Any Time...

From here...

Now

"Juz fugin fug you an at no dig suggin whore! Fug all you fuggers! DICKS!"

And with that he was tossed unceremoniously from the Pump House by Max.

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Then

Michael Patrick Greaves was on another bender. His second this month. Most people, including his entire family chalked it up to his PTSD. After two tours to Afghanistan and one in Iraq everyone gave him a pass and a wide berth. His first tour was as a straight leg infantry man. Kicking in doors and gathering intelligence. He had worked with a couple of operators on one particular mission and was hooked. After a ton of paperwork, interviews, and months upon months of grueling courses and schools he was where he thought he wanted to be. As one of the top five in his class Michael requested and was assigned to JSOC. Joint Special Operations Command. He was on top of the world and his game. His dream job, connections halfway around the world, and a woman he cherished.

Jennifer had always been there for him. Through the moves, schools, late nights, deployments, and even the nightmares and flashbacks. She was his one constant. She was also the reason for his current condition. During his second tour Jennifer had visited home and eventually hooked-up with an old high school flame. She confessed everything to Michael a month after he returned from deployment. Michael spent the next six months in a booze fueled haze. Bar fights which led to arguments with team members that came to save his ass on more than one occasion. The constant bickering with family members. His mother had remarked once how it seemed that he purposely instigated arguments with her, his father, and brothers and sisters. Which of course sparked another argument with his mother.

After six months of inactivity his team was given the order to head to the 'Stan'. Camp Marmal, situated in the north of Afghanistan, looked like a slice of civility in an otherwise hostile environment. The camp was ran by the Bundeswehr, the German Federal Army and owned by the Afghan government. The International Security Assistance Force, or ISAF, used the base and there were multiple countries inside the wire. American soldiers were a common sight and no one paid them any special attention, so they were able to come and go as they needed.

On a particularly dreary, rainy day in early April his team was dispatched to meet a local sheep herder about 20 miles north of Marmal who was, by his accounts, being harassed by a group of men claiming to be affiliated with Al-queda. Since things were slow in the north, it was decided that they'd gather whatever intel they could and send it up the chain. Michael and the others arrived at the designated meeting place in 'company' SUV's but only found sheep.

"What the fuck, over?" Samuel, the team leader was the first to speak. Michael chuckled.

"Well, he is a sheep herder after all." Thomas and North just sat in the front surveying the area.

"Shut the fuck up, captain obvious. I don't know man. I don't like this shit one bit." Samuels radio crackled to life.

"Sam, this is Mark. What are we doing? Leaving, or should we interview the sheep?"

"I'm surrounded by smartasses." He keyed up his radio. "You go check out those trees in the middle of the field, then the top of that rise in the pasture. I want to know what's up there."

"On it." The SUV moved off.

"North, give me those binos." Samuel began surveying the mountains to their right.

"Mike, what do you think? Those mountains close enough for a clean shot?" Michael took the binos and looked the mountains over.

"I don't know Sam. Rain, a slight northerly wind, you'd have to be a hella shot to hit anything accurately today. And the 'spray and pray' method wouldn't work for them from that distance." Sam's radio piped up again.

"Sam, Mark. Nothing up here but air and grass brother."

"Rog-o, Mark. C'mon back down, we'll figure this out from here."

The other SUV came down and parked in front of Sam's. Mark, Sam, and Michael exited their vehicles and met at the hood of the second. Sam began to open up a map when the shit hit the fan. A man popped up from a well camouflaged hole in the ground and aimed an RPG at the first SUV. The three exposed men automatically went for weapons and cover. They heard the rocket, the explosion, and the screams from inside the first SUV. Ears ringing, Michael moved around to the rear of the second truck and opened fire on the lone man, killing him. Two more popped up and returned fire on the remaining SUV. 'They've watched Red Dawn' was Michaels only thought as he fired round after round trying to get a clear shot. Sam screamed, Mark was yelling something and Michael kept shooting. Everything became a blur. Moving in slow motion, fast forward, slow motion. Training and survival instinct took the place of rational thought. Somewhere in the distant conscious of his brain Michael realized that Thomas was yelling at him to get in while North was jamming Samuel into the back seat. Mark had somehow managed to get in the back of the SUV. As Michael jumped in the only open door they sped off. Thomas was driving like a man possessed and yelling into the radio. Something about 3 dead, 3 wounded, 1vic destroyed, ambush... Wait, 3 wounded? North leaned in and slammed a pressure bandage on Michaels shoulder just below the clavicle bone. That's when the realization, and pain hit him like a sledgehammer.

"Fuck! You heavy handed fucker! GOD DAMN THAT FUCKIN' HURTS!"

The pain was too intense as he passed out. Fast forward, waking up in front of the hospital on the Norwegian part of Marmal. Slow motion, lying on a gurney rolling down the hallway. Fast forward, doctors and nurses scrambling around. Slow motion, everyone in the room reassuring him. Everything was almost at a stop when he spotted a curvy ebony beauty walking toward him at a normal pace, smiling, friendly. Her skin tone like that of a penny, not well worn but not new either. She almost glowed. Automatically Michael began surveying her. The breasts, her hips, the wild mane of 4C hair. He thought to himself 'wild hair, don't care' and giggled. 'I must be doped up good.'

"It's not the drugs Michael. It's you. I have known you, and have been waiting to meet you our entire lives. We belong to one another. Always have, and always shall. We will meet again and I will explain most all to you. My name is Shait. Not THE Shait of course but named after her. Heal now my love and come to me later."

She touched his cheek... Fast forward, a doctor barking orders in German? No, Norwegian? He started fading out.

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Michael woke up with the worst headache he'd ever had in his life. Even the simple task of raising his head was excruciatingly painful. He was happy to see that Mark was in the bed next to him. That left Samuel. Where was he?

"Ah, I see someone is awake." Michael turned to look as best he could. Cute, short, blonde, and oh so obviously Norwegian judging by her accent.

"Headache, bad."

"That is to be expected after the trauma you had. Not to mention the amount of anesthesia it took to keep you down. I am actually surprised to see you awake after just two days."

"Sam, where's Sam?"

"I will bring you something for the pain."

"Where's Sam?" But she was already walking through the doorway. She returned several minutes later with a doctor in tow and a syringe in hand. She moved to the IV side of the bed as the Doctor skimmed his chart.

"Where is Sam?"

"According to this, your left lung had been punctured by the shrapnel. Your medic aspirated it saving your life. You Americans do good work."

"Where the FUCK is SAM!"

"The reason I even bring this up," the doctor continued, "is because you need to relax and rest. Give the injuries time to heal. If you continue, at this point, to insist on raising your voice, you will simply aggravate the injury. Your friend, Sam is alive. His injuries were, more complicated."

"Then why didn't she just say that? How much more complicated?"

"We can discuss that later. Just rest." The doc turned and left the room. Just like that. 'Some bedside manner.' Michael thought. He'd forgotten about the nurse until she spoke.

"This will help you sleep." Michael felt the sedative begin to kick in when a thought occurred to him.

"What shift does Shait work?"

"Who?"

"Shait, a nurse here?"

"I do not know the name. Sleep."

"Can't see Sam, don't know your own people, y'all are..." The sedative was too much. Everything went black.

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"Miiiiiichael. Michael, wake up and talk to me, pleeeeease." Michael seemed to recognize the utterly feminine, almost melodic sound. He had no clue how long he'd been out but the soft, pleasant voice roused him into a medically induced haze. Barely awake but not asleep either.

"Shait?" He opened his eyes as best he could and saw her standing next his bed, nude from head to feet. Almost perfect C cups and hips a man could hold on to. Her hand wrapped around his shaft and began stroking. Michael moaned. It had been months since a woman had touched him. But this, this was different somehow. More, intense?

"We should talk my love."

"You know, where I'm from we shake hands. This isn't conducive to talking."

"Good. In that case, you enjoy, I'll talk." She continued stroking his considerable length. At just under 10 inches long and 3 in girth, the only problem he ever had in the sack was being too rough.

"Mmmm, do your thing Shait."

"I'm happy you still enjoy my touch. Soon we will do more. In this life, you have trained for what is next. I need for you to make me a promise. Will you do that Michael?"

"I promise, I have no clue who you are and we aint done this before. I promise, you are one confusing woman. I also promise, if you keep doing what you're doing, I'm gonna nut soon. What else you need?"

"Promise you will follow your instinct and thus your destiny, and continue to be a good person. Promise." Michael chuckled.

"I wouldn't call myself a good person. But, yeah I promise."

"You are, Michael. You always have been."

"You keep saying tha..." Shait began stroking faster. Michael hadn't felt this good about a woman's touch in a while. Before he could even formulate another word, let alone a snarky sentence, his mind went blank and he began to orgasm. Long. Hard. Relaxing.

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Michael woke up with an honest appetite and a bad case of morning wood. He was about to call for a nurse when the door opened and in strode a petite brunette. She was struggling with a cart. Michael sat up.

"No. Do not get up. I'll get it. I'm Margit I will be your nurse today. Breakfast and new sheets. Which it appears you need today." He looked at the sheets and blanket for the first time and noticed two things immediately. The tent he had built and the obvious cum stain. Michael blushed, the nurse smiled, the silence was awkward.

"Yeah, see, umm."

"You need not worry, it is not the worst thing I have had to clean."

"Where's the latrine? I really need to pis...go." The nurse quickly checked his chart.

"The catheter is removed but the doctor doesn't want you up yet. So." She produced a plastic bottle with a neck that sat at an angle from the side of his bed.

"No, you can't be serious."

"Surely you are not shy Mr Greaves." She was openly looking at the tent he was still supporting. Michael mumbled.

"It's Sergeant Greaves, and fine." Before he could protest further, Margit grabbed his penis, raised her eyebrows, and thrust the jug under the hospital gown.

"Easy with that! Its the only one I have. Look I know you're a nurse and all. But I think I can hold it." Margit was flush by the time he took over. She walked to the cart and took his breakfast to the bed stand. Once finished Michael put the cap on the neck and handed it to her.

"You eat. I will return in five minutes." It sounded more like a command than a request but Michael wasn't going to argue. Breakfast was the normal hospital/military fare. Scrambled eggs, droopy bacon, biscuit with the bottom hard as a rock, watered down orange juice, and coffee that needed to be watered down. As he finished the coffee he could hear giggling outside his door. Margit opened the door as another nurse raced past.

"You know, its rude to laugh about someone's manhood where he can hear you." She blushed this time.

"What if I said that it was not a bad laugh, but rather a good one? Would that be better?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Maybe."

"Well, what if I let you touch mine? Would that be better?"

"Wait, you have a penis too?" Margit let out an honest, unforced laugh.

"No! I have a vagina. Ok, what if I allowed you to touch my vagina? Would that be better?" She turned and locked the door.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to touch more than your vajayjay?" Margit just smiled, took off her top and bra exposing perfectly matched B cup breasts with nipples that stood straight out. She walked to the side of the bed and pulled his hand out and into her pants. Michael could feel her soft pubic hair. He started to sit up only to be pushed back onto the bed. His hand slid from her pants. Margit took a step back and pushed her pants and panties down in one swift motion. She stood up showing him a perfectly trimmed patch of hair. She took two quick steps forward, pushed his hospital gown up and engulfed his head with her salivating mouth. Michael put his hands on the back of her head and set the pace. Up and down she went knowing exactly want he wanted. She cupped his balls with a hand as he pushed her head down a little further each time. Her nose was almost in his pubes when he held her down. Margit gagged and slobber dripped from her mouth to his balls. When he eased the pressure she came all the way up and licked the spittle from his sack. She took Michael a little off guard when she shoved a nipple in his face and ran her finger down the crack of his ass. Not making penetration, down then up and cupping his testicles again. He didn't care since it felt nice and the fact he had her nipple and half her boob fully in his mouth sucking as hard as he could. She not only didn't complain but was enjoying it. He pulled back some and lightly bit her erect nipple. Margit sucked in a breath and began working on his cock with her mouth again. Michael reaching out, found her dripping pussy and effortlessly plunged two fingers inside her. He'd had his fair share of women but never had he felt one quite this wet. Margit, apparently knowing what she wanted climbed up onto the bed and straddled Michaels lap.

"You enjoy. I'll do the work." Michael was in no position to argue, not that he wanted to. He laid back as she began the descent down his shaft. Slowly working her way to the bottom. When her pubic hair reached his she began a slow circular grind. Just as he felt the beginnings of an orgasm she stopped and leaned forward to kiss and lick his neck. Margit waited to feel his erection begin to subside and began contracting her vaginal muscles working him back to full erection.

"Mmmm, kiegel huh?"

"Ja mein hungriger liebhaber. Now hush and give me what I want."

"Seems you've got what you want deep up in you already."

"Nein, arschloch. Ich möchte..." Margit began riding his cock for all she was worth. The slapping sounds of body on body began to resonate through the room. Michael reached up and grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her toward him and sucked on a nipple.

"Ja, ja, yes liebchen. Now. Bitte, please!" He let go of her nipple, grabbed her hips and shoved her as far down onto him as she would go. Her yelp triggered both orgasms. Michael could literally feel her wet pussy milking his cock as he came deep inside her. The more her muscles contracted the more he came. Ribbon after ribbon of cum. After what felt like a gallon of cum, they were both panting like dogs in the middle of summer. Margit would flex her vaginal muscles, Michaels cock would jump. It took several minutes but she was the first to break the silence.

"Dieses..."

"Do what?"

"This. This is what I wanted. A strong orgasm, und eine kinder. Danke. Sorry, thank you."

"I didn't understand all that but, um, you're welcome?" Margit had always wanted a strong, virile man to have a child by but all she seemed to find in her native Germany was boys and men that were more effeminate than masculine. If successful, she'd have a strong child, and a ticket back home.

"Margit, can I ask a question?"

"You may."

"Is sex with the nurses a common practice here? First Shait, now you. I kinda like this."

"Who? I do not know this, Shait."

"Yeah, cute black woman. Curvy. Speaks with an accent like she's African. Maybe Arab, I don't know." Michael could feel her squeezing his flaccid dick as she climbed off him and the bed. She gave him a funny look and shook her head as she began to get dressed.

"We have no black nurses, and certainly no one by that name. You must be mistaken." After that Margit was all business. She washed Michael from head to toe, changed the sheets and left the room to go about her rounds. He never saw her again.

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It was almost a week to the day when the doctor cleared Michael for transfer to the American hospital in Germany. While he was there he was buried in a mountain of paperwork. Every day brought something new. He asked several times about Sam and Mark just to be made to think he was being blown off. During a particularly nice day for Germany, the First Sergeant of the medical detachment called a formation for those that could be present or otherwise stand under their own power. Michael and several other soldiers and a few Marines were awarded the Purple Heart, Combat Infantry Badges, and Combat Action Badges. He wasn't really impressed and wanted to get back to the action. As fate would have it however, he was sent back to the world. Once he touched down at Ft. Bragg, there was another shit-ton of paperwork, the least of which to piss him off was a non disclosure agreement followed by medical discharge papers. Michael blew a gasket. Everyone in the S-1 section was surprised when he busted in through the doors.

"What the fuck is this shit!?" Michael was holding the pile of papers in his right hand waving them around.

"Slow down there sarge. What do you have?" A Specialist the size of Andre the giant it seemed, approached him and took the papers. He looked over the first few pages and asked Michael to follow him.

"Have a seat Sarge." El Gigante skimmed through the paperwork giving Michael time to calm down.

"Big Sarge, you've hit the military equivalent to the lottery. E-7 pay for the rest of your life and more than likely a 100% rating from the V.A."

"How can that be? I'm being medically discharged."

"Wrong Sarge. You're being medically retired. You had 3 months over 15 years when this was put into motion. So you receive retirement, not just a discharge."

"What if I don't want to retire? Keep me stateside for another 5 years. I can be a trainer or an instructor. Anything but retirement."

"No can do big Sarge. I hate it for you, truly I do. However, there's a draw down going on, force reduction and all that shit. Look Sarge, if it's the action you want there's shooter jobs all over the world. Hell, we both know that Blackwater didn't go away, they just rebranded. Plus all their subsidiary companies. There's jobs out there for your particular set of skills."