tagRomanceCanon Ch. 07

Canon Ch. 07


One year later:

"Want a Coke, sweetheart?" Geoff spoke from the kitchen, where he had gone to get one for himself.

"No, thanks. But hurry up. I miss my leaning cushion."

He chuckled and returned to the couch where Amy lay on her back, holding a book in the air and reading. She was wearing shorts and a tank top, and was barefoot.

Without a word, and without losing her place, she sat up; Geoff resumed his seat beside her; and then she settled back again with her head resting comfortably in his lap.

"Much better," she said with a twinkle up at him. Geoff took a sip from his Coke and stroked her hair - what was left of it.

Amy had cut her hair not long after their return from their first trip to the island; then she had cut it again, and again, till it was almost boy-short.

She put down the book and looked up. "You miss my hair, don't you, Geoffie?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. Then he smiled. "But I don't miss your waking me up screaming when I roll over on it at night - and I know it's a lot less trouble."

"Way," she said. Then she smiled slyly. "And I know you like that it doesn't hide anything when I'm naked."

He grinned. "That would be accurate," he said. "That's why I went along with it when you first cut it. Besides, you look cute with short hair."

She rose up a bit, and he bent to meet her halfway and kissed her; then she went back to her book, and Geoff picked up his own.

Before he opened it, though, he asked her curiously: "What are you reading that's so fascinating, anyway?"

"'Warning signs of the onset of dementia in seniors'," she said, without taking her eyes from the page.

"Like this?" She lifted her gaze to see him looking down at her cross-eyed with his tongue sticking out of one side of his mouth.

She laughed out loud. "Exactly," she said. "We need to take you in for an MRI right away."

He kissed her again. That was as close as they ever came to discussing the reason for her studies directly.


Amy had essentially dropped out of college; but she continued to take courses in nursing and related fields, one or two a semester. She took them with no view to obtaining a degree or RN certification, though.

Geoff saw the paperwork and could see the common thread of the classes that Amy took; they were all related in some way to caring for the elderly. But they never discussed it openly.


Amy had put the book aside and was dozing, her cheek resting on Geoff's thigh. He sipped his Coke and watched her sleep.

How long would it be? he thought. How long till she needed these things she was studying?

How long till she would be feeding him and changing his diapers and wiping his ass?

She's ready for that, bless her, he thought.

But am I?

Then he remembered what he had come to think of as Amy's Lesson:

That's tomorrow; and tomorrow doesn't exist.

Only today is real.

He smiled and stroked her cheek. She opened her amazing eyes and looked at him - and, as always, his mind fell silent at the sight of them. Pale blue and deep brown. Sweet innocence and - not innocence...

"Hey, Punkin. How about a shower?"

She smiled. Innocently - and not.


They still made love daily, or almost; but the slave-girl fantasy had receded into the background. Though they indulged it occasionally - and Amy still insisted on going naked and barefoot every weekend - for the most part their sex play was more about affection and intimacy now.

The rape fantasy was even shorter-lived. It was there for them when the mood struck, but it rarely did - and in the last few months, never. It had been fun once or twice, but that wasn't who they were.

They had explored many strange and bizarre avenues of sexual expression; bondage and domination, risky sex in public, roleplaying - "burglar and housewife," "teacher and student," "cop and shoplifter," even "blind date" - but in the end, there was no greater pleasure for them than simply being together, whether making love, or her dancing for him, or just snuggling. The games were fun, but they needed none.

And besides their bed, there was the shower, and the pool, and the steam room, and riding Honey....

Their sex life was far from monotonous.


Ten minutes after thinking about their future, Geoff was very much in the present moment.

He was slumped on the tiled seat in their shower, naked, with his erect cock sticking up like a telephone pole; and Amy, also naked, was kneeling between his feet and busily soaping it with both hands.

His deep voice quavered, "T-two..."

"Slower, Geoffie," she said sweetly. She squeezed and twisted his soapy dickhead with that random, rhythmless, inexpert motion that she knew drove him crazy. "What's your hurry?"

"Unnngh... Two, dammit..." he rumbled. Amy giggled and scratched him lightly behind his balls and milked his bare knob mercilessly. She sucked and licked under the base of his cock, where it rose from his ball sac, nibbling and chewing at that sensitive spot softly as she continued to twist and work her soapy fingers on his dickhead.

"Three... Oh, Jesus... God, that's good..."

"Don't lose count, Geoffie," she murmured into his balls. "You'll have to start over..."


She giggled again. "Hold on, Big Heart. You only have to make it to twenty-five!"

"I c-can do it... F-four..."

She suddenly popped her pretty mouth over his dickhead and sucked on it, circling her head and bobbing it up and down. "MmmMMmmMmm..."

"No fuh-fair.... Ungh..."


"Unnngh.... UNNH... G-gonna sh-shoot, baby..."


Geoff shuddered and jerked, and Amy smiled around his dickhead as he spurted in her mouth. He stared down at her, and she looked up at him innocently as she worked her tongue on the tiny, squirting hole and sucked. His cum leaked from her lovely lips and drooled from her chin.

He grimaced and moaned, and she kept on sucking and working her mouth on his bursting cock - and when he stopped shooting, she released his dick from her mouth, smiling sweetly at him and licking his sperm from her lips.

"You lose," she said with a cum-dripping smirk.

"And you cheat," he gasped, still shivering. "How'm I supposed to hang on while you hum on my dick like that?"

She laughed. "That's your problem, tough guy. You lost. Now pay up."

He sighed. "Two-hour back rub, coming up."

"With oil."

"Yeah, yeah. "

He smiled as they dried each other. Win, lose... Fun either way.

"I love you, Little Heart."

She smiled. "Bring the oil, Geoffie."


Their lovemaking was as apt to begin with a caress over dinner or a welcome-home kiss when Amy returned from class as with a planned encounter or a fantasy. He would stroke her arm or kiss her fingers, or she'd give him a hug or grab his ass, and their eyes would meet - and they might go on with what they were doing, or they'd kiss and hold each other and slowly grow more passionate - or they'd be seized with urgent need and strip each other feverishly, ending up in bed or on the floor or in the shower.

Their moods seemed to reinforce each other and increase in depth, a sort of echo effect. If one felt warm and quietly affectionate, they both did, and they would make love gently and slowly, with a quiet, sweet tenderness and closeness that brought them to ecstasy with embraces and caresses and sometimes tears of joy.

But if one felt fiercely aroused and eager, the other would play into that, and they would goad and provoke each other to fiery, animalistic rutting, and they would cum amid grunting and hissing and groping at each other and hot breath and sweat.

Or one would need to be seduced or teased or tempted by the other. They had specific needs from time to time: in particular, Amy would want to be cradled and tickled and petted like a child, and eventually cajoled and fondled into accepting Geoff's hard cock into her secret opening, and she would fuck him shyly and timidly, as if it were her first time.

Or she would need to climb onto him and all but force him to fuck her, as she did that second morning - doing her best to drive him mad with lust and pull his cum from his balls with everything she had.

That morning, of course, they did not fuck at all. They did what they liked and what pleased them.


A few days later, Amy was walking toward her car after class. She noticed a tall, distinguished-looking man in a blue suit waving at her... Now who...

Oh, of course! she thought. It was Colonel Johnston, Geoff's best man at their wedding. She waved back - and then, on impulse, she held up a hand; wait.

He stood there on the sidewalk in front of Symphony Hall as she hurried over. "Amy, it's so good to see you!" he exclaimed as she drew closer. "How's Geoff?"

"He's wonderful," she said with a smile. "World's best husband."

The retired colonel smiled. "I'm so glad you're happy. Geoff deserves it." He looked at her curiously. "What can I do for you?"

Amy hesitated. "I'd like to ask you something," she finally said.

He smiled indulgently. "And what's that?"


"Please call me Johnsty," he said. "Everyone does."

She smiled and nodded. "Johnsty - can you tell me what Geoff did to win the Medal of Honor? He refuses to discuss it."

The colonel's smile faded. After a moment, he asked, "Do you have a little time? Or do you have a class?"

"No, I have time. I was just on my way home."

He indicated the Student Union a short way down the street. "Let's get some coffee."


They took a booth in a far corner of the dining room. After they sat down, Colonel Johnston looked at her seriously.

"Amy," he said, "the first thing you have to know is this: Geoff can never know that you know this."

She blinked at him. "Why not? You mean it isn't just about his being too modest to tell me about it?"

The colonel shook his head. "No." He took a sip of his coffee and thought. "When I put him in for the medal, Geoff told me he didn't want it - and it wasn't about modesty. He said it was the worst time of his life, and he didn't want to remember it. That he wasn't a hero, he was just trying to keep himself and his men alive - and he didn't think he did a very good job of it."

The gray-haired man looked at the table, then back at Amy. "Geoff still won't acknowledge what he did and how extraordinary it was. Sometimes I wonder if he even really remembers all of it. But - and this is the important part, Amy - he has a certain resentment toward people who know the details, and you mustn't let him know that you do."

Amy was listening carefully. "I understand," she said with a nod. "I won't mention it to him."

"Ever," said the colonel.


He looked at her a moment, then rapped the table with his ring. Amy jumped, and he grinned and apologized. "Sorry, old habit. It's intended to remind people to listen." She looked down at the ring, and realized that the Colonel was a graduate of the Naval Academy at Annapolis.

"Geoff was a Master Sergeant when this happened," he began. "It was in 1968. A hard year. He and his rifle platoon - that's about fifty men - were on their way to relieve another unit at an outpost near the DMZ - do you know what that means?"

"Demilitarized Zone," she nodded. "In the North, near the border with North Vietnam."

"That's right. Well, they were ambushed. Couple of hundred NVA caught them on the trail and took out maybe half the men in the first few seconds. Geoff managed to get a few of the fire teams to the top of a ridge; he basically organized a counterattack through their line and led the charge. Under the circumstances, it showed amazing leadership and coolness under fire."

The colonel looked at his coffee. "Geoff took two bullets in the back at some point. He hid that from his men, and even he isn't sure when it happened. He must have been in some close combat too, because he had bayonet or knife wounds through one leg, in both arms and his side, and four broken ribs. Those were just the important wounds. There were others." The colonel shrugged. "Either he doesn't remember how he got them, or he won't say."

"I've seen the scars," Amy said softly. The colonel nodded.

"Anyway, he was in pretty bad shape, and most of the men he managed to save were even worse off. He made it to the top of the ridge with thirteen men, and five of them died during the night. Not one was unwounded."

He went on as Amy listened, her eyes wide and glistening. "Geoff fought those NVA off practically singlehanded, long into the night. He took out so many - the other Marines estimated fifty to sixty - they finally decided to leave. They knew all of the Marines were badly hurt, anyway.

"They threw a Russian grenade onto the hilltop as they left, but Geoff threw it behind some rocks with about a half-second to spare - he got some more wounds from the shrapnel - and he had his men go quiet so the NVA would think they were dead. It worked."

The colonel took another sip of his coffee. "He kept his men's spirits up all night, and he even found food for them-"

"He cooked them a snake," said Amy quietly. "That I know."

The colonel looked at her a moment, then nodded. "More than one. And some kind of monkey, I think.

"It started raining like hell, and they were stuck up there for another day and another night, with no one but Geoff to care for them, before they could be choppered out. Two more men died from their wounds. Geoff should have died with them."

He took another sip. "It never made sense that he survived. Force of will, I guess." He smiled, and so did Amy.

"Seven men survived that ambush. For a while. We lost two more in the hospital." He smiled at the young girl. "Geoff was in the hospital for four and a half months. He could have taken a discharge when he got out, but he wouldn't hear of it.

"He went back."

The colonel looked at her. "Geoff isn't proud of those two days, Amy. He thinks he failed. In the end, he only brought back one fire team out of a platoon. He can't see that it's a miracle that he brought back anyone."

He patted her small hand. "That's why you can never let on that you know about this. Believe it or not, he's ashamed of it."

She nodded, slowly. "I understand," she said. "I know Geoff, and that's like him."

"Now you know why he said what he did at the concert," said the colonel.

"Yes." She looked up curiously. "What about his Navy Cross and the other stuff?"

The colonel grinned. "Those don't bother him so much. The NC he got by basically rescuing some guys in another unit who were getting cut up in a firefight. Geoff is old school-"

"No kidding," said Amy dryly.

Johnsty laughed. "-and he came onto the scene with two Thompson subs, guns blazing like Sergeant fucking Rock - excuse me -" Amy smiled and waved for him to go on - "and ran off half a company of VC through, um, the sheer force of his personality." he grinned. "Damndest thing I ever saw."

"You were there?" she asked, surprised. He nodded.

"I was one of the guys he saved," he said. "I was a dumbass shavetail second lieutenant, and it was my own stupidity that got us into that mess in the first place." He smiled. "Geoff never mentioned that, then or later. He not only saved my life. He saved my career." He looked at the clock. "I'd better go," he said.

"Me, too. Thank you, Johnsty. This meant a lot to me."

He stood with her. "It was an honor, Amy." He hesitated a moment, then said with a wry smile, "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"

She looked at him curiously. "Sure."

He nodded his thanks. "Amy, I've known Geoff for more than forty years. I'd call him my best friend, but I don't think he's ever been that close to anyone." He smiled. "Till now.

"I'm glad you're his wife. He deserves a woman as sweet and beautiful as you."

She blushed, but said nothing. The colonel went on: "But I'm even more glad he's found a friend." He smiled. "Make him as happy as you can, Amy. No man ever deserved it more."

"That's what I live for, Johnsty. Thank you."

She beckoned, and he bent to listen to her whisper - but she kissed his cheek instead. Then it was the colonel's turn to blush.


When Amy got home, Geoff was waiting in the living room, wearing his martial-arts garb; the white gi shirt and the loose navy-blue hakama skirt of an Aikido master. He greeted her with a warm smile. "Wanna get sweaty?" he asked.

"Oh, that's right. It's Wednesday. Let me go change..."

He shook his head. "Uh-uh. Street clothes today. Those'll do fine." Amy was wearing jeans and her ubiquitous polo shirt. "You won't be wearing your gi when you get mugged."

Amy laughed, and they went up the hall to the training room.

At least three days every week, Amy studied martial arts of various kinds with Geoff. They usually worked out in a spare bedroom, empty but for a mat on the floor and a heavy bag; sometimes they sparred in the yard, and sometimes - in slow-motion, and protected from falls - they worked on new moves in the shallow end of the pool. They also went to the range a couple of times a month, where Amy learned the art of the rifle and the pistol as well.

When they entered the room, Geoff whirled and grabbed the left side of Amy's shirt, near the collar, in an aggressive, accosting move; just as quickly, she clamped both her small hands on his wrist, held it tight against her breast, and spun around to her right, tucking Geoff's arm under her own - and then she crouched slightly.

Geoff had been involuntarily turned with his back to her and his arm behind him, his elbow turned upward in Amy's armpit. If she were to drop with all her weight on it, it would be dislocated and perhaps broken. As it was, the pressure on the joint was - noticeable.

"Very good," he said. "Well done, Little Heart." He grinned. "Now let me go."

She laughed and released his arm. "Am I going to learn some kicks today?"

Geoff shook his head. "High kicks are great for the movies," he said. "In a real street fight they aren't worth much. Unless you're an expert, they'll get you killed." He shrugged. "Remember that aikido is a defensive art, Amy; it has no attacking moves. I've taught you some, but that's not the heart of it. Turn around."

She did so, and suddenly he grabbed both her wrists and pulled them behind her back. "This may feel familiar," he said.

"It does." She giggled. "Please don't rape me, mister...."

Geoff laughed, then asked, "Seriously; what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," she said. "What CAN I do?"

He let her go. "Let me show you." He turned around. "Here, take my wrists like I did yours. Now, this is called Kokyunage..."


They worked for their usual two hours, then had their usual schizophrenic post-practice shower; sensual touching combined with simultaneous discussion of fighting techniques, interrupted with passionate kisses. Sometimes they dried off and had lunch or dinner; this time, they ended up on the floor.

Amy was sitting in the circle of Geoff's crossed legs as he leaned against the tiled wall; her arms and legs were around him, and she was impaled on his cock to the hilt, his bristles scrubbing her hairless lips as he held her. They were kissing intimately, deeply, hardly moving at all, just savoring their connection and closeness.

"Mmm," she said. "I think I like this best of all, Geoffie."

He chuckled, and she felt the deep vibration of it in her belly. "You say that about everything we do."

She smiled and nipped playfully at his turkey neck. "I guess that's because whatever we're doing is my favorite. Ooo, I felt that..."

"How about this?"


They snuggled and fucked for a while, then Amy moved her feet to either side of Geoff and planted them flat on the tiles, frankly squatting on his cock. He slid a little lower on the wall and murmured, "Now this is MY favorite..."

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