Phil and I, 17 year old virgins, 6 foot tall and bullet proof, joined the Corps after high school and took our places in 'Nam with India Co. 3rd Marines.In our first battle, Phil took a gunshot to his leg; severing his achilles tendon. While not a go home wound it did land him in the naval hospital in Japan. We knew he'd be back with us in a couple months.
Getting shot brought Phil face to face with his mortality and he resolved that if he was going to die in this war, he wasn't going to die a virgin. So during his convalescence,in Japan, he made a visit to a local whore house just outside the compound.
Inside the brothel he handed the madame 200 yen and a young Japanese woman appeared and led him upstairs to a bedroom. He didn't speak Japanese and she spoke no English so conversation was through hand gestures only. On a bedside table was a lamp which the girl switched on and a dim light bathed the room. Next to the lamp stood an hourglass. She flipped the hourglass upside down. As the sand funneled through the narrow waist she took off her kimono and, naked, lay down on top of the bed.
Phil stood still as a statue, staring at the hourglass until the girl cleared her throat and giving Phil a puzzled look mimed to him to take off his clothes. Looking now at the whore, he stripped naked. His limp dick stared at the floor. She motioned to him to get on the bed and she used her hands to stimulate his peter. He glanced at the hourglass. Next she put his penis in her mouth and began a forceful sucking. He found the sensation uncomfortable; like being stuck in a vacuum cleaner. He pushed her head away from his groin, and looked again at the sand pouring through the glass. Now she was laying atop of him grinding her mons against his willy, trying to entice a cock like erection from him. She kissed him on the mouth and slipped her tongue between his lips, but his dong wasn't stiff enough to slip through her nether lips.
When the last grain of sand dropped on to the pile, the girl got up, donned her kimono and left the room.
I stand today, 27 August 2010, staring at Phil's head stone for the 45th year in a row. The engraving is simple enough:
Philip Benoit
Born: Portland, Maine, September 19th, 1945
Died: Viet Nam, August 27th, 1964
Died: Viet Nam, August 27th, 1964
This is a work of fiction.
posted by rel at 1:16 PM
18 Comments:
oh dear....poor guy...I'm glad that you posted this was fiction...but where the heck didja find a head stone with an hourglass?
Brilliant post.
... now this is quite a tale! Magpie or otherwise ....
what can I say... very creative :)
a different Magpie, of that I'm sure ;)
Phil should have conveniently knocked that hourglass under the bed!
the ending touched me.. i thought the story might end sensually.. this was beautiful
I agree with Willow..should have stopped time..and I think this tale must be true..for whom?? Love the headstone...
Sharp writing. Great take.
Work of fiction? Excuse me for laughing, not that I doubt your truthfulness.... much! You did the job too well!
soo..not loved a long time.
The story rings pretty true for fiction
Rene
Raw but no doubt a very common story.
you make fiction real...which is an art...a sad but...nice magpie
Sorry the hourglass so mesmerized him.
Such a refreshing Magpie! Thank you. :)
You had me from 'Nam...
My ex-husband was in the Navy in that war and told me in detail about the whores in Subic Bay they frequented while on leave. He said they stood lined up on the sidewalk where the guys unloaded from the ship, all chiming repeatedly, I love you, Joe, no shit. I love you, Joe, no shit. I never forgot that story.
This seemed so real that I was actually shocked to read at the end that it is a work of fiction. And an excellent one at that.
Love the imagery of the hourglass as both a time keeper and a robber of time. So sad that Phil allowed it to mesmerize him into wasting the time he had left to him.
Even if it was fiction, I felt sorry for the poor guy.
I agree, the story did have a "real" feel to it. Glad, though, it was fiction.
Great headstone, Rel. Terrific writing, too.
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