I was really skinny in middle school. In high school I started, but barely, to develop breasts and hips. I didn't date very much at all, guys were interested in the cheerleader types with big boobs. I continued to develop and in college started to look like a girl. My second semester I dated Carl. No way was he the guy I wanted to spend my life with. In fact, he was pretty dumb. But for some reason he was interested in me.
After about six dates over a couple weeks we found ourselves a little. Late one evening he had his finger in my vagina and I had my hand wrapped around an honest to goodness erect cock. I should have realized that I was going to become a cock hound because holding that thing was the absolutely sexiest thing ever. Warm and solid. I moved my hand and the skin actually moves. I guess I moved my hand more than I thought because the next thing I know he's shooting loads of sticky cum all over my hand and his pants. I apologized and he lets me know that I didn't need to, that he loved the 'hand job' that I didn't even know I had given him. I'm sure we would have moved on but he flunked out. I had my little taste of sex and loved it and wanted some more.
Meantime, through the college, I took a number of temporary jobs. With a scholarship and money from my parents I could pay tuition and room and board and books but I needed to earn my own spending money. One of those jobs was as an office temp, doing filing and simple clerical work at a company that fabricated metal furniture. One of the sales guys, Doug, was really cute and he used to flirt with me a lot. I have to admit that I enjoyed it.
He kept telling me how pretty I was and what a great figure I had and then started asking me about my sex life. I hemmed and hawed and never really answered but I know he figured out that I didn't have a sex life. Anyway, he suggested that he could give me a big orgasm and I'd still be a virgin and also wouldn't have any risk of pregnancy. He told me that he bet I'd be delicious.
Well, I had no serious experience but I'd watched everything on the 'net and knew what he was talking about, oral sex. And I was horny as all get out. So I agreed.
Well, it was absolutely, unbelievably great! So we arranged to meet at a motel the next day after work and we both got naked and he did it again. And then we messed around a little and he fucked me. And I loved it. I also learned I loved his cock. From then on, every time we met, things start with me sucking his cock. I think I could suck cock forever, it's just the sexiest thing possible.
I know it's wrong. I know he's married. I don't want to take him from his wife and family, I just want to continue having sex. I love it. He starts making noises about how he shouldn't be doing this. Now, this Thursday, at about 4:10 in the afternoon, I'm arriving at the motel and I get a text message on my phone saying, 'Sorry, can't make it.' I'm almost salivating just thinking about his cock, my pussy is extremely wet in anticipation of his eating me and fucking me. And it isn't going to happen. "Fuck, fuck fuck," I say out loud in frustration.
. . . . . . . . . . .
If I manage to live for two more days, I'll get out of here. It isn't guaranteed that I'll make it. Every day we go out on patrol and have to stay seriously alert, not missing anything. I've had seven guys over the last year not return from these patrols. Seven guys I knew. When you're stuck together like this, you know each other like brothers even if you've just met. So this has been like seven brothers I've lost to these uncivilized ragheads and they'd be very happy to get me too.
I go no where. When I'm not on patrol I'm asleep or I'm doing sit ups and push ups. I also think too much about what I'll do when I get back to the states and find a willing, cute girl. This is not a place where you can go out after work for a stroll. Some guys gamble, some do drugs. I want to get back and finish college and be healthy and start leading a normal, civilized life so I just do my exercises, dream about girls or read.
I make it. I get to the air field alive and sit in one of those metal buckets for hours and hours and land back in the US of A. I put in my three weeks of dull time and get discharged. I head to the town where the college I went to before I enlisted is located. Through a friend, I have a lead on a job that I can have to earn money while the government pays for my education. I've got my separation pay in my pocket. I find a room in a motel not far from the train station. It's unusually cheap because the road in front of it is torn up, under construction. I'll stay here for a few days while I interview for the job and find a more permanent place to live later, near the college.
I leave the motel the afternoon I arrive, figuring that maybe I can have a beer and start remembering this town. The street in front of the motel is all messed up, looks almost like a small lake, in fact. They must have broken a water main earlier. There's a really attractive girl that's walking this way and just stopped to look at her phone. That's exactly the kind of girl I hope I can find, really good looking body, nice face, long hair. Very pretty. Then a couple things happen.
I see this huge truck coming that's sure to splash a wave of water up on her and me. Plus, she stops and stares at her phone and says, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." She's really pissed about something. I actually run a couple steps to her. I want to grab her arm and move her back further, away from the truck. "Ma'am," I manage to say as I reach for her. She looks up at me momentarily and we both get totally drenched in a huge wave of not quite clean water as that damn truck goes by and keeps on going. Really, seriously drenched. It's like someone poured a couple buckets of water on each of us.
I just stand there and say "Motherfucker," meaning the truck driver. She sort of shakes her arms, like she's trying to shake the water off and says, "What the hell?" She's really wet. Soaked. Her hair is down partly over her face. I have to admit her tits show up good through her wet blouse. She's got a nice rack. "What happened?" she asks.
"A truck went through that water there and sprayed a huge wave over us," I reply. "I wanted to warn you but I was too late. Sorry."
"You're soaked," she says, looking at me.
"Yeah, so are you," I reply again.
"Well, what else can go wrong today?" is her next comment. She shakes her hands some more, feels her clothes and discovers how wet she is. "What do I do now?"