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Cleanse

By Laz Briar

I'm stained and the blood won't wash off.

Rich had done a few routine service operations before landing a cushy desk job. It was necessary, actually, to make waves with the UPK. Tours – even if they lasted a month – granted a “crucial and powerful perspective allowing members of the UPK to facilitate negotiations and decisions otherwise divorced from other peace keeping operations." That was the fine print, at least, that was the PR team at work. And during those days of “crucial perspective gathering," he got dirty. Days without bathing, where engine filth and mud started to cake against the skin and your only salvation was a wet-wipe on the face. But, it always washed off.

Now, he wasn't so sure. He'd just wrapped up another provisional meeting with the UPK heads. Glen Persk was all smug smiles, granting an indirect congratulation to both Rich and his mercenary unit – Sierra.

“It's fantastic, Rich, our investors were thrilled with the cleanup. We'll have this shit cut like a Christmas goose come Monday morning," Persk had said, a chorus of chuckles meeting his metaphor.

Rich could only force a smile. Once talks concluded, he rushed to his room, weight of his actions settling over him. It didn't matter that he was just a man jotting down notes and discussing hypothetical scenarios where hypothetical natives were forcibly removed from their home to make way for hot bureaucracy – his hand pulled the crank, set the gears. He had heard through some eavesdropping there were many young soldiers at Zkaasz caught in Sierra's “crossfire," and they haunted them, even though he never saw their faces.

He rushed to the bathroom, coating his hand with the hottest water he could stand. If he boiled them, maybe that would relieve him of sin. It did not, of course. It only deepened – the bad blood. Got into his veins, wriggled into his thoughts. How did it come to this? How did he get tangled in the blackout operations of a “peace keeping" organization? Here, people were numbers, stock, logistics. Casualties and governments and politics were treated as “matter of facts," formalities in ultimate service of dark money. Today, a democracy might stand in the heart of Jamet. Tomorrow, it was a host to special interest parties and private companies rolled in via liberated “congress."

He sat on the edge of his bed a while, lost. How did Sierra put up with this? She, after all, was directly responsible for the native success of a declared operation. It was her anti-material rounds ultimately silencing competing mercenaries and “restless rebels." Her finger, her trigger. Did she too go to sleep with a bleak conscious and yet bleaker outlook on life?

Or, maybe she's just a soldier, doing her job, like YOU should be doing, he thought, chastising himself.

Or maybe she was like him, hounded by an ever louder conscious. And no matter how much he wanted to drown it out, there was no escaping what was done. What he'd done – even if was the partition of a bigger decision.

There had to be a way through this. Another option. It wasn't all just cynical exploitations of disasters, was it? The UPK couldn't just be an organization devoted to selling its services to the highest bidder, right? But, then again, they were peacekeepers, it just never specified whose peace they were protecting.

He lied back, staring at the ceiling. In his head, he dreamed of other things, contemplated alternative solutions. Trying to get away from the UPK was a dead end – he was already “leased" to them for the foreseeable future and any attempts to break free would be met with intense monitoring and a steaming plate of blacked out credentials. They kept their dogs in a row.

But, there was something else. There was nothing to stop him from going his own way, was there? Certainly, after his initial service terms with the UPK concluded, he'd have to sign off his time as “voluntary hours," and he could never speak about what went on in their inner circles lest he end up dead in a ditch. Beyond that, though, Rich possessed the intelligence and integrity to form his own organization. The finances? Not so much. The lucrative contracts of dark money laundered from shady investors in the worst parts of the world? Yeah, that wasn't there either. Though, he did have one thing they lacked: Sierra.

Sierra possessed all the attributes needed for a successful operation – not like she needed to prove it. And, sad as it was, she was probably Rich's only real friend. She spoke in earnest, never hid her intentions, honest as a bullet. Perhaps the UPK just assumed she was a mindless tool at their beck and call, but that wasn't the case. Sierra did her job because she was engineered for it, certainly. But this didn't mean she was thoughtless or cold. If Rich asked her, discussed his proposition about moving away from the UPK, would she consider it?

His thoughts wandered. Well, his reasons for wanting Sierra at his side weren't completely altruistic. She was competent, skilled, and quite pretty. Okay, well, beautiful too. Her rack could probably smash a man's head if she tried enough. . .

He blinked back to reality. His room bell went off, a quiet ping. Sitting up, he pressed his intercom. He wasn't expecting any company. God, it wasn't Glen, was it?

“Hello?"

A familiar voice crackled over the room speakers.

“The hell? Way to welcome me back, ass. Figure'd you'd at least buy me lunch for doing all the grunt work."

His heart skipped. Sierra.

“Sierra?" he said. “That you?"

He heard her scoff. “My god. Who else?"

It was hard not to smile. “Sorry, sorry. I'll ping you in."

He dialed in a quick sequence and the door to his room slid open, revealing Sierra. She wore a feigned frown, arms crossed, black tee accompanying her hip-hugging shorts. She shoved past Rich, hips swaying as she did.

“I forgot you were finished with debrief," admitted Rich, the auto-door hissing shut behind him.

“Busy crunching numbers?" said Sierra, taking a spot at bed's edge. As Rich started to respond, she raised her hand.

“I'm kidding, I don't care."

“Oh."

She laughed. “Lighten up. I came to see you, didn't I?"

He nodded. “You did." Then, he remembered the operation. “How are you feeling?"

“Ready for sec-op," she said in a matter-of-fact way, feigning a salute. “But seriously. I already answered that question a few dozen times already. Didn't come for a counseling sesh, Rich."

“Fair enough," said Rich. Not that he expected her to “open up," exactly. She was trained for military operations, getting back to service standards was drilled into her MO.

“But, that doesn't mean I don't need stress relief."

At this, Rich didn't understand.

“Well. . . I do have some prescriptions for anxiety and stress," he said. “Not sure if they'll work the same."

Sierra laughed. “I'm not talking about popping pills."

Now, she stood. There was a pause, and Rich got the sensation he was missing something.

“I've had this idea for a while, you know."

Rich wasn't sure what she meant. Not until she started to slip free of her attire, slipping off top with abrupt haste. The black fabric gave way and her frothy tits bounced free, uncovered – like she'd prepared. Rich was taken aback, uncertain – though his eyes didn't mind the view.

“Uh. . ."

She smirked. Now came the bottoms. Hip hugging fabric was removed and thrown past Rich, her powerful yet curvaceous thighs exposed to the room air. All at once, the knowledge of her proximity hit Rich like a train. It was one thing to see Sierra over an intercontinental VOD feed, but another to view her up close. Here, Rich could appreciate the magnificence of her form – the complex melding of delicate, sinewy muscle and generous, womanly curves. Bred for military operations aside, you'd never guess seeing her strut down a sidewalk.

“Good to see you're still a wizard with words," she said, turning around. Her fat, wide rear swung into view, and she sauntered towards the shower room. Her hand came to the door, head turning to him.

“Well? Come on."

She vanished, leaving Rich to his thoughts. Which were preoccupied with conflicting logic and rambunctious desire. For a moment, he considered the “ethics" of it. Then, amusing himself, he realized a naked mare was in his room; what was there left to debate?

Still, he wasn't sure what this was all about. Clearing his throat, he undressed himself, putting clothes in a tidy spot on the bed. Then, went along, entering the washroom. It was a large room, and in fact served more purposes than just a cleaning area. It was also fitted with medical supplies, and as such, was provided with a generous amount of space. This was good, because everything about Sierra was generous.

As his nude frame entered, he spied the mare again, who had started the shower. She was inside the glass frame, her sizable ass pressed flat against the glass, cheeks playfully squished against it, pancaking at the seam. Her, hint of her dark nether was visible, promising more than just a tantalizing view. Water poured in, causing her form to glisten and shimmer, a soft haze of steam forming.

Rich felt himself twitch. If he could, he'd just watch her do this for hours. But, clearly, she had other plans, and even one as reserved as himself couldn't stare at a nake woman like this and hold back. As if to tease him further, Sierra bounce herself against the glass, daring him to approach.

“You take your sweet time, you know that?" she said, turning around. This time, her front pressed on the glass, and she smirked.

“Get the fuck in here already, god."

It was certainly rude to keep a lady waiting. So, Rich did, following suit, entering the glass frame with Seirra. Coaxing, hot water hit him, pleasant heat stinging his skin. Sierra, in the meantime, outright cornered him, arms coming past his shoulders. The timid bulge of her bicep was visible, and Rich did his best not to look intimidated.

Another twitch. Sierra glanced down, noticing this. Ah, you can never escape the eyes of a sniper.

“This is. . . part of your idea?" Rich said. Not that he was complaining, he was getting a full, glorious view of Sierra's frothy front.

“Mostly," she said, wearing a smirk. Her hand finished the thought.

Palms swung down to Rich's loins, skilled digits wrapping around his hardening flank. He gasped as her efficient fingers caressed his excited flesh, taking long, steady strokes, pulling it to life. Each swerve of her hand sent radiating waves of warmth through him, his malehood stiffening to life.

“Atta boy," said Sierra, eyeing his loins with intrigue. “Always knew you were packing something."

“Gah. . ." Rich managed a brief utterance but found it hard to concentrate. Not like he was going to resist the mare's attentions, and he was more than happy to let her “proceed."

“We're partners," she went on. “We've got to get comfortable together."

Rich's breathing hastened, his gaze flicking between her hand and yes.

“Interesting way to define comfortable. . ."

She jostled him, even cupping his testes, though carefully.

“You've got an interesting use of words when a girl's grabbing your cock," she shot back.

Sierra pressed herself closer, her massive tits squishing into Rich's chest. She was few hands higher than him, so she had size – both in all the right ways and height. It meant that Rich's sight was consumed with the sight of her ample bosom, and he shuddered as her stiffened nips brushed into him.

“Get used to it. I've been eyeing this place. Kind of a resort, I guess."

Her lips went to his ears, voice commanding, but soft. “Not a typical one though. It's a pure no-clothes zone. Nude beach, that kind of thing. I'd get a kick out of it, you know? And you, well, guess you get to see my ass, like I know you do."

Rich almost protested but he couldn't. It was true. Often before Sierra was sent to mission detail he'd try to catch her in uniform, noting how the military fabric hugged her figure so nicely. And it helped she was, well, right here. Proximity of her form sent shivers through him, aided by her constant stroking. He wanted more, as any hot-blooded fool might.

“Yeah?" he said. “Sounds, ahm, great."

Sierra chuckled. “Great, huh? My ass is just great? I'm kinda' let down."

Before Rich had a moment to interject, Sierra shifted. Her hand left his malehood, and her form swiveled. Now, her wide, powerful ass swung into view, plump cheeks jostling ever-so slightly. The shower water caused the slopes to glisten, and she mashed herself into Rich's loins, teasing him ceaselessly as the split of her cheeks massaged his flank.

“That seem great to you?" she challenged, looking back to him.

“Holy shit," muttered Rich. It was all he could say. Right now his cock was hilted between a perfectly shaped rump – words failed him.

Sierra cackled. “That's more like it."

Her arms crossed, squishing her fat front together. “Well? Don't just fucking stare. You gonna' touch me or what?"

Rich glanced from her gaze to her autumn-hued rump. He blinked. Then, understanding finally seeped into his lust-consumed brain. Oh. Did it not dawn on him to at least get a handful or two?

Eagerly, his palms slapped into her thick buttocks, smooth sensations meeting his touch. She was soft, like silk, and the water only added to her exotic sheen. Rich rolled his hands over the slopes, squeezing hard, splitting the wide bottom. He got an eyeful of Sierra's cleft, but only just so. He didn't want to stare – not yet. Savor the sight now and enjoy another later, that was his logic. He caressed with curious enthuse, tracing himself against the ample backside, where Sierra nickered in approval.

His problems faded away. Everything about the UPK vanished, replaced only by pure, concentrated desire. Sierra's rutting didn't help in the slightest, causing his hard flank to twitch. Christ, he was hard, to the point it was painful. And after a certain point he was going to need to bury himself or he'd die from all the teasing.

“That's the spirit. . ." Sierra egged on. “You havin' fun back there?"

Rich grunted.

“Good. Gotta appreciate. After all, this dive I'm thinking. . . I wouldn't want you to just stare, you know."

A chuckle. Guess she was right. Rich always was a pensive man, even reserved. Perhaps too “kept together." Sierra was brazen and wild – even on a mission she couldn't help but tease him. So, observing at a powerful mare like her was exactly the kind of thing he'd do.

He took this heart then, pressing himself into her. The shower water hissed against his back as his cock slipped between her thighs, while his possessive hands slipped around and squeezed her front. Sierra gave a little 'oh' as his fingers pinched and twisted her firm nips, proceeding to wobble her fat front together. God, they were heavy. They were – he wagered – probably the size of his head, maybe more. How'd she lug them around? A strong back, he guessed. Well, that and she was a soldier.

“There we go. . ." said Sierra, tone shifting. Her words were laced with desire now, wanting more.

“Damn, Sierra," muttered Rich.

Damn indeed. Damn him for not thinking of this sooner. Sierra always was a firebrand flirt, but Rich wrote that off is necessary humor, considering her profession, not something to really engage with. But, when you've got handfuls of massive tits, your tune changes fast.

Her thighs swayed, rubbing the peeking cock nestled between them, teasing the inches with promises of her inner walls. Rich groaned, again. He couldn't stop himself from groping her, mashing his hands into her chest. Her breed also meant short tail wasn't a factor, allowing Rich to press himself as close as possible into the frame of her powerful back. His lips dotted her with kisses, breathing in her wet scent.

“What?" she challenged. “Thought I was packing weak munitions? I'm a soldier, smart ass."

She grabbed one of Rich's expensive body washes. “Polish it," she said, tone increasingly laced need.

Rich was briefly remiss to let go of his tit-filled palms, but, he wasn't going to deny Sierra. Once more, it just gave him an excuse to touch more. Doing as instructed, he lathered his hands and set to work, running the aromatic formula against Sierra's frame, dancing his fingers across every slope and curve that was her body. First a heavy massage of her buxom from, then the sides, down to the waist, the thighs. She nickered again while his hands travelled to legs, caressing and squeezing, working in the frothy soap. He even managed to tease her, sliding fingers over her rump, once again pushing apart the split of her cheeks – though not touching further.

Maybe he couldn't cleanse himself of the UPK's deeds, but at least he could wash her.

“That good?" he said, rising to her shoulders, massaging the tense network of muscles. She grunted.

“Haven't told you to stop, have I?"

Indeed, Sierra didn't strike Rich as patient – at least off the battlefield. But, Rich was starting to lose himself too. A man could only jostle a woman's bits before he wanted extra.

Taking what was arguably one of the biggest risks in his life, Rich pulled his hips back, enough that his tip could wriggle between Sierra's hefty backside. As he did, he let his tip prod against her dark nether lips, a tingle of excited electricity buzzing through him. Not from the sensation, exactly, but again – from the proximity. His flesh was hot, his mind was drowning in barrels of arousal, his blood boiled, and he was so hard he swore he could break a rock.

Lucky for him, Sierra didn't spin around and knock him sideways.

“Getting ideas, huh?" she said, voice low. The soapy foam washed away from her frame as Rich put the body wash aside.

“You could say that," he said. Oh, he had them all right. All the time. Not that he ever admitted it to her, but Rich oft dreamt about Sierra in ways beyond a nude body. To finally reach the critical point, from vision to reality, it was overwhelming.

“Well, can't let you go gun's blazing just yet. . ."

Rich blinked. Sierra snickered, wiggling her rump into him.

“Don't spoil it. Can't mount the mare, you know, but I'll let you give me a polish."

Rich grit his teeth – oh fye, was she teasing him? Her pussy was so close, and yet she was content to keep him at bay. Dammit!

“That's ruthless," he said, mast stuck between her fat backside.

She laughed again. “Who do you think you're talking to?"

Rich grunted. Fuck, fine. He'd take what he could get. His body was overwhelmed with desire and he dared not hold back any longer. His mast powered through the split of her generous cheeks, massaging rump choking his rod with a soft, yet firm, tightness. He gasped, grabbing her waist, bouncing himself into her wobbly rump, which reciprocated with waves of fleshy echoes. Each toss caused loud, lewd claps to emit from their coupling, while Sierra leaned into he glass, supporting herself.

“Gaaaah. . ." Sierra cooed, thighs parting as she embraced her counterpart. He was smaller but didn't lack for enthusiasm.

Rich grumbled, overtaken by a slew of perverse ideas. All mannerisms of his usual reserved self slipped away, left only with a hungry man and hungrier flesh. He took his cock and smacked it against her cheeks, amused, before dogging himself into Sierra's rear hold once more. Each stroke caused a growing surge of electric warmth to spike through his root, bringing him closer to peak. Didn't matter that he wasn't inside her yet, only that he was getting off. It helped Sierra was happy to oblige.

Soon, Rich was lost in himself. His thrusts hastened, growing in determination and gusto. Each strike of his thighs sent a loud, sloppy smack around them, the slap of flesh forcing Sierra's fat backside to jiggle in violent tosses. This only excited the mare, causing her to throw herself back into Rich's pumping thrusts, until a loud, audible slap erupted from their coupling with each motion.

“Ah, fuck, Sierra. . ."

She grunted. “That's right, pencil pusher, get your rocks off."

She smirked, only too happy to toss her hips in quick, erratic jumps, the bubby bottom enthroning the malehood in a sea of mare ass.

Rich couldn't do much else – except hold out. But lasing was impossible, not with this teasing, not with a bottom this immaculate, much as he desired to. His want for Sierra was far too strong and the physical drive of being with her sent him overboard. Maybe some other time there would be room for romantics or foreplay or whatever the mare fancied. But now? He had to just be.

He rode through his mare, wild and hot. Only thing missing was a saddle and a treeless field. His form shook and buckled, and his thrusts steadied into slower, harsher drives, each stroke sending waves of pulsing heat through his pike, until it reached its release. At once, hot seed burst from the tip, jetting out in powerful spurts, coating her back his issue. She trembled, gasping at the sensation of hot Rich bursting against her, wobbling rump through every motion.

Slowly, their forms settled, leaving only the sounds of steaming water. The mess of their sex drooled to wet floor, washing away their act – clever Sierra, planning ahead. Rich attempted to pull away, teased by Sierra's tight backside which gyrated against him, causing her to laugh. He grunted, but eventually she ceased.

“Fuck. . ." managed Rich, palms resting on the mare's rump.

Sierra smirked, standing to dial off the shower water. Though Rich was out of breath, she looked like it was just a warm up.

“Looks like I made the right call," she said, hands running over her frame.

“For what?" Rich said, ogling her as she stepped out from the glass.

“A good partner."

Here, Sierra nabbed a towel, then looked back to Rich expectantly.

“Well? You gonna' dry me off or what?"

Rich blinked but followed suit. As he proceeded to wrap the fluffy material around her, something crossed his mind.

“You know, I've got an idea too. Maybe we'll discuss at this beach of yours. . ."

Sierra scoffed. “Tell me about it later."

She led him to the bed, forcing him atop her. “You need drying off to you know." As she said this, she rammed his length between her fat breasts, exciting Rich once more. Apparently, she had a different idea for “drying off."

It wasn't long until Rich was hard again.

-*-

The blood always sticks, Rich knew that now. You can't wash it away, can't cleanse it. But you can do something else, something better – atone for it.

After he and Sierra “debriefed," they talked a while. Nothing concrete, but Rich couldn't hold his concerns in about the UPK. Something different had to give, something better. And so, in their moments of privacy, Rich confided in her a different idea – something like the UPK, but better. Free of dark money and private interests, without the blood leaving a deep stain. Of course, creating an organization of that magnitude took more than wishful thoughts and a mare with a gun. But it was a start.

Just as well, the UPK wasn't going to let one of their hired guns roam free, not without consequence. If Rich attempted to leave, or make his plans known to anyone else, surely there was hell to pay. Already, he had enemies, they just didn't know it.

By evening Sierra had to leave, couldn't remain too long without dealing with off-curfew penalty hours. But she humored Rich's idea and promised to explore it more at the nude beach, ideally while he was exploring her. Admittedly Rich was excited – he'd spent far too long living under the cynical grip of the UPK. The idea, too, Sierra was with him, that was thrilling.

For once in a long, long time, he felt clean.