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 A World of My Choosing   An Out-of-this-World Story by Gil Gamesh   Chapter
Four  

   "I'm hungry," she finally said.  "What did you bring for lunch?"

   I had brought the simplest of fare: bread and cheese and olives.  The
bread was a round loaf that the cook called an Italian bull.  To go with it
I had a piece of Bûchette Cendrée fromage and a wedge of Camembert fromage.
With the bread and cheese I had two more navel oranges and bottled water.
The cheeses and olives had been part of a care package from my L'Héritier
relatives in France.  The bread came from our mess hall.  I knew that what
the cook was calling a bull was really a boule.  In a café in France, I'd
eaten bread something like the bull that was called pan de horno.  She
looked at me with raised eyebrows, smiled, and then shook her head when I
told her what I'd heard it called.  I just smiled back.

   "Where did you get cheese like this?" Anna asked with her first bite of
the Bûchette Cendrée.

   "Magic," I said.  "I'm trying to impress you."

   "Well, I'm certainly impressed."

   "I almost brought some wine but I've sworn off until I come back."

   She looked at me, unsmiling, and I looked back.  We both knew where I
was going.

   We sat there on the blanket, in the shade of the beech tree, naked as
the day we were born, and ate our lunch.  We ate all the Bûchette Cendrée
and the Camembert, all the olives, and most of the bread.  Again, I peeled
one orange and let her peel the other.  From the orange juice, we both
ended up with sticky hands and mouths.  I licked my mouth clean while
watching her.  She did the same and I watched in fascination as her pink
tongue circled her lips again and again.  I licked my fingers clean while
she watched and then leaned forward toward her with my mouth open.  She
held out her fingers one by one and I sucked them clean.  I tried to tell
my penis not to think about it.

   While we were eating, I sat Indian-fashion with my legs crossed, letting
it all hang out.  After they recovered from the cold water, my testicles
hung down on the blanket and my penis drooped down almost as far.  I caught
her more than once looking at my display but I didn't mind since she was
sitting the same way and I kept looking between her legs.  Her pubic hair
was almost all I could see.  There was a little ridge or something in the
middle of all the hair and I wanted to see where it led but I couldn't.

   After I sucked the orange juice off her fingers, I slowly and
deliberately raised my legs, knees bent and slightly apart, and rested my
arms on my knees.  I knew my penis and testicles would be prominently
displayed for her to see and I wanted her to see them.  She watched me
change position, looked down between my legs, looked back up at my face,
and then smiled.  Oh, so slowly, she changed position too, until she was
sitting in exactly the same way, displaying herself for me.  Her pubic hair
thinned out where her mound extended back between her legs and I could see
the closed lips between the plump mounds on each side.  She kept her eyes
directed between my legs.  I suppose she knew I wanted to see her hidden
sex.  I suppose she was also watching to see what effect the sight of it
had on me.  When my penis began to lift in a salute to her, she watched,
grinning, until it was standing up proud.  Then she stood up and held out
her hand to me.

   "You're being bad, David.  I think you need to go back to the pool," she
said.

   We made another trip to the pool where we splashed each other with more
cold water and, when my penis lost its stiffness, we returned to the
blanket.  We sat there, a few feet apart, while she ran her fingers through
her wet hair.  I watched in enthrallment the way her breasts changed shape
as she lifted her arms.  Her nipples looked hard and at least a half-inch
long.  I wanted them in my mouth.

   I had no idea what she wanted to do or would allow me to do except that
I had promised her that she would be safe with me.  Her response that I
might not be safe from her left me wondering what she wanted.  I knew I
would willingly do anything except for perhaps one thing.  If I kept my
promise, I wouldn't try to get my penis in her vagina.  I wasn't sure I
could keep it.

   We sat there for a minute or so and then she lay down on the blanket and
put her head on her boot pillow again.  Her knees were bent upward and I
could see between her legs two tightly-closed lips, nothing more but it was
enough to make me hunger for her again.  I sat there looking at her and I
wanted her so much it was almost painful.

   "Quit looking at me, David," she said, smiling at me.  "Lay down here
with me and let's talk."

   I knew she didn't mean it because she was displaying herself so
provocatively.  I took a couple of deep breaths, trying to will my thoughts
away from the image of her, and just sat there beside her.  I wanted to lay
down with her, even on top of her, between her legs, with my penis in her
vagina, but I knew I couldn't.  I just sat there, looking at her.

   "What do you want to talk about?" I asked.

   "David, would you like to take me to the Heartache Hotel next weekend?"
she asked, out of the blue.

   The Heartache Hotel wasn't really named that.  It was called that by the
trainees at our base.  It was just a hotel owned by one of many hotel
chains but it was the closest really nice one, only forty miles away. 
Supposedly, the base commander had developed a relationship with the hotel
management and as a result all trainees who went there received good care.

   My heart leaped at her question but my head made me calm down before I
answered.

   "I'd like to take you, Anna, but I'm not sure that's the right thing to
do."

   Before I could continue, she sat up and turned on me angrily.

   "Well, if you don't want to take me, maybe I`ll find someone who will."

   I didn't want to make her angrier so I sat there for a minute or so,
trying to think of how to answer her.

   "Well, will you take me?" she asked again.  "I'm not going to beg you."

   I could tell that her flame was past simmer and almost on boil.

   "Anna, will you let me tell you why I answered that way, without getting
angry at me?"

   She sat there frowning and looked at me for a minute.

   "Please," I said.  "Just let me explain."

   The magic word seemed to calm her down at little.

   "OK, but just remember, I'm not some little thing you can make decisions
for and I'll keep my mouth shut," she said.  "I know I'm a bitch sometimes
but I have a mind of my own and I don't need a guy thinking for me."

   "I know that, Anna," I said.  "And I wouldn't change you."

   "Well, just don't forget it," she said and smiled at me.  Perhaps her
anger had faded already.

   "The reason I said that is simple, Anna.  I told you I wouldn't hurt you
and I won't let anybody or anything hurt you if I can help it.  Maybe I'm
beginning to love you.  I don't understand what I'm feeling but I know I
don't want to hurt you.  I've got to think about it before I make love with
you.  I don't want to hurt you by making love to you."

   "Your dick's not that big, David," she said, and smiled again.

   "I'm not talking about my penis, I mean, my dick."

   "Why do you always refer to it as your penis?" she asked, still smiling
at me.  "Why don't you call it your dick or your willy or something like
that?"

   "It's just habit, Anna, maybe something I learned from Grandfather.  I
called it my dick once around him and he corrected me.  He said a dick was
a guy named Richard and a Willy was a guy named William but a penis was
always a penis because nobody ever named their son Penis.  I almost wet my
pants laughing when he told me that."

   She laughed and said, "Well, call it your penis then."

   "Sometimes I call it Dog."

   "Dog?"

   I curled my fingers around in a circle and moved my hand up and down.

   "Yeah, when I call it, it always comes."

   That got a giggle out of her.

   She suddenly got serious again.  "What do you mean when you say you
don't want to hurt me?"

   "I'm talking about the way you're going to feel about me if we make love
and then I go on my mission and I don't come back."

   "I don't understand."

   "Anna, isn't it true that, if a woman yields herself to a man, if she
lets him make love to her...isn't it true that a woman wants a man to be
with her after that and care for her and provide for her and protect her?
Doesn't she especially want the man to help care for any child she might
have as a result of what they do?"

   "Yes, David, I suppose that's true but you can't get me pregnant.  I've
had an implant.  I hate the thing but they require all female trainees to
have one."

   "I know that and I'm not worried about you getting pregnant.  I'm
worried about you and your feelings.  Evolution has shaped women in ways
that can't be changed just because we're beginning to use contraceptives.
What will it do to you if I don't come back, if we've had a weekend when we
make love with each other?  I warn you I'm not going to do it just once and
then be satisfied.  I'm going to make up for years of wanting.  If we go to
the hotel, we'd better take something to eat because I'm not going to let
you out of the room until we come back.  I'm going...damn, I don't know
anything except that I want you and I'm not going to be easily satisfied."

   "That's fine with me but we don't have to take anything to eat.  They
have room service.  Some of the girls say it's quite good.  We can do room
service if you can stop fucking me long enough."

   "Say that again!" I said.

   "What?"

   "The last part of what you just said."

   "You mean about you fucking me."

   "Yeah, that's it.  I'm going to fuck you, Anna.  I'm going to fuck you
and then make love to you and then fuck you again and then make love to you
some more and then fuck you until finally I can't get it up.  I want to
fuck you for the rest of your life.  I want to make love to you for the
rest of my life.  I want to fuck you when that implant is gone so I can get
you pregnant with our child.  Then I want to fuck you so we can have our
next child and the next and the next.  I don't ever want to grow old and
not want to fuck you."

   "Is that a threat or a promise?"

   "It's a promise, Anna, but I told you: I need to think about it before
we do it.  Are you doing it just because you feel sorry for me...about my
life and what I told you this afternoon?  I don't want that."

   "I don't know, David.  Maybe that's part of it but it's not the real
reason.  I just want you to make love to me.  I want to feel you come
inside me.  I want you to come back to me.  I want to give you a reason to
live.  I want you to want me so much you'll crawl through hell to get back
to me.  I want to tie you to me so there's something pulling you back to
me. I don't want you to die.  Is that so bad?  I'm sure lots of women have
let a man make love to her so he'll have something to hold on to, something
that makes him want to return."

   "There's something else I've got to think about," I said.  "If I go on
my mission and you go on yours, whatever it is, how is it going to affect
you in your mission if you know I'm not coming back?  Will you give up
and...and let them kill you too?"

   "David, missions for women aren't like those for men," she said.  "We're
mainly trained to be eyes and ears.  We have training on killing too but
we're not really expected to do that.  We're usually assigned somewhere for
three months and then we're brought back out and we unload everything we've
learned.  I'll have no communication with anybody for those three months. I
probably won't know what happened to you until I come back."

   "Anna, you've got to understand something about me," I said.  "For most
of my life, I've struggled with knowing what's right and what's wrong,
without a father to help me.  Grandfather helped me but he always left it
up to me to determine the right thing to do.  I can't yield that decision
to you.  I can't let you talk me into doing something, even though it's
what I want more than anything else in the world.  I'm the one who has to
decide if it's the right thing for us to go to the Heartache Hotel.  I
can't hurt you.  Is that love?  I won't hurt you.  I think I'm beginning to
love you.  I want to care for you and protect you from hurt.  Can you live
with that?"

   She looked at me without any expression on her face.  Finally she gave
me her answer.

   "Yes, David, I can live with it.  You make the decision and I'll know
you're doing the right thing either way and it's because you love me."

   We both sat and looked at each other for a minute or so.  Finally she
broke the silence.

   "David, I want you to know one thing before you decide.  I want you to
go with me to the Heartache Hotel.  I want to know what it's like to be
loved by you.  I want you to know what it's like to be loved by me.  We're
going to be good together, so fucking good fucking each other.  No matter
what happens to us, I'll be strong.  I'm a stubborn, tough, determined
woman.  I can be a real bitch sometimes!  I'll be OK!"

   "May I give you an answer tomorrow morning at breakfast?  I can't think
clearly about it when I'm near you."

   "Yes, but David, there's one more thing I want to say," she said.

   "What?"

   She lay back down with her head on her boot pillow and held out her arms
to me.

   "I love you," she whispered, smiling at me.

   At first I couldn't say anything.  I'd wanted so much to hear those
words.  I knew I was no good at being romantic but I knew what I wanted to
say.

   "I love you too, Anna.  I love you.  I love you..."

   "Shut up, David," she said, interrupting me, grinning at me.  "You only
need to say it once.  Now come here!"

   I lay down beside her, leaned over her, and looked in her eyes for a
minute or so, both of us solemn and unsmiling.  Slowly I brought my face
down until my lips touched her and I closed my eyes.  We kissed at first
with closed lips, like a twelve-year boy and an eleven-year old girl might
do.  That wasn't enough for me and I suppose it wasn't enough for her.  She
opened her lips and I felt her tongue touch my lips and I opened to her and
began to drown in her.

   After a while, she put her hands against my chest and pushed me slightly
away from her.

   "David, there are lots of things we can do with each other without going
all the way," she whispered.  "Do you want to?"

   "Yeah," I whispered back and put my hand on her breast.

   "I'm trusting you to hold back, David," she whispered.  "When you're on
top of me ramming that big dick of yours in me, I want a good mattress
under my back."

   "OK," I whispered back.  "You'll have it."

   I really didn't know how to pleasure her.  Except for the first woman I
had made love with when I was fourteen, I'd fleetingly had my hand on the
breasts of a couple of other women, before I hungrily moved on to the parts
that would give me the relief that I needed so much.  But I wanted to make
it good for her and I knew I should be slow and gentle.  I kept kissing her
while I played with her breasts, cupping my hand underneath them, catching
the hard nipple between my thumb and forefinger, stroking them.  She moaned
so I assumed she liked what I was doing.

   I felt my penis grow even harder and I moved closer to her until it
pressed against her side.  She wiggled one arm between us and took it in
her hand.  She started moving her hand back and forth on it and I was
afraid I'd come much too early.  I reached down and held her hand still.

   "Just hold it," I whispered into her open mouth.  "Don't make me come
yet."

   I returned my hand to her breast but she caught it and moved it down
between her legs.  She bent her legs, knees raised, and spread them wide,
giving me easy access to her.  I cupped my hand over her mound and held it
for a minute or so before I began to explore.

   We kept kissing each other, open mouths and moving tongues, while I used
my middle finger to seek out the way into her.  I parted her labia, moved
my finger down to her vagina, and let it slowly slide into her.  She moaned
again.  I pushed my finger in as deep as I could and moved it around and
around.  She kept moaning.  It had been years since my first sexual
experiences and I had forgotten how it felt to get my finger in a woman's
vagina.  The heat and wet silken smoothness of it amazed me.

   I moved down so that my face was above her breasts, looked at them for a
second, and then took the nipple of her left breast in my mouth.  I sucked
on it while I explored her vagina with first one finger and then two. 
Within a minute or so, my fingers were totally wet from her and I moved
them up a little to where I knew her clitoris was supposed to be.

   In most of my previous encounters with a woman, I'd been in a hurry to
get my penis in her vagina.  I'd never tried to find her clitoris so I
could bring her to orgasm.  It never entered my mind that she wouldn't be
satisfied by simple fucking.

   However, I wanted Anna to come first.  I wanted to satisfy her before I
reached my own release.  I wanted to please her, to bring her to orgasm,
while I waited for my turn and I didn't mind waiting.  At first, I couldn't
find her clitoris.  I knew it was where her inner labia joined together. 
Then I felt a hard bump there and I knew I'd found it.

   I alternated between kissing her and loving her breasts and at the same
time switched between inserting two fingers in her vagina and rubbing her
clitoris with the same fingers.  I didn't know what I was doing and whether
or not I was doing it right.  Then she started groaning, almost whining,
and I knew I was.  When she started moving her pelvis against my hand, I
guessed that she was probably close.  Then she reached down, caught my
hand, and pushed it down so that my fingers were deep within her.  I felt
something contracting and relaxing on my fingers and I knew I'd succeeded.
Like a twelve-year-old boy, I was proud of myself.  I had made her come.

   I didn't want to take my fingers out of her but I didn't know whether
she wanted me to or not.  I held my hand still and just lay there beside
her looking down at her.  Her hair was damp and tangled and her face was
devoid of makeup but she was still beautiful to me.  I watched her face as
she gradually relaxed, her eyes opened, and she smiled at me.

   "You lied to me again, David," she whispered.

   "What now?"

   "You said you didn't know anything about women.  It seems to me you know
enough.  You knew enough to be slow and gentle with me.  You made me come
and it was a good orgasm, David.  Of course, I was a little bit horny and
that helped."

   "I'm glad you enjoyed it," I said.

   "Oh, I did, David.  I really enjoyed it.  Now are you ready for your
turn?"

   "What do you have in mind?" I asked.

   She sat up suddenly, pushed me down flat on my back, and straddled my
legs.  She tugged my legs together and then sat down on my thighs just
above my knees.

   "Oh, I'll think of something," she said, as she put one hand on my
testicles and wrapped the other around my penis.

   "Just be slow and gentle with me," I said, and she looked back at my
face and saw me grinning.

   She grinned back at me and then looked down at my groin.  She sat and
looked for a minute, leaning to one side and then the other.

   "Doesn't it hurt?" she asked.

   "What?"

   "Your balls," she answered "One's caught down between your legs and the
others on top of it.  It looks like you've just got one."

   I put my hands behind my head, like I was going to do a crunch, rose up,
and looked down.  My penis was in the way.  I rose up a little higher, held
my penis down against my stomach, and looked again.  It looked like I had
just one testicle and my scrotum was stretched tightly over it.

   "It's a little uncomfortable," I said "It doesn't really hurt.  Pull the
other one out.  Like I told you, be gentle."

   I watched as she pushed her fingers down between my legs, and then
brought them up under my scrotum.  I couldn't help but smile.  She was so
intent on rescuing the other testicle and the tip of her tongue was
sticking out between her lips.  She pushed up from below, pulled gently
from above, and succeeded in getting both of my testicles free.

   "Of course, you could have just moved your legs apart a little and I
wouldn't have had so much trouble," she said.

   "I know but I wouldn't have had so much fun," I said.

   She cupped her hand under my scrotum and lifted my testicles, pushed
them to one side and then the other, all the while intently looking at what
she was doing.

   "Why do you have hair all around your balls but there's not much on
them?"

   "I never thought about it," I said.  "They're just the ones I was
issued."

   "Well, they're big too.  I guess everything about you is big.  I'm glad.
I think you're man enough for me."

   "I hope so.  I really want to be your man.  I want it so much, Anna."

   "Oh, you will be," she said, looking at me and grinning.  "For the rest
of your life, you're going to be my man."

   She leaned over suddenly, held my penis straight up, and took the head
in her mouth.  I shut my eyes, put my head back down on my boot pillow, and
let her have her way with me.  She moved her head up and down, short
strokes, so that her lips slid up and down on just the head, not down on
the shaft.  One hand cupping my testicles, the other holding my penis, her
lips just barely moving up and down on the head, I couldn't believe it.  I
wondered if I was about to get a blow job, as all the guys call it, but I
don't know why since she certainly wasn't blowing on it and it didn't seem
that much like a job to me.  She used her mouth on me for a minute or two
and then stopped, straightened up, and just used her hand on me.  I opened
my eyes, did a good crunch with my hands behind my head, lifted up off the
blanket, and watched.

   "Do you like that?" she asked.  From the grin on her face, she knew the
answer.

   I just nodded.  She was moving her hand up and down on my penis, slowly
all the way up until my foreskin covered the head and then down until the
head was uncovered and the skin on the shaft was stretched tightly down.

   "You've got a six pack," she said.  "I guess it looks more like an
eight-pack, the way the muscles on your stomach stand out.  How can you
hold yourself up like that?"

   "I'm just doing a crunch," I answered.  "It's easy when you're sitting
on my legs.  I do forty every day plus some other good exercises.  It's all
part of my training."

   "When we were in the pool, I could feel your dick between my legs, sort
of pressed up against my pussy," she said.

   "Yeah, I felt it too, I mean, I felt your pussy on my dick."

   "Wow, you can say dick and pussy.  You just said them in the same
sentence."

   "Anna, it's just habit.  It doesn't bother me to use other names."

   "I wonder what it would feel like, you know, me sitting on your dick.  I
don't mean with it in me, just with it pressed down against your stomach
and me sitting on it."

   "Why don't you find out?"

   She moved upward on me until her mound was directly above my penis, and
then settled down with her hands on my chest, sort of like a hen settling
on eggs.  I looked down and saw just the head of my penis sticking out from
under her.  I felt the heat and wetness of her on the under shaft of my
penis and on my scrotum.  I put my head back down and watched her.

   She started moving on me, sliding back and forth along the length of my
penis, shifting her weight from hip to hip, bending her back or rolling her
pelvis, all the while watching intently.  She slid her hands around on my
chest from the hair in the center up and down on my stomach, palms sliding
up over my nipples to my shoulders and then sliding back down toward my
navel.  I suppose she was trying different movements to learn what felt
good.  I lay there and watched what she was doing in amazement.

   She must have found some combination of movements that felt good to her
because she started sliding back and forth with a pelvic twist when she
started moving back.  My penis and balls were almost dripping from the
secretions she smeared all over me and she slid easily.

   I don't suppose she knew it but she had discovered something I liked
too. She slid forward until my penis was out of sight under her and I felt
the hard bump of her clitoris rubbing just under the head of my penis.  At
first I couldn't believe she could make me come that way but, as she
continued riding me, I began to believe.  After a few minutes, I knew I was
going to come without having my penis in her vagina and without anybody's
helping hand.  In another minute or so, I shut my eyes and let it happen. I
squirted out one stream after another of hot semen on my stomach.

   She must have felt the contractions in my penis because she went into
what can only be described as a frenzy.  Her eyes were closed and her face
looked like she was in agony.  Her fingers were trying to rip the skin off
my chest and her pussy seemed to be grasping at my penis.  I expected her
to make one too many wild movements, catch my penis with her vagina, and
shove herself down on it.  I wanted her to.

   But she didn't.  She just rode me at a hard gallop and then slowed down
to a trot and then stopped.  I did another crunch and looked down at my
stomach.  The head of my penis was barely peeking out of her pubic hair and
semen was running off on both sides of my stomach.  I couldn't believe I
came like that.  I'd never imagined anything like it.

   She sat there on me, breathing deeply, for a minute or so.  Then she
opened her eyes, smiled wickedly at me, and looked down.

   "I think you've got to go back to the pool, David," she said.  "You've
made a mess all over yourself."

   "The pool's out in the direct sunlight now," I said.  "You've got to go
with me.  I wouldn't want you to get overheated."

   `Well, the water's cold.  You can just hurry and get in.  I think I'll
let you go by yourself."

   I grabbed her arms, pulled her down on me, then wrapped my arms around
her and held her tightly against me.  When I raised my head, she met me in
a kiss.

   "I think you'd better get in too.  You've got semen smeared all over
your stomach," I said.

   After another trip to the pool, we returned to the blanket.  This time
she lay against me with her head on my shoulder and one leg thrown over
both of mine.  She played with the hair on my chest while we talked.

   "You've got to come back to me, David," she said.  "We're going to be
good together.  That's the first time I've ever come with a man and you
haven't even gotten your dick in me yet.  The second time was just as good
as the first."

   "You came again?  I couldn't tell."

   "Well, your dick wasn't in my pussy.  If it had been, I'd have pinched
it off."

   "I'm not through, Anna," I said.  "Maybe you'll come another time or
two."

   "If I do, I'm going to make sure you do too."

   "May I say `I love you' if I just say it once?"

   "You may say it a million times if you want to," she said.  "Once is
enough.  I wish you could know how happy I am to hear you say it."

   "I want to come back to you, Anna.  You've given me hope and made me
believe I can have a life with you.  That makes me happy too."

   I turned over facing her, put my right leg over hers, and she put her
left leg over my hip.  We finally figured out where to put our arms to be
comfortable.  She put her hand back on my chest and played with the hair. I
put my hand on her breast and played with the nipple.  I liked what I was
playing with better.

   We talked for while, just lying there, in no hurry to go anywhere or do
anything.  We didn't talk about the missions we might go on or the
undeclared war.  We talked about the future and what we wanted our life to
be like when we were together.  She seemed enthusiastic about the
possibility of having my children, our children, and I was just as
enthusiastic about giving them to her.  When she moved her hand down
between us and played with my testicles and brought my penis back to
another erection, I was ready to give her one immediately.

   I thought about what we had done and what we might still do.  I
remembered something I had heard at breakfast with her, something I'd never
done and had never wanted to do until now.  I wanted to do it with Anna.

   "Anna, did you hear what the women behind me at the table this morning
were talking about?" I asked.

   "Who?"

   "I don't know.  They were behind me and I didn't want to take my eyes
off you to look."

   "Wow!  Are you sure you're not Irish and you've been kissing the blarney
stone?"

   "No but I heard them talking about kissing, I guess you'd call it that."

   She thought for a minute and I could see from the puzzled look on her
face that she didn't know what I was talking about.

   "The one right behind me, the one with a high-pitched voice.  She said
`He ate me until I couldn't think and then I sucked his brains out through
his dick.'"

   "Oh, that's Christine," she said.  "She can't keep her mouth shut."

   I wondered if there was a double entendre there.  "How do you mean
that?"

   "Both ways," she said.  "All the girls call her a cum-slut.  She always
talks about it after she does it."

   "A cum-slut?  What's' that?"

   "A girl who sucks off lots of guys and swallows and then tells
everybody. I feel so sorry for her."

   "Why?"

   "Well, she's not very attractive and she's a little overweight.  I think
she does it because she wants somebody to love her and she knows a guy
likes to see a girl swallow his come."

   "Have you ever done it, I mean, suck some guy off and then swallow?"

   "No, have you?" she answered and then giggled.

   "No.  I did something once...I was about fifteen...it was after my
mother left...promise me you won't laugh at me."

   "OK, I promise."

   "I was in the carriage house by myself, jacking off.  I guess I was
curious.  I was laying in my bed and I put my legs back over my head so my
penis...I mean, my dick...was right above my face.  I had my mouth open and
when I came some of it went in my mouth.  I tasted it and then swallowed it
and almost threw up."

   "I guess it's an acquired taste too."

   "Yeah, anyway, I was talking about the first thing Christine said, not
the second.  Would you let me do that to you?"

   She didn't answer for a minute or so.  "I thought you didn't know much
about women."

   "I don't.  I've never done it but I want to do it with you."

   "Are you sure?  It's probably an acquired taste," she said and then
giggled.

   "I'd like to try.  I just want to do it to you.  It makes me horny just
to think about it.  Will you let me?"

   "David, you don't have to be so polite.  Don't ask me.  Just do it."

   "OK."

   I pushed her down on her back, waited while she put her head on her boot
pillow, then rose up on my knees, and knee-walked until I was between her
ankles.  I pulled one of her legs up, then the other, knees bent, and
spread them.  Then I sat back on my heels and looked at her.

   Her hair was nearly dry and it was tangled and almost covering one
breast.  On her back, her breasts were slightly flattened and leaned off to
both sides.  Below her rib cage, her stomach was drawn in flat, just about
concave.  A neat little patch of pubic hair crowned her mound.  Then back
between her legs, her mound curved around and split.  Between the two
halves I saw the slightly-opened lips of her pussy, with a little opening
into her vagina, just a little dark hole surrounded by red flesh.  I didn't
want to eat her.  I wanted to taste her and smell her and drown myself in
her and crawl up in her pussy and stay there.

   "Do you see something you like," she asked.  I looked up and saw her
smiling at me.

   On my hands and knees, I moved over her and kissed her.  She wrapped one
arm around my chest, put a hand behind my head, and pulled me down so that
my mouth was against hers and my chest was pressed against her breasts.  I
kept my ass in the air, trying to hold my dick up so that it wasn't pressed
against her stomach or down between her thighs.  I didn't think I could
resist the urge to shove it in her if I let it touch her.

   I moved downward on her, still supporting myself on my hands and knees,
and took the nipple of one breast in my mouth.  She cupped her hands under
her breasts and held them for me.  I moved from one to the other and sucked
the nipples into erections like little penises.

   I moved downward again and licked her belly button clean.  It was
already clean but I made her squirm when I licked it.

   Finally, I moved downward again, caught her legs behind her knees,
pushed them back and to the sides, dropped down on my stomach so my face
was only inches from her, and then moved upward a little and stuck my face
in her pussy.  I shut my eyes, turned my face from side to side, and rubbed
my cheeks and nose and mouth and chin on the soft smooth skin of her inner
thighs and in the hair on each side and in the soft outer lips and the
little inner lips of her pussy.  I breathed deeply and smelled for the
first time what a woman smells like when she is aroused.  I liked the way
she smelled, like nothing I'd ever smelled but so damned arousing.  I knew
that getting my face between her legs was going to be one of my favorite
ways of enjoying sex with her.

   After a minute or so, I pulled back, reached down under my stomach, and
pulled my foreskin so it covered the head of my dick and the wool blanket
didn't keep irritating it.  Then I took one more deep breath and stuck out
my tongue.

   I licked her slit for a while and then took another look at her pussy. I
kept licking her and then looking until the inner lips separated and I
could see the pink and coral and red of her vulva.  I'd never seen a woman
close up before so I studied it a little, figuring out where her vagina
was, back farthest between her legs, to where her clitoris was, up top
where the little lips came together, and where she peed, from a little
protrusion between the two good parts.  It was fascinating.  Damn, I liked
it.

   I had been uncertain whether I'd want to lick her pussy or not but I
wanted to please her and after I'd licked her for a minute or so I found
myself really wanting to do it.  The taste and smell of her seemed to go in
through my nose and mouth and straight down to my dick.

   She put her feet on my back, turned in opposite directions with her legs
splayed, knees wide apart.  I used the thumbs of both hands to open her
wider so I'd have more to lick.  She put both hands on the sides of my head
and held me so that my mouth was on her clitoris.  I guessed that meant she
wanted me to pay attention to it so I did.  I decided to be easy and gentle
in licking her but I intended to be persistent until she came.

   After a minute or so longer, she put her hands behind my head and pulled
me against her and at the same time she started just barely groaning and
moaning and whining.  I kept licking for a little longer and then decided
to see if I could suck her clitoris into my mouth.  At the same time, I
slid two fingers in her pussy and curled them around.

   It didn't take a minute more of sucking and licking and finger fucking
before she started saying things, like "Oh, shit" and "Oh, fuck." I felt
her internal muscles grasping and relaxing on my fingers and I knew she had
come again.  From what I felt on my fingers, it seemed like she'd had a
good orgasm.  I tried not to laugh at what she was saying.  I guess I was
like a twelve-year-old boy again, proud of doing something he'd never done
before and pleasing somebody.  But I knew it was something I liked, in
fact, loved, and I was going to do it with her often in the future.

   When I crawled back up beside her, she was lying there with one arm over
her eyes, gasping for breath.  I moved as close to her as I could and held
her and waited for her to come down.  After a minute or so, she moved her
arm, looked at me, and smiled.

   "Boy, you're going to get it," she whispered.  "I'm going to suck your
brains out through your dick."

   We lay there on the blanket under the beech tree, me holding her, her
holding my still-erect penis, me kissing her, her holding my head above
hers and refusing to let our kiss end, me holding her breast and playing
with the nipple with my thumb, just playing and in no hurry to do anything
else.  I knew my turn would come.  Finally she pushed me slightly away from
her.

   "What was it I said I was going to do?" she whispered, grinning up at
me. "I've forgotten."

   "Suce moi et fais moi jouir," I answered, grinning down at her.  "Suck
me and make me come."

   That's what she did.  She pushed me down on my back, kneed my legs apart
and crawled between them, leaned over and wrapped her hand around my penis
and took the head into her mouth.  Sometimes she just used her hand,
sometimes her mouth, and sometimes but not often enough both hand and
mouth. I lay there and let the rest of the world go away and I was nothing
but hard penis ready to spurt out a gallon of semen.  Somehow I retained
the presence of mind to warn her.  "I'm about to come, Anna," I whispered.
When she didn't stop, I assumed she knew what she was about to get.  When
my orgasm hit, it felt like I was emptying my balls into her mouth.

   When I opened my eyes, Anna was sitting back on her heels with her lips
tightly closed.  When she saw my eyes open, she tilted her head back and
swallowed once, almost gagged, and then leaned over and spit the rest of my
semen out on my stomach.

   "You've got to go back to the pool, David," she whispered.  "You've made
another mess."

   I could tell she was trying to round up a little more elusive semen in
her mouth.  I grabbed her arms, pulled her over me, put one arm around her,
the other behind her head, and brought her face down to mine.  We kissed
with open mouths, our tongues moving in and out, and I tasted my semen
again.

   I rolled over on top of her, she spread her legs wide, and my penis
nestled against her vulva.  I looked down at her, breathing deeply, feeling
her hard nipples against my chest and the wetness of her pussy against the
shaft of my penis, and I made up my mind.

   "Would you go with me to the Heartache Hotel next weekend, Anna?" I
whispered.

   <><><>

   Monday morning, I checked the bulletin board for my orders for the week.
I wasn't assigned to either the shooting range or the training area.  When
I saw what I was to do, I knew everything was about to change and my
wished-for mission was immanent.

   At 9:00 AM I reported to Building 41 as ordered.  From the outside, the
building was like so many others on the base, a weathered building that had
probably been sitting there for 30 years.  When I went inside, there was a
small reception room with one door leading deeper into the building.  I
rung the buzzer beside the inside door and was immediately asked to
identify myself.

   After a cute female lieutenant subjected me to a thorough security
check, I was assigned to a private who escorted me to Room 15.  The private
told me I would be locked in but there was a buzzer for me to ring if I
wanted to leave the room temporarily.  He asked if I wanted anything such
as something to drink and I asked for a large orange juice with lots of
ice. Inside the room, I saw a comfortable-looking couch, two chairs, and a
table.  The table was covered and I decided to wait for my juice before I
uncovered it.

   The private was back in a few minutes with a half-gallon of orange
juice, two glasses, and a big thermal carafe full of ice.  When I was
locked in the room again, I uncovered the table and saw an old much-used
suitcase.

   I pushed the right catch release three times - the wrong way - and I was
rewarded with three faint clicks.  I knew the explosive device in the
suitcase had been temporarily disabled.  If I had opened the suitcase
without disabling it, someone would have had to scrape me off the walls, if
there were any walls left standing.  The bottom, sides, and top of the
suitcase were going to be padded with one of our most powerful explosives.

   I pushed the right and left catch releases simultaneously - the right
way - and lifted the lid of the suitcase.  The first thing I saw was a foam
rubber cover with a handle on each side.  I lifted the cover and saw the
components for my rifle.  It looked strange to see a weapon with all the
parts camouflaged in a rustic sand color.  I lifted the components out,
laid them on the table in the order I wanted, closed the suitcase, and set
it under the table.

   I stood there without doing anything, checking over the parts to see if
they conformed to my requests.  As far as I could see, they did.  There was
a manual, of course, but I wanted to look at the rifle before I read it.

   There was a bipod that looked like the ones I'd been using.  Nothing
remarkable there.

   There was a scope that looked somewhat like the ultra-high magnification
ones I'd been using.  I knew it would be sighted in at about 2,300 meters,
the maximum range for me when I wasn't cool.  I was depending on being cool
to get me the extra kick to extend the range to almost two miles, the
distance between the temple doors and my hiding place.

   The CARD - Computer Assisted Rifle Device - looked like some sort of
electronic device with the small array of prongs to connect it to the
rifle. I knew it would fit beneath the barrel and the scope.  It interacted
with the sight to help correct for distortions caused by heat and it
communicated with a satellite that fed it information about heat and wind
and distance.  The rifle was inoperable without it.

   The rifle was bolt action, as I had requested.  I studied the trigger
for a moment but I knew I would be able to determine if it broke cleanly
without any creep only by using it.  I looked at the bedding between the
action and the stock and saw nothing notable except for the sandstone
color.

   With the silencer, the barrel was two and a half feet long, six inches
longer than the usual sniper rifle, to give it extra carrying power and
punch.

   Overall, the rifle appeared to be what I had designed with the
manufacturer's rep.  He had asked me more than once for what target the
rifle was intended and I had refused to tell him, in spite of his security
clearance.

   I poured myself a glass of orange juice, picked up the manual, and then
laid down on the couch.  I knew I had almost to memorize the manual before
they'd be satisfied.

   The manual wasn't very long and I read it through three times.  The
manual was adamant in its instruction that I should destroy the CARD after
I had made my kill.  I knew I could do that either by stomping it or by
putting the rifle back in the booby-trapped suitcase.

   I buzzed for the private and told him I wanted a pit stop.  He
accompanied me and stood behind me and to one side as I pissed.  I asked if
he had to accompany me everywhere and he answered that his orders were
never to let me out of his sight when I was out of the room.  I was about
to go back in the room with my rifle when he asked me a question.

   "Sir, is it really true that you killed ten bad guys in less than a
minute?"

   I looked at him and saw that he was just a kid.  "No, that's not true. I
shot seven of them in about a minute.  They ambushed us and we fought back.
I just did what I was trained to do.  They were just unlucky."

   "Well, whatever you did, could I shake your hand?" he asked.

   I shook his hand, slapped him on the shoulder, and went back to my
rifle.

   Locked in the room again, I stood next to the table and mentally
rehearsed the process of putting the rifle together.  When I was ready, I
timed myself and put it together without hurrying.  It took me almost two
minutes.  I wasn't satisfied.

   I took it apart and put it back together again in about a minute and a
half.  Still not good enough.  I took it apart again and assembled it
again. Just over a minute.  When I did it a fourth time, my time was under
a minute and I was satisfied for the moment.

   I disassembled the rifle again, putting the parts back in their original
positions.  I closed my eyes and put it together again.  I opened my eyes
and took it apart.  I closed my eyes and assembled it again in a little
over a minute.  I took it apart, scrambled the parts, closed my eyes, and
assembled it again in about a minute and a half.

   I saw that it was past noon so I buzzed for the private and asked him to
go to lunch with me.  He smiled and consented.  I'd even say he was eager
to go.  I could hardly eat because he asked me so many questions.  He
seemed to think I was some sort of superhero.  I tried to convince him that
I was just a soldier with good training.  I don't think he believed me.

   That afternoon, I took the rifle apart and put it together eight more
times, four of them with my eyes closed.  I was satisfied so I buzzed for
the private.  I shook his hand again as I left.

   Tuesday morning, I found one of the majors from the interview board
waiting for me in Building 41, the one who had known my father.  He watched
me as I took the rifle apart and re-assembled it four times, two of them
with my eyes closed.  We sat around the table and talked until noon.  When
he mentioned my father, I found that I could talk about him.  I knew the
major knew the circumstances of my father's death, as did the other members
of the board, but I told him anyway.

   We went to lunch together and I talked about my relationship with Anna
and what I wanted when I came back from the mission.  He didn't seem
surprised that I wanted to be discharged from the military.  I was
pleasantly surprised when I was told that I was free for the afternoon.

   Wednesday morning, my orders were to report to the firing range.  When I
got there, I was issued my rifle - I thought of it as mine - and one
hundred rounds of standard ammunition.  I knew it was time for me to become
acquainted with my rifle.  During the day, I fired at various targets, all
of them over a mile away, and took notes of where I was aiming each time.
When I turned in the rifle and my notes, I assumed that the rifle would be
recalibrated.  I quit in time to meet Anna for dinner.

   Thursday morning, my orders were to report to the long-range firing
line. I knew that this was the ultimate test.  When I arrived, I was driven
by jeep to another area separate from the regular firing range.  The major
was there waiting for me with my rifle.  We climbed up a ladder about a
dozen feet to a platform.  On the platform, two-by-fours outlined a window.
In front of the window, there was a table and a single chair.  We both used
binoculars to look at the mock-up of the temple doors with the Mullah and
his retinue standing in front.  He was easy to locate; he always dressed
completely in black.

   I assembled my rifle, sat down in the chair, inserted my ammo, and
closed my eyes.  Within a minute or so I was cool, as cool as I had been
the day I head-shot the bad guy as he scrambled for the gully.  I thought
of Grandfather and what he had told me once.  Revenge is a dish that is
best eaten cold.  Well, Grandfather, this is for your son and for my
father. I'm not cold; I'm just cool.

   I sighted and fired and waited for the call to tell me where I'd hit.  A
minute or so later, a disembodied voice told us that my shot was high about
two feet and that I had hit the Mullah-fucker in the head, not in the
chest. When the major heard the report he yelled "Son of a bitch, you did
it!" And then he looked at me.

   I sat there in the chair, unsmiling, without any reaction.  The Major
looked at the target through his binoculars, and then looked at me again.

   "Your shot wasn't high, was it?" he asked.  "You wanted to shoot him in
the head, didn't you?"

   I didn't answer him.  I just smiled.  I could do it.  I could kill the
son of a bitch.  I was cool.

   And then I thought of Anna.  I didn't want to leave her.
   TO BE CONTINUED