The day was mild and sunny, with a sky open and big and blue overhead, with a breeze just strong enough to stir the hair across your forehead if you stood just right. As perfect a day as anyone could hope for, and the neighborhood was taking full advantage of it.

Older women were power walking in track suits down the sidewalks, kids were rushing about chasing one another as they ran through the sprinklers. Young mothers stood in clusters in their driveways, gossiping and laughing as they bumped youngsters on their hips while the children looked around with wide-eyed wonder, some of them not yet old enough to keep their too-big heads from bobbling on too-inexperienced necks.

Second Lieutenant Roger Owens stood on the front porch of a simple and clean house that looked eerily similar to every other house in the middle class suburban neighborhood. He paused for a moment just to look around once more, soaking it all. Roger hadn't thought middle class even existed anymore. Heathersville was a little slice of Americana, the elusive American dream that seemed to have totally disappeared by now. It was most abnormally normal place he'd ever seen, neither a small, run down little town, nor a bustling urban sprawl, but somewhere idyllically between.

But that wasn't why he was here.

The Marine picked up his duffle bag and stepped down the drive, checking again to be sure the address was correct. It was. He rapped on the front door. He was left standing there waiting for several long moments before, at last, the door opened.

The smell of fresh food wafted through the air from inside the house, promises of an excellent dinner. The woman in the doorway stared up at him. She was a short woman, perhaps five two, which set him a foot taller than her. She had long, straight chocolate brown hair that fell in a shining curtain down her slender shoulders and across her back. Big, wide doe eyes the same deep brown as her hair stared up at him, set in a heart shaped face with a small, round nose and full, lush lips that were freshly glossed. She wore a simple black silk robe that, though tied firmly shut and modest, could nonetheless do nothing to hide the voluptuous swell of her generous curves and shapely waist.

The woman regarded Roger closely, studying him. He stood in his Marine service uniform, his uniform well pressed and clean in green and khaki colors. Roger was a tall, well built, fit man, broad in the chest and shoulder with strong, toned arms. He was a dark skinned black man, and he wore his uniform well, and had a capable air about him. He had a handsome face in a serious, no-nonsense sort of way, clean shaven with a close cropped military cut.

"Mrs. Alice Tristan?" Roger asked.

"Yes," the young suburban housewife replied. She seemed a touch nervous, uncertain. Roger thought for a moment that there must be a mistake. Then her chocolate eyes ran slowly along him, really taking him in now, unabashedly tracing the way his button up uniform shirt fit to his well-muscled chest and hugged his upper arms. A small, pink tongue traced full glossed lips. A stud gleamed silver against the pink of her pierced tongue.

"You look exactly like your picture," Roger said, meaning it as a compliment.

Alice swallowed, then opened the door wider. Roger stepped inside.

The house was clean, more spacious than it appeared from the outside, and tastefully, if somewhat sparsely, decorated. It had the feel of a home that had been moved into recently. Pictures adorned the walls in several places. Smiling faces shone out from little nooks in bookcases and end tables.

Roger only noticed all this in a cursory, peripheral sort of way. His attention was much more intently focused on the young woman in front of him, who waited for the Marine to shut the door behind him, then shrugged out of her robe without speaking a word.

Alice was a blessed woman. Her breasts were generous and juicy. They sat high and proud on her chest and had an undeniable natural look and feel, heavy and ripe and a lovely natural teardrop shape. Her nipples were thick and pink and pierced through with twin silver rings, making them stand out all the more proudly from the tips of her breasts. Her waist was slim and slender, with just a touch of feminine rounding to her belly that added to her sensuality rather than took away from it. Her hips were abundant and round, and her thighs shapely and solid and sleek, tapering down into surprisingly long legs for her height. Between those supple thighs, Alice's cunt was bald, plump, and already glistening with the sticky proof of her arousal.

The young married woman dropped to her knees in front of Roger, who caught the gleam of the steel collar around the woman's throat. "My service is yours, Sir."

Roger stared down at her for a moment, drinking her in. She knelt well, balanced on the balls of her feet with her heels serving as a rest for her perfectly rounded ass. Her knees were splayed wide to shamelessly expose the puffy folds of her smooth cunt.

"Then serve," he said at last. "You know what's expected."

And she did. Did she ever. Alice nodded and then she was there, kneeling right at his feet. Her small, capable hands undid his belt and pulled it free. She placed it neatly to the side, glanced up at him, and then she was undoing the pressed and dry-cleaned pants of his uniform, loosing buttons and tugging down his zipper. Her hands were steady, confident, and soft.

She found him erect, rigid and heavy. Alice pulled Rogers throbbing cock out, running her pale hand up and down the impressive dark length, the skin smooth and soft over the solid hardness of his shaft. A look of hunger rushed through her face, and the woman couldn't quite manage to stifle an audible groan.

Wordless and eager, Alice leaned down to run her pierced pink tongue up and down the length of that fat black dick. Another groan came unbidden from those full lips as she tasted his flesh for the first time. Her saliva glinted on his skin as she lavished her lips and tongue up and down the generous length of meat. Then, without hesitation, Alice plunged the bulging cock into her mouth, taking the bloated mushroomed head into her mouth and slurping wetly, her plump cock-sucker lips spread around the girth of Roger's cock knob. His whole body clenched, tensing with the warm wet pleasure of that hungry little mouth.

The housewife was starved, obviously, and began to enthusiastically bob her head up and down the Marine's cock, sucking and slurping loudly and without shame or restraint. A trembling wet gag gurgled from Alice's cock stuffed lips as she took Roger's engorged cock down her slender white throat. The bulging width of Roger's meat stretched and filled Alice's throat, cutting off her air and choking her in a way that made her cunt pulse uncontrollably.

Soon Roger's powerful hands were in her hair, holding her head steady, and his hips pumped strongly to roughly drive his cock down the tight, wet confines of her squeezing throat. Alice knelt there, staring up at him with glazed over eyes, and one hand gripped Roger's muscled thigh while the other slipped between her thighs and spread the engorged folds of her cunt around her pumping fingers.

Alice gagged and choked, but refused to release the dark, delicious meat she was gorging on. Roger used the slutty suburban wife for his pleasure, pounding her face until her lips were puffy and long ropes of saliva hung sloppily from her lips and chin to spill on her bouncing, swaying tits. All the while, Alice stared up at him, tears running from her eyes to run down her reddened cheeks, and never once did she do anything but suck, gag, and moan violently around his cock.

The rough throat fucking was just too much, just too good, and Roger came in a sudden rush. His body went rigid and his fingers gripped her scalp harder as his hips surged forward, burying his cock down that squeezing little throat, and came. His seed spurt out, thick and hot and sticky, splashing in great bursts to coat Alice's throat and belly in warmth. He came until her mouth was full of it, a potent mix of meat and cum dancing all over her tongue and seeping from the corners of her over-stretched lips, running down her chin in sticky white globs. Finally, getting woozy from lack of air, Alice yanked back, gasping and sputtering and moaning as the last spurt of Roger's thick cum splashed onto one cheek.

Alice fell back, panting and trembling, staring up at the stranger in front of her. She could feel his cock stretching her throat still, she could taste his essence, and the smell of his seed was all she could process. The young brunette stared up at the tall marine in front of her, and her hand worked frantically between wide spread legs, while the other gathered the cum from her face and sucked her fingers clean. She let out a hoarse scream as she violently came, her back lifting in a beautiful arch as she shrieked out her pleasure with Roger's cum dancing on her tongue.

Spent, Alice fell to the floor, panting and trembling. A light sheen of sweat covered her body and she stared at Roger without really seeing him. Roger tucked his saliva shining cock back into his pants, then undid his button down shirt and pulled it off, letting it fall so he stood in only his clean pressed pants and an undershirt.

After allowing herself some moments to come back to earth, Roger nudged the disheveled woman gently with the toe of his boot. Alice stirred, then finally collected herself and sat up. She gathered Roger's discarded shirt, folded it neatly and meticulously, then placed it with his belt before looking up at him from her place on the floor.

"Thank you, Sir, for the gift of your cock and your cum. Are you hungry? Dinner should be ready shortly."

"Dinner would be great. I haven't had a real dinner since I was deployed," Roger replied with a nod.

"This way, please," Alice replied. She rose gracefully and turned, leading Roger down the hall toward the dining room. Roger silently followed her. Or at least, if nothing else, he silently followed her ass, which wiggled and swayed enticingly, rough and firm and meaty and begging to be grabbed and fondled and...

"Sir?"

Roger stepped to a halt, almost running into the short woman who stared up at him. The look she gave him was innocently questioning, but the twitch at the corner of her mouth was impish and sly, and he knew he'd been caught staring.

"I asked if you would like to be seated here while I finish your dinner."

Roger gave a soft chuckle and scratched the back of his head. "Go ahead. Here will be fine."

Alice stepped out of the room, and returned a moment later with a cold beer. She twisted the cap off and handed it to Roger, then stepped back into the kitchen.

Roger took a long drag on the cold beer and let out a sigh of pleasure. It was a good beer.

The Marine had the thought that this was the strangest homecoming he'd ever had. Not that he could at all complain about the results thus far. Still. To distract himself from the thought, he looked around the small dining room, taking in the décor and the pictures on the wall. Most of them were of Alice and her husband. Various shots of the two of them together, her deliciously curved body wrapped up in the man's arms. She looked happy, there. He wondered how long it had been since she was happy with him.

Alice served him a fine dinner, the best Roger had in recent memory. A perfectly cooked ribeye steak with a baked sweet potato, topped with butter and brown sugar, and a cup of fresh broccoli and cheddar soup with some garlic bread to sop up the soup with. Roger devoured the meal enthusiastically as Alice watched with a pleased smile.

Roger wiped his mouth as Alice gathered the dishes and carried them to the kitchen. "Holy shit. That was amazing," he said as he wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"I'm glad it pleased you, Sir," Alice smiled from the kitchen. All she was wearing was an apron, and as Roger peeked around the corner he could see the lush swell of her perfect bubble butt poking saucily out as she leaned over the counter to do the dishes. The Marine began to quickly figure up how long it might take his stomach to settle...

Evening began to settle outside, the last rays of the sun lancing through the gaps in the shut blinds, signaling the end to that perfect day the neighborhood had so enjoyed. "This is a nice place. I don't guess it gets too exciting around here, but it's nice. Peaceful. Clean."

Alice came out of the kitchen and stared at him for a moment, her big doe eyes thoughtful. Then she came out into the dining room and, nudging the table back a bit, she climbed up onto Roger's lap. She straddled him, her hands resting on his strong shoulders as her naked sex pressed to his groin, apparently not caring how the dripping of her slick cunt smeared onto his clean uniform pants.

"Not so clean, sometimes," she murmured.

Roger's big hands grabbed her curving hips, gripping, his fingers digging into her skin. "I'm still not totally sure I understand this power exchange thing. Don't get me wrong ... I get the idea ... I just guess I don't see the full picture."

Alice was grinding on him now, pressing her cunt against the swollen, hard length of Roger's big black cock through his pants, her clit grazing along the fabric and making her bite those thick, full lips. "It's alright. You see enough, I think. I serve. Because it makes me happy. Because it makes me fulfilled. Because it's who I am. And it's really hard for me to serve, now that he's gone."

Roger lifted her up and placed her onto the table. She leaned back, propping herself on her elbows as she spread her legs for him, exposing her soft, swollen sex, her folds smooth and pink and glossy with her need. He looked up into her face. The overhead light glinted off the steel collar around the woman's throat. He wasn't very experienced in the world of power exchange, but he knew enough to know what that band of metal around her pretty throat represented, at least in part. Submission and yielding were Alice's way of loving, and living. He looked into her lovely face, saw the surrender there. It was enough.

Roger hastily undressed, peeling his way quickly out of what remained of his clothes, casting aside garments as fast as he was able. He'd never hated the many laces of his boots more than just then.

The obstruction of his clothes gone, Roger ran his fingers along Alice's glistening slit. Her lips spread happily under his thick fingers and she groaned, her back arching as her hips wiggled and shimmied along the table. He thrust his fingers into her, none too gently, and Alice positively came alive, yelping and whimpering and grinding her cunt down hard into his probing fingers. Her eyes were dark, shining pools of lust. Her hands rose, briefly cupping her own generous breasts as she squirmed on his thrusting fingers.

Roger did what came naturally. He took what she so desperately needed to give, using the young bride's body for his pleasure. His fingers worked into her deep and rough, thrusting in and out of her slick, squelching sex, feeling the wet and gripping texture of her pink core. Alice panted, hips undulating erotically as she bit her soft lip. Her nipples throbbed and her clit was on fire, and those strong fingers in her were going to make her come undone if they just keep going a bit more, a bit more ... oh that's it, right there! God, harder, yes, I can take it, I can take all of it, don't be afraid!

With a wet pop, Roger plunged a third dark finger into Alice's sopping cunt, working them all in and out of her clutching, trembling hole with a will. Alice went taut and rigid, and she suddenly arched with a keening wail, shaking like a leaf in a deep, violent orgasm. Her pussy dribbled out a splash of girlcum onto the table under her ass.

The table was sticky, a small little puddle glistening and slick, just like the panting woman's thighs. Roger gained confidence and surety as Alice came and responded so enthusiastically to him. His cock throbbed, fat and thick and powerful as the young wife's display sent arousal and carnal need coursing through his toned, muscular body.