Mandu nearly screamed as his tongue touched her. Finally, finally, oh god, and then he was devouring her, licking and nibbling. She kept her pussy waxed, the panties were too sheer to allow for pubic hair, and her skin was so sensitive. She hissed and then whimpered as his tongue bathed over her sensitive flesh. She imagined that she could feel each taste bud on his tongue, each brush of his lip. His teeth found her swollen clit and the first bite was a stinging relief.
Mandu collapsed backward onto the generator, twisting her hips against him, spreading her legs to give him greater access. He took it greedily, lapping at her thighs and the fold of her hip before returning to explore her pussy. One finger dipped into her slit, then a second. He beckoned, making the “come here” gesture deep inside her, and she pushed against his quickly moving tongue. She muffled a shriek, clamping her hand across her mouth. Her body stiffened, sweat beading along her forehead and down her throat, even as chilly as it was.
She barely noticed when he moved away from her, so absorbed was she in the sparks and jolts of her orgasm. She trembled, enjoying each burst of heat across her stomach, each clench in the muscles of her groin. She teetered on the very cusp of another orgasm as he pulled his fingers out of her wet depths. Mandu heard the crinkle of a plastic wrapper and looked up to see him remove a condom from its foil packaging.
“Came prepared?” That was good; she was on the pill, but that wouldn’t prevent anything else.
“You came. I was prepared,” Mitch said. “Doc insisted we all take a handful before we went on leave.” He shrugged as if he expected her to believe that. He unzipped his jeans and pushed them down around his thighs. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy.
“And you weren’t intending—”
“To get amazingly lucky in a strip club? No, I leave that sort of thing to Conman. But I’m not planning on saying no when it’s offered.” He gazed at her and Mandu realized what a disheveled mess she must be, her costume half off, her panties hanging on her shoe. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
“Not a chance in hell, Airman.”
“Thank God.” His relief was palpable. He finished unrolling the condom down his length. “I don’t know if I’d survive if you turned me away now.”
Mandu opened her arms to him and he tucked himself into her embrace, his cock seeking her warm depths. She tasted herself on his mouth, kissed him again, licking at his lips. She tipped her hips, lifting her ass up to get a better angle. Mitch found her opening and slid in with a sigh. He waited there, his eyes closed.
She clenched her muscles, pulling him further in. Her arms tightened around him and she squirmed, impaled on his cock, encouraging him to move, and finally he did. He fucked her, hard, driving into her, then pulled almost entirely out, a long, slow slide. Then in again, driving her thighs into the generator, the base of his cock slamming into her clit. He ground his hips against hers, then that fierce, possessive lunge again. As if he couldn’t bear to leave her.
“Sweet,” he murmured in her ear, “Mandu, you’re so sweet, so wet.” He thrust again, and then again, desperately pumping into her. He bit down on her collarbone, sharp and heated. She felt the throb of his orgasm, the shuddering of his cock deep within her and she twisted again, rubbing her clit against him, forcing it, harder. Oh, there, just there. A moment more and she cried out, a quick exclamation, lost in the sounds as the generator kicked on again under them.
“You got a letter here, Mandy,” Tony called out as she walked into work. December was a slow month; she’d only worked two days this past week, and this upcoming week wasn’t looking any better for her wages.
Mandu didn’t bother to correct him on her name. She was already looking for another job. Tony’d cut her hours first and the most. Other girls on the staff were still pulling in at least twenty-five each week. She was lucky if she’d get seventeen. She snatched her envelope away from him, all the while dodging Tony’s wandering hands with the ease of much practice.
Inside were a plane ticket and a scrawled note.
Hey Impatient,
I ran into your brother at the exchange. I bought him a beer and we talked a bit. Why don’t you come home for Christmas? I know your brother would love to see you. You can call me if you want; Billy’s not the only one who wants to see you again.
Merry Christmas,
Alleycat
P.S. It’s me, Mitch. My wingman gave me this flight name just after we left Nevada. It could be worse, though. Peterson threatened to call me Snake for a while. Ugh.
HOME
Michelle Augello-Page
I touch the face of the computer screen; his image is so close, so close that for a second, he doesn’t seem so far away. How far away again is Afghanistan? I remind myself that it’s 7,500 miles, a fifteen-hour flight. He’s almost half a day ahead, in another world. He says he is going on another mission tomorrow. His smile is strained; he looks tired. He says, “Don’t worry.”
I nod, try to smile, try to be strong. He leans forward, searching my face.
“I’m coming home soon, baby.”
“I know,” I say, blinking back tears.
“And when I do, you know the first thing I am going to do?”
“What?”
“I am going to hug you so tight you’ll think I won’t ever let go. And then I’m going to look into your sweet brown eyes and kiss you, and once I get you home, we won’t leave that bed for days, if you know what I’m saying.”
He laughs and I smile, feeling the knot in my chest loosen a little bit. He continues talking softly, seductively, as if whispering a secret, words of desire. His voice is hypnotic, rising and falling, turning me on with visions and images. A sharp inhale, a deep exhale, the thrill of excitement, our feverish breath.
“And all you’ll be wearing is a pair of high heels. A pair of shiny black fuck-me pumps, and not much else. When I get home, I’m going to buy you a sexy red corset, candy-apple red, with a matching thong, and we won’t even come up for air, we’ve got so much catching up to do. When I get home, I’m going to love you right proper, like a husband should. Understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, sir,” I say shyly, sitting up a little straighter.
“That’s better.”
He clears his throat and quickly glances at his watch.
“Now stand up so I can see all of you. I need to go soon, but I want to see you before we get offline.”
Even though we try to talk on the video cam once a week, and I always wear sexy things under my robe, we usually just talk. Sometimes other officers are around, and he wouldn’t take the chance to expose either one of us. But every once in a while, when the coast is clear, he gives me this intimacy.
I stand up and move slightly away from the computer. I let the robe fall to the ground and reveal myself to him.
I look at the screen and can tell that he’s unzipping his pants. I feel a hot surge inside, thinking about him touching himself while looking at me. I slowly turn around, feeling suddenly stronger, sexier. The air is cool against my skin. I run my hands along the curve of my waist and hips, down my legs until I touch the tips of my toes. I arch my back so that my butt points up in the air and lightly smack my ass. My golden brown hair brushes the ground.
“You’re so pretty,” he says.
Eyeing the screen, I smile, seeing his reaction, his thick hard cock pushing through his hand, being caressed and pulled in a rhythmic, rocking movement. How I wish he was here and that his hand was my hand. How I wish he was here so that I could please him, so he could take his pleasure from me.
I touch my breasts; my nipples are hard between my fingers. I cup my breasts with my hands, sweet ripe fruit aching to be tasted. I squeeze the soft, firm flesh and moan, thinking of him licking and sucking my nipples, teasing me with his teeth and tongue. He watches me with intent. His hand doesn’t stop. His penis is thick and solid, fully erect, swollen with anticipation and yearning.
> “Touch yourself,” he says. “I want to see you.” His voice is a deep rasp. He doesn’t take his eyes off me.
“Yes, sir,” I say, moving the chair and sitting on the edge of it. My toes are a flash of color as I curve my ankles around the sides of the chair, forcing me to spread my legs open to him.
I press my hand against the soft fold of my vagina, gently feeling the smooth skin. The excitement stirring between my thighs is torture. I want his long, thick cock taking me. I want his fingers and hands and mouth all over me. I want to press against his body, to feel his skin, naked and hot, yielding. I want him to hold me, to explore me, to discover me. I want to sleep in his waking dreams, to awaken at his touch. I am sticky, wet with desire. I want him so much. I want him here.
“I need you,” I say, “I need to feel you inside me.”
He moans and I bite my lip, touching my clitoris, finger-painting the nub, the heart sticky sweet with lust, honeyed nectar. I lick my lips and close my eyes, my climax rising, beginning to peak and flush, blooming with the warmth of my desire. I am watching him, watching me.
He breathes in deeply and sharply. Tension and relief play across his face as he comes rapidly, ejaculating his release with a deep sigh.
“I’m sorry that was so quick,” he says, cleaning himself up. “It’s been a while.” He laughs. “Did you come?”
“A little bit,” I say, honestly.
“After we get offline, I want you to come really hard, thinking of how good it’s going to be when I come home.”
“Yes, sir.” I smile.
“You know,” he says, “I’m a lucky man to have you. Not everyone over here has someone like you, as beautiful and sweet and sexy as you.”
I blush, so thankful to have this amazing man hold my heart. He always knows what to say to make me feel like the most special woman in the world.
“And that’s what keeps me going over here, day in and day out, because even though I love my country, and I have a job to do here, I’m in hell. And you are my heaven, understand me?”
I nod, so grateful for his love I suddenly feel overwhelmed with emotion. I laugh as tears drop from my eyelashes.
“Don’t you ever worry that I’m not coming home. I know I’m coming home, because I’m coming home to you.”
I take a deep breath. I say, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
This is how we end our conversations; we never say good-bye. His eyes are sad, but he flashes me a brilliant smile. He says he loves me one more time, and the screen goes blank. I continue to sit on the chair, not wanting to break the spell. My joy turns silent, heavy with sadness. A moment ago, his voice filled the room. Now the room is empty and quiet. I feel so alone.
This is always the worst part, ending the conversation and not knowing when I will speak to him again. If I will ever… I think, then push the thought far from my mind. For the first few months of his deployment, I was a mess. I missed him so much, if there was a way I could have folded myself into one of my care packages to him, I would have.
Each day I mark the calendar with an X, marking this first year without him, my husband, my love. I go to work, I go out with friends. I eat, sleep, breathe. I am here, still, knowing that he is in a world I could barely imagine, a world of instability and chaos, a world where some soldiers die in the line of duty and never come home. Each day I mark the passage of time and pray for his safe return.
It’s the little things that get to me. Seeing couples walking hand in hand, kissing, laughing, doing stupid things like shopping for groceries. Meeting someone new and telling them I’m married, then seeing their faces change into the inevitable shocked “oh” when they discover my husband is in Afghanistan. Watching the news, anything to do with the Middle East has me glued to the television, the panic in my head thinking, Is he okay? Is he safe? Waiting days for a phone call.
And even though I knew what I signed on for when we married, I wasn’t prepared for the void that was created when he was actually deployed and our relationship depended on phone calls, emails, and care packages. Seeing each other over the video camera is a special treat because computer access isn’t always guaranteed. But it also makes me miss him more than ever.
I lie across the bed and close my eyes. I try to remember how he looked. Tired, a little thin. Excited to see me. Happy that I put on one of the outfits under my robe. He called me his little tease, his sweet girl, his sexy woman. He wants me to continue where we left off, but I don’t want to touch myself. I want him to touch me. I want him to walk through the door and take me, the way he used to.
The way he will, I think, opening my robe, when he comes home… in his crisp dress blues with the shiny buttons, matched by the shining sloe black of his shoes. I love how he looks in full uniform, so strong and masculine, heroic. His body is toned and fit, and the uniform accentuates his broad shoulders and long legs. Every step he takes is purposeful, self-assured, confident. His smile could light a room.
I imagine him home. I kneel before him, struck by his stature, and slowly undress him. First his shoes, then his socks. I would wash his feet with my tears and dry them with my hair. I want to kiss his ankles, his toes, the arch and ball of each foot; I want to kiss the places he touches the ground.
Working my way upward, I unfasten his belt, pull it through the loop and offer it to him. He smiles and gently swats my ass with the leather strap. We laugh and I remove his pants, then his jacket, shirt and tie. I look into his eyes, no longer laughing, as he loops the belt around my waist, pulling me toward him so he can kiss me. His tongue dances across my lips, in my mouth, and I feel the hardness of his erection pressing hot against my body.
He drops the belt and touches my breasts with his strong, capable hands. My nipples harden, begging to be kissed, pinched, sucked. I want him so much. He wants to take his time. He’s teasing me, running his fingers lightly over my skin. I giggle and laugh, I’m so ticklish I jump. He touches me harder and a moan escapes from somewhere inside me. I am light-headed, filled with want.
“I want you to please me,” he says.
It is a command. He knows I love it when he takes control. The familiar response reaches my lips as a flush of heat rushes across my body.
“Yes, sir.”
I am eager to obey and fall into place in front of him. I take his penis into my mouth, admiring the length and thickness of it. I suck him like a piece of hard candy, explore his tight skin with my lips and tongue. I feel his hands on my head, grasping my hair, rocking me back and forth as his cock glides in and out of my mouth. The head is glistening, pushing deeply through my lips, and I am ravenous, hungry with desire. I am tasting him, feeling his smooth hardness inside my mouth. He is a delicacy, an erotic feast. I am worshipping his cock, and he is breathing harder, faster, and then he stops, pulling me upward tenderly by my hair.
We are face-to-face, eye-to-eye, so close I feel his breath on my lips. He kisses me, lavishing me with his lustful mouth. His lips touch my cheeks, my eyes, my forehead. He is reading me with his hands, memorizing the features of my face, touching me the way the blind see. He picks me up and lays me across the bed, the altar of desire, and leaves no part of my body untouched. He sucks and bites my flesh, licking and savoring the taste of me, then dresses my naked body with butterfly kisses so soft I tremble.
He holds me tightly in a full embrace. He is here, here! I cling to him, afraid that if I let go for a second he might disappear. His eyes are flecked with gold and brown, the center is dark with desire. He is flushed, feverish. I run my hands along his smooth, strong back, letting my fingernails gently scratch the surface of his skin. My body is on fire. I feel the heat between my legs rising.
“I need you,” I say. “Please, sir.”
Hearing my own voice beg him makes me even hotter. My heart is beating wildly. I am dripping wet and open with longing. I am breathless; I can barely speak.
I whisper, “I need to feel you inside me.”
H
e crushes my body with his. He is above me on his knees; his cock is impatient, pushing lightly against my pussy. I open my legs wider, wrapping myself around him. He pulls my wrists above my head, holding my hands, our fingers entwined. His skin is pressed against my skin, his breath is my breath. He enters me slowly. He is torturing me. I feel the thrill of his cock pushing into my moist cunt.
It feels so good that I cry out loudly. His dick is electric, hard and thick, driving inside me with masterful control. He moves slowly, deliberately, lingering with delight as he watches my face respond to his touch. My eyes are half-closed, lips open, sighing and moaning a song of ecstasy. He thrusts inside me and waves of pleasure take me further and further into bliss.
We move together as one, curling our sweetness into a ball, basking in the wonder, in the delight of our lovemaking. I no longer know where my body ends and his begins.
He falls into me and we rest together for a moment, panting. His excitement is at a fevered pitch. He pulls me on top of him and a rush of cool air surrounds us. His cock is swollen and rigid, inexhaustible. He rests inside me, fitting into me like a puzzle piece, perfectly. He spanks my ass, demanding my voice to cry out again as each slap leaves a lingering sting and a ripple of pleasure through my body.
Placing his hands on my tingling butt cheeks, he lifts me up and down on his cock furiously. I am riding his torrential current; his balls slap my ass. My clitoris is being rubbed in just the right way as he rocks me up and down, back and forth. He is controlling my every movement as I twist with pleasure. I throw my head back as I feel him suddenly grow harder. He tells me to come, and just hearing his command is enough to put me over the edge.
I feel his throbbing cock stroking me deeply as he takes me harder, fucking me fast with hot, hot fury. I am shivering, swelling with pleasure, rising and falling, holding on to him in a tight embrace. Our bodies are slick, scorched with heat and beads of sweat. I shudder and scream in a violent sob of climax so deep and complete I shake, breaking into joy. He roars and releases, coming deep inside me, flooding me with hot fluid. We are body, arms and legs and skin, flushed with fevered brightness. We are twin flames, vibrating rays of sun, light encircled with love. He is my husband, my lover, the prayer on my lips. Light-years away, he sends a wish across the desert. He whispers into the wind, sending a kiss across the luminous sky, saying my name. He calls me home.
Duty and Desire: Military Erotic Romance Page 18
