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I Came Home

Tags: uniform
I Thought I'd Lost You

Her car was the only one in the garage when the taxi pulled up outside the house. There was no one to greet me, but my cell phone trilled as I got out of the cab.

"Was that you I heard pulling up?"

"It was, darling.” I grinned. "Are you still as beautiful as ever?"

"That's for you to decide. I'm in the back garden."

"How do I get there?"

"You don’t," came a voice from behind me. I turned and saw her smiling at me, a garden fork in one hand and a phone in the other.

A second later she was in my arms, crying, laughing, hugging, and kissing me. She wore an old baggy tee-shirt over a ripped denim miniskirt, her face was smudged with dirt, and her long blonde hair was tousled. On her feet, she had a pair of rubber gardening boots — and I thought she looked absolutely gorgeous.

"You shouldn't have dressed up for me." I smiled, she looked up at me… and promptly began to cry.

"I'd got it all worked out," she sobbed into my shoulder. "I was going to dress up in a long evening gown; there was going to be champagne in an ice bucket on the table, and we were going to drink a toast to my man, the hero.”

"Becky, Becky, stop it, darling. Please, stop crying."

If anything, her grip got stronger, she snuffled, and I felt her tears trickling down my neck. "I thought I'd lost you."

"So did I for a week or two. But, look… I'm fine now. Honest."


“Absolutely. Army hospitals are great. I'm as good as new."

"Show me."

Right there in front of the house, I opened my shirt and she gasped when she saw the wound where the bullet had exited my chest. On my back was a slightly smaller wound caused by the bullet’s entrance. Together, they'd got me a medical discharge — but not by choice. I loved the Army and I loved what I did, but I was going to tell her later… much later. Gently, she touched my chest with her fingertips. "Does it still hurt?”

I smiled at her concern. "Only when I laugh, but they tell me the kisses of a beautiful woman are good for bullet wounds."

"In that case, my big, brave hero, you'll be okay in a week."

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear,” I said, lowering my head to kiss her. Her lips were as soft as I remembered, her tongue just as sweet as it snaked between my teeth. In my tight embrace, she made familiar, low whimpering noises.

"Take me to bed, Mark,” she whispered, her lips barely touching mine.

"I'll never let you out of it,” I promised, and lifted her in my arms.

On the way indoors and upstairs, her lips didn’t leave mine until I placed her on the bed and feverishly ripped off my stained uniform. Becky wore only panties beneath her miniskirt and they were no bar to my lust.

She liked to be kissed all over, savouring the delicious intimacy of what we had together — but not this time. As I tossed aside my briefs, Becky moaned, reached for me, and spread her legs wide. With one quick thrust, I was inside her warmth where I belonged. There was no finesse, no loving kisses, no words of endearment, but it was how we wanted it.

She met each thrust of mine, bucking up at me, her lips drawn back, exposing her perfect teeth. She used her long fingernails on my back, ripping and scratching, and all the time we gazed into each other’s eyes.

"I've waited six long months for this," Becky gasped. “But now I want it rough. Please, Mark.”

I withdrew and stared into her eyes for a few seconds. She gazed back, nervously licked her lips — then screamed when I drove savagely into her. She bit my neck and so I did it again, thrusting powerfully into her depths. This time, I felt her ankles locking behind my back as she strove to draw me in deeper.

"I'm cumming, Mark," she hissed. "Harder, darling, shag me fucking harder."

I pounded into her body, again and again, over and over, until the unmistakable feeling started in my toes. I cupped her bottom when she started to shake and I knew we would climax together.

"Mark, yes, yes, darling, oh yes," she gasped. "It's happening. Yes, Mark, I'm cuming… aaah, I’m there; oh, god… yesss.”

I erupted, spurting what seemed like gallons of sperm into her body until, with a final jerk, I was drained and I collapsed into her arms.  



I awoke to the hot sun’s rays streaming through the open bedroom window. At first, I was confused but then I looked at the clock and realised that I'd slept through the evening and night. It was half-past seven in the morning.

Pausing only to don a robe, I went downstairs and found Becky singing to herself at the kitchen sink.

"How's the most beautiful woman in the world?" I said softly, slipping my arms around her waist.

"She's perfect, thank you, kind sir.” She tilted her head back as I kissed her neck. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," I said. "But can I have a long, hot bath first?"

“Yes, of course. But let’s get something straight — you live here with me now, it's your home. You don't need to ask for anything. Got it?"

Instead of answering, I moved my hands up and cupped her breasts.

"Sorry," I laughed, "did you say something?" Her nipples were hard, like two nubs of rubber.

"I used to dream about these in the desert."

"Only my breasts?"

"I didn't dare think of anything else. Some of those bloody camels were beginning to look attractive."

She giggled and turned to kiss me. "Go for your bath. I'll bring you a coffee and you can have breakfast later."

I sank gratefully into the warm water as Becky came in with two coffees.

"I've put your uniform in the wash. That okay?"

"Fine, darling, but I'll not be needing it again."

She stared at me for a second, then her bottom lip began to tremble and her eyes filled with

tears. "You mean…”

"I'm out," I cut in. "Not through choice, but it's definite; I'm out."

She set down the coffee cups on the side of the bath and reached to stroke my face. "You're not joking, are you, Mark?"

"A medical discharge, wounds received in battle. But there's just one small thing first. I'm being awarded a medal tomorrow and I'd like you to come with me."

"I'd be honoured, darling," she said softly. "I'll be proud, too."

"And we'll have the champagne bit afterward. That okay?"

“Perfect. I'll make myself look good for you."

“Becky,” I grinned, “when I got here last night, do you remember what you looked like?"

"Of course," she giggled, "I looked dead rough."

"No you didn't, you looked like a dream. In fact, you looked like all my dreams."

She blushed and looked even prettier. "Can I share that water with you?"

"You can share anything with me, you know that."

My prick thickened and stood to attention while I watched Becky stripping. She had the firm breasts of a twenty-year-old and her slit was mouth-wateringly beautiful. Kneeling between my thighs, she washed me while I did my best to put her off by biting her nipples and playing with the treasure between her legs. Finally, she gave in and impaled herself on my erection.

"It's easier this way," she grinned, washing my hair. ”It was getting in the way and, anyway, I can do all the work. Hmm… didn’t I read somewhere that Arabs like anal sex?"

"I'm not an Arab, darling."

“No, but you look like one."

She raised off me and we kissed as I repositioned against her puckered rear hole. She slowly lowered. "Oooh yes, Mark, this is heaven."

Becky rotated her hips like a belly dancer and my erection felt like it was being gripped in a velvet glove. I lay back and looked into her eyes.

"It is heaven, Becky, it's beautiful."

I matched her rhythm and movements while caressing her breasts. She moaned and covered my hands with hers. I pushed upward, arching my back, and water slopped over the sides of the bath onto the carpet. Neither of us cared.

"Look at my pussy, Mark," she gasped. "It's all pink and open and it belongs to you. You can have it anytime, any place, and anywhere you want it."

Using the fingers of both hands, she parted the labia until I could see the pulsating pink flesh inside her.

"It's the most beautiful cunt in the world,” I hissed, and she gasped again at my words.

"Say that again."

I pulled myself up and, wrapping her in my arms, I put my mouth next to her ear. "I said you've got a lovely little cunt."

Becky trembled. At moments like these, she loved to hear me talking to her like that.

"I'm going to shag your hot little cunt every day, after I've eaten it, and I'm going to shove my prick down your throat until I come."

“Mark," she squealed, “Mark, I'm coming. Oh, God, yes I'm fucking coming."

Again Becky’s face distorted, her eyes rolled back, and she tried to speak. But she couldn't, neither of us could. My erection expanded, throbbed, pulsated —and I splashed her warm tunnel walls. All we could do was hold on to each other and ride out the sensations that washed over us.


"Captain Mark Saunders." The adjutant's voice rang out over the parade ground and I stepped out smartly out to stand in front of my C.O.

"You're a brave man, Captain,” he snapped, pinning the medal onto my uniform jacket. Then he stepped back and saluted me. I returned the salute and waited for the order to dismiss.

"We'll miss you, Mark,” he said softly before the adjutant screamed out, ”Dismiss."

"Sah." I saluted, spun on my heels, crashed my right foot down, and that was it. I was out.

I stayed long enough to have the traditional drink in the officer's mess and to say goodbye to a few lads in my unit who had also been injured. Then we caught the train home.

"I thought I'd burst with pride when I saw you up there,” Becky said as we sat in the bar of the train.

"I was worried in case I got an erection standing so close to you." I laughed and she giggled.

"You can get all the erections you want from now on."

I smiled and looked at her. "Are you going to do the champagne thing when we get home?"

"You bet."

"Before I shag your brains out, or afterward?"

“Before." She giggled and leaned into me. "But only just."

Off the train, she made me go into the pub for a pint while she went home. It was worth the delay. The long white gown — what there was of it — clung to her curves. It was backless, the only means of support being a spaghetti-thin strap around her neck. The neckline was cut low, very low, only just concealing the areole of her firm breasts. On each side, the skirt was slit to the hips, providing flashes of her stocking tops. I stood and stared, my jaw hanging open.

"I've never worn this before." She sounded nervous. "But it seemed right for tonight."

"Becky." It was barely a croak: she'd taken my breath and voice away. I couldn't think of what to say.

"You don't like it." She turned away.

Thankfully, I found my voice. “Becky," I said and she turned back. "You left me speechless."

"I knew it was too much."


"It's all right darling, I understand."

"For God's sake, Becky, will you stand bloody still for a minute."

She did and I took two steps forward, taking her into my arms. This time, my eyes filled with tears as we embraced.

"I've never seen anything so utterly beautiful in my life."

Her lips parted and met mine. I tasted her tongue and, for several minutes, we shared the same breath and she made funny noises in her throat. At that moment, I knew I would never let this woman go. Gently, I pushed her backward until she was against a wall, then I sank to my knees and looked up at her.

"Lift the dress darling." My prick threatened to burst through my trousers as I saw the tiny scrap of white lace barely covering her pouting sex. I touched my lips to the material and allowed my nostrils to savour the odour of her before easing the string to one side and using my tongue to part her sweet lips.

"Mark," she breathed, putting a hand on my head, then squealed as I found her clitoris and worried it like a dog with a bone. I licked the moisture that clung jealously to her inner lips, but it was an unending well of nectar and I felt both her hands clenching in my hair. She rolled her hips wantonly, pushing her cunt into my face while I licked and slurped at her very core.

I sensed her orgasm was near and I redoubled my efforts, poking my tongue in as far as I could get it while fingering her delicate rosebud. She squealed again when I inserted a finger. Suddenly, she tensed, and a long, low moan escaped from her lips. Her pubic bone squashed against my nose and I swear I felt the power of her orgasm through my tongue. Gradually, her fists unclenched, her breathing slowed to somewhere around normal, and she sank to the floor.

"I died then,” she whispered huskily and kissed my lips, no doubt tasting herself.

"So did I, darling," I muttered into her mouth. “And I want to die again and again."

"I think we should call this my ‘Fuck me dress’, don't you?” And her fingers found the zipper on my trousers.

“Yes, definitely,” I agreed and groaned as her lips enclosed me.


My Thanks again to JWren for his help.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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