Partings Pt 04

THOMAS DEAN PARTINGS Ch4: NEW BEGINNINGS

Arriving home mostly intact, following release from one week's detention for classification at the National Service induction center, I appraised my situation. I came home with my own outer garments a raggy pair of jeans and ratty T -- Short. My boobs ached from an undersized bra; the waist band on the thong was uncomfortably tight; the butt strap cut deeply into my crack. They don't call it butt floss for nothin', I muttered.

In the mix up exiting the Induction Center, the undies returned to me probably belonged to some poor girl less lucky than I. She was no doubt piled naked onto a duce -- and -- a -- half and transported for training.

Once home, I stripped naked, threw away the underclothes and inspected where the undersized cups cut into my breasts and the thong left deep ridges sculpted across my belly. I began to play with my clit for relaxation prior to a sound slumber. Even though I was working myself into an ecstasy, there was a sadness.

There were times since Jerry and I linked up as a couple that he liked to watch me. No matter how much I'd tease him, Jerry could show restraint until he was ready to seize the initiative. As a former Marine, restraint, picking the right time to take action were as important to Jerry as aggression.

Why hadn't Jerry simply re -- enlisted? I bemoaned. I was tough enough to be selected for the armed forces. We could have been assigned together,

Right now, I wanted only to lie down in my own bed and sleep away the past few days. For good or bad, this experience marked a New Beginning. I would defer for the moment the specter of what might await me in my new life when I reported in at the local service support location for duty.

I had been lucky. Swept up into National Service with my husband Jerry, I came back alone home at least -- temporarily. While Jerry was shipped out returned to the Marine Corps, I, drawing Service Support was assigned locally. Following Jerry's instructions on what to do and how to act had been the key to selection for the least restrictive form of service. Jerry hadn't been quite as lucky.

Before we reported for Induction, I promised Jerry if we were separated, I'd stick to girls. I did't expect Jerry to remain chaste or take a fancy to guys. To avoid spurious issue, Jerry, under our agreement, could do girls -- only if he took them anally. Just how would that work out? I wondered.

Due back in the local service support facility on Friday at 0500, I, free until then, embarked upon this new stage in my life alone and on my own for the first time since Jerry and I coupled up six years ago.

Perhaps, after a week of sleeping locked up on a bare concrete floor, cuddled up to the other female inductees for warmth, I entertained the silly hope I'd awake from this nightmare and find myself grappling with my husband Jerry for the upper berth in our coupling. Coupling, I chuckled, that was the term I came up with to describe our wild sex -- capades, more physical exercise than touchy -- feely romantic cuddling up.

But before, I could embrace a sleep in a comfortable bed, I found the induction center had followed me home. In the scant few minutes, I had been at home, I had quickly worked myself into the edge of a mega -- orgasm when Gunnery Sergeant Abby Meyers, the drill instructor from the Service Support facility, popped in. Her dark eyes danced when a smiling Sergeant Meyers issued an apology of sorts, "Think nothing of it, Trainee Warbler. I watch inductees 24/7."

Sergeant Meyers` proposal could avert a summary transfer, during my probationary period, to Humanitarian Services where I would be fodder for cheap help in grimy hospitals and grisly nursing homes. "Something goes wrong in the health care facility," Sergeant Meyers warned, "new girl takes the blame: after a court martial and dead - time in detention, you begin over with another year, maybe more added to your term."

On the other hand, Support Services would return me to school to complete my degree in Industrial Psychology. That assignment would keep me free from duties in National Service for three years. However, the commitment for 10 years in Support Services might not be so bad. If required to serve it, I'd be an officer.

"n all likelihood," Sergeant Meyer soft peddled the proposal, "by the time you've finished the degree, the crisis which caused the expansion of National Service would abate and you'll be discharged or placed in a reserve status."

Of course, Sergeant Meyer had a hidden agenda. She intended to get sent back to school and needed me as her tutor. After haggling, I agreed to accept her as a tenant in the apartment behind mine.

Sergeant Meyer also wanted to get pregnant and utilize my access to sperm donors. I promised to find her the sperm of a brain surgeon or a nuclear physicist.

All I had in stock was Jerry's man juice. In my book, Jerry was just as smart. I gleaned from information from Sergeant Meyers that Jerry had invented a "job" in a company he recently created so that he could be released from the Marine Corps at the end of two years.

I had been so successful in my negotiation over the rent that Sergeant Meyer vowed that in commencing duties at the Induction Center pending re -- assignment to college, "Till reassignment to college, you'll earn every penny of the bargain you struck."

"If you're tough enough to endure three years of me as a demanding tutor," I accepted the challenge, "I'm tough enough to endure a few weeks of drilling."

"Oh," Meyers uttered a chilling warning with a serious expression crossing her face, "by the way, Trainee Warbler, if you're thinking of using man juice you have in stock, don't—at least until you're released from the Induction Center to the University. Your assignment to continue education is only to prevent overcrowding in the center. If you turn up pregnant on a pre -- transfer physical before you're released to school, they can shave your pussy and your head bald and ship you out to Humanitarian Services."

Once Sergeant Meyers left with the reminder, "0500 Friday is on time, 0500:01 is late, F -- T -- R, failure to repair." Turning to me as she passed down the stairs to the front door, "Oh, Warbler," she chuckled as she roared, "Carry on, Trainee!"

"Thank you, Sergeant Meyer." I snapped my reply.

As I repaired to my bed, I chuckled, I promised Jerry that if we were separated, I'd stick to girls. I guess Sergeant Meyers would be the lucky lady. Would she measure up to Jerry?

In bed, I squatted feet spread apart imagining what it'd be like if Jerry were to have come home with me, but after a few minutes of fondling my clit and vaginal lips, I passed out from exhaustion into a dream world of beginnings.

The dreamscape wandered through different firsts, not necessarily in order. The first time I came to my apartment when I was in college; the first time I met Jerry who had the apartment behind mine; the first time I applied for a real job at the Dr Foust's fertility clinic; the day Jerry and I bought the house from Mrs Pye, now our tenant; the first time Jerry and I tiptoed downstairs through a hidden staircase directly from the second floor rooms into the basement allegedly to show me the secret passages.

My dreams were so vivid that, when I awoke, I expected to find Jerry beside me where I found him after our first time together. But, as much as I understood that at least for the next two years Jerry and I would be apart, I decided to visit the spot in the basement were Jerry and I first grappled together.

Sergeant Meyer's visit might have been an intrusion. However, but for her warning, I'd be headed downstairs to commemorate my first time with Jerry by impregnating myself with his man sap.

Of course, a couple should celebrate their first joining. For a woman, the first time brings about physical changes. My breasts enlarged with physical contact with Jerry so much when Jerry and I were home together that I had to remove my bra. The straps would cut into my shoulder blades. This invited Jerry to tickle my nips. The tingle felt through my body swole my clit and loosened my vaginal lips. I might cuddle up to Jerry which would stir Jerry's projectile. The interplay would escalate until next thing I knew, we were rolling on the floor, struggling for upper position in the coupling.

Coupling, Jerry might philosophize as we vigorously rocked in unison once position was decided, means a linkage between male and female, like two railroad cars joined together or an electric plug inserted in the socket. Jerry put it in verse:

"Colliding, coupling //vigorously thrusting // connection attained // union gained // launched rocket // plugs the socket."

I'm sure I wasn't Jerry's first; I was uncertain over the exact changes a sexual encounter brings to a man, but I am certain that an initial encounter may not make a man more sensitive as much as it makes a man, like Jerry, ready for the next tussle.

Interestingly enough, I was quick to note the symbolism in Jerry's choice to place my former employer's equipment Jerry and I took from the fertility clinic in that very spot. I'm sure Jerry could have found a different obscure spot in this old frame house to place the equipment when the Fertility clinic collapsed in the wave of economic upheaval that brought Jerry and me to our current predicament.

I remember Jerry's quip, "An application of the Malthusian theorem // that even Reverend Malthus could never have foreseen // In hard times, lesbians ran short on the green // demand for artificial insemination over// no need for the sperm donor // nor psychologists," Jerry, shotting me an uncharacteristic soulful glace, a wistful moan entered his voice, "to bless // motives of the crews // involved in the process."

As I hesitated in the closet, I was struck with the silliness of visiting the basement. There was nothing down there but memories. Had Sergeant Meyers not warned me, I would have gone downstairs to impregnate myself with Jerry's man juice. I had to hold off on that. Why should I go downstairs, right now? Was it a sentimental journey?

I rationalized my decision to creep down the hidden stairway. To take up my new life, I'd have to make sure I had preserved certain parts of the old life.to impregnate myself with Jerry's man juice and to make sure that Jerry's seed was available to knock up Sergeant Meyers. This certainly would be novel. In a sense, if Sergeant Meyer and I both delivered at the same time, we be giving birth to Jerry's twins.

I whisked aside my clothes in the closet to feel for the concealed entrance to the stairway. No need to dress, I decided. While at the Induction Center I had gotten used to nudity, As I slipped into the back of the closet which concealed the hidden passage to the basement, I recalled the words Jerry spoke when the first time led me through the darkened passway, "What really sold me on this old house was all the secret passageways."

As I cautiously passed down the darkened steps from our -- now -- my rooms on the second floor with the basement, I remembered my argument with Jerry over taking the equipment from the Fertility Clinic after the owner Dr Foust scooted. "That's stealing!" I balked, "besides when I have the bull, why would I need a synthesized substitute? I put out real sugar; I expect to be pummeled with eight hard inches in return!"

Jerry was quick with a rejoinder, "Stealing no it's flipping // Booty, the wages of sinning // Dr Foust left you swinging // three weeks of pay skipping // Booty, your severance package // for a new beginning."

The first time Jerry brought me through the hidden passageways, we paused when we reached the bottom of the staircase. Hands folded behind my back, I teased Jerry by wiggling my body in front of him, "Are you luring me down to this dingy, dusty basement to take me?"

"It's a jaunt // an entente // Only if you want." Jerry laid down the challenge.

"What if I were to take you?" I parried with Jerry. He sheepishly laughed and looked away.

Though Jerry towered over me, with the advantage of surprise, I sprung at Jerry. We fell to the ground rolling in the dust. After a few seconds, superior strength prevailed. Gaining the upper hand, Jerry plucked me to bare skin. Hands tied behind my back with my bra, panties stuffed in my mouth, I found myself pinned face down to the ground. Kneeling behind me, Jerry raised my legs to enter me. Afterwards, we showered together in a crude open shower in a corner of the basement.

That was our first time together. Our sex play was more of a rigorous physical training than sensitive touchy feely. Even Jerry commented on my willingness to engage in a wild workout. "Trial by combat?" I goaded Jerry, "I picked a Marine. You're my first! Once a Marine, only one Marine."

"I think everyone knows," Jerry looked away with a red face, "that's not the way the expression goes."

"Oh, I know I'm not your first, but we're a pair!" I taunted him, "Why don't we pray for war before we decide to connect?"

"Let me put it," Jerry fell into rhyme, "If I'm your first,// I expect, a pair so perfect, // I suspect,// we'll spend some sweat// in order to connect."

Now, down in the basement, I was looking at the equipment that Jerry and I had taken from the Fertility Clinic after the owner Dr Foust scooted leaving me in the lurch for three weeks of salary. I had worked at Dr Foust's clinic for four years before the place closed in the economic downturn.

At the bottom of the stairs, I wondered about returning home together with Jerry. If Jerry's plan had worked and we had returned home together, I'd sniff his manly scent becoming overpowering as soon as we reached our door.

I would have persuaded him to renew our vows in the basement at the foot of that hidden passageway. "C'm'n, Jerry," I'd have tempted him. "I haven't had a good workout in a month."

So anxious to celebrate, we'd leave the door open while we started to tussle for the upper deck. In the struggle I conjured up, Jerry would rip his raggy T -- shirt off my body, and snap that stranger's brassiere off my boobs. Pausing to admire my breasts bouncing freely, Jerry would have twirled me around to attempt to secure my wrists, with that `A' cup bra.

Looking toward the open door, Jerry might have paused the struggle to ask, "What if our tenant, sweet Mrs Pye// pays a visit// to welcome us home// what should she surmise // if she espies // us exchanging genomes?"

"She'd get a refresher course in sex -- education," I, wrists freed from Jerry's clutches, would have quipped as I tossed the undersized bra toward the trash.

I'd take Jerry's hand and lead him down the basement steps.

At the foot of the stairs, Jerry exclaimed, "choking from dust and grime // hmm, here at the scene of the crime!"

"Which one?" I asked as hands behind my back I wiggled my bare breasts in Jerry's face, "luring an innocent college girl down here to seduce her or stowing her fertility equipment `borrowed,'" I winked, "from a former employer who beat feet?"

While imagining Jerry's greedy hands reaching out over my torso, I massaged my own back from my hips as far up as they'd reach. Twirling me around to feel me up from my waist band across my ribs, Jerry caressed my boobs titillating my nipples. I felt Jerry's throbbing member pulsating in my crack while Jerry's nimble fingers sent an electric shock through my body.

In my daydream, I'd take a deep breath and wait for my moment to whirl around to thrust a foot toward Jerry's golden globules. Jerry would catch my foot force me to the ground rip my ratty dungarees off. "Careful," I cautioned Jerry in a whisper, "those jeans are my wedding dress. If we produce a daughter, I want to preserve them for her."

In my reverie I'd raise my butt to slip the panties off and toss them across the room toward the gynecological table we took from the Fertility clinic. I was completely naked and vulnerable. I hypothesized that, although Jerry could have easily flipped me over, unzipped, launched his projectile and taken me from the rear, his preferred position, he'd go chasing those panties.

Jerry's predilection to rear entry doggy style deprived me of the opportunity to connect our gazes to make a spiritual connection contemporaneous with our physical union.

"Don't dare shove those dirty undies in my mouth. I'm not sure how clean their former owner was," I baited Jerry.

My mind visualized the wildfire build in Jerry's eyes. He was ready to inflict the ultimate subornation stuffing someone else's underwear in my mouth.

Moments from taking me from a position of superiority, the dream world Jerry would have made the mistake. He released his grip to retrieve a stranger's panties. Moving quickly, I tackled Jerry and spun him onto his back to be mounted.

As I imagined riding Jerry's projectile into orgasm, my fingers wandered from my hips down the creases separating my lower abdomen from my legs. As my fingers scurried toward my mound, through my clipped pubic hairs, my fingers joined at my vaginal lips, the gateway to the love socket.

In my imagination, I rode Jerry's member building up the pace with every rise and fall. Jerry's hands massage my breasts as I continued to rock toward orgasm, drawing him in deeper.

I introduced a finger inside my vagina, then two and finally three while my thumb massaged my clit. In my dream, Jerry reached up to grab my shoulders to pull my chest against him and to make maximum penetration. We come together and passed out on the floor.

Hours later I awoke on the concrete floor of the basement, dripping with cold sweat. At first, I thought I was back in the cage in Induction Center where I had slept naked on the concrete floor for a week. But when I looked around and saw the gynecological examination table, Jerry and I had taken from my employer, I remembered that I was fortunate. Had I not been warned not to turn up pregnant until I was formally released to return to school, I would have worked myself into a frenzy in order to introduce a dose of Jerry's man juice and impregnate myself.