Sergeant Bull : Part 5

Bull spit out Odgers cock and buried his face in the dual, sweaty nut sacs overhead. This was the smell he wanted to remember, the nuts of the men who’d defeated Iraq, who’d given their strength to liberate the people of Kuwait. These were the nuts of true soldiers, and real men.

Bull sucked Holt’s balls into his mouth.

At one point, the soldier fucking Odgers’ ass pulled out. Bull only caught the sight of the dark red, ass-smelling knob of Holt’s cock an instant before hot, raunchy come bathed his face. Holt was still shooting when Bull unloaded his second blast down the private’s throat. Odgers wasn’t far behind. Gulping down his field sergeant’s load, he pushed down into Bull’s mouth and sprayed.

The three men collapsed into a heap on the sleeping bag. Nobody spoke about it after that, and no words were needed. Despite the ghostly moan of the desert wind around their tent reminding them of the campaign, at least for a moment it felt like home.

April 2000, White Pines, New York:

You didn’t come yet-

The words echoed in Bull’s mind as he sat in the sun beside the blond-haired man.

“You doing okay?”

“Best as can be expected,” Odgers said painfully, shifting to a more comfortable position on the deck chair. A warm spring breeze stirred through the lush green trees of the rural neighborhood. “But you know what they say – it’s all in my head. Gulf War Syndrome isn’t real.”

Bull studied the young man, now in his late-twenties. The haggard lines on his face and frailty of his body had tacked several more decades onto the former soldier. Still, he bore a handsomeness Bull couldn’t – and wouldn’t – deny. “What’s been happening?”

“It’s in my joints, mostly. My knees. Sometimes -” he hesitated, and for a few tense seconds, only the wind was audible. “Sometimes I can’t control, you know, taking a piss.”

Bull shook his head and sighed. “You hanging in financially?”

“I get a government check every month, and living with my parents helps me make ends meet just barely. It’s tough. I have lots of medical bills.”

Bull reached into his wallet and pulled out a few crisp hundred-dollar notes. “Here. You need more, I’ll hit the ATM before I go.”

Odgers held up a hand. “I’m no charity case, Sarge.”

“I didn’t say you were. Take them.”

Reluctantly, Odgers accepted the money. “What about your son?”

Bull shrugged. “I got plenty in the bank, and I’m getting closer to him every day. Still have a ways to go, but you know what?” Odgers shrugged. “I’ve spent so much time in the service, I forgot about any kind of life outside it. So I guess maybe I’m taking this trip across country a little slow. Stopping to see the sights. Catching up with old friends. Maybe by the time I’m out west, it’ll all make sense to me.”

Odgers forced a smile. “It’s good to see you again, Sarge.”

“You, too.”

The former soldier leaned closer to where Bull sat. “So how long you gonna stay here in New York?”

Bull shrugged. “Just long enough to see you, pal.”

Odgers’ smile widened. He looked around, from one side of the fenced-in backyard to the other. Once he was sure they were alone, he planted a hand on Bull’s lap. “I’m glad.”

Bull clapped his fingers over Odgers’ touch and rubbed the other man’s palm against the rising lump in his jeans. “Me, too, kid. You up for a ride on my Harley first?”


Two days later, Bull would drive the same route away from his old friend’s neighborhood on his way to the Midwest and the next leg of his journey to find Jason.

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