Captain Alfred's Affair

"Why do you think you're so ticklish?" he asked playfully as he looked into her eyes.

"I don't know," she replied, her hands rubbing her breasts and tweaking her hard nipples. He gave her lips a tender kiss before straddling his arms around her and hovering over. He bent his neck down, continuing to kiss her face and neck as his cock probed her aching cum demanding vulva. "Gawwd, put it in!" she shouted into his ear, abandoning the sexual patience that often let them protract love making throughout a whole day. He swiftly used his hips to place his cock at her hole, thrusting it inside so quickly as to catch her totally by surprise. He slowly withdrew, leaving just the tip, but immediately pushed it back to the hilt. Slick with her copious juices, he slid effortlessly as he hovered as best her could above her belly and kissed her mouth and neck hungrily. Her arms grasped his shoulders, trying to pull his warm naked body atop hers.

When she first started showing, he refused to lie on top of her as if his weight would force their baby out prematurely. Then, with steady assurances, he could lie on top and better please her mouth as his hips forced the cock into the slickened hole that gave them both so much pleasure.

Closing his eyes, he kissed the corners of her mouth and traveled slowly down her neck, frequently pausing to give special attention to whatever place he saw fit as one hand tenderly massaged her swollen and sensitive breasts. Her hot breath shot past his ear the lower he got as his own left misty deposits along a trail of his attentions. He bit her neck gently, not caring if he left a mark, and gyrated his hips clockwise to run his tingling head in circles from within her velvety walls. "Gawwww!" she growled, demanding all of his love as her hands moved to his lower back and squeezed the little flesh there.

"Ow!" he complained.

"I wouldn't do that if you hopped to it and stopped dicking me around!"

"I thought I was doing that before, too?" he quipped. She pulled his head to her mouth again and wrapped her legs, as best she could at least, around his thighs to force him back inside. This time she took it slower, concentrating on every millimeter of his cock's friction. Before she was pregnant, when only her fleshy build came in the way, she could see his glistening cock exit her pussy only to return eagerly back inside and do it again. Had something else other than their child's impression blocked such an erotic sight, she would have gone psychotic from deprivation.

The heat from the outside and between their lovemaking flushed them red with effort as beads of sweat, particularly from Drey, squeezed from their pores and ran down their bare bodies onto the cot or each other in a warm moist conjunction of loving passion. In their intimacy, not once did he recall how many other mouths had kissed those same sweet lips or how many other cocks came inside her all too willing pussy. As far as he cared to think, she was only his. And because of his country's betrayal of him, he was hers as well.

His pace quickened and kisses became more furious. Recognizing this as a sign orgasm, she also wrapped her arms around his frame and pressed him closer still as he impaled her eager hole. "Yes! Yes! Yes! Keep! Go! Ing!" she sputtered with each rapid thrust, her amply soft tits striking her doubling chin and bulging stomach. Joyfully he shot his plentiful cum against the walls of her already slick pussy. Spent, he stayed atop her for a moment before collapsing to one side. She turned to face him, dollops of seed peeking out, and caressed his sweaty body for several minutes.

"I should get back to my hut," she said softly. Hurt, Drey faced her.

"Why?"

"This is a small bed and my back starts killing me. The guards won't let us put ours together so..." she trailed off before she swiftly kissed him and sat up.

"I suppose. If it hurts that much." She kissed his fingers and placed them upon his mouth. She dressed into her skirt and blouse in no time before exiting the front door and entering the brilliantly starlit night sky and its sliver of a quarter moon. More seed spilled out and onto her inner thigh as she stepped lightly in the sand. With her hands cradling her abdomen, she smiled broadly, satisfied that she would have to wash that particular spot on her skirt yet again.

As soon as she awoke the next morning, she washed up and headed for Drey's hut to find a swarm of guards and a docked boat nearby. This boat was smaller than the monthly supply one. Concern for her lover suppressed her fear of guards and she ran in a labored shuffle to investigate—guards be damned. One looked and saw her but paid no mind before looking back inside the hut. She noticed that unlike other times, no guards stood at ready in their standard precaution. A moment later she arrived, strands of hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, and forced her way through the crowd to the inside. There stood her virile lover in full military dress before a full length mirror. He was ensconced with high polished boots, acute cuts, shoulder pads, and his medals proudly displayed.

"What's all that for?" she asked queerly both at his outfit and the out of place mirror. He turned to her and smiled joyfully.

"This is my old uniform. The guards were kind enough to bring their mirror to me since technically I'm not allowed to go in the barracks yet." He looked up at her with the mirror.

"'Technically'?" she asked still confused.

"Yes. I've been pronounced innocent. It turns out some officers felt that after such a media explosion condemning me they couldn't cut me loose without the army losing prestige. They've all been stripped of rank or killed themselves now like Captain Henry—confessing to the whole thing. I'm just technically in exile until the President rescinds his proclamation," he dug his thumbs proudly into his collar, keeping his back turned to her.

"So you'll be leaving here?" she asked dimly. He laughed of course.

"Most certainly! I intend to leave at this very moment."

"But...but...what about us? Our child?" The soldiers looked to one another and quietly stepped away from the scene but kept an ear to them. She stepped inside and sat upon the bed, her shirt tucked to accentuate her belly. He glanced at it—briefly—but looked frankly into her watering eyes as he adjusted his cuffs.

"Why I certainly can't stay here," he laughed again. "I have a career—a family."

"I'M your family!"

"No, my dear woman, you're a component to an event I no longer have to think about," he shook his head as he smiled gratefully.

"So you're not taking me with you?" she cried, tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Of course not! You're Kitty Keeler! And even if I could, I couldn't very well bring you to my home to meet Lucy and our three children. Oh it will be so wonderful to finally meet Junior now. He'll be four this year!" he said tangentially as he looked back into the mirror. "Perfect fit!"

Naturally it did not fit. Somehow Kitty maintained a higher than average weight during her stay on the island, but Drey was quite the opposite. Poor food rations, even when she shared, left his ribs showing. His thin shoulders made the uniform look like it hung from wire hangers, and the cuffs were buttoned to their smallest size. But regardless of how well it was fitted to his body, he knew it belonged there.

He walked to the door without saying goodbye, but Katie had too much composure to let him get away easily. She lunged recklessly to his knees as he grasped the opened door, and sobbed into the finely pressed pants and leather boots.

"No please! I love you! Don't go, our child!" she shouted into his clothes.

"Again, accessories to a time I don't have to think about any longer," he tried to kick her from his legs without regard for her condition. "Guards! Help get her off me!" he commanded out of annoyance. They burst inside and pried her from his knees and onto the cot where they held her down so he could leave unharassed, displaying loyalty befitting a request from any officer.

"What about our baby?" she bellowed. "Come back and take it with you at least!" she begged. Pausing at the doorway, Drey turned his neck and looked at her. The Sun was high and through her still adjusting eyes, his sharp cornered body appeared but a silhouette with only his eyes showing through the blackness. A slate gray, they looked her up and down, devoid of love, compassion, sympathy, or even pity. He wordlessly exited the hut with his Lucy correspondence already safe on the boat and the guards following behind him; such a punishment was exactly as a traitor like she deserved. He heard her resonant bawling through the hut's stucco frame and across the water until the deafening boat engine kicked in and streaked the vessel across the placid ocean and to military base in American Samoa.

A day later he was in the arms of his wife. The years had been kind to her and she looked as beautiful as the day he was sentenced. His daughters, one now a young woman, ignored social norms and leapt into his open armed embrace while Junior, probably told this was the father whom he never met, stood hand in hand with the composed Lucy and looked at this old man as a curiosity rather than a dad; Drey knew all the child needed was time. The now apologetic press took picture after picture and promised favorable stories (as if there was any reasonable way spin this tale negatively) as payback for their libel. His rank was restored and all was well once again with the world.

Only twice in the long and prosperous remainder of Drey F.S. Alfred's life did he remember his time on the Isle of Hades as anything more than intangible, a period worth forgetting. The two occasions were when he socially joked that it was a stroke of luck he was sent to the island rather than the North Alaskan gulags. Never once did he tell his wife about Kitty Keeler or their child nor did he bother to remember it himself.

Before his flight home, as the island faded into the horizon behind him, a guard handed him a letter. It was written by the President himself—the former one's Secretary of State—and it assured him the child nor Keeler, in non-specific words of course, would ever be allowed out. He understood and smiled pleasantly as he folded the letter into quarters, ripped it into several pieces, and threw them into the ocean for safekeeping. At that moment he never felt prouder to be an American.

Alfred, Drey F.S.

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