Breaing Article 134

All day Friday I was a bundle of nerves. What was I going to do? I knew that I should lock myself in my barracks room and chain myself to the wall to keep myself from doing what I was going to do. After PT, I stood naked and dripping from the shower in front of my wall locker. I had the doors flung open to reveal nothing sexier than a bunch of uniforms and a couple of skirts I wore to clubs when the occasion called for it. I had already considered that catholic schoolgirl ensemble, but dismissed it. I was still stinging from the major's comment about getting a little girl's dress and a lollipop.

"Hot date?" I about jumped out of my skin at my roomie's voice. I hadn't heard her come in. She wasn't supposed to be back for an hour, long after I'd left.

"No, just gonna take my truck out. There's s'posed to be some good trails up north." I had intended to do just that, before the major had seen fit to interfere with my plans.

"Why are you standing there then?" she asked, flopping on her bed to watch me. Was I blushing? God, I hoped not.

"I have to replace the carburetor soon. I was trying to decide between a Rochester and a Carter."

She rolled her eyes. "Ick, more of that car stuff. You're sick in the head, Wright."

"Gee thanks, Jones," I said dryly. "You liked that icky car stuff when I fixed your POS for you."

"Girl, don't go there. My car isn't a piece of shit. What do you think gets you to the auto parts store when your truck is in pieces, as usual? Anyway, have fun with your mud. I'm gonna get laid."

I grinned wickedly. Little did she know. Well, her presence ruled out a party girl get up. Too many questions I had no intention of answering. I pulled on my underwear and slipped into jeans and a tee shirt. I pulled my combat boots on and put my hair up in a pony tail. I didn't bother with make up. I never went mudding with make up on. So much for making the major melt with horny lust at my awesomely sexy appearance. There were times when I truly hated being such a tomboyish gearhead. I threw a few things into a bag and zipped it up. "See ya Sunday, Jones."

I was late, of course. Well fuck the major if he couldn't take it, there was always mud. My truck prowled the parking lot, slowly crawling farther into the crowded lot. The loud growling of its big block echoed and redoubled my apprehensive feelings. I called myself every nasty name in the book for being stupid enough to listen to my pussy instead of my brain. My hormones were in control, not me. If men felt even half this much pressure when they had involuntary wood, well, I really felt for them.

This was stupid. If I had even half a brain I would turn right around and go up north to find some good mud. It had to be some kind of trick. The major couldn't possibly want me, not to have sex with him. He was probably going to take advantage and make me a duty body or something. That scene in the office with my ass in the air and his tongue in my pussy, that, well, that was a. . . .

Did he want to fuck me or didn't he?

In Row R of the long term parking lot there were thirteen cars. My overactive imagination gave me the eerie feeling that each car belonged to someone in the chain of command. The major lolled against a light post near a red Porsche. I was a vehicular snob of the worst kind. He glanced over at the truck dismissively, then turned around to look out over the runways. Apparently, so was he. I let the truck's idle dictate the speed and pointed it in his direction. He looked back at the truck again. I pulled into the spot next to the Porsche, opened the door and jumped out.

"Wright." He looked down at his watch. "You're late." He looked like a preparatory school jock dressed like that. Khaki dockers, loafers, a polo shirt, and a sweater. He was probably wearing a Rolex. I'd heard rumors of cash and West Point. I pulled at my jeans. I looked like a redneck hick. The right side of the tracks meets the wrong side of the tracks. I squelched the thought. There was usually a freight train or two at that particular junction.

"Yeah, well, life's a bitch, sir."

He spared my truck a disgusted glance. "You bring anything with you? Like a bag?"

"Yes, sir."

"Get it, then get in," he ordered, stepping up to the driver's side of the Porsche. I looked at the little car dubiously. "Sometime today, Wright."

"Yes, sir," I grumbled, then grabbed the bag and locked up the truck. I patted his smooth sides and climbed into the passenger side of the car. I wedged my bag down at my feet.

"Didn't think I was important enough to dress up for, Wright?"

"Everyone thinks I'm out driving my truck this weekend, not breaking Article 134. The latest fashions from Ralph Lauren for mudding clash with my skin tone." I waited just long enough to be insulting, then smiled sweetly at him. "Sir."

He laughed again. "I like you, Wright."

I looked out of the passenger window. He pointed the Porsche down the highway heading west. He fiddled with the stereo and brought up some top forty stuff. I wrinkled my nose and thought the better of complaining. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, scratched his face, shifted in his seat. I reached out and flicked off the stereo, cutting the latest boy band off in mid-caterwaul. He looked at me.

"If you don't like anything we do, just say Uncle and we'll stop and go right back to the barracks. That'll be your safe word," he said. That came clear out of left field. What in the hell was he talking about?

"What, sir?" He must not have liked my tone, he shot me a sidelong glance before staring back down the road.

"Why did you join the Army, Wright?" Prevaricating bastard.

"To get away from my brothers. I got sick of them bossing me around, sir." I glared at him when he laughed at me.

"So you joined the Army." He gave that little bit of oxymoronic wisdom of mine the dry tone it deserved.

"I can pick my own boyfriends now, sir."

"No more boys for you, Wright, you're mine. I own you."

Owned me? Why that arrogant, infuriating son-of-a-bitch. Visions of crushing his little pussy wagon with my truck rolled through my brain, thoroughly satisfying visions. Of course, it was a 911 Carrerra and even my vengeful little soul couldn't bear to smash it. I settled for glaring at him and he smirked at me. It suddenly occurred to me that a nice case of blue balls would wipe that irritating smirk off of his entirely too handsome face. Revenge would be sweet indeed.

Reaching down, I yanked open the button and zipper and wriggled my jeans down my rear just a little bit. I pulled my tee shirt out and slid my hand inside. He was no longer smirking. Good.

Mindful of the fact that he was torn between watching the road and watching me finger myself, I found my clit with a long satisfied moan. I forgot all about Article 134 and assaulting an officer. All I thought about was the finger rubbing and teasing my clit and the major watching me. My pussy was wet, slippery, and feeling better all the time.

The sound of the door slamming brought me out of my pleasure. I opened my eyes and looked around, my finger pressed firmly to my clit. We were in a roadside park, one of those off-the-highway affairs with a few trees and a picnic table. We were the only ones there at present, but that could change at any minute. He yanked my door open. "Get out and take your jeans off."

What?

He didn't say a thing, just undid my seat belt and pulled me out of the car. I landed on my butt. He was wrestling with the laces to my combat boots. I put a foot on his shoulder and tried to shove him off. One of the boots went flying. "Dammit!" I yelled. "Stop that, sir!"

"Then take your jeans off." He was halfway through the laces of my other boot, and it soon went flying too. I tried to scramble after them but he had a hold of my leg. He was yanking my jeans down. "Off!"

"Those are my boots! I only have three pair, sir!"

"Off!" he roared again. I jerked my leg from the jeans and threw myself on one of my boots. I'd shined the things for hours the other day; they were my inspection pair.

He wrapped his arms around my waist and hauled me back towards the Porsche. I turned on him, claws, teeth, and swinging fists.

"Ouch! You little--!"

It was obvious why he had that damned expert infantry badge and I was just a supply clerk. Fucking combat arms assholes. He wouldn't get by without a fight, no matter how futile it was. He wrapped one heavy hand around my mouth and jerked me tightly against his body. No matter how I wiggled and writhed, I didn't do anything more to him than encourage his erection to grow against my ass. When I bit his hand he forced his fingers deeper into my mouth.

"Hold still, you little hellcat," he growled in my ear. I quit fighting, leaning back against him. I sucked air around his fingers, finding it difficult to breathe, and discovered just how much I liked the taste of him. "I'm going to let you go. You take off the jeans and I'll get your other shoe. Nod if you understand."

Such romanticism. Well, the Major would find that pay backs are a bitch. I slowly nodded my head. He rubbed his penis against my rear one last time, then dropped me. I landed on my rump. Glaring at him, I moved to the seat and viciously yanked my jeans the rest of the way off.

"That's better." He tossed my other boot down on the floor of the Porsche with my jeans. "You're going to be wild when I fuck you."

I sent him a dirty look. At this rate, all he'd be fucking was a hole in the fence. Don't think it didn't escape my notice that he'd just confirmed that he wanted to fuck me. Ha, fat chance of that ever happening. I didn't care if he was the star of every dirty, nasty, hot, little sex thought I'd had in the past few months, he wasn't getting any.

He slammed the door shut. Moments later we were going back down the highway. I scooted my rear to the edge of the seat and sulked.

"This is a seventy thousand dollar car. Get your feet off the dash," he growled.

"You were ripped off, sir," I growled right back. He started slowing the car. I put my feet on the floor. I could feel his smugness all the way over in the passenger seat. I wondered what had ever attracted me to him. He was a jerk. I looked at him, all patronizing private to his officer. "Excuse me, sir, if the private may inquire, sir. Where are we going, sir?"

He slanted me another glance. This one said don't push it. "Cabin. Rented it for the weekend. Don't worry, it's not Army."

It struck me then that I was actually doing it. I was going to some unknown destination with a superior officer in my chain of command to fuck. Visions of Club Fed in beautiful Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas danced through my brain. I slumped in the seat and pressed my hands to my face and grumbled, "Care to remind me why you're doing this again, Wright?"

I glanced over at the major, noting the muscled spread of his broad shoulders, playgirl centerfold profile, and the taut stretch of his trousers over his thigh and into his crotch.

That's

why I was doing this.

"There's enough room for you to spread your legs in here," he hinted.

"I noticed that, sir." He'd made me mad, bringing that awful stubborn streak of mine to the surface. I was going to be contrary as hell until my mad-on went away. The more I thought about his manhandling me beside the highway, the angrier I grew.

"Spread your legs, private." I didn't like his implacable tone. He sent me another warning glance.

Fine. He could have it his way. I twisted in the seat a little, enough to put one foot against my door and the other foot against his penis. The car jerked to the right suddenly, then straightened up. He grabbed my foot and traced the instep with his thumb. The unexpected pleasure of it made me jerk. His fingers played over the sensitive flesh of my foot all the way to the cabin.

The cabin was a perfect sinner's den. It was very privately situated in the foothills next to a clear mountain lake that appeared so cold that it made my nipples pucker just looking at it. A small dock jutted rather phallicly into the water. The cabin was sparsely furnished with a large fireplace which doubled as a cooking facility. There was an indoor outhouse and a crude veranda with an equally crude porch swing. It had, of all things, a bearskin on the old brass bed. End of amenities. A hunting cabin during the off season.

The air was chillier at the higher elevation. I climbed out of the car and looked around, trying to decide if I should put my jeans on or just stay like I was. I looked at the major from the corner of my eye. He was stretching the kinks from the road out of his back. Very impressive. Well Momma always said to begin as you mean to go on. I grabbed the bottom of my tee shirt and wriggled my way out of it. Apparently the major had a thing for wriggling and I was abruptly in the mood to accommodate. Just as abruptly, I had his full, undivided attention. Studiously ignoring him, I nonchalantly shimmied out of my underwear.

I put my clothing on the seat and strolled towards the lake. The cool air wrapped around all of my skin, a sensation that was as delicious as it was decadent.

The major joined me on the shore, still fully clothed, I noted.

"Your things are locked in the car," he said. "You won't need them."

I frowned up at the major. I wondered if he was trying to establish dominance by denying me my clothes while retaining his. Hopeless if he was, I was as comfortable naked as I was clothed. Whatever it was, I didn't like it. "What are you up to, sir?"

He smiled. "These are the rules."

"Rules, sir." I liked that even less.

"I'm in charge, Private Wright, don't ever forget that," he stated bluntly. "No clothes for you when we're here unless I give them to you. Keep calling me sir, I like that. Obey all orders. No questions. You serve me."

I laughed in his face, well, in his chest. I wasn't tall enough to reach his face. He turned purple. "You're cute, sir. I'll give you that much. You'll do whatever I feel like letting you get away with, sir."

"Are you completely stupid? I'm bigger than you private. I can beat you into a bloody pulp and no one could do anything about it," he growled dangerously. "I could snap your neck and there is nothing you could do to stop me."

"You're wrong, sir. You would stop you. You won't hurt me and you know it." I matched him gaze for gaze. "sir."

That made him cuss. He stomped away from me and yelled at the lake. He stomped back towards me. I admired the erection in his britches with a lick of my lips. Even in his stupid looking prep boy outfit he was everything a man should be, strong, muscular, primal. I'd seen him without his shirt on once and nearly fainted from it. The prospect of seeing him completely nude brought on a thigh dampening rush.

I was so engrossed with his body that it took me a few moments to notice he'd stopped yelling and was now contemplating me. I sucked my lower lip between my teeth and met his eyes. They were burning hot with a lust that appeared to match mine. I grinned a little satisfied grin and sidled up to him. "Your turn. I want to see you naked, sir."

For a minute I thought he was going to shuck his clothes right there. He went to the Porsche instead. He fetched his bag, a fancy black leather satchel, and mine, a black nylon duffel with the Army insignia stitched on the side. He disappeared into the cabin.

When I went inside, I found he'd built a fire inside, but hadn't stripped. Good, I wanted to watch. I sat in one of the chairs by the fire, the chair with arms. He stood in front of me, but didn't say anything. Didn't move either.

"Your clothes, sir," I reminded him.

"What about them, Wright?" He put his hands on his hips and glared at me.

"Take ‘em off, sir," I ordered haughtily, waving a hand lazily.

"Bossy little thing," he said. "You aren't in charge here, Wright."

"I know that, sir. My pussy is. Show me your body." I grinned unrepentantly. "Strip. You don't even have to wriggle, sir."

He looked down at his feet and shifted his weight. His hands dropped to his sides and his fingers twitched. Oh my, the major was embarrassed. I stopped grinning. "Please, sir?"

He lifted his head and locked his eyes on mine. His hands went hesitantly to the buckle of his belt. My eyes followed them. He paused, then undid it. Then the button and zipper on his khaki pants. He moved slowly, diffidently. I guessed that he'd never stripped for a woman before. I licked my lips when he started inching his polo shirt up his belly. He yanked it off.

Oh me oh

my

. With his shirt off he looked like some pagan warrior. My sex started to throb. I shifted in my chair, hooking one leg over the arm and pressing my fingers into my pussy. He took a deep breath and dropped the shirt. His gaze settled in the same place my fingers did.

He toed his shoes off and pulled off the socks. He hooked his thumbs into the trousers and the waistband of his underwear, then shoved them down his legs. He kicked them off and stood there, before me, legs slightly spread, cock pointing towards his belly. I groaned in appreciation. He was utterly beautiful.

The delicious naughtiness of the entire situation caught up to me. The very idea that one of the most forbidden men was standing naked for my pleasure sizzled down my spine. Beautiful, taboo, and all male. My fingers moved faster on my clit. He took a step forward and his erection bobbed. I squeezed my eyes shut, burning the picture of him like that forever into my brain, just before I came all over my hand.

"Holy fuck," he murmured. I opened my eyes again, feeling boneless. He was right in front of me, his hand slowly working his cock. Long and thick, the head of it burned reddish purple. As I watched, drops of precum oozed from the slit. My eyes followed his thumb as it spread the wetness across the broad head of his penis.

I considered going up for a taste, but thought the better of it. I wanted to watch, to see how far he'd go. Under my wet fingertips my pussy hummed to life again. I watched his fingers, noting the places they stroked and squeezed. Lazily, I matched his rhythm inside of my pussy.

His hand moved faster and the head of his cock turned a deeper red. "What are you thinking about, Wright?" His voice was rough and unsteady. It wasn't a question, it was an order.

"Your penis, sir."

"What about my dick, Wright."

"What it tastes like, sir." Lust washed over me again, making my voice husky with it. "What it would feel like on my tongue. How hot it is. How it would fill me. My pussy is so jealous of your hand, sir."

He must have like the idea too because he groaned and dripped precum. I licked my lips, barely restraining myself from licking him. Watching him masturbate was entirely too arousing to stop, I wanted to see him cum. To that end, I goaded him on with the words he wanted. Instead of with my fingers and tongue, I caressed him with my voice. I told him of my lust, how my nipples always seemed to get hard whenever he was near and how I soaked my panties when I saw him. I gave him little snippets of the sexual fantasies that had been tormenting me for the past few weeks. Like the one where, instead of inspecting my uniform as usual, he unbuttoned his pants and let me blow him in the middle of formation.

With a sexy howl, he came. His fist flew back and forth on his erection, huge spurts of cum landed on my face, breasts and belly. It was hot and creamy with a musky smell that made me drool. His eyes were shut and he was breathing heavily. He squeezed the full length of his shaft one last time, milking out the last few drops of cum. Leaning forward, I delicately licked at those last few drops. His taste exploded on my tongue. Oh fuck, he was delicious.

He sucked in a breath and his belly tightened. I pulled my fingers from my pussy, pruned from being wet so long, and cupped his balls with them. "Well?" he demanded. His voice was a little shaky.