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The General&8217;s Sleeper Van

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I was a First Lieutenant attached as a “go-for” to the III Corps G3 plans and operations section when I first met my counterpart, a gorgeous female Captain who seemed all business. She was probably 29, had come from a line unit like me, and knew her business well. On the surface, she was my superior officer, who I had to salute and refer to as “Ma’am,” but we were also human, and humans have weaknesses. That’s how we began having sex.

We worked a 12-hour day shift, so it was dark when we came to work, and getting dark when we left. With nothing more interesting to do than watch the sun go down, we hung out together, forming a fast friendship as much as any other Captain and Lieutenant can. When it got dark, we commandeered empty Hummers and talked alone till bed time. Our conversations were generally innocent enough, but familiarity in the pitch black night allowed us to talk about things we probably shouldn’t have been discussing.

It started innocently enough. The privacy of our nightly rendezvous had lowered our boundaries and increased our comfort level with poking fun at each other. I could even say, “Fuck off, Ma’am” to her joking slights, and she didn’t mind when I insulted her in turn. We talked about everything, but our talk eventually turned to sex, which was a touchy subject because military law forbade sex with subordinates, and she outranked me. I could bring up the subject because I only risked a reprimand from her, but she risked sexual harassment charges if I complained. That’s why I brought it up first, and kept bringing it up, because she was a swinger too. It was inevitable we were going to do more than talk about sex, but I didn’t know it.

The day we fucked, she seemed anxious to talk at our noon break. We made small talk as usual, but she casually mentioned that the general’s driver used to be in her unit and that she had just learned the general hardly used his sleeping van. I thought, “So what,” but she kept giving me this look like I was supposed to pick up on something. Of course I didn’t, and like a teacher talking with a dull student, she told me again more slowly, adding that she could probably arrange a tour that night if I wanted. I thought, “A tour?,” but then I caught the glint in her eye as she smiled deviously.

Being the smart ass I am, I said quietly, “Tour? You mean, you want to fuck, don’t you?” To my complete surprise she stopped smiling, and in a whisper, said, “Be quiet!...Yes I want to fuck!” I stopped chewing, and looked at her with a mouthful of Army food, immediately getting a hard-on. Many were the times I had checked out her chest and ass, never thinking I would ever get a chance to see her up-close, live, and in person. I swallowed slowly and whispered back a weak, “OK,” because I thought, “Damn! Fuck you in the General’s sleeping van? The GENERAL’s sleeping van?” I said, “Are you fucking crazy?” She said, “No,” and looked a little hurt. “I’m sorry,” I said, “but, damn, the General’s van? You have more balls than I do!” She smiled at that and said, “Hooah!”

She had arranged it all; all I had to do was show up after sundown. Her plan was magnificent. She had graduated with the general’s aide-de-camp so knew the general would be away for the night and that his chief of staff would be gone for a few hours too. They were the only one’s who normally used the van. She had also arranged a clandestine guard from the enlisted women she tented with, probably because they wanted to fuck in the van too. Finally, she had a hand radio so the guard could alert us if someone came. Frankly, there was nothing these privates and specialists could do if the Colonel walked up and demanded entrance, but they were better than nothing. My lover Captain and I would just have to kiss our careers goodbye. That thought scared me, but fucking her in that van was like a big erotic magnet that made me want to do stupid things.

We met in a dark corner behind the collection of expandable staff trucks connected together like a huge “starship” and waited for the coast to clear. About 100 members of the night shift were in the middle of briefings, going over maps inside as we sneaked around outside trying not to get caught. It was pretty easy. A line of loud generators was nearby so no one liked to stay back there for very long and a heavy camouflaged net usually blocked out the moon--when there was one. Quiet as mice, we crept up to the 2 1/2 ton truck called a “sleeping van” and quickly climbed the metal corrugated stairs. Inside we found military splendor. For a moment we forgot about fucking as we gawked at the faux-gold faucet on the small sink, the small oak desk, the curtained windows, a one-person shower, and especially the uncomfortable looking bed. “It must be nice to be the king!,” I said, looking around in the weak light of my flashlight. “Man, does this beat a cot in the grass!”

We didn’t have long, probably an hour at most, so we had to hurry. It was a little weird, at first, undressing in a box the size of a bathroom, but the sexual tension we shared left little to say--the more we saw of each other, the more we wanted to fuck!

For a moment though, we held each other naked in the dark, kissing passionately. For the first real time we let our military bearing down, whispering to each other how we really felt. Our naked bodies touched with something between a lightening strike and a warm bear-hug. Like Yogi Bera, it was déjà vu all over again, after our past sexy conversations, except it was for the first time. “You feel great. I’ve wanted you for so long, but was too scared to say anything,” was all I lamely managed to say. She hugged me tighter, saying, “I know!” It was cathartic for us both to let our inhibitions escape into the dark. We wanted each other badly.

She put her lips to mine in a lover’s kiss full of genuine passion and a promise of more lust to come. We repositioned our hands and used our tongues to see what that promise would bring. It was a sweet exchange of saliva between our locked mouths: warm, passionate, lovingly mutual. I melted in her arms, and felt light headed smelling her woman smells after several weeks in the field--a certain primeval urge that pheromones evoke on dark nights like ours. We had improvised showers, but she didn’t smell like the girly-girl she would have in garrison.

Out here she smelled like a sexy pioneer woman, the kind that conquered our country back in the 1600’s and made mountain men fight over them like wild animals. It was a mixture of her hair with its natural oil and a certain woody smell. It was a glandular scent that makes men balloon with desire after just one whiff. It was the faint perfumed smell of her day-old deodorant mixed with the hardy gym smell of a day spent on duty. It was even the musty smell of her uniform that clung to each of us to remind us we were soldiers. It was “woman” in all her simple glory--the real deal--not the store bought scents civilized women pretend they really smell like.

Our chests were touching and I could feel her hard little nipples open up, erect like bright headlights from an oncoming car. They weren’t just hard, they were rigid, at attention like my naked cock that pushed back against her stomach. Behind her nipples were athletic breasts meant for running rather than hanging around, yet they were soft in complete contrast to her nipples. While we kissed, my hands ran slowly down her back in a slow race to grab her ass first. When they tied, they pushed her pelvis into mine in a dry-run fuck to let her know what I wanted. Damn if she didn’t do the same to me, pulling away from my mouth grinning as if to say, “OK, lets fuck right now, big boy--if you can handle it!”

I thought, “I need to get out and fuck more women that outrank me!”

My lover Captain lay down on the little bed, grinning from ear to ear, put her hands behind her head, and bent her athletic legs like she was doing sit-ups during P.T. Apparently she wanted me to be subordinate tonight. As I knelt before her, she spread her legs, welcoming my wet lips to hers in a long glistening slit of horny ecstasy, just waiting to be licked open. Her well-toned body, perfectly formed from hours of hard Army exercise, arched to meet me half way in the cramped quarters. I tried my best to hang on to her tits and lick at the same time--I wanted to please my lover.

She said nothing, but sucked air in softly, trying not to scream in pleasure while I attacked her clit with military precision. Like Gettysburg I tried to find her weak spots on both the left and the right, then went for the kill in the middle with one big, wet slurp of her clit. I put the whole thing in my mouth, greedily devouring her in my rush to please her like a good subordinate. My lips wrapped around everything, apparently too much of everything at one time, then I gently sucked, not hard, but just enough to make my lover shake her head in silent agreement. After just a few minutes she said in short breathy tones, “Go…go in now…go in now.” That was an order I had to disobey. I said, “No, ma’am” and kept on licking like the Duracell bunny.

She did her best to dig her short fingernails into my back, trying to pull my cock upward toward her gaping sweet spot. Her knees slapped my arms as she begged me to go in--“Go in, damn it, go in…now!” I wouldn’t budge and whispered, “Not yet.” Apparently, I underestimated how much she wanted to fuck.

Had I known how wet she really was at lunch, I would have been tempted to ask her to crawl under the “starship” of trucks into the deep maze of telephone wires and hidden boxes where we could have fucked in our own little hide area. For some perverted reason, thinking about “what could have been” that afternoon made me even hornier. There was nothing like this Captain’s sweet pussy in the middle of our clandestine little sex-mission--Operation Sexual Freedom. It was enough to make me ooze out some pre-cum in anticipation. I had to slow down, though, because she recoiled when it “hurt so good,” and became too sensitive to touch. Score one orgasm for me, even though it was a quickie.

I certainly didn’t want either of us to blow out after just two minutes (and I would have if I had gone in at that time)--I wanted to work it out gradually within the hour or so we had together.

I caressed her stomach softly and lightly touched the bottom of her breasts, pinching her nipples lovingly. I made love to her inner thighs with gentle kisses and long licks from her knee to her engorged vulva, lapping up the juice that my face had smeared everywhere. Still sensitive, I simply laid the side of my face on her warm lap, listening to her internal rhythms as she fought to regain control of her composure. She finally relaxed her body and settled in for a long siege, so I asked her to rest her feet on my back while I wrapped my arms around her thighs from below and slowly licked her kitty again like a lion beginning to eat. She was hot and wet everywhere, her love-juice having mixed with my saliva into a full spread of passion. I was so greedy to please that driblets of it ran down my chin like an ill-mannered boy eating dessert.

I wanted her to writhe in ecstasy, but she fought me all the way, trying not to compromise our secrecy with a scream. I let my wide tongue slowly plow a deep, upward furrow between her parting lips, then finished the row by raking it over her clit before pulling out to start over again below. That made her wiggle, but not scream. I then tried nibbling her lips, gently licking each up and down while blowing hot air--actually painting my breath on with pink passionate strokes of my tongue. She loved it, and tightened her stomach, but no scream. My assault was failing, so I had to switch tactics.

My poor little cock (some say the government adds saltpeter to our Army rations to keep us from becoming horny--but I don’t believe it) had been lonely before I met my beautiful Captain. He wanted a little play mate. By now, he had grown, like a comic book hero, from a flaccid wimp into a raging bull of a hard-on, ready to conquer the world of sex in one stroke. So after one last flick of my tongue, I stood up, took him in my hand, and pushed his head against, but not into, the entrance of my lover’s pink meaty vagina, slowly moving him upwards and downwards. She began to slip. My pre-cum was oozing again, making it deliciously slickery. It felt good to me too.

After my tongue licking, I wanted to fuck. I wanted to please my lover, but I also wanted to splurt my cum deep inside her hot, wet play zone. The only hitch was that she dipped a hand in her sex-well, drew out a wet palm of juice and saliva, and lubed my cock before I could react--and it felt way too good to stop her. I stood in a pornographic trance as she coaxed out my cum a little at a time. Her hand felt great, so she quickly stole the initiative from my attack, sat up, and counterattacked by putting the whole head in her pretty little mouth and sucked. She was good too. One hand gently played with my ball-sack, while the other slowly pumped my cock in rhythm with her flirtatious lips nibbling (even lightly biting) my head from below. I was transfixed like a deer in headlights waiting for the end--and it came soon enough. After making me cum, and catching it in her hands, she applied it to her vagina and begged me silently, mouthing the words, “Come…fuck now.”

It took all my will power to actually go inside her instead of releasing my embargoed pleasure onto her stomach in an impetuous splurt of satisfaction. This time she got on top and I think I thrust maybe two times before I spewed, I know it didn’t take much more than that. I had been overrun by her audacity to turn the tables on me and I couldn’t handle it. I grunted approval loudly, making her mock me with a librarian-like “Sshhh!” I didn’t care. I said aloud, “Honey, you’re the sexiest woman I have EVER fucked,” and meant it too. It was one for one now, and I felt great.

Then we got down to business…

She sat up, gave me a big wet kiss, and told me to lay back and put my knees together--I obeyed. She smiled at me, turned around, and backed onto my flag-pole erect cock like an Army truck backing up to a trailer. Then she fucked my brains out, in detail, piece by piece!

She did what I had done to her and rubbed my cock with her hot, soaking-wet pussy without pushing down, just yet. I couldn’t help it and spurted again. She laughed quietly and mocked me, “Can’t handle this, can ya?” What could I say? I just grunted approval of what she was doing. Then slowly she backed onto it a little at a time. Her hips pushed down onto my thighs as she tried to get a better grip on my cock with her vulva. Oh, the slick warm joy! She tried to pump me dry like a horny little oil well, “I fuck, I can; I fuck, I can; I fuck, I can.” It felt mighty fine! Her smooth skin and womanly smells took me aback as everything about her opened up in earnest, candid sex. She was unafraid to be herself and I wanted all of her just like she was. My fuck-dar was on and it zoomed in on her rear which I lightly touched to heighten her aroused response. I almost won back the initiative with that one, but she stayed on top of her game--and me.

After a while her strength gave out and she had to sit down facing me. When she did, she simply flopped over onto my chest and rested. Our bodies were in shape, but cramped sex in a trailer was tiring. We lay there for a few minutes soaking each other up and sweating lightly. I’m sure she smelled my man smells, the kind we’re usually more comfortable with than women. I know she was turned on because she kissed my stomach, then laid her chin on my sternum and gave me a hug in the dark. Without a show of force, I thrust my pelvis upward to let her know I still wanted her.

She sat up, closed her eyes and hung her head low. She was tired, but concentrated on pleasuring me. I closed my eyes too, not that we could see much beyond our bodies in the darkened trailer. I felt like saying all kinds of things lovers say to each other--tense, erotic things that make you blush--but I didn’t. I just let us be lovers, moving our hips together in rhythm, desire rising within us by the minute.

We started slow, feeling each other’s warm skin and slowly rocking back and forth. My hands supported her rear as she struggled to stay upright in a semi-standing fuck position. I slowly licked circles around her nipples, sucking them just before switching to the next one. They were salty from our mixed sweat and probably red from squeezing them like she wanted when I thrusted deep inside. I shuffled my bum back to a more mutually comfortable position where she held my shoulders and head in her arms, inhaled the scent of my hair, and pressed her face close to mine, saying a silent “Thank you” with the sexual energy she was releasing. Then kissing me passionately, she rested her head on my shoulder and purred like a big satisfied cat with catnip between her paws. It was a sweet moment I wished we could have shared somewhere less military.

For my part, her limp body made me hard again and I promptly came to attention inside her. Oh, she was DAMN sexy! But I was fooled again. When I thought I was taking charge, she pulled rank, curtly sucking MY nipples and pushing ME back down with a “Just lay there lieutenant! Let me be on top.” I whispered a raspy, “Yes ma’am” and obediently awaited her orders, ready to follow her anywhere.

She sat still for a moment, generating energy for one last push to victory. She was absolutely beautiful, a real leader in bed. When she was ready, she led me through our paces, always careful to take the first step, leading from the front like a good commander. Of course, I did what I could to assist.

For starters, she moved to a more advantageous position by making me sit up against the back wall so we could kiss easier. I know it was less comfortable for her, given the stark shape of the bed, but she insisted--always looking out for her soldier first. It also gave me more thrust, which didn’t hurt. She then told me how to fire her up with short, quick, commands like a squad leader on a drill field: “Suck my nipples,” “Kiss me under my ear,” “Nibble my ear.” By the time I was finished, she had come alive with the fuck-power of a comic-book heroine.

Oh she was good! After a few minutes of sitting up and fucking, I became weak, saying “I think I’m going to cum.” I did my best to prolong it, but her entire vulva was so swollen that it pulsed and seemed to suck my cock on its own, drawing out my juice one squirt at a time. She said, “Wait, I’m almost there, too” so I waited, but I ached to explode.

Her fingers began to dig into my back as if she was literally trying to squeeze an orgasm out of me. Then she spread her hands wide and frantically rubbed my back trying to grope something that hadn’t arrived yet, pressing her titted chest into mine. I could hear her breathing quicken, a sign that the pit of her stomach must have felt the tingle of a new orgasm approaching.

She picked up the pace from a trot to a head-long run, pulling me by the cock with her assertive thrusts. By this time my pre-cum had been followed by couple of rounds fired off without permission, but I was ready for the final barrage. I tensed my body, kissed the sweet spot on her neck, and thrust with all my might between her legs, going as deep as I could, cum spewing everywhere in a wet display of male dominance. I was a lone king-of-the-hill deep inside her valley.

And then it happened…

At the same time I orgasmed, she pushed out a deep, rasping, orgasmic moan with all the force of childbirth. It may have been masked by the loud generators outside, but it sounded like an air-raid siren inside. I could tell, even in the dark, that she had a horrible expression of ecstasy on her face: a wince of pleasure-pain from the tide-like tug of war deep inside her uterus muscles, and a smile at having fucked so well. We sat there hugging each other afterward, chuckling with euphoria after the battle. It felt good to relax with her on my lap. She felt like she belonged there, even though we knew we may never serve together again. I thanked her and she kissed me lightly while cum ran down her thighs onto my lap in a warm puddle.

We parted and she looked at her watch. “Oh, shit! We’d better get out of here, quick, before the Colonel comes.” The Chief of Staff! What an ass! He rode majors like they were his personal servants, and lieutenant colonels made his coffee in the morning. If he caught us junior officers he would probably bring us up on charges and ship us out of the area with a court-martial from the general

“Hurry,” she said as we franticly tried to get dressed. We had been so intense, that we had completely forgotten where we were. Underclothes were not properly fitted, belts remained unbuckled, boots were barely laced. We rushed to put on our uniforms, field gear, helmets, and gas masks. It seemed to take forever to button and snap everything. “Do I look OK?,” she asked quickly. “Yes,” I said. “What about me?” “Fine,” she said, giving me a once-over. Then we were ready. We kissed one last time and prepared to leave. It felt like jumping out of a perfectly good airplane for the first time.

She cracked the door to see if the coast was clear and saw the general’s Chief of Staff walking toward the van in the light of his red filtered flashlight. “OH, SHIT,” she whispered, audibly nervous. She outranked me so she would receive more punishment if we were caught.

The Colonel was haggard and disturbed after a full day of bull-dogging his way through staff meetings, correcting silly assumptions about the way others thought things ought to be, and generally bullying the general’s plans into being by sheer force of will. This guy was a terror, a genuine ass, and no one wanted to be around him, especially us. The last thing we wanted him to see was us run from his quarters.

As we awaited the inevitable, I wondered what had happened to the guard my lover had set out because we were about to be fried alive in a blistering tirade. Damn! I had worked too hard for everything to be thrown away now. Did the Specialist go to sleep or get bored and walk away?

The Colonel was so close that we heard his boots crunching the dry ground just like he was about to do to us. But then a female voice called out from the “starship,” “Colonel!...Sir!” It was the guard after all.

We could hear the Colonel reverse his steps back a few feet as the Specialist asked him some inane question about his schedule the next day for the Sergeant Major (Yeah, right!). It was our chance!

As quite as mice, we snuck out of the trailer, down the steps, and into the night, but left the door open to the horror of the Specialist who was looking over the Colonel’s shoulder in fear. If we were sunk, she might be too, but she was brave and asked the Colonel one more stupid question as we faded away. We almost made it, too, but we banged into something, making a racket he heard over the generators.

“What the hell are you two doing over there?” he bellowed after turning his red flashlight on us like an accusing spotlight. We turned around slowly and saluted. The Captain thought quickly: “Just taking a break, sir. We hope we didn’t disturb you.” He remained silent, eyeing us from a distance like a vulture. There was something about us he just didn’t like, but couldn’t yet put his finger on it.

“The Sergeant Major, sir?,” our brave guard doggedly asked, giving us just enough time to escape. “Hold on a minute, Specialist,” he said glaring at her boldness. Then turning back to finish us off, he knew what held his attention. My uniform top identified me as a Captain, but my helmet said I was a Lieutenant, while my lover’s was just the opposite. He was about to chew us out for being stupid, and probably for some other things he suspected, but couldn’t prove. But it was too late, we were gone and he was looking into the night.

Just then a breeze caught the door and slammed it into the side of the van, scaring the Specialist (she may have thought the Colonel had shot at us). “Damn!,” we could hear the Colonel swear as we made our way into the dark. It didn’t take us long to catch our uniform blunder and we were soon back in our proper places as Captain and Lieutenant.

I don’t know what the Colonel found when he went inside and turned the lights on, but I hope he passed a soggy night on that bed, smelling a faint whiff of sex, and wondering what the General had been doing all day while he was working.

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