Exposure

This is a work of fiction. None of the events or characters are real, but are being told using the personal experiences of the author. This story should not be read by persons under the age of eighteen as this story has extreme sexuality and consists primarily of homosexual and bisexual thought and content. Any attempt to misread the direction of this short story or to implicate Nifty Archives in any form of duplicitous act would be completely misguided. All content is the intellectual property of JAZZ (Thomas Wright) (pseudonym of the author who wishes to remain anonymous). It is solely for the erotic entertainment of persons who enjoy this particular type of media. Any comments direct to: paladin1954@hotmail.com

© 2015 Jazz (Thomas Wright)

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Exposure: Chapter One: Special People

My life had always been special. I was raised on a farm, taught about farm ways, the humility of hard work, and the love of life that only comes with a semblance of hardship manifested by the life incurred by working with animals and crops. The days were early, difficult, and tiring, considering that those events were consummated before our home school lessons began. In the evenings, the work continued and lasted until well after the sun went down. Almost immediately, after supper, my brothers and sisters found ourselves taking our bathes and getting into bed before 9:00 PM. My two brothers shared a bed with me in the loft attic of our house and our two sisters shared another in the bedroom by my parents. There was no time for video games, television, or even reading for fun. The only day we had time to rest was on Sundays and most of that day was spent in the First Missionary Baptist Church of Union Bend, Idaho. Life was good, but not very satisfying.

Most of our childhood was spent learning how to take the tasks issued by our father and make sure that they got done to his satisfaction. There was little time for horseplay, even though it happened from time to time. The life was one that we were raised with, and accepted, even expected it to get tougher from time to time. It was almost like a vacation to stop for our mother to teach us to read and write. Only at night, when I would wake up and listen to the breathing of my brothers and feel the heat of their bodies through their pajamas, did my mind drift into a strange and different place. It seemed my penis would get hard simply imagining looking at my brother's and sister's nakedness. It didn't bother me that I had those thoughts as I did not understand what they were. Although I had never been taught, I found that rubbing it through my pajamas gave a pleasurable feeling.

I did not know what sex between people involved. There was that strange feeling in the pit of my stomach when the arousals came. My father, being of the old school, figured that nature would eventually take its course and never spoke of it. Mother had noticed that I had begun having those spontaneous erections, especially in the morning, but was too timid to talk to me about it. Although there was no one around that could or would help me to understand the changes my young body was undergoing, I did not fret over it. If it got too much of a problem, I would come out and ask, not understanding that asking might cause more problems than was necessary. I was only twelve at the time. Anyways, I was raised on a farm and I knew how the animals made babies, so I figured that was the way it was for people. I did not know at the time how pleasurable sex could be and would eventually be in my life. It just felt good to get an erection.

I had a yearning to learn. Even though I was well accustomed to the life provided by my mother and father, I knew that there were other avenues that I wanted to pursue in my life. I really wanted to be a doctor, but knew that it would be a difficult task. My sisters' only desire was to marry someone who would treat them with respect and provide the necessities to make life endurable. My brothers had resigned themselves to a life of hard work. I knew that although I would probably end up following by father's life, I would attempt to pursue the dream that had been the center of my attention for many years.

When I was old enough to go to middle school, I convinced my parents that I needed to be there, learning from people, trained as teachers. When they finally conceded and let me go, I was as happy as I had ever been in my life. I took to my lessons with a gusto and studied hard. Making good grades came easy as I was eager to learn. The work ethics and skills that came from being a farmer's son certainly came in handy. Learning was easy and I continued to succeed until I was first in my class.

There was very little opportunity to socialize while in middle school, but in high school there were dances and clubs, hangouts in the woods, and dating. I did not have a car at my disposal, so dating was out. My family and I lived too far out in the boonies to easily get to town for even the school dances. I did participate in the FFA, even winning first place in the hog contest at the state fair. With all the classes I took and the people who I associated with on a day to day basis, I was a wallflower, shy and socially inept. Except, however, among my teachers who considered me brilliant. There was a smattering of acquaintances, mind you, but only one boy I could call a close friend. He lived about a mile away from my house and there were days when the farm work was caught up, usually in the early spring after the planting or late fall after the harvest, that I would meet him on the road and we would go walking in the woods or go fishing at a nearby pond or creek.

Samuel Wiseman was an exceptionally pleasing young man, always laughing and carrying on, not really being serious about anything. We would talk about FFA, about the people at school, about the teachers, our parents, and our situation. Both of us had little ability to go to the dances. When we went to school, we caught the bus around 6:00 AM and traveled the hour and forty five minutes to learn. Then in the evening we would repeat the process. When I got home, I had to do chores, so most of our time together was spent on Saturdays or late Sundays after church. Sam was Jewish and did not go to church with us. I do not think they went to church anywhere, but he did tell me they worshipped God in family meetings on Saturday mornings.

When you are in high school, you hear the kids talking in the most vulgar ways about sex. There were people who were harassed all the time, boys teased because they seemed too feminine, girls because they looked too masculine, and the loose girls who liked to put out were made fun of all the time. The jocks lied about who they had sex with and how many times. Even in Idaho, there were cliques, the more well-to-do teens separating themselves from the peons and causing problems for those less fortunate. It was human nature. Samuel and I were very fortunate in that we were farm boys and we were better developed than most of the jocks in the school. Our physical state did get us admiring looks from the girls, but they immediate disregarded us because of our social ineptness and shy nature. We were not cool, but we were not picked on. I guess the jocks did not want to get embarrassed by making either of us mad.

It was one of the topics Sam and I always talked about when we were on our outings. We would moon over the girls that graced our imaginations, talk about the unfairness for many of our acquaintances, especially those wrongly accused about sexual things in their lives and basically fanaticize about having sex with a girl for the first time. Many times we would get huge erections talking about our fantasies, and being sixteen we were not sure about how to deal with it. I would simply rub my penis through my pants, sometimes very hard, but never hard enough to ejaculate. Sam would do the same. I had never "shot off" before, but Sam had and he told me it felt good. His sexual education was a little more refined than mine, because his culture taught him when he became of age.

I became frustrated, because I did not understand and Sam would console me and told me he would show me how to do it. His cousin, Jacob, had taught him how to "jerk off" and because Sam felt sorry for me, he decided to show me.

"You will have to pull it out of your pants," he said huskily. "Or we could take our clothes off. There's no one out here that's going to see us."

I thought about it for a minute and opted just to pull it out of my pants. When I released my sixteen year old cock, Sam whistled. He had never seen a penis that was uncut and he had never seen a cock as big as mine. I was shocked when he released his from the combines of his pants, because I had never seen a circumcised one. My brothers were uncut. My dad was uncut. My uncles were uncut. Who cut their foreskins off? Jacob explained that it was customary in his religion to circumcise for health reasons. It kept diseases from building up around the penis glans. I was taught to wash my skin thoroughly and did not get the concept immediately, but accepted that his religion did weird things. I would later find out that most men in these days and times were cut.

"Why is yours so much bigger than mine?" Sam asked.

My reply was simple, "I don't know, Sam." I realized that I was about three inches longer than him and thicker as well. His was a little longer than my middle finger, and mine was as long as my hand stretched from the tip of my middle finger to the heel. I was fascinated by how groomed his looked and how wild and untamed mine seemed. Both of us were hard, very hard. After we had visibly examined the differences and admired each other's erections, Sam continued.

"Watch how I do this," he said. "Pull back on the skin, then pull forward. Now, keep doing it over and over. When you do it enough, you will cum. White stuff will shoot from the tip, kind of like it happens when the horses and bulls do, when they are breeding. The pleasure is incredible. The first time I came I lost my balance and fell to my knees. Jacob did something different while I was down though..."

"What was that?" I asked as I tried with little success to pull my foreskin over the glans of my penis.

"He moved up to me when I was on my knees and told me to kiss it," Sam commented calmly as he pulled on his pug.

"His thing?" I questioned, shocked that even Sam would admit that. "Did you?"

"Well, yes and when I pulled my head back, he told me to put it in my mouth."

I was really shocked then, because that was what all the boys at school made fun of: boys that sucked dick, who were queer. I looked into his eyes to see if he was serious, but there was nothing there that told me he was teasing or lying. He could tell that I was perplexed.

"I sucked his thing until it shot off in my mouth, which didn't take long and if I couldn't share that with my best friend, who could I tell. I know what the boys at school would say, but I don't think I am a queer. What was I going to do? I was thirteen and he was seventeen. If I had said no, he could have beat the crap out of me," he explained as if he had decided he would lift the burden off, finally. "I swallowed his stuff, too. I was scared if I spit it out, he would be upset. I was too young to do anything about it."

"I don't know what to say," I spoke finally feeling embarrassed for him. "Why haven't you ever told me that story before now?"

"I was afraid of how you would react to the truth of it," he said starting to become embarrassed himself. "I thought you of all people would understand and you stand here looking at me like I am the worse thing ever."

"I am simply shocked, that's all. I don't think I could have ever shared that secret with you, Sam, even in a situation like this... especially in a situation like this, while we both have hardons and you are teaching me how to jack my dick." My mind was reeling at his revelation.

"I started remembering when we pulled out and I saw your dick. I have felt so close to you lately that I felt I could tell you about it and you wouldn't judge me." His erection was waning. He started to put his cock back into his pants.

"Sam, I was simply so unprepared for that. I would have never thought in an instant you would have put yourself in that situation, but I know why...I am not sure I could have said no to a boy much older than me when I was thirteen. I need to know how to do this, don't quit on me now." I found I was rather turned on by the prospect of Sam and his cousin Jacob. At our age, with our limited experience, anything like Sam's real life experience permeated the sexual awareness farther than fantasizing about the girls we really knew we would never have the opportunity to do anything to. "Were you grossed out about it?"

"I didn't know there were rules like we live by day to day. It seemed natural at the time. I didn't quite understand why he hadn't offered me the opportunity to feel his mouth on mine, but it didn't taste bad and even his stuff wasn't terrible...it was kind of like eating cold cream of wheat on a winter morning. It had a slightly salty taste, with an almost pudding feeling."

"Would you ever do it again?" I asked not really expecting him to be forthcoming.

"It was not a bad experience, Mike. If I was given a chance to do it again, I might, but it would have to be with someone I trusted not to ever speak of it."

"Like who?" I trembled.

"You are the only one I would trust to tell it to and right now you would be the only one I would ever do it with." He was staring deeply into my eyes, searching, trying to see if I was willing to allow him to experiment with me.

"I tell you what..." I stammered, really turned on by the prospect of doing something sexually with another person. "You teach me how to shoot off and I will think about the other...I will have to think about it Sam...but I will consider it."

Sam smiled and walked closer. "In all of this, you haven't lost your hardon."

"I think I have a predicament, Sam."

"What's that, Mike?" Sam asked with a twinkle in his eye.

"My dick is different. I have to pull the skin over the head to get to it. It doesn't move like yours does. It has gotten behind the head and it has bound it up...its tight and it hurts."

"Oh my god, Mike, your dick's head is so big and purple. It's the size of a small plum. I have never seen anything like it. I think you are going to have to shoot to make the skin come back..."

"Sam, it really hurts. I don't know how I am going to do what you are telling me to do..."

"I will try to help..."

"How, Sam?"

"You know..." he smiled.

"I don't know...I haven't had time to think about what you told me..."

"Seems like an emergency to me." Sam got on his knees and proceeded to give me the first blowjob I would ever experience. I will say it felt different, but I hurt. I could feel a pressure building at the bottom of my dick, coming from the bottom of my stomach, but I didn't understand what was about to happen. When Sam put the first inch of my cock into his mouth, my knees buckled. He could barely put the glans in, but he began to lick up and down the shaft attempting to work more of the length inside. The warm and wet ministrations were sending shivers and electric pulses I had never imagined possible. The ground soon found me sitting and then laying, proud cock standing with Sam's hands around the base and mouth covering the head.

Up and down he bobbed...slobbering, gagging, sucking...the sounds were amazing and so very sensual... Never as a young man had I allowed myself to lose control, but situations can change conditions. When I came out to the woods with my friend, I would never have imagined I would allow him to do to me what he had chosen to do.

He had loosened my belt and undone my pants. That helped to alleviate some of the pressure around the base...the pleasure I was experiencing was unbelievable. Eyes closed and trembling all over, I felt him adjust his position. My pants came further down my thighs. Sam paused for a moment and pulled my boxers down releasing for a moment that rigid rod of hot flesh that had become the center of my existence. When I thought I had felt it all, he would do something different and all of a sudden my nerve endings would explode. More adjustments, sounds of him undoing his belt, the rustling of clothes, more movement. I opened my eyes to see what he was doing and I was met with his cock staring at the side of my head. I was surprised. I wondered how I missed all of that movement and then realized that I was in a world all its own.

I stared into the cock and balls of my friend, covered with a light smattering of hair. Did he really expect me to do anything, I thought. There was a nibbling, an extreme tingling as the endorphins pounded the nervous system. He adjusted a little more and his dick slid its pre-cum covered head on my cheek. I did not find it repulsive, but I still wasn't sure I would put it in my mouth. Sam had finally gotten into a rhythm, pulling about half of my dick into his mouth and was rapidly bobbing his head. I could feel the tension building, the bottom rising, the pleasure pulsing. When the feeling receded slightly, I found that I had unwittingly inhaled my friend's dick into my mouth. I was mimicking the actions of Sam, getting faster and faster. The difference was that I was able to put his entire cock into my mouth and I found that my chin was touching his pubic hair and my nose was hovering in his balls, taking in his muskiness. I did not take the cock from my mouth. I did not stop and continued matching his tempo and fervor.

I realized something different was happening. The feeling of pleasure was so intense, I had lost track of all time. The moment I shot my load into the throat of my friend was almost the same instance he shot his into my throat...I swallowed his load and writhed in a sea of pleasure I did not know existed. The entirety of my body from the tips of my toes to the top of my head were flooded with unbridled bliss. His stiffening had not removed his mouth from my cock, but I heard him gagging...and laughing...and gurgling...and moaning. I was so drained, so totally wasted, that I simply lay there with his softening cock still in my mouth, the left over dribblings of his cum sliding from between my lips. I fell asleep in that position, a sleep like I had never known in my entire life.

I don't know how long we dozed and languished in the afterglow, but when we woke it was late afternoon. We both had to get home for supper. I looked at Sam, and then looked at my cock, seemingly embarrassed I had let it go so far. I realized that Sam had lied to me, he was much more experienced than he had first led me to believe. I raised my head to confront him with the fact, but he had already realized what I was thinking.

"I did not lie to you about the first time," he started. "It happened just as I said it did. Jacob seduced my mouth and took my childhood innocence away."

"...and?" I questioned.

"He bragged about it to my brothers and my cousins, including the girls. I was made a laughing stock within my family. I also became the one everyone came to for release. I would suck my brothers, my cousins, their friends, and even some of my uncles. I learned to lick the girls until they were bucking their cunnies up into my face uncontrollably. I despised what I had become, but wouldn't stop. I kept coming back for more. I sucked ten of them to completion at a family reunion one day. I had so much spunk in my stomach that I couldn't eat lunch. My mother thought I was sick, and perhaps I was a little mental after all that. I am a queer boy, I enjoy sucking and licking, and even sometimes some of the older boys will feel sorry for me and jack me off knowing that I was getting them off, but not getting release myself."

"My relationship to you was the only real one I have ever had and I think I blew it today. I could tell a minute ago you had a revelation about my truths. I lost control and found that I was beyond the point of no return before I knew it. I didn't expect you to suck my dick in return. You are the only one who has ever done that for me, you know."

"You gave me little choice," I replied sadly. "I could've dealt with the fact that you wanted to suck me. If you had told me the truth from the start, maybe I could've helped you and perhaps it would have ended in the same way, but to realize that all we just experienced was a lie..."

"No, not a lie. I have wanted you for the longest time..." Sam said.

"Well, now you will never have me again...I can't trust you anymore, Sam. Not ever." I paused. "When we are at school, I don't want you around me. Don't talk to me. Don't send me notes. Don't..."

Sam teared up and started sobbing. "I am sorry, Mike. I couldn't stop."

"I am stopping what should have never gotten started." I paused again. "It's not the sucking of of dicks by either one of us...it's the betrayal." I turned and walked away. He called out, but ignored him. I thought long and hard about what had happened. I realized that I had really been a willing participant in what had gone down and I swore from then on to never allow myself to get into that position again.

When I got back to the farm I washed off at the cattle trough, making sure I had all signs of what happened cleaned. If they made comment about my appearance, I decided I would tell them that Sam and I got into an argument and then into a bad fight. I would tell them that I had hurt him badly and that we had decided never to talk to each other again. My day looked at me sadly and shook his head. After dinner, he told me that he knew what happened, because it happened to him. I looked at him shocked. He told me the only argument bad enough to break up a friendship was one about betrayal and falsehoods. Most of those incidents, he said, occurred over talking about sex or having sex with a friend. He talked about sexual abuse being the worse form of betrayal, a destruction of the trust only a loved one could have. A tear would leave the corner of his eye, slowly working its way down his weathered cheek, finally dripping off his stubbled chin. After he said his piece, he never talked about it again.

For months after the day in the woods, I thought about it, how I could have stopped it. I considered every instant and all I could come up with was that there was nothing I could have done. I was an innocent in the initial scheme of things, but became a willing partner when I allowed Sam to cross the line. I forgave him in my mind, but I still would have nothing to do with him. He never came back to school. I heard that he left the area and moved in with an Uncle in the San Francisco area. What a fitting place. He would certainly fit in with the lifestyle in that town.

It was difficult getting my mind away from what had happened that day, but soon I was back doing my best in school. My teachers encouraged my family to apply for scholarships and grants for me to go to college. My dad was resistant, but after several visits by school officials agreed to let us try.

It was the summer after I graduated when I received the letter that would change my life forever. I had been accepted in a special government program that allowed me to attend one of the state colleges, with all expenses covered. The program was designed to provide opportunities for those gifted individuals who lived in the economically depressed farm belt or other areas that opportunity did not readily exist for talented, intelligent, and motivated individuals. I chose to major in pre-med. The particular program I chose to participate in was provided by a grant from the US Army that would be repaid once I completed my training by serving six years as a field medic in the service. The final and most important aspect of the program was that upon completion of the initial six years of service, if my grades were good enough, I would be placed into a government sponsored program within the Johns Hopkins University Hospital to work toward a degree in medicine. If I was even more talented, they would allow me to train at Yale University and intern at Walter Reed. I was ecstatic.

My father, although annoyed by having to lose his oldest to something he did not quite understand, was proud of my accomplishments, often bragging openly while at church about the opportunity I had been given by God. Mother was afraid for me, not knowing much about the world other than the few hundred square miles in Idaho she had visited outside her parents' home and the home provided by my father. I think she actually had only visited Boise once. My sisters and brothers were similar in that they had never learned about anything outside of their little world or had been motivated to do anything but farm work. For me, I was looking forward to seeing all those places that I had read about. I wondered how different life would become once I began my own journey.

My family had been my life. Although there were other aspects of the existence of man that I wanted to experience, I knew the biggest change would be that my family would not be going with me. I would not have someone to guide me, feed me, clothe me, or love me. There would be no more doing things for the kids, skinny dipping with the brothers at the pond, or helping my sisters with the chores when they became overwhelmed. No longer would their older brother be there and that would help them grow up as well. From the time I left, I would send them postcards and pictures from all the places I visited so their minds would be expanded as well.

I looked at my family as I boarded the Amtrak to head east. A tear slowly appears in the corner of my eye and made its long travel down my face. Soon it was joined by others and as waved to them, as the train pulled out, I was blubbering non-stop. For a moment, I almost changed my mind, jumped off the train and ran back to them, but those were the fleeting thoughts I knew would not be possible. Thinking about what was ahead, I wondered how different I would be when I returned. My love for them knew no bounds, and although they would continue to be a major part of my existence, they would not be a significant part of who I would soon become. As far as I was concerned, there was not a possibility that this farm boy would ever be a farmer, even though I respected the work and the hardships. My ambitions were to pull myself to a level that I could be of help to my parents as they got older. The decision had truly torn me apart emotionally, but I did not back down. As the train got further from the depot, my excitement grew. I wondered what lie ahead.

The four years as an undergraduate at Boise State University came and went in an instant it seemed. I was a member of the Army ROTC unit there, learned the code of conduct for becoming an officer and a gentleman, but because I would not have a medical degree in hand, I could not serve in the medical corps of the US Army as an officer. When I graduated from Boise State, I was given the rank of private and sent to basic training. There I officially used the conditioning of my upbringing, all the hard work, to my advantage and led my training unit in all aspects. I never had a problem with anything they assigned me, both mentally and physically. My understanding of weaponry and combat was the top in the class. The drill instructors tried to convince me to go to NCO school and become a combat infantry specialist, but becoming a medic was what I was all about because it led to the goal at the end of my travels. Becoming a doctor was the absolute must. Although that was the endgame, I had to become the best at what I did. The combat stuff was important since I be combat support for the teams I would serve with. The combat field medic had to do a little of it all, but most importantly when the shit hit the fan, I had to protect my team.

After basic training and field medic school, I was given Sergeant E-5 ranking. The ROTC training I had in college qualified me for an entry level lifting of my rank. I served a tour in Iraq and two in Afghanistan. My years in the service did me well, keeping me fit, and focused, helping to make my reputation in the medic corps stellar. Although I had such successes, I made few friends and pretty much stayed to myself, the unfortunate circumstances caused by being a farm boy from Idaho. The community of Union Bend was really just a cross-roads with a couple of churches and a small grocery store; it was just a name, not even on a map. The only socialization that my siblings and I had dealt with was the church. The only children our age were few, as farming had gone from family farms to commercial farming corporations. Most of the farmers of Union Bend were older and their children had already left their families and moved into the more populated parts of the country. Even our schooling was kept in house, except in rare situations such as mine. Although I attended public school, the only people I really had to relate to were my family and my now lost, but not forgotten friend, Sam. One can imagine how difficult it was for me to make friends.

After two years, I was promoted to the rank of Staff Sergeant (E-6), I did my duty helping my fellow soldiers when they were in need of emergency medical attention. I couldn't stand Iraq, Afghanistan was worse, but I thrived on the hostility of the situation. My unit was assigned to a post about 200 kilometers from Kabul toward the eastern border with Pakistan. Two field surgeon officers, four nurses, and six senior field medics made up the basic configuration of the unit. There were others, lower ranking medics, administration clerks and the like that made up the rest of the unit. All told, we had fifty troops. The unit was one of the best in Afghanistan, prideful and filled with enthusiasm.

Free time was boring to me. I read a lot, played solitary on the computer in the company headquarters, and tried to get cool as often as possible. The other senior medics and I shared a portable billet, a trailer like structure made of four walls, a couple of windows and two doors, one at each end of the small building. Being noncommissioned officers, we were each afforded walls for privacy. They were flimsy stand-on-their-own room dividers, you know, the ones like they separate cubicles in an office complex. The beds were standard issue military bunks. A stand up athletic style locker was placed on the right side of the bunk to hold individual items and hang up uniforms, place weapons, ammunition, and such. A small table holding a lamp sat beside the bed that had a drawer in it containing a Bible provided by the Gideon Society. Finally, a footlocker sat at the end of the bed and made up the furniture ensemble that all of us were afforded. We kept it military, neat and pristine. The walls helped to separate us though, to allow us to go into our own little world. I stayed in mine only coming out to socialize on rare occasions, sometimes to relieve the tedious boredom, sometimes to find out what the ruckus was when some of the men would get a little too drunk.

I would watch as the other people in our unit used computers to talk with their families. Mine did not have the option of the internet. Once, though, I did get to talk with my oldest brother, who had been taken to Boise to an Internet Café to make a connection. They called my commanding officer and made arrangements for me to accept a Skype call. I was told by my brother that my dad had been put in the hospital after a strange episode with one of the tractors. I was assured he was going to be alright and that I did not need to come home. My brother's face was amazing. It had been eight years and he looked all grown. I commented on his coming of age; he simply blushed. He let me know everyone missed me, especially my sisters. They were worried about me and told me to hurry and come for a visit.

All through the conversation, a young corpsman, a corporal named Dana, seemed to hang behind me. She seemed incredibly rude, watching the computer screen, but I let it pass. When the call ended, I turned and approached the young soldier, staring intently at her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I was homesick and thought that your conversation with your brother would help take my mind off my own family." I did not say anything to her. I simply walked past her to my quarters.

A couple of days later, she stuck her head in the portable barracks in which my team stayed. "Can I talk with you a moment?" she asked.

"What do you need, corporal?" I replied.

"I need to talk to you about the other day. I feel I need to apologize once more for my behavior."

"There's really nothing to apologize for. There was nothing in our conversation that I couldn't share with the entire base," I said pretty much continuing doing what I had been when she walked up. "Anyway, what's done is done and I don't need to dwell on stuff like that. There are more pertinent things to worry about."

"I was simply trying to apol..."

"Your apology was given the other day and quietly accepted. I don't know why you feel that you have to come and do it again." I looked her in the face and noticed a tear coming out of the corner of her eyes. "It's certainly nothing to get upset about."

"You won't even let me finish what I was going to say."

"Say it corporal. Get it off your chest and then let it rest. I have."

"I am homesick, Sergeant, very homesick. When I saw you talking to your brother, I saw my brother in his face. I was mesmerized at how similar they look. When I look at you, I see my brother and my father. I was in one of those fragile moments, you know..."

I turned my attention to her completely. There was part of my being that appreciated what she was trying to tell me. I had already accepted her apology. Much of what I was thinking, depended on where she was going with it.

"I want to spend some time with you, if you don't mind," she said. I must have looked surprised, because as she continued talking, the tears began flowing freely. "I am like a fish out of water. I have a hard time making friends. This leads to extreme loneliness. I have noticed that you don't go out of your way to make friends, yet you are friendly and kind. That reminds me of the men in my family. When I eavesdropped the other day, I realized that I had invaded your privacy. I want to make it up to you."

"There's no need to," I said softening. "I haven't the background to really make friends, but I have always been taught how to treat people." I looked to the ground and hesitated in my next words. "Although I don't make friends easy, I would like someone that I could talk to." I smiled the first smile I had toward the young corporal and she seemed to melt. "How about we eat together tonight and we can get to know each other."

She smiled, shook her head, and then turned and walked out, obviously too emotional to carry on the conversation. Watching her as she left, I pondered the episode and then shook my head slightly. I had never had a friend who was a girl other than my sisters. I realized my relationship with the corporal was going to be very different from any other I had ever had concerning the opposite sex.

I took time to write my parents a letter. I told them I was okay and that I missed them. When I came off this tour I would be taking a thirty day leave to visit. My brothers and sisters were mentioned fondly as I truly missed them, although the little children I had left behind had grown almost eight years since I last visited and the youngest girl would now be fourteen, the oldest boy twenty. Marta was the fourteen year old, Thomas was almost sixteen, Katie was eighteen, and Robert was twenty. A photo of them had been sent to me recently and I couldn't get over how beautiful the girls were and how handsome the boys.

I had not thought much about the invitation I gave the corporal. She showed up right about the time I was planning to leave for the mess tent. There was something strangely different about her. Did I detect a hint of makeup? I nodded and proceeded to lead her to where we would enjoy our exotic first meal together.

"Not much to look at," I commented.

"What? Me or the food," she replied rhetorically.

"I was talking about the food, corporal. Only the food."

"I was more interested in me," she said smiling.

"As far as I am concerned, you look like any other female soldier I have ever seen, except the makeup, of course," I taunted.

"You noticed! Good! That means that you're not a lost cause after all," she smiled. I melted.

Why was this cute corporal trying to taunt me? I had done nothing to elicit the attention she was giving me. I could not understand what drew her my way. There were many times in my career that I had the opportunity to have relations with female members of the military, but this was the first time that I considered it. What was the difference?

"Do you really eat that much?" she asked.

I had inadvertently placed a little too much food on my plate. She was very observant, but why? I looked at her dismissively and continued down the line. When complete, I waited on her to lead us to a table to eat. She seemed to approve of a location where sunlight was beaming in from the screens of the mess tent. We all lived in little portable trailer things, but everything else was old school, tents and such. This looked to be a left over from the Viet Nam conflict, all green, nothing matching or trying to blend with the environment of the area. I believe they thought it was safe to use such an obvious US military containment, being that the Taliban had no aircraft.

"This is nice," she said.

"Why?" I replied.

There was a moment of tension and then she smiled timidly. Looking deeply into my eyes, I felt what was brewing in her mind. There was heat there, a tremendous emotional broiling of her soul. I did not quite understand, but I knew I would find out soon enough. She looked at her food, then back to me. What was going on? I thought.

"I noticed you when I first came on base, Sergeant," she started. "I thought you were the most amazing person I had ever seen."

"Why is that, corporal?"

"Please call me Dana, Mike," she said.

"Just how do you know my first name," I asked completely bewildered.

"We have a mutual friend," she replied.

"And who would that be?"

"His name is Samuel Wiseman," came her response.

To say that I was completely taken by surprise is a given, but to know this woman had sought me out half way around the world because Sam gave her my information was beyond comprehension. I got up to leave.

"Please don't," she pleaded.

"I don't know how you pegged me or how Sam traced me, but this is not right. Are you aware what he did to me?" I stared at her with hate, a hate so deep, so ingrained that I felt I might reach out and strangle her.

"I am one who was abused by Sam and his kin as well," she lamented looking down into her plate. "I was raped by his mouth at the insistence of my brother. I was only a child. When I confronted Sam right before I went into the Army, he told me he had no choice. He would make it up to me, he said. When I decided to go into the field medic MOS, he confided that he knew someone that was a field medic."

So Sam had kept up with me. I became intrigued by her story and sat back down. The allure of the corporal had gone, temporarily for sure, but I wanted to see just how the story played out.

"He told me your name. He told me what he had done to you, his dishonesty and everything. I was even surprised that you reciprocated his advances after he told me what a stand up kind of guy you are. I know what happened in the woods that day, in livid detail. I found myself looking for you at every post I was assigned. Finally, after four years, I heard your name. I followed you, making sure I knew everything about you and then I found a way to approach you. When you were talking to your brother, I did not lie. You were talking to someone who was like a clone to my brother. I immediately knew I needed to get to know you, to become one with you."

"How much of this is a Samuel Wiseman lie?" I asked staring into the fabric of the tent, a droplet of moisture slowly winding its way down my cheek.

"None of it. Sam told me that I was to be his offering of peace between the two of you. I was to find you, then I was to love you. Sam told me that I would love you immediately. He did not lie. He wanted to make amends to both of us by making sure two of his favorite people met, lived, and loved."

To say that I was amazed at the story is an understatement. I looked at her to see deceit and saw none. There were questions that needed to be answered.

"How did Sam tell you about me?" I prodded.

"On his death bed, Mike. He was dying. He told me to seek you out on his deathbed. I was to be his offering of peace so that you would remember him with respect."

"He is dead?" I asked.

"He had contracted AIDS while in San Francisco. I left him alive, but the doctors had given the family no hope. His comments to me were simply his way of trying to make right what he had done to a dear friend. I did find out later that he had passed. He loved you to the end, Mike." She had begun crying softly.

Dana's story was immense. It was also so fantastic that it was impossible to believe, but for some reason, I gave credence to the unexplained. How did she find me? There was definitely a possibility in the warzone we fought that one or both of us could have been killed. All kinds of issues could have come into play. We could have possibly never have met. If Sam was indeed dead, was he protecting us so that he could truly make amends, even beyond the grave?

"Why have you made this such an issue for you?" I asked.

"Although Sam was a terrible person, based on all the people he seduced at the behest of his family, he was the one who awakened my sexuality. He told me he had done that to you, too. Of all his faults, he was sensitive to what he had done to everyone. Some he didn't care about, but me and you he loved. His life was meaningless to him if he could not find a way to make a difference to those he cared for." She sat quietly for a moment then continued. "Mike, he confided to me that the most despicable thing he had ever done was seduce you in those woods. The second most terrible thing he did was listen to my brother about my supposed needs. When he understood that he had done something to me that I did not want, he rebelled. I became his confidant, his muse so to speak. He stopped his antics that had been forced on him by his brethren. His primary goal was to make amends to all those who he had wronged. You were at the top of his list, I was second. Unfortunately it was too late and he became HIV positive. The drug cocktails didn't work for him and he began to wither. Finally, I saw him at his lowest possible and he revealed all."

My family, if they only knew what tortures I had been through because of what happened in the woods, would tell me to stay away from them until I came to terms with all of it. Thankfully, I would never have to dwell on it. Now, however, I needed to address the issue of the corporal sitting in front of me.

"I don't know for sure if you understand the betrayal I felt at Sam's seduction, but I will tell you that everything I had been taught to that point became naught. I was trapped with his seduction. I had always believed in God and the Bible, but what he did to me caused me to question the existence of a higher power and the truth of the Holy Scripture. The secretive nature of my life led to mistrust in my family, but thankfully they were patient and understood it was a passage in my life. I often fantasized about sex with my siblings over this, although it never played out. I became truly inept at relationships of all kinds, both those with men and women." I hung my head low and considered the words I was saying. "I never knew hate, until Sam, but know I am beginning to understand compassion for a boy who was abused. Where do I go from here?"

"You come to me, Mike. That is the salvation that Sam truly wanted. You are the offering to my salvation. You are to become my soul...my mate for life."

"But what if that is something I don't want?" I stared deeply into her eyes. "What if we just don't click?"

She looked away, toward the mesh that separated us from the outside. There was a trembling of her lip, a momentary lapse in her composure. "I will be lost forever, then." She paused, "I have tried to find you with all my effort, because I truly believed you could be my salvation. If you don't accept me, I won't exist. I cannot live knowing what I have been through and that there will be no one to help me recover my dignity." She hung her head and began weeping softly.

There are moments in life that decisions have to be made. Realistically, there was nothing I could believe in concerning this young woman, but morally...yes I could take the chance. She was gorgeous. I did not ever question that fact. She seemed sincere. She was personable, more so than me. What would be the problem with giving it a go...but it started with Samuel Wiseman. I shook my head, considered the odds that he had somehow not booby trapped my life once again, and then took the plunge.

"I don't know really how this will play out, but I am willing to try."

Her head slowly raised. "Really?" she asked.

"Really," I stated as concise as I possibly could.

End Chapter One