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This story is the property of the writer Kalimaxos. Any unauthorized reproduction or reprint without the author's express authorization is strictly prohibited.
My characters are often flawed, and like real life, my stories are a shitshow, like life. You've been warned. If you want happy endings and fairytales, you should move on.
I want to thank my editor Legio_Patria_Nostra for taking the time to review my work.
One more thing, you are on an erotica site reading smut. The last thing we need to hear is about your morals. What are you doing here reading smut and trashing the writers, characters on moral grounds then?
Make any derogatory or violent comments, lie about the story content to influence readers, or give me a lecture on morality, and your comment is gone. I moderate comments.
***
Confessions
"Oh my God!" Lacy gasped as she got her bearings.
She had just ridden her husband Ben for the last half-hour. Cowgirl was her favorite position to cum by rubbing her clit on his groin. And she had cum hard as her husband had sucked her nipples and fondled her tits. Ben had been getting Lacy to cum this way since early in their relationship and was glad to be able to help her orgasm.
It was not that he had a small cock. At almost seven inches, he was longer than most men. Yet somehow, the ability to make his wife cum from fucking in any other way eluded him.
"Oh, that was so good!" she said as she stayed on him. "Just give me a few seconds to settle down, and we can do more."
Ben was used to this. After five years of marriage, they knew each other's ways, likes, and dislikes in the sack. While they both loved the variety of positions, they both had favorites. Lacy's was on top facing him, while Ben's was on their knees, taking her from behind. It was how he received the most friction to cum.
Missionary was intimate for both, but neither ever came from it. Yet, they always weaved missionary in as they loved the intimacy and closeness of facing each other and kissing before doing what got each other off.
After a few more seconds, Lacy flipped over and got on her knees just as Ben wanted her to. She smiled at her husband as he rose to get behind her trying to ignore the long scar on his hip. Knowing the story behind it, she thought it a miracle for her husband to be alive. Yet here he was, all healed and strong enough to fuck her hard for his release.
Lacy parted her legs to give him access to her wet and waiting womanhood. As his strong left hand rested on her ass, Lacy felt his fingers spreading her behind to expose her two entrances.
She held her breath.
***
Ambar Provence, Iraq 2005
Mahmood was not Iraqi. But he had come to Ambar to fight for the cause of expelling the invading "crusaders" as the Iraqi government of Saddam Husain had called them. The western armies were not religious as the actual crusading armies had been 1000 years before.
At seventeen, Mahmood had been too young to serve in the Jordanian Army like his father and grandfather before him. And like many arab young men, he rejected his parents' call to serve his native Jordan. He crossed the border into neighboring Iraq, full of enthusiasm and dreams of islamic victory.
He was issued an old Russian AK-47, two 30 round magazines, and 100 rounds of 7.62 x 39 ammunition for the rifle. No one taught him how to use the combat rifle or clean and maintain it. In fact, the local Iraqi units laughed at volunteers like Mahmood and refused to train them.
They did send them to an area just south of Baghdad to dig trenches and await the American "crusader" assault. Mahmood first thought there was a problem when he saw Iraqi troops laying concertina wires bands right behind his trench just before the town outskirts. He didn't need to be a military expert to know that when the "crusaders" came, he and his comrades would be literally outside the wire and expendable. Iraqi troops that fortified the houses behind Mahmood were there to stop him and his hapless friends from escaping, more so than to fight the enemy.
And that proved accurate when an American tank column drove perpendicular to the Iraqi defenses and headed up the highway going northwest. That night, Mahmood and his fellow soldiers realized that the Iraqi soldiers had bugged out. Mahmood found a kitchen knife on the house floor and stuck it in his belt. Being the religiously committed "fighter" Mahmood fancied himself, he said his prayers waiting to die for the cause.
It was not from the front and the wire when the Americans came for them. The US army 3rd Division had penetrated the Iraqi defense and was now mopping up positions like Mahmood's from the rear. And so it was that predawn time, when men on guard all night start to doze, that the crusaders snuck up on Mahmood.
His head had been resting on the staircase doorway of the building's second-floor when a noise woke him. Looking down the steps, he saw two armed mersin escort and helmeted figures climbing the steps. Mahmood quickly brought his AK-47 up and pulled the trigger. But nothing happened as the rifle was loaded, but a round had not been charged into the barrel. It was a good thing as the dirty barrel would have made the round explode, maiming or killing Mahmood.
The two enemy soldiers realized what had happened and rushed Mahmood. The young jihadi pissed his pants but reached for the knife he had found and hidden behind the wall where the enemy could not see him. For added protection, he crouched behind the heavy door. That, too, saved his life as the enemy tossed two grenades in the room before charging in. In the dark, one of them aimed left and the other right. Both wore night-vision goggles, which helped them identify and shoot Mahmood's comrades dead. But they missed old Mahmood, who saw his chance at martyrdom and lunged.
"Allah-u-Ackbar!" he screamed as he body-slammed the crusader's midsection knifing him between his legs.
E-4 Ben Mathews felt himself wrestled to the ground and a sharp pain in his groin. Both the tackle and the acute pain knocked the breath out of him. Incapacitated as he was, Ben failed to stop the second knife strike into his right hip. The knife hit the holster of his 9mm Beretta and slid into his thigh, leaving a four-inch gash, barely missing an artery.
Bleeding and dizzy in shock, Ben did not notice the jihadi taking his pistol from the holster and dropping the knife. But the sound of more shots from behind him managed to clear his senses enough to reach for the pistol right after the jihadi fired twice.
'How the fuck did he fire it?' Ben's mind managed to question. 'I could have sworn I had the safety on.'
Behind him, he heard the familiar thud of a person hitting the ground. 'Jorg!' he thought as he struggled with the jihadi for the pistol. But the young arab was not injured, and in that instant, was the stronger of the two.
"Allah-u-Ackbar! Allah-u-Ackbar!" the jihadi kept screaming, his breath hot on Ben's face.
Ben instinctively reached for his combat knife strapped on his left leg and lunged at the enemy in the dark. He thought he had stabbed his assailant, but the enemy was gaining control of the pistol that went off again. Ben did not notice that the round missed his buddy E-4 Ross, "Jorg," Jorgensen, by inches.
The two earlier bullets had hit Ross on the right arm and shoulder exposed by his body armor, knocking him down. In pain himself, Ross had just managed to react, turning in time to see his friend in hand-to-hand combat with the jihadi.
"Mother fucker!" Jorgensen yelled and aimed his M-16A2 at the man struggling with Mathews.
Pain shot across Jorgensen's shoulder and upper arm when he tried to aim. Knowing he would have to make the shot count or shoot his friend, the wounded Ross aimed at the enemy, hoping to get a clear shot just when the pistol in the jihadi's hands fired again. And Jorgensen fired back instinctively.
Mahmood shook from the bullet's impact, allowing Ben to stab him in the chest. Once then twice.
"Allah..." was all he managed to say before he fired again, this time hitting Jorgensen's helmet and collapsing.
A stunned and bleeding Jorgensen managed to crawl to Mathews, but his friend was passed out from all the blood loss by then. And Mahmood had taken his last breath.
"MEDIC!" Jorgensen screamed. "MEDIC!"
***
Ross remembered only glimpses of what happened next. Images of Soldiers rushing into the room where they had been shot. Medics were working over him and Ben.
"Save him, forget me... save him!" Jorg was yelling.
"Easy soldier," the medic said with surprising calm as he worked on Ross's wounds. "I got chu mang. Drop that fucken rifle and let me work, OK?"
Fucken Ruiz, the crazy Mexican-American from Dallas who spoke little Spanish but used street slang to sound cool.
Ross passed out in shock, only to wake in a daze as he and Mathews on stretchers were loaded into a medevac. Both men had IVs in their arms as an air medic tended to them both. Well, mainly to Ben Mathews.
Before Ross Jorgensen passed out again, he felt the UH-60 medevac banking and heard the pilots talking over the sound of the engines and blades.
He thought he woke up inside a large jet plane one time with an Air Force nurse checking his vitals.
"Where's Mathews?" he asked again, still in a fog.
As busy as the nurse was, she remembered the name of one of the other soldiers down the line of cots lining up the inside of the cargo jet. That guy had asked about Jorgensen.
"He is alive, and so are you," the nurse said. "I don't know how, but he is. Just sit back. You've lost a lot of blood. You both have."
Ross was about to say something but drifted off again.
***
"Wake up, soldier," Ben heard his nurse call out. "Your surgery is over. We need to check your vitals, and then mersin escort bayan you can get some more meds."
He was hurting, trying to focus under the influence of the pain and fog of dissipating anesthesia. Fuck, his entire groin was on fire!
"Where am I?" Ben gasped, confused. "What happened?"
"You are at the Landstuhl US Army hospital in Germany. Now focus, how many fingers are in front of you, can you see?"
"Three," he replied. "What..."
"You were wounded. The doctor will tell you your condition when he does rounds. He is a bit busy now, but you are safe and out of danger. I'm going to give you some meds to put you back to sleep."
"OK, can I have a beer?"
"Not yet," the nurse laughed, joined by a man that Ben could not see. "That will have to wait."
"How about a date?" Ben said to cover up for the pain searing through his loins.
"That will have to wait, soldier," the nurse said in a sympathetic voice. "You just rest now."
As the medication in his IV started to take effect, Ben heard the female nurse talking to some man.
"That is the luckiest SOB ever," the male nurse assigned to help the nurse said.
"You can say that again," she replied. "Lucky doesn't begin to describe it."
***
"Good morning, soldier," the doctor said with a booming voice.
He was a stocky African-American Major in scrubs and a stethoscope around his neck.
"I'll cut to the chase," he said as he realized the choice of words may sound inappropriate and stared at Ben's chart to compose himself. "You have suffered multiple stab wounds. The two most dangerous were in your thigh and groin. The knife missed an artery on your thigh that could have ended you. Lucky for you, it didn't, and we fixed that."
The doc paused as he continued to read the chart.
"The wound into your groin was more traumatic, son. But you were lucky there too. The knife missed your penis by an inch or so."
"Oh, thank God!" Ben exhaled. "The whole area down there hurts."
"I bet it does, soldier," the Major replied. "But we managed to save one of your gonads and connect the plumbing back up, sort of speak for the other."
"My what?"
"Your gonads, testes... your balls, son. You lost one, but the other is still there. Your assailant cut the vas deferens, but we re-attached it."
"My what?"
"Your vas deferens," the major replied, looking at his watch. "It's a tube from your gonads toward... Well, it is how semen is transferred to your penis. Do you understand?"
"I think so," Ben replied. "So I have my dick and one ball?"
"Yes," the Major replied with a slight smile. "Hopefully, all will be fine and working when you recover. Now do as the nurses say and, do not, mess up my fancy surgical work by straining or jerking off. Understood, soldier?"
"Yes, sir," Ben replied, relieved that his dick and one ball had survived. "Thank you."
"If you get an erection, count your blessings, but leave it alone. You got me?" the doctor said as he walked out of the room.
"Yes, sir," Ben grinned.
"Lucky bastard," the doctor said as he turned to leave.
The male nurse was shaking his head.
"He ain't kidding, brah," the nurse said to Ben. "Haj almost turned you into a eunuch. Forget about the ball you lost, and be thankful for the one you got and that you got your dick. A guy down the hall took a round down there and lost everything. Everything man. Tha's fucked up!"
"Shit!" was all Ben said as he realized that indeed he was lucky to be alive and still a man.
***
The Army debriefed Ben and Ross the following day. And the day after, they had met and compared notes. By the time they were done, they had both realized that they had fought the same foe and saved each other's lives. That knowledge would become a common bond that would define their relationship and lives.
Both young men should have returned home after they were both downgraded from critical to stable conditions. Unfortunately for both, they both came down with infections and were held up in Germany. Ross's shoulder was fine, but his arm wound was infectious, and so was Ben's groin wound. While Ben's cleared first, he was kept at Landstuhl Hospital for observation. By the time Ross's infection cleared, they were both deemed ready to travel.
Finally stabilized and cleared to ship home, they were flown to Walter Reed Hospital in the US for recovery and physical therapy. After some haggling with the head nurse, they convinced her to place them on adjoining beds. Her experience taught her that together, two war buddies from the same unit would be nothing but trouble for the staff. But the ward doctor thought the two men would help each other recover. And his assessment overrode hers. It had been his convincing that did it, but the two men thought they had sweet-talked the married nurse with their charm.
In the coming weeks, the two soldiers proceeded to heal, recover and get to know each other escort mersin more than they already did. To say they had developed a bond would be an understatement. They got up daily checking on each other, kept track of each other's recovery, and went to sleep saying "Goodnight Asshole," much to the delight of the other soldiers who often asked them if Ross and Ben were going steady.
It was typical army razzing but a sign of respect as fellow soldiers. The nasty talk was also a sign of hope. Men who didn't engage in such banter were not recovering but drifting emotionally.
***
Life back in the world
Eventually, the two young men were released from the hospital and sent home on leave. They stayed in touch in the following months. Both decided to go to college as soon as their enlistments were over. And so it came to be that the following fall, they were both enrolled at the same university. Ross was working on an accounting degree and Ben on a geology one. They shared a small flat to save on expenses as they threw themselves into studying and making up lost time with the female talent.
Being older and more mature than out-of-highschool boys, the two men had a field day dating young women - immature girls were more like it. Most of them were on their first time away from home and enjoying the attention of young men and playing games with them to feed their egos, more so than their beds at night.
Soon, both Ben and Ross began dating two young women they liked. Ben went exclusive with Lacy Smyth, a business major, while Ross had an on and off relationship with Chery Weise in pre-law. Soon, it became customary for the girls to stay at the guys' place on the weekend or for the four to go out partying together.
The two young women got along, but they soon realized that the bond of the men was what kept the four of them together. After graduation next year, they would all go their separate ways. But that was not to be.
Neither Lacy nor Chery was surprised that their respective guy asked them to get married. By them, both girls were in love with the two young vets, and both accepted. It seemed like the thing to do.
They all opted for quick marriages at the courthouse, not wanting to wait for large weddings. Not very romantic, but Lacy's parents were divorced and near broke from sending her to college. While Cheryl despised big weddings as her mother wanted to turn the wedding into a social gathering for her friends instead of her daughter's special day.
The moment of truth came after graduation. Due to job offers, the two couples had to separate. As a firm in Columbus, Ohio hired Lacy, Ben followed her, knowing he could get an accounting job just about anywhere. Which he did within two weeks of them moving there.
Ross and Cheryl were not so lucky as she was accepted to attend Law School at the University of North Texas College of Law and Ross had to move to Houston and begin work for ExxonMobil. Not only that, but Ross would be traveling a lot overseas. It did not take long before the strain of living in separate cities took its toll on the Jorgensen couple.
"Have you heard from Ross?" Lacy asked her husband.
"No," Ben replied. "He is on another overseas trip. Why? Have you heard from Cheryl?"
When Lacy did not reply, Ben looked up. His wife's expression of concern and sadness told him that some bad news had come her way.
"Chery miscarried. She lost the baby," Lacy said, coming over to sit on Ben's lap.
"Oh no!" he replied, feeling sadness for his best friend and Cheryl as well. "Does he know?"
"No. She hasn't told him and doesn't want to while Ross is away."
"I guess that's something she wants to do up close. Terrible news."
Lacy was quiet. Ben could tell she was upset.
"Ben, there is more. But you have to promise me not to say anything to him via email or call. Chery made me promise not to tell you, but I said I couldn't keep secrets from you."
"So I'm supposed to keep secrets from Ross? He is my best friend -- a brother."
"I know, I know, but if you can't promise, I can't tell you."
"Fuck, this must be bad."
"It is," Lacy replied, leaning against him. "Babe, they have to sort their problems on their own. I know you and Ross are tight, but it's their marriage."
"That bad?"
She nodded in agreement. Her solemn gaze seemed to have gotten more intense. Ben felt that agreeing to secrecy would be betraying his friend, but his curiosity got the best of him.
"Lacy, I want to know, but if it is really bad, worse than Cheryl losing a child... you may be right about staying out of it."
"I know you and him will talk eventually, but you need to let her talk to him first, Ben. Would you want to find out about our problems from him?"
"We have problems?"
"Figure of speech, babe," she replied with a pained smile.
'This must be bad!' Ben thought inwardly.
"OK. You are right. I promise."
She nodded and shifted in his lap. Ben had gotten hard.
"We'll take care of that after," she said, shifting to the chair next to him, "Now listen. So, she was pregnant in her second trimester. And Ross had returned from a trip. Instead of going to Dallas to visit her, Ross stayed in Houston for meetings - or so he told her."