48 comments/ 34446 views/ 23 favorites Forgiveness Denied By: Mordant96 Prologue She was a virgin when we married. Of course, this was a time just before the sexual revolution that decreed that virginity was something to be fixed as quickly as possible. Today, young girls are actually ashamed of their hymens and are teased by their peers of they are thought to be virgins. In 1959 I was a twenty-two year-old second class petty officer in the US Navy stationed at the Glenn L. Martin Aircraft plant in Middle River, Maryland, on the outskirts of Baltimore. I was temporarily assigned, along with about fifteen other Navy aviation types, to test fly, and accept into the Navy inventory, eight reconfigured C-121 aircraft. The aircraft were originally Lockheed hurricane hunters. The birds were known in civilian airline service as the Super Constellation passenger airliners. It was the workhorse of the trans-oceanic flight routes in the fifties and sixties. The jet and turbo fan airliners were just making an appearance to force the piston avgas prop planes out of service. It was Christmas, 1959, and there was a major glitch on the reconfiguration work on the planes, so the decision-makers decided to allow, for those who wanted, to take Christmas leave from late December '59 to a week following New Years. I came to this assignment directly from 18 months on Guam so I decided to go home and live like a civilian for at least a few weeks. I knew my parents would be happy to have me home and I could rekindle some old high school friendships. There was no special woman in my life. Hell, I had nobody, special or not. On Guam, I was air crew on the same aircraft we were reconfiguring, the Super Connie or the Navy designation, WV-2. After the reconfiguration, the planes new designation was WV-2Q or as they were nicknamed, the Willie-Victor two Q. As aircrew I actually spent little time on Guam which was a boon for my sex life. The Guamanian girls were old school Catholics who were under threat of ex-communication if they even spoke to an American sailor, let alone screwed one. A few lucky island-bound single guys were able to provide sexual comfort to the willing Navy wives while their husbands were on deployment to Japan, Taiwan, and the sailor's wet dream, Olongapo, P. I. (Philippine Islands). [Google it.] A lot of sixty and seventy year-olds vets have a web site that waxes nostalgic over the former sex drenched little town just outside the gate of the massive NAS Cubi Point air base. The married guys fucked the LBFMs (Little Brown Fucking Machines) in the P.I. while the sailors on Guam fucked their wives. It was kinda of an even balance in scheme of cheaters. Back to Christmas in my home town in Southern Illinois. I was having a ball drinking beer, legally this time, and getting together with the friends that stayed on after high school instead of joining the Navy or going to college. There weren't many, but luckily for me, one of my best buds, Duane, was home from grad school, so I had somebody to run the roads and chase pussy. Duane's parents lived in very large house on East highway 161 and Duane had the great idea of throwing a big New Year's Eve party for the class of 55 and 56 still around. His parent's house was perfect party place. No near neighbors to complain about the noise and enough rooms to sneak off for a little bumpity-bump or at least some stink-finger. We called everybody in town that we knew and asked them to pass the word about the party. One glitch almost shut the party down. Duane's parents, for unknown reasons, rescinded permission to have the party at their house. (They weren't stupid.) Fortunately, my parents gave their permission to party at their house. They weren't stupid either, just more understanding and knowing that not much in their house was valuable if something got broken. The fact my boyhood home was about one third the size of the original venue was a negative, but not an insurmountable one The party was a smashing success. A couple of drunks threw up the bathroom and a few girls got screwed in my parent's bed, but all in all it was great. The party was so good it was a life changing event for me. One of the guests who heard about the party and just showed up was MaryAnn Knox. She was a year ahead of me in school, class of '54, so I didn't know her very well. She was active in the various organizations and clubs and was very popular. She was not a great beauty, and her body shape wasn't the cheerleader model. She was rather tall, and sturdy, about 5' 9", about 145 lbs., but since I was 6' 1" and180 lbs., we made a good couple visually. Her strong point was a fantastic personality. There wasn't a mean bone in her body, and because of a problematic childhood with a mother who, while not an open prostitute, was known as a "good time girl" who could be found at the local nightclubs and bars most Friday and Saturday nights. MaryAnn was definitely not a spoiled brat. Her father was undetermined, and in a practical sense could be any one of her mother's the multiple "male friends". MaryAnn's large number of aunts and uncles made for a loving childhood even if the situation wasn't a stable nuclear family. Her grandmother was married at 15 and had 9 children. MaryAnn had one uncle that was more of a brother being only 2 years older than her. I was impressed by the way MaryAnn organized the remaining semi-sober party goers to clean up the house before they left. That helped me a lot and in gratitude I asked her to have breakfast with me. We sat in a booth at the local greasy spoon 24 hour diner, there were no MacDonald's in 1960, and talked long after the sun came up. She told me her life was not in a good place. There was no money in her extended family for college and no jobs in our home town for a 23 year-old female. She was visiting her grandmother for the holidays and was currently living with her mother in Oak Park, IL, a Chicago suburb, and working as a telephone operator. In 1960, you could still dial "0" and speak to a real person to get a number or make a long distant call. I wasn't due back in Baltimore until Jan 7, and MaryAnn figured out how to stay in town until then. We were inseparable for the next week, except for sleeping. Now, dear Reader, this would be a good time to put a paragraph or two of steamy sex and descriptions of how I taught my new girlfriend some mind-blowing oriental sex tricks. No, no, no. Remember, this is before the sexual revolution and nice girls didn't give it up before the wedding. After many long talks, we agreed the best and only thing for us to do is get married. In retrospect, that decision was not the best for either of us, even though it seemed like a good idea at the time (cliché). As a second-class Petty Officer I was entitled to a housing and subsistence allowance or housing in lieu of the allowance. My orders were to proceed to Atsugi, Japan when we finished accepting the eight WV-2Q electronic warfare Super Connies. Four planes were going to VQ-2 electronic warfare squadron in Morocco and four were going to VQ-1 at NAS Atsugi, Japan. Looking back on this period in our life with the benefit of maturity, we were in love with the idea of getting married and living in Japan and were not that much in love with each other. MaryAnn was getting away from a dead end job with no prospects to improve her life and I was going to solve a problem that was worrying me. Namely, I had the choice of living in the barracks for two years, or setting up housekeeping with a bar girl in tiny Japanese house. I was in love with the ideal of living in a rather nice Navy housing and having a "respectable" life. I was counting on falling in love with MaryAnn after the marriage. I guess that didn't work out too well. Chapter ONE We were married on February 11, 1960, at Naval Station, Bainbridge, MD by a Navy Chaplain. We were turned down by several civilian ministers, smart guys, before we modified our story and told the Chaplain we were high school sweethearts before I joined the Navy and now wanted to do what we had been planning for years. It's not nice to lie to a minister, but we paid the price in the following years. We moved into the house trailer that I was renting with a roommate, a real WWII hero who had a gazillion medals earned when he was a radioman on a PBY navy anti-submarine amphibious aircraft. He very graciously found other digs and left the trailer to the newly-weds. On our wedding night I found my new bride was, in fact, a 24 year-virgin. Our sex was very plain vanilla and it took me 10 years to get my first blow-job (under less than perfect circumstances as it turned out). Although not exciting or great sex, our couplings did the job as our first child, a boy, was born on April 18, 1961, in the Yokosuka, Japan, Naval Hospital. Our daughter was conceived in Japan, but was born at the Navy Hospital Pensacola, FL on 24 June, 1962. We wanted to stop with the two, but MaryAnn could not take birth control pill because of an allergic reaction. Her face would break out in brown splotches. Not a pretty sight. We used spermicide jelly as an imperfect birth control and had our third child, a boy, on Jan. 6, 1964. My wife was the model mother and faithful lover, I have no doubts my children are mine. From Pensacola, I was transferred to NAS Sanford, FL. I deployed on the USS Saratoga in March and on 1 Sept, 1966, while in the Mediterranean, I was promoted to Warrant Officer, and returned early to Sanford. My (then) faithful wife was happy to see me home early. She was not happy when I told her that my new Officer orders were to report to the USS Forrestal and deploy to the waters off Vietnam in a few months. On July 29, 1967 the second day on Yankee Station off the coast of Viet Nam, the Forrestal had a massive fire and bomb explosions killing over 300 of the crew. As a squadron, we lost all our aircraft, but suffered no personnel casualties. RVAH-9, a sister squadron of RA-5C photo bombers was not doing well on the USS Kitty Hawk in San Diego during workup before deployment to Southeast Asia. The performance of the RVAH-9 pilots in carrier landings on the Hawk was so poor the CO of the ship kicked them off to NAS Miramar, CA, to practice landings ashore before someone was killed. The importance of all this was that my squadron, RVAH-11 had a full complement of competent pilots, but no aircraft. The logical solution was for RVAH-11 to take RVAH-9's six RA-5C Vigilante birds and embark on the Kitty Hawk for a nine month deployment to the South China Sea. As a squadron, we had already had been away from home for four months which meant we were facing a 13 month separation from our families. As it turned out we had a 90 day stay at Albany and went back to the Gulf of Tonkin for 10 months. We were separated from our families for a total of 23 months from April, 1967 to September, 1969. War is hell. Chapter Two I tried, really tried, to write frequently and send little 3 inch audio tapes at regular intervals. However, on January 21 '68 Khe Sanh started the six month siege and on January 30th the Tet Offensive began. The main offensive lasted two months, but so-called mini Tets were also launched in May and August. We were flying 18 hours a day and remained on station off the coast of Viet Nam for 60 day line periods separated by five days in Cubi Point for R and R. The sailors called it S and F for Suck and Fuck. The aforementioned Olongapo was specifically designed to give horny sailors all the pussy they could want in exchange for dollars or Philippine pesos. The Japanese had their "comfort girls" in WWII and the US Navy had Olongapo during the Viet Nam war from '66 to '74. The intervals between my letters home were in proportion to the heat of the war. After 18 hours on the flight deck and a prospect of six hours off duty before doing it again left little time to write or make a recording. We had no email or Skype in 1968. I cannot deny my correspondence to my wife and kids was not what it should have been. Whether that was a factor in what happened to my marriage, or just an excuse, is not really important. Before the three months off the carrier for some time home between the '68 and '69 cruise, the Vigilante wing moved from Sanford, FL to Albany, GA and of course MaryAnn had to do it all herself (with three kids under seven). She excelled as a competent Navy wife and packed up the house and kids for the move from Sanford to Albany without a hitch. The time at Albany between cruises went by very fast with not much time spent with MaryAnn because of all that had to be done to get the squadron ready to go back out for another ten months. As I write this I have a real problem remembering that I was home at all. The situation did nothing to strengthen our marriage. As I learned later from MaryAnn, she really would have rather I had not come home at all. She missed her fucking time with Victor and wasn't getting much from me. The next few paragraphs will describe the worst time in my entire life, bar none. After two years on the Kitty Hawk I arrived back in Albany in October, 1969. I was in receipt of orders to NAS Norfolk, VA, to detach in Feb 1970 for three years of shore duty. I was a happy sailor ready to assume the duties of Husband and Father. Ha, not so fast. Being separated from MaryAnn for so long, I was not very good in picking up on her state of mind or moods. I did know she was not the same Southern Illinois housewife that I left nearly two and half years earlier. The welcome home sex was not what I had looked forward to those long months at sea. I got the distinct impression her mind was someplace else while we were fucking. She was jumpy, moody, and not as talkative as I remembered. I think she tried, but as I learned from her later, I was the stranger and Victor was her real lover. About four weeks at home I asked her to meet me at the O club for Friday night happy hour. She got there about 4:30 and was in a surprisingly happy mood. I could tell she had spent some time on her clothes, hair and makeup. She looked like a million dollars. We danced, drank, danced some more and ate a little. It was the best time together in over two years. When we got home about 1AM were all over each other. MaryAnn undressed me and pushed me on the bed. She took her clothes off quickly while I watched with love and wonder. I admit I partook of a bunch of LBFMs in Po city and got my root sucked regularly in port. But this was mind-blowing. Before I left in 67, I could rarely talk her into a poor excuse of a blow job. Her distaste was palpable and a real put off. I rarely asked –or rather begged- for a blowjob. It just wasn't worth it. I would think about the professional dick-suckers in Po city when I fucked my wife in the missionary position. But this; Wow! Unsolicited dick sucking that was amazing. In retrospect the alarm bells should have started ringing loud. How did she learn how to suck a dick like a Las Vegas thousand dollar hooker? That was what I should have asked, not what I actually did which was gratefully think about all the future world class blow jobs I was going to get. In the soft cotton-candy afterglow of the best sex EVER, I said something like – remember this is the cusp of the Seventies, the sexual revolution was in full swing. Something like "Darling, I feel bad about your lack of sex during my long absence and the fact you were a virgin when we married. Have you really only had one lover, me?" The actual words I can't remember. But MaryAnn got big eyed and blurted. "It was only a few times and I really didn't enjoy it." "WHAT!" You fucked some guy while I was gone? She didn't answer but started sobbing. "I knew you would find out. I am sooo sorry—it didn't mean anything." The standard dialog from a cheating bitch came out of her mouth. She was in a state of high anxiety from the first day of my return. Her frequent visits to the BOQ (Bachelor Officer's Quarters) were noticed by many as well as her time with Fuckhead in the O' Club. In truth, nobody did tell me of her infidelity, maybe because fidelity was not the norm at NAS Albany in the late sixties. She told me later it was actually a relief to get it out in the open. But, she didn't tell the truth by long shot as I would discover later. MaryAnn's attitude was she was very sorry and wanted to move on, because she loved me and besides it didn't mean anything, and we have to think of the kids, yada, yada, yada. And, we are moving to Norfolk in a few month and we can start over, whew! That was a 180 degree shift from her earlier attitude. She would not talk about her fuck buddy at all, no names, no places, just forget about it and move on. She just kept to the line that it wasn't important, and it was over, and she would not talk about it at all. That was her, but not me. I couldn't forget and move on, I needed to know details. Over the next few weeks I started to get the real picture. A lot of it from our neighbor that shared the car port. Melba, the neighbor, was MaryAnn's best friend before I left, always over for a cup of coffee; looking after each other's kids, a real close friend. That was one thing that I wasn't clueless about, I had not seen Melba in the house once since I got back. I waited until MaryAnn was out of the house grocery shopping; I slipped over and knocked on the screen door. I heard Melba coming to the door with a "Welcome home Neil, I'm sorry I haven't been over to see you." I came right out with it. "Melba, I know MaryAnn has a boyfriend and has been cheating on me. She's admitted it. What I don't know and really need to know, and will not get the full truth from MaryAnn is: who is it, and how long has it been going on, does she love him or is she just keeping the sexual edge off with him? You can tell me now and save me a lot of work – please tell me the truth." She looked at me with the most sorrowful visage I have ever seen on a human except in the movies. "Neil, I'm very, very sorry to be the one to tell you this- but I will tell you the truth." "His name is Victor MacDonald. He is a bachelor LTJG in RVAH-3 (the training squadron that doesn't deploy). He lives in the BOQ. MaryAnn met him about a year and a half ago. "WHAT THE FUCK!" I blurted out "JESUS, Melba, she said she has only been with him a few times." "HA," Melba snorted, "A few hundred, or maybe thousand, times would be on the low side. Neil, you've been gone almost two years." She said "At first MaryAnn would talk to me about her "little affair," but when I pointed out it was much more than a little affair, and I let her know I did not approve of her trashing her marriage, she cut me off." "She told me that you didn't even write to her anymore and likely was fucking every time the ship was in port. She told me that "I can't just stay home all the time and take care of the kids. I'm entitled to a life, and yes, a sex life." I do know she met him at the base pool right next to the BOQ. She would take the kids there to swim and he would see her from his second story balcony of his room and scoot right over with his tight bathing suit that outlined his bigger than average cock." "When MaryAnn was talking to me she said the first time she had two good reasons to go to his room and fuck him silly. His big dick and that she had not gotten a letter from you for over three weeks." "After that, she just fell into a comfortable relationship with him. He took your place Neil, in every way." I said "Damn, Melba. That was right in the middle of the Tet offensive. I barely had time to eat and catch a few winks for the entire month of June '68. So, when I was here between deployments last fall, she was still in a full blown relationship?" Melba said, "MaryAnn told me she was really conflicted those three months. She was glad to see you, but she really missed Victor's big cock. She was afraid to go to him when you were here. But, when you left she made up for it. She spent more time in the BOQ than the officers that lived there." Forgiveness Denied Chapter Three I wanted to punch the bitch's lights out. But, what would that accomplish? Maybe the Big Chicken Dinner, a Bad Conduct Discharge. I have three children that I spend way too little time with now. If we divorce I may never see them again. Do I love MaryAnn? Shit, I really don't know. I never analyzed it. MaryAnn was just my wife; my children's mother. You are supposed to love your wife, right? We've gone through everything together. Then it really hit me. We haven't gone through the last two and a half years together. She has done everything alone. She has been both mother and father. I know nothing of what she has had to do to keep the family together. If she was keeping it together with LTJG Fuckhead helping her out, I really can't complain. Her developing a relationship with someone else, is that really her fault? If I had been with her here she would not have even given LTJG Victor MacDonald the time of day. I believe I know her well enough to know that her reaching out to him was not 100% sex. I'll bet the percentage is closer to 20-30%. She needed someone to talk to and be with besides the kids and Melba. I will ask her what she wants --- tomorrow. I went to my boss, the XO and told him I needed a day off. It was a Wednesday. I didn't say anything to MaryAnn on Tuesday. Wednesday morning I told her I wasn't going to work and when the kids got on the school bus I wanted to take her to breakfast. I know she was thinking the breakfast place on base or maybe Denny's. For this talk we went to the big hotel in downtown Albany and had a real breakfast with eggs Benedict and Champagne. When we finished breakfast I popped the question. "Do you want a divorce? She looked at me with a surprised look. "You're asking me?" "Who else should I ask" I cleverly replied. She said "I thought you would be telling me, not asking, Neil." "Well, I'm asking." She quickly replied "NO! I want you, not a divorce" My response was "Can you give Victor up? I mean completely. I don't want you to go near him ever again." Did I mention MaryAnn has striking green eyes? Well, those eyes were brimming with tears when she said, "I never want to see him again now I have you. Let's get out of here and go home to make the love I wanted to make when my sailor first came home, but my guilt got in the way. I really do love you Neil." These were words that were spoken to get her what she wanted and, as I was to sadly learn, were not sincere. I had to learn the hard way how she had perfected her lying. So what if I was the beneficiary of a sexy wife that was taught sex tricks by LTJG Fuckhead? I liked the perfect blowjobs and the repertoire of sex positions right out of the Kamasutra. She even offered her ass on a good night. That could have been because her pussy was getting a bit sore, but so what. I could (should?) have asked the snarky question "you learned all this in just a few times with Victor?" What the hell, why fuck up a good thing? Chapter Four Disaster! About four months at my new job at Fleet Aviation Electronics Training Unit Atlantic Fleet (FAETULANT), in Norfolk, VA I was ordered to take my two day training course on surface to air missile evasion tactics on the road. I was to fly to NAS Albany, GA for the two day course and then take a Navy vehicle to NAS Jacksonville, FL and repeat the course there. Then drive back to Albany and fly home to Norfolk. When I got home, I told MaryAnn about the trip. She got really excited and said she would go with me. We discussed it, but I was not really in favor of the idea. I told her the Navy would pay for my plane ticket, but we would have to pay for her round trip flight from Norfolk to Albany and return. I asked the obvious question, "Why do you want to go to Albany?" She said that she wanted to visit with her friends and that we could go to O' club and have a good time. My response was I have some very bad memories of that place, and damn few friends. She just wouldn't give up and got mad at me because she really wanted to go and that if I loved her I would let her go. To my everlasting regret I gave in and bought her a round trip ticket. If I had known then what I learned later, I would have made it a one-way ticket. We made arrangements to stay with one of the POW widows who was in base housing waiting and hoping her husband, would be released soon from the Hanoi Hilton POW prison. I thought Sue was a good friend, but she turned out to be MaryAnn's willing confident and enabler in the big lie. She was the conduit between MaryAnn and Victor ever since we moved to Norfolk. I remember complaining about the hefty long-distance charges she racked up calling Sue's phone. I would bet she was getting calls from Fuckwad using Sue's phone which accounted for the several reverse charges! What irony. The perfect cuckhold was paying for phone sex between his wife and her lover! My cheating bitch of a wife never broke it off with Victor and was carrying on a letter and long distance phone communications with the prick the whole time! No wonder she was so anxious to return to Albany. As I learned much later Sue turned her spare bedroom over to MaryAnn and Victor and they slept together the two nights I was in Jacksonville. I didn't have a clue and would have never have found out except for what happen about two months later. Chapter 5 I was in the classroom at FAETU teaching a class in electronic warfare when I was called out to take an emergency phone call. It was my next door neighbor calling from the Portsmouth Naval Hospital. She told me MaryAnn was having severe abdominal pains and had been taken to the by ambulance to the hospital. I told my CO what was happening and jumped in the car to get to my wife's side as quick as I could. When I got to the hospital I was put in a waiting room for over an hour until a young intern who looked about twelve came in the room. He said "LT Davis?" I said "yes, how is my wife?" He said "I have good news and bad news." Jesus, this guy must have skipped the bedside manners class. "We had to remove her right ovary, but she can still have children with one ovary." I look at him with a question. "Why did you remove her ovary?" He said, "It's not that rare that she had an ectopic pregnancy, that is when the zygote fails to fully transverse to the uterus and the fertilized ovum begins to cell divide in the Fallopian tube. When the zygote becomes large enough to distort the Fallopian tube it cause severe pain. "Next question Doc. If the husband has had a vasectomy, how can this happen?" The look on the interns face was almost worth the pain I was feeling. He mumbled something like "You should discuss that with your wife." At this point in the narrative I have to decide whether to lapse into fiction and fabricate an emotional confrontation with the lying and cheating bitch. But, to my regret now, I must take the far less satisfying and dramatic path, the truth. I sat in the waiting room and mentally constructed the future. Do I want to divorce the slut and move into the BOQ and go through financially ruinous path of lawyers and custody battles? No. I don't. When MaryAnn was discharged about 8PM I walked her to the front entrance and went to get the car with minimal talk. When we were on the road to Virginia Beach and the new house, I asked if she is going to divorce me and marry Victor since she appears to want to start a family with him. All I got out of her was "I can't think or talk about anything right now. I just had surgery and I want to go to bed – alone." We had a big '70s station wagon with three grade school aged kids in the back seat so our discussion was guarded. "Little pitchers have big ears" my mother used to say when she and my Dad were having "discussions." The next few days after were arrived there was a lot of silence around the house. About a week she said the Dreaded Words: "We have to talk." She said "Yes, I want a divorce. I have a lawyer and he wants to talk to both of us." I snapped back "Hell no. I will not sit in some sleazy divorce lawyer's office and destroy our lives." MaryAnn said "You have to. The Virginia divorce laws are archaic and the only way I can divorce you is if you move out of the house. If I move out it is considered abandonment and I get nothing and could lose the children. You must move out so you are abandoning me." The next few hours were full of raised voices and accusations on both sides. I screamed at her "I am not moving out of this house and live in a tiny BOQ room!" This began a horrible period of both our lives. We had minimal communications and MaryAnn continued a campaign to drive me out of the house so she could get a divorce by charging me with abandonment. I was to sleep in a spare room while she stayed in the master bedroom with bath. I shared a bathroom with our three kids. The best thing about my marital exile I became closer to my children. My oldest boy was 11, Lori was 10, and little Jeff was 7. MaryAnn would not allow me to eat with the family; I did my own laundry and kept my room clean. I ate a large meal at the base at lunchtime and made a lot of peanut butter sandwiches and ate them in the garage while working on my Model A Ford and the Lincoln. I know that MaryAnn was communicating with LTJG asshole, but I couldn't really catch her. My suspicion was that the woman next door was mailing and receiving letters between the two. Since she knew I was monitoring the phone bill, she was likely making her calls from next door. Hell, they could be using carrier pigeons as far as I knew. There was no email or text messages in 1972. I really didn't know why MaryAnn was continuing the liaison in secret. She was in complete denial of anything and brushed off the fuck meeting in Albany that resulted in the pregnancy as a onetime mistake. Her MO was all the fucking she had been doing was "just a mistake." I would have been happier and would have given the bitch her divorce if she had said one honest thing. I believe if she had been truthful and told me she wanted a divorce so she could marry LTJG asshole, I would have divorced her right then and moved on as best I could. Without anything to back me up, I suspect her lover just wanted to continue fucking married pussy with no strings. He was five years younger than MaryAnn and it is unlikely he wanted to take on a ready-made family. Pussy is pussy, but marriage is a whole different thing. He couldn't have been dumb enough to want a wife five years older than him with three young children. Shit, he couldn't afford them. If he had full access to MaryAnn's snatch, it would have lost the appeal very quickly. The unnatural co-habitation around our house could not be sustained; it didn't end with a bang, but with a whimper. MaryAnn started putting a plate for me at the table and we went to movies together a couple of times. We drifted back to a more normal life that was likely no better or worse than most marriages. I spent much of my time in the garage where I restored two cars, a 1930 Model A Ford, and when it was finished I sold it and bought a 1941 Lincoln Continental convertible, 12 cylinder beauty. One good thing about the US Navy, if you don't like your assignment or location it'll change every two or three years. In early 1973 I received orders to the Air Wing One staff as the aircraft maintenance office. MaryAnn stayed in the Virginia Beach house as the Wing was home ported at NAS Oceana in Virginia Beach and was embarked on the USS John F. Kennedy when the JFK was at sea. After a four month period at sea as the Wing Maintenance Officer, I was ordered to the Carrier Group Four staff as the Electronic Warfare Officer, also embarked on the JFK. This was a big step up as I was working directly for the Admiral. The job was intensely interesting as I was involved in nuclear weapons and other duties that were highly classified. I was responsible for matters far above my rank of Lieutenant. To be completely honest I didn't think very much about MaryAnn and didn't care if she was being fucked silly by LTJG Fuckwad. I actually found out much later that he was on the USS Oriskany in the South China Sea for most of 1973 and 1974. That likely explains the fact that MaryAnn wanted to come to the Mediterranean mid-cruise. One advantage of a peace-time Med cruise is the ship charters commercial aircraft to allow the wives and husbands to have a real three-week break. I met MaryAnn in Naples, Italy and we drove to Florence and Rome. She made her way to Palma, Majorca for a great five days. It was almost like a second honeymoon, since we really never had a first honeymoon back in 1960. The JFK then went to sea and for a very short exercise. MaryAnn somehow was able meet the ship in Livorno. The nearest airport is at Pisa, so we were able to see the leaning tower before she flew back to Virginia with the rest of the wives. It could have been the time that healed our marriage, except for the knowledge the only reason she come to the Med was her lover was in the Western Pacific. What is the old saying "If you aren't with the one you love, you love the one you're with." The tables were turned on LTJG Shithead. He was on deployment to Westpac and I had access to MaryAnn's pussy! MaryAnn went back to Virginia for the rest of the cruise. I hope she invested in a good vibrator or maybe she visited the NAS Oceana BOQ. Chapter 7 When I finished my tour on the JFK I received order back to RVAH-11. While I was away from the Vigilantes the Wing had moved again to Key West, Florida. MaryAnn had to make the move from Virginia by herself once again; although my oldest, Brad, was a teen-ager and was more help than the last move. The atmosphere at Key West was much like that at Albany. Infidelity was the norm and the sexual revolution had been won. MaryAnn and I never discussed it but we sort of drifted into a sex no-fault understanding. As long as the kids weren't affected we pretty much did as we pleased. I should say MaryAnn did what she pleased, I was still faithful, and I guess I still believed in being faithful to marriage vows. A real cuckhold. I did get pissed one night when we were at the O'Club with the Maddens, a couple that lived down the street, in the Sigsbee Island housing area. They had a total open marriage and practiced it frequently. One Friday night, Mike Madden and I were at the bar and the wives were circulating from table to table and dancing with whoever they could talk into getting on the floor for a grope set to music. Around midnight Mike and I tried to find our wives to go home and discovered they were not in the club. The O' Club had an open design with only a few separate rooms off the main bar and dance floor. With most of the patrons gone it was easy to see MaryAnn and Diana were not in the club. We went out to the parking lot and saw that Mike's car was gone but mine was still there. Mike said the girls probably got pissed because we weren't paying enough attention to them and went someplace else. They were either in a downtown bar or went home. No personal cellphones in 1974, so we decided to go home in my car first and then go looking for Mike's car downtown if they weren't home. When we pulled in Mike's driveway his car was not there. He said, "Neil, I'm beat. I suggest you go to bed and the girls will be home eventually." Mike was blasé about the whole thing. I wasn't. If the bitch wanted to go pub crawling, she could have at least told me before she left the club. I drove back to town to look for Mike's 1973 Mercury convertible. It was the only yellow Merc convertible on the island so it was reasonable I could find it at one of the late night music and dance bars. I had the idea they probably went to Sloppy Joe's, Hemmingway's old hangout, or maybe Hog's Breath Saloon, another place that rocked until 4 or 5 AM. As I was heading there, I passed Garrison's Bight where the big charter fishing boats were moored. On a hunch I swung into the parking lot along the quay where the biggest boats were tied. Damn! The big yellow Merc was parked in front of a forty-five foot Sea Ray with the cabin lights on. I got out the car and walked down the finger pier where I could see into the only boat that was lit up. I could feel the bile rising in my throat when I saw MaryAnn and Diane down in the main cabin with a drink in their hands. Diana was in her panties, and she was sitting with a guy either side of her fondling her exposed tits. They weren't very big, but the men were pulling and licking on her nipples and enjoying them anyway. Margaret had not gotten around to removing her bra and panties but the guy with her was sucking on her face with his tongue stuck in her throat. This is usually when the cuckhold slinks away vowing to BTB as soon as he secures the credit cards and saving accounts. Not this sailor. I yelled down the cabin. "God Dammit MaryAnn. What the fuck are you doing here? Get you fucking ass off this boat and in the car NOW." I didn't blame the men. Why should I? I learned later MaryAnn and Diane went to Sloppy Joe's when they left the club and met the three men. The men invited them back to their boat "Just for a drink." Our wives were simply acting like two of many round-heeled middle-aged sluts looking for a good time. Key West is one big orgy. At the time, MaryAnn was 38 and Diane was 40. They likely did not tell the men they were US Navy officer's wives. The guys could have taken them for hookers. They were certainly behaving like whores. The picture I saw in the cabin of that boat is burned in my brain. Diane was the older, but she did have a good figure. MaryAnn, on the contrary, looked exactly like what she was, a housewife who had birthed three kids and was about 30 pounds overweight. I saw her sitting in cabin in her underwear with a roll of fat around her waist. That may have been why Diane had two guys fondling her while MaryAnn had one. On the way home in the car MaryAnn acted like it was all my fault. I didn't pay attention to her in the club and Diane and her were just going to have a few drinks in Sloppy Joe's and go home when these nice guys offered to show them the boat and have a few drinks. Why was she nearly naked? Oh, it was really hot on the boat and anyway she wasn't showing any more than if she had a bathing suit on. She couldn't help it if Diane wasn't wearing a bra when she left home, and it was really getting heated in boat cabin. I wanted to scream what was in my mind, "What would I have seen if I had waited thirty minutes before breaking up your little orgy?" I didn't say that because she would have just lied. I stopped thinking when I saw them down in the cabin. The lighting was such that anyone on the pier could see in, the occupants couldn't see out well. If I had only raced back to my house and gotten my camera, by the time I got back I'll bet the party would have been photo ready! Today, with the ubiquitous smart phones you can capture scenes like this in HD video. At this point in our marriage I couldn't sustain the disgust and outrage. I just realized sluttishness was a genetic trait, just like eye color. Her mother was a slut and MaryAnn inherited that trait. I knew then it was just a matter of time until I was going to kick the cheating bitch to the curb. The boat episode receded to that place in my memory with all the other cheating behavior. Fuck her. Chapter 8 My next duty station after Key West was back to Pensacola, Florida. I was actually at Whiting Field, Milton, Florida, but we bought a house in Pensacola so the kids would have a better school, and Milton, FL was really a red-neck small town. I transferred to NAS Whiting, near Milton, in June, 1975. As a full Lieutenant, I was able to afford to buy a decent house on Confederate Dr. in Pensacola and settled in to an unspoken arrangement with MaryAnn. She could do what she wanted and I would too. The only rule was she had to be discrete. I did not want to find out who she was fucking and I wouldn't tell her who I was. It wasn't a modern "open marriage." It was more like the military in the 90's—"Don't ask, and don't tell." Forgiveness Denied In early 1976 MaryAnn's mother moved in with us. I never got along with her, but I maintained a wary truce with old slutty bitch. She really had no choice about moving in as she was diagnosed with the big "C" and there was no one in Oak Park, IL to take care of her. Her younger brother, the one that is two years older than MaryAnn, was a prominent Radiologist and partner in the largest hospital in Pensacola. Her treatment would not cost her anything. As it turned out, after about three months, even she could sense the tense conditions in the Davis household and she rented a small apartment about two blocks away from our house. She died about four months after moving into the apartment. The situation between MaryAnn and I was strained. I knew what she was and any protestations of fidelity rang false after she had smashed any trust I had when she betrayed and deceived me so she could spend two days getting her brains fucked out by LTJG Dickwad in Sue Monroe's house in Albany. GA. I felt like Charlie Brown who eternally trusts Lucy not to pull the football away. No more. The old saw that two wrongs don't make a right is probably true, but sometimes a wrong feels really good. I hope the statute of limitations has run out on officer and enlisted fraternizations because I fraternized the shit out of a really cute little 2nd class petty officer who worked in my office at NAS Whiting. She had a killer body, very dark brunette hair and the most electric blue eyes in Christendom. But her best feature was she dearly loved to suck cock above all else, anytime - anywhere. She had perfected the deep throat technique. When I asked her how she did it, she responded. "I just learned how to breathe through my nose and not panic when a big dick pushes past my tonsils." Whatever works. For about three months I would leave the house an hour earlier and spend that hour getting my knob polished in Kathy's apartment in Milton. I would give her a ride to work and at 4:30 each afternoon we would go back to her place and I would eat her and fuck her silly. I don't think MaryAnn ever learned of my good fortune, or if she did, she didn't care. It was good for me on several levels. The first was I had steady pussy from a gorgeous 25 year old. I was a 39 year-old horny guy, and the alternative was to beg an occasional fuck from MaryAnn. I never asked her about her sex life and I didn't care. She could be fucking the mailman, or the neighbor's German Shepard, for all I cared. Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. Kathy never told me that she was married and legally separated from a guy I really liked. He was a civilian firefighter at NAS Pensacola. When they separated, he transferred from Whiting to NAS Pensacola and rented an apartment not too far from my house. Well, Mike and Kathy got back together and she moved in with him. A funny thing happened a few months after Kathy and Mike got together. Her car broke down and she asked me for a ride home. Since her and Mike's apartment was only a few blocks from my house I readily agreed. I'll admit I was hoping to get a long blow job on the way home. I really missed Kathy's special talents. When we got to her place, (no blow-job) she looked in her purse and blurted "Aw Shit, I left my door keys in the car." She had forgotten her keys and had to wait for Mike to get off work at 6pm to let her in. I said "Leave a note on the door for Mike to pick you up at my house and you can stay with me until then. I also volunteered to swing by in the morning to give her a ride back to Whiting (I wasn't giving up on that BJ. I was in high humor at the way MaryAnn behaved when I walked in with Kathy in tow. I said "MaryAnn, I don't think you've met Kathy who works in my office at Whiting." She wanted to be pissed but she knew if she even started down that road I had the upper hand. Her multi-year affair and pregnancy with LTJG Shithead did not give her much moral high ground. Her best shot, and she waited until Mike and Kathy left, was "Don't ever bring that slut in my house again!" Her eyes actually narrowed and her voice was a jealous hiss. I laughed in her face and said I would damn well bring anybody I wanted to MY house, and if she didn't like it she could move out. Chapter 9 The three years I spent in Pensacola were not the best years of my life, but hell, it was shore duty and I got my share of good sex away from MaryAnn. We had our moments. She never truthfully apologized for her infidelity, her blatant cheating, and for going back on her promise to never contact LTJG piss ant. In Jan of 1978, I got a great set of orders to BuPers in Washington, D. C. Just a few weeks after I received my orders, I went to a Change of Command ceremony at the Naval Aviation Museum. Looking at the rows of chairs in perfect alignment in front of the podium, I got a real shock. In the third row was LT Fuckhead. The bastard was with a mousy little woman who looked about eight months pregnant. Well, I already knew he wasn't shooting blanks since he had knocked MaryAnn up. Seeing him caused my stomach to knot up, but in a flash of insight I knew for certain that he was plugging MaryAnn and had been for at least 3 or 4 months. MaryAnn's mood and general attitude had been on the upbeat and I was just glad she wasn't bitching about everything to analyze the situation. Lucy pulled the football away from me once again. LCDR Fucker has been nailing MaryAnn while his wife has been pregnant. Interestingly, when I got home I was straightforward with her. I came in the house, went to the fridge and popped a beer. I didn't beat around the bust. "So, MaryAnn, you are hooked back up with shithead Vince again, huh?" No teary denials, no "it was just one time, honey; it didn't mean anything" she looked me right in the eye and said. "Neil, it's none of your business what I do." "I've been wanting to tell you that I will not move to DC with you. I'm just tired of packing up and moving every two or three years. I'll stay here and you can live in the BOQ and come home when you can." I said "Let me see, I live in a tiny BOQ room in D. C. and you live here with me paying the bills while Dickwad drops by and fucks you anytime he can get away from his wife and newborn baby. Is that about right?" "You can believe what you want, Neil." was her only response. I knew that was about all I was going to get out of her, that she would not tell me the truth. Why should she? She has been cheating and fucking behind my back with that same asshole for at least ten years. I finally put on my big boy pants and told her "Get a lawyer MaryAnn, because I have finally had enough of you." She had the gall to sneer, "You won't divorce me. You are afraid to be on your own." I just said with some sorrow in my voice. "MaryAnn, you've come a long way from that sweet, lovable virgin I married 19 years ago. I wish things had not gone this way, but right now I have nothing but disgust for you." "I'll go to D. C. by myself and we will dissolve this horrible excuse for a marriage." I learned that divorcing a wife is not like selling a car. A woman can fuck the crew of a destroyer and it doesn't make a hill of beans in court. She still gets alimony and if there are children under 18, child support. In May, 1978, I did leave Pensacola headed for Washington in a 1973 VW convertible with everything I could pack in that little car. As I predicted, I did live in a secession of BOQ rooms. When I was at AFB Andrews the rule was I could stay in the BOQ from Monday to Friday noon and then had to vacate so the weekend warriors, Reserves, could use the rooms. When money was tight and when I couldn't find a place to stay, I slept in the VW. I only stayed at the Andrews BOQ until I got in the BOQ at the Bethesda Naval Hospital; that place was a bit weird. The building was coed, the showers were unisex and most of residents in the building were Navy nurses. (I may write another story just about my adventures in that sexy environment.) I was limited in what I could afford because MaryAnn had maxed out three joint credit cards and I had $400 a month alimony plus $400 a month child support. I only made $1600 a month so I was on half pay until my 17 year old daughter had her next birthday. Then I only had to pay $200 child support for my youngest who was sixteen I finally found a decent apartment—two rooms and a small kitchen in an old apartment building near the Pentagon where I worked. Unfortunately, the Shah of Iran was deposed in early '79 and I could not remain in the building because the Iranian civil war came to our building. Many of residents were Iranian and split in two factions, one supporting the Shah and the other supporting Ruhallah Khomeyni. When they started building fires in front of their rival's apartment doors, I split. I went back to the Bethesda BOQ for a few months until I took a plunge and bought a 33 ft. sailboat and docked it at the Washington Marina right across the river from the Pentagon. The mortgage payments plus the slip fee was less than rent payments in the overpriced apartment houses near the Pentagon. I lived aboard the very spacious sailboat, with a TV, fully equipped galley, a shower, and head. There was a king sized bed in the bow of the boat and I don't want to brag, but I didn't sleep alone very much. There is something about a large sailboat that acts like an aphrodisiac on young, single secretaries and legislative aides. I had great neighbors, an unmarried couple that both worked at the White House. We had a dock parties every weekend. My sex life started to really pick up with all the single women in DC.   Chapter 10 My separation papers were served on June 20, 1979. The divorce was final on Feb 4, 1980. I was married to a cheating, unfaithful bitch for nineteen years, eleven months, and 14 days. In all fairness, the cheating and lying only happened in last ten years. I was relatively happy during the first nine years. I was an enlisted petty office then and worked two jobs plus my Navy job to put food on the table for my little family. I worked two hours as a TV repairman (they actually repaired TVs back then) after my Navy job and also acted as a tailor for all the young sailors at the base. I sewed on rank patches, tailored dress uniforms and put zippers in the navy jumpers to get that skin tight look that was in fashion back then. The faithfulness of my wife during that time was never in question. I didn't know it at the time, but that was the very best years and I know now that I did love her. Out marriage was simply one of the millions of casualties of the Viet Nam war. Lyndon Johnson was the real culprit in the demise of my marriage. I can't seriously blame MaryAnn. Oh, she could have handled it better, but shit, so could I. Several times in this narrative I alluded to our having an "open marriage." That wasn't the complete truth. Open marriage, in my understanding, is like a swinging lifestyle. Each partner was free to have sex "in the open" with no recriminations, or jealousy. Truth again, every time I thought about MaryAnn fucking or sucking Vince I would get physically ill. Maybe if I had embraced the lifestyle like the Maddens, I would still be married to MaryAnn. Who knows? MaryAnn's slimy lawyer would not agree to a clean divorce but demanded a separation period hoping that congress would pass the grossly unfair "Military Spouse Protection Act" written by Congresswoman Patricia Schroder that requires all military retirement pay to divided equally if the marriage lasted over 20 years. I missed having to give my ex-wife half of my retirement pay by just a few weeks. The slimy lawyer miscalculated on when the law went into effect. I remained on active duty for 36 years. I retired as a Navy Captain, (O-6) Commanding Officer of the Naval Training Center in Orlando, Florida on August 1, 1992. MaryAnn missed out on a huge amount of cash. There is a God. Epilogue In 1986, I was ordered back to the Pentagon to serve as the Officer Community Manager for Limited Duty and Warrant Officers on active duty. I was a bachelor and lived in the Greenhouse apartments just inside the beltway with my two grown sons. Life was good. I was keeping exclusive company with a very sweet woman who was a high school classmate back in Southern Illinois. She was the victim of a cheating husband who divorced her to marry his 27 year-old secretary. Heidi had been married over twenty years with three adult children when the shithead dumped her. I had thoughts that my life might have been much happier if Heidi had come to my New Year's Eve party 56 years ago and I had married her instead of the unfaithful cheater. Heidi was, and I'm sure still is, a wonderful, sweet and very sexy woman. Again, I could detail our very active sex that we both very much enjoyed for the eight months we dated. No matter how out sex life was in perfect sync there were a few incompatibilities between us. Heidi was a true blue liberal in every sense; she hated guns and the South. I on the other hand, have a large gun collection and retired to Florida because I love the South and am a staunchly conservative Republican. I might have accepted the problem areas and married Heidi for all her good points. I did not do that because my karma was finally swinging to the happy side. To my much undeserved good luck, CDR Donna Dansig, USN, had her office in the same wing of the Pentagon Annex as mine. The first time I saw this very proper and very beautiful naval officer I was, like the Brits say "Gobsmacked." The way I followed this incredibly beautiful woman around was skirting the definition of stalking. Like many things in my life, I almost screwed this up. As the Officer Community Manager, I had professional dealings with a Captain Bruce Dansig in OP-05, Aviation Plans. Donna had a Captain's parking tag and a set of gold naval aviator wings license plate on the front bumper of her car. She parked in the privileged 0-6 parking spot near the building door. I put two and two together and came up with five. I assumed CDR Dansig was Mrs. Dansig. No way was this Navy Commander with movie star looks single. I learned later that Donna had a bit part in a real Hollywood move. The Human Factor was shot on location in Naples, Italy and Donna was cast as a Naval Officer involved with a CIA agent. She originally had a bigger part but because she balked at kissing an enlisted driver, a real Navy officer would never do that, her screen time was drastically reduced. The movie is on NetFlix if you want to see it. So, if not a star, she had been "in the movies." In December, 1987, I was waiting at the bus stop in front of the Navy Annex on a cold, snowy day, about a mile from the Pentagon, when CDR Dansig and her assistant, LCDR whats-his-name, came out of the front door of the Annex. She asked me "Are you waiting for the bus to the Pentagon?, Is this the right place to board the bus?" This was the first time I had heard her speak. Her voice was pleasant and melodious and went perfectly with her lovely face and gorgeous body. I said nothing for an awkward period and finally croaked, "Yes, I think it is." Think it is?? What a stupid thing to say, so much for a good first impression. The two boarded the bus and took two seats halfway back in the mostly empty bus. I had to do something to show I wasn't a total fool. I walked back to where they were sitting and said to the junior officer "Sit someplace else, I need to talk to CDR Dansig." As he had to do as a junior officer, he jumped up and went further back in the bus and sat down." OK wise guy, now you are here what the hell are you going to say? I noticed Donna had an amused look on her face as if she was reading my mind. With her looks she must get hit on constantly and is likely an expert in the brush off to get rid of people just like me. I hadn't thought this through, obviously. But, I didn't have a plan for accidently meeting her on the DOD bus. Suddenly, I had a flash of inspiration. I'll tell her I know her husband, Bruce. I dove right in, "Say, I know your husband, but I have never formally been introduced to you. I've got an office down the hall from you." Her response was priceless, and I remember it as if it was yesterday. "You are the guy who has been following me around the wing with puppy dog eyes." "You finally screwed up the courage to talk to me, huh? Oh, just for the record, I'm not married, and I don't even know a Bruce Dansig." She was having a hard time keeping a straight face and then she burst out with the most feminine tinkling laugh. At that moment I fell in love with her deeply and forever. We talked continuously until we reached the Pentagon. I asked her if I could buy her coffee in the Pentagon concourse that contained the shops and restaurants. I could tell she wasn't making up an excuse but was sincere when she said "I'm very sorry, but I'm tied up all day in meetings, how about lunch tomorrow?" We saw each other every day until I had to leave town because I promised my parents I would spend Christmas with them. When arrived in Centralia, I went to a florist owned by one of my high school classmates and ordered the biggest poinsettia Christmas arrangement they had. I included a card with the simple note "Thinking of you." When I got back to DC I called her and she said she loved the flowers and mostly the card. Donna lived with her recently widowed mother and even my future mother liked my gesture. On my first day back I asked her to dinner at a popular place in Georgetown. I picked her up in my 1983 Bronco II. She really didn't like my 4-wheel SUV because it was hard to get into with a tight skirt. When we got settled in, she turned on the radio and the greatest tenor in the world, Luciano Pavarotti, filled the car with the aria from the opera Rigoletto La Dona Mobile. She gave a little squeal and said "My favorite opera and opera singer. What station is this?" I replied, "That is my tape, it is not the radio, and that is my favorite opera too." Years later, my fantastic wife told me that was the moment she fell in love with me and vowed to marry me. As I said, my karma just got better than best. We just celebrated our 27th anniversary a few weeks ago. I am the happiest and luckiest man in the world. With both of our Navy retirements and my salary as a professor of psychology at the University, we are well off. The mortgage on our lakefront home is paid off which gives us a considerable discretional income. Donna was a linguist in the Navy. By virtue of growing up as a diplomat's daughter, she speaks five European languages fluently. We travel to Europe at least twice a year and spend two or three months a year at our leased casa in Granada, Nicaragua. The house is a two-story typical Central American mansion with two indoor courtyards and an indoor half-Olympic swimming pool. A full-time cook and house maid frees us to just have fun. In our 27 year marriage Donna has never given me an instant's concern about her faithfulness. She is a cradle Catholic who was educated by nuns in parochial grade school and attended the Jesuit University, Georgetown U. She considers adultery as a mortal sin and has let me know with absolute certainly that if I ever came to her for forgiveness for an extra-marital affair I would be shit out of luck. She would leave me in a heartbeat. I know if I cheated on her the last words I would hear on this Earth, while lying in a pool of my own blood, would be "How in the Hell do you reload this damn thing?" Needless to say, I have trod the straight and narrow for 27 years. I won't prevaricate and contend that I have been free of temptations. Several times I had an opportunity to break my marriage vows. Once, I was invited to be the M in a MFM threesome. I politely declined. I am not a fool. For a few hours of sexual adventure, I would lose a lifetime of marital bliss. I am also a (converted) Catholic and feel very strongly that sex is enjoyed only within the marriage. You see MaryAnn, unlike you; I know it just isn't worth it. The best sex is with a partner you love to the depth of your being. Casual sex is wrong on many levels. OK for singles, but never for married people. As Benjamin Franklin said "The pleasure is fleeting, the expense exorbitant, and the position ridiculous." Most people, when seeing a photograph of themselves in coitus, feel embarrassed, not aroused.