“That’s what I’m going for,” I rasp, trying to control myself. I remember the three rules of the weekend safety brief. Don't drink and drive. No glove, no love. And only yes means yes. “You care if I leave the connecting door between our rooms unlocked?”
Lindsey shakes her head and takes a small step back. “Go ahead . . . but I'm not saying I'm going to be taking advantage of it. Good night, Aaron.”
Lindsey retreats into her room, and I groan as my cock twitches. I know that if I'm not in my room relieving the tension in about thirty seconds, I really am going to have a case of blue balls. “Good night, Lindsey.”
Chapter 4: Lindsey
I'm sitting at my desk, but in my mind, I'm nowhere near my work. Instead, I'm thinking about last Sunday afternoon, parked in a turnout just off the Palisades Parkway near Bear Mountain State Park with Aaron, the two of us making out like a pair of horny teenagers since the drive out from the city took us less time than we expected. He didn't have to be back to post before seven, and since we had an extra hour to kill, we put it to good use.
The feel of his hands on my waist, his lips tracing my jawline when I arched my neck . . . it was heavenly. We didn’t go beyond there, and it’s a good thing. It’ll make it that much harder to shut it down. He’s a cadet, and we shouldn’t be seeing one another. What the hell was I thinking, not only continuing to ride with Aaron, but then when he asked me out, instead of just saying no, we end up on an overnight trip to New York City?
Actually, I know what I've been thinking, and that was even before I kissed him. He's hot as hell, and I’m sure there aren’t many girls around here that wouldn’t mind having a little no-strings-attached fun with him for a night. But there’s also something beyond that—something that draws me to him even more, and I can’t put my finger on it.
It was pure torture pulling away after feeling the touch of his lips on mine and the way his tongue would find the little places on my neck that left my body humming for hours afterward. It’s just pure heaven. I've never thought that a woman could come just from petting and kissing, but as good as Aaron is, I'm starting to change my mind on that. It might be possible, because he left me damn near close to coming when I parked my car outside my barracks.
“Hey, Morgan! PFC Morgan? Earth to Morgan!” I look up, seeing Sergeant Greene looking at me with a half-amused, half-annoyed look on her face. “Hey, you okay, or did you party a bit too much over the weekend?”
“Sorry, Sergeant,” I apologize, shaking my head. “I went down to the city. Guess I enjoyed the hockey game too much.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she says with a chuckle. “Probably spent too much time last night thinking about one of them Canadian boys they had on the ice. You know, if you go up to one of them, you'd have no problems about lack of a boyfriend.”
I laugh, shaking my head. Her husband is a nice guy. I met him back when I got stationed at West Point, but he's no athletic stud. He’s a civilian who works in the butcher's department in the commissary, with a big laugh and a bigger belly. “Come on, Sergeant. You really think an NHL guy is going to give up all the rink rats he can get just to try and hook up with a soldier? Especially some admin PFC like me?”
“You might be surprised. Some of ‘em like women who could kick their ass,” Greene replies, grinning. “Here, I've got some paperwork I need you to run over to Mahan Hall. Think you can get it over to Colonel West fourth period?”
I check the clock, then look at the cadet class bell schedule taped on the wall underneath, and nod. “Sure. Anything else?”
“Nope, I can hold it down until you get back,” she says. “Just remember you'll need to walk down there. Mahan's in the no-vehicle area.”
“Roger, Sergeant,” I reply, grabbing my backpack. The requirement that most of the cadet area be only used by emergency vehicles makes taking stuff down there a pain in the ass, but at the same time, I don't mind. The walk's not that bad, and I can enjoy getting out of the office.
When I get to Mahan Hall, I see a swarm of cadets streaming out and around. I guess my timing's perfect. I slow up a little bit, letting the cadets make their way to their next classes before I go in and find Colonel West's office. “Colonel?”
“Ah, you're from the S-1 office?” He says, giving me a smile. He's one of what we on post sometimes call the 'College Colonels,' instructors who have been at the Academy long past when they'd normally be forced to either be promoted or retired in the regular Army.
“That's right, Colonel. If you don't mind, sign here, and I'll be able to get this back to the shop before lunch. We can fax it off ASAP that way and make sure your Captain's taken care of,” I answer, handing him the form. He hums and scribbles his signature on the bottom of the form, handing it back to me. “Thank you, sir.”
“No problem. Thank Sergeant Greene for catching that for me. I feel bad making you come all the way down here for it.”
I shake my head, giving him a smile. “Don't sweat it. I mean, you did get me out of the office for a whole hour now. I'll take the break. Thanks again, sir.”
I leave Mahan Hall, but just as I'm about to leave the cadet area and get back to my office, I hear a wolf whistle that makes my head whip around. I'm nervous enough being in central post because I don't want to run into Aaron while in uniform, but the whistle just makes me jump. I look, seeing a group of four cadets, each of them giving me a leering, admiring look. “Who the fuck did that?”
“Did what?” one of them asks, grinning.
“The whistle. That's sexual harassment, you jerk!”
“Jerk?” the biggest of the cadets says, laughing. I see his garrison cap with the black shield on it. He's a firstie, a senior. “In four months, that's going to be jerk, sir. Might want to get used to it, pretty lady.”
I'm pissed, but I can see in their eyes that they'll back each other up on this. The Corps may have an honor code, and if there were some officer around to bust their asses, they wouldn't lie about it. But I'm just a small-timer, and they'll take the fuck off as soon as I ask for a name or go to find someone. Instead, I just turn and head off, pissed.
Walking back toward the office, I get more and more pissed off. Not because of the whistle, which was annoying, but because these guys are supposed to be the future leaders of the Army, the fucking best and brightest? Fuck me, if that's what the future leaders are like. I'm not sure the Army's in as good a shape as it keeps saying it is.
Sergeant Greene sees I'm pissed when I get back to the office, but I wave it off and she lets me stew. As time passes and four o'clock approaches, I just can't get that asshole’s comment out of my mind. When Sergeant Greene lets me go, I'm so pissed that I nearly storm back to my room to change. Regardless of whether I'm pissed or not, I agreed to ride with Aaron, and the way I'm feeling, I can use a chance to work off some frustration.
Today, instead of meeting all the way out by the ski slope, we meet near Michie Stadium. Aaron's a few minutes late, which isn't all that unusual, but for some reason, it pisses me off today. “Hey,” he says, still with that same smile that he always has when he sees me. “You look stressed.”
“Bad day at work,” I tell him tersely, strapping on my helmet. “Ready to roll?”
“Sure,” he says, putting on his sunglasses. “I was thinking a ride out to Camp Buckner?”
“Fine.” We take off, but as we leave main post and turn left, heading down the highway toward Buckner, I keep hearing that wolf whistle in my head and his gloat that I’ll have to call him Sir. I'm getting angrier and angrier, and I start pushing the pace. The route out to Buckner isn't too bad for a bicyclist, but instead of just taking it easy, I'm leaning over my handlebars, pumping hard. I hear Aaron call out behind me, but I ignore him, pushing harder.
I know what I'm trying to outrun. I'm trying to outrun the frustration that I feel inside me, that I'm stuck as a PFC while getting wolf whistles from assholes who are going to be Lieutenants. I'm angry that I want to be more. That I want to have the chance
to be more than just a file clerk. I'm frustrated that I want a real relationship, that I want a chance to do things . . . and in trying to do so, I'm breaking a rule. A stupid rule, made in the days when things were different in the world, in our society. I mean, how am I supposed to be unduly influenced by Aaron when I can't even be in his unit? The odds of him becoming my commanding officer are tiny.
I come down the last hill and see the entrance to Camp Buckner up ahead. I hang a right, heading down the road, taking the last half-mile to the main Camp turnaround point hard and fast. I can hear Aaron keeping up behind me, and when I make the turn, I screech to a halt. He's cut me off, and our bikes nearly hit as he yanks his bike directly in front of mine.
“What the hell?” I seethe, hopping off my bike. “You trying to crash?”
“No,” Aaron says, putting his kickstand down and getting off his bike. He's angry, and his eyes are sparkling as he confronts me. “I'm trying to figure out what the hell is up with you today! Jesus, you've been pedaling like you're trying out for the Tour de France!”
“If you can't keep up . . .” I huff, and Aaron rips off his helmet, slamming it to the ground.
“It's not that!” he yells, stepping closer until he's barely inches from me, his hands trembling. “You're obviously angry about something, Lindsey. Was it the weekend? Are you pissed at me?”
“No!” I yell, pushing him away, but it's me who takes a few steps back, stumbling until I nearly fall. “Yes! No! I . . . dammit, Aaron!”
I'm starting to cry. I'm so angry and pissed off with all these emotions coming to a head. He takes my hand, pulling me close. His lips find mine, and we kiss, hard at first. His lips mash against mine, and I'm pulling at his head, devouring his mouth and tongue as I hold him close.
He reaches down, picking me up and carrying me, and I'm treated to see just how strong he is. I knew his legs were strong from riding, but he lifts me like I weigh nothing and carries me toward the lake. At first I think he's going to carry me to the freezing cold water, but then we're at the sand, and he's pulling at the zipper of his coat, pulling it off and dropping it to the grass below. “Lindsey . . .”
“Yes,” I say immediately, our kiss softening somewhat. There's still a lot of passion, and I turn around in his arms, letting him undo my top while I grind my ass back against his cock. He's hard already, and with the heat of our bodies, I'm sweating from the ride and his body pulling me back against him as he pulls my jacket off and cups my breasts, kissing and sucking on the curve of my neck. “Yes . . .”
We tumble to the ground, turning and kissing each other as he pulls me on top, my legs spreading to straddle his waist. His hands knead my ass, and he's moaning, trembling. I can tell it's been a while for him, but then again, it's been a long time for me too. This isn't going to be some endurance event, but I don't care. I just want him to pound me into submission.
We fumble, pushing and sliding our pants down, one of the drawbacks of bike pants I'm frustrated to discover, and finally, I roll off, pushing my pants down and getting on my hands and knees. “Give it to me!”
Aaron holds my waist tight as he drives in deep, both of us grunting at the force. It hurts a little. Like I said, it’s been a while, but it's a good hurt. He stretches me painfully, making me gasp. He stops, and I look back, shaking my head. “Keep going.”
I'm wet, which helps as he pulls back and slides in again, this time slower, and the pain dissolves in the wave of pleasure that washes out and fills my body. My gasp turns into a needy moan, and I push back into him, the warmth filling me inside and out as he thrusts again and again. We're going fast. I knew we couldn't last long, but I need this.
His cock is wonderful now, and wave after wave of ecstasy washes over me as he takes me. Not too hard, but not soft either. He drives into me, angling his hips so that the head of his cock is hitting just the right spot, and the fire builds hard inside me until I'm gasping, trembling on the edge. “Aaron . . .”
With a primal growl, he pulls me tight, his cock swelling deep inside me. He's on the edge too, and I feel the orgasm coiling deep in my stomach, big and needed. I want to feel his cock explode, and I dig into the sand, pushing back, squeezing my pussy around him. Aaron gasps, and suddenly, he's there, slamming into me hard as he comes hard and hot, blasting inside me.
It pushes me over the edge, and I'm coming, crying out his name so loud that the birds across the water are startled into flight, their screams nearly the same sound as mine as I squeeze tighter and tighter, not wanting to let this moment go. It's amazing, monumental, and I’m frozen in time.
But when time starts again, Aaron gathers me in his arms and we lay on the ground, close. I turn and nuzzle against him. “Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you,” Aaron replies, stroking my hair. All the anger is gone, replaced by a concern in his eyes that warms me. “Was I too rough at first?”
“It's just what I needed,” I reassure him. “I needed it. It's been a long time for me.”
Aaron stops, then nods, grinning. “Okay, I'll accept that. Lindsey . . . I know there are things we don't always tell each other. I guess it's hard when we spend most of our time together with a headwind in our face. But I'd like to think that after the weekend, and after this, that we're kind of beyond the point of just saying we like to ride bikes together.”
I hum and nod. “We are. And you're right. Sometime, I'd like to talk about all of that. But for now, it's probably getting a little late, and we need to get back to Point before the sun sets.”
“Okay. But let's take our time heading back to post. I'm not exactly in the mood for a sprint back.”
I tug at my pants, pulling them up as the chill wafts over my hips. Laughing softly, I nod in understanding. “I just had a very nice and,” I earnestly declare, looking down and seeing his softening cock, “very big cock inside me. That's not what you want right before a seat post is up your ass, so yeah, I could use an easy ride back too.”
Aaron laughs while I get up and finish pulling my pants up. As he pulls his own pants up and tucks his cock away, he smiles. “Not the way I thought I’d ever have sex while at the Point, but still good.”
“Good?” I ask, and he laughs, startling the birds back into flight at the sound.
“Okay . . . fucking amazing. Hell, I already want to do it again.”
I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “Well, we are planning to ride this Saturday. Let's see where the bikes take us.”
Chapter 5: Aaron
Sitting in my room, I'm frustrated. Looking at my bank account, I've got all of twelve dollars and thirteen cents left. And it's only the ninth of the month.
What am I supposed to do? Cadets get jack shit for pay, and I blew my entire savings on one weekend in New York. Sure, Lindsey was more than willing to pay for some of it. She paid for her own hotel room and part of the food . . . but especially after yesterday afternoon, how can I fool myself any longer?
She's obviously not just a riding buddy anymore. Hell, this has been the happiest I've been my entire time at the Academy. But . . . twelve dollars and thirteen cents?
I sigh, working on shining my inspection shoes. We've got haircut inspection tomorrow, and I've been keeping my hair at the limits of what the TAC likes. I get the impression that Lindsey likes my hair a little bit longer, but my TAC doesn't. I've already seen him giving me looks, and I'm not a senior, where I could've earned some leeway.
My commanding officer likes the old-school soldier, the Ranger types who wear shaved sides and short, flat tops on their hair. While the regs say I can have hair up to two inches on top and a half-inch on the sides, there's no way in hell he'll let me get away with that. He starts making pointed comments when you can't see scalp anymore on the sides.
My polishing rag moves over the leather of my shoes in wide sweeps, the smell of the Kiwi filling the air. On my desk, I've got a candle burning. I'm one of those guys who thinks that melting the shoe polish helps you get a better gloss than j
ust raw polish, and the scent mixes with the polish just enough to keep it from being nauseating.
“Attention all cadets! There are five minutes until area clean-up formation. The uniform is . . . Army Combat Uniform with belt and canteen! Formation will be held on the division steps. Five minutes remaining!”
Oh, shit. I totally lost track of time. I mean, I've already changed into my ACU pants, but the plebe outside in the hallway, I think it's Carroway, by the leather-lunged sound of him, still catches me by surprise. I've only got my brown t-shirt on, and I get up quickly, rushing over to my bed and pulling on my combat boots. I normally hate wearing my issued field jacket, but I don't have time to dig my warm weather undershirt out of my footlocker . . . to hell with it. I guess I'll wear the jacket and my gloves. For work details, they don't really care about little shit like that.
I get my belt clipped on and at least half a canteen of water, getting downstairs just as this semester's First Sergeant, Mel Riordan, calls everyone to attention. My squad leader glances down the line and we do a quick formation.
After getting the reports, Riordan turns it over to our company XO, Pete Lemmon. “Okay, Devils, you know the deal,” he says, relaxed. “The TACs want us to clean up some of the leaves and snow that hasn't melted away. Our company's been assigned the gap here from the barracks up the back of Bradley, toward the mess hall.”
“Great . . .” someone mutters. “Hey, who's got the shovels?”
“Vince is bringing those from Central Guard Room right now,” Pete says. “He should be here in two or three minutes. In the meantime, platoon leaders, break your people down into . . . hey, what the hell's that?”
There's a rumble as people look around, and I try to look as Pete points. Unfortunately, we're on the division’s steps and can't see shit because of the overhang that sticks out from the second floor to cover the walkway. “Hey, Simpson! You’ve got smoke in your room!”
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