His hands roamed over her pouting breasts.
It was a good, soft, comforting feeling. She moaned and stretched her arms out in a "T" and squeezed her eyes shut as he studied and teased his wife's naked body.
The nipples were as he had left them eighteen months ago-turgid, rosy, standing up at the crest of her round, firm mounds like tiny, pink, nailless thumbs. Her throat dipped gently, rising up along her thin, delicate neck to her dainty ears screened with silky, auburn strands of hair.
He leaned down and kissed her soft neck, letting his lips trail down to her breasts where he captured the hard nipple and sucked it eagerly into his thirsty mouth.
"Ummm," she moaned, running her slender fingers through his curly hair. He teased the nipple between his teeth, feeling its hard, marble-like shape roll from one side of him mouth to the other.
"Glad I'm home?" he asked, letting the nipple pop out of his mouth and sliding his rough hand down to her thigh where he stroked the ivory flesh gently.
"Ummmm, yes," she answered dreamily, lolling her head and wrapping her arms around his neck.
She pulled him down and his mouth met hers. At first their lips pressed softly, grazing across each other as their tongues danced playfully at the entrance of their mouths. She pulled him hard to her and his mouth mashed against hers, his tongue wriggling frantically against hers as his fingers stole up and flicked at her vagina. She moaned and sucked on his tongue, drawing the organ deep into her mouth. He stiffened his tongue and felt her lips slide back and forth over it as her hips began to buck against his fingers, driving the digit deep into her box.
He pumped her slowly as they slid across each other's body, her fingernails digging into his back, his hand massaging her left breast as his other hand cradled her neck, pulling her head roughly against his mouth.
She broke the kiss and, panting, nibbled on his ear and let her tongue rim the gentle circular indentions. She nipped on the lobe and lanced her tongue in and out, mocking the pumping action of his finger in her cunt.
"Now," she murmured, sliding her hand down his back to his hirsute ass. She pulled at the firm, muscles of his rear, feeling the coarse, affluent hair stiffen under her smooth palms.
He shifted and slid between her legs, guiding his rigid penis toward her hole. He rested the head in the warm, tight slot as she wrapped her legs slowly around his waist, locking her heels together over his buttocks.
"Welcome home," she cooed, looking up at his broad, handsome face. She closed her eyes as he pushed the shaft into her. Her face twisted slightly as the massive size of his cock-head eased in, spreading the tissues of her vagina to make room for the rest of his seven inches.
"Ohhhh, that's so good," she moaned, twisting her hips slightly and helping him sink in deeper and deeper.
He could feel the warm, pudding-like flesh sucking at the sides of his pole as he eased into her, rocking gently back and forth, feeling the warm wetness send shivers up his spine.
Her slot expanded slowly and he began to rock faster and faster as the dong slipped easily into her. He clutched her buttocks in his strong hands and pulled her up as he drove down, sinking his meat fully into her wriggling loins.
She hadn't forgotten what he liked. She thrashed her hips sideways as he drove into her. Her motions bent his penis and made it rap against the juicy membranes of her vagina walls as she gyrated beneath him.
He pressed his lips on hers and their tongues fenced as he pulled harder and harder at her buttocks, bucking and heaving his hundred-and-eighty-pound frame into her.
Her blue eyes rolled back and he saw the whites shining in the dim light as she whimpered and sank her fingernails painfully into his neck.
Drooling with saliva, he kissed her cheek and pressed his mouth against her ear, tonguing it as she had his. Her hair was wet and matted against her neck and the bed squeaked as he lunged forward, driving the headboard against the wall.
A sharp, warm, exciting sensation rippled through him as he felt his sperm making its way up from his enlarged testicles.
"Screw… screw me, hard… oh… hard… ummph… deep…"
She muttered the words softly as he battered into her, feeling her legs tighten around his waist, her hands squeeze the flesh on his back.
Madly, he drove his engorged cock into her until he felt the stinging sensation of his sperm splashing out into her hot snatch. She cried and her legs stiffened. Her mouth slid across his cheek and her tongue raved at his face as she bucked and cried and thrashed beneath him.
He felt her sag as her cunny spasmed around his sperm-oozing cock. Again and again she flexed the vaginal muscles to drain his slick pole of its last ounce of life-juice.
Limply, he lay his head against hers and rolled onto his side, pulling her with him. They breathed slowly, their hands gently rubbing the other's flesh, their eyes closed in the glowing aftermath of satisfying sex.
"Happy?" Gwen Farrow asked her exhausted husband as they sat sipping the sweet Bombay drinks Allen had made. Gwen wore a diaphanous floor-length gown Allen had bought for her last month in Saigon.
"Fatigued," Allen said, rolling his head against the soft leather recliner and staring appreciatively at his mouth-watering wife. Had he not been sapped of all his strength, he would have scooped her up and taken into the bedroom for another round.
She crossed her legs and he could see her velvet-smooth thighs cover part of her dark, pubic patch. Her rosette nipples poked gently against the sheer material as she raised her arm and drank from the snifter.
"I love you," Allen said, saluting her with his glass.
She puckered her lips and threw him a kiss, her icy-blue eyes glimmering in the subdued light of their small apartment.
"What was it like, Al? You never wrote about it in your letters." She cocked her head like a small bird watching for a movement in the grass. He thought of her as a bird, a dainty, delicate bird perched anywhere she went, her straight nose and sharp chin twitching this way and that, her eyes smiling contagiously and her lips closed slightly, leaving only a small diamond of space between the middle of upper and lower lip.
He had married her on impulse. He had his orders for Vietnam. He was dating her. They were sleeping together, laughing, loving, sharing their secrets. He had wanted something more than just a relationship. He had wanted a wife, something to come home for, something to stay alive for.
"Hot, sweaty, smelly, long." He snubbed his cigarette out and took a swallow from the drink, rolling the burning fluid around his mouth and then swallowing it and letting it burn pleasantly down to his toes.
"I was afraid for you."
"I know. I was afraid too."
"For me?"
"Both of us. It's over now, though. I'm through with the service. Another month and we'll be civilians."
"Have you decided what you're going to do?" she asked, setting her glass on the coffee table and folding her hands in her lap. Her head tasted to one side and her cheery eyes made him smile.
"No. Bum around for a month or two. We've got enough money socked away to give us a long vacation."
He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands on the leather arms of the chair. It was good being home, he thought, good and safe. Maybe the nightmares would stop now, maybe he would be free of the horror-filled nights and the drenching sweat had plagued him for six months – ever since – ever since…
"Penny."
"Huhhh?"
"Penny for your thoughts?" She crossed the room and sat on the edge of the chair and ran her slim fingers through his hair, letting them trace the heavy outline of his jaw and scrape across the stubby beard shadowing his dark face.
"Make it a mill and you've got yourself some thoughts." He pulled her down into his lap and kissed her gently on the lips. She smelled like a blossoming flower, fresh, dewy, virginal. He ran his hand over her milk-white flesh and watched as his fingers left red, exciting trails across her skin.
"You have a great body," he said cupping her pert, firm breast and squeezing it. She kissed him lightly on the nose.
"For a rough and ready Marine, you seem pretty tame to me," she said, touching his lips with her finger.
"You're my commanding officer, aren't you?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow and looking sternly into her young, delicately defined face.
"You bet you life on that, Captain Farrow, U-S-M-C-R, winner of the Silver Star and Vietnamese Cross of Gallantry." She leaned back and thrust out her chest, tucked her chin in and flapped her arms playfully at her sides.
Allen's face went livid and he pushed her away, startling her.
"What's the matter, did I say…"
"It's nothing… nothing… I'm sorry, Gwen."
He stood and stepped over her. She had slipped off his lap onto the carpet and was awed, staring up at him. He rubbed the back of his thick neck nervously and poured another glassful of the brandy drink.
"Still a little jittery, that's all," he excused, turning around and looking at his dumfounded wife sitting on the floor, her hands at her sides, her jaw drooping.
"Sorry," he said sinking down beside her and pulling her close to him. "I… I've still got some things on my mind. Things I want to forget. Things I have to figure out."
There was a silence between them.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
"No… no, not yet." He rubbed her arm with a trembling hand, his eyes darting furtively from one of her eyes to the other. "Patience, I guess, Gwen. A little patience. I'll work it out."
He pulled her to him and pressed her tightly against his chest. She felt his chest heaving as he breathed quickly. His arms held her like a vise. She had hoped she could tell him about it tonight, but now it would have to wait.
He wasn't ready. Something was the matter and she didn't know what it was. But she didn't want to take any chances, saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. She'd wait and when the time was right, she'd tell him about the group. She'd explain why she joined, why she made love to the other men and women.
He would understand. If she was careful. She had to be careful. He was a different man than any she had ever met. He kept things inside him, letting them percolate for months.
And they would explode violently, gushing out of him like a raging storm. So she had to be quiet and wait for an opportune time. It would come soon, she hoped. The club wanted to meet him, to have him join.
And she wanted it too. She wanted it more than ever, for without the club she would have been a nervous wreck while he was gone. They helped her. They steered her on the right course and kept her happy. They satisfied her needs and loved her in the dark moments when she was lonely and frightened.
Allen would understand. He had to.