Self-consciously, she wrenched her prurient thoughts away from her physical being and turned off the tap water. The tub was full now, and she stepped into it, feeling the soothing tepidness of the water banish the fetid heat of the day. She slowly sank down, relaxing, nearly contented at last as she lay with her head touching the rear lip of the porcelain. As usual in moments of relaxation, she thought about Arnold.
Arnold had been a rangy man, lean, hard-muscled and tan, alive and virile every moment Carla had known him, and the love the two had shared had had the intensity of a forest fire. She hadn't cared that he'd been an underpaid salesman, unable to afford the finest of luxuries for her, or even that they'd had to scrimp and save for some of the necessities. She was proud of him, feasting in his sensuality and his animal eyes, his hands, his mouth, his penis… Why did he have to be called up? Why did the Army have to have one of their silly little alerts and make all of the Reserves come running, and then… Carla stifled a small sob, thinking of what must have happened when the munitions explosion had taken her husband from her forever. No more Arnold, no more hands or mouth or eyes or that wonderful iron-hard, life-giving penis…
She fondly remembered the last night they'd made love, when in their innocence they'd thought it was only going to be a parting of a few days or weeks – and even then the pain had been acute. Arnold had been naked, as she had been, and he straddled her thighs on the same bed that was now only a few feet on the other side of the door. He'd kissed her as his excitedly erect cock rubbed against her quivering, wetly aching pussy… She'd spread her legs for him, her desire building…