Page 170 - Stand by Your Man

158 Jack Fritscher

young corporal. He sucked hard holding Buddy by the butt, coach-
ing Buddy’s favorite move, the hard line-drive of his cock slamming
a home-run down a man’s throat.
At first the Captain was sucking Buddy.
Finally Buddy was fucking the Captain’s face.
Buddy gripped the Captain’s head, one finger in front of each
ear, palms flat around the base of the head, fingers almost touching
at the back of the Captain’s neck where the barber had tapered, then
shaved, the short red hairs of his perfect haircut.
Another flare, closer this time, lit the sky almost above the
dunes. Buddy stood invisible, painted naked in his camouflage,
face-fucking the young Captain whose sweaty red hair shimmered
on his chest, shoulders, butt, forearms, and head. Again, sniper fire,
sporadic and faraway, cut through the heat of the night. In the last
throes of their mutual passion, the Captain beat his meat, revving
up to time his cuming with Buddy’s hot load shooting down his
throat.
Still holding the Captain’s head tight in his hands, Buddy
rammed his cock deep down the Captain’s throat. The Captain
beat his own fuck, choking and swallowing Buddy’s creamy white
load, and as he rose slightly from his knees, starting to shoot, in the
last glow of the rocket’s red glare, he dropped slack in a dying fall.
Buddy felt the hit. A sniper’s bullet had shot straight through
the Captain’s left ear and lodged in his head. Buddy had felt the
impact hit in his cock. The bullet, slowed by the Captain’s exploding
bone and brain, had stopped bullet-tip to cock-tip against Buddy’s
still hard meat buried in the dead Captain’s red head.
Buddy never got over that.
Because of the Captain’s death, he volunteered for a squad in a
company that had suffered severe casualties. A certain General who
had once favored the Captain tried to take Buddy under his wing.
But Buddy was stone cold. He re-upped for another twelve months
and the General made it happen. Two tours back to back, even in
the last years, was unusual, but it happened; and none of it was
worse than what happened to the young boys who marched into the
jungle, scared shitless, but gung ho, and who months later crawled

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