Urban Sniping

Gunfire rattled through the tall, winding apartment blocks of the old city. Benjamin panted as he ran, only looking back to squeeze off a few panicked bursts from his handgun. The enemy was not far behind, and the volume of gun fire directed at the young boy soldier only increased with every minute. As he ran through the rubble of the street, Benjamin spotted the burned out hulk of a pickup truck and dove behind the engine block, the whip cracks of bullets zipping over his head keeping him cowering behind the truck.

Sgt. Yorke adjusted the scope on her rifle, and centred the reticle on the head of the brown haired punk. Her spotter, Cpl. Huston, called out distance, wind speed, and elevation in her husky Texan accent. "600, 1/2 right, reference stop light, 10 meters, 1 o’clock. red truck, right behind the hood". Yorke steadied herself, her right eye focused on the mop of brown hair bobbing around. The kid peeked up from behind the truck, his fresh face filling her scope view. He looked scared, his eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights.

"Send it", Huston whispered. Yorke exhaled, and pulled the trigger, feeling it break crisply. The gun gave a gentle shove to her shoulder as the .338 Lapua round flew out of the barrel, its thunderous roar echoing throughout the city block.

Almost abruptly, the gunfire had stopped. Benjamin stayed put for 5 minutes, checking and rechecking the ammo left in his pistol before he worked up the courage to take a look down the street. As he surveyed the dusty scene, the hairs on the back of his neck pricked. He had the strong sense of someone watching him. His eyes darted around, checking each shattered window and jarred open door. The boy turned around, standing up to a half crouch, unwittingly exposing himself to the very deadly pair nestled on the 60th floor of a highrise located down the street.

The bullet from Sgt. Yorke penetrated the small of his back and punched out his stomach, tearing open a grapefruit sized hole in his firm, toned abdomen. Benjamin twirled around as he fell, propelled by the sheer impact force from the snipers bullet. His blood sprayed from the wound, splattering the asphalt with crazed patterns. The boy turned himself over, looking in shock and horror at the mangled remains of his stomach. As bright red blood squirted from the jagged ruin of flesh, his intestines slipped out, pink and purple gray, a shimmering sliminess coating the tubes as they encountered the mid day sun. Benjamin placed one blood slick hand on the concrete and his other on the handle of the truck door as he tried and failed to pick himself up. The bullet mushroomed as it entered his body, and a chunk had managed to sever the connection between his spine and his legs, rendering him crippled. The unfortunate child soldier slid down, desperately trying to make his mortally wounded body move itself, fearfully sobbing as he desperately pushed his warm insides back into his stomach cavity.

By the time Yorke and Huston had moved down to street level to confirm their kill, Benjamin had passed away, dead from severe distributive shock. "The little shit couldn't even last long enough to give us some fun", Huston remarked with a disappointed expression. Yorke gave a monotone grunt in agreement. Huston shrugged and knelt down, placing her rifle at her side. She brushed away the messy locks covering Benjamin's face, and felt a shiver of excitement. The kid was cute, large brown eyes (now half lidded and dull), a smattering of freckles on his soft baby fat cheeks, full lips, chapped and flecked with blood and saliva.

The two women picked up the corpse, Huston grabbing the legs and Yorke the hands. The pair dragged it over to the shade and shelter of a nearby hotel reception. Huston and Yorke had managed to make a reputation of themselves among members of their battalion for their bloodthirsty ways. They had only escaped being penalized due to the increasing casualties on their side, as well as their extreme effectiveness as a sniper team.

Their practice was, every time they made a kill, the pair would strip the body naked, mutilate it, and pose with it, snapping plenty of pictures. Huston undid the straps holding Benjamin's plate carrier and pulled it away, as Yorke took her combat knife out from its sheath and sliced open the front of Benjamin's blood stained shirt. Huston focused her attention on the dead boy's stained jeans, unzipping the fly and pulling it down, revealing his urine stained low rise white briefs. The spotter noticed a rather large bulge, and with a smile hooked her fingers underneath the elastic waistband and slipped the briefs down, revealing a semi-turgid erection, the cock head glistening with precum. "Looks like our high value target was feeling a little excitement", she joked as Yorke looked over with sudden intense interest. Huston looked away, grabbed her camera and turned back, only to see Yorke on her knees, head bobbing as she took Benjamin's dick in her mouth.

Yorke was a woman of few words, and many actions, some of them impulsive to the extreme. Performing fellatio on the fresh killed corpse of a young adolescent was one of her craziest, a thought that occurred even to her. As Huston watched speechlessly (a rare event in its own right), Yorke's hands gently pulled down Benjamin's foreskin, flicking her tongue around the head. As she cleaned the precum and piss, her hands cupped the boy's testicles. She closed her eyes, slowed down her tempo and pressed her lips around the penis shaft, lowering her head down until her nose tickled the scratchy tuft of pubic hair crowning Benjamin's crotch. The sniper took one hand and slipped it underneath her bike shorts, moaning as she furiously masturbated. Yorke came, a single gasp slipping from her lips. With a pop, she pulled away, savoring the bitter taste of the deceased boy's bodily fluids. Yorke wiped her mouth and lay on her back, her head resting on her backpack.

Huston snapped away, her own right hand shlicking as she witnessed her friend's necrophiliac blowjob. The large Texan woman let loose a loud rebel yell as she achieved her own orgasm, falling on her back as she rode the bliss of climax. The two lay panting on the reception floor, separated by Benjamin's limp body. The pair looked at each other and smiled. This was a kill to remember. "Next one we kill, I'll let you do the honours", Yorke offered. Huston nodded, grinning as she replied back "I hope the next one is as cute as this one". The two laughed, their bond strengthened.