Chapter 1

Sky

I loved every single thing about going down on, and eating Sky. Having her lovely toned muscular legs on my shoulders keeping my thirty-nine-year-old ears warm on a moon-lit eastern Missouri evening. Her slim graceful fingers in my hair pushing me into her. The beauty of her bright pink eighteen year old pussy against her dark skin, the taste of her body. Her sweet savory aroma. The tight little curls of her jet black pubic hair.

She was moaning and making what I like to call “happy sex sounds.” The tips of my thumbs were holding her labia apart and I was rapidly licking the space in between when she came hard. Squirting even more of her lovely essence onto my nose and my cheeks. She shrieked as she came. What a wonderful sound, ecstasy.

“Oh, oh, oh...” she said, coming back to earth.

“I love you Sky,” I said.

“That was wonderful Luke,” she said.

I kissed her mons.

“That was ... Great...” she said, “ It’s just such a shame that you can’t fuck me.”

“You know if I had a dick,” I said wiping her wondrous lubricant onto my hand from my face, “I probably would be more interested in getting it wet. Doing the ole in-and-out. Where would that leave you?”

I pushed two fingers into the hot pink of her vaginal opening, and lapped at the folds and engorged glans above them. She started to pant, I would have to wait for an answer. I worked the two digits hard for a while, and then added a third.

Sky’s tight little butt was spending more time off of the 320 thread count cotton than on it. Her hips were twisting and turning and she exploded in orgasm again as I finger fucked her while nibbling on her outer labia. Again I was rewarded with a copious amount of her juice,

“It’s just ... Having it blown off,” she said. “I couldn’t imagine...”

“‘War, huh, yeah; What is it good for;’” I said trying and failing miserably to imitate Edwin Starr’s deep bass voice, “‘Absolutely nothing; say it again, y’all... ‘“

“That’s OK,” I thought, “she doesn’t even know who Edwin Starr is. Life is funny, this old white guy will have to teach you.”

“Are you happy?” I asked her.

“Ecstatic,” she said.

“Then I am happy,” I said gently kissing her mons again.

Webster Groves - Missouri - May 1985

As I laid in the bed next to Skyler, I was looking at her beautiful athletic form next to me. Thinking about how lucky we both were right now. Looking through the window at the full moon, in its beauty, I thought about the pain that we had both endured in our lives before. I thought that we were quite silly human animals. We can fool ourselves, but we cannot fool God.

God, Mother Nature, the Universe, Kismet, call it what you want. I say God. I had been warned. I had been a petulant child who chose not to hear my eternal parent’s warning. I was lucky. Rodney my Crew Chief kept me from bleeding to death. I was unlucky, a well aimed rocket had shredded the plexiglass and aluminum structure of my Huey, and not so neatly made me a eunuch.

How many times had I heard growing up that line from Genesis, “thou doth not murder.” But that is exactly what I did flying my little Loach. That was my finger on the button firing all of those copper jacketed lead bullets. All 4,400of them in 66 seconds if I needed to, or felt like it.

How many times had I heard our childhood Pastor quote Matthew, “happy the peacemakers - because they shall be called the Sons of God...” But I did not make peace. I survived two crashes on my first tour. I chose to go back for a second. That more than anything calls my judgement into question.

Jesus himself had said, “Do not suppose I came to throw down the law ... I came to fulfill it...” In my arrogance I ignored Christ himself. “Whoever may kill shall be in danger of the judgement.” I flew the prescribed approach to Hill 906. My door gunners peppered the sides of the hill with their machine guns. But I got hit in the process. As a result I spent half a year in hell, the Dallas Veterans Hospital. Ninety-five degrees and no air conditioning. But it could have been worse.

There are those who attribute everything in life to random chance. They may be right; I cannot prove that my God exists. That is why they call it faith or a belief system. But I had been warned. Just as if I had been warned not to walk under a ladder because a paint can might fall. I did; it did.

West of Khe Sanh - Republic of Vietnam - February 1971

We wore big blue fur felt Cavalry hats with yellow acorn bands and a pair of crossed brass sabres on the front. Our olive green fire retardant flight suits had huge flashy yellow shields with a diagonal black bar and a horse head in profile. Our olive green Bell UH-1 Huey had been manufactured back home in Texas. Either in Fort Worth, just east of Fort Wolters where I learned to fly a helicopter, or in Amarillo two and a half hours north of Jalapeno.

The Marine base just outside this, the provincial capital of Quang Tri, had been besieged by the NVA for three months three years earlier. Supplied by air and eventually relieved by ground forces, the base was dismantled once relieved. Then with a policy shift it was reinvested. Now we were flying ARVNs, soldiers of the Army of the Republic of Vietnam, and their U. S. Army companions into ... Well into...

“Gene,” I said, to my Co-pilot flying in the left seat. A holdover from the early days of rotary-wing fight, when there was but one collective lever in the middle.

“Did you hear the President on the radio?” I said.

“Last night?”

“Yeah, what did he say about Laos?” I said.

“You mean about there not being any American troops in Laos?” he said.

“Uh huh,” I said, “that one.”

“Why?” He asked.

“Well I need a better map,” I said, “this one says we are in Laos.”

“Nahhh...”

It was a group exercise in who could be the most ridiculous. The Russians put North Vietnamese insignia on their planes and on their pilot’s flight suits. We said we were not bombing Cambodia or sending troops into Laos in spite of what my map said. But it made perfect tactical sense to do so. Laos being exactly where the NVA were. Our leaders said our military objective was to degrade, not to kill. Deniable plausibility, plausible deniability. It’s called commutative property in math, ab is ba.

The UH-1 was four times as big and five times as heavy as the OH-6 I flew on my first tour. I was alone on the Loach, the Huey had a crew of three sometimes four. Our mission that day was to fly eight ARVNs and a couple Special Forces guys to the military crest of hill 906. The topographical maps we used showed all the hills with a triangle symbol and their elevation; the military crest was the highest point on a terrain feature that you can occupy without silhouetting yourself.

Protocol was to first fly over the designated LZ, landing zone. The door gunners would shoot up the area alongside; after you flew over the LZ you would do a hard pedal turn with torque and fly back into the LZ. Just briefly touch the ground, the troops would all jump out, and you would pull up and fly out. The door gunners could then lay down suppressive fire if needed.

As we pulled up and out of the LZ that day we were hit by something big, probably a RPG, rocket propelled grenade. It shredded the plexiglass and the instrument panel in front of me. I was sitting in an armored seat, that was the first thing that saved my life.

Gene started screaming to Rodney as he flew the shattered aircraft away from the incoming fire. Rodney stopped shooting and climbed over the seats to get to me. I had pulled the compress out of the first aid kit behind my right shoulder and was holding it to my bleeding crotch. Rodney grabbed the other first aid kit held its compress on me. I passed out. Gene and Rodney’s quick actions were the next two reasons I am alive today.

Paulette - One

Dallas Texas - November 1971

I met Paulette on the grounds of a hospital in Dallas, I was recovering from plastic surgery and was supposed to be walking around as much as possible. She had been in a psych ward, literally. She was beautiful, pale, bleach blonde hair, brown eyes and under her summer dress she was covered with red whip marks.