God damn, he hated this hell-hole jungle.
Bugs, Gooks, and all the fucking wetness were making Animal Mother a very cranky Marine. Wetness made his clothes, ammo, equipment, food and even his fucking feet all turn to rot.
Fucking Jungle.
With a smirk he thought briefly about moving to Vegas when—IF—he got home. Somewhere he could forget about the dank humidity, the rank smell of decay, not worry about this fucking chest congestion. Besides, hookers were legal out there, weren't they? And he figured one of them fancy casinos could always use another “tune-up” man. Breaking fingers wouldn't be nothing to him; not after the shit he’d done here.
Only good thing about the jungle was how it made you sweat. The man still wasn’t so sure about that Agent Orange bullshit but he reckoned the more he could sweat the more toxins he’d flush out of his system. No telling what the hell he was eating anymore either, so that had to go too.
Best part was, you sweat enough you don’t need no other kind of lube either. Stuff was too hard to get out here in the middle of no-fucking-where and made jacking off a whole lot easier. Of course, that got boring pretty damned quick; and a blowjob, while good, only made you want to drill something, someone, anyone who was willing just that much more.
Weren’t too many Marines willing without the lube.
Besides, if he used enough sweat and spit it almost felt like fucking a broad. Well, if he closed his eyes and didn’t touch ‘em anywhere else. Didn’t make him gay or nothing. Of course, he chose to conveniently ignore the times he’d taken it up the ass himself. No, not gay, just…accommodating--made the other guy more than willing to repcipro-cate, and it kept him in cigarettes, which were almost as hard to get as lube out here in the jungle.
No, not gay. He never kissed ‘em or cuddled after, he didn’t swallow and made ‘em pull out before the pay-off. Not that he usually bothered to have the same regard for the asshole or mouth his own cock was riding. But he always made sure that every time he ploughed someone he’d reach down and have the courtesy to jack them off, too.
Drill Sergeant would be right fucking proud of that, wouldn’t he?
Besides, come was a whole lot better lube than sweat. No point wasting it.
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