Now I've Got His Peanut Inside Of Me

I was stationed in Germany. I got hurt while traveling in Belgium. I was hospitalized and needed surgery. In the hospital at the time was a reporter, she was there dealing with a chronic infection she had contracted in Somalia. She had ideas, and suggested I go stay with her a few days to recover, before returning to my post in Germany. She told me all about her work, where she had been, she was an investigative reported, freelance selling her story to newspapers and news sources. The more outside the norm the better, kidnapped children, m****rs and mayhem. Some of her stuff sounded like novels, but it was true, if not embellished. She was a story teller, she just went looking for awful situations.

But more than that, she liked girls who were soldiers, police officers, fit and strong. It was a contest of wills, until you put her down and kept her down and imposed your will on her. I was a soldier, semper fi. Try to take me, and I'll break you. and that's what happened. She forced the L out of me, and by the time I had imposed myself on her, the L was all out all over her. I was disgusted with myself, for not controlling my base behavior. If this got out I'd be cashiered, given my rank and duty. But like any addiction, once you submit to it again, you can't quit it. I resigned my commission, and followed her all over. Thailand, Philippines, Africa, Central America. It was raw lust, L on a scale I had never let myself go there. I had her name tattooed on my shoulder. She did the stories, I did the rest. Then Africa. The Zambesi.

We got caught and cornered by an elephant herd. It was worse than scary, no weapons, and animals so large that they can kill you. Our vehicle was disabled. This shot rang out, and this vehicle approached us blaring its horn, and shooting in the air, and scared off the herd. He was not nice, he was mad as hell and gave us a dressing down out there in nowhere. What the hell, who were we? This was a reserve, he was a ranger from South Africa. We weren't allowed there without permission. Our vehicle was stranded and he took us back in his, I sat up front with him. She was taking pictures. He stopped the vehicle and confiscated her camera equipment, nothing to see, to report, to tell about. No pictures. Her anger came on, and he imposed his authority and I watched. I looked down and I had peed my pants.

We were escorted, deported. Our equipment confiscated. But not before he got his two cents in, bent over like a teenager, taking his dick and doing nothing about it. I didn't report that back, I kept it to myself. It's my most worthwhile memory. The day I got put down, and surrendered. I peed my pants again. I still get wet thinking about him. He's a ghost but I have his number. I just met him two months ago in Pretoria, to do what he does best, to fuck the living shit out of me. I may have my lover's name tattooed on my shoulder, but I've got his peanut inside me, and I'm going to grow this peanut for him. And she's just going to have to like it. She can take all the pictures she wants.