By Jewel

I held off from the truth for years. I told my story, and it's well known, but all along I missed out the most important part. After all these years it still haunts me. I'm older and wiser and while I still have my life and my health it's time to face up to the wrong I did. It's finally time to remember what really happened between me and Pitt Mackeson.

I can recall clearly the night it all started. It was late, most of the men had packed up and gone to bed, but Pitt's small figure squatted alone by the fire. I took the opportunity and nervously approached, lowering myself next to him to sit in silence for a few moments. I could not understand why I felt so on edge - I knew it was going to be difficult tackling him about his behavior, but there seemed to be more to it than that. Sitting so close to him in the flickering light, the heat from the fire warming our skin, the muted sounds of male voices and snores, the smell of wood smoke and horses and leather, felt almost unnervingly intimate. It was a while before I could bring myself to look at him. Fiddling with a blade of grass, his long hair falling forward to veil his face, he looked small and vulnerable, almost feminine. I had to remind myself of his true nature.

As I struggled for words, it was Pitt who spoke first.

'You got something to say, Dutchie?'

I could sense his sneer although I couldn't see it. A sudden breeze, cool on the back of my neck, wafted through Pitt's hair. It made the fire crackle and glow brighter. Pitt turned his head and looked at me with amusement, a slight smile on his full lips. His skin shone warmly in the firelight. The intensity of the eyes gazing at me through strands of hair seemed to make my stomach jump. What was it I was going to say?

'I know you don't like me, Mackeson. But we all need to try and get on and work together.'

Pitt had started chewing on the blade of grass, still smiling. His eyes didn't leave mine for a second but he didn't seem to be listening to a word I was saying. It had been hard working up the courage to talk to him, and I felt irritated that he was ignoring me, 'What is it you want, Pitt?'

Still chewing the grass, his mouth opened into a grin, showing his teeth.

He brought his face closer to mine, so close it almost felt as if he was going to kiss me. I wished I hadn't thought of kissing, because for a moment it almost felt as if I WANTED him to kiss me. I think the shock of the thought showed in my face because Pitt laughed and said 'You KNOW what I want, Dutchie'.

He sat back, still smiling, still chewing that damn grass, still looking at me with those startling grey eyes which seemed to see right into me.

............................................................

He asked me to follow him. I walked behind him, watching him move languidly in the direction of the trees. It was difficult not to watch the way his little butt twitched provocatively as he walked. It had been too long since I'd seen a woman, too long for all of us. At nights, my thoughts of war and revenge would be taken over by visions of soft flesh and kisses and ..... well, I could only imagine the rest of it. There was nothing like the thought of dying a virgin for fuelling those night-time fantasies. That must be why I was looking at Pitt in that way - if he had been born a woman he would be beautiful.

We'd moved away from the camp and I felt for my pistol, hard and cold. I didn't trust Pitt one bit. There was something about him that terrified me, a lust for killing, a cold heartlessness. If I was going to be alone with him I wanted to be sure I could protect myself. Pitt had stopped walking and was leaning against a tree. Still that damnable, mocking smile.

'Dutchie'

Even in the darkness his eyes shone, reaching into my soul. It was cold away from the fire and I shivered.

'You cold, Dutchie? Come closer'.

There was no reason to obey him, and every reason not to, but those eyes mesmerised me. I moved closer to him, not knowing what he intended to do or say. To my surprise, he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me to him. I was too shocked to resist. My body was pressed against his and I could feel the hardness of his erection pushing against me. He kissed me. I felt paralysed, I couldn't move at all, I didn't understand what was happening. His voluptuous lips pressed against mine and his sweet tongue probed between my teeth. The sensation seemed to move straight to my cock and I felt myself growing hard against him. He kissed me with passion, holding the back of my head and lapping my mouth with his tongue, twisting his head to push deeper inside me as if he was trying to eat me. I could feel the coolness of his saliva drying on my face.

It was several seconds before I regained my senses and pushed away from him, horrified at what I'd experienced. I couldn't speak, I just ran, stumbling back to the camp, hearing his laughter in my ears. I crawled into bed and tossed and turned, trying desperately not to think of what had happened, trying desperately not to touch myself. It was a long time before I got any sleep.

........................................

When I woke up the next morning I felt damp and realized, with horror and disgust, that I'd been dreaming about Pitt. I wanted his image to go from my mind, but the dream had been so erotic, and whenever I closed my eyes I saw pictures of him, shaking his hair out, pouting sulkily, gazing directly at me with those cruel eyes. And that kiss.

......................................................................

'You know what I want, Dutchie'. Looking back, it seemed as if I HAD known all along. The way he looked at me .......

There was nothing for it but to avoid him. Difficult when you are living so closely together. However much I tried to keep away, he would seem to seek me out, finding excuses to catch my eye, to smile that devilish smile at me, to brush past me casually. And every time I saw him the hairs would rise on the back of my neck, and if he touched me my heart thudded. And when he wasn't there, I would find myself thinking about him and constantly glancing around hoping not to see him and then feeling strangely disappointed when I didn't. And however much I tried I couldn't forget, couldn't forget that kiss and the way it had made me feel.

And the night-times were worse, because I would dream about him every night. I grew terrified that I would call his name out in my sleep. I'd never had dreams like those before - I dreamed about touching him and him touching me and every morning when I woke, for a few blissful seconds it would seem as if it had actually happened and I had no sense of morality or dignity, I just wanted to reach out and find him there, next to me. And then I would come to my senses and hate myself for thinking that way about him, and then I would see him and he would look straight into my eyes and smile as if he KNEW.

And you did know, didn't you, Pitt? You knew exactly what you were doing to me and you laughed at my torment. You would cock your head on one side and smile that knowing smile as if there was some secret between us. And I would want to hit you and kiss you at the same time. I was helpless, lost, confused, desperate. And it amused you.

..............................................

And then something changed in me. We were in a fight and I saw someone about to shoot Pitt. I shot the man as he moved to pull the trigger and the bullet whistled over Pitt's head. Pitt looked at me and laughed with delight before returning to his killing spree. But that night, I couldn't sleep. In the second when I had seen the gun pointed at Pitt, I had imagined the bullet shattering his beautiful face, his elegant body thrown backwards to crumple awkwardly on the ground. I saw him emptying of life, cooling and stiffening, dead meat. And I felt an utter panic that I might never kiss him again.

I resolved that I would let him kiss me, before one of us died. And finally, I fell asleep.

...............................................

The next day was warm and sunny. Pitt was greasing his pistol, humming cheerfully to himself, still on a high from the violence of the previous day. He smiled happily when I approached him, and didn't seem at all surprised.

'You saved my life, Dutchie'. There was no gratitude in his tone, and a hint of sarcasm. I stood close to him, my shadow falling across him and distracting him from his work.

'What do you want, Dutchie?'

My nervousness rose in my throat, and I swallowed hard.

'You know what I want'.

Pitt threw his head back and laughed as if it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. I felt irritated with him again.

'I'm glad you find me so entertaining, Mackeson.' I turned to walk away but he grabbed my arm. His touch sent a shiver through me, and as I turned to look into his cool gray eyes, suddenly serious, I was lost.

'It's too hot to work today, Dutchie. Let's go for a walk in the woods'.

I nodded, and for the second time, followed him to the trees. My palms were sweating and my heart thudding, and this time I didn't think to check my pistol.

When we were out of sight he took my hand in his and continued to lead me through the wood without speaking or looking at me. We came to a small clearing and he squatted on the grass, lifting his face to the warmth of the sun and smiling at me. He looked so pretty. He pulled me down to sit beside him. I didn't know what to do. I was so nervous. And he wasn't kissing me. Was I supposed to start it?

Pitt lay back and stretched like a cat, enjoying the warmth. I could not understand how he could appear so content and relaxed when I was a whirl of conflicting emotions. He looked up at me, his eyes half-closed, his sensuous lips parted.

'Lie down, Dutchie'.

Stiffly, I laid down next to him and he propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at me. His long hair swung over one shoulder and tickled my face. He seemed to exude sensuality. I looked into his eyes and thought I had never seen anything so beautiful. And still he didn't kiss me.

'Tell me what you want'.

The bastard. He was going to make me say it. It was humiliating. But I wanted him so much.

'I want you to kiss me again'.

As he bent forward to kiss me, I felt faint. His lips brushed mine in a chaste kiss.

'Like this, Dutchie?' he mocked.

He bent to kiss me gently again and my cock leapt to attention. I moaned and grabbed the back of his neck, forcing his mouth against mine. I kissed him as he'd kissed me before, with passion, driving my tongue into his mouth, chewing his lips, devouring him. He rolled on top of me and I felt my hips push upwards to meet him. I could taste his saliva mingling with mine, our tongues writhing together, the length of our bodies pressed against each other. It was unbearable. I was overcome with emotion. I hadn't thought any further than a kiss, but in that moment I wanted more.

I didn't know what more was but I wanted it, wanted all of it.

And Pitt gave it to me.

He moved off me and fiddled with my clothing. I lifted my hips to let him pull my pants down. I felt my cock spring free and was scared to move in case he stopped doing what he was doing. I felt his hair brush my belly and his soft mouth close over my cock. The shock and the beauty of it made my hips buck, forcing my dick further into his mouth. Oh God, it was wonderful! His hand roamed over my belly, my thighs, my balls, and waves of pleasure radiated through my body. He grasped my cock and stroked it, his hand slick with his saliva, his tongue teasing me, flicking around the rim, pushing into the little slit, encircling and caressing my cock. When I felt myself coming I moaned and grabbed a handful of his hair, and pushed into him, feeling him gag, feeling my semen explode in spasms into that beautiful warm mouth. I thought I would die from the sheer ecstasy of it.

My eyes closed, I felt his lips against mine again and tasted my semen on his tongue. He licked around my face to my ear, and whispered 'You like it?'

Oh God. What do you think Pitt? I had never liked anything so much in my whole life.

'You want more?'

Oh God, there was more?

He sat back and I opened my eyes to look at him. He had started undressing slowly. His body was like a boy's, lean and smooth. When he stepped towards me I could not take my eyes off the exceptionally large cock swinging between his legs.

'How do you want it, Dutchie?'

'What....?' I was still transfixed by that impressive cock.

Pitt giggled. 'You've not done it before, have you?'

I couldn't answer - I wasn't even sure what he meant.

'Come on. Get naked'. He knelt beside me, and started pulling at my clothes, helping me undress. 'You can do it to me first'.

He looked appreciatively at my body. 'It's good, Dutchie. It really is good'. He ran his hand over my cock and I could feel it start to respond again. Then in an instant he was straddling my face, his knees either side of my head.

'Lick me'.

His arsehole was pressed against my mouth and without thinking, I stroked it with my tongue. He moaned and wiggled against my face. I felt as if I was drowning in the smell and taste of him. The delicious intimacy of the act excited me enormously and I could feel the blood surging to my cock. I pulled him down against me, pushing my tongue into that little hole, tasting bitterness mixed with the salt of his sweat, feeling the delicate texture of his membranes, inhaling his musky scent...

He rolled off me, onto his hands and knees and I followed him, grabbing his hips and forcing my face against his butt again, licking and lapping him like a dog. He squirmed against me, and I reached for his cock. I knew what to do with that, at least. I'd done it enough times to myself.

'Dutchie, stop.'

He sat back and I could have swooned looking at him, breathing heavily, his tangled hair falling across his face, his cheeks flushed, his moist lips parted, his eyes shining. He held my face in his hands for a second and grinned joyfully at me.

'You doing real good, Dutchie. Now you got to put your cock where your tongue was'.

Oh God. I felt a tremor go through me at the thought of it, my mouth dry, the taste of him still thrilling me.

He closed his mouth and swirled his tongue around before bending and grasping my cock and putting his lips to it, letting the saliva dribble over it. I arched my back and moaned as he slicked my cock with spit and the fluid from the tip. He leant forward to kiss me. The taste of his mouth excited me so much and I pulled him to me, sucking his tongue in, clutching a handful of his soft hair.

'Come on'

He broke away from me and turned and bent forward again, resting on his elbows. I placed the tip of my cock at his entrance and pushed gently. 'Come on, Dutchie' There was urgency in his tone, and he pushed back against me. I was worried about hurting him, but I increased the pressure, feeling my cock edge into him, stopping to allow him to relax and catch his breath. He felt so good inside, tight, hot, smooth.

'Come on, fuck me'

Just hearing him say it almost made me come. I began moving my hips, sliding back and forth. The sensation was exquisite. I thrust harder and reached for his cock again, sliding the velvety skin back and forth, rewarded by his gasps of pleasure. It was beautiful, like nothing I'd experienced before. I could have fucked him for eternity, but I couldn't hold on any longer than a couple of minutes. Neither could Pitt. With a low groan, his body tensed and his semen spurted over my hand. The thought that I had made him come thrilled me and I thrust more deeply and it felt as if all the world centered on my cock in his arse and then I was coming too, coming in shuddering waves deep inside him, in his body, inside Pitt Mackeson, closing my eyes and moaning and clinging to him, coming and completely, utterly overcome.

I withdrew my cock slowly. He rolled over and pulled me down next to him. We lay side by side gazing at each other, the sweat cooling on our bodies. He smiled naughtily at me, and he looked so happy, so seductive, so beautiful that I laughed and he laughed too and kissed the tip of my nose.

'See? I told you it was good, Dutchie'.

Good? How much better than good could something be? It was indescribably wonderful. I couldn't wait to do it again.

And we did do it again, and more, whenever we could sneak away unnoticed.

And it just got better.

...............................................

Knowing what you know about Pitt, what do you think he would be like as a lover? Selfish? Brutal? I was surprised too. Pitt was my first lover and I had nothing to compare him to, but I know now that I will never meet another like him. He could be playful, submissive, passionate, feminine masculine, forceful, romantic, tender, loving ........ anything that suited the occasion and our desires.

Pitt was born for sex. He relished it more than anything else. He had no boundaries, no limits to what he would do for pleasure. Every minute that we were not making love seemed wasted. I wanted him all the time, on me, in me, over me, under me, around me. I ached for the smell of him, the taste of his skin. When I couldn't have him, I would watch him: he would move his hand in a certain way, or frown, or toss his hair back and I would feel a surge of blood to my cock and a physical pain in my belly. It was almost like love. I loved his intense eyes, his voluptuous lips, the curve of his buttocks, the hardness of his hipbones, his slim thighs, his soft mouth, his hot little hole...........

I had never been so happy, so fulfilled. Until I went away, and found myself yearning for him all the time. And when I came back, I knew the mood had changed.

...............................

We went to the woods in the darkness. Pitt didn't speak a word on the way. When I tried to touch him he flinched and scowled at me.

'What is the matter with you, Pitt?'

He pouted sulkily. He really looked like a petulant child.

'You're mine, Dutchie. I don't want you going with anyone else.'

What was he talking about? For some reason it had never even seemed to occur to me that I could do what me and Pitt did with anyone else. I just didn't think about anyone else that way.

'Of course I'm not going with anyone else'.

'Then what's going on? You left me, you bastard'. He spat the words out. 'What did you do for entertainment when you were away?'

'Oh for goodness sake, there are other things in the world than ...... this! Have you forgotten what we're here for?'

Pitt, didn't seem to want to listen. He continued with accusations and insults, his voice rising in pitch, until eventually he exploded into a full-scale tantrum, shrieking at me, stamping his foot and tossing his hair like a small child. I gave up on trying to explain myself and just stared open-mouthed at the performance.

Suddenly he was silent and turned away, putting his hands over his face. His shoulders were shaking and I realized he was crying. I touched his back and he turned and clung to me, sobbing.

'Oh Dutchie, I thought you were dead'. He could hardly get the words out for crying so hard. He held on to me as if his life depended on it.

When his sobs subsided I pushed away the hair clinging to his wet face and kissed his salty tears.

'I didn't die. I'm here now'.

'I missed you. I couldn't sleep. Don't go again, Dutchie. After this is all over.... come back home with me'.

'I can't think about what will happen when this is over .......' I stopped speaking. He didn't want to hear. I imagined that if I ever got through this, I would get married, start a family, forget about the violence which was sickening me. And Pitt was a part of all that, the war, the violence, and I knew if I got through it I would want to forget him along with the rest of it. But for now........ I had never seen him so helpless and exposed, and I wanted to comfort him.

I lowered him to the ground. It was too cold to take our clothes off, but I managed to arrange them so that we could make love, slowly and gently, face to face. He hardly moved at first, just looked at me with desperate eyes, but then he started to meet my thrusts, and his lips parted and his eyes misted over. He touched my face, stroking the contours as if he wanted to commit them to memory. The tears still glistened on his cheeks and I felt a lump in my own throat as I looked as his beautiful, doomed face.

As he came, he clung to me and whimpered. I thought I heard him say 'I love you'.

I held him, in the cold, clear night, feeling him begin to shiver with cold, and with his crying which had never really stopped. He whispered 'I'll find you, Dutchie. Whatever happens, I'll come and find you and take you home with me'.

I didn't answer.

.....................................

We kind of resumed our relationship for a time. But Pitt was more intense, more loving, more jealous than before. And sometimes I felt afraid of him. Not afraid that he would hurt me - I think now that I was afraid of the feelings he inspired in me which I was trying to suppress. Making love was always wonderful, but the tone changed. I encouraged him to be rough with me, to tie me, to slap me, to hold me down, to fuck me so hard it hurt. I think I wanted to hate him. Or at least I wanted to feel he had taken me, that it wasn't my doing. I could never quite admit to wanting him as much as I did.

It didn't work. Pitt loved being rough with me but he would seduce me into moments of tenderness however much I tried to resist.

..............................................

I remember the last time we made love. It was another unusually warm day, like the first time, and I lay naked on my front in the dappled sunlight, trying to doze, while Pitt hummed and gently stroked my back. He was in a playful mood. I suddenly felt a hard slap on my backside. I looked around and Pitt was smiling

'Pay attention, Dutchie'

He ran his fingers along the insides of my thighs and traced the crack between my buttocks. I groaned. Whatever else he made me feel, he could always inspire lust in me. I felt his tongue replace his fingers and pushed up onto my knees, wanting more. He licked along my crack, and circled my hole with his tongue. I pushed my backside against his face until I felt his tongue probe my anus exquisitely. Oh God, it felt so good. My mind drifted as I lost myself in the sensation of the firm, gentle pressure of his tongue, the sound of him moaning and slurping, the feel of his breath against my backside. He added wet slender fingers, probing and stretching. I felt my cock bounce and swell. I wanted him so much it scared me. He licked my balls and ran his hand along my erection, gently pressing the tip with his thumb.

'Oh God, Pitt, I want your cock!'

I shook with urgency as he placed his cock at my entrance, and pushed against it, bearing down, trying to engulf it as quickly as possible. I loved the feeling of it first sliding in, pushing through the resistant rings of muscle.

Pitt leaned over to wrap his arms around me and kissed my back tenderly, sliding gently in and out of me.

'You feel so good' he murmured.

I felt I wanted him to stay there for ever. I was scared I was feeling too much. The passion that welled in my stomach was much more than lust and I was afraid to feel it, with him, like this.

'Just do it, Pitt' I said sharply. 'Harder'.

Obediently, he fucked me harder and faster but the feeling didn't go away.

'Harder!'

I wanted it to hurt.

Then suddenly he rocked back to sit on his heels, pulling me with him. I was sitting on his lap, my knees outside his, and gasped as my weight pushed his large cock deep inside me. As I sank down it rose further inside me until it seemed to be pressing against my stomach. It was stretching me, filling me impossibly. Pitt ran his hand between my spread thighs, reaching behind my balls, then over my straining cock, over my belly and chest to my face.

'I love you, Dutchie' he breathed against my neck. 'I want all of you. Want you to have all of me. I could die for loving you'.

He leaned back and I rocked on top of him. He was so deep inside me he felt like part of me. And for once, I took it all in, let his words seep into my soul, felt his love like a caress over my body, through me, within me. I could no longer distinguish the physical from the emotional sensations and each time I moved against him it was like an exquisite pain deep in my heart. He was penetrating me, rising up within me, and I felt as if I was falling, trembling, light-headed, melting into him, the rest of the world had disappeared and there was just us, joined together, moving together, becoming part of each other. I whimpered as I felt my orgasm approach and Pitt grabbed me and we came together, pushing against each other and I shook and yelled as I came, screaming with ecstasy and love and fear. He hugged me tightly as I came back down to earth. Then he stroked me and kissed me and nuzzled me so tenderly that I felt like a child in his arms. He held me and gazed into my eyes. His beautiful eyes were wet and I knew mine were too and I thought 'Pitt, I love you, I love you with all my heart, and I'm so scared'.

But I didn't say it. I didn't even let myself think it again, not until much, much later. Too late.

.................................................

You know the rest of it. The stupid argument. Pitt threatening me. Shooting at me. Like a child, doing anything to get a reaction, misbehaving because a shout or a smack is better than indifference. You were always such a child, Pitt.

Unimaginable now, that I really believed Pitt meant to kill me. He deliberately shot around me, goading me. Trying to hurt me, trying to scare me, but kill me? Never. I'd been trying so hard to hate him, and his threat gave me the excuse at last. After the argument I clung to that, and pretended he'd never said 'I'll see you in Missouri' as a parting shot.

Pitt was my enemy and I made sure everyone knew it. I didn't let myself think about ..... anything else. I worked so hard at hating him. Right up to the end.

............................................

When I saw you for that last time, I thought you intended to kill me. But you could have killed me the minute you saw me. Instead you rode up and put yourself at my mercy. And I threatened to kill you...

As usual, I misread all the signs. You had no intention of killing me. You had come to find me and take me with you, as you said you would. That was what you wanted, wasn't it? To live with me, or to die for me, whichever I granted you. I have thought over the years about all the reasons why I hated you, all the reasons I shouldn't be with you and gradually they all seem to have faded to nothing. We were all corrupted by the war, Pitt. You weren't the only one who enjoyed killing, or who felt emotional, lonely, jealous. You weren't the only one to direct your anger at someone you loved and ruin everything. Those bad parts of you were in all of us, Pitt, but you were the least controlled, the most childlike, the most vulnerable, the most needy of us. You were a child, playing children's games, but with a real gun instead of a toy. You were corrupted by the violence, and by the coldness from the person you loved, before you had a chance to mature. You could have grown up with me, if I'd let you. I could have saved you. At any point along the line I could have said I loved you, that I would stay with you. I never did. I never even said I liked you, or showed it. I never said you were my friend. No wonder you were jealous of my friendships. You gave me your love and your body and I took it without care or gratitude.

I was wrong, and I am so sorry.

Many times I've wanted to seek you out, but I have been so afraid of knowing for sure that you are dead. All these years, I hoped against hope that you were alive, somewhere, and that you would come for me again. I remember little things about you in sharp detail, your laugh of delight, your hair brushing my skin, the smell of you..... but sometimes I can't remember your face and I panic and my heart breaks. I need to look at you again and I can't wait any longer. I need to hold you and kiss you and fuck you and smell you and taste you and say all the things I never said that I fucking wish with all my heart I had said when you needed me to. I'm coming to find you, Pitt, dead or alive.

I always loved you.

See you in Missouri.