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The Regiment Ch. 01: Trucked Hard

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This is my first attempt at a story (so feedback is appreciated). This is all just fantasy and might require a slight suspension of disbelief to fully enjoy. Then again, if you want reality you could always try turning on the news, but you might struggle to masturbate to that.

Chapter 1 – Trucked Hard

The climb up into the back of the truck was precarious but Jen was well practised so scrambled up the tailgate quickly, helped by a supporting hand on her bottom. Captain Farnham (Andy – she must start thinking of him as Andy) made harder work of it. He was wearing his bright red mess-dress tunic and tight fitting trousers which made any kind of athleticism difficult. He was also drunk. Not falling down drunk, but drunk enough after dining in two of the new subalterns that texting a female soldier from his Battalion a thinly veiled booty call seemed like a good idea.

While they were not of the same Regiment (him an infantryman, her a medic) they worked in the same chain of command and so this little meet up was dangerous indeed. The British Army wrote long, dry policy documents full of words like ‘operational effectiveness’ or ‘values and standards’ about why this exact kind of thing was prohibited. It did not matter. When she had read his message, she had immediately made her excuses to the girls she shared a room with, put a jacket on over her jeans and hoody and left the block; heading down the hill behind the Officers’ Mess to the vehicle park. She had found him exactly where he said he would be; next to one of the huge armoured vehicles. He was leaning against it, smoking a cigarette with his hand cupped around the tip to dull the glow. “Hi Sir.” Jen had chirped, a little nervously.

“It’s ‘Andy’ when we meet like this.” He had replied, good naturedly. and then after a pause “Want to go somewhere quiet for a chat?”

The total silence of the darkness around them belied what a ridiculous statement that was. It was well after midnight and no one was going to be doing any chatting. So there it was, the bare minimum of conversation. Just enough to get them to the stage where he was helping her climb up into the back of the stores truck for what they both knew was coming.

Once they were both inside, eyes adjusting to the dense blackness under the canvas roof, noses picking up the familiar, musty smell of the camouflage nets bundled on the floor, he put his hands on her upper arms, pulled her forward and kissed her. She kissed him back.


It was the kisses that she had been looking forward to. It took her back to the start of this longing. Capt Farnham (…Andy) had been in charge of the reconnaissance platoon in Afghanistan. They did weeks out in the desert at a time and had a reputation for dirty, dangerous soldiering. She had been stuck at the field hospital in Camp Bastion and was bored to tears. When the medic attached to his platoon had been booted back to the UK after accidently injecting a morphine syrette into his own thumb rather than the casualty, Capt Farnham had gone to the medical officer and demanded someone who knew which end of a needle was which. Jen had volunteered immediately only to have the MO laugh at her.

“You don’t send split-arses to do that kind of work, Corporal Upper!” the grey-haired colonel had brayed.

The casual sexism of the Army had long ceased to have an effect on her but the suggestion she was not up to the job rankled her professional pride. So, she had tracked down Capt Farnham and told him she was willing. Actually in those words.

“Sir, I am willing to do anything you want.” She had said with a straight face, the possible double entendre not even crossing her mind. What had she been thinking?

He had smirked, then smiled, then laughed she while spluttered to explain herself. Once she had gone embarrassingly red in the face he stopped her and said that he had watched her treat the reservist who had shot himself through the thigh on the pistol range before they had deployed and was sufficiently impressed with her clinical skills that he had already told the MO that she was the only medic he would accept.

For the next four months, she was one of the boys. She moved with the platoon wherever they went. She manned a radio when they drove and she talked to the Afghan women whenever they stopped. On several occasions, she treated Taliban prisoners the platoon had captured and on three horrendous occasions she had treated members of the platoon, wounded by bullets or bombs. But mostly she had the time of her life. The Platoon was close knit, very loyal and viciously effective; this is why she had joined the Army.

One day out in the desert when the Platoon was on a rest day to fix the vehicles, Jen had gone under a tarpaulin to strip off and wash with a few bottles of water. Two months of sun had given her dark brown hair some lighter streaks and her attractive but rather plain face now had a beautiful glow. It was odd she thought canlı bahis – she had never been as far from a lip gloss in her life but had never felt better. As she peeled off her sweat soaked combats she saw the real changes however. Her body looked fantastic (even if she did think so herself). Rationed food and hard work had sculpted her buxom body into something breath-taking. The large breasts had remained, as had the wide hips and curved bum (although that was a lot firmer now), but her waist looked to be pinched in as if by a corset and her legs were slimmer, making them appear longer.

She contemplated the filthy set of clothes on the floor with a shiver of revulsion – what she would not do for a bath and a washing machine. They were not moving on from this spot for another 24 hours, sentries had been posted and there was nothing for her to do. In this situation, the lads always ditched their clothes and walked around in their boxer shorts and flip flops with pistols in their waistbands like hilariously well-armed beach bums. Why should she have to feel so modest all the time? “Fuck it.” She muttered (the closest thing she had to a motto), scooped her clothes from the floor and clambered out from underneath her shelter in nothing but a pair of black boy-shorts and a black lycra sports bra. She searched for the least dusty spot of floor and knelt down on all fours to spread her combats out to dry.

She saw a shadow fall on the rocks near her and, startled, looked back over her shoulder, making eye contact with an open mouthed Capt Farnham. To clarify, she was looking into his eyes, but his were fixed firmly on her arse, lewdly displayed under the tight shorts. It had obviously been a long time since he had seen that much of a woman and the curves laid out in front of him, perhaps even including the subtlest hint of her lips under the material seemed to strike him dumb. After the longest time his eyes focussed themselves on hers and that smirk came back to his face.

“Orders at 1900 Corporal. See you there.” He said and walked off, adjusting his trousers as he went.

Jen immediately scurried back under her groundsheet only to realise once there that she had left her combats out in the sun and was still trapped in her underwear. She felt foolish, thinking she could be like one of the lads. What an idiot.

She was working out how to get her clothes without exposing herself when it suddenly dawned on her that that she was not just breathing hard from embarrassment; she was wet. Not just a little turned on but Absolutely. Soaking. Wet. She had not realised how much she was missing sex until that moment. Back in Bastion she had a small waterproof vibrator and the privacy of a shower cubicle to take care of her needs. Out here surrounded by people she felt neglected. But at least she now knew she was not the only one…

A smirk of her own spread across her face and she boldly stepped back out into the sun, got her sunglasses and her kindle from her kit and laid a towel on the bonnet of the vehicle nearest her. Brazenly she climbed onto the towel, feeling the scorching hot metal as only pleasant warmth through its padding and lay back as if she was on the Costa del Sol. With her sunglasses on she could see that almost every man in the Platoon had stopped what he was doing to stare at her in much the same way Capt Farnham had done before. However, the new rush of arousal did not come from them watching her, it came from watching the Platoon Commander look in every direction but hers.

Jen powered up the kindle and scrolled to some of the Literotica stories she had downloaded and converted before she deployed. She read the words, imagining the exhilarating sex that was being described and repeatedly squeezed her legs together, trying do something to satisfy her now throbbing clit. She read about a girl who sucked off her boyfriend while he was driving (hot). She read about a girl who was seduced by another woman and had a lesbian affair (intriguing but not her thing). She even read about a girl who got fucked up the arse by two men (not her thing at all, although it tweaked something in the darkest corners of her mind). Her favourite story though was about the girl who’s boss caught her masturbating and ended up screwing her over her desk. She read that one a second time while from the corner of her eye she watched Capt Farnham deliberately NOT watching her.

She stayed there, torturing herself with the stories and torturing Capt Farnham with her body, until the late afternoon when she could no longer deny her body its satisfaction. She slipped back under the groundsheet, settled on her towel, rolled her pants to her knees (they were too wet to slide down neatly) and fingered herself hard. Her slit felt hot and wet and very, very needy – like it had a mind of its own. The juices leaking out of her were sufficient to leave streaks on her inner thighs and her head swam with filthy thoughts fed by her need. She made no efforts at building herself up to anything, bahis siteleri she was already built up. She just pushed two fingers of her left hand inside her pussy while the fingers of her right hand rubbed her clit. She came the first time in less than two minutes and again two minutes after. Each orgasm was a mix of ecstasy and frustration as while they both felt incredible, she wanted two other things more. She wanted Captain Farnham to be the one inside her and she wanted to be able to scream aloud at how good it felt. As she relaxed from her second climax she was bathed in sweat and flushed across her chest and face. She was tempted to go for a third time but looking at her watch realised she needed to get to orders so reluctantly sorted herself into a presentable state and joined the rest of the men around a map pinned to the side of a vehicle, nervously wondering if they could smell what she had been doing.

Unlike when she had been sunbathing, as Captain Farnham described the operation due to happen the following day his eyes never left her until she felt like he was only talking to her. She wished she had gone for a third time.

That level of lust continued for the rest of the tour. It was definitely lust, not love. She had been in love before, just once in her 22 years, and had spent the whole time concerned with how her lover felt. This time she only cared how her lover would have felt inside her. She knew it was mutual, as they flirted mercilessly whenever they were alone, but that was not often.

Finally, they landed back in the UK. He had failed to pounce on her during the decompression stop in Cyprus, despite her wearing a bikini on the beach that made her boy shorts and sports bra combo look like a burkha in comparison so she was pretty sure it would never happen – he was just too professional. But now, five days after getting back home she was being lowered onto a pile of cam nets in the back of a truck with Captain Farnham’s (sorry, Andy’s…) lips on hers and the very insistent pressure of his thick erection against her thigh.


Her jacket was discarded as was her hoody and trainers. Soon he was working on the buttons of her jeans and tugging them down her thighs while she stripped off her t-shirt. He caught a look at her underwear and smiled as he saw a pair of lacy french knickers, not dissimilar (if a little more fancy) to what he had seen her in, bent over in the desert. Her bra was very different however – gone was the practical and supportive lycra and in its place was a push up number trimmed with matching lace that drew all attention into her breath-taking cleavage. He left her laying back in her bra and pants while he got rid of as much of his uniform as was practical and then in just his trousers he was back on her. She sat up to kiss him and he used the chance to undo her bra and free her breasts. They were exceptional; round, full and firm with hard little nipples just begging to be touched. He latched his mouth onto first one then the other while his thumbs hooked into her knickers and pulled them down and over her ankles. Tingles of pleasure spread through her chest as his lips produced the entirely expected result of her nipples hardening and contracting.

She was breathing hard now and pushed his head away from her so she could undo his trousers. Once his buttons were undone his cock fell through the opening and she smiled, finally allowing herself to believe this was going to happen. She leant forward and caught the bobbing head of his dick between her lips, tasting and smelling him for the first time. In the dark she had obviously surprised him as he gave an exclamation and his cock-head pulsed in her mouth as her tongue ran around its underside. His hands found the side of her face and slowly, reluctantly pushed her back until his dick popped free of her mouth. He kept pushing with his hands and she had no choice but to lay back on the nets while his mouth first found hers and then worked down her neck, across her chest, back to both nipples and then down to her warm, wet centre.

Andy put his tongue out and oh so gently touched it to her bare lips, just below the little landing strip of her brazillian (one of the first things she had treated herself to on her return). He had wanted this for so long but now she was close enough he could smell her arousal he was still going to deny himself a little longer. Jen squirmed and wriggled, desperately trying to align her clit with his tongue but he was tricky; holding her hips firmly and moving away when she came forward until she seriously considered hitting him for being such a bastard. Just when she was sure she could take no more teasing he went straight for her clit while putting two fingers of his left hand firmly past her lips and into her pussy. It was surprising and fantastic; so much better than she had imagined it on that dusty floor months before and gasps of nonsensical pleasure sprang forth from her bahis şirketleri mouth as his tongue and lips worked over her most sensitive spot. She came the first time in less than two minutes and again two minutes after — just like the desert. Each time she lifted her hips up against his mouth so he could feel the powerful waves of her orgasm break against his tongue. She collapsed back and breathed heavily. She had learnt her lesson under that tarpaulin and this time she was definitely getting her third; what was more, she knew exactly how to get it.

Jen grabbed him by the sides of his head and dragged him on top of her so she could kiss him. Normally she never kissed a guy after he had gone down on her, feeling it was a bit dirty and weird but this time the smell and taste of her arousal on his lips made her feel like a powerful sexual force and she revelled in the feeling. Andy had taken his cue and was lining his straining cock up between the lips of her slippery, wet pussy but she stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Not like that. Like this.” she said as she rolled over on to all fours exactly like she had been on the desert sand. She dipped her shoulders and lifted her bum up higher, knowing that he would be staring right at her glistening slit. She looked back over her shoulder with her coyest smile but this time he never managed to get his eyes off her beautiful arse. She watched his hand unconsciously reach for his rigid pole and slowly stroke it. “Isn’t that what you want?” she asked, wiggling her butt enticingly.

It was what he wanted and he proved it by taking a handful of her hair in one hand, pulling her head back towards him while using his other hand to feed his dick into her hot, wet cunt from behind. Jen’s back arched and both of them drew breath as his head and thick shaft spread her open and for a brief moment she wondered how many times he must have wanked off over this exact thought – she certainly had often enough. She was brought back to reality by his hand re-positioning in her hair and his hips pulling back and then slamming forwards, giving her every single inch of his dick in one motion. He set off at a furious pace and she knew she had been right to offer herself in this position. His muscled body was like a machine built purely for fucking her and with every thrust she bit her lip a little harder, screwed her eyes shut a little tighter and her third orgasm came a little closer. She felt satisfyingly full and his perfectly proportioned dick filled her steaming pussy.

She balanced herself on one arm and slipped a hand between her legs so she could rub the area either side of her clit. Until 5 minutes ago, this had been her most sure-fire method of reaching orgasm, but recent events had taught her that the best route involved Andy’s fingers. She reached behind her and grabbed his hand off her hip and dragged it to her pleasure button, slick with her juices. He needed no instructions and immediately started pressing directly on it at a rapid tempo – something she would have normally been too sensitive for but now thrilled her to the core. She could feel him getting faster and his breathing was getting erratic. She by comparison was a coiled spring – totally still. She had completely given herself to him to be fucked and was doing nothing but taking it, while on the inside her heart was in her mouth, her lungs were fit to burst as she held her breath as her pussy was tensing and relaxing in a rhythm she did not control.

Everything seemed to go very quiet for a second and then BAM, she exploded. She opened her eyes wide, she screamed aloud, she beat her fists against the nets and she came. Oh, how she came. Arms flapping, legs shaking, tears forming, she came in what was easily the best orgasm of her life. Its intensity made her lose her mind; she felt debased and wanton, being fucked from behind in the back of a truck by a forbidden man. Andy was seconds behind her. She felt him speed up, felt his fingers of one hand dig firmly into her hips and then, with five of six enormous thrusts, he buried himself in her up to the hilt as his balls shot load after load of cum inside her. She could feel the heat and the wetness that his spunk had added to her already bubbling cauldron and her orgasm stretched out. He slowed his thrusts and stopped rubbing her clit but kept a gentle motion going with his cock, feeling his semen trying to leak out past his shaft.

He rested backwards, freeing himself from her and Jen felt his boiling hot cum drip out from between her lips and run down her thighs. She thought about dipping her finger into her pussy and sucking it clean like girls did in porn but thought that might be overdoing it. Instead (and to her own surprise) she turned around, still on her knees, grabbed his softening but still weighty cock in her hands and wrapped her lips around the glistening head. The taste of both of them together was heady and she giggled at her own rudeness while Andy gasped in shock and pleasure.

When he became too sensitive for her to keep sucking he pushed her off – just as someone turned on a torch and shone it into the back of the truck, illuminating her in a way that would have left little to the imagination.

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