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<title>11bravo138 Stories</title>
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<description><![CDATA[11bravo138 Stories]]></description>
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<pubDate>Thu, 17 May 2012 05:51:35 -0400</pubDate>
<item>
<title>Patriotic Duty</title>
<link>http://rude.com/RudeFeeds?story-284&amp;none&amp;fiid=284</link>
<pubDate>Wed, 02 Jan 2008 15:16:16 -0500</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[In 22 Hours I would be on a C-130 to point’s undisclosed leading a
platoon providing perimeter security to a team of Delta Operators
doing drug interdiction in NW Peru. Having survived Panama I wasn't
too concerned, except that 3 of my best soldiers, including my weapons squad leader  were out on sick call and I'd have 3 FNGs replacing them. I was visiting with an old school friend who lived in Oklahoma City, we spent this night in
Dallas hitting a few spots, it was getting late and we headed to our
last spot for the night "Corvettes" a car themed dance club. My boy
was a regular and had been a star receiver at North Texas, so we got
love.
About 20 minutes after we’d deployed a Fuzzy Navel appeared in front of me!? WTF, I am a Gin and Tonic, Vodka and Cranberry guy most of the time, but never a Fuzzy Navel?! I explained this to waitress, who was a dead ringer for sprinter
Gwen Torrence, and she said, “It’s on the house; the bartender said so, 
she wants to do her “patriotic duty"
Does she? Well I decided to do some recon. 
The bartender was 23 or 24, a black girl with cat's eyes, a little like a thicker Nia Long and very, very big breasts, A Balcony From Which One Could Perform Shakespeare!™
Her name was Karrina and she was an Army brat and an aspiring stand up, I'd
done some comedy too, so we talked about that for a while and we
talked about Army life.
As closing time approached I dropped a 40 dollar tip, I had about 90
days worth of pay on me and where I was going I wasn't going to have
any chance to spend it. I was about to try to locate CJ when
Karrina grabbed my forearm and said, "Hang out for a while you'll be
glad you did."
So when CJ found me I told him that I had something/somebody I had
to do. So I kept her company as she cashed out, shared out tips,
recrated stock and logged out of the POS, when was done I asked
her, 'so where are we headed?'
”A little after-hours spot I know”
So where’s your car’
She gave a Mona Lisa smile
“Won’t be needed, give me a sec”
When she returned she and the Gwen Torrence look-alike were in just
bra and panties.
“You don’t mind if Zelda joins us do you?”
The more the merrier. 
The 2 of them began kissing and soon I realized that I was unlikely to receive an engraved invitation and should invite myself in. Soon we were all kissing and touching, the women undressed and then undressed me. Both seemed pleased with my sidearm and where sharing it, first Karrina would take the head and
Zelda the shaft and balls, then they’d trade places. Finally I
grabbed Karrina, placed her on a barstool and licked and fingered
her moist, fuzzed, dewiness, sucked at the lips and clit of her sex
orchid while Zelda showed that she was a “head professor.” After
about 5 minutes Zelda started putting a condom on me Karrina
scrambled onto the bar, I knelt on the stool and Zelda got in
position to lap at Karrina’s pussy as I entered her. After about 15
minutes they switched places after we had done this on the bar, pool table
and on top of Ms. Pacman I was about ready to let the juice. I asked
Karrina “can I tit fuck you until I come?
She didn’t speak, but I guess I had my answer when Zelda wet her
cleavage and my dick and placed me in “happy valley” while I
pistoned away Karrina licked the head and Zelda circled behind to
lick my balls, before long I was nearing “raunch launch.” I felt a
strong pulsing and suddenly 4 thick streams of cream hit Karrina in
the chin, neck and chest, and then she and Zelda shared the thick
liquid while kissing.
I was bleery eyed and 1/2 awake when I got back to base but it was worth it!]]></description>
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<item>
<title>A Tropical Delight</title>
<link>http://rude.com/RudeFeeds?story-352&amp;none&amp;fiid=352</link>
<pubDate>Fri, 11 Jan 2008 12:00:39 -0500</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[A Tropical Delight
I've made arrangements to see you in the penthouse suite of El Sueno de Montana in NW Honduras, after a night dancing and a very fresh and delicious Seafood dinner will we enjoy a verdant and warm white wine and when time comes to order desert you order the Baked Mango Dessert, however I am planning to eatanother juicy fruit. I nudge my napkin onto the floor with my elbow and duck beneath the table.
Since in the tropical weather you aren't wearing any panties access
is simple.
Very softly, gently, at first, kissing and blowing on the warm moist
lips of the labia, then flicking my tongue the length of the now
glistening slice. As your breathing changes and your skin begins to
flush, I pull back the hood to your hardening clitoris and slide my
lips and nose over, then lap at in circles and waves with my tongue.
Your thighs are tightening and your hips are lifting from your chair
you are close. I suck at your throbbing bud.
Just as your peak hits and your stomach jumps the waiter is making
his way back to the table. Quickly I move from beneath the table
with my napkin, dabbing at my face, but leaving your taste and smell
in my moustache.
We eat hurriedly and head for the room. The elevator is exposed and
there is a hardwood and brass railing about 3 ½ feet high, we can be
seen from the waist up. I bend you forward, and bury my face in
your round, firm ass, licking your ass and pussy. You push me back
and grind against my hardness. You pull down my pants and stroke my
love club already shiny at the tip. Kneeling you taste the pre-cum
then bend forward and plant your feet just over shoulders width
apart. I ease in all the way to the root, then realizing the
elevator isn't moving you hit the button for our floor and we and it
begins to work. One floor prior to ours an older couple, retirees
probably, steps in as we right ourselves, still connected, you standing
in front as I dip in and out of you in small circles, causing you
to speak like you have hiccoughs, which is the cover story I offer.
At out floor we exit very close together as the older couple
remembers being so close.
We move together to the room, and first standing against the wall
and on every surface, the floor beds chairs, counters and dressers
we lick rub, and explore all of each other after nearly 90 minutes I
am standing over the bed with your ankles by my ears and you are so
wet I can glide all the way in and out of you easily as you are
about to come a fourth time I come with you shooting six long strands of
cream that streak you from belly to chin.
Not allowing me to soften you suck me to full hardness and we 69 to
a last climax and collapse into sleep
]]></description>
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<item>
<title>I Found Release From Prison</title>
<link>http://rude.com/RudeFeeds?story-1338&amp;none&amp;fiid=1338</link>
<pubDate>Wed, 20 Aug 2008 07:04:28 -0400</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[I am not a saint. But the fact is I’ve been trying to find ways to give back,
but nothing big: I'm no Bill Gates just a man. After the army I was at loose ends for a bit. Two friends of mine, one in the 'public pretender’s' office, and one a local judge suggested I teach my performance poetry class to their "municipal guests." The City of Chesapeake [at the time] didn’t have much of a jail, so those awaiting trial or the ubiquitous plea bargaining session, were housed in Virginia Beach or Norfolk and bussed to court each day. I was put on D.O.C staff as an independent contractor in the "violence prevention programming" section which earned me an odd status, and I was allowed on all minimum and medium areas and was often the only man [who was not a guard] within earshot of the female prisoners. And that’s where I met Mary.

Mary was a JV, [a jail virgin], and as the son of a former Commonwealth's Attorney I was well versed in the song and dance of the state. When I first spoke to her, she seemed reticent, nervous, as if she might get in trouble for talking on the bus, but she soon warmed up. Hell, I knew we had about 1/2 an hour of travel time between the jail and the court holding cells, and I could be persistent if I needed to be. Even without make-up and wearing baggy jail attire, I could see she was attractive. About five-eight and around one-sixty or so, she was definitely thick, in a Toccara type of way. Her flawless complexion was Walnut tan and her smile would make an orthodontist proud.

Even her voice was sexy, a throwback to a throaty Marlene Dietrich or
Vivian Leigh. She surely didn’t fit the typical inmate profile.
“What are you in for?” I asked her.
“Domestic.”
That stunned me. Somehow, I could not picture her being the aggressor
in a domestic violence situation, and told her as much.
“My ex is an asshole!” The venom that dripped from that statement let
me know that despite her 'Church Box Lunch Fund Raiser' appearance, there was a
spicy bite to her as well. I was intrigued but changed the subject.
What’s your name?”
“Scarlett.”
“Like Gone With the Wind?”
She smiled.
We made small talk the rest of the way and I popped the pen-pal
question when I saw we were nearing our destination. She seemed reluctant
for a moment, and then showed me her ID band: Scarlett Pegram, #124731.
I wrote her vitals down and passed her a piece of paper with my 411 on it.
She ended up in one of the facilities I served and, as is often the case, she was assigned a social worker who decided she had 'anger management issues' What better than a performance poetry program to help her deal with her demons?!

Over the next couple of months, we got close: writing poems, promises and lies
about the things we were going to do to one another once she got out.
Then I got the I Love You Letter.
It came in the form of a twelve-page tome: a dozen leaves recounting her woes in life. I was moved by what she told me and the way she recounted it: funny, smart, and a little bit sick. We clicked on so many levels, or so she claimed. I didn’t know what to make of it. Now I had been volunteering in the system all through high school and college, and had accrued more tales of jailhouse romances than Amy Fisher, but this one was feeling different to me. I bit.

I reciprocated with a seven-page affirmation of my emotions before we met again on the bus heading for her Judgment Day. I was figuring she'd be getting time served, and then we could see how we really felt. But my figuring was somewhat off. She got 9 months,with credit for three and some change, and she still had a couple of months to bring when leaving the courtroom. “I love you baby,” she professed once we were back on the bus.
“I’ll write you every day. Nothing will change that.”
I’d heard it all before but still I hoped. I was a cynic, long jaded to the realities of falling for bad girls, but I wanted Mary to be different. I actually remembered how to pray that night and mumbled a short prayer I didn’t have much confidence in being answered, and then went to sleep. Two days later, though, I got a letter. She was different.

We continued right where we’d left off. Freak letters were now supplemented with phone sex. Promises. Promises. Promises. She got out on my birthday and she was going to surprise me. For a whole three weeks, we were at it. And then the letters stopped. I continued to write until I started receiving envelopes back stamped RTS. The phone got disconnected and I slipped into a funk. Depression descended like a slow moving, Minnesota cold front, my passion chilling like an iced espresso. Even masturbation lost its allure, though I still had several erotically posed pictures of Mary to work with. Her freedom date glared at me an eternity away, the day I was
wishing for so tenaciously seemed like it would never come. But it finally arrived.
I went to meet her and found her meager belongings, food and cosmetics items
with her cellie who had only just arrived earlier in the day, and I trudged out the door with the leaden feet of a man being led to execution. My normal exuberance at being with her was reversed, turned inside out; I was still in a fog. The release process had been expedited she was already gone shortly after dawn like summer's dew,

Sgt. Maria Gonzalez, she was 1/2, Cut Off, Louisiana [I swear that's a real place!] Creole, 1/2 Mexicana and 100% pussy that I never quite gotten over, was working Booking/Release on the overnight and we engaged in a bit of verbal foreplay before the released prisoners and non-DOC staff were escorted out. She stood about five feet two inches tall and weighed around 145, forty pounds of which must have come from her TRIPLE D breasts. Her twenty-seven inch waist made her thirty-nine inch hips seem that much thicker, but there was no fat on her. I remember that very well.
“That pussy still bomb?”
“I bet you’d love to know.”
“Just like you keep having dreams about this.” I glancing towards my crotch.
“Boy please.”
“Yeah. That’s exactly what you said the last time I was pounding it.
‘Boy, please give it to me. Fuck me!’”
The entrance of three other releases into the holding cell ended our banter and
flirting. As I glanced back the smiled at the remembrance of the many times we 'eye fucked' each other. She wordlessly signaled that I should wait for her to finish up and we'd leave together.

One thing led to another and lead to each other’s arms and lead to the DuPree
Motor Inn at the plateau of a hill and about three blocks from the jail. Once in the room, I ripped her uniform off her like an escaped felon, while she reciprocated, shredding my shirt before freeing my nine plus. I broke the clasp on her custom-made bra, ripped her thong in half, and gorged myself on a swollen nipple that was the size of infant's finger, and was begging to be suckled. She squealed with delight while stroking my ever-hardening shaft. Slipping two and then three fingers into her horny honey pot, I found her pussy sopping and was about to have a 'power lunch' 'at the Y', but she wasn’t having it.

She pushed me firmly back on the bed and engulfed my rigid flesh hammer in
her wet, warm mouth and I discovered an ecstasy more potent than any in pill, liquid or any other known form. With her tongue swirling and doing things that previously I thought outside the realm of the senses, I clawed the sheets, her back and hair, and began letting loose with primal screams.

She would raise her head to the tip of my truncheon, flick her tongue
enticingly at the head, and then swallow me back down. Her breath
flared from her nostrils and nearly singed my pubic hairs. Her bottom lip and tongue cupped out and nuzzled my heavy nuts.
“Where in the hell did she learn how to do this shit,” my mind screamed at me. Had I known she'd developed skills like this, I would have never looked at the jailbirds! I have never tried hard drugs, but if they're this good I finally understand addiction. Finally, when I could take no more, she paused for a moment—my dick still lodged in the back of her throat—and began humming. The vibrations was more than I could handle and I began shooting a 'manvalanche' of hot, sticky 'trouser chowder' down her eager throat far too soon for my liking. She didn’t complain though, and caught every drop while smiling up at me.

Then I reciprocated and gave her a full body tongue massage. I started at her hairline and worked my way slowly down until I was sucking her toes—one at a time. Then I worked my way up the back of her legs, pausing to savor the hollow behind her knees. Her ass wiggled invitingly as I looked up and continued onward. When I reached her delectable bubble butt, I gently spread her cheeks and teasingly, at first rimmed her. Her ass began quivering in response. Then, with three fingers, I began to stroke the inner walls of her dripping, tight 'tunnel of love' while playfully biting her ass. She was losing control. Just when I knew she was ready, I slipped my tongue in past her flexing sphincters and felt her ass buck up and down against my face as she orgasmed while screaming into her pillow.

Then I rolled her over and longingly lapped the lining out of her pussy, as my dick
was getting hard again. When I was ready, I crawled up between her
thighs and power fucked her while she sucked her pussy juices off my
face and tongued me deeply. No matter how hard and deep I drove her, her hip rotated back, she met me stroke for stroke. Just as I felt myself getting ready to
cum, I pulled out and moved up and between her melons of meat and fell
in love all over again. I spurted steaming 6 thick gobs of milky 'genetic gumbo' all
over her balcony of breasts, then I watched as she lovingly licked all of it off. For a long time afterward, we lay resting in each other’s embrace thinking of possibilities.

But she went back to her abusive old man who left her after knocking her around and knocking her up with a second child and ending our relationship. It also led to my subsequent depression spiral that almost overcame my "the other crack" addiction. —I slipped back into morose mode. But memories are free, priceless and last as long as you keep them.]]></description>
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