"My trousers fell to the floor and her eyes widened as she saw my proud tower of flesh. She stared in fascination as I climbed on the bed and positioned my thick, eight-inch piece of man meat at the entrance to her tunnel of love. Suddenly, as if coming out of a trance, she cried out, "No, we can't, we must not. It would kill my husband if he found out."
"Hush girl, you know that you want this."
"Oh god I do, I really do, but this is just so wrong."
"This will make it right" I said as I pushed my hard pole into her quivering quim."
"Can you believe it? Proud tower of flesh? Tunnel of love? I'm telling you that real people do not talk like that. Real people don't write shit like that. The letters in these magazines are all bullshit man. They are made up by people who work at the magazine."
Andy waved the copy of Penthouse Letters that he had been reading and said, "These stories are phony as shit too." He leafed through the magazine and stopped at a page, "Here's one. A housewife whose husband is out of town on business takes her laundry to the Laundromat. According to the story she has never been unfaithful. While she's doing the wash a guy comes in to wash his stuff. He asks her if he should use bleach on something and she tells him no and then a paragraph later she is on her knees sucking his cock and then she goes back to his room with him and they fuck for the three days her husband is gone.
"I'm telling you guys, all this is phony shit. Things like that just don't happen in real life" and as all the other guys sitting there agreed with him I just sat there and thought, "You are wrong Andy, oh so wrong. Things like that do happen in the real world" and I let my memory take me back to the spring of 1954.
I'd taken my discharge at Fort Lewis in November of 1953 after coming home from spending a sixteen-month tour of duty in Korea. I'd come home to a family that had missed me and who had welcomed me home with home coming parties and family get togethers. My sister's current boyfriend gave me a lead on a job where he worked and I applied, got the job and started to get on with my life.
But something was missing. I couldn't quite get into civilian life. Stopping with the guys after work for a beer was boring and tame. Even the few dates I went on seemed uninteresting. I didn't know what was the matter with me, but some one else did - my father. He and I really didn't get along and as far as I was concerned it was all his fault. He had come home from War Two, stayed with my mom and me for about two months and then he split. One day he left for work and never came home. Six months later he was back. He and my mom disappeared into their bedroom and I heard them talking most of the night and in the morning it seemed as if she had forgiven him, but I never did.
I was still living at home and one night I got home from work and found him sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me with a couple of beers. He opened one and pushed it toward me and motioned for me to sit down. We looked at each other in silence for several minutes and then he said, "Figured it out yet?"
"Figured out what?"
"Just what it is that seems out of kilter with your life? Why everything seems just a little bit off and you can't quite put your finger on it?"
That was exactly what I was feeling; how could he know? "No, no I haven't."
"Think about it. What were you doing and what are you doing now?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Okay, since I don't know what your circumstances were and I have to assume that the Army has changed some since my day I'll give it to you from my side.
"When I was drafted in 1942 there was none of this two year bullshit. When they took you it was "For the war plus six months." Then they take you to a training camp and they train you sixteen hours a day to kill people and destroy things. You learn to use rifles, pistols, BARs, machine guns, mortars, hand grenades, bayonets and knives. Then you finish basic and are assigned to a unit and the training goes on. It never lets up; this is how you kill, this is how you blow this up, this is how you tear this down. This is your enemy. Learn to hate him because he is evil personified and then kill him every chance you get.
"Then you find yourself in a landing craft approaching a beach. Bullets are clanging off the hull, artillery bursts are going off all around you. The ramp goes down and you find yourself in a living hell as men are dying all around you. You fight your way off the beach and for the next six months it is hedge row to hedge row, town after town, storming pillboxes, kicking down doors and tossing in grenades, fighting house to house and all the time men are falling all around you wounded and dying.
"They finally pull you out of line and send you back to a rest area and just about the time you stop wetting your pants every time you hear a loud noise they load you on trucks and send you back up to the line and it starts all over again. Suddenly one day it stops. It is like some one threw a switch. One minute you are being shot at and two seconds later it is peace and quiet. You get loaded on a troop shit and twenty-one days later you are back in the USA and two weeks later you are standing at a train station with a government travel voucher in one hand and your discharge papers in the other
"Three days later you are home, but home to what? A nine to five job, nights sitting on the couch listening to Amos and Andy or George Burns and Gracie Allen? The days are dull and boring after what you have just been through. Some men just can't go from months of stark terror to orderly calm over night.
"That's where the Army, Navy and Marines fail us. They wind us up, but whenever what they wound us up for is over, they cut us loose. There is no period of winding down, of getting what they pumped into you out of your system. One day you are clearing a house room to room with grenades and bayonets and then suddenly you are in a house and fixing the storm windows. Some made the adjustment, but a lot of us didn't."
"That's why you left us?"
"I had to get away. I had to, for lack of a better way of saying it, cleanse my system. I had to get rid of the insane urge to settle every argument with a vertical butt stroke. I was seething with violence and I had to get it out of me."
"So what did you do when you were gone?"
"I'm not going into that. A lot of what I did I'm not proud of, but to boil it down I looked for dangerous jobs, jobs that would let me work the bad shit out of my system. It took a while, but one day I woke up and said, "I could get killed doing this shit" and I knew then it was time to try and come home. Luckily for me your mother is one hell of an understanding woman.
"I see a lot of what I felt when I came home in you. The shooting in your war ended in July of '53 so you had a couple of months to adjust, but you still seem to have - I don't know - a need to let off steam."
"So what do you suggest I do?"
"Hell, I don't know. Take up sky diving, go over Niagara Falls in a barrel, just do something that will burn whatever is still inside of you out of you."
Not too long after that I saw Marlon Brando in "The Wild Ones" and I don't to this day know exactly why, but at the point in the picture where the town girl says to Brando, "What are you rebelling against Johnny?" and Brando replied, "I don't know, whaddya got?" I knew that I needed to get a motorcycle and go screaming down the highway with my hair on fire. It would be exciting and exhilarating and just maybe dangerous enough to burn out what my father thought he saw in me.
I bought a used 1947 Harley and set out to run up and down the roads as fast as I could. It was not an uneventful time in my life. I pushed that bike to the limit and several times I had the cops chasing me for being so far over the speed limit that my speedometer was pegged out. But I was on my Harley and I was invincible and I ran from them and I never did get caught.
One day I was in a gas station filling up when another rider came in. He said he had seen me riding around the neighborhood and he introduced himself and we started riding together. He belonged to a club and he talked me into joining and soon I was riding all over the state with a group of guys. One night we were sitting in a tavern drinking beer and trying to decide where we were going to go next when a guy and a girl walked in and sat down in a booth. It was dark in the place so I did not get a good look at them, but it was obvious from the loud talking coming from their booth that they were not happy with each other.
Me and the guys got up and left. My 74 didn't want to start right off and the other guys had already pulled out of the lot when I heard, "Most of the others had girls riding with them. Don't you have a girl to ride with?"
I turned and looked and saw that it was the girl who had been arguing with the guy in the tavern. Not bad looking, but no raving beauty either. She did have a stupendous set of tits though. I found out later that they were 38DDs.
"No" I said, "I don't have a girl to ride with me."
"Sure you do. Scoot up and make room for me."
I kicked the bike one more time and it roared to life, she got on behind me and I tore out of the lot and cranked it on to try and catch up with my buddies. Three miles down the road a car came up behind me flashing it's headlights and blowing it's horn. I turned to look at it (mirrors were 'sissy' things back then) and the girl said, "It's my husband, lose him."
My first instinct was to dump her off the bike - I didn't need to be getting into it with no husband - but at the speed we were going it wouldn't have been a good thing. And then I thought about how good it felt to have those 38s boring holes in my back as she held on tight so I twisted the throttle and left the car eating my dust. Three minutes later I caught up with the pack and roared past them and they picked up speed and came up on my tail. There was a crossroads coming up and I asked her if she wanted me to let her off to wait for him.
"Hell no. Turn left, he'll go right thinking that I'm heading home."
I hung a left and twenty miles later we came to a tavern on a lake and I pulled into the parking lot. The others pulled in behind me and as they were putting down their kickstands I saw their curious glances. I also saw the apprehension in the girl's eyes as she looked around at them and I knew right away what she was thinking.
"Relax" I said. "They will if you want them to, but you will have to make it very clear to them that is what you want. Is that what this is all about?"
"No, no it isn't. I'm pissed at my husband, but not that pissed."
"Care to bring me up to speed?"
"I just found out that Mike has been fucking my cousin Sally and I decided that if he can screw around so can I. I told him that and he laughed at me and told me that I wasn't the type to do something like that. When your gang got up to leave I saw that you didn't have a girl so here I am."
"So it wasn't my rugged manliness that attracted you? I'm just a piece of meat that you can use to get back at your husband?"
"Whatever. You going to turn me down?" She lifted her sweater up over her head and took off her bra, "You going to walk away from these?"
The rest of the guys were hooting and whistling as I stared at her tits. They were perfect. No sag to them at all and they stuck straight out like the tips of two torpedoes. I looked from them to her face and then back down at those marvelous tits and said, "No, no I'm not, not in this lifetime anyway."
I brought the others up to date on what was happening and then we went into the tavern and shot pool and drank beer for a couple of hours and then we headed for home.
I had my own apartment by then and I led Amy through it to the bedroom. I turned on the light and turned to her, "You don't have to do this. You can just tell him that you did."
"Oh no, I have to do it. I have to get even with that bastard. Also, I have to prove him wrong. He said that I couldn't do it so I have to prove to myself that I can" and with that she started to take off her clothes. She cupped her tits in her hands and squeezed them as she offered them to me.
"You like? My nipples are very sensitive and I can actually orgasm when they are licked and sucked. Care try?"
I made love to those tits. I licked, sucked and slobbered all over them and she squealed with delight. The harder I worked on them the louder she squealed and moaned and then she did have an orgasm and don't think that didn't make me feel like a stud horse.
"My turn now baby. My husband says I'm quite good at this" and she sank to her knees in front of me and gave me the hottest blow job I'd ever received. Why her stupid fuck of a husband wasted his time on some one else when he had her I'll never know. I was so worked up from working on her tits that she got me off in no time. After she had swallowed every drop I had and had licked me clean she said, "Not to worry baby, we aren't even close to being done.
She pulled me up onto the bed and pushed me down on my back and then she straddled me. She lifted my limp cock up and then she surrounded it with those stupendous melons and tit fucked me until I was hard again.
It was thirty-six hours before we came out of the bedroom to do anything other than eat or go to the toilet and it might have gone on longer had I been able to get it up any more. She was totally insatiable. We fucked and then she would suck my dick to get me hard again. This happened four times before we fell asleep curled up around each other. Three hours later she woke me up with another blow job and when she saw that I was awake she slid forward and sat on my face and I did what was expected of me until she pulled herself away from me.
"I guess my husband doesn't know me as well as he thought he did. I am not only capable of doing this I have discovered that I like doing this. I want to do something that I've never let my husband do to me. Would you fuck me in my ass?"
When we finally got to the point where my cock just would not respond we fell asleep and slept for ten hours. When I woke up she was on the phone.
"That is up to you," she was saying. "You just have to know that I won't put up with it. You got away with it this time because I decided to pay you back in kind. If it happens again I'll just leave and that will be the end of it. So, with that in mind should I come home or do you just want to go ahead and call it quits now?"
"I don't know, it is up to him. If he is finished with me I'll be home sometime today, but if he still wants more of my pussy it may be a day or two."
"You should have thought of that before you decided to fuck Sally."
"I'll ask him."
She turned to me, "How much longer would you like me to stay?"
"The rest of my life sounds like a start."
"It may be a couple of days yet Mike. I'll give you a call."
She turned to me again, "You want breakfast first to build up your strength, or do you want to work up an appetite first?"
At the end of the third day she called her husband and told him that they were even. "We can try to put things back together now if you want to, just remember - do it again and I won't waste time getting even, I'll just be gone."
When I pulled up in front of her place he was sitting on the front porch waiting. She kissed me and climbed off the bike and headed for the house and he got up and ran to her, hugged her and then picked her up and carried her into the house. I motored off wishing that he would have had all of her stuff stacked outside on the porch so I could have taken her back home with me. She had my phone number and I told her to call me if things didn't work out and that I'd come back and get her, but I never heard from her again.
The motorcycle and the things I did while I owned it took whatever it was inside me that I had brought home from Korea and killed it off. My father's confession and my understanding of it healed the riff between us and two years later I met and married the woman who celebrated our fiftieth anniversary with me last month.
Andy tossed the magazine onto the center of the break room table and the thump it made when it hit brought me out of my reverie. "It's rubbish, all rubbish" he said again and all I could do was smile.
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