He glowed above me, slick with sweat. The light from the hall cast a softness along the long lines of his naked body. His dog tags swung in my face and I took them gently between my teeth and moaned as he plunged into me ruthlessly.
It all began last week when I checked into my Adult Friend Finder email. He’d written me the last couple of weeks of August, but I had been MIA. Friendly and humble, his note warranted a response.
“Hey!” he wrote back. “I was about to give up on this whole site and shut it down! I’m so glad you wrote me!”
We emailed a few times and jumped to text to exchange face pics. Neither one of us could believe why the other was on AFF. His dark blond hair was cropped military short, his face dusted with golden 5 o’clock shadow. Then he sent pics in his fatigues at work, suited up for flying. I died.
I’m used to dating engineers and programmers, men with soft hands and clear minds, not men trained for battle with memories of lost friends. I know soldiers and they are a sensitive lot; our politics and outlook on cultural differences often clash and so we avoid those tender topics. I am sensitive to their situations, but they typically don’t want me to be. Must soldier on, and all that. How would this man and I mesh?
He flirted and teased me throughout the day and I called him on a whim after drinks with a friend. His thick, southern accent dripped through the phone and he had me in stitches.
Quick as lightening, sharp as a tack we played off one another until I reached my next destination. I had to go. Later, I checked my phone and he had sent me a beautiful image of his artful body replete with erection.
He asked if he met my criteria I think not really caring about my answer.
I’d asked earlier in the day if he wore Magnums to which he’d coyly replied that he wore whatever was available. I’ve heard that answer before and was worried, but his charm and my curiosity convinced me to brush my Size Queen snobbery to the side.
I texted back that I wished I was wrapped up around him at that very moment. God, how I wished I was.
On my way home I snapped a pic. My hair hung shiny and blonde around my breasts; my eyes shone blue and my smile seemed to belie something. I called him on the way home at 1 and left a message, nervous and silly. He would tell me later that I was cute at 1 am. The next morning we decided to meet up during the one hour we might have available.
There’s something about chemistry that can’t be underestimated. When it’s not there it can be devastating. When it is there, it’s equally as devastating. It’s the roller coaster of promise, feared loss, excitement of the blitz of energy when two souls touch when moments before they were complete strangers. Atoms touching, magic happening.
We arrived at the coffee-house simultaneously and I waited for him to get out of his truck. He was tall, over 6’2″ with his boots on, covered in camouflage from head to foot. My breath caught. Holy shit, he was hotter in real life.
He smiled and stooped to hug me and we walked comfortably side by side to a table. The next hour flew by. I avoided those topics I imagined we might clash over and instead focused on the things we had in common: he has two kids full-time every weekday, he works full-time, he goes to school, sometimes the military gives him weekend assignments. The man is as busy as I am, possibly busier.
There was a strength about him, an ease that I immediately gravitated to, and as we walked back to our cars I almost took his hand. It seemed so natural. We talked about when we could hang out again and when I felt the time pressing on my back I said, “So, are you going to kiss me, or what?”
“When I get there, I will,” he drawled back and laughed.
He closed the small gap between us and pressed his lips to mine. I tasted his breath and breathed against him as he pulled me closer. I gripped his belt and opened my kiss. It felt like I’d been there before, so familiar, yet new all at once.
The kiss lasted longer than I expected and when we broke apart we smiled like idiots. I drove off to pick up Peyton from school with a grin plastered to my face.
Throughout the next day we texted and he sent me a picture of a helicopter in the sky carrying a military vehicle. “Those are my feet hanging out!” the text read as I sat in my cushy office chair. I couldn’t wait to see him later.
We met at a local dive bar at 9. I took a Lyft and was right on time. He was at the far end of the bar and didn’t recognize me when I first walked in, but his eyes lit up as I came to him. He wore a dark grey shirt and jeans with a belt. His arms, wrapped in tattoos, opened to hug me.
I stood there between his knees for the better part of an hour. He stole kisses and left his hand on my waist. I shook my head when he wasn’t looking trying to process our easy connection; it felt like I’d known him forever.
I challenged him to pool and got my ass kicked, though I won each time he kissed me or pulled me against him in full view of anyone caring to look. My short skirt rode up when he held me and his eyes were hot on my cleavage when we were apart. We moved to a booth and opened up a little more about our lives, our failed marriages and relationships, our kids, bullshit, etc. until I suggested we go back to my place “to chill some more.” I am nothing if not suave.
At my apartment he cracked open a new beer and I poured myself some wine and we decided to play some dominoes. The atmosphere was relaxed, but charged, and when he complained about being a little warm I told him to take off his shirt. And so he did.
He sat on my couch, dog tags hung from his neck, shirtless with a big, black watch on his left wrist resting on his knees. I told him to hold still and took a headless picture of him. “Fuck, you’re hot,” I said. “I gotta send this to my girlfriend.” He laughed and said that was fine with him.
I lost at dominoes, too, and he asked if I wanted to save the score sheet. I thought about the last score card I squirreled away to the box under my bed and told him I did.
And then, the games were over.
I climbed up onto his lap and we kissed, two old souls meeting once again. His hands roamed up my shirt and found the breasts I’d freed from my bra earlier. He directed a nipple to his mouth and I inhaled sharply as he sucked fiercely. A delicious shot of pain went through me. I didn’t have to ask him to suck harder. It was just perfect.
He ripped my clothes off and I straddled him in only my black panties, I clung to his warm chest as I smashed my breasts into his face. His lashes touched his cheeks, lost in my softness, his mouth full.
He picked me up and set me on the ground and led me around the corner to my room and roughly flung me across the bed. I heard his belt buckle jangle and his hand searching a pocket. The jeans fell to the floor with a rumpled thud.
He grabbed me by the backs of my knees and hauled my ass to the edge of the bed and lapped at me softly. His hands disappeared for a moment below the edge of the bed while his mouth kissed my open pussy and when he stood up he was wearing a condom. I told him it was an advanced and impressive move as he lifted me up and onto his jutting cock.
I had wondered if I could feel him, warned him that I got too wet and lost average sized men, that men accused me of being too intimidating, working too hard, blah blah blah. He’d stubbornly refused to believe any of that would happen to him and he was right.
He was hard as steel as he pushed into my body and filled me to the motherfucking brim.
I blinked, confused. He’s not a small man by any means, quite above average, but in all my experience up to that very moment he entered me, only exceptionally large men could make me shiver around them like I was at that moment.
He pumped into me less than a handful of times and I came immediately. He growled into my ear and lifted me up and away from the edge.
We kissed, animals in the night tangled together desperate for release, and clung to one another in a complete fucking frenzy. He bit, we laughed, I clawed, we kissed.
I cried out again and again and he moaned with pleasure as I ejaculated against our slamming bodies in as many positions as humanly imaginable.
He pulled out, grabbed his shaft and rubbed the head of his cock all over my slit and a fountain broke loose with my cries. He growled like a beast as I writhed below him. I began to whimper and tried to stop the sobs. I felt shy in my abandon and my soaking wet mess. I begged him to stop. I begged him to fuck me. I just begged.
Incoherently I apologized for being too wet, but miraculously I could still feel every hot, hard inch of him. He hushed me and braced his long arms on either side of me as I gripped the foot board with one hand, hanging on for dear life, and rammed myself against him wildly desperate for more.
He glowed above me, slick with sweat. The light from the hall cast a softness along the long lines of his naked body. His dog tags swung in my face and I took them gently between my teeth and moaned as he plunged into me ruthlessly.
I tugged a little then released them and threaded the chains through my fingers and held them up against his collar-bone, tightened them a little and thought what a beautiful creature this man was.
His sweat dripped down onto me as I came again and cried out. He came with a series of punishing thrusts and one long push deep inside of me and collapsed panting on top of me.
I saw stars, purple swirls, and couldn’t feel my hands. I hauled myself up and got towels to put on top of all the wet spots. He laid on my pillows, his arms over his head. I crawled up to him and lay in his nook, my heart still pounding.
I traced my hand along his wet body and over the tops of his thighs. His cock stirred and I touched it lightly. It swelled.
I smiled against his skin and pushed myself away and straddled him briefly before sliding between his legs. His cock was rock hard again when I kissed his upper thighs. The scents of latex and pussy disappeared into my mouth. I sucked and stroked and impaled my face on him refusing to gag as he went deep into my throat.
He grunted and pushed me off of him onto my back and he straddled my chest. He grabbed my breasts and pushed them together. I held them there as he slid in and out of my double-Ds. I’d never been titty-fucked before. He was surprised. “With these gorgeous things?” He squeezed me and his tempo increased and I lifted my head to lick the tip each time it peaked out of the tunnel of my tits.
He lifted a knee and rested a foot beside me and began to jerk off. His hand a dark blur, his balls bounced. I said silky, nasty things until he grabbed my head, plunged into my face and came hotly down my throat.
His cum was tart and not unpleasant, all soldier.
We laid down and wrapped our arms around each other and dozed for half an hour until the cat decided to walk all over us, particularly his flaccid, exposed member. Fucking cat.
I got up to kick him out, but when I turned around my new friend was up and putting on his clothes.
I surprised myself and said, “You can stay.” I had never offered that to a man, but I imagined sex awash in the morning light and more laughing and biting and orgasms. I wanted that very much.
“I can’t,” he said. “I won’t be able to sleep and I feel weird with pics of your baby everywhere, like I shouldn’t be here.” I said that was too bad, but I understood. His sex and single-parenthood is much newer than mine.
He sat with me on the balcony as I smoked a cigarette wrapped in my robe – my attempt to prolong a magic evening with a magic man.
When I was done I sat on his lap and kissed him on his scruffy cheek. He patted my thigh and told me he had to go. It was nearly 3 am.
We made very tentative plans to see each other the next night.
I walked him to the door and we hugged again and said goodbye.
We didn’t see each other Saturday after all despite wanting too, but hopefully it will be in the cards some time soon.
We’ve texted every day and he sends me pictures of his glorious body and of his day up in the sky and I reciprocate. He shares kindnesses, something I’m not at all used to from a man I’ve slept with. Saturday morning I awoke in a panic not knowing what I should say or do, but I shouldn’t have worried. He was warm and still there.
It’s complicated from a logistical standpoint to be much more than sexual partners with him, but I’m not going to add more men to my life to fill in the gaps. It will be just him until it isn’t.
I’m doing life differently. Having many who care nothing about me is painful and exhausting. I have a tendency to clamor for people’s love and attention instead of peacefully walking my path and allowing people to come to me when they want to. It’s a new outlook on all my relationships, not just the sexual and romantic ones. He’s the first one to get the new Hy.
Everyone, meet The Soldier. The man who changed things as they were already changing.
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