Note: This story has lots of exhibitionism, a bit of light bondage, and a hell of a lot of cheap shots against wannabe literary critics and the anonymous trolls that we all love to hate. I will admit it is not the most original themed story I have ever written but still fun in my opinion. As always, if these things are not your thing, seek life elsewhere. You have been warned.
V2
*****
(Wolfe)
I was at work and happened to be checking my email when it came in. At the time I'd been waiting for confirmation on a purchase I'd just made for my classic 1965 Mustang Fastback. I'd bought it last year and was 95% finished with the paint and restoration. The only things left were adding power steering and changing it to power disc brakes. This had a small effect of reducing the resale value since it would no longer be fully "original" but I didn't care too much.
One, I didn't plan on selling it. Two, even if I did, I considered better steering and being able to stop my car a better trade off. Maybe some purists out there would disagree, but whatever, it was my car so I can do what I want.
Anyway, I opened my iPhone and saw the email.
Literotica: Feedback:
Learn to write.
Great, this was one of those. I scanned the email seeing the words, never served, basic grammar, etc.
I had a full life but I will admit to a guilty pleasure regarding writing for Literotica. I had mild pretentions as an author. So far, I'd been a journalist for more than a decade in the military and my ultimate goal was to write a novel. I liked science fiction and fantasy so I was leaning in that area, but for pure fun I liked to write fantasies. Plus, I found that it helped with my regular writing. Occasionally I would read my older stories and would cringe from the writing that I thought was good at the time.
Like everybody I took from my real-world experience and mixed it with a healthy dose of wishful thinking.
I'd just published a story and it had gotten really good scores and comments. I did it for fun and like most others I tended to ignore anonymous, hateful comments, but every now and again one would get under my skin. I particularly hated anon as they were called and on a personal level, I really hated those that sent feedback that was completely wrong. Especially when they used that feedback to call into question my background.
I tended to write military themed stories and would use ranks like Sgt., Staff Sgt., and other military titles. Most of the negative feedback I received called me out because they believed the word sergeant was capitalized or staff sergeant was written SSgt or numerous other trivial details that they knew because they had served. These always killed me because they were wrong in their assumption. As a military journalist I wrote my stories the way I wrote my articles, using Associated Press stylebook rules. Just because service members think the rules they follow are correct doesn't make it right. Sergeant or ranks are not capitalized unless part of name, number one through ten are written, the rest are numerical except in special circumstances. That one was a particular pet peeve. Most people don't realize there are numerous rules one can follow when writing so when they correct others there is a distinct possibility that they are wrong on many levels. The person may be following a different set of rules.
It didn't bother me when somebody disliked my story, or felt I should have gone in a different direction. I felt that way about numerous stories too. Hell, I've actually listened to certain feedback and I know my writing isn't perfect. Sometimes I've had people write an exact critique about my writing that I felt. Sometimes I wish I'd written differently, or that I rushed it. This was none of those, after my quick scan I could see this was one of those that thought I didn't know this, I didn't know that, etc., etc.
I looked up from my iPhone and sighed, then swiped left and deleted the email. At the same time the door to our office space opened and a female Marine walked through. A quick glance showed a gorgeous Hispanic walking toward our front counter. One of the Marines stood up from his desk to go help her out and I turned to walk back into my office.
I'd walked out to our bullpen to do a quick check on the Marines in the building. I had 50 Marines in two sections underneath me in two different buildings. A combination of writers, photographers, and videographers that needed to be coordinated on assignments and normal military duties. After making sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to be doing, I needed to go check on the qualifications due for my Marines.
I walked back into my office and sat at my computer while running through the an excel roster of current qualifications for swim, rifle, physical fitness tests, and numerous other requirements due.
A knock on the door interrupted me.
I looked up, "What's up?"
Corporal Jackson opened my door, "Hey Guns, that new staff sergeant is here."
A frown crossed my face, she wasn't due for another week. With a shrug I said, "Send her in."
A second later, the beautiful Marine walked through the door. She came to my desk and handed me a dark brown manila folder and snapped to attention.
"Staff Sgt. Brooke Ochoa reporting in."
"At ease," I said as I took the paperwork. "You're a little early aren't you Staff Sgt. Ochoa?"
She nodded, "It's a long story Gunny but I changed my mind on my leave. Decided to save it and get here asap."
"That's fine, you don't need to explain it if you don't want to."
"Thank you."
I gave her another once over now that she was in my office. Inwardly I groaned, she was exactly my type. Tall for a girl, but still a few inches shorter than my own six feet. Long, curly black hair, high cheekbones, liquid blue eyes, and an outstanding body.
Keep it together I thought, as long as she was under me there was no way I could show anything other than professional interest in this girl.
I'd been notified of her coming a month ago so I was familiar with her record. Her file had all outstanding reports from past commanders and she had just picked up so she was a little new to the rank.
"Staff Sgt. Jones left a month ago to his new duty station. I'm putting you in charge of Bravo section. You're the senior Marine and I've heard great things about you."
She gave me a concise nod.
"You're record shows you're not married, that changing?" I asked.
She snorted, "Not in this lifetime."
I raised an eyebrow, "Everything okay?"
"Previous mentioned long story."
I waited to see if she would elaborate but she didn't say anything else so I let it go. It was my job as her leader to know what was going on in her life, but I wasn't going to pry. Unlike civilians, military units were heavily involved in each other's lives. Eventually, we knew everything about each other. She was new and I figured her story would come out sooner or later.
"You got a place yet?"
She nodded yes.
"Well, you know if you need anything just let me know. Your section is in building 452, across the street. Give me a minute and I'll take you over there."
Holding up a hand to halt me, she looked me in the eye, "If you don't mind, I'd like to go on my own. I like to get a feel for everybody before they know who I am."
I nodded, this was a pretty common practice so I didn't think anything of it.
"That's fine, go get settled in and we'll talk tomorrow."
She snapped to attention and then relaxed and turned to leave. I watched her walk away and in a very unprofessional moment noticed her camouflage uniform was tight against her and she had a very nice butt.
*****
The next few weeks went by fairly routine. Ochoa was a hard worker and her team always produced the best results. I treated her in a professional manner and we had meetings together every day.
One day I was in her shop and she asked me to help her clean out a storage room. We'd taken off our uniform tops and were in dark green t-shirts. I tried not to look at her breasts but it was stretched tight and her nipples were poking out. The air conditioner didn't vent to this room so we were both sweating as we cleared out boxes.
She'd balanced on a chair and was pulling boxes down and handing them to me. One box got stuck and she had to give a small tug to loosen it. It gave way quicker than she expected and she overbalanced and fell off the chair. I instinctively reached out to grab her as her arms windmilled.
In the end I caught her as her boobs pressed into my face and the box went flying, throwing papers everywhere. Her arms wrapped around my head and my hands cupped her back as we fell back against the shelf.
She shrieked and one of the corporal's came running, he froze in the doorway.
"What the..."
I suddenly realized my hands weren't on Ochoa's back, but were grabbing her ass.
The corporal's eyebrows rose and he asked, "Do you guys need a minute?"
Embarrassed I quickly pulled my face from her chest and set her down. Idlily I noticed her nipples seemed to be harder.
We straightened up and she laughed.
"You know damn well that wasn't what it looked like," she said.
"Yeah, but it looked really funny. I'd have killed to have a camera ready and got that moment."
"And I'd love making you run until you pass out, which still might happen," I growled.
"Uhhh, I think I hear Cpl. Johnson calling me," he said in an obvious attempt to escape, a second later he ran away.
After he left, I chuckled and shook my head, Ochoa rolled her eyes.
"Leave the poor corporal alone. It was funny."
"I know, I just like messing with him. Sorry about that."
"About what? Catching me before I landed on my ass or copping a feel while doing it?"
"Not funny," I said.
She held her fingers an inch apart, "Little bit."
I shook my head, "I really don't need people even thinking that we're doing anything."
"More's the pity," she mumbled.
"What?"
She shook her head in innocence, "I didn't say nothing."
I stared at her for a minute. I was sure I heard her flirty comment, but she purposely ignored me and went to work collecting all the loose papers. I watched for a few seconds remembering the feel of that tight ass and those heavenly tits. With my face pressed into them I knew they had to be full D size.
