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The Soldier Next Door: A Forbidden Romance Page 4
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I open my eyes and look at the letter again. I scan down to the very bottom of the letter and realize he’s left me a p.s. that says to look on the back. I flip the letter over and gasp at the image that’s on the opposite side.
Oh my god, there’s a full-size drawing of me! My features are slightly exaggerated, but I can absolutely tell that it is me. What I can’t take my eyes off of is the fact that I’m topless. Brody’s drawn me with my voluptuous breasts swinging freely. In the picture, I’m sitting with my legs open with just a tiny thong covering my womanhood. Long locks of hair drape all over my shoulders, and in the drawing, I’m looking directly at the reader and blowing a kiss. He’s shaded my cheeks to show how flushed I can be when I’m aroused.
“Holy shit! Is this how he sees me?” I whisper breathlessly. Looking at this drawing, I instantly get turned on again. I imagine Brady’s strong hands scooping up all of me and carrying me into his house. Once inside, I see him gazing into my eyes, before seizing my lips with his own. We’re swept up in a passionate kiss even as he strokes my body, making me purr.
These X-rated thoughts overwhelm me. I fall onto my back in my bed and push my hand down my panties. I’m soaking wet and my hand sinks into my soft warmth. I rub my clit, slowly at first, imagining Brady here with me, and inhaling his masculine scent. As I imagine him touching me and sliding his hand down my terry cloth shorts, I move my hand in smaller, faster circles. A rippling sensation begins in my core, as my toes curl and my back arches.
In my imagination, I see Brady picking me up and walking me to the bed, sitting me on his lap. He gently slides me down on top of him and then eases all of himself inside of me. The stretch is delightful, and I moan a bit with pain as he allows me to adjust. Then, he does this again over and over, easing in and out. Facing each other, he fills me up, and we move in unison, rhythmically grinding back and forth, faster and faster. He pulls me close until we both climax at the same time, me shuddering in his strong grasp. This final thought pushes me over the edge, and I orgasm, my entire body stricken with pleasure that pulses all the way down to my toes.
I run my hand up and down my mound, feeling how wet I am from nothing but Brady. I feel so relieved, but like I’m still missing something. I feel like a vegetarian, full but never completely satisfied. I know that I want him and that I need all of him. There’s no question in my mind: I’ll wait for Brady no matter how long it takes.
When I come back down from my erotic exploration, I run over to my desk and furiously begin writing him another letter, this one even steamier than the last one. When I’m satisfied with the note, I spritz it with a small puff of my vanilla perfume.
Then I go to my dresser and set up my camera. I decide to be even bolder this time. I’m going to give Brady Firestone something he can’t resist and a sly smile crosses my face as I begin to click the shutter.
6
Brady
* * *
“Firestone, don’t forget that it’s your turn to clean the bathroom asshole,” Burt Keiser, another guy that lives in the same barrack as me, yells when I walk through the door.
“Hey man, I just got done with an overnight shift. Can you fuck off until I get some rest?” I ask tensely.
He holds his hands up in surrender. “Calm down, just giving you a hard time. I’ll have one of the newbs do it. You’ve earned your stripes to get out of bathroom duty.”
“Yeah you do that,” I tell him shortly, walking past him to my room.
I walk to my room after another stressful day. I’m relieved that my roommate is gone so I can be alone in peace. But the only thing that can help me get over this awful mood is a note from Susie. It’s been a little over a week since I last heard from her. I know it was reckless sending her that note and that drawing, but I wanted her to know how sexy I think she is.
Right before I sit on my bed, there’s a heavy knock at the door. I snatch it open, “I TOLD YOU TO FUC-…oh hey, buddy. What’s up?”
There’s a young, red haired soldier standing in front of me, looking terrified. I apologize.
“I’m sorry I thought you were – never mind, did you need something?”
“Sir, you have a package,” he says quickly, sticking out a box, similar to the one Susie sent me last time.
I smile, seeing the care package in his hands.
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” I say, taking the box from him. The young soldier dashes away quickly and I close the door, already lost in thought.
Holy shit, it’s finally here. I am so excited to see what Susie has for me this time. I keep dreaming of her, and it’s the only thing keeping me sane in the middle of this godawful war.
I have no idea what this girl is doing to me, but I can’t get her out of my mind. I keep thinking and dreaming about her voluptuous hourglass figure. How I want to run my tongue all over every inch of her milky white skin and taste her. How I yearn to smell her vanilla scent up close as her hair falls in my face, teasing me to pull it ever so slightly. I want to be rough with her, but at the same time treat her like a delicate flower.
I open her new care package to see what is in store for me. The first thing I see is a Ziplock baggie of homemade rice krispy treats. I open the baggie and take in their delicious, sweet smell. I take one out and bite into it, and then pull out the bag and toss it carelessly behind me, looking for a hidden treasure at the bottom of the package.
This time, there’s a pink envelope buried at the bottom of the packing material. I pick it up and see my name scrawled in her beautiful, slanted cursive handwriting.
I slide out the pink note and take a deep breath. Her vanilla scent is all over this letter, just as it was the last one. Again, there’s another Polaroid enclosed, and it falls out face down onto my lap. My cock twitches, but I leave it there so I can read the letter first.
* * *
Dear Brady,
You’re right. You should no longer call me “Kid” because I’m anything but, and I’m so ready to show you. I play with myself every night because what I feel for you is just too unbearable. Trust me, I will absolutely wait for you and so will my cookie. I have to confess that no one else has eaten my cookie before so you’ll have it all to yourself. You’re my first customer, as the saying goes. Does that turn you on?
XOXO,
Your Susie
* * *
My Susie? This is new and uncharted territory for me. Never has a woman told me that they are mine. Yet, it feels right. She’s innocent and untouched, and the possessive fits our situation. I want her, and no man will get to touch her but me.
I glance down, and hesitantly pick up the photo. If her letter’s already driving me this crazy, then I know the Polaroid is going to be something that sends me over the edge. Susie is just so damn beautiful and sexy. The picture could be of her elbow, and it would still make me hard.
I slowly flip it over and almost lose it on the spot. Susie is completely nude this time, sitting on the edge of her bed with her legs open. Her hands are behind her, propping her up. Her eyes are hooded and lusty, that coy expression making me jerk forward.
Because every part of her womanhood is on display in this incredibly sexy photo. She’s smiling directly at me while licking her lips. Her large breasts hang perfectly, her erect nipples pointing directly my way. I can’t stop staring at them. I trace her body up and down, taking in all her curves.
I stare at her beautiful breasts one more time before letting my eyes slide downwards. She has a little trail right over her womanhood. The precise details of her delicate space are difficult to make out but there’s enough for me to get hard. I’m imagining her rubbing her wet lips all over my erection. Her ass is so fat, I can see part of her cheeks poking out at the bottom under her womanhood.
Her entire body is perfection and I have never seen anyone like her before. For someone so young, she has the body of a very mature woman, and I’ve been with quite a few women. But she’s like a peach waiting to be tasted for the first time. I
find myself staring at this picture, mouth open, slightly salivating.
I fall back on my bed and let the picture drop onto my chest. I have a full erection and have to relieve myself again. I pull my pants down, looking at her picture one more time. I work my way up and down my shaft, moving faster and faster. I use the same image that I always do, Susie bouncing up and down on top of me. Her breasts clap together as she tosses her hair back over her shoulder. In my mind, she grabs both her tits in large handfuls, while rhythmically sliding up and down. I imagine grabbing her hips and driving deeper and deeper into her, slapping her ass and getting her to scream my name.
The fantasy runs all the way until the end when I erupt all over myself. I lay there, breathing hard and recovering from my orgasm as semen trails all over my chest and belly. Fuck. Susie is going to drive me crazy. I have twelve months left to go on this tour, and every time I even think about her, I am ready to explode. I can barely carry out my daily duties because all I want to do is lay down and fantasize about the girl next door. Even my buddies have commented on my distracted state, but when they ask me what’s up, I just brush it off as nothing. Because in my head, I have Susie and that’s all that matters.
7
Susie
* * *
One year later.
I take one look at myself in the mirror and am in awe. Today, I graduate from high school and finally become an adult. I’m wearing a short white spaghetti strap dress with little floral designs embroidered all over it. It’s a gift from Brady because I mentioned in one of our many letters that I saw it at the mall, but my parents thought it was too expensive. I sent him a photo of me trying it on and he immediately wrote back with a money order enclosed. He said I looked beautiful, and that I should wear it for him if no one else.
I smile slightly to myself thinking about Brady, the love of my life. It sounds silly because we haven’t seen each other since he left last year. However, we’ve written, sent pictures, and talked on the phone whenever we could. He said he’ll be coming home any day now and I can’t wait. I feel so empty when I’m in his home, just waiting for him to come back.
I shake off the feelings of longing and put my mortarboard carefully on top of my soft curls. One more swipe of lip gloss and I nod at myself in the mirror, ready to go. It’s weird because I look the same as I always do, but I feel so much different. This must be what they talk about in romance novels when they describe the sensation of love. My skin is glowing, my smile is bigger than ever, and I’m turned on all the time just thinking about Brady and all the raunchy conversations we have thousands of miles apart.
But it’s more than just raunch. We also love talking about the things that matter to us. He tells me about Afghanistan, and how he believes the war there is ill-fated. I tell him about my parents and friends, and how our lives seem so commonplace compared to what he’s going through. But Brady doesn’t mind. He loves hearing about my days because he says they remind him of what it’s like to be normal. I’m happy to provide that, even though I wish he could be here, with me.
Taking another deep breath, I skip down the stairs.
“God dang, took you long enough. I’ve been waiting for you for ten years,” my friend Marcella says with an exaggerated sigh.
I roll my eyes at my best friend as she stands, shaking out her own dress. I make a face at her.
“Girl, I’d rather be late than ugly. Now let’s go, otherwise we’ll be late for our high school graduation!” I shriek.
All annoyance melts right off Marcella’s face. She’s just as excited as me and we take off running to her car. She’s wearing a nude, strapless, tight fitting dress and white strappy heels. Her heels clatter as she dashes around to the driver’s side of her Toyota Camry.
I hop in the passenger’s seat and run my hands over the upholstery. “I love the new ride!” I tell her.
“I know, it’s nice, right? Thank you, Mom and Dad,” she sings, putting the car in drive and taking off down the street.
“This is the perfect graduation gift. I can’t believe your parents were so generous.”
She grins at me.
“Well, Remford State is a huge campus, so I’ll need a car to get around. I think my parents bought it for me for that reason. So I could go to school.”
My face falls immediately.
“Oh my gosh. I can’t believe you’re leaving me for college,” I whine.
She pouts her lips at me briefly.
“I know. We’ve been inseparable and now I’m moving like two hours away. But it’s okay, because thanks to my new graduation present I’ll be able to come home every weekend!”
I look at her skeptically, pursing my lips. She side-eyes me and starts laughing, “Okay every other weekend. And you know you can always come visit me. I know starting at Remford Community College wasn’t your first choice, but it’s definitely a much cheaper option than what I’m doing. You should be happy.”
I nod.
“No, it’s fine. I don’t really know what I want to do so it doesn’t make sense for me to go to a four-year school yet. I can just knock out my prereqs at community college while I figure out what’s next.” I lean my head back and look at the window, watching the fields pass by as we zoom to the high school.
Marcella nods.
“Don’t worry, you won’t be stuck there forever. Just enough for you to figure out what you want to do. And besides, you’ve seemed so much more chipper…I dunno…happier, like your parents aren’t bothering you like they normally are. Did you finally go out with Charlie? Is that the reason?”
I shake my head ruefully.
“Gross, no way. Charlie Treason is definitely not in the picture. I don’t care that we’ve lived around the corner from each other our whole lives. That’s not divine intervention. I don’t care how many times he asks me out, the answer will always be no, and a hell no too.”
She giggles at me. “Okay, okay. I’ll admit, Charlie is a hard pass. Too goofy and nerdy. Besides one of your ass cheeks is as big as both of his legs together!”
We crack up at poor Charlie’s expense. I’ve lived around the block from Charlie my whole life, so we’ve always been in the same class. He’s a sweet kid, with thick, coke-bottle glasses and a perpetually red face. Unfortunately, puberty was not so kind to him, and he’s also a mess of acne, braces, and glasses with tape in the middle. His greasy red hair flops in his face and his stutter makes it impossible to get through a conversation.
But Charlie’s crushed on me for years, and the boy finally got up the nerve to ask me on a date. It was awful. I said no, as gently as I could, but he’s refused to give up. Since then, he has asked me out once a month and every time I give him the same easy let down.
Marcella sighs.
“Okay then, well, what about Bud Koolhouse? He’s been in your face lately, plus y’all went to prom together! He’s the hottest guy in school and you’re not even interested. Plus, you blew him off when he asked you to the movies after prom? Bud is Iowa State’s new starting QB, by the way. What is wrong with you?”
I twist my lips at her. Marcella’s had a crush on Bud since forever, and I know she’s just a tiny bit jealous he asked me to prom, and not her. As a result, I try to moderate my response.
“Prom was fun, don’t get me wrong, and I’m sure Bud has a bright future ahead of him. But that was high school and I’m past that.”
Marcella cocks her head quizzically at me. I know I’m not making any logical sense. Any girl would kill to be in my position when it comes to Bud Koolhouse. Heck, many middle-aged women with babies and jobs would likely love the opportunity to be with Bud, but I can’t. Not when I have Brady on my mind. I see the confusion on Marcella’s face and decide to fess up to get her off my back.
I turn and look at her sheepishly. Taking a deep breath, I say, “Okay, it’s not Charlie, and it’s not Bud. I’m just distracted because…I’m in love!” I gush, closing my eyes and sinking back into the seat.
She looks at me wide eyed.
“Whaaat??? You’re dating someone and I didn’t even know? Who? When? Where? How? Whaaat?”
“I’m dating my neighbor!” I tell her excitedly.
She pauses for a moment, thinking.
“What neighbor? Mr. Joe? You’re dating Mr. Ankle Weights?!?” she asks, cracking up with laughter. “No way!”
I smack her playfully on the arm. “No silly, I’m dating my next door neighbor, Brady Firestone. Remember the hot soldier who lives next door? He’s been in Afghanistan for the last year, but he’s coming home soon and I’m so excited!”
“How the hell are you dating an old ass man that lives in Afghanistan?” she asks me incredulously.
I get defensive.
“He’s not that old. And well, we send letters, emails, and have even had a few phone calls. At first, they started out like really raunchy and sexy, but then we started talking about real stuff and fell in love.”
My friend is utterly baffled.
“So let me get this straight. You’ve never met Brady in person, but you’re corresponding with him?” she asks, her voice riddled with doubt.
I start to get frustrated. This is exactly why I was so hesitant to tell Marcella about Brady. The excitement and rush I was feeling are now gone. Instead, I’m deflated and exhausted from trying to explain this to her.
“No, it’s not like that. We met once, when I was watering the flowers and he was working in his yard. The connection was electric, and after he was deployed, I started sending him letters and care packages. He would write back, and then we started corresponding more and more, even by email and phone. It’s not that weird you know,” I add quietly.
We sit there in silence for a moment. Marcella looks to be deep in thought.