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."
"Sure?"
“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."