Hi. It's me again. In an unusual twist of fate, I got inspired by an idea and I couldn't let it go until I had typed it out. I hadn't planned on writing another story again so soon, but when inspiration calls, you have to answer.
I live and die on feedback. If you like the story, let me know.
It'll be a while before I can write another one. And if I do, it'll likely be hetero, so enjoy this one.
If anyone can point me to good websites that have pictures of dead women, I'd appreciate that too.
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Aid & Comfort
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The patrol was starting to get routine. For days now it had been the same. Mike in front, doing point duty, David in taking up the rear. They had been doing the same route for two weeks now, meandering through the same bombed out buildings, past the same bullet-pocked mural and past the same dog corpse which thankfully began to stink less after a few days of drying out in the intense desert heat. The village had long since been abandoned but command insisted on continuing patrols here.
“Hey Mike,” yells David. “How many days left for your tour?”
“Four!”, he yells back, turning his head. His chiseled face is tan as the sunlight reflexes off of his mirrored sunglasses. “Man, I can’t wait to get home and get me some of my wife’s pussy. I am so fucking horny. It is so not ok.”
David chuckles from behind.
Mike yells back. “How about you David? How long for you?”
“Two more months.”
“Fuck man, I’m sorry. But I gotta get home. I haven’t seen a cunt or a tit in two years and my balls have been aching every night for the last year.”
Mike takes a few steps forward, his eyes scanning the horizon when he stops suddenly, his right hand raising up in a fist, signalling to hold. Mike cocks his ears to the side, turning, a quizzical look on his face. David can’t figure out what’s going on until he hears it too. It sounds like a jet engine of some kind but it’s low, rumbling, too close to the ground to be an airplane.
David picks up his radio and calls in. “Central, this is patrol alpha baker charlie 25, do you have air cover right now?” He waits, then hears the response. “Alpha baker charlie 25, confirm no air cover or air assets.”
Mike looks confused. “Than what the fuck is that sound? I mean it sounds like...”
David runs up next to Mike as they both look in the direction of the sound. And then they see it, lumbering into the street from two blocks away, the low squat profile and the long narrow shadow it casts in the front can unbelievably be one thing and one thing only.
“Oh shit,” whispers Mike. David is already fumbling for the radio and yelling into it as quickly as he can. “ALPHA-BAKER-CHARLIE-25 WE ARE ON BLOCK 16 OF PATROL AND HAVE ENCOUNTERED HEAVY ARMOR, REPEAT HEAVY ARMOR!”
Mike starts to lift his rifle to his shoulder to fire then watches as the tank turns, heading toward them. Mike hesitates, then drops the rifle, letting it dangle on his shoulder strap as he turns, grabbing David. “We gotta get the fuck out of here, NOW!” he yells.
David looks up over Mike’s shoulder, seeing the glint and shape of the tank lumbering toward them. “Holy fuck it’s a T-90!” gasps David.
“Yeah, no shit Sherlock MOVE!” yells Mike as they start to run to the end of the block, trying to find cover.
The funny thing about supersonic shells is that the explosion always happens in front of you before you hear the report of a tank cannon. This is exactly what happens when a building in front of them explodes, raining down bits of stone and dust.
“FUCKKKKK,” yells Mike as he falls to the ground. David picks up Mike, both of them stumbling toward a doorway that just moments ago, used to house a closed door.
They get up, holding each other, stumbling for cover when there’s a sudden lurch. David feels himself being picked up and then thrown to the ground, his ears ringing as he blinks, disoriented, feeling things pelting his head before realizing that it’s the ceiling raining on him from above while he lays down on the ground.
David’s ears are still ringing, realizing that he’s surrounded in rubble, the air thick with dust, obscuring his vision. “Mike? Mike?”. David waves his gloved hand in front of his face, trying to clear the air so he can see, blinking dust out of his eyes.
Slowly the world comes into focus and he can see Mike laying on the ground, his arms and legs sprawled out a few feet away. “Mike! Mike!” David crawls next to him as the dust clears.
“Oh, oh no...” Mike lays on the ground, face up, the sunglasses knocked off his face, lying next to his helmet, the straps torn off from the concussion. Mike’s eyes are open, his chest heaving as he gasps, a small pool of blood forming behind his head.
David hurriedly takes off his gloves and scoots closer to Mike, his right hand reaching behind Mike’s head so that he can move him. He starts to pull and then stops, realizing in horror that the back of Mike’s head isn’t hard, it’s soft and fractured, like a cracked egg shell, the fingertips of his hand feeling something soft and jelly like. David gasps, realizing that Mike’s head is smashed in and that bits of his skull are now probably wedged deep in his brain.
David starts to panic, looking at Mike’s body, watching it convulse and shiver, watching his mouth start to foam as his chest wheezes, trying to breathe.
David realizes that Mike is going to die in a few minutes and there was nothing he could do about it. His eyes scan across his body, looking for other wounds, hoping to do something and offer any kind of comfort in Mike’s last dying moments. It’s then he sees something out of the corner of his eye near Mike’s crotch.
There, quite clearly under the camouflage pants is Mike’s large, erect penis, tenting up his pants.
Feeling helpless and wanting to do something, David suddenly understands what he can do for Mike before he dies. Tentatively he reaches down and places his left hand over the tent. Mike gurgles softly as David feels the large thickness of Mike’s cock under the uniform, feeling it twitch in desperation and two years of yearning for a pussy that it will never have again. David breathes quickly, feeling awkward but resolved as his other hand quickly reaches down, undoing Mike’s belt and top end of his pants. Taking a deep breath, David reaches in underneath the pants, underneath the boxers and down until his hand touches Mike’s twitching cock.
David slowly and gently moves his hand down until his fingers are curled around the base of Mike’s shaft. Then he starts to move his hand up and down, feeling Mike’s thick warm, hardness while his eyes stare into Mike’s face. Mike’s face, which looked so pained a moment ago is now agitated, confused, his eyes darting everywhere as if trying to figure out where he is, his breathing erratic and strained. David starts to tug on Mike’s throbbing cock faster and faster, desperately trying to make him come before he dies.
Mike’s mouth now starts to jerk, suddenly, mechanically, awkwardly, like a fish out of water, agonally gasping, his chest flat, unmoving as his breathing centers start to die. David frantically jerks Mike’s rock hard cock, urging him to come. “Come on Mike, come on, one last time before you go buddy,” he whispers. David remembers the name of Mike’s wife. “Come on. Think of Amy. Amy. AMY!” his voice rising as he feels a drop of wetness come out of the tip. David takes it and smears it across the palm of his hand as he drags his hand downward, using it as lube. Mike’s eyes open a bit wider, his chest heaving once, then a shuddering rolls through his body as some part of his dying brain recognizes his wife’s name. David takes hope, then repeats her name over and over. “Amy. Amy. Amy.” Mike starts to barely breathe again, a look of struggle on his face, clearly responding to the sound of his wife’s name, as if trying to hang on for just a few more moments.
David feels a shudder against his fingers. Hurriedly he places his hand right at the base of Mike’s shaft and begins massaging and squeezing the base of his cock. Then he feels the balls shrinking, building, and then the first jerk, sudden like a gunshot as two years of pent up sexual frustration begins to fountain. Mike groans on the ground as David keeps gently rubbing, feeling Mike’s cock jerk, spurting out two years of accumulated sperm, lust and frustration. Spurt. Spurt. Spurt. Each flexing of the muscles is strong and full, empowered with a finality of purpose as Mike drains everything he has, vainly trying to pass on the gift of life.
Mike gasps. Then gasps again. Shuddering, one last pulse comes from his cock, wet and full and slimy. Then he goes still.
David slowly pulls his hand out of Mike’s pants. It glistens in the light, covered in the last of the now dead mans spunk, the smell of it filling the room. David wipes his hand on the front of Mike’s trousers, creating a small damp streak, watching as Mike’s pants fall back against his body, a dark spot growing on the pants as cum begins to be sucked up by the surrounding cloth, mercilessly robbing Mike his last chance to give life to another.
David backs away, the ringing in his ears subsiding when he can hear the crackling voice of the radio. “...standby, air support arriving...” David hears a roar of a jet, then the unique ‘brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrppppppppp’ sound of an A10 cannon opening up, followed by the horrific sound of screeching metal from the other side of the rubble. “Air support reports target destroyed. Alpha Baker Charlie 25, report status!”
David stumbles to the radio, collapsing as he grabs it in his still damp hand. “Alpha Baker Charlie 25,” he pauses, still trying to take everything in. “Mike is dead, send recovery.”
There’s a long pause on the radio. The answer comes back, the words are mechanical but you can hear the softness of it around the edges. “Alpha Baker Charlie 25. Roger. Sending recovery. Hold on. 15 minutes.”
David collapses against a nearby wall, sitting, staring at Mike’s now dead body, the huge amount of cum and jizz has now soaked over the entire front of his pants, staining it all. Silently, as he waits, he begins to mentally compose the letter he’ll write to Amy. In it, he will tell her that Mike loved her and without having to lie, he will tell her that Mike was thinking about her until the very end of his life.
FIN.
I live and die on feedback. If you like the story, let me know.
It'll be a while before I can write another one. And if I do, it'll likely be hetero, so enjoy this one.
If anyone can point me to good websites that have pictures of dead women, I'd appreciate that too.
--------------------------------------------------
Aid & Comfort
==========
The patrol was starting to get routine. For days now it had been the same. Mike in front, doing point duty, David in taking up the rear. They had been doing the same route for two weeks now, meandering through the same bombed out buildings, past the same bullet-pocked mural and past the same dog corpse which thankfully began to stink less after a few days of drying out in the intense desert heat. The village had long since been abandoned but command insisted on continuing patrols here.
“Hey Mike,” yells David. “How many days left for your tour?”
“Four!”, he yells back, turning his head. His chiseled face is tan as the sunlight reflexes off of his mirrored sunglasses. “Man, I can’t wait to get home and get me some of my wife’s pussy. I am so fucking horny. It is so not ok.”
David chuckles from behind.
Mike yells back. “How about you David? How long for you?”
“Two more months.”
“Fuck man, I’m sorry. But I gotta get home. I haven’t seen a cunt or a tit in two years and my balls have been aching every night for the last year.”
Mike takes a few steps forward, his eyes scanning the horizon when he stops suddenly, his right hand raising up in a fist, signalling to hold. Mike cocks his ears to the side, turning, a quizzical look on his face. David can’t figure out what’s going on until he hears it too. It sounds like a jet engine of some kind but it’s low, rumbling, too close to the ground to be an airplane.
David picks up his radio and calls in. “Central, this is patrol alpha baker charlie 25, do you have air cover right now?” He waits, then hears the response. “Alpha baker charlie 25, confirm no air cover or air assets.”
Mike looks confused. “Than what the fuck is that sound? I mean it sounds like...”
David runs up next to Mike as they both look in the direction of the sound. And then they see it, lumbering into the street from two blocks away, the low squat profile and the long narrow shadow it casts in the front can unbelievably be one thing and one thing only.
“Oh shit,” whispers Mike. David is already fumbling for the radio and yelling into it as quickly as he can. “ALPHA-BAKER-CHARLIE-25 WE ARE ON BLOCK 16 OF PATROL AND HAVE ENCOUNTERED HEAVY ARMOR, REPEAT HEAVY ARMOR!”
Mike starts to lift his rifle to his shoulder to fire then watches as the tank turns, heading toward them. Mike hesitates, then drops the rifle, letting it dangle on his shoulder strap as he turns, grabbing David. “We gotta get the fuck out of here, NOW!” he yells.
David looks up over Mike’s shoulder, seeing the glint and shape of the tank lumbering toward them. “Holy fuck it’s a T-90!” gasps David.
“Yeah, no shit Sherlock MOVE!” yells Mike as they start to run to the end of the block, trying to find cover.
The funny thing about supersonic shells is that the explosion always happens in front of you before you hear the report of a tank cannon. This is exactly what happens when a building in front of them explodes, raining down bits of stone and dust.
“FUCKKKKK,” yells Mike as he falls to the ground. David picks up Mike, both of them stumbling toward a doorway that just moments ago, used to house a closed door.
They get up, holding each other, stumbling for cover when there’s a sudden lurch. David feels himself being picked up and then thrown to the ground, his ears ringing as he blinks, disoriented, feeling things pelting his head before realizing that it’s the ceiling raining on him from above while he lays down on the ground.
David’s ears are still ringing, realizing that he’s surrounded in rubble, the air thick with dust, obscuring his vision. “Mike? Mike?”. David waves his gloved hand in front of his face, trying to clear the air so he can see, blinking dust out of his eyes.
Slowly the world comes into focus and he can see Mike laying on the ground, his arms and legs sprawled out a few feet away. “Mike! Mike!” David crawls next to him as the dust clears.
“Oh, oh no...” Mike lays on the ground, face up, the sunglasses knocked off his face, lying next to his helmet, the straps torn off from the concussion. Mike’s eyes are open, his chest heaving as he gasps, a small pool of blood forming behind his head.
David hurriedly takes off his gloves and scoots closer to Mike, his right hand reaching behind Mike’s head so that he can move him. He starts to pull and then stops, realizing in horror that the back of Mike’s head isn’t hard, it’s soft and fractured, like a cracked egg shell, the fingertips of his hand feeling something soft and jelly like. David gasps, realizing that Mike’s head is smashed in and that bits of his skull are now probably wedged deep in his brain.
David starts to panic, looking at Mike’s body, watching it convulse and shiver, watching his mouth start to foam as his chest wheezes, trying to breathe.
David realizes that Mike is going to die in a few minutes and there was nothing he could do about it. His eyes scan across his body, looking for other wounds, hoping to do something and offer any kind of comfort in Mike’s last dying moments. It’s then he sees something out of the corner of his eye near Mike’s crotch.
There, quite clearly under the camouflage pants is Mike’s large, erect penis, tenting up his pants.
Feeling helpless and wanting to do something, David suddenly understands what he can do for Mike before he dies. Tentatively he reaches down and places his left hand over the tent. Mike gurgles softly as David feels the large thickness of Mike’s cock under the uniform, feeling it twitch in desperation and two years of yearning for a pussy that it will never have again. David breathes quickly, feeling awkward but resolved as his other hand quickly reaches down, undoing Mike’s belt and top end of his pants. Taking a deep breath, David reaches in underneath the pants, underneath the boxers and down until his hand touches Mike’s twitching cock.
David slowly and gently moves his hand down until his fingers are curled around the base of Mike’s shaft. Then he starts to move his hand up and down, feeling Mike’s thick warm, hardness while his eyes stare into Mike’s face. Mike’s face, which looked so pained a moment ago is now agitated, confused, his eyes darting everywhere as if trying to figure out where he is, his breathing erratic and strained. David starts to tug on Mike’s throbbing cock faster and faster, desperately trying to make him come before he dies.
Mike’s mouth now starts to jerk, suddenly, mechanically, awkwardly, like a fish out of water, agonally gasping, his chest flat, unmoving as his breathing centers start to die. David frantically jerks Mike’s rock hard cock, urging him to come. “Come on Mike, come on, one last time before you go buddy,” he whispers. David remembers the name of Mike’s wife. “Come on. Think of Amy. Amy. AMY!” his voice rising as he feels a drop of wetness come out of the tip. David takes it and smears it across the palm of his hand as he drags his hand downward, using it as lube. Mike’s eyes open a bit wider, his chest heaving once, then a shuddering rolls through his body as some part of his dying brain recognizes his wife’s name. David takes hope, then repeats her name over and over. “Amy. Amy. Amy.” Mike starts to barely breathe again, a look of struggle on his face, clearly responding to the sound of his wife’s name, as if trying to hang on for just a few more moments.
David feels a shudder against his fingers. Hurriedly he places his hand right at the base of Mike’s shaft and begins massaging and squeezing the base of his cock. Then he feels the balls shrinking, building, and then the first jerk, sudden like a gunshot as two years of pent up sexual frustration begins to fountain. Mike groans on the ground as David keeps gently rubbing, feeling Mike’s cock jerk, spurting out two years of accumulated sperm, lust and frustration. Spurt. Spurt. Spurt. Each flexing of the muscles is strong and full, empowered with a finality of purpose as Mike drains everything he has, vainly trying to pass on the gift of life.
Mike gasps. Then gasps again. Shuddering, one last pulse comes from his cock, wet and full and slimy. Then he goes still.
David slowly pulls his hand out of Mike’s pants. It glistens in the light, covered in the last of the now dead mans spunk, the smell of it filling the room. David wipes his hand on the front of Mike’s trousers, creating a small damp streak, watching as Mike’s pants fall back against his body, a dark spot growing on the pants as cum begins to be sucked up by the surrounding cloth, mercilessly robbing Mike his last chance to give life to another.
David backs away, the ringing in his ears subsiding when he can hear the crackling voice of the radio. “...standby, air support arriving...” David hears a roar of a jet, then the unique ‘brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrppppppppp’ sound of an A10 cannon opening up, followed by the horrific sound of screeching metal from the other side of the rubble. “Air support reports target destroyed. Alpha Baker Charlie 25, report status!”
David stumbles to the radio, collapsing as he grabs it in his still damp hand. “Alpha Baker Charlie 25,” he pauses, still trying to take everything in. “Mike is dead, send recovery.”
There’s a long pause on the radio. The answer comes back, the words are mechanical but you can hear the softness of it around the edges. “Alpha Baker Charlie 25. Roger. Sending recovery. Hold on. 15 minutes.”
David collapses against a nearby wall, sitting, staring at Mike’s now dead body, the huge amount of cum and jizz has now soaked over the entire front of his pants, staining it all. Silently, as he waits, he begins to mentally compose the letter he’ll write to Amy. In it, he will tell her that Mike loved her and without having to lie, he will tell her that Mike was thinking about her until the very end of his life.
FIN.
