I wouldn’t put it past her to be just like her mother.”
“Oh fuck, that would be something. I still can’t believe you turned me onto that shi....”
All of a sudden, my life was upside down. Mr Johnson, black is fucking my mother and my Dad is all into this??? What the fuck. Nervously, I got the beers and brought them outside. As they heard me opening the door, they suddenly got quiet and it seemed like they were looking at me different. "Thanks honey.“ With that, I couldn’t remember anything else. What I didn't see was a person. I seemed to be alone except for a voice that said, "Take off your clothes. Put your arms behind your back. Spread your legs." Once I had followed his commands, he appeared as if out of a vision. He was dressed all in rubber and wore a mask, an executioner's mask. The only skin showing were his lips, nose and his cock and balls. They hung out of an opening in the rubber suit and made for an exceptionally erotic sight. He approached me with a coil of braided. Two things emerged from that experience: a friendship forged in fire between the three men that would never dim; and a grief born of death and desolation that would sear the chaplain's heart. This injury would take many years to heal.Fr. Ambrose was 37 years old when he went off to war, strong of body and absolutely convinced of the correctness of his faith. He was 40 when he returned, sick in body and soul, weakened, his faith shredded. His spirit was wounded. So many men had fallen. Some died. I'm humming some random song as I think of the evening ahead. Once my shower is over, I get out of the shower and prepare myself. Lotion, scented oil, powder, the outfit purchased in anticipation of this exact occasion.I leave my bedroom and there she is waiting for me. She stands, smiles telling me that I look beautiful. She pulls me into her arms. She is holding me so close that I can feel her body touching mine from head to toe. As she holds me she's whispering in my ear such deliciously.