The first evening of my furlough, I enter a pub a couple of miles from the Base. Underneath my loose-fitting camouflage dungarees, I feel the bulk of the strap-on I'm wearing press against my vulva. As I walk to the bar, it rubs against me, making me even more horny. After a long stint of overseas duty, I need to fuck and be fucked, to shed the tension, stress and trauma accumulated whilst being a soldier in a war zone.
At the bar, I ask for a tequila shot and a beer chaser. Putting down the shot, I look around. There are a number of women around, mostly good-time girls or pros, and I studiously avoid connecting with them. The only other person who catches my eye is the woman on the stool next to mine, and I study her speculatively. Older, maybe late-thirties, filled out t-shirt, high-waist full-length skirt, hippy and curvy, dark hair cut short. Grey green eyes. High heels. No visible tats.
She's the one, I tell myself. I order two more shots, and when they come, slide one over to her. She smiles, raises her shot glass, and puts it down in a single gulp. Her pupils dilate, and I guess, her lady parts do so as well.
Chasing down her tequila with a swig of beer, she slides off the stool and heads for the door leading to the stairs. I chug at my beer and follow her upstairs. Her ass swings seductively at eye level. My pulse is loud in my crotch as I see her open a second-floor door and enter one of the guest rooms. I'm a heartbeat behind her, and even as I secure the door, she is on all fours on the bed and lifting her skirt clear of her hind quarters. Her pussy beckons, clean shaven and liquid, and I see that she has her strap-on in place already, ready for me.
