The summer heat was unrelenting, grilling our skins whenever we stepped out into the sun. I suppose it would be the same next week. Not in Philly, of course. Swapping suburban America for the barren deserts of Afghanistan. For the fourth time, mind you. Either way, this would be the last visit to my least favorite place. That was my hope. I didn’t want to think about going back, but the dread lingered like a roach that knew all the secret crevices in and around the furniture, the furniture in my head. This was all I could think about.

“Hot dogs?”

I stopped gazing at the garden, where all the kids were fooling around without a care in the world. They weren’t getting ready to serve after all. Turning around, I found Abby holding a paper plate, loaded with a hot dog, relish, mustard, ketchup, it had it all.

“Thanks, Abby.” I took the plate, but like always, my gaze just settled on her for a second too long. Doe-shaped eyes, sun-kissed skin, and her dark blonde hair tied behind to reveal that heart-shaped face.

“What?” she asked innocently as if there was a bit of grime on her nose or something.

“Nothing. Just taking it all in before heading out.”

“You’ll be back in a few months, anyway. Right?”

I took a mouthful of the hotdog. Like most things she made, it was-

“Damn good,” I said, wiping my mouth.

“Isn’t it always?” she said with a big smile. She was right. It always was. “You should come inside. You’re not playing cornhole with the kids anyway.”

“That I’m not.”

And with that, I followed her from the patio into the living room. There was quite a commotion. Jon and Brian were yelling at the TV as usual. Chelsea and Jason had a beer in hand, laughing it up with Sam. Their trademark tipsy selves, the ladies would break in and out of conversation and dancing, twerking whenever the music on the speaker called for it. Hip Hop was their jam after all. And as the chorus broke this time, Chelsea backed up against her man, letting him grind on her as much as he desired. With beer in hand and a booty rubbing against his crotch, Jason wasn’t complaining.

Abby and I walked over to the dining table at the center of the room. I needed to top the hotdog with some more ketchup, and she needed to occupy herself with some organizing. I don’t think she’s had a minute to herself after Dan moved out. Was he coming today? Who knows…

“There he is! Come on over here.”

It was Sam, done with her twerking once the song had wrapped up. After getting my dose of ketchup from the dining table, I moved towards her. They had crafted a makeshift dance space in the corner of the room, right by the speaker system, a few feet off from the guys watching the TV.

As I got close Sam just wrapped her arms around me, without a care as to what might happen to the hot dog in my hand. I got it out of the way just in time as she smothered me.

“Gonna miss this fellow!” she said with a full-on press from the front. I’d miss her too. She was like a can of Red Bull to have around. All the time. And that can be a little too much on the odd occasion. Right now, though, I welcomed it. I needed any distraction I could find.

“I’ll miss you too,” I replied.

“Say it like you mean it!”

Abby saved me right then by appearing out of thin air and taking the hot dog out of my hand. Both hands free now, I could say it like I meant it.

“I’m gonna miss you too!” I grabbed her face with my hands and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Oh crap, got some ketchup on you now.” There was a tiny bit on her forehead.

“So lick it off, silly,” she laughed. No way. I just rubbed it off with my finger. Sam was planted beside me, still with her arms wrapped around.  

“How long is it this time?” It was Chelsea chiming in. She was done grinding on her man, who was playing around with the speaker to lower the volume. Here we go with the talk.

“I don’t know. six months. Maybe twelve.”

“Twelve!? Twelve months without us? By yourself?” Sam was genuinely concerned.

“You do realize there are others with me, right?”

“Yeah, but not any women.”

“Yes, there are women.”

“Not in your division. Aren’t you in some special forces thingy?”

“Well, women are also special.”

“You sound like Jack’s English teacher,” Chelsea responded. I probably did.

“I couldn’t go without sex for twelve months,” Sam mused. I couldn’t either. But I didn’t have a choice.

“You wanna fuck me before you head off tomorrow?”

Funny thing is that Sam, for the millionth time, was being genuinely sincere. She was looking up at me like that pussycat in Shrek, but there was no hidden agenda with her. She loved fucking. And she loved fucking the people she loved. Jon and Brian could attest to that if they weren’t glued to the game right now.  

“I’d love to. But I don’t feel like doing anything right now.”

“You always say that. Not even once?” Her right hand reached down to my crotch, and she started rubbing up and down my jeans. “Liar! I can feel you getting hard.”

Chelsea and Jason broke into a laugh.

“Sam, he’s just not into doing you,” Jason chimed in.

“And what? Think he’d rather hook up with your wife?” Sam got back.

“Isn’t that most people we know?” Jason replied without a care in the world. Chelsea loved it, planting a smooch on him before sticking her tongue down his throat. It’s true, though. She was the most sought-after. The most talked about. At the salon she worked at. At the gym she worked out in. And almost anywhere else, whether it was a supermarket or the post office. Guys, and some girls, would line up after her.  

She was that uncanny mix of naughty and nice. And her “nice” was a little bit naughty, too. An endearing blonde-haired foul mouth, she could dish a compliment and an insult in the same sentence. And if she wasn’t getting your attention with her words, she’d do it with her looks. She had the most alluring emerald green eyes set in that diamond-shaped face, her forehead covered with bangs for a change today. Move a little lower and her bosom could rival Pam Anderson’s in her prime, and her body’s the kind that could make money on a stripper pole or OnlyFans account. Thousands if she wanted to. Two years ago, she started hitting the gym with Jason, and she had become tight and fit in all the right places. Defined abs, more size to that booty, and thighs that could crush watermelons if not your skull.

Sam snapped her fingers in my face, ending the hypnosis.

“Hellooo, there’s someone you can have right now.”

I gave her a laughing smile.

“Sam, you’re a dime piece, baby, but he’s only got eyes for my hiney,” Chelsea interjected, in between her animal-like make-out session with Jason.

“Fine,” Sam said before giving her my attention one last time, “but if you change your mind, I’ll be on that sofa over there. She pointed towards Jon and Brian, who were oblivious to anything happening around them, planted on that beige sofa for over an hour now.

“I will,” I responded, with a peck on the cheek to top it off. And with that, she marched off without looking back.

“You should have thrown her a bone this time,” Chelsea added, having wrapped up with her snogging.

“It didn’t feel right,” I said.

“And why exactly?”

“I’m fairly certain she’s done unspeakable things with two men in this room already,” I said, looking at Jon and Brian.

“Haha! Make that three,” Chelsea laughed. Surprised, I looked at Chelsea, then at Jason.

“What?” Jason said throwing his arms up, “It was in high school like fourteen years ago. Just a blowjob or two.”

“That’s ok, honey, I didn’t know you back then,” she grinned wickedly. Chelsea didn’t care about any of this. Not one bit. And she probably enjoyed her husband’s ancient history deep down. Scratch that. She definitely enjoyed it. “Besides, I’ve done worse in high school. With guys that look like this fellow over here.” She moved away from Jason and latched onto my side, putting one arm around my waist, the other feeling my chest.

“There were guys who looked like me in high school?” I asked, jokingly. I only moved to the States when I was twenty-two. Before that, I was hopping around Asia and the Middle East, making sure the Marines could figure out what the hell the locals were saying to them. After that, well, I joined the ranks, going from translating to gun-toting. I doubt there were too many brown-skinned guys in her high school.

“Close enough. I wanted to experience different cultures, you know,” she replied, as her hand moved up and down my torso.  

“She woulda given you a proper send-off today if I weren’t around,” Jason stated.

“I would have,” she agreed, “if I didn’t have this ring on my finger.”

“I might have politely declined,” I said.

“No, you wouldn’t,” she shot back.

“I probably would. We’ve known each other for what now, six years? You probably know me better than Jason. I wouldn’t risk it all for a roll in the hay. Rather be friends till I die.”

Till I die.

She was taken aback, or even moved. Something registered in her eyes when I mentioned death. It was on my mind all the time now because, to be honest, I wasn’t guaranteed a return trip in twelve months.

“Sex doesn’t have to complicate things,” she kissed me on the cheek after saying that, holding it for a second or two longer, “I need to go check on the kids. Must have ruined Abby’s backyard by now.”

A pat on the chest and she was off to the patio, with momentary yelling to follow.

It was Jason and me now.

“Something feels different this time, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“Looks like it,” I mused, “third time was supposed to be the lucky charm. But here we are with the fourth.”

“You’ve been there for a fucking lifetime. They’ll let you off soon enough.”

“Honorably or dishonorably?”

“Come on, man. You don’t even need to ask. Unless you plan on doing something stupid.”

“Ha. There’s been a lot of stupid around these parts, for sure.”

“I know, even in this fucking house. I mean imagine getting caught with your damn secretary in the living room. Stupid, shit. Don’t know how she could unsee that.”

“Is he coming today?” I asked.

“That’s what Chelsea said. If I were Abby, he’s never coming through that door.”

“Kids change everything.”

“That they do. They don’t even know what a piece of shit their dad is. Where is she by the way?”

I looked around the living room. No sign of Abby. “Probably in the kitchen. I’ll go check on her.”

“And I’ll go out and stop my missus from ripping the kids’ heads off.”

“Sound plan.”

He went out the same way Chelsea did, and just like that, the bubble around me burst. It was very loud in the living room. Jon and Brian still in conversation with the TV, or arguing with the TV I should say, while Sam feebly attempted to get either of their attention. She’d bag one of them soon enough, but I wasn’t hanging around to see it. Off to the kitchen I went.

A quick poke around and I couldn’t find her. No trace. Upstairs perhaps? So I returned to the living room and down the entrance corridor, took a turn to the right, and went up. There were four rooms upstairs: the bathroom and three bedrooms. The master at the very end used to be Dan and Abby’s, but since two weeks ago, it was all hers. The two others to my left were the kids’. Dillon and Damian’s. thirteen and ten. This wasn’t going to be an easy year for them either, I guess.

I walked forward slower than usual as I studied the walls to either side. They were lined with photos, from Dan and Abby’s wedding to Damian’s birth. Each step I took brought me closer to the present. Damian’s first steps. Dillon’s first day of high school. The family on their last summer trip across the country, RV in tow. The trail ended then and there, and in front of me, was the master bedroom door, left slightly ajar.

I pushed it open a little, cautious as if I were heading into unchartered territory. And it was exactly that. I had never been here before. The blinds were fully open letting in a burst of sunshine. The room was extremely tidy, the bed, clean and tucked in as if no one had slept on in it in weeks. At the foot of the bed, with her back leaning against it, was Abby, personifying sadness and sorrow from head to toe.

“You, ok?” I asked.

She woke up with a jolt, wiping away a few tears before looking at me. “Oh, hey there, of course. Just needed a breather.”

Without waiting, I took my place beside her on the ground, to her right.

“You need more than that.”

“Maybe once things settle down.”

“Yeah, probably a trip to Cancun or something.”

She chuckled at that. “With what money?”

“Not money. Alimony.”

She punched my left arm. Slightly, enough to say that she found it funny, but not funny enough to laugh out loud.

“Sorry. Too soon I guess.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, “So, looks like you managed to get away from Sam for the day.”

“Wasn’t too hard after Chelsea chimed in.”

“What’d she say?”

“That I’d rather hook up with her than Sam.”

“Well, is that true?” she asked.

“Well, Sam thought it was.”

We both laughed at that.

“I don’t remember you being with anyone over the last few months.”

“That’s because I wasn’t.”

“You’ve been saying no to a lot lately.” Then she gave me that look. That sincere pout she can put up with her eyes.

“I’m gonna be gone soon, so getting into anything feels like a waste of time.”

“But you’ll be back. And then there’ll be someone to come back to. Or if not that, you had some fun before shipping off. Remember that? Fun?” she said while putting her arm around my shoulder.

“Remember it? I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“It’s not the same thing. I’m looking at the end of something that lasted for twenty years.”

This time it was my turn to put my arm around her. I brought her closer and she laid her head on my chest.

“You need some time off. How’s the sleep been?”

“Not that great.”

“Probably ‘cause you’re not sleeping in your bed.”

She looked over her shoulder at the bed and the clean, wrinkle-free sheets.

“I don’t know who else has been there. The couch feels better.”

“Is he coming today?”

“He’ll take the kids for a few days. They haven’t seen him in two weeks.”

“There’s your sleep right there.”

“Sleep all by my lonesome.”

“Cuddle up to a vibrator then.”

“I’d prefer something real. All this time he was fucking around… and the last time I had anything was three months ago.”

“Three? I have you beat.” She looked up. Surprised. “It’s been five for me.”

“Oh my. Almost half a year.”

“Yeap. Pretty sure if a woman just touched my cock, I’d lose it.”

“With all that discipline, military man? I’m sure you know how to hold it together.”

“I’m used to holding guns.”

“Well, that’s a gun too,” she said, placing her hand on my thigh, “just shoots something different.” She can be funny sometimes.

It felt good. It felt right. Nothing had felt right for weeks. Maybe months.

So, I reciprocated, putting my right hand on her thigh, while my left arm was still, for the better part of minutes, laid around her waist. I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, but I didn’t pull back afterward. I kept my lips, my nose, my face, pressed against her.

Without hesitation, her hand moved from my thigh, up my waist, and settled on my chest. She grasped hard, feeling the muscle underneath my t-shirt, and I just had to bring her closer. I wrapped my arms around her, hoisted her for a split second before putting her on top of me. We both leaned in for a kiss, millimeters away from our lips grazing, from locking in once and for all before we lost control. Before we did something that we may or may not come to regret in the weeks to follow.

But our concerns were fading away with each breath. It had been too long for both of us. It had been too long for something to feel right. So, we kissed. Slowly at first, tasting our lips, savoring the soft richness of each other on a scalding summer afternoon. I felt parched, so I kept kissing her, kissing her longer, kissing her harder, moistening her lips with my saliva as she did mine. We were in perfect sync, crossing between our lower and upper lips on instinct, and then our tongues cried for attention, wanting to do some exploring themselves. Things were getting hotter and nastier by the second, both of us breaking a sweat with our bodies so closely pressed together.

“Take off your t-shirt,” she demanded, but I only had to lift my arms, and she did the rest. She was impatient. Hungry, in fact. She separated my arms, pushing them against the bed’s footboard slat, and went straight for my neck, kissing and sucking it in equal parts. From my end, I just kicked off my shoes into the distance, flipping them away with my heels.  

“Fuck,” I exhaled, feeling a tingle run down my spine.

She didn’t stay there long, choosing to be as unpredictable as she could. Kissing my shoulders, the top of my arms, then my chest, and finally, she ran circles around my left nipple, engulfing it with her tongue before diving right in and sucking it.

“Jesus!” I had to stifle it, becoming more cautious of where we were and who was around. I could hear the faint traces of kids’ voices from beyond the window and the sound of the TV from beyond the door left ajar. Did they hear that?

I didn’t have time to think about that. Abby had moved on to my right nipple, sucking on it while pinching the left. The hairs on my body stood up, and down below, I felt myself getting harder and harder, a bulge pressing up against her ass from underneath.

I couldn’t wait. My arms had been idle far too long. They jolted into action and went for the buttons of her shirt, ripping it apart instantly and her breasts flooded out. She’d gone braless for the day. It was summer you know. I pushed her onto the ground so she lay on her back, and decided it was my turn, ravenously tasting her mouth, her neck, and her chest.

“Lower,” she said.

Lower I went. Sucking her nipples while cupping her breasts with my arms. On and on I went, and her moans got longer, then louder.

“Lower,” she said once again.

And lower I went, tracing the contours of her stomach with my tongue, the slight trace of her abs, pausing now and then to kiss her soft flesh.

“Lower.”

And I obliged, finding my way down to the top of her jeans. I unbuttoned and slid them down, revealing the skinniest set of white panties that were wet to the touch. I pulled those down, too, and looked at her sex, lips folding outwards like a red calla lily.

“You’ve been keeping up for someone so inactive,” I joked, running my fingers over her shaved mound. She turned a shade redder.

“Somethings are done out of habi-”

Before she could finish, I had already dug in, taking her by surprise, taking her in my mouth.

“Fuck!”

I took the entire length of her in my mouth, my tongue leaping to and fro, my upper lip nuzzling her clit while the lower settled on her labia. Hunger and thirst all mixed into one. I was taken back a few years to one outing in the desert, the entire squadron, walking miles on end without a drop of water. When we reached the next outpost and found the courtyard fountain, we rushed into her and drank as if there was no tomorrow.

I drank Abby the same. Like my life depended on it, taking in this one last drink before who knows what.

Abby was losing control on her end, too, getting a little too loud for comfort, so I muzzled her with my left hand, my right cupping and squeezing one of her breasts. I didn’t want anyone downstairs hearing us. We couldn’t afford it right now. Our friends would be forgiving, maybe even approving, but what if the kids showed up? Or even Dan?

But that brief flash of rational thought evaporated and the primal instincts kicked in. I was kissing, tasting, licking, and slurping every inch of her while she pushed those hips towards me, inviting me over and over again.

I could feel the rumblings of a slight tremor, or a growing avalanche of shakes and quivers on their way. She was close. Oh, so close, and then I stopped and stood back, withholding everything.

“You are such a tease,” Abby proclaimed, briefly covering her face with her hands, a little shy, a little abashed that she was almost there, and that I had brought her up to that point. “I want your cock.”

“As you wish,” I replied.

I unbuttoned my jeans and dropped them to my knees. It’s as far as they would go. We were both on the ground, in front of the bed, Abby on her back, me on my knees. She was looking at the bulge poking from my boxers, breathing heavier. She noticed something new. Something different and perhaps, unexpected.

I slowly pulled my boxers down, revealing myself inch by inch, second by second until my erect cock snapped rigid upright. It wasn’t long by any stretch of the imagination. A respectable six inches at most but it made up for it another way.  

Abby’s jaw dropping by the slightest degree made that evident. She looked overwhelmed.

“Fuck me.” It was a simple request and I wasn’t going to hold back.

I fished through the back pocket of my jeans for a condom, fingers poking around, and it became clear that I didn’t have it.

“Damn it, I don’t have a condom with me-”

“Just fuck me,” she repeated.

“Are you-”

“I’m on the pill.”

That was all the invitation I needed. I stroked it a few times to get the blood flowing, bring it closer and closer to her sex as a bit of precum started to drip down to the base.

I laid it on top of her pussy, and it covered her labia, her clit. It covered everything. She took a few deep breaths to calm down. This wasn’t going to be easy for her.

“Ok, I’m ready.”

I pushed just the tip inside and as I did, she moaned.

“Fuuucck.”

I pushed an inch further and her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Another inch and she covered her mouth with her left hand, and I kept my throbbing cock there, pushing against the walls of her vagina, and she was so fucking tight, it was like fitting an aerosol canister inside her. We could both feel it. I didn’t do anything after that, waiting idly, biding my time. I wanted her to make the next move, and she did.

Leaning down, she took the rest of my cock with her right hand, hardly getting a full wrap-around, and pulled it towards her, forcing the rest of it inside. I helped her out and pushed all the way in.

“FUUUCK!” she screamed.

It was too much for her. And she was too loud for her own good. We paused for a second, honing our ears to the surroundings, and we could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Damn this. I pulled out and held my breath. Abby did the same as a ramble of muttering could be heard from beyond the door.

“Fucking Kershaw cleaning us out again. There goes the fucking World Series…”

It was Brian making his way to the bathroom upstairs, furious at what looked like a pretty bad game for the Phillies. Nothing new there. He was clueless about anything happening around him as he slammed the bathroom door shut.

“Close one,” I whispered.

“I know. I thought he was-”

Before she could finish the sentence, I was right inside her again, all in, every single inch.

“Fucc-”

She didn’t yell that one out, luckily for us, saying it under her breath, so I leaned on top of her, putting all my weight on her body. Gently, I started to push my hips in, then out, making her feel the pressure from my cock in varying degrees while my body held her down. She wanted to wriggle away at times, unsure if she could handle my girth pressing against her insides, so I put my arms under hers and grabbed her head from behind, cupping it and keeping her still. And all this time, my hips were in constant motion. In. Then out. She gave in, realizing that I was now in charge, so she grabbed the back of my head with both arms, admitting that she didn’t want out of this either.

I started getting faster and faster. Then a little slower, teasing her with my pace as I felt her getting wetter, her juices splashing in between my cock and the walls of her vagina with what little space they had, before oozing out and dripping down her pussy.  

We both heard the sounds of a flush in the bathroom. Brian was almost out again.

“Slow down,” Abby asked.

I did, pulling out completely, waiting until the bathroom door opened. And as it did and Brian came out, I forced it in and started fucking her like a madman. Abby didn’t expect that, thinking I’d wait until Bryan was downstairs, and it took all she could to stop screaming so that Brian wouldn’t hear.

She was about to fail miserably when the only option she had was to bite into my left shoulder, and her arms slid down from my head to my back, her nails digging deep into my skin.

BAM!

The bathroom door was slammed shut again and the cussing restarted.

“Sack the fucking manager. And draft that other fucking dipshit out of the team…”

Brian went on and on as his footsteps trailed away, without hearing the fucking that was taking place just beyond the slightly ajar door.

“I thought you’d get caught,” I strung together, panting.

“I’m cumming!” The element of risk had done its trick.

And I felt it, her vagina closing in, rhythmically choking every inch of my cock while her legs wrapped around me, shaking and quivering. She didn’t realize that I was also at the point of no return because as she got tighter and tighter, my self-control was getting squeezed out of me, shooting everything I had deep inside of her. My glutes tightened, my cock convulsed over and over again, and I collapsed on top of her.

“Finally,” I sighed.

“Finally,” she confirmed, giving me a seal of approval by kissing me. We lay that way for just a minute before reality set in.

I started to get back up and as I withdrew, a stream of cum dripped out of her, wading its way around her lips and before settling on the bedroom floor.

“We better get downstairs,” I advised, getting my clothes on as quick as I could.

“Yeah, we should.” She just pulled her panties up, then her jeans, and stood. The top was useless since I had ripped it off, so she went over to the wardrobe and scavenged around.

I got everything in order quickly: boxers, jeans, t-shirt, shoes that were a mile away. Some combing with my fingers and the hair seemed presentable enough. Abby came back with a skinny t-shirt on and held me by the waist.

“Stay with me this weekend,” she asked, “Dan’ll be here to take the kids today. It’ll just be us for three days.

“I’d love that.”

We kissed before I returned to the ruckus down below, but not before taking one last look at the room, the room with the untouched bed at the center of it. That would change over the next few days.

“If they ask about me, tell them I needed some time to myself,” she said.

“Easy enough,” I responded before scooting on.

I was on a cloud like no other and had no recollection of making my way back to the living room. Everyone was there now. Jason and Chelsea. Sam, Jon, and Brian. And the kids were settled around the dining table making a mess with the food. Dillon, Damian, and Jon and Chelsea’s brood of three.

“Where the hell were you?”

It was Chelsea asking a simple enough question, but under the circumstances, it felt like an investigation.

“Ah, um, Abby needed some talking to,” I replied.

“Oh, is she alright?” Chelsea asked, but before I could allay her fears, the doorbell rang. She disappeared for a minute and when she got back, she had Dan with her. The mood among the grownups visibly dropped, but there was a welcome turnaround from the kids.

“Dad! Finally!” Damian rushed in to hug his father and Dillon followed suit.

“Hey, buddy.” It looked like any ordinary family reunion if you didn’t know the facts. And the kids didn’t know them. They just thought Mom and Dad hit a rough patch and Dad had to stay away for a while, turning Mom into a convenient villain.

“Hey there, guys. Jason. Samir,” he said, acknowledging Jason and me. “Is Abby around?”

“Yeah, she’s upstairs,” I answered.

“Oh, right. Kids, got to talk to mom for a second. Be back in a min.”

He shot straight upstairs after that, and what was said between him and Abby remains a mystery. I never inquired afterward.

What I did know, and what we all knew, was that the evening was going to get a lot more uncomfortable, so we’d rather skirt around the messy topics and focus instead on the TV, and the hijinks the kids were up to. Simple enough.

I had something exciting to look forward to on the weekend, anyway.

“When are you off, Samir?” Dan asked at some point in the evening.

“Monday,” I replied.

“That gives you three days to play around with. Anything good planned for the weekend?”

“Not much. Pack up and hang around some good people,” I said while looking at his wife.

She looked my way, too, smiling from ear to ear in a way I hadn’t see in weeks. Not with me. Not with anyone.

“Just make it a great time. We never know what’s to come in life,” Dan advised, patting me on the shoulder.

Truer words were never said. Of course, he didn’t know what my great time would involve, or who.