Best Wife Ever

"Don't you ever touch me like that again, you hear me, asshole?" she yelled. I knew she had a temper, but I had never seen her so angry before.

"You bitch," he growled. "I'll get you for this." I got to them and put the end of my cane on his Adam's apple and pushed him back down, none too gently.

"If I was you, I'd stay right where you are, Hoss," I told him. "Trust me, you don't want to piss her off any worse than you already have. And you DAMN sure don't want to piss me off."

"Maybe you'd better put a leash on that woman, cuck," he said. Cuck? What the fuck is going on here, I asked myself. I would definitely have to have a talk with my wife. I pushed harder on the cane.

"Maybe you'd best keep your fucking paws off my wife," I told him. "Otherwise, I may just have to cut your balls off with a dull butter knife." His face paled, but he said nothing. I turned to Wendy, who was still red-faced. "Are you okay?" I asked her.

"I'm okay now," she said. I nodded my head.

"Maybe we'd better get going," I said.

"Yes, let's get out of here," she said in response. We went back to the table and grabbed our things, then headed for the car.

"What was that all about?" I asked her when we got in the car.

"I'm sorry," she said. "He works at the hospital. I dated him a couple times before we got together and I guess he thought that gave him a right to move in on me."

"What happened out there on the dance floor?" I asked.

"He put his hand on my ass, so I kneed him in the balls," she said. "It's a move I learned from an old Master Chief years ago."

"Well, it was a good move, kneeing him in the balls," I said. "What did he mean by calling me a cuck, by the way?"

"He's an asshole who thinks he's God's gift to women," she said. "That's the way he talks to any man who's with a woman he wants. I've never cheated on you, and I never will. Surely, you know that."

"Okay," I said. "Case closed. Good move, by the way." The truth is, I knew she was right. I remember seeing him around the hospital and saw the way he interacted with other women. I was frankly surprised he hadn't gotten his ass kicked for the way he came on to the married nurses. I also knew Wendy's reputation at the hospital. If there was ever a straight-shooter, she was it.

"I like the way you handled that cane, putting it on his throat like that. Would you really have cut his balls off?" she asked. I laughed.

"You really don't want to know, do you?" I asked. It was her turn to laugh.

"Not really," she said. "But it's good to know you're there to defend me. Now, please take me home and make love to me."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, heading for the house.

I graduated with my bachelor's degree in 1974 and Wendy was there to cheer me on when I got my diploma. I got a job with a local aerospace company and still work there, but I intend to retire very soon. Let me tell you, it felt so good to finally contribute something to our finances. Wendy had always been so supportive of me that I wanted to do something special for her, especially since her birthday was coming up.

So I took the sign-on bonus I received, along with the rest of the savings I had in Texas and booked a five-day reservation in Hawaii. Her eyes opened wide when I showed her the tickets. She took leave from work and off we went.

On the flight over, she surprised me when she leaned over and whispered in my ear, "When we get to the hotel, I'm going to suck your cock until you come in my mouth." Then she took my hand and placed it under her sundress. I was shocked to find she had no panties on. "I'm completely naked under my dress," she whispered.

I felt my manhood rising and she deftly guided one of my fingers inside her. I could hear her moaning as I slowly fingered her, right there on the airplane.

"I'm about ready to fuck your brains out," she said as I felt her out even more. True to her word, she wasted no time slipping her dress off when we got to our room. She looked so gorgeous standing there in front of the window, naked. She guided me to the bed, undressed me, then took me fully in her mouth and gave me a mind-blowing blowjob. She had definitely gotten much better at this over the years.

"I'm about to cum," I told her, halfway expecting her to stop as she usually did. But she didn't and kept on until I exploded in her mouth. She shocked me even further by swallowing every drop and licking me clean. She took a drink of water to rinse out her mouth, then climbed on top of me, having made me hard yet again with her mouth.

"I'm just getting started with you, Mr. Hammond," she said in a sultry voice that held lots of promise. Soon, she hovered over my face and pressed her wet sex against my mouth. I didn't hesitate and commenced to lick and suck her pussy like there was no tomorrow. Soon, she was bucking against my face, holding my head against her as she moaned through her orgasm.

She worked her way back down my body and was soon riding my hard cock for all it was worth. I had never seen her this excited before and was loving it. She grabbed her breasts as she rode me, tweaking her nipples.

"Fuck me," she moaned. "Keep fucking me, my husband, don't ever stop." Who was I to argue? She kept riding me, even as I ejaculated inside her. She slowed down for a bit, but only long enough to lean down and kiss me deeply as she gyrated her hips.

"This feels so fucking good," she whispered in my ear as she slowly moved her hips up and down, taking me deep inside her. I couldn't remember her being so excited before and I was determined to savor it as long as possible.

This went on for what seemed like forever. After we were both spent, she rolled off of me and laid on the bed, her legs spread wide. Her fingers spread her lower lips open and I could see cum dripping out of her. She wasn't done surprising me just yet, and scooped out a bit of cum and brought it to her mouth. She moaned as she licked her fingers clean.

Who was this woman and what did she do with my wife, I asked myself. Who cares, I thought, answering my own question. Whatever happened, I was enjoying this little show she was putting on. After a bit, she giggled like a naughty girl and looked at me with mischief in her eyes.

"Watch this," she said. She got off the bed and stood in front of the window, completely naked. We were several floors up, so I didn't know how many people could see her. As I watched, she put one bare foot on the sill and began masturbating as she looked out the window. I couldn't help myself and walked behind her, taking her breasts in my hands from behind. As I kissed her neck, I massaged her breasts softly, the way I knew she liked. She leaned back into me, moaning as she fingered herself.

I could feel my cock start to get hard yet again, and pressed myself into her. She started moving her ass back into me, which made me even harder. With a little giggle, she reached down and guided my hard cock inside her wet pussy from the back, right there in front of the window.

She had always been a bit of an exhibitionist, flashing just a bit of her legs and giving me a "nip slip" from time to time, but she had never been this wild before, and to be honest, I was loving it.

"Fuck me, baby," she said. "Right here, in front of God and everybody. Fuck me nice and slow. I want everyone to see your big cock inside my pussy. Show the world how a real man fucks his woman." As I slowly moved in her, she massaged her clit and soon, we both exploded in orgasm yet again, which was a good thing, since my leg was starting to ache.

Except for dinner, we stayed naked and made love to each other for most of the night, finally falling asleep in each other's arms early in the morning. We enjoyed the rest of the week and even made love on a secluded beach in broad daylight.

Eventually, all good things must come to an end, and this vacation had to as well. We flew back home, rested and rejuvenated. We hated leaving Hawaii, though, and promised we would do it again someday.

Later that year, Wendy decided to go into the Naval Reserves when her enlistment ended. By then, she had been promoted to Petty Officer First Class and didn't want to see her eight years go to waste. She had been offered a job at Scripps Memorial Hospital, so she took it.

Six months later, we decided it was time to buy a house, so we found one we both liked -- a two-story, four bedroom house that had everything we both wanted. The stairs were something of a challenge for me, but since Wendy loved the place so much, I decided that would be a minor inconvenience.

It was about six months after that we started talking about adopting a child. We made inquiries and spoke with several agencies that introduced us to the process and showed us photos of children waiting for adoption. It was so difficult seeing these children waiting for someone to take them in. We instantly fell in love with a set of 8-month-old twins, Michael and Michelle, who were currently in a foster home along with several other children.

We started the process and jumped through all the hoops, and finally became the official parents of Michael and Michelle, two lovely children who stole our hearts the day we first met them. Wendy was scared at first, but she took right to her new role as mother. As for me, I was over-the-top happy. I had two beautiful children and a happy wife -- what was there not to be happy about?

Oh sure, we had to adjust our lives to accommodate the children, but then again, so does every new parent. We had to adjust our schedule a bit to accommodate the children, and we didn't want them in day care. So we looked at our budget and found that we could afford a part-time nanny to stay with them when we had to be at work.

One day I came home to find Wendy in our bedroom, crying.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" I asked.

"The kids called me 'momma,'" she said.

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" I asked. She nodded her head as she cried on my shoulder.

"Yes, it is," she said. "I just never thought I would ever hear anyone call me that." Tears crept down my cheek as I held her. I knew how much this meant to her.

Michael grew to be quite the athlete and started playing sports early on. I thoroughly enjoyed taking him to Little League and watching him play. We all went to see him play, then would go out for pizza or a burger afterward.

Michelle followed in Wendy's footsteps and wanted to play piano. So we paid for lessons and attended her recitals. I loved listening to the two of them play duets on Wendy's piano, which sat prominently in the living room.

Michael decided he wanted to play guitar, so we bought one for him and paid for lessons. About the same time, Wendy decided I needed to broaden my musical horizons and gave me a nice Gibson banjo, knowing how much I enjoyed bluegrass. I started taking lessons, and loved playing the thing. Within a year or so, I found I was able to actually play a halfway decent tune on it. By then, we had formed an informal family band, and often jammed together in the living room.

I'll never forget the time Michael and I played "Dueling Banjos" together at a neighborhood picnic. By the time we were done, everyone was stomping their feet and clapping as we played. When we finished, Michael and I gave each other a "high-five" as everyone gave us a standing ovation. What I didn't know was that Wendy had caught it all on video.

Life went on with all of its ups and downs. Things were great for us, overall, and we had our minor disagreements, like any other family, but we always got through them.

In 1986, Wendy was diagnosed with thyroid cancer. She assured me that it was a very common and treatable condition, but I was still worried and wondered if it was connected to her Turner Syndrome. She got through it okay, just as she promised, but she now had to take pills every day for her thyroid.

Four years later, Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait, and Wendy, along with several others in her reserve unit, were called into active duty and assigned to the USNS Mercy, a hospital ship based in San Diego. By then, she had just been promoted to Senior Chief Petty Officer. Having served in combat, I was naturally concerned for her well-being, and of course, the children were scared as well, but she put our minds at ease, telling us that hers was not a combat role, and that it was considered a war crime to attack a hospital ship.

It was a tearful departure that day in August 1990 when the kids and I took her to the ship. After giving us all kisses and hugs, she promised to stay in touch as often as she could. The children and I had tears in our eyes as we watched her sail off to war.

She kept her promise and called at every opportunity. We exchanged letters at least three times a week and she called us from the ship about twice a month to let us know she was okay. The holiday season, though, was the worse part of the whole ordeal. The kids and I missed her so damn much, but we got through it.

She called on Thanksgiving and Christmas, and the kids and I even played a Christmas song for her as she listened. But it just wasn't the same without her there.

We finally got word in the middle of March 1991 that the ship would be leaving the area of operations and would return to Oakland in April. We all jumped for joy at the news. When the time came, the kids and I drove to Oakland to pick her up.

We smothered her with hugs and kisses when she got off the ship and I could tell she was happy to be back home. I don't know if the kids noticed, but I saw something different about her. Having been through combat, I thought that maybe she was just experiencing a bit of fatigue from what she had experienced. But after a couple weeks, I knew there was something else going on.

She seemed to be tired all the time, and struggled just to get through the day. Little tasks wiped her out and I found her catching her breath more than once. I finally convinced her to see a doctor and took the day off to be with her.

After examining her, the doctor recommended she see a cardiologist. It only took him 30 seconds of listening to her heart through a stethoscope to tell us she needed surgery, right then and there.

It turned out that what other doctors simply wrote off as a "heart murmur" over the years was much worse. The valve on her aorta wasn't working and had to be replaced. They ended up giving her a mechanical valve, which the doctor said would probably last longer than she would. They also put her on coumadin, a medication to keep her blood thin.

She was much better after that, but it was a bit strange to hear her valve clicking at night when nothing else was moving in the house.

A couple months later, she started experiencing some of the symptoms of menopause, which we both knew was probably due to the Turner Syndrome. Her joints ached all the time, and she experienced a number of wild mood swings. She could be happy and care-free one moment, then start crying for no reason whatsoever. A moment later, she would be angry at the world over essentially nothing. Of course, her libido practically disappeared, as did our sex life.

Her doctor did what he could, but eventually suggested she have a hysterectomy. She agreed to the procedure and had it done, spending five days in the hospital. She improved considerably afterward, but things were never quite the same.

Our love for each other never decreased, but our sex life basically disappeared. We tried a few times, but she found the actual penetration too painful, even with creams and lubes. We satisfied each other as best we could orally, but there was still something missing.

Life went on, and the children graduated from high school in 1993. Michael got an appointment to the Naval Academy at Annapolis and Michelle got accepted to UCLA, and hoped to one day become a doctor. Wendy and I tearfully bid them farewell as they moved forward with their lives. Then our lives as "empty-nesters" set in.

We discussed selling the house and moving into something smaller, but dismissed that idea after looking at the rising cost of housing. Not only that, we had a lot of happy memories in the house where we lived and raised the kids and, we reasoned, the day could come that we'd be entertaining grandchildren. So we stayed where we were and moved ahead.

A couple years later, Wendy realized she had enough points to retire from the Navy Reserves, so she did. She stayed on at Scripps and buried herself in her work.

One night, Wendy turned to me and uttered the words no married man ever wants to hear: "We need to talk."

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"Before you say anything, I want you to please hear me out, completely," she said.

"Okay," I said, getting nervous. Was she going to ask me for a divorce? I had no idea what was going through her head.

"Promise me you won't get mad or anything, okay?" she asked. I was actually getting a bit peeved by now, but I held my tongue.

"Just talk to me, Wendy," I said. "What's going on?"

"I know the last few years have been hard," she said. "It's been hard on both of us. And I know it's been a long time since we've been able to do anything, you know, in bed. I don't blame you, not at all. It's me. It's all my fault."

"No, it's not your fault that you had to undergo surgery," I said.

"But I can't satisfy you anymore," she said tearfully. "And it's not right for you to have to go without sex because I can't do it anymore."

"What are you suggesting?" I asked.

"Maybe you should find another woman and have sex with her," she said.

"What?" I asked. "Do you want a divorce or something?"

"Oh, heaven's no," she said. "I love you with all my heart. I just want you to be happy, and if having sex with another woman is what it takes, then I'm prepared to let you do it."

"You want me to cheat on you?" I asked, shocked that she would even suggest such a thing, especially after what I went through with Marcy. She shook her head.

"No, I don't," she said. "It wouldn't be cheating, anyway. Not really. You'd have my permission and you wouldn't be sneaking around on me. Besides, it's just sex." It was my turn to shake my head.

"No, dear," I said. "I'm not going to do it. With or without your permission. I took a vow to you in front of God and witnesses to love, honor and cherish you in good times and bad, through sickness and health. On top of that, I promised to forsake all others until death do us part. I'm not breaking those vows."

"But I can't satisfy you any more," she said, tears falling down her face. "It's not fair. You deserve to be happy."

"But I am happy," I told her. "Every minute I get to spend with you makes me happy."

"How can you be happy with me?" she asked, crying. "I can't possibly make you happy anymore. I'm a failure. I'm scarred and ugly. I don't know how you can even stand to look at me." She broke down, sobbing. I knew her "zipper" made her feel less attractive, but I never made mention of it. I held her close to me and rocked her as she cried on my shoulder.

"You're not a failure," I told her. "And you're certainly not ugly. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever known, and I'll be happy to compare scars with you. I don't ever want to hear you say that again. You've made me the happiest man in the world and you raised two wonderful children. All while working and serving your country. You're the best wife and mother any man could ever hope for. Don't ever tell me that you're a failure, because you're not. Believe me, I know plenty of women who couldn't hold a candle to you."

"I'm sorry," she cried. "I just want you to be happy. You deserve that."

"And you do make me happy," I told her. "Listen, let's make an appointment with the doctor and see what can be done, okay?"

"I don't want to see another doctor," she said. "And I'm tired of taking pills." I could relate to that.