0 comments/ 19237 views/ 1 favorites Agent Dacro Sanx Ch. 1 By: CND Hello, my name is Gary O'Brian, but no one calls me by that name. My mother used to, but she was the last one who did a lifetime ago. My friends call me Dacro, my enemies used to call me Sanx, and since a man is the sum of his friends and enemies, the name people label me with is Dacro Sanx. A name I wear in shame, a name I can not forget for as long as I live, and a name that ruined any chances for me to have a (normal) sex life 34 years ago. Not because of a physical condition, but something psychosomatic an illness caused by fear or anxiety rather than by any physical problem. At least that's what I've been told over the years. Look at that medal framed in glass that's a constant reminder of everything. It is just a single medal that people are so impressed with, but personally makes my stomach turn. Not sure if the others who have received it feel the same way, but that's what I feel when I see a Purple Heart. Sure I was wounded in battle, but the wounds I received were nothing compared to the suffering I've had to deal with since those days. As a young man merely 18 years old, I found myself as a wild war-machine wearing green camouflage in the steamy, sticky jungle, fighting every movement of leaves, every sound of the wind and getting a rush every day from life. Vietnam was no vacation trip, but ending up in re-con gave me a lot of time on my own. We all had our call signs, and I selected Darkroad, since each mission felt like I was leading the others on a dark road to something menacing, through the ever-present mud and muck. It was Johnson who first got lazy and reduced Darkroad to simply Dacro. Later, Burnstein changed it to Dac, but for higher security reasons, all nicks had to contain at least two syllables; so everybody forgot about Gary O'Brian and in his place emerged Dacro Sanx. Sanx, because that was the last word the Vietnamese said to me in their last breath their way of saying "Thanks" through their bloody throats. My duties were to scout areas, eliminate obstacles, and to make sure that the boys in Intelligence were feeding us the right information. They rarely were, but we all knew that anyway. It was during one of those usual walks in the jungle that I came to meet her, Yen Lo, a young Vietnamese with long pitch black hair, high cheekbones, dark brown mysterious eyes and fragile lips. Her slender body, wrapped in a pale green dress, moved with grace when she walked down the lonely road. I observed her every movement for several minutes from my hiding place above the road, before she vanished into the green forest. She had been entirely without jewelry, but the two bamboo sticks she had in her hair had been very elegantly crafted. Of course I didn't know her name until much later. The days were lonely a time when almost nothing was happening in our region. It seemed as if the war had stopped, at least for me, because all I could hear were the birds singing and the raindrops falling upon the dense canopy. Occasionally, I felt as if I could hear the rays of light, filtering through the leaves. At this point some of the others got paranoid saw enemies in the shadows and thought every beautiful vibration in the air was the sound of VC footsteps. I would have perhaps met the same devastating end, but I had the graceful image of her moving in my mind. She walked down the road every day about the same time sometimes trying to hide beneath the trees, as if making sure that no one followed her. On other days, she strolled down the path like any happy young lady without any worries. On one of those days, the 13th to be exact, she stopped below me on the far end of the road, and seemed bothered with something in her sandal. She leaned down and posed so invitingly that I felt an involuntary bulge in the front of my fatigues. For some time I gazed at her while she examined her small, dainty foot. When her examination was over, she looked up without changing her position, straight into my eyes, and smiled. She put her index finger between her lips and gently sucked it for a fraction of a second, before nonchalantly continuing on her way. For days to come she would ignore me. Then, on the 19th day, she stopped at the same place, kissed a red flower that she was holding, and wrapped a piece of paper around the stem. She placed the flower on one of the branches of the tree closest to her and casually walked on. It was without a doubt a note to me, but would I dare to go and get it? For hours I kept looking at the delicate red flower, and as the sunset was devoured by night, I finally worked up enough courage to crawl down from the cliffs that had been my hiding place, and grab the note. It was written in English, although I probably would have been able to understand it even if it hadn't been. "Com to the cave tomorro, pleez" Next to the words was a small, hand-drawn map, with a flower in one place and a cross in another. Crawling back to the hideaway that was more my home than the camp where the others were, I kept reading the note until it was impossible to see it before my eyes. The sleep was for some weird reason so comforting that night. I awoke to the sound of someone walking on the road below, and as I looked down, I noticed eight short men wearing the same uniform and carrying weapons. The war was not over, even if it was peaceful right now, and this was just another indication of that fact. The day passed with very little activity on the road, and as the afternoon came, so did she. With a red flower adorning her hair, she passed by without even glancing my way, but suddenly I noticed the movement of her hand. She made it into a fist, but the left index and middle fingers extended. I interpreted this to mean two hours. As time passed, so did the sun, and when it was time for our first rendezvous, I made my way silently towards the cave that her map had indicated. In retrospect, I'm still not sure what made me do it. I was only 18 years old, in a lost world where the only beacon of light was this woman, and I suppose I wanted to follow her out of this darkened void and be enveloped by her radiance. The cave was totally hidden in the bushes, with only a 2 feet entrance. She had placed the flower from her hair as a marker, and when I silently crawled in, I found that the cave was larger than the entrance indicated. Within just a few yards, I was able to stand up straight. As I peered further inside the cave, I saw a faint light, which drew me closer, like a moth to a flame. The cave had a fairly large chamber, and she was kneeling on a bamboo carpet, with her head against her knees and her arms stretched out offering me a few pieces of sweet fruit. A small candle was burning as it sat on an overhanging rock, covering the entire chamber with a pale yellow light. "Pleez, tis for you." I kneeled before her, picking up the fruit from her delicate hands and said, "Let me see you." She raised to her knees, and her face was even more beautiful than I had been able to make out from the distance that our contact had been before except for a large bruise on her left cheek. I reached out my hand to gently caress it, but she turned her face away in shame. She did not say a word as she started to take off her dress before me revealing her small breasts in total nudity, and with a breathless whisper as her dress slowly slipped down her petite body, she said: "I want you." I was so paralyzed that I didn't know what to say, but then I felt her warm hands guide me to my back as she sat across my stomach and started to kiss me with soft butterfly kisses. Her hips were rubbing over my crotch, and I lay there panting, with a huge erection inside my baggy army trousers. Her touch was electrifying, and I found myself captured in the moment, vulnerable to all things in life, wanting only to be cherished by this fragile woman. Time seemed to stand still as she continued to kiss and caress my quivering body. My shirt was soon unbuttoned and my chest lay naked before her, and she slid her fingers across me, raking her nails against my rough skin. Her entire body traveled downward, until her legs were wrapped around mine, and her fluttering hands unzipped my pants. The boxers I had on stood up like a tent, which she found amusing as she started to lean forward. With her hands resting on my thighs, she began licking me through the boxers, and the chamber was suddenly filled with the sounds of a harmonic choir which was actually my own voice, reverberating off the walls. The electricity was shooting through my body, originating from the single point where her tongue was slowly licking, and causing my muscles to spasm. Unable to control the shaking, I was grasped and held in her hands as she continued to lick me slowly. For what seemed like an eternity, she kept wiggling her tongue over the boxer-covered head until she gently pulled them down, revealing the war-virgin inside. "See." she whispered. I summoned up the strength to look down, and saw my cock standing totally erect the black head less than an inch from her mouth. Then, I felt her breath as she surrounded the head with her lips. Once in her mouth, she remained still and started to hum a low melody, spreading vibrations down my shaft, and the gentle touch was the sweetest torture to my loins. Every muscle in my body had gone from spasms to an intense, fixed cramp at her tender mercies. As she began to hum the low melody once again, the juices in my balls began to boil. The softness of her touch was amazing, yet so demanding that I arched my head back against the rocky ground, unable to maintain eye contact. In the next moment, it was all over when she suddenly stood up, put on her dress and whispered: "Cum for me." I woke up with a pond of sticky semen on my stomach, alone in the now darkened chamber. The soft luminance from the entrance was the only thing that dispelled the blackness of night, so I hurriedly dressed and found my way to the cave entrance. It was not safe to move around in the middle of the day; therefore, I decided to remain in the chamber. On a few occasions I could actually see the feet of Charlie, walking past the bushes that covered the entrance, and I listened to their conversations. Conversations about how they missed their loved ones how they hated the war and the Americans how everything should have been different if only this and that. It was quite obvious that their feelings about what was going on was the same as many of my fellow Americans, but I had lost track of the reasons why we were even there a long, long time before that. As darkness came over the forest, I waited for a chance to get back to my post, but before I had time to leave the cave, Yen appeared with a small package in her hands. She brought me some food, not much, but then no one was wealthy in these difficult times, and the simple fact that she had brought some just for me was more than anyone could have expected. I ate in silence while she sat beside me, pleased with just seeing her small gifts being received in delight. When the last piece slipped into my mouth, she laid down on her back, pulled her legs straight up towards the cave ceiling, and whispered: "Dessert?" She kept her feet together, but lowered them slowly, parting her creamy thighs and revealing her womanhood. Her hands slipped down and opened up this small paradise before me, and I nodded silently to her as I crawled between her legs. A short broken "Oh" passed her lips when my tongue found her clit, and slowly I began licking up her juices, enjoying every moment of this exotic fruit, and I followed the reactions in her body as she kept her mouth closed. The softness of her juicy lips was delicious and with each passing stroke of my tongue flicking her sensitive button, the reward was a shiver throughout her body. Over and over again I found my mouth covering her pussy only to eagerly suck and lick all that she was offering. I pushed my hands underneath her firm butt and lifted her up, her legs resting over my shoulders, and watched her long black hair like a dark fire dancing around her head. Her head moved from side to side as she continued to let the pleasures take over her body, and my ego was pleased to see that I could give so much wonderful satisfaction to this fragile angel. I continued with my fearless attacks for minutes, each second building up towards a crescendo in which she would find all of the licks turning into one, and the shivers in her thighs against my cheeks told me that the moment was getting closer. I reached down to grasp her breasts and pinched both nipples at the same time, rolling them between my fingertips and the reaction was immediate. A squirt of sweet juice shot into my mouth as she came in my care. I kept on licking her over and over again, each flick of my tongue causing her body to tremble and convulse, but the taste of her desires made me go on and on and on. When it was over, I eased her down, but she instantly sat up and leaned her head against my shoulder. I could feel her tears, but I had no words to say, so we allowed the silence to surround us and slept. Her hands holding mine was the last thing I remembered when I woke up in the same position. Yen was lying before me, wrapped in a small blanket, and without a word I went back to my post. We continued to see each other every night, each time exploring more and more of each other of sexuality, sensuality and eventually somewhere along those trails I found love too. Her willingness to play erotic games seemed to go beyond any comparison that I had ever known. All the girls in the town where I grew up were very Victorian, barely allowing even a kiss. Perhaps that upbringing made the nights with Yen even more fascinating, or maybe it was the thrill of being with a woman that everyone else would have considered the enemy. I had no idea, yet at the time it didn't even matter. After three blissful weeks I thought that all of her games had been played, all of her wicked pleasures explored and given to me since no night could compare to any of the previous, and then she suddenly looked at me and said. "Me interrogate you." I had never said no to her ideas, nor did I see any reason to do so this time. I guess love makes you blind, but still I asked her what she meant. She tried to explain that I would be her prisoner, and she would try to get some secret from me. I thought for a while, finding the idea actually thrilled me, so I asked what secret she would like to know, and she said the number of men that I was stationed with. "I will never tell that." I answered her back, but she smiled and asked. "Afraid to find out?" A while later she had tied my hands and secured them over a hook shaped stone in the wall. I stood on my toes as she came before me, and kissed my chin before she turned around, took two steps away from me and turned again. The game had begun. "How many men are you stationed with?" I did not answer her, and she repeated the question. "How many men are you stationed with?" Once more I said nothing. "Tell me now and I won't hurt you." I stood silently and watched her as she took one step closer and suddenly started to whip me with her long hair. For some reason, perhaps because of the games we had played before, I found it only to be erotic. She continued for a while, whipping my bare chest, but I remained silent. She looked at me, took another step closer and closed her mouth over my right nipple, biting down on it with her teeth. It didn't hurt much, but still enough to be very noticeable. "How many men are you stationed with?" I said nothing as she covered my nipple with light brushing movements, but it felt so good when she did that. It was turning me on, something that I never thought an interrogation would do, but then this wasn't anything like the preparations they had drilled into us before we were shipped to Vietnam. "Not saying?" My mouth was shut, when she unbuttoned my pants and as so many times before took my cock in her hand. She stroked it lightly while asking her question again. "How many men are you stationed with?" I tried to be quiet but I couldn't suppress the moan that escaped as she caressed me with her tender hand. Her fingers moving back and forth as she leaned against me and whispered. "How many men are you stationed with?" I couldn't say, would not say, but she didn't seem to be interested in my answer anymore, just the forces of my loins, and she knew all to well how to treat it. This unfamiliar situation of hanging by my hands and feeling my legs shake underneath me was strange, new but wonderful. She kneeled before me, still holding my hard shaft in her hand and began to rub the head against her face, as she softly whispered. "How many men are you stationed with?" She looked up into my eyes and started stroking me again faster and harder, as if deliberately trying to push me over the edge, but once I was close, she stopped and asked again. "How many men are you stationed with?" I looked down into her dark eyes, and she whispered more. "Don't you want me to suck you, lick you? Just answer my question, and I will." I remained silent, but moaned out loud as she jerked my cock a few more times, bringing me ever so close, just allowing me a glimpse of what could be. "I promise I will suck your wonderful cock if you answer me." How could I surrender and answer that question? I couldn't, so I remained silent. She licked the top of my throbbing head, before asking the question again. "How many men are you stationed with?" The pleasure I had felt transformed into a cold, numbing sensation, but each time she touched me, it was like electricity running through my body a tingling feeling of raw pleasure throughout the cold. I felt tears forming in the corner of my eyes, yet unable to answer, because I simply could not. I just couldn't do it. "How many men are you stationed with?" Her mouth almost touching my cock, she continued to whisper. "Please tell me and let me end it for you." She slipped her fingers between my taunt legs and squeezed my balls with her warm hand, and I felt the muscles starting to spasm, but the feeling that I longed for ended when she removed her hand. The tears started to run down my cheeks, and since I was unable to make them stop, I just closed my eyes. "How many men are you stationed with?" I had no idea how much time had passed, but I couldn't take it anymore. My voice almost failed me when I finally answered her question. The moment I did, I felt her lips forming a small circle around the tip of my cock, and while her lips started to devour my entire shaft, her hand squeezed my balls gently, which caused the unstoppable eruption. I looked down and saw her dark eyes glowing, as each jet of cum was followed by another, and she took my juice directly into her mouth. Her wiggling tongue and warm hand demanded more and more, and she drained me from the very depths of my balls. I felt like a rag hanging down from the side of the wall, and with help from Yen, I was able to get loose and lay down. She was pleased as she licked her lips and asked if I had enjoyed the game. I only nodded, for it had been an indescribable experience. Two days later I was laying on my well-hidden post when I suddenly heard a click behind me. Charlie had spotted me, and I was taken to a camp. Tied to a pole inside a shed, I was surrounded by Vietnamese officers, and with a foreign English accent they repeatedly asked me questions about where our forces were, what we knew and so on. I do not know if they had me standing there for hours or days, since nothing in the shed would provide any means of keeping track of time, but I tried to remain focused and remember what the instructors had told us about interrogations. Eventually, after ages without anything to eat or drink, without a moment of sleep, a new officer arrived. From what I could see in the other officers’ eyes, this new one must be higher in rank, yet wore no signs that would indicate that. Without saying a word, the crowded room emptied and a tape recorder in front of me was switched on. The silence was deafening as this person walked through the shadows and pulled my hair back hard, smashing my head against the pole. Agent Dacro Sanx Ch. 1 When I regained consciousness, I felt wonderful as if I had awakened from a really sexy dream, but strangely enough, I felt as if a part of the dream was still not finished. The room was dark, and I could feel the bonds around my wrist holding me up, but I could feel much more than that. My cock was aching as if it was about to explode standing erect, straight out, and when I looked down at the scene before me, tears poured down my face. They blurred my vision, but the sight is still embedded like a photograph in my mind. Even today, I can see that scene every time I close my eyes, and my heart feels cold each time that I do. I wish that I could forget, but I know I can not, because it would take away the fondest memory of my life. In that one single moment, my most passionate dream and my most dreadful nightmare co-existed. Kneeling before me was one of the highest-ranking VC officers in Vietnam, and she was caressing my cock, teasing it beyond belief, and whispering with her sweet voice. "How many men are you stationed with?" Agent Dacro Sanx Ch. 2 As time past, my will powers only grew stronger, even though my tears where running down my cheeks every moment I spent in the same room as Yen. Days became weeks, weeks became months and months and months. It took nine long months of total humiliation to put together the escape plan. A time when I, and the other captives, ate whatever we could get hold off. To keep moral up, we started to joke about everything that happened, and eventually we became quite good at recognizing bugs that were tastier than others. Every moment that I had the slightest of chance I planned for my escape, and finally it all came together. We were four young men that one night put our plans into action, and in the pouring rain a lot of blood ran over the muddy grounds. As we were running on a road two of the others got hit by the flying bullets that were fired into the dark, but the two of us which been luckier to avoid the flying metal of death picked up our friends and continued to run. The adrenaline level must have been enormous, but looking back at that night, it's really sad the amount of lives we terminated, the fathers and brothers that would never meet their families again, and the only excuse for that was that there was a war going on. To honesty say that the plan was executed to a perfection is untrue. By the time we reached safe grounds among our countrymen, the weight of Lieutenant Hendricks was enormous, but we had accomplished our goal: To escape. I woke up in a hospital bed, the sun shining straight in my face through the windows. My body was aching, but I couldn't help smiling as I felt clean sheets against my naked body. I was alive, and the feeling was great. I was clean, a feeling I had forgotten about. Then sleep took me away. That night my dreams were violent, returning me constantly back to the cages, and I woke up screaming twice every hour. A nurse was sitting by my bed during the night, and her blonde hair and white uniform made her look like an angel every time I woke up. She would hold my hand, and talk to me until I fell asleep and be there to repeat the process when I woke up. After months in an army hospital treated for my wounds, I was transferred by plane back home. My bravery, yes someone called my decision to carry Hendricks just that, was rewarded with the Purple Heart, but to me it only meant a reminder of Yen. But regardless what I did, I never found the strength to throw it away, nor could I ever misplace it. For some reason it was my bad conscience and something I had to carry with me. In my efforts to escape my past I travelled from place to place, seeking a new start where I could, but none was to be found. In desperation, I took a flight to Paris, hoping Europe would provide the undiscovered country that I needed for a new start. It was 1978, and Paris had become Sin City, the capitol of everything that was tabu, yet still exploited as if it was anything else. Naked women appeared in every corner it seemed, and I found myself returning to the same place over and over again: The Velvet Room. It was just like all the other places, except that something appealed to me in there, something that made me feel human in a world that was so unreal. The strippers became my friends, they would be the ones comforting me as the flashbacks arrived, holding me close as tears fell unmanly down my cheeks, wiping them away as if they were trying to wipe away my memories. On my better days, I would sit in my corner feeling aroused by the motion on the catwalk, and sometimes with the company of one of my friends get the jealous look from the other men in the room. Caroline and Stephanie, both dark-haired girls who had taken their names from a princess of Monaco, became the closest thing to a family I had ever felt. They knew how I felt without asking me, just the way they could sense the vibrations in the air around me, and the compassion in their hearts was overwhelming when I received all their care. Time passed, and in this atmosphere I saw new strippers come and go, and even now I'm amazed at the numbness I felt to the nudity around me, but then it might simply have been the simple fact that nudity was so common it wasn't thought of as anything special. When I was in my quarters, I was usually alone, but sometimes Caroline or Stephanie came to see me. It was like seeing a rerun of an old movie when either one of them did, because it all ended up the same way. In a way they asked me to perform for them without saying the words, just like they performed on stage, and as their "safe man" I was used when they needed to reveal pressure. Caroline just wanted one thing, which I evidently became an expert in. After performing on stage for weeks her needs was quite high, and she made no secret of that when she came to me. She wanted to lay down in the tub for a while, and wash away the dirt from her elegant golden skin, and then completely naked and clean sit down in my easy chair and lean back until almost laying down. She would then tell me to put on the blindfold, and with no visibility I would then move closer to her feet and start rubbing her feet with oils. My fingers would slowly covering her skin with the fragrance of her choice, and work my fingers to unloose her tight muscles. The slow motion of my hands over her legs, exploring her without seeing anything, often made her purr like a cat. Caroline was truly a beautiful woman, and her long legs was what attracted most men to her, but she also admitted to enjoy having men touch them. I would feel her move in my hands uncontrollably while I moved higher, coating her legs with an oily shield, slowly and patiently kneading her muscles, and listen to her sighs as my hands approached her crotch. Caroline wasn't greedy, nor did she expect me to do this all the time, I just did. It was mutual give and take as I gave her the massage her body and soul needed, she gave my life a meaning for at least a little while. So it wasn't unusual that it took three or four hours before my work was done. By then my fingers had probed her body of passion to make her fully relaxed and tender. I used to enjoy hearing her breathing as I worked her shoulders, and the way her hair would tickle my fingers always fascinated me. Sometimes I would hum some imaginary song or lullaby, and if it was for her or me is hard to say. I wouldn't stop before I had combed her hair, and even then I wouldn't take of the blindfold before she was ready. Sometimes she would ask if she could have a blanket, and sometimes she would spend the night alone in my bed while I slept on the floor, and sometimes she would get dressed and leave. With Caroline it was hardly ever sexual. It was her need to be treated like a human and not a piece of meat, while my search for a meaning was put aside for a while, and her desire to be treated like a lady got all of the attention. It was easy to focus on something rather than not being focused on anything at all. With Stephanie it was more about her undying sexuality that was like a fire inside of her, eating away at her core. So she needed to shower that fire from time to time with her juices. It wasn't intercourse, it was about intimacy and some way to reveal tension. It usually over just as soon as it begun, as my strong experienced tongue started to dart her clit she began to moan. All that lust in her body just had to come out, and with me it felt safe. Her hands usually trapped in my hair as she pulled my face closer to her crotch, and the strong musky scent of her sex as I licked her to ecstasy. Her favorite position was to sit on my face and have me lick her to orgasm over and over again. I assume it had something to do with power, but I didn't care about being beneath her. Whatever she wanted, I did because pleasing her filled another one of my empty meaningless days. Perhaps it was a strange base for a friendship, but when nothing else existed, you take what you get, and Paris was full of strange things, especially for someone who didn't speak French. The feeling of her thighs shaking against my cheeks as she approached her heights was a sign for me to take it slow, to tease her just a bit so that she would have time to enjoy the lust that my tongue was giving her. Holding her hips with my hands, while she took a few deep breathes, only to continue rapidly towards the inevitable. Stephanie never had a gentle orgasm, they always ripped her world apart while she screamed and flushed my face with her juices. It was clear that the intensity of her orgasms were equal the need she had to release. Sometimes she would feel like getting fucked, and those times she would like me to be on top, just pumping her body with all the strength I possessed until she couldn't take it any longer. Her flexibility making it easy for her to have her legs almost anywhere she wanted. I had realized that licking her toes gave her a kick like nothing else while she felt me inside her. She never lasted long, but instead had the opportunity for multiple orgasms. Afterwards she would lay near me, pressing her body close to mine with her head on my shoulder, and we would talk about anything and nothing. It had been over a year in a single place, a record for me, and I was waking up from a dream where I once again had been trapped, and sweat was running down my face from my wet hair. My skin was sticking to the sheet, and I felt I could use a shower. My head was pounding and my vision was blurry, but there was nothing unusual about that. It was morning, plain and simple. The room seemed darker than usual, so it was probably raining outside. I turned around, the shower could wait, I had no plans. Turning around I noticed that my cock was fully erect and aching, and I thought to myself that I really wanted to return to that dream. "Me can tell you sleep gooooood." My blood turned to ice in that moment. I couldn't move, I couldn't talk, I couldn't even breath. "You no say anything?" I started to cough heavily and that is when I felt the hand on my shoulder. "Around and me see you better." I turned over as I felt her pulling my shoulder, and there she was. Yen was prettier than I remembered her, those thin lips, smooth skin and deep dark eyes. Her long straight hair in a classy ponytail combined with the flowery summer dress made her look like a schoolgirl, and her unpainted nails dug deeper into my shoulder and she mounted me in silence letting my erect member slide straight into her heat. "Me love you cock, me love you real gooooood." I was paralyzed by her appearing again from the past, and the way she took for granted that she could take claim of my body for her pleasure, but by doing so I actually for the first time since that bloody night felt aroused again, and I felt her wet tightness sucking my pole. "Oh Yen." slipped out of my mouth. Her smile was bright white as she was showing off her teeth when she continued to fuck me with long slow movements. She started to unbutton her dress, revealing more and more of her smooth Asian skin. "Yes good good good, me fuck you gooooood." I couldn't believe all the feelings that was thrown at me at once, and I panted heavily beneath my conqueror. Yen had apparently developed new tricks during the last decade and she was showing off what her new talents meant. Her dress was hanging loose from her shoulders, and she lifted my hands to her breasts that felt wonderful in my palms. I pinched her nipples gently hearing her breathing become heavier. Her hands found my sack, and she played with my testicles with her fingertips. "Good, much cum in your balls. Me fuck you good, me make you cum gooooood." Her fingers dug deeper finding my ass, and without any hesitation she pushed two fingers in. I screamed straight out in pain and heard her laughing on top of me. Her pace had increased from a slow sucking pace to a quick riding. Her dress fell off her shoulders and landed like a pool on my stomach, and I could feel her finger fucking my ass, and pinching my testicles hard. I couldn't believe the pain and continued to scream out. She sat down heavily on my cock, and looked into my eyes. She withdrew her finger, released my sack and leaned forward until I could feel her breath in my face. "Me fuck you now, me fuck you hard, me fuck you gooooood." She remained leaning over me, and began to fuck me simply by moving her hips with the only half my cock inside her. The pain was gone heightening the passion and the way she was fucking was driving me mad. I grabbed her hips and tried to make her slide deeper down, but I wasn't successful. I was her toy, and she was using me to the fullest. "Cum for me, babe." The words felt like they became implanted in me, chanting into my ear over and over again. "Cum for me, babe." "Cum for me, babe." "Cum for me, babe." In a last act of desperation I pushed my hips up, sliding deep into her womb and stopped screaming as my body began to unload the entire load that had been saved for 10 years. I starred into her eyes and saw her smiling wickedly as my body started to spasm and jiz after jiz of semen were shot into her sweet body. "Me fuck you now, me fuck you gooooood." I felt her moving slowly up and down on my rigid pole and sucked me dry with her talented pussy. "Me fuck you gooooood." was the last thing I heard before I lost conscience. I woke up, my body still sticking to the sheets. I looked around in the room, but it laid dark and silent. Nothing seemed to be touched, moved or in any other way changed. I wiped my sweaty forehead and wondered, what had really happened? Without any logical answers I sat up. My cock was rock hard, my nuts and ass felt soar. The door opened and Caroline and Stephanie entered, both with a worried look on their faces. They looked at me sitting their with my rock hard cock and both kneeled before me. Both eagerly started to lick and suck my cock and sack without saying a word, and I leaned back while they gave me the most incredible blow-job. Their wicked tongues sliding all over my cock, flickering like butterfly wings over the top and I felt the sensation of an orgasm building in my loins. I looked up, and for a moment I thought I saw Yen standing in the doorway before the words started to repeat in my ear. "Cum for me, babe." "Cum for me, babe." "Cum for me, babe." With my cock deep inside Stephanie's mouth I came, and I could feel her swallowing over and over again. Her throat and tongue stimulating my cock to shoot out some more. The doorway was empty when I opened up my eyes again, and Caroline was licking of my cum from Stephanie's lips. They both looked at me, and Stephanie said smiling. "You've never been that hard before." Caroline, continued by saying. "Yes, I agree, whatever has gotten into you?" I looked down at the closest thing to angels I have ever met and whispered with a dry mouth. "Yen." Agent Dacro Sanx Ch. 3 As you may understand, that day changed my days in Paris. For a few months I held on to the sensation I had felt during a few joyful seconds of my life, but it never happened again, at least not the sensation. It didn't matter what Caroline and Stephanie tried to bring forth the immense lust that we've shared, it wasn't anywhere to be found again, and I knew why even if they only knew a word which could just as well be the currency of Japan. I felt drawn into the abyss of darkness that had been my home for so many years. I was both happy and in complete despair when they returned to my quarters every night with new intriguing ways to raise my lust to what they knew I could feel. I could see with new eyes how the two that was the closest thing to friends I had made a deeper impact in the men that frequented The Velvet Room, and that knowledge made it even more strange that I couldn't feel the passion they had to share. As they appeared on the stage in different costumes, the men would howl and cheer loudly. The whistling would never stop as they caressed their long slender bodies with their hands as they kept dancing to the pumping beat of the music. They certainly mastered the art of seduction as every movement would cause louder cheers and whistling, and the crowd would take a break when the other unfortunate strippers entered the stage. I would sit in my booth which was far from all others, the bar and the catwalk stage, sipping a dry white wine from nearby districts, and watch as the crowd went crazy when the barker shouted out a new appearance by either Stephanie or Caroline. It didn't matter if Stephanie was introduces as the wonderful seductress of the Arabian Nights dressed in warm sheer fabric that made her appear mysterious, or as the caretaking nurse dressed in a white nurses uniform with stethoscope, or any other of her roles on stage, the crowd would directly turn to the stage to gaze at her performance. The same would happen when Caroline was presented as the widow in grief all dressed in black with a veil before her face, or as the cowgirl with her leather boots with spurs, gun belt around her constantly moving hips and the white cowboy hat, or any other of her roles on stage. There were no doubt about the popularity of the two girls, and at night when the clock would move closer to 2 in the morning, when the nights were starting to illuminate, it wasn't unusual to see a dozen men next to the stage standing at attention with body and cock. The two friends doing one of their team performances lustfully giving of their bodies, rubbing themselves against the faces of eagerly jerking men, and watching them they sticking bills of various currencies down the panties of the two and surrendering to their seductive ways until they walked from one to the other and watch them ejaculate in honorable salute. As the evening ended with the catwalk floor covered in slick semi transparent semen, I would still sit in my booth and sip on the same wine, and be guided home by the two seductresses to the small loft that I had known as home during my days in Paris. Their performances effecting themselves to the point where their lecherous minds would make their bodies as hot as bursting volcanoes. It was of course difficult for them to give more seductive performances before me, but they found ways as they weren't limited by rules in the early morning hours. The gadgets and techniques they both brought with them came in all shapes and sizes, but regardless what they did, there never was the intensity of what once was. It was never an issue of impotence, the erection would make it's appearance, but the sensations behind it all would always feel empty and cold, as unloading of a heavy burden only to get a heavier loaded onto my shoulders. The relief in the misery was that my friends got the power trip they wanted and needed to survive another day and sleep the rest of the night. One day when I was sitting in my booth in the normal careless way, a tall man dressed in a uniform blocked my view of the stage. "Are you Mr O'Brian?" I looked up without answering, as my instinct was to answer immediately a single "No." but as I looked up at the young clerk before me I silently answered. "Who wants to know?" The clerk answered politely with name, rank and number as if he was training incase he ever got held hostage or prisoner, following the Geneva Convention. He then continued without waiting to make certain that I really was who he was looking for, and introduced an envelope to the table. He watched in silence as I read the short letter and when I looked up from the piece of paper I had been reading, he asked if I could make it. I nodded in reply without any further words. He left and visions of that horrible night resurfaced from the depths. The weight of Lieutenant Hendricks had been enormous on my shoulders, but it still didn't stop me from running my legs off. And now it was back to haunt me once more when I thought I had been able to put it behind me, the night I thought I was running from freedom, yet only running to a thought of freedom that wasn't meant for me. It was an escape from own prison to another, but I had not known that then. How could I? I had been to young to know otherwise. I found myself pulled back to a life that I thought I had left behind me, and I had no option but to use the tickets reserved for my journey back to the states. I tried to come up with something to say to Caroline and Stephanie, but I couldn't come up with words for my departure, so I wrote them a note with an address in Washington where they could reach me if they needed to. The bartender Alain was most surprised when I gave him the note saying my short good byes. The journey back home onboard an Air France Concorde was fabulous and most pleasant. The velocity and flight altitude was impressive, even if it really didn't matter. It took a couple of hours with first class service, so if it had taken a day or two wouldn't have mattered. But as all other good things in my life came to a much early end, so did the trip. It was the first and last time I would have the luxury of first class plane trips. I was met by two silent men in uniforms who was to drive me and help me with my luggage. I assume that they were waiting for a great war hero and not a pile of trash like me. As I got into the waiting car the two men sat down in the front and started talking to each other with great disrespect for me, but I couldn't blame them. After listening to their innocent chatting about were the clitoris was and how girls reacted when they began to be a little bit intimate, I laughed out loudly. It was hilarious all of it, and for the first time in a long long time I felt a happy bubbling sensation within me, and when I looked at the front seat I saw the two men, or boys which what they really were, looking at me as if I had lost my mind entirely. I let them believe that as I engulfed the happiness for as long as I could, but eventually it faded away as a memory, left on the road behind the car as we continued our trip from New York to Washington. Finally arriving in Washington, the car pulled up to a large house that was new to me, but from what I could see, Washington had changed since my last visit. The first to greet me welcome was to my surprise Bernard Oliver Hendricks dressed in colorful leisure clothes. "Dacro, you old nut, is that really you? You haven't changed a bit, you're still the piece of shit you were in Nam." His laughter was as fat and ugly as he ever was, and the clothes only made him look like a tourist who's spent two weeks in Hawaii. His beard was dark red while his hair had a dark silver tone. I looked at the ghost of Christmas past appearing in the shape of call sign Bo Hen, which Johnson and Burnstein had altered to Mother Hen to further point out the constant cackle that appeared to come from his mouth. "Mother Hen, you still use that intelligent language you were so proud of?" Isn't it fantastic how two friends from the past so easily could pick up where they left off decades earlier and still remember to call one another names and be sarcastic? But then that was the kind of relation Hendricks, me and the others could have and call our own trapped in the camp. It had been our way to keep our sanity intact and win the mind games that we were subjected to. Even though we had not known anything about what the other one was doing all these years, we instantly started to catch up on the life of one another. During the days that followed it became obvious that we had similar memories to share. I did however never reveal my encounter with Yen in fear that it would be taken in the wrong way, but he would never stop talking about his days in London as if those were the good old days. He's constant babbling about the sweetness of Soho would never end, as if his brain was only filled with sex, sex and sex. The girls, the shows and the way he was treated because of his big "ego" as he would call it. Each sentence would end with him laughing hysterically so there weren't that much spoken. I was presented with the Purple Heart for my casualties and for saving Hendricks. It meant nothing to me but a reminder of Yen and the scars I had inside that no one could see. In the evening we went out to flush down our memories with bourbon. It was that night Hendricks was going on about tits and ass, that he explained that he came up with the idea of actually looking at something that was genuine London, so he went to follow in the footsteps of Jack the Ripper. In the small alleys he would see what it must have looked like in misty London in those days in late 19th century. What would Jack the Ripper be in the massive news flow today? Killing of a few prostitutes would not likely make headlines today, but then it did. His words for choosing that tour was strange but still accurate. "Genuine London, yet so very like me. Sex and murder, the story of my life." Again he would end each sentence with a laughter that was becoming more and more enjoying each passing day. Could he never stop it for just a few moments and actually finish a story without laughing? "And guess what? I'm Jack!" he suddenly startled me as if he had read my mind. His smile had turned into a huge grin, and for a moment he was actually silent, as if he was gathering his thoughts. "It's true, I am. It was during the tour when I got left behind at one place. I had been intrigued by one of the places where one of the girls were found, and I was looking around to understand how it must have been to discover her when out of the mist that female Vietnamese Officer had appeared dressed like a showgirl from one of the shows. I remember her opening her mouth, but that's all before it was over." He suddenly made sure to describe every detail of the events, but I can't remember them. I had felt a sudden dizziness come over me and I threw up the large amount of bourbon that we had been drinking together. I can't remember more from that evening. The next thing I remembered was sitting on a bus heading west towards Chicago, but most of all away from everything else. Hendricks never got to know that I had also met with Yen and that the encounter had meant something entirely different to me. But of course his encounter with Yen had different meanings to the both of us which he also never got to share with me. There wasn't any reason for revealing that to him or to anyone else. No one would benefit from ever knowing. I moved on west until I came to Seattle, where I got a job as a Forest Ranger. The solitude was perfect for me. It provided a perfect hiding place for me to end my days. My training helped me in the simple life of the wilderness, hunting, fishing and relying on roots and plants to survive was not an adventure but merely a way of life. The only visitors I received was from other Rangers leaving or retrieving mail and reports, but apart from that it was just me and Mother Nature. Only at one occasion a couple of years ago, did an unfamiliar car find it's way to my cottage. I had heard it for a couple of minutes before it arrived, so I had that much time to leave the cottage and hide behind the perfect cover on a natural rock. The car was to my understanding designed for rough roads, with something called 4WD. Apparently something very spectacular indeed. It had passed me on it's way up, but the windows were shaded so I couldn't see inside the vehicle. It had come to a complete stop not far from the porch with the passengerside towards me, and I was stunned, or rather shocked, to see a woman get out. Could it really be her? I wasn't sure, but I knew that I had been surprised by this woman before, but it was so many years since the last time. She had found me after all these years, and she called out, hoping I would answer her call. "Dacro." I was in absolute shock, frozen in my position behind the rock, feeling how tears began to fall down my cheek. I wiped my eyes a bit seeing how she let her hands work her long black hair into a youthful ponytail, showing of her lightly tanned skin. The years had been kind to her, but then no one ever claimed her to be anything other than stunning. "Dacro." Her call had been louder the second time, and I felt how I was beginning to raise from my shelter when the next surprise appeared before my eyes in the form of a second female. It was true, even though my heart had difficulties understanding. I began to walk towards the car and raised my voice in a warm greeting. "My friends, how on earth did you find me?" It was amazing to see my friends again, and as Caroline stepped out of the car, Stephanie came rushing towards me and hugged me with all of her might. It was as if history had come back to caress my cheek when she gave me a kiss while holding me close. Over her shoulder I watched as a man and two children got out of the car as well. Caroline embraced me in her arms in silence, before introducing me to her daughter Emily, who had her mothers eyes and smile, and her husband Pierre, who looked dressed for the occasion in a flannel shirt and long black trousers. Then it was Stephanie's turn to introduce me to her boy Trevor, who was a bit shy standing behind his mother's legs. The five had been travelling for almost a year in their own quest to find me since Stephanie's divorce, and they finally had. They stayed for a month as we went fishing or scouting during the days, only to talk about the past during the evenings when the children was tucked away in their beds. They told their stories, how they had met their husbands and actually married all four together in the same church with a few friends from The Velvet Room present. Stephanie admitting that her marriage had almost been forced upon her when she got pregnant, but that her man had not been what she first saw in him. Caroline and Pierre felt that their love grew stronger each day, and since they all had been able to put away some money over the years they all came to the agreement to move to the states to find me and start from scratch as Paris had changed to something else than home. When the month was over, they moved into downtown Seattle where they all still live together in a house they bought. Stephanie is still single and working in a retirement home. Pierre and Caroline has a small business importing clothes. And there you have it, my life. 20 years of youth and training, 20 years of soul-seeking and 20 years trying to forget here in the wilderness. So why how did you come up with the idea of writing an article about me? The young reporter turns off the tape-recorder and lowers her eyes as if she isn't confident enough to talk while maintaining eye contact. "I have been looking for an opportunity to write an article about a true American hero, and when I heard that there was one with a Purple Heart living in the forest, I saw the opportunity I have been looking for. I think people have the right to know, or rather has the obligation to learn about it. So many are starting to question the actions by the nazis during World War II. Americans in general are trying to forget the loss in Vietnam, but I think they should remember that we sent young men there to die and that their deaths should be remembered. What better way is there than a survivor from those days?" She moved down to pick up her bag and took out a roll of paper and places it on the table. "I also wanted to meet you because Mother wanted me to give this to you..." Looking down to see the paper unfolding when her hand released it's grip, and within the thin silk paper laid two elegantly crafted bamboosticks. I watched in silence as my memories returned to the forests of Vietnam, and the first time I saw Yen walking on the road beneath my hiding place. Before I could say anything, the young reporter finished her sentence with a single word. "... Father."