“I love fucking you. I love feeling your creamy ass against my cock every morning. I love your gorgeous fucking breasts and your amazing nipples. I could suck on them and never get tired of that. I love the smell of your pussy and the taste of your come on my tongue.” Her pussy’s grip on my cock was like a vice.
“Me too,” Sam gasped in my ear. “I love your cock in my mouth. Love it. Love your taste. I just love you, Gray Phillips.”
And with that I was done for. I began thrusting into her uncontrollably. Any ability to form sentences was gone and I was left with only one thought in my head. “I love you, Sam. Love you so damn much.” Slipping a hand between us, I rubbed her until I felt her release overtake her body and then I let go, pumping every ounce of my come into her body, feeling the slickness of her corresponding orgasm until I couldn’t hold myself up anymore and collapsed against her body. In the aftermath, I tried to roll off but she wouldn’t let go.
Her arms and legs wrapped around me and held me tight against her. “I’m never letting you go,” she whispered. And her words made me shiver, not in lust but in pure fucking happiness. Our love had only grown stronger during our separation, not weaker.
After we’d had our celebration in the bedroom, I grabbed a beer, stuck something in my pocket, and picked up Sam’s knitting sack. We headed down to the communal pool to enjoy the late afternoon sun. Sam had gotten accepted to FIDM and would start in the fall. In the meantime, with the help of Mrs. Bend and Dorothy, Sam had conquered intarsia stitching and few other techniques that sounded just as impossible. I happily gave up my new hobby, content to just sip a cold one and watch Sam. The rhythmic clicks of her needles were a comforting sound, and it got to the point that I couldn’t even watch a game without her sitting next to me, the clacking of her needle points against each other forming the solid drumbeat of our lives.
“You make the sweater?” I asked. The white little shrug that covered her shoulders had a lot of intricate stitching that I had come to associate with her work.
“I did, like it? The bad thing about San Diego is that there aren’t many times I can wear sweaters.”
“I like my beanie.” She’d knitted me about a dozen wool caps over the winter, and I’d needed them all because they kept getting filched. The guys in my platoon were totally fucking brazen about it too, wearing them around me and not giving a good goddamn. “And my socks. You knit some damn fine socks.” Those she didn’t whip out by the bushel, and I was careful to lock them up. Sam had made me several pairs of socks, all of them carefully constructed to fit my foot personally, and I swore if any one of those socks went missing, my boot would be up the ass of every man in my platoon until they were returned.
“Hamilton emailed me about your socks, you know. He wants a pair.”
“Hamilton can go suck his thumb.”
Sam didn’t respond; she just continued to knit.
“What’re you working on?” I asked.
“I got another order for a layette, so I’m making this little sweater. The booties and hat are done. I’m getting fast enough that I might break even.” She laughed. “Maybe someday I’ll be able to quit waiting tables to pay the rent.”
I shifted in my chair, wondering if now was the time to bring up a subject that had simmered at the top of my head the entire time I was gone. It was a risky topic, and I didn’t relish putting myself out there, but for once I wanted to beat Sam to the punch. She’d been the one to hit on me first. She came to see me after our rock climbing fiasco. She came out to San Diego. This one time, I wanted to be the one to make the gesture.
“You could marry me.”
The sound of the needles stopped abruptly. I was hesitant to look at Sam, a little nervous about what expression she’d be wearing. Would it be astonishment? Or maybe chagrin? I tipped my head slightly so I could glance at her in my periphery. Her mouth was hanging open and her knitting had fallen unnoticed to her lap. That wasn’t quite the response I was hoping for.
“Gray Phillips, did you just propose to me by the pool in front of all these people?”
It was like a trick question. I had to make sure I gave the right answer. “Yes?”
“I should stab you with one of my needles.”
“That’s not the answer I was hoping for.” I got down on one knee, in front of the avid gazes of the sailors and Marines who lived in this apartment complex. Pulling out the ring box, I flipped it open so that the sun shown down on the pink diamond in the platinum setting. It was very different than what she’d worn before and I held my breath waiting for her answer.