Then I took a piece of duct tape and taped his dog tags to his chest. He began to complain until I said, “Look, if we get caught we’re dead anyway.” We loaded up with a fuckload of grenades, making sure to tape the handles so they wouldn’t rattle. I finally grabbed a military tazer and put it in one of my molle pouches.The Corporal asked, “What’s that for?”I replied, “If we catch this fucker, he’s going to wish he was dead.”I put on my ghillie suit, handed one to the Corporal and ordered, “Put this on and pretend you’re a bush.”We were ready and I suggested to George, “A distraction right now might be a good idea, just make sure they don’t shoot us.”George got the majority of the men to start firing while the Corporal and I hauled ass out the door, hit the ground and began to crawl toward cover. We got behind a wall, stopped and took a breather. I asked, “How are you doing?”He swore, “Shit, I need to take a piss.”I laughed and ordered, “Welcome to being a recon, now take your. He had pulled the damp mattress from my bunk, resting the wet edge against the cell heater, a carefully positioned a towel over the wet patch. To fend off the chill he had dressed again, jeans and prison denim shirt. You have to hand it to the HM Prison Service, they really knew how to take care of us. I levered myself up onto my elbows and gazed down at him. Was I falling in love? Surely not. Last night had been revelatory in every sense of the word but love? How could you be certain? I hopped down carefully, erection bouncing stiffly before me. It was 5.30am so there was plenty of time before they came to open the cells. I stepped up to the aluminium bowl and willed my Morning Glory into submission, pushing down and carefully pissing onto the sides so as not to wake him. Naked, I lay down beside him and cuddled into his ample frame. He smiled in his sleep and rolled onto his back. His shirt fell open, exposing his wonderfully padded body, a many domed sculpture in chalk white.
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