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A Foster’s Fantasy. Deep Under The House
By : Wendell Urth
Category: +1 through F > Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends
Views: 2710 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Foster’s Home For Imaginary Friends and all associated or other characters belong to their respective creators and owners, not me. I receive no compensation whatsoever for this story. - Chapter List
Chapter 4: Old timey music
There was music coming from one of the rooms. Old timey music. Frankie heard it first, then Mac. It was pretty. She began to dance, tommy guns, bootleg hooch and tall ship sails forgotten. Gershwin, of course. Their favorite.
She was wearing a red knee length A-line dress with puffed shoulders, green scarf and matching shoes. His favorite. He looked good in his pressed blue suit, white shirt and matching tie. Same outfits they wore the night they met. Not a coincidence. This would be their last night together. He would be reporting to his ship in the morning.
As they danced, she tucked her head on his broad shoulder, she sang the words softly, sadly. They kissed. A last night, a last kiss on the dance floor.
She followed him to his room. His bed. She was nervous. Her first time, she was 16, he was 21. Her friend Goo was covering for her so her parents wouldn’t find out. Her father had forbidden them from meeting. Moonlight through the open windows, she saw his body, Mac was so strong. He had carried her into the room, like they were married. Newlyweds, but there was no time left for that. She was too young, anyway.
“After the war, Frances”, he promised.
“Come back to me. Please.”
She took off her dress, folded it, placed it on a chair. She stood in her bra and slip. Rolled down her stockings. He watched. She let him undress the rest of her slowly. Her breasts were high and firm. He kissed them. She had never felt anything like it before. A man’s touch, his bristly chin against her soft smooth skin. Kisses on her belly. “Oh God… your hands.” Touching her in places never touched before.
A little pressure and he slipped inside her. Pain. Pan and pleasure. Is that all her virginity was, a moment a pain and a little blood? What was the big deal? Was that all it took to become a woman? His body on top of hers was warm and heavy and pleased her. She hoped she pleased him. She needed him.
He entered her a second time, longer this time, more urgent. “Harder!” She demanded. He was happy to oblige. She wrapped her legs around his strong back and body, pulling him in deep until he erupted inside her, sending her over the edge. “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God” she moaned. So, this was orgasm. No one had ever told her. “So, this was sex!” she wondered. “This I what they call… ‘fucking’ …being ‘fucked’. So nasty. So dirty! I’ve been fucked. I fucked my boyfriend!” she wanted to scream it, she wanted to tell everyone she knew. Especially her father. She stifled a laugh in the darkness.
Mac, dear Mac. Strong Mac was everything she ever wanted, everything she ever needed and, in a few hours, she would send him away. To fight in a war she didn’t understand, in places she never heard of.
“Come back to me, Mac. I love you so much.”
He kissed her throat. He found what he had always wanted in her arms. Looked at his watch. “One more time, Frances? Once more?”
They smiled again. And sensed it might be the last time.
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