CHAPTER 3: Shane
“Mmm…”
I had my eyes closed… breathing in deep… blowing it out slowly… listening to Pope humming with her lips wrapped around the head of my cock. She was holding the base steady with one hand and running her lips and tongue around the head like she was licking an ice cream cone. As cocksuckers went, Pope was a fucking artist, a master at her craft. I told her all the time that she could teach a fucking class on the art of cocksucking and she readily agreed. Lord knows I would have given her a glowing review.
Pope was Corporal April Pope, USMC, hailing from St. Louis by way of Chicago. She was a twenty-three-year-old communications specialist who worked on the base in Kandahar where I was on temporary assignment, cleaning up the details of our last mission for the higher ups. The rest of my team was in Mosul and I’d head back there in a few days.
Stop thinking about work, you fucking moron.
Focus on making this blowjob last.
Fucking Pope…
Just amazing, what she could do with her mouth…
“That feel good, Captain?” she asked with the hum in her voice.
I opened my eyes and glanced down at her. She was smiling at me with my cock resting against her bottom lip. She slathered her tongue around the head and I felt little bolts of lightning shoot from my balls and out my toes.
“I keep telling you,” I said, huffing out the breath. “You are a bona fide cocksucking savant, Corporal Pope.” I held out my arms and wiggled my fingers at her. “Come on, climb onboard.”
“With pleasure,” she sighed. She gave the tip of my cock one more good lubing with her tongue, then climbed on top of me, straddling my hips, digging her fingernails into my chest. I reached down between us and guided my cock to her pussy. She lifted herself up, then slowly lowered her cunt onto me, taking in as much of my long cock as she could stand. She began moving her hips back and forth, sliding her tight, juicy pussy along the length of my cock.
The image of Annabel riding me the first time flashed through my mind. I blinked it away and tried to concentrate on the moment, not the past.
“Fuck…” she moaned, eyes closed, hips moving in perfect rhythm. “Your cock feels… so fucking good inside me.”
“You’re so tight…” I said, the words breathing out of me. “So, fucking… tight…”
I held onto her hips and let her set the pace. I was happy to just lie there and let her do all the work. Pope was a beautiful girl, far too pretty to be in the fucking military in goddamn Kandahar. She should have been stationed in Hawaii or Guam, some place where the beaches weren’t mined and the water didn’t run red with blood. I could picture her in a string bikini, running in slow motion along the shoreline, the warm breeze blowing gently across her face. She had short sandy hair, green eyes, pouty lips, and a fucking body to die for. Big titties, narrow waist, round hips, and a shaved pussy that was tight as a drum. She and I had been fucking for a while now, hooking up whenever we ended up in the same place. This time, I had been in Kandahar for two weeks and inside of Pope for… shit… I forgot to count the hours…
“Fuck, baby, I’m…. getting… close…” she said, her voice a tense whisper. The motion of her hips sped up. She dug her fingernails into my chest until I thought she was going to draw blood. She started bouncing up and down on my cock, like a Texas oil derrick, rising and falling—slamming down hard then back up again. I curled my toes and hung on for the ride. I was ready to cum anytime she was.
“Fuck… yes… shit… Vader… yes… now…”
“I gotcha, baby…” I said, holding on to her hips as she pommeled up and down on my cock. I could feel my orgasm building, my balls getting tight, muscles tense, preparing to blow like hot lava from a volcano.
“Now… Vader… fucking… cummmmm….” she squealed, tossing her head back and growling at the ceiling like a she-wolf howling at the moon. She was slamming up and down so hard on my cock that I had to slow her down so she didn’t break it.
“Shit… yes…” Every muscle in my body tensed. I arched my back and lifted my ass and raised her clean off the bed. I could feel the cum shooting through my cock like water through a firehose. As Pope gushed her sweet juices all down the shaft and over my balls, I filled her with a load of hot milky cum that made her sweat. She kept it going for a few more seconds, then looked down at me and smiled and wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
“Fuck me,” she said with a grin.
“I think I just did,” I said, bringing my hands up to her melon tits and giving them a hard squeeze. I leaned up and gave her nipples a lick. “I’m gonna miss you when I’m gone.”
“I’m gonna miss you, too,” she said. “When do you have to leave?”
“I head back to Mosul on Monday.”
“Fucking Mosul.” She scrunched up her pretty nose and shook her head like the thought of going to Mosul made her sick. “I hate fucking Mosul.”
“Yeah, me, too,” I said with a sigh. “But for now, that’s home.”
She lifted herself off my cock and reached for the towel she had brought to bed with us. That was Pope. Like a good little scout, she was always prepared. She sat between my legs and gently cleaned the cum off my cock and balls, then gave the tip a little kiss and tucked the towel between her legs to soak up the ooze.
“What about you?” I asked, putting my hands behind my head.
She shrugged one shoulder. “I’m here for at least the next few months. Then, who knows.”
“There are worst places to be,” I said with a smile.
“Yeah, Mosul.”
My cellphone was on the nightstand. When it buzzed I ignored it, but Pope, like most women I knew, couldn’t just let a phone ring.
“Let it go,” I said, stretching out my arms, trying to stop her.
“Just let me see who it is,” she said, picking it up and staring at the screen. She held out the phone so I could see the screen. “You might wanna take this. The caller ID says Uncle Seth.”
I stared at the screen for a moment. Uncle Seth was my mom’s younger brother, and the only member of my family from either side that I had stayed in touch with over the years. He was like the father I never had, even though my father lived in the same house I did.
I pushed up onto my elbows and took the phone from Pope. I knew why he was calling. I could feel it in my bones.
“Uncle Seth?”
“She’s gone, Shane,” he said, crying into the phone. “Your mama. She’s gone.”