His muscular and slightly hairy chest heaving. Tears streaming from his eyes.He quickly got up and wiped the blood and shit and his cum from his penis with a towel beside the bed. He stood up, covered in sweat and walked over to the shelf and grabbed a pouch of Capri Sun from the box and a bottle of Aleive and brought them to me.I took 3 Aleive and drank the Capri Sun. I can't remember the flavor.He lay down next to me, half hanging off the side of the mattress and kissed me on the side of my left eye. He whispered the words I'm sorry, sounding like he was about to cry.I stared at him, looking at his deep blue eyes. I brought my lips to his face and kissed his face tenderly. He smiled and began to slowly stroke my cock. He looked me in the eye the whole time. He stroked me faster and faster and spit on his hand a few times to moisten me as he jacked my cock. Seeing his pecs and his arm flexing as he stroked me was enough He kissed me as I came. I remember the vibration of my lips as. " That's so cool." How does she fly?"Then they noticed the British roundels and That started a whole new discussion. They were looking at an airplane that wasn't (according to the British) built in 1944 ... but looked as new as yesterday.Very few aircraft that were from that war ... even those that never saw combat ... survived. The smelters were fed airplanes that rolled off the assembly lines and were flown directly to the scrappers.The people were looking to forget and having a stack of warplanes sitting out on runways and in hangars was too much of a reminder that cousin Jack was still missing and might never be found. Scrap went from a precious and costly commodity to nothing but junk and in the way. The kids who cut the lids from both ends of a rationed soup can and flattened it couldn't give them away.A ship that survived the U-boat getting to the front hauled scrap back ... because battlefields waste a lot but our army ... any army ... didn't want the material that littered.
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