Do they hurt less than those of love?War wounds. Nicole

Do they hurt less than those of love? War wounds. Nicole woke me up with a kiss on the mouth and a squeeze on the hand. crotch. As soon as I felt the taste of his lips on mine and his fingers closing on my sex, I opened my eyes and after a jump I surrounded her with my arms and pressed her against my body, with such emotion that I did not notice her nakedness and I forgot that I was in a concentration camp, a place where visitors They were, more than prohibited, punished. It had been who knows how long since I had seen her, I hadn't seen her. had this close, his sex glued to mine, since that distant day when I I joined the army at the insistence of my mother, who never tired of telling me that another opportunity like that to make something of my future would not present itself to me. And so, somewhat foolish and lacking in decision as I have always been, I listened to his advice and wrote my name on the black list, stained from its beginnings by oil, which, according to those who, unlike me, know or say they know, is the because I and other unsuspecting people are here, far from our families, far away from our girlfriends, far from Nicole, who God knows how but hugs me with more force than the fire of those bullets that I can't stop hearing, buzzing like flies around me, whispering insults that I know I deserve but I don't want to. listen because I don't need them to feel the shit I feel, here, sleeping with twenty other naked men that I have not deigned to meet to not to be sad if they leave, not back but no longer back, with the boots ahead. So I no longer remember when we landed in this country. that we were supposed to free and that I see it more and more sunken, buried by those deaths that day after day are reported on another list even blacker than the one I I wrote down my name and in which sometimes I would like to appear, so as not only forget the time that has passed since my arrival or my departure, depending on how you see it, but about everything, about everyone, but not about my Nicole, who that night in the store slipped away and with his caresses he woke me up, who is here with me tonight She is naked just like me, ready for us to make love. But wait a moment, How did it get to my bed? Is it not my love? Could it be that it is one of the others who finally comes to erase me from the battalion? I don't know, we will have to ask him. Who are you? I ask him. It's me, Nicole. He answers me. And how do I know you're not lying to me? How is it that up to this point you have arrived if you have never left Los Angeles? How do I know you don't want kill me? It's not that death seems like a bad option to me, but what cruelty it is. yours to dress up as my Nicole. No, you're not my Nicole. you are not my Nicole. I repeat without stopping and grabbing my head, about to explode. Calm down, my love. Of course I'm your Nicole, yours and nothing else. Come, touch me and you will see that you convince yourself, touch me and you will see how you you turn on She asks me, taking my wrist and bringing my hand to her breast. left, my favorite. It feels rich. I say nothing more. And wait until you feel both. He presumes me. Yes, you are my Nicole. Already secured with both hands holding onto her breasts, already with my fingers playing with her nipples and the tingling, boiling my balls. You see, who else would it be but me? Who puts it on you? so, my love? Question surrounding my member, effectively erect. Ask surrounding my member and kissing me madly, throwing me on the bed, forgetting everything. And so, with his dark complexion and his thin figure sheltering me, I I feel at home, as if I were back on my mattress, the one I already some springs jumped from having witnessed so much action. And it is that Before my Nicole arrived I was a complete conqueror, a female who I liked it, a female who passed by my bed and after her I got rid of her, like a old rag, like a simple object, but that was before her, because since I ran into her in the center and I haven't looked at anyone else since. It's just that she is everything for me and I missed her dearly since I got on the plane that would bring me to here. I always dream of getting on a plane and when I do it is to one of the army, destined for I don't know where and who knows when I will return. How lucky dog mine, but now she is with me, on top of me, stroking my cock and kissing my mouth, making me feel at home, like I was in I return to my room, the one decorated with "Las Chivas" t-shirts and flags and Pokémon posters. And don't laugh or make fun of me because I'm practically a child. When all this started I had barely turned eighteen and I don't know how many I have now, as I said before, I don't keep track of the days, but I I don't think I'm over twenty, unlike my penis that so many times I gave the opportunity to fuck and at this moment my Nicole masturbates like only She knows, exactly how I like it, with that desire that makes it in her hand finish and then she swallows my semen to start riding her, because yes, I have good stamina. How I missed you my Nicole. I say in his ear along with other nice words. Me too, my Pancho. She tells me without stopping masturbate And my tongue reaches up to his throat and arms grow out of me everywhere, those necessary to cover it entirely because although skinny it is fleshy and how I like that, how the condemned woman excites me, how her soft skin turns me on and her little caramel mouth, the one where my tongue is not stuck, the one where her honey spills over my legs wanting more, just like me, just like that member that does not stop rubbing and that cries in rivers begging inside her be. And we settle down trying not to make noise, so as not to wake up the others because she is only mine and everyone is so hungry. We are putting ourselves in cautiously, but I think they heard us, one of my colleagues gets up, the only one who, despite the devilish heat, does not sleep naked what I see It approaches us and we can no longer stop. Wait a minute, I don't know that guy, where the hell does he come from? has it come out? It's one of the others. Yes it is. How the hell did he sneak into the camp? Where did you get that gun that makes mine look small? It's targeting us. No, it's pointing at her, at my Nicole. He shot him, I know because he has stopped caressing me, he noticed it because even though I don't hear anything, I feel his blood stain my bed, I feel his spirit invade the air and take away the usual marijuana aroma. He shot my Nicole and now he's aiming at me my. I can see the hate in his eyes and like I'm dying, but it's still The bullet needs to pierce my skull after entering between my eyebrows, I still need to hear that hum that is already like a guest in my mind and here it comes. There I already see the projectile, as if in slow motion, approaching me, giving me time to relive my life in fleeting images but I remember nothing, I just hope, May the impact occur and end my ordeal, the one I entered into for advice. of my mother and my idiocy. There I already see the bullet, I can almost smell it. Here comes the bullet, He slowly approaches my face. Here comes the bullet and I don't even shed a tear I spill Here comes the bullet and I'm awake now. It was all a dream: my Nicole, her nudity, mine, the stranger, his gun, the blood and that ending so times expected. It was all a dream, one that repeats itself night after night but nothing It doesn't fulfill me anymore, nothing else excites me. And so, excited despite the scare, I walk to the toilet, to the dirty latrine that with so many soldiers and so much crappy food is barely enough. I walk with my head down and my dick high, as it gets to me every night, every afternoon and every morning. In short, all day. I walk with the photograph of my Nicole in one hand and in the other the contained desire for a good handjob, which is the only thing that has prevented blow my brains out. Francisco, Pancho to the guys, left the grocery store. campaign without any clothing to cover his tremendous erection, so powerful that he could not It seemed like he had just woken up because of that nightmare that had tormented the last nights, that horrible dream in which he saw his Nicole, just before making love to him and without knowing what hurt more: feeling like the life of his love was going away or he would not be able to break, again, with his long period of carnal abstinence. He walked to the outhouse, caressing the portrait of his girlfriend with his right hand and simulating masturbatory movements with his left. He opened the door and the unbearable stench that fell upon him He almost got poisoned. He had to resort to the trick that one of his companions, Alfonso, showed him months ago: pluck a few herbs, put them in your nose and breathe through your mouth. I call Francisco that way because I'm not his buddy, he didn't like that peculiar custom at all, but he seemed preferable to enduring that pestilence caused by the mixture of the intestinal waste from the battalion, that aroma produced by the excrement of all those companions fed on pasta that they didn't know about not even one ingredient because no one dared to ask, nothing else was They crossed themselves and while they ate they prayed that they would not be whipped in the dining room, not because death seemed like a bad option to them, but because that way of being embraced for her it was undoubtedly shameful. "He died while swallowing that pasta they served in the dining room at all hours because no one repeated a dish and there was plenty of it, that pasta whose ingredients have never been revealed," they would tell their families and they They would cry, more than for knowing they were three meters underground, for not having heard: "died in combat, defending his country", as if they were truly fighting for their homeland, as if it were a source of pride to die for it when it had never been done before. sense of theirs, when some were not even born there. So Francis plucked a bunch of grass and He introduced it into his two nostrils. As soon as he set foot inside the latrine, which by the way landed on a brown stain that was not exactly chocolate, made by which the dirtiest of their vocabularies came to light, He started breathing through his mouth. He cut a few squares of toilet paper, He placed them around the hole that served as a cup and sat down ready to drink. lowering the fever with hand shakes. He held the photograph of his Nicole to a piece of tape permanently stuck to the door. He wasn't the only one He woke up in the middle of the night wanting a shake. With both hands free, he set out to satisfy himself, in the same way that every night that he had free since that distant day when he arrived in that hell of hydrocarbon flames. With his left he stopped his penis at the base, it was a bit difficult to manipulate him because of how generous nature had been with him. With his right hand he slowly released the tip, retracting the layer of skin that It enveloped her and enjoyed every millimeter that was exposed. Once The head was completely in the air, it began with a patient and gentle journey along the trunk, barely touching it with the tips of your fingers, over and over again, up and down, sighing as he imagined that it was his Nicole who was doing his job. job. There was not a hair that did not stand up, nor a pore that did not open. In He really enjoyed masturbating, it was an escape, more than for his desire or his semen, for his mind, about to get lost among so many bullets, among so many dead and among so many doubts. As she continued to massage his member, she began to remember, that day when he met who from the first moment he knew would be the love of his life, an afternoon that, despite being further away than the one in which arrived in the paradise of mysterious pasta and scented latrines, he had good present, as if it had been yesterday. I was walking towards my house, after a morning of arduous work much more torturous than normal, when our lives intersected. As typical romantic movie scene, we were both distracted and we crashed into the bump into a corner. I was going north, she was coming from the west and destiny brought us together Now that I remember it, after so much time, it still seems to me magical. We stayed without saying anything, just looking at each other. She to me and I to her, both without blinking. My heart was beating very loudly and I could hear his doing the same. People walked past us and laughed at us. We don't mattered. I'm surprised I noticed it, because its beauty was such that it stole my eyes. senses and reason. I couldn't help but sigh and it was the slight sound of my mouth expelling air which woke us up. We introduce ourselves: "Hello, I'm Francisco, Pancho for the guys," I told her, "nice to meet you, I'm Nicole," she told me, and The words escaped us again, but it was not necessary to say a single one. As if we were communicating mentally, as if we had maintained an extensive conversation by telepathy, he accepted without saying yes the proposal that I had never I became my girlfriend. We kissed for who knows how many minutes or maybe hours. By the time our lips were no longer joined, the sun had already set. hidden and the moon illuminated his face making him look even more beautiful. I went back to breathe, we kissed again and I walked her home. We say goodbye with another kiss and agreeing that we would see each other the next day, to go buy a ice cream at the mall. Francisco increased the speed with which his fingers ran across the along his cock, and it began to move like a dying snake because the left no longer stopped it at the base, it had moved a little higher: to one of her nipples, which he pinched furiously, as if they were teeth of her Nicole those around her. The animal between his fingers began to spit out its whitish poison and he continued remembering, that was his first time, as in truly felt that night when his love was given to him, on the dirty floor of that carpentry shop where he worked from eight to five and from Monday to Saturday, receiving as payment a few dollars that were barely enough to get by carrying and with which he had to settle for a better job and without papers don't even think about it. Roberto, my boss, as undocumented as me but with more years of being one that translated into a "less worse" position, left me in charge of the business because he had to go out to pick up some merchandise. I said yes to immediately, with the idea in mind of picking up my Nicole. I just heard the noise of the engine of my boss's car driving away, and I called my princess, like I called her when we were alone, in intimacy. She then told me yes and went to the changarro, dressed in such a provocative way that I barely recognized her. She was wearing a tiny skirt that didn't cover more than two fingers under the pants, which without any effort I could verify was colored red, and the blouse was no less shameless, the fabric was so transparent that it could guess the contour of her erect nipples imprisoned behind her and asking her to my mouth to be sucked. I couldn't stop wondering how it was that no one raped me when I saw her walking down the street dressed like that, when she told me I jumped on top and began to undress her, desperately: tearing off buttons and giving him bites. She didn't stay still, she soon pulled down my pants and took hold of my cock, which was already rock hard and throbbing faster than our hearts. She made a greedy face when she discovered my dimensions and I became even more horny when I saw her wet her lips with her tongue. Am I going to eat all this? He asked. Yes, all that is for you. I answered him. Oh, how delicious. I got wet just imagining it. ? He exclaimed. He shouldn't have said that. The image of her sex dripping Just thinking about being penetrated by mine drove me completely crazy and so, without previous caresses, I fulfilled his fantasy. I gave it to him to the bottom and without hesitation, without stopping to ask if it hurt, to which fortunately his moans They responded negatively. How beautiful everything was. I never get tired of remembering it and masturbate in the name of it. I never get tired of remembering it and… Francisco could no longer contain the imminent volley. The images that were drawn in his mind of that first time with his Nicole They were so pleasant, and the violent movements of the right on his increasingly swollen member were so fast, that all that liquid rising from his testicles it was finally expelled. After a loud scream that It helped him not to faint due to the intensity of the orgasm that He shook, he came as if he hadn't done it the night before, he came thinking about the love of his life and staining his hand, the floor and the photograph. Then he closed his eyes for a few minutes, while his breathing slowed. normalized With his hand, foot and photograph clean, he left the latrine and walked back to the store. He went to his mattress, dodging from memory the obstacles: Jhon's boots in the middle of the hallway, Kevin's suitcase hanging from one of the bunks and the machine gun mount raised just behind a few centimeters from his bed. He was about to go to bed when he heard the voice of the commander. "Get up, you faggots, I have something to tell you. Tomorrow I will get rid of you. Tomorrow they are going home," he said and everyone They began to jump and shout with joy, everyone began to hug each other and celebrate, everyone except Francisco. He dropped onto the covers and tried to sleep despite the bustle, as if trying to regain strength, as if He felt that returning home, to his bedroom decorated with posters of Pokémon, wouldn't it be a good thing, as if he knew something bad would be waiting for him upon his return. During the time I spent away from home I thought I would feel a thousand and one things when I returned, but now I realize, with some fear and confusion, no. I'm standing in front of the door of the only place I've ever known, from the only home I have ever lived in and it is as if it were still far away, something very strange that escapes my reason, like almost everything in this world for which more than two neurons need to be used. I am a few steps away from see my mother again and it's hard for me to raise my hand and press the ring. I don't know what's wrong with me. I dreamed many times about this moment and now that It has finally arrived, it terrifies me. I must do it. I have to press the bell, but no I can. I don't dare and it's not necessary anymore since my mother has opened the door. door. Rosa, what I called her before I left and how I can't today call her no matter how much I try to open my mouth, she looks at me without believing I'm here, in front of her. Their eyes lock onto mine, they tell me that they doubt they are seeing me. actually and they make me having come back even more difficult than it already was. Wants speak, he wants to tell me all those things that before he had to keep to himself because I he was far away and nothing more from time to time and with a little luck he looked at me television, or maybe not even that, I can't know since I wasn't here, with She also keeps quiet. So long without smelling that cinnamon aroma that takes off his clothes, so many days without showing him that mole next to my mouth that so much likes it and no one who takes the first step, no one who extends the arms and in the end it is she who opens them to me and I launched myself, like when he was just a kid, like when he lost sight of her for a few seconds and thinking of myself alone and forgotten I started to cry. How good your hug feels. How comfortable it is to recharge my face on her shoulder, but at the same time it hurts me, it makes me feel alien to her and everything that my eyes can see. Why do I feel like this? Why can't I enjoy it? I don't know and I don't want to know because it scares me. "Mom: take me inside. Pour me a cup of hot chocolate and give me one of those cookies nutty flavor that I hope you still prepare," I tell him without moving my tongue, with the simple sound of my agitated breathing and she who soon pays attention to me, she who without Hesitating shows me the way to the kitchen as if I didn't know him, as if I would have forgotten it. We slide until I sit at the table and until she have a glass, my glass, the one that I used to like as a child and that I don't like today it means nothing. Pour a little coffee into it in the absence of chocolate and on a plate places a piece of bread because cookies have not been baked for months, but What would I know, I was walking through the paradise of dirty latrines and permanent whirring of bullets. Oh, grain coffee. I barely tolerated it and now that I It tastes like the nectar of the gods, God knows how he knows that. I already missed bread homemade crumbling between my tongue and my palate, as much as I missed my mother but less than it bothers me the way she looks at me, as if I inspect to realize that I really am his son, that I really am his Pancho, the one who liked to play with balls of yarn as if he were a cat. His eyes roam me up and down, checking each of my movements, to see if they are the same as they were before my departure, which was due to insistence and my lack of decision. I don't like that he does it. It bothers me that observe that way and continue without saying a word, as if in addition to feeling it a strange it was too. Why don't you speak? Damn it! Why don't you talk and tell me you're happy I'm back or give me the ticket to board the plane back to that hell? Why don't you speak? Can't you see that I don't want Am I the first to do it because I no longer have a topic of conversation with you? That Don't you see that asking anything makes me afraid because the answer could confirm that I am indeed no longer a stranger to your world? What don't you see? What is not Do you suppose that mothers know their children so well that they read their minds? Lies. Bullshit. I think that you no longer know anything about me, you already know nothing about me. I've been away for so long that maybe you don't even remember my name and it gives you shame on you to call me by one that is not correct. I should be the one to start the chat. I must be the one who spits out the first sentence even if I don't want to, even if It caused me to panic. Where is my sister? I finally dare to ask him. What no - interrupts the sentence - sorry, I forgot that was in the war, why doesn't he say it? - your sister must be in his house. A few days ago he came to get his things, when he returned from his honeymoon. Honey. Have you already married? It's true, I've been away for so long that I had forgotten. She must have looked beautiful in her wedding dress. ? He assured, trying not to cry. Yes, she looked beautiful. Confirms me. And Peter? Where is he? Playing with the son of the neighbor? I question her, running a couple of fingers over my eyes. No. Doña Rosario has long since returned to Mexico and your brother is in school, in kindergarten. He answers me. At school? Has it been so long? It just can't be. ? I say shaking my head and feeling like I no longer belong here. I can't continue talking to Rosa for another second. Have I have to get out, I have to escape from this house that seems more hell to me than that one tent in which he slept along with twenty other naked and unknown men at those who at least did not tie me with a blood tie that I can no longer feel for I try harder, but it still gets tangled around my neck and takes the wind out of me. Need leave, I need to leave and that's how I do it: without hearing the screams of me scared mother, running without looking back, heading to my Nicole's house, waiting with her Yes, I feel comfortable, with her I do feel good. I run without stopping the streets that separate me from her, the blocks that come between our lips, between our sexes, those that They will surely spark when they come together again, when they fit together again. the same perfect way they did before I left, before abandon it. I run as fast as I can and before my eyes the end of days, of my days: the love of my life in the arms of another, in the arms of Billy, that bastard with whom I used to play those summer days on the beach, with the sun on our faces and the sand on our buttocks. As is this happening? How exactly does it happen to me? Because? Couldn't you give me a little more time, God? After this, what's next? Shit, I shouldn't have asked knowing beforehand how you you spend them. How dare that idiot kiss her? Like she's my girlfriend? Is true, I was far away but I'm here and she is mine, mine and no one else's because we love each other We love each other. Why me? I don't know and I'm not going to ask him, no I could bear to hear her say that she has forgotten me, to see her surprise to hear me call her since she doesn't even know my name. I bite my lips to hold back tears. I squeeze them fists so as not to collapse in the middle of the sidewalk. On my way back and at an accelerated pace, so as not to kill her for not having waited for me when she was supposed to love me, when She told me that I was everything to her and now I know that I was an idiot, for having told her I listened to my mother and for being gone for who knows how long, I don't know, Today that matters less than ever to me. I walk back and enter that house that is like an old memory. I go up to my room without answering my calls mother. I let myself fall on the bed and now I start to cry, with pain and a bitterness that Mary herself at the foot of the cross would envy. He took the photograph of that bitch Nicole out of my pocket. He lowered my pants and boxers to my ankles, leaving my hard cock free. of rage, stiff with hatred, of enormous contempt for myself and for the time, the one that when I left didn't stop and made everyone forget me, just like I forgot about them there. With my left I hold his portrait up high and with The right one surrounded my member. I start to masturbate without stopping for a second cry, without stopping for a second that torture that is remembering the image of their lips next to his, those lips that were mine before and now I will only have in dreams, if they come back to haunt my head, surely full of nightmares and bad thoughts. And while my hand runs tirelessly along my penis, I am starting to know the reason for the fight, the reason for that absurd war in which I I went in on the advice of my mother, that woman who knocks at my door and whose I ignore prayers because I no longer know what I feel for her or if I at least feel something. While my fingers go up and down the length of my long cock that is not half long than the path of thorns and sorrows that from today onwards I must surely walk, the answers come to my mind and now I know that neither oil nor homeland are the real reasons, but the loss: that of my time, that of my experiences. While my ducts are filling with semen, the twenty falls on me why I joined the army. Now I can say, without fear of being wrong, that if I got on that plane, that distant day who knows how long ago, It was to say goodbye to everything that I once called my life. I loaded one machine gun to kill time, my time, to shoot the affection that for me family felt, to become a stranger and my feelings towards throw them down the drain. As my cock expels that milk that surely It's sour, I'm understanding everything. Along with the orgasm the light comes to me. I went part of that war to lose the love of my life, my Nicole. To suffer in flesh than a broken heart, will always hurt more than a war wound.