The Many Loves Of Dobie Gillis 1: What's In The Head Of The Thinker? free porn video

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[Note: This story was written before my "I Dream of Jeanie 4".] Note: "Maynard G. Krebs" was played by Bob Denver, better known as "Gilligan". The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis 1: What's in the Head of the Thinker? Created by Max Shulman; Produced by Rod Amateau [1959-63]; Parodied by Ron Dow75 Dobie Gillis, blond, crew cut, average early 1960s Working- Middle Class Dobie Gillis was at his usual marble bench in the park, bent over with his chin on his fist just like Rodin's statue, "The Thinker", a copy of which was just behind him. He at last shook his head from his hand. "I just can't figure it out. There is not one good reason why I do not have a girl." Grabbing a thigh with one hand, he used the other to gesture to make his points, "Okay, I'm not the handsomest guy... But there are uglier guys than me who have girls. Okay, I'm not the sharpest dresser... But there are less well-dressed guys than me who have girls. Okay, I'm not the wealthiest guy... But there are poorer guys than me that have girls... Okay, I'm not the smartest..." Dobie lifted his hand, "No, there is not one good reason... But there are a dozen C-grade reasons! Put them all together, and that's why I have no girl!" Dobie put his jaw on his open hand this time, defeated, "It's hopeless." "You rang?" a skinny, scraggly goateed beatnik-type in gray sweatshirt without sleeves, jeans, and sandals. "Oh, hello, Maynard," Dobie said, not bothering to move. "Like, what's the problem, Dobe?" "Girls." "Girls!!?" "Maynard!" Dobie said, finally moving. "You don't have to yell, just because you hear the word girls." "Girls!!?" "M-Maynard! There are none of them around! It's just a word!" "Sorry, Dobe. But, like, when it comes to me and those other-type people..." he shuddered. "Maynard, why is it that you, who are afraid of, uh, "those other-type people", and me, who wants a girl- Any girl! One lousy girl! -are friends?" "Opposites attract?" he said, straddling the marble bench (while Dobie scooted back) in front of him. "We're not that opposite." "Oh, yeah? I dig jazz; you dig pop. I'm beat; you're square. No offense." ("No offense.") "I'm into Zen; you're into money-grubbing-" "Money-grubbing?!" Dobie said, ready to take offense. "You, like, do that manual labor jazz in your Dad's grocery." "I try not to work-" "Work!!?" "Maynard!" "But you do it. Like, that's a nasty habit. And why? Like, to have enough money for chicks." "I wouldn't have to, if Dad would give me more money." "That scrooge? That skin-flint? That miser? That-" "Maynard! I get the idea! Unfortunately, it's true. Dad won't even give me an advance on my allowance." "Dobe, you're advanced so far ahead in your allowance, that if it were, like, school, you'd be readying for retirement. Like, no offense." Dobie sighed, "True, too. No offense." "And why? Chicks! Like, give them up! I don't see what you see in them." Dobie had this habit of almost looking around or away when he thought of something he really didn't want to think about, "Maynard! What good are girls-" "Girls!!?" "Chicks! They're soft, and luscious, and creamy, and all together dreamy, and-" Maynard got up, "If you're going to be, like, that way about it." "Maynard, where do you think children come from?! You like kids!" "Kids come from mothers." "Mothers are girls." "Girls!!?" "Now, stop that!" "Dobe, mothers are not, you-know. They're, like, mothers. And mothers don't dig me." "Gir-er, Chicks don't dig you, either!" "I wish that were true." Now, Dobie got up. "You?!! Even you, Maynard?!" "Please, Dobie, Maynard G. Krebs does not, like, like to talk about it," and he started walking on the "Do Not Walk on the Grass" park swathe behind the bench. "Maynard!! Tell me your secret!" Dobie said, following. "If you can do it, then..." He stopped. There, up on the stone base "The Thinker" rested on, was a girl all in black, from the black beret on her long black hair to her baggy black sweatshirt, her tight black Capri pants, and even her black leather sandals. But her skin was soft, and luscious, and creamy... "Like, not the scene, man!" Maynard said to the girl. "Like, it is! The bomb!" "The bomb is, like, mental!" he said, starting to climb up after her. "The kin folk are the bomb!" she said, moving to keep the statue between them. "Kin folk always bomb!" "'Bombed out of house and hearth!" "'Bombed out to the garage!" "Heat?" "No heat. No water. No-" "Maynard! What do you think you're doing?! I thought you hated girls!" "This is, like, a chick, Dobe! A fellow beat, a kindred soul, aaa-" A bolt of lightning came from out nowhere, and struck the bronze statue. Both of them had been touching it. "Maynard!!" Dobie cried, running to his friend, now fallen to the ground. He had a goofy grin on his face, goofier than the one he normally had! "Maynard! Speak to me, good buddy! Say something! Any thing!" "You rang?" "Not now! Maynard needs help." "I, like, always need help." "But, Maynard-" Dobie looked up, away from the friend in his arms. There was something, something about... "Man, like, do I look happy." "Maynard?!" Dobie cried, looking up over his shoulder... at the girl in black. "Hi, Dobe." "Maynard!?!" Dobie cried, rising up in startled recognition (and dropping Maynard's head back onto the ground). "You, like, said that before." Then she put her little finger into her long hair, where her ear should be, "But not that loud." "You Are Maynard!?!" "Sure, I'm me. You have a pencil and paper?" "Pencil and paper??" Dobie asked, confused, but feeling his pockets. He found a notepad with a pencil in its spiral. "Thanks, Good Buddy," she said, taking them from him. "May-Uh, what are you doing??" "Writing down my name and address. How do you spell Krebs?" "K, r, e- Maynard! It's your own name!!" "I know. I just don't write it much." "Why do you have to write down your name and address?! Is something wrong with your memory?!" "No. Like, I don't think there is. Let's see... I know all the words to Ginsberg's "Howl"; I remember every idiosyncrasy of Thelonius Monk; I-" "Maynard!! Why are you writing?!!" "I'm, like, letting her know who she is, and where she can stay," the female Maynard said, bending over to tuck the note inside the top of his sweatshirt. "Stay!?? You're going to let her stay at your place?!" "Of course! It's, like, her place, now." "Maynard, you're just going to give her your identity?!" "Dobie, she, like, has my identity." "You're not upset about it?! Don't you want it back?!" "Like, how am I going to get me back?" "You could, you could..." Dobie said, gesturing towards the statue. "Its', like, Kismet! The will of the gods," the girl said, starting to walk away. "Karma is corrected." "But your parents! Won't they know she's not you?" "Oh, come now, Dobie! How can I act any stranger than I already did?" "True, true. "But what about you? Where are you going to stay?" The girl shrugged. "I'll find a pad I can land on." "Maynard!! You're a girl! Girls-" "Girls!!?" "Now, stop that!!" Dobie looked around for a couple of seconds, before returning to Maynard, "How is it you don't mind being a girl. But say the word "girls"-" "Girls!!?" "I said, stop that! Why, Maynard? Just answer me why?" "First of all, I'm not a girl; I'm a chick." "There's a difference?" "A beat chick does not act like a girl." "Not a normal girl, I'll grant you that." "And, second, a girl, I don't mind so much. It is when they come together... twos, and threes, and a whole mob of them swarming at you ready to-" The girl suddenly stopped, with a bug- eyed expression, she put a hand near her long, slender neck. "Maynard what happened?!!" "I scared myself." "Maynard!! If there were any doubt left in my mind, that ended it. You're Maynard G. Krebs, alright." "No, I don't think I'm Maynard. I mean, like, if there is one Maynard G. Krebs walking around, can there be two?" "One Maynard is enough," Dobie agreed. "So, I must be somebody else." "Do you know the girl's name? Do you know where she lives?" "Didn't you hear?! She's, like, been evicted from her folks' pad. An orphan. That's why she wanted to do the big suicide scene." "From the top of the statue??!" "Suicide isn't sane. Besides, I think it was practice." "She could have hurt herself!" "I, like, think that was the whole idea. Anyway, she's not herself, so I have to be somebody else." "If you're not going to be Maynard, why don't you be... Why can't you be "May"!" "May..." the girl threw her beardless chin in, and thought about it. "Yeah! May Nard! I, like, like it!" "Maynn-I don't think you should let people get the idea that you were once you. You're going to be thought of as strange enough." "Stranger than I was before?" "Much." "Okay, then. I'll add my "G."!" "'May Nard Gee'? What kind of a name is that?!" "May Nardgee. I think it's a very beat name." "I won't argue with you there. So, you'll come home with me." "Your dad doesn't dig me." "It's Maynard he doesn't, uh, dig. You're not him, any more." "That's right! I'm not even a him!" === At Gillis Market: "Oh, my poor baby!" Dobie's mom exclaimed at the news. "I knew hanging out with that beatnut would lead to something like this!" his dad declared. They were an average early 60s Working Middle-Class kind of parents: She was matronly without being fat, dark hair that was starting to gray, and a careworn face; he was hardly fat at all, with a red butch cut, and a face aged by worry. They were in blue shirts, and dark green aprons, she in a dark gray skit, he in dark gray slacks. "Oh, man! Dobe! Come over her and smell the rosemary!" the strange-looking strange girl said over in front of produce. "Dad! Mom! You don't understand!" Dobie told them. "I don't understand!? I don't understand!?" Herbert T. Gillis said. "A girl needs a place to spend the night, and she finds my dummy son. What's not to understand?!" "Oh, the color of these apples, they're... This one has a worm." "My poor baby." "Mom!" Dobie said to her. "'Poor baby'?? Hoo-Hoo!!" the "man-of-the-world" rolled his eyes. Dobie looked away, and then back, "Dad, it's not like that!" "Everything's so much brighter... Oo, florescent lights..." "Then, tell me what it is like?" his dad said, crossing his arms. "Well, there was sort of this, accident..." "My poor baby!" "It was Maynard! But this, uh, this person-" "Good save," the girl said, coming over, now. "Pickle?" "Maynn-" "Your name is, Mane?" Dobie's mom asked. "No, Mrs. G." "Never mind that! Just tell me; was Krebs hurt?" Mr. G. asked, ready to smile. "Well..." Dobie said, looking at the girl. "Nothing's physically wrong; I don't think." "It's Mental?! How could you tell with that kook?!" "Let's just say, Maynard G. Krebs is not, like, the same person as you knew and loathed, Mr. G." "Hey, I may have not been wild about the kid, but loathe-" "My poor baby's friend!" "Uh, so, since Maynard and I are such good friends..." "Childhood chums, like!" the girl smiled. "I quiet understand," Dobie's mom said. "Well, I don't!" his dad said. "Why can't she stay at his place- And ask a stupid question." "Thanks, Dad!" "Now, wait a minute! I didn't agree to-" "Is your name really 'Mane'?" Mrs. G. asked. "Hey, like, cool! 'Main'! I think I-" "No! It's May, Mom!" "'Maymom'?? Like, what kind of a name is-" "Vheew..." Herbert T. Gillis whistled through his teeth. "Another winner for my stupid son." "I like 'Main': Main Mann... Main Drag... Gas Main..." "My poor baby!" "My aching back!" Herbert T. Gillis said, thumping his elbows down on the grocery checkout counter. = = = "I, like, think your Dad likes the new me better," May N. said, coming up onto the second floor over the grocery. "You're right. He didn't yell at all," Dobie said, turning around. "Just some loud talking." "He's always like that." "Like, true." "You'll sleep in the spare room," Dobie said, pointing off to the room end of the hallway of doors around the central stairwell. "Why can't I, like, sleep with you, Dobe?" Dobie's head rolled around, "May! You're a girl!" "Yeah? So?" "So: It was hard enough getting them to let you stay! If they thought we was going to..." "To what, Dobe?" "Eh... May; just how much of a girl are you?" "Do you want me to, like, check?" she asked, reaching for her Capri pants buttons. "Eh, no!" Dobie said, grabbing hold of her hand before they got there. "Hmm... soft, luscious, creamy..." he raised his eyes to her chest, "with big dreamy-" "Aw, no! I'm, like, a confirmed celibate! Do you know what that means? It means I don't, like, dig that scene!" "But we're friends!" "Would you want to, if I, like, still had a beard?" "But you don't! That's why it's different!" "Maybe I ought to, like, find another pad," she started back for the stairs. "It's Kismet," Dobie said, trying to stay cool. "Kismet!?" the girl stopped. It'd worked! "I was there: Just the three of us. Nobody else knows." "Aw, man... Karma made much more sense when it was just between two of us. I was never good with large numbers." Yes! "Then you'll be my, best friend?" The girl straightened up, and looked at him. "Only if you don't ask me to be your girlfriend. Dig?!" "Dig! I won't treat May any different than I did Maynard." "...and, like, no flowers, or no candy, or no any of that goofy, goopy stuff you, like, like to do for girls." "Deal! Those things didn't work, anyway. All they did was put me in debt to Dad!" "Mr. G.!?! He just stopped hating me!" "He doesn't have to know." "Are you, like, sure? You know what a big mouth I have." "You, like, have," Dobie said, trying to figure this out. "If Dad finds out, you won't be the only one losing a place to stay." "We could always stay at Maynard's" "The garage!?!" "We could land on some pads I know." "And be a beatnik?" Suddenly, Dobie's head went right, and then back, "I think I just figured out why I've never had a girl!" = = = "Back so soon?" Dobie's mom smiled from behind the cash register. "Where's Dad?" "He's making a delivery at the Osborne Estate." "The Osbornes??" Dobie asked, approaching her suspiciously. "The Osbornes!?" the girl said, just as perplexed. "Mr. G. doesn't, like, carry fish eggs and goose fat!" "I sent him there," her smile didn't change. "Not wanting to look like I'm looking a gift horse in the mouth, but why, Mom?" "The young lady didn't bring any luggage." "That's okay, Mrs. G., I, like, don't need much." "May--! I know how you don't like baths, but you need at least one change of clothes!" "And lingerie." "Oh, no! I, like, draw the line at that kind of silky, lacey, girly stuff!" "She means underwear!" "I, like, never wear underwear. You know that, Dobie." "He does?" his mom's smile starting to crack. "You're right; you do have a big mouth! Mom, am I a healthy, All-American teenage boy?" "Yes, you are, Dobie." "Would a healthy, All-American teenage boy fail to notice if a healthy, All-American teenage girl were not wearing underwear?" "No, you wouldn't, Dobie." "Where does the 'never' come in?" "May! You're not helping! Mom, I'll see to it she has on underwear." Mom's weakened smile was frozen to her face. "-In the usual healthy, All-American teenage boy way." The ornate bronze cash register rang up "No Sale". "I also expect you to take her to the drugstore." "The drugstore, Mom?" "May knows what I mean." "I do!?" Mrs. G. took out a crisp, new bill. "We'll talk when you get back." Dobie looked at the bill with amazement. "A hundred dollars!??!" "Women are more expensive." "Mr. G. is, like, going to go through the roof!" "Don't worry about him," Mrs. G.'s smile had changed, becoming... warmer. "Sometimes the Osborne staff lose their lists, and will accept the delivery." "You've done this before!?!" Dobie asked, shocked that his very honest mom could be so crooked. "You're, like, a capitalist after my own heart, Mrs. G.!" May told her. = = = "May, you sounded like a Communist in there!" Dobie said, leaving the store. "I'm not into any of that jazz," May told him. "It's, like, the last time I was looking for a place to stay, Bea Bop told me- " "'Bea Bop'? You actually know somebody named 'Bea Bop'?!" "He's a nice guy." "His name is 'Bea'?" "Unh, hunh; he's, like, married to Adoo Bop." "I don't even want to know which gender Adoo Bop is." "Anyways, Bea Bop was, like, telling me about living in the woods, like Robin Hood." "So... you want to be like Robin Hood?" "Why not? Robin was a girl, too." Dobie looked away, and back again. "May! Robin Hood was not a girl!" "Oh, yeah? Robin's, like, a girl's name. Dobe! Did the same thing happen to Robin Hood like what happened to me?!" "Er, yes, May. That's why a man is named Robin." "Oh," May said, sounding disappointed. "I'm, like, a she." "That's right, May. You can't go live in the woods." "Lead me to the store. I'll buy in, and sell out." = = = "Winnifred Gillis" was played by Florida Friebus, better known, perhaps, as patient "Mrs. Bakerman" of "The Bob Newhart Show".

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Summer and I both lay very sleepily and lazily on her bed for much of that morning after the breakfast and cowgirl-style sex. Before I knew it, we had dozed off again completely, my sweet new fiancee resting her head with its soft, golden hair on my chest for comfort and intimacy. I slept until roughly noon, when the sunlight was too bright in my eyes and woke me, but I was loathe to wake her. Furthermore, I enjoyed this kind of vulnerability on Summer’s part, her warmth and affection for me...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 6

“So, how do you like the sandwich? Pretty good for a lunch, don’t you think?” Summer fished for compliments, not that she needed to, but obviously she had some insecurities. “Summer, you’re a professional short-order cook. Have some faith in your cooking skills, please! I think that it’s cute how insecure you are at times, but, baby, you’re really the bomb in the kitchen, trust me! That wonderful breakfast, the fantastic dinner last night at your diner, this excellent sandwich that you made...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 7

Hours later... Barry grunted more than a few times as I pushed in and out of his asshole, buggering him with the kind of vigor that he seemed to relish, at least for now. If he didn’t appreciate getting sodomized, he could have fooled me, as his responses all indicated that he very much enjoyed it. This was Summer’s big brother, and yet here he was, bent over as she had been at times, taking my cock up his ass just as she did up hers. I had to admit that I reveled in the idea of fucking...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 8

North Carolina Theater of Operations, Suburbs of Winston-Salem April 9, 2011 “Incoming! Move this tent now!” I heard rather disturbing orders from the commander of my medical team, but so be it. “Rat bastards! Now, I’ll have to triage them! There’s no saving them now!” I cursed as I realized that any hopes of saving three fine young soldiers went down the drain. Enemy rocket fire was no joke, even if their supplies of rockets had to be dwindling drastically by this point. It was a bluff, I...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 9

“So, Megan, how the fuck did you get caught up in this mess?” I asked my ex-wife as she lay there on the bed. “I ... married a guy ... who ... joined the Klan,” Megan stammered, more than a little embarrassed, perhaps because she knew that racism was wrong. “Yeah, you really traded up, didn’t you? Who needs a pothead male nurse when you can have a leading champion of the fucking master race, am I right?” I scoffed now, making my ex wince. “Okay, okay, touche. You fucking win! You’ve...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 10

“So, what is it to be done with the prisoners? These aren’t situations envisioned very well by the Hague or Geneva Conventions, neither of which have been ratified by the Commandant on our side or the Imperial Wizard on his. Not, mind you, that there is any quarter given much of late. Or asked, for that matter. Kluckers are only surrendering when wounded like those chaps over there,” Doctor Anne Thorpe, our very British chief surgeon, inquired. “Beats me. I do know that my ex-wife is among...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 11

Our neat little tryst didn’t last as long as we hoped, of course. As the weather cleared, we heard the first barrage of enemy artillery and felt its impact. Those motherfuckers were back at it and they likely wouldn’t stop this time until we (well, collectively speaking) were forced to completely annihilate them. Frankly, I hoped that we did. It was time to clean the genepool, and those scum could be among the first to leave it. “Don’t worry. Our own guns are giving them far more hell, as...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 12

“Wake up, wake up!” I heard Anne jerk me awake, and not in a good way, either. “What’s up?” I asked groggily as I tried to shake myself out of that state. “We gotta bustle, man! Time to relocate! Nicer place this time. Whole bloody, motherfucking street requisitioned for hospitals and quarters!” Anne told me, “evidently, that barrage was the last of their heavy munitions and they used it up trying for a breakout from the growing, alarming encirclement of their forces.” “So, where are...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 13

“Orders from the top. We must prioritize Militia over enemy wounded,” Dr. Samuel Singh informed us now. “Well, that’s ... medically ... unethical, by all usual standards, but probably necessary. Anyway, it’s an order, so we have to follow it. This isn’t the Holocaust and we’re not the SS or Gestapo. We’re doctors and nurses doing the best that we can, and we’re also soldiers in an army with a chain of command,” Anne observed, ending that debate as far as all of us were concerned. If Dr....

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 14

I was smack dab in the middle of suturing a patient when I heard her voice. Megan. Damn it, I was trying to work here! “What do you want, Megan?” I demanded, “I’m working here. Sorry, Beau. That’s my ex-wife.” “Really? Damn! I don’t know what happened between you, but you’re already my hero for doing this and doubly so for having tapped THAT!” Staff Sergeant Beau Barnes chuckled as I finished him up. Megan blushed at the obvious praise, “I just wanted you to know that there is a hearing...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 15

“Yes, I’m afraid that we’ll have to triage these. Too far gone and they’re enemy besides. Orders are orders,” Anne decided, still not feeling great about the idea. She never did, that much I knew. For that much, for all of our callous talk about the foe, even though they were despicable racist scum, it was against my instincts and my medical ethics to be too comfortable letting anyone die. I could be a cold, heartless bastard sometimes, but it wasn’t my default setting by any...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 16

“Well, any news?” I asked Samuel, who showed me an envelope with a letter from his wife, Ravneet. I showed him an identical one from Summer. It smelled of her ... and it wasn’t perfume, either. I wondered how the mail guy felt about the scent of my fiancee’s pussy on the envelope, since it was likely that he recognized the smell. Judging by that aroma, I wasn’t too shocked at the good news that it contained. No “Dear John” letter for me. Instead, I got this... Dear Master, So, I’m...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 17

Every stroke of my cock going in and out of Sergeant Kara Soares worked very well with similar thrusts from my comrade, Second Lieutenant Aaron Goldberg. Each of us timed it as well as we could, ensuring that she didn’t have any time where her pussy was vacant for even a second. Sometimes, and more often than expected, we overlapped and I felt his dick next to mine inside her juicy twat, of course, which excited her even more. “Oh, God ... fuck, yeah! You guys ... fuck ... this is ......

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 18

Dear Summer, I am very thrilled to hear of your news about the three pregnancies, regardless of paternity, of course. I look forward to seeing those three bellies swell up with baby bumps from each of those babies on the way. We will grow our family and raise it together as a plural and group marriage, as a rare, unique family. I look forward to even more pregnancies with at least two possible fathers. I also look forward to seeing Joanna again. Naturally, I have no reason to doubt that I...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 19

Dear Ravneet, I don’t know if this letter will reach you in response to yours. I think that you were aware that if you couldn’t get out, only luck, Providence, or both would enable your admittedly heartbroken and apologetic “Dear John” epistle to reach my desk. Well, it obviously arrived, and if you’re reading this, so did my response by the oddest quirk of Fate or God or whatever. I must confess that this hurts. It hurts a lot, in fact. But you know that. It clearly hurts you as well. I...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 20

The hours and work until the devil’s threesome were a blur. I was eager for it, as were Anne and Samuel, even if on my end it was my last time coupling with her. It was still one helluva way to close that chapter of our lives, with a nice, healthy, quite literal bang. The day that we chose for it proved to be a very draining one, so we all had to relax and recover first, starting with a nice meal separate from the mess. It was a 48 hour leave, after all. We even shared a couple of glasses of...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 21

“What happened?” I asked as I was rushed into the operating room with little time to prepare myself. “Land mines were discovered only after they detonated in key areas, causing much suffering. Clearly, the Klan left those there as a last laugh over their conquerors, namely us. There was a whole fucking minefield underneath parts of the city. What’s more, several timed explosives destroyed various buildings and killed even more people in downtown Winston-Salem. We’re having to amputate a lot...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 22

I awoke to being ridden ... by Anne. I was in no small amount of shock, of course. She had made a point of telling me that she had to swear me off and be faithful to Samuel, yet here she was, fucking me in the wee hours of the morning ... where, exactly? I looked around in the darkness as my eyes adjusted to it. That was when I realized that he was behind her, Samuel was, pounding her ass as she rode my dick with her pussy. What in the blazes of Hell? What happened to his jealousy? What...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 23

Militia Field Hospital Outskirts of Raleigh, North Carolina (last holdout) June 1, 2011 “Triage, triage now!” Anne barked her rather sharp order at me, even as Sam, Aaron, and the rest of us carried out her instructions. Triage ... bad news for all, but especially for the unlucky patients on the wrong end of triage. It was an ever present reality of medical combat duty, the elephant in the room, but it was also a sign that things weren’t going all that well. It was bad enough to have to...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 24

Militia Field Hospital Raleigh, North Carolina June 7, 2011 “So, that’s the last of the patients to stitch up from the final assault. Triage can be lifted now, thank God, if He really exists. I got my doubts, looking at a world as crazy as this one. I never thought that I’d miss the old, corrupt civilization of the past, even the posh bastards of the Etonian elite. Little secret. I’m not as ... upper crust as I let people believe. Old habits die hard, of course. I’ve found that pretending to...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 25

Danville, Virginia June 24, 2011 On the train back home, I tried not to pay attention to the news too much, but it was quite inescapable. South Carolina was well on its way back into the Union, due to haggling between the Republican Front and the sketchy state government in Columbia. What a far cry that was from 1860, I grinned as I recalled that the Palmetto State had the dubious distinction of being the first ever state to secede from the Union back then. “Mind if I join you?” I heard a...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 26

Three hours later... I lay next to a sleeping, snoring Juliette Charbonneau, her sweaty skin caressing mine every single time that I stretched or turned. I gazed upon her beauty more than once, stealing glances as if taboo, mostly because I wanted to take in the full scope of her allure and log it in my memory. We weren’t just naked. We were intimate, vulnerable, locked into each other’s embrace as we snuggled in her bed in her sleeping compartment of our passenger train. “Oh, God, lover,...

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Revenge of the PotheadChapter 27

The next afternoon, June 25, 2011 Lynchburg, VA “Damn it, Juliette, this nurse of yours is an even better lover than I thought!” Trish exclaimed as I reamed her good and hard from behind. “Told ya, didn’t I? He’s more than worth it, gigolo or not! That soldier boy can fuck like the world’s ending or something!” Juliette laughed as she spread Trish’s cheeks and licked her booty in front of me. “Damn, girls, that’s only going to make it harder for me to last!” I chuckled as I pulled Juliette...

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