My Journey Ch. 10

I released Tina and answered my cell.

"Hello?" I mustered through the tears.

"Tell me it's not true dad. Tell me Mark is OK" he implored.

"I'm sorry John, the Marines just left. I'm afraid Mark was killed in action" I croaked. "He's gone."

"GOD DAMN IT! FUCKING SONS OF FUCKING BITCH! MOTHERFUCKERS!" he screamed in anger and frustration.

We were both silent for several seconds.

"How? What happened?" he asked, his voice betraying his tears.

"We don't know for sure John, other than it was as a result of enemy fire. Hopefully we find out more in a couple of days" I answered.

"FUCK ME! GOD DAMN IT DAD! THIS ISN'T HOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO GO!"

"I know John. We're hurting pretty bad too. Do you want to talk to your mom?"

"I can't dad. It's why I called you. I have to go and make arrangements to escort Mark home somehow. I love you dad. I'm sorry this happened. Tell everyone I love them." and he was gone.

"John sends his love" I managed to mutter.

Trish rose from her spot on the bed and pulled Tina and me in close. "I thought I had prepared myself for this. I was wrong. So very wrong" she sobbed. "I feel like a part of me just died. My heart hurts, and I can't imagine what the two of you are enduring."

Tina and I were speechless. We could only try to comfort each other with our hands, rubbing the other's backs and arms.

Excusing myself from our embrace. I leaned over the bed, moved the pillow covering Whitney's head, and gently kissed her forehead. "I'm so sorry baby. So sorry." I paced my hand in the middle of Ellen's back, kissing her on the forehead too. She threw her arms around me and sobbed into my shoulder.

"Take care of Whit" I instructed and headed out the bedroom door. I made my way down the stairs, across the backyard and into the clearing where I collapsed to my knees, forehead on the ground with my hands clasped behind my neck and screamed until I was hoarse.

~~~~

They say 'time heals all wounds', but I think 'heal' is too strong of a word. Time may soothe all wounds, but some wounds can't heal. It took a few days, but the overwhelming grief we felt transitioned into an aching emptiness.

Tina and I had requested, and received, leaves of absence from our jobs so we could cope with our loss. My boss told me that the owner of our firm said I could have all the time I needed, a month, six months, a year, a decade, and my job would be waiting for me. Trish had requested a leave as well but was denied as Mark was not considered a "close blood relative" of hers, so she did what any smart girl like her should do. She quit. And, based on the language she had in her employment contract, all of her intellectual property went with her. The security software she had written was her intellectual property, and all evidence of it was scrubbed from the companies computers and servers before she left.

"Perhaps you'll involve HR the next time you consider a request like mine" she politely advised her boss before walking out of the front door for the last time. Three coworkers followed her to her car, each carrying a box of her personal items.

~~~~

John somehow managed to get assigned to the team that escorted Mark's casket back to the States. The Marine Corp makes sure that the remains of their brothers are always handled with utmost care and respect when making their way to their final resting place. We chose to have Mark interred in Missouri so we could easily visit him.

The Marines arranged to have the family present on the tarmac when the aircraft arrived in St. Louis and as Mark was taken off the plane. We stood in the warm Spring breeze, bathed in the fumes of spent kerosene as passengers on the United jet watched through the Plexiglas portals. Two Marines departed the jet and walked down the steps to the tarmac. It was John and another Marine. They walked lock step to the side of the aircraft where they were joined by four more Marines.

A baggage elevator was positioned at the cargo door. Mark's casket was gently loaded onto the conveyor belt and slowly lowered to the ground as the six Marines stood at attention, perfect salutes honoring their fallen brother.

When the flag draped coffin reached the bottom of the elevator, a Marine on either side grabbed a handle and gently carried the casket until two more Marines grabbed a handle. They walked until the third pair of Marines had a handle.

With the precision of the Silent Drill Team the six Marines carried our son's body toward the waiting hearse.

As the first pair of Marines reached the rear of the spotless black Cadillac, Whitney broke from our ranks and rushed the casket. Tina stepped and reached to try and stop her, but I quickly grabbed Tina's elbow and stopped her. "She needs to grieve" I said. Tina nodded that she understood.

Whitney clung to the ornate box that contained what was left of the man she loved, wailing and sobbing continually. The Marines showed incredible class as they stood motionless, holding the weight of the casket and the weight of the pregnant widow as they waited to finish their assignment. Eventually Whitney relented and the Marines completed loading the sarcophagus into the hearse.

Whitney climbed into the back of the car with the casket. The guy that I assume was the funeral director attempted to extricate the beautiful blonde but she was having nothing of it. I strode over to the man and strongly suggested he unhand her and let her ride in back with her husband. I'm not sure if it was my beet red face or the stern looks he received from six ripped Marines, but he relented. "This is highly irregular" he advised in his effeminate little voice.

"It's even more irregular that a nineteen year old woman is left a widow and her child left fatherless. Now shut your fucking mouth, get in the car, and do your job" I commanded through clenched teeth.

Luckily there was enough jet engine noise that no one heard what I had said to the funeral director.

John climbed into the front seat of the hearse, and the other five Marines climbed into a van. We were placed back in our van and the caravan began it's mournful journey to the funeral home.

At the funeral home the process was reversed. John helped Whitney out of the back of the hearse. She hugged him tightly and thanked him, though he did not reciprocate. He couldn't, it would be a breech of protocol.

The six Marines carried the casket inside with incredible agility and precision. Once it was placed on the stainless steel cart, the honor guard saluted Mark before falling out. John stayed with us, the other five Marines were driven to a hotel.

Tina was quick to finally greet her son and wordlessly welcome him home. Somehow, John's presence helped us forget why he was even there.

Once Tina broke her embrace, John turned to Whitney who was resting her cheek on the field of stars of the flag draping her husbands coffin. He snapped a perfect Marine salute at her before managing to say, through his constricting throat "Mrs. Pratt, on behalf of the United States Marine Corp, please accept my deepest and most sincere condolences."

Whitney ran to him and threw her arms around him. This time John could respond and wrapped his arms around her as well. "I'm so sorry Whitney. I know how much you love him. He loved you just as much. You were his first thought every day and last thought every night. He adored you. He worshipped you. Remember that."

"Thank you John. I will. And thank you for escorting him back here" she replied.

John just nodded through his tears.

John and I shook hands before embracing. He whispered in my ear "Don't tell anyone else, but they won't let me go back."

We broke our embrace. Despite his brother's recent death, the expression on his face was one of disappointment. John wanted to go back to Afghanistan for more combat.

"Two weeks at Lejeune and then I'll be home for good. They're discharging me" he whispered.

"That's good news John. Why the disappointment?"

"Because all I know is being a Marine. What am I gonna do?" his voice was thick with genuine angst and concern.

"You're going to help this family recover John. That's what you're going to do."

He nodded.

Ellen and Trish in turn welcomed John home with hugs of deep hurt and abounding joy.

~~~~

I awoke the next day trying to prepare myself for what I was certain would be the most difficult day of my life. I was going to bury my son.

As I wrestled with my red paisley necktie, I looked out the window over the backyard. Trish and Tina held each other stationary in the midst of their flowers. It was so touching to see two people so deeply in love share their hurt and sadness. It was pretty clear that both were crying, trying to find the courage to face the reality of a truly awful day.

Trish, Tina, and I took my Camry for the short drive to the cemetery where we chose to place Mark. John, Ellen, and Whitney took Tina's car. It would be a very small affair per our request. Just the six of us and the Marine personnel who would conduct the solemn ceremony.

Six chairs had been placed graveside for us. We shuffled single file from our cars to the quiet knoll that was to be Mark's final resting place.

We took our place in the provided chairs. A well decorated Marine approached the podium and read Mark's obituary. The six of us tried unsuccessfully to fight back our tears.

When the reading was over, we heard in the distance "Ready... Aim... Fire"

BANG!

We jerked at the noise of the first salvo.

"Aim... Fire"

BANG!

"Aim... Fire"

BANG!

The bugler played "Taps" as the color guard removed the flag from Mark's coffin and began to fold it. I have always been impressed by the skill of those who perform this act. Every single fold was perfect. Every motion was crisp. Every face registered the solemnity of the moment as they prepared the flag for final presentation.

When the folding was done, one Marine held the triangle of fabric while another inspected it to be sure it was perfect. The inspecting Marine then took the flag, pivoted and handed it to the Marine who had read the obituary. He stepped smartly in front of Whitney and took a knee.

"On behalf of a grateful nation" he said in a drawl as he presented the flag to the very pregnant widow. He continued "I have never done this at a funeral before ma'am. I read the after action reports of the battle in which your husband was killed. I assure you that Mark's actions that day were those of a true Marine and a bona fide hero. Your husband's actions saved the lives of many, many Marines. Each one of them owe him a debt that they will never be able to repay. I only hope that in time these words will bring you solace and comfort.

"Mr. and Mrs. Pratt" he said addressing Tina and me. "You should be very proud of the men you have raised. Both of them have served their country with dignity and honor. They are the embodiment of the United States Marine Corp."

The officer shook my hand before departing.

One of the young Marines approached Whitney and also took a knee.

"Mrs. Pratt, I served with Mark in the Sandbox. There were only two things in his life that mattered to him. You, and his family. He was a gentle soul, but he was the fiercest warrior I have ever seen. Generations of American fighting men will speak of what your husband did before he died. I am a better Marine and man for knowing him. Please know that all of us share your grief. Mark will never be forgotten." He wiped the trails from his cheeks with his white gloved hand before rising, shaking my and John's hand, and departing.

Each member of the color guard approached Whitney and expressed their gratitude and sadness at the loss of such a great man.

When the Marine detail had departed, Whitney rose and rested against Mark's casket. She pressed her belly against the side of the container. "He's going to be exactly like you honey, I just know it."

We went back to the house and sat in stunned, exhausted silence until the sun began to set. Still in our mourning clothes I walked into the kitchen, grabbed a glass of bourbon and a cigar before walking to the patio door.

"Let's go sit on the deck. Mark wouldn't want us to be here like this, would he?"

The others looked at each other as they thought about what I had said.

Whitney surprised me when she was the first to speak. "No, no he wouldn't. He would want us talking about him, remembering him, and sharing funny stories. Come on, let's go" she encouraged before struggling to her feet and joining me.

The others shortly followed and soon the six of us were outside around the table. I slid my bourbon over to John and asked if anyone else wanted one. Everyone, including Whitney said "Sure!".

I returned from the kitchen with four more bourbons and a glass of apple juice for Whitney. As she took a sip of her apple juice she exclaimed "Oooo! Mark's kicking me!"

We all looked at her quizzingly.

"The baby. It's a boy and his name is Mark" she answered.

"When did you find that out?" Tina asked.

"I didn't find out. I just know it." There seemed to be a sudden calmness about her. It was the first time in many days that I had not seen her crying.

We talked late into the night about Mark. Tina and I shared stories about Mark when he was a baby. Ellen and John had stories from their school years. Whitney let us know what a hopeless romantic Mark was, sharing details of their honeymoon and the times they had alone.

It was a very cathartic experience for all of us. With so many memories of that fine young man, we realized that we would never be without Mark. Could our recovery actually be underway?

~~~~

It had been about five weeks since we buried Mark, and though the process was slow we were indeed beginning to recover. Trish, Tina, and I had not been intimate during that time. We were too focused on our emotional health and dealing with our grief that sex was the furthest thing from our minds. Oh, we slept together every night, but we simply found solace in our closeness. Sometimes the death of a child can tear a marriage apart. We were determined not to let that happen to us. We made sure that we simply loved one another through this trial. Our unusual marriage was stronger for it, because we all learned that our relationship really was based on mutual support and self sacrifice - each doing what was best for the other partners. Great sex, it turns out, was just a bonus.

I was relaxing in the pool by myself one afternoon when I heard the patio door open and saw Trish pad across the yard. She was naked and flaccid. She entered the pool via the shallow end until she was neck deep in water. "Get out of hose trunks and come hold me" she begged.

I stripped out of my trunks and joined her, wrapping my arms around her holding her close to me. She wrapped her arms around me and we held each other, cheeks pressed together, enjoying the love we shared.

Until I felt my cock start to rise, that is. I was embarrassed that I was getting hard. This was supposed to be non-sexual - comforting each other.

I was relieved when I felt her tool hardening against mine. "I guess this means we're still attracted to each other, huh?" she asked.

"I'm sorry Trish. I didn't me..."

"Shh. It's OK. Really. It's more than OK. It's just another step in getting back to normal baby."

"You're right. It is OK, and it feels really good."

Trish smiled before kissing me, probing my mouth with her tongue. We were pretty into our kiss and didn't notice Tina standing by the edge of the pool.

"I need you both. Upstairs. Right away" Tina pled, her voice dripping with desperation. She turned and scurried back to the house. Fearing some kind of emergency, Trish and I marched out of the pool hand in hand, making our way upstairs.

Once in our bedroom we found Tina naked on the bed. She was stroking her clit with the middle finger of her right hand. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't feel like this yet, but I need you. I need to feel you inside of me" she whimpered. After a long pause she sheepishly admitted "Both of you. Together."

Trish and I, both fully erect after our brief tryst in the pool and the sight of Tina on the bed, stood agape. Did we here her right? We cast questioning glances at her.

"Did I stutter?" she asked rhetorically.

"Well, no, but it sounded like you wanted... to..." I started.

"I do! I want to be DPd. I can't make it any clearer than that, can I?" She quipped.

"But, baby, we've never done that before. Are you sure?" Trish inquired.

"For some reason I can't explain, ever since we lost Mark I have had this need to have both of you inside of me at the same time. Somehow my brain thinks I need it to make us one again. I don't know. I just know I need it, and I need it now" she implored.

Trish and I joined the sexy brunette on the bed and covered her mature, shapely body with passionate kisses and caresses. We wanted to make sure Tina was completely aroused.

After a few minutes of foreplay, Tina rolled me to my back and straddled my groin. As she kissed me deeply she lowered herself onto my excited stick. She was so wet and hot, I thought for sure I'd blow my load right then and there.

"I've missed this so much Clark. You feel so good inside my pussy." She bounced up and down on my cock a couple of time before looking at Trish.

"Two holes no waiting you gorgeous, exotic creature"

Tina laid her torso down on mine, reached behind with both hands and spread her ass cheeks.

Trish grabbed a bottle of lube and prepared herself and Tina for what was to come.

Kneeling behind her wife, Trish pressed the swollen head of her perfect cock against Tina's asshole.

"Ready?" Trish asked.

"God yes. I need you inside me Trish. Please put that gorgeous cock of yours in my ass. Please!"

Trish slowly slid the length of her penis into her wife's ass until her pelvis was pressed against Tina's butt cheeks.

"Oh my God. Oh my GOD! This is incredible!" Tina began to work back and forth, sliding the two hard cocks in and out of her. Trish and I held still, letting Tina do the work and get accustomed to being so full. "FUCK! We should have done this a long time ago! OH GOD! Fuck me! Fuck me good!"

Trish and I took that as our queue. I pushed my cock up into Tina's dripping pussy as Trish pulled her cock out until only the head remained in her wife's rectum. When Trish pushed her cock in, I pulled out. With a little practice, we developed an excellent rhythm and were soon fucking Tina (based on her howling and calling out to God) through a non-stop orgasm and to within an inch of her life.

There was a great deal of pleasure for Trish and I, too. Through the thin tissue that separated Tina's pussy and rectum, I could feel Trish's cock rubbing against mine. And, with a cock in her ass, Tina's pussy seemed more snug.

After only about ten minutes of fucking I felt compelled to ask "Is anyone else close?"

"I'm with you baby" Trish answered. "Are you ready for me to cum in your ass honey?" Trish panted.

"God yes, cum in my ass Trish. Cum in my pussy Clark. You're both fucking me sooo gooood!"

I watched as Trish grabbed Tina's hips and started pounding like she meant it. Soon, she threw her head back and emptied her pearly essence into our wife's tight ass. I made one final thrust into Tina's slick tunnel before unleashing more than a months worth of cum into her womb. Trish and I pumped so much cum into Tina, I'm surprised she wasn't spitting it out. My cum and Tina's cum leaked out around my cock, and I could feel Trish's cum dripping onto my balls.

Tina devoured my mouth with hers as she tried to snake her tongue down my throat. She was on fire due to the complete fucking she just received. Trish pressed her cock as deep into Tina as she could, forcing Tina to push back on my cock as hard as she could. I felt like she was trying to get my entire body in her pussy.