Chapter 17
Making love with Johnny was excitingly different. She didn't have to turn herself oft to recite any prayer to Mommie, or to dream and plan for the "Escape Hatch." This was it, a tiny three-room apartment on a side street with a king-size bed. And on it she could give herself to Johnny freely, gladly, happily, joining herself with his body in glorious, exciting lovemaking.
She could feel the trembling excitement in Johnny's arms as he lifted and carried her, and she kissed him on the ear delightedly, glorying in the feel of his hand under her small rump, of one arm around her shoulders, his hand grasping spasmodically at her breast. Heat and excitement surged up in her as he laid her on the bed and then stood back, looking at her, suddenly shy and awkward. "You're so beautiful! I can't believe you're all mine, forever and ever . . . "
Her skirt was hiked up, revealing the gaudy blue garter the Madam had insisted was as much a part of marriage as the ceremony. Johnny bent over and kissed the gaudy rosette and ran his lips up the inner side of her thigh, bringing a gasp from her and starting fires of excitement in her cunt. She let herself know, now, with Johnny, just how delicious that felt and was amazed. And glad, glad that this newness within her was for Johnny.
She sighed happily and caught his head, pulling it up to hers, and kissed him tenderly. At least she meant it to be a tender little kiss but, as his hand rested on her breast, the kiss became ardent, hot and eager. "I love you, Johnny. With all my heart. With all my body." She laughed shakily. "Let me slip out of this skirt." She sat up, pushing him away.
She slid out of the skirt and pulled down her panties, tossing them to him. Johnny hung them almost reverently on a chair and then hurriedly discarded his dress uniform, wrestling and swearing at the unaccustomed buttons. Finally he stood naked before her.
This was Johnny, tall, a little too thin, wearing a shy, homely grin. His hips were narrow, firm, and his pecker it was already rising, a great shaft surmounted by a purplish bulb, quivering before her. She reached up and touched it, feeling the heat, then sat up, kissing it lightly and rubbing it against her cheek.
Johnny moaned and dived into bed beside her, clutching at her, pulling so that her breasts crushed against his chest. She accepted the momentary pain with delight, nuzzling his neck, tugging at his shoulders, pressing herself tight against him, feeling the throb of his prick against her small, flat belly. The heat of it thrilled her with the promise of feeling it slide deep within her, of explosion and climax to come.
She slid one leg over his and opened her little pulsing cunt for his entry, feeling him awkwardly shift his body and roil, them both together, so that he loomed above her, staring hungrily down at her. "God, you're beautiful! I still can't believe it! You're mine. We belong together."
She murmured softly, pulling his head down for a long, sweet kiss. He slid down, letting his prick slide between her legs and began a thrust at her hot, hungry little cunt. "Please, Johnny. Raise yourself a little. I want to see you go in." As if that would reassure her that he was hers and she his.
Obediently he raised himself on strong young arms and she peered down her front, between the soft pink mounds of her breasts, the nipples stiffened, erect, and saw her pubic mound with its faint dusting of hair. His pecker, throbbing, suffused, stood ready to plunge into her. It was wonderful to be able to see, to feel, to know with more than her small body that her lover was going to take her. There were no barriers now. No prayer to Mommie, no turning herself off into a dream of the "Escape Hatch." She had it now, more than she had ever dreamed it could be, for she was sharing it, as a dream should be shared.
Johnny made tentative stabs with his pecker, and then she felt it slide in, the bulb going beyond the lips of her cunt, to begin hot, delicious fires that flared through her. Watching as it penetrated her body gave added thrills to the exquisite feel of him in her. More went in, and more.
She gasped with the sweet wonder of it as she saw how much he rammed up her, wondering amazedly where it all was going. And yet she knew. She could feel it, moving far up inside her, kindling fires that heated her whole being.
He gave her full measure, closing the gap, his pubic mound pressed tight against her own. And then he began the slow pumping that would bring them in wild delight to climax.
She could feel, with new, excited delight, the movement of his bulb, the sliding in and out of his shaft. She pumped her little pelvis with wild abandon as she felt his shaft pulse and throb the whole length of her tunnel.
She moaned, clawing at his shoulders, then slid her hands down to his thin buttocks, grasping, trying for one iota more of that magnificent prick within her.
Lights went out then flared to bright intensity. Throbbing gongs boomed inside her as she felt him explode far up her tunnel in a hot gush of creamy come. He thrust hard at her and held it, crying out in exuberant exultation.
Then he collapsed against her breasts, his head falling beside hers as he half sobbed with immense, complete gratification. She gloried in the weight of him on her, the warmth of his body, feeling his pecker slowly deflated and begin its tender withdrawal, exciting her briefly to more desire.
Then it was over, and they lay side by side, breathing deeply, in shuddering gasps. Holding hands that clutched spasmodically.
"It was beautiful, Johnny. I never knew loving could be so wonderful," and turned to kiss his ear.
He rolled toward her, flinging his arms around her, nuzzling at her neck. "You made it beautiful, darling. And I love you."
"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, Johnny, for loving me! I need your love terribly."
They held each other, happy in spent passion, warmed by each other's body, almost innocent in their nakedness.
Until they stirred, moving their bodies together in renewal of desire. He raised himself on one elbow and looked down at her, smiling gravely. "Can we? Again?"
She reached up and caught his smiling, homely face, kissing him tenderly. "Always, Johnny. I'm yours, remember. Any time you want me, I'm yours. And happy to be."
Together they watched with almost detached curiosity as his pecker swelled and rose, laughing happily together as it stood erect and quivering. He touched her breast, marveling at the way the amber-pink nipples quivered and came erect. He leaned over and kissed each one, sighing, and then slid between her legs as she watched and waited eagerly for the new excitement begin.
On the fifth time Johnny sighed, too weary to raise himself, in spite of the fact that his prick was quivering and rigid. "Can we do it lying on our sides?"
The fitting of their bodies was awkward at first but they adjusted, wriggling and thrusting, until they lay side by side, his prick rammed well into her little cunt, her breasts tight against his chest. Finally exhausted with love play, they both fell asleep, locked in each other's arms.
Myra awoke first, stretching, glorying in the ache in her loins, sighing and wondering vaguely just what had happened that last time. Johnny lay sprawled, arms and legs flung out in the abandonment of sleep. She smiled down at him, resisted the impulse to kiss him awake, and padded into the kitchenette, clutching around her the lavish peignoir the Madam had insisted was the proper costume for a honeymoon.
Myra made coffee in the shiny new coffee pot and was preparing toast in the equally new electric toaster, when Johnny came in behind her, sliding his arms around her, slipping his hands under the peignoir to cup them over her breasts. "Hello, bride . . . "
Myra twisted in his arms, mock fighting him, laughing, and then sobered. "That was the nicest thing you could have said."
She bobbed her tousled head toward the kitchen mirror, grinning at the wrecked seven dollar hair-do. "Hello, you. You are a bride." She frowned at Johnny's reflection. "And you have a very naked husband."
Johnny grinned. "Isn't that convenient?" And picked her up to carry her back to the king-size bed.
It was an idyllic three days before Johnny had to report back to camp and a much-married master sergeant who glared at him. "They call this compassionate leave. For you, it's passionate leave. And I suppose you're gonna ask for overnight liberty. Well, I ain't making out no slips every day." He scribbled hastily on a pad and shoved it at Johnny. "That'll hold you for three weeks. If you can take it." He growled deep in his chest. "And mind you report for duty every morning. We're shaping up to ship out."
So they had not quite three weeks because
Johnny's orders came through three days early close to three weeks of frantic lovemaking, happy, liglithearted love making that must last them until Johnny should come home.
He never did. His helicopter was shot down over North Vietnam and he died in the flaming wreck. And all Myra had was a pathetic little medal, his insurance check, and a three-room apartment that had been, so briefly, her "Escape Hatch."
She sat, stunned, amid the wreckage of a dream, not quite comprehending. Smathers sent condolences and Skibo showed up, for once acutely embarrassed. His offer was backhanded. "I don't suppose you want to come back?"
Myra shook her head. "I couldn't, Skibo. Not right now. Not after what I've had. It was good, Skibo. Very good. And for real."
Skibo didn't understand but he nodded, shifting uneasily in the big chair. "Need money, kid?"
"Not now. I have this," and pointed to the check that was all that was left her of Johnny. "I'll think of something. Get a job, maybe. This won't last forever. Maybe I'll buy that farm and just retire."
Skibo shook his head over such a waste. "Not you, kid. You're too beautiful. Too young. Why don't you give Hollywood a whirl? You'd go great out there."