Exposure 4
This is a work of fiction and complete fantasy. None of the events or characters are real. 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. There are references to incestuous relationships that have never occurred. 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
© 2017 Jazz (Thomas Wright)
If you enjoy reading these works, remember to donate to nifty.org so that they will be able to continue to host LGBTQ stories.
_____________________________________________
Exposure: Chapter Four: Special Desires
“I am a top,” Thomas commented, “and James tends to bottom nicely. Know that you have one of each to choose from if you so desire. Our sisters are very oral, with Mary tending to love giving blow jobs and Dorothy enthusiastically enjoying pussy. We are all very flexible, and bisexual, Mike. I know you have a lot to catch up on, but don't judge us too harshly. I mean we have protected each other by not allowing those desires to interrupt our social order in the real world. Mom and Dad have sanctioned the acts themselves.”
I sat and listened to Thomas' explanations of the way things had developed while I had been gone. The taboo that society placed on incest was dark and strict. People just didn't fuck their brothers and sisters. Even in Alabama! In Alabama, of all places, where jokes had been told all over the States that people from the South, especially those born and raised in Alabama, committed incest frequently. I had been told by people I served with, that incest is common place in the South. I even heard of a community of adults who were found out they were having sex with their minor children only after one of their daughters disappeared, but it was rare. The folks in my mother and father's house were not from Alabama, they were from Idaho. That kind of thing should not have happened there. It was important for me to talk with my parents about what had taken place, but I wondered if I should bring it up now or wait until I settled in a while. I felt it really had to be done before I went back to the base.
Thomas had come to me that morning. I had not had a lot of sleep. I was still taking in what I had experienced and was told the night before. I had tossed and turned throughout the night. Thomas really could have waited, but he felt it necessary to convince me that what was happening was acceptable to everyone in the family and since I had participated, he assumed that it should be alright with me. I was slightly unsure of my true feelings in what had transpired. My sexual life had only recently awakened and here I was already living with desires that men many years older than me develop after losing their ability to get turned on by straight sex. I had already been seduced by someone who was my age when I was in high school. Dana, who I thought I would marry, introduced me to sexual urges that I did not know I had and had me participate in lesbian orgies as the single male. I had seduced Christina, the male to female trans individual that lived in Bermuda, or should I say she seduced me. So, I come home to a kind of debauchery I had fantasized about, but never dreamed could be possible. I had screwed both my sisters and anally fucked my youngest brother James who had given me a “welcome home” blow job to boot. The insanity of it all was rather overwhelming. When I found out my parents had actually given their blessings, mind-blowing was literally a kindergarten term. I felt like I had to think carefully before I reacted or made any decisions on what I might do to get myself out of the situation. It was tempting; it was an immense turn-on; it was also illegal and morally wrong.
I had never been someone who would even consider any of what was going on. There was always my grades in college to consider, my career as a doctor I had always dreamed of, a stable relationship with the right partner, and respect among those I would minister to. How would all of this play into those goals? Surely, not everyone in the world was like I was becoming.
I asked Thomas to give me some space so that I could go to the bathroom and freshen up. I had already been in there after our incestuous activities from the night before, but I still felt as if I needed to brush my teeth, take a shower, shave and change clothes. I still reeked of my sisters' cunts and the raw sex that had occurred. There was also a little acrid smell that one might associate with gay anal sex that lingered. I had to clean it away before I approached my parents.
The shower was refreshing, but the smells were ingrained into my nose. It would take days for it to naturally purge from my nasal passages. I knew that my parents already knew since they had told the siblings to seduce me to prevent me from investigating noises when I stayed over. I just wanted to know why they gave in. They could have left my brothers and sisters to their own volition without sanctioning the sexual situations that were going on. It would have at least given them some restraints, instead of them fucking at every waking moment like most teenagers and twenty somethings do. What would happen, if an accident happened and one of the girls got pregnant or one of them, like Mary, who happened to be sexually active outside the family, brought an STD in amongst them? There were so many questions, but I knew it probably wouldn't do any good as it had been going on for so long.
The other issue was why seduce me. They could have simply told me and I would have been fine, you know to each his/her own, but they decided to give moral issues to my mind that I might not come to terms with. I had fantasies when I was a boy about doing the things to my siblings that they did to me last evening, but I refrained because I didn't want them to hate me, the oldest, like I hated Sam for what he had done when I was a young teen.
After I completed my dressing ritual and was dressed in my civvies, I went into the kitchen and sat at the table. My mother was finishing breakfast. Mary and Dorothy were helping her finish the hot cakes, bacon, eggs, and cream of wheat. Mother and Dorothy avoided eye contact with me, but Mary's eyes burned hotly as she stared at me with the desire left over from the night before. I don't think she had ever had an orgasm with a man before, and her's last evening was amazing. I think she looked at me for more.
Dad walked in and sat down at the other end of the table after getting a cup of coffee. He studied me before saying anything. He had his newspaper and he would flip through and glance occasionally over the pages, observing what I was looking at. There was that look he gave me while he was considering what I was thinking. I am sure he wondered if I was ashamed of him and mother for allowing it to happen.
“You don't have to be quiet on my account,” I snipped to continued silence. After several moment, I got up to leave. I could see the pleading in Mary's eyes for me to stay, but I wouldn't if my parents would not approach the issue. I understood looking at them that there was no happiness left in the household.
“By leaving, are you saying that you won't be back?” mother finally asked.
“Do you want that?” I asked
“Of course not!” she exclaimed.
“You know that would kill both of us,” Dad finally spoke. He put down his newspaper and lowered his glasses on his nose so that he could look over them with his farsighted vision focusing on my face.
“You know you could have simply told them to keep it in their pants until I left for base and to keep it in when I visited. I would have never known anything was going on. Instead, you have Mary seduce me?”
“You could have said 'no',” he replied. “You could have used restraint, but instead you fucked the shit out of her and Dorothy. You showed that you had no more ability to 'keep it in your pants' than they did. It was like that when we were growing up. Our families were the same way. My parents and your mother's knew that those urges took place. They chose to overlook and avoid the issues. We lived so far off the beaten path that it was impossible for us to have normal relations with people our own age, so we figured it out and diddled ourselves. It worked for most of us and we married and had children of our own. To keep you all on the farm, we allowed this to happen. Otherwise, they would have all left, like you did Mike...looking for something other than what you were raised by. No one twisted your arm Mike, but you sure did succumb to the same things that we all did.”
“You could have just told me, instead of seducing me. I could have made a choice then. When Mary and I were engaged, I lost the ability to think of her as my sister. She was simply a cunt that I could fuck. I was horny, she was eager...but all you had to do was warn me my siblings were sexually active with themselves. I now feel as guilty as shit, because I screwed my little sister and allowed her to blow me until I came in her mouth.” I had gotten emotional and was tending to get a little loud.
“You hush it up, young man,” Mother said in her usual authoritarian voice. “I didn't want it to happen, it just did. When the girls started getting each other to perform favors and the boys were corn holing and sucking each other, I felt we needed to address the problem and actually make some rules. Also, I didn't want my children growing up queer or anything, so I introduced them to regular sex.”
“You?” I questioned surprised. “I thought Dad was the one who told them it was okay.”
“I did, but I didn't teach them how,” Dad started. “That was all your mother's doings. She never touched them mind you. That would never do, but she told them what to do with each other. At first, it was Thomas and Dorothy, with the youngers looking on, watching, but then she told James and Mary how to. For the longest time, that was the arrangement. Soon, however, she swapped them around and that was so they didn't have to rely on one or the other. The sisters never stopped diddling each other, and I guess the boys didn't either, so we had to address that and let them know that what they were doing to each other wasn't natural, wasn't God's plan, and was an abomination. It didn't help.”
“None of it is an abomination, except the incest. If it were to ever get out, the family could be ruined. my career could be shot, and you, Dad and Mom, could go to jail for a long, long time.” I had gotten rather serious with them.
“Are you going to say anything?” Mary asked.
“Of course not, but if there was a hint out there that this was taking place and the wrong person got hold of the information, there would be a price to pay that I don't think any of us would truly be willing to accept.” I had finally calmed a little but was soon excitable once again when my mother asked us if we were going to church that weekend. “I wouldn't feel welcome in a house of God after what I did last night.” I got up and walked to the next room. I looked around and could not find my brothers, so I went looking for them in their room.
I opened the door slightly as I heard moans and whispers. I look through the crack and saw them giving each other a blow job in a sixty-nine. I could not believe it. I opened the door quickly, they didn't stop and it didn't seem to phase them that someone was watching from an open door to their room. James paused momentarily and asked if I wanted to join them. I was impressed by their cocks, both very handsome and very large uncut pieces of manhood, but I was floored at the nonchalant way they reacted. There was no way I would join them in my present state of mind.
I turned and walked out, scratching my head. The entire rest of the family was in the kitchen discussing a family moral dilemma, but the boys were fucking and sucking each other. Just like me, I thought. Its all about libido and getting off. That's exactly what happened the night before...I wanted to get off and my sister gave me the opportunity. I really should be more ticked that they tricked me and didn't trust me, but they really didn't know what to do. Actually, it was a big turn-on when Mary seduced me. I wish it had been between the two of us, instead of being contrived.
I made it back to the kitchen. It didn't appear anything had been said after I left the room. I wasn't sure about that, but there was no discussion going on when I returned. I looked at each of them, searched their eyes, watched their mannerisms, and then decided that it didn't really matter. What had happened, happened. There was nothing I could do about it, nor was there anything I was going to tell anyone. If I wasn't willing to step up and take control of the situation, I couldn't criticize.
“Whatever,” I said. “We are down here real serious and all, while the boys are up in their room having sex. I am at a loss....but whatever. Will I participate again? I don't know. It might happen, but it might not. I guess I am saying that I am cool with whatever.” No one said a word, but Mary brought me a plate of hot cakes, bacon, eggs, and a bowl of Cream of Wheat, then smiled at me. “The rules will have to be maintained, however. I don't want anyone bringing any disease into the house from outside.”
The rest of Saturday seemed to go the way of any normal family. Dorothy and Mary convinced me to take them to see a movie in one of the movie theaters in Dothan. Mary tried to give me a blow job while I was driving, but I didn't let her. I gave her a dirty look and told her to sit up. Dorothy thought it was funny. Mary pouted for a while, but let up as we came into the small city. The rest of the afternoon was uneventful. It was late when we got back to the farm. I yawned and told them it was time to hit the couch. Both of the girls went to their room, but soon Mary returned.
“Can I stay with you tonight?” she asked. “I just want to sleep, but if anything happens this time, it will only be between us.
I looked at her for a moment, hesitated only slightly, but then relented and opened my blanket to invite her in. She had nothing on under her nightgown. Her body warmth was enticing for a little while, but when I went to put my hand on her bare skin, she had already dozed off. We slept the night through without any demands except the closeness of our bodies. When I woke the next morning, she had already found a way to get off the couch without waking me. When I walked into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, she was there helping Mom with the breakfast.
I let the family go to church without me. I couldn't see going into a religious setting after what had happened Friday evening. When they returned, we had Sunday lunch, and soon afterward I headed back to the base. The good bye was a pleasant one and I promised that the next time I was able to come to the farm, I would.
Settling into my job was easy. I knew that I had a lot to learn about the physical and mental rehabilitation of soldiers, but I was content with doing the odd jobs until I did. Colonel Mashburn and I started off famously, his friendship with my former commander, Colonel Thrasher, a common bond. I was assured of an accelerated training and after about two months I was in the middle assisting those who were coming back from Afghanistan with PTSD or missing limbs because of the terrible road side bombs or injuries due to combat.
The amazing thing I found was the ability of the US Soldier to understand that their lot in life was not the end of their travels. My team and I were encouraged by the bravery of the men and women who we looked after and helped. There were those, of course, who came to us depressed at all they had lost or those they had left behind. For the most part, however, those who had come before them had been such examples that most were willing to go their limits to overcome their combat injuries, both mentally and physically.
There were sixteen members of my rehabilitation team. I was not the lowest rank on the team, but I was the one with the least experience. I constantly asked questions, worked to maintain the team in the most efficient means possible, and tried to exhibit a positive outlook to all my patients. It seemed to work and I began having increased responsibilities. The four team members I got to know really well, as we shared a shift, were the leader, 1st Lieutenant Janet Barnes, RN; Specialist Joe James; Staff Sergeant Rhonda Wellington; and Corporal Marin Gonzales. Lt. Barnes stood as a beautiful, intelligent, and talented African American nurse, all business, but personable just the same. Specialist James, although Caucasian in looks, acted like the samurai of the east, always flashing karate moves when he or one of his patients did something special. He tended to be very spiritual in his quiet times, meditating. I believe he was a practicing Buddhist. Ssgt Wellington was not a real good looker, but was very efficient at what she did, which made her invaluable to me. I think if she took time to apply makeup properly, she wouldn't come off as she did, very butch. Corporal Gonzales was a flit, effeminate by action, but flirty with the ladies. We all believed he was a put on and was truly straight. We would wonder about his sexuality for a while, all to the delightful playfulness of the man himself.
We were the team that worked together to maintain and aid the continuous patient flow from “the sand box,” the term soldiers used to describe Afghanistan. Solid, compassionate, and efficient described our unit and we were all proud to be part of it.
The soldiers we worked with were not just from Afghan. The men and women actually came from every theater of combat from Vietnam, Granada, Iraq, and Kuwait. Some had even had excursions into the Syrian theater in support of the rebels who fought against Bassar al-Assad and his repressive regime. Many were non-combatants, those who drove trucks during the Gulf Wars or those who were injured by the beginnings of the road side bombs, also known as IEDs. One such warrior was a young female soldier named Corporal Jenny Sorquist.
Jenny thought she was safe driving for the army, bringing supplies to the front. There was no indication that anything in Iraq would be unsafe as the army, in their swift assault, had overwhelmed the Iraqi forces. Saddam Hussein had long since left the capitol and the forces seemed destined to dominate without a fight. It happened suddenly, with her thoughts dwelling on the dominance of the advancing forces. The bomb exploded. She was terribly wounded, but more fortunate than the other three with her. They were on the side of the blast and were killed instantly.
Many months of terrible pain and initial rehabilitation followed. Jenny suffered the indignity of being a female soldier so injured by an IED that there was never a chance for her to live a normal life. Her sacrifice was without bounds...and her suffering was without equal. Both her legs had been blown off above her knees, one arm completely disintegrated to a pointed stub. Luckily, her right arm, her dominate, was untouched. She could, at least, operate a computer if necessary. Everyone else in the vehicle had been killed, which led to the unbridled guilt of sole survivorship.
I drew her lot. I was the one tasked to help this powerless young woman and I was at a loss. I worked with the Lieutenant on standard acceptable therapies to assist Jenny, but I could not get through. She was resolute in her depression. I think if she had the ability, her life would have been gone many months before I got involved. For many weeks, I was a failure at manifesting a proper therapy.
“Jenny...” I prodded softly one afternoon many weeks into my attempt. There was no answer. I assume that it was because she felt there was no answer herself.
“Jenny...” I sought again. Finally, she looked up. Her perfect face playing on my eyes. “Can I talk to you?” She shook her head. “You know I have to try. I know where you have been and I am understanding to your plight. I was in the Afghan. I was in a similar situation and I know. I know you were in Iraq, but the similarities can be compared.”
Her eyes looked at me, a tear streaming down her cheek. “There is no way you can know,” she replied.
I was ecstatic. The reply was the first she had spoken to me since she and I began meeting. I watched the sobbing come in excruciating response to what I had elicited. I knew I was slowly breaking through.
“What's your primary concern?” I asked quietly.
“That I will never be a woman. That I will never be married. That I will never have a child,” she emphasized completely, stressing her frustration openly.
“Why do you feel that way,” I asked.
“Really, don't you know by looking at me that no one would ever dare to try to touch me.” Her vehemence was obvious.
I watched as she completely broke down. There was nothing I could do for the moment, but I had scored a slight victory for Jenny; I got her talking. After thinking briefly at what she had shared, I started my conversation once again.
“I think this is the end of our session today, but I will be back with you tomorrow,” I stated, quite adamant. I was resolved that I would soon have a proper therapy for my patient. I walked away with her sobbing quietly as the orderly pushed her wheelchair toward her room. She had bared her soul to me and although she regretted it, I felt like I knew what she wanted and what she needed. I had to check her medical records before I put my plan into action.
The plans that were forming in my head were contrived and complex. I discovered through my investigation into her medical records that other than the loss of limbs, there was absolutely nothing physically wrong with her. I enlisted the help of the Lieutenant and explained my idea.
“What you are asking me to agree to is not in the standard treatment for anyone, especially someone in Jenny's shape,” the officer stated.
“Yet it may be the single most important way to get across to her,” I replied. “There is no doubt that Jenny can learn to be productive, but she is in a place right now that is not mentally healthy for her. She does not see her worth as a person.”
“You can't be the one to instigate what you are considering because she is directly your patient. It would be ethically wrong.”
“I did not consider me,” I said. “I intend on bring a group of similar patients into a session to discuss their concerns. When she realizes that she is not the only one in her situation, I believe she will start on the road to recovery. We may make her better, and at the same time, help others in the process.”
“You have four sessions that will cover two weeks. Choose your days so their other therapies are not interfered with. If it works, we may consider using it in the future.”
I began the task of getting my group therapy organized. I had several of the patients, those who had been successful in bringing themselves out of their depressions, lined up to be participants in the project to help Jenny. Some of the men and women sympathized with her plight as they too had gone through so much to gain their confidence and sanity back. Many were in as bad of shape as Jenny was, but a couple were in much worse condition. I also invited both Ssgt Wellington and Corporal Gonzales to help monitor and perhaps take part in the activities. I intended to make myself available to any and all.
In all there were the three physical therapists and eight members of the panel besides Jenny. We were an even dozen all counted and I for one thought that to be a perfect number. Jenny was told that she was expected to attend, but if for some reason she felt like she couldn't then we would postpone the event until she was ready. Everything depended on her, she was told, as most of the others had already been successful in finding other ways to cope. Jenny agreed to try with the understanding that if she didn't feel anything was working for her, then she could drop out. Again, she was told if she wasn't part of the group, the group would not exist. She was that important to the success of the therapy.
The day arrived. It was a Tuesday and it was storming outside. Since everyone was housed in the building there was no problem getting most of them together. There were those who were at jobs or were with their families that we called and told not to attempt to come in. Five were unable to make it, which left our group with only four participants and three physical therapists. We felt like it was necessary to try to hold the session, so we informed all of those able to attend to be on time in the conference room.
The conference room was large enough for twenty-five patients in wheelchairs. We had a total of four, so there was plenty of room for what I had planned. All seven of us sat in a circle, each of the patients looking very unsure of what was about to transpire. Of the patients, three were women. The man, Josh, looked nervous at the prospect of being the only man other than the Corporal and myself.
“I know you all know who I am, so introductions will not be necessary. Just call me Mike. That will be appropriate for this setting,” I began. “You may not know each other, but I am sure you have met and worked with the other two therapists here, Rhonda and Marin. The young lady to the right of me is Jenny.”
I began pointing to the others in the group and calling their names. “This is Marsha. The young lady beside her is Tabitha. The only gentleman among the patients today is Josh. If you have any problems remembering the names, just stop us and ask. No one is expected to remember everything about someone until you actually get to know them.”
I continued, “What we intend to do initially is allow you to tell your stories, what happened and where. Then we will proceed to the goals you have set for yourselves and if you haven't come up with a plan for your life, we will help you set some realistic goals for your future. Finally, we will ask you to describe your fantasies to us. Help us get to know you, by revealing some of your innermost thoughts and desires.”
Several of the patients perked up. Even Marin and Rhonda had not expected that they would be participants in a fantasy workshop. They all wondered what I meant, but they could tell from my expression that I would not reveal what I truly meant until the time was perfect for the first person to share. Rhonda tried to make eyes to get me to go with her to leave the room so I could explain, but I ignored her. Finally, I said, “I am trying to make this as spontaneous as possible, so I will not reveal what subjects I will or will not allow.”
After the initial shock, we proceeded to get serious. Each of the patients told us about themselves, the circumstances behind their injuries, and most spoke about their goals in a hollow, not sure fashion. It took a lot of effort for each of them to remember where they had been and what they had lost. It was important for them to realize they had already been through hell and where they went in their lives would eventually lead to a redemption of sorts. When it became Jenny's turn, she didn't speak.
“Jenny,” I coaxed, “this is part of the healing. You must acknowledge what brought you here, how it went down, and what your goal for a healthy future is going to be.” I paused and looked at her. If she wasn't going to participate, why were we doing this, I asked myself. This was designed for her, to help her come out of her depression by understanding she wasn't the only person that had lived through what she had.
After about ten minutes of everyone sitting around watching her look at the floor, I continued addressing everyone else. “I am sorry and maybe kind of glad its a small group. Unfortunately, it looks as if we paused. Perhaps we need to help everyone back to their rooms. Sergeant, Corporal, if you would be so kind. I will stay here until everyone is in their rooms.
When the chair moved for the first two to start back, we all heard a clearing of Jenny's throat. That stopped the motion. Everyone's attention turned back to the young soldier.
“What happened...out there. It was my fault,” she said in an almost whisper. “I was the driver of the truck. Those other soldiers died because of me.”
“Why do you say that?” the soldier named Tabitha asked.
“It was my responsibility to get the truck from point 'A' to point 'B' intact and transport the soldiers assigned to my vehicle there safely. I lay there unable to move, completely conscious, but I could see their bodies, how mutilated they were. I knew I had failed in my task. I finally blacked out and in my mind I thought I had died. I woke up in the field hospital briefly and saw the flurry of the medics and doctors working on others. I thought they had written me off. I was praying for death. I felt no pain and really didn't know what the extent of my injuries were, but I knew I would never be the same. That one moment had changed my life forever.”
“How could you even consider that the road-side bomb was your fault?” Rhonda Wellington asked. “You didn't detonate the device. Some Iraqi soldier or militia activated it from a distance. You happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You are lucky to be alive.”
“How am I lucky?” Jenny roared, suddenly not the quiet mousy individual. “I let my team down. Don't you all understand. I let them all die.” The tears started streaming and she began getting louder, almost ranting. “None of you really understand.”
“I think I do,” Marin Gonzales countered. “I was a field medic with a unit from the 1st Infantry Division out of Baghdad. The platoon I was assigned to had a 2nd Lieutenant, and as the old cliche goes, he didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. There were a lot of bad decisions made that cost a lot of soldiers' lives. On the last day he got the platoon together and placed them in a building that was basically indefensible. I left the location when another group came through and got ambushed. I was ordered by the LT to lend my assistance. Almost immediately my team was hit with an RPG. The explosion knocked me flat. I rolled over to watch the flames gut the building that I had just come from and I knew immediately everyone had died. Not one survivor, but me. It took me months to make myself understand that I had no control over their lives and the stupid orders the Lieutenant made. It was war and war is hell. Jenny, you had no more control over whether it was your vehicle or the three behind that got blown up. In war, it doesn't matter. Its an insanity to try to figure out why, because there really is no answer. All that matters is that those of us who survived remember and help those who are suffering through the mental trauma as well as the physical.”
I had a complete reevaluation going on in my head for Corporal Marin Gonzales. I had never heard his story, but the fact he chose to share it with Jenny in such a critical moment. Jenny glared harshly at him, her lips trembling, her eyes streaming tears, but then she seemed to soften and calm. His words seemed to have hit their mark. It was more than I could have hoped for. Although she didn't volunteer anything else, she seemed to go into deep thought about what Marin had said.
We sat and talked strategy on how to work to get each soldier at his or her optimum level. It was unfortunate for all that they were so injured. Some would never be able to perform sexually or in a job position. The important thing was they would come to terms with what had happened, and as was in Jenny's case, take the load of guilt away. Jenny could at least be fitted for prostheses that would allow her the ability to stand, and even perhaps walk. She would have an artificial arm as well, and with the technological advancements in prosthetic architectures, who really knew what she would be able to accomplish. The goal was to get her past her depression so that she would be able to go through all the physical therapies needed for her to become mobile. If she were to attempt the physical therapy for even on limb without conquering her emotional problems, it might get the best of her.
We decided that the following Thursday our next meeting would be held. It was also determined that we would only add two more to the group, instead of the five. The other medical personnel would determine who got in. We promised Josh that there would be at least one more male, but we couldn't promise two. He answered brightly, “Heck Sergeant, you can let it be two more ladies. I kind of got use to being the only guy here with these beautiful women.” That comment elicited smile from Tabitha and Marsha, and even got a slight grin from Jenny.
The two days between meetings found the team working to come up with ideas to elicit what I eventually told them I wanted to happen. Rhonda was shocked at what I was going to attempt; Marin only exhibited an evil smile.
“You can't be serious,” she demanded at first. “I think I am going to the Lieutenant with this.”
“Go ahead!” I responded. “You don't think I would attempt anything like this without getting her permission first and she didn't make the decision by herself. She took it to Colonel Mashburn and he took it to the base commander. From there we don't know how high it went, we just know we got the green light. We are talking about grown adults, aren't we?”
“Yes, but...” she tried to counter.
“But what,” I replied curtly. “They are going to tell their sexual fantasies to the group and then I am going to ask them to act them out. It doesn't mean they are going to act it out to completion, like actually have sex. It's simply an exercise so they can deal with their disabilities with confidence. If it were to lead to two of them having sex in private, so what. What in the world is so horrible? These are adult soldiers who don't think they have a bat's chance in hell to have a relationship with anyone. This is a confidence builder.”
After the more elaborate explanation, she quieted herself and brooded over what I had said. Corporal Gonzales just grinned. “I always wanted to know what a woman’s fantasies were like.” The look Ssgt Wellington gave him could have killed if her eyes shot lasers.
Thursday came faster than any of the therapy team would have liked. The day sped by. Although we had made significant plans, they were not based on any formally acceptable procedures that had ever been attempted on a US military base. Anything could go wrong. In this circumstance, it was truly impossible to cover all possibilities of chaos.
The group acclimated themselves to the environment. We had put blackout shades on the windows to cut the outside light down, but we created an ambiance with lamps and other subdued forms. There was music playing softly in the background just loud enough to hear an occasional melody or rhythm. All of the military style furniture, desks, file cabinets, computer tables, and such had been removed. An oval table sat in the middle of the room positioned over an oval rug of some sort of Persian design that had been supply by Ssgt Wellington. Each patient's wheelchair was pulled as close as possible to the table so they could drink coffee or each sweets.
Besides Jenny, Marsha, Tabitha and Josh, there were two other wounded soldiers that had been invited. Robert would turn out to be the only other male in the group. Jordan was a female Marine Lance Corporal that the local VA had requested we include. We asked them to tell us what happened to them to get them to this table. Robert was a roadside bomb victim, like Jenny. Jordan was an older marine who had been in the first Iraq war. She had entered Kuwait City and tripped a mine. She was missing a leg, an arm, and a portion of the side of her face which had received extensive plastic surgeries. I had wanted only younger participants, but I had been convinced that Jordan would be a help to Jenny and others in the group, because she had actually succeeded in working in mainstream employment.
Upon the completion of their stories, it was time for them to share their fantasies. It took several moments of coaxing for anyone to begin, but since Josh had gained some confidence from the last meeting, he volunteered.
“How do you want this, Sgt.?” he asked me.
“What do you mean?”
“Are there any rules to how I tell this?” His eyes were trying to seek the rules to the game. Even his body position shifted uncomfortably as he tried to determine the best way to begin.
“There are no rules. I want this told to the group as you would talk to any soldier. Use the terms you would be comfortable with, no matter if they would be considered offensive in the outside world. I want explicit details. These words will help us develop an interpretation of where we need to set our limits on a series of therapies that will be developed strictly for you. You can say whatever you want, about anything you want. Nothing will leave this room. No detail will be leaked by the therapists here and all of you have signed a waiver and a non-disclosure agreement. If you say you want to suck a snake's cock, it will be kept quiet and secret.” That got a chuckle from most people in the room and a dirty look from Wellington.
He looked at each of the members of the panel, including all of us. We knew it was harder for him as he was the first. After what seemed like an eternity, he began. “I have always wanted to have sex with two girls. It has been in my thoughts since I was a teenager. Two women with their breasts pressed up against me, with both of them wrapping their hands around my eight inch cock.” The revelation he made to the size of his penis raised some eyebrows, and even Robert snickered in an unbelieving way.
“You don't believe me,” Josh continued, “I will pull it out right now and show you. I am not one to be telling lies in this therapy...it wouldn't do me any good to lie.” With that comment, he reached down, unsnapped his pajamas, and pulled out a sizable piece of semi-erect meat. Wellington was the first to react, telling him to put it away. The others just ogled his equipment. “That was just so you know I am not about to tell you any lies,” he mused as his put his cock back where everyone, especially Wellington would be more comfortable.
“Are you going to allow this to happen?” Wellington practically screamed at me.
“Sergeant, are you really that repressed?” The question did not come from me, or Marin for that matter. It came from Tabitha. “Haven't you ever seen a man's penis. I am sure you have. You have probably cleaned many as patients lay in bed, unable to do it for themselves. As a matter of fact, you have probably helped some soldier get off when they got an erection when you were cleaning him.” Wellington blushed, but did not deny what Tabitha had said.
“We are all adults here. Most of us have had sex, some with members of the same sex as well, but we can't have these sessions with a repressive attitude. I understand what Mike is attempting to accomplish and I agree. Most of us have gone through such turmoil in our lives that we don't think we are worthy to have a relationship with anyone ever again. I for one am having a difficult time with that very issue and I find this therapy as a possible solution for me. Perhaps it will be for others in the group.” Tabitha turned to me. “I assume everyone here has to ability to be sexual?”
“The medical records state that everyone in this room is capable of having a sexual relationship with another person,” I replied. “There were some of the others that we decided at the last minute not to include, who could not have received sexual pleasure, but with time could learn to give it to another. I chose that we would develop another series of therapies for soldiers such as them, but I wanted to make sure these sessions would work first.”
Wellington simply rolled her eyes and gave me a go to hell look.
“Thank you for your input, Tabitha,” I commented. “Continue, if you don't mind, Josh.”
Josh proceeded to fill us with the classic threesome fantasy that most men have. Included in his description of how he would give each of them oral sex, traditional sex, and even anal sex, as the two female participants performed oral sex or kissed each other. He was graphic, at times even getting Tabitha to blush. As far a Wellington was concerned, I knew I would have a battle in the Lieutenant's office. She was not a happy person and I felt sure it was because she had a suppressed sense of sexuality. Perhaps she viewed sex as a personal and private issue not to be taunted like porn on the Internet. I was sure I would find out.
“Tabitha, since you were the one that set us straight a few minutes ago, why don't you be next?” I guided.
“Sure,” Tabitha started. “I have always wanted to know what male soldiers do in the showers behind closed doors. I want to watch as they help each other soap up, moving their hands over each others bodies, pausing in those special places: the nipples, the crotch, the ass, behind the ears, their feet. I want them to make sure these are all clean, pausing to suck each others cocks, stick fingers into their asses, and then lick that special area to make ready for what I am sure is going to come. I then want to see these muscular men fuck each other, hard and passionately as a man would a woman. My fantasy would see the rippling bodies intertwined and fused with the strength only a man can give another, abs rippling, pecs straining, buttocks quivering for release. When one came, he would pull out, turn the other around, force his partner to his knees and feed his ass juice covered cock into the others mouth, cumming as he entered.”
Tabitha's description was much more erotic than Josh's. She fell quiet after she finished and for a moment the room was silent. Even Wellington was quiet. I hated to break the silence, but I asked Tabitha a question. “Would you then like to join in?”
“Me...no,” she answered. “I only have sex with women. I feel they are safer. I am intimidated by the male musculature, but I am turned on by sex with two men.”
There was a pause and then I said, realizing the sexual tension in the room was almost out of bounds, “I think we need to take a short break now.”
Wellington approached me. “We need to talk, now!”
------------------------------------
Stay tuned for the next chapter: Chapter 5:Exposure: Special Circumstances