This is a work of fiction, and as such the characters are not bound by the usual dictates of modern society. Unsafe sexual practices can be undertaken with impunity only in the world of fantasy. In reality, it is your obligation and your right to play safely, sanely and healthily. I hope you enjoy my work, and if you have any comments, or ideas that may inspire new work, please feel free to contact me at Joystick56@Hotmail.Com - all E-mails will be answered to the best of my ability.
I would like to thank all of you for the many letters you wrote (so far over 200) and for telling me how much you liked or hated the story so far. Keep the letters coming.

The Three-Day Pass
Chapter 25

By Joystick

End of Chapter 24

“Damn it lover you don't need any aphrodisiacs. Get the hell out of here. You better take that shower-alone. GO NOW, habibi, before I insist that you fuck me right here and now. Right on the floor with the servants as onlookers cheering you on…”

Chapter 25

Joseph, after taking a shower and a quick shave exited the bathroom drying his damp hair with a big fluffy towel. At one time he hated the fact that the army had insisted that his longish blond hair had to be cut short. Now he could see some advantages to the military 'Buzz Cut'. First of all, it dried quickly and it was easy to keep groomed. But lately an additional plus came to light. Whenever he rubbed the short stubble it reminded him of Rich. Now that man was the love of his life, but at times he could be so weird.

For the last few weeks, during their lovemaking, he would find any excuse (or no excuse at all) to rub his cock and balls over the short hair. When Joseph asked him why, he said it was a major turn on. That it felt like tiny electric shocks stimulating his libido. He said it made him fantasize about all kinds of erotic situations, none of which he would divulge. Joseph never pressed him for any answers, but the fantasies sure added to their bedtime activities…. Oh! Damn it, there I go again the soldier thought; all I have to do is to think about Rich and I start getting hard. I've got to put him out of my mind. Thinking about him can make me careless and I cannot afford the luxury of that now. It takes only one slip and its curtains for me. (No, not the type of curtains he visualized in one of his own crazy fantasies. The one in which the both of them were on stage doing the “Dance of the Seven Veils”. After the last veil floated to the ground, he and Rich, completely nude, are holding hands and bowing before a huge applauding audience as the curtain comes down!) (Now who is weird? he asked himself.) He was constantly trying to force this daydreaming crap out of his consciousness by repeatedly telling himself, over and over; I have to stop thinking of him. Being with Rich is fun. With Rich my mine can relax and be free. Being with Fazzi is not fun. It is work, deadly work. I have to focus and keep focused. My mind must always remain concentrated on the job.

Wrapping the big towel around his waist, he walked over to the walk-in closet where he surveyed