Tricia's Army Sergeant: A Story of Passion & Awakening in Mid-Life

by Maura Rossi

  Her kiss brought him fully erect, his cock head coming up out of his pants. He was knocked for a loop.

  "I'll be right back, I'm going to the ladies room."

  She excused herself. John knew within a split second what he was going to do. He followed her down the hallway to the restrooms. He grabbed her hand as he passed her and pulled her into the family restroom.

  "John, what are you doing?

  "I want you and I can't wait. I won't wait."

  He unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his thick, hard cock. Tricia tried to scoot past to the door, but he blocked.

  "Oh, no you don't. These are the consequences of denying me. I told you, I can't wait."

  He grabbed her and spun her around. He pulled up her skirt and yanked her panties down. He positioned himself at her opening, wrapped both his arms around her waist and pulled her back onto his stiff pole. He had her up off her toes, suspended above the ground. She frantically grabbed for the sink to hold herself up, as he crammed his cock deeper and deeper. Her feet dangled. He forced his way in as deep as he could get. She was helpless.

  He covered the front of her pussy with one of his big hands and started rubbing her clit up and down. It took him less than two minutes to start coming hard. Tricia watched the whole scene in the mirror. He fascinated her. Though she couldn't see any part of his anatomy, she watched him strain and thrust. He was incredibly hot. Every muscle flexed and pumped as he lifted her and filled her. Her pussy accommodated him with plenty of slippery fluid.

  His face transformed as he climaxed. God help her, he was magnificent. He grimaced and then groaned. He clenched his jaw as he began to come. His eyes glazed and he squeezed them shut as he sprayed into her pussy. He must have realized that she was watching him because his eyes opened and he looked into her eyes as he finished. She was overcome.

  He was watching her now. He stayed hard and wiggled his cock around inside her and tapped on her clit.

  "John, God, please."

  She couldn't move to help herself. It was all up to him. The pressure of his size and his fingers working her over, brought her to a fantastic peak. He watched her orgasm in the mirror; she maintained eye contact for a long as she could, before tightly squeezing her eyes shut during the last clenches. She gripped the edge of the sink and tried to tip her ass up to make it last longer.

  John dropped her down and put his cock away. He didn't help her with her clothes.

  "So you know, that's having sex," John grinned.

  ***

  "Tricia, I've got to go to Kabul for a couple of months."

  He said this very casually, like it was no big deal. Tricia was standing by the stove and John was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for her to bring his dinner. She dropped his plate full of food. The dish shattered on the floor. John jumped to help her. Tricia just stood there as he cleaned.

  "Hey, are you all right?"

  He could see she was agitated.

  "No, I'm not all right. Why do you have to go to Afghanistan? I thought you weren't in that kind of job anymore."

  "Well, they want me to set up an office and conduct some training. It won't take more than two months.

  John was a hand-to-hand combat expert among other things. He was being brought in to help set up and train a Special Forces unit within the Afghan Army.

  "Well, I don't want you to go."

  He laughed.

  "Yeah well, I don't want to go either Tricia, but it's my job."

  "No, I mean it John. I really don't want you to go. Please get out of it," she begged.

  Then she started to cry.

  "Oh, honey, don't cry. I won't be gone long."

  He took her in his arms and pressed her head to his chest.

  "John, I can't go through this again. You can't go to Afghanistan."

  A light bulb went on for John. Tricia was afraid for his life, not just unhappy about being apart.

  "Tricia…honey…I won't even be leaving the base. I just train some guys and tell them how to organize themselves. I'm nowhere near danger."

  She burst out crying. She felt sick to her stomach. John was going to Afghanistan, a place of death. She couldn’t take it. Mark hobbled into the kitchen on his crutches. He saw his mother crying and a broken dish on the floor.

  "What's going on?"

  "I'm going to Afghanistan and your mother is upset."

  Tricia pulled away from John.

  "No, you are not going. You're not going. That's my final word on the subject."

  Mark watched silently. John looked at him; Mark shook his head.

  "Tricia, I have to go. You know I can't get out of it."

  "Well, you're going to have to get out of it if you want to stay with me."

  John stopped in his tracks. Mark raised his eyebrows. Tricia went to get a mop.

  "Wait a minute. What are you saying?"

  "I'm saying that if you go to Afghanistan, we're finished."

  "What?"

  "I can't do it again. I went through this once already. I can't wait here while you go off to die. If you're going to go, then we might as well just end it now."

  John got very red in the face; he was furious. She was beyond unreasonable. He understood her fears, as well anyone. But he didn't understand why she was breaking up with him. It didn't make any sense. Mark turned and left the room at this. He listened to the rest from the living room.

  "Tricia, you're being ridiculous. I'm setting up an office," he raised his voice.

  "Oh, I'm being ridiculous, am I? You think I'm stupid, that I don't know the risks over there? No, if you go, we're through," she yelled back.

  "Why are you doing this?"

  "Because, I …I don't want to lose you."

  "So you're breaking up with me because you don't want to lose me. Brilliant fucking logic."

  She fumed. There was no way she would back down. John took a deep breath, to calm down. He couldn't figure out how this had gone so badly. He moved towards her with his arms out.

  "Tricia, I'm leaving in two days. Please don't do this."

  Two days! Tricia was livid. Did he think he was going on a business trip? She looked him straight in the eye.

  "Get out, John. Get out now! I don't want to see you anymore."

  He dropped his arms and just stood there. He looked into her eyes for some help, some clue as to what he should do. He saw nothing but anger. He wouldn't be able to get through to her. He turned and walked out of the kitchen, out of the house.

  Two days later he deployed to Kabul.

  Chapter 8

  John was gone about six weeks when he asked his son Patrick to pick up his things from Tricia's house. He had hoped she would calm down. He prayed she would call or write him, and that being apart would bring some clarity and logic to the situation. Or even that she would miss him. But she never contacted him.

  Patrick called ahead and spoke with Tricia. Mark was still home with his broken leg so he went during the day, rather than face Tricia. He knew his Dad was pretty upset, he figured Tricia was probably the same.

  "Hey Mark. I'm here to pick up my Dad's stuff."

  "Yeah, OK, come on in. I'll get it."

  Mark crutched down the hall to the office/guest bedroom. His Mom had put the stuff in a bag in there somewhere. He looked around. He saw a big envelope on top of the desk addressed to John in Kabul. Without really thinking about it, he opened the envelope. He didn't think it was part of John's things, but he wasn't sure.

  What he pulled out of the envelope shocked the shit out of him.

  "I'm going to fucking kill him!" he roared.

  Patrick came down the hall to see what Mark was yelling about. He was not prepared for what he saw when he looked over Mark's shoulder. Holy Shit.

  Mark was staring at a picture of his mom, naked and spread open for the camera. Her pussy was bare and glistening. She was pulling her lips apart. She had the sweetest shy expression on her face, her hair messy like she just woke up. Damn. Patrick
tried to compose himself.

  Mark slammed the pictures face down on the desk.

  "What did that fucking bastard do?"

  "Hey man, my father would never take pictures like that. No way."

  "Really?! Well what the fuck are these?"

  "Look at them again, Mark. She took these herself."

  Mark picked up a picture. Patrick reached over and picked up a different one. In this one, Tricia had both her breasts in her hands, holding them up to the camera, smiling prettily, with her head tilted to the side. She was seated on the bed with her legs slightly apart; her pussy was completely bare, no hair anywhere. She was spectacular.

  "Look man, see the camera. She's posing in a mirror."

  "Stop looking, man. That's my Mom you're drooling over."

  Mark's voice was edged with despair. He threw the picture in his hand to the floor.

  "Yeah, well, she's beautiful. You shouldn't feel embarrassed. You should feel proud you have such an attractive mom. You know, she takes care of herself."

  Patrick tried his best to console his friend. It was tough. He did not want to get a hard-on for his friend's mother, his Dad's girlfriend, but the pictures were extraordinary.

  "What the fuck do you know? It's not that great. I have been fending off men since I was ten. Every fucking asshole that sees her has to try. I mean everyone. My gym teacher, our minister, even some of my Dad's fucking friends. Can you believe that? I was always hanging around, cause I could tell by the way they looked at her. I fucked it up for them every time. She's so nice to everyone. She doesn't know they just want to get in her pants."

  While Mark was talking, Patrick picked up the last picture. His knees buckled as he gazed on Tricia, with her ass to the mirror, looking back over her shoulder innocently, her pussy, pink and pretty as could be. He put the picture down. Patrick knew there was going to be trouble over this.

  "Don't get all worked up, man. This is not our business. OK? They're adults."

  "I'm going to fucking kill someone. This shit has to stop."

  ***

  "Dad?"

  "Yeah, Patrick what is it?"

  "I picked up your stuff today. But, Dad, there's a problem. A big problem."

  "What is it?"

  Patrick hesitated.

  "What, Patrick?"

  "While I was there, Mark found some pictures of Tricia. I think she was planning to send them to you. Dad, um…she was…uhh…naked in the pictures. And, Goddamn, Dad, she's beautiful. Oh my god, you will not believe these pictures."

  John was stunned. He wasn't sure he heard his son correctly.

  "Wait, Patrick, say that again?"

  "Dad, Mark found some pictures of his Mom without any clothes on, in an envelope addressed to you. He was fucking pissed. He was ready to kill. I know he's gonna confront her. At first, he thought you took the pics. He's mad as hell."

  "What do you mean confront her?"

  "He's pretty pissed at her, too. I pointed out that she obviously took the pictures herself. I know he's going to ask her about them and you."

  "You idiot, you should have kept your mouth shut and let him think it was me."

  "Sorry, Dad, I didn't think."

  "Shit, I better call her."

  It wasn't exactly the reconciliation he'd hoped for. They hadn't had any contact since he left.

  "Yeah, you better do something or Mark is going to make sure she never sees you again. No lie, Dad."

  "All right. Thanks, Son. I'll let you know what I do."

  "Bye, Dad. Good luck."

  John called Tricia as soon as he hung up with Patrick.

  "Tricia, hi it's John."

  "Hi John."

  Mark was yelling in the background. He was so loud John could hear every word.

  "Tell him I'm going to fucking kill him if he comes near you again. Do you hear me John?"

  "Stop it Mark," she yelled.

  "Tricia, are you OK? What's going on?"

  "I'm fine, just in the middle of something here. I'll call you back…"

  Mark grabbed her phone.

  "No, she won't."

  The line went dead.

  Chapter 9

  John's composure started to unravel. What was he supposed to do to help her way over here? He could send Patrick back over to her house but there was no guarantee he could help this situation. Patrick could physically protect her but that wasn't the issue.

  Mark was going to carpet bomb their relationship. He was going to make her feel ashamed about the pictures and she would likely never come back to him. And she probably would become even more repressed as a result. God Damn it. He had to get back to her ASAP.

  He had two weeks left in his assignment. He decided to bug out. He wasn't going to lose Tricia because he had to finish training a bunch of Afghan soldiers. They could carry on without him this time. He got on the phone and started calling in favors and pulling rank.

  Inside of two hours, he was boarding the first aircraft to head home.

  ***

  Tricia crossed her arms and glared at her son. She didn't say a word, just lifted her eyebrows at him. They were on the front lawn. She'd gone outside to talk with John, but Mark had stumped out after her and grabbed her phone.

  "Are you happy with yourself, Mark? Because I know I couldn’t be more proud of the way you are behaving."

  He handed her back her phone.

  "Do you want to continue this out here?"

  "I don't care."

  "Well, that's obvious."

  "Well, I guess you don't care either; about me or Trina or Dad."

  "That's not true."

  "Like hell. What are you doing with this guy- this low life?"

  Tricia took a deep breath. What was she doing with John? After he left, she was wrecked. She found out just how much she missed him, needed him, loved him. She hoped he would call, but they'd left on such bad terms. When he didn't call she decided she needed to be bold to let him know, she wanted him no matter what.

  "Mark, honey, I care about John. He's a good man and you know it. I know you checked him out."

  It was true. Mark didn't turn up any bad information about Sergeant Major Davis, though he tried. The worst that could be said, was that he was divorced. But he'd raised his son himself, with full custody because his ex-wife was not reliable. The courts had sided with John.

  He'd had a great career that started in Somalia. He'd been injured there, but he'd distinguished himself. He continually climbed the ladder. He was a born leader. He'd had a few girlfriends but John was clean.

  "And what about Dad? Did you just forget him?"

  "No, I haven't forgotten him."

  She edged closer to her son, her twenty-one year old, six foot six, two hundred sixty pound, vulnerable boy.

  "Did you ever even love him? What are you, are you a slu…"

  She interrupted him before he could say something he would regret.

  "I still love your Dad. I always will."

  She put her hand on Mark's arm

  "Then, what? 'Cause I can't understand why you would do such a thing!"

  He was choking up. He looked down at his beautiful mother, who he worshipped. He was so full of emotion, feeling badly about all that had happened.

  "Mark, your Dad and I had an agreement, because his work was so dangerous. He told me everytime-everytime- he left us that, if he died, we should carry on. He didn't want us to die with him. He made me promise, Mark, that I would keep on living."

  Tears were streaming down Mark's face.

  "Honey, I know he told you kids the same thing the day he left last year."

  Mark wiped his face with his hands. He couldn't speak. He was trying hard not to sob.

  "You miss him, I know. I miss him too, very much."

  "So what about, John?"

  He was still angry and protective of his mother.

  "Honey, John's not trying to take Dad's place. No one could ever take Dad's place. John just wants to be with me. He
likes me. Is that so hard to believe?"

  Mark snorted.

  "Mom, no, it's not hard to believe. Plenty of men like you."

  "Well, I like John, too. In fact, I think I love him. I don't know why you don't trust my judgment. I chose your father, didn't I? And he turned out to be a good man. Why would I settle for someone less than him?"

  Mark put his head down. His mother had made her point. It was not up to him to choose for her. His job was to support her and protect her if necessary. He reached out and pulled her into a hug, burying his face in her neck. He lifted her off the ground, balancing on his good leg.

  "I'm sorry, Mom. I miss him," he cried and cried in her arms.

  ***

  By the time John pulled up in front of her house, he'd been up for twenty-four hours. He was still in combat dress. He was weary, but ready for what might be coming his way from Tricia and her son. He was not going down without a fight.