Partings

There are times I wish a moment could last forever. An early morning dreary, we—Jerry and I were standing, facing each other, in the middle of an area enclosed by an eight foot fence. My hands rested on his forearms; his hands supported mine. It was like the day we were married -- nothing elaborate -- a simple late afternoon ceremony in a bar next to a store front ministry by the preacher.

Standing in front of the bar as Jerry and I locked arms together, Preacher delivered a short sermon to introduce to the ceremony. "Today, our good friends Jerry and Amy go through an important threshold in their lives: marriage by which according to the words of Christ Lord Jesus a man and a woman become of one flesh. .."

I had wanted Jerry to read one of his little poems,

"Physical love,

Touching

Romanic love,

Clutching,

Spiritual love,

Trusting."

I protested Jerry's refusal, "But it's so sweet."

"I like to keep the thoughts I share with you private. I don't want any emotion display in public," Jerry declined.

We married right after I graduated from college. In those care -- free college years I met and started a relationship with Jerry. We'd been together ever since.

I was green, 17 without worries. National Service wasn't in my forecast. Registration was required for unemployed youths between 18 and 21. College students were exempt. Publicly, it was said that whenever National Service had sufficient volunteers, there would be no forced call ups. But so what, all that worry was for other people, not me.

I had an off -- campus apartment in some old lady's house. I had no worries. Other than collecting the rent the old lady didn't interfere with my comings and goings.

Recently discharged after two years National Service in the Army, Jerry was the opposite seething with a rage he tried to suppress, but which erupted in an exciting competition when we grappled for the upper berth in bed.

Life was beautiful. What was happening in the wider world, the storm crowds gathering, didn't concern me. Though less beguiled, Jerry was carried along in the moment. He commemorated this in a poem:

"Thrills and Chills,

Love's magic noticing

Voices shrill

Object focusing

Deep diving drill

Gateway opening."

Life with Jerry was all good fun. Our main concern was whether he'd take me by surprise from behind or I'd mount him while he slept and shout that I was going to pump him dry. That old widow landlady sure got a lesson in sex education.

Jerry summed up those times in one of those little ditties I wanted to write down:

"A paean to the young

Give a little tongue

Lots of love and fun"

"What a dirty mind!" I gave Jerry a playful, phony bitch slap in mock protest.

Whirling me around and whipping my pants off, Jerry laughed as he forced my feet apart, "You never noticed your landlady's embarrassed smile when she collects the rent."

"She's jealous," I managed to grunt before Jerry stuffed my panties in my mouth. "I got 'Lot of love and fun.' "

There was pause. Jerry sighed and released a wheezing sound. Jerry paused. My butt was bare, my mouth was clogged shut and my hands were bound behind my back, what was the problem?

Jerry did enter but not his usual rage driven plunge but a slow, considerate screwing, timidly entering, withdrawing, entering deeper then pulling back. I tried to draw him deeper by moving my butt against him to force his thrusts in deeper. It was a rare time I came before Jerry when taken from behind. I'm glad I never shared that with Jerry. Not that I didn't like it that way, but I was afraid Jerry might embarrass me by turning the experience into a poem.

In those fun days, I wasn't watching how the National Service Law was drawing its net deeper against the public. Suddenly, it was no longer voluntary but was now mandated to solve youthful unemployment at first until age 25 and force repayment of college loans. The returning veteran Jerry winced whenever the net drew wider as the age limit extended upwards and the number of conditions which invited the call - up that would require induction multiplied.

Upon my graduation, decided to make our deal official. We both landed well -- paying jobs. And of course, Jerry always knew how to make a joke out of it.

Clad in the same raggy dungarees we wore to report in to National Service, we faced each other in our wedding in a strip mall bar. The store front preacher stood in front the bar. The bar tender with a rag in hand stood behind the bar to the right of the preacher. Giving the bartender a wink, Preacher joked, if we was Catholics, I guess we'd call you an altar boy."

The old lady, my maid of honor, stood behind us. When drafted into the role, she insisted upon dressing in an old gown she once wore to a formal affair. "Make sure," the old lady told me, "to save those ratty dungarees for your daughter to wear at her wedding."

I sighed. As Jerry and I stood waiting for that rusty door to fly open, I observed that the silliest things come to mind when your world falls apart. Probably, I'd never get to bestow those scrungy blue jeans on the next generation. Likely, in passing the checkpoint, I'd lose them Jerry had prepared me for the de -- personalization that lay ahead. He had even taken a bowl and cut my hair onto a page boy style preferred in the armed forces and the support services.

Heart thumping as I waited to cross the threshold, I moaned. "I wish you'd have allowed me to take a drink," I released a deep sigh, "It might make the rest of this process easier."

"You have to keep your wits about you," Jerry reminded me, "You need to remember everything I taught you. There'll be no second chance. You couldn't afford to drink."

At our wedding Jerry made a point about drinking. Jerry bought a round for the entire bar. "Join us in a drink, good padre," Jerry, winked at me, as he deliberately used the military term to invite the preacher, to join in. "Even Jesus liked a good stiff drink. The Bible says not only that he and the apostles—all 12 of them—went on a three -- day drunk and the big guy -- your boss -- saved the best for last."

"Maybe! But Christ Lord Jesus didn't have to drive home," Preacher politely declined the offer. "Even so," looking around, "it's nice to pay a visit now and then. After all, so many of my congregants come from here that if it closed, I'd be out of a job." Squinting his eyes, the preacher added, "And `The Big Feller' wouldn't like that."

Out of a job, I sighed when I thought of it. That's what brought Jerry and me through the gate down this path to spend a few last precious minutes together face -- to -- face.

We turned toward the entrance. Directly in front of us stood our destination, an uninviting one story poured concrete structure pocked with well -- defined vertical striations. Set well back from the road, the building reeked of an institutional smell that even the neat park -- like lawn surrounding the walkway leading up to the door could not dispel. We sighed. Would our relationship end here?

I'm now 24. Jerry and I hooked up together in my first year in college together. A few years older, Jerry had already served two years in the Army, I think. His two years national service done, Jerry rarely spoke of it. "I put it behind me, out of my mind." No matter, we've been together now six years. "Until now," I noted, "we haven't been apart."

In closing remarks in his sermonette after Jerry and I exchanged vows, Preacher returned to the concept of threshold. "Having exchanged their vows, Jerry and Amy have crossed the threshold. And what is a threshold. As much as we may face a threshold with trepidation, all a threshold marks is the natural progression in life, just as a physical threshold only a part of the door we must step across to enter to face the joys and sorrows of what lies inside."

A line was waiting up at the door to enter. I looked them over. Jerry was right there would be a couple of gals; many more guys, perhaps 8 -- 9, maybe as many as 10 or 12 guys. "Some fools will tote suitcases; all the gals will have their bags." Yep, Jerry was right, except for me, other gals all carried hand bags strapped over their shoulders. "I told you to bring nothing.," Jerry reminded me, "anything of value will be stolen; everything else might get lost. Nothing more than the clothes on your back, your id and some chump change to get you home -- in case you're lucky."

I nodded. "How did it come to this?"

Jerry sighed. "Fate, in wrong place wrong time." With a re -- assuring smile, Jerry shrugged off the chain of disasters that led us to this gate. "After college, we were doing great, had good jobs, nice house, car, planning to start a family. Then we hit the speed bump ..."

"You'll need the money, if you encounter an unforeseen complication down the road," the old lady explained her insistence on a rental higher than what we would have asked for when we bought her house with a lease back, "All payments must be by check and the lease must be written so that my status as a legitimate tenant is documented in case you're tossed by your bank. My advice is save the money I give you -- it might tide you over if you have a run of bad luck."

Standing in front of the gateway to our future, I observed that "everything went wrong at once. So many people lost their jobs at once and yet so few applied for National Service that the government lowered the period in which a person could remain unemployed from six months to one. Otherwise we had enough money saved up from the old lady's money to pay the mortgage and tide us over for a few months ..."

"Yep," Jerry acknowledged, "It all happened at once. Slumping economy; dumped by our jobs; National Service Act exemptions go defunct."

"And we end up here ready to fulfill our obligation," my voice betrayed anger. "Why didn't we just shirk it like everybody else? "

The call up came so quick, so unexpected that Jerry usually well -- prepared was caught short. He did arrange for payment of the mortgage out of the account where the former landlady's rent was paid into. "If you want to keep your place, pay your rent into the account; otherwise, we could meet up changing your bed pans in one of those charnel homes they stuff old folk in ..."

"How.." the old lady asked? Jerry responded, if I had just a couple of more days.

"If I only had a couple more days," Jerry admitted, "I could have set things up; I'm working on something that if one of us goes home, they can get the other out at the end of their term."

"You think you can withstand two years of separation?" the old lady asked.

"If she comes home," Jerry joked, "she agreed to stick to girls, if I get home," Jerry paused nodding his head as if considering his words carefully, "I can see girls but can only BF. In the meantime, she's collecting my sperm so that she can impregnate herself—if she comes home alone."

I looked up at the ceiling. Should I be embarrassed or just pretend? For someone who regarded disclosing a love poem too personal Jerry enjoyed baiting people with personal secrets. That was Jerry. Make a joke out of it.

As much as Jerry made a joke out of the call up. Jerry was worried we wouldn't come home together. In the bedroom, since the call -- up notice, with Jerry's aggression muted, I took the lead in the bedroom. "I don't intend to become an evolutionary dead end," I screeched an order, "Now strip!."

I admired Jerry's muscular body as he undressed. I felt his bulging muscles and stroked his chest hairs. "Okay finish the job," I ordered. He dropped his trousers. At my direction neatly folded his clothes on the bed.

"You'd make a good service support member in-taking inductees," Jim noted as he looked down at his member which sprang to life. .

"What we're going to do will be very unfair to you," I told Jerry. I turned my back to him and ordered, "Undress me like you were going to take me."

His hands reached under my T shirt before they tenderly probed up my sides into my pits pushing my arms skyward. "Remember to freshly shave your pits the morning we report in. It'll avoid some nasty comments—when you're inspected," Jerry reminded me as I bent my head to allow my tangled bra and T -- Shirt to fall to the floor.

Tentatively, Jerry reached into my waist band and daintily pulled my pants away from my body sending a thrill down my butt.

Jerry had a ditty to describe our ritualized outercourse.

"Thrills and chills

Breasts like hills

Electrified power drill"

To Jerry's question why were two married people practicing young adult 'heavy petting' as part of a sperm retrieval ritual, I replied, "In case I come home by myself, as much as I hope we come together, I need to keep a part of you with me."

"If you handle the induction the way I've told you there's a good chance, we'll come home together. Early on in a crisis," Jerry explained, "we can get preferred status: I'll ask for police; with prior service, I have a shot at selection for the police—they only pick one guy from each group of nine; if you ask for armed forces, you're young and smart, you might get Support Services. We could be both home, perhaps not in a few hours, but we could come home together in a few days—Or we both get armed forces. They'll allow us to get shipped out together. We'll both avoid the bottom rung grimy Humanitarian Services, cleaning bedpans and washing patients."

"What if one goes and the other stays?" I asked.

Looking toward the gate, Jerry replied, "Then you'll see why the one good thing that came out of all this: I didn't get you pregnant."

"Not that wouldn't have enjoyed trying," I replied, coming closer.

"We did have some fun in not trying," Jerry declared.

Fun? I told Jerry in the few days before reporting that I would collect samples of his man sap, just in case I came home alone. Jerry laughed "chances are the sperm samples won't live long enough to use it. What if I come home alone?"

Topless, I was playing a little game of tease and denial with naked Jerry. Bare back to Jerry, I teased Jerry by auto -- arousal, kneading my breasts. Touching a finger to my tongue, I announced that "If you can't do it, my finger will have to do. First I'll run a wet pinky around each of my tits." I took Jerry by surprise when I rammed my butt into his pelvis. "Then, I'll ride your naked dick."

Hurried Jerry fumbled with the buttons on my blue jeans like an inexperienced teenager in his first serious encounter. "Tempted?" I asked Jerry, "I'd prefer six inches of you over my own handiwork."

Sliding my dungarees and panties to the ground. A docile Jerry politely allowed me to lean on him as I stepped out of my clothes. We were now face -- to -- face. I wrapped my arms around his neck and assaulted him with my tongue. "If you love me, take me."

"Because I do, I won't," Jerry pulled away.

"Then, there's the alternative," I mocked Jerry by pointing to the sperm collection cups on the table. With a sigh, Jerry looked at it sadly.

Though disappointed that the tender trap hadn't born fruit, I still wanted to get pregnant if I was lucky enough to be sent home. My fingers combed through the wiry mesh of my newly trimmed pubic hair. With a grunt, I called to Jerry' attention that I had "bobbed my pussy hairs to your specifications. I don't understand why cropping your bush makes you less girly, and more acceptable to the armed services."

I picked up my underwear and tossed my panties to Jerry. "Usually, when you act the man, these things end up in my mouth. Sniff it," I ordered, "It works for me. Maybe it's a powerful aphrodisiac of some kind. Patent it. Maybe we can make some money off it."

Totally erect, stimulated beyond the power of speech, Jerry, with a red burnish spreading across his face and neck, furiously squished his piston. I squatted in front of Jerry. "Watch me," I told him, "cum without you by some finger play with my clit and lower lips."

Beyond, the point of no -- return, Jerry was boiling over. The crimson flourish had spread across his lightly haired chest downward. "I had hoped you could hold off so we could come together," I wished.

Retrieving the collection vial, I ripped off the cellophane wrapper. I'm going to hold the the cup under the tip of your swollen cock so that your man -- sap is preserved.

"And," Jerry asked, "if I get appointed to the Police Department and come home alone."

"Then," I roared, "use your juice to lube your girl's ass. You may fuck but I don't need to come home to bastards in my house." I surprised myself with the fury of my retort.

Jerry fell into a reflective moment, ready to boil up in one of his ditties

"To love and to laugh

His blood boiling, burgeoning staff

Awaiting wanton wench

To love and to laugh but not touch

Feverish flames unquenched

That's tough."

In front of the entrance way. Jerry and I fell silent. After a moment of pensive reflection, Jerry observed, added, "Just as good. You're not pregnant. The induction service would dump you retching and heaving from pregnancy into the gut -- churning work of the lowest form of National Service, the Humanitarian Service, cheap help in the hospitals and nursing homes and worked like a slave as the overpaid illegals sit on their asses doing nothing." Pausing Jerry looked up at the door. "I told you we'd be separated at the door."

Nodding, I reminded him. "We only have a few more minutes. It's hard to believe ... all the years together..."

Jerry burst into one of his ditties:

"Memories of the past enchanting,

Concerns of the present supplanting,

Visions of a future romancing."

It was only the unexpected upbeat ending that steadied me to face the portal ahead. "it's like a magic passageway; on that side different rules pertain. You remember what . The only door in the building, our destination was a simple glass door in the left corner of the building. Next to it was a grimy pitted and streaked plexiglass store window, adding to the oppression of gloom of the grey clouds hanging low over the trees behind the forbidding building ahead.

A quick glance at the entrance brought us both a quick chuckle. The same thought came to our minds at the same time. The elliptical shape of the vertical furrows in the concrete around the door with the decorative dot in the wall above the door gave the appearance of a woman's vagina. "It's possible, we've been together long enough that we don't need the words to come from our mouths." I looked up at the door. The doors were open; people were being admitted. "Jerry," I softly advised him, "It's almost time," I said softly.

With a wistful smile, Jerry broke into a variation of one of his favorite ditties.

"Cherish the past

That's done

Embrace the present

At rising sun,

Joys of the future

Yet to come."