Honorable Discharge - Sex Stories

Honorable Discharge

The wheels screeched as the C-130 touched down on the runway. The jolt of the plane pulled Duncan back to reality. He was finally home. After a tour in Iraq and three tours in Afghanistan, he was done. He had decided not to re-enlist. He knew part of him would miss it, but there was a tremendous sense of relief that it was over. Once the plane stopped, he retrieved his things and followed the rest of the unit out the back of the plane. The sunlight warmed him and he took a deep breath of American air. The Marine slid off his cover and ran his fingers through his short brown hair. All around him his brothers were greeting family, kissing their girlfriends or wives, hugging their kids. Duncan had never made time for all that. He replaced his cover and picked up his bag, heading for the base. His papers were waiting for him. He signed them and shook hands with the officer. “Thank you for your service.” Duncan snapped a crisp salute. “Permission to leave the base, sir.” The officer returned the salute. “Permission granted.” And that was that. Duncan was free. Twenty-four years old, six feet two inches, and two-hundred and fifteen pounds of muscle without a purpose in life. He briefly considered heading home, but knew his father wouldn't have anything to say to him anyway, so there wouldn't be any real reason to. So he went where any man goes who has a full wallet and an empty soul. He found the nearest tavern. On his third beer she walked in. Golden silk fell from her crown ...

... to her shoulders, outlining the curves of her cheeks. Her blue eyes were fierce, but soft and her smile was disarming. She scanned the room and met Duncan's gaze. He admired her qualities without any outward sign and turned back to his beer. When she sat next to him he noticed her jeans and cowboy boots first. Her white cotton top was practical, revealing nothing, but showing every curve of her ample bosom. “Coming or going?” she asked. Her voice was sweet and crisp, with a touch of drawl. “Neither at the moment,” Duncan said, trying not to let his own accent slip out. “Most soldiers are either on their way out to a deployment or just coming home from one.” Ducan took a swig from his bottle. “I'm not a soldier any more, but I did just come back from a tour.” The girl offered a hand. “My name is Southern. Southern Rose.” Duncan shook her hand to be polite. “Duncan.” He took another swallow of beer. “What does a girl have to do to get a drink out of you Duncan?” “More than introduce herself,” he said with a sly grin. “Well, we can see about that.” The bartender appeared, as if on cue and looked at Southern, who looked at Duncan. “Can I buy you a beer?” Duncan asked. “I'll have a Budweiser please,” Southern said to the bartender. “Was that so hard?” she asked Duncan. “Yes.” She laughed, a lilting sound, like a brook over stones. “So where are you from?” Southern asked. “I was born in California, my father was in the Army so we travelled a lot. I grew up all over Europe. Mostly ...