Tricia's Army Sergeant: A Story of Passion & Awakening in Mid-Life (5 page)

He was watching her now. He stayed hard and
wiggled his cock around inside her and tapped on her clit.

"John, God, please."

She couldn't move to help herself. It was all
up to him. The pressure of his size and his fingers working her
over, brought her to a fantastic peak. He watched her orgasm in the
mirror; she maintained eye contact for a long as she could, before
tightly squeezing her eyes shut during the last clenches. She
gripped the edge of the sink and tried to tip her ass up to make it
last longer.

John dropped her down and put his cock away.
He didn't help her with her clothes.

"So you know, that's
having
sex
," John grinned.

***

"Tricia, I've got to go to Kabul for a couple
of months."

He said this very casually, like it was no
big deal. Tricia was standing by the stove and John was sitting at
the kitchen table, waiting for her to bring his dinner. She dropped
his plate full of food. The dish shattered on the floor. John
jumped to help her. Tricia just stood there as he cleaned.

"Hey, are you all right?"

He could see she was agitated.

"No, I'm not all right. Why do you have to go
to Afghanistan? I thought you weren't in that kind of job
anymore."

"Well, they want me to set up an office and
conduct some training. It won't take more than two months.

John was a hand-to-hand combat expert among
other things. He was being brought in to help set up and train a
Special Forces unit within the Afghan Army.

"Well, I don't want you to go."

He laughed.

"Yeah well, I don't want to go either Tricia,
but it's my job."

"No, I mean it John. I really don't want you
to go. Please get out of it," she begged.

Then she started to cry.

"Oh, honey, don't cry. I won't be gone
long."

He took her in his arms and pressed her head
to his chest.

"John, I can't go through this again. You
can't go to Afghanistan."

A light bulb went on for John. Tricia was
afraid for his life, not just unhappy about being apart.

"Tricia…honey…I won't even be leaving the
base. I just train some guys and tell them how to organize
themselves. I'm nowhere near danger."

She burst out crying. She felt sick to her
stomach. John was going to Afghanistan, a place of death. She
couldn’t take it. Mark hobbled into the kitchen on his crutches. He
saw his mother crying and a broken dish on the floor.

"What's going on?"

"I'm going to Afghanistan and your mother is
upset."

Tricia pulled away from John.

"No, you are
not
going. You're not
going. That's my final word on the subject."

Mark watched silently. John looked at him;
Mark shook his head.

"Tricia, I have to go. You know I can't get
out of it."

"Well, you're going to have to get out of it
if you want to stay with me."

John stopped in his tracks. Mark raised his
eyebrows. Tricia went to get a mop.

"Wait a minute. What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that if you go to Afghanistan,
we're finished."

"What?"

"I can't do it again. I went through this
once already. I can't wait here while you go off to die. If you're
going to go, then we might as well just end it now."

John got very red in the face; he was
furious. She was beyond unreasonable. He understood her fears, as
well anyone. But he didn't understand why she was breaking up with
him. It didn't make any sense. Mark turned and left the room at
this. He listened to the rest from the living room.

"Tricia, you're being ridiculous. I'm setting
up an office," he raised his voice.

"Oh, I'm being ridiculous, am I? You think
I'm stupid, that I don't know the risks over there? No, if you go,
we're through," she yelled back.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because, I …I don't want to lose you."

"So you're breaking up with me because you
don't want to lose me. Brilliant fucking logic."

She fumed. There was no way she would back
down. John took a deep breath, to calm down. He couldn't figure out
how this had gone so badly. He moved towards her with his arms
out.

"Tricia, I'm leaving in two days. Please
don't do this."

Two days! Tricia was livid. Did he think he
was going on a business trip? She looked him straight in the
eye.

"Get out, John. Get out now! I don't want to
see you anymore."

He dropped his arms and just stood there. He
looked into her eyes for some help, some clue as to what he should
do. He saw nothing but anger. He wouldn't be able to get through to
her. He turned and walked out of the kitchen, out of the house.

Two days later he deployed to Kabul.

Chapter 8

John was gone about six weeks when he asked
his son Patrick to pick up his things from Tricia's house. He had
hoped she would calm down. He prayed she would call or write him,
and that being apart would bring some clarity and logic to the
situation. Or even that she would miss him. But she never contacted
him.

Patrick called ahead and spoke with Tricia.
Mark was still home with his broken leg so he went during the day,
rather than face Tricia. He knew his Dad was pretty upset, he
figured Tricia was probably the same.

"Hey Mark. I'm here to pick up my Dad's
stuff."

"Yeah, OK, come on in. I'll get it."

Mark crutched down the hall to the
office/guest bedroom. His Mom had put the stuff in a bag in there
somewhere. He looked around. He saw a big envelope on top of the
desk addressed to John in Kabul. Without really thinking about it,
he opened the envelope. He didn't think it was part of John's
things, but he wasn't sure.

What he pulled out of the envelope shocked
the shit out of him.

"I'm going to fucking kill him!" he
roared.

Patrick came down the hall to see what Mark
was yelling about. He was not prepared for what he saw when he
looked over Mark's shoulder.
Holy Shit.

Mark was staring at a picture of his mom,
naked and spread open for the camera. Her pussy was bare and
glistening. She was pulling her lips apart. She had the sweetest
shy expression on her face, her hair messy like she just woke up.
Damn.
Patrick tried to compose himself.

Mark slammed the pictures face down on the
desk.

"What did that fucking bastard do?"

"Hey man, my father would never take pictures
like that. No way."

"Really?! Well what the fuck are these?"

"Look at them again, Mark. She took these
herself."

Mark picked up a picture. Patrick reached
over and picked up a different one. In this one, Tricia had both
her breasts in her hands, holding them up to the camera, smiling
prettily, with her head tilted to the side. She was seated on the
bed with her legs slightly apart; her pussy was completely bare, no
hair anywhere. She was spectacular.

"Look man, see the camera. She's posing in a
mirror."

"Stop looking, man. That's my Mom you're
drooling over."

Mark's voice was edged with despair. He threw
the picture in his hand to the floor.

"Yeah, well, she's beautiful. You shouldn't
feel embarrassed. You should feel proud you have such an attractive
mom. You know, she takes care of herself."

Patrick tried his best to console his friend.
It was tough. He did not want to get a hard-on for his friend's
mother, his Dad's girlfriend, but the pictures were
extraordinary.

"What the fuck do you know? It's not that
great. I have been fending off men since I was ten. Every fucking
asshole that sees her has to try. I mean everyone. My gym teacher,
our minister, even some of my Dad's fucking friends. Can you
believe that? I was always hanging around, cause I could tell by
the way they looked at her. I fucked it up for them every time.
She's so nice to everyone. She doesn't know they just want to get
in her pants."

While Mark was talking, Patrick picked up the
last picture. His knees buckled as he gazed on Tricia, with her ass
to the mirror, looking back over her shoulder innocently, her
pussy, pink and pretty as could be. He put the picture down.
Patrick knew there was going to be trouble over this.

"Don't get all worked up, man. This is not
our business. OK? They're adults."

"I'm going to fucking kill someone. This shit
has to stop."

***

"Dad?"

"Yeah, Patrick what is it?"

"I picked up your stuff today. But, Dad,
there's a problem. A big problem."

"What is it?"

Patrick hesitated.

"What, Patrick?"

"While I was there, Mark found some pictures
of Tricia. I think she was planning to send them to you. Dad,
um…she was…uhh…naked in the pictures. And, Goddamn, Dad, she's
beautiful. Oh my god, you will not believe these pictures."

John was stunned. He wasn't sure he heard his
son correctly.

"Wait, Patrick, say that again?"

"Dad, Mark found some pictures of his Mom
without any clothes on, in an envelope addressed to you. He was
fucking pissed. He was ready to kill. I know he's gonna confront
her. At first, he thought you took the pics. He's mad as hell."

"What do you mean confront her?"

"He's pretty pissed at her, too. I pointed
out that she obviously took the pictures herself. I know he's going
to ask her about them and you."

"You idiot, you should have kept your mouth
shut and let him think it was me."

"Sorry, Dad, I didn't think."

"Shit, I better call her."

It wasn't exactly the reconciliation he'd
hoped for. They hadn't had any contact since he left.

"Yeah, you better do something or Mark is
going to make sure she never sees you again. No lie, Dad."

"All right. Thanks, Son. I'll let you know
what I do."

"Bye, Dad. Good luck."

John called Tricia as soon as he hung up with
Patrick.

"Tricia, hi it's John."

"Hi John."

Mark was yelling in the background. He was so
loud John could hear every word.

"Tell him I'm going to fucking kill him if he
comes near you again. Do you hear me John?"

"Stop it Mark," she yelled.

"Tricia, are you OK? What's going on?"

"I'm fine, just in the middle of something
here. I'll call you back…"

Mark grabbed her phone.

"No, she won't."

The line went dead.

Chapter 9

John's composure started to unravel. What was
he supposed to do to help her way over here? He could send Patrick
back over to her house but there was no guarantee he could help
this situation. Patrick could physically protect her but that
wasn't the issue.

Mark was going to carpet bomb their
relationship. He was going to make her feel ashamed about the
pictures and she would likely never come back to him. And she
probably would become even more repressed as a result. God Damn it.
He had to get back to her ASAP.

He had two weeks left in his assignment. He
decided to bug out. He wasn't going to lose Tricia because he had
to finish training a bunch of Afghan soldiers. They could carry on
without him this time. He got on the phone and started calling in
favors and pulling rank.

Inside of two hours, he was boarding the
first aircraft to head home.

***

Tricia crossed her arms and glared at her
son. She didn't say a word, just lifted her eyebrows at him. They
were on the front lawn. She'd gone outside to talk with John, but
Mark had stumped out after her and grabbed her phone.

"Are you happy with yourself, Mark? Because I
know I couldn’t be more proud of the way you are behaving."

He handed her back her phone.

"Do you want to continue this out here?"

"I don't care."

"Well, that's obvious."

"Well, I guess you don't care either; about
me or Trina or Dad."

"That's not true."

"Like hell. What are you doing with this guy-
this low life?"

Tricia took a deep breath. What was she doing
with John? After he left, she was wrecked. She found out just how
much she missed him, needed him, loved him. She hoped he would
call, but they'd left on such bad terms. When he didn't call she
decided she needed to be bold to let him know, she wanted him no
matter what.

"Mark, honey, I care about John. He's a good
man and you know it. I know you checked him out."

It was true. Mark didn't turn up any bad
information about Sergeant Major Davis, though he tried. The worst
that could be said, was that he was divorced. But he'd raised his
son himself, with full custody because his ex-wife was not
reliable. The courts had sided with John.

He'd had a great career that started in
Somalia. He'd been injured there, but he'd distinguished himself.
He continually climbed the ladder. He was a born leader. He'd had a
few girlfriends but John was clean.

"And what about Dad? Did you just forget
him?"

"No, I haven't forgotten him."

She edged closer to her son, her twenty-one
year old, six foot six, two hundred sixty pound, vulnerable
boy.

"Did you ever even love him? What are you,
are you a slu…"

She interrupted him before he could say
something he would regret.

"I still love your Dad. I always will."

She put her hand on Mark's arm

"Then, what? 'Cause I can't understand why
you would do such a thing!"

He was choking up. He looked down at his
beautiful mother, who he worshipped. He was so full of emotion,
feeling badly about all that had happened.

"Mark, your Dad and I had an agreement,
because his work was so dangerous. He told me
everytime-
everytime
- he left us that, if he died, we should
carry on. He didn't want us to die with him. He made me promise,
Mark, that I would keep on living."