Thanking Our Soldiers

"We have much to be thankful for."

"Sure we do, Sarah. I'm thankful I didn't get knocked up at the first fraternity party of the year. I mean, I got so drunk I didn't make that frat rat wear a condom."

"Stupid, Heather, stupid."

"Stuff happens, Sarah. Now I make absolutely sure the stuff goes in a rubber and gets flushed down the toilet. Well, unless I'm giving a blow job. Then I just swallow the yukky. Hey, what did Dean Morrison want to see you for? Did they catch you cheating on that 'Myths and Rituals of Creation and Procreation' exam?"

"No way! I'm too smart for that. He wanted to talk to me about our sorority volunteering at the veteran's hospital for Thanksgiving. You know, cheer up our wounded soldiers who can't be home with their families. Have dinner with them. Watch football with them. Whatever."

"Why us to cheer them up?"

"He said we are the hottest chicks on campus."

"Can't argue with him there. And you are the hottest of the hot, Sarah."

"No, you are, Heather."

"You are!"

"No, you are! And you taste great!"

"But you are less filling, Sarah! No matter how much I eat you, I can always eat more."

We began to rip at each other's clothing playfully.

"You look so much like that very pretty country singer who won all those awards, Heather. Except your boobs are bigger."

Heather looked up at me with those big brown bedroom doe eyes as she stuck her fingers inside me. Such a little devil with such an innocent-looking face. Then she pulled her fingers out and smelled and licked them sensuously. "I'll do you first, girlfriend. I get so distracted when we sixty-nine that I can't concentrate on giving my best oral performance."

"Works for me," I purred, "although I must admit I've never noticed your lack of enthusiasm and expertise when we sixty-nine."

Soon Heather had me on my back and began to nibble and kiss my legs and inner thighs, working her way up and stopping at the edge of my panties. She licked underneath the bottom of my panties, and then the top, sticking her tongue as far inside as she could.

"You're driving me crazy, girlfriend," I cooed. "I'm ready for your tongue inside me. I'm so ready."

Heather slipped my panties down past my knees with her teeth as I arched up. They slid to my ankles and I kicked them off. She began to kiss and lick my lips and then she found my clit. She blew on it softly and took it into her mouth and flicked it lightly.

"Eat me, my pretty baby," I begged. "Eat me good."

That she did—really good. Suddenly she stopped and looked up and me and spoke. "Sarah, your face is getting flush, and you are trembling. You're not going to have a stroke, are you?" she teased.

"Yeah, maybe a pussy stroke. Don't stop for God's sake!" I screeched. "Yeow, that feels so good, what you were doing." She went right back to it. "That's it, girl! Oh my dear Lord in heaven that's good. Do me, girl. Oh . . . ohhhh . . . oh yeah . . . ohhhh yeah . . ."

Then Heather slid two fingers inside my pussy and fucked me as she sucked me.

"I'm . . . ohhhh . . . oh yeah . . . ohhhh . . . I . . . uhhhhhh . . ."

I squeezed her face tightly with my thighs and pulled her by the hair down on me as I climaxed in incredible spasms in her mouth.

When I wound down a bit and stopped shaking, we switched positions and I did her just like she had done me.

Afterwards we cuddled and kissed and talked softly.

"So what did you tell Dean Morrison?" Heather inquired.

"Yes, I said yes."

"You said yes?"

"Yes, I said yes. Read my lips, Heather."

She giggled. "I just did read your lips, Sarah. With my tongue. Oh my, you really make a lot of noise when you're getting off."

"I couldn't help it. Nobody can muff dive like you, girlfriend."

"Well, I do just love that little red muff of yours that matches the hair on your head so perfectly. You know, all the girls have plans for Thanksgiving, Sarah. Some of us have already bought our plane tickets."

I told Heather the same sad story that the dean had told me.

She started crying just like I had done when I met with the dean.

I had no trouble convincing the other sorority sisters to cancel their plans for Thanksgiving and go to the veteran's hospital with me.

* * *

We got to the hospital and a guy who wore a badge that indicated he was the chief of staff gave us a brief tour. Then he turned us over to a woman named Olga he introduced as the head nurse. She explained what we would be doing.

"Here is your first soldier," Olga said as we entered his room. He had his eyes closed, apparently asleep on the bed. "An explosion blew off both legs at the knees in Afghanistan. He's a frisky one, though, let me tell you." She smirked. "We have to put salt peter in his food three times a day, or he has a constant erection," she whispered to us. "It's rather obvious when he is on his back like that, and him being so big like he is. That one is hung like a horse. Well, I'll leave it up to you girls to introduce yourselves. Oh, and the explosion damaged his hearing somewhat I think. There has to be some reason why he ignores me. I'll check on you later. I have so much work to do." She hurried off.

I approached his bed and thought sadly, what a poor, grieving, aching, lonely, embarrassed, and probably sex-starved young veteran who wakes to the realization that he has offered up his two legs as the penultimate sacrifice for his beloved country.

Suddenly his eyes opened. "Am I in heaven?" he mumbled.

Holding his steady gaze, I looked full into his eyes and formed the only words I could muster as tears rolled down my cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

"I can't hear you. Come closer, please," he requested.

I bent over and a breast brushed against his arm as I puckered my lips and attempted to kiss him on the cheek. But at the last moment I planted a soft, quick smack on his lips. "I'm so sorry," I repeated.

"What is that smell?" he asked. "Your perfume?"

"Oh, that's Hypnose by Lancome. It's a blend of vanilla, passion flower, and vetiver. "

"You got me hypnotized, honey. Can I see your tits?"

"That must be the drugs talking," I turned and said softly to Heather so only she could hear. "They probably have him all doped up for the pain."

"So you love dick, do you," he stated matter-of-factly, staring at my chest.

"Dude, this is a football shirt! Please note that under 'I LOVE DICK' in the big black letters, except for the red heart, is the word 'LeBeau' in little gold letters. Dick LeBeau is the Steelers defensive coordinator."

"I knew that, but I'm a Browns fan."

"I'm so sorry." I didn't know what else to say.

Heather approached his bed then. "You can see my tits." She lifted the front of her shirt and flashed him.

"Holy shit!" he roared. "Those are some great hooters!"

"Heather!" I snapped. "Don't be giving him ideas. We're supposed to be thanking our wounded soldiers, not giving them a peep show."

"Hey, they got him on salt peter don't they," she replied snidely, "so what's the big deal?"

"I knew it!" he cried. "No wonder my dick is so limp for a couple hours after every meal. I can't even get it stiff enough to jerk off."

Just then we were interrupted by another nurse bringing in our dinners. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and all the trimmings.

Finally we got around to properly introducing ourselves as we ate and chatted.

"Sam, you're not eating your mashed potatoes," Heather observed. "Don't you like mashed potatoes?"

"Not today," he replied.

"Well, give them to me," Heather said, "I love them."

Another soldier in a wheelchair rolled into the room and came close to Sam and they had a private conversation.

Sam laughed when the other soldier left. "He wanted to tell me that these two hot babes came to his room and were entertaining him. Being my good buddy, he wanted to know if he should send one over to see me, but obviously he could see I have two of my own."

"Yeah, our entire sorority is here," Heather commented.

When we had finished our dinners, the nurse came back and took the trays. Olga accompanied her, and whispered to the other nurse, "Oh good, I see he ate all his mashed potatoes. He won't be complaining about blue balls, and begging for something for the problem, like a hand job."

We watched football for awhile. Green Bay and Detroit.

Suddenly Sam clicked off the TV.

"Hey, I want to watch the game!" I complained, "I have a couple of those Packers on my fantasy team."

"I'm a fudge packer," Sam stated matter-of-factly. "And I sure would like to spread your sweet cheeks, Red."

"Now you behave!" I ordered insolently.

"Okay, but I need a shave. The stubble is itchy, and it's making me irritable."

Heather felt his face. "Seems pretty smooth to me."

"I'm talking about this." Sam pulled the blanket down from just above his waist and tossed it on the floor. He wasn't wearing anything. "See?"

We looked at his stumps and we both began to cry. "I'm so sorry," I whimpered once again.

"Now, now, girls. How are you going to cheer me up like that?"

"So how can we cheer you up?" Heather asked, drying her eyes with tissues that were on a table next to his bed.

"I told you, Blondie, this stubble is driving me crazy. They shaved me down below when I had a surgical procedure last week. As you can see I have scars all over my body from the shrapnel, although nothing all that serious, except for my legs, of course."

"Should we go get the nurse to shave you?" I asked.

"No, they won't do it. They say I only get shaved down there when I have surgery."

"We are not going to shave you down there!" Heather insisted.

"Let me tell you the story of how I lost my legs. I was point man for my platoon in Sangin when two 'daisy chain' IED exploded during what should have been a normal patrol. Sangin is a notoriously volatile area because it contains a patchwork of rival tribes and is a major center of the country's opium industry." He continued with all the gory details of dead and mangled bodies, and concluded with, "One of my comrades I saved could have been your brother, you know." He stared at Heather and then shifted his gaze to me.

"Well I guess the least we can do is give you a shave," I conceded.

"There is a straight razor and shaving cream hidden in the bottom of the black leather bag in the closet," he advised. "I'm really not supposed to have it, but I hate that battery-operated shaver they gave me for my face."

I fetched the necessary equipment and soon applied the lather liberally throughout his pubic region and began to shave him.

"Okay Heather, hold up his penis while I shave his testicles."

She did.

"Sarah?"

"Be quiet, Heather. I don't want to nick his family jewels. I never used one of these straight razors before."

"Sarah?"

"Shut up, Heather! Do you want Sam to lose his balls too?"

Sam kind of jerked at that. Good thing I didn't have the razor on him at that moment.

"Sarah, Sam's penis is . . . uh . . . it's . . . uh . . ."

"What, Heather, what? Spit it out."

She took her hands off it. "See?"

We both started to giggle.

"So I guess you don't need to hold it up any more, Heather."

"He has a nice penis, doesn't he?" Heather whispered to me. "Nice and big."

I hurriedly finished the shave and dried him off with a towel. Heather picked up the blanket off the floor and covered him with it. I clicked on the TV and began to watch the start of the Raiders at Cowboys game. But I couldn't help but glance occasionally at the blanket. It looked like a tent. Heather, not interested much in football, kept staring at it.

"Sarah?"

This time it was Sam calling me. I didn't want to answer.

"Heather?"

Now he tried her. Heather couldn't help but answer, the chatty little bitch. "What, Sam?"

"Obviously I now have another problem."

"Obviously," I snorted sarcastically.

"Do you know what would fix this problem?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Well, I bet I could guess," I answered, giving him a dirty look.

Heather looked puzzled for a moment, but then her eyes lit up. "I know, a blow job!"

Sam smiled so sweetly. "You girls are not only extremely attractive, but you are also incredibly intelligent."

Then he ripped the blanket from his body and tossed it on the floor again.

"We are not giving you a blow job!" I declared as authoritatively as I could.

Sam began to repeat his story about how his legs were blown off and how some of his fellow soldiers were killed and wounded, but in even more horrific detail this time.

"Okay, okay, we'll give you a blow job!" Heather blurted, now crying harder than ever.

"Yeah, I guess so," I concurred. "I mean, you did make a great sacrifice to protect our freedom. It is the least we can do, I suppose."

"Yes!" Sam roared. "Hey, and take your shirts off. I will cum quicker if I have a visual aid."

"Makes sense to me," Heather agreed as she pulled her shirt over her head. I then did likewise.

"Why don't you girls wear bras?" Sam inquired politely. "Just curious. Most girls wear bras."

"Do we look like we need bras?" Heather snapped.

"No, no, not at all," Sam answered a little sheepishly.

We bent over him and took turns licking his cock like a lollipop while the other tongued his balls. He tweaked my nipples with his right hand and Heather's with his left hand.

"So just how bad do you need a blow job, Sam?" Heather asked demurely.

"Real bad! I haven't had a blow job for like six months. Just before I went to Afghanistan, my long-time girlfriend sucked me off as a going away present. She really doesn't like to do that, and she wouldn't swallow. We had been planned to be married when I got back, but after I lost my legs she broke up with me."

"I'm so sorry," I said sympathetically, sounding like a broken record.

"Would you believe my steady boyfriend dumped me when I was 18 and a senior in high school?" Heather added. "He caught me and my best girlfriend licking each other's beaver, and accused me of cheating on him. As if! It's not like he ever did that for me."

"Okay girls, enough small talk. My cock needs your hungry mouths."

Heather slid her moistened tongue back and forth over and under the head of Sam's cock. Then her lips closed around the head, and she began to suck more and more dick down her throat. I pushed her head down on it as I licked the part she couldn't seem to get in her mouth.

"So let's see you deep-throat him, Heather," I encouraged.

Heather pulled up off him. "Oh no, I don't think I can do that. It's way too big. You try it."

I licked the head of his cock, circling the corona, then back to the head, lingering at the hole in the center. I paused momentarily to ask, "Sam, would you like to cum in our mouths and all over our faces?"

"Oh baby . . . oh yeah . . . suck me . . . please girls . . . suck it . . ."

Heather squeezed his shaft with both hands and we watched some clear liquid pop out of the hole. I went back down on him and twisted my head from side to side, up and down and around and around, making sure my lips stayed in contact with the corona of his cock. Then I held my hand against my lips and moved up and down on him. He began to thrust his hips up to meet me. I took my hand off his cock and reached around him and squeezed his butt cheeks as he fucked my mouth. His cock disappeared and my nose was against what used to be a bush before the shave. I pulled him almost all the way out and then went all the way back down on him. Again and again. Heather had as much of his balls stuffed in her mouth as she could manage.

"Ohhh . . . that's it, girls, that's it . . . oh yeah . . . ahhhh . . ." he moaned over and over.

I pulled off him. "You finish him off, Heather. I did most of the work. He's going to bust a nut any second now."

Before she could cover his cock with her mouth again, Sam closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as he shot a huge load that exploded like a shot out of a canon. It hit Heather right between the eyes. I pushed her down on him and she swallowed as much as she could. Then I took his still spurting cock and traced my lips with it while tickling the underside with my tongue.

Finally, he was done. "Wow, I never saw a dude who had so much cum in him," Heather marveled. We had his spunk all over our faces.

As we wiped the cum from our faces with tissues from the table, we noticed Olga and the other nurse standing at the doorway to the room.

"Damn, we need to increase his dosage of salt peter," the other nurse said to Olga, who nodded somberly.

Embarrassed, I said to Heather, "Put your shirt on because we have to go now." I looked at Sam fondly. "Take care, my hero."

"Thank you girls for cheering me up! I feel blessed, and I am so thankful that my dick didn't get blown off along with my other legs. I had a great Thanksgiving! Gobble, gobble."

We hurriedly departed Sam's room and gathered up the other girls.

Heather asked Amanda as we left, "So how was dinner with your soldier?"

"Oh, I didn't eat much," Amanda answered, and then giggled. "Neither did Carrie. Other than a big black salami. Somehow the dude persuaded us to blow him. Talk about a soldier standing at attention, but that didn't last long. Carrie can suck a golf ball through a hose."

* * *

I drove the 50 miles to my home about 80 mph. I wanted to spend at least some time on Thanksgiving with my widowed father.

There he was, on the couch in the den, watching the Giants at Broncos game. He had gone over to my aunt's house for dinner earlier in the day.

I sat down beside him on the couch. He put his arm around me. "How was your day at the hospital, honey?" he asked. I told him how it went. Well, some of it. "That was so wonderful of you girls—spending time our wounded soldiers on Thanksgiving."

"Glad to do it," I replied. "Just some small way to try to repay those who sacrificed so much in defense of our country. Daddy, you were in Vietnam. You never talk about it. You were a prisoner of war and you were awarded two Purple Hearts and a Bronze Star. Of course that was long before I was born, but Mom told me about it."

"Do you really want to hear about it, honey?"

"Yes, Daddy, please tell me."

My father related his own war experience for a half hour while I sat spellbound. This was more traumatic than even Sam's story. I started sobbing about five minutes into it.

When he finished I dried my eyes and asked, "Daddy, would you mind if I gave you a blow job for every day you spent in solitary confinement?"

"That's a lot of blow jobs, honey," he answered, startled, and thinking I was joking.

My father did know I sucked cock though, because when I was 18 he once caught me with my high school boyfriend Billy Joe's dick in my mouth. Daddy stumbled upon us in the garage where we had gone to get him some tool, and were taking an infernally long time. Daddy just walked into the garage, picked up some drill or whatever it was, and walked right out without saying a word.

Billy Joe was the football star and I was captain of the cheerleaders. He told me he could play better when he wasn't horny, so I sucked him off before every game. And before practice each day. And on Saturdays while he watched college football and on Sundays while he watched pro football. I called him BJ for short, but eventually I got bored with him because we never had any conversations, except me talking to his purple microphone.

"I'm up for it if you are, Daddy," I purred as I put my hand in his lap.

"Don't you want to watch the game, honey?"

"The Giants are killing the Broncos, and I don't have any fantasy players on either team. I'd rather suck your dick, Daddy."

"But honey . . ."

I unzipped him and pulled his penis out. It was almost fully erect from me rubbing it gently over his pants. "Happy Thanksgiving, Daddy. Gobble, gobble."