by Jamie Knight
Pleasure consumed me, wrapping every inch of my body in pure bliss as I gave it over to him completely. Sam held me tight, stroking my skin and kissing me as I recovered. Every nerve in my body tingled.
“I love you,” he murmured in my ear.
“Love you,” I replied, still catching my breath.
It was a strange, furry road that had gotten us here, but everything we’d overcome had only made us stronger, and I wouldn’t take back a single moment.
THE END
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Prologue
Bradley
I shouldn’t have been doing this. Shouldn’t have these thoughts about James’s daughter.
But, she was so damn hot. And she had been practically throwing herself at me. Those hips, those lips, those eyes… it was as if she was begging me to do what I wanted, which was to bend her over my lap and spank her ass for being such a bad girl, and then thrust my dick deep inside her mouth.
Her father James was the only good friend I had these days, and he had been ever since I so desperately needed one. After I was injured at war and discharged from duty, he’d taken me to his house and let me stay with him even though he had only been my commanding officer. We’d grown close, both due to the gratefulness I’d felt for him and the bond we’d shared as he’d helped me get back on my feet.
Fucking his daughter was no way to repay him for his kindness— even though it was clear she wanted me to take her for her very first time. Sure, she was an adult and seemed to know exactly what she wanted— which was very obviously me. And I wanted to take her— every which way I could.
From behind, while she was on all fours calling out my name and I was pulling her hair. From on top, while I was looking into those pretty eyes she liked to bat so innocently at me. From underneath her, so that she could spread those legs wide and let me all the way into her tiny, tight, wet little pussy.
I couldn’t do it. Could I? It could have all sorts of negative consequences. James would no doubt kick me out of his house. And what if I knocked her up? She had her whole life ahead of her, and mine had just been unexpectedly derailed.
I had to fucking control myself. But could I? Not with those curvy hips of hers walking in front of me, while she was dressed only in her bikini, begging me to come for a swim with her. Swim with her? I wanted to swim in her. And I always got what I wanted.
Chapter 1
Bradley
“Hope the chicken isn't too spicy for you,” said James, looking over at me while I absentmindedly scraped my food around on my plate. I was so lost in thought, I almost forgot where I was.
I was still trying to process everything. So much had happened. I knew that, all things considered, I was very lucky. Too bad that lucky felt so fucking shitty.
I shifted in my chair to try to relieve some of the pressure from my hip. I winced at a sharp pain shooting from my toes up my leg.
I had been an aircraft mechanic in the Air Force for about eighteen years. Some people have looked at that as “not shit” since I wasn't in direct combat much, but for me, it let me do what I loved while still serving our country.
I was a self-taught mechanic, learning everything I knew as a young kid working on the cars of friends, family, neighbors, basically anyone within a ten-mile radius who would let me near their car. People would remark with amazement when their car was fixed using little or no parts, and drove better than it had before it needed work done on it. News traveled fast about the teenage boy who could fix cars and did it for next to nothing, sometimes even for free.
I vividly remember a lady walking up to my house, looking nervous and afraid.
“B-Br-Brad?” she asked quietly.
“'Yeah,” I said. “What can I do for you?”
Wringing her hands and glancing around nervously, she continued, but in a language I did not understand. It wasn’t Spanish or French or any of the languages I’d heard in school. Might’ve been Hungarian.
“I’m sorry, ma’am…” I remember extending out my hand slowly, with caution.
She was so scared. It was then I realized her body was wrapped in some unusual garment I’d never seen before. I couldn’t tell if it was one of those fashionista things or one of those National Geographic things. The sadness in her eyes touched my heart.
“C-Caaar? Car? Help?” she asked in an unsure voice.
“Sure, I'll help you. Let me give you a ride to wherever your car is.”
As I said it, I made a motion with one of my arms as if I was using a steering wheel to drive, while gesturing at her with my other arm to come with me. She understood what I was saying and lit up right away, smiling.
We drove the mile to where her car was and I saw what was wrong right away. Her car had overheated and needed coolant. I drove her over to the gas station and she bought some. I put it in her car, had her start the car, and after a few minutes, her engine sounded better and she was ready to go.
“Tank you,” she said, bowing her head deeply, holding my teenaged hand between her two hands, clasped as if in prayer.
“You're welcome.”
She looked up into my eyes, hers welling with emotion. “God… God repay you,” she said.
“It's okay. Really. I'm just glad that I could help,” I told her.
I saw two car seats in the back of her car and wondered where her children were. I didn't bother asking her. But, I was happy that I could help.
That was when I realized that my interest in being a mechanic was more than just a hobby. I wanted to make it my profession.
I worked hard and put myself through trade school, paying for it by working at a fast food joint. Those were long, hard days, going to school during the day and working at night. Sheer will got me through those nights when the restaurant was slow.
But, I knew that if I had any hopes of doing anything with my life, I would have to keep going. I came from a dirt-poor family. Most of them had barely gotten through grade school, let alone had any real profession to speak of.
So, when I graduated from trade school as a mechanic, I felt like I was on top of the fucking world. Unfortunately, though, there weren't very many opportunities in the town where I lived. And I didn’t have the money to pack up and move.
When an Air Force recruiter came around and asked if I wanted to join, I signed up right away. I knew that this was it—my ticket to freedom.
And I was right. Being a mechanic in the Air Force opened my eyes to a whole new world. Honestly, it was an entirely new level of existence. I never even knew anyone who worked that hard, with focus, in order to accomplish—and to be accomplished—as the guys in my unit did.
I’d kind of always been a bit of a daredevil. I just couldn’t “keep my booty still,” as my old great-aunt Birdie diagnosed at my fifteenth birthday party. (It was a great time—we were jumping off the roof into a kiddie pool filled high with shredded foam from a mattress I’d ripped up by hand.) I didn’t like trouble, you see, I just had a nose for action—a thrill for the outdoors, that sort of thing.
So when I discovered that I had this natural bent for fixing things, I was so excited. I was also relieved—my brain could be the one making me a living, not my brawn or bravado. I mean, sure, being a mechanic involved using my hands and muscles, too, but working on planes also involved figuring out problems and thinking about the best way to fix things.
> This new direction of mine was a major step up for my family. It meant I might live to see old age, unlike practically every male in my bloodline.
Plus, none of us had ever served our country in the Armed Forces. Me joining up was an even bigger step forward for us. For me personally, joining up meant my freewheeling, garage experiment antics might have a constructive, positive outlet while I learned more skills and grew in my abilities.
More, I completely relished the traveling part of Air Force life. Mercy, the world had never seemed so big. Or beautiful, honestly.
Obviously, combat was what it was. But as things changed in all those long years, I found newer and cooler methods to indulge my thrill-seeking ways. When I was a kid, I never would’ve imagined rock climbing in the Swiss Alps would be just one of the many adventures life brought me.
But most of all, I loved the culture of performance. Of excellence. Oh, of course, there were jerks, wimps and assholes, as there are in all aspects of life, but I had the best of luck in all my deployments. The people around me inspired like nobody’s business. And so, that was my world, a world where I had a place, a duty and a status no one could take away from me.
That world all came crashing down, though, when I got into an accident that forced me to retire.
Chapter 2
Bradley
To this day, I could still smell the diesel fuel burning from my seat in the cockpit. That day, everything felt wrong. I remember telling everyone that I felt like I had woken up on the wrong side of the bed. They just laughed and told me to shake it off, thinking that maybe the thought of going up in the air that day was starting to get to me. That wasn't it, but at the same time, I couldn't quite say what it was that was bothering me.
When the shots rang out and I heard the metal pings of the plane being shot, I knew that that was what that feeling had been. A sick dread filled me as I watched everything seem to move in slow motion.
“Mayday! Mayday!” called the pilot, sweat covering his brow and his shirt collar.
I felt the impact as the plane hit the ground like a meteor and I was the hurtling hunk of space rock. I didn't think that I would make it out alive.
But, I did.
I had been hurt. Fucking badly. Initially, I blacked out and when I woke up, it was in a hospital bed. I couldn't move. But I could hear voices around me.
“What do you think, Doc?” asked a woman's voice.
“Can't be sure,” said a man's voice. “I can say, though, that he's stable for now. And considering that many of the people who were on the flight with him sustained very serious injuries, I would say that he's in a really good position.”
“Will he walk again, if he does pull through?” asked the woman.
“Only time will tell,” he said. “I just hope that he wakes up soon. That will be the deciding factor in all of this. That and his will to live.”
Apparently, I faded in and out of consciousness for a few days.
Then, one day, I opened my eyes. I remember staring at the ceiling and seeing a brown spot on one of the tiles. I just stared at it, trying to figure out where I was and process what I could remember.
A nurse walked in and saw that my eyes were open and gasped.
“Doctor, he's awake!” she yelled, running back out of the room. The doctor rushed in and looked at me.
“How do you feel?” he asked, careful and gentle like his voice would knock me back into unconsciousness.
I tried to move and felt a lot of pain all over.
“Hurt,” I managed to say. The word came out more like a grunt, though.
“It's okay. You're alright. You've sustained a few injuries, but you'll live. With some therapy, you will slowly start to improve.”
The doctor explained to me what had happened. The plane crashed, but we made it to friendly territory before the enemy could finish the job. We were then taken to a hospital where we received care right away.
“You broke your hip and leg. We were able to set them and put them in a cast. That’s why you can't move very much. There was some skin scraped on your face, neck, and chest, but those are minor cosmetic issues, which can be addressed later. For now, we just want to make sure that we keep you stable and that you don't develop an infection.”
I was in a lot of pain, but the biggest blow came two weeks later when, after being visited by the doctor, my commanding officer, James Stratton, came into my room. He held his hat in his hand and wore a sad look on his face. He looked like he was coming to give me news that I was dying. It turned out that he fucking might as well have been.
“How you holding up there, champ?” he asked me, trying to force a smile.
“I'm pretty good,” I said weakly, giving my best attempt at a smile.
He took a deep breath and then blew it out.
“There's really no easy to way to say this,” he said, staring at the floor, fidgeting his hat in his hands. “I know that you must be going through a lot right now, trying to recover from your injuries and all. That's why I tried to wait until the last minute possible to come down here and have to talk to you about this. But, given your injuries and the extent of the work that you do for the Air Force, we regret to have to inform you that your service will no longer be needed. As soon as you are well enough, you will be going back home. You will be honorably discharged, of course. The United States Air Force thanks you for your service. “
He stood up and saluted. I tried to salute back, but could barely get my hand up to my head. He hesitated for a moment before he spoke again.
“And on a more personal note, I'm going to miss you, Brad. If you ever need anything and I can help, don't hesitate to ask.”
I nodded, telling him that I would.
He spun on his heels and walked away. I listened as his heels clicked down the hall until they faded away, just like all my dreams and goals. It was as if he was taking them all with him as he walked away from me after delivering such depressing news.
Chapter 3
Bradley
I lay there in my hospital bed in shock, trying to process everything. Days passed, so I had nothing to do but think about my situation.
During my long years in the military, I was gone when both of my parents had died, my father in a car crash and my mother from cancer. My brothers and sisters had either landed in jail, were hooked on drugs, or were off doing something where they weren't on anyone’s radar anymore.
I had become grateful for my career in the military because it gave me somewhere to go, a sense of belonging. Now that I was being discharged, the jarring reality crashed down on me that I was alone and had nowhere to go. After my father passed, the house went into foreclosure and was taken back by the bank. There was nowhere that I could call home.
Where would I go now that I had no home to go to and no career to keep me?
Trapped in the hospital bed, I lapsed into a mild panic.
I didn't know what to do, but I remembered James's last words to me before walking out of my room. Was he serious about letting him know if I ever needed anything? Because I could already think of something I desperately needed.
I decided to call him and let him know of my situation. I hoped that maybe once he heard that I had nowhere to go, he would reopen the discussion about whether or not I should be discharged from the military. I was injured, but surely, I could still do good work.
The more that I thought about it, the more hopeful I got. I started envisioning a happy future that could still be within my reach. By the time that I picked up the phone, I was positively beaming.
“Hello?” James answered curtly.
“Uh, yes, hi, sir, this is Bradley Miller,” I said, pausing for a moment to give him time to remember who I was.
“Brad, my man. How are you?”
“I'm doing great, under the circumstances,” I said, feeling that that was true now that I had come up with this plan to get back into the military. “I was hoping that you had a few minutes to chat about something
.”
“Sure, you actually caught me at a good time. What's up?”
I could feel the sweat beginning to soak my palms. I almost dropped the phone.
“Well, I appreciate that you came down to let me know what was going on with my standing in the Air Force so that I wouldn't be blindsided by the information once I got better. But... sir, I have nowhere to go,” I explained.
I realized that I probably sounded pathetic, but kept talking anyway. “The Air Force has been my life for just shy of two decades and my plans were to spend the rest of my career here, serving my country. Now, I'm being told that, because I sustained an injury while actively serving, I won't be able to continue to do so. And to be completely honest, sir; this means I don't know where I will end up.”
I felt like all the energy I’d built up when I had been in a good mood had been drained out of me after I finished speaking. I didn't hear anything on the other end of the phone and I started wondering if I had accidentally hung up on him.
“Sir?” I asked.
“Yes. Sorry. I'm still here. Brad, what about your family?” he asked.
“Sir, my mother died of cancer ten years back and my father died a few years after that. As far as the rest of my family, the ones that I even know about are either incarcerated or on the streets. That's why I was hoping that we could still leave things open in terms of my service here. The doctors are hopeful that I'll recover just fine and I'll be able to complete my duties.”
The last part was a white lie. Actually, the doctors were saying that they weren't sure how things would go. They said that there was a chance that I might be able to walk without a cane again if I did physical therapy, but that there were no guarantees. But, for now, I just wanted him to believe that I would be completely fine.
“Brad, the decision that we made was based on your doctor's recommendation,” he said. “I'm sorry to be the one to tell you that. I don't want you to be upset with your doctor. He may have told you that in hopes that your spirits would be high for rehabilitation. But, I want you to look at things realistically, for what they actually are, not for what you hope for them to be. No one can live in a fantasy world forever, especially when real life is happening all around them.”
