Remembrance on the Runway

Friday! It meant 1400 dismissal from duty. Now I could pick up my wife, Sandy, for grocery shopping. She knows I love seeing her in short shorts, and first thing when I saw her, I let my eyes run up and down those long legs. I have always looked forward to getting married and doing family things like this: going to the commissary after payday with my wife, then heading home for time together. (Right now, we have no kids, so family time for us is BMT—baby-making time!) I definitely don’t want my beautiful wife to be a stumbling block to other airmen, but a large part of me loves how beautiful she looks, and the way she dresses shows that off. I know she’s mine alone to hold. Going up and down the aisles with her this afternoon served as early foreplay for me, watching the way light reflected off the polished floor and onto her toned legs.

We raced each other to get all the groceries into the house, and then the bags thudded onto the table as my lips met her giggling smile. Soon, my hands grasped both her buttocks. When she turned her back to me to put away the cold items, I ran my fingers under her stomach and navel.

Sandy bent over and wiggled her hips as if waving a denim flag before the eyes of her bull. I rubbed my crotch on her bum, and the blood began to collect and extend my member, pressing it against her. As soon as the freezer door closed, I whisked her up in my arms and felt her cold-stiffened nipples poking through her shirt against my chest. Her teeth lightly clenched my lip until I buried my face in her neckline.

…Blur…

I was inside her, moving in and out slowly from behind. The bull had ripped off the shorts, and they now dangled on the end of the bed. I felt her rhythmic clasp on me as she gasped, begging me for more. I pumped slow and hard…

Two years later, Joe read through his journal entries, trying to process his thoughts. He and Sandy had been apart for three months now. They’d had another fight, but he struggled to remember what it was even about, only remembering her laugh, her smile… her passion. Even though they’d get on each other’s nerves now and again, they always found a way back to each other. This time, though, Joe had been about to board a plane for a temporary duty assignment in Japan. The last image he had of Sandy was at the terminal, watching her wipe her eyes as she walked away. The more they spoke anymore, the more they argued, it seemed. Joe prayed constantly for his marriage; he loved his wife. And he knew she was praying, too.

That evening, Joe walked to the dining facility with an airman who worked under him. As they ate at an outdoor table, Joe’s thoughts drifted off to his wife again.

“Hey, Sgt. Turner, wake up, man!”

Joe raised his eyes from his burger. He tried not to look at the clouds because they reminded him of Sandy’s eyes.

“You guys still arguing?”

“Yeah, she really wants us to have a baby. This tour didn’t have exactly the best timing. Now, she’s worried that military life may not be for her if it whisks me away all the time.”

“She knew that before you got married, right?”

“Yeah, but you’ll learn, Thompson. Sometimes it’s best not to be ‘rational.’ You hafta listen to her feelings.”

“Apparently,” Thompson said, rubbing his cheek, “you’re still learnin’ that!”

“Yep! And you’re ’bout to learn how to do fifty pushups, son!”

Thankfully, Joe’s team didn’t need to stay deployed as long as initially planned. Joe called and told Sandy the good news, then decided to write her another email. He didn’t always say things the way he wanted, so they agreed he should try writing instead. She loved reading his thoughts, she’d told him.

Joe and his team boarded early, so Joe nervously tapped on his keyboard while the plane idled on the taxiway. He glanced up at the clouds, then thought back to his first date with Sandy. In the email, he reminisced about how she had taken his ice cream and made him kiss her to get it back. Then Joe remembered their first real kiss after dating for three weeks and how her hips had seemed to fit his hands just right. Next, their wedding day came to mind, a small ceremony on the beach. He had proposed with a heart in the sand, and they exchanged vows at that very spot.

From that day forward, he wrote, warm ocean waves lapping at my feet remind me of the warm mixture of our juices as you rode up and down on my shaft that night. I just held on for the ride and marveled at the sway and bounce of your breasts. We hadn’t learned each other’s rhythm yet; it was awkward but blissful. I felt your sweat and goosebumps, sensed your vulnerability and your wetness. The smell of salty musk dispersed through the warm air as you leaned forward to kiss my chest. I loved the way your breasts felt, smushed against me. 

Then, I sat up on my knees, and you got on all fours. I held your hips, marveling at their roundness and the curly wet thatch peeking between your thighs. When I smacked your bottom, I remember how you gasped. I pressed into you slowly, then started using a little more force. My sack began to mesh with your folds as we rocked. When I grasped your breast and lightly pulled you to me, I heard you let out the most passionate cry.

After I brought you off that way, I lay back down. You mounted me, facing away. Remember how I ran my hands down your back and wrapped them around your sides, holding you up a few inches so I could thrust up into you? Then you settled down on me and ground your hips. I wove my fingers into your hair and tugged, and you moaned so deep. You felt warm and sticky around me; I loved the sound and feel of your bum crashing into me as you kept riding. Your fingers working your clit would bump into my balls as my hips rose to meet yours.

I remember how you kinda collapsed forward as you came and that I guided you down and over onto the bed. We kissed as I pressed my body atop yours, then entered you in a rush. I picked up speed, and you tried to match my thrusts, both of us moaning as you struggled to wrap your legs around me.

I felt—always feel—this need to be within you, an undeniable urge to ram myself deep. It’s as if I could make us one body if I tried hard enough. Your feet bounced against my sides as I pounded into you. Then I got to my knees and pressed your bent legs toward you so I could go even deeper, and you squealed and dug your nails into my biceps, holding on for dear life.

Finally, I arched backward as what felt like my very essence flowed into you, accompanied by a groan from the depths of my soul. One more thrust and grunt. Then one more… and slowly, I let my body rest lightly on your voluptuous breasts. We lay gasping for breath. I can practically feel it now, how your fingers trailed up and down my back as I just enjoyed the wetness between us.

When I rolled off you and onto the bed, you crawled over me and poised there on all fours until I snatched you down to my chest. How your eyes sparkled at me as we laughed breathlessly! But then we stilled, and your lips touched mine in a slow, lingering kiss. Then you nestled down against my shoulder. I kissed everywhere I could reach: your shoulder… cheek… eyelid… then one last gentle kiss on your forehead. That’s the last thing I remember before I woke up to your sleepy smile the next morning.

After typing “Love, Joe” and hitting send, he slammed the laptop shut and stowed it for takeoff. He wanted to feel Sandy curled against his side again, his “missing rib” causing an ache under his heart. He checked his phone one last time, wondering if she’d texted after their phone conversation earlier. Nothing. He set the device to airplane mode and closed his eyes; he wouldn’t know she responded until the plane touched ground again in ten hours.