“Up in flames, baby!” Bowen yells as he shoots the rifle at the target in front of us. He’s actually a pretty good shot. Training did him well.

We’re kicking back in the forest, shooting guns at trees and every living thing in sight. This is my spot. It’s a place I discovered on my own. The cabin on this lot was built by my own hands. It's sort of my sanctuary, a place I can gather my thoughts and work in peace.

“Nice shot. Now, watch a real man,” I joke and aim the rifle in front of me. The bullet shoots out from the barrel, piercing through the target. It hits the dummy where his pelvic muscle would be. Not bad, but it sure isn’t how I used to aim.

“Nice shot.” Bowen slaps my back and cracks open another beer.

“My fucking arm. It ain't working like it used to,” I say, stretching it back until it pops back to normal. The fucking thing has been letting me down a lot lately.

“It's a gift. From Uncle Sam to us, brother,” he laughs, rolling up his shirt, scars on display.

“Yeah, well…” I don't even mention my leg. That fucking disaster. Serves me right for thinking I could just walk into an enemy building unscathed.

I take a long pull on a beer and announce “You know what? Fuck this. Let's get out of here.”

Bowen is disassembling his gun and shaking his head. “What're you trying to get into now? I gotta go home to my wife and kids by seven. Family dinner, remember?” Oh, yeah. Sunday. I forgot it was the Lord’s day. The day all men become total pussies.

“Is it impossible for you to be a man? For once in your life, come home when you want to. I hate to say it, man. But you're whipped.” I make the sound of a whip cracking down on his sorry ass. His face turns sour and I know I got him with that line.

Bowen and I were the best in our platoons. Well, used to be. In my time in the desert, I received three Silver Stars, five Bronze Stars with Valor, and a bunch of other beautiful looking pins. To me, they mean nothing. They’re just a bunch of decorations to make me feel good about what I lost. But I didn’t need trinkets for that. No, the best part about being a SEAL is doing the job right and coming home in one piece.

Over there, one thing was on my mind. Retirement. Well, that and coming home to a beautiful set of tits, pressed right against my face. Course, real heroes don't get everything they ask for. Real heroes get a slap in the face. They get a hand written note, tellin’ them those tits they've been dreaming of have left them for another man.

So when I got a bullet through my arm and another near my head, I left that God-forsaken place and headed back to my empty apartment. That's why I eventually came up here to Colorado. I had to get away. I had to start a new life, where I could lay low, fire my guns, and work on some hobbies of mine. No empty apartment. No women. No enemy combatants. None of that bullshit.

“Don't you start with that macho shit. You know it boils my blood,” he laughs and closes the case to his gun.

“That's exactly why I say it. Sometimes you need to heat your blood a little. I haven't had a woman in close to a year. Come on, Bowen. Help a fellow SEAL out. Aren't we brothers?” I fall to my knees, clasping my hands together in mock anguish.

“Ah, shit. You know you got me in between a rock and a hard place.” He’s shaking his head at me, but I know he wants to let off some more steam, even if he is a family man.

“That I do. Come on. Let's go to The Cat’s Bag. I haven’t been laid for fucking months. I need a wingman. Someone who knows the routine.” A faint smile creases my face.

He sighs loudly, stuffing a pinch of dip into the inside of his lip. “Man, you know I hate that place,” he says. But when he sees how much I need to get out of these woods and into some woman’s pants, he reluctantly agrees. “Fine. Grab your things. We’re going.”

“There he is! That’s the soldier I know.” I jump up and walk with him to the cabin.

“Don’t celebrate too much. I’m not staying past nine.” He laughs.

“Pussy,” I mutter under my breath. Total pussy.

* * *

“You know, you should really find someone. Settle down and get yourself out of those woods. I bet there’s plenty of tail out here looking for a good Navy boy to fall in love with,” he says, taking a short drag from his beer.

I’m barely listening. In front of me is this fine piece of ass, just waiting to be taken home. I can’t stop staring. Finally, Bowen socks my arm. “Bro, you there? Earth to Colt.”

“Right. Yeah. Out of those woods. Sure thing,” I mumble. He’s giving me this annoyed look, ready to leave me high and dry by myself at this shit hole bar.

“I’m serious, man. You owe it to yourself to make a better life,” he says. I nod in agreement. A better life does sound great. But I don’t know how to build something like that. I can build a livable cabin, but building a new life sounds impossible. There was just too much baggage. I had seen too much.

“You know what it’s like, man. I’m, uh, figuring things out still.” I say, still staring at the woman across the room. She’s playing pool with her blonde friend and, boy, when she bends over and shows off that pair of see-through pink panties, I know I want to be suffocated between her legs. I’m a dog for women like her. A total hound.

“Well, I’m here for you man. You know that, right?” He says, roughin’ up the little hair that I got. I nod and finish my drink in one big gulp.

Bowen and I were close in the Navy. When you first go to training, you have no one but yourself and your ideas. You think, “Yeah, I’m going to protect this country from the bad guys.” But you quickly learn that those words don’t mean too much. Instead, you’re forced to protect each other. It’s an instant thing. If one of those “bad guys” points a gun at you, you expect them to back you up like family.

So Bowen and I made an oath. We vowed to be there for each other, forever. I never had any brothers. Shit, my parents hated each other too much to make any more stupid mistakes. Bowen is like the brother I never had, so when tells me he’s here for me, I know it.

It doesn’t mean I’m going to stop staring at the beautiful view in front of us. “Thanks, man. But just because I’m retired, doesn’t mean my dick doesn’t work.” I nod over to the woman at the pool tables.

“Her? Yeah, she’s about a seven,” he says, creasing his eyes.

“Bullshit. She’s at least an 11,” I say back. “I get that you’re a married man and it’s something deep and magical, but she’s fucking hot and you know it.”

“Right. She’s about a 7.5 then.” He laughs.

“Whatever.” I motion for the bartender. “Two more.” I say to him. I turn back to face Bowen, confused by his lack of enthusiasm. Did he even see her ass? Those thick dimensions? Those fucking hips? God damn, he must be crazy. The war did some weird shit to his brain and now he doesn’t like to fuck. Well, I’m still a red blooded American and I’ve got a craving for pussy. Plus, it had been way too long since I had plastered a chick’s face in cum.

“Better be careful. I think that blonde chick she’s with is the owner of the bar,” he cautions me. “Play nice.”

“I always do.” I wink. He slaps my back and I know what I have to do. Shit, I was looking down the barrel of a gun and it never felt any better than this.