Welcome Home Soldier - Homecumming

Please note: this story has a religious reference to nuns. I'm a pantser, and that's how it came out, and I decided to keep that element in the story - I have no intentions to be offensive to anyone or any particular group.

I enjoy writing these stories and appreciate all the feedback people are giving me (the good and the bad).

This one turned out bigger than I expected, but it was fun to write. I wish you a good read.

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The summer skies followed Carl on his way back home. He rested his head on the window and let the train lull him into a shallow sleep, where the images of his mother and sister filled him with joy. It was too long now since the last time they were together, and coming back home was a promise he held dear.

"I promise you, Cindy, I'm too tough to die out there."

Cindy and her mesmerizing eyes. She was nineteen the last time he saw her, his twin sister, yet he never forgot how she sent him letters like in old times, with polaroids of her and mother, in a summer dress. In the darkness of the barracks, her breasts kept him company in the absence of someone in flesh and bone.

"Pinky promise? I'll kill you myself if something happens to you!"

He laughed at her remark, and then his chest crushed into hers, an embrace so strong that made him cry from happiness for having her. Then, like cutting the umbilical cord, he had to let go.

"Carl, can I have one last kiss?"

Mother. Her voice soothed him so many times when there was nothing else but dust and mud, and when he was the most desperate, it was her pictures Carl held against his beating heart.

A man could only stand so much. It helped to be with a group, the togetherness made him forget where he came from, and Carl could only look forward, but in the desolation of the desert night, if he gave way into his thoughts, he'd be lost.

But Cindy and mother were there for Carl every step of the way, no matter what he tried to hide from his past.

Carl let his bags hit the floor and opened his arms wide, and Cindy came rushing in. They were waiting by the train station, and as he embraced his sister, he saw his mother drying her tears in a tissue. How he missed their scent of freshly washed clothes with hints of citrus, and her dress was so soft against his dusty uniform.

"You made it in one piece!" she whispered, grabbing onto him with all her strength.

Damn. What a fine woman she became. He rested his head on her shoulder, caressing her back as he thought so many times, but now it was real. They took a look at each other, holding on to their arms, and he almost cried with the happiness of finally being home.

"I promised, didn't I?"

"Carl!"

Mother. A summer dress that went down to her knees, the way she loved them when he was younger, filled with colorful accents. Carl recalled the first time he saw her bending over the fence, speaking to her neighbor, and her panties kept flashing. A memory so embedded in his brain that it made him hard alone in the night.

She placed her hands around his neck, the height difference being obvious, and tip-toeing, she kissed him on the cheek, and he pulled her to him, just like he did with his sister.

The scent of lavender from the softener was ingrained in his brain, and he was taken back years ago when he discovered her panties lying in her bed while she showered. He took them, and before he could understand what he was doing, he was lost in her scent.

"I missed you so much, my love," she said, squeezing the embrace. "Why did you have to go?"

"I'm back now, mother." She knew why, but that wasn't important at all.

It was a short distance to his house, and things seemed unchanged. But it was only when he looked more carefully that he noticed the subtle differences: there was no longer a tree in the corner, and Sparky didn't come around barking in excitement.

He couldn't stop staring at the backs of his sister and mother and how lucky he was to be here, and to return to their lives, to become the man of the house one more time.

She parked the car and offered to help him with his bags, but he politely declined.

"No need for that, mom, look how big he is. No longer skinny Carl!"

He let his dimples show on the sides of his face, picking up his bags and making it seem effortless. The summer breeze played with their dresses and left little to his imagination. Cindy seemed to have grown a couple of sizes in her breasts alone.

"No more skinny Carl, that's for sure. I eat for a battalion now."

Mother grabbed his hand and kissed him back on the cheek. "You will have plenty of food, trust me. I missed cooking for you. But there's something I didn't tell you yet. Please, promise me you won't get mad."

How could Carl be mad at her? He loved her to death; the years of dedication on her part were more than enough to forgive anything she might have done. Her hand was cold against his, and he squeezed it softly, letting her know how much love he had for her.

"When your father left, things were tight, you know?" she started by saying, playing with a lock of hair, not looking straight at her son.

Carl knew. Cindy had told him in a letter. Father left, things went to shit, and they were about to lose the house when they thought of renting the room where Carl used to be. He was fine with that but never had a chance to bring it up with his mother, being too busy to masturbate to her picture in a bikini suit near a big lake.

"Mother, it's okay. Cindy told me."

"She did?"

He nodded. Cindy came to join them, and Carl dropped his bags again and embraced the two women at once, "it's all good, mother. I have what I wanted, to be here with you. I'll sleep on the couch."

"Don't be silly, we still have my old bed; I put it in my room."

"I'm so sorry," mother said, letting tears run down her face, but Carl held her closer, whispering that it was all good for him.

"You did what you had to do. I'm sorry I wasn't here, but I'm back now, and things will be better. I promise."

And he sighed as Cindy buried her face in his chest, "Pinky promise?" she muttered very slowly, and he patted her head, kissing her, "I promise," he said, replying back to her, noticing how strong the urge to be with them was.

The living room was different, the TV had been replaced, and the couches remained. Yet there was the same scent as he entered, something that took him back three years ago, and damn, he fought hard to be back. Fingers trembling, hands shaking, a sudden shiver running down his back and then up to his brain, and a cold presence of despair. But Cindy grabbed his hand, and that feeling evaporated. She was smiling at him and leaned her head on his shoulder - "come, let's check the bedroom."

He was dragged by his little sister, his twin, and sometimes she read his mind. She read he needed help to leave that awful place and return home, and her hand was the anchor he needed.

"I don't want to stay in your pink bedroom," he teased, remembering when he peeked through the open door a few weeks after their eighteenth birthday and found her rubbing her clit over her panties, her cheeks red, her mouth moaning softly.

"It's not pink anymore, don't be daft."

Daft.

Where did she get that from?

It was still primarily pink. But now he could tell this was the bedroom of a woman and not a girl anymore. The posters on the wall were replaced by emptiness, and the curtains were a different shade of pink. She had a bra lying around, and Carl's mind traveled to how strong it had to be to support her beautiful breasts.

He noticed a couple of leaflets in the corner of her desk with what seemed to be an old building on the cover. Still, his attention was soon drawn to a pair of panties lying on the floor, which he picked up, looking mesmerized by the delicate patterns and soft fabric.

"Don't be a perv, give me that," she said, but he lifted his arm high up, making her jump for it.

He was having fun, not on the act itself, but from seeing those large breasts jumping up and down against his uniform.

"If I'm sharing the room with you, you can't leave your panties lying around, or else I'll do the same."

"Oh, I forgot how stupid you were," she said with dark red cheeks and a panting chest. "Stop looking at my breasts."

He realized he was not looking but staring. "Shit, sorry," and Carl gave her the panties back. Inside his thick trousers, his cock was trying to escape, making his blood divert from his brain.

"I don't mind if you leave your things lying around, but I doubt a soldier would do such a thing. You were always so disciplined."

Carl controlled his body from devouring his sister. She never looked this tempting before, in her delicate summer dress, in her trainers, and he knew she was wearing some nasty panties, she must be. The ones he picked up were too modest. He bet she used those red lace panties that he kept dreaming about, wet with her horniness. Carl gives his crotch a good scratch in the hopes Cindy would take a peak, but she resisted.

She showed him his bed in the opposite corner of the bedroom. The room was spacious enough for the two beds, hers being the biggest. He remembered this bed, it was where Cindy was masturbating with the door open.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Nothing. Just happy to be home, you know? Missed you girls so fucking much."

"Never met that side of you. Skinny Carl was tough, but you came back to melt my heart."

What was that supposed to mean?

"Why don't you have a shower and change? You smell like ass."

He sat in his bed opposite his sister and methodically unlaced his boots, relieving his large feet from them. How was it three long years? He could have come home but stayed deployed far away. His father's words were damaging, and his mother said, "it's best to stay there a little while."

Words that hurt him. He knew it was not his mother's fault, and somehow he felt like a coward, going away but leaving her there with him. It was never physical but an emotional manipulation he fought hard to overcome.

"Why are you smiling?" he asked Cindy, in the bed opposite, her legs crossed and her dress coming above her knees.

"It's good to have you back. I was thinking maybe if you don't fit in that bed, we can swap."

He removed his boots and then his top, leaving only his white undergarments, yellowish with the sweat that had dried up. He looked at Cindy, noticing how she was pressing her legs together, and her eyes kept staring at his naked arms.

"I'm good, I can sleep anywhere, sis. Do you know where my stuff is? I need some new clothes, probably." He looked into his backpack and took out the change of clothes he had spare. "This will do for now."

He bent over the bed to organize his things. A small mirror was on the bedside table, and he looked straight into it, watching his sister in the background. His mind was playing tricks with him, he told himself, as Carl could see Cindy's hand pressing on her dressing, as if like she was trying to put out a fire too strong to be quenched.

"What have you been up to, Cindy? You were rather silent this last year."

She cleared her throat, and he looked back, noticing how red her cheeks were.

"Nothing much, just trying to discover myself."

"That's deep," he laughed. "I thought you were like me, nothing in the brain box."

"That's just you."

She stuck her tongue out, making a face. He missed her and missed how easily they understood each other.

"What about you, big brother? You had enough of army life?"

He stared back at her, standing tall, stretching his arms. Cindy kept her eyes on his hairy armpits and hairy chest. "Army is my life, but yeah, I had plenty of it. Fuck, I stink, don't I? It's only when you get to a girl's room like this that I can tell I should probably shower more often."

"Yuck. Can't believe you just said that."

He took off his top, folding it neatly, and placing it on the bed, remaining shirtless. He could tell from the look on her face that the attraction was there. Cindy, his sister, was just like any other woman he met, unable to stay away.

"Right, this is me off to the shower. I don't want to upset your fragile nose." And he grabbed her by the hips, spinning her around the room, like in the old days, watching her breasts trembling and giggling. That was all natural, goddam, how did she get that big?

"Put me down, you brute," she said laughing, and both ended up on her bed, panting, a bulge in his army pants, wetness in her modest panties. She was too afraid to move on, and Carl was too respectful. She was his sister, after all.

He took longer in the shower than he could remember. His hard cock never went down, but he decided to refrain from masturbation. What he wanted was to be balls deep in someone's pussy, unloading god knows how many weeks of cum.

He used his sister's shower gel and his mother's shampoo and made a mental note that he needed to buy clothes. All the things he left at home weren't fitting him anymore.

Carl picked up a towel, barely dried himself off, but put it around his waist, and walked barefoot to the bedroom. Cindy was downstairs with mom, and he closed the door, placing the towel over his shoulder.

Fuck, he couldn't believe he was back here. His room was just next door, but now someone else was living in it. It was okay, he told himself, like he did back then, but now he could get a job and help his mother out. There were plenty of things he was good at, and for a man of his size, nothing was a problem.

He inspected the things his sister had on the shelves, smiling at the titles of some of the books, the love stories, and romances. He couldn't help but open the underwear drawer, but she didn't have any of the sexy underwear he thought she would. Maybe it was in a hidden place, together with her dildos - his friends in the army told him all about how depraved women were.

Carl didn't know much about that. He knew they craved cock as much as a guy craves pussy, that was for sure, because he had no trouble climbing to the female dorms or to fuck a random woman just to get his balls empty.

Nonetheless, he had plenty of self-control - no matter how horny he was, he never lost sight of a situation.

Nothing screamed sex in her room, now that he thinks about it. He returned to his backpack, took off the clean pair of underwear, some shorts, and a tank top, and lay them on the bed. He noticed the leaflets on the desk again and picked one up.

The image on the cover was that of a convent, that was sure and confirmed by the title. He laughed, thinking, what the fuck, with a semi-hard cock resting on the wooden surface. He opened up the flyer, and an image of nuns showed up, and for whatever reason, his cock went to full mast in mere seconds.

"Calm yourself down, boy," he told his cock, reading through the flyer and noticing the handwritten notes. That was Cindy's handwriting.

"The fuck is this?" he asked himself, with his cock leaking some precum over the desk, gluing the pages of the other flyer together. "Cindy, a nun? No way!"

He sat back on his bed, his cock still up and hard, and wondered if that could be true. He put the flyer back, got dressed, and waited for his cock to calm down before heading downstairs. She never said a word about it.

Mom was wearing an apron on top of her dress, and Cindy had changed to a crop top and shorts. He looked at her, thinking if it could be true that she was becoming a nun soon.

She was probably just playing games with his mind, as she liked to do. He knew her better than that. But, if she didn't say a word, he was not going to be the one bringing it up. His eyes followed their asses as they danced around the kitchen, placing the food on the table. "Anything to drink?"

He woke up from his trance, mesmerized by the sensual curves of his mother. "Just water is fine." Carl never drank a drop of alcohol in his life.

The food was good, but the company was even better. He indeed enjoyed the cleavage of his mother's dress and complimented how well both of them looked. After lunch, he picked up the car and went to the shopping mall to buy new clothes. His finger hovered over the dating app button. The mall was an easy target. He could meet someone and get his balls drained.

But he was on a mission and decided to buy a few new clothes, but he didn't resist stopping at the lingerie shop. He asked for help from an assistant, probably in her forties, and explained to her he wanted to surprise his girlfriend and explained her body was similar to one of the girls in the shop, just to get the sizes right.

Carl didn't lack self-control - he just made a decision and stuck with it.

"Anything else you might be interested in? A sexy silk nightgown?"

The woman was attractive. Carl saw the redness in her cheeks, and how her hand and fingers brushed on his bare arms. He was interested in that silk gown - this wasn't such a small town that everyone knew each other, so he risked it: "you know, my father is looking for something to give my mother for her birthday, and that might be just the thing. She's very similar to you."

And the lady smiled, picked up a size, and asked if that was all?

Carl wanted to ask for the lady to try it on, so he could see how well it would fit his mother, but there were walls around this request he didn't feel capable of climbing over. So instead, he asked for two nightgowns and offered one to the lady. "I bet it will look perfect on you, Natasha." But she declined, as politely as she could - not that she wanted to decline, but she'd be in a terrible situation if she accepted gifts from clients.

He left the store feeling stupid. The desire for his mother took one step too far, and he thought he had control, but clearly, there was something wrong if he wanted to imagine what his mother looked like in that dress. He hid the bags in the trunk and went to see a few friends during the day.

Mother opened a bottle of wine at dinner and poured generously for her and Cindy. Carl was happy with his soda.

"I want to make a toast," she said, her necklace reflecting the lamp light, "to you, Carl. I missed you so much, and it's never too late to say sorry."

Carl stood up, raised his glass at hers, "you never say sorry to me, understood? There's nothing to apologize for, mom."

And Cindy joined in, toasting, and drank a sip of her glass. Carl used his thumb to clean the corner of her lip, making her blush.

They didn't talk about any future plans. Carl was thankful for that because, at this moment in time, he had none. Only to be near them and to protect the most precious things in his life. He didn't want to know how dad was doing, he couldn't care less or who was renting the room upstairs. For him, it was all the same.

As long as he was staying with his sister and his mother, it was all good.

His leg brushed against mother's, and she let hers stay there. The food was good, and she was smiling, drinking another glass of wine. Carl never had a problem with that, but it reminded him of his father being nasty to them after getting drunk, and he decided never to become that man.

His colleagues used to drink whenever they had a chance to relief the tension, but Carl knew he could achieve the same thing if only he thought about the women he left back at home.

"It must be lonely over there, no?" Cindy asked, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.

Cold hands in the summertime. "I had plenty of guys like me keeping me company. It gets lonely at night, but you're so tired that you can't think. But I say this without flinching: if I had to choose, I'd choose you over them, one thousand times over, Cindy."

She blushed the way he expected her to. And he squeezed her hand, inhaling her soft fragrance. "Why did you change from your crop top? It suited you so well." Cindy was now wearing jeans and a shirt, in Carls's opinion, too clothed.