The Witch of Cum: a Boot Camp Story

The drill sergeants' shrill voice rang out across the desolate cement halls of fort Jackson at 5 in the morning.

Private James sprung from his top bunk, with his usual aching erection that accompanied his nightly sex dreams. He had been deprived of sex now for two months, and his body and mind yearned for the embrace of a woman.

He tumbled down off his rack, rummaging to slip on his boots and keep his hard-on tucked into his waistband (which hardly mattered as there were only men in the dark barracks).

James grabbed his rifle from the shelves and rushed to the meeting area downstairs to form up his platoon, which he had been assigned to lead during basic training.

Too stressed by the rigors of boot camp, James had not been able to jerk off in months. his dreams were filled with acts of sexual savagery; of exploring the warm caverns of the feminine form, of having his member engulfed and satisfied in a torrent of fuck. He had even awoken once to find he had creamed his boxers, something he had not done since his teenage years.

As the soldiers began to form up in the cold Carolina air, James met eyes with another private — Steele, was all he knew her by.

She shot a quick smile and wink at him. Steele and James had had a blossoming daily flirtation from across the bay where all formations were held. Their romantic exchanges had always been limited to brief grins, but Steele's delight at seeing him made for a welcome beam of summer amidst the grimness of a wintry basic training.

She was a pretty midwestern tartette, with a pert derrière and nice set of breasts he had spied from seeing her in PT's (military running uniform). She had blue eyes, dirty blonde hair, and was a small little thing. He imagined picking her up and bouncing her all around the bedroom.

As the drill sergeants crested the hill to the formation area, all four platoons that made up Bravo Company, 1-47 Infantry Regiment, quickly quieted their groggy morning chattering and stood ramrod straight for inspection.

Private James stood in front of his platoon, rifle at port arms, praying to himself that the drill sergeant would find nothing out of place in his platoon. He could tolerate no more harassment and punishment from the sergeants, as he was at his wits end in keeping unruly recruits from acting out.

The sergeant, making his way through the platoon, eventually identified an error in the ranks.

'Private James! What in the fuck hell is wrong with your soldier here?!'. James ran quickly over to see what latest infraction the platoon would be smoked for. Sure enough, Private Robinette had left his weapon on fire, a big-time no-go in Army speak.

James began to accept responsibility but it was already too late, the drill roared for them to "HALF RIGHT, FACE" and the whole platoon shifted and got down on the cold cement - ready to endure the punishment for Robinette's mistake.

As the platoon did a seemingly endless number of pushups and flutter kicks in the brisk Fort Jackson air, James caught eyes once more with Steele and she mouthed 'sorry' with a sheepish and heartfelt look.

Finally, the drill determined the platoon had been sufficiently chastened for this mistake, and all four platoons boarded buses for one of their last major training events.

After arriving at the brief for a machine gun and platoon tactics class, James saw a rare opportunity to sit close to Steele (male to female interactions were generally strictly forbidden during basic training).

(Female recruits were kept exclusively in their own barracks, with only female drill sergeants allowed inside.)

As the soldiers to-be filed into the bleachers, James moved to sit one row in front of Steele, and she eagerly moved to sit right behind him.

The briefing started, and Steele asked quietly in his ear if she could warm her hands behind his Camelbak. James nodded, feeling blood pulse quickly to his cock as her hands wound their way discreetly to his back, in between the warmth of his body and his army-issued water bladder.

The iciness of the February air could not quell the rushing excitement of Private James's first female contact in months. Steele's hands and touch thrilled him, fueled with the excitement that came in disobeying the male/female restrictions -- right in the face of the drill sergeants!

He could feel the coolness of her hands give way to heat, all the while his balls groaned in protest at the blockade of cum that had built, unreleased; a Niagrous flood begging and heaving to be unleashed; a cascade that sought refuge in the warm channels of a woman's sex and mouth and tits and hands and spit.

Realizing he practically lost his mind completely in this day dream, James snapped back to reality, focusing on the drill sergeant giving his instructions, and tried to tuck away his raging and disobedient erection once more.

Steele, upon seeing his discreet movement to hide his stiff cock, whispered: 'leave it".

Embarrassed, but relieved she was not disturbed, James let his hand fall quietly to the side, his throbbing member visible through his camo pants. The tension built palpably between them, as she gently massaged his back, her hands hot against

him.

Part II: The Patrol Base

Later that night, the platoons were arrayed in a "patrol base" formation, a tactic designed to forestall an approaching enemy, and to provide cover for sleep and recovery when behind enemy lines.

James, the platoon sergeant, was making his rounds on the lines at night, making sure the recruits were awake and holding guard should they be attacked.

It is customary for a platoon sergeant to mount, or lay down on the back of a machine gunner in a patrol base, to ensure the gunner has proper line of sight and left and right limits for firing. Doing as instructed, James made his way down the line, gently laying on top of each gunner and assigning their sectors of fire.

He found himself at Steele's position, alongside her battle buddy Martinez.

'Are you guys alright? Need anything to keep you up?'

Steele giggled and remarked that her battle buddy had fallen asleep. "Won't you come down here and give me my sectors of fire sergeant James?' she asked mockingly.

Chuckling at her cheekiness (a welcome respite in the dreariness of the men he dealt with every day in the barracks), James set aside his rifle and quietly laid down atop her, careful not to disturb her dozing battle buddy.

Resting on top of Steele, James was distractedly whispering about sectors of fire, when he felt the muscular tone of her derrière up against his groin. James's perfunctory speech on machine gun security trailed off when he felt her ever so gently move her hips against him... draining all available blood from his head to his swiftly engorging cock. She quietly removed her glove, as did he, and the two clasped hands for the first time after weeks of longing looks from across from the cool cement barracks.

He could feel her orienting her glutes to envelope him, to give shelter to his purple and desperate refugee who wanted nothing more than heavenly release in the form of Noah's flood. The two private's camo pants could not hide the brewing passion, nor could the cold stop the warmth betwixt their hands.

Soon too, James began to grind himself into her, in harmony with her motions, urgently trying to keep quiet to not wake her battle buddy or attract the drill sergeant, yet quickly losing all sense of risk and danger as her warmth enveloped him further, driving him closer and closer to an edge from which there would be no return.

Thoughts flashed of all he was risking! How mad was this! Grinding his stiff rod in between the cheeks of a female recruit? In a patrol base? He could be dishonorably discharged from the army. They both could be.

Yet nature would not allow him to stop, nor would nature stop him from removing his other glove and guiding it softly past the beltline of her uniform. His hand quickly found an oasis of moisture and warmth in a cold desert of grim men and weaponry. She was nearly gushing with wetness. His hand was quickly soaked as he moved to deepen himself inside of her, pressuring her clit, whilst she gyrated her hips and took his cock deeper in between her glutes.

James's desperate refugee had nearly found salvation in the cavern of heat that was Steele. He teetered on the edge of a biblical flood. Drips of release began to rush forth. His dick, practically violet, and balls surely as blue as the ocean, so repressed was the blood and the cum that raged inside them.

And then, just as Steele's wonderful ass movements reached their crescendo, and James's cock let forth drops of pre-cum, Martinez stirred next to them. Half asleep, she mumbled:

'What are you guys doing...?'

Private James shot up, blood rushing back to his head, hand soaked in Steele, re-adjusted his cap and rifle and commenced to spout forth an explanation, yet his brain could hardly convert anything to English, so focused had it been on the singular goal of cumming magnificently inside his own pants while finger fucking Private Steel in an active Patrol Base (some platoon sergeant he was).

He straightened himself out, and quickly moved to the next fighting position, cursing himself all the while for leaving Steele in the lurch, and cursing himself for losing his mind and risking everything to nut off in such a circumstance.

Half an hour passed and the platoon dozed. James was making his rounds when he felt a familiar hand grab his. Steele, in her midwestern beauty, shone in the moonlight. She quietly led him outside the perimeter of the patrol base.

The two young soldiers locked lips passionately against a tree. The kiss of a woman practically exploded both heads of James. She felt his stiff cock from outside pants, energetically stroking it before unbuckling his pants.

Together, they ripped his fatigues down to reveal a throbbing seven-inch member.

James bare ass pressed up against the bark of the tree, and Steele took him in her mouth. The warmth that spread was what miracles are made of. She sucked his prick with the urgency of a bank robber, creating a maelstrom of spit and precum and thick saliva from her repressed gag reflex - all while working his shaft up and down.

James covered his mouth to suppress his moans from the patrol base.

She cupped his cold balls in her hands; he marveled at the tininess of her fingers amidst his pulsating member; at the richness of her lips as they engulfed him. He was a helpless, willing prisoner to her mouth. His sex gleefully captive to the swirling, hot miasma of her opening, he drove himself into her as she coughed struggling to take all of him, extending her tongue as she reached the hilt and caressed his balls.

She then did something Private James had never experienced in his 24 years of life. Steele moved her free hand South of his balls, and stroked his taint while cupping and sucking him. She firmly massaged his taint, practically conjuring the cum from his body like a Wicked Witch of Cum. While taking all 7 inches of him down her lovely throat, she also kneaded him past his balls, pushing herself into this vulnerable, previously untouched area.

He felt his whole body stiffen in pleasure and uncertainty. Gone was the patrol base, gone was the machine gun nest. Private James existed only in this moment of nirvana, submerged and powerless inside Steele's mouth while she massaged and summoned cum from his body.

Through his taint she rubbed, through his cock she imbibed, through his balls she cupped. And so he gave himself up. He surrendered to this vulnerability, to this titillation that defied words. His cock was no longer his. His taint no longer his. His cum no longer his.

It all belonged to this gorgeous midwestern Witch of Cum. With her pert ass, her blue eyes, her small hands, her sensuality, her femininity, her effervescent looks from across the barracks that had stirred his loins for months.

Steele accelerated her sucking, taking him to the hilt faster and faster, with more and more spit coating him, stringing from her lips to his cock, working his shaft more quickly now, pressuring his taint harder. The Pleasure shot through him like heroin injected through his fingers, dripped straight into eyes. His toes dug down into his boots so hard he thought he might break his bones, his forearms spasmed and he dug his fingernails into the tree as he could feel the cum throttling forth from him from some subterranean unknowable reservoir.

A cascade of seed broke from the dam of his body and he was unsure if it would ever stop, if there would be anything left of his body when it did. Ropes upon ropes of cum came from his cock. Steele grasped his ass pulling him further into her through, gulping and choking as she fought to swallow this waterfall of seed that seemed to emanate not just from one man, but from 100.

She struggled heroically to drink down this torrent, moaning and tear-streaked, she stroked his taint, as if to ensure not one drop of his essence would remain when she was done with him.

James snapped his fingernail from gripping the tree so hard. He thought he might deflate into a plastic sack on the ground like an inner tube that has all its air sucked out. He looked down at Steele and marveled at the eroticness of seeing her throat heave to guzzle his seed.

She drank so hungrily it was as if she was a starving robin feeding for the first time in days. Black nearly ensnared his vision. He thought he might faint. She slurped up the last drops of cum, wiping what had spilt from her chin and drying her eyes.

She opened her mouth to reveal a tongue with this last rope of cum. Steam emanated from her lips and drifted up in the cold night air.

Pulling her up and turning her against the tree, he plunged his tongue down Steele's mouth in a passionate kiss, tasting the remnants of his seed.

Coming back to his senses, he realized it was nearly "Stand Too"! The Army's at dawn procedure of being at 100% security for an impending attack!

He and Steele hurriedly adjusted themselves, peeking from behind the tree to make sure no one was awake and no drill sergeant was near.

They kissed once more, and each walked a different direction to arouse no suspicion.

At the end of the training day, all the soldiers boarded the bus again to head back to the barracks. He and Steele made eyes and smirked as they got on different buses. The sight of her got him hard again. Maybe he would survive Boot Camp after all.