"We have much to be thankful for."
"Sure we do, Sarah. I'm thankful I didn't get knocked up at the first fraternity party of the year. I mean, I got so drunk I didn't make that frat rat wear a condom."
"Stupid, Heather, stupid."
"Stuff happens, Sarah. Now I make absolutely sure the stuff goes in a rubber and gets flushed down the toilet. Well, unless I'm giving a blow job. Then I just swallow the yukky. Hey, what did Dean Morrison want to see you for? Did they catch you cheating on that 'Myths and Rituals of Creation and Procreation' exam?"
"No way! I'm too smart for that. He wanted to talk to me about our sorority volunteering at the veteran's hospital for Thanksgiving. You know, cheer up our wounded soldiers who can't be home with their families. Have dinner with them. Watch football with them. Whatever."
"Why us to cheer them up?"
"He said we are the hottest chicks on campus."
"Can't argue with him there. And you are the hottest of the hot, Sarah."
"No, you are, Heather."
"You are!"
"No, you are! And you taste great!"
"But you are less filling, Sarah! No matter how much I eat you, I can always eat more."
We began to rip at each other's clothing playfully.
"You look so much like that very pretty country singer who won all those awards, Heather. Except your boobs are bigger."
Heather looked up at me with those big brown bedroom doe eyes as she stuck her fingers inside me. Such a little devil with such an innocent-looking face. Then she pulled her fingers out and smelled and licked them sensuously. "I'll do you first, girlfriend. I get so distracted when we sixty-nine that I can't concentrate on giving my best oral performance."
"Works for me," I purred, "although I must admit I've never noticed your lack of enthusiasm and expertise when we sixty-nine."
Soon Heather had me on my back and began to nibble and kiss my legs and inner thighs, working her way up and stopping at the edge of my panties. She licked underneath the bottom of my panties, and then the top, sticking her tongue as far inside as she could.
"You're driving me crazy, girlfriend," I cooed. "I'm ready for your tongue inside me. I'm so ready."
Heather slipped my panties down past my knees with her teeth as I arched up. They slid to my ankles and I kicked them off. She began to kiss and lick my lips and then she found my clit. She blew on it softly and took it into her mouth and flicked it lightly.
"Eat me, my pretty baby," I begged. "Eat me good."
That she did—
really
good. Suddenly she stopped and looked up and me and spoke. "Sarah, your face is getting flush, and you are trembling. You're not going to have a stroke, are you?" she teased.
"Yeah, maybe a pussy stroke. Don't stop for God's sake!" I screeched. "Yeow, that feels so good, what you were doing." She went right back to it. "That's it, girl! Oh my dear Lord in heaven that's good. Do me, girl. Oh . . . ohhhh . . . oh yeah . . . ohhhh yeah . . ."
Then Heather slid two fingers inside my pussy and fucked me as she sucked me.
"I'm . . . ohhhh . . . oh yeah . . . ohhhh . . . I . . . uhhhhhh . . ."
I squeezed her face tightly with my thighs and pulled her by the hair down on me as I climaxed in incredible spasms in her mouth.
When I wound down a bit and stopped shaking, we switched positions and I did her just like she had done me.
Afterwards we cuddled and kissed and talked softly.
"So what did you tell Dean Morrison?" Heather inquired.
"Yes, I said yes."
"You said yes?"
"Yes, I said yes. Read my lips, Heather."
She giggled. "I just did read your lips, Sarah. With my tongue. Oh my, you really make a lot of noise when you're getting off."
"I couldn't help it. Nobody can muff dive like you, girlfriend."
"Well, I do just love that little red muff of yours that matches the hair on your head so perfectly. You know, all the girls have plans for Thanksgiving, Sarah. Some of us have already bought our plane tickets."
I told Heather the same sad story that the dean had told me.
She started crying just like I had done when I met with the dean.
I had no trouble convincing the other sorority sisters to cancel their plans for Thanksgiving and go to the veteran's hospital with me.
* * *
We got to the hospital and a guy who wore a badge that indicated he was the chief of staff gave us a brief tour. Then he turned us over to a woman named Olga he introduced as the head nurse. She explained what we would be doing.
"Here is your first soldier," Olga said as we entered his room. He had his eyes closed, apparently asleep on the bed. "An explosion blew off both legs at the knees in Afghanistan. He's a frisky one, though, let me tell you." She smirked. "We have to put salt peter in his food three times a day, or he has a constant erection," she whispered to us. "It's rather obvious when he is on his back like that, and him being so big like he is. That one is hung like a horse. Well, I'll leave it up to you girls to introduce yourselves. Oh, and the explosion damaged his hearing somewhat I think. There has to be some reason why he ignores me. I'll check on you later. I have so much work to do." She hurried off.
I approached his bed and thought sadly,
what a poor, grieving, aching, lonely, embarrassed, and probably sex-starved young veteran who wakes to the realization that he has offered up his two legs as the penultimate sacrifice for his beloved country.
Suddenly his eyes opened. "Am I in heaven?" he mumbled.
Holding his steady gaze, I looked full into his eyes and formed the only words I could muster as tears rolled down my cheeks. "I'm so sorry."
"I can't hear you. Come closer, please," he requested.
I bent over and a breast brushed against his arm as I puckered my lips and attempted to kiss him on the cheek. But at the last moment I planted a soft, quick smack on his lips. "I'm so sorry," I repeated.
"What is that smell?" he asked. "Your perfume?"
"Oh, that's Hypnose by Lancome. It's a blend of vanilla, passion flower, and vetiver. "
"You got me hypnotized, honey. Can I see your tits?"
"That must be the drugs talking," I turned and said softly to Heather so only she could hear. "They probably have him all doped up for the pain."
"So you love dick, do you," he stated matter-of-factly, staring at my chest.
"Dude, this is a
football
shirt! Please note that under 'I LOVE DICK' in the big black letters, except for the red heart, is the word 'LeBeau' in little gold letters. Dick LeBeau is the Steelers defensive coordinator."
"I knew that, but I'm a Browns fan."
"I'm so sorry." I didn't know what else to say.
Heather approached his bed then. "You can see my tits." She lifted the front of her shirt and flashed him.
"Holy shit!" he roared. "Those are some great hooters!"
"Heather!" I snapped. "Don't be giving him ideas. We're supposed to be thanking our wounded soldiers, not giving them a peep show."
"Hey, they got him on salt peter don't they," she replied snidely, "so what's the big deal?"
"I knew it!" he cried. "No wonder my dick is so limp for a couple hours after every meal. I can't even get it stiff enough to jerk off."
Just then we were interrupted by another nurse bringing in our dinners. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and all the trimmings.
Finally we got around to properly introducing ourselves as we ate and chatted.
"Sam, you're not eating your mashed potatoes," Heather observed. "Don't you like mashed potatoes?"
"Not today," he replied.
"Well, give them to me," Heather said, "I love them."
Another soldier in a wheelchair rolled into the room and came close to Sam and they had a private conversation.
Sam laughed when the other soldier left. "He wanted to tell me that these two hot babes came to his room and were entertaining him. Being my good buddy, he wanted to know if he should send one over to see me, but obviously he could see I have two of my own."
"Yeah, our entire sorority is here," Heather commented.
When we had finished our dinners, the nurse came back and took the trays. Olga accompanied her, and whispered to the other nurse, "Oh good, I see he ate all his mashed potatoes. He won't be complaining about blue balls, and begging for something for the problem, like a hand job."
We watched football for awhile. Green Bay and Detroit.
Suddenly Sam clicked off the TV.
"Hey, I want to watch the game!" I complained, "I have a couple of those Packers on my fantasy team."
"I'm a fudge packer," Sam stated matter-of-factly. "And I sure would like to spread your sweet cheeks, Red."
"Now you behave!" I ordered insolently.
"Okay, but I need a shave. The stubble is itchy, and it's making me irritable."
Heather felt his face. "Seems pretty smooth to me."
"I'm talking about this." Sam pulled the blanket down from just above his waist and tossed it on the floor. He wasn't wearing anything. "See?"
We looked at his stumps and we both began to cry. "I'm so sorry," I whimpered once again.
"Now, now, girls. How are you going to cheer me up like that?"
"So how can we cheer you up?" Heather asked, drying her eyes with tissues that were on a table next to his bed.
"I told you, Blondie, this stubble is driving me crazy. They shaved me down below when I had a surgical procedure last week. As you can see I have scars all over my body from the shrapnel, although nothing all that serious, except for my legs, of course."
"Should we go get the nurse to shave you?" I asked.
