Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Romantic, Reluctant, Blackmail, Heterosexual, Fiction, Cheating, Spanking, Rough, Humiliation, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Violent, Military, .
Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A 12 chapter story delivered in segments of 3 chapters each about a guy called Mike who gets into close corners and romantic escapades without hardly trying.
The last thing the engineers expected to find in the rubble of the destroyed forward outpost was a survivor. The huge explosion of the hidden bomb had taken the unit completely by surprise. The observation team was obliterated in a fireball of impressive size and the sound of the blast scared living creatures several clicks away.
The dirty diggers were not happy about their assignment because there was always a chance a secondary charge was planted and not yet exploded. Captain Ryan was impatient to return to the rear area officer's club so he could turn on the charm for the new girl just arrived from the States to entertain the men in the field. He knew it was important that he impress the sweet young thing before that fancy-talking Major Holliday got the pretty Miss Stanley from Tupelo, Mississippi cornered in one of the dark corners and started a campaign of seduction.
The sex-deprived Captain was brought back to reality by the shout of Sergeant Willis who had just seen movement in the jumble of wood, brick and bodies. Two graves registration privates rushed up to dig out the last living member of the unit who looked more like Frankenstein's monster than an actual soldier. The open eyes were the only thing that was not dirty and grey.
"It sure took a long time for you slowpokes to get to me. Those two gents you got stacked there are Corporal Jones and the one without the legs is what's left of Lieutenant Green. He was a good officer so treat him with respect. I am Tech Sergeant Mike Malloy RA00773398 and I don't remember much after that blast covered me up with most of the roof and everything else."
Captain Ryan was happy they had rescued a survivor mainly because he knew it would look good in his jacket on an after-action report. However, he was truly depressed because he knew the need to get this sergeant sorted out would probably mean he would lose the luscious body of Miss Stanley to the fly-boy Major. Once Holliday got his hooks and other appendages into the young girl, as he was certain to do in his absence, the poor girl would be sloppy seconds for him in a best case scenario.
"Can you tell us how many of you there were in the attic before the blast, sergeant?"
The sergeant stood up and seemed not to have any lasting injuries or broken bones. The Captain was sure the soldier probably was either concussed or had some type of brain injury just from the pressure of the explosion.
"There were nine of us, but only five inside the building, the other four were outside to set up a warning line of defense in case we were discovered. I suspect you will find them under that mess of brick that used to be the front of the building directly behind you."
That solved the mystery of the missing men. It meant that all the members of the forward observation team were accounted for and as a bonus they even had a real live survivor. That was an unusual state of affairs in the graves registration business.
Mike was unceremoniously dumped into the back of the big truck with the black driver who seemed anxious to get back to the safety of the Regimental Headquarters. His weapon was fifth echelon and a total piece of scrap but he carried it anyway from force of habit and good training.
Even though Sergeant Mike appeared to be no worse for wear from the huge explosion, he was sent to the rear area medical station just to be on the safe side. His problem with hearing and double vision caused him to be shunted over to the shrinks since head injuries required mental evaluation. The resident shrink was a nice guy, but terrible doctor, from Waterloo, Iowa who judged the Sergeant's shakes on the left side were due to nervous disorder and that he had been "overstressed" by the force of the blast. His recommendation was a medical discharge and that is exactly what they did to Sergeant Mike as soon as the Commanding Officer returned from his three day pass to Paris. In fact, he signed the papers without reading them because he was too engrossed in describing the joys of his conquests to a couple of disinterested staff officers. When Mike got the copy of the orders, he protested but not too strenuously because the entire "War" had been nothing less than a chaotic mess with little logic or common sense and filled with situation after situation of bloody carnage and lost friends.
His ship came into San Diego harbor in the middle of the night and they sent the returning soldiers to a "transient" barracks far enough away from the troops in training that their sight wouldn't discourage them before they even got started. Mike was lucky because as a "medical discharge" he only had to collect his back-pay and get his return ticket home. In his case, home was the place where he had enlisted even though it was nowhere near his actual home on the other side of the country. It was probably not a good idea to go back there because there were still some irate former associates with a score to settle.
The whole "discharge" thing was a farce with guys lined up like zombies waiting for a chance at fresh meat. Mike got final pay of $625 and a piece of paper that thanked him for three years' service to his country. He dumped the uniforms in the first garbage bin and walked out into the hot summer sun in the cheapest clothes he could find in the Post Exchange.
The bus ride up to Los Angeles was faster than he expected. Something was not quite right with the air conditioning on the fully-packed bus and most of the passengers had opened the windows to get air from the outside despite the humidity. He was not particularly uncomfortable because he was used to it from growing up in a city with only a fan to ease the heat.
The bus terminal was absolutely filthy.
He saw a gauntlet of moochers down on their luck looking for handouts from newly arrived passengers. Mike walked by them without giving them a second look. They were mostly boozers and junkies with no hope or ambition left inside them. Out on the sidewalk, he saw the waiting taxis with shifty-eyed looking drivers who spoke little or no English. A couple of street-girls leftover from the night's debaucheries were hipshot on the bus bench chattering away in a language that sounded like Spanish but not the kind you learn in school.
The incoming passengers melted away in different directions with their own worries and agendas that they kept carefully hidden inside not trusting strangers and lacking of friends. Mike sat down on the bus bench and tried not to make eye contact with the two young Senoritas with no undies beneath their short skirts. They got the message right away and lost all interest in him.
The bus was marked "Sunset Blvd." and he knew it would be a long ride but it was a hell of a lot cheaper than taking one of the expensive taxicabs and he had to conserve his ready cash. His final destination was a run-down apartment complex about four blocks off the main route not very far from the outskirts of Hollywood and the upscale businesses that catered to the rich and famous. The old lady that managed the myriad of small cottages and two story apartments hadn't changed much in three years except she had managed to get even fatter than he remembered. Her raspy nicotine ravaged throat sounded uniquely familiar and he accepted the offer of a cup of coffee and relaxed on her screen enclosed porch marked clearly with two signs. One sign said simply, "No Soliciting" and the other said, "Beware of Dog". He knew the canny old bitch never had a pet of any species unless you counted the goldfish in her tiny bowl.
"Michael, you are a sight for these tired old eyes. You lost as much weight as I gained. I thought they were supposed to fatten you up in the military. I still got your shit locked up in my storage room. Nobody messed with anything, I guarantee you. Your old Chevy is still in the back of the garage on the blocks but I think your tires and gaskets are probably rotted all to hell."
He was relieved to have some means of transportation even if it did mean putting out some moola for some decent re-treads and changing out the gaskets. The old car had a hell of a lot of miles on it but it had a good block and the transmission was re-built just before he enlisted.
"You got any vacant units, Ma Barker?
She looked at him with her "business face" back in place. She had ever been a sharp negotiator and had forgotten more about making deals than he had ever learned.
"I got a unit that is a bit messy in the back you can have for half price if you clean it up yourself. I hope you ain't bothered by the fact the previous tenant was found dead in the bathtub by her sister last month. The damn thing has been sealed with police tape while they decide if it was accidental or homicide. They just released it yesterday and told me the cleaning up is my worry."
With all the dead bodies he had come into close contact with in the last three years, Mike had no problems with a discounted place to live at least temporarily.
"I appreciate that, Ma. I will be happy to get it all shipshape for you. I can give you the first month if you let me hold off on the deposit until next month while I get lined up with something to give me some money coming in."
The older woman nodded her head in agreement and gave him the key to the apartment and also the key to the storeroom to collect his junk.
MIKE GOES ON THE LAM