Once I arrived I heard countless stories of butchery and murder at the hands of Ba'athist intelligence agents and sometimes just for kicks on the part of Sadaam's loyalists.  The Khurds had even worse to tell. I daily had conversations with Iraqi Arabs, one in particular from Fallujah who told me frankly that his tribe was nuts and even he couldn't see that till he lived in Baghdad for a while and began to see the contrast between the people there and the people of Fallujah.

But I couldn’t judge.  I was crazy my own self.  And I discovered that if I wanted to keep having “fun” like I had in the states, I’d need a new compartment to have my rendezvous in. 

Finding a place was easy. The empty storage unit was the only room in the entire base where there was a bed and no windows.  But even though this room was never used they kept it guarded.  And they kept it guarded not because it was valuable, but to give local Iraquis something to do.  The common belief was that the people of Iraq would be on better terms with us if they felt they were somehow a part of what we Americans and so on were doing. 

And this was why an empty, useless room was being guarded by a gun-wielding Iraqi kid. 

The room was halfway along the corridor. I shook my head sadly. There was no way he could reach the youthful guard without being seen. The kid was sure to raise an alarm. That wouldn't do. I had to find another way.

So I plucked a quarter from my belt. Standing the coin on edge, I let it roll. The sound carried well in the silent corridor. It attracted the boy's attention. The boy looked around. When he was satisfied everything seemed safe, he went to the corner where the coin had ended up.

He's only a kid, I reminded myself … but then I also reminded myself that he was a kid with a loaded Beretta, and he'd use it without thinking twice about it!

The boy bent to pick up the coin. I tapped his shoulder. The boy looked up. I knocked him down.  Then dragged the unconscious kid out of sight of the door and tied him up with his own rifle strap.  I popped the Beretta's magazine and ejected the bullet from the barrel.  Then I opened the door to the room the kid had been guarding.  It wasn’t even locked!

And inside it was the perfect place for me to have future “encounters”!

Then I went on the hunt for Adrian … and when I found him he was getting his ass kicked by no less than three grunts!

I had no idea that some of his fellow soldiers held a grudge against him for getting them in trouble in the mess hall.  Several privates had actually been accused of rioting sparked by Adrian’s announcement that there was rat meat in the soup I’d made. And now those accused men were out revenge. 

As I entered a remote locale on our base in As-Sweera, my heart leapt into my throat. Three young privates had Adrian against the wall and were beating him while a sergeant looked on.

Grabbing Adrian by the back of his shirt, a big soldier slammed the boy into the wall and watched in satisfaction as the rusty-haired youth slid limply down to the floor.  Then he pulled the youth to his feet and began choking the shit out of him.  I grabbed the brute’s arm that was choking the rusty-haired object of my affection and twisted it cruelly. The grunt screamed as the pain ripped into his shoulder. I smiled as he heard the telltale 'pop' as the arm was dislocated. Only then did he release the arm and shove the kid away. The other soldiers had already fled the scene. 

I caught Adrian as he slumped unconscious against my chest. I eased the boy onto a nearby bunk and began to check him for injuries. My hands pulled off his shirt and laid it aside. With a knowing touch, I checked the ribs and found none broken. He would be badly bruised but that would pass in a few days. Adrian’s face was swollen from the blows to the head.

As I was about to carry the kid to the infirmary, I suddenly realized that I had the unconscious object of my affection lying right before me once again. This was an opportunity that I had to exploit! So I slung him over my shoulder and transported him to my new “encounters” room. 

One there I lay the kid down and sniffed his sweaty body for a bit.  I could have eaten him right then and there!

Anyway, after making sure that Adrian was really unconscious, I piled pillows at his waist to block his view of the foot of the bed. Then, I made myself comfortable on the floor with his combat boots hanging off the bed at chest level. I gently untied his left boot and eased it off. Both his socked foot and his boot were warm and they smelled of leather and sweat. Keeping my nose just back from is unprotected toes, I inhaled as deeply as possible to get every bit of that wonderful smell which I can still remember so clearly.

After a few minutes, I removed his other boot and carefully pulled off both socks. I rubbed his feet up and down, causing him to giggle and beg me to stop. I pulled his socks off and marveled at the soft, uncalloused flesh of his young feet. Softly kissing and licking along the soles of his feet, I stopped as I reached the knocked-out boy’s toes and sucked tenderly on them.  He moaned loudly in his unconsciousness, a sure sign of his enjoyment … even if he wasn’t awake. 

After a while I quietly left the boy alone and settled in on the floor beside the bed.  There I spent the next hour sniffing his socks and shoes while I got myself off.  And I was still sniffing his socks when I noticed that Adrian had regained consciousness and was trying to leave my secret hideout!

"L-let me out of here!  Wh-what’s going on? Where am I?" He asked, as he tried desperately to open a door that I had rigged to open only for ME.

He looked at me, and I guess he saw what was in my eyes because the kid suddenly got more pale, his blue peepers went wide with fear.  I dropped the socks I had been sniffing and began to walk slowly to him. He could sense something wasn't right, but he just stayed and watched me until I pounced on him and bit his throat--the first bloody spray from the artery shot down my throat and all over my dark skin and his fair skin.

While he was going into shock over that, I took my fist and punched him in his rusty head.   Hard.  He shook and trembled as the force of the blow ate into his brain, and then he dropped to the floor.  I pulled out my knife and watched as his body did this weird dance on the floor—jerking.  Almost like he was doing a dance.

Adrian Drake died within minutes, but I’m not sure if it was from a loss of blood, or the blade wound in his head.  

I then lay down on the blood-smeared floor and pulled my face over towards Adrian’s and began to slowly lick the private’s lifeless face and his cheeks. I placed his hands on the senseless soldier’s waist and began to fondle his motionless body with them. I moved my position slightly, and kissed all over Adrian Drake’s slack out cold face.  

While still rubbing the rusty-haired boy’s limp body with my arms, I began to lightly bite the senseless boy's cheeks; pulling skin up with my teeth and biting it off.  Oh the pleasure of biting off his fair skin and rubbing it with my tongue and savoring it’s flavor in my mouth!  Soon I moved his mouth down to Adrian’s damaged neck and began to lick and kiss the bloody wound there.  

All over the unconscious lad’s body I would use my teeth to pull a tiny piece of fair skin upwards, and bite it off!