Army Times

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Basic training was over.
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Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 03/20/2009
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Off and on for years, as I have lurked about the pages of Literotica enjoying the fares that you kind souls publish for my entertainment, and I have toyed with the idea of writing some stories, and here is the first that I am willing to 'publish.' Please provide feedback as to what you liked and didn't so I can improve on the stories as they come forth.

Now that my preamble is concluded:

*

Finally over!! Basic training was over and I had just arrived at Ft Gordon, Georgia and lo and behold! WOMEN! I had forgotten what a beautiful woman looked like, smelled like, and what one felt like was certainly a vague, distant memory. Eight weeks at Fort Jackson will do that for you. In fact, at Fort Jackson, female soldiers were always called bumpy BDU's (Battle Dress Uniforms); and we were strictly forbidden to look at the bumpy BDU's. Harsh push up penalties always resulted when we were caught, and after a couple of weeks, looking was not worth the risk. I suppose when you have sixty men living in a barracks together and the average age is nineteen, staving off raging hormones in any manner possible is fair game.

We had gone through in-processing at Fort Gordon and just got off the cattle car (an uncomfortable bus with no air conditioning and tiny windows) at the training battalion, and first thing we have a formation. The battalion chaplain gives us a pep talk about how morality and military discipline were two sides of the same coin. He also included some hokey point that nothing can penetrate two sets of BDU's. His speech was lost on me, because behind him some thirty feet I could see a group of women walking and frankly what ever he had to say was of no interest -- the bumpy BDU's had my undivided attention. All I could think about was my morning hard on was staying around longer each day, and going to sleep at night was becoming impossible. Let's just say having something jab you in the stomach while you are trying to sleep is not only distracting but becomes a dolorous ritual.

I've always been fairly fit and reasonably good at sports, but being known as an athlete held little attraction for me. What did, and does, hold an attraction for me is the body female, in all of its wondrous shapes and sizes. And sauntering not thirty feet in front of me were four absolutely stunningly beautiful specimens. Well, okay, maybe not actually stunningly beautiful. I wasn't on a movie set, but my mind's eye was easily convinced of these things. My skin was alight with a tantalizing fire just looking at them and a familiar sensation was starting to churn in my loins: Which in a formation of twenty other soldiers is a decidedly bad event, especially with a chaplain looking at you.

To distract myself I started listening to the chaplain and heard the directions to the base chapel and details on how to catch the bus on Friday nights if we were Jewish. Thankfully it worked and things simmered down.

A few days later, on Saturday morning, I awoke still aching. I got out of my bunk, donned my bumble bees (a truly horrid outfit of mustard yellow shorts and the GI issued brown t-shirt) and went outside to the morning PT formation and stretched while waiting. As 0530 (that's 5:30 am boys and girls) rolled around and I was still the only one in the formation area I went to check with the Charge of Quarters (CQ) to see what time the morning formation was. On the way in, a gorgeous young lady was coming out of the barracks. By gorgeous I mean that she managed to make the bumble bees look good, which is no minor task. She had dark hair that tumbled down to her shoulders with large doe like brown eyes. Her eyes and luscious lips both had a ready smile on them. Petite and well proportioned would have been a fair way to describe her. She looked somewhat like she had been assembled by heaven for the sole purpose to be adored by someone. And luckily here I stood. She had a nice coppery skin tone and her legs were somewhat on the short side but they were truly well developed and reminded me of a cheerleader's legs. She was far better looking than the hairy-legged CQ inside, so I asked her instead. Her smile broadened as she laughed at my question.

Eliciting laughter was not exactly what I had in mind, but she had what at the time seemed like the most melodious voice I had ever heard. Okay, fine, maybe the most melodious voice in nine weeks or so, but I think you understand.

"There isn't a formation on Saturday, this isn't basic you know. The next time we have formation will be tomorrow night at 1800 hours (6:00 pm) and that is to make sure we are all here." was her reply.

"Oh, my name is Johnson, err Chip, and thanks." I turned around and headed for the parade ground, if for no other reason than to not bore holes through her clothing with my eyes.

"Hey wait a second. My name is Laura and if you are going for a run, can I come along with you? I don't really like going around the parade grounds by myself, even though I know there shouldn't be anything to be afraid of.

"Sure." But to myself I was thinking this can't be good, can it? Oh my, my.

We walked across the street to get to the Parade ground and chatted while she stretched, after watching for a bit I began to stretch again. It was really hard not to stare at her and the staring was having "adverse" effects on me. After ten minutes or so of stretching, we were ready to start jogging around the parade ground which was about one mile (1.6 km) in circumference. "You set the pace and I'll keep up with you," I said.

"Okay, keep up if you can," and off she went with a giggle. For a moment I could not help myself and just watched her jog. The way her ass flowed from left to right like a delectable pendulum mesmerized me. After a couple of seconds she stopped and said with something akin to sweet molasses sarcasm, "Are you coming or should I call the Military Police (MP's) to come get you?"

"Err, yeah, sorry" Now let me tell you something, if sleeping with a stiffening penis is difficult, jogging with one is nearly impossible and damnably impossible to hide in the bumblebees. As I caught up with her, Laura glanced down at my crotch and gave me a wry smile. Around the parade ground we went at a slow jog that allowed for plenty of conversation, where we got to know where we each came from (Texas for me, North Carolina for her), some impressions on the unit, etc. On lap two we talked about high school and college and the people we knew. Like any spring day, it was a little muggy that morning and we both worked up quite a sweat, even if it wasn't the one I wanted. As we went along, from the corner of my eye I could watch her breasts jounce a little with each stride, and they looked better than any steak dinner I had ever had. Somehow my penis maintained the semi erect state all the way around and never blossomed into a full erection: For which I was grateful.

When we got back to the barracks she left me on the steps and headed inside, and the last thing I remember about that jog was looking up and seeing the way her shorts had turned a darker color from the sweat and wondering what it would be like to dry her with my tongue. That thought alone jolted my pecker from semi-hard to a full blown hard on: And there was still nothing I could do about it. The barracks room I was in had five other troops in it and the shower was a floor communal one, so there was no place to relieve my tension. Sighing and hiding it the best I could I went in took a shower grabbed my cigarettes and went out to smoke, reflecting on the jog and Laura's physique in general. Of course obsessing over how the sweat rolled across her skin as we ran did nothing to diminish my seemingly perpetual state of horniness.

Later that day, just before sunset I was out side talking to a few of the guys when Laura came outside, when she spotted me, I was blessed with a beaming radiant smile and she came over. "Chip, do you want to grab a beer at the BX?" (BX is short for Base Exchange, something akin to a fully stocked convenience store.)

"Hrmm, stay with these baboons or go with you? No choice in my book let me grab my wallet." When I came back outside, Laura had extricated herself from the group of guys and was standing off to the side, clearly ignoring them,"Maybe I do have a chance at her."

We drank a couple of beers at the BX hunched over the table between us flirting and chatting, somehow during the drinking the inside of her calves got to where they were touching the outside of my calves, and she never pulled away. The warmth of her leg on mine sent a torrent of heat straight to my pecker and did not subside. As we walked side by side on our way to the chow hall, I was thankful that it was night time and I was wearing BDU's, between the two they offered some cover helping hide my excited state. When we got to the chow hall I excused myself and headed to the latrine, pinching the head of my cock to get it to settle down so I could enter the chow hall with her. A couple of minutes later, when I came back she said with some measure of relish, "Everything come out okay?" while glancing down.

There aren't many times in my life when I have blushed to a bright red, but that was one, as I answered, "well no."

We ate dinner in silence, I was getting my composure back while trying to figure out what her angle was, and I can only imagine she was enjoying my predicament. We went back to the BX after dinner only to find it closed, and I asked "Now what?"

"Well, your hair is too short for us to be able to get into the enlisted club, so follow me" Laura skipped along quite merrily (okay maybe not but it sure seemed like it) as she took me out to the parade ground again. She climbed up on one of the PT (Physical Training) platforms and we stayed there, side by side flirting the night away. On occasion one of us would brush up against the other. At first it was accidental but as time went on, I covered her right hand while it was on the platform.

"Uh, sorry," I tried my best to sound sheepish or apologetic or anything other than a randy horn dog: Which of course I was

"You are fine." Laura said. It seemed that her voice a little huskier. So I kept up the contact and started to trace little shapes on her knuckles.

Her skin was smooth and warm to the touch and she squirmed in a just so manner when I traced line along her jaw and down her throat. The whole time my cock was rock hard and starving for attention, and it was not helped one bit by the fact she was running her hand along my thigh, occasionally brushing a finger tip oh so slightly along the shaft. My underwear was beginning to get damp from the pre-seminal fluid, and if she would only grab it and pull once, I was sure I would soak them through.

A couple of hours of hell later we went back to the barracks and she caressed my arm sending a high voltage current though my body when she kissed my check and murmured "Thanks" with a smile.

"ARGGGGGGGH!!!" Sleep that night was impossible. Not only was I fantasizing about all of the things I wanted to do to Laura, but each time I rolled over I was poked myself in the stomach. Finally, fitfully sleep overcame me.

The next morning I went out to stretch again before jogging, and expectantly waited for Laura.

But she didn't show.

Dejectedly I went on my jog at a much faster pace than the day before. By the time I finished, I felt much better about the day before and chalked it up to a fine day, something akin to a non-sexual one night stand. After the breakfast, the boys and I were standing in the smoking area when I saw her walking by with another soldier. Fortunately, I noticed the intimate distance at which they were walking prior to acting the fool and waving to her. It turns out that Miss Laura had a boyfriend that had been on leave for some reason and came back to the unit after midnight the night prior.

*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*

Late the next week I met a willowy blonde (yeah I know, aren't all blondes described as willowy?) named Blaire. We chatted for an hour one evening while grabbing a couple of drinks at the BX. Now Blaire was nearly as tall as I am, and I am a tall guy, with hair that danced on her shoulders when she moved and hazel eyes. Her breasts were also on the small side but slightly fuller than Laura's were, her stomach was flat as a board and she moved with an easy, athletic, grace that one had to admire. And then there were her legs. Oh my, her legs; long and lean filled with the smooth muscles of someone who ran a lot. One interesting thing about Blaire was that she was almost always hunched up if she wasn't walking or running. It looked rather like a prolonged shrug that she could not seem to finish.

On my third Thursday evening at Fort Gordon, as it had become our custom over the last week, we were sitting on the steps leading up to the barracks chatting about this and that, trying not to sweat too profusely. It was turning out to be an excruciatingly hot May in Georgia. The training troops, meaning us, were allowed to wear those beautiful bumble bees after duty hours, and we did. No matter how ugly they were, it was a lot cooler than wearing the BDU's all of the time, and it let me tan my legs. The day time highs were pushing 100 degrees (around 38 degrees Celsius) and at 9:00 PM it was still in the high 80's (27 degrees Celsius).

I asked, "Are you okay?" Blaire had been a little on the quiet side and her shoulders were up higher than usual.

It seemed that she almost flinched as I asked the question but answered with what can only be described as a peculiar voice saying, "Sorry, class and things have me pretty distracted and tense."

"Well, I can certainly help you with that."

"How?" she asked in a far more serious tone than was customary for her.

"Well, I use to date a massage therapist and learned some things from her." This of course was a bald faced lie; I had actually read a book at the request of a female companion the prior winter so I could better please her. She required a lot of manual stimulation.

"Well, I don't know."

"It isn't like I am going to do anything inappropriate with you, hell there are 200 people in the building behind us. It would be a cinch for one of them to brain me with a chair or something. Also, it isn't my style. I prefer my companions to be both willing and sober."

She smiled nervously and consented and moved down on the step below me. Not knowing what a tangled mess of muscles felt like previously, I knew then. For the next half hour I worked on her neck and shoulders, being very mindful not to stray too far afield, and noticed little change.

"Come on, let's go do this at the picnic tables behind the building where it is more private," she suggested.

I readily agreed, after all that meant I went up on the trust-o-meter. Now if I could peg it, maybe pegging her would be next.

I should interject here that the military crew cut tee shirt lacks a real collar, after wearing one a handful of times the collars always stretched out to form some sort of floppy V. I rearranged her collar so it drooped off of her left should giving me better access to her skin: Leaving the bra strap in place. That was when I noticed a fine patina of perspiration that was covering her.

She settled on the bench after I sat on the table and again I started on her shoulders, this time taking on the exposed left one first. I worked on it for quite a while, and the whole time my erection was painfully hard. For some reason in the week that she and I hung out together my normally high state of arousal was pretty quiescent and manageable. We could sit on the steps side by side with out my penis being all a-titter. This was different. I could feel the smooth warmth of her skin under mine. Now I could feel the tension ease with each stroke, and she was sitting between my legs. It was nearly too much for me to take. Each kneading action was getting easier and her whole demeanor was changing. Even though I had a self imposed limit of not moving my hands below her collar bone it was more intimate and pleasant of a time than I had with anyone else.

Some time later I suggested that I start on the right. She rearranged her tee-shirt to have the collar droop off of the right side and she moved the bra strap with it.

I can not tell you how much that one little action turned me on and incredibly my cock got harder. I was confident when I saw her do that, I could punch my prick through a car door. When I started on the right side it was more damply covered in perspiration and it was just as tense as the left was when I started the evening. After a while, a magical moment occurred and the tension just vaporized from her, and she relaxed.

She turned her head and got a "Th" out for thanks I presume when she saw the Little Man staring at her. I was so excited that the head of my cock was poking out from the bottom of my shorts. In the state I was in the Little Man reaches well above my belly button, if you held flat against me. When I grasp him my middle finger and thumb can barely touch, no other finger spans the distance. Given the Little Man was at eye level, Blaire could not have missed him and I had no chance in hell of hiding him.

Clearing her throat, "Um, has that been there all along?"

Feeling a little embarrassed, "Yeah, I couldn't afford the detachable kind."

"How long has it been since you have been with a woman?" she asked while staring at LM.

"Well, two weeks here and 8 weeks of basic make ten weeks of no sex; which is the longest period of abstinence since my first time."

"How long have you been sexually active?"

In my mind I quickly tried to work out to tell the Truth or not, settled on truth and said "Since I was sixteen."

A phosphorescent grenade went off on the inside of my knee as she gently brushed her lips against the hollow of my knee and said "Good night, Chip." I could only groan and watch her stunning ass as she walked away. For a second I considered yanking myself off, but no, that would leave too much of a mess and no way to clean it up. I also considered that was exactly the wrong answer to give her.

The next day was made into a "Training Holiday" due to the temperatures. We had to clean the barracks, strip and wax the floors, shine boots and shoes and just did general busy work indoors. All of which meant that I did not see Blaire during the day. That evening I sat on the steps chatting with a couple of guys waiting for her and still no Blaire. So the guys and I went to the BX to have a couple of beers and relaxed, telling "War Stories."

*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*

I was beginning to think I wasn't going to like the Army if all the women in it left me hanging, so to speak. For the next few days I did not see Blaire at all and guessed she was avoiding me. I had other problems as well. At this point the instructors and I were figuring out that I can not solder a circuit board. Design, yep. Install, yep. Repair, nope. Not at all. I either applied too much solder, not enough solder, or if I somehow got the right amount of solder and had a perfect bead, the bead did not touch the terminal at all.

Work frustration was mounting. I was staying late each night, and came in on Saturdays to work with the civilian instructor, who was an incredibly nice guy, but flummoxed by the fact I never had one good bead. Never.

So after week four of training they washed me out of the program to start all over, this time on mids, which means I had to work from midnight to 8:00 am. To top that off I hadn't seen Blaire in a week. The only plus was that I got to eat two breakfasts a day, and breakfast by far is my favorite meal. One at 10:30 PM and one after class would release at 8:00 am.

Resigning myself to blue balls and being a failure at soldering, I had a week to adjust to the new schedule before the next class began. My only task for the week was to move from the second floor to the first floor, which took all of an hour or so. Needless to say, I ran a lot, smoked a lot and drank a lot of beer to while away the time.