The wheels screeched as the C-130 touched down on the runway. The jolt of the plane pulled Duncan back to reality. He was finally home. After a tour in Iraq and three tours in Afghanistan, he was done. He had decided not to re-enlist. He knew part of him would miss it, but there was a tremendous sense of relief that it was over.

Once the plane stopped, he retrieved his things and followed the rest of the unit out the back of the plane. The sunlight warmed him and he took a deep breath of American air. The Marine slid off his cover and ran his fingers through his short brown hair. All around him his brothers were greeting family, kissing their girlfriends or wives, hugging their kids. Duncan had never made time for all that. He replaced his cover and picked up his bag, heading for the base.

His papers were waiting for him. He signed them and shook hands with the officer.

“Thank you for your service.”

Duncan snapped a crisp salute. “Permission to leave the base, sir.”

The officer returned the salute. “Permission granted.”

And that was that. Duncan was free. Twenty-four years old, six feet two inches, and two-hundred and fifteen pounds of muscle without a purpose in life. He briefly considered heading home, but knew his father wouldn't have anything to say to him anyway, so there wouldn't be any real reason to. So he went where any man goes who has a full wallet and an empty soul. He found the nearest tavern.

On his third beer she walked in.

Golden silk fell from her crown to her shoulders, outlining the curves of her cheeks. Her blue eyes were fierce, but soft and her smile was disarming. She scanned the room and met Duncan's gaze. He admired her qualities without any outward sign and turned back to his beer.

When she sat next to him he noticed her jeans and cowboy boots first. Her white cotton top was practical, revealing nothing, but showing every curve of her ample bosom.

“Coming or going?” she asked.

Her voice was sweet and crisp, with a touch of drawl.

“Neither at the moment,” Duncan said, trying not to let his own accent slip out.

“Most soldiers are either on their way out to a deployment or just coming home from one.”

Ducan took a swig from his bottle.

“I'm not a soldier any more, but I did just come back from a tour.”

The girl offered a hand.

“My name is Southern. Southern Rose.”

Duncan shook her hand to be polite.

“Duncan.” He took another swallow of beer.

“What does a girl have to do to get a drink out of you Duncan?”

“More than introduce herself,” he said with a sly grin.

“Well, we can see about that.”

The bartender appeared, as if on cue and looked at Southern, who looked at Duncan.

“Can I buy you a beer?” Duncan asked.

“I'll have a Budweiser please,” Southern said to the bartender. “Was that so hard?” she asked Duncan.

“Yes.”

She laughed, a lilting sound, like a brook over stones.

“So where are you from?” Southern asked.

“I was born in California, my father was in the Army so we travelled a lot. I grew up all over Europe. Mostly Scotland and the UK.”

“So that's where the accent comes from,” she said.

“Yeah, that's where it comes from.”

He drained his beer.

“So what's your story?” he asked.

“Mom's an officer, dad walked out when I was little. Been bouncing between bases ever since.”

“You're obviously not a kid. Why are you still hanging around?”

“How old do you think I am.”

“You had better be over eighteen.”

“I am.”

She paused waiting for him to guess.

“The bartender knows you, since he didn't ask for ID. So you are over twenty-one.”

“Good so far.”

“Guessing not out of college yet, so probably not much older than that. Twenty-one, twenty-two.”

“Twenty-Two next month,” she confirmed for him.

“So college kept you here.”

“It did, and I like to come here because I get free drinks from the soldiers coming through.”

“So, what you're like the local meet and greet, or more like the local bicycle?”

“Harsh.”

“True?”

“False.”

“My apologies.”

“Accepted.”

“Mostly I'm just looking for good company.”

Duncan snorted.

“You're looking in the wrong place then.”

“What makes you say that?”

“If they're going, they are naive kids just looking to get in your pants, and if they are coming they are either cocky shit-heads who learned to use the uniform to do it, or they are like me.”

“What do you mean, like you?” She pierced him with her gaze.

“Hard. Darkened by what we've seen and done. Not someone you should take home with you.”

Southern swallowed hard.

“Maybe I should go,” she turned to slip away, but his hand flashed in an instant and held her wrist tightly, but without hurting her.

“Why did you come ask me for a beer?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Out of all the guys in this place you picked me. Why?”

“Honestly, because you look the loneliest.”

“Is that what you do? Look for a lonely guy so you can get an easy lay?” the anger in his tone surprised him.

“I'm not looking to get laid. I'm looking for a friend.”

Duncan relaxed his grip.

“I'm sorry. Maybe you wouldn't mind having that drink with me.”

“Why?” now she was hesitant.

“Because I could use a friend.”

She sat back down and picked up the bottle.

“So, tell me about Scotland.”

One drink turned into a few, then dinner, and then he was walking her home. Her apartment was a few blocks from the restaurant, but he didn't want the night to end. They had talked for the past six hours straight and it felt good to have normal conversation with someone that didn't revolve around military operations. He had to admit he also found her extremely attractive.

When they reached the building she stopped. An awkward silence hung thick in the air. Neither of them wanted the night to be over.

“Well I guess I'll see you around?” Southern asked.

“Probably not. I'll have to find a place to crash tonight and I've got to find a bus back to California in the morning.”

“You don't have a place to stay tonight?”

“No, I'm fresh off the bus, so to speak.”

“Well, you could... I mean if you wanted to... I don't want you to feel like I'm coming on to you or anything.” Southern stumbled to get the invitation out.

“The couch would be great,” Duncan said, “as long as it won't be weird for you.”

“No, of course not.”

She opened the door and let them into the apartment. It was a nice place all on one level, two bedrooms, one bath with a small kitchen and a cluttered living room. Duncan could tell it was a college girl's apartment just based on the clutter. It was something between a high-school girl's bedroom and an adult's living room. Textbooks and papers dominated a coffee table in the middle of the room. The TV in the corner was covered in stacks of chick flicks and romantic comedies. The couch was unceremoniously decorated with fluffy pink pillows and a giant stuffed bear.

“Sorry about the mess.”

“It looks great,” Duncan said, “really, really great.”

“Just put your stuff wherever, you can toss the pillows and Mr. Jackson behind the couch,” Southern said as she slipped into one of the bedrooms.

“Mr. Jackson?” Duncan asked, eyeing the bear.

“Cara's bear.”

“Who's Cara?” Duncan asked.

“My room mate. She's gone for the weekend and won't be back until Sunday night, so you don't have to worry about her walking in or anything.”

“Okay.”

Duncan tossed the bear and pillows behind the couch and his gunnysack at one end to act as a pillow. Southern appeared in the hallway.

“Bathroom is at the end of the hall. I'll be just a minute and let you know when it's free?”

“Sure.”

Duncan tossed his cover onto his bag, then sat and pulled off his boots and shirt. He heard the shower start and he walked around the room looking at pictures, checking the DVD titles stacked haphazardly on the TV.

He stopped and picked up a picture of Southern. She was standing next to another young woman. They looked about the same age. The other woman was in a wedding dress.

“She's my sister,” Southern said from behind him.

She was in a long shirt and her damp hair stuck to her face.

“Her wedding?” Duncan asked.

“Yeah,” Southern had a sad look on her face.

“What happened?” Duncan asked.

“Just like that you know something is wrong?”

He just nodded.

“She was killed by a drunk driver coming home from her honeymoon.”

“I'm sorry,” Duncan said, returning the picture to the shelf.

“It was last year. I'm not really over it.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Southern stepped up against him putting a hand behind his head and stepping up onto her toes she kissed him firmly on the lips. He slipped a hand behind her back, returning the kiss. When she broke the embrace and stepped away Duncan did not follow.

“Would you stay with me tonight?” Southern asked.

“I think maybe the couch is the better idea,” Duncan said hesitantly.

“Now really isn’t the time to try and be virtuous.”

“Southern.”

She cut him off.

“Please don’t ruin this by implying I don’t know exactly what I’m asking you to do. I went to that bar looking for something and you came home with me.”

“Taking advantage of you was never my intention.”

“I think I’m the one taking advantage here.”

Southern took Duncan’s hand and walked backward pulling him toward the back of the apartment. She kissed him again, still walking backward, pulling his hand to the small of her back. Wrapping her in his powerful arms he lifted her off the ground crushing her into his chest, his fingers entwining with her hair as her mouth danced over his. Her hands worked his belt as he carried her to the bed, laying her gently on her back, their tongues still wrestling with each other. Breaking their passionate kissing briefly, Duncan rose to peel his t-shirt off, exposing the muscles beneath. Managing to get his belt loose, Southern wasted no time getting his button open and zipper down. She descended on his still arousing member, pulling it free from his shorts, pleasantly surprised to find him well endowed. Without wasting time she slipped her lips around the semi-hard phallus sucking as much into her mouth as she could fit. She felt the tip bump the back of her throat and she swallowed hard to hold her gag reflex in check.

She could feel him swelling quickly in her mouth and realized he would soon be too big for her to properly deep throat. Being careful not to drag her teeth she slipped him out enough to wrap her hand around the shaft, keeping the loose tip of his prepuce between her lips. Stroking down the shaft with her hand she slid the head of his now hard cock back into her hot mouth, pulling the skin back to let her tongue stroke the sensitive underside of his head.

Southern began stroking and sucking in short, rhythmic motions, letting her tongue do the work on his head while her stroking stimulated his foreskin. Duncan breathed in short ragged gasps.

“Slow down,” he teased.

Southern couldn’t help herself, she enjoyed sucking cock almost as much as she enjoyed sex. He was just starting to precum, clear, salty-sweet rivulets of thin syrup that she licked off of his pulsing sex when Duncan finally pushed her away. He pressed her down with his own body, pressing his chest into hers and pinning her to the bed. He wiggled out of his pants and shorts and set to work on her.

Her ample breasts were aching to be touched, her dark pink nipples stuck out through her nightshirt. Duncan had no trouble finding them. His fingers played over them, sending little shocks of pleasure through her spine, but she wanted more. He provided it. Kissing her passionately again his hands slid under her shirt lifting it slightly as his rough hands cupped over her creamy flesh. The hard buds yielded to him, his rough hands intensifying the sensations washing over her and she moaned softly into his mouth.

Encouraged by the sound, Duncan lifted the shirt over her head completely and immediately nuzzled into her smooth skin, his lips and tongue wrapping around and playing with her nipples. She buried her hands in his short hair pulling him as close as she could get him. Duncan slid one hand to her back, pulling her tightly against him while the other massaged the breast he suckled. Southern was gasping for air trying to voice a moan, but couldn’t seem to exhale through the intense tingling coursing through her chest. She could feel heat rushing through her, surging between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together rhythmically clawing at his arms, trying to grip him tighter and felt herself come softly. A cry involuntarily escaped her lips, urging him on.

Pressing her down into the bed he descended from her still tingling breasts leaving a trail of kisses on her stomach. He unceremoniously lifted her hips, positioning her on the edge of the bed while he knelt, pressing her legs apart to give himself unrestricted access to her most intimate folds. His lips met hers in a kiss, hot and wet, while his tongue snaked out, long and agile, stroking her from bottom to top between her lips, tentatively tasting her now flowing juices. He hummed his appreciation of her aroma, sending vibrations through her clitoris before thrusting his tongue deep into her. She gasped, surprised at how much he touched with just his tongue, its warmth filling her deeper than some of the men she had been with.

His hands, caressing her legs and bottom brushed over her skin raising gooseflesh on her already tingling body. She came harder this time, unable to control the flow of stimulation he was sending through him. She tried to hold it back, but it only seemed to make it build that much faster. She couldn’t breathe as intense as the sensation was. His tongue was simultaneously filling her and massaging her g-spot, with a practiced motion. She tried to pull away as the sensations overtook her, but Duncan would have none of it. He wrapped one arm around her hip pulling her tightly against his face. Without a word he slipped two fingers into her, continuing the massaging action against her g-spot, while moving his tongue to her throbbing clit. Lightning exploded deep in her womb as another orgasm ripped through her, even though she had not yet recovered from the last one. She gushed in a wave, which he quickly lapped up, licking her sticky pussy clean.

Her legs felt like gelatin and her whole body flushed with heat.

“Oh my god,” Southern half gasped, half sighed.

Duncan lifted her off the bed as if she was a doll, pulling her against him and kissing her deeply. She tasted herself on his mouth and it mixed with the lingering flavors of his member still in her mouth. Her hands wrapped around his head, holding him in the passionate kiss. Duncan allowed her this, leaning forward to lay her gently on the comforter. They continued kissing, breathing together, lost in a moment of connection. When he entered her she sucked air in hard at the sudden fullness, but it did not hurt. She was so wet she accepted him without the slightest hint of resistance.

His rhythm was smooth and strong, he was not forceful. It was not the pounding thrust of a beast needing release. He moved with her, in deliberate motions, fluid and full of purpose. He kissed her softly now, pressing his body to hers, feeling the heat build between them. Southern found it hard to keep her breath steady as he moved in her, each motion sending ripples of energy through her.

Duncan built quickly, his bodies need quickly outpacing his intent, and he soon felt an aching need deep inside. His breathing quickened and he clung desperately to her tiny frame. Southern pulled him close feeling him swell inside her as his pace became more determined. He pressed deeper, intent on reaching her womb, pulling her close as he felt his release nearing. His toes dug into the blanket, trying to propel him closer to her. Sweat shimmered across his muscled torso.

Southern felt her own climax nearing and let him carry her over the edge. He exploded in a torrent of heat and force as he drove deeply into her. Her own orgasm pulsated through her body clamping her muscles tightly about his embedded member, sustaining his orgasm. Pulling herself up and flexing her hips she continued the motion, dragging his orgasm along, refusing to let it slip away. Duncan whimpered as she pleasured his now sensitive organ.

She let him go limp beside her snuggled into his chest, smelling his sweat and the perfume of their sex mixing in her nose.

“Welcome home Duncan,” she whispered.