The Wounded Warrior
 by: Hankster

© 2022 by the author

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

hankster@tickiestories.us

Eric and I fucked each other about a year and a half ago.  It was only one time.

We met in a gay bar on a Saturday night, and there was an instant attraction.  The young man I was smitten with was six months older than I.  He was introduced to me by a mutual friend.  We were all over each other that night, and Eric came home with me.  When I saw him naked, my juices started flowing like Niagara Falls.  He was six feet tall, very muscular, and with hardly any fat to mar his magnificent frame.  He was cut, and about five inches flaccid.  When I aroused him, he stretched to about seven and a half inches, but he grew much wider.

We showered first, and we had no trouble enjoying golden showers.  Later, in bed, we sucked every inch of our bodies, rimmed for a very long time, and finally we fucked each other.  We used condoms and plenty of lube.  I wished that we didn’t have to use condoms, but in this day and age, those bothersome little rubbers are a necessity.

Eric slept over, and we made love all day Sunday.  It was a revelation to me.  In the past, whenever I was with someone, I got dressed and left after I came, or my trick got dressed and left.  Neither Eric nor I felt any need to separate.  In fact, we desired not to.

Here’s where it gets complicated.  I fell madly in love with Eric, but how could I tell him?  He probably thought that this was a one night stand.  If I hadn’t gone all ga-ga over him, I would have thought the same thing.

Eric put a sudden death to my dilemma.  As he was dressing to leave my apartment, he told me that he was in the army, and he was being deployed overseas, probably to Iraq.  He had to report to Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn the very next morning.  I was devastated, and had to control the tears I felt welling up in my eyes.  I rushed to my dresser, and picked up my wallet.  I pulled out one of my cards, and handed it to him.

“Please,” I said, “stay in touch with me.  Send me your address, and let me know how you’re doing.  Especially, let me know when you’ll be home.”

He put my card in his pocket, and promised that he would write to me.  Unfortunately, I never heard from him.  I concluded that Eric didn’t feel like I did, and when he came home, he would resume having one night stands.  I tried to put him out of my mind, but I was unsuccessful.  I called our mutual friend, George, and asked if he had heard from Eric.

“Not only haven’t I heard from him,” he said, “but I keep calling his brother, and none of his family has had news of him either.  His brother keeps writing to him, but he doesn’t get any response.”

That really upset me.  Then, about eighteen months after my brief encounter with Eric, George called me.

“I’ve got news about Eric,” he said, “and it isn’t good.”

“Please,” I begged, “I want to hear.”

“His brother, Frank, was growing desperate.  He wrote to his congressman and begged him to locate his brother.  He wanted to know if he was dead, or missing, or any other news of him.  It took about two months but the congressman did get news of Eric to his brother.  A few days after arriving in Iraq, Eric and another soldier were driving a truck to a nearby camp to pick up some supplies.  Their truck hit a land mine.  The other soldier was killed outright.”

“What about Eric?” I screamed too loudly.”

“He survived, but he lost a leg just below his knee.  One of his arms was badly hurt also, but the doctors were able to save it.  He has very limited use of it.”

“Where is he?” I demanded to know.

“That’s where the problem is.  He’s at Walter Reed Army Medical Center in Washington, but he won’t allow any visitors, or take any telephone calls.  They watch him closely, because he’s suicidal.  Not only is he undergoing extensive physical therapy, but he is getting psychiatric help also.  Now that his wounds have healed sufficiently, they’re fitting him with a prosthesis.  As soon as he learns to walk on it, they’re discharging him.  His brother has already contacted “Wounded Warriors” to see what kind of help they can get for him.”

I wanted to scream out that he didn’t need any outside help.  I would be the one to take care of him.  By now I was sobbing wildly, but I did manage to say, “Thanks, George.”

In spite of what George told me, I vowed to go to Washington and try to see Eric.  Somehow I had to let him know that I loved him, and his wounds didn’t diminish that love in any way.  If he refused to see me, perhaps I could stand in his doorway, and look at his beautiful face.

I had plenty of vacation time, and I took a week off.  Early the first morning of my short sabbatical, I boarded a train to Washington at Penn Station.  All I had with me was a small suitcase, and the address of a YMCA close to Walter Reed Hospital.  I had no idea what I was going to do or say, but I had to try to get Eric’s will to live back on track.  I didn’t delude myself.  The love I felt for him might go a long way, but it probably wasn’t enough to reverse his suicidal tendencies.

*****

Eric was getting used to a life with only one leg.  He was finally accepting that it was an irreversible fact.  His attitude about living, improved a smidgeon, but he still believed that nobody would love him with his disfigured body.  Therapy, and the thought of getting back to a life with a different normal, were helping him cope somewhat better, but he remained suicidal. 

After a year and a half, he finally accepted a call from his brother.  They both had a good cry, and Frank said that he was coming for a visit.  Eric implored him not to come.  “I’m being discharged in a few weeks,” he said.  “Come and get me then.”  Frank reluctantly agreed.

Eric actually thought that he would kill himself before that happened.  But he was watched too carefully, and opportunities never came.  He wished daily that he had died in the explosion.

The very next day, Eric glanced up to see me entering his room.  He was surprised that I closed his door.  I was wearing scrubs, which I had stolen, but I had no ID around my neck or pinned to my scrubs.  Eric tried to recall if he had seen me before.  Was I a doctor, nurse, or orderly?  He concluded that I was new.

“Have you come to run another useless test on me, or to take me for another meaningless procedure?” he asked snidely.  “If so, get out of here.  I’m due for discharge soon.”

Eric,” I said, “it’s me, Johnny Wilson.”

“Do I know you?”

I sat down on a chair next to his bed, and smiled at him.   My arm rested on his bed touching his arm.  “I’m a friend of George Peterson,” I said.  “He introduced us before you were deployed to Iraq.  You spent your last weekend at home with me.”

Suddenly, Eric remembered our brief encounter, and he became very agitated.

“I left strict orders that I was not to have any visitors,” he cried.   “How did you get in here?”

“I stole these scrubs, and I slipped by everyone.”

“Please leave me alone,” he whimpered.

“You can forget about me leaving you alone.  I came to tell you that I fell deeply in love with you that wonderful weekend we spent together.  I have no intention of letting you go.  I don’t give a damn if you have one leg or two.  I love you, and I want to spend my life with you.”

It was obvious how surprised Eric was.  He sputtered when he asked, “You love me?”

I leaned over his bed and kissed him gently.  He started to sob.

“If you really love me,” he croaked, “help me to kill myself.”

I shuddered.  “Never, never.  You’re going to get well, and you and I are going to have long, happy, and productive lives together.  We’ll make love as often as we are able.  We’ll be happy, Eric.  I promise you.” 

“Can’t you get it through your head that I don’t want to live, not with you or anyone else.  Please leave now.  Go home and forget about me.”

“No!” I practically screamed.  “You better get it through your head, that I love you so strongly, I can’t, and I won’t, get out of your life.  I want you to get well and spend eternity with me.  I’ll help you get through this, if only you’ll let me.”

I looked at his face.  It had softened, and he smiled at me.  I think I was getting through to him.  He actually reached over his torso, and put his hand on mine.  That was awkward for him.  I would have expected that he would use the hand closer to me.  I realized that the arm nearer to me, must be his bad arm, the one with limited mobility.  I reached down and kissed his good hand.  He freed it from mine, and began to tousle my hair.

My hand was free now also.  I snaked it under his bed sheet, and laid it gently on his cock.  I didn’t stroke it.  I just let it lie there.  Eric sighed deeply.  He whispered something so quietly, I had to strain to hear him.  “I fell in love with you that weekend also,” he murmured.

Now, it was I who started to cry.

“How long will you be in Washington?” he asked me.

“All week.”

“I’ll leave word that it’s okay for you to visit me.  You can scrub the scrubs,” he smiled and giggled at me.

I guess I’m a creature of habit.  Without even being aware of it, I began to stroke his cock.  It was growing rapidly.  “Please, don’t stop,” he pleaded.

It took no time at all, and he came in my hand.  I leaned over and we kissed passionately.  Our tongues got very busy.  Finally, I ran into the bathroom and brought back a wad of toilet paper.  I cleaned Eric up as best I could, and washed my hands.  Once again, I sat down next to him, and took his bad hand in mine.

“We’re going to have a wonderful future,” I assured him, and I prayed that he believed me.

*****

I sat at Eric’s bedside every day for the rest of the week.  He showed me his maimed leg, hoping I would stop loving him.  Fat chance.  I assured him a million times that I didn’t care, and I wasn’t turned off in the least.  I only went back to the Y when they kicked me out of his room.  His attitude towards life seemed to be improving every day, but I didn’t trust him.  I feared that it might be a ploy to get me and the hospital staff to drop our guards in preventing him from committing suicide.

Before I left to go home, and return to work, I spoke to the head nurse on his ward.  I implored her to maintain a very strong suicide watch, and she assured me that they would.

The last hour I spent with Eric, before I took off, was a blast.  I had masturbated him a few times during the week, but this time I shut his door and went down on him.  It was the fastest that anyone ever came in my mouth.  We kissed and shared his cum.  There was no mess to clean up.  We swallowed everything.

I promised to call him every day, but I ended up calling him two or three times a day.  I kept track of his progress as to how he was learning to use the prosthetic leg.  He was doing well, and seemed to be in good spirits.  However, I listened carefully to the way he sounded, to make sure that he wasn’t trying to fool me.

One fantastic day, he called to say that he was being discharged the following Monday.  I said that I would take the day off, and come to take him home.  He told me that he and his brother had already agreed that his brother would do the honors.  I was a little bit upset at the news.

“Please understand,” he pled, “I haven’t seen my brother since I was deployed.  I couldn’t say no to him.”

“Of course,” I agreed.  “Promise you’ll call me as soon as you get home, and I’ll run over to see you.”

“I promise.”

*****

All the way back to New York in the car, Eric kept telling Frank about me, how I swore I loved him, in spite of his disability.  He told Frank how I had stolen scrubs and sneaked in to see him.  It seemed to Frank that his brother was a man in love, a happy man, and Frank silently thanked God that his brother was no longer suicidal.

“You may call this guy, Johnny,” Frank said, “but I’ll call him St. John.  When do I meet him?”

“I’ll call him as soon as we get home.  He wants to rush right over.”

“Great.  I can’t wait to meet him, and thank him.”

“Frank, he’ll probably want to sleep over … with me.  Will that bother you?”

“Absolutely not.  I’m pleased for you, for both of you.”

I did indeed rush over and I got the shock of my life.  Nobody had ever told me, not even Eric, but Frank and he were identical twins.  He was just as gorgeous as Eric, but it was Eric’s arms I fell into.  There is a very high probability that Identical twins share the same sexual orientation, and I was curious, so I said, “Let’s celebrate this Friday evening.  We’ll have dinner at my favorite gay bar, on me, and then we’ll have a few drinks at the bar.”

“That’s wonderful,” Frank said.  He wasn’t turned off when I said that we were going to a gay bar.

“I can’t drink because of all my meds,” Eric said.  “Why don’t you two guys go without me.”

“Never,” Frank and I said together.

“You can drink soda water,” I said, “but you’ve been cooped up for more than a year and a half, and it’s time you got out in the world.”

“Besides,” Frank said, “a representative from Wounded Warriors is coming over Wednesday, and you’ll be working before you know it.  He’ll help you find a job.”

From my point of view, the news was all good, but Eric was rather somber.  He didn’t comment on the visitor from Wounded Warriors.  I continued to be frightened about his state of mind.

Frank left us alone, while he went to get two beers for me and him.  I took the opportunity to tell Eric that I was sleeping over tonight.

“It’ll be fantastic,” I said.  “We’ll be able to make real love without restrictions.”

“You think so?” Eric asked.  “We’ll see.  I hope you won’t be too grossed out when you see my ugly body.”

“Stop it,” I yelled.  “I’ve seen your body, and it’ll never be ugly to me.”

Frank came back into the room, and Eric and I clammed up.

“I’m sleeping over tonight with Eric,” I informed Frank.  “Is it okay with you?”

“It’s more than okay.  Have fun.  I’m more than a little jealous.”

That comment was a definite WOW.  Had the twins slept together in the past, or was it I he was jealous of?

*****

Eric actually seemed to be having fun that night at the bar, and my spirits were raised.  As much fun as we were having, I wanted to get home and make love to Eric.  As we were getting ready to leave, Frank whispered in my ear that he was going home with a fuck buddy and his apartment was all ours.  He also handed me the keys to his car.  I don’t know why, but I kissed him goodnight on his lips.  He looked surprised, but he gave me a big grin.  His smile was every bit as alluring as Eric’s.

Eric didn’t say a word on the way home, and I didn’t push him.

He led me into his bedroom, and he said, “Now you’ll see how tough life will be for both of us.  Sit down.  I want you to watch me remove my prosthesis, and expose my awful stub.  Then, you can help me shower and we’ll go to bed.”

“I’m tired of telling you.  It won’t gross me out.”

Eric ignored me, but he had brought a pair of crutches from the hospital.  He asked me to get them for him.  He used the crutches to get to the shower, and he finally spoke to me. 

“The nurses used to help me in the shower.  It’s your job now.”

I was exceptionally disturbed.  He said that it was my job now, with a very noticeable sneer.

In the shower, he supported his body by leaning his bad arm on my shoulder, while his good arm began to wash me all over.  He was having a good time soaping up my cock and balls.  We hadn’t been able to do that in the hospital.  I reciprocated of course.  I even soaped his stub, and he looked totally surprised.

“Let’s get out of the shower,” I suggested.  “I want to dry up and get into a comfortable bed.  I want to hug you properly, like I haven’t ever been able to do up until now.”

“Are you sure?” he screamed.  “I’m a freak.”

Now, I was angry, and I screamed right back at him.  “When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours that you aren’t a freak?  You’re the man I love, and you’re beautiful.”

I wrapped my arms around him, and we fell on the bed.  I held him for dear life, and we fell asleep that way, without making love.

I slept over on Saturday and Sunday as well, and Eric and I made love.  We took it really easy.  We just masturbated each other, and went down on one another.  We decided to hold anal until one day during the next week.

The following Monday morning, Frank got everything ready that Eric might need during the day.  He made us all breakfast, and he and I got ready to go to work.

“I’ll go home after work today,” I told Frank.  “I’ll get some fresh clothes for work tomorrow, and then I’ll be right over.”

“That’s all well and good,” he said, “but it would make better sense if you moved in with us.”

“I’d like that,” I said, “but I was afraid to ask.  Let’s talk about it tonight.”

“Call me at work, Eric, if you need anything and I’ll come running,” Frank said.

“Me too,” I said.

Frank and I kissed Eric goodbye, and then we kissed each other.  Neither of us thought anything about it.

*****

When I got home after work that afternoon, I packed a small suitcase for the next few days.  I noticed that I had some messages on my land line answering machine.  I never used that phone anymore.  I only kept it to buzz visitors into my building.  I laughed when I listened to the messages.  They were obviously all scam calls.  I erased them, and headed to what would soon be my new home.

This being the Island of Manhattan, I began to look for street parking as soon as I was within a few blocks of my destination.  I was not successful so I continued on in the opposite direction.  As I passed the apartment building where Frank and Eric lived, my stomach fell.  An ambulance stood outside the building and the medics were loading a gurney into it.  There was somebody in the gurney, but I couldn’t make out who it was.

I saw Frank run out of the building.  I opened my window, and yelled at him.  He hopped into my car, and he was sobbing.

“What happened?” I asked, but I was afraid to hear the answer.

“Eric tried to kill himself.  I was so sure he was no longer suicidal, because he’s so in love with you, but I guess your love isn’t enough.”

“Please, go on,” I sobbed.

“I came home from work and found him sleeping in his bed.  I wasn’t going to disturb him, but then I spotted an empty bottle of sleeping pills and two empty bottles of red wine on his night stand.  The sleeping pills are prescription drugs, and exceptionally strong.  I panicked and called 911 immediately.  I ran to Eric and I tried to rouse him.  He was still breathing, but I couldn’t wake him up.”

“What hospital are they taking him to?”

“St. Vincent’s.”

I headed my car towards the hospital.  I kept beating myself up for letting my guard down.  I had a strong feeling that Eric was still suicidal, and I didn’t act on it.  This was all my fault.

We parked and ran into the emergency room.  The receptionist told us that the emergency room doctor had left orders that nobody could see him until after they pumped his stomach, and hopefully revived him.

“Have a seat,” she said, “I’ll call you when I have some information for you.”

We took adjoining seats at the back of the waiting room.  We were both sobbing uncontrollably.  I put my arm around Frank’s shoulder in a vain attempt to comfort him, to comfort both of us.  Somehow his head fell forward onto my chest.  I began to pat his back and kiss his head.  It was exactly like holding Eric in my arms.  After all, they were clones of each other.

“If I lose him,” Frank said, “half of me will be dead.”

“I feel the same way,” I whispered in his ear.  “I’m praying like crazy.  I just couldn’t convince him that his missing leg did not gross me out, nor did it gross you out.  I kept assuring him that we would have a long and happy life together, but he just wouldn’t listen.  If I could, I’d spank him, the bastard.”

I was somehow very angry at Eric for doing this, and causing me and Frank so much grief.  Sometime later, I read that anger was one of the symptoms a mourner suffers in situations such as this one.

We sat with my arm around his shoulder for two hours or so, and a doctor came into the waiting room.  He was young and looked like a high school kid.  He looked around and spotted us.  As he approached us, we jumped up and ran toward him.

“I don’t have to ask which one of you is Eric’s brother,” he said.  “Are you Frank?” he asked.

“Yes,” Frank said.  He was shaking.

“I’m afraid your brother didn’t make it.  We did all we could, but it was far too late.  I’m truly sorry to have to give you such bad news.”

Frank and I began to cry loudly and bitterly.  We hugged each other tightly, trying to comfort each other in our grief.

“Where would you like us to send his body?” the doctor asked.

“We separated for a moment and Frank said, “I guess to Harrigan’s on Lexington.  They buried my mother and father.”  Then as an afterthought he said, “I’m glad they’re not alive to suffer this loss.”

After Eric’s funeral, Frank arranged for a small spread for a few friends, relatives and neighbors.  When everybody recited their platitudes and left, Frank began to cry again.

“Please, Johnny,” he said.  “Move in with me anyway.  It’s so fucking lonely here now.”

“Yes, of course I will,” I assured him.

We embraced, and Frank said, “I have loved you like a brother, ever since Eric introduced you.  I’d die also if you weren’t in my life.”

He pulled me closer and I could definitely feel that he was getting hard.  I had mixed emotions about that.  If I was intimate with Frank, it would be exactly like being intimate with Eric.  If it wasn’t for Eric’s missing leg and bum arm, I don’t think I could tell them apart.  For a moment, strictly out of fear, I considered not moving in, but I knew I would, in spite of how I felt.

In time, the grief Frank and I felt over the loss we endured, turned instead to happy memories.  Because we lived together our friends believed we were a couple.  Of course, they never said anything to us, but we figured it out eventually.  The truth is we lived like an old married couple.  Neither of us dated, and we both whacked off a lot, but not together.  Everything else we did, we did together.  For all intents and purposes we were a couple.

One evening at dinner, Frank looked at me shyly.  He took my hand and said, “Johnny, I love you.  I love you a whole lot.”  Then he hesitated and finally said, “I think we should move on to the next level.”  As he said that, he squeezed my hand.

“What took you so long to ask?  I’ve wanted to move on for months now, but I was afraid to bring up the subject.”

We stood up and embraced.  We were not shy about rubbing our erect cocks together.

After dinner,” Frank said, “let’s shower and get into bed,”

Great idea,” I said.  “Your bed or mine?”

I don’t give a fuck,” Frank laughed.  “Anyway, I’m six months older than you, and I’m going first.  Now lie down on your back.”

Frank fell on top of me on his bed, and our cocks rubbed together.  We were kissing passionately, and little by little Frank was wiggling down my body, kissing and sucking wherever he could.  When he put his tongue in my ear, kissed my neck, and then sucked my nipples, I nearly passed out.  He bypassed my cock and balls, but he worked his way down to my toes, sucking each one individually.

He turned me on my stomach, and not too gently.  I think, he was frenzied.  Now he kissed his way down my backside.  He spent a lot of time rimming me, and I nearly fainted with joy.

“Now,” I said, “please!”

He greased my ass and his cock generously.  Neither us even thought about condoms, since neither of us had been with anyone since Eric died.  Frank entered me easily, doggie style, but he didn’t move.  He wanted us to enjoy the moment, and boy, I sure was enjoying it.  At last he started stroking.  He came so fast, I was frankly disappointed.  The upside was, that although he was stroking my prostate, he came too fast for me to cum also.  This love making session was not over yet, far from it.

After Frank came, he lay still, reluctant to allow his cock to abandon my ass.  Suddenly, he did something which startled me.  He started to cry and he screamed out loud, “Thank you, Eric, for bringing Johnny into my life.  I’ll always be grateful.”

As shocked as I was I managed to scream out, “AMEN!”  Then sobbing loudly, I said, “We love you, Eric.  We always will.  Never forget it.”

Frank and I cried ourselves to sleep, while hugging each other tightly.  More love making would have to wait for another night.  That didn’t bother me.  After all, Frank and I had a lifetime ahead of us to make love.

Posted: 03/25/2022