Eros Army

Even those who never served in the military are probably mindful of how unique the life of an enlisted person must be. As a veteran of seven years, I can certainly bear witness. Most could not imagine, though, that finding romance or even occasion for casual sex can, itself be an exceptional challenge.

Without fail, every time I share any of my sordid tales of intimate congress while in the Army, people are overwhelmingly shocked and enthralled. Hopefully, with this short story that I'm calling

Eros Army

I can stir up a little amusement, curiosity and lust or possibly encourage others to write about their time in service. I always welcome comments, criticism, feedback of any kind. Thanks, and I hope you enjoy.

Before you dig in... I got most of the way through with laying down the story before I realized how much exposition there was. If you are impatient and want to skip to the horny stuff, look for the '

69 * 96 * 69 * 96 * 69'

in breaks between paragraphs. Hope this helps.

Eros Army

The waiting, that's what always irked me. We'd spent weeks preparing, training, packing all the possible equipment we might need. Convoy brief, safety brief, there's op orders and frag orders. They wake you hours before dawn for staging, rushing you every step of the way, and here we were, waiting.

Having been a soldier for as long as I had, I was well disposed to the annoyance of coping with down time. This was an era, mind you, before electronic hand-held devices devoured spare moments between essential tasks. I wasn't much of a reader, as if that was an option. Puzzles and games were not practical. No, you had to be imaginative, keep your mind occupied, but still ever vigilant. At a moment's notice you could be obliged to do Army stuff.

Maybe it was my age. Being weeks away from my twenty first birthday and chock full of hormones; perhaps that's why my mind was always on sex. Inside my brain was like a perpetual porn library of either real or perceived intimate encounters. Given any downtime, generally I'd be picturing a woman naked and, most likely, myself penetrating said woman in any number of ways.

On this particular occasion, I had chosen a real one to relive. Just before deployment, I checked in with my very reliable fuck buddy for a roll in the hay. It was my most recent piece of carnal knowledge and was looking like it'd be my last until I was back stateside. I appreciated every second of that early August evening and revisited it regularly since being in country.

* * * * * *

My platoon spent an entire grueling day in the hot Texas sun packing storage containers to be shipped out ahead of the main body of troops to Kuwait. Since I was part of the torch party, I'd be deploying ahead of everybody else as well as the equipment I was preparing for delivery. This, in fact, was it for me here. In the pre-dawn hours on the next calendar day, I'd be on an eighteen-hour plane ride to the middle east.

The precious little recess, I had between the end of my workday and the mind-numbing pre-deployment activities had to be spent wisely. As for my roommate, who'd be joining me on the flight, he chose to tie one on with a couple of guys we'd usually hang with off post. Others went out for a movie or some fast food; soaking up some of the creature comforts we were to be denied in the months ahead. Me, I knew exactly where to invest my last few moments in the states.

Michelle and I had been on hiatus per our arrangement while she tried her hand at dating a guy from Delta company. She and I had been each other's constant source for nookie for over a year by then, but we kept things realistic. Neither wanted anything serious, rather we felt lucky to have someone who we could trust to meet our mutual physical needs.

Ours was a practical situation. Whenever I went home on leave, she understood I'd be banging my ex, and if she managed a random hook-up, then good for her. If either had a relationship prospect, we'd respectfully back off a while, but eventually we always ended up in each other's arms.

After work, I went straight up to my room, peeled out of my sweaty uniform and warmed up the shower. Grabbing a longneck out of the fridge, I downed most of it before jumping in the drink. I washed all the essentials thoroughly, toweled off and put on shorts and a tee shirt.

There was no sense in getting gussied up. I'd be shedding anything I was wearing in short order anyway. With the early evening breeze cooling my still wet hair and in rubber flip flops, I darted two doors down to her room and knocked.

Her hair was wet too, having probably gone through the same routine as me. She had put on a clean, brown uniform shirt and her firm, gumdrop nipples beamed through the thin cotton fabric. Though she wasn't exactly surprised to see me, I could tell it was unexpected.

"Is your roommate here?" I bluntly asked.

"No," she replied.

69 * 96 * 69 * 96 * 69

That was all the go ahead I needed. I launched through the doorway and locked lips with her, allowing the door to close behind me. Each hand firmly grasped a breast over her clothing, kneading the pliable, meaty mounds. Before I knew it, my head was under her shirt, mouthful of nipple.

As I sucked hard and began flicking the hardening nub with my tongue. She moaned, pleasingly. Her hand cupped the nape of my neck and pulled me in encouragingly. I pulled the cotton garb up and she discarded it all together while I swapped one breast for the other.

"God, it's been so long since you've done that." She said breathily.

When her hand found my already fattening member over my shorts, the feeling was warm, electric. It had been weeks since we had been together, but our dance was as familiar as riding a bicycle. We didn't need to think about it; we just did it. Soon, I straightened my posture and resumed making out with her while we palpated each other's most intimate areas.

There was no need to stoop. She was just about as tall as I was. About five foot ten, she filled out her statuesque frame with curves aplenty. You'd think, especially with few options available, a tall blonde with big boobs would get scooped up in a hurry. Her beauty, it turned out, didn't quite translate in uniform. Even so, she didn't have a, what I'd call conventional sex appeal.

She was the nerdy type; played clarinet in her high school marching band, and still practiced on occasion. (If you were wondering, yes, those skills carried over seamlessly to the bedroom.) Always awkward in her own skin, she didn't project the confidence she probably should have. Though she carried it well, she was in the ballpark of a hundred forty or so, which she was likely a little self-conscious about.

Her bunk was on the other side of the room, and none of our clothing made the journey with us. Before I could even submit request, she seated herself on the edge of the bed and wrapped her lips around the bulbous head of my cock. Fingers curled around the shaft and soon started stroking slowly, each hand twisting in opposing directions.

Mouth rocking back and forth, she rimmed the end of my penis. The heat and moisture sheathed me while her lips and tongue applied firm, but delicate stimulation to my highly receptive frenulum. I sighed and moaned my endorsement of her most excellent head and hand skills.

"Mm, baby," I said admiringly. "I sure missed you."

Looking up at me, she started pumping at a quicker pace with one hand and said, "I missed this guy. It's been too long since he's been inside me." She pointed out with her geeky little Minnesotan dialect.

Peering down at her adoringly, I smiled. She kept stroking with one hand and began jostling my sack, rolling my balls around with her fingers. I clasped her by the back of the head, fingers woven into her golden locks. Her jaws opened and she took in all she could and slowly started bobbing up and down, while her hand kept its hasty pace.

God, she was so good. I was rapt in delectation. She was so selfless, she would have been just fine with bringing me to completion like that, and she very well might have. Not that it would matter. That mouth was more than able to finish me off and in no time have me back in service. She's done it plenty. Instead, I pulled her hair back by the hair and I leaned in for a kiss.

"Let's see if my girl is all ready, then. Shall we?" I said, lying her back diagonally on her bed.

Her long, milky thighs parted as she reclined. Apart from a tuft of pubic hair, she was hairless from below the eyebrows. Long and unkempt, it clung to her mons like a straw-colored tumbleweed. The edges of her clam resisted giving way as I separated them revealing the tender powder pink lips within. I flattened my tongue out and pressed it resolutely against her insides.

"Oh, yes," she cooed.

The almost metallic twang of cheap body wash stung the floor of my mouth. I made wide, leisurely, circular laps. As my saliva washed the unsavory soap away, her buttery exudates supplanted it, assuring my efforts were hitting home. She moaned and gripped my occiput, ramming my face into her cunt.

I knew her all too well. Making her cum was like second nature to me now and it was inevitable. Settling in to my tried-and-true method of half licking and half slurping, I worked my lover into a frenzy. Gripping a tit with one hand, I gently rolled her nipple between two fingers. The other hand faithfully kept her taught outer lips apart while I brought her to climax.

In a high pitched, nasally squeal, she sang my praises. "That's it, right there. Yes, yes."

Her hips began jerking and twitching. I stayed on target with my nose buried in her muff, only pausing for fractions of a second to gulp down her juices and immediately relatch onto the front of her muffin. One last beastly howl marked her culmination and I remained on task, making sure she felt every bit of it.

When the height of her orgasm passed, I made one final swipe from back to front, collecting a glob of her thick sauce. She straightened up in bed readying to receive me. Our mouths met in a sloppy French kiss. (Looking back, I almost think she loved the taste of her pussy more than I did.) While she sucked my tongue, she fumbled to align my rigid member for entry. Sliding forward, I docked effortlessly with her thanks to the sloppy mess I'd left behind.

That was one of those idiosyncrasies that she had. During intercourse, she produced so much fluid that I had trouble generating friction. While the velvety, sweltering lining of a willing snatch has never met its equal, I required a little grind to get my nut.

While the condition was annoying, we made the most of it. Since I usually didn't get much out of it initially, I could literally fuck for hours without much danger of popping. She was a fan of it. That is, she was a fan until the next day when she had to walk bow legged from all the inexorable hammering.

There was little remarkable about this rendezvous, as I remembered. Excepting only for the fact that we hadn't been together for so long, it was our run of the mill hump session. As usual, we began with missionary. I plunged away at her soupy hole, first slow and sensual, gradually building to feverishly thwacking my pelvis against her thick buttocks.

In time, I made small adjustments, varying the position slightly for both the sensational and scenery change. Raising up on my knees, I lifted her thighs to keep her in range and throttled her with a slight upward angle. Her enormous tits jiggled and bounced jauntily, reminding me what I loved about this woman.

Showing off her flexibility, she extended both of her legs straight out and spread them so wide, they almost made a perfectly straight line from one foot to the other. Her feet flexed and toes pointed to opposite walls in her room. I leaned over her and, palms against the insides of her knees rested the full weight of my upper body, forcing her thighs further apart. Like a dynamo, my hips drove hard and fast, driving my cock all the way in and most of the way out with each repetition.

When that got old, I brought her legs back together and pushed them against her chest. Not only did this narrow the confines of her honey pot, but also it gave me the perfect vantage to see her gorgeous cunt, distorted by my crank. It was at this point, the glands that made her so slippery inside were starting to faulter. Every time I withdrew, her lips clung to me, enhancing the texture.

Using my dick as an axle, I spun her, throwing her legs to the right, leaving them hanging over the bedside. Grasping her ass and hip, I pulled her in with each thrust, magnifying the impact. The added friction made my balls twinge and my entire body glow with my looming release. I took few, decisive, deliberate stabs and just when on the cusp, I withdrew.

With a zealous grunt, I spewed a stream over her, landing on her waist and hip. Spasming, I stroked my cock and another ivory rope ejected, coming to rest near the other. Subsequent jolts seized me just as hard, but my waning ejaculate only dribbled out.

Rather than giving into fatigue, status-post my monumental performance, I was, as always, kind enough to clean up after myself. With a dry gym towel, I wiped up the thick, warm goo I'd deposited on her now sweaty, voluptuous rump. I grabbed another, tossed it in the sink and turned the hot water. After a quick trip to the can to clean the pipes, it would be plenty warm so I could finish the job properly.

That was one of the many perks to being my fuck toy; a hot, post coital sponge bath. From head to toe, part by part, I'd cleanse with the steamy cloth and quickly dry with another. My paramour needed only lie back and enjoy. Now, I'll admit, I might have spent a little extra time on my favorite bits, but hey, that was my privilege. About half the time, I'd get so horned up playing with her abundant rack and bottom, I would be ready for round two before I finished.

I can't remember if we explicitly verbalized our mutual antagonism for anything more than a physical association, or if it was just presumed. Still, it wasn't uncommon for me to stay the night. Sometimes that lead to more of the above and we'd continue repeatedly grinding each other's genitalia raw. Other times we'd hold each other until morning. Unfortunately, on this occasion, there would be no time to cuddle.

Prudently, we parted ways after we'd met our baser needs and, of course, the little bit of pampering that I felt she was due. Walking back to my room, I could see the vestiges of daylight on the horizon. By the time the sun returned, I'd be on a plane headed East. It was imperative that I ensure my shit was wired tight before then. What's more, I needed to get what little rest I could before we started the long tedious deployment routine.

Michelle would be on a later chalk, flying out a few days later, and was already assigned to hospital duty in the base in Kuwait City. Since I was going to be working out of a forward base near the border, there was no way of knowing when I'd get to see her again. Moreover, it could possibly be another four months before we could imbibe in guilt free copulation with one another; or anybody else for that matter. We were being thrust into uncertainty, and it was not clear if there would be time or place to scratch those itches.

* * * * *

Division support meant that we had to back up everybody. Our battalion consisted of six companies, each with a distinct role in the overall mission of keeping our steely eyed killers in the fight. Among them were a maintenance company, logistics, transportation and HHC, which handled personnel and supply issues. Echo company, the last and least thought of, provided medical support. That was me.

Eighteen months into a four-year enlistment contract, I found myself in Kuwait City as part of a peacekeeping force. Operation Desert Spring, it was called. We were a brigade sized unit charged with a number of responsibilities, including keeping watch over the northern border and training up the Kuwaiti military on twenty first century warfare.

Most importantly, we were a show of force. Presumably, should the Iraqis commence to saber rattling, we'd be let off the chain to get them back in line. That was the plan, anyway.

Generally, these tours went off without a hitch. We could reasonably expect four months of plain old Army life without firing a shot in anger. Should all go as planned, we would be ringing in the new millennium home on block leave.

Before we arrived, though, we saw on the news that Saddam had put five divisions near the border in response to some sanctions that had come down from the UN. The task force from third infantry that we ended up replacing were put on high alert. The whole incident ended up delaying their redeployment home two months.

For those who might have breezed over it, let me repeat. FIVE FUCKING DIVISIONS! Now, I was cognizant to the fact that we were part of the greatest military the world had ever known. The overwhelming force of American firepower and tech could chew them up and spit them out many times over, but like I said, we were a brigade-sized element. That's about a fifth the size of a division. If Iraq wanted to bow up and make a push for Kuwait City full tilt, even with the help of our native allies, we'd be little more than a speed bump. Suffice to say, things were tense, at least early on.

Once we were about three weeks in, we found that the climate and boredom were the most daunting foes we faced. Heat claimed its fair share of casualties, as expected, but the later was a sneakily adept adversary well. With copious down time on our hands, my fellow soldiers proved themselves extremely creative and unbelievably dumb when it came to combating the tedium that came with the Army's constant 'hurry up and wait' way of doing things.

Some of the stupidest behavior I ever even heard of went down in that desert. My fellow medics and I were called out for animal bites and scorpion stings, from soldiers who were trying to maintain personal menageries of local wildlife. I had to drive my ambulance an hour outside camp to a roll-over bulldozer accident. Apparently, a couple of combat engineers thought it'd be fun to chase stray dogs with it and didn't see the ravine which did them in. There were minor explosions from playing around in dumps of dud ammo. Somebody ate a strange plant that they swore was peyote. It was like being in charge of three thousand fully armed toddlers, I swear to God.

There were a few, rare but fortuitous individuals that found much better ways to stave off boredom. Back then, there was no such thing as women in combat arms units, i.e., infantry, cavalry, artillery. Support units, on the other hand, had plenty of females and among them, several were game for some discreet coupling.

Mind you, it's not like any of them will be gracing the cover of Maxim any time soon, but you make do with what you have. It's like that old adage, 'a ten in the workplace is like a six anywhere else.' Let's imagine your workplace was in a country far away, and that you didn't get to go home to every night. Trust me, even ones and twos start looking mighty sexy after a while.

* * * * * *

We had been staged for hours, waiting to convoy out to a range so a platoon of cav scouts could train shooting AT-4's. These were shoulder-fired rockets made to take out enemy tanks. AT-4 was a nickname of sorts. Either it was short for anti-tank or a play on words for the eighty-four-millimeter projectile it used; depends on who you asked. This was a rare treat for soldiers, as many go their entire career without firing one. My partner, Chun and I had drawn ambulance duty to cover the event.