Any Soldier - Cover

Any Soldier

Copyright© 2010 by Lubrican

Chapter 15

Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 15 - Julia's 2nd grade class wrote letters to "Any Soldier" in Iraq and a soldier wrote back. The kids adopted him and his private letters to Julia got her going. Then he stopped writing, and Julia had to find out why. Her journey to find him has its ups and downs, its ins and outs. Pun intended.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Pregnancy   Slow  

He had the cabbie let him off a couple of houses down from Julia’s. Then he called her.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said when she picked up the phone.

“Finally!” she yelled. “I’ve been waiting all day! Why are you calling so late? Can you come home?”

“Calm down,” he said, trying not to laugh. He was standing on the sidewalk, looking at the front door. “I do get to come home.”

She squealed and he heard it through the walls of the house, as well as on the phone. “When?”

“I’m working on that,” said Bob. He stepped up onto the porch. “So ... what are you wearing?”

“Who cares what I’m wearing?” she yelled. “I want to know when I get to see you!”

“I care what you’re wearing. I’m so lonely and horny right now. I can’t stand it. I need to be with you now, baby.”

“Ohhh Bob, honey, don’t do this to me right now. I can’t take it,” she moaned.

“Come on, honey,” he pleaded. “I need some relief. The next best thing to being there is talking to you ... naked ... and pretending it’s your hand instead of mine.”

“You bastard,” she moaned. “Now you’ve got me dripping wet.”

“So ... you gonna get naked for me?”

“Okay,” she said, breathing heavily. “This is weird, Bob. I’ve never done anything like this before!”

“I’m hard as a rock,” he said, leaning his head against the front door... his front door now.

“Wait a minute,” she panted. A few seconds later: “Okay. This just feels so weird.”

“Would it be weird if I was there, and could see you and touch you?”

“Noooo,” she whined. “I want that so much, Bob.”

“Me too,” he said. “I can’t stand it. I can’t wait. I’m coming home now. I have to see you.”

“Ohh baby,” she groaned. “I wish you could. If you were here, I’d make you really happy.”

Bob pushed the doorbell. He heard the bell ring inside. He pushed it again, like someone who is impatient.

“Shit!” she said.

“What?” he asked, unable to keep the shit eating grin off his face.

“Somebody’s at the door,” she whispered.

He pushed the button again.

“Well don’t answer it naked,” he said.

“Of course not! Who could it be at this hour?”

“Get rid of him. I was so close.”

“Where’s my robe?”

“How should I know?” He almost laughed, but kept himself under control.

He pushed the button again, twice in a row.

“I’m coming!” he heard her angry voice say.

“Me too,” he said softly.

The porch light went on.

“Who is it?” she called through the door.

“Special delivery from Walter Reed Hospital,” he said, making his voice much higher than normal.

The lacy curtains that covered the glass pane in the door parted and her face appeared.

He waved.

“Hi honey,” he said. “I told you I couldn’t wait.”


Women are emotional creatures. A woman can go from shock, to euphoria, to anger, to intense joy, to beating on a man with small fists, to lying limply in his arms while he kisses her, all in the space of thirty seconds, and all while standing in her own front doorway.

When she stepped back from him, a thousand questions on her lips, he plucked at the belt of her robe. It fell open, exposing her to anyone who might happen to be driving or walking by at nine-thirty in the evening.

“You are naked,” he sighed.

“How?” She finally distilled the thousand questions into just one.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said. “They discharged me. I don’t have to go back. I’m home.”

She broke down then, overwhelmed by what was happening to her. He picked her up off the floor and carried her to the bedroom. He said he’d be right back, and went to get his things off the porch. He closed the door and went back to find her lying limply on the bed, sniffling. He sat down and rested his hand on her bare hip.

“I hate you,” she said softly.

“I love you,” he said.

His hand slid upwards to cup a breast.

“Don’t touch me,” she said. “You’re horrible.”

He pinched her nipple lightly and stood up, taking off his shirt.

“If you think you’re going to crawl into my bed, naked, after doing such a despicable thing, you’ve got another think coming, mister!” she said, a little more forcefully. She still hadn’t covered up or moved.

He ignored her and got naked. He removed his leg and crawled up on the bed. The way she was lying was almost on one side, with her legs akimbo. He put his right knee between her legs and leaned down to kiss her swollen belly.

“Hi there,” he said to her stomach. “I missed you too.” He started kissing upwards.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, her voice low. She still did not move.

While he sucked each nipple gently, she rolled onto her back, but said nothing. He kissed up to her throat and she arched her neck, turning her face away from him. He simply went back down, stopping again briefly at her breasts, and then moving over her belly. Her legs were spread widely enough now that he could lift his left knee and move it between them.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said, her voice rough.

Then, as he contemplated her body, she lifted her hips, pushing herself against his lips.

He used his lips with gusto, unable to remember having a better time in his life as her hips twisted and moved. He looked up and saw she had a hand over her mouth, trying not to make any noise. She saw him looking and raised her head.

“Prick!” she spat.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said, and crawled up.

“No!” she said, reaching for him. Her hand pulled him to her slick opening.

He entered her slowly, and it took every fiber of his strength to keep from slamming in as hard and deep as he could. Instead, he reveled in the feel of her hot sheath swallowing him, bit by bit, until his pubes ran into wet skin. She couldn’t keep a low groan of satisfaction in.

With his face directly over hers, he stared into her eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“You haven’t even kissed me hello,” she pouted.

Then it got wild, almost violent, as she strained against him, her hands moving to urge him to move this way, or that, using strong, pointed, sharp nails. Now it was the feel of her hot skin rubbing against him that threatened to suddenly paralyze him. He couldn’t get enough. He wished he could enter her body and live within her, like their baby was doing at this second. Orgasm wasn’t the goal now ... only the feel of their union, and the knowledge that they were one being.

She was on a different page, and had an orgasm that sounded like it was killing her. She clung to him, and kept moving, obviously intent on either extending the pleasure, or going for another one. He knew what to do, and crushed her to the bed, grinding against her as she gasped and panted her joy.

Finally, ten minutes later, he had the quietest, sneakiest, most stingingly sweet orgasm as his penis snuck a load of semen into her now relaxed body.

He collapsed, all the tension of months of fear and pain gone from his body. He rolled to keep from crushing her and she clung to him like a leech.

“I forgive you,” she whispered, and then kissed his cheek.


They had three days before she had to go to school to get her classroom ready for the children. The first day of it was a rather abbreviated third honeymoon, as she got used to the idea that everything had changed, and that the vast majority of her fears and concerns were no longer salient.

The next morning Julia got out of bed and, still naked, went to the bathroom to take a shower and brush her teeth. She planned on getting something to eat. If her lazy husband joined her, fine. If not, he’d just have to call on reserves of energy when she returned to bed. Her loins tingled at the very thought of what she planned on doing with him ... all day if possible.

As she dried off, however, the now plainly visible pooch of her belly shone back at her from the mirror over the sink. She stopped to smooth her hands over it. In a dress or shirt she simply looked a little plump, but only in that region. She knew that would change dramatically as the semester proceeded, and that, by the end of it, she would most likely be waddling around, her back aching.

It was then that it occurred to her that the stabilization of Bob’s status had also solved another problem. She and her mother could now plan a wedding!

Her hands stopped, almost protectively covering the slight swelling under them. She loved this baby already. Sometimes she talked to it out loud, even though she knew it was silly. But her mother was not as likely to have such benevolent feelings about it ... for multiple reasons.

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