lovehatesexpain
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Hate free porn video
It’ a funny thing what hate can do to a man. Hate is an emotion which can lead you in so many directions. It can eat your guts out and turn you into a shell of a man who is useless or it can goad you into doing things which you swear you were never capable of accomplishing.
Cory Harmon started hating one person a lot of years back and it sent him over the edge into that place where you become a shell. He struggled with it and himself for four or five years, building walls around himself which not one person on earth could penetrate. He was a loner who needed nothing nor anybody. In fact he swore never to allow anyone to get close to him ever again. Cory did a lot of drinking in that period but he could never get drunk enough to make the feelings of hatred go away. Then Shirl came along and slipped up on him. She got inside his head and his heart. He married her and let the walls close back in and he kept his world small. Just Shirl and the boys, and Johnny and Martha, Shirl’s folks.
His country was at war then and Cory was in the military. He let his hatred be channeled toward the enemy and those blood thirsty bastards he worked for turned him loose. He soon became a cold blooded killer. Looking back Cory thanked God, if there is a God, that he was in a war zone. He would have hated to have done the things he did in any civilized place. There is one thing for sure, he would have ended up in the electric chair instead of being honored with a lot of medals . The military loves to give out medals for ‘Gallantry in Action,’ or ‘Bravery above and Beyond the Call of Duty.’ Cory got a little more than his share of medals, not because he was so brave, but because he was just mean. Actually vicious is a better word. They trained him well….too well. Now they can’t turn him loose because it would be a crime in itself to turn an animal like him loose on the population of the gentle land of his birth. So here he stays, in a special prison that holds several hundred of the kind of men that Cory is. There are quite a few Navy Seals there, a bunch of Green Berets, the SOG types, and a fair number of men who were trained as Cory was.
The guards are not mean, the food is excellent and the living conditions are probably better than most of the of his relatives have back home. Cory won’t…actually, can’t mention the name of the facility as it doesn’t exist as far as the government is concerned.. He has no idea where it is located, except it must be in the South. It is so hot and humid and those slash pines don’t grow in a lot of other places. It’s just called a Military Reservation, with fifteen foot, electrified, barbed wire fences around it’s perimeter. There are six buildings in the middle of thirty five thousand acres of forest. The buildings themselves are thoroughly camoflauged and unless you know exactly where you are going, you can’t see it from the air, or from ground level as you can’t get within ten miles of the facility itself. There’s one road in…and none out, not for them anyway.
After Viet Nam was officially over, they left Cory and his team in Nam for nearly two years. They had remained in place—in situ—as the miltary called it, continuing to take out both military and civilian targets. Grady was the executive officer and Cory was nominally in command of ten of the most vicious sons-a-bitches on the face of this earth. After being left behind for over eighteen months, Cory and Grady began to realize that the bastards in Washington had abandoned them and Cory decided they had to get the fuck of Viet Nam. They had to try like hell to work their way across Laos and into Thailand so they could at least go home. It took Cory nearly a week to convince the rest of the team to go with him, because most of the men had found themselves a hot broad to shack up with and they really had no desire to go home. They all knew they had been listed as MIA/KIA so there wasn’t anybody looking for them back in the dear old U.S. of A. Cory promised them that if they came out with him and the shit hit the fan when they got to Thailand, they could disappear and come back to their little hooches and their slant eyed dollies. It didn’t quite work out that way.
When they moved out, Cory was actually surprised to see them form up into the formation they had perfected way back when they were first out in the bush. ‘Gator Bair’ Thibodeaux took the point and they all spread out behind him in an arrowhead type of formation. They hadn’t forgot their training and they moved through the jungle like a group of cats. You couldn’t hear a sound, not one fucking sound. Just the usual jungle racket of birds and those noisy god-damned monkeys. They had every intention of making it to Thailand so they made a total of about ten miles that first day. After that they made sometimes as much as fifteen and sometimes less than five. It was all according to what was going on around them.
About the fifteenth day out, Cory saw ‘Gator’ freeze and drop. Everybody else did the same, wriggling around to get their weapons trained on the same bearing. That day a whole platoon of Vietnamese Soldiers passed through their formation. The Dinks never saw them…..Shit the team coulda’ wiped out the lot of them but that wasn’t what they were trying to do. When it came to a fire fight, the team were murderous and when it came to keeping outa’ sight, they were masters at that too.
The team spent almost five weeks working their way across Viet Nam, Laos and into Thailand. Grady and Cory bluffed their way into the country, claiming they had been sent into Laos and were just now returning. They had even doctored up some orders to that effect before they left Nam. The rest of the team infiltrated past the border guards, not less than five hundred feet from the border post, just to prove that they could still do it. Cory had the men go into hiding while he and Grady when to the God-damned U.S. Embassy and reported themselves repatriated. Two of Cory’s team were Asiatics, he called them his south Mississippi Chinks, and they watched the Embassy from the time the two officers walked in the front door, until the CIA hauled their asses out in a couple of black surburbans. Cory spotted Gary Lee in the crowd of people who surged against the two vehicles as they got to an intersection. He held up his cuffed hands for Gary to see. That was his signal for the men to DiDi, (get the hell out of there) back to the rest of the guys and get the hell outa Thialand. Cory was sure the dumb shits would go back to their women in Nam or make out up-country somewhere in Thailand. But NOOOO- they came after Cory and Grady. It took the team five years to find them.
The fuckin’ CIA had grabbed Cory and Grady right off and began to debrief them in a safe house somewhere in Bangkok. As soon as they were sure the two officers were who they said they were, things changed a lot. The cuffs came off, they got to shower, shave and get into some clean uniforms. Clean clothes may seem like a small pleasure but when you’ve been in the same set of Cami’s for five weeks, clean clothes becomes almost orgasmic. The CIA clowns proceeded with a heavy debriefing. Cory told Grady that there was no reason to hide who they were or what they had been doing, so they supplied them with all the information they could, except where the rest of the team was). Cory heard later that it amounted to over twelve thousand pages of Top Secret documents.
Cory was a Major at the time they came out and he found out that the had been promoted twice while he was in country. He was a full, fuckin’, bull Colonel and as such, he was expected to turn in his men and go home.
‘Well fuck you Jake!’ is what he told them. The dirty bastard that was in charge of those traitorous bastards from the CIA informed Cory, in that fuckin’ Boston, jaw clenching accent, that if he didn’t betray his men, he would go to jail. Cory went to jail.
Cory didn’t know where the boys had got to but Grady and he are there in that place. They’ve been there for five lo
ng years. Cory got a hold of a list of the names on the Wall and it sure gave him a shock when he read his own name, that of Grady and every last one of the team.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he thought, ‘is there anything the Government of this Country can’t get away with? I’m dead! I’m walking around this ‘Prison’ but I’m dead to the rest of the world.’
Cory knows he wants to tell his story, but doesn’t know how he is going to get the story out of the prison. He can’t write any letters, he can’t tell his wife and sons that he is still alive. He can’t make any phone calls—there aren’t any phones there anyway. Grady and Cory don’t talk much anymore. Cory doesn’t know any of the other inmates, at least he doesn’t trust any of them, they might be plants. Does anybody see how paranoid you become when your are in a place like that.
Cory was sitting in the day room one morning when he saw something he couldn’t believe. There, marching right up the sidewalk was SFC Tyler Thibodeaux…Gator Bait! Cory jumped outa the chair and held the door open for him. Gator grinned at Cory like he always did and then he did something that hadn’t happened to Cory in a long time. Gator came to a rigid attention and saluted the Colonel.
‘Shit’ Cory thought, ‘I wanna cry!’
Cory grabbed that crazy coon ass and nearly squeezed him to death. God, it was good to see him. Cory popped Gator a brew, then yelled out the back window for Grady to ‘come a runnin’. Grady came storming into the day room, stopped and turned deathly pale.
‘Jesus Gator, where’d you come from?’ Grady gasped. Well boys,
Gator laid a lot of shit on them, telling them about the rest of the men, telling them how they had got their slope wives outa’ Nam and made a go of things in Thailand. He told them how he’d been to see the wall and all their names were on it. Cory told him that he knew about that so Gator gave them some more. The team had done alright for themselves. They had taken over a large part of the Drug Trade coming outa’ Laos and the Golden Triangle, making so much money they had gotten out the business and gone legit. Frank Mosley had bought a newspaper in Los Angeles, Gary Carver and Gary Lee had fifteen shrimp boats operating out of Bay St. Louis, Mississippi and Terry Stevens had actually gone back to college and was a lawyer in Little Rock. Harry ‘Baby Face’ Nelson still owned a whore house in Bangkok. For protection, he had a fair sized army which he slipped in and out of Viet Nam, trying to find more MIA’s. His group had brought out sixteen more men from some of the hidden POW cages to freedom. He’d set them up with new names etc. and shipped them home quietly. Once in the states, the rest of the team set them up in business. Those men promised never to reveal who they were or what their situation was. It got kinda’ sticky when some of the wives didn’t want to leave their new husbands. These women were told that if they revealed the fact that their MIA husbands were alive—well it was simple—they would die! As well as their new husbands and their whole family. The men were sent somewhere else to lead a new life. As long as the government didn’t get word of it ….all would be well.
Tyler was the only one of the team who had remained single and he had volunteered to turn himself in to find Cory and Grady. The other guys on the team had them pinpointed now because Gator was a walking transmitter. He had the damn thing up his ass and it was merrily sending out signals. These guys were all crazy OK? But Cory loved them. They had decided to get Cory and Grady out and it really didn’t matter who had to die in the process. The operation was set to go off a month from the day SFC Tyler ‘Gator Bait’ Thibodeaux entered the ‘prison’. Gator was there to get them into shape.
Grady and Cory were both sadly out of conditioning. They had simply given up all hope and had decided to got to pot and get their lives over with as quickly as possible. Gator changed all that. He went over to supply and got some ruck sacks which he filled with stones. Shoulder-ing the packs they started walking. It started out with a couple of miles in the morning and a couple more in the evening, carrying heavier and heavier packs. By the time they were ready to go, they were running twenty miles a day and spent their nights in the woods, regaining some of the skills which had atrophied.
They had enough parts, which they had stolen here and there for Grady to build at transmitter and reciever. So they had communications with the team on the outside. The team wouldn’t give them any information about their families because they wanted them outside the wire first. Cory suspected it was because their wives had married somebody else. What the fuck, you couldn’t blame the women for that. After all they were dead. On the night they were to leave the compound, Grady told them he wasn’t going anywhere until he found out about Natilie. Gator cold cocked the dumb shit and they had to carry him.
They got to the wire about 0200 and Cory looked hard at what he saw. There was a trench under the wires and on the other end of it, just past the second wire, he saw three cammied faces…and a lot of white teeth. Gator and Cory crawled through the trench, dragging Grady. When they cleared the second wire there stood ‘Tater’ Baker, ‘Red’ O’Neal, and ‘Mad Joe’ McCauley. They were the most beautiful bastards Cory had ever seen.
A reunion wasn’t exactly called for at that point in time, so the team hustled them into a van and they hauled ass. Not more than two hours later the van pulled up at a pier that ran out into some water and there, tied up at the end of the pier was a Carver and Lee shrimp boat. The two owners stood stiff as ramrods, saluted and said,
‘Welcome aboard Colonel.’ Now there was a pair you didn’t need to draw to. Gary Carver was six three and black as the ace of spades, where Gary Lee was five ten and asiatic. Cory had never wanted to kiss a man before but he grabbed Lee and planted one on his forehead. Then he turned to Carver. ‘Spade’ Carver backed off and said, ‘Shit man, get your sorry ass below.’
They got underway and were at sea in a short time. There was finally time to ask where they were, where they were going, where they had been and all the rest of the shit they needed to know. Mad Joe McCauley told them that they were in the Gulf of Mexico, headed for Galveston and freedom. They had been held in a ‘prison’ in the area that was once Camp Shelby, Mississippi. It was up around Hattisburg. Grady was anxious to hear about his wife. Spade Carver told him that Natilie was waiting for him in Galveston and that she couldn’t wait to see him. Then he turned to Cory and said,
‘Christ Colonel, I’m so fucking sorry about Shirl. She took the boys over to Martha’s, then flew to D.C.. She walked up to the Wall, pulled out a pistol and shot herself, falling to the ground just below our names.’
That moment was when the hatred in Cory Harmon got stronger. His face turned to stone and he asked them what they had in mind for him. Gator asked first if he wanted his sons or not and that he was going to Argentina to live. Cory thought about it for a few moments. He’d been gone for ten years, Shirl was dead and with Shirl’s folks, Johnny and Martha still alive, he figured it would be better to let sleeping dogs lie. The CIA would be watching them and if the boys disappeared—-the old folks would have a lot of trouble and sorrow… they would lose both their daughter and their grandsons.
Cory said, ‘Fuck it! Let it go and get me the hell out of the U.S. of A..’
Cory didn’t know where Grady went, he didn’t see Natilie at all in Galveston but Gator went all the way to Argentina with him. Cory had an Argentinian Passport, a new name, a truly fat bank account and a very nice Rancho to live out his days tending cows and that sorta thing. He had a few other things in mind as well, though he didn’t tell Gator then. He was given a code word to send if he ever needed help or money. Colonel Cor
y Harmon thanked Gator and asked him to tell the rest of the team that he was grateful.
Cory went to the bank the day after Gator left to determine just how much money he had and damn near fainted when the banker told him that he had over five million U.S. dollars in his bank.
The first thing Cory did with his money was to buy an airplane. He got a really sharp Piper Navajo that would let him get around easier since his Rancho was a good two hundred miles from Benous Airies. The Rancho was huge.
‘Shit.’ Cory thought, ‘I’ve been in smaller countries.’ Land in Argentina is sold by the hectare, that’s about three acres and the Rancho was over ten thousand hectares. About the same size as the ‘Prison’ in Mississippi. It cost about 30 cents a hectare or about a dime an acre.
Cory started construction on the Rancho right away, building and air strip, 150 feet wide and 6000 feet long. While the airstrip was being built he got the house, or hacienda as they call it there, going. It took three months to complete the strip, the hanger, the house, stables and three large barns. Cory had five thousand head of cattle and over a thousand horses. He’d grown up on a ranch but this spread was something else.
One thing that was very different was the cowboys. They called themselves Gauchos and they were fantastic riders. They seemed to be a part of the horse and Lord, did they know cattle. Cory did something that no one else had ever done in Argentina. He watched the men at work and when he was satisfied that one particular Gaucho, a man of about 40, was the hardest working man on the Rancho….he put him in charge, not foreman mind you, Manager. Cory made Raul Ramirez Manager of Rancho Santa Marta. He called him into his office and told him that running Santa Marta was now his job. He gave him the keys to a nearly new Jeep and set up a hundred thousand dollar bank account. Raul went at it like you wouldn’t believe. He hired the staff for the house, something Cory hadn’t even thought of at all, set up a chain of command that would have made Sergeant Major Kelly proud and started introducing Cory to some of the more influential civilians and more importantly, the major Military figures.
One day about three months after he started running the show, Cory and Raul were in Raul’s office looking over the books, when he asked Cory a strange question. ‘What was your rank in the Military?’
When Cory told him that he had been a Colonel in the U.S. Army, Raul smiled and said. ‘I don’t suppose you know a man named ‘Gator Bait’ do you?’
‘Jesus,’ Cory thought, ‘those fucking guys were still taking care of me.’
Raul explained that he had been a Sargento Mayor in the Argentinian Cavalry, had retired and had become a part of an organization of military men who resettled the MIA’s in Argentina and other countries across the world. He told Cory that three of his Gauchos were ex-Green Berets of Mexican birth. Cory had Raul bring them in and they settled down to beers as he began to build his own private milita unit. He had one ex-Captain and two NCOs. Cory sent a message to the group in the U.S.through Frank Moseleys newspaper in Los Angeles. He told Frank that he needed two pilots for the Navajo and five days later Sam Jones and Terry Smith (Jesus, what origionality) showed up. Jones stood there at attention and barked,
‘Sir,Captain Jones reporting for duty with a party of two.’
Cory had his Air Force.
Cory had two missions now. First he wanted to live as well as possible, and second he wanted his sons with him. He wanted Shirl’s folks down there too so they could live out their days in peace. They put the plan into action just before Christmas.
Gator was the man in charge of the whole group now. He controlled the money and set up any operation that needed to be done. He was a pro and he set up the whole scheme like the pro he was. Gator sent in three of Mad Joe McCauley’s boys to Johnny and Martha’s neighborhood selling magazine subscriptions. They carried a note to Johnny, telling him to meet Gator and Mad Joe at the 7-11. Johnny had met Gator once when they were at Cory and Shirl’s place, before the unit had shipped out to Nam. Cory had told Johnny that if anything happened to him, or if he ever heard from Gator, to trust him and give him time to explain
Anastasia
- 15.07.2021
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