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Desdmona's Erotic Story Contests
2007 Sixties Erotica Contest
Honorable Mention

Give Peace a Chance

Have to admit that the quiet spooked me that night like it had so many nights before. The quiet and the shadows.the cool chill stillness of the night.danced in my mind ominously even though I knew I wasn’t in country anymore. I was weeks removed from the jungles of Southeast Asia in a campground in the woods of Southern California and yet I was still on edge.

Still that was why I was out look into the shadows, to stare down my fears and memories. My family back in L.A. didn’t understand.they couldn’t understand.all they knew is that I wasn’t the same guy I was before I went off to war. Maybe packing up my truck and hitting the road with destination in mind wasn’t the smartest thing in the world but it beat trying to keep enduring the well-meaning smiles and bromides my friends and family kept offering as a way of trying to pull me from my personal darkness.

The campfire crackled musically and the stars twinkled in unison with that tune and I did my best to clear my mind. I fished a joint out of my shirt pocket and lit it; I took a sustained drag and closed my eyes. I’d never touched the stuff before Coleman had egged me to take a hit while we were standing watch one particularly miserable rainy night somewhere on the edge of the DMZ and now I can’t imagine how I would have made it through my tour without it.

“Smells like some righteous shit, man,” a sunny voice said suddenly startling me out of my reverie, “care to share with a weary traveler?”

The effects of the pot disappeared in a flash and I opened my eyes ready to fight. But it wasn’t a VC, of course. It was girl. A lithe, tanned girl with long, straight blonde hair and a bemused twinkle in her blue-grey eyes; her faded jeans, her peasant blouse, her well-worn sandals, and the colorful string of beads around her neck pegged her as one of those damn hippies. She was carrying a knapsack covered haphazardly with patches of flowers, peace signs, and the names of rock bands. She wasn’t much younger than me but I didn’t imagine that we had much in common. I stared at her. “What can I do for you?”

She cocked her head to side trying to get a read on me; my eyes drifted to her breasts, the pert nipples straining at the fabric of her blouse let me know that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Girls today, I sighed to myself, the voice in my head sounding just like my dad. She was, I told myself, not my type. But the soft pout of her lips and sweet curve of her breasts and her hips put the lie to that quickly. She knew the effect she was having on me and she stood silently and let the feeling wash all through me.

“I’m just hitchhiking up the road,” she said finally, edging closer to my fire, “thought I could find someplace in the camp to crash, that’s all.”

I didn’t want the company.especially not her company.and yet, at the same time, I did. I gestured towards the fire. “Warm yourself up,” I said.

She smiled and that smile seemed to light up the night. “Cool! Thanks! It’s a little bit chilly tonight!” she said sitting cross-legged a few feet from me. She glanced at the joint and I re-lit it and handed it to her. She took two dainty puffs and handed it back. “Yes,” she said rolling back her head and closing her eyes, “I needed that.”

I shrugged and took another hit. We passed it back and forth a few times and then just enjoyed the buzz in pregnant silence until she finally looked over at me and asked, “What’re you doing out here all alone, man?”

“Just needed to get away from things for a while,” I replied truthfully.

She nodded. “That’s cool. That’s cool.” Then she looked at me as though she was seeing me for the first time. I knew that I looked pretty square.relatively new jeans, white t-shirt with breast pocket, my army-issued boots, my hair still not much longer than it was when I was in the service.and I was sure that she was trying to figure out my story. “What’ve you been doing that you needed to get away from?”

I tensed, ready to explode should she try to give me some shit. A girl who looked a lot like her had spit on me.spit on me.when I got off the plane in LA in my uniform. She had called me a baby killer and a fascist and I had been worried that maybe she wasn’t far off took all of my self-control to keep myself from pummeling her smug ass right there and then. My first impulse was to lie but I quickly pushed that aside. “I just got back from Nam a few weeks ago,” I said soberly.

She frowned for a moment and then nodded. “Okay, I dig,” she said knowingly. “I was wondering why your aura was so dark and your eyes were so sad.”

I rolled my eyes. I was not in the mood for any of that spacey crap. “Guess so,” I said coolly. I stood up and walked over to where I had parked my truck. I got my sleeping bag, a blanket, and two pillows out of the back and went back to the clearing and the campfire. “I don’t have an extra sleeping bag but you’re welcome to stay the night by the fire if you want,” I said holding out the blanket and one of the pillows.

She smiled brightly. “Far out, man! That’s very nice of you.”

I shrugged again. “Don’t sweat it,” I said as I unrolled the sleeping bag. “I’ve been driving all day and I’m pretty beat so I’m gonna turn in.”

“That’s cool,” she said as she spread out the blanket on the other side of the campfire, “I’m pretty tired myself.”

I took off my jeans and boots and got into the bag with my back to the fire and closed my eyes. I could hear here scrambling around and finally settling down.

“What was it like over there?” she asked suddenly, softly.

I bit my tongue to keep myself from snapping at her. “Don’t wanna talk about it,” I said. She didn’t say anything else. I drifted off to sleep with crackle of the fire singing me into a fitful slumber.

Sometime later, I was startled awake by the feeling was I was being watched. The girl was standing over me looking down with the bright moon just over her shoulder. It took me a few seconds to realize that she was naked; my eyes wandered up from her thin but sturdy legs, the soft thicket of golden hair on her crotch, her small but proud breasts and I felt myself rise fully to arousal for the first time in a very long time.

I started to speak but she bent down and shushed me with a butterfly kiss. Still not speaking she slipped into the sleeping bag and pressed her incredibly warm body against mine. Her little hands seemed to be everywhere and before I knew it I was naked too.

I took her into my arms and kissed her hard. She put her arms around my neck and moaned inarticulately as she kissed me back. Her slim body felt so delicate to my rough hewn hands but, wordlessly, she assured me that I didn’t have to treat her like some kind of porcelain doll.

I let myself go coaxing appreciative moans as I kissed her taut nipples and probed through the thicket of golden hair and made my acquaintance with her proud clitoris. She reached down and stroked me with nimble strokes, playing with my cock like it was wonderful new toy she had discovered.

I reached over and zipped open the sleeping bag exposing us to the patient moon and the cool night air. I kissed my way down her body.running my tongue down her neck and around her nipples and into her cute little bellybutton.until I reached the golden thicket. She laughed like a carefree child when I buried my face in her crotch and probed her with my hungry tongue. It was probably just my imagination but she tasted like honey and I wanted to savor that taste forever. She squirmed giddily stroking my head while I licked and probed until suddenly, anxiously, she started tugging on my arms. I lifted out of her golden thicket with a final tender kiss and I allowed her to guide me up on top of her.

She smiled encouragingly as I loomed over her and spread her legs as wide as the sleeping bag would allow. I surged into her and she clung to me like she would never let me go. I felt engulfed with heat from the tip of my cock to every fiber of my being as we rocked together breathlessly, passionately, even a bit ruthlessly. At one point I thought I might be hurting her but she seemed to sense that and smiled up at me and mouthed “I’m okay” and I thought my heart would burst in that moment.

I felt truly alive for the first time since I was in the jungle and I wanted to stay inside of her forever. She came twice, her arms clasped around my neck and her legs pressed against my thighs, and then we came together. I growled out my orgasm venting frustration and fear and disorientation while she giggled with passionate abandon and let me know that it was all right.that I was going to be all right. Then I lay on top of her, catching my breath and feeling at peace for the first time in a long time, while she held on and cooed softly.

I kissed her, ever so shyly for some reason, and rolled onto my back.

She snuggled against me, her breasts stabbing me sweetly, and put her head on my shoulder as I drew the sleeping bag over us. “Welcome home, soldier,” she said in soft, creamy voice as she drifted off to sleep.

I stroked her hair and closed my eyes so I wouldn’t cry. “Thank you,” I whispered gratefully as I followed her into a more restful slumber.

In the morning she was gone.

I woke up to find myself alone. She had put the blanket and pillow I’d given her in the back of my truck and on top of it she’s left the string of beads she’d been wearing on top of a note: “give peace a chance, man ... the world can still be a very beautiful trip.” She drew a little heart next to that and signed her first name.

I smiled, clutching the beads and taking in a full measure of the cool morning air as I did so, and nodded wistfully.

Michael K.Willis, formerly a dishwasher, an office drone, and a bookstore manager/owner (though not all at the same time), is a writer living in sunny South California (he’s also referring to himself in third person here, which is kinda odd ... ) He’s been published in Gallery, Amazing Heroes, and other publications you probably haven’t heard of. He’s also placed in online writing contests on Tell Tale Press and a couple of other sites. He’s a cynical optimist which may or may not have helped him place first in Cynical Magazine’s Not So Cynical Christmas Tales contest in both 2005 and 2006. He keeps his Muse exercised by blogging short fiction and other ephemera on his 3-year-old blog, Bread and Roses ( He doesn’t mind Mondays but finds that Wednesdays can be kind of bothersome at times.

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Desdmona's Erotic Story Contests
2007 Sixties Erotica Contest
Honorable Mention