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Combat Reprieve

It was unusual to be tumbling down a flight of stairs trying to take my clothes off at the same time. Her lips pressed against mine and it felt sinful for me to remove them to pull the shirt over my head. We left a trail all the way down; rifle at the door, flak jacket at the stair landing, shirt and pants on the stairs, and finally underwear and helmet holding the door open to the shelter.

Inside, I had my mouth around her nipple and was sucking and biting while my hands explored and touched all the places I had learned to touch. I was going quickly, but still taking measurement. What caused her breathing to be faster, what made her press herself against me more, what was simply a nonplus. I took this all in as we kissed and licked each other all the way to the mattress in the corner.

We banged heads as we made our way down onto the bed. It was old and smelly, but it was a comfort for what we needed. A place to fuck. My hand snaked down between us until it was between her legs. I pushed my middle finger in and felt her wetness and in that moment it felt so good to be wanted. My erection, I would think, would be a pretty obvious sign that I wanted her, but the confirmation that she was wet for me was nirvana.

I played and I wriggled my finger around and she moaned into my ear. I leaned down and enveloped a nipple with my mouth trying my best to imitate an amphibian and wrap my tongue all the way around. The response was enthusiastic and I clamped down sucking hard, her body pressing against mine even harder. I bit lightly and looked up at her. She was staring down at me with the bluest eyes that seemed to shine through the grime and soot on her face. I realized that she must have been blonde, before the dirt and the mud and the war.

“Hurt me,” she whispered.

I bit harder and forced my finger deeper and she arched into me and moaned loudly. I pulled my finger out and traced upwards. I found her clit and lightly rubbed my finger over it. She wrapped her arms around me and tossed her head back in ecstasy. It was a perfect moment that I lingered in until her head came back and instead of a kiss she clamped down on my shoulder with her teeth and bit hard. “Fuck!” I jolted backwards looking down at her.

”Just play, okay? Not even a flesh wound, just a nibble.” She flashed a smile at me and another of her features illuminated brightly against the canvas of battle blush, her perfect teeth.

I paused to take it in and then cast a glance down at my shoulder and could see the indentation there. I grinned back at her and considered what she might see. Would she see see a kid? Or, would the months since conscription have made a difference. The many times broken nose? As if she could sense my thoughts she pulled me back down and whispered in my ear, “Think later. Fuck me now.”

I thought I had been hard before. I got in between her legs and pushed forward and missed. She reached down, grabbed me and guided me in and I felt her warmth and wetness. The feeling shot through my body and again I was forced to pause and enjoy it. I felt her legs wrap around me and she pulled me into her and so I sunk all the way in. Fully inside, I kissed her and then began to pull back and drive forward. I started slow enjoying the sensation of her body pulling at me as I moved away and then reveling in the feeling of her welcoming me back with each thrust.

Slow turned into quick and then shortly after quick turned into fast until I was pounding against her. She was moaning and encouraging me to keep going and for some reason I could not stop thinking about Basic Training. She pulled me down so my weight was on her and she told me to keep going, “Keep going Gaky, keep going! Oh fuck, that’s it you’re gonna make me come. Fuck, Gaky I’m coming!”

I thrust into her again hard and then stayed still. I could feel her muscles contracting around my cock. I looked down at her and she had her eyes shut tight as the sensation rolled over her body. I kissed her lightly then on the forehead and her eyes shot open. I gave her a lopsided grin and she smiled back looking me in the eyes for a moment. She pushed me to the side and I noticed she was strong and not just for her size.

“That was good Gaky, boy.” Her voice was rough yes soft and brittle as if the words were so sweet to speak they would break as she spoke them. All our voices change from the propellant smoke, but something made think it was a part of her.

“My name is–”

“You’re Gaky to me.”

A Gak, or Gaky was the slur of choice for a Grunt. It had come into vogue in the early days of the war when a company of Grunts got glassed and all that was left was cinder. In fact, it was granulated carbon, GAC, and from that came the name Gak. It’s all that’s left when you get hit by a torcher or a plasma bomb. It had been many years since then and I had seen my fair share of GAC in the last few months, in fact, I was pretty confident it is what was smeared on my face and hers.

”Alright. You can call me Gaky. You a General Staff Stewardess that got lost or something?”

She did something amazing. She laughed. “Naw,” she drawled, “I’m one of them PSYOP attendants, ya know? I am here to fuck your brains out so you feel better about the war.”

“Damn, you must be busy.”

She leaned over and bit me again. Hard.

“Ow! Jesus, lady.”

“Alright,” she said getting up. “You’re turn.”

She got on top of me and gripped my still throbbing member and slowly dropped down onto it, all the while looking me in the eyes. Now it was no longer an uncanny thing to think of Basic Training. I was doing it on purpose to delay my own orgasm as long as possible. I watched her as she started to ride me slowly. She was dirty, filthy really, but I didn’t hold it against her because I was too. Her hair was short and shaggy, but looked as if she maintained it when she wasn’t in the field. Her face was sharp and angular, but to be honest her eyes took me to another world.

I reached up and cupped one of her breasts and noticed that I could see her ribs underneath her skin. She must have been on the front lines because we were all a bit starved. I pushed my hand up higher and wrapped my fingers around her throat and she looked down at me and smiled again. I remembered when she whispered “hurt me” and I felt a little more rigid. I squeezed her throat and used my other hand to pull her down onto me harder.

She moaned and tilted her head back. I squeezed harder on her throat and with my free hand pinched one of her nipples. Slowly and softly to start and then increasing the pressure to see how she would react. She started riding me faster almost slamming down on to my pelvis with her own.

I released her nipple and throat and brought both hands to her hips and pulled her down onto me hard. I felt like I might break her, but I remembered her strength and looked upwards to see if she was enjoying it. Her eyes were screwed shut and she had her breasts in both hands.

”Fuck, I’m close,” I breathed.

“Keep going, Gaky I’m gonna come too,” she moaned.

I felt the surge coming and the point of no return.

“I’m coming now! Oh fuck, babe.”

She wrapped herself around me as I felt pleasure explode in my head and body. I saw stars as I felt her breathing and moaning in my ear. Wave after wave, it felt like it would never end. I felt her warmth combined with my own added to the mix and it made my whole body shake.

After what seemed like hours the moaning and shaking stopped and it was just breathing, her still wrapped around me. I could still feel the throb of my cock inside her and felt for a moment that I never wanted to leave that place. Her breaths became shorter and she shook a little and I realized she was crying.

I held her closer and remained silent. I am ashamed to say that my erection returned and I was still inside of her. After some minutes of her muted sobs I heard her giggle softly.

“You really are some stone cold killer, huh, Gaky? Get all hard seeing a little girl like me crying, huh?”

She sniffed and I looked at her and could still see the tears in her eyes. I began to try and explain myself. My words got caught up in my teeth. I was trying to tell her that it wasn’t her crying that was the reason it was her movements, or maybe it was the crying, or maybe it was the fact she was so close to me and for the moment she was mine. I never got it out. She just put a finger over my lips and smiled.

Slowly she disentangled herself from me. I slid out of her and I could feel the combination of our efforts oozing all over my still hard penis. She slowly worked her way down kissing my chest and my own exposed and telltale ribs. She gave the red and swollen tip of my member a wet full-lipped kiss and seeing me look down at her she gave me a wink.

She proceeded to lick the underside of my cock up and down and it felt so good I put my face in my hands and tried my best not to sound too dumb as she slowly licked up and down. She stopped teasing and took me in her mouth. She sucked on the tip before engulfing me entirely. My head went back and my mind whirled in a hot and sticky thoughtlessness. I could hear her sucking, her lips smacking as she pulled me from her mouth.

“Mmmm. You like that, Gaky? Come on use my mouth like the hard killer you are. Do it for the Front.”

I looked down at her and my mouth gaped. Almost dreamlike I reached down and grabbed her greasy blonde hair and forced her down. She looked at me the whole time. I started pushing her up and down on my cock and moaned. Her words ringing in my head over and over.

Do it for the Front. DO it for the Front. DO IT FOR THE FRONT. We had all heard it for years. Blasted from HR’s and speakers, in homes, before sports, and just in the streets. Here in a burnt out city, in some basement this combat angel-vixen just told me to fuck her face and to do it for the Front. Briefly, I considered this was being filmed as some sort of sick war-horror-live-action-porn. But, it was a brief thought, I was far to busy indulging her.

I let go of her hair. “Fuck, babe I am going to cum again.” I moaned and looked down at her and she was staring back at me and stroking. As my orgasm hit she leaned down and took me in her mouth. She expertly swallowed what I had to offer and continued sucking for some time after sending me into a paralytic state where I was incapable of making a sound or movement.

After some moments, she crawled up and laid beside me. Looking at me with those big blue eyes that seemed to pierce through days of soot and mud she said, “Why’d you have to call me, babe?” She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me in and even then I could feel her strength. We both faded into sleep and my final thoughts echoed through my nightmares: Who was this girl?

The Lack of Love Letters

Why have Love Letters gone out of vogue? Why are they no longer popular to be written? It is as if the love that used to exist in this world has taken on a new form and a new way of being expressed. Indeed, it used to be that a man or woman was judged on their actions, not simply how they navigated a person’s psychology.

Love is hard and difficult and now it is as if folks are looking for the hack, the work around to get it done quicker or harder.

SearchEngine: I like I girl how do I make her like me back?

Result: Here are 20 articles distilled down into manageable bite sized facts that will inform you how most female brains work and how you can use a twisted evolutionary human biology to your advantage only to realize that these tricks will work too well.

Instead of all that why don’t we take risks anymore? Reach out from across the void of our own existence and put pen to paper for someone we think we love and express that. Perhaps, the words never meant as much as we thought they did and it is all propaganda from the Love Corporations who wanted us to spend money on pens and papers. Now that those mediums are obsolete Big Love is trying to make us buy into the other modes of expression. Don’t write your feelings down like some 20^th century sap, no; use our crafted emote pictures to really express yourself.

Do you love this woman? Does the yearning in your soul make you wish that you could simultaneously rip out your beating heart and pounding brains and smash them together to make them stop moving to the rhythm of your longing? Well, fear not, citizen. We have just the tiny animated picture for you!

It also takes time to write a Love Letter and this may be why they have gone extinct. You see, in the time it takes to write a love letter one must spend that time thinking about the words to write down on the page. These words are inspired by the feeling inside you and for an effective Love Letter one must allow these feeling to flow from the interior down into the ink that is hitting the page. Prolonged thought on a subject causes an individual to explore different facets of the idea. In the time it takes to write a Love Letter one may come to find that they never really loved the individual in the first place. Or, quite possibly the opposite. That all those feelings have been reaffirmed and made stronger.

Perhaps, this is more a treatise against time and the distillation of our efforts to fall in love. Everything is quickened now and optimized. So, as a result so to may our thoughts and decision making promise. No longer is it acceptable to spend some time and think about how one feels or how to even put into words. If we have the inkling of a feeling we can express it immediately and directly onto someone else.

I didn’t even get started on sex…

Kill or be Killed.

“…and I just think we are different people now.”

The young man takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his long dark hair. You can tell he has done it a lot today because the strands are curled and greasy from repeated touch. A sure sign of frustration. He exhales steadily. This is his shot. Say the right words and everything can be okay again:

“I am difficult. I know it. I know it because I can feel myself being that way. It is like small bits of sandpaper that scrape across my cerebelum as I speak the words that I know are destined to displease you. Please trust me, I know when I am doing it, but I really just can’t help it. It is a testament to how I feel about you.”

Another breath and a look around the bar. It is quiet this time of day. Just commited drunks and the others.

“It is not a bad thing either. No, no. It’s just you make me a little crazy. You run through my mind constantly and as you do it I am conflicted by how much I am in awe of you and how much I feel that I am not worthy. I feel this way and when I see you outside of my mind only the awe exists, but when you are gone the insecurity remains.”

“Plus… Our history. Mistakes on both sides that only add to it. But! Scar tissue is good. A reminder of what drew blood, but did not kill. I know this: I would suffer for you; more scars and abbrasions. Even now as we seem to drift apart and the pain is most intense I would stay in this flame. “

They look at each other and then to their drinks. She is hunched forward and his shoulders have sagged. He takes a sip of his drink and it seems to revitalize him slightly.

“Remember our perfect day? In the shell of that ruined church we found along the river path? We sat and talked and we talked so long that we nearly got stuck out in the woods. That was right before we left, together.”

“I think about that day a lot. There was no rush and everything seemed important and unimportant at the same time. Like, the words no matter their subject, held their own seperate and intense meaning. We loved each other then, I think.”

The last words cause her to sit straighter and cast a sideways glance at him.

“We did. I remember the next day I said so while we were laying in bed in the morning. You were pretending to be asleep and I told you I was in love with you. That wasn’t a dream, right? It wasn’t a mistake. It was a purity in our lives that we have seldom sought for again and I am truly sorry we have not. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

More silence, but also heat. I can feel it as I refill their drinks. It cinges my knuckles that grip the bottle and I feel a sweat break out on my forehead. He’s not going to win. They weren’t the right words, but there is fire in that soul of his. Briefly and insanely I worry about it physically setting fire to the spirits just behind the bar, but I mentally shake that worry in time to hear her:

“I’m sorry, too. I have to go.”

There are losers every night in my little bar on the moon, but I felt for this one. He charged the battlements, but sometimes a lady’s cold steel resolution cuts through even the most valiant of heroism.

Drinks on me, fella.

From Across the Bar

I have seen many first moments. You work behind a bar night and day and you see a lot of them. In literature there is talk of a thunderbolt or a shared look and then it is all over. Star-crossed lovers, blam-o right then and there. But, in my humble experience it is a little different.

Firstly, someone sees the other one first. Like a game of visual tag and yet no one knows that they are playing. One of the individuals spies the other one and the game is on. I have heard tell of the ‘3-second rule,’ where you need to make up your mind in three seconds. I think that’s all moon-dust. What kind of crazy person knows what they want in three seconds?

It also defeats the importance of the next part: Courage. It takes guts to talk to someone face-to-face these days. Heck, what with the technology we have you never need to see a person ever if you really didn’t want to and some don’t. So, the old-fashioned stuff. Like, walking up to a boy you like the looks of and introducing yourself takes courage.

There is battle courage, sure. I have seen enough of that and individuals have spoken on that subject with far more eloquence than I ever could. No, this is a different type of courage. It is accepting failure, but hoping for the best possible outcome. It is steeling yourself against your enevitable demise, but allowing the winds of fancy to push you forward towards doom, destiny, or both. Courage is slugging back some cheap whisky and then making your fool-hardy move. I can say that it is rarely executed well, but sometimes there is charm in that too.

That’s the true romance of the moment and you can’t help but get close to it and listen in. Especially in my position.

“Hi.”

“I, uh, was hoping I could buy you a drink, or uhmmm if I could introduce myself. I’m K. Hi”

“Oh. Well I already have a drink and you just introduced yourself.”

“Right… and, right.”

*Silence pervading the noisey atomosphere*

*The Moon spins a little more slowly*

“Well, I introduced myself… What’s your name?”

“I’m T.”

“Hi, T what brings you here? I’ve never been here before.”

“Well, the whisky is cheap and this place never seems to get shut down. Plus, my friends dragged me here.”

“Oh, well it is sort of the same for me my friends got me to come here too. That’s them over there.”

“Yeah I can tell by the gawks.”

“Are you sure you don’t want another drink? I, uh, don’t really know anything about whisky, but I will drink what you are drinking.”

“Fine. Just ask for the rail stuff. It’s not the real stuff, but I like that.”

“Okay. It’s better if it’s not real?”

“Oh damn. That’s not easy to answer and if I got it wrong and someone overheard they might kill me.”

“Ah you look like the dangerous type. T, the whisky spy.”

“You have no idea, K.”

The occupants of the bar all blur and become static as these two drink their whisky and indulge in each other’s company. They have time. It is a speakeasy after all and closing time is some hours off. They go slow, but there are moments of extreme honesty that catapult them further along with each other.

Who knows where they will go from here. They sat together and in those moments their world was confined to a two meter cubed space. They drank and there was some laughter. They were both shy in their own way and also both courageous in allowing a stranger intimate time in their own lives.

As a seasoned barkeep I did my part: I left them alone.