In December 2007 Army Guy called me for the first time.  He was in Iraq at the time; I felt very special that he took the time to call me.  It was the day Seattle Guy was here, so Army Guy had to hear me bitch about the disaster that was the Seattle Guy visit.  This is the email I received soon thereafter.  If I hadn’t already thought Army Guy was fucking amazing (I had seen his photos), this definitely did it.  I still LOVE (and I’ve read this several times) the unexpected transition.  I did not have to edit AT ALL for anything other than identifying information.

Army Guy:


I enjoyed talking to you as well and I’m sorry Fat Seattle Guy showed back up.  I usually hate bystanders capriciously tossing out opinions about my personal life, but I’m going to do it anyway: Where does that pencil-dicked lard-ass get off?

I like the beginnings of relationships.  It’s still full of excitement and mystery and every little thing about the other person is a delightful new discovery.  When you’re exploring your lover’s mind and body, your pulse still quickens and you get that feeling in your stomach, like when you’re climbing up the hill on the roller coaster and are about to take a plunge.  I’ve come to believe that the “courtship” period of a relationship can never end because when it becomes a labor, that’s when people feel like they can take liberties with each other and say disrespectful things.  The mystery and the thrill of the chase is gone.

You didn’t gross me out by using the “cunt” word.  I like saying cock too and have never called a girl stupid when I was fucking her.  I’ve probably thrown the words “filthy fucking whore” around a couple of times, but calling someone stupid isn’t hot.  It’s just insulting.

I want you to feel as free as you care to tell me whatever comes into your depraved mind.  It turns me on to turn you on and gratifies my ego in the particular way I like to be gratified.  If you haven’t gathered by now, I have a high opinion of myself.

I’m going to make my cold drive home now in my unheated HMMWV (Hummer) with no doors.  When I get home and warm up a little, I’m going to remember the cadence and timbre of your voice and imagine myself showing up on your doorstep by surprise.

You’re slightly intoxicated, but only enough to loosen your inhibitions and suspend your disbelief that I’ve paid you a visit.  All the imagery and scenarios I’ve invoked in you are still fresh on your mind as you invite me in.  Out of politeness, you ask me how my trip was.  It was long and fraught with delays, but like any good soldier, I sleep easily in uncomfortable places and can adjust my circadian rhythms easily so I’m not too jet-lagged.

You pour me a glass of wine, for which I’m grateful, as I haven’t had anything decent in nearly a year.  What comes to mind right now because I’m craving it is a Cotes du Rhone in a big glass.  You’re a little nervous, meeting me for the first time, but like it did on the phone, it’s amusing and endears you to me.

We have a seat on your couch and you play some relaxing music.  After making compulsory small-talk (we’re not animals, after all) I put down my wine and slide my hand behind the back of your neck and through your hair.  It feels thick and alien to anything to which I’ve recently been accustomed.  With a little more determination than you thought you would be comfortable, I pull you toward me and kiss you.  Consistent with the slow assuredness of my voice, it’s a relaxing, slow kiss.  I don’t want to kiss you to say I did it.  I want to kiss you to reacquaint myself with the sensations of a woman’s lips: the taste of the wine mixed with your saliva, the smell of your hair that makes me close my eyes and breathe it in.  I slide my other hand behind your back and pull your body against mine.  The soft heat of your breasts pressing against me and the taste of your mouth feels like more of a welcome home than anything anyone could say to me.

Since neither one of us has taken the issue head-on, we’re hesitant to verbalize what we want to do to each other at that moment, but it becomes readily apparent as the urgency of our kiss increases.  We’ve both adjusted to the fact that this is happening and are exploring each others’ bodies in earnest.

The sound of both of us breathing hard through our noses threatens to drown out the anonymous electronic “chillout” music playing on the speakers.  I slide my hands up your sides and you put your arms up so your sweater comes off easier.  When I unhook your bra, I forgo the normal feigned clumsiness I sometimes exhibit so as to not look like a cad.  In one deft motion, it unclasps and I don’t hesitate to taste your bare skin with my tongue.  Your nipples harden as I taste and suck on them. Even as I write this, I can feel a hint of the excitement and quickened pulse I was describing earlier in my letter.

When I push you down onto the couch and begin to unbutton your fly, you begin to feel that same excitement as well.  As considerate as before, you assist me by lifting your butt off the couch so I can slide your jeans and panties off at the same time.

I stand up quickly to slide off my own t-shirt and jeans.  I’m wearing my favorite black David Allan Coe shirt with a drawing of a demonic looking man with fists that say “love” and “hate” tattooed on his knuckles.  It seems a little absurd to you and you giggle at it for no apparent reason, but I slide it off so quickly that you don’t have time to examine it.  When I slide my jeans off (plain faded Levi 550’s) you sit up to see “what you’re working with.”  You see that I’m obviously aroused, as I have a raging hard-on. As to my size, I imagine you’re neither intimidated as to how big I am, nor disappointed.  I’ve never felt inadequate, so I pay no mind to the scrutiny I know you’re paying me.

As to my physique, I honestly can’t say I’m at my physical prime.  In fact, I’m a good 5 years past, but I still have good muscle tone and a nice tan from working out a few times a week and my recent vacation to Palau.

As I behold your naked body lying before me, I can only grin to myself in anticipation.  From what I know of you, I don’t imagine there’s a timid bone in your body and it excites me.  I know what I’m about to do to you and when you look me in the eye, I raise one of my eyebrows mischievously.  Between that and my sideways grin, you know too and it causes you to smile as well.

I plant one of my knees between yours and nudge one of your legs aside…

Fucking HOT!  This makes me want to suck his cock forever.

I swear.  True story.