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Twenty weeks. Twenty weeks of humping through the jungle with nothing to show for it but mosquito bites, shrapnel wounds and a fucked up M-16. The 19 year old Jackal had slogged his way through bogs and rice patties wondering all sorts of things. He'd wondered when he'd be dry again. He'd pondered over the point of the war now that the President was hell bent on fucking it up. He'd worried about when the next bullet, trap or explosion would take him out and send him home in a body bag.

Chris wondered if his body and mind could hold out. The grass had grown round his brain twice as thick as the black hair on his head. It hadn't slowed his reaction time when he'd needed it though. The blood and chunks of cat flesh that were still in the teeth of his knife were testament to that. Mostly though, he wondered when it was he could just be left alone for a day and not have to worry about gunfire. He hoped for a time when he could be all alone. Yet, as the sarge spoke he knew it would be awhile. His platoon had the honor of going on an ambush and before he knew it he was humping his way to the east and setting up in claymores in the trees.

"Chris man, What's eating you," said a skinny raccoon named Clarence.

"Bugs, and the fact it's been twenty weeks and we haven't seen a goddamn bit of R & R," said the lean yet muscular jackal.

"Shit, didn't you hear? This is the last ambush we're gonna do and then we get a week of in Saigon."

"They said that last time Clarence and the time before that. They've been saying it for seven fucking weeks now. I think I have trench foot and I swear to God I've got a hard on the size of a fucking king snake man. I need something some action!"

"I feel ya man."

Chris growled as he continued to set up their position, "I need something that comes to me that's warm and willing. I don't care if I've gotta pay for it. Shit, I should have said I was gay or gone to college or both. I could be getting fucking laid right now."

"I hear ya man," said the raccoon pulling a cigarette from his pouch, "You really that pent up?"

"If I dropped my pants my balls would be purple man. I fucking need something. The grass ain't doing shit no more."

Clarence looked at him for what seemed like a long time before taking a drag on his cigarette, "Tell you what, you said there was something wrong with that M-16 right?"

Chris stopped digging and looked at Clarence, "Yeah it's jamming up and I haven't had time to really fix it. Why?"

"I'm gonna do you a favor. I'm gonna fix that M-16 but you'd better fix your gun."

"What?"

"Choke the shit out of that snake between your legs and get ready for tonight. I'm planning on getting out of here alive okay? I don't need you worrying about your dick when the shit goes down tonight."

Chris was taken aback for a moment, "Um... what?"

"You've got fifteen minutes and I'm gonna fix your M-16 and see what Jones is up to. You get whacking and get focused," and with that Clarence took the Jackal's gun and headed up the path a bit. Chris watched as the raccoon split and almost chuckled to himself. Fifteen minutes. Was he kidding?

It took the Jackal a minute to realize that he wasn't. Chris couldn't believe it and shook his head. Fifteen minutes like he could do it in fifteen minutes. Then again it had been twenty weeks and his dick got hard from a stiff breeze, when there was one.

The Jackal decided not to waste anymore time and slowly sank down into the brush and pulled down his trousers and underwear without much thought. He closed his eyes and slowly ran his hand up and down his sheath and balls. His tip slowly emerged from the cream furred foreskin as he rumbled softly to himself.

His black furred hand slowly stroked the emerging shaft as the other began to roam along his chiseled chest and abs, his mind wandering back home. Back to those steamy nights in the backseat of his father's car. Back to all that ass he'd plundered repeatedly and to the secrets that those encounters led to. They hadn't all been guys but, enough had and the thought of what might have happened had been a turn on.

As Chris' mind flashed back his eight inch cock leapt from the fuzz dripping with lust in the palm of the young jackal's hand. Chris gripped his chest tightly running his fingers around his nipples tugging them hard as he panted louder, his red rocket throbbing in the palm of his clenched hand.

The world had melted away and he was back in the backseat of a Buick with Armon a forty year old mechanic. The bulky bear had thought he could top the jackal but when it became clear he couldn't move the Jackal had pounced the porcine brown ursa and upended him. As his dick slammed home into the bear's ass Armon cursed at his luck, but soon panted in time with him. In all of his life the bear had never been taken and that afternoon the Jackal had done just that.

That afternoon the sweat and heat along with the Mississippi humidity had fogged up the windows almost permanently. The bear begged for the teen to slow down but it was to no avail and when they came the bear had ruined the vinyl upholstery while the Jackal coated his inside with the thick spunk of youth and vigor.

Chris howled loudly his cock shooting ropes of cum into the trees startling several of his fellow soldiers along the path. He panted his hand and the surrounding area covered in his jackal juices as his fellow soldiers came up to Chris.

"Jesus Chris," said a heavy set wolf, "I mean, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

"Damn man, I didn't know it was that bad," muttered Clarence.

"What the Hell," shouted Sargent Grumbles as he came upon the scene. The Tiger sighed and glared at the half naked private who blushed sheepishly. "Alright Private whacker get your pants pulled up and get your shit together. You're going to the other side of the path where you don't find the local plant life so enticing. You got it?"

"Yes sir," muttered Chris.

"Again."

"Sir. Yes sir."

As Chris pulled his pants up Clarence handed him back his M-16, "I'll get Cipowitz over here. Your gun should shoot just fine."

"Oh, it just did thanks," chuckled Chris and went to the other side of the path.

As Chris crossed the path he could overhear the sarge saying that he was going to make damn sure that they got back to Saigon for at least a week after this. It made the Jackal smile and for the first time in a long time he no longer wondered about anything else but the job at hand.