Brendan Sullivan

Jerry D. Ennis

Wicked Game-Brendan Sullivan

The house is dark, save for a few candles flickering upstairs. Upon entry, I am immediately aware of the silence, save for the low rush of water from the master bathroom. I quietly make my way upstairs, a small smile playing on my lips. Your bedroom is perfectly quiet and dark...not a sign of life except for the illumination spilling from under the bathroom door. I take a chair and move it back into a darkened corner, my back to where you are relaxing in the tub. A few minutes pass before I hear the sound of water draining and the soft pad of your feet on the thick carpet. As you enter the bedroom, you falter slightly, fumbling for the light switch. A slight wave of my hand snuffs out the soft flicker in the bathroom, plunging the upstairs into total darkness. I can feel you freeze in the center of the room, disoriented and unsure. You take a hesitant step forward and I rise, deliberately allowing my footfall to be heard. A sharp intake of your breath stops time for an instant as I wait for your next move. Indecision weighs on you as you attempt to get your bearings. Before you can breathe, I am on my feet, my eyes having no trouble adjusting to the lack of light. I move in a very slow circle around you, aware of your quickened breath and the racing tremble of blood that floods under your skin. Closer...I can feel the fine brush of soft hair on your arm as it prickles against my hand. What is that...the trace of a finger as it moves down your throat...the brush of a hand grazing one soft breast...the graze of cool lips across your shoulders the chill down your spine at a slip of my skin against your bare back... And then one gentle tumble of towel as it drops from your body in a soft fall of intentions. You reach out to pick it up....

"Leave it"

I feel you tense and the air around us crackles. I hear your breath grow ragged with anticipation and just a hint of fear. My clothes fall in the soft thud of silk on air. The feel of cool, taut skin brushing your nipples as muscle meets soft flesh...the chilled hardness of my stomach as it brushes against your belly...the insistence of my thigh against your own... A half whimper of your weak protest trying to salvage your good intentions...

"No, don't"

I bite the protest from your lips as my tongue slips into your mouth. Black leather runs the length of your body, stroking your skin with the anticipation of sin and blood...starting from your shoulders, running the length of your back and down the flanks of your thighs...coming to rest on that soft mound half hidden from my sight. The caress of leather between your legs as I slip one finger into you, pulling you towards me. My mouth stops the soft moan from finding air as I lead you over to the bed.

"Lie down"

You start to speak, your words stopped by the palm of my hand pressed over your hot, ripe little mouth. I want to wage war on it for starters...an aperitif of the senses, so to speak. Your eyes shift uneasily to the foot of the bed as if you can read my mind. Following your gaze, I catch the standing mirror...a heavy wooden affair on a marble pedestal. With a low chuckle I press myself against you, my foot catching the corner of the pedestal and snaking it around to the side of the bed, offering a perfect view of the two of us stretched out on the quilt.

"Perhaps being able to see what I am going to do to you will make the lesson harder to forget, hhhm?"

A frisson of fear, laced with the languid honey of anticipation, perfumes the room and electrifies the space between us. It runs under your skin, spreading in a fine web across each taut nerve, whetting my appetite for what is to come.

I want you open to me tonight...I need your resistance to crumble and shatter like the ashes of a fragile ghost.

I peel away your first layer the damp wisp of silk that clings to your inner thigh like a lost prayer, my hands spreading you over the satin coverlet that pools under your sleek body. Tonight I will obliterate your boundaries - that fine edge where pain bleeds into reason and seduces the senses, honing each sensation into the delicate art of pleasure. Your first taste - the thin whistle of a finely crafted leather scourge -  breaks the tense silence that has built like summer heat in the room.   A pale welt blooms into a thin ribbon of crimson on the delicate skin of your belly, puckering as my lips linger upon it, teasing the faint raw edge.  Your fingers wrap around my wrists in a silent supplication of mercy...a commodity that will not be offered to you this time. My hands grasp your own, fingers threading through yours, drawing them over your head to press against the intricate wrought iron headboard of the bed. The thick metal is a cool tease on your warm skin as I bind your wrists with a heavy silken cord. The faint whisper of your protest is cut short by the sudden bruise of my mouth upon yours, my teeth gently piercing the tender skin of your inner lip. I can feel your body press a dare into mine as you struggle slightly under my weight.

A second lash ribbons your thigh - the tingle growing into a shock that curls in the pit of your stomach and spreads into something warm and feral, lurching your senses to the edge, and threatening to catch you off balance. I watch myself reflected in the slits of your eyes...sensing the capitulation that weighs in the balance for us both.

I can feel the race of your heart under the soft white curve of your breasts...the hot trickle of sweat sheening your skin like satin as my hands slide under your buttocks, fingers following where your imagination refuses to go. Your hips twitch as I slowly explore your last taboo, savoring another inhibition destroyed at my command.

The third slash of leather arches your back off the mattress, the hiss from your lips punctuating the night with livid color. My arms wrap around your hips, spreading you like molten velvet over my lap, as I push into you with a fierceness that tears your resolution and leaves it in tattered ribbons. Our bodies collide repeatedly, your skin becoming slick and damp, the friction between us a music that splits the night into perfection. I can feel the familiar tremble starting deep within you, surging up into your blood...your muscles...your bones…threatening to shake the bed apart as it violently rolls over us both. Your collapse is complete...a surrender you did not anticipate or ask for…as you curl into the shelter of my arms, your foot running the length of my leg.

One last quiver dances over your nerves…I can taste the tiny pulse in your throat where it blooms...a sweet acquiescence to what hangs in my heart....

LAYOVER IN CHICAGO-Jerry D. Ennis

She came to visit me as I knew she would.  It was a cloudy day in the fall, and she wore a heavy coat.  Her black hair was now streaked with thin slivers of gray and the signs of age were present on her face, but she was still beautiful.  She was looking for me.   I called out to her, but she couldn’t hear me.  Searching the long, black, granite wall, she came closer, looking intently for me among the other 58,194 names.  Then she found me, and her delicate fingers traced the letters of my name.  She began to cry.  I could feel her touch, and her thoughts came to me through the stone.  She was remembering me.  Tracing the deep letters with her gentle touch, she stared at my name with eyes that were still brown, but full of sorrow now, and she could hear me.  I began to tell her how it had been with me, how it had felt, and of the things she couldn’t have known.  It was the whole story.

**

 I was only seventeen when I enlisted so they sent me to the Tenth Marine Regiment stationed at Camp Lejune, North Carolina.  It was part of the Second Marine Division assigned to the Fleet Marine Force Atlantic.  The Tenth was the division’s artillery regiment, and I was a Field Radioman assigned to the Mortar Battery. 

One thing I knew as well as my M-14 Rifle.   I wasn’t going to see any part of the war being stuck on the East Coast.  When they came around asking for volunteers I tried my best to get my name on the list, but I was told I was too young to go.   Some congressman came up with the stupid idea not to send seventeen year olds over.  Well I was a Marine, why shouldn’t I go?  The majority of the other Marines in my unit had already been, so they weren’t having much luck recruiting new volunteers.  Most of us only get one war, and I was in danger of missing mine. 

Finally after six months of stateside inspections and maneuvers, the Career Planning Sergeant happily informed me I was now old enough to go.  I would get thirty days leave and then report to Staging Battalion at Camp Pendleton California.  My eighteenth birthday would occur in Okinawa.  It was June of 1967, and I was on my way to the Republic of Vietnam.

I took a bumpy bus ride from Jacksonville to Raleigh, and then a cab to the Raleigh/Durham Airport where I caught my first flight.  During the war most of us flew military standby, which meant if there was an extra seat available you could go, but most of the airlines treated us pretty good and went out of their way to try and get us a seat.  My first leg was in a DC-3, twin engine, prop job from Raleigh/Durham to Washington, D.C., with continuing service to Chicago, O’Hare.  I was to change planes in Chicago for my last flight to Los Angeles, and then another bus ride home to the small agricultural town in Central California where I was raised.

When flying military standby you were required to wear the dress green uniform, and I had made Lance Corporal with the Tenth.  I was proud of the new stripe with the crossed rifles underneath it.  I got a window seat and was all settled in reading my orders again.  I was getting a lot of looks and stares from the other passengers, some good, and some bad.  The aisle seat next to me remained vacant as the stewardesses made their final check for departure.

I felt a light pressure on my shoulder.  “Is your seat belt fastened Marine?” 

Her uniform consisted of a light blue tight skirt, blue jacket with white blouse underneath, and a funny little blue hat with gold wings on it.  She was in her early thirties, with short black hair, and bright red lipstick. 

I smiled at her and said, “Yes M’am,” just like they taught me. 

She smiled back at me, her deep brown eyes sparkling while she squeezed my shoulder a little tighter.  “It’s Clare.  My name is Clare, and if there’s anything you need during the flight call me, okay.”

I nodded, and she patted my shoulder before continuing down the aisle to check on the other passengers.  She was slim and pretty maneuvering down the aisle, and I felt a little guilty staring at her firm ass, but I hadn’t seen much ass lately, so I stared a long time enjoying the bouncy motions.

It was a short flight to D. C., but she managed to fill me up with cokes and all the little bags of peanuts I could eat.  We flew over the city, and I got a great view of the Pentagon.   A lot of decisions were being made down there, maybe even about my future, who knows?  After landing, all the other passengers got off, leaving me sitting in my window seat alone.  I was the only one continuing on to Chicago.

When the plane was clear she walked back to me and leaned over the aisle seat.  “We’ve got about a half hour here if you want to get off for awhile and walk around.”

“That’s okay.  I’ll just wait here,” I said.

“Mind if I sit with you?” She asked, in her smooth cosmopolitan voice.

I nodded, and she sat in the aisle seat next to me and pulled a package of cigarettes out of her purse.  She lit one like an experienced smoker and reclined in the seat, pushing her shoes off she began rubbing her stocking covered feet together.  Taking a long drag from the cigarette she exhaled a cloud of hazy blue smoke, and then sighed deeply.

“You’re going over there aren’t you?” she said, looking at me intently.

“How’d you guess that?”

“You don’t have much fruit salad on your chest,” she said, pointing to my only ribbon which was The National Defense Medal perched all by itself above the rifle sharpshooter badge.

“I’ll be in Okinawa for my eighteenth birthday, and then on to Vietnam from there,” I said smiling at her.

“My god, you should still be in high school,” she exclaimed, a concerned look on her face.

“I didn’t like high school much.  Seemed like a waste of time to me.”

She took my hand and squeezed it while she took another drag off of her cigarette.  “You be very careful over there,” she said, and her hand was warm and smooth.

“I will, just for you Clare,” I said, squeezing her hand back.

“You’re cute,” she said, leaning over and kissing me lightly on the cheek.

“I’ll never wash this side of my face again,” I said, squeezing her hand.

“You should be back in high school,” she giggled, and then releasing my hand, she stood up as the first passengers began to board the plane for Chicago.

The plane filled up with businessmen and a few women with children, but I lucked out, the aisle seat next to me remained empty.   A number of the businessmen were ordering drinks, and they kept Clare and her partner very busy all the way to final approach at O’Hare.   She kept smiling at me as she passed even though she couldn’t stop to talk.  The businessmen were sipping their mixed drinks and giving me a lot of “Oh brother looks.”   I don’t know if they were jealous of the uniform, or just put out that I seemed to be attracting more attention than them, dressed in their five hundred dollar suits.  I got my uniform for many hours of work and sweat.  The blood would come later.  I envied them for the drinks they were sipping, but I knew Clare couldn’t break the rules and sell me one.  If she could, she would probably just give it to me on the house.  I was dwelling on it.  We were old enough to fight for our country but not old enough to have a beer.  Okay I thought, just let the underage guys in the military drink, and screw the college kids.  What an idea, and me only a Lance Corporal. 

When we landed in Chicago, I sat in my seat until I was the last one to exit the plane.  Clare smiled at me and shook my hand.

“It’s Jerry.  My name is Jerry,” I said, smiling at her.

“I hope you have good luck Jerry, and I’m glad that I met you,” she said with a slight catch in her voice.

“Hey Clare, do you mind if I write to you while I’m over there.  I don’t have much family, or a girlfriend or anything.”

“I’d love it if you wrote to me,” she said excitedly.  She wrote her address on a cocktail napkin, and I folded it and slipped it into my wallet.  “You better write,” she said, and then she gave me a long hug and kissed me on the other cheek.

“Now I can’t wash my face at all,” I laughed.  “I’ll write Clare, I promise.” 

**

O’Hare was bustling and pretty much full to the gills.  I weaved my way between the schools of humanity to the gate for my departure to Los Angeles and checked in with Angie at the ticket counter. 

“Oh I’m so sorry, but we are really full up,” she said with a frown on her chubby little face.  “I can get you on a flight tomorrow morning.  It leaves at eleven, but that’s the best I can do.”

“So do you guys get me a hotel room or something?” I asked.

“No, you’re on your own.  The military standby ticket is cheaper than regular fare, so you have to make your own arrangements for the layover.”

“So, can I sleep here at the airport?  I don’t want to pay for a hotel room.”

“I’m not supposed to say, but I’ve seen some soldiers sleep here,” she said in a whisper.

“I’m not a soldier, Angie.  I’m a Marine,” I replied, taking my ticket for the flight tomorrow morning.

When the flight for L. A. boarded the place emptied out quite a bit.  I found a couple of empty seats and stretched out in one, sliding my orders and my ticket behind my back.  Loosening my shoelaces, I wriggled my feet around inside the spit shined shoes, and held my garrison hat, or piss cutter as we called it, in my lap.  I leaned my head back and felt the sharp ridge of the plastic seat back in my neck.  It was going to be a long fucking night I thought as I dropped off into a restless sleep.  A Marine sleeps whenever he can and wherever he can.  He can even sleep standing up leaning on his rifle, and I’ve done that too many times to count.  It seems like, we the Marines, were always short on sleep.

In the very back of my mind, too far to reach when awake, I heard my name repeated softly and a slight pressure on my knee.  I warily opened my eyes and saw Clare looking down at me holding my knee.

“What happened to your flight to L.A.? She asked.

“It’s booked,” I said groggily.  “I’m on the eleven o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“You can’t sleep here, it’s inhuman.  Why don’t you get a hotel room?”

“Clare, I’ve got better things to spend my hard earned bucks on than a hotel room.  I’ll be fine here.”

“You poor thing,” she said feeling sorry for me.  “Okay here’s what we’ll do,” she said, her female mind going 100mph faster than mine.  “I’ve got a room with a pull out sleeper couch.   The airline rents it and usually two of us stew’s sleep there, but I’m by myself tonight.  I’ve got a ten o’clock flight out in the morning, so we can share a cab both ways.  What would you say to clean sheets and a mattress instead of the plastic chair?”

“I’d say you saved me from a fate worse than death,” I grinned at her, and the funny thing was, she didn’t smile or anything, just looked at me like she was trying to remember something.

We took a hectic cab ride in heavy traffic to her hotel, and I bought a toothbrush and razor in the gift shop.  She said I could use her deodorant and shaving cream saving me a few more dollars.  It was a short elevator ride to the fifteenth floor, me holding my paper bag, and Clare pulling her flight suitcase along with her.  The folks in the elevator were openly staring at us trying to figure it out.  I felt important and worldly, thinking that they thought Clare and I were together.  She smiled and put her arm around my waist as we walked out of the elevator giving them the full treatment and then laughing with me as we walked to the room.

The room had a living area with a separate bedroom, and the sleeper couch was in front of a large color television set.  A small refrigerator hummed in the corner, and the room was decorated tastefully with light blue curtains and green shag carpet.  Even though the windows were closed I could hear the traffic noise from the street below.

She dumped her suitcase in the bedroom and then came out standing with her hands on her hips.  “I don’t feel like going out, do you mind if we order something in?” She asked.

“Whatever you want Clare.  I just feel good to be here,” I replied.

“Have you ever had a Chicago style pizza?  They’re a couple of inches thick and weigh a ton, crammed full of pepperoni, tomato sauce and cheese.  Want to try one with me?”

“Man that sounds great,” I grinned at her.

She ordered the pizza delivery from a famous pizza restaurant that was a couple of blocks from the hotel, and then she went back into the bedroom.   I could hear her unzipping the suitcase.

“Might as well get comfortable,” she yelled from the bedroom.  “Take your shoes off, and hang your jacket and shirt up in the closet there.”

I released the brass belt buckle and unbuttoned my jacket pulling it off my shoulders and hanging it up in the closet.  I could hear her feminine clothes whispering in the bedroom as she removed her uniform, and I listened intently enjoying the female sounds.  I removed my long sleeve tropical shirt and tie hanging them up, and then I sat on the couch and pulled those hot spit shined shoes off.  I felt comfortable in my white cotton T-Shirt and dress green pants. 

“Turn the T.V. on,” Clare yelled from the bedroom.

I turned the set on and flipped the VHF channel knob around until I locked onto an episode of “Sea Hunt”.   Mike Nelson was well underwater and swimming madly when Clare came out of the bedroom.  She was barefoot, and her shapely feet were small and cute with crimson painted toenails to match her lipstick.  The bright blue T-Shirt adequately covered her peach-size breasts.  The name of the airlines she worked for was blazoned across the front.  The tight white shorts were thin, showing a lot of sleek leg, and I could see the outline of pink panties underneath. 

“I’m going to fix myself a drink,” she said walking over to the small frig.  “You want anything, Coke or Pepsi?”

“I’ll have a drink too,” I said confidently, testing the waters.

She gave me a sly grin, “You drink too huh?  Okay, in the Marines at seventeen and you drink.  Looks like I’ve got a live one on my hands,” she said, giggling and shaking her head. 

“Scotch on the rocks if you have it please,” I said in a serious tone.  “We use to drink a little bit after the football games, helped heal the bruises quicker.” I smiled back at her.

“I’ll weaken this one time Jerry, but you better never tell anyone.”

She bent over and pulled out a plastic tray from alongside the frig, and it was full of little airline bottles of assorted liquors.   The white shorts wedged into the cleft between her firm, rounded buttocks, and I groaned involuntarily at the beautiful sight of her.

“You okay?” she asked looking back at me over that perfect ass.

“Yeah, just relaxing,” I lied, trying to cover the massive erection that gripped my penis like setting cement.

“Relax away kiddo,” she said standing up and pouring a scotch for me and vodka for her.

Handing me the scotch she sat on the couch next to me and picked up the T.V. guide.  We clinked our glasses together and both took a sip of the drinks.  The scotch burned my throat and was pleasantly sharp with the charcoal flavor I had grown to enjoy. 

“Hey look, The Mummy is on in fifteen minutes with Boris Karloff,” she exclaimed handing me the T.V. guide and changing the channel on the television.  “That’s one of my favorite movies,” she added.

She fixed me another drink before the movie started, and shortly after, the pizza arrived.  Pulling out her wallet she refused to let me pay for the pizza saying it was her treat.  She poured us a couple of glasses of red wine from the small bottles, and we began to eat the pizza.  We didn’t talk for awhile, and I ate three pieces to her one.  It was gooey and hot, the spicy pepperoni exploding in my mouth, and filling it with pleasure.  Clare encouraged me to eat more, so I had two more pieces, and she had a second, finishing off the giant pizza. 

“I’m not getting you drunk, am I?” She asked pouring more wine for us.

“I can drink a lot Clare.  I just feel good ya know.”

She lit another cigarette and delicately smoked it while we watched the rest of the movie.  Clare was an elegant smoker.  Some women I had noticed looked very haggard and used when they smoked, sucking on the cigarette like it was a fix for a heroin addict.  It looked crass and dirty.  Clare made it look sheik and erotic.  I liked the red lipstick prints on the white filter tip of the cigarette.  The pleasant thought of her lips pressed against mine flashed across my mind like a message on one of those electronic billboards.  I saw her glance at my painfully obvious erection, and I crossed my legs trying to hide it.  A few more cigarettes and glasses of wine later the excellent movie had ended.

‘Well kiddo, let’s get you set up for bed,” she said, yawning and covering her mouth with the back of her small hand.  We pulled the sofa sleeper out, and she fluffed up the sheets and blanket for me.  Fussing around she removed two large pillows from the closet and plopped them down on the bed.  Standing with her hands on her hips again she said, “You should be able to get a good nights sleep here.”

“It’s better than what I’m used to Clare,” I said, feeling the smooth clean sheets.

She smiled at me and gave me another soft kiss on the cheek.  “I figure if we’re up and around by eight o’clock that will give us plenty of time to get some breakfast and get to the airport, okay with you?”

‘It’s a hell of a lot better than Reveille at five-thirty Clare, and thanks for feeding me and putting me up.”

“You’re a good kid, Jerry,” she said, and I saw a single tear trickle down her cheek.

“Mind if I leave the T.V. on low for awhile till I get sleepy?”

She wiped her eyes and said in a husky voice, “Won’t bother me a bit, goodnight kiddo.”

She went into the bedroom and closed the door.  I took my pants off and lined up the creases before hanging them in the closet and pulled the black dress socks off my feet, stuffing them inside of my shoes as was my habit.  My white Jockey Briefs clung tightly to my swollen cock, and I noticed the wide, purple head protruding past the elastic waistband.  Maybe if I took a pee it would go away for awhile.  I quietly went into the bathroom and pulled my shorts down.  My throbbing cock was standing up like a flagpole, and in order to pee without spraying the floor, I had to push it down with my hands and squat slightly to hit the target.  I didn’t get that sharpshooter badge for nothing though, and I was able to complete the mission without spilling a drop on the floor. 

I found an episode of “Star Trek” on television, and then crawled into bed, propping my head up using both of the fluffy pillows.  Taking the pee had worked, causing my cock to shrink down to a more manageable size. I was thirty minutes into the program, enjoying that brain dead state that television brings out in most of us, when I heard the bedroom door open and her bare feet padding on the carpet.  Turning my head, I was able to catch a quick glimpse of her pink panties and thin white baby doll top before she stepped into the bathroom and shut the door.  The light peered out from underneath the door, and I heard the whisper of her panties being pulled down, and then the soft trickle of urine into the toilet.  I was tempted to turn the television down even further so I could hear all of it, but what I heard so far had caused my cock to get achingly big again, and I didn’t want to take the chance of her seeing me.  She flushed the toilet, and the light went off.

Her bare feet padded on the carpet again, and I kept my eyes glued to the T.V. screen.  I smelled her lavender scented perfume and felt the mattress move as she sat down next to me on the sofa bed. 

“I can’t sleep yet.  You want to talk for awhile?” she asked.

I turned and looked at her.  She had crossed her shapely legs, and one firm buttock was facing me covered only by the thin pink panties.  She lit another cigarette, and the flame from her lighter allowed me to see her perky breasts and large brown nipples through the sheer fabric of her white top.  Even though she had her legs crossed I could also see the dark patch of her pubic hair through the thin panties.  My thick cock jerked involuntarily under the sheets.  She stared at it, and then smiled at me waiting for my answer.

“I like to talk to you Clare, and I’m not sleepy either.”

She took a soft drag off the cigarette, and I noticed that her nipples had stiffened, pushing out the fabric of her negligee.

“You’re so young to be going over there, in a war I mean, and so many are dying.  Do you have any idea what you’re chances are of making it back okay?”

“According to the latest stats, or the most recent scuttlebutt, the odds are ten to one in my favor.  One out of every ten of us that goes over gets killed.”

“My god that’s terrible,” she wailed at me.  “You could lose everything before you’ve even had a chance to really live.  You said you didn’t have a girlfriend.   Have you even had sex yet?”

“Only with my hand Clare,” I grinned at her.

“Stop it,” she said giggling and slapping me on the chest.

I caught her tiny, soft hand in mine and massaged the back of it while I squeezed it softly.  She snuffed her cigarette out in the ashtray and leaned over resting her head on my chest and slipping her hand out of mine.  Her hair smelled like fresh apricots, and I brushed the smooth flaxen strands with my fingers.  She slowly moved her hand underneath the sheets and down my muscular body until it was resting on my tight abdomen just above the elastic band of my briefs where the swollen head of my aching cock was waiting.

“I’ll weaken this one time Jerry, but you better never tell anyone,” she breathed softly into my T-Shirt.

Her warm, soft fingers found the thick, purple head of my cock and softly began to circle it like feathers.  An electric shock went through me, and my body went rigid as I groaned loudly. “I won’t Clare.  I won’t ever tell anyone,” I moaned as her soft warm hand went further down caressing the swollen, stiff shaft of my throbbing cock.

“You may be young but you’re all grown up down here,” Clare sighed as she measured my thick, eight inch cock with her fingers. 

Dipping her hand inside my shorts she felt the base of my shaft and caressed my heavy balls already full of semen.  I groaned loudly again from the feel of her warm hands on my cock, and it took all of my control to keep from flooding my shorts with an overflowing load of hot come.

“We don’t want this to happen too soon,” she said, slipping her hand out of my shorts and standing up.  “Take your T-Shirt and shorts off,” she said in a silky voice.

I quickly pulled my T-Shirt over my head and threw it on the floor.  Still under the sheets, I slid my shorts off and threw them down also.  The cool sheets felt smooth on my throbbing, free cock, and it jerked like it had a mind of its own.

“You’re in great shape,” she said, looking at my chest and shoulders.

I lay on the mattress, watching her intently as she was illuminated by the glow of the television screen.  The pink panties clung tightly to her rounded hips and the bulge of her dark pubic mound.  Her abdomen was firm and sleek with a cute, rounded in navel.  She took the bottom of her negligee and slowly pulled it up and over her head, dropping it on the floor.  Her medium-size breasts were firm and taught the large, brown nipples stiff and protruding.  She stood there for a moment, giving me a penetrating look as she hooked her fingers under the elastic of the pink panties.

“Oh Clare, you are absolutely beautiful,” I moaned in admiration.

“You’d say anything right now, wouldn’t you?”  She grinned.

“No Clare, I really mean it.  You can stop right now, but I still think you are truly lovely.”

“What a talker you are,” she smiled again. 

Stretching the elastic of the panties out she slowly slid them down her hips until I could see the top of her thick, black, curly bush, and then further down exposing her plump, rounded pussy lips separated by the sweet crease between them.  Stepping out of the panties she tossed them on my chest and stood naked in front of me, her olive colored skin glowing in the dim light from the T.V.  I drank in the sight of her body like it was a magnum of champagne.  It was the first time I had seen a real, live, naked woman, and I hadn’t got around to tasting champagne yet.

Clare moved towards me slowly, the sleek muscles of her athletic body rippling underneath her supple, olive colored skin.  Moving one smooth leg over my waist, she straddled my expectant body and threw the sheet off of me, allowing my throbbing cock to feel the cool night air.  I saw her thick, curly, black bush, and the plump round lips of her pussy opened slightly showing the warm, pink flesh within.  Leaning forward she pressed her heavenly, soft breasts against my firm chest and slid her plump, rounded ass back until my steel-hard cock was resting against it.  She delicately ran her fingers through my short, brown hair lowering her pretty face towards mine.  Her soft, moist lips found mine, and her sweet tongue forced my mouth open.  I groaned into her mouth as her tongue darted inside of my hungry lips, exploring my teeth until it found my own tongue and circled it.  She kissed me long and deep, her mouth flavored with the red wine and the faint taste of tobacco.

She planted soft kisses on my cheeks and eyelids before saying, “The first one will happen quickly kiddo, but don’t worry, we’ve got all night.”

“Oh Clare, you’re so beautiful,” I breathed into her face.

“Shh, don’t talk, just feel me,” she sighed, covering my aching lips with her wet, full mouth.

I felt her large, stiff, brown nipples pushing against my chest, and then she reached back with one hand and grasped the shaft of my swollen cock.  She spread her knees wide apart and maneuvered my throbbing shaft until the wide, thick head was nestled against her soft, warm pussy.  The fine, curly hair wisped around the spear of my aching cock like the gossamer threads of a silk scarf as she pushed it forward until her plump pussy lips opened slightly.  The heat of her slick pussy scalded my ever-seeking cock as she rubbed the wide head up and down her slit, covering it with her sweet juices. 

Still kissing me deeply, she worked my thick cock slowly into her steamy pussy, spreading the plump lips apart to accommodate my girth as the thick head slipped smoothly into her hot insides.  Moving her shapely ass back and forth she worked my aching cock into her inch by inch until she was completely impaled with my eager rod of flesh.

She moaned softly breaking the kiss, and holding her face inches from mine she looked deeply into my eyes and asked, “Do I feel good kiddo?”

“You’re so hot and tight, it’s heaven Clare,” I groaned.

She smiled still looking deeply into my eyes as her rounded hips began to move back and forth slowly, allowing my turgid cock to slip in and out of her satiny, slick pussy.  I managed four complete strokes into her hot, clutching pussy before I felt the huge load of thick come in my heavy balls begin its tingly trip up the shaft of my straining cock.  The big purple head spread wide like a cobra before it strikes.

“I’m going to finish Clare.  I can’t help it,” I breathed into her pretty face.

“Yes, I can feel you,” she moaned.  “Give it to me kiddo.  Give me all of it,” and then she opened her mouth and smothered mine, sucking on my tongue as she moved her hips faster and faster.

My tortured, thick cock plunged in and out of her adoring pussy, making smacking noises as her plump ass bounced on my thighs.  I groaned loudly into her comforting mouth as the first thick jet of my hot come erupted into the depths of her scalding pussy.   She whimpered back like a little puppy as she sucked on my tongue and squeezed my erupting cock with her experienced vaginal muscles, demanding more of my thick, white come.  My balls contracted shooting another thick stream of semen into her already full pussy, and the unbelievably pleasurable ache in my cock burned into my brain like a branding iron, so that I would never forget what it felt like at that moment.  Clare whimpered into my mouth again as I emptied my balls into her, shooting three more spurts of hot come into her slick, wet pussy, and then the kiss became tender as we both held each other tightly enjoying the warm, complete feel of our bodies pressed together.

After I had recovered, Clare moved her lips away and sat up with my still erect penis buried deep inside of her.  She leaned over and found her cigarettes quickly lighting one and taking a long drag, inhaling deeply as she moved her shapely ass around until she was in a comfortable position with my long, thick cock inside of her.  Holding the smoke in her lungs for a moment she exhaled smoothly and the blue cloud of smoke hovered over my head. 

She shook her head from side to side slowly, tousling her short black hair and smiling down at me.  Her medium-size perky breasts shook energetically, and the thick, brown nipples extended and crinkled with desire. 

She took another puff and said, “Not bad for your first time kiddo, you’re pretty big.  How do you feel?”

“I didn’t know life could be this good Clare,” I sighed.  “I wish it could last forever.”

“Feel my breasts Jerry,” she said in a throaty voice and then took another puff off of the cigarette.

I reached up with my large hands and grasped her full, soft melons lightly squeezing them and lifting them up, feeling the weight of them.  She moaned from my touch and continued to smoke delicately as I massaged her perfect breasts, marveling at the smoothest, softest things I had ever felt.  Holding her tempting breasts in my hands, and watching her smoke while I squeezed and played with them, aroused my still erect cock again, and I could feel it noticeably swell inside of Clare as it climbed further up into her incomparable pussy.

She snuffed the cigarette out as I began to squeeze and pull gently on her stiff, brown nipples, twisting them with my fingers, and she moaned deeply touching my hands with hers while her hips began to move slightly, encouraging my swelling cock to its full length.  Her head tilted back, and her eyes closed as she began to rock back and forth slowly on my thick cock.

“Let me suck on your nipples, Clare,” I pleaded.

She smiled and leaned over me until her firm breasts were brushing my face.  I guided one of the thick, brown nipples into my eager lips and gently sucked on it, pulling at the resilient, tender flesh while my mouth flooded with moisture.   Clare moaned passionately moving her hips a little faster, causing my engorged cock to plunge in and out of her willing, all- encompassing pussy. 

“Bite them,” Clare hissed at me, offering her other thick nipple to my lips. 

I gently clamped my teeth down on the succulent nipple while I massaged the other one with my thumb and finger.

“Push into me.  Fuck me, Jerry,” Clare moaned.

I thrust my hips up to meet her downward movement, and my long, thick cock invaded her wet pussy to depths that had not been touched before.  Clare whimpered and then moaned loudly as I began to slam my cock into her delicate pussy, faster and faster, while I alternately sucked on her tasty, thick nipples.  I felt powerful, and my big cock was making a huge impression on Clare as it plunged in and out of her juicy depths, making her whimper and moan in ecstasy.  

I went faster and harder until Clare sat up again, taking her breasts away from me.  She began bouncing on my cock in rhythm with my thrusts savagely demanding all of it inside of her until my balls felt the tender flesh of her pussy lips.  Her full, perky breasts bounced up and down erotically as she pounded her firm ass into my thighs, and I slammed my thick cock into her hot pussy seeking the pagan fulfillment I had felt earlier. 

“Now as hard as you can,” Clare hissed, “as hard as you can.”

I was burying my cock into her full length as hard as I could, and the sofa bed springs were squeaking like a pack of rats at a cheese factory.  She screamed loudly, and I felt her vagina squeeze my cock like an iron vice.  Her body rocked back and forth as her head fell back, and with her eyes closed she screamed again as I continued to slam into her pussy, dealing out plunging blows with my thick cock, one after the other, until I couldn’t go any faster.  Clare dug her fingers into my shoulders, screaming one more time as her intense orgasm overwhelmed her sexy body, and her tender pussy smothered my cock with hot, sweet juices.

Clare stopped and shook her head as if her short hair was wet.  She took a couple of deep breaths and sighed before dismounting me.  My cock, still covered with her slick moisture, shined thick and bright in the dimly lit room.  Clare quickly got on her knees with her head on the other pillow and her firm shapely ass elevated in the air.

“Put it in me from behind kiddo,” Clare said in a thick sleepy voice.

I quickly moved in behind her my cock jutting out in front of me, seeking the warm wetness that had been temporarily taken away from it.

Clare reached around and spread her plump pussy lips apart with her fingers, inviting my throbbing cock in.

“Put it in slow, and then fuck me for as long as you want,” Clare purred, spreading her pussy lips further apart so the entrance to her tempting, pink slit was open and ready for me.

Placing the wide, swollen head at her small opening I pushed it in slowly, and it slid smoothly without resistance into the scalding tunnel of Clare’s womanhood.  Once I was in she moved her hands back to either side of her head on the pillow and balled them into little fists while I stroked inch after inch of my long cock into her accepting pussy.  I squeezed her firm buttocks with my hands as I began to plunge in and out of her in a steady rhythm enthralled with the sight of my cock penetrating her pussy.  I could smell the aroma of her pussy as her slick juices flowed abundantly around my thick cock, and I slammed into her harder and faster until her rounded buttocks jiggled from the force of my thrusts.

“Faster, please faster, oh fuck me Jerry,” Clare groaned as another orgasm approached her sensuous body.

I plunged into her viciously while my come filled balls bounced against her thick bush, and her sweet ass bounced in front of my eyes.  “Here it comes Clare,” I groaned as I felt the thick come traveling up my long shaft with that aching, pleasurable feeling again.

“Do it to me, kiddo.  Do it to me again,” Clare moaned as she finished, and her vaginal muscles gripped my cock tightly.

My cock erupted and spewed a long stream of hot come into Clare as I penetrated her with the full length of my thick shaft.  She gasped and uttered several short screams while I dug my fingers into her ripe buttocks.  I flooded her eager pussy with a second and third gusher of plentiful come, and I continued to thrust into her until my balls were empty and the sensitive head of my un-circumcised cock tickled so badly I couldn’t stand it any longer. 

She held me for a long time after that, her smooth, sleek, warm flesh pressed against mine while she gently kissed me on the face and mouth.  Then she turned over snuggling her firm, shapely ass against me, and she began to snore softly.  I also drifted off into a dreamless fog of sleep.

We were late the next morning, so breakfast consisted of a giant cinnamon roll and hot, black coffee while we hurriedly dressed.

“Sorry about the breakfast kiddo, but we’ve got to hurry, or I’ll miss my flight,” Clare yelled from the bedroom.

“It’s better than I’m used to Clare,” I shouted back, my mouth full of cinnamon roll.  I didn’t want to make her late, so I dressed quickly and was ready to go before her.

“Your fast kiddo,” she said, coming out of the bedroom fully dressed and pulling her flight suitcase behind her.

She held my hand all the way to the airport as the cab zoomed through traffic to get us there on time.  I knew it would be quick at the airport, so I studied her face and listened intently to her smooth, soft voice, implanting the memory of Clare into my mind deeply enough to last for the rest of my life.  She kissed me quickly at the airport, made me promise to write again, and then she was gone. 

**

I wrote to Clare as often as I could.  She answered every letter and even threw a few more in.   She wrote that she worried about me constantly and avoided news and casualty reports about Vietnam because they upset her for days after.  I looked forward to every letter from her, and sometimes they came in groups of two or three with that lavender perfume she used soaked into the envelopes.  We never mentioned that night in Chicago to each other, but every time I smelled her perfume I remembered the erotic feeling of her body against mine, the taste of her sweet lips, and the softness of her breasts.  

When I was in Cua Viet Clare wrote me that she was getting married.  He was a doctor, and a fine man who had two children from a prior marriage.  She was bubbling over about it in the letter.  I was glad for her but jealous at the same time.  I guess in the back of my mind I was hoping Clare and I would get together when I finished my tour.  I knew now that would be impossible.  She continued to write even after the wedding, and I answered all of her letters.  I couldn’t do anything else.  I loved Clare.

During October of 1968 I was at Dong Ha Combat Base and had about a month left on my tour.   It had rained all night.  We had been beefing up the perimeter at night, lying in between the bunkers, trying to stay dry while waiting for the big enemy attack that was predicted to come.  It hadn’t yet.

When I got back to the hooch that morning there was a letter from Clare lying on my cot.  I had to get over to the Comm. Center to stand radio watch, so I read it quickly, too excited to let it just lie there.  She was inviting me to visit her and the family when I got leave.  She wanted to see me.  She was hoping it would be around Thanksgiving, so I could taste some of her world famous Turkey, but any time would be good.  Her husband, The Doc., had even written a short note at the bottom asking me to please come.  He must be a regular guy I thought, even though he was a doctor.   I wrote a quick reply, accepting their invitation and letting them know it probably would be around Thanksgiving.  I dropped it in the mailbag on my way to the radio shack.

It continued to rain through the afternoon, and I was back at the hooch preparing to go on the perimeter again in a few hours.  I was heating a can of meatballs and beans on my C-Ration stove.  It was turning into a nice lumpy goo when the first enemy artillery shell came whining in.  It was close, and then there were more, many more.  I was scared.  The fear gripped my body like a tight shirt.

We were all running frantically, slipping in the red mud, trying to make it to the bunker.  An artillery shell landed very close to me.  The hot shrapnel from the exploding shell tore into my legs, and I felt a searing pain in my throat.   I fell onto the muddy ground like a rag doll, numb from the waist down.  Blood squirted from the wound in my neck until it looked like a pool of oil from a blown engine surrounding my body.  Another shell thumped in close, but the explosion was muffled, and I didn’t know why.  My limp body was lifted a couple of feet in the air from the shock wave, and then deposited back into the mud.  The blood splattered into little pools.  Unable to move, with my face in the mud, I stared at them.  It reminded me of when I was a kid, lying in bed and looking up at the ceiling, imagining the rough texture to be lakes and valleys, and finding a trail through them.  The rain beat heavy now and the red color in the blood pools began to thin out.  It was making me sleepy.   I thought about beautiful, wonderful Clare, and I could see her looking at me and smiling.  It was warm then and not too bad.  Now Clare was crying.  I was holding her in my arms, kissing her, telling her it was going to be alright, but she knew.  My eyes were still blue, although vacant now like a dark, empty room.  The rain continued to drench my body, and it was with no purpose, no reason, for the odds had beaten me.  I was the one in ten. 

**

The sky was painted with burnt, orange color now, and Clare walked away slowly.  Other people watched because she had stood there for so long, crying, talking quietly as if someone was with her, tracing that one name until the sun had left, and the wall became cold and dark.  I watched her walk away until I couldn’t see her anymore.  Then I went deep into the stone, back with the others, and it was better now.  I knew that Clare would come to visit me again, and I had our memories of the layover in Chicago.  That was enough for me.