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  I Love Him 
 by Trista  

 I Love Him

 I love you. I love you. Those words are so hard for me to think, how can
I possibly say them? Maybe they will get easier if I discover one little
thing; who I am saying them to. There are three special men in my life, so
I'll have to forgive myself if I have a hard time picking Mr. Right. 

 First there is B.A. He is such a perfect physical specimen; I get hard
just thinking about him like this. He is strong and silent, projecting an
image of nastiness to the world, but I know him better. He is a kind,
gentle teddy bear who would like nothing better than to adopt all of the
high risk youth he works with. Intelligent but lacking in the education
that would make him articulate, man would I love to educate him! Preachers
talk about the body being a temple and his is if ever there was one. And
those hands! Able to crush bricks and bend metal bars, but so sensitive
and delicate enough to make tiny electronics. I can just imagine those
hands, feather light, teasing my body or a thick cock stretching my anus. 

 I've seen B.A. naked but I've never seen him engorged with passion. How
big does his cock get? How would it feel as it fills me, overfills me?
B.A. pounding rhythmically on my ass! I remember the first time I saw two
men thus engaged. It was during officer's school and they were in the
bushes behind one of the buildings. Me and my binoculars had seen them
sneak off every night for a week and just wanted to know why. Boy, did I
get an eyeful! My first reaction was disgust at their lack of self
control. They could not wait for their weekend pass to get to the girls in
town? It did not occur to me that they might have been in love. That idea
did not occur to me until I spent a week in the company of a certain pilot
in `Nam. 

 Murdock was a brave, loyal, intelligent and sensitive man. Not a good
combination for a warrior. When he returned to the ground after a bout of
flying, you could see the disappointment on his face. But as a soldier, he
did his duty and tried to hide his emotions. That was before the V.C. got
a hold of him. After our time in the prison camps, he quit hiding his
emotions, so his friends got to watch his descent into madness. His time
with the V.C. did not help, but what really did him in was his love of
flying. He would have been able to hide it from himself, but some general
thought it would be a morale booster to tell the men how they were doing,
including how many civilians died from helicopter attacks. 

 Murdock would never knowingly fire on a civilian, but his intelligence
told him that he had no way of knowing. His brains also told him his
flying was killing people and he loved to fly; therefore he loved killing
people. His sensitive soul could not accept that level of guilt and the
Murdock we all knew disappeared behind a cavalcade of characters,
delusions and nightmares. Slowly he is coming back to us and I think every
time he flies and nobody dies, he comes back a little more. Somewhere,
behind the characters I meet, is the man I fell in love with. I feel, with
time and a lovers care, he will come back to us all the way. The thought
never fails to excite me; with his mind healed his heart could be mine! I
picture myself on all fours, B.A. still pounding away behind me and
Murdock spread beneath me. Slowly, with a lover's caress, I prepare H.M.
and slide gently into him. Gradually I match B.A.'s rhythm. 

 Without too much more imagination, I can picture Face shoving his stiff
cock into my face. Greedily, I devour it, until my lips are touching his
golden curls. Balancing on my left hand, I use my right to cup Face's
balls. Templeton's balls are just as beautiful as the rest of him. He is
so beautiful, but what most people don't see is how beautiful he is on the
inside. Considering the world of hurt he had known, it is a wonder he is
not locked up with Murdock, though he would be the only patient with silk
sheets and his pick of the nurses. Oh, he has his wants, as well as his
needs, but he has the skills to go get them for himself. He could so
easily sneak out of this whole deal, set up a new identity and never be
caught, but he stays to take care of us. He moderates between B.A. and
Murdock while trying to keep me from going too far into the jazz. My
grounding influence, yet I get higher than a kite when I think about his
balls bouncing against my mouth. When the rhythm B.A. has set us all to
begins to accelerate, I moan with pleasure. This is how I feel when a
mission starts and we are a team. Filled and filling, at the cusp of
something great. We are all so close that when B.A. starts to explode I
release into Murdock. Even as he comes between our stomachs I feel Face
coming and I lick down every last drop. We collapse onto each other, a
huddled mass of sweaty limbs.

 "I love it when a team cums together!" I manage to whisper over the heavy
breathing. I am rewarded with three groans of pain of the pun. This is how
I feel after a plan goes right and the men are safe, completely sated like
after a mind blowing orgasm. Yet for all my dreaming, I am an old
fashioned man and monogamous. I believe there is one person on this Earth
for you and you had better grab them when you can and never let go.
Besides, I have a plan. The semen from my wet dream is cooling on my
stomach so I rise and head for the bathroom. Washing up I risk a glance in
the mirror. Two years. The team gave me two years to find a way out of the
deal with Stockwell. I should have told them then that I had a plan. The
plan just involves us separating and I have to figure out which one of you
I can't live without first. How would they have taken the news, delivered
in that manner? Who would stand up and say "I can't live without you,
Hannibal?" 

 Who would have me, the tired old man I see looking back at me from the
mirror sometimes? I must be old, and losing my edge if the best plan I can
come up with is to divide up the team. Nobody would ever suspect that a
team that has been through life and death together would just up and
disband like that. They would always figure that by getting one of us they
had a shot at us all. And I want that more than our enemies do. I want us
always to be there for each other as friends and lovers. But for that to
happen I need to pull one more fantastic plan out of my hat. I retreat
from the man in the mirror and find a new stogie in the bedroom. I bite
the tip and light it up. Sitting on the bed I should be sleeping in, I
prepare for a long night of strategy and loneliness.  
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