“I was tired then; I’m not tired now, Georgy!” I grinned, and her hopeful grin and the naughty gleam in her eyes were all I could have hoped for.
“Why sir, this is all so sudden, I hardly know where to put my face!” she giggled, batting her eyelashes coquettishly, “My husband might be back at any moment now, for shame! I must know your intentions, sir, for I have a name and reputation to maintain!”
I wrapped my arms around her and rolled onto my back, taking her with me so I could squeeze and jiggle her bottom a little
“My intentions, young lady, are, alas, strictly dishonourable, but you’ll love every second of it!” I leered, and Georgy grinned happily, tweaking my rapidly erecting cock.
“Glad to hear it, Will, it’s about fucking time!” she leered right back at me, grinding herself against me and making me gasp at the sudden pressure. “Do things to me Will, do bad, bad things, it’s been so long…”
“What are you waiting for, babe, you’re there…” I gasped, bursting with need for her, but she shook her head and kissing me, her mane of black curls forming a net around the two of us as we kissed.
“No Will, make love to me, please baby, I need you so much!” she murmured, slipping off me to once more lie by my side.
I slid down the bed, intending to play a little, maybe taste her goodies and give her more of a treat, but she stopped me.
“No Will, I mean it, I’m ready now; God, I’ve been ready for weeks! You have no idea, just… just do it, I’m about to burst!”
To hear is to obey, and as I kissed her I slowly slid into her. God she was hot! The expression on her face told me all I needed to know about what she was feeling as we slowly made love, and that’s what we were doing: making love. Georgy is my wife, my lover, the absolute centre of my universe, and everything I do with her is done with love (with a healthy dose of lust mixed in, too; she is seriously hot, after all…) and even if she wasn’t already my girl I’d be making plans to waylay her and make her my girl; that’s what she did to me.
There was no way this was going to be a prolonged, leisurely bout of lovemaking; nearly three weeks enforced abstinence had put an edge on me that would make a Japanese katana look blunt as a rolling-pin by comparison, and Georgy was obviously feeling it too. Our movements quickly moved from the gentle pace I thought we’d take to wild, almost frenzied coupling as the weeks of doing without her took their toll. All too soon she was kissing me wildly, humping and hunching against me as I plunged in and out of her.
The end, when it came, was all, and more, we were hoping it would be; Georgy grabbed a pillow and jammed her face into it as she screamed like a banshee, her pussy tightening around me and rippling like a hand squeezing and milking me. I couldn’t hold back any longer, bellowing into the pillow as I came like a fire-hose, those weeks of pent-up need bursting out of me again and again, draining me dry as the strength poured out of me like a broken vessel.
I collapsed next to her, utterly and completely drained, my body surrendered entirely to the languid, sweet sorrow of la petite mort, the ‘little death’ of post-orgasmic bliss. Georgy seemed to be in no better condition; her chest heaved as she lay with her eyes shut tight, tear tracks running down her cheeks. I reached for her, and her eyes flicked open, and her beautiful smile lit up her face.
“Hello Soldier-man…” she murmured, gently stroking my face, “Welcome back, I missed you!” I smiled at her gentle jab, and she lifted the pillow and giggled.
“Look what I did, Willie…” and I had to grin; she’d bitten a hole clean through the pillowcase, “I think we better cut back a little, I only have so many pillowcases!”
I wrapped my arms around her and held her close; whatever was coming, at least one thing remained firm and unchanging: Georgy and I were still as tight as ever, and whatever happened, we were going to see it through together.
Part 3: Si Vis Pacem, Para Bellum
The days blurred and melted together as summer rolled on into the first flush of autumn and the kids were starting to check the blackberry bushes daily, waiting for the day Georgy said they could go blackberry picking. That was about the extent of their worries, and Georgy, Aunt Kay, Megan, and the guys worked tirelessly to ensure it remained that way. My routine remained unchanged at first, exercising had become more or less habitual, and my days and nights were idyllic, spending the days with the kids, and nights once more making slow, wonderful love with my beautiful Georgy-Girl.
However, as in all things, change had to come, and my bouts of exercise ramped up step by step as my fighting fitness slowly returned, and so the guys kept me busy, always pushing myself to gain back every molecule of fitness and conditioning I’d lost, and more, making me far fitter and better conditioned than even in my army days.
But under it all were the nagging doubts that Jarhead had put there; why had it all gone quiet, and what was coming next? I was starting to get feelings I’d hoped I’d never feel again, edgy, back-of-the-neck, prickling, up on tiptoes feelings I thought I’d left behind in the sandbox. Jarhead was right; nothing was happening, and it was all wrong. Something was up, something bad, and it was heading our way.
Jarhead and Bonzo didn’t let anything slip, but I could tell they were on-edge too; the banter dropped off as the air of wary watchfulness I remembered so well from back in the sand crept over all three of us. Even Aunt Kay could feel it; I noticed she’d developed the habit of not letting the kids stray and play more than a hundred yards from the house and safety, and Georgy wasn’t immune to it, either; she knew we were still targets, but she kept that down and away from the kids, leaving the real worrying to Andy, Rex, and me, at least when the kids were around.
When we were alone, though, is when she would share her fears and I would try and comfort her as best I could, and she would relax; she knew that she and the children were my world, and that I would move Heaven and earth to keep them safe; I had promised her my life for theirs, and she knew I meant it.
I was finally back at my peak fitness, taking my turn at night to roam around the stand-off perimeter we’d set, the closest we could ever allow intruders to approach, wary and watchful. Military routine slipped back into place, my experiences in Helmand and memories of how bad it could be if we let our guard down, all my training and experience came to the fore again; we were under attack, never mind the valley was peaceful as a church; trouble was coming and we couldn’t afford to cease our vigilance.
And so, when the people who had forced us here finally showed up, we were neither unprepared nor caught with our pants down, something I think they’d been banking on. To be honest, it was more or less completely the other way round…
*****
Andy, Rex, and I had developed a routine of being not-at-all-obviously on guard, mostly so as not to spook the kids, and we rotated shifts through the nights; if I was on nights, I’d patrol around three nights all night with an encrypted radio handset and voice-activated headset mike and a night-vision monocular while one dozed on the obscenely comfortable couch in the family room with a headset active in case I called, and the other got his head down for a full night’s sleep. After my nights on guard, I’d sleep through the day while the other two took turns during daylight hours walking the perimeter we’d set or watching over the family and we’d swap rotas every three days.
When I was on nights, Georgy, Aunt Kay, and Megan kept the kids and their brand of bedlam out of the house with nature-watching, collecting polished pebbles and quartz, feathers, pine cones, and interesting flowers for arts and crafts, dipping minnows and crayfish from the stream, reading and storytelling, and playing and running around in the meadows under Rex or Andy’s watchful eye. The story given to the kids was that daddy had been up watching TV and chatting all night, so he was having a lie-in. It worked, mostly, although Jamie was brighter than the average bear and pretty early-on figured something was up, if not exactly what.
It was while I was back on the night rota that I spotted them, what looked like a late-model Nissan Patrol gingerly crawling down the Eastern escarpment, showing no lights and with the engine off. The valley, a wide, flat curve carved by a glacier during the last Ice Age was almost a perfect parabolic reflector, magnifying sounds along its entire length; it was such an effective echo chamber I could stand on the Western ridge watching the kids on the Eastern side through binoculars, over a mile away, and whistle to them and they’d look around to see if they could spot me. A car engine, especially a big diesel, would echo and reverberate up and down the entire length and breadth of the valley.
The valley sides were littered with rocks ranging from house-brick sized to gigantic boulders, all dropped by the melting glacier, with long ridges of moraine, mounded banks of loose jumbled gravel and crushed stone debris picked up and carried miles from their origin by the glacier and dumped in piles by the melt. Making the sides of the valley even more treacherous for any kind of vehicle were long, deep gouges, parallel trenches cut deeply into the landscape by the gigantic boulders, like stone-age monoliths weighing hundreds of tons, that the glacier had dragged along as it flowed down the valley, carving out the landscape as it is today before abandoning them when it melted.
“Jarhead, wake Bonzo, incoming…” I murmured, shrouding the mike with my hand so my voice didn’t carry, “Time to get busy. Wake Georgy and Megan, and get the family into the cellar, stat.”
“Copy that, LT, complying,” he replied, “how many, Will?”
“One SUV, they’re coming in no lights, engine off, down along the Eastern slope, ranging-in at four kilometres… mark; they’re free-wheeling it, trying to be all sneaky and stealthy. Tell me we’re dealing with pro’s here, please…”