The Homecoming

Jack Dawson tossed his duffle bag onto the chair and sat down on the edge of the bed. He quickly rid himself of his boots and stretched out of the king sized playground he had not frequented since his deployment to Iraq. Fourteen months was a long, long time for a man to go without. He was lucky to be alive. His reserve unit was finally sent home after a tour so brutal that it had even the regulars shaking their heads...two months earlier than expected. He didn't tell his wife, wanting to surprise her. He laughed to himself. She had better be ready. The marines had landed.

He looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was till early. She wouldn't be home for a couple of hours. A shower wouldn't hurt. He reluctantly got out of bed and began stripping his uniform from his body. As he dropped his last piece of clothing into the pile that had accumulated on the floor, he glanced in the mirror. Damn, he thought. Is that me?

The rigors of war had transformed his slightly puffy business executive's body into a lean mean fucking machine. He grinned at the mirror. There wasn't an ounce of fat anywhere. His body rippled like a snake when he moved, his powerful muscles, perfectly defined, his belly a taut washboard that flaunted his six-pack. Hell, even his cock looked bigger. His skin was a dark tan, save the area that banded his groin. His nearly baldhead and closely cropped beard gave him an ominous look. He doubted his lovely wife would even recognize him. As he stepped into the shower, his mind flashed back to his last day at home. He had spent the night fucking her again and again. He remembered his going away present...a blowjob in the shower. Jack smiled and began to soap his body. It was something she didn't do often. Maybe she would be so glad to see him that she would even swallow this time.

As he was stepping out of the shower, he heard the phone ring. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist to keep from drenching the floor in the bedroom. He rushed to answer the phone, but as he reached for the receiver, the answering machine took over.

"Hey baby," the strangers voice cooed. "Don't forget tonight. Everyone is going to be there. Bye the way, Turner is so damn horny he can't even see straight." The voice paused for a moment. "Here's the number if you get lost. Eight o'clock. Don't be late." Jack was stunned, nearly in shock. It wasn't hard to figure out that the stranger had more than a casual relationship with his dutiful wife. And what ever was going to start at eight o'clock was a mystery.

Jack calmed down long enough to get dressed. He opened his duffel bag and pulled out the new civvies he had purchased on the way home. None of his old clothing would fit him now, and these new duds showed off his new body. They were casual, but trendy. He glanced at himself in the mirror one last time and straightened out the room, carefully smoothing out the bed. You couldn't tell he had even been there. Picking up his things he carried them into the guest room and put them out of sight in the closet.

A quick look at the reverse phone book on his laptop gave him the name and location of Jeff Turner. He was thankful that the cab arrived to pick him up before his wife had arrived from work. He had buried his duffel bag under some bags of old clothes, making sure that there wasn't a clue that anyone would find without a little snooping in the guest bedroom. He had the cab drop him off at a bar within walking distance of Jeff Turner's house. The neighborhood was quite nice, and he felt comfortable having a couple of drinks in what was obviously a local bar full of regulars. He took a seat at the bar.

"You're new around here, aren't you Love?" He looked up into the dazzling eyes of the bartender and smiled."

"Yes I am. Actually not sure I want to live here yet. But the neighborhood seems right for me. I am just cruising around tonight, taking in the ambiance." He flashed her a teasing smile as if pleased with his exaggerated pronunciation. "You live around here?"

Jack realized after talking to Debby, the sensual and enchanting woman who seemed to flit around him between serving drinks to the other customers, never answered his question as to where she lived. It was obvious that she was a bit taken with him. She had used every opportunity to lean towards him and display her rather large and braless breasts or casually brush her hand across his when she refilled his drink. It had been a long time since a woman like her had given him even the slightest indication that she might be interested.

He was actually sorry it was nearly eight thirty when he glanced at his watch. He reached for his wallet as he asked her for a check, but she shook her head. "You're a Vet, aren't you?" It was more of a statement than a question, but he shook is head yes. "Then these are on the house." He smiled and thanked her then slipped a ten into the tip jar sitting on the bar. "Wait," she whispered as he turned to leave. She reached into her hair and slipped out a pencil that had been all but hidden near the back of her head. She scribbled something on a small piece of paper and handed it to him. "She's looking for a roommate if you need a place to stay." He glanced down and smiled. It was her number and address. As he walked out of the bar, he couldn't help thinking that not everything about the war was bad.

It was a short walk to Turner's apartment. He was impressed. The building was quite elegant and it was easy figure out which apartment was his by following the steady flow of people in and out of his unit. Jack had no trouble getting in virtually unnoticed. He moved through the foyer into a very large living room full of people, various sorts, casually dressed in their own trendy fashion and enjoying the music pouring forth from a rather expensive looking sound system. He glanced around the room looking for Lydia but didn't see her.

He walked through the spacious flat, noting that it seemed designed and decorated solely for the purpose of having parties. There were apparently four bedrooms, three of which were open and furnished as living spaces rather than for sleeping. He glanced discreetly into each hoping, to find Lydia in one of the small groups of people sitting watching television or chatting away from the music. There was no shortage of attractive women or men. Some were paired off while others seemed to be mingling with an eye on hooking up with one of the other beautiful people. He walked back to the kitchen and found it to be a bountiful source of food; beverages and some suspect substances that most of the guests were enjoying openly.

"Coffee, tea or me?" a sultry voice whispered. He turned to face a wondrously beautiful woman. "Hi, I'm Lisa. Can I fix you something to drink?" His eyes enjoyed the vision for a moment before he replied.

"I'd love one. A long 1800 would be perfect. If not make me a surprise."

"Your in luck, there's a bottle right here with your name on it." He watched her graceful hands pour out the golden Anejo into a glass. "I haven't seen you here before. New?"

"Uh huh. I'm one of those friends of a friend of a friend that got invited." She laughed softly.

"Well friend of a friend, I hope you really enjoy yourself. I would hate to think you might not be coming back. You look like someone that I would love to get to know better, much better." Suddenly, a man appeared at her side, leaned into her and whispered something into her ear then disappeared as quickly as he had come. She looked disappointed at the interruption, but her smile returned quickly as she looked up at Jack. "Hey, I'm sorry...I need to scoot, but please, save a dance for me. OK?"

"I will. That's a promise." She turned quickly and moved towards the living room. Jack watched her weave her way through the other guests until one of the other guests caught his eye. It couldn't be, he thought. But a second glance at her face left him momentarily shaken. Fuck, It was Silvia, his wife's best friend. To make matters worse, she was staring right back at him, devouring him with her eyes in the same manner he had seen her visually devour any number of men that tickled her fancy. He should have known this ebony minx would be his wife's partner in crime, possibly the root cause of Lydia's new and rather loose interpretation of marital fidelity.

Silvia had even tested the waters with him. She knew of his penchant for black women, his own captivating Lydia being a testament to his preference. It had taken every ounce of his strength to push her head away that morning. Over the years, the two married couples had often vacationed together, and sharing a mountain cabin had been one of their many escapades. She had been sent to wake him and drag him down for breakfast. It was her decision to bring him out of one of his many sexual dream fantasies by sucking his cock into her moist and hungry mouth. Even after he realized that it wasn't his wife, he let her continue until his guilt took back control. He made her stop. It became their little secret. But since that day, she let him know she wanted to finish what she had started.

It appeared she liked what she saw. She turned and headed towards him like a lioness stalking her prey. This would be a test of another sort, if passed, one that would give plausibility of his plan. He greeted her warmly, lowering his voice to his best authoritative battlefield tone. "Hi, I'm Collin Mathews. Up to anything good?" She laughed softly and took his outstretch hand.

"Uh huh...a little coke, a little "X" and a glass of whatever you are drinking, sexy man. By the way, I'm Sylvia." The coke and the "X" explained the glassy look in her eyes, but he recalled that neither made your vision blurry. He had obviously passed his mid-term exam. Taking his turn at bartender, he poured her a long shot of Anejo. They toasted each other with a clink of their glasses and took a sip of the fiery liquid.

"You here alone?" he asked casually.

"Not really. I'm with a girlfriend of mine."

"Which one?" He scanned the room inviting her to point her out. She giggled then nervously bit her lip.

"Oh, She's not into crowds, well, not big ones." She paused for a second and gave him a wink. "Let's just say she is occupied at the moment." She laughed at her not so subtle inference and raised her glass to her lips. It was empty in a second. "Come on...dance with me." She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the living room so quickly; he almost missed the counter with his glass when he tried to set it down. Walking behind Sylvia was always a treat. This journey was no exception, and he quickly realized his eyes were glued to her "to die for" ass as it rolled from side to side under her dress. He also realized that his thoughts were drifting far from where they should be. He wasn't there for pleasure. He was there to confirm his wife's infidelity. He should be angry with Sylvia, not watching her fuckable ass, which at the moment was barely covered by what could only be called a dress in name only. But his thoughts wandered again. It dawned on him that he was less shocked to find her here, flaunting her beautiful body, than he was curious as to how she got out of the house in that dress in the first place.

Her quick pace flipped the dress up enough to see the bottom of her perfectly formed buttocks. He could swear she was naked under her dress. A second flip of her dress confirmed it. Her back was completely bare, informing him that she was also braless. Its non-back ended low enough expose a good inch or two of the cleft between her cheeks. The hem barely reached the bottom of her tear shaped ass. He had seen a lot more of her beautiful bottom many times in the past. Her daring thong bikinis usually left little to the imagination as she strutted around his back yard pool. But this was far more erotic than if she had been completely naked.

They finished the last half of an old Sam and Dave number that had already been playing. It was sort of a warm up. Discovering he didn't dance like your typical white guy turned the second number into an erotic lesson on how you could look like you were fucking while not really fucking. He wasn't the only one who noticed. There was a gasp from more than one male voyeur when she bumped out of a slow grind and flipped her dress up to her waist. It didn't seem to bother her at all that her sweet quivering ass was brazenly on display, not to mention her completely shaved vaginal mound.

Was she wild? No. She was beyond wild. As the song began to end, she bent forward; arched her back and pushed her hand under the front of her dress. Though concealed with the flowing fabric, it wasn't hard to tell she was pushing a finger or two up into that dark and inviting pussy that she had proudly displayed. When the song finally finished with an abrupt and loud finale, she snapped straight up into attention. Her more boisterous fans applauded then shrieked in disbelief when she walked up to Jack and pushed her glistening fingers against his lips. Of course he couldn't turn down her officering and to the delight of all that watched he sucked them into his mouth.

The music quickly changed tempo. A slow, familiar tune by the Spinners, one obviously created for lovers to let them mate openly on the dance floor, brought her into his arms. The crowd that had been gathering around them, quickly drifted away, pairing off themselves and leaving Jack and Sylvia to become one of many couples enjoying the sensuous music that filled the air. Her fingers were still in his mouth as she nestled against him, pressing her loins into his. She giggled...almost girlishly. "You like the taste of black pussy, Baby?" He let his tongue answer her question. He slowly swirled it around her fingers, carefully cleaning every trace of her nectar. It was sweet and tart at the same time, with a musky scent that screamed, "Fuck me." He began to wonder why he had pushed her away that morning...what it would be like to push his tongue deep inside her cunt and drink her intoxicating elixir from the very source itself.

She finally pulled her fingers from his mouth and slid her arms around his neck "Your kind of freaky, white boy...I like that." Sylvia rested her head against his chest and poured her lithe body into every hollow of his body. She stretched upward, rising up onto her toes until her mound was pressed directly against the bulge in his pants. She ground it slowly against his thickening cock. The heat of her sex burned through the layers of cloth that, for the moment, were the only things that kept his body from betraying him. But as angry as he should have been with this woman, it was impossible not to respond. She moaned softly as his cock began to swell against her pussy.

"You're thinking about it, aren't you Baby?" She ground against him harder. "You just know it's getting wet and slippery." She licked the side of his neck and groaned, sliding her pussy up and down its length again and again and again. "Want it Baby?" she hissed. She suddenly slammed her mound against his aching cock as if trying to impale herself on his raging hard on. "Oooooooooo Baby. You do want this black pussy. You want it bad, don't you white boy?" She slid her right hand down between them and squeezed his cock through his pants. "I can feel how bad you want it. You want my tight pussy wrapped around your cock, sucking your sweet fuck stick till you blow your nuts right into my belly. Don't you Baby? Tell me, Baby...tell me." He had lost the battle. Her filthy talk had his cock trying to rip through the confines of his pants. There was no chance of going back. He had been without far too long. And this willing bitch was ready to take anything he could give her.

"Yesssssssss," he growled. "And YOU are going to learn just how freaky this white boy really is." His hands slid down from her waist until his fingertips danced along the tops of her silky buttocks. That they were standing in the middle of a room, surrounded by people didn't seem to matter anymore. His hands moved lower and slipped under the hem of her dress. They slid back up and filled themselves with the cheeks of her ass. He kneaded the taut loves of pliant flesh, pulling her even tighter against his fully hardened cock. He let a single finger on his right hand slip into the warm cleft between her buttocks. He passed it lightly over her crinkly ring and dipped in into her dripping pussy from behind. She gasped. Now wet and slippery, he slid it back up and pressed the tip against her rectum. She gasped again and then buried her head into the crook of his neck, whimpering as he eased his large, middle finger into her ass.

"Fuuuuuuuuuck," she hissed through tightly clenched jaw. "You want that too, Baby?" She winced then moaned softly as he pushed his finger in deeper, twisting and pumping the thick probe in and out of her ass. She lifted her mouth to his and kissed him hungrily, pushing her tongue into his mouth as far as it would go. Then suddenly, she pushed him away and grabbed his hand pulling it away from her ass, drawing it slowly to her lips. She smiled wickedly, and started to lick his finger. He quickly turned his wrist, and sucked his own finger into his mouth. "Fuck. You are freaky, Baby," she growled. "Come on."

It was hard to tell who was leading whom, but they managed to wind their way down the hall leading to the bedrooms until found themselves outside of the one closed door. As she reached to turn the knob, Jack grabbed her waist and turned her to face him. She smiled when she saw the hungry look in his eyes and leaned back against the wall, pulling him to her. Her mouth found his immediately. In seconds, hands were moving over forbidden places, groping and squeezing through their clothing as their fiery kiss continued. He felt her hands slip between them, heard his zipper open and felt her soft fingers circle his fully hardened cock.

"God you're big, Baby. Fuck...I need this inside me...now." Her free hand reached out and gripped the doorknob. Then, before he realized what was happening, she was guiding him into the dimly lit room by his cock and pushing him into a chair before the door even closed behind them. "Let's make this perfect, Baby," she whispered. She knelt down beside a small table next to the chair. Her eyes scanned the objects sitting on the table. Her expression told him something was missing. She quickly checked under the table. "Fuck," she shouted under her breath. "That bitch." There was a soft chuckle from across the room.

"Don't fret sister, I have it over here." Both Sylvia and Jack turned towards the voice, a voice familiar to both of them. They heard a soft click and the room filled with light. Jacks eyes adjusted quickly. And as the image congealed, his stomach tightened and his heart stopped. It was hard to believe what he saw. But there wasn't any doubt remaining as to what had happened at eight o'clock. Lydia lay there; her back nestled against the chest of a man Jack recognized as one of her co-workers. Of course, he thought...THAT Jeff Turner. Her right leg was draped over the body of someone he didn't recognize. Her left leg was between the two men. She looked comfortable, totally at ease in his arms. One hand was stretched out, the object of Sylvia's frantic search held between her fingers. The other had a solid grip of Turner's fully erect cock. If that was all he had to see, there could have been understanding, there could have been hope. After all, his own actions could not be excused. But the entourage of wantonness that surrounded her made him wonder if she was indeed the same woman he had left behind some fourteen months before.

Her soft, full and perfectly formed breasts, once two beautiful mocha mounds that ached for only his lips, were heavily bruised and covered with bite marks and scratches. There were other bruises and scratches on her sweaty body, but what sickened him the most were the streaks of semen splashed across her body and the constant, oozing stream that flowed from her pulpy cunt. Each part of this image stabbed him deeply in the heart. But he couldn't take his eyes away, even though the hard struggle to keep his tears from filling his eyes was rapidly becoming a losing battle. She laughed at Sylvia as she hurriedly scampered to take the vile of coke from her hand. Lydia glanced at Jack and licked her lips. "Looks like you've caught a good one Hon. Is he for me?" She laughed as if teasing, but there was an unmistakable undertone of honest desire. Sylvia ignored her and moved back to the table quickly pouring its contents out onto a small mirror that lay on top. Jack could hear the faint sounds of the razor blade scraping across the surface of the glass as she cut the powder into lines. "Obviously not," she snapped. She looked up at Turner and began pump her hand.