Sergeant Collins
“What the hell you doing hanging up there partner?”
I watched the bearded old tramp dressed in shabby coveralls and grimy white long johns enter the barn pushing a wheel barrow loaded with scrap metal. Grey curly unkempt hair bleeding out of the sides of a battered Atlanta Braves baseball cap. The sun was just beginning to set. He stood there with his mouth hanging open as he inspected my nude stretched-out carcass on the black St. Andrews Cross in disbelief. He spoke again drawing closer pointing to the deck. “Them there your nuts on the ground?”
“Hell, yes those are my balls -- get me down from here quick and go into the house and get a deep container of some sort and fill it with ice cubes from the Goddamned freezer -- and be quick about it, and I’ll make you a rich man.”
The old tramp, trembled slightly using all of his strength to reach above his head as he worked slowly but diligently to unfasten the black leather cuffs around my wrist and ankles. He eased me down to the deck. My legs are weak and shaky as I bend to retrieve my severed testicles. They’re still warm, and pulse slightly in my palms. I feel the tight boot lace around the neck of my hairy scrotum, cutting off the blood vessels that flowed to my balls to keep them alive, but in this case, did the job of cutting off the flow that kept me from bleeding to death.
“I seen that white van skedaddle outta here like a bat outta hell -- did them two men do this to ya?” he said watching me cradle my severed baby makers. It must have looked like a scene from a cheap horror movie to him. He came nearer to me and I picked up the offending scent of the old man and his unwashed body, he stunk badly, but I didn’t give a fuck. He looks almost comical standing there staring, one strap of his soiled coveralls hanging down his right arm, snuff bulging his lower lip, it’s residue marking his mouth and he spits.
“Yeah, they did this to me.” I answer.
Without another word, he turned and ran as fast as his aged legs could carry him into our abandoned farm house. He returned minutes later with a pot filled with ice cubes and pointed the handle in my direction. I took it from his trembling hands and deposited my nuts inside covering each with the ice.
“You got a truck or anything that could get me to the nearest emergency room?”
“Yeah, I got a beat up old Ford truck that’ll get you there -- nearest hospital is way down in Edenton, they got a hospital --you wanna try thatta one?”
“Hand me that Cammie uniform.” Pointing to my discarded Marine blouse, and trousers flung a few feet away. I already had boots on my feet so I jammed my feet into the trouser, pulled them up and fastened the web belt. Struggled into my blouse, buttoned it up saying, “Let’s haul ass -- what did you say your name is?”
A weary smile appeared on his grizzled face. His opened mouth showed a missing tooth in the upper row and two in the bottom. Turned his head away from me and spit, landing it on the dusty deck next to my boots. He looked me square in my eyes grinning: “Didn’t say, but my handle is Brent Stoolie.” He continued to smile. “Everybody calls me Stoolie, always has.”
A warm feeling of relief flooded my insides. This old tramp is going to save my nuts if he can get me to a hospital pronto. And yeah, I’ll reward him for his help because I’ve got millions safely stored off shore.
“Let’s go Stoolie -- I’m going to make you the richest redneck in these hills!”
We both rush from the barn, me carrying my nuts and him digging in his pocket to locate the keys to his truck. We both climb inside of his beat-up and rusted out twenty-year old blue Ford pickup and tear down the winding red dirt road from the Farm. Hit the highway at eighty miles an hour. And ate up the twenty miles or so to the Edenton Hospital Emergency room. There is was standing like a mirage in the middle of nowhere. A two-story red brick building surrounded by scrub pines and a paved road leading to the building.
Stoolie brings his truck to a screeching halt. We both jump out and haul ass into the waiting area. We’re met by two nurses both dressed in white, one female and one male.
The female nurse speaks first: “What’s the emergency?” she says to us with concern. I hold out the pan with ice, trying to catch my breath. “My nuts, they cut off my nuts -- please help me!”
I attempt to pass the container to the male nurse. He raises both eyebrows in surprise but takes the pan from me turning to the female nurse. “Get doctor Stuart down here, he’s a micro surgeon, lucky for you my friend.” He says to me, “He’s on duty tonight.”
A minute or two later I hear a quiet mechanical ring and a soft female voice: “Calling Dr. Stuart. Calling Dr. Stuart. Please report to the emergency room.”
I’m exhausted and trembling from lack of food and sleep. The twenty-something young blond male nurse leads me behind a screen and helps me remove all of my clothing. I get up on the gurney. His eyes go wide sighting the boot lace tied around the neck of my missing ball sack. He says to me: “This saved your life my friend.” Pointing to the lace.
“Just stay calm, Dr. Stuart is the best micro surgeon in this part of the state, he’ll take care of you, he’s done this before.”
Five minutes later a tall dark-haired ethnic looking young doctor arrives. His face is smooth and unblemished, slightly tanned. Dark brown eyes highlighted by thick eyelashes and straight brows above convey knowledge far beyond his years. He lifts the warm sheet covering my naked body looks me over, his warm hand patting my shoulder and says: “How long ago did this happen?” His demeanor is calm and reassuring, I raise my head slightly and say: “A couple of hours ago.”
He turns to the male nurse holding the pan, looks at its contents and states: “That’s good, I think we can make this work, they look in fairly good shape. Nurse prepare the patient for surgery.”
Doctor turns and walks away. A feeling of relief washed over my entire body.
I remember being wheeled into the operating room. A glaring light overhead. The doctor’s handsome face covered with the surgical mask. A white cup is lowered to cover my nose and mouth. The last sight I remember is the young doctor leaning over my prone body then nothing.
Doctor Stuart reminded me of the first man I ever had sexual feeling for. As I slip into another world; my mind slides back to another time.
I was eighteen so was he. Palmer and I were both seniors. He was the Captain and quarterback of the football team. I was the star sprinter in track. He was six feet tall, muscular, beautiful Irish American face, thin always smiling lips, twinkling blue eyes with black crew cut. He looked like a teen aged god in his heavy wool and leather letterman’s jacket. He always wore tight fitting faded levis showing off an ample bulge contained inside the mesh cup of his jock strap. Firm ass cheeks you couldn’t help to notice when he walked away. White socks and black penny loafers. Every girl in school was hot after him, so was I.
He was my first conquest and the fuel that charged my imagination. Made me the predator I eventually became.
We ran around together after school. You could find us at his house or mine, doing homework or playing games in our bedrooms. It was on one of those hot summer afternoons that I got serious and laid out a plan to finally nail him. I kept a small stash of pot squirreled away in my closet in the toe of one of my brown harness boots.
That particular afternoon we were at my house and alone. Both of my parents worked at jobs that kept them away until five thirty or six, so the coast was clear. We were both stretched out on my bed looking over some Playboy magazines that I kept hidden under the mattress. Palmer had kicked off his black penny loafers. I unlaced my white Nike sneakers and toed them off to land on the floor. Palmer was stretched out, his long legs crossed at the ankle showing off his white sweat socks. He turned the pages with one hand and the other pawed his heavy bulge.
“Hey Palmer, I got a joint if you want to have a really good time. How about it?”
He looked up from the page he’d been focused on for the last few minutes. I could see that July’s Playmate of the month caught his attention. The chick was on her knees, her hands behind her neck. Wearing a tiny black bikini that barely covered her snatch. The nipples of her big jugs almost touched her knees.
By now we’re both getting boners. “Fuck man, why not, let spark it up.”
I get the joint and the hidden lighter. We light it up. I pull in a big hit, then hand it to him. He does the same. We pass it back and forth until it’s too small to handle. Palmer has his eyes closed and is starting to space out. The hand that was holding the magazine losing its grip. It falls to the bed next to his long legs.
“Man, that’s powerful shit.” He turns over on his stomach, pulls a pillow between his legs and starts to hump it. I watch his hard muscles tense and then relax as he continues to have his way with my bed pillow. I get on my knees next to his prone body, reach down and grab his ass to assist him. I feel his firmness as I push down. Use both of my hands to spread his legs slightly open.
“Watcha doing dude -- that feels good, but I don’t need any help.”
I’m stroking the inside of his legs, feeling their hard sinuous muscles. My hands work their way under him to his crotch. His dick is hard as an iron pole. I move on top, putting my full weight on him.
I ask him: “You ever been tied up Palmer?”
“No man, never done that. Why do it?”
“Let me tie your hands behind your back and I’ll show you something you never knew existed. How ‘bout it Palmer, you game?”
“I don’t about that man -- you gonna hurt me?”
“Of course not, you’re my pal. Just going to make you feel really good.”
“All right then.” He slurs.
I go quickly over to my closet and pull out a four-foot length of clothes line rope. Got it hidden here for just this occasion. Return, pull his hands over the small of his back and tie them securely. Making certain that he can’t get loose. Reach under the bed and take the green khaki bandana I stored there for this moment, put a knee on either side of his prone body and work the bandana between his teeth and tie it off behind his head.
He’s silent, motionless and stoned. I reach under him and unfasten the top button of his levis. Work the other buttons open, pull the levis down. Leaving on the jock strap. White sweat socks still on his feet. Now he’s naked and tied up and just lying there helpless before me.
The pal I’ve jerked off thinking about so many times is now mine. Those two hard hair less ass muscles are calling to my hungry mouth. I dive in and separate them. Lick around his tight sphincter and, finally force my tongue inside to taste the sweetness that only a young man can produce. He’s moaning and whimpering softly as I continue to hum and spit up his channel, sucking and licking.
I reach down and release my throbbing cock from its jock strap prison and lower myself on his back and insert the head, pushing past relaxed ass lips. I’m inside and feeling the warmth of his slicked-up shit hole as it sucks in my weapon deeper and deeper until the head strikes his button. I feel him tighten up on my cock and hold it captive.
“Oh my God, oh my God!” he yells into the pillow his face is buried in. “Oh my God!”
I start a steady rhythm in and almost all the way out. Just leaving the swollen head strangled by his tight ass lips. Then back in -- attacking his prostate causing him to raise his ass up to meet my constant thrusting. He shrieks into his gag and ejaculates into the mesh pouch of his jock strap. At the same time, I start unloading my nuts way up inside of his fuck channel until I empty them completely and pull out.
He’s quiet and motionless as I untie his hands and turn him over. Remove his gag. There is a look of total happiness on his face and a big smile on his lips as he speaks to me: “Man, we gotta do this again. I never felt anything like that before, not even when I’m fucking a chick.”
“Didn’t I tell you, I could give you something new and pleasurable that no one else can do?”
“You did, you did, but look at this mess in my jock strap, what you gonna do about that situation?”
“This” I say, as I get between his legs and suck out his warm cum through the white mesh and swallow it until it’s all gone and his jock is cleaned and his dick deflated.
Palmer strokes the top of my head in a loving fashion saying to me, “Now that’s what I call a clean-up job.” Throws his head back laughing out loud as he pulls me down to plant a kiss squarely on mouth.
My dream fades, I come slowly back to reality and snap out of it.
The next thing I remember is waking up in recovery. I’m light headed and slightly groggy, almost afraid to look, but do anyway. There they are, my two old friends back from a perilous journey. Safely back where they belong. It takes two days before I’m released and three months before I can grease up my cock and pound out a heavy load of seed. I’m home free now.
I’m going to find the motherfucker who did this to me and make him pay. I have a shit load of cash and I’m going to get that Air Force fucker, and even the score if it’s the last thing I do!
Stayed tuned for Chapter Four. It is on its way.
