16 comments/ 30581 views/ 20 favorites No Going Home By: rearden_steel_2 As the wars wound down the Department of Defense decided they simply couldn't charter for individual flight's full of returning soldiers. It was understandable. There just weren't enough soldiers to justify their own birds. So that's how it came to pass that I was boarding a standard Lufthansa flight for the second leg of my trip home from Afghanistan. We were stuck in Camp Virginia, and Ali Al Salem Kuwait for a week, out processing and just waiting. An insane wait. Seven days with nothing to do but wait for your turn on the next flight home. After 7 months downrange with too much death and destruction and no rest, no beer, and no pussy I — and every other soldier there — was raring to get home. Unfortunately, I was headed home to a precocious youngster and a very pregnant wife. The R&R seven months ago had obviously been good to me, but I knew that 'the wife' was struggling with sleepless nights and a big belly. I'd be lucky to get a welcome home blowjob. There were sixty of us getting on the flight from Kuwait International Airport to Frankfurt, Germany. From there we were supposed to immediately switch birds and take the next leg to Philadelphia. Then from there it was to be open season and we'd all go our separate ways via our own commercial air. Well, that was the plan anyway. At the Kuwait holdover base we got a brief from the plane commander. Even though we would be travelling on civilian planes there had to be some unlucky bastard 'in charge.' I was a ranking officer but an older Master Sergeant (MSG) drew the short straw. He read a long laundry list of do's and don'ts. He reminded the soldiers that there was no drinking on the planes until they were released in Philadelphia. An audible groan went through the mass. He also told everyone to change into civilian clothing, as we were to be flying incognito. It was silly, really. Sixty (mostly male) soldiers, with shorn hair and wearing cargo pants and polo shirts stand out as much as sixty soldiers in uniform. Nevertheless, we welcomed the change into our civvies. An hour later we boarded the bus for the terminal. Another thirty minutes later and we boarded the plane with regular tickets in hand, spread about the cabin. Rank has its privileges and I got lucky when I got upgraded to business class seats at the front of the cabin. I got even luckier when a fetching young lady approached and pointed to the window seat next to me. ******** I guessed her age around 23, about 20 years younger than I. She stood a diminutive 4 foot 11 inches or maybe 5 feet tall to my 6 feet 2 inches. Her hair was covered with a hijab in keeping with local Kuwaiti tradition but she was obviously European or American. Her pale face was set off by sea green eyes with a wicked glint. She smiled and said "excuse me, please" with a notable Irish lilt. Oh my, this was going to be an interesting flight. She was small breasted, but wide of hip. My favorite combination. In keeping with Fight Club, I wondered briefly if I would get "ass or crotch." She chose crotch, shuffling past me while facing me. I rose briefly so she could squeeze past me. Even half standing, my eyes were level with hers. She gave me a megawatt smile as she slid past and sweetly said "Thank you for being a gentleman." Her perfume was intoxicating. I recognized it immediately, Jean Paul Gauthier's 'Woman.' It was my favorite. A choice my wife often wore. I hadn't smelled it in months, when last I got a perfumed letter from home. The odor immediately stirred my senses, memories of better times. I tried not to drool. I complimented her on her perfume choice as she settled her carry-on underneath the seat. She smiled again and said "Oh, you like it...I hope it's not too strong." I laughed, "No, it's wonderful. Hi, I'm Jack." She giggled "Well, then I am Jill." I looked back and laughed, "No...not really?" She giggled again, "No. Not really. But it's perhaps easier than my given name, Shevon." "Oh, you mean S-I-O-B-H-A-N?" I asked. Her eyes went wide, "Yes, how do you know that?" "Oh, I know a lot," I teased. "Hmmm," she smiled, "perhaps I'll be fortunate enough to see how much you know." Her accent was as entrancing as her perfume. The conversation had taken a definite turn with that flirtatious comment. Playing to her barb I responded "Well, it's a long flight. We shall see." As the flight crew prepared she took to packing away some of her things. Then she removed the hijab. Now it was my turn to be surprised. One might expect lovely, Irish, crimson locks, but her, just-less-than-shoulder length, feathered hair spilled from the charcoal covering in luscious lavender. It was an otherworldly dye job. She looked like a fairy come to life. Her elfin features made her look a good bit like a younger Paige Davis...the lady who used to host the Trading Spaces home improvement TV show. But with very purple hair. I loved it. I could see why she wore the hijab. That kind of hair and beauty would attract some unfavorable attention in Kuwait. As she folded up the hair cover, the Gauthier perfume washed over me in another wave. I got an instant erection which was fortuitously covered by the tray table. I couldn't be blamed. I hadn't had real female companionship since leaving home. Most of the women I dealt with in Afghanistan would sooner cut my balls off (the natives) or avoid me (the fellow soldiers). And the Army Combat Uniform (ACU) and body armor doesn't do much for the most beautiful of women. Siobhan didn't have that problem. Under the hair cover she had been hiding a crisp French cuffed, man's white shirt unbuttoned to just the top of her décolletage — what little she had. An oxblood red leather corset rode beneath her pale but enticing A or small B breasts. She wore black skinny jeans that hugged her ample ass. Matching oxblood leather half boots with small but sharp heels finished off her sleek outfit. As I surveyed her outfit from the corner of my eye, my cock leapt in my pants again. It was hard to keep "Lil Jack" in check. It might really end up being a very long flight. We bantered back and forth for awhile as the plane readied for takeoff. A few soldiers cheered as the wheels left the tarmac. So much for 'incognito' I thought. That was still understandable. We were leaving the third world and headed for Europe and then home. A little revelry was justified and to be expected. Siobhan asked "What's all the excitement about?" Because we were at the front of the plane, she hadn't realized that many of the occupants looked a lot like me in hair and dress. I whispered "There are lots of soldiers on here headed home. Shhh, it's a secret." "Oh," she gamely whispered back, "Like you?" I blushed a bit and half-whispered "Yes, like me." Her eyes flashed "I like a man in uniform...but you're not wearing one." She frowned. I frowned too. "Sorry, OPSEC...operational security." She smirked "well, I'm not an American...but thank you for your service." My thoughts turned dirty...thinking, but not saying 'I'd like to service you.' Instead, I answered the way I always did, "Thank you...it pays the bills." We chatted for awhile. She told me that she was a Belfast artist — no surprise there — trying to sell some work to some Kuwaiti royalty. Apparently, the guy who lured her down to Kuwait wanted more of her than her art work. No sale. I could certainly understand his logic. But, I put on my best 'gentleman' act and feigned being chagrined and said "Guys these days...whatchagonna do?" She pulled out an iPad and showed me some of her work. It was extremely good. Oil paintings, very dark material. A bit Goth, a bit Steampunk, again not that surprising, given her appearance and mode of fashion. She showed me the stuff she was working on now...a series on Dante's Inferno. 'Obvious Gothgirl is obvious.' I thought to myself. But, actually, that was just my kind of stuff. I grew up as the closet Goth, that wasn't. I dressed like the Preps, but I listened to The Cure, Nine Inch Nails, Depeche Mode, Ministry, Sixteen Volt...whatever. I wasn't really a disaffected youth, but I acted like one in private. In a previous life this girl would have been perfect for me. She asked about my background. As talk turned to me and my family, waiting back at home, my thoughts of raging infidelity turned to guilt. I was, after all, married with child(ren). But I loved everything about Siobhan. Her look, her carefree attitude, her clothes, her artwork. I imagined a Business Class bathroom trip ending her joining me in a fevered attempt to join the Mile High Club. My daydream was all 'clawing at clothes and hot flesh, and deep penetration.' But, just as quickly, I tried to forget about the idea. Mostly unsuccessfully. We ate our meager airplane food dinner and continued chatting. Business Class is a lot better than Coach — real silverware! — but that's still a low bar. Finally, the cabin lights were dimmed and we both drifted off to sleep. An hour or so later I woke with a start. This time it wasn't a wet dream but a nightmare. Another nightmare. The flash of the Improvised Explosive Device (IED) going off, the heat of the blast, the screams, the blood and lifeless limbs, the flurry of activity as we raced to saved the injured and defend our position. I shook it off in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. Siobhan startled, looked at me from the dim moonlight of the open window shade. She asked, concerned, "Are you okay?" I brushed her off, a little too cavalier, "Yeah, sorry, just a bad dream." We settled back into the chairs and fell back asleep. Awhile later I woke again. She had shifted sides, curled into a half ball, and settled her beautiful amethyst hair in the crook of my arm, her face against my chest. The perfume rose from her sleeping form like a cobra...biting into my psyche. Anyone else would have been a bit taken aback at the boldness of this stranger. I, instead, let her sleep like a babe in my arms. I reached my free hand up to brush the indigo hair from her face. Her cheeks were like ivory. The peaks of her collarbones between the shirt collar and the soft curve of her breasts were directly in my line of vision. Her scarlet lips moved with each resting breath. Again blood flushed to my nether regions, spurring me to action. My cock filled, despite trying my damnedest to remember baseball scores — and I hate baseball. 'What's another day of blue balls,' I thought. I stared at her glowing face for a few minutes, wishing and wondering, before I settled back and we slept again. We both awoke later as dawn rose through the plane windows. She shyly apologized as she disengaged from my arm and slid back into her seat proper. I told her "No problem, it was nice to feel...to feel something, someone, soft for a change." Over breakfast and coffee, she asked me about the war, the fighting, what it was like? Off the cuff I responded, "Well you know more than most, it's just like Dante's Inferno." We talked some more. I explained my mission, what happened, about the soldiers and civilians we had seen killed or injured. I admit I got carried away, and a bit lost. Despite my pithy comments about Milton and Dante, no one can really understand. I stopped when I saw the single crystalline tear leak from her aqua eyes, down her porcelain cheek. I apologized again, but she counter-apologized and said "We shouldn't speak of such things. I'm sorry I made you talk about it." I lied and said "It's not a problem." We continued to chat, enjoying one another's company as the flight prepared for landing in Frankfurt. The skies outside turned grim as we worked our way down in altitude. 'This is your Captain speaking' informed us that the weather was 'sehr schlect' (very bad) down on the ground. We had been cleared to circle for another half hour in hopes that the weather would clear in Frankfurt or we might be forced to divert. Central Europe was getting slammed by an Arctic system unlike they had seen for decades. Just my luck. There was lots of snow, sleet, and ice. The tarmac was loaded with planes trying to get out before they would be stuck, and the skies were loaded with aircraft trying to get down before they ran out of fuel. The flight crew informed us that cancellations were piling up quickly and we might not make our connecting flights, if they were leaving at all. A chorus of groans and senseless chatter rose from the passengers, but there wasn't much that could be done. Mother Nature is truly a bitch. It was 12 pm Central Europe time by the time we landed. It took us almost an hour to make it from the runway to the terminal. It was hopeless, and the soldier contingent already guessed we weren't going anywhere today. Frankfurt had 8 inches of snow on the ground and snow was falling at a rate of an inch an hour. We were pretty much stuck. Fortunately, the MSG plane commander was working with the local U.S. military to find us accommodations at a local hotel. Rhein Main, the adjacent U.S. Air Force base that shared runways with Frankfurt International, had long since closed. In fact, I was in Germany, long ago, as a lieutenant, when it closed. But military liaisons at the airport made sure we all got rooms at the Grandhotel Hessicher Hof. This was far better accommodations than we could normally expect. Fortunately, the Army's idea of "never leaving a fallen comrade" apparently extended to providing top-notch accommodations — at least when none other were available. We'd have to get our bags from the carousel, meet the military shuttle bus, ride over to the hotel and bivouac there for the night. With luck the weather and runways would clear by the next morning. I called home but it was still so early in the States I left a voice mail. 'Sorry honey, delayed again in Frankfurt. You know the deal...I'll see you all when I see you. Love you all.' As I grabbed my duffle bag from the carousel, Siobhan juggled a cell phone, a bag, and two large cartons — obviously some of the unsold paintings she was hawking in Kuwait. I walked up to help her as she hung up in frustration. "Shit" she said under her breath. I dragged her bags together and asked her if she was ok. "All the rooms are booked, as you can bloody well imagine. Looks like the airport lounge is where I'll be staying tonight," she sighed. I told her, "Nonsense, come with me. I'll either get you a room or you can stay with me." "Oh, aren't you cheeky," she laughed. "Well, it's not like that." I said...while thinking the exact opposite. We finagled our way on to the military shuttle. The young Private First Class driver wanted to give me some trouble about Siobhan. First, I told him she was my wife, and he laughed at me. "Like you would be so lucky," he said. Siobhan blushed behind me, "Jack...if it's too much trouble...never mind me." I gave her the "shhh" sign with a finger across my lips as I reached for my wallet. A flash of my ID card — again, rank has its privileges — got us both on the bus. I slipped him a twenty and thanked him for his trouble. The bus driver was a lot more accommodating once he got some beer money. She sat next to me graciously and wrapped her arm around me gracefully. I looked at her bewildered for a moment and she answered back "I'm supposed to be your wife right?" I smiled back and said "Yes, yes you are." I thought to myself, 'Irish eyes are smiling' on me. ******** When we finally made it to the hotel I was actually able to get her a separate room. At least I could maintain the pretense of good intentions. I helped Siobhan to her room with her baggage. Our day had passed far too rapidly, with all the delays lunch had long passed us by. Siobhan was so happy not to be sleeping at the airport she insisted on buying me dinner. We stopped at her room and she suggested that we both get cleaned up and changed and I should meet her in the lobby at six pm. I concurred and humped my gear to my own room. After unsuccessfully trying to call home again I planned to take a very necessary 'cold' shower. I brushed my teeth, shaved, and then did a little much needed manscaping. I trimmed the hair above my cock short and shaved it completely off my balls and taint...just in case. Tackling that job got me flushed; 'Lil Jack' was deep red-purple, overly excited and in need of release. I hit the shower. In the midst of a truly long and hot shower— my first in many months— I jacked my cock for the 100th time since leaving home so long ago. Standing beneath the blast of super-heated water I closed my eyes. I imagined Siobhan's tiny body in the shower with me, her pretty plum hair slicked down her neck. First she sucked me to hardness. Then she slid behind me to massage my cock and balls as her tiny diamond hard nipples grazed my back. She kissed the scars on my back, her tongue dancing on my spine as she reached around to fondle me. My long, hard shaft drooled precum as she worked it with her little hands. I turned, pulled her up to me, grabbed her by her thick thighs and lifted her up to me. Her hands wrapped around my neck. She probably weighed less than my duffel bag; my strong biceps held her up, with hands simultaneously holding and spreading those soft curvy ass cheeks. Our mouths met, tongues intertwined, and then I gently set her back down onto my shaft. Her shaved cunt accepted me slowly, until I pressed both our bodies against the shower wall and rammed it home. Her mouth went open as she looked skyward; she shook with her first orgasm...and ribbons of cum jetted from my cock and hand onto the shower floor. 'Well, that was short-lived,' I thought. A two-minute fantasy in the shower was nice, but left me wanting so much more. But I wasn't sure I had the guts to go through with it. War was straightforward — go there, kill bad guys — in some ways easy even. Women, notsomuch. I lay on the bed for an hour. Relaxing. Relishing the feel of real sheets, a real bed, and real central heat on my naked body. My body clock was all jacked up and I probably fell asleep. But I was fortunate to wake up in time to dress for dinner. Unfortunately, I didn't have much to wear. I had another pair of khakis and a casual button down shirt. Not much need for fashion in Afghanistan. All I had was enough to get me home in an emergency. ACUs would not do. I got dressed, and primped a bit. I couldn't hide the wisps of grey in my hair. As I combed through my hair with my fingers my wedding band flashed in the mirror like a beacon. I was starting to rethink this whole dinner thing. I called Siobhan's room but got no answer. So, on schedule, I went down to the lobby level to look for her at the main restaurant. I peeked into the Sèvres restaurant to see if she was already seated. No such luck. I asked the maître d if he had seated a pretty girl with lilac hair already. Again 'nein.' It was ten after six o'clock and I was beginning to wonder when I heard her Irish brogue come up from behind me. "You looking for someone, mister?" I turned to see a dark angel approaching. Siobhan had far out-dressed me. With the exception of her hair color, she was almost the spitting image of Paramore's punk princess Hayley Williams in "The Only Exception " music video. Just like Hayley, Siobhan's purple hair was French braided with wisps of bangs across her forehead. Her lips and eye shadow were dark, almost black with just a hint of red. Her neck and shoulders were bare and beautiful. She wore a black strapless leather dress that showed off her almost translucent skin. Unlike Hayley's dress, there was no big bow and this one ended well above the knee. Siobhan also showcased her legs in Cuban nylons with a trace of red at the feet and pencil thin red lines all the way up the backs. Her black heels were shiny patent leather, taller than the ones she wore on the plane. She held a small red clutch purse. She was like a Luis Royo Malefic vision come to life. No Going Home I had an extraordinary and overwhelming desire to place my mouth on the snow white plain above her small breasts and the super-sternal notch that separated her lovely clavicles. I remembered that Ralph Fiennes as Laszlo Almasy called it the 'Almasy Bosephus' in The English Patient. I could rest my head there forever. Obviously, I hesitated a moment too long. She giggled and said "Cat got your tongue, old man?" with a smile. I lurched from my stunned amazement, "Something has my tongue." It was dumb, but she laughed gamely anyway. I apologized for my casual dress, explaining "My duffel bag selection is limited. But you look amazing." She sloughed it off saying "Oh, this thing," sliding her hands down from her leather waist, "these are my gym clothes." Changing the subject Siobhan looked over to the maître d and asked "Shall we?" I offered her my arm and she took it, but her hand slid quickly down into mine. A surge of adrenalin shot through my system. I smelled a different perfume which I recognized but couldn't place. I asked her what she is wearing and she joked back, "A leather dress." "No, I meant the perfume." I responded. "Oh that's Christian Dior's 'Poison.' I guess you don't know everything do you mister?" Abashed, "Touché" was all I could say. We walked to the table hand in hand. We dined well. Dinner was pricey but not crazy expensive. It was the best meal I had eaten since leaving the States, and certainly the best company I had had. Siobhan was a delight, and a far cry from the burping, farting Joes I was accustomed to dining with in the most austere circumstances. She told me more about life in Ireland as we enjoyed surprising Continental dishes and fine wine. True to her promise she bought the dinner. I was taken aback when I saw her slip an AMEX Black Card over the bill. She was no starving artist to be sure. We moved on to the Jimmy's bar. Another really upscale place, far above the normal base dive bars I was accustomed to. Many of the sorely under-dressed soldiers on the plane ended up there, despite the prohibition on drinking. When I saw the plane commander tipping back an Erdinger Hefe Weizen at the end of the bar I realized that his rules obviously didn't extend to flights grounded by snow in Hessen, Germany. I smiled back with my Riesling wine glass in hand as I pulled Siobhan onto a tiny dance floor. It didn't take much wine to make me a little tipsy, after nearly a year without alcohol. We danced awkwardly; she was so tiny and the alcohol wasn't helping with my limited dance skills. She got closer to me, clutching me tightly as the dance floor got crowded and the night progressed. I got self-conscious as my hard-on had to be noticeably pressing against her young body. The smell and feel of her skin and hair was just too much to a sensory-deprived individual like me. Her curvy ass in my hands gyrated with the music, and too often she caught me staring down at her tiny tits. Her nipples, clearly unbound by a bra, threatened to poke through the leather. The thumping bass took its toll, and some crashing cymbals actually sent a shiver up my spine. She recognized the anxiety, and though it was clear she was having fun dancing she pulled me down to whisper in my ear. "Let's get out of here." Siobhan dragged me to the elevator at a half-run, the doors opening just as we arrived to disgorge some other passengers. As the door closed behind us she threw me against the glass wall, climbed halfway up me and the wall and latched her black mouth on mine. I grabbed her behind turned her around and rested her on the hand rail as we French kissed deeply. Her black lipstick smeared on my mouth. The people in the internal courtyard below could see as we clutched one another and the elevator climbed the floors. She latched both hands in my hair as my mouth finally met the top of her breastbone — the one I had been lusting over all evening. The lipstick from her mouth to mine, traced grey across her moon-like skin. One of my hands slid up her skirt beyond the stockings to find her bare thighs and the curve of her butt. "Thank God, for real stockings and garters," I laughed. She sneered, "Now, now, God has nothing to do with this." The door opened on her floor and she dragged me by the hand to her room door. She fumbled with the keycard as my hands roamed her body from behind. The door finally opened we stumbled into the half-lit room and fell on the bed. She immediately righted herself and climbed on top of me. Her skirt rode up as she straddled me. I could now clearly see the red tops of the stockings, a lace black and red garter belt and matching red sheer string bikini panties. My hands were gripping her ass as she leaned down to tongue fuck my mouth. I toyed with the strings at her hips. I could tell her panties were on the outside of the garter belt. She was no amateur. Clearly, she had planned this ending to the evening, from the beginning. I was certainly pleased but also apprehensive. But what my mind couldn't comprehend, my cock had long since decided. "Jack," she breathily said "You've been a wonderful gentleman throughout this trip and I want to, truly...thank you... for your service." It was as if she read my mind from the airplane. I gave a muffled, drawled "No...Thannnnnnk you" as she resumed her attack on my mouth and my wandering hands shifted her dress for better access. The top of the strapless dress slid down — confirming she was bra-less — to expose her lovely, little breasts, and the bottom was pulled further up to further expose the rest of her tight, hard figure, and those wide waiting hips. I broke off the kiss to absorb one perky pale tit into my mouth as my hand slid between her thighs. The sheer fabric of her panties was wet with juice and my hand found that she was all but bare; a tiny trim landing strip adorned the top above her clit. She moaned as one finger slid past the side of her panties and into her sopping hole, and the thumb found her hard, bulbous clit. I finger fucked her slowly as she bucked on my hand and my tongue tortured her nipples into hardness. Her tits were capped by quarter-sized pink nipples, perfectly round and extremely sensitive. She pulled my head to her body again as I sucked her boobs alternately. Her lower body vibrated against my hand as she bounced on top of me. One finger in her juicy cunt was joined by a second and then a third while the thumb massaged her into one shaking orgasm after another. I savaged both her clit and her g-spot. Siobhan rewarded my efforts by screaming and moaning like a banshee on the moors of her native Ireland. She was enjoying the attention, but my dick was still constrained to pants and underwear. Precum had soaked its way through both and was threatening to soak my crotch. I was suffering mightily. Even after the jerk-off session in the shower, I was seriously over excited by the evening with this sexy creature. Another quaking orgasm for Siobhan later and I rolled her over onto the bed. She was a sight. Her mascara ran down her cheeks, her tits were wet with spit and covered in my red love-bites. Her pink nipples were sore, thick, long, and eraser sized. From the waist down her garters, panties and stockings were a shamble. Her heels were still on. Siobhan pulled her knees to her chest as she recovered from her latest orgasm. The panties were soaked and pulled far to one side, exposing her yawning, wet cunt and tight asshole. Delighted, I now recognized that her small 3 inch landing strip was dyed purple to match her hair. Her perfect labia spread to each side like the best Georgia O'Keefe painting. I planned to spend some time getting acquainted with that delicious cunnie but first I had to free my cock. I started to strip off my shirt, shoes and socks. She rose a bit to help me slide my pants and underwear to the floor. My blood-filled cock sprang from the waist of the underwear and slapped her in the chin. She giggled like a schoolgirl. Siobhan smiled at me and my newly freed cock jutting out obscenely and said "Is that weapon standard Army issue?" 'Lil Jack' is strictly average, but I was unashamed. I smirked and said "Built by the lowest bidder, but it gets the job done." She slid to her knees on the floor, her face level with my menacing mushroom helmeted dick. Siobhan eyed my pulsing cock for only a moment before engulfing it with her black lipped mouth. Her pale skin and dark makeup made even my sun-starved privates look brown and alive in comparison. I wasn't complaining though. She was a gothic princess. It was my turn to shudder and shake as she sucked my long, hard shaft deep into her throat. My hands slid into the knots of her purple French braid, interlaced with her hair as I involuntarily fucked her face. Her cheeks hollowed as they vacuumed on cock and her open-lidded eyes rolled back into her head like a Great White Shark. One of her hands grasped my ass cheeks for purchase. The other hand slid down between her thighs as she shoved it inside her mangled panties and into her sopping pussy. Once again she bounced, legs spread, finger banging her cunt while sucking my cock. Had I not bothered to jerk off in the shower this would have been at best a two minute adventure. I would have simply surrendered to her tongue lashing and deposited my cum in her mouth. Fortunately, I was a little better off. I relished the attention she was giving to my member. It felt warm and wet as her tongue swirled around the head, and then resumed fucking my cock with her throat. We did this for quite awhile until I insisted on a rest. My knees were buckling and I was ready to cum at a moment's notice. She was kind. She pulled off the leather dress, left only in the red and black garter, panties and stockings and climbed back on the bed. "Here, lie down," she said, patting the sheets. I did as she said. She leaned over my cock which as still standing at full attention. She ran her thumb over the peehole where the precum was still flowing amply. Lubricating her hand with the precum she jacked my cock slowly with her tiny hands and her purple nails. My cock jerked and shook as she slid her hands up and down the shaft, stopping occasionally to further massage the sensitive head and pick up more precum. Siobhan stopped for a moment. Her hands were a sticky mess, but she lasciviously licked them clean of both her cum and my precum, like a cat tongue-bathing its fur. Then she resumed licking the head, like a lollipop. I was languorously, reaching between her knees and thighs to absent-mindedly play with her pussy again. I was enjoying pulling on the tuft of hair at the top of her cunt. She squealed and shook her butt at the attention. She was deep-throating my cock again when I grabbed her legs and dragged her ass over my mouth into sixty-nine. She got the hint quickly and then lowered her lovely cunt to my waiting mouth and tongue. Her pussy was a sweet as apple pie and I ate her cunt like a death row prisoner eating his last meal. The two of us dined on one another. My flat tongue searched from her tight rosebud ass to her clit, finding what felt best for her and what tasted best for me. Lapping away, my tongue explored her cunt, teasing her inner lips then sliding deep inside. At her molten liquid center I tongue fucked her hard. My nose was buried in her ass cheeks. She stopped her furious cock-sucking long enough to scream "Oh please, keep sucking my dirty cunt! Fuck me with your tongue!" She twitched in excitement desperately. Siobhan was gasping one moment, cursing like a sailor the next, and then whimpering as I thrashed her pussy and her magic button with my tongue and fingers. She smelled of sweat, perfume, and cunt; I obliged and licked her to several more orgasms. She moaned her muffled cries 'Lick me, fuck, uhn- hnnn' into my belly, with my cock firmly in her throat. One of her hands joined my tongue, spreading her cunnie wider for my access. I was drowning in her liquid as she shook and thrashed on my face. Finally, her ministrations drove me to distraction. I tapped her ass hard to let her know I couldn't hold back much longer. She didn't stop. I yelled "I'm gonna cum in that pretty little mouth." She ignored my protests, and pulled me deeper into her warm lips. She jacked and sucked, and jacked and sucked some more. There was no more waiting, not a moment more. My cock erupted like a modern day Vesuvius. Cum jetted onto her lips, on to her tongue and all over her hand and my belly. She kept jacking me, although I was so sensitive it was painful. My body and the bed shook as every bit of ejaculate spurted from my balls. She rubbed my sack, feeling the bare skin and massaging more cum from my heavy balls. She lapped up my cum, moaning loudly. I resumed licking her cunt in appreciation. She flopped down beside me. We were both winded for the moment and in need of brief rest. I took my thumb and slid it across one of her cheeks to retrieve a dollop of my cum. She greedily slurped it off my finger. I kissed her mouth. I could smell and taste my cum on her lips, and she could smell and taste hers on mine. My chin shined with her pussy juices. In all this frenzied enjoyment I still hadn't fucked her. After a rest, I grasped at her panties to remove them. She stopped me for the moment. "Wait...You know Jack, might I remind you, you are a married man?" I was floored, and immediately wracked with guilt. Siobhan said "One might view oral sex as a harmless indiscretion, but there's no going back once you've fucked another woman. I don't want you to do something you might regret." My demeanor wilted with what was my reviving cock. I lay there for awhile in shock. After some time exhaustion overtook us both. We each rolled over and slept, me naked and her wearing nothing more than the panties, stockings and garter belt. In the early moments before dawn, she woke me with another blow job. I was perplexed. I loved this sexually precocious young lady. Well, I loved the sex anyway. Lust, that's what it was. Hell, even without the sex she was an incredible match for me. We shared lots of interests even though we were separated by about 20 years. But her comments had screwed with my head something fierce and now she was sucking my cock again with enthusiasm. While my mind was confused my cock new exactly what it wanted. She sucked me to full hardness. She stood for a moment and pulled the hips of the panties up, the gusset of the bikini slid into and then pulled tight inside her labia. I could see her lips on either side of the fabric. It was so damn sexy. She moved her body in the half darkness. Enticing, with her snake-like moves. I watched with appreciation, but I wondered what was next. She had cock-blocked me once, hard. Then she slid the panties back down until they spanned from leg to leg, like a silk bridge, just above her knees. The sheer fabric was soaked, her cunt glistening with excitement again. Siobhan slid her fingers over the small tuft of hair, spreading her red, raw lips with her fingers. She reached down and slowly removed her panties from one leg then the other. Siobhan slid back onto the bed next to me and began to use the sheer satin to masturbate me again. Her little hands made me look big in comparison. I watched impatiently, as my dick dripped precum at a steady stream. Finally, she climbed over my body. She cast the sodden panties onto my face - her heady scent was overwhelming. I tasted them for a moment then set them aside to better appreciate the youthful woman before me. The garter belt and stockings framed her pussy like a classic painting. Her eyes were aflame, her hair loose now in a lavender halo around her head. Holding my shaft, she lined up my cock with her cunt and asked "Is this what you want Jack?" I was almost expecting her to balk again. I moaned "Yes, more than anything." She rocked back and forth on my cock as it slid between her swollen labia. Her lubrication quickly made the shaft even wetter. She grasped my cock again and beat the head against her clit. We were both moaning, as she teased me further. Again she asked "Is this what you want Jack?" I moaned again "Yes, please, fuck me with that tight pussy." As the head slid slowly into that wonderful gateway her cunt felt delicious around my cock. A spark, like static electricity, ignited my body. She engulfed me and rocked slowly on my cock, inch by inch, until I was buried inside. Her cunt muscles squeezed me tight as she rode me like a cowgirl. Like a warm, wet, velvet vise. She was warmer and tighter than any other woman I had ever been with. I pulled at her haunches to pull her further onto me. Her little tits danced in the half-darkness above until my hands reached up to caress and pull on them. She deliberately stared into my icy blue eyes with her own sea foam eyes as she absorbed my cock inside her sugared walls. I pulled at her nipples, and she shook and bucked as if I was pulling a line directly connected from her petite boobs to her soaking fuckhole. She rode me like that for awhile, but I wanted more. I flipped her over, face down and ass up. Climbing behind her I lined up doggie style. Her legs were close together and her cunt was impossibly tight as I pressed into her from behind. It felt so good. She gasped as I pressed further and harder. Once I was all the way in again I began to piston slowly into her pussy. I grasped those wide hips and fucked her harder. She was pressing back, shoving the headboard against the wall, making a hell of a racket as she moaned and cried. I let go of her hips and reached under to tweak her clit and her nipples. We fucked like that until I was getting sore from the exertion. Finally, I jerked her to the edge of the bed like a ragdoll, flipped her over with both ankles on my shoulders. My cock slid back into her yawning, sloppy, purple-haired cunt. She lay before me. Her face was mostly smeared mascara, her body a mess of cum, sweat, black, red, white and purple. Like a Jackson Pollock painting, a glorious mess. But Siobhan was beautiful...radiant really. She whispered "Fuck me Jack, I want your hard cock pounding my pussy. I want your nasty cum in my starving, little cunt." I thought about how she tortured and teased me earlier, but I did as I was told. I began to slide in and out, first slowly, then at a furious pace. I considered that I had already committed adultery, so I intended to make the best of a bad situation. I slammed into her body, and she responded like a force of nature. She was cumming around my cock, the muscles grasping and milking the jism from my balls. I felt like a hand was wrapped around me squeezing. She was thrashing and moaning again. She wrapped her feet behind me and pulled me even deeper into her. Her stocking clad feet slid against my back and ass. My hips pistoned my shaft as far as I could into her grasping pussy. Hips slapped against her ass cheeks, making another noisy racket as her sopping cunt gurgled with wetness. Siobhan giggled and moaned over the sounds of sloppy sex as her hands clawed at the bedsheets. Her labia slid over my shaft obscenely, gripping, grasping, like tentacles. I tried to pull almost all the way out with just my cockhead inside her. Her cunt sphincter gripped the helmet-shaped head and let go with a pop. I lurched back in and then out again. Pop. Over and over again. Pop! Then I buried myself to the hilt, in one fell swoop, like a hot knife through soft butter. Her eyes rolled back into her head. The delicious friction was too much for the both of us. I couldn't take anymore. I shot my seed deep in her cunt, shaking and covered with glistening sweat. Spurt after spurt of cum filled her hole. I persisted stirring the mix of her cum and mine until the sensitivity of my cockhead won out. I could do no more. I collapsed on her, my cock still in her warm, dripping cunt. Her legs were still between us, her knees at her chest, but she swooned into her own collapse. No Going Home Tears of joy and pain ran from both our eyes. Her cool kisses on my eyelids were gentle and loving. I finally crawled off of her, slid behind her, and spooned her ass as my cock cream ran from her cunt to her ass to the sheets between us. My dick slid to rest in the cleft of her ass cheeks. I wrapped one arm around her slim body beneath the peak of her young breasts and buried my nose in that jewel-tone hair. Then we slept. I awoke to sunlight pouring through the window. Dawn, and my wake-up call, had long since past. A look at the alarm clock instantly told me I was almost hopelessly late for my flight. I leapt from the bed, adrenalin pumping. She awoke as I started dressing quickly. She rose in the bed with green eyes and pink nipples staring back at me. Her face registered her sour disappointment. She was headed back to Ireland, with a later flight, so she was in no hurry. But it was clear that she was hurt and wanted me to stay. I didn't even have time for the most cursory of lame excuses. Nevertheless, I told her "I have to go, if I don't make this flight I don't know what I'll do." I didn't even say 'goodbye.' I grabbed the rest of my clothes and ran for my room and baggage. Two minutes later, I threw my room key at the desk attendant, not bothering with a receipt. I didn't make it to the shuttle bus on time. I didn't make it to the plane on time. I was at the air terminal ticket counter, trying to get a later flight, when the explosion went off. ******* At 10:55 am Central European time Lufthansa flight LH426 from Frankfurt to Philadelphia took off. At 10:56 am less than a mile out from the airport a suicide bomber from the Hamburger Terrorzelle of Al Qaeda detonated a twenty pound package of SEMTEX explosives in the cargo compartment. The well-disguised package was designated as automotive repair parts on the bill of lading. The passenger and the explosives came from opposite ends of the airport — passenger and air freight — joined together in the air by a radio activated detonator, a garage door opener, not unlike the IED bombs frequently used in the Operation Enduring Freedom theater of operations. The Terrorzelle had waited for the right opportunity to make a statement. The use of civilian aircraft made it easy to target large numbers of Americans, especially with soldiers on board. The mess caused by the weather made for plenty of security lapses the terrorists could capitalize upon. 336 passengers and 15 flight crew were aboard. There were no survivors. Among the dead were sixty soldiers returning home from Afghanistan. Since World War II, only the 1985 Gander plane crash (248) and the Beirut bombings (241) killed more U.S. service members in a single event. Mysteriously, though 60 soldiers were on the passenger manifest, only 59 distinct bodies were found. Major Jackson Covington was listed among the dead, but never identified. ******** Jack saw the plane break up in the air from the airport terminal. He vomited into the nearest trash receptacle. His heart was broken. So much senseless death. He dropped his plane tickets in the trash with the former contents of his stomach and stumbled back to the taxi stand. Tears streamed down his face as he returned to the hotel, and chose to walk the ten flights of stairs back to Siobhan's room. He was sweaty, wild-eyed and disheveled when he got to her room. She greeted him at the door, completely nude. Siobhan looked like a column of pearlescent, naked marble...she could have been Lot's wife. Her eyes flashed, not the welcome oceanic green, but black as night. "Welcome back, Jack," she said, as she pulled what was left of the broken man back into her arms. She kissed his mouth hard, biting his lip until he tasted the metallic flavor of his own blood. She saved his life but stole his soul. There was no going home.