The Lucy Ones

Even without the combined heat of battle and sex, their bodies were saturated. Luis had his shirt open to catch any slight breeze that might happen along. Beads of sweat glistened on his chest before trickling away across his stomach. Maria was in similar condition. She picked up one of their water canteens, removed her blouse and poured cool water over her shoulders and breasts.

“Hey!” Luis cautioned. He didn’t want to have to start rationing their water.

She chuckled and splashed some water at him, then tilted her head back, held the canteen above her and poured the last few ounces onto her face, catching as much as possible on her tongue. Luis smiled as he watched his sensuous comrade rinse away the tropical heat.

Their hiding place was an old rock hewn cache twenty yards from the road, concealed behind a curtain of jungle ferns and vines. It was excavated centuries earlier by their ancestors, to hide treasures from Spanish invaders. Now its opening was fortified with sandbags and they were huddled inside. Luis was stretched out on his back, using a knife to carve a cross into the tip of a bullet. Maria sat beside him inserting rounds into their spare ammo belt. She finished filling the belt and glanced outside.

“The bastardos will soon be here.”

Luis didn’t answer her. He rubbed the bullet with his thumb, then held it to his lips and gently kissed its crossed tip.

“Be good my beauty, and carry my message to the lucky one,” he said, before placing the round in the first slot of the main ammo belt.

It was his trademark. Luis loaded a cross-tipped bullet for the opening shot of every skirmish, and never fired it until he was certain his aim was true. He called the recipients ‘the lucky ones’, because they would miss the rest of the battle. Crossed bullets splinter on impact, tearing their targets to shreds.

His grisly habit was well known among the rebels. Edmundo, Christina, Angelica, Para and Cairo the hermaphrodite midget. They all plucked mementos from the lucky ones’ bodies after battles to carry them as lucky tokens. Even their leader, Julio, considered it a bad omen to fire a shot before Luis had dispatched his lucky one.

Luis stretched to insert the main ammo belt in the M-60 machine gun. It was an old U.S. Marine weapon, with two leather training belts instead of the usual disintegrating ammo belts used by the American forces. The Americans had discarded it twenty-five years earlier, but it was rescued from the smelters by an unscrupulous military scrap dealer, who knew there was a market for such trinkets in Cortalia and other Latin American countries.

Maria placed her hand over Luis’ crotch and squeezed his tool through the fatigues. They studied each other seriously. Framing the tip between her thumb and forefinger, she massaged rhythmically to create an erection. It was the start of their ritual of self-preservation; the pact they carried into war.

Luis and Maria didn’t start out as bandits. They were young lovers who dreamt of turning a corner of Luis’ family’s land into a home where they could raise a family. Then the soldiers came, escorting well dressed hombres with legal papers and padlocks. They said Luis’ family had no land title. Property that had been in Luis’ family for many generations was suddenly declared public land by a newly elected Cortalian government. They were evicted and the tract was quickly sold to a multinational agricultural corporation for a new coffee plantation. That started a chain of events that turned their dream of a peaceful love nest into the harsher reality of violent revolution. Now Luis and Maria lived for the moment, understanding that any moment could be their last; determined to squeeze the maximum amount of loving and living out of every minute they had remaining.

Luis was hard. Maria unzipped his fly and fished for his dick. Grabbing it firmly she pulled the organ out and massaged it slowly. She enjoyed the feeling of his foreskin moving up and down over the shaft in her fist. It was like polishing a thick dowel of varnished wood with a piece of soft warm leather.

They heard the drone and clatter of an approaching convoy, and peered out through the foliage. Down the road a column of jeeps, personnel carriers and other vehicles was approaching, sending clouds of dust into the air.

“Look at the fools,” Luis spat, “they might as well wear targets on their shirts and blow trumpets to announce their arrival.”

“Do you see a lucky one?”

Luis squinted through the sunlight beyond the jungle growth. “On the third jeep,” he said after a few moments, “he has binoculars; a sergeant, maybe an officer.”

Maria agreed the lucky one looked very important in his own mind. Luis shifted to lay on his side with a clear sighting down the three foot gun barrel. Maria slid below the line of fire until her face was level with his groin, then clutched his dick and thrust it into her mouth.

The crossed bullet opened the lucky one’s skull like a watermelon. The fight was on. As Maria twirled her tongue around his cock, Luis worked feverishly to drop as many soldiers as possible with every burst of fire. The ancient stone cache became an echo chamber, amplifying the sound of every shell. It made their eardrums sting. Together with the humid jungle heat, the punishing noise numbed their senses; demanded full attention. But their lover’s pact dictated that passion would never be extinguished by the din of death. As long as they owned two more breaths between them, their love and lust would rank equally with their grim duty.

After each deafening roar from the M-60, Maria could hear her lover shouting insults at the enemy. The near panic in his voice told her she was on schedule.

“Eat Satan’s bitter guano in hell!” Luis shouted as he released a volley of lead into three young soldiers dashing for cover. “Half way!” he blurted, his signal to Maria that the main ammo belt was half spent.

Maria closed her eyes as tight as she could, concentrating on staying with him, as he spent the second half of the main ammo belt. The M-60 heated up quickly, driving the temperature in the bunker to well over one-hundred degrees. The scene was surreal. Pungent smoke from spent cartridges gave the inside of the old cache a dreamy atmosphere, despite the shocking heat and noise.

Maria’s mouth was a cauldron. Her tongue rolled, spun, flicked, pressed. The man, the machine gun and the woman, were like one strange beast, existing within an aura of smoke and sweat. This was more than battle; more than sex; more than love. It was a new life form of their own invention, the three segments of which could perform different feats simultaneously and independently, complimenting each other as no previously known life form ever had.

Four slugs from a rapid fire automatic pistol zinged into their stone cocoon. One ricocheted off the wall and bounced off Luis’ shoulder. Another grazed Maria’s calf before burying itself in a sandbag. Both of them lurched with pain, but neither lost control. His firing continued unabated, and her magical maw followed every involuntary move their bodies made.

There was no point in surviving without their lust for life; without each other. They both carried this truth deep in their souls. Cold killing was their duty, but spirited sexual love was their higher calling. Nothing short of death would ever interrupt it.

Outside the stone cache, the ambush blossomed like a pitch black rose. Some victims couldn’t even reach their weapons before a rebel bullet dropped them. Two personnel carriers were crippled by shoulder held rocket launchers, one engulfed in flames even before its tailgates opened. The enemy’s numbers were already reduced by half.

Luis’ shouting grew incoherent, turning into the strained mantra of a masculine human animal. Every fibre of his being was dedicated to some specific purpose, and he was keenly aware of each function. His eyes, upper limbs and shoulders were all hunters; his torso a turbine churning out raw energy; his brain was a super-computer, rotating between calculations of battle and sensuality; the lower limbs were for darting out of the machine gun nest to engage in hand to hand combat is necessary, or to flee if retreat turned out to be more logical. And Luis’ abdomen was to remind him of what was worth all this horror and pain.

The first ammo belt rattled through the machine gun. She was a virtuoso playing his dick like a woodwind. She clasped it with her teeth and sucked, then punished it with her soft tongue before diving down to almost gulp him whole. Over and over she repeated this process. Luis howled as his essence shot into her mouth. Maria swallowed his first salvo, then sucked him dry. His body twitched with spasms of joy as he emptied the last rounds from the ammo belt.

“Done!”

She was off him in a flash, leaving his limp wet member to flounder in the dust. He looked exhausted. Cum trailed from her lower lip to her chin, and glazed one cheek. She slipped on insulated gloves, snatched the spare belt and fed it into the searing hot gun, snapping the breach lock down. The metallic crack brought Luis back to life and the old gun roared again, as Maria worked quickly to refill the empty ammo belt.

***

Cortalia’s national army was not well equipped or highly trained by international standards, but it was much larger and better supplied than the guerrillas. In drawn out battles the army always won, with its reinforcements and fresh ordinances. So the revolution was not a war of attrition but of strategy. Ambushes took place quickly. The rebels identified pressure points in the corrupt regime, applying short spurts of overwhelming force to those targets. Then they would vanish again like ghosts into the jungle. Cortalian newspapers nicknamed them Fantasma a Flamea (Phantoms of Flame).

This particular ambush took a little over eight minutes to complete. Luis emptied less than three belts of ammunition. That together with sniper and rocket fire from his comrades, was sufficient to lay waste to the convoy. The last surviving soldiers fled into the jungle on foot. One officer tried to destroy the fuel and armament stocks before retreating, but only gained a leg wound for his trouble. Christina, the medic of the guerrilla cell, found time to bandage the officer’s wound, before it was time for the rebels to flee with whatever equipment and supplies they could loot.

By eight that evening they were back at their base, an ingenious hideaway that relied more on disguise than concealment. It was an abandoned aboriginal village in a narrow river valley. Superstition and common sense following an outbreak of disease, had driven the original inhabitants into the mountains. Julio and his band of rebels moved in, assuming native costumes and lifestyles. Infantry patrols passed by, or military aircraft buzzed the village looking for bandits, but seeing only a village of peaceful Indians they always moved on without trouble. It was marked as a native settlement on army topographical maps, so the soldiers’ eyes simply confirmed what they expected to find.

Upon their arrival back at the camp, the guerrillas usually paired off to their shacks to switch into native garb. The men wore loin cloths; women either an abdominal wrap tied at the side, or a makeshift gee-string. Adornments made from animal bones added further authenticity. Sometimes they dispensed entirely with the skimpy clothes, and painted designs on their naked bodies instead. Sensuality was rife among the rebels, but nudity also served a security purpose. Some of the guerrillas, like Luis and Maria, had native ancestry. For the rest, keeping themselves well tanned helped affect a convincing native appearance.

On that night Maria and Luis didn’t bother with any of the usual togs or accessories. With the M-60 wrapped in oil soaked rags and stashed away with their other field gear, they walked naked out of their shack and down to the river bank, jumped into the tepid tropical water and began washing the grime of combat from each other’s bodies. Then Luis took Maria in his arms and suspended her in the water. She wrapped her legs around his torso and slid down until his growing erection was touching her vagina. That’s when they heard the familiar throaty cackle of Cairo’s laughter coming from the shore.

The half sized hermaphrodite was standing on a large boulder pointing at them and laughing. The midget saw side splitting humour in everything sexual. He pulled the front of his loin cloth back and shook his dick at them, exploding into another bout of hysterical giggles. The deep red sunset over the village behind him, together with his unusual anatomy, transported Maria’s mind to other worlds.

“You look like a perverted Martian,” she called to him. This only increased Cairo’s gaiety. He pulled the loin cloth off entirely and spun it overhead like a banner, while holding one of his breasts up to lick its nipple.

Luis waded out of the river, with Maria still hanging from him like a horny monkey. At the water’s edge he stopped and kissed her. She tried to maneuver herself onto his penis while keeping a grip behind his neck, but it was useless. Luis also struggled to enter her, but couldn’t without leaning back and ending their kiss. The midget intervened, rubbing Luis’ glans against Maria’s labia and clitoris. With Cairo’s help the couple eventually made their carnal connection. Luis raised her even higher on his hips to gain better balance, and without breaking their kiss began probing Maria’s warm canal with deep thrusts.

Having helped get their vertical intercourse underway, Cairo buried his face in the valley between Maria’s buttocks. The hermaphrodite’s tongue tickled her anus. While Luis plumbed her mouth with his tongue, and her vagina with his penis, Cairo attended to Maria’s bum with his mouth and fingers. She was in ecstasy, a rush of joy spreading fast throughout her body.

Again they heard laughter, this time from further up the bank. It was Para and Angelica heading down to the river for a dip.

“Hold that thought!” Para yelled, before darting into the water.

Maria, Luis and Cairo continued spending their sexual energies together, bestowing most of the benefits upon Maria. She was aware of the presence of the others, but too deeply immersed in pleasure to give them any attention. She kept her legs wrapped tight and her bum perched high, providing both Luis and Cairo with the easiest possible access to her privates. Her head, however, was tossed back in a relaxed position, as she abandoned herself to the rapture they offered.

It wasn’t long before Luis felt a wet body crawling between his splayed legs. He glanced down. It was Angelica, taking the most direct route she could find to Cairo’s erection. Luis smiled. All the women in the guerrilla cell enjoyed sucking the midget’s cock. They were able to take it whole into their mouths, and still have room left to perform with their tongues. The popularity of this pastime was one of the things that made Cairo such a happy hermaphrodite.

Once Angelica had found her position, and was busy pleasuring Cairo, Para joined her doggie style. He kneeled behind her and massaged her pussy. Within seconds he could feel her hot fluid dribbling onto his fingers. Then he eased his tool inside her and started searching for her uterus. The five remained in this configuration for almost fifteen minutes.

With so much attention paid to both of her abdominal openings, Maria was the first to cum. She began flailing her head from side to side, and letting out short husky screams as her sensory organs rushed urgent messages of joy to her brain. Luis ejaculated, but managed to keep his footing throughout his own orgasm. Cairo realised Maria had finally arrived at the pinnacle, and backed away from her buttocks, his face drenched with saliva. Then he turned his attention to his own tits, massaging them like bread dough while Angelica continued to coax the midget’s cum from him.

When he had fully recovered his sense of balance, Luis carefully stepped out of the orgy, still carrying Maria. They laid back in the sand. Maria rested her head on Luis’ thigh and toyed gently with his penis, gradually bringing it back to life, as they watched the remaining threesome labour at their peculiar love.

Para had his eyes closed and was straining to maintain the full contact of his clockwork motion. He could feel the sensual prize growing ever nearer. The intensity of his effort was driving Para to faster and heavier thrusts into Angelica’s dripping cunt, causing her body to jerk violently. She grabbed the midget’s bottom and pulled him tight to her face. His member vanished entirely into her mouth and stayed there.

Minutes passed. Their three sweaty bodies glistened in the deep maroon light of jungle dusk. Cairo stopped kneading his breasts and grabbed Angelica’s hair, pleading with her to keep going. He was close to fulfillment. Para also appeared nearly ready to gush his seminal load into Angelica. With Angelica it was harder to tell. She had no voice to express herself beyond body language, and even that was largely dictated by Para’s pounding thrusts.

“I hope she cums,” said Maria.

Luis grunted in agreement and watched Angelica’s tits swaying like pendulums. With this and Maria’s fingers dancing up and down his joy-stick, Luis was already getting hard again.

Then Cairo let out his familiar scream. Everyone in the village knew when Cairo was having an orgasm. His voice would rise to a falsetto and he would scream with delight. Angelica released him and immediately dropped her head and shoulders to the sand, clawing at the earth with her fingers. She was panting like fury, and loudly moaning with pleasure each time Para probed into her. She’d been silent throughout the orgy, but she was letting herself go at last.

Cairo grabbed his own pecker and pumped out the last drops of semen, squirting them onto Angelica’s back. Like Luis and Maria before him, he then spun away from the final pair and fell wearily into the sand.

It was down to Angelica and Para to complete the marathon. Para was grunting like a bear with every forward push. Angelica had managed to dig the heel of her hand deep enough into the sand to give her added strength against his drives. She was pushing back, helping Para reach deeper and deeper inside her. Then it happened with such a force that the other three all sat up to pay closer attention.

Their words were incoherent, but the eagerness of their cries made it clear the moment was at hand. They grew louder by half with each rapid cycle of their sex organs. Para’s glans were on fire, and Angelica’s clitoris was already singing its orgasm. Then he bellowed and suddenly went rigid, fighting to grab strength for his final thrusts between the pulses of his own massive orgasm. Angelica was gasping and pounding the earth with her palms, as her moment of release spread from her clit throughout her vagina and beyond.

Weary though he was, Cairo had to celebrate. He clambered to his feet laughing like a hyena, and skipped in a circle around the couple, who had collapsed in the sand and were desperately crawling toward to each other’s loving embrace.

***

Over the next three days ground and air patrols scoured the area for traces of the rebels who had ambushed the army convoy. One jeep entered the village, but Julio’s band used their well rehearsed routine to send the soldiers packing. Bandits of genuine native heritage would approach the soldiers, begging desperately for food and medicine to fight off an epidemic in their village. The rest would stand off at a distance eying the intruders suspiciously, or would pose as terribly ill people on the verge of death. The snoops always left much faster than they arrived.

On the fourth day an attack by a guerrilla cell in another area drew attention away from Julio and his people. This meant it was safe enough to take a trip into the city to stock up on supplies they’d been unable to salvage from raids. A battered old truck typical of native vehicles was pressed into service, and Julio, Edmundo, Christine, Luis and Maria headed into Palameda, the teeming capital of Cortalia.