“Touch yourself for me, Gigi. I want you to touch yourself while I fuck you.”
She moaned at the thought, then brought her hand down to her pussy, so eager to please. I rolled to the bedside table and slipped on a condom, then brought myself back between her thighs.
“That’s it,” I encouraged her, seeing her hand down between her thighs, stroking. “I like watching you do that.” I slipped into her, so wet, keeping my thrusts nice and slow, wanting it make it last.
“This is what you think about when you touch yourself.” My voice grew more insistent, harsh as I pushed in, drew out, watching her hand work faster, her breathing grow into a quick pant. “You think about me fucking you.”
“Yes,” she whispered, eyes closed, lost to the sensation as I pumped in her.
“You think about how good it feels,” I panted, my balls heavy and tense as I drew close. “How good it feels when we come.”
I thrust into her deep and we both came apart, exploding, bucking into each other as she came on her hand, moaning and sighing. Resting her back on the pillow, I withdrew, threw out the condom, and joined her back at her side.
“That’s what you think about.” I gave her a satisfied kiss as we both fell asleep, only me knowing it would be one of our last nights together.
* * *
§
* * *
The next day, we lay out by the pool. There was a sun umbrella to provide shade and privacy. I figured it would be enough to block distant, watchful eyes. We drank lemonade and relaxed, the afternoon temperatures climbing into the 70s. Last night had been New Years, and neither of us had remembered.
“Last year I was in Nashville for New Years,” she reflected, running a hand down my forearm. “A group of us went to see some bands play. They were so good.”
“Who kissed you at midnight?” I asked, jealous even as I had her in a bikini pressed next to my body.
“No one,” she assured me. “But I thought about you.”
I shook my head, sure she was putting me on. I could believe she’d still remembered me, maybe even had a lingering crush. And there was the fact that she was a virgin. But with all she had going on in her life, college and friends and all the men who had to be half-crazy over her? While I liked the idea of her pining over me at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve, I found it a stretch. Even if that had been exactly what I’d been doing overseas. On a hard army cot after a long day, I’d had no girl in my arms, but wished I’d had Gigi.
“Have you ever been to Nashville?” she asked, tilting her head to me. “I bet you’d love it. It’s so laid back and fun. There’s this waffle house I’d love to take you to.”
“I haven’t.” I’d thought about it, but it was about an eight-hour drive from Fort Bragg. “But you know a great town not too far from there? Asheville.”
“I’ve been to Asheville! I loved it!”
I told her about the place my buddy had, the porch, the Blue Ridge Mountains. I didn’t say I could see myself settling down there some day, but damn if she didn’t fill in the blank.
“It’s so peaceful and gorgeous around there, and the people are so friendly. I wanted to stay down south after I graduated. I could really see myself living down there. But…”
“But what?”
She shrugged. “I guess I felt too much pressure. I didn’t want to let anyone down.”
“What about what you want?”
“A lot of people have a lot of expectations for me,” she sighed. “But, when I think about what I want? It’s not the life I have in New York. It’s like I’ve been on this merry-go-round for years, but I want off. I want something slower paced. I can imagine a little house down around Nashville or Asheville that I could fix up pretty.”
I swallowed, seeing both of us in exactly that. Shit. It felt like a whole lot of too good to be true.
Shy and quiet, she asked, “Is that…is Asheville where you want to live? I mean, when you’re in the country? I don’t know how long you plan on serving in the military.”
“I have another six months of active duty in this tour.”
“And will you sign up for another one?”
“Not sure.” I did know that I felt weary with it, the tension, the violence. I could handle it, but I didn’t thrive on it the way some guys did. I respected the hell out of the men I served with, but I knew I wasn’t a career soldier. I hadn’t even wanted to be one when I’d enlisted. It had been my escape route, available in short order when I’d needed to get the hell out of dodge. But if I had a reason to stay stateside? Hell, yeah, I would.
“I remember you told me once,” Gigi continued, “you wanted to be a firefighter.”
She remembered that. I couldn’t help but smile. “That was a long time ago I told you that.”
“I remember it, though.”
I gave a heavy exhale. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel that way anymore. It was that I’d devoted the past four plus years to becoming a soldier, doing my duty. In my experience, dreams came true in Disney movies and not that much else. I didn’t feel sorry for myself. It was just the way the world worked.
“But maybe you don’t feel that way anymore. Maybe you want to stay in the army.” She interpreted my heavy silence as my having changed my mind. Nothing could be further from the truth.
?
?You remember you asked me about the scar on my shoulder?” I found myself asking her. She nodded. “I lost a friend, a good one, to a roadside bomb. It happened a month ago.” It wasn’t directly answering her question, but it weighted heavy on me and seemed to sum up a whole hell of a lot in my life. Senseless violence, unnecessary loss. I wanted to be done with it.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Thing is, it should have been me in that truck. We were in the same convoy. I should have gone first. He had a wife and a baby.”
I held myself still, fighting the fury I felt at the injustice of it. She hugged me and I heard her sniff, then wipe her eyes. I stroked her hair.
“I’m sorry that happened.” She reached up and kissed me. I didn’t like to see her sad, but I had to admit, it felt good to tell her. “I’m glad you’re OK,” she murmured into my chest.
I held her and we sat together, letting the afternoon stretch on. I didn’t know what would happen after this tour was over. But maybe, just maybe, Gigi could be part of whatever came next.
* * *
§
* * *
We cooked dinner together. I grilled some chops. She made a couple of sides with sweet potatoes and green beans.
“You want to get fancy?” she asked, motioning toward the dining room. She’d put on one of those sexy dresses. The hem ended just below her pussy and her cleavage called out to be licked.
“I want you on my lap.”
She smiled and we settled in at the kitchen island, her right up where I wanted her. We kissed and ate dinner, with more licking and sucking each other than our food and drink. I toyed with her breasts, enjoying her little pants and the sight of her stiff tips pushing through. But I wanted more. A little rough, I pulled her V-neck down, then took hold of her bra and pushed the cups to the side to expose her pale, soft breasts.