Kaleidoscope Eyes Pt. 01

'SAM!' my mind screamed at me, just as I heard the same word audibly coming from Mr. Crawford over my headset.

I watched and sweated as CW2 Crawford aligned Little Bird and the GAU-19 toward the bad guys and discovered when I fired on his command that I was a tad bit high, as the tracer stream arced overhead of the enemy vehicles and the dismounted fighter, who was trying his best to acquire and lock on to the two helpless Blackhawks loaded with American Soldiers. As we were bringing the arc of fire down, it strayed across the enemy gunner's line of fire just as he discharged his deadly surface-to-air missile. As the weapon belched from the launcher, it entered the spray of .50-caliber rounds that I was firing.

The blast from the exploding missile disintegrated the enemy gunner and blew back across the bed of the truck. We added to that by raking the stream of heavy bullets across both trucks, causing them to explode into useless balls of flame, and burning terrorist fighters, ending any threat from that quarter.

As our flight of three danced in the air and swung away from the spot where the fighting had occurred, but was now very quiet, I heard over the headset, "Boy, howdy, Russ! You timed that just right. Not only did you take them all out and save our guys' asses; you did it just as you were goin' 'Black' on ammo!"

I did not care right at that point. The adrenaline was still pumping and I was breathing hard as I put the GAU on safe and stashed the electrical cable with the firing button out of the way. I did not even feel the cold air at altitude on the return trip to the base.

As soon as the rotors slowed and I released my tether so that I could slip out of the aircraft back in the hangar, my body was screaming for me to take a leak, followed by taking a nap. After I got out of the can, I could see medics taking care of the wounded and checking on the welfare of the non-wounded Soldiers, both the Special Forces team members and the logistics and MP troops that they had rescued; all were talking and clapping each other on the back.

I could also see the pilots, including CW2 Crawford, lined up, and getting their asses reamed by what looked to be a senior aviation officer. At least, he was wearing one of those two-piece flight suits and most assuredly outranked any of the pilots.

I was just glad that no one was paying that kind of negative attention to me as I placed the special helmet that I had been wearing on the copilot's seat of the AH-6, along with the body harness that I had been wearing. Only then did I start to wonder about my uniform accessories and my wallet over in that locker across the hangar floor.

"Hey, Kid!" I heard behind me. I turned to look and saw SFC Crawford approaching me with a grin and... of all things... a beer... a Heineken, even. Where he had found a beer in this hell hole, I would never know, but these Snake Eaters had their mysterious ways.

"I want to thank you for saving my ass out there today," he said, as I slugged back a big swallow of the golden elixir.

"Shoot, Sergeant, it looked as if you were the one saving my ass when I was loading that Captain into the 'Hawk'," I said.

"Well, then, I guess it is mutual; because if you two had not taken out that guy with the SAM, everyone on my bird would be in Valhalla right now; and maybe the other bird as well, since they were so close. So, thanks again. I'm Darryl Crawford, by the way," he said by way of formal introduction, though we had met informally in battle. We clinked beer bottles instead of shaking hands, and watched the end of his brother's ass-chewing from afar.

The young Captain, Tim Dawson by name, sat up from the stretcher they had him on, and called to SFC Crawford and me. We went over and received his thanks for saving his life before they hauled him off in a Hummer ambulance.

I never heard what happened officially to Sandy Crawford concerning that little 'junket' to save his brother, but the thanks coming in via correspondence from the commanders of the Logistics Task Force and from Third Special Forces Group were probably enough to placate the ruffled feathers of the 160th SOAR chain of command.

I was even surprised weeks later to be stood up in formation in my unit to receive an Air Medal, of all things!

I finished the rest of my tour with the 101st, but I reenlisted for three more years for a chance to serve with the 160th when we rotated back to Campbell. That, of course, required that the Army allow me to attend jump school at Fort Benning, near Columbus, Georgia.

It was after finishing that three-week course, and catching a bus to Atlanta, then running into a divorcée named Dolores and her Mustang, that I had entered upon the set of circumstances that had originally brought me to Simonton, Virginia.

****

After Afghanistan—Simonton

"Well, ain't that the shit?" I said to myself.

I asked myself that question as Dolores' muscle car scratched out of the parking lot just as the afternoon sun was hitting the treetops. She was on her way back to Atlanta now; somehow, having decided to return and try again with her ex, all while I had been trying to convince her to pull off the road and join me for the night in a local motel there in... Whatever-Burg... oh, yeah... that one sign I had caught a glimpse of had said this placed was named something like 'Simonton.'

I had just finished jump school at Benning and was trying to hitch a ride with this hot divorcée in a red Mustang whom I had met at a bar in Atlanta. By riding with her, I figured that I might be able to score some sack time with a babe and save the cost of a flight back home to Virginia.

After all, I still had two weeks of leave time before I had to report to the 160th SOAR stationed at Fort Campbell, Kentucky. Once there, I would have to complete in—and survive—"Green Platoon" in order to become a full-fledged Night Stalker. Even though my specialty was fixing helicopters, and not kicking in doors, I was obliged to complete that initiation ritual, just as everyone else in the regiment did, from the Colonel in command on down.

I had shipped my duffel on ahead, so all I was carrying with me was a light JanSport civilian backpack with a change of underwear, socks, and my toiletries. I slung it over my shoulders and turned to see if I could find some signs of life in this dry hole of a town.

The sign said "Skinner's," the beer signs were glowing, and it was close on toward five o'clock; so that became my destination.

"So, you-all are really a Soldier; huh, Rusty?" asked the one who had identified himself as Dennis Chancey. The other two had introduced themselves as Hamp Wells and Sam Chaves. Dennis and Hamp were already well on their way toward Alcohol Nirvana, even this early in the afternoon and evening, while Sam appeared to be moderating his intake.

I had introduced myself, as I usually did when out and about for fun and excitement, as 'Rusty Collins'.

"Yeah," I said, loosening up after three beers. "Been to 'The Stan' once, too."

God, I love talking that way, with all the bravado of some kind of barroom warrior... what my daddy would have referred to in civilian terms as a 'Drugstore Cowboy'. It did not hurt me in any way to try to negotiate my battlefield experiences, as limited-to-non-existent as they may be, into their buying my beer for me, for at least the first three rounds.

"I just bet that you got the ladies all dropping their panties at the thought of being with a real live hero," declared Hamp. I was already tired from the long drive, coupled with the accumulated exhaustion of having just finished three weeks of intensive physical activity in Airborne School. I think, looking back, if I had been more rested, I might otherwise have recognized that he was thinking about getting me involved with something nefarious.

But, I was... Air-BORNE! And just so proud of myself right then, so, I guess I sort of missed the cagey look that passed between Dennis and Hamp, along with the snort of disgust coming from Sam.

"Oh," I bragged, "there is just so much willing pussy out there that all you really have to do is simply take your pick, and cull her from the herd." We all laughed and raised our longnecks.

I guess I got really stupid and started down the trail that was destined to get me in deep trouble that evening.

"But the real challenge," I said with a smirk, "comes when you find that gorgeous, but not necessarily willing lady, perhaps a virgin saving it for marriage. And, with the right smile, the right compliments, the right words of encouragement; you talk her out of that very set of drawers that she had planned to keep up until her knight in shining armor came along to marry her and carry her off to his castle."

We all had laughed at that image, as Dennis said, "Yeah, there are still a few virgin babes around who think that they are princesses and that their pussies are made of twenty-four-carat gold."

"Well," I responded, "My daddy says that there are really no such things as Disney princesses. He said that even Arial, the Little Mermaid, has a nice set of tits behind that clamshell bra."

This brought on more laughter and back-slapping.

"But," I said, leaning in with a faux conspiratorial expression, "he also said that there wasn't a single woman that couldn't be talked into the sack, if you approached her carefully, used the right body language, said the right words, and just simply oozed connection and sincerity." I chuckled as, so full of my own bullshit, I threw back another slug of Budweiser.

"I'll betcha we got a girl you can't sweet talk into fuckin'," offered Hamp, and Dennis was grinning and nodding, while Sam was looking away with open disgust now.

"Oh, yeah?" I asked, stupidly falling farther into their snare.

"Yeah," this time, coming from Dennis, "she is considered to be the prettiest girl in these parts, and she works part time just across the street at the Dairy Queen. In fact," he now looked with an evil smile toward Hamp, "she gets off work in about forty-five minutes."

"What about Boyd?" started Sam, now entering the conversation for the first time. He actually appeared to be upset at the turn the conversation was taking.

"Oh, well; Boyd has been going on for a coupla years now about how that pussy is probably the best in town," retorted Hamp. "And, since his daddy is the town patriarch, and he is the heir apparent, then Boyd feels that he deserves to be the one to claim everything in town that is 'the best', as he calls it; including that bitch's cherry. Even says he is going to marry her. Not only to prove the point that he deserves the best; but to rub it in the nose of that crazy preacher daddy of hers who is so hostile to Lamar Simon and his family; especially Boyd."

"What's so special about this girl?" I asked.

"Well, with her religious upbringing, she has made it clear to every guy back in our high school," I raised my eyebrows at this, since these guys really looked a bit old to be in school still, yet not really old enough to be drinking in a bar; then I chalked it up to local custom, or some shit like that; "that she was going to remain pure until she gets married. And she is eighteen now, and primed and ready."

I had to ask, "What is she... some sort of super-religious Mormon or Catholic or something?"

They all laughed and Hamp said, "Nah. Anyway, you know what they say... Mormons get special underwear and a basement full of groceries; Catholics get a set of rosary beads and a truckload of guilt..." We all laughed at his assessment.

"No, in Ruthanne's case, it is just a set of rules that her Evangelical daddy set up for her to follow and that she really holds to. Even plans to hold out until she finishes college at Liberty University, up in Lynchburg." Hamp then took a swig from his beer bottle as Dennis just nodded and Sam just sat there stoically.

"Well," I said, draining my beer, "You will just have to introduce me to this 'Iron Maiden', then."

****

Oh, man! What was happening here?

I thought that I would be the one in total control of this seduction. Boy, was I wrong on all counts!

The guys, who I now referred to in my mind as 'The Three Amigos', basically sat around one of the Dairy Queen's outside tables, talking quietly among themselves, snickering every now and then, but they were also watching my progress as I continued speaking to Ruthanne through the service window, working my way through my tried-and-true 'Rusty Collins' seduction routine.

I was able to work my way through my introduction and approach lines in our conversation, but 'Rusty Collins' was also being reeled in by the irresistible allure of Ruthanne Norwood, despite my best efforts to resist.

Ruthanne Norwood was exactly what my daddy had said did NOT exist. She really WAS a princess! At least, to me she was. Her appearance, her voice, her mannerisms. Wow!

And her eyes! They were not heterochromatic, as mine were, but they were deep hazel pools of promise into which I found myself sinking almost inescapably... yet enjoyably, possibly for the first time in my life.

Ruthanne appeared to be drawn into the seduction as well, despite the pronouncements by 'The Three Amigos' earlier concerning her well-known heretofore intention to maintain her virginity until her wedding night.

****

I was in a fog.

I had been sitting on the arbor bench, thinking about just how special this woman was and how strange it was even to be thinking this way. I wasn't supposed to be the one pining away for a woman after one superior, tender, glorious fuck... actually, making love this time... that was the part she was supposed to play... and toward me! Talk about role reversal!

It had truly been making love, rather than simply fucking. Her hymen had been almost non-existent and she had simply hissed for a second when we had initially joined. Then, we had simply been lost in each other's eyes... and minds... and souls... as we had settled into that age-old rhythm of intercourse; matching our movements as if we had been doing this for years. We had both smiled lovingly after she had come in a soft orgasm, followed by my ejaculation into her snug warm no-longer-virgin pussy.

Knowing that very few women experience orgasm during their first time having sex, I had been very pleased that I had helped Ruthanne to reach that sexual plateau. As I finally finished inside her, I felt her pussy muscles clamp down on me and she gave out a loud sigh that sounded sort of like, "HMMM-MAH-AHHH!" before she relaxed, pulled me down, and smiled at me before she cried softly into my shoulder.

We had separated to put our clothes back in order and then I was holding Ruthanne on my lap with my arms around her... cuddling, of all things... The only time I had cuddled in the past was as part of the move to go for another round with the woman of the moment.

I now wanted Ruthanne not just to be the woman of the moment; but, of the week... the month... the year... my forever woman! Imagine that. I had never had such an intense feeling for a woman before in my life! How could this happen in the matter of fewer than two hours?

Then, reality closed in and hit me. I began to detect the nearby presence of the 'Amigos'.

"Shit," I barely heard the voice of Dennis swear. Evidently, he and Hamp had crept up close so that they could see the spectacle of Ruthanne and me, and verify my accomplishment, from a concealed position behind one of the high school's outbuildings that served the football field.

I guess Ruthanne was still lost in her own feeling of euphoria, as she did not appear to hear them, given that she did not react, and I was not about to alert her either.

"What the hell do you think you are doing with my woman, Bud?" came the sudden loud angry voice of a new arrival, followed closely by the sound of several sets of boots approaching as they crunched through the Number 8 gravel around the arbor.

I looked up to see a hefty, but not fat, young man with dark hair and as menacing an expression on his face as I had ever seen. Overlaid in that look was an air of superiority, as if he were royalty, as if he expected everyone to kiss his ass and hop to his every beck and call.

Boyd Simon, as I came to realize later, was a young psychopath. I had heard the 'Amigos' say that he obsessively believed, as the son of the town's leading member, that he deserved and demanded the best of everything; to include Ruthanne. I just had not believed in the level of viciousness that he exuded. That just shows you how little I really knew about small town folks.

****

I shook my head now to clear the fog in my head as I remembered that they had gotten Ruthanne and me separated and then had me outnumbered and helpless as they had begun the beating.

The 'Three Amigos' had helped Boyd. Sam had held Ruthanne back out of the way as Hamp and Dennis had held me by my arms while Boyd had first kicked me in the groin, leaving me in agony after puking all the beer and chips from earlier down the front of my t-shirt and jeans. Then, he had systematically punched me in the gut and the face until I had evidently passed out.

As I began to come around, I could hear Ruthanne crying out and begging someone to stop. I tried to move, but my hands were tied behind me around an upright pole and I was losing the feeling in them with the circulation restricted.

My vision started to clear and, my senses began returning. Besides the obvious pain in my nuts from Boyd's earlier kick, and the stench of my puke-stained clothes, I also became aware of men's voices. One was encouraging another on, while the other grunted and said something about what good pussy he was getting.

"Oh, Man, Boyd!" I heard Dennis say, as he was evidently exerting himself physically, "You were sure ... ugh ... right ... about Ruthanne ... ugh ... having a ... really fine, tight pussy ... ARGHHH!" I could see him now. He was between a pair of feminine thighs ... My Ruthanne's, I surmised, without realizing at that moment the note of possession contained in that thought; and he was at first humping, and then holding himself frozen in place, indicating that he was emptying his balls into the girl's pussy; and then he relaxed with a sigh.

I tried to cry out in protest, but my mouth was dry and all I could manage was a rough cough.

"Please, stop! Dennis, you have known me since second grade. Why would you do something like this to me?" I heard Ruthanne wailing.

"Because you have grown up to be one sexy bitch! That's why!" Dennis replied as he pulled out, and I could see semen oozing from the girl's pussy because of her lewdly splayed thighs.

As Dennis stood up and began to buckle his pants, he looked at Boyd, who knelt at Ruthanne's head and continued to hold her shoulders down. Hamp Wells now dropped his pants down around his ankles, crawled between Ruthanne's thighs, inserted his hard dick, and began to pump into her already wet and now-well-used pussy.

"That's you, me, and Hamp, that have all fucked her now, Boyd," Dennis said with satisfaction. "Where did Sam get off to?"

Boyd snorted and said, "He just sort of slipped away while I was fuckin' her. I guess this was a bit much for Mister Chaves' tender feelin's to handle." Then he chuckled and continued.

"Hurry up and give her the juice, Hamp. Then, we will get rid of the Soldier boy and take her and have a little more fun with her; maybe even all night and into tomorrow. After that, we can drop her off in the driveway of that bastard preacher daddy of hers. I want to see the look on his face when he sees his well-fucked church daughter all full of cum!"

Then ... I swear ... it sounded like a cackle from one of those old movie villains; this coming from Boyd.

Dennis saw that I was awake now and came over and kicked at my head as I tried vainly to avoid his shoe. I don't remember anything after that ... until later ... when I found myself sprawled on a paved roadway. I was coming around, but I decided that I did not want to alert Ruthanne's and my attackers that I was aware just yet. Thankfully, my hands were now free and regaining some feeling.