Reuven watched in horrified fascination as Tolbert’s white buttocks heaved between the girl’s legs. She struggled, and Tolbert slapped her face, then pinned her arms to the table. In moments it was over.
“Your turn, mate,” he said cheerfully, pulling up his breeches.
In an agony of shame, Reuven fumbled with his laces. He didn’t want the girl. And yet in war you could do anything, take anything. He wasn’t hard. But he didn’t want his friend to make fun of him.
“Come on, lads, gotta get this grub back to camp,” Carnvel called from the door.
Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here.