Semper F***

For a good ten minutes, we were locked in an intense sixty-nine. Then Aleska must have decided it was time to feel me inside her; she got up, rolled off me, tossed aside her thong, and lay on her back next to me. She spread her thighs; I knelt by her butt and pressed my penis into her boiling depths. Once inside, Aleska wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist at the same time, locking me in close to her, kissing me. I could only make short strokes in that position, but it didn't matter—I could feel her insides, she could feel me filling her up, and it felt great. Again it struck me this was completely unlike porn—sex in porn is maximally open, arms and legs as out of the way as possible so the camera can see the genitals in contact. We were locked together so tight I couldn't see my own stomach because her breasts were pressed so tight against my chest. From the root of my cock to the edge of my lips, I was in continuous contact with her warm, silky skin, and it felt wonderful.

I was in no hurry, but I did continue thrusting, and as her excitement grew, she relaxed her grip a little to let me fuck with more vigor. I liked all the touching, though, so I reached down and put her thighs on my shoulders so that I could achieve the deepest possible penetration. I was fucking her deep and with fervor now; it was driving both of us wild. When I really stretched, I could feel my tip brushing against her cervix. My dick brushed teasingly against her clit with every stroke in this position; her breath started to get very shallow and she squeaked with every stroke. Her face took on a faraway look, then her eyes got big, and she started saying "oh... oh... oh..." Next thing I know, I feel her curling her back, lifting her pelvis upwards. Then with a huge sigh she relaxed it down, and I felt her orgasmic contractions rumbling beneath me. "Oh Tom," she squealed, "you know how make me so happy!" She bear hugged me close, kissing me deeply. Goddamn if this wasn't the way the wedding night was supposed to be, I thought.

She released me from her bear hug with a smile. She brought her thighs down from my shoulders; she grabbed them in her hands and pulled them apart, forming a big, wide-V. She'd had her orgasm, now it was my turn—she was opening wide so that I could fuck her however I liked best until I achieved orgasm myself, and that's what I did. It was just my dick and her pussy, gripping me, and I plunged in again and again. Her breasts rippled with each penetration, but she held firm, giving herself to me with a tiny smile on her face. We locked eyes; it somehow made the sex feel so very much more personal. But I didn't let up and kept pounding her pussy. My strokes became shorter and quicker as my excitement rose. Then I climaxed, pressing my groin into her pelvis while blasting load after load into her receptive vagina.

I collapsed onto my bride, and she again wrapped herself around me and held me close. We kissed and held each other quietly, enjoying the short time we had together, until drifting off to sleep.

------------------

That very next afternoon, I was in the airport, one of a handful of lovers making their sorrowful goodbyes before one of them boarded the plane to New York. Of course, I'll bet dollars to doughnuts I was the only one treated to a blow job in the men's room. I was surprised how sad I felt watching her board, given that I hadn't even known her for a week. She gave one last little wave as she boarded the jet, then turned and I was again alone.

I swung by HQ and dropped off a large envelope for the Colonel—not only had Aleska signed an 8x10 of herself and then imprinted a kiss on it with bright red lipstick, she had also included the now highly-aromatic panties from our wedding night. He'll like that, I thought. Then I continued trudging towards the train station. The trip that had seemed so short coming in felt like two weeks going the other way. It gave me a lot of time to wonder what would actually become of her, and of us, now that she was going to the U.S. I wondered if I'd hear from her at all.

When I didn't hear for two days, I was starting to think maybe I had been a monumental fool. Then a call from an unknown number came in just as I finished my rounds. Aleska was in Los Angeles, she said, but her Eastern Bloc phone was useless there, so she was borrowing one to call me until she got herself a new one. She was looking for an apartment, she said, but in the meantime she was staying as a guest of a producer she'd worked for. Don't worry, she said, it's strictly a favor—"I married now, I no have sex with other men!" I wish I could have believed her, but I just didn't trust her yet. Over the next two months, though, I learned to trust her more and more. I began to feel like I really did have wife back home. Aleska did a couple of photo shoots in LA, but each time pulled the best, sexiest picture from the lot and emailed it to me, for my eyes only. Then she started sending me mini-movies she took of herself—stripping, touching herself, sometimes masturbating. In one, she had her fingers shoved far up into her pussy, and as she played with herself, she moaned "oh...it always feels so good when your penis touches me right THERE," referring to some place hidden from view deep within her vagina. And she always ended by blowing me a kiss, and saying "I miss you Tom...I love you." It's funny—we had sex, we got married, and never had we said I love you. Now that we couldn't see each other, we said it all the time—and it felt more genuine every time.

It took a few weeks to set up, but she then did exactly what Nick had suggested—she arranged a cross-country strip-club tour. She was still acting as her own agent, making calls and lining up engagements during the day, then heading to the club to dance at night. She was five weeks into her tour when I got word from Colonel Peavey that peace was imminent. We were to evacuate at once and destroy all evidence of our having been there. In a whirlwind 24 hours, I went from being on patrol to standing on the ground at the airport in Newark. Aleska had tried to reach me for her daily call while I was in the air, so I hadn't even had a chance to tell her I was coming home. So when I landed on the ground with a week of furlough until they figured out where to send me next, I didn't even know where she would be. I got it in my head that it would be fun to surprise her, though, and I knew how I could find out where she would be.

I went to an airport Internet kiosk, swiped my card, and pointed by browser to www.aleska.com. I gulped as I was greeted by a picture of my wife, wearing a tight tank top and pulling it down to the top of her nipples. I did the sample tour—there were pictures of her nude and in hardcore action, but all of the naughty bits were hidden by gold stars unless I signed up to become a member. So, sighing, I pulled my credit card back out and signed myself up. I was then taken to the real Aleska homepage. There were a series of photos on the lefthand side providing navigation—one of her laying on her back and spread, labeled "Photo sets." Another with her looking at the camera while sucking a dick, labeled "Video clips." A third with her on all fours and a guy plowing her ass, labeled "Movies." And a fourth that was just a head shot, with her sucking on a pen like it were a dick, labeled "Talk to Aleska." Right in the middle, below a full-size shot of a sexy but clothed Aleska, was "Latest Aleska News." The top story read:

Dear fans: big news! I have gotten married! Sorry guys, no more boy-girl scenes from your pal Aleska. But don't worry, dear fans, I have not forgotten about you. I have brand new pictures of myself here and here that I think you will like. Oh, and for the first time ever, you can come and meet me in person! I'll be making the rounds of dance clubs around the country, so be sure to stop by and see me when I'm in your town! See the entire list here. XXOO, Aleska

I smiled and shook my head. She was 100% good as her word; I told her I didn't want her to have sex with other men; she went out and announced it to the world! She could have just quietly stopped doing hardcore—I'm sure her announcement meant losing some business on her main money-maker, her personal website, but she did it anyway just because I'd asked her to! I clicked on the link of appearances, and found she would be on her second last night on a club in the Midwest before heading on to Chicago. I went back to the ticket counter and waited to fly out standby to see her.

I took a cab to the strip club, not really clear what my plan was. It was almost ten when I got there, and it was pretty packed—there was a line to get in. On the marquee, the sign it said "Exclusive engagement—International XXX Superstar ALESKA!" I didn't know when her last show would be, I hoped I wouldn't miss it by the time I got inside. Maybe so you didn't lose interest while waiting, however, there was about a sixty-second reel of Aleska's routine playing on monitors in the entry, interspersed with 30 or so ads. I watched her strut her long lean legs on towering heels, then bend over and grab her leg. I sighed...I couldn't wait to see her, yet was still a little nervous how it would be to see all these other men drooling over my wife. Eventually I got to the front of the line, where I showed my military ID and had my $20 ready. The doorman looked at the ID, looked at me to compare the face—and then did a double take. "Wait a minute—Tom --------?"

"Yes?"

"As in—Aleska's HUSBAND, Tom? Aren't you supposed to be in Europe?"

"I just got sent home today," I explained, astonished. "I was hoping to surprise her; she doesn't know I'm here. How did you..."

"Man, she talks about you all the TIME," said the suddenly very friendly bouncer, "You're one lucky motherfucker, dude. Hell, she'll be ECSTATIC to see you. Hold on, let me get the boss." He called up to the boss, and next thing I know I'm in the owner's private viewing box, watching Aleska dance across the table from a greasy, balding middle-aged club owner. The dance was already nearing the end; she had been wearing a schoolgirl outfit, dancing to "I Know What Boys Like," but by the time I got seated she had already pulled her breasts free from the white tie-up shirt, and shortly after I sat tossed the plaid, pleated micro-mini aside. This was a nude club, though, so she still had the G-string to go. She spun around the pole, she strutted on the stage, she pulled the G-string teasingly away before letting it fall back into place. Then she would pause and collect tips in a separate garter—funny, I found myself rooting for her, since that was OUR money she was collecting! I noticed that while she rewarded tips by giving them a slow, close fly-by of her breasts, she didn't make eye contact with them. I thought about how much she did make eye contact when we were making love. Tips collected, she got up to finish her dance. It was sexy, but it seemed to me to be very practiced, not natural or spontaneous. Then I suddenly realized that the line of moves she had just done was the exact same as the clip on the monitors outside, only in a different outfit. I thought of how in the moment she seemed in the videos she sent me and in bed; I began to understand how Nick had known that Aleska really liked me.

Aleska undid the clips holding the G-string together and began rolling on the floor. She was careful not to be TOO exhibitionistic, though. She kept her legs together most of the time she rolled around, so you could see the cleft of her vagina but not any further. When she did open-leg stunts, she would cover her crotch with her hand, leaving her privates really exposed only during the brief transitions from position to the other. She was hot, but it was clear to me at least, automatic and disinterested. I wondered if I only knew that because I'd seen what she looked like when she was being real. The song ended to big applause.

Wow...how about a hand for ALESKA! Don't forget, Aleska will be back for one more show, at midnight, so stick around. In the meantime, here's HEATHER. And don't forget to tip your waitstaff well...

"She's a real crowd pleaser" was the first thing the owner said to me.

"So I see," I answered vaguely.

"I don't usually do this," he continued, "but Aleska is...different. Mature. Trustworthy—not something I can say about most of the girls that work here. I'm not worried about her running out on me just because you're here. Why don't you go backstage and say hello between shows?"

"Um, I'd like that, actually," I said excitedly.

Following his directions, I went to the far end of the balcony, opened the door and headed down a flight of stairs. At the bottom I found myself in a single, large dressing area where everyone but feature dancers changed. There were a half-dozen girls there, most of them fixing makeup or changing into their next costume. I guess it didn't phase them because they were used to being naked, but it seemed odd to me that most of them would fix their hair and makeup first, still nude, and only then put on their costumes. Only two of the girls so much as gave me a glance me as I went through, and that was only because I was a non-employee, not because I was a man. No one felt any need to cover anything up just because I was there.

There was a door at the back—like an old Hollywood movie, there was a big star painted on the door, with a bored burly bodyguard standing in front of the door with his arms crossed. How could you be bored all these naked women in front of you? There was a strip of whiteboard attached to the door, where the word "Aleska" was written in red marker. The bouncer's eyes fixed on me as I approached; I thought he'd give me a hard time, but apparently he'd been forewarned of my arrival. "You're Tom?" is all he said. I nodded. He winked, then turned and knocked on the door. "Uh, Miss Aleska? There's a visitor here to see you."

"No visitor!" the familiar voice answered crossly.

"I know you don't take visitors, Miss Aleska," he said, turning and giving me a wink, "but there's someone here the boss really wants you to meet. Could you please just pop out and say hello?"

I could hear her cursing in her native tongue—I really need to learn some of it, I thought. I imagined her putting on a dressing gown; unlike the girls behind me she wasn't about to answer the door half-undressed unless there was money in it. There was a pause; I imagined her gathering herself so that she would be polite to her visitor. When the door opened, she was wearing her stage smile. "Yes?" she said as the door swung open. At first all she saw was the bouncer; when the door opened enough for her to see me, her eyes lit up and her mouth swung open. "TOMMY!" she squealed with delight, and jumped into my arms. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me so tight she lifted herself off the ground.

"I missed you, baby," I said, returning her kiss. Her unrehearsed happiness at my unannounced visit—as improbable as they may seem, there could be no doubt that she had genuine feelings of some kind for me. Maybe we still had a lot to learn about each other, and maybe we wouldn't like everything we'd find, but for now—maybe this WAS love.

"Tom, you're not overseas? Oh, I missed you," she sighed, kissing me three times in rapid succession on the cheek, leaving red lipstick marks.

"I guess peace is imminent, so they shipped us out. 24 hours ago I was on patrol, now I'm here!"

"I was so worried when you didn't answer my call!" she proclaimed.

"Sorry about that, honey," I said calmly, "I've spent an awful lot of the day on airplanes!"

"I'm just glad you're safe—and you're HERE!" And with that she kissed me full on the lips, passionately. It felt so nice. It was only then that she realized that all of the other girls in the dressing room were watching the drama. She invited me into the dressing room and closed the door behind us.

I told her I had a week of furlough, and we talked a little more before getting down to the business of showing each other how happy we were to see each other again, right then and there on her dressing room table. We didn't let go of each other until there was a knock at the door. "Ten minutes, Miss Aleska."

"I no want to go out and dance for them—I want dance for you," she said wistfully.

"I know," I smiled, "but the owner only let me come back her because he said you would honor your contract and not run out on your last dance just because I'm here.

"He right," she sighed, "deal is deal. It just..." Then she got a twinkle in her eye—an evil, wonderful twinkle. "Maybe I do both..." she said, pondering.

"Huh?"

"Tommy, I get idea," she said, "you...can you sit on stage? On chair? You not need do nothing else." In her accent, nothing sounded like nuh-sink. "But I dance...just for you...others can just watch and wish they were you."

"Me? On the stage?" I don't know why I was so nervous about the idea—it's not like ANYONE would be looking at ME.

"Come on honey, it be fun," she purred, "if I can dance naked in front of men, you can sit on chair, no?"

"Yes," I sighed, "yes, I can sit on a chair."

"Good," she smiled, "you won't regret. Now go find chair—I see you on stage." Hurriedly, she ran out of the dressing room and started asking the nearest girl something. She had a clear idea of what she wanted to do and hadn't packed the right outfit to pull it off—but she knew they would have what she wanted somewhere backstage.

The house lights, already dim, were suddenly brought down to almost total darkness. Then the announcer told the audienceLadies and gentlemen... I have a special announcement. For her final feature dance of the night, the lovely Aleska will be performing, for the first time in public, a special dance previously only performed for private audiences only. Please note that Aleska will not be accepting tips during this performance. And so, without further ado, I give you...The Dance of the Newlywed Lovers.

The lights went dark and a single spotlight shone against the curtain stage right. All that could be seen was Aleska's left leg, sheathed in a white stocking and heels. While the audience looked her way, I snuck out between the curtains and placed my chair in the middle of the stage, at foot of the runway. Then, with a dainty little spin, the rest of Aleska appeared from behind the curtain. She was wearing a white corset, a tiny tight white skirt that may have once been a tennis skirt but no longer had shorts underneath, and a bridal veil. She held her arm high over her head, looking everything like a ballerina, and I realized she probably had had classical ballet training. Then the disco beat cut in, and the music to "Love to Love You Baby" started up. Walking slowly, bringing her legs almost completely under herself like a stork for maximum effect, she came towards me. She put her hands on my shoulders, bent over, and brushed her covered breasts against my head. Until then no one noticed that I was there. She stepped around the front of me, sensually brushing her ass along my side. Then she quickly switched, bending over and grabbing her ankles, shoving her skirt in my face. Then she stood up quickly and spun with great speed the entire length of the catwalk, catching herself on the pole at the end. Her veil wafted slowly down to ground at my feet in her dust. Already the audience could sense that there was something different about this dance, could feel the heat she was giving off. They might not have been able to explain what was different, but I did—this dance was driven by her own inner fire, the confident sensuality of a sexy woman that wants to please her man, coming through and making sparks fly with every move.

She put her hand high over her head, wrapped around the pole. Then she slowly slid down, bending and parting her knees. The skirt of course lifted, and I had a bird's eye view of her G-string. But then she teasingly ran her finger along the fabric, right over her pussy. Not only that, but she pulled the G-string aside momentarily, flashing me her pussy before replacing it and standing up again.