Long Road

It's always a mistake to think that a warrior who embraces peace does so because he has forgotten how to be violent. That has been a truth for years as long as there have been warriors in the world. I had walked away from the violence many years ago, every day I took one of the mantles made me feel dirtier. Heavier with muck, like a blanket that got more and more tainted with each of drop of blood that I had spilled. I know the cliché, I had spent many a day laughing at it each time I read it in other stories. But there is something in each of those stories that reminds me that those words are fiction, imaginations from the minds of people that perhaps had seen too many movies. But maybe listening to my story will help clarify that point, maybe it'll help you understand the cliché and more importantly it will help you understand who I am and where I am coming from in the large scheme of things.

As I write this journal I am 30 years old, completely average in every conceivable way. I stood at 5 foot 7 inches tall, 190 pounds of which the vast majority was lean muscle, and from years before I had taken to shaving my head and growing a beard. The majority of the time, people would find me atop my steel horse, at the time I was riding a cherry red Harley Davidson Softail with custom black leather seats and matching saddle bags. At one point, everything that I owned would fit perfectly well within those two bags and a large bag that I kept tied on the passenger seat of the bike. I hadn't always been a nomad, that came later in life due to circumstances that even I never saw coming, I had always been good at connecting dots but like everyone in the world I was blinded with love. But again, I am getting ahead of myself.

It was as if my fate had been written long before I had been born. "Born on a stormy night," my mother would always tell me, "Monday night storms." I was the fourth of five children, the first was dead within minutes of birth and the only girl born to my parents and the curse of the boys prevented any others. My father was lined up to take the family business when he was younger, but after meeting my mother and marrying her she quickly put her foot down against the role. One of his brothers had taken up the mantle of leadership of the family and with that position came a lot of responsibility that he readily embraced. My brother Adolf quickly followed his footsteps and looked at him for guidance and mentorship. While many people within our city knew our name and our reputation, both for incredible cruelty and unshakable honor, our associations kept us well protected from both the Cartels that had begun to swell and devour the areas and from the authorities.

While I grew up, my family grew in reputation, and while my brother quickly took to the lessons imparted from my uncle I was looked at with a more favorable future. While my brother continued making a name for himself, my uncle began taking me under his wing and began to teach me the more logistic areas of the business. He always spoke about how different my brother and I were: while my brother was physical bigger and far more efficient in his role as clean-up crew, I was more the methodical thinker and planner. My uncle figured that while I could be a more effective sweeper once I learned from my brother, however my true talent would be more applicable to the overall daily running of the business. According to my uncle, my brother fully agreed with him.

I wish I could tell you about some of the jobs I did, but those are stories for another day and another time. Needless to say, after a few years in the job, the weight of the blood blanket had began to consume me. One day I had met a girl while I was sitting in one of those few classes that I had to take in order to keep the authorities out of our business. She had walked into the class a few minutes late; when she walked in the first words that crossed my mind were a solemn promise to myself that I would have her. A few weeks passed and this woman and I found ourselves in my bedroom, completely naked and rolling around in the bed as madness took over our senses. She was adamant that she would not have sex until a special time, however as we rolled around in the bed the inevitable happened. As she straddled me, the strength from her legs failed her and her body fell on top of mine and into my already throbbing cock.

When I entered her for the first time and tore through her hymen, it was an unplanned occurrence. When she realized that she had impaled herself unto me, the panic in her eyes was quickly replaced with a lustful look and after a small moan that revealed any kind of pain she felt left from her lips, louder and more pleasure filled moans quickly replaced it. As she raised and lowered herself on my cock, the incredible tightness of a virgin pussy was obvious, but her thrusts betrayed her carnal need. Her words became a mangled mess of incoherent noises and syllables, as her orgasm neared she sped her movements my hands reached out for those incredibly large tits for a woman of such a small frame. Just as her orgasm began, my hands squeezed her breasts and pinched her nipples just slightly, enough to draw yet another sharp breath before a loud shriek of pleasure. As she slowed her thrusts to a complete halt, and before she could regain her composure, I immediately rolled her onto her back, and without withdrawing from that tight wet hole, I began to pump into her.

Again, her words became a jumbled mess of noises and incomplete words as I pumped in and out of her. Her hands reached for me and clawed at my back to the point of almost drawing blood, her eyes rolled to the back of her head as yet another orgasm took her. Putting one of her tits in my mouth, I slowed my pumping while I let her ride the waves and aftershocks of her orgasm, and as soon as it had completely subsided I began to pump into her again, slowly this time, while she took my mouth with hers. While our tongues danced with each other and our sweat began to pour out of us like buckets, I felt my own orgasm nearing.

"Are you on the pill?" I asked her amidst breaths and pumps, unable to reply she shook her head. "I am about to cum," I continued, before she could wrap her legs around me to hold me in place I managed to pry myself off and pulled my cock out of her pussy for the first time since we had engaged. After a few strokes my cum shot from my cock and coated her pubis, stomach, and reached as far as her tits. She looked absolutely beautiful coated in a layer of sweat and cum, trying to regain her breath and looking at my cock wrapped around by my hand. She reached to the tip of my cock and grabbed the last lingering drop of cum from the head of it and greedily rubbed it in her hands like lotion.

"You should've cum in me," she protested, even as she reached for a towel to clean herself off.

"When you're on the pill, I'll fill you up with so much cum that you'll be coughing it" I replied. "Until then, you're gonna have to get used to cum baths, sweetheart."

"I wish you wouldn't talk like that," she complained, "but it is kind of naughty in a way." We spent the rest of the night getting used to that kind of talk, and with each time I memorized a fresher image of her. But again, I was born on a stormy night.

The family business continued to knock on my door, my uncle's increasing tutoring and the constant jobs with my brother made it a hard on my social life. I knew that I couldn't live with that life and with this girl, those two lives couldn't exist together. But eventually, just like my father had done, I decided to pursue a life of love and marriage instead of the business. I had to choose a way to support a family, and with the poor grades that I received in school and little other talents I was literally a prime candidate for military service. So at 18 and just after barely graduating high school I left what I used to call home for the last time.

Initially, joining had become the worst decision of my life thus far, but as an 18 year old with a guaranteed paycheck, three meals a day, and overall a great health plan things could be far worse. It wasn't so much the screaming, the discipline, or the long hours of physical training but it was more like the other people I was training with; all their tears and their complaints just drove me up the wall. I did make a few friends there, one of them ended up being beside me for the next years of my life: Elvis. He kind of got stuck with that nickname simply because of his last name: Presley. I guess that had been his nickname in school as well, so he took to it immediately, what I didn't understand about the uniform requirements he helped me understand, what he didn't understand in weapons and tactics I helped. We found out that we were going to the same schooling after Basic training; we were both going to become Combat Medics.

San Antonio, Texas was hot. There is little more that can describe it other than that one single word, maybe you could supplement it by adding "fucking" right before it. I was "blessed" to have gotten there in November, so the humidity that constantly permeated the city made it extra cold and miserable. I kept in touch with the girl back home, while trying to get the majority of my studies done in between the normal military drills and duties. There were a few weekends where I had time to relax, and that was the only time that I have ever cheated on the girl back home. We were in a large party, there was about 50 of us there and the alcohol flowed freely, one of the older girls from my platoon was chatting me up all night just asking me questions about where I was headed, where I was home, etc. Before I knew it, she leaned over and kissed me; I pulled back and ran away immediately sobering up.

Like I did every time I made it back to my home town, I pulled the bike into the rest stop, lit a cigarette as I hopped off it and pulled my phone out of my vest. Dialing the number from memory that I had dialed hundreds of times before, I heard the all familiar voice with the all familiar greeting: "newspaper ordering."

"It's Daemon," I replied, "put Angel on."

"Code?"

"Put my fucking brother on the fucking phone," I said softly in the same tone as if I was ordering food from a drive thru speaker, the person on the other end of the line clearly taken out of her comfort zone.

"It's your rude ass brother," she said to someone in the room as her, "he still needs to learn some serious manners." I heard a familiar laugh as the phone changed hands.

"Bro," the voice replied, "you know you don't need to keep calling before you come into town. You have more than paid your debt, little bro, you're more than welcome to come and go as you please."

As I finished my cigarette I allowed my brother to hear my laugh, "yeah, but you haven't." I lit a second cigarette as I continued, "I will be in town for three days, will visit mom and dad, some of the other family. I'll be staying in my girlfriend's apartment. I'll call when I leave." I hung up the phone and sat on the bike, waiting for the call that always came.

"Bro," the same voice said, "I think it's time you and I had a sit down, clear the air."

"I don't really give a shit about your air, Angel" I bitterly replied, "like always just stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours. If you're going to stop and visit mom and dad give them a call before you show up so that I can leave. Anything else?"

"You're incredibly stubborn," he replied almost exhausted, "stay out of the lower side, and west side. It's not a friendly place for us at the moment."

"I am not one of you," I replied, "at least not anymore. And you know that's where she lives, so that's where I'll be, if there is any trouble I'll handle my end. I don't need your fucking babysitters, before you decide to be a 'big brother' and attempt to make some type of twisted and fucked up amend. Like I told you all before, I don't need anything from you, I don't want to see even a shadow of any of you." I hung up the phone as the second cigarette was nearing the filter, walked to the bathroom in the rest area and relived myself before continuing on my way.

This was one of my favorite rides, the road was usually calm at this time of the night, and if I followed the highway it would take me right to her apartment. After spending the night there, I would head to my parents' house while she hung out with her friends, then we would go out to dinner and spend the night making love. We saw each other so infrequently that I at least looked forward to these encounters, her military career often had her going to the field for training, and my own job in the government kept me well occupied. Angie was patient, and I understood her stress because quite frankly I had gone through that stress a few years before, so our relationship was built both as a friendship and a love connection. With a smile on my face, I revved the engine and headed to her place.

"Dude," I desperately told the answering machine after the third call I had made had gone unanswered. "I did something fucking stupid, I need to talk to you. I know she's visiting you, so I need to talk to you before I can talk to her, but I kind of cheated on her. It's a long story, please call me back." I still felt like shit after that kiss, she knew that I had someone in my life, yet she still went ahead and did that bullshit. I could not believe it.

At some point I had passed out, I looked at my phone and saw no missed calls. I got my things together and headed out to try to catch some breakfast before I headed back to post when my phone rang. Looking at the caller ID, I saw it was the only person I was not ready to talk to, but like always fate had more to do with it than I did.

"Is it true?" she said amidst tears, "did you really cheat on me?"

"Yes," I replied solemnly, "last night, a woman kissed me."

"Is that all you did?" concern in her voice.

"Yeah, and I'm sorry." I replied mournfully, "I took off after that and went to sleep."

"No," she replied, panic in her voice. "Oh God, no!"

"What's wrong?"

"Marco let me listen to your voicemail last night," she replied, "so I did something..."

"What the fuck did you do?" I asked, but I already knew the answer to that question.

"I slept with someone."