Using the bed to steady himself, the bandy-legged soldier stepped from his duds, then leaned out the top of the hog pen and looked left and right again. Lila noticed his hands shook as he fumbled the buttons of his shirt. Somewhere in age between grass and hay, he seemed fresh enough to be embarrassed of what he had to offer. She hoped.
The less war he’d fought, the less he’d want to vent his frustration on her body. But plenty of boys had fought in the war and couldn’t find the line between sex and combat. She’d screwed both sides: the Union boys who came to the fort to fight Indians and the Confederate prisoners who joined that fight rather than kill their own. North, South; made no difference when it came to sympathy for her.
Finally. He stood naked before her on the dirt floor that had had its beginning in manure. It didn’t smell so; it just smelled dry. The good think about scorching heat was how quickly it rendered rot to dust.
Lila watched the trembling boy with amusement for a few moments before approaching him. "Hello, soldier," she said. "A little nervous?"
"I guess so, ma'am. Ain't been with a woman since before the war."
"Long time." She took his hand. "North or South?"
He cleared his throat and stared at the dirt on the ground. "Gee, ma'am . . . I was just hoping for straight missionary-style, first. But we can try that kinky stuff later on."
Opening: Kristen F. .....Continuation: Anonymous