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A Marine Called Jason

Part VI

Chapter Fifty-One


It was pouring down rain; the boiling dark clouds made good their threat shortly after we went to bed, delivering a storm of majestic proportions. It was the worst storm I could remember in years. Thunder rattled the windows and the rooms lit up with bolts of lightning. It sounded downright fearsome. I was disgruntled because I'd been drawn out of my little fantasy of how it might be with Jase. In my fantasy, I would walk into Jase's workout room and find him stretched out on the workout bench in nothing but his jockstrap, doing bench presses and I would walk in and stroke his thighs, admiring his muscles, then move my hand to the pouch of his jockstrap and release his cock. Then I would stand astraddle the bench and ride down on his cock. I had a lot of such fantasies about the boy.

I didn't know why but I was prompted to get up and go check on Jase. He was probably too old to be afraid of storms, but I didn't know. If he was afraid, I didn't want him to be afraid alone. He wasn't in his room. I went downstairs but he was nowhere to be found. Where the hell had he disappeared to? Surely, he wasn't out in it. He would know that was dangerous, with the lightning. Or would he? I went through the house again but didn't find him, so I went back upstairs to put some clothes on to try to find him. I stopped off at the bathroom, and there he was, standing naked in the dark. The large octagonal window was opened and he was looking out, his face right in the opening.


He turned his head and in the light of a lightning flash, I saw his eyes were wet.

"Jase, son, are you all right?" I asked.

"We had these all the time, back home," he said as he turned his face back to the window. "I hated it, especially the monsoon season. The Cong used the cover of storms to move. They hated us, you know, little kids with American blood. I was scared of them. I was just seeing if I was still scared."

I well remembered the storms but I, as a US Marine in Saigon, didn't have to concern myself so much with the Viet Cong. It was the first time I'd heard Jase refer to Vietnam as "back home" and it gave me a little jolt. I moved up behind him, close enough that I could feel his body heat, but without touching him, till I put my hand on his shoulder.

"Are you still scared?" I asked.

"Not....as much," he said, hesitantly. "I feel safe here."

"Do you? Really? Because if you're still scared, even a little bit....it's nothing to be ashamed of," I said. I hesitated then went on. "Look, I know you're eighteen, Jase, but you can sleep the rest of the night with me if you want," I said.

He didn't say anything for a moment and he didn't look around at me. I thought he was lost in his thoughts, and I decided to leave him to them, to face down the fears that might still linger. I waited a moment longer then squeezed his shoulder.

"Good night, Jase," I said, and left him alone.

In my room I left the lamp on, as a beacon if he decided he wanted to come to my bed. I had not meant anything sexual by it, but now, I was having those thoughts. A few minutes later I heard the window being closed and then he appeared at my door. I moved over to the side of the bed and he came on in.

"Are you sure it's okay?" he asked.

"Of course."

He crawled in beside me and I lifted the lightweight blanket over us. He lay apart from me, on his back, looking up at the ceiling.

"I hope you don't think I'm acting like a baby," he said. "I'm really not as afraid as I used to be... I... had to tough it out by myself at the orphanage, because I was the oldest one there." He laughed. "Couldn't very well go crawling into bed with the nuns, could I? I had to act brave and calm the little ones down, but I was as scared as they were. One time part of the roof came off right over us and we got soaked."

He was telling me things I didn't think he wanted to remember, and I thought that the storm had brought those things to the surface and he was still more afraid than he wanted to let on. I moved onto my side and put my arm across his waist. He was shaking. I moved closer, up against him.

"You're not acting like a baby, Son," I said. "You're just facing things from your past, like any adult would do."

"Are you afraid of storms, Dad?" he asked.

I still wasn't used to him calling me Dad, and when he did I sensed that it was partly so I would call him Son.

"No. Actually, Son, I like thunderstorms. I like to go out in them if there's no lightning. But I didn't have your experiences. There's a big difference in being afraid of thunder storms and being afraid of the Cong using those storms to their advantage."

He laid his arm across mine. "I'm glad you understand me," he said.

"I try, but I'm not still completely sure what makes you tick," I said with a smile.

"Sometimes I'm not sure either. Maybe we'll figure me out together," he said.

After a few minutes I felt his growing cock swing around and brush against my arm. I laid my hand on it and it throbbed with appreciation.

"I think I've got this much of you figured out," I said jokingly, squeezing his cock.

I played with his cock for a while then rose up and leaned down over him to suck it. He moaned softly and laid his arm across my upper back. I barely noticed at first that his hand had moved down my back to my butt. I moved around to make it more available and he explored freely and soon began rubbing my asshole with his spit-slick fingers. It felt good, and I sensed that he wanted more than my mouth on his cock. As much as I longed for it, I had never pursued it, except in my mind, and I wasn't prepared. I hated to interrupt what we were doing but I raised my head and looked up at him.

"Jase....do you want to fuck me?"

His eyes met mine with such intensity as he replied, "I sure wouldn't mind....if you'd let me."

I smiled, almost laughed. Let him? Godd, how I longed for it!

"Give me a minute, I'll be right back," I said as I rose up and stepped back off the bed. I went into the bathroom to prepare myself, and while I was there I lubed up my ass so there wouldn't be even the slightest interruption. I returned to the bedroom to find Jason sprawled over the bed, stroking his cock. I paused at the doorway just to look at him; for a moment I was frozen in time. My Godd, I was looking at Jason! And this was room 238 at the Trent!

Jase smiled at me and his youthfulness shone through and I was brought back to the reality of my own bedroom. I approached the bed, and set my knee into the mattress.

"How do you want me?" I asked.

"Maybe you could ride me, starting out," he said, waving his huge cock around. "I like that position. Then we can change and do it in any position you want."

Yes, I thought, on my back; I wanted to be dominated by this young stud. But first I would ride him. I stepped up on the bed and straddled his hips. I lowered myself till I felt my asshole come to rest on the blunt head of his cock.

"I don't know how I compare with other guys you've been with, but take it as easy as you need to," he said hoarsely.

"You're big, by any comparison," I said. I braced myself for the initial impalement. My asshole began to spread open, wide, stretched unmercifully by the bulbous head, then it suddenly burst apart as he entered me, to the accompaniment of a loud burst of thunder and lightning. I took in a slow, quiet breath and let my weight carry me down.

"Godddd!" I gasped softly.

"Raise up if you want," Jase said.

I shook my head vigorously, sucking in short breaths to help suck up the pain. It wasn't unbearable, but it hurt--he was so big--but I wasn't going to be a wimp about it. I barely hesitated before I began to ride down on the tall shaft of meat.

"Ohhhh, Daaddddd!" he moaned loudly as I lowered myself onto his manhood.

I didn't stop till he was all the way up inside me, quivering and throbbing violently.

"Oh, Dad....I can't believe you're letting me do this. Ohh, it feels so good," he whispered, his voice quivering with excitement.

I sat hard on his loins and twisted my butt around to settle firmly onto his huge cock. Then I reached out and put my hands on his broad, thick pecs. In that moment, had it not been for the harsh lightning, but only the dim lamplight, I might have been back in room 238, and this magnificent man under me might have been young Jason Seaborne. But this young man lacked the toughness in his face, and the hard lines of battle; and he was calling me Dad.

"I'm not letting you do it, Son," I said. "I've wanted this for so long."

The first time with him shouldn't have been riddled with thoughts and images of his father, but it was. I couldn't help it. There was so much resemblance that overshadowed Jase's youthfulness; his muscular body, his big cock, even the way he moved.

"You should have told me you wanted it," he said.

He also had his father's stamina and staying power. Easily a half hour later, we were still going at it with me still on top, and he asked me if I wanted to change positions. It was a rhetorical question, for he was already rising up, with his muscular arm around my waist, to change positions. He deftly eased me onto my back and was on top of me, as graceful as if the move had been choreographed. He brought my legs up to his shoulders and began fucking me again. He went in deeper this way and I groaned.

"Ohh, Goddd!" I cried out as he fucked me, tossing my head back.

"That okay this way?" he asked.

"Oh, Geezuss, Jase, you don't know....." I whimpered.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time too, I just wanta make it good for you," he said. "And I think I can. I think you like it."

He did, and I more than liked it. "Oh, Geezusss, I feel like I'm gonna black out," I gasped.

I heard Jase laugh. It wasn't funny; I was floating off, into blackness. He was fucking my lights out. I rose up and locked my arms and legs around him. "Ohh, Yess, fuck me! Fuck me hard, Son. Godd, yes, don't stop!"

"Yeah, I can fuck your brains out, just like my real dad," he said.

His words, bringing Jason in on it, jolted me. I clung to him and drank in the aroma of his fresh male musk from his new sweat. And I tasted him as beads of sweat fell from his forehead into my mouth. I leaned in and licked the sweat from his chest, and it drew back the taste of the war. My mind was playing tricks on me. I was somewhere between fantasy and reality, with foggy flashbacks clawing at my brain.

"Aww, your tongue feels good," he moaned softly. His voice was deep and gruff and without looking up at his face I felt Jason over me.

I reached down to hold onto his lean hips that were thrusting and driving his magnificent cock in and out of me like a pile driver. I clasped his smooth, hard butt and held him in deep for a moment as I kissed him. It surprised him but he didn't pull back from me. His cock bucked and throbbed inside me, to the rhythm of our lashing tongues. He whimpered as he kissed me back. Then he pulled back from my grip to go on fucking me.

"Ohh, Godd, Jason!.... Godd, don't stop.... please, don't stop, Son, I need you! I need you Jase, so bad!"

The thunder grew suddenly louder; deafening. But it was more in my head, because I could hear it in the distance as well, like an echo. And the lightning flashed so bright it stung my eyes, even though I had them closed. My head was spinning, and I felt myself spinning out of control as incoherent thoughts washed in and out of my brain, like someone was talking.

"You were wonderful, Jase."

"How do you want it?" he asked.

"You know, if we just slept together..."

Stars danced on my eyelids and I trembled with the unbearable pleasure the boy/man was causing me. Was it a man or a boy on top of me? I couldn't distinguish.

"On my back, with you on top," I said.

It felt like his cock had doubled in size; I was choking on it, even though he was fucking me in the ass. Everything became more intense, inside and all around me.

"Your arm doesn't make a very good pillow."

"Was it me fucking you, or were you thinking of my father?"

Jase took on the image of a fierce warrior and I was his vanquished; his huge cock plunging steadily into my ass was penetrating my very soul!

"Ohh, Godd, Jason!"

"I want this for you, Dad."

"I love you, Son."

"I gotta cum!" I heard myself say. "Oh God....Oh, fuck me, Jase, harder, harder! I can't stand it much longer, Jase, make me cum! Please!... Oh, Godd.... I feel like I'm going to explode!"

"It was you, Jase; it was you fucking me."

"Dad!... Dad.... Don't Leave Mmeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"









"Don't leave me! Stay with me, dammit!" The voice was stern, almost angry and I wondered why he was yelling at me that way.

Then somebody was smacking my face and I turned my head away.

"He's awake!"

"What the hell are you smacking me for?" I tried to reach for the hand that was smacking me but I was immobile.

"See if you can locate Dr. Bernake. He needs to be here."

"Are you going to stay with me? I won't smack you any more if you promise to stay with me........"

.................................................................. continued

Chapter Fifty-Two

Back to The Real World

I was awake and somebody was smacking my face and I turned my head away. I felt a fullness in my groin and a strange ache in my ass; it was like I wanted to cum and couldn't.

"He's awake!" someone said excitedly.

I tried to open my eyes but my eyelids felt like they were weighted down. I felt tired and I drifted off again. Images of a handsome, well-built, man faded in and out of my vision; then he was a boy....a beautiful, muscular teenage boy and he was naked and he had a beautiful, huge hardon and he was trying to come to me.... to finish it... "to finish it," he said. He looked so sad that he couldn't reach me.

A voice from somewhere far off: "See if you can get Dr. Bernake. He needs to be here."

Another figure started to come toward me out of the fog, larger, more muscular; the man, who had been the boy. What happened to the boy?

"Don't leave me! Stay with me, dammit! Don't you dare leave me!"

Then another voice from a different distance.

"Don't leave me... I can't reach you. Dad, please, don't leave me....."

And the beautiful, naked teenage boy, reaching out for me.

Another more muscular arm reached out to me but I couldn't move to take it.

"Jason!" I heard a voice cry out. It sounded oddly like my own.

"Are you going to stay with me?" a deep voice asked. I didn't answer him. I couldn't. There were voices coming from everywhere. I didn't want to be wherever I was waking up. I wanted to be where I'd been, and I didn't answer him, hoping he would go away and let me go back.

"It was you, Jase; it was you fucking me."

The big, ham-like hand attached to the muscular arm kept patting my face and the voice was saying, "Stay with me, don't go back to sleep."

The handsome, naked boy was fading into the fog so I could barely see him now.

"No! Wait! Jase, don't go! Please don't go!" I cried out. "Jason! No, send him back! I can't lose him! Come back! Don't go! God, I can't lose both of you!"

The boy looked over his shoulder at me and held out his hand to the naked, muscular man, as if I wasn't there. The man looked at me sadly and dropped his arm then turned and walked toward the boy. He took his hand and they slowly walked away together, then they vanished. I reached out for them, but it was an illusion, for my arm had not moved. I felt sobs welling up inside me.

"Where the hell am I?" I asked, suddenly snapping out of the fog of fantasy, now angry that I had been jerked away from the place I wanted to be. "Stop smacking me dammit! Why the hell are you smacking me?" I growled. I tried to bring my hand up to deflect the offending hand but I couldn't raise my arm and I couldn't open my eyes. "I can't open my eyes. Why can't I open my eyes?" My voice sounded strange and unfamiliar, when it had sounded familiar a moment ago, and it seemed I had to put forth some great effort to get the words out.

"You can open your eyes," the male voice said.

I tried again, and with some effort, they came open, but they wouldn't focus. I moved my eyes from side to side, to make sure they worked, and as I brought things into focus, I determined that I was in a hospital, but I had no idea why. I focused on the man leaning over me; he was youngish, pretty good looking, with a thick, muscular neck. I figured he was a male nurse, he looked too young to be a doctor.

"I won't smack you any more if you promise to stay with me," he said with a killer smile.

"Dr. Bernake is on his way." The voice seemed to come from somewhere out of the past and I didn't understand that.

"Who is Dr. Bernake? What am I doing in a hospital? Is this a military hospital?" I asked. Everyone sounded so confused. "What happened to me? Why am I here?" I was feeling weak and groggy, fading in and out.

"Dr. Bernake will answer all of your questions as soon as we know you're going to stay with us," he said.

"Someone call his brother." That voice from the past again.

There seemed to be a lot of excitement over me opening my eyes, and a lot of scurrying around to make sure I stayed awake. I wondered why they were calling my brother. Was I going to die, or what?

"I love you, Son." The voice was familiar. It was from that strange distant past, but it was familiar. The voice was mine.

"He's talking about his son," someone said.

"We have no record of a son."

"We have no record of him even being married."

"Dr. Barnes is here," the nurse said.

"I can't lift my arms," I said.

"You can lift your arms, just concentrate," the male nurse said. "My name is Joe, and I'm going to help you concentrate. I'll keep smacking you till you punch me, if I have to."

Why did I have to concentrate to lift my arms, I wondered. Joe lifted my right arm and massaged it and encouraged me to move it. I tried. It felt heavy. I tried to reach out. I saw my arm move, as if it was a delayed muscle reaction, but it was no use; the boy I was reaching for was gone and I let my arm back down. I closed my eyes, trying to focus through the fog that the boy and the man had disappeared into, trying to find them again.

"Just let me go back," I whimpered. "I can't lose them both; let me go back." But nobody was listening.

"Now, let's try your legs," Joe said.

I lay still. Leave me the fuck alone. Just let me go back to sleep and go back to the place I was. I need to find them. I need to find Jase.

"Try to lift your legs," he said again.

Yes, if my legs would move I could run to catch up to him. I engaged the muscles and felt my legs lift. It was easier moving my legs, but they were very heavy, and I couldn't run. My brain was still in a fog.

"My legs feel like they weigh a ton," I said wearily.

"You have very muscular thighs, they would be heavy," Joe said, and I realized that he had been lifting my legs for me.

I choked on a sob that I couldn't run into the fog after the man and the boy.

An older man with a stethoscope around his neck came to my bedside. I focused on him as I felt my head begin to clear.

"Well, welcome back," he said with a tight, professional smile. By professional, it wasn't a friendly smile, but one they had no doubt taught him in medical school to put his patients at ease. "I'm Dr. Barnes."

"Thanks, but where have I been? What am I doing here?" I asked. I suddenly felt my head was clearing and I was feeling like my old self, enough that I could ask questions.

"This is Dr. Bernake," Dr. Barnes said, motioning across my bed.

Unlike Dr. Barnes, Dr. Bernake put out this hand. He was a smallish man, with glasses and a grayish beard and bushy eyebrows. He reminded me of a mad doctor from an old Frankenstein movie. He smiled when I tried to put out my hand and he took it.

"It takes two of you? What the hell's wrong with me? Why am I being welcomed back? Where have I been? I need some answers," I said, my concern now demanding answers. But my voice wasn't demanding. It was weak and the words came out slowly.

"Dr. Bernake is a doctor of psychiatry," Dr. Barnes said.

I looked at Bernake with a confused scowl. "And why do I need a shrink?"

"You've been away for quite some time," Dr. Barnes said. "You've been in a coma."

"A coma! What happened that would put me in a coma? How long have I been away?"

"Quite some time."

"How long?" I asked again.

"Twenty six months."

I just stared at him for along moment. "Twenty six months!" I said, finally. "What the hell happened?"

"Your barracks was bombed. They found you in the rubble. You're lucky to be alive."

"Doesn't sound like I was very alive," I said. But the mention of barracks confirmed that I was military and that brought a swirl of memories flooding back.

"Oh, you were very much alive, you just weren't living that life with us," Dr. Barnes said. "I'm going to leave answering your questions up to Dr. Bernake. He will start meeting with you right away."

"In a few days, when you're up to it," Bernake put in.

"We'll set you up with physical therapy immediately after we do a few tests," Dr. Barnes said. "Right now I expect you're hungry for some real food."

"I've ordered a tray," a nurse said.

"Then after you've gained your strength back, you'll meet with your physical therapist, but then you'll need to get some rest before he starts on you."

"I've been resting for twenty-six damn months, I don't need to rest," I said. "Did I hear someone mention calling my brother?"

"We haven't gotten hold of him yet," the nurse said.

"What about my parents?" I asked.

"We thought your brother should notify them personally," Dr. Bernake said. "You were talking about your son. Do you have a son that we should call?"

"I....don't....have a son. I'm not married," I said. "I don't think I'm married." I was doubting my own words. I thought I remembered a son from another time but I didn't know how, or where, or even who he was.

Dr. Bernake left and Dr. Barnes finished examining me. "You seem to be in good condition. We'll run a few tests when you have your strength back," he said.

A nurse brought in a tray with little dabs of stuff that I didn't recognize, on several plates; in total, it didn't look like it would feed a sparrow.

"Nobody told me yet; is this a military hospital?" I asked, surveying the pitiful offering of chow they had brought me. "And this doesn't look like real food."

"You're in a military hospital," the nurse said. "If you're referring to your tray, you have to start out light since your stomach isn't used to solid food. But don't worry, it will remember." She remained at my bedside, as if she were waiting for me to eat. I raised my arm with great effort to pick up the spoon. It felt heavy--my arm, not the spoon--and I had to exert some energy to lift the spoon. Finally I let it drop and the nurse picked up the spoon.

"Don't worry about it, for right now we just want to make sure you're going to tolerate the food," she said.

"I don't even know what it is," I said.

"Sorry, but you won't be able to take solid food for a couple of days," she said.

"Well, hell, what's two more days, after twenty-six months," I said sarcastically.

It didn't matter all that much, the food wasn't good and I was so tired. I was only vaguely aware of her leaving with my tray. I drifted off, wondering about the son they said I had talked about. What was I missing? What part of my memory wasn't working? I escaped into the fog and found myself searching again. If they would only let me go back......

I was awakened again. I didn't know how long I'd slept. Not long. The same nurse was still with me, and Joe came in. It was the same day, or the same time of another day. I wished they would just leave me alone. The longer I was kept awake the further they would be and I would never find them.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"You slept through the night and much of the day," the nurse said. "Are you ready for a bath? Then we'll find you something to eat. You must be hungry."

"No," I said. "I mean, no to the bath. I'd rather take a shower."

"I'm not sure you're strong enough for that," she said.

Another young guy had just come in and he introduced himself as my physical therapist. His name was Mitch, and he looked like he could be a brother to Joe; he was good looking and big and muscular.

"Why don't we find out," he said. "I would like to do a quick prelim exam, Mr. Courter, if that's all right, so I can do a workup for your physical therapy," he said. He didn't wait for my permission. He began examining me, my hands and arms, and told me to move my arms and make fists with my hands. I did, barely, although they felt funny. He had me try to sit up, using just my stomach muscles. I felt the muscles tighten but I didn't raise up.

"I'm in the military, don't I have rank?" I asked.

"Yes, of course. I will check that out and I will address you by your rank. Sorry," he said.

"No, I was just asking," I said.

He lifted the sheet to examine my legs and asked me to lift them and flex my calf muscles and move my toes. I could barely do any of it. He placed his big hands tightly around my thighs. "Flex your thigh muscles for me," he said. I did and he nodded with approval.

"You are in remarkably good shape for a man who has been immobile for such a long time," he said as he put the sheet back over me. "A little soft, but otherwise, how do you feel?"

"Confused. Maybe dead, only I don't know what dead feels like."

"I am encouraged by what I see but I think you'd better let them bathe you today; we'll see about a shower in a couple of days." When I started to say something he shushed me. "Just know that you aren't going to be in this bed nearly as long as most would be. You have the determination to bounce back fast and your strength will come. But let's don't rush things, alright?

"Alright, but I want to eat first," I said.

He laughed. "All right, I will see you in the morning."

I managed to take several bites of whatever it was they had offered for nourishment but there was no taste.

"Is this supposed to have a taste to it?" I asked, laying down the spoon. I was tired.

The nurse fed me several bites till I turned my head.

"You must eat."

"I'll eat when you bring me some food," I said.

"I'll see what I can do," she said. After a few more bites I refused it and she gathered up my tray and left. She returned within minutes with a plastic wash basin, towels and a clean gown. She went into the bathroom to fill the basin.

"Let's do this," she said cheerfully as she came back out.

"Do we have to?" I groaned.

"Only a few more times maybe then you can do it yourself, maybe even get in the shower, with some help. Now just lie back and close your eyes and pretend it's your girlfriend doing this," she said.

"I don't have a girlfriend," I said and I didn't let go of the sheet when she tried to lift it.

"Soldier, this is not my first rodeo. You've been here over two years, you don't have a thing I haven't already seen hundreds of times, and that includes yours," she said with exasperation as she pulled the top of my gown off.

"Now I'm embarrassed."

"You don't have a thing to be embarrassed about," she said as she tugged the sheet out of my fingers and laid it back, leaving me virtually naked. "Why we've got nurses and nurse's aides drawing straws to see who gets to give you your bath." She laughed heartily then said, "I'm kidding."

"Now you've deflated my ego," I said.

"Maybe they've got a shot for that," she quipped.

The warm cloth felt good. She was a little rough, but this was a job to her; routine. I was nothing more than a patient in need of a bath. She washed my face and neck and ears and it reminded me of my mother doing that when I was a little boy. She washed my arms and my armpits then my feet and legs, up to my crotch, then back up to my chest. I got a little nervous as she washed down my stomach.

"I know you would rather have some pretty little thing doing this but I'm what you've got."

"No, actually, I was thinking I might leave orders that I want you and only you to give me my bath," I said. She wasn't pretty but I liked her.

"Lordy, soldier, I'm old enough to be your mother."

"Maybe I like older women."

"And I'm married."

"Maybe I like older married women."

She gave that hearty laugh again. "Somehow, I don't think you're going to be confined to this bed very long."

The banter was fun and I needed it to keep myself detached from the fact that she was washing my manhood, while I prayed that I wouldn't get a hardon. I didn't, and that bothered me.

Suddenly I was left alone in the darkened room with only a dim nightlight. Right away I wondered if that was smart. Not that I needed a baby sitter, but if they'd called a shrink in for my waking up, I was surprised they left me alone so soon. I lay in the dim darkness, truly conscious of my brain for the first time in twenty-six months. I didn't know how the brain worked in a coma. Did it go to sleep while I was asleep? Was I really asleep? Had my brain deteriorated, and become unable to function normally? Would I have to learn how to do things all over again? I tried to kick start the thought process, tried to remember. I was very aware that there was something I wanted to remember, something very strong that I could recall trying to hang onto--actually reaching out for--when I was waking up. It tugged at me. But nothing would come. That scared me, and I buzzed the nurse. She was there in a flash, but without a look of concern.

"I can't remember much of anything," I said.

"That's nothing to worry about, things will start coming back to you," she said.

"No, I can't remember anything of the last twenty-six months," I said, and my voice wavered. I was scared. "There's something I want to remember, like something tugging at my brain, but it won't come. Shouldn't I be able to remember something, or did my brain just go into neutral? I'm not brain dead, am I?"

She took my hand in both of hers. "Corporal, this is what you might call a silent trauma. Sometimes everything has to learn how to work all over again. Your muscles, your brain....don't worry, you are otherwise strong and healthy; it'll come. You just need to give it some time."

"How much time?" I asked. "Or is there anything to remember? If my brain was brain-dead, maybe there's nothing for me to remember after all."

"No, you wouldn't be talking to me if you were brain dead. But you need to talk to Dr. Bernake about these things," she said, patting my hand. "Would you like me to stay a while?"

I felt like a baby, even having her ask me. But I replied, "Yes," and she sat in the chair beside my bed.

"Excuse me, but I think I'm a sergeant," I said, rather absently.

"Your records show you as a corporal. Unless you got a promotion sometime during those twenty six months that you didn't tell us about." She was trying to joke around but I could only muster a weak smile. I thought I was a sergeant.

I tried to sleep but I was afraid to. I started to doze off a couple of times but came awake with a start, from a dream of a terrible thunderstorm, and lightning. I jumped so hard the bed shook and woke up the nurse who was dozing in the chair.

"Are you all right?" she asked, standing up beside the bed.

"I just woke up, started having a dream," I said.

"I can get you something to make you sleep."

"No!" I said quickly. "No, I don't want anything to put me to sleep. Is it storming out?"

"No, the weather is calm," she said.

"Listen, you don't have to stay. I'm okay."

"Are you sure? I don't mind."

"Yeah, thanks."

She left and closed the door and I lay in the night again, wondering just how okay I was; or wasn't. I tried to remember. Anything. It was a jumbled mess in my head, my thoughts fragmented. It was like a jigsaw puzzle with pieces turned upside down and a lot of the pieces missing.

Morning came and I woke up with great relief. I had fought sleep, afraid I would slip back into the coma, but I was awake and I felt stronger. I was able to move my arms and legs a little. Joe brought a tray with what looked like real food on it.

"I want you to try to eat everything on the tray," he said as he pushed the tray table across my bed.

"Does it have any taste to it?" I asked.

"Doesn't matter," he said, handing me a spoon.

"Are you related to my physical therapist?" I asked.

"Mitch? No, we're just good friends."

I ate nearly everything on the tray because Joe asked me to, and also because he stuck around to see that I did. I liked Joe. I liked his looks, the way he was put together, and I remembered being okay thinking like that. I liked him a lot better than the female nurses. I guessed my brain was working if it could remember my sexual orientation.

My physical therapy started out in my bed, and Mitch did most of the work. Despite how strong I felt my strength wasn't there. We started out by him lifting and moving my arms and legs, easing me into the process of moving them on my own. It was a short session and I was exhausted.

"I thought you said I was in great shape," I said.

"You are, for someone who's been out of it for twenty six months. You didn't expect to go to the gym and work out right away, did you?" Mitch said.

"Frankly, I'm not sure what to expect, if anything," I said.

"I'm not going to listen to that attitude," he said sternly. "My job is half your job. I can't do a thing for you unless you cooperate."

"If I'm half your job, do I get half your pay?" I joked.

"That's better," he said. "See you tomorrow."

Chapter Fifty-Three

The Road Back

I had been examined by Dr. Barnes, I was rested up from physical therapy and was waiting for Dr. Bernake, the shrink. I had only been introduced to him; this would be our first real session.

"Well, I see you are getting your strength back," he said as he came into the room and saw me sitting up in the bed. I was sitting up but I didn't accomplish that on my own; Mitch helped me get into a sitting position.

"Yes," I said. "Joe and Mitch are a gruesome pair. Joe stands over me and makes me eat everything on the tray, then Mitch makes me work it off. But I didn't do this by myself," I said, indicating my sitting up. "Mitch set me up."

"They want you to fight back," Dr. Bernake said.

Just then Joe came into the room with a wheelchair.

"We'll go out on the veranda to talk," Dr. Bernake said.

"I can walk," I told Joe.

"We had to set you up in your bed," he reminded me.

"Let me try," I said.

"Be my guest." He pushed the wheelchair out of the way and stood close with a very muscular arm out to steady me.

I felt my stomach muscles tighten but I could barely lean up from the head of the bed. "Okay," I said, nodding in defeat.

Joe stood against the side of the bed, his arms out. He pulled me bodily off the bed and stood me on my feet. "Just stand for a moment," he said. I did, but only for a minute, then I tried to walk. Rather, I tried to move my legs. I was successful, somewhat, except that my legs wouldn't support my weight.

"Good try, but no cigar," Joe said.

"Use the chair, it'll be more comfortable sitting than the chairs on the veranda," Dr. Bernake said.

"I guess we didn't have our understanding of how things work," Joe said as he helped me into the wheel chair. He was right, I couldn't have walked out of the room. He practically lifted me into the chair. "I tell you what to do and when to do it, and you do it, that's how it works around here."

"Do you outrank me?" I asked, trying to sit straight; I had to fight from slumping forward.

"Yes," he said.

"I don't believe you."

"Corporal, I outrank all of my patients, even the admirals and the four-stars." Joe pushed me out to the veranda, into the soft morning sun. "There you go, buddy," he said, squeezing my shoulders with his big hands.

Dr. Bernake took one of the wooden lawn chairs close beside me.

I didn't know how to talk to a psychiatrist; I had the sneaking suspicion that he could see into my head and know what I would say anyway.

"Where would you like to start?" he asked as he laid his legal pad across his lap.

"I have no idea. Aren't you supposed to be asking me the questions?" I said.

"I just did," he said.

"You'll have to be more specific, Doc. I'm not completely attuned to my thought processes yet."

"Now, now, don't try to diagnose yourself; that's my job," he said. "Tell me, what were your first thoughts when you woke up? What was the first thing you remember that came to mind?"

I hesitated, because I couldn't bring back what I wanted to remember. It was hidden back in a dark corner somewhere that I couldn't reach. But I knew somehow that it was something that if it did come back, I wouldn't let it go again and I wouldn't share it with anyone. I would leave it in that corner where only I could find it.

"That's easy. Nothing," I said.

"You might not be able to go back in time, but there were thoughts when you were coming awake. You were speaking," Dr. Bernake said.

I thought for a moment. "Okay, I don't know how far back this goes, but the first thing I remember was the light coming slowly, almost as if it was coming through my eyelids, before I opened my eyes," I told him. "It was weird because I don't remember being in the darkness till I started to wake up, and then it was like I was coming through the darkness, from somewhere else."

"You were somewhere else," he said. "Do you remember where you were?"

I thought again for a moment. "No. But it must not have been a bad place, because I remember wanted to go back."

"You were accustomed to being there. You probably felt safe there," he said.

"I remember the feeling I had coming out of a place that I couldn't remember. I heard voices from that place, or thought I did, voices calling out to me, and I thought I was answering them back. Then I heard somebody say, "get the nurse," or something like that. I guess they had seen me move or try to open my eyes. Then somebody said, "He's awake!" and I didn't know what there was to be so excited about me being awake. Then I thought I was in a hospital, and I didn't know why. I didn't know what'd happened to put me here. And somebody was smacking my face and I wanted to slug him, but I couldn't make my arms work. Next thought I had, I was hungry, and they brought me something that didn't even resemble food. Oh, then I wondered why I needed a shrink," I added. "None of that probably made sense."

He laughed. "Maybe you don't need a shrink. That's what we're here to find out. But I am on the military payroll, so you might as well take advantage of it. I must say, that was a pretty good opening statement in answer to my first question." He looked down at his pad. "Who is Jase, or Jason?" he asked, looking back up at me.

I stared at him.

"You don't remember anyone named Jase or Jason?" he asked.

I wasn't sure. Maybe I did. I had a strange feeling, that something was trying to come back to me but I didn't want to tell him; it was part of that something that I wasn't going to share. I just shook my head.

"Very well," Dr. Bernake said, nodding, as he made some notes. Then he asked, "Now, when you learned you'd been in a coma......"

"I was stunned to learn that I'd been in a coma for twenty-six months," I said. Then I asked him, "Have my parents, or any of my family been to visit?"

"Your brother is here now," he said, rather matter-of-factly.

"Why do I get the idea that you weren't going to tell me that if I hadn't asked?" I said.

"I was going to tell you when you asked. I wanted to see if you remembered," he said. "I'll get him. But I wanted to ask you one more thing first. You were calling out to your son."

"I already told them I don't have a son. I'm not married. I don't know what that was all about," I said. And I didn't, except for the gnawing at my brain of a vague sighting of a handsome boy walking away with a muscular, older man, and they were both naked. But the boy couldn't have been my son.

The way Dr. Bernake had looked away from me when I asked about my family made me wonder if something was wrong. When he was finished writing he excused himself to get my brother.

I was oddly a little short of breath, waiting for my brother. When he came out onto the veranda I think I gasped. One of us did; maybe it was him. He was all smiles. Huge smiles. All I could muster was a grin, I think because I was afraid to believe it was him.

"Jeezuss Christ, Brad," he murmured as he came up to my chair and bent down to hug me. He also kissed me on the forehead. He rose back up with tears in his eyes. "Damn, Brother, you don't know how good it is to see you back."

"It would be even better if I knew where the hell I've been," I said jokingly. It was a half-assed stab at a joke and it made him laugh. "Did you bring Mom and Dad?"

Brian looked beyond me, in much the same manner as Dr. Bernake had looked away. But when he drew his gaze back, it met mine and he could see I was waiting for an answer.

"Should we have a doctor here?" Brian asked Dr. Bernake.

"I've rung for the nurse," he said.

"What's up? Why do we need a doctor?" I asked with a frown.

He took a deep breath as he pulled up a chair. He wrapped his hand around my forearm. "Brad, Mom and Dad were killed in an automobile accident, shortly after you sustained your injuries."

Now it was my turn to look past him, as if I could make him not be there and if he wasn't there, then what he said wouldn't be true. It was like I was trying to withdraw back into the safety of the coma, and that scared me even though part of me wanted to go back. I felt numb at the news of my parents' deaths. By numb, no feeling one way or the other, almost as if it didn't matter. It did, though, and I wondered why I felt that way. I suddenly realized that I didn't feel anything physically either. I couldn't cry and I was terrified when I tried to move my arm that Brian's hand was laying on, and then I couldn't move my legs, and I couldn't tell if anything moved. Just then Nurse Joe came in.

"I can't move my arms or legs again," I said. "It feels like I'm moving them, but I can't see them move."

"He's just learned about his parents deaths," Dr. Bernake said.

"It's not an unusual reaction," Joe said in a calm voice as he rubbed my arm with his gentle touch, and reached for the call button with his other hand. "We'll go back to your room," he said.

Another nurse came into the room and Joe ordered up something that I couldn't understand, but I had a pretty good idea when the second nurse returned, armed with a needle.

"What's that?" I asked.

"A light sedative."

"You're not going to put me back in that goddamned coma!" I said, but I couldn't move my arm away.

"No, no. Just enough to bring you down a little. We don't want you to go into shock," Joe said.

"I'm not in shock," I said.

"You don't know that," Joe said. "Listen up, Marine, going into shock poses a greater risk of sending you back where you've been, so just relax and let us calm you down. I know you don't feel like you're uptight, but you are, and that's understandable."

I was helpless to resist, and part of me didn't want to; part of me wanted to escape from this damned fucked up world. I started taking in slow, deep breaths, soon thankful for the calming results of the shot; thankful, even, that I might return to the solace from which I had emerged, and perhaps go back to my search for....I couldn't remember what I would be searching for. It was more than just calming, and I was looking up into Joe's big, dark, sexy eyes as I drifted away.

I slept, I didn't know how long, but I was damned glad to come awake again. When I woke up, Brian was still there. I tried moving my arms and legs. Everything worked.

"What happened?" I asked Brian.

"Dr. Bernake said you had a psychological reaction to learning about Mom and Dad," he said."

"What about Mom and Dad? I mean, what happened?" I asked, matter-of-factly.

He filled me in on the accident and answered all of my questions about it, then stood quietly beside my bed to give me time to absorb it all. I didn't really absorb it; I don't think it really soaked in; his words just lay there on the surface of my brain.

"How're the kids....my niece and nephew?" I asked, as if I was ignoring what he'd told me about our parents.

"Your niece is a beauty. Your nephew has turned into a stud. Just ask him," he said, laughing.

"I can't wait to see them."

"We'll get together," Brian said. "Anything else?" he asked.

I paused, afraid to say it. "Brian, I....I'm sorry, but I can't remember their names."

"Hunter, and Melissa," he said. "Nothing to be sorry about, they said you might have trouble remembering things for a while."

"You have to understand, Brother, there's this big void. I don't know what to ask about. Fill me in," I said.

He went on to tell me everything else he could think of that had occurred during my absence. He paused now and then to ask me if I remembered this or that, to make sure I was keeping up with him. Talking about everything that had happened over the past twenty-six months made it somehow easier to accept the death of my parents. I found it hard to work up any emotions over something that'd happened over two years ago. It was all history, and I hadn't been a part of it. The hardest part was that I wasn't there when they died....they had simply vanished from my life when I wasn't looking, and now I was expected to deal with it so long after everyone else had put it behind them. Brian was still there when I went to sleep. I fought sleep but I felt okay with him there. He was gone when I woke up in the night, and it frightened me that he wasn't there.

With some effort, I managed to get out of bed and sat in the chair. Frankly, I surprised myself. I remembered my parents were gone and started to cry. When it was all out I ventured into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face then returned to the chair and stared into space. I surprised myself again that I could walk. It was like sitting in a dark movie theater after the movie is over, and suddenly, very gradually, images began to appear on the screen. They were dim at first, like through a fog, but if I found that if concentrated, I could make them out. I thought at first that it was my parents' grave--my parents' funeral--but I had not been to their funeral and I had never seen their graves. This was someone else. The casket was draped with a flag and my father had never been in the military. Suddenly the flag draped casket became very clear in my mind and I was jolted with emotion. I started to cry again, but I didn't know why. Then I vaguely remembered a name; a name that Dr. Bernake had asked me about. Jason....yes, Jason. It was a familiar name. Then Seaborne came to mind. It didn't register completely at first but I knew somehow that the name was the reason I was crying. Jason Seaborne was the one who was dead in that flag-draped casket. And I cried for him. I just didn't know why.

The tears and the emotions served to wash away the mist and fog from my brain, my head began to clear and things became clearer.

"My Godd," I whispered softly. "Now I remember....I buried him." But did I? Were those real memories, or did they come from the dark past of my long sleep? If the images were from my recent past, then it could possibly be not true. Maybe I had dreamed the whole thing. I ached with new hope that I might remember more, maybe even go back to that place but in my present state of mind. I wiped my eyes, straining to remember more, till the nurse came in and interrupted me.

"What are you doing in the chair?" she asked.

"I'm afraid to go to sleep," I said.

"You're not supposed to be up. You're not supposed to be able to get up."

"I'm able. I walked to the bathroom."

"You are way ahead of schedule, Marine," she said. "Why can't you sleep?

"If I go to sleep I might go back there," I said.

"No, you won't go back there. You'll wake up when your body has enough rest," she said.

"I didn't before," I said.

"But your head wounds are healed. You're functioning normally. Better than normal, actually. Your physical therapist is amazed how strong you are after being inactive for so long. Says it's going to make his job a lot easier. He's going to be shocked to learn you got out of bed and walked on your own."

"I was strong before," I said.

"I'll get you something to help you sleep," she said.

"No. When I'm tired enough, I'll drop off, won't I?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"Okay, then," I said.

"You should get back in the bed," she said.

"I will," I said.

"I can help you while I'm here."

"No, I don't need any help. I got out by myself, I can get back in by myself," I said. "One thing you can do, though."

"What's that?" she asked.

"You can find me some shorts to wear. Size thirty, preferably briefs, or boxer briefs. I'll pay you for them. I'm sure I've got some back pay coming."

"I'm afraid the hospital gown is the uniform of the day," she said.

"Well, then, Ma'am, I'm gonna be out of uniform, because I'm not wearing this damned gown anymore," I said. "So if you don't want a naked Marine....."

"I'll see what I can do," she cut in. "But if your doctor says anything, or the head nurse, I had nothing to do with it."

"One more thing....can you tell me....is the war over?"

She gave me an odd look. "No, sorry to say, it's still going strong."

"I wonder... if... if there's some way of tracking somebody down for me," I said.

"Give us a name, we can try. I'll send in one of the volunteers to talk to you," she said.

"The name is Jason Seaborne," I said. I still wasn't completely sure why the name was important to me but it was. I knew he was someone from my past.

"Oh, we know where he is, he's in Vietnam. At least he was last time we heard from him."

"You're in contact with him?" I asked, surprised. So surprised that I couldn't form any more words. I just sat there looking at the nurse; or through her. I felt numb. She knew who he was when I mentioned his name; that somehow established his importance in my life. My shoulders dropped and I started to sob.

"What's wrong?" she asked with great concern.

I shook my head, unable to speak. The nurse held my shoulders and rubbed them and let me cry.

What's wrong?" she asked again.

"I don't know," I said through my sobs. When I managed to bring myself under control she got a cold washcloth for my face.

"Are you okay now? Can I get you something?" she asked.

"No, I'm okay. Thanks. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologize. He is obviously a good friend," she said.

"Yes, we.....I think.....I think we might have served in Vietnam together," I said.

"That's quite possible. He is in contact with us," she said. "He calls periodically, checking on you,"

"He....he does?"

"Yes. But it will be difficult for us to track him down. You may have to wait till he calls again," she said. "He will be happy to know you're back with us. He's been very worried."

So she left me alone. Very much alone, with my thoughts and my emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. The reality of Jason Seaborne emerged from out of my past and surged front and center in my brain. I knew who was in that flag draped casket now, and it was only from my past! It began to come back like an old movie that I was seeing through a veil. Jason wasn't dead after all! And he had been checking on me all this time. I dropped my head and started to sob again, but they were empty sobs. I was cried out. And I wasn't even sure why I was crying, only that Jason Seaborne was someone very important in my life.

Jason was alive, but I still couldn't attach the importance to it, except that the whole thing was a nightmare, and I was out of that nightmare, now wandering in a fog. I fingered the ties on my gown and suddenly I didn't want to be wearing it. I untied it and shrugged it off as I stood up. I left it in the chair and moved to the bed, naked. I was surprised how well my legs worked. I wasn't ready for three hundred pounds squats or the hundred-yard dash, but I would be. I crawled into bed and looked at my naked self. I felt my bicep, then my stomach and my thighs. I felt soft. Despite the good shape my therapist said I was in, my body needed a lot of work. I looked at my cock and realized that I hadn't touched it since I woke up, except to take a piss. It looked normal but I wondered if it still worked. The thought that it might not terrified me, but I was afraid to touch it to find out. I looked away and stared up at the ceiling, waiting to see what would crop up in my mind. I did the math in my head and it suddenly dawned on me that I was still in the Marines, and that gave me a surge of hope. Once a Marine, always a Marine.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Can I Get A Hardon

Mitch, my therapist, was a total hunk, with muscles layered on top of muscles. I'd seen him pick patients up in his arms and lift them off the bed with ease. Too bad he never had to lift me. I was more than pleased with the progress I was making in physical therapy. I was even bugging Mitch about when I could start some real exercise, like lifting weights. He liked that I was impatient, but told me that I was rushing things. At least I had advanced from my bed to the physical therapy department.

"Can I ask you a question?" I said at one of our sessions.

"Yes, but first, I have one for you. Where is your gown?"

"I threw it away," I said "I asked somebody to bring me these shorts."

"I don't blame you. Now what was your question?"

"Can I get a hardon?"

He didn't even blink. "Won't bother me any. Do you feel one coming on?" he asked.

"No. That wasn't the question," I said. "Can I get a hardon?"

"Oh. Can you. Well, that's outside my area of expertise....sort of. Who's your doctor?"

"Dr. Barnes. Dr. Bernake is my shrink," I said.

"I'll have Dr. Barnes paged. If he's still on the floor, I'm sure he'll answer your questions," he said. When he had called for Dr. Barnes, he went back to working on my thighs. "Your muscle tone is remarkable for being inactive for so long," he said.

"I was in pretty good shape before," I said.

"Yes, that's obvious. It makes my job easier," he said.

"I feel soft. I could have even better muscle tone if you would let me start lifting weights," I said.

"You're not ready. Be patient," he said.

"If I'm ready in my head, my body will follow my orders," I said.

He gave me a blank stare. "Would you like to venture a guess who they're paying to get you back in shape?" he asked with some sarcasm.

Just then Nurse Joe came in to take my vitals.

"Maybe Joe can answer your question," Mitch said.

"What's up?" Joe asked.

"Go ahead, ask him," he said.

"I want to know.....can I get a hardon?" I asked.

"You haven't experienced an erection since you woke up?"


"Well, there was certainly plenty of activity while you were asleep," Joe said.

"Oh, really?" I was surprised.

"Yes. You shouldn't be surprised at that. You weren't exactly in a vegetative state. You were asleep. It would be no different from having wet dreams when you were a kid."

"So did I, uh....have....wet dreams?" I asked.

Just then Dr. Barnes walked in. "Who's having wet dreams?"

"Courter is concerned about his virility."

"And what concern is that?" Dr. Barnes asked.

"I haven't had a hardon since I came out of the coma. I used to wake up every morning with one."

You were a normal, healthy young man at the time of the accident, there's no medical reason why you should not be able to attain an erection."

"That was no accident, Doc," I said. "It was an attack. I remember that much."

"Yes. I apologize for sounding as if I were minimizing it," he said. "But, son, if you have any qualms about your condition, I suggest you find out for yourself. I'm sure you haven't forgotten how, but you've had other things on your mind. You've been back with us for such a short period of time, however, I would want you to remain on the monitor. And Joe, I would like you to attach a note of your observations that I can place in his file."

"Observations?" I asked, with a scowl.

"He will need to keep an eye on the monitor," Dr. Barnes said. "I would, but I have patients waiting."

It slowly soaked in that the good doctor was suggesting that I jack off, while Nurse Joe watched. Joe was closing the door. He saw me glance at Mitch.

"Don't be embarrassed; he is your therapist," Joe said. "Consider it part of your physical therapy."

"Am I understanding this correctly? Did the doctor just tell me to jack off?" I asked. Despite how I felt about the big hunk, and Mitch, I was a little embarrassed to jack off in front of them.

"Yes, he did," Mitch said, handing me a towel. "You can get started if you like, if it won't embarrass you if I finish up with your legs while you do it. Or you can wait till I'm done."

"No, I got no problem with it."

Nurse Joe was hooking me up to the monitor.

"You're not going to make notes in my file that I....."

"It will be in such clinical terms that the average layman would have to read it twice to figure it out," Joe said. "And anyone else will just smile," he added. "Okay....I'll pretend not to look," he said.

"It's going to be pretty hard for me not to look when I'm working on your legs," Mitch said.

"You don't have to pretend anything, neither of you. I'm sure it's nothing you haven't done yourself," I said as I started squeezing the front of my shorts. They filled out pretty fast, much to my great relief, and I noticed that Mitch couldn't help noticing. I can't begin to describe the great sense of happy relief when I felt my cock start to rise to the occasion. I think it was as happy as I was, and anxious to prove that it could still do the job. After a moment, when Joe was fiddling with the monitor, I shoved my hand down inside my shorts and hefted everything out, tucking the waistband of my briefs under my balls. Then I pulled my shorts up to cover it; the door had come open.

"Uhh....shouldn't we close the door?" I said.

"If you insist," he said, laughing.

"Well, anyone walking by isn't going to believe this is physical therapy," I said. "And I still don't understand the reason for the monitor."

"Well, to put it in simple terms, your body isn't used to the trauma."

"Trauma? Since when is jacking off a trauma?" I asked.

"Since your body has been in a state where it hasn't had to react to the simplest thing, like moving your fingers."

Mitch closed the door and I began pulling on my cock. Godd, it felt good. It was standing tall and proud out of my fist when he turned around.

"Damn! How big is that thing?" he blurted.

"It was over nine inches," I said.

"I don't think it shrunk any," he said. "Geezuss, I don't think I've ever seen a cock that big."

"Let's just hope everything works as well as it looks. Okay if I start?" I asked, nodding to Nurse Joe and the monitor.

He laughed. "And if I said no, would you wait ten minutes till I'm through here?"

I ignored him and started jacking my cock slowly. I was surprised that I wasn't the least bit embarrassed about it.

"It's all right if I enjoy this, isn't it?" I asked at one point. "I mean, it doesn't have to be purely clinical therapy, does it?"

"That's the whole point of doing it, isn't it?" Mitch said as he began disconnecting the electrodes and removing them from my legs. He laid them aside then began massaging my thigh muscles with his fingers.

"Ohh, that feels good," I said.

"And you're not talking about my hands, are you," Mitch joked.

"That, too," I said, laughing. I moved the towel he'd given me higher up across my chest.

"Oh, you're a shooter, huh?" he remarked.

"I was," I said.

"I hope you're not disappointed," he said. "If you don't get the power and distance you want, there are exercises you can do for that, too."

"Oh, really? I never heard of exercises to improve your cum-thrust and distance."

"Yes. They're called Kegels," he said.

"Tell me about 'em, maybe I'll start doing them anyway, just to improve performance," I said.

"It's really not a bad idea to get in the habit," he said. "There are several methods. One is to be sitting on the toilette with a full bladder and when you start to piss, you clamp down and stop the flow. Do it several times. If you can't cut off the flow of urine, you definitely need to do the exercise. It wouldn't hurt to make it a practice every time you take a piss. But you can do the exercise any time, any place. A good idea is to do them every time you stop at a red light. Before long, seeing a red light will remind you to do them. Doing them will generally increase the intensity of your ejaculations and erections, although it doesn't look like you need any improvement in the latter. It will also help you hold off longer. It's recommended that you do about two hundred a day. But if you set a pattern, like when you take a piss, or stop at a red light, you won't need to keep count."

"Thanks, I'll remember that," I said.

Nurse Joe's smile turned into a chuckle. "Trust me, I don't think you'll have to worry about your cum-thrust and distance."

"Yeah, you said there was some activity while I was asleep."

"Activity on the scale of volcanic eruptions," he said.


"All systems were go," he said. "Ask the other nurses how often they changed your gowns."

"Sorry," I said.

"Damn, I just noticed, your hand doesn't fit all the way around that thing," Mitch said.

"Nope. Haven't been able to touch my thumb and finger around it since I was about seventeen."

"I'll bet you were the darling of the locker room," he said.

"Well, I don't know about darling," I said. "But I was one of the biggest guys in the locker room."

Mitch's big hands were working higher on my thighs, relaxing the muscles after the tingling caused by the electrodes. His thumbs moved further into my crotch till they were touching my balls as my own fist lifted them up and down with each stroke of my cock.

"Since you're my physical therapist, shouldn't you be doing this for me?" I said jokingly.

"You don't need my help with things you remember how to do," he said.

"Whew, this isn't going to take long," I said softly. "Not nearly as long as I think I remember. And fuck, it feels good."

I noticed Nurse Joe was watching my fist moving up and down on my cock instead of the monitor, and I was sort of getting off on him watching.

"Getting close?" he asked.

"Oh, Yesss!" I hissed, pressing my head back in the pillow. "Ohhh....Oh, man, it feels like....I'm gonna turn....inside out.... Ohhh....Ohhh, here it comes!" As I held the towel up as a shield I realized that Mitch was assisting me; he had my balls in his hand, holding them up so my fist was pounding against them. My legs began to tremble and my stomach tightened like a drumhead. Suddenly, I let loose. The stuff shot out of my cock like a white-hot rocket, in a long, thick rope that I didn't think was ever going to detach itself, and then sailed over my head to splatter loudly against a cabinet door behind me.

"Holy Shit!" Mitch exclaimed, his eyes wide.

"Geezuss!" Nurse Joe whispered.

The second and third salvos shot out over my head and shoulder before I could adjust my trajectory downward and bring the towel up to catch the stuff. I was shooting with such force that my butt was lifting up off the table, my body arched and jolted with each spasm of my cock.

"My Godd!" Mitch gasped again.

"Ohh, Geezusss," I moaned. "Ohh, Godd....it's so good....So fuckin' good," I whimpered. I had no idea how many times I shot, but my climax seemed to go on forever. I shot so hard my asshole hurt and there was a dull ache in my prostate. By the time the stuff was only streaking up across my stomach and chest, even my arm was tired, and I never remembered that happening before. It was so incredibly intense that I had to force my body down from its stiffly arched position, pressing my butt hard against the table. Cum continued to come out in smaller spurts, landing on my stomach, then it boiled out and cascaded down over the head of my cock and my fingers.

"Holy shit, man, you don't need Kegels," Mitch said. "Damn, that was like watching a stallion!"

I was exhausted, my chest heaving to catch my breath.

"I think I must've been....saving that up....for a while," I gasped.

"Did you count those?" Mitch asked Nurse Joe.

"Yes. Sixteen!" he said.

"You fired off sixteen fuckin' loads!" Mitch exclaimed. "And that's not counting the short spurts at the end and all that boiled out at the last. Damn, you really drained the tanks."

"Whew! I feel it. I ache inside," I said. "What'd the monitor say?"

"The monitor went off the charts," Joe said.

"I think I made a mess. If you'll get me some paper towels I'll clean it up," I said as I tried to sit up. I winced from the soreness in my gut.

"No, you stay right there till the monitor settles down. I'll clean it up," Joe said.

"But you shouldn't have to......"

"I don't mind. Considering your condition, it's a beautiful mess," he said. "I think you're well on the way back to normal. I'll see that Dr. Barnes gets these results. He's going to be very happy."

I thought it was an odd thing for him to say, that it was a beautiful mess; as strange as Mitch and the way he had massaged my thighs while I was jacking off, and holding my balls in his hand.

Joe was wetting some paper towels to clean the cum off of me. Mitch took one and said, "I can do this. Go ahead and report your results to Dr. Barnes."

When Nurse Joe was gone and Mitch was wiping up the cum, I was prompted to ask, "Could I ask you a question?"


"When I asked if I could get a hardon, you, uh....said my question was sort of out of the realm of your expertise."

"I should have said professional expertise," he said. "But it was, shall we say, well within my realm of personal expertise."

"Oh. Then that....that's why....I mean, you were...."

"Yes, that's why I don't mind cleaning up your mess, stud," he said as he carefully lifted the towel from my chest. "Damnn!" he swore as he folded the towel over the big pool of cum that was soaking up in it. He tossed it in a metal bin then took paper towels and cleaned the stuff off the cabinet. He wet some paper towels and wiped the cum off of my chest and neck and stomach then lifted my cock to clean it off. But instead of using the paper towel, he glanced toward the door and shoved the chair against it then leaned down and took my cock in his mouth and sucked it all the way down his throat!

"Uuhnnnnn!" I groaned with surprise as he sucked and milked my cock with his throat. "Ohh, Goddd!" It only lasted a few seconds but it was the most wonderful few seconds I'd had since I came back.

"That should answer all of your questions," he said with a sly grin. "Damn, dude, you just shot off another minor load in my mouth," he said, smiling, as he tucked everything back inside my shorts. Then he pulled the chair up and sat down with my chart and began writing.

"Fuck, Mitch, you are full of surprises."

He just smiled.

"How're you going to write that?" I asked.

"I simply record my observations," he said.

"But how, I mean."

He didn't reply; he just kept writing. When he was finished he laid my chart aside and started to help me up to take me back to my room.

"What'd you write?" I asked.

He picked up the chart and read, "The patient displayed no impairment in his ability to get an erection of incredible size, he recalled without difficulty how to jack off, and experienced an ejaculation of sixteen shots of thick semen, of such force that it landed against the cabinet door some seven feet away."

"No way! You didn't write that!" I said, reaching for the chart, but he jerked it away.

"Sorry, I can't let you read your chart; you'll have to ask Dr. Barnes to go over it with you."

"You guys are assholes," I complained. Then I asked, "Did I make that big a mess when I had those wet dreams?"

"No. You weren't bone hard."

As he was wheeling me back to my room, I was still feeling the tingling effects between my legs and in my asshole from the tremendous come I'd just had, and remembering how Mitch's mouth felt on my cock for those few seconds.

"Listen, Mitch, those few seconds of heaven back there, when you were cleaning me up....any chance that could happen again?" I asked.

"Every chance in the world," he said.

"Any ideas on how, when or where?" I asked.

"I'll figure something out," he said.

He got me back in bed and was about to leave when he noticed me rubbing my arm, up around the tricep.

"Are you having a problem with your arm?" he asked with concern.

I laughed. "Only that I'm not accustomed to that kind of one-arm exercise," I said.

He laughed. "And you wanted to start lifting weights. Just use both hands next time."

My therapy was moved from my room to the therapy room, to a special corner of the gym where Mitch finally let me start lifting light weights, but under his supervision as a form of therapy, not serious working out.

I told him I wanted to use the shower at the gym instead of the one back in my room.

"All right, but only with assistance," he said.

"What, you think I can't lift a bar of soap?"

"Rules," he said.

The next day after I was finished working out I asked Mitch if he might stand by while I took a shower there.

"Not stand by," he said. "Someone has to be in the shower with you."

"Are you going to wash my back?" I asked sarcastically.

Just then Joe walked in with a rolled up towel in his hand. "Not me, I've got another patient to see, There's your shower buddy," Mitch said.

"Oh." Fuck! I was going to be showering with Big Joe!

"Are you done pumping iron?" Joe asked cheerfully.

"He's done. He's all yours," Mitch said.

I thought, don't say that unless you mean it. We went back to the shower. It wasn't a full scale gym and the shower was small, to accommodate only two or three people. Joe started taking off his clothes. I did the same.

"I appreciate you doing this," I said.

"Mitch said you threatened to kick his ass if he didn't let you shower here," he said.

It was a pleasure watching Joe undress, and all the while I was wondering if the shower might be even more pleasurable. I wondered if I would get a hardon, being in the shower with him. Part of me hoped so. I had on only my workout shorts and T-shirt so I was naked first. I started to go in the shower.

"Whoa. You can't go in there by yourself," Joe said.

"I know, rules," I said.

It would be fair to say that Joe had a killer body. It was hard not to notice, so I noticed. He peeled down his shorts and a killer cock fell free. I noticed that too, pretty openly.

"You ready?"

"Are you going to hold my hand? Or wash my back?" I joked. He just laughed.

The shower was uneventful except for the pleasure of watching Joe and his occasional hand on me when he thought I needed steadying.

"Mitch says you wanta go back to being a combat Marine," Joe said as he soaped up his broad, hairy chest and stomach.

"Not back to it. I wasn't a combat Marine before, I was in intelligence."

"Well, you've got my respect for wanting to do it," he said.

"And you've got mine for what you do," I said. "It's hard not to notice how you're put together, and your size, the way you lift the patients."

"Yeah, they call me and Mitch the lift trucks," he said with a grin.

"Listen, was that really put on my charts....you know, about me jacking off?"

"In medical terms, yes."

I wondered if Mitch had told him how he'd cleaned my cock with his mouth.

Badly as I wanted it to turn out otherwise, like I said, the shower was uneventful. But I had my suspicions about Nurse Joe; his remark about it being a beautiful mess lingered.

I didn't know any other way to work out except full force, and within a couple of weeks I had outgrown the weights Mitch was letting me use and I was begging him to let me use heavier weights. I got impatient with him.

"What is the problem?" I complained rather bitterly. "You're holding me back, dammit. I know my way around the weight room. And I tell you what, I'm going to sneak down there when you're not around, so you might as well just let me do it."

"Let me talk to Dr. Barnes and Dr. Bernake," he said.

"What the hell has Dr. Bernake got to do with it, he's only concerned from my chin up."

"Dr. Bernake is kept advised on all aspects of your care and progress," Mitch said.

Both doctors signed off on it and I was allowed to start real workouts, without Mitch's constant supervision. And I was allowed to use the shower at the gym, without assistance but with close supervision. Since Mitch was my therapist I was under his supervision. I loved the real workouts, especially having Mitch's hands on my body when he assisted. Once I invited him into the shower with me but he declined.

"Not a good idea," he said.

"What if I was to stagger or faint?"

"Don't even try to fake it," he said.

My appetite improved and I started putting on some weight. But Dr. Bernake wasn't finished messing with my head.

My sessions with Dr. Bernake took place at various places on the hospital grounds. Once I was instructed to go to a certain designated location where Dr. Bernake would be waiting. I knew it was to see if I could find my way by the directions I was given, to a park bench at Memorial Fountain. The good doctor stood up to shake my hand when I came up to him.

"How're you feeling?" he asked as he sat back down, motioning for me to sit beside him.

"Is it okay if I sit on the ground?"

"Wherever you're comfortable," he said.

"I'm feeling really good," I said as I sat in front of him with my knees cocked up. "Mitch is letting me work out in the gym."

"Yes, he says you are progressing quite well, physically." He smiled and glanced down at me. "Quite well."

"I bet I know what you're reading," I said, a little embarrassed.

"Well, it's good to know that all systems are go," he said.

"Back to my head, Doc. You keep probing around and I wonder why is it so important that you know where I've been the last twenty six months? I've been lying in a hospital bed. None of the rest of it is real."

"And why do you keep fighting me? You're still in the Marines. Do you want to go back to being a Marine?"


"Then work with me," he said.

"What do you want from me?" I asked.

"I want you to remember."

I closed my eyes and tried to go back. There were some things that kept flashing back, but I didn't know which of my pasts they were coming from.

"And don't make things up; I can spot that a mile away," he added.

"I've got two pasts, Doc, one real and one not real. It's hard to know which one I'm going back to."

"That's what we're trying to sort out," he said. "I'm only trying to help you remember. You have to sort out which of your pasts those memories come from."

"Well, I was living in a big house in the country, there was a woods and a creek. It was a beautiful place." Dr. Bernake didn't say anything. "Are you writing this down? Or don't you believe me?" I asked.

"Yes, I believe you, and yes, I'm writing it down. Go on."

"I was back in Vietnam....."

"In which past were you there?"

"I....I don't know."

"Do you remember anything that happened there?" he asked when my voice trailed off.

"Not really. It's pretty foggy," I said. He looked at me like he didn't believe me. "You need to know, Doc, there are some things I might remember that I'm not going to tell you," I said.

He didn't say anything; just looked at me, waiting.

"There was this boy who came to live with me," I went on. "This was when I lived in the big house in the country. I don't know where he came from; he just needed a place to stay, and I had that big house to myself."

He was flipping some pages, looking for something.

"In the moments when you were waking up, the staff reported you saying some things....there was a lot of excitement, and you weren't completely coherent so it can't be said with any certainty that they are exact quotes, but you apparently mentioned someone named Jase. And or Jason."

"Jason Seaborne," I said.

"Yes, he's been in touch with us."


"No, his contacts are intermittent. Who is Jase?"

I thought for a moment, trying to remember. "I don't know," I said.

"You called out for him to come back....send him back....I can't reach you....don't leave me....and then....Dad, don't leave me....I love you, son. I have to wonder if you were somehow aware of your parents' death, if perhaps it was mentioned in your presence and you somehow grasped it, subconsciously. Perhaps it was your father calling you son."

"No. I....I was the dad," I said with certainty that I didn't understand.

"But you have no children," he pointed out.

"No, but there was a boy. The boy I mentioned, who came to live with me. I took him as my son."

"Was the boy Jase? Or Jason?" he asked.

"Not Jason," I said. "The boy would have been Jase."

"You're sure."

"Don't ask me if I'm sure. I'm not sure of anything."

"I am very reluctant to mention this, but it could possibly hold a key to something we're searching for." He paused. "The individual reporting this is very certain that he heard these words. Very certain because he was quite shocked."

"What words?" I asked.

He read from his pad, "It was you, Jase. It was you fucking me."

I stared off, pretending I didn't hear him. He sat quietly, waiting for me to respond.

"I don't know what that means, or why I said it, if I did," I said finally.

"Early on, you asked about someone named Jason Seaborne. You asked if we could make contact with him. Turns out, he made regular contact with us, checking on you. You got very emotional when you learned that. Do you recall who he was? Was he your combat buddy in Vietnam?"

"I remember him. Those memories have come back," I said. "No, we weren't combat buddies. He was a Navy SEAL. But we knew each other; got pretty close."

"Interesting that he was the first person you asked about, over any family members," he pointed out.

"Did I?" I didn't remember that.

"Are Jase and Jason perhaps the same person? Jase is a nickname, perhaps?" he asked.

I thought for a moment then stood up. "Jason didn't have a nickname," I said.

"Then we haven't established who Jase is," he said.

"He's not Jason, I know that. They're not the same person," I said.

"You sound very certain about Jason, yet not so much about Jase, the boy."

"I'm certain Jason didn't have a nickname, and that Jase is not Jason. They're not the same person, if Jase is a real person at all," I said again. "It's not all clear in my mind, Doc, but I think this is one of those things I'm not going to tell you about even if I do remember," I said, leveling my gaze at him. I wasn't sure exactly what I was keeping from him, but the names were somehow very personal to me. I didn't know if he took anything from that, but if he did, he didn't say anything, and he didn't write anything down.

We continued for a half hour or so as I paced around the bench where he sat. Then he came back to Jason.

"Let's go back to Jason Seaborne. You won't talk about him. Am I expected to take something from that?" he asked.

"I don't know. You're the expert," I said. "Look, I don't know what purpose this serves. What exactly are we trying to accomplish? That I'm of sound mind? That I'm stable enough to be a combat Marine? I can't figure out where we're going with it. And I'm finding myself trying to dig up answers that I think you want to hear. Frankly, I don't think it's going anywhere, or serving any purpose."

"If I didn't know better, I would think you're getting tired of my company," he joked.

"I am," I said. "I just want to be let out of here and go back to doing what I do best."

"You were in Intelligence. I am trying to determine that you are able to go back to doing what you apparently did very well; getting into other people's heads for information, much as I am trying to do yours. But first we have to sort out your head."

"Then it's not serving any purpose. I'm not going back into Intel," I said. "I'm going to be a combat Marine."

"Oh. Have you told the Marines of your plans?" he asked with a little smirk.

"Doc, I'm going to stop trying so hard to remember shit, because when I do I don't know if it's from my real past or my time in a coma. You don't seem to be able to determine that either, and I'm not going to spend the next twenty six months trying to separate the two. I want to get on with my life, back to being a Marine. I can sort things out as I go along, while I'm building a third past. If you think about it, I'm probably so fucked up in the head, you could keep me here for the rest of my enlistment, picking my brain and trying to sort things out that I don't need sorted out. So why can't you just sign off on me and declare me sane."

He laughed. "There was never any doubt about your sanity," he said.

"Then what are we doing here?"

"I do have to sign off on you, but we are here to help you, not so much for the Marines as for yourself."

"The best thing you can do for me is to let me go back to being a Marine. I don't know how much I'm going to remember, or when, but I don't see the point of trying to recall stuff from the past twenty-six months. None of that was real. What purpose does it serve to interpret a dream?"

"You make a good point," he said. "But you've said you have trouble identifying between two pasts."

"I just want to get on with my life, Doc, and right now I feel like I'm swimming in quicksand."

He closed his writing pad and stood up. "Let's walk," he said. "If you think of anything you want to say, fine, but I won't ask any more questions."

"I found my way here to the fountain," I said. "That was a test, to see if I could, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Did you ask directions?


"Does that count for something? Is that in your notes?"

"Yes, and yes."

We walked a ways in silence.

"I would like to ask one thing," I said.


"That part about Jase, or somebody, fucking me. I don't know what that was all about, or if I actually said it, but like they said, I wasn't coherent. I'm wondering if you can strike that from the records."

"My files are strictly confidential," he said.

"We both know nothing about a corporal is confidential, Doc," I said. "You could be transferred and your files turned over to someone else."

"That would not relieve my successor of the rules of confidentiality."

"I don't trust government confidentiality," I said.

We were at the main building and I stopped at the door. "We both know I'm going to be re-evaluated, both physically and psychologically, to see if I'm fit to remain in the Marines. The file you have on me is going to be called into consideration in determining my fitness to be a Marine. Those few words could bury me, and that's not fair, because nobody even knows what they mean. You know damn well somebody is going to read that and determine that I'm gay."

"These notes have not been transcribed for entry into your official file," he said thoughtfully. He started to reach for the door but I put my hand against it.

"No. I'm not going to go forward with that doubt hanging over me. You tell me on your honor that you're not going to put that in my file. If you don't, I will go completely nutso and they will have to discharge me."

He smiled through a frown. "Well now, that wouldn't look good on my record, having one of my patients going nutso on me," he said.

"No, sir, it wouldn't."

He bit his lower lip. "I can't be seen tearing a page out of my notes and giving it to you," he said as he stepped over to a bench. He sat down and unzipped his writing pad and flipped through several pages then began writing something.

"I am not writing anything of significance," he said. "But it will appear that I am, when I tear this page out and give it to you."

He tore the page out and gave it to me; the page that had the damning words written on it.

"Thank you."

"I think you would be too fine a Marine to let go to waste," he said.

"I won't disappoint you."

"I'm not worried about that. I know you won't disappoint yourself," he said.

After several more sessions I was released by Dr. Bernake and then Dr. Barnes held my life in his hands. I got impatient with him. He kept examining me and was always pleased with my progress. He even watched me in the gym a couple of times. Then I learned that he wouldn't release me until Mitch did. The next session, I asked Mitch about it.

"I gotta ask you something. You've said I've surpassed your expectations in my recovery efforts. Is there any good reason you're holding me back from being released?" I thought it might be because he liked having me around, and I liked being around him, but we'd had only a couple of sexual encounters the whole time.

"Not anymore," he said, smiling.

"What was the reason?" I asked.

"Waiting for you to bitch about it," he said. "But I am going to miss you."

I was surprised when Dr. Bernake showed up with Dr. Barnes the day I was released from the hospital. They were both cordial in telling me goodbye. A captain came into my room as I was gathering up my stuff, to give me my leave papers and my orders.

"Seems not right to be getting leave, sir, after being half-assed AWOL for twenty six months," I said.

"You're weren't AWOL. We knew right where you were," he said. Then he put out his hand. "Good luck, Marine."

"Thank you, sir."

As he left, Nurse Joe came in.

"Hey, I was hoping you would pop in. I wanted to tell you good-bye," I said.

"I'm more than just popping in. You can't get out of here till I turn in your paperwork," he said.

"Dr. Bernake released me and Dr. Barnes discharged me," I said.

"That's only verbal. They won't let you out the front door till I turn in your discharge papers."

"Sounds like you outrank everybody," I said, laughing.

"I pretty much do," he said.

"I would like to tell Mitch good-bye," I said.

"That can be arranged," he said with a tight grin. "In fact, it has been arranged."

"What do you mean?"

"Take the elevator to the third floor, go to room 38-D. Mitch will be there....to say goodbye."

"Oh. All right, thanks."

"Don't mention it. When you come back I'll take your papers down to the front desk and you can be on your way."

"I wish I'd gotten to know you better during my stay," I said. "I, uh....I enjoyed our showers together," I said quietly.

He laughed. "Room 38-D," he said again. With that, he walked out of my room. I stood there, bewildered. I didn't know if he was being rude or what. Maybe he just didn't like goodbyes.

When he left I headed for the elevator. On the third floor I went up and down several hallways looking for 38-D. I finally found it at the end of a long hallway where the lights had apparently burned out, or they were simply turned off. I tried the door but it was locked. I tapped on the door. Seconds later it opened and Mitch peered through the crack. I could see there wasn't much light in the room either.

"Come in," he whispered as he opened the door.

I wondered what was going on till I saw that he was stark naked!

"Geezuss, Mitch!" I blurted.

He put his fingers to his lips. "Joe told me you were being discharged. We wanted to tell you good-bye, and give you a proper sendoff."


"Yes, he'll be up in a minute."

"Fuck, Mitch, what....w-whats going on?"

"Get out of those clothes and I'll start explaining while we wait on Joe." He tugged my shirt out of my pants and loosened my tie with his other hand.

"Joe?" I said, still bewildered.

"It would shock the socks off of everybody, but Joe and I have been lovers since he was first assigned here, about a year ago. He was so excited when he was assigned to your case. Man, we have drooled over you!" he said, laughing. "He's even called me in to witness your hardons when you were asleep. But no, we didn't take advantage of you. That would've been a gross breach of ethics. But now that you are awake and healthy....well, Marine, prepare to be taken advantage of." All the time he was talking, he was taking my clothes off of me. I was down to my shorts and T-shirt when there was a light knock at the door. It was Joe.

"Looks like I got here just in time," he said, eyeing me and Mitch. Right away, he started taking off his clothes.

"Joe?" I said, again, laughing.

"He can't believe it about you," Mitch told him.

"There was no way I was going to let you leave without saying a proper good-bye, not after all the frustration you've put me through," Joe said.

"Sorry about that," I said.

"Oh, don't apologize. You made up for it, being such wonderful eye candy. I enjoyed our showers together, too, by the way."

"So while I was lying there, off somewhere, and helpless, everybody was ogling my body?"

"Something like that," Joe said.

"The women nurses, too?" I asked.

"I think they fought to see who got to bathe you. And you got the longest, most tender and loving baths of anybody in the hospital," Joe said, laughing.

"Mitch said my, uh....my hardons were on display."

"Well, we didn't sell tickets, but word got around pretty quick when you got one," Joe said. By that time, he was naked, and it was my turn to ogle his body. Godd, he was built! So was Mitch. I could tell that by the way they filled out their clothes, but this was naked built, and different from being in the shower with Joe.

"You guys must work out at the same gym," I said.

"We do. But you're still overdressed, Marine, which essentially makes you out of uniform."

"One of you wanta do something about that?" I asked cockily.

Then both reached for my shorts. They both went to their haunches to pull them down while I peeled off my T-shirt. I lifted one foot then the other then stood naked. They both tilted forward onto their knees and buried their faces in my crotch, and I felt two warm, rough tongues on my balls.

To say that I got a proper sendoff would be a gross understatement. Together, they sucked me dry, sharing my copious load of cum, and by sharing, I mean they swapped it back and forth till they'd swallowed it all. That didn't satisfy them, and they made me know that I wasn't satisfied either. They both rimmed me. Then they rimmed and fingered each other, and I realized that they were paving the way for me to fuck them. I fucked them both. There was no furniture in the room, only a couple of mattresses covered with sheets, and a stack of pillows; obviously a clandestine love nest. They knelt side by side on their hands and knees and I fucked them doggie style. I fucked them laying on their backs side by side. I fucked them standing up. The most exciting thing was when they turned themselves up, butt to butt and I straddled them and alternated fucking them. I shared my second load as well. I started shooting into the open pit of Joe's gaping ass then squeezed it off and directed the spurts into Mitch's asshole. I watched their assholes suck my cum into their bodies then I finished fucking it into them. They finished it off by rimming each other to suck my cum out of each other's asses. I was in a daze. I couldn't believe these two good-looking muscle hunks could be such hot cum-buckets. Mitch was right. It would shock the socks off the entire staff if they knew. The odd part was, I left with both of them thinking I was straight as an arrow. I still have some regrets about that, when I imagine how great it would've been to be fucked by both of them.

We all three showered and put our same clothes back on. Mitch went his way and Joe and I went back to my room. I was ready to leave. Outside the room, Joe grabbed a wheelchair that was sitting in the hall. He motioned for me to get in it.


"I have to wheel you out," he said.

"I just fucked your brains out, and his, and you're treating me like an invalid?"


Chapter Fifty-Five

Back To Basic

I recovered and got my strength back, thanks to Mitch, and with the help of Dr. Bernake and the counselors at the hospital, I was accepted to Airborne School at Fort Benning with a promise of sniper school at Camp Pendleton; all in exchange for an extension of my enlistment. I was more than willing to do that; I wanted to get back to Vietnam where Jason was. The people at the hospital said they couldn't track Jason and he had not called the whole time I was there, and I feared I would lose track of him again. Things were starting to come back, old memories of him and me.

The war was escalating so I knew Jason would be there, somewhere. I would find him myself. But I wanted to go back as more his equal. Not that I could match his courage and raw balls but for some odd reason, being in Intel always made me feel inferior, and he deserved better than that in a man, thus the reason I signed up for Airborne and sniper school.

I visited my brother and his family, in uniform, and told them my plans. My brother thought I was nuts. Hunter thought it was cool. Melissa said I was a fox in my uniform, which embarrassed me. Brian asked me to go for a walk with him.

"There's something we need to talk about," he said. "I've held off till I was sure you were going to be okay. It's about your inheritance."

I stared at him. "Inheritance?"

"Yes. From Mom and Dad."

"That never crossed my mind, that there would be an inheritance," I said.

"More than I would've ever guessed. I had no idea they had accumulated so much," he said. "The estate can be settled now that you're able to handle your own affairs. But you will need a statement from your Dr. Bernake for the court."

"That I'm sane?" I said, laughing.

"Something like that," he said, and laughed with me.

"Sorry I held things up," I said.

"That's no problem; I wasn't expecting anything like it anyway."

"Anything like what?" I asked.

"With the sale of the house and the income that's accumulated, it's nearly eight hundred thousand."

"Geezuss! How did they manage to stash away that kind of money?"

"Dad made some wise investments, and you know how he kept the house up; it brought a good price," Brian said. "There will be attorney's fees and court costs, of course. You might want to start thinking about what you're going to do with it, and where you're going to put it. I have a financial advisor if you want to talk to him."

We walked a few more yards.

"Listen, since you've been handling things all along, would you mind if I asked you to keep on looking after my share?"

He stopped and stared at me. "You want me to handle your finances?"

"You have been. And I've got other priorities," I said, tugging on my uniform.

"You're nuts, you know that....going back over there," he said.

"I know. But it's something I have to do."

"I know," he said.

"Will you?" I asked.

"Okay. It'll probably take another few months or so to get things settled," he said.

"What's another few months?" I joked.

"When are you leaving?" Brian asked.

"If you can put up with me for one more night......."

"You've got a place here as long as you want. I didn't know it would be this quick. If we'd known.....we should've planned a going away party or something."

"Naw, I don't want the fuss. I'm going out to have a few beers with the recruiter," I said.

"Well, we were going out to dinner, to celebrate making the last payment on the car," he said. "But that's not so significant. Sure you won't change your mind, we can still all go out and switch it to a going away dinner."

"No. You go ahead, I'll go ahead. We'll have a going away breakfast."

"There are a lot of Mom and Dad's things I put in storage," he said. "I thought we might go through them."

"Not now," I said. "I don't know what I would do with everything anyway. Can it wait?"


I tried to explain to Brian how things from my past had begun to creep back into my head and it was a task now to figure out which past they were from; the real one or the coma. I said it wasn't important--that's what I told Dr. Bernake--but it was now. I had a hard time looking at Hunter, for example, remembering what emerged, with vague memories of what we had done together in my dream/coma. I wondered what Hunter would think if he knew. I needed to get back into things military where my thoughts would be straight, and I thought a night out with a fellow Marine--the recruiter--would help get me started.

Hunter came out to the truck just as I was about to climb in, after his dad and I had said good-bye. I could tell he had something on his mind.

"Something I gotta tell you, Uncle Brad," he said. "I promised Melissa I would."

I sat with my left leg slung out over the end of the seat.

"Okay." I said, when he didn't go on.

"It's about Melissa," he said.

It took about three seconds as he stammered around for it to soak in what he was going to tell me and my stomach did flip-flops. I almost told him not to say it. I didn't want him to put this on me.

"You know, don't you?" he said.

"I think I do, so let's don't go there," I said. It scared the hell out of me thinking they had gotten together. But that wasn't it.

"She thinks you're hot," he said.

"No," I said. "No, don't even go there. Ain't gonna happen."

"Well, it's out there, and you know you can't erase it from your mind. So if you wanta change your mind....I mean, you've only got tonight."

"Good-bye, Hunter," I said as I pulled my leg up in the truck and pulled the door shut. I drove away shaking my head, leaving Hunter standing there with that goofy smile on his face. He didn't even seem embarrassed that he'd told me.

I had a good night with the recruiter. I thought I might, since he was the one who had suggest that we go out. We went to his favorite bar and had a few drinks and talked about the Marines and the war. We both had a buzz on and I waved him off when he tried to buy me another beer.

"Got one I'm still nursing. I'm driving," I said.

He went ahead and ordered another one which put him a little higher on the buzz meter. I'd picked him up at work and I drove him back to the recruiter's station to get his car. He said he had to go inside and take a piss. I told him I did too. I lied but I figured I could work it up; he wasn't steady on his feet and I was worried about him driving. When I took the key from him to unlock the door I decided I wasn't going to leave him in the condition he was in.

Inside, he removed his jacket and hung it up then half stumbled to the bathroom. He came out fumbling with his fly and finally said, "fuck it," and left it open.

"You needed to take a piss," he said, motioning to the bathroom.

I went in, leaving the door open as he had.

"Goddamn, sounds like a horse pissing in there," he called out.

Coming out of the bathroom I saw a room in back with a cot and a chair and a cabinet with a coffee maker on it.

"Look, you're not in any condition to drive, I'm going to make some coffee."

"Be my guest."

I went in the back room and he followed me, taking off his tie.

"This is where I crash a lot of times," he said as he began unbuttoning his shirt. "Also where I sometimes audition the new recruits," he added, jokingly.

I laughed with him, with a surge of new interest that manifested itself in my loins. I almost asked him why I didn't get an audition but I thought he might be referring to female recruits. When I turned around from making the coffee, he was sitting on the cot struggling to get his pants off over his shoes. I was relieved to know that he intended to spend the night there.

I bent down and pulled his shoes off. He thanked me but stopped trying to get his pants off. He flopped back on the cot with his pants in a tangle down around his knees. I pulled them off of him and draped them neatly over the back of the chair. I looked down at him lying there in his socks and T-shirt and briefs, fighting off the evil thoughts trying to creep into my head. He was smaller in stature than me but he was built. Broad, thick pecs pushed against the white material of his t-shirt, and a row of ab muscles were exposed where his shirt was pulled up. I followed the short treasure trail from under his shirt to where it plunged into the waistband of his shorts. His legs were hairy and tanned. He was looking good. But something prevented me from taking advantage of him. But I decided to hang around and have some coffee.

The coffee maker hissed and spewed and sputtered as it was finishing up.

"Coffee ready?"

"I thought you were asleep," I said.

"Naw, just waiting on the coffee," he said as he dragged himself up to sit on the edge of the cot.

I poured us each a cup and handed him his without asking if he wanted anything it.

"How'd you know I liked it straight?" he said.

"Don't all Marines like their coffee straight?" I said as I sat down in the chair.

"Marines like everything straight. I know I do," he said. He took several loud sips. "Thanks for getting me back."

"No problem. I had to bring you back to get your car. I'm glad you're staying here, though."

"Are you straight, Courter?"

I was jolted by his question and I took an extra long sip of coffee to stall off an answer that I was trying to think of.

"Aren't all Marines straight?" I said finally.

"Yeah, and I'm the pope," he scoffed.

"What if I said I'm not straight, would that void my reenlistment?"

"Hell, no. You would be surprised how many confused, un-straight recruits I've had back here. This is where the interview, the real recruiting goes on. It's sort of funny how they stutter and stammer and squirm when I ask them if they're straight. They try to act like it's because they're surprised at me asking but I can tell if it's that or if I've hit a nerve."

I eyed him over the rim of my coffee up. "You said you like everything straight. Are you straight?" I asked.

He laughed. "Straight comes and goes. It all depends on the recruit I'm interviewing."

"What about this recruit?" I asked.

"Are you trying to get something started?" he asked with a sly grin.

"I've been wondering the same thing about you," I said. "Maybe I've got you at a disadvantage, already having military experience. Let's back up and pretend I'm one of those green, confused recruits. How would the interview go?"

He smiled. "You're opening Pandora's box," he warned.

"I could care less about Pandora's box, or anybody else's box."

"You do have me at a disadvantage but not because of your military service," he said.

"What, then?" I asked.

"One of us overdressed or one of us underdressed," he said.

I took his pants and handed them to him. "Or am I overdressed?" I asked.

"It'd be easier if you took yours off rather than me try to put mine back on."

I put his pants back and started taking off my clothes. "We're acting like a couple of scared little boys. What do you say we stop beating around the bush and lay it on the line. What're you up for?"

"I don't like going the wrong way down a one way street," he said. "I was sort of waiting to see what you'd be up for."

"Whatever it is, it won't be one way," I assured him. I was down to my briefs.

"That's all I needed to hear," he said, reaching out with one hand around my thigh.

"I'm a green, confused recruit. What about the interview?" I asked.

"Fuck that. Come here," he said huskily as he pulled me to him and smashed his face into the front of my briefs.

I let him mouth the bulge for a moment then eased him back. "Not one way," I reminded him as I pushed him back on the cot and climbed aboard in the opposite direction.

My brother and I had breakfast together then I visited my parents' grave on the way out of town. My brother wanted to make it a family affair, but I told them I wanted to go alone. It was a bit of a shock to see the big black headstone with their names on it, but strangely, I felt very little beyond that initial surprise. I think I tried to feel sadness, and even to grieve, but it wouldn't come. It was all just an empty part of my life, to which I couldn't relate. I stood for a respectable length of time then told them goodbye. More strangely, when I turned from their graves, I found myself searching for Jason's grave. It was a moment before it hit me how stupid that was. It wasn't the same cemetery; and Jason wasn't dead.

I got my first setback when they told me I would have to go through basic training again because of my long absence from the rigors of active duty; meaning my long absence from the real world. They hadn't told me that when I extended. It pissed me off at first when I found out I was going back to basic. I was a fuckin' Vietnam Vet, for chrissakes. But I decided, okay, whatever it takes; if they wanted proof that I could still soldier, I would shove it down their throats like a stiff dick. I also had to give up my rank temporarily, with the promise that it would be reinstated upon completion of basic training.

I was sent to Camp Pendleton for my "refresher course." There, with the few years' difference in ages, I was looked upon as a senior citizen at first by the younger guys, before they found out I was a do-over. That realization came as they began to see that I already knew pretty much everything about hand-to-hand combat and bayonet training and weapons before they taught it.

They started getting the picture the day we went to the hand-to-hand training field. I was called upon to be the instructor's partner in demonstrating the holds and moves and I took him down twice. Somehow it came to light that same evening that I was retraining because I'd been in a coma from injuries I'd suffered in Vietnam. I didn't know how they found that out, but one of the young fuckers made the mistake of bringing it to my attention.

"Hey, Coma," he said as I was heading to the showers. "What the fuck are you doing, taking all this shit all over again? Why don't you just hang it up?"

I froze for barely a second in the center aisle, holding the towel at my side. Then I walked back to the guy, where he was standing beside his top bunk, and before he knew what'd happened, I snapped the towel around his neck and had him in a hold that even I hadn't been taught, and he was on his knees with his face buried in my groin, sporting a shocked grimace.

"Nobody calls me Coma," I said in a frighteningly calm tone. "You got that?" My foot was in his groin and I tightened the towel around his neck with one hand and applied pressure to his neck just below his jaw with my other hand. I was taught that move. He whimpered and made gurgling sounds as he tried to pull the towel loose.

"He's trying to answer you," someone said.

He was turning red, then grayish white. I released the pressure and clamped my other hand on top of his head, purposely smashing his face into my bare cock.

"You got it?" I said again.

"Yes....I got it.....Sorry," he croaked.

I snapped the towel from around his neck and walked away. I ran right into the field sergeant who had obviously been there to witness the whole thing. He didn't say anything and I stepped around him. He didn't say anything till I had gone into the latrine to the showers. Then he addressed the barracks.

"Guys, you do not want to fuck with him. He's forgotten more than any of you will ever learn," he told them.

He was right, and I wanted to forget more, but I was having trouble sorting out what I wanted to forget. After that incident, I was pretty much of a loner; even more than before. The younger guys were afraid of me. I never heard the word coma again.

Our field sergeant lived in the barracks with us. Besides being a young, hot Puerto Rican, Sgt. Chavez was a tough taskmaster, but I had gone through this before and he didn't bother me, even though I sometimes thought that he went out of his way to keep my balls to the wall. We were standing side by side shaving one morning when we made eye contact and I thought I saw a trace of a smile.

"For the record, Courter, I know you wanta go airborne; that's why I'm on your ass all the time," he said.

"I figured that," I said.

"Not that I have any doubt you'll make it, but do you know anything about jump school?" he asked.

"Only that I wanta do it," I said.

"Again, not that I have any doubts.....," He paused and I saw him looking me up and down in the mirror. "But you have to be in top shape before you show up for training. And you are, obviously, but I can tell you it's gonna be tougher than anything we dish out here. If you wanta stop by my room, I'll give you some information."

"Thanks, Sarge, I'll do that," I said.

He finished shaving and stepped over to the urinals to take a piss. I had to wonder who laid out the design of the latrines, where a guy could check out a guy's cock so easily and discreetly with a quick glance in the mirror while shaving. I glanced, but I didn't think he saw me. When he left I followed him up to his room. He closed the door and whipped his towel off and reached in his locker for a small booklet. He wasn't just a young, hot Puerto Rican, he was a young, hung, hot Puerto Rican.

"Here you go," he said, handing the booklet to me.

I took it with a quick, discreet glance at the man's naked body, taking in the hunk of meat he had hanging; not quite as long as mine, but thick. Fuck, was he thick! My asshole twitched at the thought of it. He took the booklet to direct me to a particular page.

"Five mile run in less than forty-five minutes, after you've done at least a half hour of strenuous exercise. You have to pass the Army PFT with a score of one-eighty and be able to hold a flexed arm hang for at least ten seconds. I know you can do that, no sweat."

He showed me the minimum requirements.

"Forty-two pushups, fifty-three sit-ups and a two-mile run in less than sixteen minutes. At the age bracket of seventeen to twenty-one, that's only a one-eighty score. That's below average for anybody who is serious about getting through jump school. You need to go into training above average on the PFT; that's seventy-five pushups, eighty sit-ups, and the two-mile run in less than fourteen. They won't think a thing about dropping you if you're one pushup short of what they ask for, or three seconds shy on a run. I'm telling you this because you're not up to your potential, and you need to be above it. You need to be able to ace the physical part so you can concentrate on the good stuff, like jumping out of airplanes."

"Thanks. I appreciate your interest," I said.

"Fuck, man, anybody who is willing to drop rank and go through basic training a second time just to get to jump out of a plane deserves my interest," he said.

"I'm going to be a sniper, too," I said.

"Can't help you there," he said.

I read the booklet from cover to cover. I doubled my efforts in physical training. I couldn't get by with doing eighty pushups in PT if the instructor asked for only fifty, though, he would think I was showing off, so I devised my own PT before and after duty hours. I did pushups and crunches till I hurt, then I did more. I did the damned flexed arm hang till I was up to seventeen. They were slow and it took a lot of concentration but I did them. I ran. It wasn't unusual for Sgt. Chavez to show up outside the barracks and urge me on. A couple of times he ran with me. Fuck, he looked good in his running shorts; he had fantastic thighs. More than once I lay in my bunk and pictured us with my head between them.

I took inventory of my gear and checked it against the list in the booklet. I needed another set of uniforms and a pair of civilian running shoes, and I bought another pair of combat boots to break in. I bought new brown T-shirts, shorts, socks, and some new towels and washcloths. Also two padlocks they said I would need. Everything else on the list, I had. It said civilian clothes, but I decided to wait on that. I also saved up $200 bucks that they recommended for personal expenses.

I wasn't able to put the twenty-six-month dream behind me as well as I told Dr. Bernake I could. Things were constantly coming to mind from my past that I didn't think was really my past. Chavez was familiar with my situation. We had talked about it.

"What makes the difference?" Chavez told me. "A memory is a memory. Does it really matter if it was real? It's just a memory."

I bought his philosophy to a point. But I decided a better way was to create a real past that I could remember.

I didn't think there was any such thing as acing basic training, but Sgt. Chavez said I did. At the end of basic I was surprised when the kid who had called me 'Coma' came up and apologized.

"Forget it," I said, by way of accepting his apology.

"No, I won't ever forget it," he said. He was a lot more confident in talking to me now. "The way you got me in that hold, on my knees....man, I never saw that hold before."

"It was a reaction. I wasn't taught it either," I said

"I would like you to teach me," he said.

"I don't know if I could do it again. It was a reflex reaction," I said.

"We're getting passes off base. If I buy the beer and get a room where we could practice, would you try and show me? You've got a lot of experience I can benefit from. I know you were in Vietnam."

Getting a room?....buying beer?.... I hadn't seen him as a sexual object until that moment but I suddenly got the impression that he was talking about more than my combat experience that he wanted to benefit from. Oh, I had taken more than a second glance at some of the tight, solid young asses and a couple of impressive cocks flexing and swinging around the barracks but I had suppressed all of that. I was there to ace the training and get my rank back and get on with my life as a Marine. But the training was over, and I had been a long time without sex.

"All right, you get the room, I'll buy the beer," I told him.

"No, I'm buying the beer too. All you have to do is teach me some of the moves you know."

We picked up our passes and headed off base, to the little town that had sprung up adjacent to the base. Like all such towns adjacent to military bases, it was full of bars, used car lots, hock shops, small loan companies and cheap motels where you could rent rooms by the hour. While he got us a room I went across the street to the drug store and picked up a couple of Fleets and some lube, just in case, then picked up a six pack of cold beer from the bar next to the motel. When we went into the room, the kid was a virgin in every respect except his imagination and his fist. When we came out, he wasn't.

He didn't make any bones about why we were there. Right away he started taking off his clothes.

"I'll get a towel," I said. When I came out of the bathroom, he was naked. I stripped down too and he took the stance like he was standing at his bunk the time I took him down.

"One thing....I'm the instructor....we play by my rules, no questions asked," I said.

"Okay, see if you can duplicate the move," he said.

I did, but not as quickly. I did it slowly, pretending to purposely duplicate every facet of the move. It didn't take much pressure with the towel around his neck to bring him willingly to his knees. He knelt there with his arms hanging loosely at his sides, offering no resistance whatsoever. He whimpered when I pulled his face into my groin and this time his mouth was wide open; I could feel his hot breath on my manhood, then his wet mouth on my cock.

"This what you wanted to learn?" I asked, holding him tight.

"Godd, yesss," he whispered. He moaned softly and whimpered again as he pretended to be forced to take my cock in his mouth. "Fuck, Corporal....make me your slave," he whimpered.

He wanted to learn what sucking cock was all about. I showed him. I wasn't an easy taskmaster. I forced him to learn every technique I knew that he didn't know I knew. I choked him repeatedly with my cock till he learned to deep-throat me. I told him he was going to get my load in his mouth and that he was to swallow every drop. He whimpered and moaned again, nodding as he obediently sucked my cock. I kept him in the slave mode, with his hands down to his sides. When he tried to reach up for my butt or touch my thighs, I brushed his hands away.

"You haven't earned the privilege to touch me," I growled.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

He was really into it and when I shoved his head away my cock pulled out of his mouth with a loud slurping noise as he tried to stay on it.

"Break time," I said. I took the bag from the drug store and went into the bathroom.

"Can I stand up?" he asked.

"Yes." He really was my slave.

I went into the bathroom and took care of things then came out and handed him the other Fleet.

"Go in the bathroom and use this."

"What is it?" he asked.

"Directions are on the box," I said, ignoring his question. He came out of the bathroom with a bewildered look, but I think he knew what was going down. He didn't think he knew he wanted to learn to eat ass till I showed him he did. I pushed him down on the floor and straddled him and squatted down over his face, holding his head in my hands so he couldn't turn away. He tried to wrench away from me, but I had his head in a vise.

"Open your eyes so you can see what you're doing. Stick your tongue out," I told him.

"Please, corporal," he whined. I didn't have my rank back yet, but everyone knew I was a corporal before.

"You don't have to beg for it, I'm giving it to you," I said.

"No, I meant, I c-can't....." But his words were muffled when I sat down hard on his face. He obeyed, and once he got a taste of it, he ate my ass like a hungry puppy. He was stretching my hole open and licking up inside me. I think he fell in love with my ass. He didn't want to give it up to go on to the next lesson.

In the middle of it all I had a flash-back memory of mentoring another young kid in the ways of man sex. I couldn't remember his name; if he had one.

The soldier hadn't said it, but I knew he wanted to see what it was like to be fucked and I showed him that too. He was scared wide-eyed silly as he lay with his legs pulled apart by my hands around his ankles.

"This is why you wanted me to use that stuff. You're gonna fuck me," he said.

"Part of the reason," I said.

"Godd, you're gonna kill me with that," he whimpered, gaping at my big cock aimed at his spread hole.

"Naw, you'll do fine," I assured him.

"Have you ever had anybody take all of that?" he asked.

"More than you can count," I said, and I added him to the list. He took me; he knew he had no choice. He cried out and whimpered but he took me.

He learned fast and passed his exam with flying colors, and then we spent the rest of the time practicing what he had learned. I gave him a gold star reward when, the last time I fucked him, I rimmed him first....another wide-eyed moment for him. He about went fuckin' crazy.

"One more thing you have to learn," I told him.

"What? What else is there?" he asked.

I took his foot and gently twisted his ankle to turn him over on his back, then I crawled on top of him, with my entire weight pressed against him. "How to kiss a guy," I said.

"I don't kiss guys."

"Maybe you didn't kiss guys. You do now," I said, and I planted my mouth firmly on his. He squealed and tried to turn away from me but I held his face in my hands and forced my tongue into his mouth. I lashed my tongue around in his mouth and once I found his, he quickly changed his mind; he kissed guys.

"Oh, Godd, what're you doing to me, Corporal," he gasped as he began kissing me back.

In another gesture of good will, when he was lying across the bed with his head hanging over the mattress, me fucking his throat, I leaned over him and took his cock in my mouth. He couldn't believe I did that. The final shocker for him was when he was on top of me, we were kissing like mad--he initiated it that time--and rubbing together and he started to climb astraddle me and ride my cock. I stopped him.

"Huh-uh. Different position this time," I said as I lifted my legs up and spread them apart. It was funny; he didn't catch on at first that I was offering him my ass.

"But how do we do....Oh!.. .Oh, Geezuss!... you want me to fuck you," he gasped.

"Show me what you've got," I said. "But eat my ass first. Get me ready. One rule I forgot to tell you, you don't fuck what you don't eat."

He went for my ass like a hungry puppy then he fucked me like crazy. He about fucked my brains out. He was a good student. By the time we left the motel, he said he was in love with me. I told him to get over it.

"Corporal, I can't thank you enough for everything you've showed me. But how do I find another guy to do all of this with?"

"You found me," I said. "You've got all the tools you need to work with. There's not a trace of virginity left in you. You'll do fine."

Before leaving Camp Pendelton I asked about my rank. It was in the works but I wouldn't receive the "promotion" till I got to Fort Benning.

Chapter Fifty-Six

Jump School

After completing basic training again I was sent from Camp Pendleton to Fort Benning, Georgia, for Airborne School. The guys there were different, yet the same. I hadn't gotten my rank back and they thought I was fresh out of boot camp, not knowing that I was out for the second time. And I was a Marine on an Army base to boot. I didn't mind. I respected the rivalry between the Army and Marines and they respected that I was there. Giving me a rough time only enhanced the training for me.

I arrived at Benning just before noon on the designated day, Friday, armed with ten copies of DA Form 1610, my orders assigning me to the 507th for airborne training. Noon was the cutoff time for arrival. Two guys showed up a few minutes after and were assigned to the next class. I don't know if they were sent back to their previous duty stations or if they hung around and got shit details. Precisely at noon we were ordered into formation and immediately sent on a four mile run! I couldn't believe it. We had forty-five minutes to complete the run. Several guys dropped out. Several more didn't make it in the allotted time. They were all fed and sent back to their units. I would thank Sgt. Chavez a thousand times for cluing me in and getting me in shape.

It took the rest of the afternoon to get processed, be assigned barracks and dining facilities, and get issued bedding. I was glad I was assigned to the Rhineland Regulation Mess; the chow was good. We were issued very little in the way of equipment; a helmet, poncho and canteen--organizational equipment they called it. We were instructed on our mailing address to send and receive mail, consisting of name, rank, serial number, Headquarters, 2nd BN (ABN), 509th IN REGT, Fort Benning, GA 31905.

There would not be leave time, except emergency leave, but during off duty hours we were allowed to travel within a fifty-mile radius off the base without leave papers. We were cautioned to conduct ourselves as gentlemen and return well rested and on time for company-designated formations. I still wasn't sure I would go to the trouble of buying civilian clothes for the short time I would be there. Anyway, I wasn't there for a good time. I had pretty much decided I wasn't even going to make friends with anyone; the time was too short.

There was full orientation the next morning. The huge classroom was brought to attention when someone announced Colonel McGuire. He looked like a colonel, close to becoming a general; tall, lean, swarthy face, solid build, and stern features. He went right into his spiel.

"A young recruit, after enlisting in Airborne, eagerly asked his recruiter what could be expected from jump school. 'Well, it's three weeks long,' the recruiter told him. 'What else?' the recruit asked. 'The first week they separate the men from the boys, and the second week they separate the men from the fools.' 'And what about the third week?' the recruit asked. 'The third week, the fools jump.'" He waited for the laughter to die down then added, "So look around you, gentlemen; you are in the company of men, boys and fools."

"It takes a special kind of person to volunteer for this assignment; someone with an unflinching spirit of adventure. Someone who can put into practice in three minutes things that have taken three weeks to learn; someone who is willing to live up to the Airborne history of action, dedication and courage. I wish you all success."

He kept it short. We came to attention as the colonel exited then we were seated again by the sergeant who had introduced him. Then he introduced himself.

"I am Sergeant Blackburn. I am known as a Black Hat. All instructors at Jump School are called "Black Hats" because of the black hats we wear, as opposed to a regular green Army hat. The Black Hat has their rank and their jump wings on it. The proper way to address the Black Hat is "Clear, Sergeant, Airborne," or "Not Clear, Sergeant, Airborne." There is no other way; both terms should be stated in a loud and thunderous voice."

"I am your PT instructor. I am not here to turn you from a ninety-pound weakling into a muscle Adonis. I'm here to build on what you brought with you. Having said that, I hope, gentlemen, that you came prepared....that you are capable of running a minimum of five miles within 45 minutes, perform 20 four-count pushups without difficulty, do at least eighty sit-ups and execute at least ten dead-hang pull-ups in the required amount of time. If you cannot, I will not see you here tomorrow."

"You're going to have PT first thing every morning, then seven or eight hours of demanding, rigorous physical training on top of that. Again, I hope you all came prepared."

"The primary mode of transportation at Airborne School is the Leather Cadillac; that is, on foot. A great deal of that locomotion is done at double time, or 180 steps per minute. It's called the Airborne shuffle. The pace of the run is not quite a run, not quite a walk; but right in the middle. You must be comfortable running in formation and having enough breath left over to sing cadence. Pay attention to Airborne students in front of you, to your sides and even behind you while in formation. If those to your front or sides fall, they could take you down with them. Likewise, a stumble on your part could affect the person behind you. Keep your eyes and ears open while running in formation to reduce the risk of accidents."

"Be aware that falling out of a formation run on two occasions is grounds for dismissal from the school. Falling out does not mean that you voluntarily fall out to the side of the road. Falling out means that you are more than two paces behind the runner in front of you. You will run every morning. During physical training you'll wear running shoes, but for the rest of those twelve-hour days, plan on running in your boots. Stay physical, gentlemen. It is the only way you will survive this course. Being physically tough is the foundation for everything else you will do here."

Sgt. Blackburn looked to the side with a nod then left the podium. I said I wasn't going to make friends, but I sure wouldn't mind getting friendly with Sgt. Blackburn. His ass was something to write home about, the way it flexed inside his pants when he walked, not to mention the way he filled out his uniform overall. It was easy to see why he was the PT instructor. And it was a damned good thing I was only going to be there for three weeks.

Another sergeant came out and took up where Blackburn left off. Sgt. Harris was a tall, lean, lanky man with a stern face. Just looking at him, you knew he meant business.

"Contrary to what you might believe, you are not here to learn how to jump out of an airplane. Any damn fool can jump out of an airplane. You are here to learn how to land safely and get on with the mission."

"At Jump School, you will be introduced to your best friend--your parachute. You'll get to know everything about it. How to pack it, wear it, adjust it, use it, the works. You'll also learn all the techniques needed to accomplish your mission with absolute confidence. How to stay loose; get ready for impact; let your legs absorb the shock; roll and collapse your chute quickly; release your harness; un-sling your weapon; and deploy into position."

"The most important thing I can say to you is, never quit. Some of you will not make it through this school, but never let it be said that it was because you quit. If you give it your all and still don't make it, you will depart with my respect. If I see that you've given up, know that I send you off with my boot in your ass. Airborne training is physically demanding, mentally challenging and a test of moral courage. After all, the Airborne soldier, sailor, airman or Marine must sufficiently trust his equipment and skills in order to jump from an aircraft flying 1,250 - 1,500 feet above the ground."

"Airborne students are broken into "sticks" of ten to twelve men and there are four to five sticks in each of the training company's platoons. At the beginning of each day, the stick leader--an Airborne student appointed to the position--is responsible for checking the appearance and physical condition of each person in the stick. Uniforms and boots that do not measure up to standards will cause the Airborne student and his or her stick leader to be assessed a number of penalty exercises. There will be times when the entire platoon will take part in these penalty exercises. Everyone in the stick should cooperate to minimize this unpleasantness. The Black Hats will demand the utmost performance from every student and no quarter will be given for those too tired or too weak to participate in the training. While it may sound improbable or even impossible to you at this point, graduating from Airborne School is all about having confidence in yourself, your stick, your equipment and the school's staff."

"Jump school consists of three phases, each lasting a week. The first week is Ground Training Week. During ground week, you will encounter daily physical fitness and basic parachute training. You will be taught how to wear the parachute harness and how to use special training apparatus. You will be instructed in the parachute landing fall, aircraft exits, the lateral drift simulator and jump simulations on the 34-foot tower. In the first week, it is imperative that you display to the "Black Hats" your motivation, focus, strength and ability to follow instructions. You must qualify on the 34-foot tower, the LDA--that is the lateral drift apparatus--and pass all PT requirements to go on to Tower Training week."

He walked over to a large easel with a pointer in his hand.

"The mock door allows you to learn the proper method of exiting an aircraft; the parachute landing fall platform assists you in developing proper parachute landings. The LDA develops the proper technique for controlling the parachute during descent; and the 34-foot tower exposes you to the physical sensation of the actual jump."

"The second week is Tower Week. The second week of training is a learning reinforcement period with continued physical training and the addition of more apparatus such as the swing-landing trainer, which teaches the student to deal with oscillation and landing falls. In this second week, the cadet is also taught landing procedures and recovery from the drag. Parachute jumps from the 250-foot tower culminate this week of training and constitute the final transition from ground training to actual parachuting."

"Airborne students will practice further on the 34-foot tower, but they will also experience training on the Swing Land Trainer, the Suspended Harness and possibly conduct jumps from the 250-foot tower. This tower, by the way, was derived from the parachute ride tower at the 1939 New York World's Fair. The training during this second week is a combination of physical and technical. Stay alert."

"The individual skills learned during week one will be refined during tower week and a team effort or "mass exit" concept is added to the training. The apparatus used during this week are the SLT--swing lander trainer-the SH--suspended harness--the 250 foot free tower, and the wind machine. Week two completes the individual skill training and builds team effort skills. You must qualify on the mass exit procedures, the SLT, and pass all PT requirements to go forward to jump training week."

"The third and final week is Jump Week, when your training all comes into focus. If it is determined that you are not ready to jump you will not enter this phase. Between Monday and Thursday of that last week, you will jump five times from military aircraft including the C-130 and the C-17. These jumps will be conducted with minimum equipment, including simulated weapons. Four of those jumps will take place in daylight while one must be a night jump. Graduation is held on the last Friday of the course for those students who successfully complete all training and jumps. Savor the moment when your Black Hat pins those silver wings on your chest."

Someone stepped up and whispered something.

"Oh, I failed to mention, if you prefer your mother, father, brother, wife or girlfriend to pin your wings on, that is allowed." He smiled. "Trust me, gentlemen, if the jump doesn't give you a hardon, having your girlfriend pin those wings on your chest will."

I think I hated the parachute landing falls more than anything else. The five points of contact between your body and the ground as you are hitting the ground are the balls of your feet, the calf muscle, the thigh muscle, the buttocks, and the pushup muscle; in that order. Failure to hit the ground in this form will probably put your head into the ground, hard. We had to do them until they were perfect and then we did some more, and we did them in the worst possible terrain. We did them into small woodchips. For the next few weeks after training, we would continue to discover these woodchips coming out of every part of our bodies. We did them into pits lined with small rocks, specially designed to cause great discomfort. We did them till we got them right.

Some guys were scared when it came to the towers; you could see it in their faces despite their brave attempts to conceal it from those around them, and especially from the Black Hats. It didn't work, of course; the Black Hats were trained to smell fear. For me, I was so damned excited about what I was doing that exhilaration overtook fear. I suppose a shrink could've analyzed it but I credited it to a lethal mix of adrenalin and testosterone, fueled by desire. I wasn't the perfect student by any means. I fucked up right along with the best of them but the difference with me, I was told later, was that I got really pissed at myself when I fucked up and I never fucked up the same thing twice. I learned from my mistakes and by the time we were ready to jump I was probably the most confident guy in our stick.

I was excited as hell when it came time for my first real jump. I couldn't sleep the night before. The airfield was a couple of miles away, and yes, we Airborne shuffled there, and back. We could see the planes on the tarmac. For us, the plane of choice was the C-130 Hercules, chosen by the jumpmaster. We waited for our time to get onto the planes. This was it! The previous weeks of training had prepared us for this week, devoted to our five qualifying jumps at 1250 feet. We had already received a review of possible malfunctions and aircraft orientation. We got into our "sticks," or lines, and walked onto the aircraft. We sat in very small mesh seats and the plane took off. It was noisy and it made you wonder if the damned thing would hold together. When we were ten minutes away from jumping, the jumpmaster yelled, "Ten Minutes." We yelled back, in unison, "Ten Minutes, Ten Minutes, Ten Minutes," moving from right to left as we yelled it, supposedly to ensure that your buddy is awake. In the event of a long flight to a drop zone this would certainly wake everyone up.

As we got closer, the jumpmaster opened both side doors of the aircraft. The cold air rushed in, making the excitement that much more intense. The jumpmaster actually got onto his knees, and leaned out of the door so he could see below the aircraft, making sure that there were no aircraft below us, and no other obstacles that we could hit during our descent. He did this for about one minute and then gave the Air Force Load Master the thumbs up for us to go.

The jumpmaster then yelled, "Drop Zone Coming Up, Get Ready!"

We again in unison stated, "Get Ready!"

The jumpmaster yelled, "Stand Up."

We all stood up.

Then "Hook Up!" This was to hook our parachute cords up to the static line.

Then "Check Static Lines!" The order to check our parachute cords to ensure that they were safely connected to the line. Then one more equipment check before we went to stand in the door.

Once you stand in the door, there is only one way off.... through the door and into the wind. A master sergeant four men ahead of me got to the door and froze. Just as they had told us, the jumpmaster put a foot in his butt--the fourth point of contact--and out the door he went. After exiting the aircraft, you count to four to ensure that you feel your parachute open. The parachute is connected to the aircraft and opens automatically after a short distance. After four seconds if you do not feel the sharp pull of your parachute opening, you must deploy your reserve chute that is attached to your chest.

There were three guys standing ahead of me, then two, then one....suddenly, almost before I realized it, I was out the door; I didn't even hesitate. I'd laid awake all night thinking about this moment. I jumped. Once airborne, I began the count to four loudly, waiting to feel the pull of the parachute opening. I admit to a split second of panic before I felt it open, then I enjoyed the very long couple of seconds before the PLF's that we'd practiced so many times. My landing was good. I was proud of myself. No, I was damned proud.

My second landing was better. On my third jump, I got careless. I guess I was over confident. I didn't tuck my chin enough to my chest. My helmet fell off and I landed without the helmet. A Black Hat quickly came up to me and started yelling at me. A couple of minutes later, another Black Hat came by with my helmet and yelled at me some more. I took it in stride--I'd fucked up--and made a mental note to myself, tuck in your chin, stupid.

All through the whole experience of jumping I thought about everything that could go wrong, for the purpose of making sure they did not go wrong. The Black Hats had educated us on the different malfunctions that you could have and how to overcome them, and I remembered them well, except for the chin thing. The worst example was, what if the parachute doesn't open. They tell you to quickly pull your reserve parachute. Luckily, this five-jump-chump didn't have too many problems.

A five-jump-chump is someone who has successfully completed Jump School, making all five jumps and received his wings. I never popped the cherry at Jump School. That would come later, making my first jump--the sixth--with a regular unit.

The night jump was a little scary but I was excited about it, and the lethal mix of adrenalin and testosterone kicked in to ward off any fears I might've had. It was an awesome experience, descending 1250 feet in the moonlit night, like a bunch of black ghosts. I could easily imagine how such a sight could strike fear in the hearts of an enemy, like death literally raining down on them.

Chapter Fifty-Seven

Sgt. Blackburn

There was a room up on the second floor of the barracks that was used by members of the cadre from time to time, for whatever reason, unknown to us peons. My bunk was on the second floor. Sgt. Adams used it once, and Blackburn came into the barracks late one night and let himself in; they all had keys. About ten minutes later another guy came in and walked quietly down the center aisle to the room and let himself in. He seemed to be looking from side to side, like he was checking to see if anyone was awake and watching him. I was. I'd never seen him before. As well as I could make out, he was about Blackburn's age, about his size. When he went in I heard the door lock, then muffled voices. Then it was quiet. The guy left the next morning just before wakeup call. It made me wonder where he slept because there was only one bunk in the room. It made me begin to really wonder about Sgt. Blackburn.

The more I thought about Blackburn and that night, and the more I saw of him, the more I wanted to get to know him just a little bit better. That was reinforced when I saw him in the shower one morning.

Blackburn didn't live in the barracks. I didn't know where he lived. That morning, early, I got up to take a piss. The barracks was dark. I heard water running in the shower. It was Blackburn. I did a double take when I saw him, but he had his back to me so he didn't see my reaction. It was obvious from the way he filled out his uniform that the guy was built, but seeing him naked....damn!....I was ready to take an early shower. I took a piss and went back past the shower for another look. He saw me. I mumbled good morning and exited the latrine. I didn't trust myself to linger. I went back to my bunk and spent the next couple of hours entertaining the possibilities with the image of the man's muscular body looming over me.

On Thursday before graduation, I decided to make a half-assed move. If it didn't work out, fine, nothing lost, but I had to try. I couldn't leave Fort Benning not knowing what might've been. Blackburn had stayed overnight in "the room" and I went to ask him something I'd dreamed up. I tapped lightly on the door and he told me to enter. I think I froze for a second when I opened the door and saw him standing there in just his socks and T-shirt with his massive thighs and his bare butt facing me.

"Geezusss," slipped out of my mouth before I knew it. It wasn't a dream after all. This is what I'd seen in the shower.

He looked over his shoulder, his massive arm rippling as he polished his boot.

"What can I do for you, Courter?" he asked in a more friendly tone now that we were nearing the end of training.

"Just wondering, Sergeant Blackburn, if I might request that you pin my wings on," I said.

"Be proud to. You don't have family or a girlfriend coming to graduation?"

"I'm afraid not," I said.

He dropped the shoe brush and bent over to pick it up, giving me a glimpse of his butt spread apart.

"Fuck." I really didn't know if the word actually came out or if I just thought it, and I was horrified to see my hand reaching out; that was how gorgeous his ass was. Luckily, I caught myself and pulled my hand back. When he rose up I knew he'd heard me say it, and I was afraid he'd seen me as well.

"Why'd you pull back?" he asked with a cocky smirk.

I glanced up to see his handsome smile in the mirror over his foot locker, his dark eyes dancing, and his thick chest muscles flexing and bulging as he continued polishing his boot. I was struck dumb. Was he testing me? Or was there a real connection?

"I know I've got a hot ass, and you're not the first guy to notice," he said.

I still didn't know what to say. This guy had the power to scuttle everything; the power to send my wings and me down the tubes.

"I....should leave," I said.

"Lock the door," he said.

I stood with my hand on the door.

"No, lock it and stay," he said.

I did as he said and locked the door. I still didn't know what to expect.

"You can touch all you want, just don't try to fuck it," he said.

"Is it all right if I sit down, Sergeant?" I asked, feeling a little weak in the knees from his boldness and the opportunity that lay before me.

"Be my guest," he said.

"On your bunk?" I asked.


I sat down on the edge of the bunk, now up close and personal, face to face with his incredible butt. My hands were shaking and I couldn't lift them.

"You just going to sit three ogling my ass? I thought it was more impressive than that," he said.

I finally found the strength to move my hands. I reached out and clasped them around the twin mounds of muscle.

"Fuck, they're like bowling balls," I said. I tried to squeeze but the muscles were so hard I couldn't even get an indentation with my fingers. I'd never seen such an awesome ass in my life.

"You're an ass man, huh?" he remarked. "Well, I never had you quite figured out, but if I'd wagered a guess, I would've figured you for a cock man."

I laughed nervously. "Why?" I asked.

"I don't know....your mouth....those strong, full lips....the way they'd fit around a big fat cock."

"Are you saying I've got a cocksucker's mouth?" I asked with some horror in my tone.

"No. Just nice strong lips....your lips are almost muscular, like the rest of your face. The muscles in your face ripple when you chew. But you don't care what's up front, huh?"

"I....I'll get to that if....if you'll let me. But first I'd like to......" I didn't finish. I was still unsure what was going on but I was very sure that I wasn't going to let this opportunity pass.

"You'd like to what?" he asked. "Are you into muscle worship? Ass worship?" He smiled and that turned into soft laughter. "I said I didn't have you quite figured out, but I did have you figured for somebody who goes after what he wants when the opportunity arises. Even someone who creates his own opportunities. Which you did when you knocked on my door."

"All of the above, sergeant," I said. And I finished by leaning in and planting an open-mouth, wet kiss in the crack of his ass. He moaned softly and as I began licking his crack he laid down the shoe brush and his boot and clasped his hands around the edge of the footlocker which was on a stand, and set his feet wider apart. The mere sight and feel of his butt, the clean smell of him, was intoxicating. He smelled of soap and water and pure, clean maleness. I slid off the bunk and went to my knees behind him.

I dragged my tongue deeper into the crevice and tried to pull his butt apart to lick the smooth inner slopes. The sheer bulky size of his butt muscles made the slopes deeper and I had to pull them farther apart to get to his hole that I wanted so badly.

"Can you relax your butt for me?" I said.

"It is relaxed," he said, and turned around to face the bunk. "There is a better way to get to it."

I reared back from his half-hard cock that swung around. It was hard to judge his size in that short glimpse, except that he was thick and meaty, and his cock was as perfectly shaped as his ass. I moved over and he knelt across the bunk on his hands and knees, a position that spread his butt apart even more. I was on my knees beside the bunk almost before he was in position, running my hands up and down his muscular thighs.

"Oh, Yeah," I moaned as I began rimming him with my arms wrapped around his massive thighs for leverage. It was a feast, and I was hungry. My asshole was twitching too. "Just so you know, Sergeant, I don't have the same rules you do," I said.

"What rules?" he asked.

"Your rule, feel all you want, but don't try to fuck it," I replied.

"Not enough time," he said.

"How long do you need?" I asked.

"There's not enough time," he said again. "And you probably couldn't keep quiet."

"You can stuff something in my mouth, like an old pair of shorts, or a jockstrap," I told him. I wanted to get fucked by this stud, bad. There was a mirror on the wall locker and I wanted to watch his ass while he fucked me. But he didn't make any move to get off the bunk.

I didn't argue the point, although I almost mentioned the young guy who had come to the room and stayed all night with him, and I hadn't heard him make a lot of noise. I went back to rimming him.

I was several minutes well into it before my attention was drawn elsewhere beside his butt and his massive thighs, that was when he shoved his cock and balls back between his legs. His balls hung high and tight on either side of the thick root of his cock. I sucked his balls, one then the other. They were surprisingly firm, and snug in their sack. I licked up and down the shaft of his cock and licked all around the head and lapped up his ball juice. I pulled his cock back and took it in my mouth. It was a difficult fit; he was so damned hard and so thick I couldn't take him very far in that position. But I did a number on the head while I rubbed his tight hole with my fingertip.

"You've got a lot of pleasure up inside there that you're not feeling," I said.

"That's what they tell me," he said.

"Why don't you let me show you; let me use my finger."

"Too much like getting fucked," he said.

There was no hope of fucking him--at least not for me--but I was sure that the prospect loomed out there for somebody in the future; he had curiosities up the ying-yang crying out to be satisfied. I kept pondering whether I should be the one as I kept tonguing, licking and jacking his cock and sucking his balls and rubbing his hole with my finger. He didn't seem to mind that--in fact, he liked it--but his asshole was so tight it might be traumatic for him if I shoved through it. I kept my mouth full of spit, trying to work it into his hole and to keep my finger wet. It was easy, the way I was drooling.

The way he was squirming his butt around I wasn't sure he was getting his pleasure from my fist on his cock or my mouth and tongue on his ass, or my finger rubbing his hole, but he was working up to something.

"Ohh, fuck, you're good at this," he moaned. "Damn, you're gonna make me come."

"That's the point, isn't it Sarge?" I said between slurps. "And you said we don't have a lot of time."

"Fuck, it ain't gonna take much more," he said hoarsely.

"Let it go, Sarge. Let it fly. I'll take care of it," I told him.

He started getting a little nutso, clawing at the edge of the bunk and the mattress and pulling the blanket loose. He spread his legs wider apart and humped his butt up and down while I tried to follow with my mouth and tongue. Suddenly he stopped moving so I could concentrate and I heard his breath coming in ragged gasps.

At what I gauged to be the critical moment, I got brave and shoved my finger through his hole. He was incredibly tight, and hot as a furnace. I heard a stifled, gasping groan of surprise, "Uuhhnnnn!" as I drove my finger in as deep as I could get it. I quickly found his prostate before he stopped me. It was palpitating like it had a heartbeat of its own. I began rubbing it hard and heard another stifled squeal as he wrested his cock from my fist and started jacking it furiously.

Suddenly I felt his prostate quiver and his asshole tightened like a thousand short rubber bands, then relaxed and began doing its own palpitations. He was cumming! Huge! Big Time! He slumped down on one shoulder for support as he kept jacking off and I realized he was shooting in his other hand, not wanting to mess up his blanket. I gauged it carefully, so I pulled my finger out of his ass just before he finished, and replaced it with my tongue. He moaned again as I was able to get my tongue through his hole now and laver all around the soft inner lining of his ass."

"Fuck!" he swore under his breath. "You made me come!" He sounded mad.

"I thought that was the whole point, Sarge," I said as I reared back on my haunches to get out of his way as he rose up, kneeling precariously on the edge of the bunk. He stepped back to stand on trembling legs, still holding his already cum-filled hand under the head of his cock which was still spurting. I was thinking I could've kept my finger in his ass a little longer.

"Shit, I got some on my blanket," he said.

"Don't worry Sarge, I'll take care of it," I said. His hand was overflowing and I reached up with my hand to catch it and put my other hand under the head of his cock. "I can take care of that for you, too....better than catching it in your hands."

"Okay, go ahead," he said.

I cupped both of my hands under his ass I took his cock in my mouth.

"Aawwwhhhhh!" he moaned, tossing his head back. "Aww, fuck, man, don't suck it, just clean it off; you're gonna give me another hardon."

I quickly cleaned off his cock, giving him a couple of deep-throats to finish the job, and reared back.

"I could take care of that, too, get rid of it for you, if you'll let me," I said.

"You mean....eat it? Sure, go ahead."

I brought his hand up to my mouth and began licking the thick, warm cum up and swallowing it.

"Oohh, Geezusss-Fuck!" he gasped as he gaped down at me. "Damn, you're eating it! That is fuckin' hot! Got you eating out of my hand."

I licked his hand clean then moved over and lapped up the thick globs of cum that were still clinging to the blanket. It left spots and I spit on them and rubbed them out. When I turned around he was in the process of milking his cock and I quickly lapped up the cum that was coming out.

"Damn you," he said hoarsely.

"What's wrong? I tried to do everything right, Sarge," I said as I stood up.

"I said I don't get fucked."

"You didn't get fucked. You got fingered," I said, perhaps a bit too cocky. "This isn't going to fuck up my wings, is it?"

"No. You earned your wings. It's gonna fuck up my head."

"I don't believe you would let something like this fuck up your head, Sarge."

"No, I wouldn't," he said. He laughed then, a tight, quiet laugh. "Hell, who knows, I might thank you. I'll say one thing, nobody's ever rimmed me like that before. And nobody's ever explored the inside of my ass before."

I have often wondered if Blackburn ever let anyone else explore his ass, perhaps with a big stiff cock. I've always regretted that I didn't have more time; I could've probably been the one to do it.

I got my corporal stripes back just before I made my last jump. Guys around me who had wondered why I was in jump school as a buck private, now wondered how I got promoted to corporal so fast. I told them I had what it takes and left it at that.

It was awesome, jumping out of the huge C-130 for the last time, and parachuting down to the parade ground with the audience on their feet, awestruck. In quick time we pulled in the parachutes and got into formation. I was a little concerned that Sgt. Blackburn wouldn't pin my wings on and I would have to find someone else to do it, or worse, he might jam them into my chest as pay back. I was happily surprised as he strode up to me with the coveted wings in hand, and I didn't fuckin' care if he shoved the prongs into my chest.

But he didn't, and as he pinned them on he said, "Congratulations. And thanks."

I smiled, really without smiling, because it wasn't militarily proper for me to smile at Sgt. Blackburn. It wasn't militarily proper for my cock to throb either, but it did a couple of times.

"I wanta hear from you when you get to your new duty station," he said.

"You will," I said. It was the proudest moment of my life. I always said that guys that jump out of airplanes were a little bit nuts, with big balls. And now, a month later, I was one of them. The wings were beautiful and needless to say, I wore them proudly, as if I was true and blue Airborne, through and through. But I had other plans. I just needed the basics of Airborne; I was going on to sniper school.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Sniper School

I was surprised and pleased with myself to realize that finding Jason was not my total motivation. With jump school behind me, I was equally motivated to become the best damned Marine sniper scout I could be.

I bid Fort Benning goodbye, with some fondness. On the plane back to Camp Pendleton I nervously reviewed the minimum requirements again for sniper school to be sure I wasn't lacking in anything. I was male last time I looked, I had volunteered for the school, I had an Infantry MOS, I had my rank back, and I was qualified as an expert rifleman. I had 20/20 vision and I wasn't colorblind. I had not had, nor expected to have office hours. who the hell threw that in there anyway? Trick question, I reckoned. I had no non-judicial punishments within six months, or ever. I gave the physical fitness qualifications a hard look and set a goal to trim five minutes off the three mile run--perfect was three miles in eighteen minutes--to do six more dead-hang pull-ups--twenty was perfect--and I knew a hundred crunches in two minutes would be no problem. I was an excellent swimmer so I was certain there would be no problem meeting the qualifications for a perfect score in swimming; namely 500 meters using side or breast stroke, 50 meters holding a weight out of water, and I could sure as hell tread water for more than thirty seconds holding a weight out of water, with no signs of panic. In other words, I was going to ace the physical qualifications.

The only thing that bothered me was the security clearance. There was a twinge of concern about my sexual preference. I didn't believe, nor could I imagine how the Marines could know about that, but it was impossible to know who might have been lurking in Toby's or perhaps observed my frequenting the Trent Hotel absent the company of women. And there was that thing that Dr. Bernake said wouldn't be in my file; I had to trust him on that. But all that was in the past and I couldn't worry about it; I would have to be more careful from now on.

I reported in feeling confident overall. I was assigned to a room that had my name on the door, as well as the name, Levi Brant. Since I was there first, I had first choice and I took the top bunk. I unpacked my stuff and got my wall locker and footlocker squared away without much thought of Levi Brant or what he would look like. He didn't show up till the next evening after chow. I was already stretched out on my bunk in my shorts, after a workout at the gym and a shower. I was feeling smugly proud that I had reached my goal of a perfect score of twenty dead-hang pull-ups. Tomorrow morning I would trim some time off the three-mile run.

Suddenly the door opened and a duffle bag was tossed in, followed by a well built, cute, darkly tanned teenager-he turned out to be twenty--with a smile that must've cost his dad thousands. He reared back and looked at the names on the door.

"If I'm Brant, you must be Courter," he said with a slight Southern accent as he walked over to me.

"Or if I'm Courter, you must be Brant," I said as I sat up and put out my hand. I didn't jump down off my bunk because I didn't plan on staying up all night getting acquainted.

We talked while he made up his bunk, unpacked and got his locker squared away, and I watched, wondering what he would look like out of his clothes. He filled them out well, his massive arms bulging inside his shirtsleeves, and wide his shoulders were heaped with muscle. Thick thighs and a tight butt packed inside his jeans. And a quick smile that would've been boyish except for the dimple in his chin that somehow added a badge of maturity.

He earned his southern drawl; he was from Tennessee, but not from the south, he said; he was from Northern Tennessee, Clarksville, close to the Kentucky line.

"And Kentucky isn't south of the Mason-Dixon Line?" I asked jokingly.

"Hell, no. That's a fable that came out of the Civil War. The Mason-Dixon Line runs between Pennsylvania and Maryland, West Virginia and down to Delaware, and it was a line to settle a property dispute in the mid-1700s. It's named after the two surveyors who mapped the line, Charles Mason and Jeremiah Dixon."

"Oh," I said, feeling and no doubt looking pretty dumb. "Thanks for the history lesson. They didn't teach that where I went to school."

"I'll bet you won't find it in any history book, but that's the facts," he said. "Where're the showers?" he asked as he began taking off his clothes.

"Turn right out the door, down to the end of the hall and down the stairs," I said.

I tried not to show too much interest in him taking off his clothes but I kept the conversation going so I could continue to look at him without being noticed as he bared his muscular young body. I say young....it wasn't like I was old enough to be his dad but he looked so young, still with that look of innocence in his eyes, and he had a body that belied his age. He was built solid, but his muscles hadn't taken on the hard look of maturity. They were smooth and supple. I looked at his face and wondered if he even shaved, or if the shaving line at his ears was put there by his barber. I waited to see if he would leave the room wearing his shorts or take them off. He not only took them off, he got a towel out of his locker that he tossed over his shoulder instead of wrapping it around his waist. As he was walking out the door with his soap dish in one hand, I stopped him.


He leaned back in. "Yeah."

"Couldn't help noticing your ass. Don't drop the soap."

"Aw, fuck," he drawled, giving me the finger.

Okay, ten weeks, I thought. Ten weeks of being in the same room with this hot little fucker. I started arranging my priorities in my head. I was here to become a sniper. So was he. I would concentrate on that and hope he did the same. It wasn't going to be easy. He showed me just how not easy it was going to be when he came back from his shower with his cock all fluffed up.

"They've got soap dispensers down there, I don't even need to take soap," he said. "You knew that, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I heard there was too much dropping the soap, guys were walking funny all over the place," I said.

"I think we're gonna get along," he said, laughing as he jerked the towel off his shoulder and snapped it at me.

"I hope so, we're gonna be cooped up in this room together for three months," I said.

He looked around the room. "I wouldn't call this cooped up. My room back home was smaller than this. Listen, there's something I wanta bring up right here and now and get it out of the way," he went on, as he started pulling on his cock. It wasn't like he was jacking off, more like he was stretching it or just wanted to feel it. Or he was proud of it. He had a right to be proud, but I didn't think he ought to go around pulling on his cock like that. But I waited to hear him out.

"I'm not gay or anything, you understand, but I'm super horny all the time. I know it's not allowed, but I do it anyway, and fuck, so does everybody else. I just wanta know if it's okay to do it here in the room where it's comfortable, or if I have to sneak around and find someplace else."

I gave him a frowning scowl. "Okay to do what?" I asked with a tight smile. I knew what he meant but I wanted to hear him say it.

"You know....jack off."

"Well, right here in the room is probably the safest place," I said in a casual tone. I jumped to the floor and grabbed my bunk and tried to shake it, but it was solid. "I don't think you're gonna disturb me any," I said.

"Then it's okay," he said. "I mean, you're not gonna get homophobic or turn me in or anything."

"I would be too embarrassed," I said. "I mean, how do you report that your roommate is jacking off without sounding like a kid? Besides, I wouldn't report you for doing the same thing I'm doing."

He smiled and laughed, obviously quite relieved. "I won't disturb you, I jack off before I go to sleep." Then he added. "And it's okay by me if you do it too."

"Thanks. That's the first time I've ever been granted permission to jack off," I joked.

He laughed again, with his hand flat on his stomach, like he wanted to feel his abs ripple when he laughed. "Yeah, we're gonna get along just fine," he said.

Over the next couple of days our barracks filled up, maybe thirty guys from all over. I pretty much stuck with Brant. We were roommates and if we were training partners, which I assumed we were, that would make it better studying. And there was the jack off thing that stuck in my mind. We had that solid between us and it probably wouldn't be like that, so easy, with anybody else. I know I would've never had the guts to bring it up like he did.

I would be glad to get orientation out of the way. It was always nothing but an overview--always too long--of everything that was going to happen and I thought the time could be better spent just making it happen. But that's not the way the military works. So Brant and I sat together at orientation, pretty much sealing our training partnership.

A distinguished looking major came out on stage. Everybody came to attention till he told us to be seated. I thought he should've held more rank for his age. There was no podium and he didn't need a microphone.

"We're not looking for good shots or natural born killers," he began. "There are a lot of soldiers that are skilled with a rifle and have the training and ability to take an enemy's life; that doesn't make them snipers. Being a sniper comes with a tremendous amount of responsibility. What command is looking for is a soldier that possesses good decision-making abilities and a level head. Snipers need to be able to work on their own. You have to be independent, so when you're not with your unit you need to be able to make sound decisions on your own without having to call up, 'What should I do here?' or 'Should I shoot this guy or what?'"

"Fabled in fiction and feared in fact, a sniper can take a toll on an enemy, literally and psychologically. Consider it; if you can't find somebody, you don't know where they're at, and people are dying right beside you, and you can't figure out why and where or how far away the shooter is, it's like a ghost warrior. Firepower is a lot less important than precise, discriminate fire."

"There's a lot of romanticism associated with snipers but really, the Marine sniper is nothing more than a highly trained infantryman. But he does something ordinary infantrymen don't do. With calm calculation, usually from hiding, he stalks an unsuspecting enemy through the scope of a long-range precision rifle. Then he kills him. As one Marine sniper puts it: 'You're out here to hunt man, and the only more personal way is to stab somebody or slit his throat.' It is indeed a very personal way to kill, and partly for that reason, not everyone is cut out for this work."

"Although they do talk about it, how to deal psychologically with killing people is not technically part of the training. Putting it in its simplest terms, sniper school students are taught to "dehumanize" those they shoot. When he is in combat, it's just a target, and that's all it is. The target comes up and presents itself, and the target goes down, and you move on to the next one. They're also taught to remember that those they kill posed a threat to fellow Marines. They look at it not as shooting a person, but eliminating a threat."

"Beyond the right psychological makeup, a sniper needs the intelligence and the mental and physical stamina to master a large set of special skills. Those skills include using mathematical formulas to calculate the effects of distance and wind on bullet trajectory, and enduring sun, rain or jungle slime and insects for hours or even days while stalking a target, or getting away. Sniping takes its toll. For one thing, snipers often operate beyond front lines and are prime targets themselves, some even with bounties on their heads. Snipers also bear psychological burdens, for a target's face often fills the scope before they fire."

"The very nature of Marine Scout Sniper training requires that the sniper candidates are physically and mentally prepared for the stress and rigors of training and sniping. Self-discipline and positive mental attitude can contribute tremendously to such psychological and physical readiness. But morale, cohesion and integrity are also part of team readiness and potency. And if they realize and understand that self-discipline and positive mental attitude can help them to achieve these goals, then they could be considered truly a Marine Scout Sniper."

He glanced to the side then continued.

"Now I'm going to turn this over to Corporal Luke Major. His introduction is short and sweet. Corporal Major holds just about every record at this school. Nothing more needs to be said. So listen up."

Corporal Major looked like he might've graduated with Levi Brant, like last week, from high school. Except unlike Brant's boyish good looks, Major had a look of maturity about him except for his eyes. He had eyes that would make women want to take him home and take his virginity. Not that I believed he still had it. Fuck, if he looked anything like that when he was twelve or fourteen, he left his cherry back in grade school. Even his voice, although powerful, had a tone of maturity that'd happened only recently. But we listened when he spoke.

"Above the doors leading to the classroom is a sign that reads: 'Through these doors pass the world's finest infantrymen. Out walks the world's deadliest weapons--Marine Scout-Snipers.' Each Basic Scout-Sniper Course starts with twenty-four to thirty students and on average, six to nine of those will fail, and not because of poor marksmanship. About three will flunk because of inadequate patience and skill at stalking. Two or three others won't grasp observation and surveillance techniques, or some aspect of the math. We lose most of our students during the land navigation portion. A lot of young Marines don't know land navigation well enough and fail to get the required seventy percent mark. But those who do make it to the graded stalks train long and hard in the mud and dirt to be silent and deadly even after they take the shot."

"Comes opening day, the lives of these thirty or so sniper candidates will never be the same again, not only for themselves but for their unit as well. For each training phase, or module, they are required to get an average of at least seventy-five percent both in the written and practical exercises, in order to check out and move on to the next module. Those who fail to get the passing marks will be automatically dropped from the course. For the next twelve weeks, those who remain will wake up as early as 3:00 in the morning and turn in as late as midnight. They will be learning more marksmanship, scout sniper equipment care and maintenance procedures, and do a lot of shooting either downrange or at the training fields. They will also learn about the different types of ammo, sniper sighting devices, special sniper equipment, communications equipment, effects of weather, engagement of moving targets, call for fire among other things. Those lucky enough to go this far will be allowed to learn more about sniper field techniques, mission preparation, sniper operations and tracking/counter-tracking. It's not like you can read a book and go do it. You have to do it over and over, and if you quit doing it for a while you can lose your skills. It is a perishable skill."

"The Marine Scout Sniper works and trains as a two-man team. At this stage he will learn that a sniper's primary and secondary duties are as a sniper and as an observer respectively. Therefore, each team member must train both as a sniper and as an observer. As a sniper team leader, he will learn how to plan the day-to-day activities of the sniper team and the proper employment of his special weapon; the sniper weapon system. The observer on the other hand will learn how to effectively observe everything within sight or hearing and likewise learn the proper employment of his weapon--the M16 rifle with M203 which gives the team greater suppressive fire and protection."

"The last phase of the training is called the sniper sustainment training or the sniper Field Training Exercise. For one month, each team will be tested for what they have learned with one sniper instructor assigned to rate each team. They will also undergo a one-week continuous activity covering all the triad of military skills with emphasis on stalking, long-range target engagement, night navigation and night firing, with minimal rest, sleep and food. This is the snipers "Hell Week." The training then will culminate with a three-day-and-night Survival, Evasion and Escape exercise before each team member can finally earn the title of a Marine Scout Sniper."

"The Marine Scout Sniper is not just a good shooter. He is the best shooter and the best ghost rider a unit can ever have. He brings death from afar and abandon's all hope for the enemy who only dies tired if he runs. To the sniper candidate, there is still a long and arduous way to go before he earns the title of Marine Scout Sniper and its golden eagle and cross-hair badge. Welcome Aboard, to Marine Scout Sniper School."

Orientation took up the entire morning and then we went to chow. I was surprised they gave us the rest of the day free, except technically it wasn't, unless you wanted to goof off, which wasn't a smart thing to do. I figured they might be watching to see who goofed off. When we returned to the barracks after chow, we each found a book and a notebook on our bunks. I took it as a real strong hint to study. I always hated studying and was never good at it. I found it hard to concentrate on reading; I was better at hands-on. But I wanted this and I would do whatever it took. So I got comfortable, down to my briefs. Then for some reason I thought of Sgt. Blackburn. I'd told him I would get in touch with him when I reached my next duty station. I slipped on a pair of pants and a T-shirt and went to the phone bank just outside the barracks to call him. He sounded happy and surprised to hear from me. He said it was too bad I got assigned so far away. It felt good to hear him say that. We talked for a few minutes then I went back inside and got comfortable again.

I read and re-read, made notes, and Brant and I exchanged notes. I think he wanted to be a sniper even more than I did. He got irritated with the noise in the hallway from guys who weren't studying, and downright pissed when someone poked his head in. He got up and locked the door.

I had my limits with studying, and a couple of hours was it. I tossed the book aside and jumped down off my bunk.

"I gotta give it a break," I said as I looked out the window. "I hate book learning anyway. I'm better at hands on."

"Here's your hands on," Brant joked.

I looked around to see him grabbing his crotch.

"I thought you only did that at night," I said, although he hadn't performed the act yet, that I knew of.

"I do, but liking hands on, you can do it for me anytime," he said.

I laughed, shaking my head. But Brant didn't let go of his crotch. He kept squeezing and massaging himself. I retrieved my book and pulled a chair out from the desk and sat down, cocked back on two legs.

"You know, maybe a good jack off break would clear the mind," he said as he tossed his books aside.

"You're gonna do it now?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah, my cock and balls aren't on a time schedule," he said, as he started undoing his pants.

"I know the door's locked, but somebody might wanta come in....like the sergeant," I said.

"We're on free time. What would be so unusual about a guy being naked in his room on free time?"

"Naked is one thing....two guys naked behind locked doors with hardons is a different story," I said.

"You don't have a hardon," he said.

He had a point, but he had a body, and the more of it I saw, the more likely I knew I was going to get a hardon. By the time he was totally naked I could feel my cock coming to life. "If you keep doing that, I probably will have a hardon," I said.

"Ah, so it turns you on, seeing me like this," he chided me as he fisted his cock in a lewd manner, showing off for me.

I didn't say anything. I wasn't going to admit that it turned me on, but I didn't deny it either. I had to admit, I liked the way his hand didn't fit all the way around his thick cock. I turned back to my book.

"I don't care if you watch," he said. "I don't care if you join me."

I eyed him over the top of my book and felt a gentle pulsation in my cock. I focused on my book but I could see Brant watching me as he stroked his own cock.

"Looks like your cock wants to join in," he said.

I reached around my book and shoved my hand down inside my shorts, taking hold of my own cock. Brant laughed. I started stroking it, casual like, without looking up from my book. I felt my cock grow and stiffen in my hand.

"Your cock obviously thanks you," Brant said as my cock quickly outgrew my hand and protruded through my fist across to my hip.

"Yeah, if it could talk, it would," I mumbled without looking up. I wasn't following the words on the page now. I was just barely skimming over them.

"Oh, now it's talking....in sign language. Look at the ball juice soaking up your shorts," Brand said. "Fuck, man, you're not reading anyway. You're probably sitting there looking at the page cross-eyed."

I lowered my book to have a look. Sure enough, there was a big wet spot forming over at my hip.

"Fuck!" I swore as I laid the book down and stood up. "This pair of shorts wasn't ready for the laundry bag yet." I peeled the shorts down and tossed them in my locker. A stream of precome left my cock and fell to the floor and more was coming out. I swiped it up with my finger and wiped it on my thigh as I picked up my book again.

"I would've licked my finger off," Brant said, laughing.

He was too much. Finally I laid my book aside. "Okay, you win," I said as I began stroking my cock.

We stood there and jacked off for a few minutes, watching each other intently.

"Hey, do you wanta make any bets on who comes first, or farther?" he asked.

"Not who comes first. I've trained myself to hold off," I said.

"That's good. I gotta work on that. Maybe you can give me some pointers. So, are we betting on farther then?"

"Sure. What're the stakes?"

"Loser has to give the other guy a blowjob instead of jacking off next time," he said.

"Have you ever sucked cock before, Brant?" I asked.

"No. You?"

"No," I lied.

"But you'll do it?....if you lose?" he asked.

"I won't lose. Question is, will you if you lose."

"Yes, sir. I never welch on a bet," he said.

We started jacking off in earnest. Brant cupped his balls in one hand, holding them up so his other fist pounded them with every stroke. He winced and groaned as he did it.

"Why're you torturing yourself like that?" I asked as I sat back down and cocked back in the chair. I put my feet up on the desk, my legs spread wide, and started jacking my cock slowly.

"A little pain mixed in feels good....builds up the pressure. You oughta try it," he said

"Ever try your finger?" I asked as I reached down and started rubbing my asshole.

He gave me a screwy look. "You mean my finger in my ass? No."

"If you can find your prostate, it'll make you blow the top of your head off," I told him.

"Oh, really," he said. He went over and laid back across the bunk with his legs spread out and reached down and started rubbing his asshole too. "Mmnnnn, that does feel good." He rubbed harder, pushing his finger against his hole.

"Wet your finger, it'll go in easier," I said.

Without hesitation, and without thinking, he put his finger in his mouth. "Aww, fuck. I don't believe I just stuck my finger in my mouth after rubbing my asshole!"

"It ain't gonna kill you, you just showered," I said, and I did it too.

Within minutes we both had our fingers in our asses, squirming around on our hands. I couldn't believe what we were doing.

"Ohh, fuck, I'm glad you put me onto this," Brant said. "Can't believe I didn't think of it."

I didn't think Brant had found his prostate yet but I knew exactly where mine was.

"You found it yet?" I asked.

"It feels good, but I haven't found anything that feels like it's gonna blow the top of my head off," he said.

Without thinking, I said, "I can help you find it if you want."

"You can, no shit? You're gonna shove your finger in my ass?"

"Unless you want me to use my cock," I said.

"No fuckin' way," he said, laughing. "You are too fuckin' funny, dude."

I went over to his bunk and he spread his legs out and lifted them up so I could get to his ass. I couldn't believe we were doing this, but we were. I placed one of his feet in the frame of my top bunk to tilt his ass up higher. He placed his other foot really wide. He pulled one side of his butt apart and I replaced his finger with my own. He was hot and tight and spongy inside.

"Fuck, Brant, you're tight."

"Ohhh....OOhh, fuck....is your finger supposed to feel better than mine?" he moaned.

I probed around, going in as deep as I could reach, searching for his prostate. He let me know when I found it.

"UUUhhnnn! Mann, you just touched something!" he exclaimed.

"Something that felt pretty special?" I asked, rubbing my finger around his love nut.

"Aww, fuck, yeahhhh....real special," he moaned. "Ohhh.... Awww, fuck! I didn't know that was in there."

I pulled my finger out. "See if you can find it now," I said.

He curled his finger and shoved it in as deep as he could reach and I saw the corded muscles in his forearm ripple as he probed around. Suddenly his eyes widened and he let out a little gasp.

"Ohh....Oohh, fuck, there it is! I can feel it!" he gasped excitedly.

"Have yourself a ball," I said and started to walk away.

"Hey, wait, come here. How about we finger each other? You help get me off, I'll help get you off. I mean, we can reach each other's asses better than reaching our own."

I didn't believe he was saying it but I liked his logic. I hesitated, then went back over to him. "All right. I guess that's not an unfair advantage," I said.

As I went back to his bunk he turned to lie long ways and raised his legs and hooked his feet in the upper bunk again. I wet my finger and shoved it in his ass again and found his prostate.

"Aawhhh, Fuck! Man, you know right where it is," he cried. "Did you go to medical school or something?"

"Yeah, but I flunked out. I aced prostate, though," I said, laughing.

He reached out and shoved his arm between my legs and started fingering my ass while we both jacked off. I squirmed around so he would connect with my love nut. It was hot and intense, him twisting his butt around on my finger and I was riding up and down on his. I hadn't figured Brant for this, and now I was wondering how much more I could expect out of him. He seemed so totally void of inhibitions, open for anything. I didn't try to hold off. I was still a little concerned about someone knocking on our door. I let him work me up, confident that I could out shoot him.

"How're we gonna measure, you're standing, I'm lying down, we're not facing the same direction," Brant said.

"There won't be any need to measure," I said. "Question is, where do you want it?"

"Wait. If you're really a shooter, I don't want the mess all over me and my bunk; let me stand up," he said.

I would've preferred it like we were....I was hoping to shoot all over him....but I didn't argue. He stood beside me, both of us facing away from his bunk toward the center of the room. He reached back and shoved his finger in my ass again and I did the same to him. It didn't take long. My legs started trembling and Brant was literally fucking himself on my finger and moaning and gasping like he was in pain. He went off first. I felt his asshole squeeze and spasm around my finger, then seconds later he was shooting long streaks of cum across the room. Way across the room. For the first time, I was a little worried. While he was coming down, I let loose with my load as I rode and squirmed around on his finger jabbing mercilessly at my ass. I shot so hard, I swear I could hear the stuff gushing out of my cock. It sailed upward, forming a wide arch--like a pearl-white rainbow--and landed with a splatter on the floor damn near clear across the room.

"Holy Minoly!" Brant swore. "Shit! That's like a rocket firing!"

I trembled through my climax, sending another half dozen powerful spurts across the room before the trajectory lowered and I was spewing streams of semen closer to us. I was a bit surprised myself at the distance, and the volume, both of which I attributed to Brant.

"Damn, you over shot me by a yard! And about a gallon!" Brant exclaimed. "You fuckin' win."

"And you owe me a blowjob," I said.

"Fuck, I guess I do!" he said, sounding almost excited.

"And you never welch on a bet," I reminded him.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Sniper School for Real

Sniper school was a ten-week school, more than three times longer than jump school. The Army had sent somebody from Pendleton to start its own sniper school in Vietnam, lasting just eighteen days, which made me wonder again what all there was to learn that could possibly take ten weeks if the Army could do it in eighteen days. But then I learned that there's a reason why the Marine Scout Sniper School is rated the best in the world.

I read, I studied, I listened to a couple of the older guys who were willing to share their experiences. The sniper's main purpose was to impede and harass the enemy in his daily or nighttime movements. It was a little unnerving when I first heard snipers referred to as thirteen-cent killers; that's what it cost to manufacture the bullets we used, and no one gave Uncle Sam a bigger bang for his buck.

I would soon learn that becoming a sniper was a lot more than having a good eye, a steady hand and pulling the trigger. I already knew about wind and gravity, the two biggest variables that affect a bullet's flight. I was not aware of the effects of cold, heat and humidity. Cold air is denser than hot air and creates more drag on a bullet. Humidity with hot air has the same effect.

Ultimately, the farther a sniper can be from his target and still remain accurate, the more effective he is and the less likely he is to be discovered. Using a 7.62mm round, snipers can shoot almost silently as long as they're shooting from over 650 yards. A bullet leaves the rifle barrel faster than the speed of sound. The cracking sound a bullet makes is a tiny sonic boom. Even if a target doesn't hear the rifle shot, he will hear the bullet fly by... if it's a miss, that is. But the drag created by wind resistance on a 7.62mm round as it travels through the air slows the bullet down to sub-sonic speeds at around 650 yards. So at ranges over 650 yards, the bullet no longer makes that distinct cracking sound. If you're shooting at a target 875 or 1100 yards out--that's eleven football fields--you could be shooting at that person all day long and he don't even know he's being shot at, unless you hit him, of course.

We would spend plenty of time in school cracking the books and in the classroom learning the principles of ballistics, windage, air density, and many other variables that affect the flight of a bullet. But at the end of the day, it comes down to what snipers call "rounds down range" or rounds fired on the firing range. That's what I liked the best; hands on.

The skill that snipers are most known for is their marksmanship. The ability to hit targets as far as a ten or eleven football fields away isn't something that comes naturally. Snipers train to become expert marksman with a deeply ingrained understanding of the principles of ballistics. MOA--minute of angle--is the unit of measurement that snipers use in school to measure accuracy. The greater distance the sniper is shooting from, the lower the accuracy, as natural forces like wind resistance work on the bullet as it travels through the air. MOA measures the accuracy of the shot, taking the distance it was fired from into consideration. The basic formula is one inch at a hundred yards; for every one hundred yards the bullet travels, you add one inch of inaccuracy.

I came to know the intensity of observation training. Since a sniper spends most of his time looking, and only a few seconds shooting, his observational skills have to be flawless.

They developed some unique "games" to hone our ability to look at things critically. They put different objects on the table--a bullet, a paper clip, a bottle top, a pen, a piece of paper with something written on it--ten to twenty items total. We would gather around and they would give us, say, a minute to look at everything. Then we'd have to go back to our table and describe what we saw. We weren't allowed to say "paper clip" or "bullet," we had to say "silver, metal wire, bent in two oval shapes." They want the Intel guys making the decision on what we actually saw. We would play that game repeatedly throughout the three-month course. As time went by, we were given more objects to look at and less time to look at them. To add to the challenge, the time between seeing the objects and reporting what we saw got longer. By the end, we might see twenty-five or more objects in the morning, train all day, and then at night be asked to write down descriptions of all the things we had seen earlier.

There was another observation game that we played in the field with a sniper scope. They hid things in a field, and we would be given a certain amount of time to find them through the scope. There might be the tip of a pen sticking up out of the grass. You'd just have to look at every area in that field, put your scope on it and just stare at that spot for a couple minutes, and move it over, stare at the next spot for a couple minutes, move it over, and so on. After a while, we got really good at it, just looking for things in the field that didn't add up. And simple things, like leaves or smoke blowing in the wind.

I knew about camouflage but I'd never heard of a ghillie suit, which is basically just netting or old military uniforms that snipers modify for their own special purpose. The belly of the uniform is reinforced with heavy canvas to help pad a sniper's torso during hours or days of lying on his stomach. Camouflage netting is attached to the uniform. This netting is used to attach shredded burlap and other frayed materials and the suits are painted to match the environment of the battlefield. Then things like twigs, vines, leaves and branches are incorporated into the netting to further camouflage the ghillie suit. They don't come that way; they are custom designed by each individual sniper. It's an art. Well, they do come that way but no self respecting sniper would dream of purchasing his ghillie suit.

Because the human form is unnatural to jungle environments, snipers wear their ghillie suits to break up the outline of themselves and their gear. Wearing the proper ghillie suit, a stealthy sniper is able to stalk right past a sentry or lie quietly waiting to ambush his approaching target. Nothing in nature has perfectly straight lines, so equipment like rifles and antennas often betray concealed positions. To counter this, snipers also make little ghillie suits for their rifles. Using the same principles of camouflage, snipers wrap their rifles in canvas and create little sleeves that make them blend into the environment. It's what you could call snipers' arts and crafts.

Chapter Sixty

I Never Welch On A Bet

Surprisingly, I'd forgotten all about our bet till one night Brant came back from his shower and smacked me on my bare butt. I had already showered and was stretched out on my bunk on my stomach, naked, looking forward to a good night's sleep after a grueling day of training and a hot meal.

"Turn over here," he said, standing at my bunk.

I rose up, a little irritated till I realized what he was saying. "You don't have to do it, Brant," I said.

"Nope. It's never been said that I welched on a bet."

"It won't be said now. Hell, I'm not going to tell anybody about our bet, or what we did."

"But I would know, and you would know," he said.

I didn't think for a minute that Brant was gay; he really was doing the honorable thing and paying off a bet. I thought I might put him off and we would forget about it. "Okay, but it doesn't have to be now; it's been a long, hard day, and I know you're probably as tired as I am," I said. But he was insistent so I turned onto my side, facing him. My rubbery cock flopped over and draped itself over my thigh. It was still fluffed up from my shower, and I had been laying on it. I wasn't even in the mood for a blowjob till I looked at Brant's full lips curled up in a smile.

"Fuck! Maybe I spoke out of turn. I don't know if I can handle that," he said.

"I told you, you don't have to," I said, but he was already taking hold of my rising cock.

"Holy Fuck!" he exclaimed as my cock swelled in his fist.

"It's not like you've never seen it hard before," I said.

"I guess I never paid that much attention; I never realized you were this big," he said.

"Look, if you insist, you can just jack me off if you want; I'll settle for that," I told him.

"Nope, the bet was a blowjob," he said.

"Well, shit, then get to blowing," I said.

He wet his lips and took the head of my cock in his mouth, rather gingerly.

"This is the first time you've done this, isn't it?" I said.

He nodded, without letting go of my cock. I smiled, happy that I was the one getting his oral virginity. He began sucking me. He was damned good at it; knew to use his tongue all over the head and he picked up on other little techniques as he discovered what made me moan or thrust my cock at him, or made my cock quiver. He really tried to please.

At one point he got off and asked, "How am I doing?"

I wrapped my hand lovingly around his head and said, "You're doing great." Then I asked if he'd locked the door.

He jerked off my cock, his eyes wide. "Fuck! I forgot to lock the door!"

"Damn, fucker, we're just seconds away from being kicked out of the Marines if anybody came to the door," I said, and bopped him on the head as he was moving away from the bunk.

He locked the door and came back to the bunk. He took my cock in his hand and just gazed at it for a moment.

"I ain't gay or anything, but I gotta say, you've got a mighty impressive hunk of meat here," he said as he worked his hand back and forth on the shaft a few times.

"You got any basis for comparison?" I asked with a smirky grin.

"Just yours and mine," he said.

"Well, then, I'm flattered," I said.


Brant could be a little dense sometimes. "Comparing mine to yours and you think mine is impressive. I'm flattered."

"Oh. Well, yeah, we're both pretty impressive," he said with his screwy smile, then he went back to sucking my cock. After a few minutes, he stopped again and asked, "Want me to suck your balls? Or anything else to make it feel good and make you come?"

"Sure, just take it easy with 'em," I said.

He lifted my balls in his hand, gave it a few licks then very gently sucked one into his mouth.

"Aaahhh," I gasped.

"That hurt?" he asked.

"No. That was a good Aaaahhh," I said.

He licked and sucked on both of them for several minutes then just as he was about to take my cock in his mouth again, he said, "Listen, there was nothing said about taking your load."

"You don't have to," I said.

"I know but....." He gave me his screwy grin again. "But this really ain't so bad. I mean, I think I would like to try taking it, just to see what it's like. And I did say blowjob, and I don't know if it's really a complete blowjob if I finish it off by hand. That'd be half a hand job, wouldn't it?"

I laughed. "Godd, Levi, where do you get your logic?"

"Just don't expect me to swallow it, not the way you come, like a fuckin' horse," he said, and went back to sucking me.

I was surprised when he started moving his hand up and down my thigh and squeezing the muscles. Then he shoved his hand between my legs and began squeezing my butt. He flattened his other hand against my chest and dug his fingers into my pecs then moved his hand down to explore my abs. He was putting a lot more into it than just sucking my cock, making me wonder.

He gave me a good blowjob, as often first timers do, and I let myself get totally caught up in it. I lay there with my eyes closed and one arm around his shoulder, my other hand on his head, sort of guiding him. His hands were feeling good all over my body, and I was having thoughts of inviting him to crawl up in my bunk for a sixty-nine but I wasn't ready to reveal myself to him. I didn't know if I would. I still didn't really believe Brant was gay; he was simply honoring a stupid bet he made and if I did anything back, I could be exposing myself unnecessarily. Except he seemed to be getting a lot out of exploring my body.

I didn't try to hold back but it took a long time. Brant paused every now and then to pound my cock, trying to work up my load, but I had trained myself to hold off.

"Fuck, aren't you getting close?" he asked me once when he as jacking me.

"Suck while you're doing that, you'll get me there faster," I said. I should've told him he didn't have to finish it--he'd paid off his bet by going down on me--but it was past that point. I wanted him to finish me off.

He took the head of my cock in his mouth and worked on it with his tongue at the same time he was jacking me.

"Ohh, fuck, yeah....that's gonna do it," I moaned. I know he didn't believe me....it took another ten minutes, even with me willing it to happen. Finally, I felt it building up. I could've brought it back down but I didn't. Another twenty or thirty strokes and I got that quivery feeling; my prostate quivering. Then I felt the floodgate burst open and the stuff came gushing through the tubes inside my body. Sometimes it was like that, like I could feel the half billion little sperms battling to get out.

"It's commin'," I groaned.

Brant nodded and kept jacking and sucking, and even moaning himself a little. My body tightened all through, so tight I started shaking.

"Ohh, Fuck!" I groaned. "Don't stop, Brant! Don't fuckin' stop!"

Brant groaned his excitement and the next instant I blasted his mouth with my hot cum. It felt so thick it sort of ached shooting out. He groaned louder as he clamped his mouth tight around my cockhead to receive my load and not lose any of it. I must have filled his mouth. It felt like it. I heard him swallow but I thought it was probably a dry swallow. He bravely stayed on my cock till I was finished. I didn't realize I had my hand around the back of his neck till he tried to pull back. I released my grip so he could extricate my cock from his mouth. He pursed his lips tightly, looking a little wide eyed, sort of like a deer in the headlights, as he looked all around the room, and I realized he was looking for a place to get rid of it. I almost laughed, but I felt bad for him. He couldn't spit in the wastebasket and he couldn't spit in any article of his clothing for fear of it being discovered at the laundry. Suddenly, he rushed to the door, fumbling with the lock.

"Where're you going?" I asked, jumping down off my bunk to stop him.

He made sounds and pointed frantically in the direction of the latrine.

"Fuck, man, you can't go to the latrine with a mouthful of cum!" I said. "What if an officer comes along?"

Suddenly his eyes were watering as he made more sounds, pointing and throwing his arms out in helpless gestures. I was afraid he might be sick. I almost said, fuck it, and grabbed my t-shirt for him to spit in and then throw it away, but if I didn't get to the PX to get it replaced....and besides, it had my laundry mark in it, and if it was found soaked, or dried with cum......

Without thinking, I panicked with him and did the dumbest damn thing. I moved over to him and flipped the lock on the door and grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Give it to me," I said as I grasped the back of his head to hold him and clamped my mouth over his. He squealed and tried to fight me, I was sure because he thought I was kissing him, but I backed him against the door, held him tight and forced his mouth open with my tongue. He gave in and when I forced my tongue in his mouth, my cum came gushing into my mouth. He was groaning, I didn't know whether it was from disgust or pleasure, but he fed me my cum, shoving it into my mouth with his tongue, and our tongues lashed together and our mouths locked wide open and in the frenzy of it we were suddenly and undeniably kissing.

In the process, we swapped my cum back and forth several times before I got it all down, and I think Brant swallowed quite a bit of it himself. Even so, the kiss continued. Suddenly I felt his cock bolt and quiver between our stomachs and the next instant he was shooting his load all over both of us. The stuff shot up all over our chests and even hit my chin. Moaning, we held each other tight and let it happen. We kept the tight embrace for an inordinate length of time before one of us let out a big breath and we eased apart. There was cum on the floor and ropes of cum clung to our skin like glue. It looked like a pearl-white spider web between us when we parted.

"Fuck!" Brant swore softly, looking down at the mess he'd made.

We stood close for a moment before he made a swipe up his stomach and chest to smear the thick semen on his skin.

"Now I need a shower," he said.

"Yeah, me too. You go first," I said. "But smear that stuff around good and let it dry a little and let the smell dissipate before you leave the room."

He rubbed the stuff all over his chest and stomach and even down on his thighs like it was lotion.

"Now wait a minute for the smell to evaporate," I said as I began rubbing the stuff all over my torso too.

"What the fuck just happened?" he asked with a screwed up look. "I was giving you an innocent little blowjob, paying off my bet, when suddenly you try to drown me with that load of glue, then.... fuck, man, next thing I know, you're kissing me!"

"It didn't start out as a kiss, I was only trying to help you out," I said defensively. But then added, "Anyway, you kissed me back."

I could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn't like me saying that.

"Seriously, man, what happened? I mean, we were kissing, right? I never kissed a guy before but it sure felt like we were kissing. And you sucked your load right out of my mouth and swallowed it."

"That was before you kissed me," I said, making a stab at a joke.

"I didn't know you were....man, are you?....gay?"

"Are you? You're the one who was giving the blowjob," I shot back.

He gave me a pained look and I was immediately sorry I'd said it.

"Look, the kissing, or whatever the fuck it was, it was kind of an emergency, we did what we had to do," I said. I instantly regretted lying to him.

"Yeah, I guess," he mumbled. "I gotta take a shower and get me a Coke or Pepsi or something to wash down the taste." He grabbed a towel and left, leaving me with the ropes of cum streaked across the floor.

When he was gone I scooped up the cum off the floor and smeared it all over myself so I could go wash all of the evidence down the drain.

I still felt bad about lying to him. I felt bad about not stopping him from sucking my cock. The bet be damned. Anyway, a little part of me liked what'd happened. And another part of me said I owed Brant the truth. If I told him the truth about myself maybe that would take part of the pressure off of him. He would most likely end up being my spotter, I sure as hell didn't want him to get fucked up in the head over it. When he came back, I went to shower. By the time I was finished I was resolved to lay it on the line with Brant.

He was stretched out on his bunk on his back with his hands folded under his head, one knee cocked up against the wall.

"You okay?" I asked.


I wasn't so sure. Look, Brant, I, uh....okay, I don't like labels, but...well, I've been known to leave the mares and jump the fence and run with the stallions," I said.

"So you....still like the mares, though," he said.

"Yeah," I lied. I couldn't recall the last time I'd fucked a woman, but Brant looked relieved.

He looked at me for a brief moment then said, "Cool. I got no problem with it. But I'm not gay. I sucked your cock only to settle a bet. And that cum swapping.... \well, that was a fluke that it turned into a kiss. I know, I got into it, but I don't know if I liked that."

I noticed he didn't say anything about swallowing some of my cum, or about getting a hardon and blowing his load while we were kissing and I didn't either. I didn't want to rub his face in it.

"Okay, I'm cool with you being a hundred percent straight," I said. "But don't expect anything out of me. In the way of sex, I mean, because I'm not a hundred percent gay....unless it's reciprocal."

He stared at me, like he was thinking it over. Then he said, "Yeah, okay, we're cool."

I didn't like labels but I didn't believe any guy was a hundred percent straight, and that included Levi Brant.

Chapter Sixty-One

Stalk Training

Stalk training really tried my patience, which was the whole point. It's the component of sniper school that hones a sniper's stealthy approach. Snipers have to learn to move slowly, patiently and methodically. If necessary, snipers will lie for hours, even days, in the same position to observe an objective or avoid detection. I didn't realize how difficult that could be.

Stalk training took place in open grassy ranges, not under cover of bushes and trees. We started at one end of the range with two instructors sitting on top of a truck or the tower with spotter scopes, eleven hundred yards down range. We had to stalk toward the instructors without being seen. To add to the challenge, the instructors put two soldiers in the field, called walkers. The instructors used radios to communicate with the walkers and try to find us. We were required to stalk from 1100 yards out to within 165 yards of the instructors, without being detected by the instructors or the walkers.

Once in position, we took a shot, firing blanks, of course. It had to be a careful shot because if the muzzle flashed or kicked up dirt, we could be easily spotted. After the first shot, we stalked to a second firing position and took a second shot. To verify that we were actually sighting the instructors, we had to read the card or count the number of fingers the instructors were holding up. Stalk training is a pass or fail game. If you're spotted at any point, you fail the game. Too many fails, and you wash out of the program.

Things I learned along the way, from one-on-one conversations with the instructors and the old guys: Apparently the M-16 with a Realist scope came out the worst in field tests because of poor accuracy at ranges over 300 yards and the fact that moisture collected inside the scope. The M-14 rifle with the M-84 scope also suffered similar problems with moisture and fogging of the scope. The trusted Winchester model 70 rifle was deemed too fragile for use in a combat zone, and guys didn't like it because it couldn't provide enough fire power if it came down to a fire fight situation. The out-and-out winner of the trials was the M-14 with the ART scope. I was happy with the winner. I liked the M-14.

For night training, we used the Starlight scope. The Starlight uses all the available light from the moon and stars and amplifies it approximately 60,000 times to turn night into day. Looking through the Starlight scope required a little bit of mental dexterity as the images observed through the scope were not in black and white, or in color for that matter. What you saw were images in various shades of green and black. There were several drawbacks; the Starlight scope did not work in absolute darkness, it was heavy, weighing in at six pounds, it only had a 4x magnification, and it was prone to the elements, fog and rain. Still most night kills were accomplished with M-14s equipped with Starlight scopes.

Another handy little gadget was the Suppressor; a silencer. This deadened the sound of the rifle and eliminated muzzle flash and did not interfere with accuracy. With a suppressor, it was almost impossible to pin point the source of the rifle from ranges greater than 75 yards.

I guess I wasn't yet completely aware that a sniper usually worked as part of a team, along with his spotter, because Jason had never mentioned having a spotter along. And they did tell us in orientation that a sniper had to be capable of operating on his own. But we began training in teams.

The spotter carries his own special scope that is much more powerful than the scope on a sniper rifle. The spotter uses his scope to help observe objectives and set up the shot. The sniper and the spotter work together to get to the objective safely and discreetly and then set up a position. Here's the general process: The team uses maps or photographs to determine the best route to the objective. They stalk from the drop-off point to the objective. They set up a position and make sure it is well camouflaged. They establish an escape route and a second, well-camouflaged fallback position in the event they are separated. They locate the target, or know it's on its way. They get into position.

The spotter takes a spot on the ground that offers him the best field of fire, lying next to and slightly behind the sniper. He places his spotter scope so that it is as close to looking down the rifle barrel as possible. They work together to range the target, read the wind, and angle and adjust for other variables that may affect the shot. They wait for the target. "Then you just take your shot and get the hell out of there," one instructor said.

But it's not always that quick. Once the shot is taken, the spotter watches the shot to help the sniper readjust his aim or his position in the unlikely event that he misses his target. The way the spotter watches the shot is fascinating. High velocity, long-range rounds like the kind used in a sniper rifle, actually leave a vapor trail as they fly through the air. The spotter can track the shot by watching for that vapor trail. It just looks like mixed up air. You can see through it, but you see the distortion.

In observation missions, the two often take turns using the spotter scope to spy on the enemy. This helps to avoid eye fatigue and allows one to rest while the other watches. This is important, since in many cases they can be out there observing for days at a time.

The most important job of the spotter is to protect the shooter and the team, so he carries an automatic assault rifle like an M-4 or M-16. If you're sitting there and you get attacked, a sniper rifle is not real good for fighting your way out.

The relationship between a sniper and his spotter is very important and somewhat unique. They work in no-man's-land between or behind battle lines with little or no support from their unit, so they depend on each other for survival. And if they don't accomplish their mission, the safety of the whole platoon may be compromised.

Being the spotter in a sniper team is a sort of sniper apprenticeship. The sniper is the team leader. He coordinates with command to put together the mission. In the field, he has the final word in determining the route, position, rendezvous point and escape route. A spotter learns in the field from his sniper and then usually, eventually gets his own team to lead. To pass their final tests, the sniper and his spotter must hit 28 of 35 targets, including 10 that move, from 300 to 1,000 yards--more than half a mile away.

Chapter Sixty-Two

My Spotter

It made sense that Levi Brant was assigned to be my spotter and he made our relationship very unique. We studied together, we grilled each other till we had each section of the manual practically memorized, and we jacked off together. Brant bought us each a black sniper's T-shirt that read, "Don't Bother Running, You'll Just Die Tired." I thought that was neat as hell. I honestly thought that the jacking off created such a strong male bond between us that it carried over into our training relationship. Well, there was that time when he gave me a blowjob but nothing like that ever happened again until the day we went on our last field training mission before the graded stalk.

We were out in the field one day, hunkered down in the brush in the camouflaged position we'd made for ourselves, waiting for the tracker to find us, which I was confident he would not do. I was stretched out, half on my side, with my rifle cradled loosely over one arm, Brant was lying down from me, on his stomach. Every once in a while one of us would bring our rifle up and have a look through the scope to see if anyone was coming.

"Looks like we outfoxed them," Brant said quietly.

I looked at my watch. "Don't count your foxes just yet. They've got a half hour left to find us," I said.

"They won't," he said.

"I don't think they will either," I said, reaching down and groping my crotch. It wasn't anything sexual, just arranging the package more comfortably.

"Got a problem there, Partner?"

"I didn't have....till you mentioned it, now I'll probably get a hardon," I said.

And I sure enough did. I glanced down at Brant a couple of times, saw him staring at my crotch from where he lay, about eye level with it. I reached down a couple of times to grope myself; this time it was sexual, trying to see if it gave Brant any ideas. He had sucked me off that one time, to pay off a bet and he seemed to enjoy it....maybe he would be up to it again just for the fun of it. The third time I groped, Brant reached out and put his hand on my hip.

"I could take care of that for you, Partner, if it's bothering you," he said huskily.

"Okay," I said.

He moved closer and began fumbling with my fly. I laid my rifle down to undo it myself.

"Why don't you shove your pants and shorts down so I can get to you," he said.

"No, too risky," I said as I hauled my cock out, along with my balls.

"Fuck, I keep forgetting how big you are," he said as he took hold of my cock.

"Maybe I'm still growing," I said.

"Keep an eye out," he said as scooted closer. He scooped up my cock in his mouth and started sucking. He gave me a nice, easy blowjob that lasted till our time ran out and we had to hurry it up so we could get started back. I wasn't too surprised when he took my load in his mouth again, but I was surprised when he swallowed it. When he was done slurping and gulping it down, while he still had my cock in his mouth, I ruffled his hair and laughed quietly.

"Damn, Partner, I think you're starting to like that stuff."

"I think you might be right," he said, laughing.

It was a blowjob I've never forgotten.

Then there was another day when we were dismissed early, a couple of hours before chow. I could never have imagined what would happen during those two hours. I headed back to the barracks to shower--it'd been a grueling hot day--and Levi had to go to the PX for something. I had my shower and was cocked back in my chair at the desk, naked, studying when he came in. I looked up to watch him strip off his clothes and he saw me. I didn't care; by that time we were pretty open about things.

"You're supposed to be studying," he said.

"I am," I said.

"Studying male anatomy isn't going to get you through sniper school," he said.

I went back to my books when he walked out of the room, the towel over his shoulder as usual, and his awesome ass flexing as he walked. I wondered how many other guys in the barracks, or in the showers, ogled Brant's butt. I had a hard time concentrating. I was thinking of how little time we had left, and the opportunity wasted, and how we might salvage what was left of that opportunity. It easily turned into fantasies of what we might do together if one of us made the crucial move. It would probably have to be me. I still didn't think Brant was all that straight as he tried to make himself believe. I kept remembering when he gave me that second, voluntary blowjob out in the bush.

When Brant came back I was standing, bent over the end of the desk, rummaging around in a drawer for a pen.

"Whoa! Fuck! Don't do that!" he blurted.

I asked him, "What?" as I shoved the drawer shut, about to straighten up. Next thing I knew, he was behind me, pressing against me, smashing and grinding his bare loins against my bare ass.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I growled, laughing, because I knew he was only horsing around. Well, I thought he was; couldn't be sure about him anymore. But he didn't say anything and I suddenly realized that his hot cock was half hard, sliding up and down the crack of my ass. Maybe he wasn't just horsing around.

"We need a real break," he said as he clasped his hands around my hips.

"If anybody walks in, we're gonna get a real break, right out of sniper school, and the Marines," I said.

"Door's locked," he said as kept grinding himself against me. His cock was harder now; seriously harder. I well knew how big he was, but he felt huge against my ass, but my ass was reacting in a favorable manner. He wouldn't be able to tell, but my asshole was sort of quivering and clenching anxiously. It'd been a while since I'd been fucked and I was overdue. This was the opportunity! I was ready give it up to him and let him know for certain that I was gay.

When I didn't try to get away from him or stop him, he started humping my butt more seriously.

"Reach in my top desk drawer... there's some lube," he said in a hoarse voice.

When I bent over to open the drawer, I felt the heat of Brant's cock against my asshole.

"Don't get in a hurry," I said, reaching back with my hand on his hip.

"Just finding the trajectory," he said.

I found his jackoff lube and flipped the cap and handed it to him. He drizzled the thick, clear lube down the crack of my ass and on his cock and handed the bottle back to me.

"We don't need a condom," he said as he clasped his big hands around my hip bones. Not a question; he was telling me he wasn't going to use one.

I was okay with that. I leaned forward and lay across the desk, offering him my butt at the perfect level. He aimed, applied a little pressure to set the head of his cock firmly on target against my clenching hole, then shoved. Not hard, but like he meant business. The thick head of his cock popped through my hole easily with the generous amount of lube he'd used, but it hurt like hell. I let out a loud gasp and my head snapped back from the pain but I didn't make any more noise. I took him and sucked it up, knowing the pain wouldn't last long. Before long I was humping back on his cock and we were fucking in unison with a hard, steady rhythm that rocked the desk.

"Ohhh....ohhh, fuck," I groaned softly as I shoved my ass back onto his cock. "Awwhh....Awww, Mann, I needed this...Ohh, yeah, slam it in there, you big fucker....fuck me....Damn, Brant, where'd you learn to do this?"

"Fuckin' sheep, back home," he joked. "But they were all ewes, I never fucked a buck."

We fucked so hard we moved the desk up against the wall, lodging the wastebasket between the wall and the desk. Brant knew how to move his hips. It was like he was doing a little dance, or a strip, the way he swiveled his hips around with each thrust, then moved them in wider circles when he was all the way in, causing his cock to lob around inside me. It fuckin' drove me nuts. If we'd been anywhere private, I would've been moaning and groaning a lot louder, but I kept my cool.

"Tell me when you're getting close. I'm gonna shoot in you," he told me. Again, not a question or request, just telling me he was going to do it. I didn't tell him not to.

He grabbed hold of my shoulders for leverage and pounded my ass unmercifully. I wished I could see his butt while he was doing it.

Toward the end he reached around and took hold of my cock to jack me off to the same rhythm he was fucking me. Several times I had to stop him so I wouldn't go off too soon.

"Get a condom out of my drawer," he told me.

I didn't know what the fuck he wanted with a condom at this point but I rummaged around and found one. I handed it back to him. He tore it open with his teeth and spit the foil package out then reached around and rolled the condom on my cock.

"So you don't splatter all over the desk and we have to clean it up," he said.

He fucked me for another half hour or so before he started working it up, on purpose. I could feel his sweat dripping onto my back and shoulders. It was getting close to chow time and somebody would be pounding on our door and worse, asking why it was locked. He went off first. He was like a stallion breeding a mare, the way he rode my ass and snorted. Damn, this guy could fuck! It felt good, feeling his hot cum jettison up inside me after such a long time without that warm nectar. He jacked my cock furiously and squeezed my balls, trying to get me off too. I was ready, I was close, but it just wouldn't cum. He finished and I was still clinging to the verge. He pulled his cock out and slapped my butt with it several times then shoved it back in. Hard. I don't know what that did but it was like he set off a dynamite charge. My cock lurched like it'd been jolted with an electrical charge and exploded. I could feel the condom filling up, the stuff squishing back along the shaft as he jacked me off. I suddenly realized he was hurting my balls and I reached down to stop him and move his hand. My body lurched with the final thrusts through his fist.

We stayed like that for a minute or two till we got our sea legs and were able to breathe. Brant pulled out again and I felt cum trickling down my legs. He made a swipe at it, smearing it on my thigh.

"You're gonna need a quick shower before chow," he said as he did a milking swipe on his cock to wipe off the lube and cum and then wiped his hand on my butt.

I shoved myself up from the desk and carefully removed the condom. Brant took it and held it up. It was heavy with my cum. It was pretty full.

"Holy Shit!" he exclaimed. "I bet I'm holding the equivalent of the entire world's population here. Fuck, I need to shower too," he said, swiping the sweat from his forehead and chest.

I laughed and went to my locker to get a towel. I reached for the condom, to take it with me.

"I'll get rid of it for you," he said.

He tied it off and got a towel from his locker. We went down to the latrine to shower. There were a couple of other guys there so Brant pretended like he was taking a crap and dropped the condom in the toilette and flushed it. I got in a conversation with the other guys in the shower and when I returned to our room, Brant was stretched out on his bunk, naked, legs spread wide and his arms flung over his head.

"So I guess everything's out in the open, now," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"That you're gay."

"And you're what?" I asked.

He didn't answer that. Or he did, with a defensive statement. "A guy don't turn up his ass for another guy just to pay back for a blowjob," he said.

"And a guy don't offer to give another guy a blow job just as a favor," I shot back.

"Hey, that out in the field, was just doing you a favor," he insisted.

"Bullshit. You wanted to do it. And we were out in the fuckin' boonies, you didn't have to swallow my load that time. You can be who you are, Brant, but don't deny yourself, and don't go pinning labels on somebody else."

"What was it then....letting me fuck you?" he asked.

"It was letting you fuck me," I said. "I wanted it. I admit it. I am more gay than straight, and I'm not in denial about it." When he didn't say anything, I went on. "So, where does that leave you?"

"I don't know," he said. "I don't know. I've been having some weird feelings crop up in my head lately since I've been bunking in here with you."

"Don't try to pin that on me either; I didn't turn you gay."

"But I think you might be bringing it out," he said.

"You don't have to be ashamed of it, buddy, just be careful," I said.

"Sorry if I sounded like I was accusing you, or putting you down," he said.

"Sorry I got so defensive. I don't usually do that," I said.

"I'm glad I got to room with you, Courter."

"So am I. You throw a mean rod," I said.

He laughed and I knew we were okay.

The graded stalk began when the whistle echoed off the surrounding hills. We scurried into the tree line and were as visible as ghosts when we emerged on the other side. The tall grass, swaying wildly in the strong wind that particular day was a great advantage; any movement in the bushes or grass would be undetectable. Two instructors situated themselves at the middle of the field to act as the locator for the target instructor. The target used a walkie-talkie to give instructions to the walker. If the target spotted something, he would move the walker to where he saw the student. He would get three chances to get the exact location of the student. After that he had to leave the student alone until he made another false move.

One dumb-ass tried to cross a patch of green grass with brown grass camouflage on his ghillie suit. He hugged the ground and didn't move a muscle while the walker was positioned by the target. The walker watched as he executed this maneuver and just shook his head in disbelief and called him a dumb motherfucker.

If the student was caught before he reached the 200-yard mark, he received no points. If he got within range, then fired a shot off and still was not spotted, the walker would stand within ten feet of the student to give the target one more chance to locate the student. If the student was still undetected, the walker checked to see if the student was aimed in on the proper target. If everything was correct they received the maximum score of ten. On that day, when the clock hit three hours, only six students were left and most of them had not even gotten off a shot.

Chapter Sixty-Three

My Orders

Despite my concentration on training-and often on Brant--my mind was never off of Jason. Next to the actual training, he was my top priority when I was in jump school and now sniper school, and I thought about him all the time. I still didn't know where he was except that he had to be in Vietnam, and my whole life was focused on getting there. That's why I was devastated when I got my orders after finishing sniper school. I was pulling on a pair of shorts to go out and check the board when somebody stuck his head in.

"Hey, man, your orders are posted. I thought you were going back to Vietnam," Brant said.

"I am."

"Says Germany."

I stared at him like he had three heads. "You're shittin' me!" I thought he was. Everybody knew I wanted to get back to Vietnam and they all thought I was crazy.

"No, I'm not. Seriously, your orders say Germany."

He took a step back from the doorway as I went ballistic. I picked up my chair and threw it against my locker so hard I dented it. I tore up my bunk and Levi's bunk and threw stuff, and swore worse than any time in my life. I had never been so angry in my life. Brant actually moved toward the door. Another guy heard the racket and the two of them came in the room, followed by two more.

"What's going on?" one of them asked.

"He got his orders," Brant said. "They're sending him to Germany instead of Vietnam."

"And he's pissed about that?" one asked in disbelief.

"He wants to go to Vietnam. He signed up for it.... extended, in fact," Brant told them.

I was like a crazy man, and the five men stood back, near the door. Finally four of them moved in and subdued me, on orders from the barracks sergeant who had also heard the noise. They held me down, pinned like the tail on a donkey so I could hardly breathe.

"Is it okay to tell them to let you up?" the sergeant asked.

"That's up to you, Sergeant," I growled angrily, fairly spitting the words out.

"Everything is up to me, Corporal," he said.

Just then the platoon leader came in, Lt. Barkley.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded, surveying the mess I'd made.

"A little altercation between Corporal Courter and his chair, his bunk and his locker," the sergeant said.

"Let him up," Lt. Barkley barked.

The four men released me and pulled me to my feet.

"What's this all about?" Lt. Barkley asked.

I knew I was red faced. I was so angry I could hardly talk. "Sir, I extended for a year on top of what's left of my enlistment. I went to Airborne Jump School and Marine Sniper School. I even went through basic training a second time, all so I could get back to Vietnam. I got my orders for Germany."

"Your bunk and locker had nothing to do with your orders," he said calmly.

"Yes, sir. I lost control, sir. I'll pay for the damage."

"Get this room squared away, get dressed, and report to my office. Ten minutes."

"Yes, sir."

Precisely ten minutes later I was standing at attention in front of Lt. Barkley's desk.

"At ease," he said. "Now let's go over this again. I pulled your file. You were in a coma for over two years as a result of injuries sustained in a bomb blast on your barracks."

"Twenty six months. I got over that, sir."

"Well, that might remain to be seen," he said.

My heart sank. I'd just fucked it all up; all that time and work. God, please, please, don't let them wash me out!

"Why the hell are you so dead set on going back? Most guys are extending to get out of there."

"I left the job undone, sir. And it's heating up. I want to be there to help finish it." I couldn't tell him my real reason....to find the man I loved. "And they promised....."

"Nobody promised you squat, Corporal," he snapped.

"With all due respect, sir, I've got it in writing," I said.

"Anything you've got in writing can be rescinded. You should know that."

"Yes, sir."

"But I don't think that's what happened," he said. "I think your orders just got screwed up. I find it hard to believe that the Marines went to all the trouble and expense to put you through Airborne and sniper school to send you to Germany."

"I don't know. I hope you're right, sir."

"This episode, demonstrating a violent temper and a lack of patience, though, makes me wonder about your suitability to be a sniper," he added.

"It shouldn't," I said.

"Tell me why not. What happens if you're out there setting up a shot and things don't go according to plan?"

"That will not happen, sir. Because I will be doing what I want to do."

"You want to kill people," he said.

"Don't the Marines want me to kill people?"

He leaned back in his chair with my file opened across his thighs. He scanned it, but I had a feeling he'd already gone over it and knew every detail about me.

"I can assure you, Corporal, we're not going to let talent like that go to waste," he said as he closed the folder and tossed it on his desk. "I've already put a call in to Colonel Donner at the Pentagon. He's a friend of my father. He has a knack for fixing things. You might want to keep your bags packed."

"Yes, sir, thank you, Sir!"

"Meanwhile I'm pulling your orders to Germany and placing you on sick leave. You won't be able to travel till you get that rash cleared up."

"Yes, sir," I said with a thin smile. What fuckin' rash?

Colonel Donner fixed it. Eight days later I was on a plane to Vietnam.

It was a long eight days of waiting. Levi Brant was shipped out to Korea. We had a farewell drink at the Enlisted Men's Club and then we went back to the barracks and locked the door, and we didn't care who knew it. Guys were celebrating all over the place and it could be said that we locked it to keep guys from coming in and out. But we both knew why Brant locked it.

"One more time, for old times sake?" he said, turning back to me.

I was already taking my clothes off. "We never sixty-nined," I said.

"Okay," he said.

"A word of caution. It might turn you gay," I said.

He laughed and punched me. "After meeting you, I don't think being gay would be all that bad."

We used his bunk, him on the bottom and me astraddle him, starting out. We sucked each other with a reverence and we sucked like hungry puppies. We were hungry for each other, and for that time of raw lust, he made me forget Jason. We moved onto our sides.

"Damn, this is great, how come we didn't do this before?" Brant asked.

"Cause you weren't gay enough before," I joked.

"Fucker," he growled and gobbled my cock again, and guided my head to his.

We made up for lost time. We were up most of the night, going at it like there would be no tomorrow. At one point, Brant got real creative. He wanted to do it standing up, and he lifted me upside down and held onto me while he sucked my cock and I swung back and forth on his. The third and final time, we were back on his bunk, with me facing the foot of his bunk.

"Listen, when we cum this time, get back up here and let's swap the stuff, like that first time," Brant said.

It wasn't just a cum swap. It was a hard kiss that lasted long after all the cum had been swallowed. I fell asleep in his bunk; it was a good thing the door was locked. That was the last time I saw him. The fucker got up and left the next morning without waking me. I was a little disappointed; I was hoping we would fuck again during the night.

Waiting, I hung out with the cadre and trainers who were waiting for the next rotation of would be snipers. We went bowling to relieve the boredom, and to the PX for 3.2 beer and I wondered a couple of times about the possibility of hooking up with one of them. Mostly, I hung around the barracks.

One guy in particular, was friendly, to the point of being buddy-buddy. He could do that now that I was graduated and awaiting orders. One night he came into my room and parked his impressive tight, round ass in the desk chair. I was in my top bunk. I never locked the door, on the hope that one of them might venture into my room in the middle of the night and end up in my bunk.

"Bet you're going crazy, waiting on your orders," he said.

"Just three more days," I said.

"Unless they fuck things up again."

"Then I will go crazy," I said.

He laughed. "I hope not like you went ballistic last time. Listen, I'm going out on a limb here.... something you might be interested in. Might not, but I'm taking the chance."

"Try me," I said.

"Well, I couldn't help noticing how you and Brant were pretty tight." He paused as if to let his first words soak in before continuing. "And I've noticed, or think I have, how you sometimes look at the guys in the showers and that prompted me to think you might be interested."

"I said try me, but you gotta be more explicit, about what you think I might be interested in."

"Good, I haven't lost you so far," he said. "There's a bunch of guys who get together now and then for fun and games. Like minded guys; we play for the same team. Some of us were wondering if you might be up for it."

"Might be."

"It's all one team but you can pitch or catch."

"Sure, count me in," I said.

"Tomorrow night, then, be down behind the PX about eight. There'll be a Jeep waiting. Oh, don't wear civvies and wear dark clothes. No white T-shirts or anything."

I was pretty excited about the prospects. I was ready for some hard sex. I managed to flush out when I showered. I wore fatigue pants and a standard issue Army green t-shirt and boots. When I arrived at the pickup point a few minutes early there were six guys hanging around in the dark alley. I didn't know how they determined that we were all there, or maybe the driver just took off at precisely at eight o'clock.

We drove for several miles across the base and turned onto a little used road that soon became little more than a pathway through the trees with heavy overhang that we had to duck to escape. A short distance later the Jeep pulled in beside an old two-story, wooden barracks left from WWII. There was another Jeep already parked there.

"No loud talking and no lights of any kind," the driver said as he took us up to the barracks. He let us in and told us to go upstairs, then he chain-locked the doors from the outside. I could make out rows of stacked bunks, and a dim light in the latrine.

Upstairs there were two more rows of bunks and footlockers in the aisle with lighted candles on them. Most of the bunks had rolled up mattresses on them, the rest were made up. The windows were covered with heavy army blankets. A guy met our group as we came in.

"It's pretty much a free-for-all, just keep the noise down, no smoking. There's condoms and lube on the footlockers and other necessities down in the latrine. Do not try to use the showers. You can wash up at the sinks but there is no hot water. Other than that....have fun.

I was more than a little surprised at what I'd come into. Some guys were already having fun, standing in the shadows making out, a couple of bunks were occupied and going full force. As I was making my way to the far end of the room I saw a guy come in the fire door and realized he was the one who had chain-locked the doors; he'd come up the fire escape to get in. I went back into to the corner, half hidden by a wall locker to get the lay of the land. It was a habit that would stick with me, having my back to a wall.

From my vantage point I could see more making out in the flickering candle light. Two guys on a bunk across the aisle were in a sixty nine. Another guy just two bunks down from me was standing beside the bunk while another guy sucked his cock. In the shadows in the corner opposite me I could see two naked guys in a writhing embrace a pair of hands around a butt.

I hadn't decided where I might best fit in but I was drawn to a youngish figure on the other side of the barracks down about six bunks, at the edge of the ring of light provided by the candles. I couldn't see his face very well but by youngish, he didn't have the bulky frame of an older soldier. He had on a dark T-shirt and PT shorts. I wondered why he hadn't been taken but then I saw a guy come up to him, then exchanged some words and the guy moved on.

Just then the guy who had invited me came up to me.

"What're you doing lurking back here in the shadows?" he asked as he cupped my manhood.

"Recon," I said.

"See anything interesting?"

"Yeah, across the way, standing back in the shadows."

He looked around in the direction I was looking. "I wouldn't wait too long if I were you," he said.

"I've had him in my sights, time to make the kill," I said.

The guy stepped aside and I made my way to the other side of the barracks. I moved down the wall to where the guy was standing.

"If you need an introduction, my name's Brad."

"Conner," he said.

"I've had you in my sights."

"I thought you might. I was hoping," he said.

"Oh, really."

"I saw you come in. You move with such confidence and..... well, I've never been to one of these things. Didn't even know they exist."

"My first invite, too. Gotta be the best kept secret on the base," I said.

He laughed. "I wasn't exactly invited," he said.

"So, how'd you get in?"

"I was picked up. Hell, I was out for a run. I'd slowed down, getting ready to turn around and make the run back to my barracks when this Jeep full of guys came driving past and they stopped and pulled me into the Jeep. I didn't know what the hell was going on. It scared me at first, especially when they drove into the thick woods. I told them I wanted to head back to my barracks but they said no, I needed to take a break and have some fun. They were friendly enough so I went along with it. So here I am. I had no idea what I was getting into."

"I'm glad they picked you up," I said, laying a hand on his hip.

"So am I. It's kinda weird, like an omen, like how did they know?"

"You said you've never been to anything like this. Have you ever done anything like this?" I asked.

"Only in my dreams and fantasies. I'm glad you came over. I've had a couple of guys come up to me but I was too scared to go with them."

"Why weren't you scared of me?"

"I was. I was almost shaking in my boots when I saw you coming toward me."

"And now?"

"I'm still shaky in side, but not because of you."

"Because of what, then?"

"Because I'm attracted to you and I'm a total virgin."

"By total, you mean, not even a girl?"

"I fell madly in love with my fist when I was twelve."

"We've all had a love affair with our fist," I said.

"Listen, would you like to share a bunk?" he asked.


He moved past me between two bunks. He picked up something off a footlocker and set it on the footlocker of the bunk we were taking then cocked one foot up on the edge of the bunk to unlace his boot. I started undressing too. I liked his body. He was well muscled, lean and tight without being raw boned. He seemed to avoid looking at me as I undressed. I lingered a little behind him and when he stopped at his jockstrap, I stopped at my briefs. He drew back the blanket for me to climb in. Military bunks were not designed for two men but I lay on my side to make room for him. He climbed in with me and pulled the blanket over us. He moaned softly as our bodies pressed together.

"Why don't you lie on top of me," I said.

"If I won't be too heavy."

"You won't be."

I lay on my back and Conner got on top of me, stretched down between my legs with his head resting on my chest.

"This is much better," he said. He squirmed against me and I could feel his hard, tight abs against my cock.

I got hard in no time but we ignored it for the moment. Conner was licking my nipple as I caressed his hair with one hand, his bare butt with the other.

"Feels like I'm lying on a log," he said.

"If it's uncomfortable we could find another place for it," I joked.

"I think it wants out," he said as he shoved his hand down between us. He felt my cock through my shorts, tracing the outline. "Godd, it's so big! I'm surprised it doesn't rip your shorts."

"It's not used to being confined, I usually sleep naked," I said.

He tugged on my shorts and I lifted my butt up so he could pull them down. Together we worked them down my legs and he got them off of me. Then he moved up on my body so my cock was wedged in the apex of his thighs. It throbbed against his butt. He'd moved up so we were more face to face and he nuzzled his face in the crook of my neck.

"This is so nice," he whispered. "I never dreamed I would ever be doing this with another man."

"Then you passed your sixteenth birthday without ever being properly kissed," I said as I sought out his mouth with my own. He kissed me more than I kissed him, a brushing of lips at first till our tongues met, then it turned passionate. His body responded to mine and he began twisting his butt around and writhing back against my cock.

"Do you want the real thing?" I asked.

"Not yet," he said as he started moving down my body, leaving a wet trail of kisses. He disappeared under the blanket and I could feel his hot breath on my cock. I lifted the blanket so I could see him, without exposing us to the entire barracks. "I can't believe I'm finally doing this," he said just before he took my cock in his mouth.

He was wonderfully awkward as most oral virgins tend to be but he was quick to teach himself how to suck cock. I wanted to turn him around so we could sixty nine but I didn't want to interrupt him. I thought it best if he found his own way. I wondered if he would let me fuck him.

After a while he kissed his way back up my stomach to my chest then rose up, reaching over me to the foot locker at the head of the bed. He tore open a lube packet with his teeth and reached back to apply it to his ass. Then he reached over me again.

"I moved this from the other locker so it'd be handy, just in case," he said as he uncapped the bottle. "But I've never used the stuff, can you show me?"

I took the bottle and held it up to his left nostril, squeezing off the right. "Breathe in," I told him. "Again." Then I did the same with the other nostril.

"Ohh, fuck," he said, shaking his head, and took hold of my hand to bring the bottle to his nose again.

"Okay, one more hit in each side," I said.

When he was sailing, I capped the bottle and laid it on the bed within easy reach.

"Ohh, Godd, I am so ready for this," he said, reaching back for my cock. He guided it to his hole and put pressure on it.

I took hold of his hips to urge him down. I wanted to go in before the poppers wore off. Unsuspecting virgin that he was, he cooperated fully. He pushed back and the head of my cock burst through his tight, virgin hole. He choked and swallowed his outcry but pushed harder as I shoved upward. We buried my cock to the hilt, I thought before he was fully aware of any pain.

"Oh, my Godd!" he whispered as he hunkered over me, groping frantically for the bottle. I retrieved it and offered it up for another couple of hits. He held onto my wrist till he'd taken four then he began riding my cock. I'd seldom met a guy so willing and eager to lose his virginity.

The blanket kept working down and he kept pulling it up over his shoulders. Smiling, I pulled his face down and whispered, "It's not like no one knows what we're doing, Conner," as I kicked the blanket off of us. We attracted some interest and another guy came up beside the bunk, cock in hand. He offered it to Conner and he took it like a hungry wolf being given a hunk of raw meat. I ran my hand up and down the man's thigh and played with his butt. He cocked one foot up on the foot locker to give me better access. He let me finger him for a moment.

"Why don't you sit that awesome ass down here on my face."

He obliged, much to Conner's surprise. "Oh, fuck, what're you doing?" he gasped as the man settled his spread ass over my face.

"He's tongue fucking my ass, why don't you get back on my cock," the man said.

Conner didn't seem to have any trouble but me and the other guy kept having to ease off to keep from cumming.

"Fuck, man, you two guys together are more than I can take," he said. "Why don't you turn over so I can fuck your ass at the same time."

We put Conner on the bottom and he took another hit of poppers as I was shoving my cock back in him.

"I can't believe you're letting him fuck you," he said as I hovered down over him.

"Why should you have all the fun?" I joked.

"Are you gonna need this?" he asked, offering me the bottle.


"He's big. He's gonna rip you a new one."

"No he won't, I'm not a virgin," I said.

We attracted more attention and our three way soon became a four way when another guy moved up behind the one fucking me. The springs on the bunk were creaking and sagging and when yet another guy moved in I was afraid the bunk might collapse. But he didn't put all his weight on the springs. He climbed on in front of me, supporting himself on the frame to feed Conner his cock, with his awesome ass right I my face. He smelled good and I went for it.

Our collective climax was like a chain reaction. I didn't know who went off first but it was a domino effect of explosions that rocked the bunk, till we lay in a sweaty, moaning, gasping heap.

The night was a bacchanalian orgy, the likes of which I'd never been a part of before. I lost count and all sense of time as I moved or was drawn into one sexual encounter after another. We fucked on the bunks, we fucked standing up, we even fucked on the foot locker and on blankets on the floor. I saw two guys fucking in the shower, although the water wasn't turned on. Conner went a little bit nuts with his discovery of man sex, although he seemed to stay as close to me as he could.

At one point I asked him, "Hey, Conner, do you still have any of your virginity left?"

"If it do, it's gonna be fucked out of me before this night's over I'm gonna see so that. Godd, I'm so glad those guys picked me up."

As things began to wind down the guy who seemed to be in charge announced that we needed to start getting ready to leave. When everyone was dressed and ready we went downstairs where the doors were already unpadlocked. We sucked in the early morning fresh air. I didn't realize how badly the barracks smelled of sex.

Conner caught up with me as we were making our way to the Jeeps. "I wish we could get together again," he said quietly. "Can you come to my barracks?"

"No. You come to mine. I've got a private room we can lock."

"Great! When?"

"It'll have to be tomorrow night. I leave the next morning."

He almost cried.

As we were unloading back at the barracks I cornered the guy who had invited me to the orgy and thanked him.

"Glad we got you involved. But we never got around to getting involved," he said with a big grin.

"The night is young, you could come to my room," I said.

"The night is about over," he said, laughing. "But hey, we might as well make the best of what's left of it."

We showered and Joe--I finally found out his name-and I fucked till morning chow.

My last night I lay in my bunk waiting for Conner to show up. I was showered and I smelled good, and I was anxious to surprise him by turning up my ass for him. He never showed.

Chapter Sixty-Four

Back In Vietnam

The night I arrived back in country, there was a welcoming committee. The VC conducted a raid on the base camp before I even got to my hooch. It was my first real combat experience and all through it I was thinking, "Shit, this ain't Intel." It scared the shit out of me, but God help me, I liked it. But my hooch got blown up. Lucky in a way because I wasn't in it and my shit was still on the truck. The men who lived in the hooch lost all of their shit. Luckily, it was chow time and nobody was killed in the explosion but two guys were killed in the firefight that ensued, and four were wounded, one with a million dollar wound, meaning he would be heading back to the States.

There were eight of us arriving, and when things quieted down I heard somebody say, "Fuckin' turtles showed up just in time." Turtles was what they called the replacements; they called them that because it took them so long to get there. Yeah, it took me a while to get there, but this fucker didn't know squat about where I'd been. They also called us FNGs. FNG was a fuckin' new guy. I sure as hell wasn't that either. It cut right through me, and the second time I heard it, it was like twisting the knife. I was still high on adrenalin from the battle and I walked up to him and looked him straight in the eye.

"You just learn those terms? Do you even know what they mean?" I asked sarcastically.

"Apparently you do," he said cockily.

"Yeah, I do. Just so we get this straight, I ain't no goddamned turtle, and I sure as hell ain't no FNG. Okay?"

He glanced at my Airborne wings and I saw him glance at my shoulder and he saw my sniper patch.

"Okay by me," he said.

I walked away before I hit him. Nobody called me a turtle or a FNG after that. The new arrivals and the guys who had lost their hooch had to double up in the other hooches. It was a tight fit but it beat sleeping outside with the little creatures and the mosquitoes. A couple of guys weren't overly hospitable about me crowding in, even though I was sleeping on the floor. One of them bitched when he almost tripped over me in the night, on his way to the latrine. That pissed me off. I got up, gathered up my stuff and vacated the premises. The guy was coming back as I was leaving.

"Where're you going?" he asked.

"Don't fuckin' worry about it," I growled.

I found an empty deuce-and-a-half and crawled up in the cab. I was awakened in the early dawn by somebody opening the door.

"Hey, this ain't the fuckin' Hilton. I need my truck," he said.

I dragged myself to a sitting position on the passenger side as he climbed in. He started the truck up. I was groggy and didn't move fast enough to get out.

"Are you getting out, or going along for the ride?" he asked.

I reached for the door.

"Hey, aren't you one of the new guys?" he asked.

"Don't call me that," I warned, putting up a threatening hand.

"I didn't say FNG. I said are you one of the new guys who got in last night?"


"That hooch over there," he said, pointing. "We had two KIAs. Tell 'em you're taking the rack next to Higgins," he said, putting out his hand. "Welcome to the country."

I shook his impressively large, strong hand and thanked him then got out of his truck with my shit and headed for my new quarters. I decided I wasn't going to be run out this time.

"Where's Higgins' rack?" I asked a youngish looking blonde kid. He was cute. A sneaky thought popped into my head that I would rather crawl into the kid's bunk with him.

"Over there," he said, nodding to a bunk at the end.

I walked back and tossed my stuff on the bunk. The blonde just looked at me. I walked back over to him and put my hand out.

"Not that it makes a fuck, but I'm Brad Courter."

"Randy Jones," he said, taking my hand.

It wasn't a very firm handshake; I didn't know if it was on purpose or not. Sometimes guys did that just to show they don't give a fuck. It wasn't just not firm, it was a couple of seconds too long for a normal handshake. I would keep that in mind, and keep my eye on Randy Jones.

The next many days were boring as shit. I didn't get assigned to any shit details because they knew I was a sniper and nobody knew whether I was coming or going to a planning meeting to plan a mission and they left me alone. I found something to do with my time. I went to supply and asked about a ghillie suit. The supply clerk looked at me as though my nose was growing out the side of my head. He didn't have to tell me they didn't have one, or possibly he didn't even know what I was talking about.

"Okay I need some netting, and maybe an old fatigue shirt or something that I can tear up," I said.

"All of the equipment is on the books," he said.

I hated supply. "Well, take it off the books, like you do when shit gets blown up," I said, sounding impatient because I was. "You obviously don't have a ghillie suit, I need stuff to make one."

He took me into the inner sanctum of his domain and showed me the netting material he had.

"This'll do the trick," I said, picking up a bundle of netting. Then I picked up a faded green fatigue shirt. "This'll be perfect," I said. Then I took a ball of twine.

"You'll have to sign for all of this," he said.

You wonder why I hated supply? "Sure, but it won't be coming back," I said.

"Most of it don't come back, I just need a record that it left," he said.

Back at the hooch, I dug out my sewing kit and set about crafting a ghillie suit. I tore one of my brown T-shirts and the fatigue shirt into strips and shreds and wove and sewed them into the netting. One of the smart asses asked me, "What're you doing, sewing your wedding dress?" I replied, "Yeah, do you have your tux ordered, we're getting married in a month, you know."

Later I found a spot where I could gather various grasses and vines to weave into the netting, and I added sticks and twigs here and there. It was interesting how the other guys watched my progress. It took a lot of hours to create the garment but when it was finished I was satisfied that it would conceal my whereabouts in about any terrain that I had observed. I also made a ghille suit for my rifle. I took the stuff inside to my bunk to work on that. The same smart ass asked me what I was making, and was my spotter a midget or what? I told him, no, I was making my wedding veil.

One of the planning sessions was coming down to the wire, as I learned when I found myself at one of them with a kid named Danny Porter. And I do mean kid. I kept eyeing him out of the corner of my eye, not believing that they actually expected me to take him along as my spotter. After the meeting, as we were leaving, I told Porter I had to go to the latrine and doubled back to the HQ.

"I'm not taking that kid with me, sir," I told the captain flatly.

"That's not your decision to make," the captain said. "Did you bring your own partner with you, somebody you've worked with?"

"No, but I prefer to operate on my own," I said, purposely leaving off the sir.

"And I prefer you not," he said.

"Christ, he looks like he still belongs in high school....like about a sophomore," I said. "I'll bet he's never even shaved, at least not with a blade."

"Don't underestimate Porter; he's an expert rifleman," the captain said.

"That's fine, but I'm the sniper," I said.

"You're forgetting a couple of things, Corporal. Number one, how to address an officer, and secondly, that you do not pick your missions."

"But don't I have a say in picking my team?" I asked.

"He's the best we've got. In fact, he's the only one we've got right now," he said.

"I'll lose him, sir," I said as a warning.

"I doubt that, he's had the same training you have," he said. "Look Courter, you've had great input at these meetings, but the final decision is mine. Now I recognize that snipers tend to be individuals, that's the reason you were trained as a sniper, so I tend to cut you guys a lot of slack, as long as I don't get any crap back. So you go get yourself acquainted with the 'sophomore' and meet me back here, with him, at 1400 hours."

"Yes, sir," I said sharply.

I got acquainted with PFC Porter, and he was likeable enough, but I didn't like having to work with him; and I still didn't remember Jason ever mentioning a spotter. We had the meeting, plus a couple more several days later, till we got the word that it was a go.

Porter was cute and I called him that....Cutie Pie....as we were heading out. It pissed him off.

"Don't call me that," he said, with his most stern look.

I laughed. "Mean on your face just don't cut it," I told him.

"It don't have to. My mean's right here," he said, lifting his rifle.

"Yeah, the Captain said you're a pretty fair shot," I said, purposely down playing his capabilities.

"I'm an expert shot," he said. "And just so you know, I've heard all about fraggin'."

I stopped. "Is that a threat?"


I grabbed him by the front of his shirt, up around his neck. "Do not threaten me, fucker," I growled in his face. "It could be dangerous to your health, especially out where we're going."

"It wasn't a threat, Corporal. Just a point of fact, cause I'm thinking you've probably got the same idea in the back of your head about me," he shot back, unflinching.

I liked his balls, the way he stood up to me. I let go of him and walked on ahead of him. We traveled for a long way like that--several hours--with him tagging along behind me, and I was thinking this mission was fucked up from the start, and it was going downhill from there. As we got closer I knew I had to get it back on track. I was the leader of this two-man team, like it or not; the success or failure of the mission depended on me and I was creating a non-workable work environment. I slowed my pace for him to catch up with me but he lagged behind.

"Hey, Sophomore," I said, waving him forward.

He came up beside me. "What's that all about....sophomore?" he asked.

"Because you look like you oughta be back in high school, studying sophomore English or something, not tromping through this fuckin' jungle looking for somebody to kill."

"You're the sniper, I'm just along to see that you get back alive," he said.

I had to laugh at his smart-assed attitude and I hated to admit that I was beginning to like him. He reminded me of me.

"We got off to a bad start. It's my fault. Sorry," I said.

"Don't worry about it," he said.

"I'm not," I said. "I like your balls, the way you stood up to me back there," I told him.

"You're not acquainted with my balls yet, so don't start liking them," he said.

I smiled but didn't respond to his remark.

"We'll cool our heels here. That clearing up ahead....that's where the two paths connect that they use to re-supply and pass on information." I took a picture out of my shirt pocket and handed it to him. "That's the target." I knew he'd seen the picture before but I wanted to refresh his memory. He studied the picture for a brief moment and handed it back to me. "Did you look at it?" I asked.

"Yes. He's in his mid-twenties, weighs about 145 pounds, a sergeant, doesn't spend much time in the bush. He's married, he's got a small birthmark at the right corner of his mouth and a mole at the lower part of his neck, left side."

I looked at him. "How do you know he doesn't spend much time in the bush?" I asked.

"He eats good, he's not as skinny as most of them, he gets his hair cut regular, and his cap and uniform shirt are crisp, freshly laundered."

"It's a picture," I said. "He might not even look like that."

"But they said it's a recent picture," he said. "And he'll look like that unless he's been busted."

I nodded, putting the picture back in my pocket, and I was little more impressed with Sophomore. Maybe the captain was right; I shouldn't underestimate the kid. We set up our position. We tromped down enough of the grass and underbrush to make a spot "livable" for the few hours we might have to wait, without destroying the foliage that covered us, then we got comfortable for the wait. The boy couldn't get comfortable. He kept moving and adjusting his position and adjusting his scope.

"You about got it right?" I asked.

"It will be when the time comes," he said.

We lay quiet for a long time, not because it was necessary--the target wasn't due to show for more than an hour--we were quiet because there was nothing to say. Finally, I spoke.

"Hey, Sophomore, you're okay," I said. "I just don't wanta see anything happen to you."

"Don't worry about it. I came out here to die," he said.

I looked at him for a long moment and his gaze back was steady. "We're not going there right now," I said. We had to stay focused on the mission.

We kept vigil well till dusk with no concrete results; only villagers now and then coming and going along the paths. We stayed till the small cooking fires began to flicker in the distant village.

"Are you seeing anything?" I asked quietly.

"No. Wait! Activity at two o'clock."

I shifted my rifle to see a group of soldiers moving into my line of sight. No more than a squad, though.

"He's not with them," Sophomore said.


We waited till the soldiers had harassed some of the villagers and moved on.

"We're moving back," I said.

When we were back far enough we stood and walked.

"I hate it when they don't keep a date," I said, still speaking softly.

"Maybe he didn't get the memo that you were meeting him," Sophomore drawled.

When we'd gone far enough to feel safe, we stopped to eat. I brought up what he'd said earlier.

"What you said back there....that you came over here to die. That's a defeatist attitude."

"No, it's not. I don't intend to be defeated at anything I do. I'll sight your target, and if we get in a bind, I'll fight our way out and get you back alive. But I don't expect to go home alive. Meanwhile, I'll do my duty."

"You sound like you don't want to go home alive. You got a death wish or something?"

"You could say that."

"What the fuck, you're what, fifteen years old?" I scoffed. "You've got your whole life ahead of you. And you should be back there living it instead of lying here in the fuckin' jungle looking after me."

"First, I'm eighteen, although I might not look it. Second, I tried living my life back there, and it wasn't all that great. I would rather be here."

"What the hell could possibly be wrong with your life back there, that you would rather be here in this shit-hole?"

"You don't wanta know and you wouldn't understand if you did," he said.

"What, are you running away from something?" I asked.

"Couldn't if I wanted to. It's inside me. It goes wherever I go," he said.

"What, you got some kind of disease? You couldn't have a disease, they wouldn't let you in the Marines."

"I'm gay," he said, without flinching.

There was a strange silence that settled over us, even though the jungle noises continued all around us. I stared at him. It was dark but I could see his eyes and I stared at him till he looked at me.

"That's it?" I asked.

"It's enough where I come from," he said.

"Being gay is no reason to wanta die," I said.

"There's not much tolerance in a town of five thousand people where everybody's married to somebody's relative. People look at you and whisper and laugh behind your back. Some don't even bother to do that, they laugh right in your face. Girls try to change you--like they've got the magic solution between their legs--fuck me and you'll be straight. My Dad wonders why I chose such an evil life style, he wouldn't believe I didn't have a choice. My mother and aunts are gonna pray me out of it. I mean, it's total fuckin' backwoods ignorance."

"How did your family find out?" I asked.

"I got caught."

"No shit! By whom?"

"My Dad. The feed mill sent out a pickup load of feed supplements and I went out to show the driver where to back the truck up to the barn. This real hunky driver got out and I knew I was gonna have him. He'd backed up so the rear of the truck was just inside the barn, and when we were done unloading, I made a pass at him."

"That was pretty bold of you, if you didn't know the guy," I said.

He laughed. "There's nothing like grabbing a guy's ass to get to know him real fast. I had his jeans down in no time and he sat on the tailgate, leaned back and I was leaned over, sucking his cock, when we heard a door open, close, didn't know which door it was at the time. There was nobody there so I finished him off. Found out later, my Dad had come into the barn and saw us, and slipped back out. He told me that night after I'd gone to bed, that he saw me. He was real disappointed. He told my Mom and she told her sister and it went from there, so I was branded a sick homo."

"That's too bad, Sophomore," I said.

"The worst was my best friend--the guy I thought was my best friend--he came on to me, said we were buddies for life, so what could it hurt, if we both wanted it. I spent the weekend giving him blowjobs, and you know what he said? Two days later we got together again and he wanted to fuck me. When I told him no, he said we couldn't be friends anymore; said he couldn't be friends with a fag because he had a reputation as a stud he had to live up to. I signed up for the Marines the next day. My Dad was proud of me for that...said the Marines would make a man out of me. Little did he know that the Marines was providing me with what I yearned for, the company of real men. So I'm gonna make my Dad proud. I'm gonna go home in a body bag and they can have a military funeral with a flag draped over my casket, and a twenty-one-gun salute, and play taps and make my mother cry when they present her with the flag. They'll be proud of me then."

I didn't know what to say. It was the saddest thing I'd ever heard. The kid didn't even shave yet, and he was planning an honorable death for himself so he could make his dumb-ass parents proud.

"Geezusss, Sophomore, that's the worst thing I ever heard," I said.

"Depends on how you wanta look at it. If life sucks, the next best thing is death with honor," he said. Then he asked me the damndest thing. "When I get it, would take me back?"


"Would you escort my body back home?"

"No," I said with a hard frown. "Just don't plan on getting it, okay? We got a job to do here, so just take your death wish and put it on hold for a while.... like forty or fifty years." I realized immediately that I'd said the wrong thing. He was hurt. The kid had asked me to do the most honorable thing a guy can do for another Marine, and I'd told him no. "Okay, I'll do it; I'll take you back," I said. "But I think you gotta put it in writing that you want me to do it."

"I will, when we get back," he said. "So, if you wanta do anything while we're out here by ourselves, I'm up for it," he said.

I looked down at him again with a blank stare. "No, I'm not gonna use you," I said with a scowl.

"You wouldn't be using me; I offered," he said.

"You offered to get yourself killed, too," I said.

"It wouldn't be using me if I said I want it, would it?"

"You've got your priorities all fucked up, Sophomore."

"Yeah, but they're my priorities, I can fuck 'em up if I want to," he said as he reached out for my crotch.

I clasped my hand over his hand clasped over my crotch to stop him. Suddenly he reminded me of Levi Brant, back in sniper school.

"Come on, let me do it," he said. "My buddy said I'm pretty good at it."

"Sophomore, you can't be doing this shit, coming on to guys like this. What if I was a homophobe and reported you? You could end up in the stockade."

He shrugged. "Would that be so bad? Being locked up with all those guys without any women?" Then he asked, "Are you going to report me?" he asked, as he squeezed my crotch.

"No." And I was letting him squeeze my crotch beneath my hand.

"Are you going to let me suck your cock?"

"Fuck, Sophomore, you're giving me a hardon," I said.

"Better let me take care of it, then."

"Fuck, Sophomore......." I moved my hand to give him free rein.

"Not out here, some other time and place, but I wouldn't mind trying you up my ass," he said.

"Your buddy back home, is he the only other guy you ever went down on?" I asked.

"I've only done it once besides that," he said.

Sophomore was undoing my pants. I watched his face. He was so fuckin' young looking; almost pink-cheeked. I wondered if there would ever be hair growing on his face.

"Sophomore, have you even got hair around your dick yet?" I asked.

"Yeah, I got hair around my dick," he said, laughing. "You wanta see it?"

"No." By then he was pulling my cock out of my pants.

"Damn!" he swore as he pulled it all the way out and gaped at its length. It was a simple expression of appreciation, not fear, because he got right on it.

"Ohh, Godd!" I gasped. His tongue was so soft and smooth, his mouth so warm and soft. And he was so fuckin' cute. "Oh, Godd." I couldn't remember a mouth feeling so good, or such a sexy mouth on such a cute face.

He moved off, with a big smile. "You praying to God or something?" he asked, laughing.

I reached down and clamped my hand on his head and pushed his face at my cock again. He took it and started sucking. He was so good, so gentle, like he was making love to my cock, like I wasn't even attached to it. He was so fuckin' cute and young looking, I felt almost ashamed for letting a little boy suck my cock. I felt something more in those moments. I felt an attachment to him.

"Ohh....Awwhh, mann....Oohh....Ohhh, fuck, Sophomore, your buddy was right. You are good."

I loved watching him lick my cockhead like a puppy lapping milk. He seemed to like my precum. It was almost torture till he took it in his mouth again. I glanced at my watch. We weren't exactly in friendly territory.

"We shouldn't be too long, Sophomore," I said.

"I'm doing all I can. You're the one with the load," he said.

He was right, I had to hurry it up. I concentrated on what he was doing, and on his cute face and those full, kissable lips sliding back and forth on my cock, and I conjured up visions of us in bed together where I could fuck his tight little ass. But I think it was his innocent look that got to me. Fuck, he was so young and cute and innocent looking and he was sucking my cock like a pro. I decided a change in positions might help. I rolled over on top of him and started fucking his mouth. He moaned and whimpered with pleasure and opened his throat for me, pulling me down to his mouth with his hands clasped around my butt. Even when he choked, he kept pulling me down and I kept fucking his throat, and choking him. I thought of his parents. Geezuss, what would they think if they knew their little boy was lying on the jungle floor getting his head nailed to the ground by a big cock in his throat.

"I'm getting close," I said suddenly.

He nodded and groaned.

A minute later..... "I'm cummin'!" And I rolled off to my side.

He moved off my cock and opened his mouth wide with his tongue out and pumped my cock. I hit the target with a shot that we could hear splattering against the back of his mouth.

"Uuhnn!" he groaned. "Ohh....Oh, shit!....Oh, shit!....Oh, fuck!" he swore between shots, his groans mixing with mine.

I got a near perfect score. I filled the target and the stuff started running out the corner of his mouth. As the trajectory lowered, I shot some on his neck and his shirt then it was spurting in the grass. He wallowed his tongue around in the pool of cum then took my cock back in his mouth and started swallowing. He swallowed several times, almost like it was a ritual, and at the end, as my cock was going down, he forced it down his throat again, burying his face in my open fly. He held me there for a long moment then slowly moved back, milking my cock with his pursed lips. When it fell free of his mouth, he lifted it up and stuffed it back in my pants.

"Thanks," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then he wiped the cum off his neck.

"Fuck, don't thank me, Sophomore. That was incredible."

"Being incredible was easy with a cock like that," he said.

"I got some on your shirt," I said as I reached down and scooped it off with my finger. He took my hand and licked my finger off.

"Don't wanta waste it," he said. "Man, I didn't know anybody could shoot like that."

"Well, you had a lot to do with working it up," I told him.

"You and that cock could give a guy a reason to live," he said as he peered through his scope.

"You gotta have more than a big stiff cock for a reason to live," I said.

"Company up ahead," he said quietly.

We flattened ourselves on the jungle floor and I looked through my scope to see someone move into the sights. But it was a mama-san and a young child. But a few minutes later a squad of soldiers moved through, led by a low ranking officer.

"Maybe I had aborted too soon," I whispered.

"No. Our target's not going to show," Sophomore said when the soldiers were well out of ear shot.

"And you base that conclusion on what?" I asked.

"That was a low ranking officer in charge," he said.

"They could've been scouting the area," I said. I agreed with Sophomore but I wanted to see where he was coming from.

"Those weren't scouts. They weren't paying any attention to anything; they were joking and having fun."

I started to pack stuff up to leave.

"Captain's not gonna be happy about this," Sophomore said as we headed out.

"He's the one who said not to hang around if the target was a no show," I said. A mile or so further, I decided to come out with what was laying heavy on my mind. The kid had gotten to me, and not just in a sexual way. We had connected, and I felt a sort of obligation to him.

"Listen, Sophomore, I'm gonna tell you something, and if you ever breathe a word to anybody.... well, I know all about fraggin' too." I let that soak in for a minute then went on. "I'm into guys, too."

He looked at me, but took it in stride, literally; we didn't break stride.

"So are a lot of guys around you, you just don't know it," I went on. "I had sex with at least a dozen other guys, my last tour. It's all over the place. Have you ever been to Saigon?"

"Yes, once, on a weekend," he said.

"You know a place called Toby's?"

"No, never heard of it."

"Next time you're in Saigon look it up. Tell Toby I sent you," I said.

"Is it a gay bar? I'm not going into a gay bar."

"No, but it's gay friendly. Very discreet. You can meet guys there. Straight guys, too, looking for action."

"I wouldn't have any idea how to meet guys in a bar," he said.

I blinked and laughed. "You just came on to me back there in the fuckin' jungle," I said.

"That was about my death wish," he said.

"And what about that delivery guy you got caught with?"

"That was him and me, not with other people watching," he said.

"Just find the place," I said. "Trust me, you'll go over big there. And you won't have to worry about meeting guys.... guys will want to meet you. Tell Toby I sent you, he'll probably give you a beer. Or throw your ass out," I added, laughing.

"I think you like me now," Sophomore said with a cocky grin.

"I like you, Sophomore."

He slowed his pace and I turned back to see what was wrong.

"We can make up the story about how long we waited," he said.

"Yeah?" I said, wondering what he was getting at.

"You wanta fuck me?" he asked.

"Geezuss, Sophomore." But I was looking around, doing a quick assessment of our surroundings. "It could be risky," I said.

He laughed. "Every breath you take out here is risky, that don't mean you stop breathing." He walked off to the side, into some tall grass and disappeared. I went after him. He was standing in a little clearing in the grass where there was green moss growing, unbuckling his belt. His rifle was on the ground.

"What's it going to look like if we get it with my cock shoved in your ass?" I said as I laid my rifle down

"Two GIs enjoying their last minutes on earth, that's what it'll look like," he said.

We didn't strip naked, but we shed our pants and shorts, leaving our boots on. Sophomore lay down on the bed of thick moss on his stomach with his legs spread out and his butt humped up.

"Godd, Sophomore," I said huskily.

"You like my butt?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Fuck, Sophomore, I'm drooling. When you said you'd only done it once, with your buddy.... that was just sucking his cock, right? You said he didn't fuck you."

"Yeah, I'm a virgin," he said.

"It's gonna hurt some," I said as I knelt between his legs.

"You think?" he quipped, eyeing my cock. When he felt it touch his butt he arched his back and jutted his ass up for me. I spat in his ass crack and smeared it around with the head of my cock.

It wasn't easy, getting my cock through his tiny, virgin hole, and there was another fleeting moment of guilt that I was fucking a boy, but this boy was a Marine, and he wanted it. He worked with me. Finally, he told me to just do it.

"Just shove it in, hard, my ass will give way," he said.

I reached over and grabbed his shorts. "Stuff this in your mouth, you can't make any noise," I said.

He stuffed his shorts in his mouth and braced himself. I shoved, hard. I bore down relentlessly against his tight hole till it finally gave way and my cock burst through and sank about half way into the tight, hot cavern of his ass

"OOUUMMPPHHHH!" he groaned in his shorts. It was a good thing he had his shorts in his mouth, they would've heard him all the way to Saigon.

I managed to check my entry at the half way mark. The way he was trembling under me I almost pulled out. He jerked the shorts out of his mouth and I thought he would ask me to stop. He just turned his head and looked over his shoulder at me with those big sad-puppy eyes, and he was all teared up.

"What?" I asked. I wanted him to tell me to stop.

"Fuck me," he said.

"Fuck, Sophomore, this has got to be killing you."

"Fuck me," he said again.

"I'm only half way in, Sophomore."

Suddenly he rose up on his elbows and when he rose up on his knees he shoved his ass back onto my cock, his ass swallowing it to the hairy hilt, his butt grinding against my loins. He bit down on his forearm and I bit down on the heel of my hand. It was an intense moment as we waited for him to get used to being impaled on my cock.

"You okay, Sophomore?" I asked after a moment.


"All right." I pulled back till his tight little asshole was gripping the rim of my cockhead then I slowly eased back in him.

"OOOhhhhhh," he moaned softly. "Ohh, Goddd!"

"Better chew on your shorts again, I'm gonna fuck you now," I told him.

He stuffed his shorts back in his mouth and I fucked him. I didn't feel bad about it anymore. He wasn't a boy who I'd seduced; he was a Marine, same as me, and he wanted to be fucked. But it wasn't a time for love making, or even lingering. I fucked him hard, till he was lying flat across the mossy ground. I wanted us both to get out of it everything we could, but we were fucking in the middle of the jungle, for chrissakes. I pulled him back up to his knees and reached around for his cock.

"We gotta make this fast," I said, as I began jacking him off.

He nodded and began humping my cock. With both of us working it, we lasted only a few minutes. I felt him going off first; felt it in the quivering of his ass, followed by his cock bolting hard as steel in my fist just before he shot off. I came close behind him, shooting my load in his welcoming ass. It was quick, and hard, and exhausting. I collapsed on top of him, pressing him back down on the mossy bed.

"Fuck, Sophomore, that was awesome," I gasped.

"Yeah, it sure was. I never dreamed it would feel like that."

We couldn't linger. I pushed myself up. "Sorry I had to hurt you," I said as I slowly withdrew my cock.

"I knew it would probably hurt," he said as he shoved up onto his hands and knees.

I stood up and pulled him to his feet and we started getting dressed.

"Damn, I can't believe I had all that up inside me," he said as I was hefting my cock into my shorts.

"You took it like a man," I said.

"I hope we can do this again, when we've got more time. Maybe we can go to Saigon together," he said.

"That was stupid, what we did," I said as we headed out again. "Great, but stupid. If Charlie had come up on us, we would be dead meat."

"Yeah, but we would be happy dead meat," he said.

Part of me wished I hadn't done it. I wished he could go back home with that little bit of innocence left. But the kid was gay; if it hadn't been me, it would be somebody else who got his cherry and it would no doubt happen before he got back home. And he had asked me to do it.

"It felt really good," he said.

"I'm glad."

"I mean like I imagine a girl feels when she's getting fucked, you know, getting her clit rubbed with a guy's big cock."

"Did you feel something like that?" I asked.

"Yeah, there was a spot inside me that drove me nuts."

"That's your prostate," I said. ."Sometimes called your love nut."

"Oh. It sure felt good. You could really give a guy a reason to live, you know that?" he said.

"Listen, Sophomore, when you get back home, you don't have to go back to that town of five thousand ignoramuses. Settle someplace else, far away, like California where you'll be accepted. Fuck, you'll be worshipped there."

"Maybe I'll do that if I get out of this alive."

I stopped him, faced him and put both hands on his shoulders. "I want you to bury your death wish, Sophomore, right here and now. Promise me you'll do that. There are other guys out there just like you who would welcome you with open arms."

"Nobody ever welcomed me with open arms," he said.

"Listen to me. You're a good looking kid, you're built nice, you've got an awesome cock, not to mention that fine ass. You'd be a dream come true to some lucky guy; guys just like you, who lay awake dreaming and praying to meet a young stud like yourself."

"So I'm the stuff dreams are made of, huh?" he said.

"Damn right. So don't destroy some poor guy's dream. Live it with him. You'll find him. Or he'll find you. But you gotta stay alive. And don't worry about making anybody proud of you. If you gotta die to do that, well, fuck, they ain't worth it."

He listened, and I thought I just might have given the boy a reason to live, a reason beside just my cock.

Sophomore and I didn't exactly become close buddies but I considered him a friend, of sorts, and he was a good spotter. I trusted him. I worried about him at first but I got over that. He could handle himself.

He caught up with me after chow one night.

"I haven't been able to get what we did off my mind," he said. "You woke up an itch inside me, and I'm going nuts wanting it again. Do you think we can arrange something?"

"Did you bury that death wish like I said?" I asked.

"Yes. You made me feel alive and wanta stay alive," he said.

We found a secluded spot in the bush, away from the compound, so I could fuck him; he wanted that real bad, and so did I. It was hot, hard and heavy sex. It would've been loud too, except we couldn't make any noise. I fucked him a couple more times after that. But I didn't go on pass with him like he asked me to. I wish I had, but maybe it was a good thing I didn't. He was killed a short time later, along with two others, when a fuckin' bitch mamma-san tossed a grenade into a group of GIs standing on a street corner, just a few blocks from Toby's. I felt like I'd sent him to his death.

I didn't see the captain about taking him back. I didn't really want to and I had other priorities. I was in Vietnam to find Jason. I decided I would wait and see if the captain approached me, if Sophomore had written the letter asking me to. I never heard anything. Like the good Catholic boy my Momma raised, I did go to the chapel in a nearby village to say some prayers and I left a lighted candle. And I thanked God and His angels and His saints that I had been able to give him what I did. I liked to believe he died happy, without his virginity. Then I put it behind me.

My next piece of ass was the blonde kid, Randy Jones. He had a habit of watching me in the hooch, everything I did. He would look away when I caught him but every time I looked his way he was watching me. It got irritating. Finally, one night after chow I went over and kicked his bunk and nodded for him to come with me. Outside, a few yards from the hooch, I stopped and grabbed him by the front of his shirt and got in his face.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, every time I look your way, you're looking at me."

"Then you must be looking at me too, huh," he said.

I tightened my grip on his shirt. "I said every time I look your way, I'm not looking at you. Anywhere else I look in the hooch, guys aren't staring at me."

"If you gotta ask why, well, it don't matter, does it?" he said as he gripped my hand to remove it from his shirt.

I let go and put my hands on my hips. "What don't matter?" I demanded. I knew what he was getting at but I wanted him to say it, to lead the way.

He said, "Forget it." He started to move past me but I stepped in his way.

"No. Let's not forget it."

"Then let's take it away from here," he said, nodding toward the hooch.

I let him past me and went with him to the motor pool. We walked past it then doubled back and he led the way between the trucks till he came to one and climbed up in the cab.

"Get in," he whispered gruffly.

I climbed up in the truck, feeling uneasy.

"Lay down on the seat," he said as he crouched down on the floor on the passenger side. Obediently, I lay down with my right leg cocked up against the back of the seat. He pulled my left leg over the edge of the seat and started unbuckling my belt. I didn't feel completely safe, but I wanted this. I let him undo my pants and tug them down to my knees, along with my shorts. My cock swung over toward him, like it knew right where the action was. It was right.

"Holy Shit!" he said when he saw my cock, by now nearly hard. He leaned in and scooped it up in his mouth and started sucking. He was good. No, he was great. He used a lot of tongue and was very adept at taking me in his throat. I folded my hands behind my head and closed my eyes and enjoyed.

After several minutes, he rose up. "We can't be out here forever. Am I doing something wrong?"

"No. You're doing everything just fine. I didn't know you wanted me to hurry," I said.

"It's hardly hurrying," he said, stroking my slick cock. "I really want your load."

"Get back on it, I'll give it to you," I said.

A few minutes later he got, I think, the biggest load of his life. He choked and coughed and snorted through his nose, trying to swallow the stuff but I could feel it cascading down my cock, all over my balls and down between my legs.

He finally rose up from my cock, gasping for air.

"Fuck! Where'd that all come from!" he exclaimed, pulling on my cock, then he leaned in and sucked off the cum he'd squeezed out.

"I don't know, but it went all over my balls," I said, rising up.

"Don't worry, I'll lick it up," he said. With that, he bent down and started lapping up the cum that had escaped his mouth. He licked my balls and under them and between my legs and along the inside of my thighs till he had me cleaned off. He was a regular cum hound. By the time he was done my cock was coming back to life.

"Listen, I would like to do this again," he said as he was helping pull my shorts and pants up. "Promise I won't make such a mess of it next time. I'll know what to expect."

"I should've warned you," I said.

"No, it was a nice surprise. Are we on?" he asked as he came up onto the seat beside me.

"Any time," I said. "Hell, right now, except you said we can't be out here forever."

"Now? What do you wanta do?" he asked.

"Raise up," I said, and when he did, I moved over under him. I reached around him and unbuckled his belt.

"Oh, shit, man, I don't know.... you wanta fuck me?"

"No more than you want it," I said as I was undoing his pants. He helped me and together we shoved his pants and shorts down to his knees and he shoved them down to his ankles. I spat in my hand and lubed up my cock. At the same time, he did the same and lubed up his ass. He eased back onto my cock and it spread his butt apart, honing in on his asshole. He wasn't a virgin.

"Shit, take it easy," he said.

"You're on top, you take it however you want it," I told him.

"I'm not sure I wanta take it at all."

"That's not an option," I said, clasping my hands around his hips so he couldn't get away from me. My cock had found its target and was throbbing anxiously. "Just let your weight down on it, then ease yourself down," I said.

As I felt the pressure of his weight, I thrust upward and the head of my cock burst through his hole.

"Ohhh, Goddd!" he cried out.

"Not so loud. Ease down now."

He was fighting it; he grasped the dashboard and his legs were trembling trying to hold his weight up off of me. I pulled down on his hips and he lost his leverage and literally fell down onto my cock.


I reached up and clasped my hand over his mouth. He was half whimpering. I let him get used to me then I started clenching my butt muscles, working my cock back and forth inside his ass.

"Oh, Shit! Ohh....Ohhh, Godd....you're so big!"

"Hey, you weren't virgin, were you?" I asked.

"No, but I might as well have been. Geezuss, where'd you put it all?"

"I don't know, but you've got it; see what you can do with it."

He did a lot. Once he got used to it and decided he liked it, he rode me like a pony. It was an awkward position and he wasn't getting enough leverage, so he asked to change positions. He got on his hands and knees on the seat and I mounted him from behind. We fucked so hard we had to slow down so the springs on the truck wouldn't squeak. He fucked another big load out of me. He shot all over the seat. We left it.

Like all the others, he wanted a re-match. I didn't make any promises but I knew I wouldn't turn him down if we got another chance.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . continued



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