HOMECOMING by Donald Peter Normann
c. 2005 by Katana Communications, Inc. All rights reserved by the author.
Any resemblance to any real persons, places or situations contained in this work is purely coincidental. Comments or requests to reprint or use this work in other media can be submitted to the author at dcscribe@netbox.com. _______________________________________________________________________________
From the footage they showed on the news this morning; the visibly shaken and sobbing wives and girlfriends at the airport, dashing into the arms of the tearful soldiers who met them there, I was a complete fucking wreck. I felt like a kid on a plane with a bathroom door that wouldn't open and a full bladder, and two more hours to go before it landed anywhere.
Standing at the rail station now, I was dancing from one foot to the other just like that kid, looking at my watch every other minute as they crept by like hours in themselves. Any second now, I expected to go up in a blaze of screaming, agonized spontaneous combustion. That's how badly I wanted, needed to see him right now.
My final blood test came back negative the same day I heard about the explosion in Fallujah. Four soldiers killed, ten wounded. I didn't go to work that day, didn't call in, didn't even get dressed. I sat there in my briefs, the last letter I'd gotten from Connie open in my lap, unable to move. I watched as the day turned to dusk and then night, staring into the darkness, seeing nothing. The nothing that I knew my life would be if I got the call that told me he would never be coming back. I remembered the simpler times, when all we had to worry about was how soon we could start fucking without a condom.
I fell asleep in that same chair by the bed, coming awake with a start as the phone rang and snatched it up before that first ring was even done. Petros, Connie's younger brother, (`Petey' to his friends and family,) was on the other end. Connie was okay. A piece of shrapnel had caught him in the shoulder, but he was fine. And soon, he'd be back.
The flood of relief was so great that I sunk into our bed and sobbed my eyes out for about ten minutes. Then I started the toughest job I've ever had in my life. Waiting. For him. That was three weeks ago.
Now, as I looked at my watch for the billionth time, a young lady, nicely dressed in a business suit and faux fur, sidled up to me.
"Been waiting long?" she asked, smiling. "I couldn't help noticing how often you looked at your watch."
"You have no idea," I said. "It's been like forever."
"Yeah, these trains sure do leave you feeling like you're stranded sometimes, don't they?"
"Uh-hunh. That, too."
She smiled at me with a little puzzled look, but I was only aware of it from the corner of my eye. I was concentrating so hard on looking at the other end of the platform, willing that train to appear around the corner, that I swear that I could see black sworls starting to dance before my tired eyes.
"Oh, finally!" I heard her exclaim, from very far away. "Here it comes."
Watching the lights on the front car growing larger, the electronic horn blaring as it approached, someone watching me would've thought I'd never seen a train before. But there was no other train in the world like this one. Not one with this cargo, more special to me than a donor heart in an ice chest on a Lifeline chopper on the way to a trauma center. This train, in a way, was carrying my heart.
After taking forever to come to a halt, the doors hissed open as the evening commuters poured out. My head was virtually spinning 360 degrees on my neck, eyes darting like a chameleon's as I strained to look everywhere at once for Connie. Fuck, I thought. If he's not on this train, I am going to need some serious meds before I can stomach waiting for the next one.
Then suddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I spun around thinking it was the woman next to me on the platform. Long gone once the doors had opened, she'd been replaced by the best sight my eyes have seen in four months.
The very first thing I saw was the thick, black, bushy moustache, framing that irresistibly sexy grin. Then the low, throaty purr that went with it hit my eardrums: "What's a man gotta do to get a brotha to show him some luv?" I didn't even see much more than that sparkle in those Mediterranean-blue eyes of his, and both of us abso-fucking-lutely lost it.
Our bodies, lips, tongues and teeth crashed together. Our muscles strained with the effort as we tried to fuse together into one complete being. I vaguely remembered going over how careful I would be when I saw him, not to squeeze him too tightly so I wouldn't hurt his wounded shoulder. Yeah, right.
My best friend, my big daddy, my teddy-bear and my fuck machine, the man I hoped I would someday marry no matter what Dubya and his asshole buddies had to say about it, was back in my arms at last. First Sergeant Constantine 'Connie' Thomopolous was home, and I was never gonna let him go again.
Looking back, I'm sure that we made one helluva spectacle of ourselves at the train station, the big Greek Army stud in his cammos playing tongue hockey with a big, black bodybuilder in a green Nike track suit. And I didn't give a good goddamn. Shit, if we had people pissing themselves then, too bad they couldn't have seen us the moment we got home.
There were virtually only sixty seconds out of the whole trip back that we weren't all over each other. That's when we climbed into the Ford Explorer at the station parking lot, and when we climbed out of the SUV in the garage at home. The entire time was spent with my hand down his cammo pants, finding that big tool already standing at attention, while making a meal out of the parts of his neck and right ear that I could without causing him to kill us both.
"Donnie, baby, chill out!" he laughed, trying to keep his eyes on the road. "I know you're dyin' to get me back home, but let's not get literal about the shit, okay?" I didn't even answer. I just took his free hand off the steering wheel and shoved it into my sweats. He found my hard dick like the best part of his favorite novel, and we kept each other going right up until he parked in the cool shade of the garage.
Connie hit the button above the rear-view mirror to close the door and got out, peeling off his skin-tight olive-drab t-shirt as he came around to the passenger side, his muscled torso glistening with the sweat of anticipation. By the time he got there, I was already naked from the waist down, shirt pulled back and looped around my neck and shoulders, twisting my big nips with the fingertips of both hands as my drooling dick bobbed at the ready for what was coming.
He never missed a beat. He dropped to his knees like he was still in basic and swallowed me down to the base as if there were no more than a grape popsicle between my massive thighs. I hugged his head to my crotch, toes curling as I locked my ankles around his thick back, feeling his gullet contract around the throbbing head of my raging dick. It had been too goddamned long, and I only lasted a few moments like that. A sob tore out of my chest as the hot wave of on-rushing orgasm smacked me like a bullet train with no brakes. My load burst out of me with gale force and he swallowed it all, his Adam's apple bobbing like a yo-yo.
The last spurt was barely gone before he stood up, nearly breaking his belt as he shoved his cammos down around his ankles, fusing his mouth to mine as I fell back into the front seat, my head barely missing the steering wheel. His tongue working my mouth, hands on my tits, he never needed on moment of guidance as that big, uncut Athenian sausage burrowed right up my lubed hole, the SUV rocking and rolling on its shocks as he came up on the balls of his booted feet, fucking me like it would be the last fuck he'd ever have. I was hard again in minutes, holding onto my big man for dear life as he seemed hell-bent on fucking the life both into and out of me and himself. Fucking the memory of war and death and agony away. I heard the coughing yell he always made before he came and shoved my burning hole onto his dick as far as I could, holding him fast as his molten load poured into me. He bit down on my hard nips and my second load spurted all over my heaving abs and his big hand as he pumped it out of me.
We soul-kissed again, deep and hard, as he wrapped both arms around me, both of my legs locked again around his waist. And that's exactly how he carried me upstairs from the garage. We were just getting warmed up.
We first met in an Adult Education course at the local community college. It seemed kind of stereotypical that he was taking Hotel and Restaurant Management, in that `My-Big-Fat-Greek- Wedding' kind of way. I was doing it to finally master the one thing that had always been my downfall as a kid: FOOD. Now, in my thirties, I had managed to escape a future in which I would still be that fat, forlorn and fucked-up kid who jerked off over Superman comics, dreaming one day that I would someday have Clark Kent's body, instead of just fantasizing about having him in bed.
But as it turned out, neither of us was what the other expected. I wasn't even sure how to approach him the first time I saw him in class. I had him pegged as your average hetero muscle-stud/pussy-hound, which is what everyone in class thought as well. Surprise, surprise, as it turned out, he had pretty much hung the same label on me. Our instructor paired us up on a special class project on a Friday night, and I invited him back to my place to work on it. For the next three days, all we ended up working on was each other. We barely got a passing grade on the project, but everything else was grade A triple plus, particularly the way we fucked each other's muscular asses.
Connie was everything I had ever dreamed of finding in a man, and all I wanted to do was find him inside me every morning for the rest of my life. But every guy has his flaws. Connie's biggest one was being in the Army Reserves, especially after 9/11.
When he got the call to go to Iraq, it felt like I been torn apart right down the middle. We'd only had a year together, and since, for obvious reasons, Connie had very little contact with his family except for his younger brother, Petey, we were just about everything to each other. I hadn't had a relationship that lasted this long before, and we were so serious, we'd decided to get our HIV tests at the same time for a two-year period, so that we could finally ditch the condoms and have sex the way it was meant for a couple to. We took our last tests together the same week he shipped out to Fallujah.
The first week he was gone, his test came back negative. Mine came back the same, the very day my daddy-bear nearly died in Fallujah.
We had fucked each other every kind of way you can imagine, and in some positions I had never thought I would try before. But the one I will always remember was that night before he left.
I sat facing him, our arms wrapped around each other as I slowly lowered myself on to his cock. He guided my ass with his hands as I stroked my dick, pulsing flat against his hairy, muscular abs. Our eyes locked, bodies shuddering with the delicious agony of delaying our full-out fuck.
"Slow, baby," he groaned. "Yeah, that's it. Take your time. I want you to feel me."
"Like this, daddy?" I squeezed my ass against his shaft.
He moaned, smiling. "Fuck, yeah."
I don't know how we managed to do it, going by what seemed like quarter-inches at a time, until his big dick was all the way in. We both grunted the moment his balls slapped against my fully-stuffed ass, and we kissed voraciously as I ground against him.
He rolled me over on my back, still plugged into me, sliding my ankles up across his big shoulders, bracing himself on his knuckles and toes as he fucked me like he had never fucked me before.
"I'm cummin, baby! This is my ass, and I cummin' in it, and I'm cummin' back for it. You feel me, man? You hear me?"
"Yes, daddy, fuck me! Fuck your boy's ass! It's yours! It's always gonna be yours!"
"Aw, shit! Goddamn it FUCK!"
I grabbed onto his tits hard as he hunched into me, squeezing his nips the way he liked as I felt every spurt inside me explode into the oversized condom. Waves of red swam before my eyes as he fisted my cock, driving my load out onto my heaving torso as he drove himself into me.
He lay full on top of me, shuddering, his face pressed against mine, wet with what I thought was warm sweat. Then I held his face in my hands and saw he was crying.
"Oh, Connie," I said, crying myself now. "It's gonna be okay, daddy. We're gonna be alright."
"I fuckin' love you so much, baby."
We pressed our bodies and cocks together so tight, and just lay like that for I don't know how long. We jerked each other off once more that night, before falling asleep. Just as we'd agreed, when I woke up the next morning, he was already gone.
Upstairs, after the garage, I was back in heaven where I belonged, watching my daddy's dark-maned head bobbing between my legs as he sucked my dick. I don't think either one of us had gone completely soft since I'd picked him up this morning, and I felt like we could fuck until the end of the world. We'd never get enough of each other.
I stroked his head, my fingers sliding down to his bare shoulder, where he still had the scar. He stopped sucking me, turning his head to kiss my hand.
"Ready for more?" I asked. The wicked grin he flashed me was all the answer I needed.
"Remember the night before I left?" he asked me as he reached for the lube on the night table next to the bed.
"Remember? That's like asking me if I ever forget to fuckin' breathe, baby."
He straddled me, dribbling lube onto my cock, a gasp darting from my chest as he slicked me up. "Well don't forget to breathe, Big D," he joked, lubing up his beautiful ass with two fingers, just before he slowly lowered himself on to me, just as I had done to him.
He stopped when I was all the way in, panting like a racehorse. He squeezed his talented muscles around my throbbing dick as I traced the curves and contours of his sweat-slicked, ripped, hot daddy-bod with loving fingers.
"Out there sometimes, late at night, when I was off-duty...aw, fuck, baby that's good...work those tits, man...When I was looking up at the stars, jerking off, all I could think about was this. Your big fuckin' boy cock inside me, fuckin' your daddy's hungry ass."
He flexed that ass again, making me moan. He pulled my hands away from his pecs and put them on his ass, squeezing my fingers around his tight glutes. He leaned in for a kiss, sucking my tongue into his mouth, biting my lips with gentle nips of his pearly whites.
"Fuck me, son," he growled. "Fuck your daddy like the goddamn world's about to end."
I don't know if that's exactly what we did, but we just about tore down the bed trying. I forget how many positions we fucked in, but we only stopped to catch our breath, by feeding each other oxygen through deep, wet, soul kisses before I started plowing him again, with him slapping at my pumping ass, urging me on.
It ended with me practically standing up, fucking him from above with his heels in my hands, him spread-eagled and nearly standing on his head as he beat that marble-hard uncut monster of his, yelling out as he sprayed his own cum into his mouth, all over his face, neck and heaving chest. Pulling out of his ass, I pumped my dick all over his balls, body shuddering as my load propelled out of me to mix with his.
I lowered his legs, dropping to my knees, breathless. But not too breathless to use my tongue on him, lapping up the puddles of cum that sparkled in the rippled cuts of his abs and following that pearly trail all the way up to my daddy's bull neck.
Grabbing my face again, we tongue-kissed, tasting each other in our mouths, gulping like we couldn't get enough.
"Now we are together, Donnie," he told me, stroking my bald, sweaty, grateful head. "Now we're one."
We didn't sleep for the rest of the night, just holding each other, watching the sun come up little by little. We fondled each other's bodies, but there was no need to fuck anymore. I don't think we could've topped this night if we'd tried.
In the dim light just before the breaking dawn, I gently traced the thick line of his mustache with a finger.
"When's Petey coming to get you?"
"Probably about two, two-thirty," Connie answered.
I sighed. "There isn't anything I can say? Anything I can do for you, do to you, to change your mind?"
Connie shook his head and smiled, giving my cheek a playful pat. "You read the letter, baby. You know I meant every word."
"I know, Con. Just like you know me. I had to ask."
Because he wasn't seriously wounded, Connie had the option to go back. This was well before Dubya pulled his great switcheroo on our boys and practically made another TDY over in Iraq mandatory. Every fiber in my being rebelled against the idea. I knew that if he went back over there, I would never see my daddy bear alive again.
But that was Connie for you. Somebody said that for evil to prevail, all it takes is for good men to stand by and do nothing, and Constantine Thomopolous was not one of those kind of guys. He wrote me all about how the Iraqi people he'd met were some of the most beautiful souls he'd ever encountered. About how they were getting the ultimate shitty deal; on the one hand, bombed and pulverized by us, supposedly `liberating' them, and on the other, being threatened, assaulted and killed by mercenaries and criminals who were their own people, all the bad guys fighting for the power that Saddam once held. Connie wasn't going back there for duty, God, country or George-Kiss-My-Fuckin'-Dripping-Asshole-W.-Bush. He was going back because he knew that there were people there who needed his help.
We could survive anything, he and I, and if I begged him hard enough not to do it, I knew he might change his mind. But then that would be forcing him to pretend to be something he wasn't, much like a lot of our leaders right about now. And that, we could never survive.
At about ten o'clock, we finally got out of bed. We were in the shower together, soaping up each other's bodies and making out, bringing each other to the edge of cumming a number of times until we finally succumbed, mouths and cocks pressed together as our loads shot into the steamy spray. We barely said four words to each other, everything communicated by touch. Once got dressed and packed his gear, we sat out on the porch, holding hands, waiting for Petey.
Petros 'Petey' Thomopolous drove up in a souped-up, red two-door Camaro, an all-time classic. The car definitely suited him. When he got out and walked up to the porch, if I'd never even seen a picture of him or spoken to him on the phone, I would recognize the uncanny imitation of his big brother's sexy swagger anywhere. Petey was a muscular, miniature version of Connie, with more boyish features and no facial hair. He could've been a young athlete from the days when the Acropolis was new.
Connie walked to greet him and they hugged for a while, like family who hadn't seen each other in years, although Petey had been the one who picked him up at the airport. Arms around each other, Connie walked him over.
"Bro, this is..."
"I know. This is Donnie. Donnie Newton."
He put his hands on my shoulders, staring intensely into my face for more than a minute. I had no idea what to expect since I'd never met Petey in person, but I'm not sure I was ready for this. He leaned in, kissing me gently on both cheeks and my forehead, giving me a big bear hug for good measure. Connie had always told me how warm and affectionate his upbringing had been, but now I had experienced its result first hand, besides him, of course. The handsome, arrow-straight Petey patted my cheek exactly like Connie had done countless times.
"If my big bro loves you, man, then you okay by me," he said, grinning. It was an uncanny echo of Connie's smile, one I had a feeling that would be a welcome sight in the coming days.
Petey slung Connie's heavy duffel over his shoulder like it was no more than a bag of cotton balls. "I'll be in the car, CT," he told Connie. "Nice to meetcha, Donnie."
"Yeah, man. You, too." I still felt a little dazed.
Connie took both my hands in his. "You gonna be okay, son o'mine?"
"Just as long as you come back, daddy. And you don't give that meat to nobody else but me."
"Hmmm...I'll have to think about that one."
"Fucker!" He laughed, pulling me closer, kissing my fingers.
He looked deep into me with those soulful eyes of his. "You know if I can, I..."
I covered my mouth with his, my hands holding his rugged, handsome face.
"You'll be back, daddy," I said to him when we stopped. "Just say it. That's all I wanna hear."
"I'll be back," he said, doing his best Arnold. Then he kissed me again.
"You know I will. Baby bear."
He pulled his cap from his back pocket and pulled it on. Squaring his shoulders, he turned smartly on his heels and walked to the car, with that badass daddy's swagger that had drawn me to him in the first place. He got in and put on his shades, as Petey gunned the engine. He flashed me a peace sign, and that hot-as-fuck Connie grin one more time before they roared off into the brightness of the early afternoon.
The death of my big daddy made the national news. During a battle with insurgents in Najaf, a school bus had been hit by mortar fire. Nobody knew from which side, theirs or ours, and it didn't matter. The driver was killed instantly, but ten kids who would've died were saved by an Army Reservist named Constantine Thomopolous. Dodging flak the entire time, he took every last one of those kids off that burning bus and got them into safe cover. He'd gone back to make sure there were no more survivors, when a sniper's bullet took his head off. Of course, they never broadcast that part of it.
With all the talk about Protection of Marriage Acts, about how gay relationships aren't valid, and how we've even been called 'selfish hedonists,' I have to ask myself if the world really has gone as crazy as it seems.
Because every weekend now, when Petey drives me down to visit Connie's grave, it feels about as real as pain ever gets. And I know that sooner or later, the hurt will be healed.
Probably about the time the goddamn world's about to end.