General Gordon was a tall, muscular man with an astonishing military record behind him. He'd fought proudly for the USA in a number of territories, and had only recently been in charge of a couple of vital missions in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Now he was back on American soil, but only for half a year. Already he had been given the details of his next mission over in the Middle East. It was to be his most dangerous yet, but could potentially be the most rewarding too, not just for his career but for the whole direction the war was going.
He was itching to get back out there with his fellow generals, but he knew the importance of his six month post at the Military Training Facility in Nevada he was currently stationed at. There was he believed a serious lack of discipline among the new young recruits that he hoped his stern approaches would soon have under control.
Matters weren't helped in his opinion by the fact that the facility was based in a state that had legalised prostitution. He felt that the idea of running off as quickly as possible on leave to one of the many brothels that had been set up around the army land settled too easily in the minds of the young soldiers, male and female alike.
That wasn't to say General Gordon disapproved of prostitution; far from it. As a single man with too much time for his job and not for his social life, he could often be seen checking into one of his favourite places for some sexual relief. The difference was you would never actually say you'd seen him to his face – that was just asking for trouble.
One morning the general woke up feeling hornier than usual. He lay back in his bunk and tried to recall the dream he'd had. It was definitely something to do with a female pop star of some kind, a redhead; he'd seen pictures of her in some of the quarters, though he didn't know who the heck she was. General Gordon was a little bit behind with the times when it came to all things culture.
He got up and checked his small calendar that he kept by his bunk. There was a large red circle ringed around today's date. The general grinned. Maybe that was why he was feeling so aroused: today was his turn for leave.
He busied himself with his morning chores – the wash of the chiselled face and shaving of the stubble, the cleaning of the brown boots, the fifty press ups and fifty sit ups before breakfast. All the time he kept from being distracted by his randy thoughts through sheer determination and trained will power that came with years of experience.
After breakfast came the morning drill. As he took the soldiers through their paces he felt the hot air hit him like a dishcloth. He was dedicated to not breaking his concentration from the essential job at hand. He had to put himself last for now; the more he waited for it he longer it would take to for his leave to start. He quickened the pace.
"Come on, come on," he shouted loudly in his gruff voice. "One, two, one, two. Step on it, Falkirk. Ashgrove, you look a disgrace; take five hundred laps. Smarten up! Put your backs into it, you measly little worms."
Two soldiers ran past him and, when out of earshot, one turned to the other and muttered, "What's got him pissed off this morning?"
"Scope has a theory," replied his companion. "Usually the general's just a bastard, but today he's a super bastard. Coincidentally, he has his leave this afternoon, where he'll pay a hooker to suck him off or something."
"So you're saying he's a super bastard this morning 'cos he's got a boner?"
"Do you want to check?"
"Hey, fuck you, man!"
Finally the time came. After changing into more suitable clothes, and trying to look as calm, cool and collected as possible, General Gordon left the Military Training Facility in a large army jeep and drove off down the desert roads towards civilisation.
It took half an hour down the dusty tracks before the general even saw any sign of life, and that was just another vehicle. No wonder our lives are so lonely, he mused, when we're this far away from company.
He soon found himself at a fork in the road and stopped the jeep. He had a decision to make; each route would take him to a different brothel. If he went left he would arrive at Madam Play Time's, and if he turned right he would come across Sizzle, one of the newest of these establishments but already highly regarded.
General Gordon reached down and felt the hardening bulge in his dark green trousers. It was pointing right. Never one to argue with a starving cock, the general started the jeep up again and turned into down the right road.
Sizzle looked like a beautiful hotel, which it was, if you thought enough about it. It had tall windows and deep interiors, with many different rooms for the various activities that went on. General Gordon had already acquainted himself with the place twice before. The first time had been a little disappointing, as the business had only just opened, but when he'd given it a second chance it had won him over.
There was one slight problem with the place however, and that was the time it had taken to get there. He knew that, after all the transactions that had to take place before the dirty deed, the actual sex, he wouldn't have a lot of time to satisfy himself before having to return to base. He smiled now as he turned the jeep's engine off. He wasn't worried. Over the years he'd picked up a little trick that often worked wonders on occasions such as this.
