Introduction
There she was on stage, a vision of beauty, and the stirring in my pants made me grateful I'd joined the army. I was one of the many U.S. troops that had been sent to the sweltering Oman desert to prepare for any incursions into Afghanistan following the atrocities of September 11th and we were all certainly willing to give it our all to bring down the Taliban. But, all thoughts of warfare were far from our minds as our ever-thoughtful government had arranged a performance just for us. None of us were expecting any kind of entertainment so when the high brass told us a show had been organised and training was cancelled for the day and we had to go to the amphitheatre we were all looking forward to it. It would be good to have a break after so long away from home in a foreign land, it didn't matter who or what it was. But I don't think there was a single man there that wasn't over the moon with what we got.
Mariah Carey stood on a makeshift stage carved out of the desert surrounded by several hundred whooping GI's belting out another of her many hits. Now, I'm not a big fan of this kind of soppy pop crap but I wasn't really listening to the music, just ogling her perfect body as she strutted across the stage, clearly revelling in the attention she was getting from all these fit young men. And from my seat just a couple of rows back I had as good a view as anyone. She was wearing a pair of ridiculously short, blue denim hot pants that didn't fully conceal her perky ass cheeks. On top, Mariah had a tight, cropped white t-shirt on with the initials "USA" written across it in red, white and blue glitter. Like her shorts, the t-shirt looked a few sizes too small and from certain angles, which all the guys were straining to look from, the swell of her large breasts was clearly visible.
As the performance drew on, Mariah began to noticeably start to feel the effects of the sweltering heat; she drank more water and began to sweat. As beads of sweat ran down her body it became obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. The already tight t-shirt had become slightly clingy with moisture and Mariah's nipples were visible through the thin, white cotton. For a bunch of sex-starved soldiers, this flaxen haired beauty in front of us now was giving most of us a serious case of blue-balls. Mariah carried on regardless and belted out a couple more hits; swaying her hips, shaking her ass and generally getting a kick out of teasing us all like the slut she was.
She saved the best for last though, as her final song ended with one of those high notes that only she seems to be able to hit she had the microphone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. She threw her head back and warbled the final note, holding the mic close to her lips; she was having to lean back slightly pushing her ample tits out even further. Then she tipped the water over her head and neck letting it run down the already damp fabric of her t-shirt I watched as intently as everyone else as the beads of sweat and water dripped slowly over the curve of her breast. The soggy cloth now stuck tight to her voluptuous upper body and I, along with everyone else, dreamed of fucking this fit little bitch. Then, she stopped and looked up with dripping wet hair and breasts proudly on show for everyone. It took a moment for everyone else to stop daydreaming but then the rapturous applause began with wolf whistles and hollering aplenty. Mariah bowed in all directions, making sure everyone got a good eyeful of her pendulous melons and stiff nipples.
She lapped up the applause although I'm sure everyone there wished it was something else she was lapping up! Finally, after several minutes of taking it all in (I wished it was something else she was taking all the way in!) she sauntered off stage with extended strides, drawing extra attention to her long shapely legs. She winked at me and licked her lips! I swear! She winked at me! That made my mind up for me, it was just going to be crafty hand-job but now I'd decided that I was going to find Mariah's tent later and fuck her brains out. She obviously wanted it, fucking slut! And now, she'd singled me out! I left the arena and, like everyone else, dreamed about screwing the big-titted diva but unlike everyone else, I was going to be doing it for real!
Chapter I
The guy driving me back to my tent on the way back from the gig had been one of the men in the audience and judging by the bulge in his trousers he certainly enjoyed the show. He was the usual tall, muscular G.I. with short cropped blonde hair under his cap and lightly tanned skin; a direct result of the merciless sun here in the Middle East. All my gear was back at my tent so I hadn't had the chance to get changed yet and the journey consisted mainly of this fit, young man ogling my still damp body while trying to concentrate on his driving. Conversation was limited and I never found out this chauffeurs name; he was too busy daydreaming about sucking on my big, ripe tits that were jutting prominently from beneath my clammy t-shirt. I decided to have a little fun. The jeep was an automatic, so he only needed one hand on the steering wheel. About 10 minutes into our drive I leant over from the passenger seat and began softly stroking his large right hand. The young soldier glanced briefly to look at me before trying to return his attention to the sandy road.
"Oooohh." I purred, "what big strong hands you have." I grabbed him by the wrist and began toying with his hand. "Our country's in safe hands, if you'll pardon the pun!"
"Errm. Thβ¦thanks Miss Carey." This polite, all-American boy answered. Still trying to resist me. I dropped one hand high onto his right thigh for support and he unconsciously and momentarily gave the jeep a little more gas. With my other hand I raised his own digits and started to suck and nibble slightly on his index finger.
"Mmmmm." I groaned quietly around his thick digit. My metaphor certainly worked; the large bulge in his pants twitched slightly as I'm sure he imagined what I'd rather be sucking on. My hand in his lap moved upwards to play with his rock-hard member.
"Ah!" he gasped. I pulled his finger out of my mouth and guided it to my chest. By now he needed little encouragement and, as forcefully as he could at such an unconventional angle, palmed at my bouncy melons. I loved how it felt as his rough hands ran over the damp fabric of my t-shirt. I carried on playing with his cock through his pants and he continued to make pleasing noises. I moved his hand down to the top of my left leg and he quickly began caressing my supple thigh. Slowly, but with increasing confidence, he cupped and stroked the soggy denim of my shorts and started rubbing my eager pussy lips and inflamed clit through the soaked fabric. With my free hand I turned my attention to my breasts; mauling my own huge orbs as I lost control.