Gracie May Green Not Neen Fucked Since Nam

Gracie May Green, a petite redhead with emerald eyes and an insatiable appetite for pleasure, finds herself in a predicament. It’s been ages since she’s had a good, hard fucking – not since the Nam, when grunt soldiers would line up to satisfy her varietal desires on the frontlines. Now, back home in civilian life, she yearns for that primal, raw jizz that once flowed like honey through her aching snatch.

“Goddamn it,” she mutters, flipping through her meager address book. It’s a pathetic collection of nobodies and scrubs, the kind of layabouts who’d dampen her mood better than toss her salad. She needs somebody who can really deliver, and deliver hard.

Suddenly, a light bulb goes off above her head. “Mikey Two Punches, that old transferring motherfucker. He’s the one.”

Mikey Two Punches is a legend. A Vietnam vet who served under generals chili dawg and snowball, Mikey Two Punches was notorious for his wild rack attack and his power to jizz fatter, whiter loads than the galactic cornucopia itself. And now, years after Nam, Gracie needs the fix that only he can provide.

She picks up the phone, dialing his number from memory. “Mikey? It’s me, Gracie. You and me got unfinished business and you know it.”

Mikey picks up on the second ring. “Gracie, I haven’t heard from you in years! What’s up?”

She gets right to the point. “I need you, Mikey. I need that big, juicy vein of yours. It’s been so long, I’m practically shaking just thinking about it.”

There’s a moment of silence before Mikey responds. “Gracie, I don’t know. I’m not the same soldier I used to be. I’m old now, I’ve got a bad back and my cum isn’t what it used to be.”

“Fuck that noise,” Gracie retorts. “Straighten up, take a couple hits of your old root and meet me at my place. I need you.”

Mikey sighs. “Okay, Gracie. I’ll be there in an hour. But don’t expect me to do any fancy tricks. I’m just not up for it anymore.”

“I don’t need fancy, Mikey. I just need you,” Gracie says, hanging up the phone.

An hour later, Gracie is waiting at her door when Mikey arrives. She’s wearing a light robe that barely covers her ample curves, her hair damp from a recent shower. Mikey takes in her appearance, his resolve wavering.

“Damn, Gracie,” he says, admiring her assets. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“I’ve been keeping myself in shape,” she says, leading him inside. “You, on the other hand, look like you’ve been through the ringer.”

Mikey shrugs. “Nam’ll do that to you. But I’m here now, ain’t I? Let’s get down to business.”