Men in Uniform: A Soldier's Seduction (A Curvy BBW's Erotic Military Sex Adventure)

O
NE WEEK INTO MY
posting and I'm already wondering what the hell I'm doing here. This was supposed to be the assignment that would make my career, the gig that would finally get me noticed and mark my entrance into the big leagues of journalism, but so far it's just been a catalogue of unending misery.

For a start, the photographer they sent out with me wasn't Pierre, my usual guy. Nope, this time it's some kid called Paul, who's straight out of film school and a pretentious little shit who doesn't know his ass from his elbow. He's no fun to be around, either: his idea of a wild night out is to sit up drinking cappuccinos and talking about the movies of Eisenstein all night. Not my idea of a good time.

Then there's the fact that my contact hasn't shown up yet. I mean, I know Afghanistan is a bit of a shambles right now, but it doesn't take a full week to get in touch. Even a phone call would have been nice, but no, the place is locked up tighter than a drum and I'm not making any headway with my story at all. Which sucks more than a little.

And then there's the heat. Oh dear lord, the heat. I'd heard it was hot over here, but I wasn't expecting anything like this. It's like an invisible giant's hand squeezing the life out of you from dawn until dusk: you can't help but sweat all the time and the oppressive heat makes anyone who's not used to it tired and grumpy even at the best of times. Especially me.

So I wasn't exactly in a sparkling mood when the situation went from bad to worse. Paul and I were driving down another endless dusty road in the middle of nowhere, chasing up another dead-end lead, when all of a sudden there was a brain-splitting bang and our jeep was instantly careening wildly across the road, with Paul screaming like a girl as he lost control of the speeding vehicle. Everything went black for a moment, and when I came to we were surrounded by five or six figures shrouded in white robes with automatic weapons pointed at us. Things were not looking good.

Thankfully neither of us were badly injured, but that was the least of our worries. We were led back to a complex of caves out in the hills, kidnapped by a rag-tag bunch of terrorists who were out to hold us to ransom for all they could get.

They didn't treat us too badly. One of the first things they did was split the two of us up, which I was secretly quite glad about, as Paul's frequent bouts of crying had started to get on my nerves. I really don't think they knew what to do with me: with my tight shorts, cutoff shirt and ample curves I must have been a far cry from the submissive burqa-wearing women they were used to, and I think they were both appalled and entranced by me in equal measure. Of course, being the bold, uninhibited woman I am I took full advantage of every opportunity I could get to make them feel uncomfortable, flashing as much exposed cleavage and naked thigh as I could whenever I caught them staring at me. I could tell that the sight of a real woman turned them on, and also that they hated themselves for it, especially since to them I was just another decadent American infidel.

Every morning they would bring in a large basin of water for me to bathe in, and they seemed to take it in turns to "guard" me as I put on a show of washing myself in the most sensuous, alluring way I could. Pulling down my shirt as much as possible without actually revealing anything, I would take a cloth, throw my head back and mop my exposed neck, letting trickles of water arc down over my body, with tiny rivulets streaming between my full breasts and down the generous swell of my stomach, soaking my white cotton panties until they must have been almost transparent. Although I was the one being held prisoner, they were the ones tortured, driven half-wild by the delights of my Rubinesque body and a desire they were prohibited from satisfying.

After several days, I was beginning to wonder if anyone was actually looking for us. No-one had known where Paul and I were going, and I hadn't checked in with the newspaper for a couple of days before we left on our ill-fated journey. The constant confinement was really starting to wear me down, and my spirits were dropping with each passing day.

Then, on the tenth night, as I was fast asleep on my crude bed, all hell broke loose. At first I thought it was a violent thunderstorm or perhaps even an earthquake, but as I gradually woke up and came to my senses I realised that the bangs I was hearing was gunfire, and the deafening cracks were caused by some kind of explosives. The door to my cell opened, and one of my captors came in, eyes wide with fear and panic, with his rusted old firearm trembling in his hands. He closed the door behind him and locked it, gesturing for me to move to the back of my cell and take what cover I could.

There were three more loud cracks, and a thin white dust began to swirl in through the cracks in the rickety door. I could hear cries of terror from outside, and my heart was in my mouth as I realized that this was a rescue attempt.

As my captor skittered backwards and forwards like a hesitant rabbit caught in car headlights, the door crashed open, kicked off its hinges by a United States military issue boot. My guard raised his weapon as the doorway was filled by the silhouette of a tall, imposing figure clad in military fatigues.

He stepped forward out of the cloud of dust. He looked like some kind of futuristic warrior with his thick body armor, helmet and state-of-the-art weapon. Without a word he strode into the center of the room, his muscular frame leaning into his rifle as he kept it steadfastly aimed at the trembling terrorist. "Put your gun down," he growled in a low but commanding voice. The guard just stood there, paralysed with fear, unable to comply even if he'd wanted to. "To hell with this," the soldier said, lowering his gun and punching my captor square in the face, knocking him out with a single blow.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" he asked. "Sorry it took us so long to get here. You were kinda hard to find."

It took me a moment to remember to breathe again.

###

Leutenant Arden, as I later found out, was part of a three-man stealth unit tasked to find Paul and I and bring us back to civilization. With the other two soldiers covering the entrance of the cave and sending in concussion grenades to "soften up" (as he put it) the enemy in a surprise attack, it had been his job to single-handedly infiltrate the cave system and make contact with Paul and I. It had been a textbook operation: the grenades had knocked out what little resistance there had been, apart from the one guard who had made it back to my cell.

As he briefed me on the situation, Lt. Arden dragged the unconscious bodies of the other kidnappers back to my cell, tying them to the walls using the same large metal rings that they had used on Paul and I. It was amazing to me that Lt. Arden and his cohorts had managed to pull off the rescue mission so quickly and effectively and with so little bloodshed - they made the terrorists look like children playing silly games in comparison.

Lieutenant Arden was a brisk, no-nonsense man who went about his duty with a calm stoicism that was instantly reassuring to me. It also helped that he was a fine figure of a man: tall and dark, and with a square, stubbled jaw, his impressive physique seemed barely restrained by his uniform. His muscles bulged beneath his camouflaged desert fatigues, and his body armour gave him the look of a medieval knight. In that cramped, night-cooled cave, lit only by the light of several flickering torches, he was like the archetype of the timeless warrior, a paragon of strength and avenging justice sent to sweep me up and carry me away to safety.

Needless to say, I was a little smitten right from the start. To his credit, he kept up a courteous and professional attitude for a surprisingly long time - he was every inch the professional soldier. But every man has his breaking point.

"Ma'am, I need to check you over for any injuries."

I felt a slight shiver go though me.

"Of course..."

I sat down on my makeshift bed while he brought over the basin of water I had used for washing in and some towels. His large hands were rough and calloused and yet surprisingly tender as he ran them over my tingling flesh, starting with my feet and working his way upwards. The same laser-like intensity that he had shown in infiltrating and securing the caves was now focussed completely on me as he worked his hands slowly up my body looking for any sign of injury or maltreatment.

He was precise and methodical: beginning with my ankles and calves he slowly worked his fingers over every inch of my exposed flesh, pressing and probing with the deft, sure touch of a professional. As he smoothed his hands up my thigh, kneading and squeezing the flesh with an unhurried steadiness, I closed my eyes and lost myself in the relaxing progression of this unexpectedly sensuous massage. I felt all the anxiety and fear that I'd accumulated during my confinement uncoil itself from my body and simply melt away as I surrendered myself to this stranger's touch.

After he had finished with my legs, leaving me quivering with delight, he stood up and moved behind me. For a moment I thought he was done, but then I felt his hard, calloused hands brush away the long hair at the back of my neck and begin to gently caress my nape, sending shivers coursing through me.

"You know, for a soldier, you have a very delicate touch."

He gave a little amused chuckle to himself.

"Yes ma'am. This is a very important process, and I have to be as thorough as possible." He laughed a little again. "Although I'm not used to doing it on someone as soft and pleasing to the eye as you."

I felt a hot rush of blood blossom in my cheeks - I was blushing like a virginal schoolgirl. "Well take your time," I replied. "I'm not going anywhere."

His hand slid round and cupped my cheek tenderly. I could feel the strength in his fingers, despite his gentleness. I turned my head against his open palm and kissed it, my lips as light as a butterfly against his granite-hard hand.

I lay back against him, the full and rounded curves of my body spilling into his strong, firm arms to rest against his battle-hardened torso. His hands slid masterfully from my shoulders and smoothed their way around my waist, until he was holding me tight in an embrace that protected me from the rest of the world and encircled me in his.

I could hear the rising and falling of his breath next to my ear, smell the heady mix of canvas, sweat and worn leather that suffused his uniform as he held me close to him. I could feel the gun at his hip press against me, the metal surprisingly warm in the dry desert heat. After all the worry and boredom of my ordeal, all I wanted to do was lose myself in this rugged, mysterious man, give myself over to him completely and trust my tender body to his capable, supremely masculine ways.

I undid my shirt with trembling fingers, and his hands traced the curves of my exposed cleavage, hooking his thumbs under the spare, flimsy cotton of my bra. He brought the straps down over my shoulders, kissing the nape of my neck as he did so, sending a tumult of inflamed passion coursing through my body. In an instant he had removed it completely, and his hands returned to cup the weight of my bulging breasts as he explored the tenderness of my stiffening nipples.

He buried his head in my hair, taking in my womanly scent, and I felt the coarse starched fabric of his uniform against my back. Reaching up behind me I found his head with my hand, his short army haircut bristling beneath my questing fingers. Waves of pleasure danced across my skin as he played with my ripe, bulging breasts, running his hands over them and kneading them tantalizingly.

"I want you," I whispered breathlessly, "I want you right here and right now."

He pushed me away roughly an stood up without saying a word. He unbuttoned his fly, and began loosening his belt. I placed a hand squarely on his chest and pushed him backwards, back down onto the bed. "Uh uh," I said huskily, "keep the uniform on, soldier boy."

I saw the surprise register in his cool blue eyes as he gazed up at me. This was a man used to taking what he wanted, when he wanted it, but if this was going to happen it was going to happen on my terms.

The flickering flames of the torches around the walls of the cave sent a warm, dancing light rippling across my skin as I stood in front of him. He gave a sly smile of appreciation as his eyes took in my shapely curves, my prominent breasts and the generous swell of my hips. He sat there as if rooted to the spot as I slowly unbuttoned my shorts and teased them over my ass and down my thighs until they sank gently to the stony floor.

My loins grew wet with desire as I stood there half-naked, with only my skimpy white panties covering my modesty. Through his open flies the bulge of his manhood was clearly visible, growing larger and more apparent by the second. I took my time running my trembling fingers down the silken skin of my belly, down to my hips, where I slid them under the waistband of my panties.

I removed them as quickly as I had the shorts, and suddenly I was completely nude in front of this enigmatic warrior, letting him savour every inch of my expansive flesh with his hungry, animal eyes. The air in the room seemed to crackle with the promise of lust as I let him drink me in, inflaming his obvious desire.

Without another word I knelt submissively between his legs, his strong thighs on either side of me. I ran my hands over the mottled camouflage of his pants, coming to rest at the pronounced bulge beneath his open flies.

I reached in and slipped a hand beneath his army-issue briefs, wrapping my fingers around his hot, engorged manhood. The other hand pulled it free, teasing it from its fabric prison and setting it free for the ministrations of my soft, tender fingers. He was large - bulging veins ran up and down the shaft of his cock, accentuating his impressive girth, and the swollen red head of his penis seemed to call to me with a primal urging to possess and engulf it, to temper it in the fires of my lust like a shaft of red-hot steel fresh from the furnace.

My eyes found his again and we kissed passionately as I ran my hand up and down his stiff, hard cock. I knew I didn't have to be gentle with this burly powerhouse of a man, so I increased the tempo, gripping his dick firmly and pumping it up and down as he moaned appreciatively. He gave my lip a playful bite, sending sharp shivers of pleasure stinging through me, and I leaned forward to let the exposed tip of his penis brush against my swollen nipples as my breasts swung back and forth in time with the frenetic rhythm of my rising and falling hand.