The Guy With a White Horse

A bloody hand gripped the sill, its fingers clenched the torn wood from the blown out window. My grenade had got him. Good.

'Come on, cunt. Die!' I growled as the arm behind that hand flexed, pulling the Bosnian Serb from the floor where he ought to be dead. I saw him then, pulling himself up. Half his head blown away.

The sniper toppled forward, his body tumbling through the destroyed window. He made no attempt to break his fall. His head hit the ground and bones snapped.

I glanced over to where Howell lay. Even from the edge of the house I could see the hole in his chest. His camouflage jacket was already turned red with his own blood.

I shuddered as I realised how close I'd come to meeting the man on the white horse myself. God! Only three bloody months to go and I was out of the Queen's fucking army.

I sank down with my back against the gutted house and looked down the grassy hill, trying to pull my thoughts together. Camp was five kilometres behind us - behind me, I corrected myself. Howell wasn't going anywhere.

I caught movement from the corner of my eye - at the far corner of the house, right beyond where Howell bought it before we knew there was a sniper. I dropped and rolled, pulling my weapon around and into my hands.

I raised my head just enough to see, rifle on my shoulder and my finger on its trigger. My gaze went directly to the corner of the house.

My eyes widened. I was looking at a bloody horse studying me! I nearly broke out laughing until I realised the fucking thing was saddled. Even a city lad knew saddled mounts meant riders. I scrunched deeper in the tall grass on my side of the house.

It was a beautiful animal, white as fresh snow in my gran's back garden in Essex and as tall as those that Trooped the Colour at Buck House. I blinked.

My eyes bulged instantly I opened them again. A fucking knight in bloody full armour stood beside the horse! Studying me. Sunlight glinted off the polished metal.

I shut my eyes and gulped. Fearing what I'd see this time, I opened them again. This wanker with his head-ful of blond curls shining in the sun was in combat kit. Just him and his camouflage kit. No bloody weapon. The bugger was half-way to me! Like there were no dead around us. Like it was a bloody afternoon stroll through Kensington Gardens.

My finger moved on the trigger as I watched him. Tall and blond, a big lad. 'Bri-?' he called to me, using my name as he smiled. 'Come to me, Bri.'

I blinked again. And even more fearfully opened my eyes.

I saw his feet first. Then his legs with their blond hairs, followed by thick, muscled thighs and a stomach that was an eight-pack. I gasped. He stood naked in front of me. His empty hands were open at his hips and I realised my appraisal of him had missed his equipment packet. The bastard had a prick like a fucking litre bottle. Big, he was. But proportionate.

I almost forgot where I was. Almost forgot that Howell was dead a couple of metres away. That the Serbian cunt who got him was dead too. That I had a five kilometre trek back to camp.

He squatted in front of me, his legs spread, and smiled. His dick hard, close to my face, its skin pulled back behind its collar. His bollocks were the biggest I ever saw. My bum-hole itched, wanting his equipment where it would count.

It wasn't as if I had never seen a lad up close and personal. I was the company's prettiest boy, or so Sergeant Major had told me that first time he opened his flies, pulled his dick out, and invited me to bend over his desk. I had learnt well to help out my mates these nearly three years and liked doing it well enough. It didn't even bother me that most of the lads failed to return the favour.

'I want you, Bri,' the blond, blue-eyed beauty said.

I gulped. 'No fucking way! I am not getting my head blown off, not even for that!' I nodded towards his packet and wished we were back in London. Anywhere that we were safe enough I could do what I wanted with his prick.

'Then, you want me too?' He smiled wistfully. His dick seemed to get harder. A drop of pre-come collected in his Jap's eye, beckoning me like nectar.

'Who are you, mate?' I demanded, holding on to my senses with my fingernails. 'People are dead here. We've got cunts shooting us in the back. And you want me bobbing on your monster?'

He smiled. 'You're safe here with me. For now.'

'So you say!' I wondered briefly if he was one of the Serbs who'd enjoyed killing women and children before we got here. He sounded so damned English, though, and I'd not heard one of these animals talk a man's language without mucking it up. 'Who are you?'

'I have many names, Bri.' He smiled again and his teeth sparkled. 'You're the first to catch my fancy in far too long.'

'Sweet. Come by tonight, mate. We'll see about things after I'm safe and cleaned up.'

A frown spread across his face and it was as if a cloud had hidden the sun. 'That shan't be possible, Bri,' he muttered. I felt his sadness, it was so palpable. It was almost as if now was our only chance to be as personable as I would like us to be. It suddenly became a lot colder.

'Who are you?' I demanded carefully, keeping a tight control over my voice and thoughts.

'You don't want to know.'

'Why the bloody Hell not?' I yelled at him. 'You sod, I'm thinking of letting you plough my arse for me. I'd like that tonight, you know? That monster there shagging me good. Only seems right that I know the name of the lad doing the honours.'

'Bri-'

'Seems that I'll be finding a mate in the barracks then. At least, I'll know the dirty sod doing the deed.'

'You won't.' His face was a grimace as he stood and looked down at me. 'You have five hours, ten minutes, and thirty-nine seconds.'

'To do what?' I growled, moving my rifle to where I'd take his bloody leg off if he tried anything. His bollocks too.

It hit me then. My blood ran as cold as one of the mountain streams around here. I reminded myself the bugger even rode a white horse. That, and I had never seen the wanker in my life - yet, he knew my name 'Five hours?' I moaned. 'That's all I've got?'

He nodded.

'You're-?' I couldn't say it. My lips and tongue were formed to say the word but I couldn't make myself say it my mouth was so dry.

'I'm Death, Bri.'

It felt as if some lad had just landed a good one square on my bollocks. 'No!' I managed to croak. I was immediately clawing hard to keep my arse from falling into the yawning mouth that was my fear. 'I don't want to die.' I shuddered and began to slip backward into that mouth waiting for me.

His hand touched my shoulder then. I jerked and started clawing again. 'Stay away, you fucking bastard!' I yelled, rolling away from him. I stared back at him angrily.

He was still fully hard as he squatted there facing me.

'You're going to get me anyway!' I screamed at him. 'You're going to have my bum in five bloody hours and I'm not going to be able to do a thing about it. Because I'm going to be dead.'

He shook his head slowly. 'No, Bri. We can't then.'

'Why the bloody hell not?' I growled, still venting my anger at him and feeling good doing it.

'Souls go on to the Sheol. I'm but the warder, shepherding them to the gates.'

I snorted. 'You'll be taking me the long way, I'll wager. Just so you can get that thing in me before you've dropped me off.'

'Bri, I've got to have a body to shag. Yours will still be here.'

I shuddered again, the anger that had felt so good evaporating. My eyes blurred. Fear had me up to my arse and was swallowing hard for more. 'I don't want to die,' I cried.

The bastard just squatted there naked, rocking on the balls of his feet, and watching me. His big, hard prick oozed pre-come. Waiting for me to die. Fucking cunt!

I was scared to death and whiter than a sheet but I'd grown up in King's Cross. No father or older brothers and a whore for a mum whose one mistake was me. I learnt my way around early and only had my looks and my smarts to go on.

I was up to my nipples with fear and sliding deeper into it. But ...

Death or no, this wanker wanted me. He wanted my arse and whatever else I would give.

And he couldn't have it once I was dead. He could only shag me whilst I lived.

Lights went on inside my head and I pulled my fine-looking arse right out of the jaws of fear.

I looked at Death again. He really did have a nice face. Good bones. High forehead. Beautiful blond curls I'd want to run my fingers through any other time.

And a wide chest. A bit more hair on it than I would have liked but ... He did have such a lovely dick.

I smiled and began to open my shirt. Fast. 'Do you bugger all the cute lads before they die?' I asked, tailoring one of my mum's lines to the situation. She was looking for an extra quid from her customers; I wanted life from this one of mine.

'I've not-' He studied me wistfully for several moments. 'You're the first in so long.'

I had my belt undone and zip down. I pushed my combat trousers over my arse and rolled back to him, my dick falling limply from the centre slit of my boxers.

I reached for him, between his legs. My fingers gripped his prick and formed a fist beneath his knob-end. Their tips wouldn't touch, he was so thick. In spite of the situation I found myself in, I had a familiar itch deep in my bum. Itching hard now it was. I smiled as my lips neared the dick of Death. I was going to have a good time while I was saving my arse. Nothing wrong with that.

He sat on the ground before me and spread his legs in invitation to make myself comfortable. I crawled between and looked up to his face as I hovered over him ready to impale my throat on his member. I smiled and stroked him slowly, pulling his foreskin over his helmet and rubbing it against his slit. 'You want it, don't you, mate?'

He moaned softly in reply.

I bent and nipped at the tightly bunched skin barely past the knob-end. He groaned and spread his legs wider. I pulled the skin back behind the collar of his helmet and licked thoroughly, feeling each shudder as it passed through his body. 'You want me to suck it, don't you?' He nodded, his eyes closed. 'What's in it for me then, mate?'

I'd let the sod know I wanted a deal as he made to sit up. I opened wide and dived. As my lips raced for his pubes, my hand shot up over his stomach onto his chest. Unerringly, my fingers found his first nipple as my throat opened and my tonsils spread wide.

'Oh!' he moaned as he fell back to the ground. I had him swallowed whole and began to work my throat muscles on his knob-end.

'Let yourself go, love,' I told him, pulling off just long enough to speak. 'Enjoy the ride because I'm going to eat you all up.' My gob went down his thick shaft again and I began to bob.

I didn't get into the suck as I usually did. I couldn't. I had five hours to live and my brain was looking for anything to make a deal with. The one thing I had any feeling about was I wasn't going to go easy.

His bollocks tightened fast, riding his shaft hard as my lips rode its length. I allowed myself to wonder just how long Death had gone without a bout in the kip. I smiled around his thick, young-tasting, hot monster sexing my throat as I followed that thought.

A long time, eh? And he sure seemed young enough, his equipment packet did. Would he stay erect after I had his load? Would he want my arse then?

Would he want me enough to trade? My options seemed few. It wasn't much but it was the best I had at the moment.

I'd service him regular-like for a reprieve. A pardon, more like. Maybe when I was sixty-five, old and grey, he could have me. Fucking hell! I'd service the bastard every day I lived. Even twice a day were he to want. Whenever and however.

His hands grabbed the back of my head, pulling my lips into his pubes and holding them there. His helmet pulsed far behind my tonsils as he ground his hips against my face. He blasted the back of my throat. Silently. He made no sound as his scrotum unloaded it's stuff. A river of sperm sprayed into me and kept coming, hot and thick.

I looked up along his body and saw his blue eyes studying me and he was as beautiful as I ever thought him to be. He placed his hands on either side of my head, pulling me gently off his dick. He smiled. 'That was good, Bri.'

I guessed I already ate up anything past the five hour mark and the bloody clock was still ticking. I smiled as sweetly as I could, wiggled my arse, and asked: 'You're going to keep it up for us, mate?'

He smiled back. 'You want it there then, do you?'

'Most any other place or time, I'd like just that - no strings. Yeah,' I answered him truthfully. 'It'd be a bit of fun, like. But, here and now, I want a deal.'

'A deal?' There was something in his voice I didn't recognise, and I didn't like. It made me break out in gooseflesh from head to toe.

'I want to live. I'm too young to die.'

'Your friend was your age.' He nodded to where Howell lay.

'Bugger that!' I growled and pulled hard on his prick, feeling it become steely hard so that even its foreskin wouldn't quite come over its helmet. 'This is me we're chatting about. I like me alive.'

'And I get to shag you? Pummel your arse good, then - with this?' He looked down to his dick I was holding. I nodded. 'How many times for your life, Bri?'

I stared at him and gulped. I blinked nervously. How many times? Was he talking about a relationship here, then? Well, he was a handsome bloke. 'My arse is yours. Whenever and however,' I told him and meant it.

'Come sit on it. That'll be the easiest for you.'

I looked around. At the gutted house, at the sun riding the mountain tops, at poor Howell lying there, the dead sniper between us, at the horse intently watching us. I shook my head. 'I'm not getting on top, not this lad. He wants his head still attached when he feels that prick of yours let loose inside.'

'How then?'

'Me lying down on my back with you between my legs. That way, one of their lads may get me in the leg, but he doesn't blow my bloody head off.' I lay back on the cool grass and felt bloody daft. 'Have we got a deal?' I asked as I spread my legs in invitation and made sure my rifle was close to my hand.

He raised my legs on his chest, hiking my arse off the ground. I was about to be shagged by a handsome bloke with a pole any man would wish for. It was pretty here where we were to do it. Quiet. Even serene. If I didn't look too closely at the burnt-out house. Or think about the dead bodies. Or remember who that dick's owner was.

'Shall I put it in, then?' he asked and I realised his knob-end was firmly situated at my entrance.

'Deal?' I gasped as he began to press himself against my tightest lips.

'If you come for me.'

I nodded, shut my eyes, and tried to force my sphincter to relax. It took every ounce of concentration to accommodate him as he began to penetrate me. I didn't worry about shooting my sperm, I got off on being shagged like a transie queen.

My hands went to his buttocks, grabbing them and guiding him into me. It didn't hurt, even though I wasn't lubed. I was just becoming fuller than I could remember being.

He leant into me, pushing my knees down on my chest. But he didn't bend over me. He stood on his knees pressing his monster into me, his hands on the back of my thighs pushing them down and raising my arse up that it met him entering it.

I moaned at his possession of me, the fullness of him within me, and how complete it made me feel. I told myself it'd be no imposition at all to shag with Death several times a day. The bloke definitely knew how to use his equipment to make a lad feel good. I was harder than when the Sergeant Major ploughed my bum after I'd just arrived at the company headquarters.

I took my fair-sized prick in hand and began to wank it slowly, just allowing myself the pleasure of the feel of the foreskin sliding over the helmet as his strokes into my bowel began to speed up. I watched his eight-pack flex between my spread thighs and felt myself sliding into the build-up of a sexual rush.

He reached down and pulled my hand away. He smiled as he took each of my hands in his and held them above my head as he began to pummel my bum hard. I stayed hard and was enjoying our shag well enough, but there was just enough pain I couldn't fall into the growing vortex that sexual couplings had to be for me to get off. This one hovered just beyond my reach.

His bollocks splatted as they crashed against my arsecheeks, higher with each new thrust. His pubes scratched the back of my balls. I began to sweat with too much prick bashing the inside walls of my bowel. My fingers clawed at his wrists and my hips ground against his groin as he ploughed into me time and again. My body sought release, the small extra push that'd give me my own orgasm as he had his. He pressed his body against mine hard, immobilising me more.

Pain and pleasure. I was nearly there, despite being unable to wank and grind. Just a bit more. Another minute - maybe less. It was going to be a good one. I could feel it in my arse and bollocks. I was being shagged the best I'd had in my life.

He bashed into me again. Holding himself there, as deep as he could get. I felt his helmet expand and his jizz splash hard against my bowel walls. Just one more stroke, lad, and I'm there too. Just one stroke, bastard. Take me over.

He pushed off of me, his dick pulling quickly out of me, and stood up. 'Thank you, Bri. I've needed that for so long.'

'When's the next time?' I asked seductively as I reached for my throbbing dick.

'There won't be one of those.' He turned toward the horse and took a step.

My head cleared instantly. I pushed myself to my feet and stared at his broad, firm back. 'We had a deal-' I cried.

'You didn't come.' He didn't turn back to me. He took another step toward the horse and I understood he was through with me - until he came to collect me later.

'Fucking cunt!' I screamed and threw myself at him.

I landed on his back, toppling him. I rode him to the ground. 'Bastard!' I growled against his shoulders. 'You made a bargain.'

I was still hard and my thighs girdled his spread thighs, my knees clutching his arse. He was winded. I raised off his back and aimed my prick at his hole. I rammed into him with all the strength I had.

He screamed. He tried to roll me off as I pushed the rest of my dick into his bumhole. 'No!' he shouted at me. 'Take it out! Get it out of me now!' I folded my arms tight around his chest and held on tight as he pushed himself to his knees. I humped into him. Once. Twice. I was nearly there. Just a bit more and I'd get off. I'd have my life. Our bargain would be sealed.

He continued to scream and buck as he grabbed my arms and began to prise them apart. I shagged his hole hard, not caring how deep I penetrated. Not caring if it felt good to him or not. I was going to get off having sex with him. I was going to come.

He had my arms in his hands and was twisting around to face me. My dick was barely inside him. I shut my eyes and shoved one more time. Hard. I smiled as my bollocks unloaded. With all my strength my groin shoved against his arse, my dick ploughed into him, pushing him back to the ground. My sperm sprayed his bowel walls.

'No!' he screamed and fell to the grass, pulling me from inside him. He gurgled but I heard no more words as load after load of my sperm sprayed his arse and back. I shut my eyes, knelt between his legs, and milked the last of my sperm onto him.

Come! The word was inside my head but I did not understand that at first. I opened my eyes and looked around for a speaker.

The white horse stood beside me. 'Nice horsey,' I mumbled and stroked its foreleg.

Come, warder, the voice came again and I realised it was inside my head, that there had been no word spoken. I stared at the horse.

'You ain't talking inside my head, are you?' I demanded, my fear rising.

We must hurry. Climb on my back and I will explain everything as we ride to our next pick up.

'You're the white horse Death rides!'

The horse nodded and I sensed laughter inside my head. I looked down at where the handsome blond bastard I had just shagged lay.

Flesh still clung to a few ribs but was disappearing fast. Bleached bone was crumbling into dust nearly as fast.

I rose trembling and backed away from the skeletal legs I'd been between.

'Death is dead?' I asked hesitantly.

He is. You aren't.

I froze. My mind was a kaleidoscope as I attempted to understand.

He was a good one. He lasted longer than most. He was intelligent even for a human. Come! There is no more time, Bri.

I looked behind the horse and saw them then. The handsome blond's ghost and a long queue of others behind him. Howell stood just behind the blond.

Manacled and waiting. None of them would look at me. I understood then.

'No!' I screamed.