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Love Endures War: Part 2

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Love Endures War: Part 2
Tender love in a Wounded Seventies America.

Based on a post by want some fun 1951. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.



The five of us, Joey’s parents and mine; flew to

California to meet the ship that brought Joey home. We didn't get to see him at
the dock. He was whisked into an ambulance that we tried to follow in our
rental car.

At the hospital, his doctor took us to his office. Joey had

been shot and captured. His injuries weren't life-threatening, and they stopped
the bleeding at a Viet Cong field hospital. He was taken to a prison camp for
debriefing.

"We're all adults here, and I believe in telling the

truth, so I'll be blunt," the army doc said. "To the Viet Cong
running that camp, 'debriefing' meant torture until they decided if a prisoner
knew something useful, followed by long periods of confinement. Joey was a
rank-and-file infantryman, so he wasn't very useful to them, but they kept him
alive as a bargaining chip.

"American soldiers came to take the camp, and there was

a fire-fight. Our guys were prepared, and the Cong ran out of ammo. They
apparently tried to beat their captives to death when they knew the camp would
to be taken. Private Ramsey sustained a severe skull fracture. When he was liberated
from the camp, he was in a coma, nearly dead of starvation and exposure. He's
much better now. Recovering nicely. With hard work, he should make further
improvements. We're keeping him sedated, but you may see him for a minute
each."

I was allowed to go first. A nurse led me to a window that

looked into his room. I could hardly recognize him through the bandages on his
head. Tubes, wire, bottles, and bags were everywhere. He had a cast on one leg,
where surgeons had repaired the badly-healed fractures from his initial wound.
His other leg had scars from long-healed sores. Skinny arms extended from his
hospital gown, tubes in both of them between old cigarette burns. Always so big
and strong, my darling looked like he was half his old size. He had a tube down
his nose, and he was out cold.

We walked into his room. "Talk to him, honey," the

nurse said. "He's in deep sedation, but some patients say they remember
things when they wake up."

"Joey? Joey, it's Sue."

His chest rose and fell slowly.

"Joey? You're home now. Well, not home. You're in a

hospital in California. We came to visit, me, my folks and your parents."

"Time's almost up, honey," the nurse whispered.

"I love you, Joey," I said as I backed out of

room.

We stayed for a week, visiting him for a minute apiece each

morning, afternoon, and evening. The day before our flight home, the doctor met
us in the waiting room outside Intensive Care. "I have good news. Private
Ramsey is showing excellent improvement. He's doing well enough that we've lowered
his medication. He's in a "twilight" sleep now. He hasn't opened his
eyes or spoken, but I believe that's coming. We'll be able to make arrangements
to transfer him to a Veterans Administration hospital near your home
soon."

That day, it was Marge's turn to go in first. She spent her

full minute in his room holding his hand and crying. When Joe went in, he sat
close to his son's head, telling him he would be home soon. Then it was my
turn.

"He's asleep, Sue, but talk to him," Joe said when

I passed him in the doorway.

"Joey, it's me, Sue. I'll be with you a lot more soon,

when you're in a hospital near home. I've missed you so much, Joey." I
laid my hand on his outstretched one and held it, like I had every time we
visited.

This time, he made a noise.

"Nurse, he's talking!"

"He's been doing that ever since last night. He's

probably feeling some discomfort from his latest surgery now, so there's a
little moaning."

"Oh," Joey whispered. "Oh. Oh."

"What's that, honey? Are you in pain?" I asked.

"Oh. Oh. Ess." He worked his tongue around in his

mouth. " Saw, Sue."

"Yes, Joey, it's me. It's Sue!"

His hand twitched, like he was trying to squeeze mine the

way I was squeezing his. He whispered "Sue" again. Then he slept.

By the time he was transferred to the local VA hospital two

weeks later, Joey was awake a lot of the time. He didn't talk much, and when he
did, he seemed confused. The staff said rehabilitation would take a long time.
Because of his head injuries and the deplorable conditions in which he had been
imprisoned for so long, we should be prepared for only a partial recovery.

The first day I went to see him, he was propped up in bed,

asleep, but facing the TV. I pulled up a chair and sat next to his head.
"Joey, can you wake up?"

His eyes flickered for a moment, and when they opened, I saw

fear.

"It's me, Sue. I came to see you."

"Sue. Sue. Why am I here?"

"You were injured in the war. You were in a prison

camp, but now you're in the VA hospital near home."

"Oh. Why are you here?"

"I came to see you. Do you want me to go?"

"No. Stay. Don't leave me."

Every day after I was done with student teaching, I went to

the hospital to be with him. Every day, he was better, until one night about a
week before my birthday. He was agitated that evening.

"What's wrong, honey? You seem upset," I said.

"Your birthday is next week. I can't go buy you a

present," he said.

"That's okay. Getting you back is the best present in

the world."

"You don't understand. I can't go get you a present

because I can't walk. I haven't walked in years. That cage they kept me in was
too small to let me stand up, even if my leg had healed right. I went to
physical therapy today. My legs are so weak I can't stand on my own. How can I
ever get a job and go to a store to buy things for you if I'm like that?"

"It doesn't matter. You're alive, and you're with me

again. I don't need anything else."

"No. I'm no good to you now. I'm a broken-down wreck.

You need a man."

"I have a man."

"I'm not a man. I'm an invalid."

"You're a patient. You were shot. They tortured you and

kept you in a tiny bamboo cage for years. You were near death from starvation.
The bastards fractured your skull. It's going to take time for you to
recover."

"You shouldn't have waited for me. I don't know why

you're here. Why aren't you married and having babies?"

"I don't want to be married to anyone but you. I don't

want any babies but yours."

When visiting hours were over, I kissed him, like always.

Joey really kissed me back for the first time.

The next day, he was sitting in a chair. "I have to

pee," was the first thing he said.

"Do you want me to help you to the bathroom?"

"No, you can't do that."

"They tell me you can bear some weight on your good

leg. We can probably get you there."

"No, Sue, I can't let you do that. Find an

orderly."

"Joey, I'm strong enough if you'll help me."

"Don't you get it? I have to pee! I need someone to

help me onto the toilet. I can't let you do that," Joey protested.
"Now please, go find a man to help me."

I came back into the room with a burly orderly, but Joey was

adamant that I wait in the hallway while they took care of things. "I
can't hold onto him and the railing and still keep my gown closed. Please, Sue,
respect my privacy."

When the orderly left the room, I went back in. "I

didn't mean to embarrass you," I said.

"It's okay. It just wouldn't have been proper for you

to see me with my skinny butt hanging out of this stupid gown."

"I understand, Joey, but someday, I'll see that skinny

butt in bed next to me."

"What?"

"When we're married, silly."

"You don't want to marry me, Sue. I'm not the man you

fell in love with."

"I didn't fall in love with a man. I fell in love with

a boy who once let me beat him arm-wrestling. I fell in love with the boy who
danced with me to "Moon River." I fell in love with the guy who gave
me this," I said, pulling my precious locket out from where it was hidden
by my sweater. "I'm in love with a man now. You, Joey."

"But I'm not the same man."

"Yes you are. Whatever you can or can't do, I love

you." I leaned down and kissed him. Joey kissed me back pretty hard, the
way he did a couple of times the night before he left for the war.

When we let go, tears rolled down his cheeks. "I'm

going down to physical therapy tomorrow, and I'll work until I'm healthy enough
to take care of you, if you still want me."

On Easter Sunday morning, Mom, Dad, and I piled into the

back of Joe and Marge's car to meet Joey for services at the hospital chapel.
He was beaming, obviously very excited, but he wouldn't say a word as he led us
back to his room on his cane.

When we got to his room, he sat in his armchair. "I can

come home next week," he said.

"That's great news!" my dad exclaimed.

"They said if I could do something, I could go home, so

I've been practicing a lot." He stood up and hobbled over to where I was
sitting. Trying to mask the pain on his face, he got down on his bad knee. His
father handed him something. "Sue, I should have done this five years ago
when it was easier. Will you marry me?" There was a diamond ring in the
little box in his hand.

"Oh my God!" I burst into happy tears, and leaned

forward to kiss him, being careful not to knock him over. "Yes, Joey, my
God yes, I'll marry you!"

"My therapist said he'll work with me until I can carry

a nurse around. When I can do that, when I'm strong enough to carry you over
the threshold, we'll get married."

It was supposed to be a small ceremony. At least, that was

what we wanted. Our families had different ideas. Joey's platoon leader, who had
been in the prison camp with him, was the best man. Mike recovered from his
injuries faster than Joey. He came to visit when he could, driving three
hundred miles one way, helping Joey keep his spirits up. The young widow from
church who supported me through those lonely years when Joey was away was
matron of honor, and her little boy was the ring bearer. Both our moms cried
their way through the whole thing.

At the reception, Joey danced with me when the band played

"Moon River," but he sat most of the time. When it got late, his
father gave him the keys to a new car for us to drive to the hotel where we
would be spending the night. After the garter was retrieved and the bouquet
tossed, we left.

"Mrs. Ramsey," he said after the bellboy carried

our bags into the room, "I never thought I'd see this day." He picked
me up, and I wrapped my arms around his neck to kiss him as he carried me to
the bed, the first real bed we would ever share.

We kissed, hotter than we ever had, fumbling with buttons,

zippers and catches. We laughed at our nervousness and frustration with strange
garments, until I was down to my bra and panties, and he was only wearing his
shorts.

His cock bulged against them, fascinating but frightening,

moving, growing. "This is it, Sue."

"I've waited a long time, honey," I replied,

reaching behind me to unclasp my bra.

"Wait, let me do that," Joey said. He pulled my

bra off me, and knelt on the bed next to me, looking at my tits. "You're
perfect." His hand touched my bare flesh for the first time.
"Perfect," he repeated as my nipple hardened.

I pulled him down on top of me, feeling his chest hair

against my tits and his turgid shaft against my panty-covered mound. We kissed,
tongues intertwined, until we were fighting for air. "Roll over," I
said. I wanted a good look what was going to make me his wife physically. He
raised his hips when I grabbed the waistband of his briefs.

Joey and I had made a pact that we would only go so far

before we were married, so I had never seen his cock. I thought I had an idea
of its size and shape from feeling it against me, hard through clothing when we
made out, but seeing it bared, ready, and anxious, inches from me, was
different. I was almost as scared of it as I was thrilled by it.

"I don't know what to do," I said.

"You got an A in health class in eleventh grade,

Sue."

"So did you."

"We learned all about this there. I think we can figure

it out," my new husband said, his hand pushing into my panties. It didn't
take long for him to have them off, and to give me my first orgasm by someone
other than me. He did it again, kissing my tits, teasing my nipples with his
tongue.

"I love you, Joey. It's time."

He got on top of me, kissing me as he fondled my tits and

then my cunt. He pushed himself up so he could see what he was doing, holding
it and taking aim.

"Do it, honey. I'm your wife now." I tried to calm

myself to relax my body, while bracing for the pain. Every woman I talked to,
said it hurt, including my mother and my mother-in-law. They said it got better
over time. I prayed they were right.

I was terrified. I expected him to find his mark, push

himself inside me, injure me (tearing tissue is an injury, after all), and then
rut like an animal until he shot inside me.

That's not exactly what he did.

Joey and I discovered something that very first time. He

could drive me crazy with his cock. He didn't enter me for a while. He stroked
me with it, played with me, up and down over my wet cleft, massaging my
clitoris with the hard, wet, spongy end of it, and bringing me to still another
orgasm.

When I calmed down, I saw the happiness on his face.

"I'm going to do it now. I'll try not to hurt you more than I have to,
baby."

His cock pried my lips apart just enough that they gripped

it. I had never felt anything like this. Nothing so big. I was torn between my
fear and my lust about it being where nothing had gone before.

"I didn't know it would feel like this," he

sighed. He shifted his weight, trying to keep from pinning me under him. That
made him move inside me, change his angle, something. It felt good.

He saw it on my face, and he grinned, moving a little more,

this time just a fraction of an inch further into me.

I pulled him down for a kiss, one I knew we would remember.

He kept up with his slow, tiny thrusts, finally coming to a stop against my
barrier.

"I love you, Sue. I have since the day we sat on that

rock and talked. I've always loved you, all through school, every moment I was
conscious in Nam; it was what kept me sane. Now I'm home with you forever. Now
I love you more."

He moved again to kiss me, and sank through. As soon as he

felt me give way, he stopped, holding himself from going deeper, waiting for me
to kiss him back. He gave me time until I nodded, kissed him, and said,
"More."

He was gentle and caring, the way I needed him to be.

Instinct, passion, and love guided us, but it hurt a little. I was very
sensitive and tender. It felt wonderful, an odd mix of pleasure with pain. Our
love was complete when he finally shot his essence inside me. He managed to
keep his eyes open, the same as I did when I reached my first climax with him
inside me a moment later. With everything we experienced, we loved more.

We wanted kids, prayed for them, but not yet. I went on the

pill when we got engaged, and was quite satisfied with it. My tits filled out a
sweater better, and I had just a little wiggle when I walked, something I
practiced when my parents weren't home to drive Joey crazy on our honeymoon. We
cuddled after making love for the first time. "What if the pill doesn't
work?" I asked.

"We start thinking about names."

"Would you want a baby this soon, Joey?"

"I'd rather be finished with some kind of school and

into a decent job before we have kids, but I'll go with the flow. Maybe it's
supposed to happen."

"I think I'd rather wait, but that doesn't mean we

shouldn't practice for getting me pregnant." I caressed his muscle, the
skin sticky with our drying juices.

Losing my virginity hadn't hurt as much as I thought it

might, although I didn't care, since it was Joey. We made love again that night
before we fell asleep, and in the morning before we got ready for breakfast.
When we went to bed that evening I was still sore from stretching to
accommodate him, as amazing as it had felt.

"Joey," I said, touching his naked body in the bed

next to me. "I don't know how to say this, but I'm pretty sore."

"I'm sorry, honey." He kissed me gently and

caressed my tit. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't. Well, yeah, the first time it hurt a

little, but it was you, Joey, my husband. We made love a lot, and I enjoyed
every minute of it, but I think she needs a break," I said, gesturing
toward my crotch.

"Should I kiss it and make it all better?" he murmured

into my ear.

"Very funny."

"I'm not trying to be funny. Guys in the Army talked

about it. I'd like to try it." He kissed me again, and then leaned down
and kissed my tits. "I hope I do this okay."

His fingers teased my curls as he licked and sucked on my

nipples. We learned the night before how much I enjoyed that, but he kept
moving lower until he kissed my belly-button. Then lower.

I knew people did this, touched their partner's intimate

places with their mouths, but I hadn't thought about it much. My promise to God
and Joey as a teenager, followed by those years of forced abstinence, meant
that I was poorly prepared for this sex stuff. I let my body figure out what to
do with conventional missionary intercourse, and I liked it. A lot. Now, my
husband was between my legs, kissing the tops of my thighs.

"I love you, Sue," he said, just before his tongue

reached me.

That first jolt of sensation, his warm, wet tongue on my

tender lips, was like nothing I imagined. My legs spread on their own, and my
hands went down to caress his scalp, avoiding the ugly scars where hair would
never grow. He was gentle, licking at me, kissing my clit, pressing his tongue
into the bruised opening of my cunt. I couldn't believe the feelings.

He brought me to orgasm quickly the first time, faster than

I've ever been able to do it myself, and more intensely that he did in our
love-making earlier. I was still riding that high when I realized I was going
to go again.

I was trying to make sense of the waves of sensation and

emotion that kept washing over me when I heard him say, "You like that,
don't you?"

"Very much! Where did you learn to do that?"

"Listening to guys. They said chicks dig it. I also

read some magazines my roommate's friends brought him in the VA hospital.
Seeing your reaction was kinda fun."

"Didn't it taste funny?" His chin was wet, and I

felt the moisture under me.

"No, in fact, you taste kind of good."

"Really? People say that's nasty," I said.

"I know, but I think they're wrong. It was pretty cool.

I'll definitely do that again."

I was so excited that I almost begged him to make love to

me, but I knew that would only make me more sore. Poor Joey! If I was still
that needy after what he did to me, how bad must it be for him? One glance at
his cock gave me the answer. It was only fair. We were married now. That
changes the rules. "Joey, would you like me to do that to you?"

"Not if you don't want to," he said. His rock-hard

cock bounced with his words.

"I never thought about doing it before. Do you know

what I should do?"

"I heard guys talk about it."

I took him in my hand and stroked him, the way he seemed to

like. "I'll try it." I held his cock and kissed it. A drop of clear
fluid leaked out. It was the same thing I saw on him just before he entered me
each time. I licked him, tasting it.

"Oh, Sue!" he moaned.

That was what I needed to hear. My husband liked what I was

doing, so I did it again. Then I opened my mouth, held my lips over my teeth,
and lowered my head.

Joey let me do it at my pace. He played with my hair, never

holding on to it, never forcing me. He loved me, I loved him, he loved what I
was doing, and pretty soon I realized I enjoyed it too. I sucked him for a
while, listening to him moan, and then licked him, giving my jaw a break,
hearing him tell me how much he loved me. When he started moving his hips, I
promised myself to swallow. It tasted ... well, I don't know ... different. A
little salty, a tiny bit sweet, an odd texture in my mouth. Warm. Nice.

Like most newlyweds, we couldn't keep our hands off each

other. We were both in love and in lust. We learned how to please each other,
both quickly and luxuriously. Joey was stronger every day. He claimed that it
was my love that did it. He worked his way through school, and with my income
as a teacher, we got by.

We decided it was time to start a family, talked how amazing

it would be if we could have a child by our fourth anniversary, so I went off
the pill. On our third anniversary, Joseph Ramsey III was conceived. We both
swear it was that night. I had been looking forward to it, an evening of
dinner, dancing, and love-making. It would be a special night where we were
newlyweds again, celebrating our love like it was our very first time, just
like we did every year on this night.

In the days before, lying in bed with a bucket on the floor

or sleeping in the bathroom, I wondered if it would happen. I was getting
better, but I couldn't imagine having the stamina for a night out. We had
sandwiches and canned soup at the kitchen counter as our anniversary feast. We
skipped dancing entirely and went to bed.

The next day, Joey had a fever worse than mine ever was. By

the time we were both healthy enough to want to do something again, I had
missed my period.

Joey and I learned to accommodate my growing size. We did

everything we could to keep each other happy, and I believe we succeeded quite
well. We were blessed with a full term, healthy baby boy exactly nine months
later.

It was the summer of '79.

Now, it's the summer of 2012. I'm newly retired, loving the

fact that I don't have to plan for next school year. The kids don't live with
us anymore. Joseph Ramsey III is married and living with his new wife in her
native London. Suzanne (not Sue junior; I put my foot down on that one!) is
working on her Master's Degree, engaged to a living doll of a guy who reminds
me a little of Joey when we were young.

We're alone together, the way we started. It's nice. We have

each other. That and a rock to sit on are all we need.

Joey was happier than usual when he came home from work

yesterday. "In a month, I'm a free man. Can you imagine?"

"I know. Thirty-one days before I have an old retired

guy underfoot all the time. Are you going to expect me to entertain you?"
I teased.

"Maybe."

I did what he expected. I still need him as much as he needs

me. I melted against him. "Should I entertain you like this?"

"Maybe."

Joey picked me up to carry me to bed. I knew it would be

especially good when he did that.

"Will you entertain me too?" I asked.

The look in his eyes made me wet, just like it has for

decades. He does something to my soul, to my heart and my mind, just being
here. It's something about the love and the fire in his eyes. I kissed him so
violently he almost dropped me.

Pulling my clothes off me and touching me, as lovingly and

thrillingly as always, he said, "I hope I'm not losing my touch, Mrs.
Ramsey."

He isn't.

 Based on a post by want some fun 1951, for Literotica.

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