into a sweater-like thing. It had a zip up the front and she zipped it all the way to her neck and then down about half way. There it showed her cleavage and her nipples poked at the material making a nice set of high beams. It almost came down to touch her jeans, leaving a strip of perhaps an inch of bare abdomen.

She slipped her arm around mine. "C'mon, cowboy. There's a party down there. Say ... do you have a name? Mine's Carolyn, but Lyn to my friends. Wanna be friends?"

I did.

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Mult / Cheating / Gang Bang / Oral Sex / Military /