A war veteran’s forbidden affair ends in tragedy
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The year was 1953, and in the bustling borough of Brooklyn, New York, Pauly Rizzo found himself struggling to adjust to civilian life. The Korean War had taken more than just his leg—it had stolen the man he used to be.
When drafted in 1950, Pauly had taken it in stride, believing it was his duty to serve his country.
After being rushed through basic training, he was shipped off to the Pusan perimeter, where he experienced the horrors of frontline combat.
For the rest of his life, nightmarish memories would haunt Pauly, causing him to wake up screaming in the middle of the night.
He kept reliving the memories of that awful time he had on the battlefield.
The North Koreans and Chinese kept coming, wave after endless wave. The more he cut them down with his machine gun, the more they charged, their faces frozen in determination.
“The bastards just wouldn’t stop,” he’d mutter to himself during sleepless nights. “I killed hundreds, maybe thousands, but they kept coming.”
Wounded in the leg, he was sent to an army hospital in Japan, hoping he might finally go home.
Instead, they patched him up and sent him back to fight again.
Pauly never forgave the army for doing that to him.
Rather than give him a safe position behind the lines, he was sent again into battle.
This time he ended up on a nameless hill designated only as Hill 1179. There, against what he called “the little yellow man,” he earned a Bronze Star for his heroism.
It added to his Purple Heart and Silver Star which he was awarded for his service at Pusan.
But on that godforsaken hill, he stepped on a landmine. This time, he lost his left leg completely.
“I went to war as a man,” Pauly often said with bitterness, “I came back half a man.”
Back in Brooklyn, nobody seemed to give a damn about his service.
His wife, once young and shapely, had gotten fat from comfort eating during his absence.
Now she was just a slob who refused to touch him, claiming his disability and nightmares made him undesirable.
She owned a small variety store on a busy street in Brooklyn, with attached living quarters—a bedroom and bathroom where Pauly often slept to avoid the several flights of stairs to their tenement apartment upstairs.
He ran the store while his wife mostly stayed home, watching television and growing larger.
Pauly hated his life.
Most days, he thought about ending it all. He’d brought home his M1 rifle—and sometimes contemplated sticking the barrel in his mouth, using a wooden spoon handle to pull the trigger.
Occasionally, customers would enter the store and leave quickly.
His wife complained they might be shoplifters.
Without security cameras in 1953, she installed a large mirror behind the counter, angled so Pauly could see all the aisles from the register.
This helped deter theft.
When Pauly caught shoplifters, he’d ban them from the store permanently.
Some local delinquent kids had tried to outsmart him, but he always caught them.
What he hadn’t noticed was a cute little girl, about thirteen or fourteen years old.
She had beautiful chestnut brown hair that fell past her shoulders, dark expressive brown eyes, and the face of an angel.
She’d been stealing from him too—nothing major, just Hershey bars, but stealing nonetheless.
Usually, Pauly would report inventory shrinkage to his wife, but for some reason, he kept this to himself.
The girl was adorable, coming in with short dresses that swirled around her thighs and a bright smile that could light up the dimmest room.
She’d sometimes buy a Coke or Hostess cupcakes, but always seemed to “forget” to pay for the candy bars.
He didn’t want to get her in trouble.
As days passed, he pondered what to do.
When he needed to use the bathroom or run an errand, he’d put up a sign reading “BACK IN 20 MINUTES” and lock the door.
He decided that next time she came in alone, he’d teach her a lesson she’d never forget.
The opportunity came on a Tuesday afternoon when the store was empty except for the girl.
As soon as she entered, Pauly locked the door behind her.
When Eileen—her name, he later learned—realized she was trapped, panic flashed across her face.
“I know you’ve been stealing,” Pauly said firmly.
Tears welled up in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Please, I’m only 14, give me a break,” she said.
“You’ll pay for those Hershey bars,” he continued, “or I’ll get your address and tell your mother.”
She began to cry in earnest. “Please don’t! My mommy’s real mean. She’ll whip me till I can’t sit down!”
To Pauly’s astonishment, Eileen then said, “Instead of telling my mommy, why don’t you just spank my behind? I bet you wouldn’t hurt me like she does. You’d just give me a couple swats, huh?”
Pauly hesitated. He didn’t want to spank a fourteen-year-old girl, but she kept insisting and begging. Finally, he relented.
He put up the “BACK IN 20 MINUTES” sign and led her to the bed in the back of the store. Sitting on a chair, he pulled her over his knee, lifted her short dress, and pulled down her panties to reveal two perfect little ass cheeks.
The sight was perfect—those beautiful butt cheeks looked like two fresh little loaves of bread.
He spanked her several times—not too hard, but enough to make her wince.
The experience was surprisingly enjoyable for Pauly, who hadn’t had any intimacy in years.
Seeing an adorable naked fourteen-year-old bottom was a wonderful experience for him.
The very next day, she came in and stole another candy bar. With a grin, she said, “I guess you’ll have to give me another spanking.”
This time, Pauly was angry. She hadn’t learned her lesson. He took her to the bedroom in the back of the store again, where he put her over his knee, and spanked her hard. Her little ass turned bright red, and she was crying loudly by the time he was done.
Feeling a pang of guilt, Pauly retrieved some ice and gently applied it to her red bottom.
After he’d cooled her “hot little hiney,” as he thought of it, she turned to him with tears still in her eyes and said, “Why don’t you kiss it and make it better?”
Pauly was rock hard by then. His cock was straining in his pants.
It was like he couldn’t help himself. He got down on his knees behind the girl and covered her tight little ass cheeks with soft, wet kisses.
“That’s better,” she said with a smile, kissing him on the cheek and hugging him close.
The next day, she returned and once again stole candy bars.
“Now look,” Pauly said sternly, “you’ve got to stop doing this. Do you understand, Eileen?”
“What if getting my bottom spanked and kissed is the price I have to pay for the chocolate bars?” she asked innocently. “My mommy doesn’t give me much allowance.”
Pauly was shocked, but his cock was getting hard again. He took her to the bedroom, put her over his knee, pulled down her panties, and gently spanked her bottom.
When she stood up, he got on his knees and covered her tight little ass with kisses again. Then, unable to control himself, he spread her ass cheeks apart and looked at that sweet puckered brown hole that seemed so much like delicious chocolate. He leaned in and licked it.
Pauly really lapped at her tight little asshole many, many times over. Then he put his mouth to her asshole and sucked hard, making the little girl moan with pleasure.
He loved how it tasted and she loved how it felt.
“I never thought anyone would lick my pooper,” the little girl said in wonder as he walked her to the door.
“I’ll tell you what,” Pauly said, his voice thick with desire. “You can have up to three candy bars every day if you come in and let me kiss and lick your behind.”
“Deal!” she said with a bright smile.
This became their daily ritual.
Pauly would put up the “BACK IN 20 MINUTES” sign, and Eileen would come in for her “payment.”
As days passed, their encounters grew more intimate.
Pauly not only licked and sucked her asshole but also turned her around to eat and finger her sweet little pussy.
He laid her on his bed, spread her legs wide, and fluttered his tongue against her clitty. He even had her squat over his mouth so he could really lick and suck the inner recesses of her pussy.
Oral sex wasn’t common in 1950s America, but Pauly had heard stories from soldiers in Korea about how the women there did it. It was even more wonderful than he’d imagined.
When Eileen asked about the bulge in his pants, he decided to unzip his fly and let his stiff boner jump out for her to see.
Eileen squealed with delight at the sight of his stiff cock. She really was impressed by the sight of his hard six-inch boner.
She kissed it and stroked it, eventually learning to give him blowjobs over several visits.
Pauly also popped her cherry, penetrating her missionary style at first.
When he took her virginity, he tenderly got a washcloth from his bathroom sink and tenderly wiped away the blood, then just to show how much he loved her, he licked and sucked her pussy some more, telling her that she had just given him the most fantastic gift a woman could give a man, and that now she was a woman, not a little girl anymore.
As time went by, Pauly ended up screwing Eileen in many different positions—doggie style, bent over the bed, and even standing up with her legs wrapped around his waist.
One day, he tried a special technique a soldier in his unit had taught him—a trick the other men considered perverted but undeniably effective at driving a woman wild with pleasure.
Using a hot compress from steamy water in his sink and an ice cube, he performed what the soldier had called the “Venus Butterfly.”
He applied the hot compress to open up her little pussy lips , then he licked and sucked her pussy lips. Next, he closed her pussy with the cold ice, then applied the hot compress again before licking her some more.
The alternating sensations drove the little girl wild with pleasure.
She came and came and came, her body trembling uncontrollably as Pauly used his fingers on both her pussy and asshole simultaneously.
This little girl came to adore him, and Pauly found himself feeling alive for the first time since returning from Korea.
Everything went fine for several months.
The sweet little girl he’d grown to love kept coming to the store. And every time he would get to love her up.
She even celebrated her fifteenth birthday there, and as a special treat, Pauly let her have anything she wanted in the store. She filled up two bags worth of goodies to bring home.
But Pauly’s wife kept asking him why he took so many breaks.
She was losing business because of that, and customers were calling her up and complaining.
His wife suspected that her husband was sleeping on the job.
So, one day, Pauly’s fat wife came into the store while the “BACK IN 20 MINUTES” sign was up.
She had a key and let herself in very quietly to find out what the hell her husband had been doing.
She caught her husband having sex with the little girl.
There was a huge fight. The little girl ran away after Pauly’s wife slapped her face several times and screamed, “Get out of here, you little slut!”
After that, Pauly couldn’t hear the end of it.
His wife called him every name in the book.
Worse yet, his wife threatened to divorce him, leave him with nothing, make him a worthless bum on the street.
“And I’ll tell everyone what you did,” she snarled. “I’ll report you to the Veterans Bureau too. They’ll take away your benefits.”
While it was unlikely he’d lose his military benefits for this, she could certainly ruin his reputation.
Molesting a fifteen-year-old was a serious crime then as it is now, and his wife promised to make sure he went to prison.
A few days later, feeling terribly depressed, Pauly finally did what he’d wanted to do for so long.
He took his M1 rifle, first killing his wife as she sat watching television in their upstairs apartment. Then he put the barrel of the gun in his mouth, took the back part of an old wooden spoon, threaded it through the trigger, and pulled it.
The gunshot echoed through the tenement building.
Thus ended the tragic story of the war hero who had found brief happiness with the little girl with sticky fingers.
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