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Sgt. Colt Cipriano hung sweating in the brick cell; alone, now, for well over twenty-four hours…seemed like a fucking eternity. His lean, hairy body twisted in the still air, self-consciously naked at his captor’s laughing whim. Colt felt the short hairs prickle with humiliated discomfort along the muscular ridges of chest and hard abdominals, dark patch of wiry pubes, and even the silky tuft at the base of his dangling balls. Wishing that at least one of his buddies was there- despite the shame of being strung up nude- to somehow talk past the gathering fear…but the ragheads knew all about that sort of thing and that’s why, after the initial cat-calls, guttural grunts of obvious admiration and rough, assessing caresses of the young soldier’s hard physique, he was left alone to twist in the thick air…to think about things, to wonder in the hammering silence, over and over again, what are they gonna do to me?
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