“Look grandpa, you’re older than dirt,” Alyssa pointed out as she showed me a handful of compost.
I smiled and then whacked her playfully with the back end of my trowel. She clutched her head with both hands and ran in a little circle around me, her yellow rain boots squishing the earth beneath her feet as she gleefully yelled, “Man down, man down!”
Hmm.
Those were simpler times then. When a nice day and an Otterpop could make everything better. I took one last swig of the Jim Beam that had been cuddling at the end of my shot glass and began to wander back to the party. From the corner of my eye I could see my daughter and her husband arguing. Alyssa’s grandmother, my wife, she was seen crying at an adjacent table, and yet the dance floor moved its feet and the DJ played his set.
I walked past a table of vets and they were eerily quiet. Some how tonight they reminded me of the old buggers from World War 2 that we tried to distance ourselves from. We and them, we fought wars, but for those who served in Vietnam, there was always a difference. World War 2 vets were heroes, and we were the losers.
But somehow tonight, it seemed as if they threw me the same vibes as so long ago from that table where the heroes looked at us. So I just kept walking. If my pops were alive he’d say, “Everything comes full circle, no one starts off that way but time weathers us until we’re flat as paper and willing to accept the writings of anyone.” Sure he meant for this to mean to take God’s word and not the devil’s, but that was a long time ago and he’s too dead to complain how I want to interpret it now.
I kept walking the sidelines of the dance floor, the music being played was 30 years too different for my tastes. Not that these old hips could keep up with that beat even if they wanted. My sister had thrown a family gathering, she even invited all the vets, we were using the Foreign War Post building after all. When I passed her she gave me a look out of the corner of her eye before making her way towards me, but what happened was, she was blocking my way to the side door.
I’ve known this woman all my life, and she’s known me mine, and in a few glances we said all we had to say and she stepped to the side a bit. Putting her hand on my back gently as I passed by. I opened the side door and stepped out into the cool autumn breeze of the twin river’s city.
At the bottom of the steps was my Alyssa, except she wasn’t really Alyssa anymore. I closed the door behind me and reach around in my pockets emptily, “You wouldn’t happen to have a flask on yah, would you?”
Alyssa stood up quickly and turned to face me.
Alyssa’s hair was short, almost spiked, and the boots from the ground up told me that this was a soldier. “Is that a no or a yes,” I complained. I kept rummaging my pockets until I had found what I was looking for. I sat myself down on a step and took a swig, I offered a swig.
Standing in a near petrified state, Alyssa managed to say, “Grandpa…”
If the alcohol hadn’t already numbed my face, I’m sure there would have been an expression. For a moment my little Alyssa didn’t know if it was better to play it off and act as if I were looking into the eyes of a stranger, hoping that the booze had dulled my senses or call me Grandpa. It’s a solemn moment that I drowned out with another swig.
“What is it squirt?”
Damn. The bulk of soldiery broke down on my old shoulder and cried as if the hoover dam had been cracked wide open. Sobbing and heaving as if having been trapped alone on a deserted island.
When he finally pulled back from me, I patted him on his little head. “Who taught you how to cry? It’s terrible.”
He laughed between gulps of air.
“Ain’t you ever seen them movies? The man is suppose to stand there and let one visine induced trickle come out of his eye, and then blame it on the dust.”
He laughed again, and we talked. I listened, and he talked. It went on this way for awhile until we both just sat there, his head on my shoulder as he sat a few steps below and we just watched the night drowning us out, flooding me into memories that seemed like lifetimes ago.
“Before your grandma I fell in love.”
He stirred slightly, “What? With whom? I thought you guys were high school sweethearts.”
I laughed, “I suppose we did date in high school, but then the war took me away.”
He paused, knowing that I never liked to talk about the war. I still don’t, but I felt he needed to hear this story.
I had been in Vietnam for almost 2 years by now, the war was mostly over, a few unlucky souls were still sent into the killing fields, but the Geneva accords were likely only a few months away. Our leaders had told us we accomplished what we needed to do, to protect the balance of communism and democracy, and with the split of Vietnam, the balance of the world views still hung in place. There was some truth in that, but really, it was a quiet war against the Chinese, one without atomic weapons, to see how we would do if pitted against each other, heightened with the back drop of a divided country who partially supported them and then partially supported us. Neither side liked what happened and casualties were boundless, so a different act of war would be waged, an economical war, but that’s a different story.
So there I was in the heart of the jungle, young, drunk, American, with American money. I had emptied a few barrels that day, and passed out on the streets. When I came to, the moon hung high in the sky and the smell of food drew my stumbling figure out of the alley. I paid a young boy a nickel to get me a basin of water and then cleaned myself.
I saw her between splashes of water, she was slender, and creamy as milk. Her hair broke through like night on snow. And her eyes were like large almonds. Her face was perfectly smooth, and in my years I had not seen a beauty quite like hers.
She looked at me and asked in Vietnamese if I would like a bath instead of watering myself on the side of the street like a donkey. I chuckled as I nodded. She led me into the establishment she worked at and then proceeded to take off my clothes. She ran a hot bath and dropped some petals into the war and then motioned for me to climb in.
“Grandpa…why are you telling me a story about a pro you visited during the war?”
“Will you just shut up and listen.”
She ran a cloth along my body, scrubbing away the dirt and muck, her fingers traced my shoulders and she asked me, “Are you okay?”
I nodded.
“Is this okay,” she asked again.
Again, I nodded.
“You see squirt, when they ask you that it’s not asking if you’re okay with the temperature of the water or the quality of the service. It’s to ask if you’re okay with them having been once a man.”
He laughed, “No way. What? Really grandpa? How come you never told me.”
I took another swig, “Didn’t think anyone ever needed to hear it.”
He looked at me and said, “So wait, did you sleep with her?”
“Bath houses and brothels were different.”
“Oh, so you couldn’t sleep with her.”
“Oh no, I slept with her.”
We both laughed. Sure, we talked some more and the night ended. He kissed me on my cheek before leaving. And my son-in-law drove my wife and I home. On the drive back my mind wandered back to my days of youth and the beauty I had met there.
I found out her name was Ahn Quyen. She had transitioned early on, at 8 or 9 if I remembered correctly. I visited her several times at the bath house and finally on one occasion I could not stand it anymore.
She was running her fingers along the spine of my back, working her hands along the ridges of my shoulders, her creamy arms draped around my neck as they contrasted to the orange shades of hair on my chest. Her face was just behind my ear and I could feel her breathing cooling my neck. And I turned to kiss her.
Ahn seemed surprised for a moment, but then closed her eyes and kissed me back. She fingers ran through the hairs on my chest until she found my cock in her hands. She stroked me gently as I grew in her fingers. I pulled her into my lap and the water splashed around us. My hands found her nipples and I rubbed them lightly in my fingers, kissing her neck as she ground her ass into my cock. My mouth hungrily found a nipple and I was pleasantly surprised at the size of her chest filling my cheeks. She moaned and I grabbed her throat. If the proprietor had heard us, we would be in all sorts of trouble. I could get reported to the base for having sexual intercourse with they would deem as a man, she could get physically reprimanded by her boss, all problems of our time.
She seemed to like my hand on her throat because she moved to position me inside of her. I could feel her opening squeezing the length of my cock and as my hands moved around her waist they brushed against her penis. It felt solid along the back of my hands, throbbing. She moved my hand away as quickly as I had brushed it. She motioned for me to stand up and then took me into her mouth. I looked down and could see her arm stroking herself as she filled her throat. Her jaw was strong and powerful, I almost came right there. I think she sensed it as well because at that moment she released me from her mouth, a trail of saliva left along with it, running down her chin. She got out of the tub, her back facing me as she bent herself over the counter nearby.
I quickly found myself behind her, pushing the tip of my cock into her ass, I found it to be moist as if lubricated, something she must have done. I opened her up and watched her gasp, she gripped the counter as I pushed her the lips of her anus taunt. I stopped to let her catch her breath, but instead she wiggled her tiny waist deeper into me, attempting to engulf my member. She reached a hand behind her and stroked my cock and said, “Deeper.”
I obliged and pushed on until my balls met the gait of her legs. She moaned deeply and ground on the base of my cock. I put my hand on the back of her neck, and another at her waist and began to pump her slender frame, her left leg trembled as I stroked her. Both of her hands were still resting on the counter when I began to quicken my pace, all thoughts of being discovered were gone. I thrust my hips into her and felt her body stiffen, her body gripped my shaft and I could hardly contain myself from exploding inside of her. I grabbed her by the throat and forced my tongue into her mouth, she sucked on my tongue as I ass fucked her, lifting her off her feet and bouncing her thick white cheeks along my waist. She put both of her arms around my neck as I held her in the air, and she stiffened again, her breathing grew hot and I looked down and watched as her throbbing cock shot a load all over the wood wall.
She felt limp, almost sleepy in my arms, her fingers tracing my neck and it felt as if she wanted me to finish. I could have by now at least a dozen times. But this sex was so new to me, forbidden, taboo. I flipped her around and noticed that her hands flew to cover her penis. I moved them away and put them over her head. For a moment I noticed the scars that ran along the bottom, she had been castrated, but her cock still hung at her waist.
I grabbed her waist with both hands and plunged myself into her body, she began to stir and work her hips. I reached a hand and grabbed her chest, then pushed my palm flat against her sternum. I ran the length of my palm down her belly and then grasped her cock in my hand. She looked at me, her eyes soft and tender, for a moment, as I began to stroke her cock. She grabbed my arms, her hands unable to wrap around my triceps. She grew hard in my hands. I squeezed and I stroked it, feeling the length in my hand and exciting the glands underneath the head. Soon a streak of red ran from her cheeks to the bridge of her nose.
“Wait,” she moaned. “Wait.”
And that’s when she came again, there wasn’t much, but it shot onto her flat belly. I kept stroking her cock and watched her wither and squirm underneath me and I felt my balls tighten as her cheeks rubbed against them with each twist. I felt a testicle climb up as I began to release load after load of hot sperm into her. I had all but become immobile and she took this cue to continue grinding her hips along the length of my cock until I had truly been emptied. I remember collapsing on her, she stroked my hair as I grew soft inside of her.
It seemed as if I had fallen asleep, the cooling effects of the water drying woke me. She kissed me on my cheek and then slid herself out. I caught the image of my white sperm leaking out of her hole. She didn’t say anything but proceeded to put her clothes back on. She motioned for me to get back into the tub, which I did, and then she washed me clean. Scrubbing my body again and scrubbing my cock, getting the folds of my skin.
When we had finished and stood up, I looked at her and in a moment of stupidity I blurted, “Will you come back home with me?”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/feimu2/tune_of_the_drum_mt