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Furlough
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
FURLOUGH
CHAPTER 1 (FURLOUH1.STY)
I never seen a girl like her in my whole life, not in my whole damn
22 years. She was wearing a skirt so short that she could've stolen it
off some cheerleader -- but it would've been a cheerleader about a foot
shorter than she was, because on her, it barely covered her crotch,
y'know? Any shorter and it would've been a collar. And then there was
these long, strong legs, only they were all curvy, like some centerfold
who ran in races, not all muscle-bound and squat like an East German
track star.
So, anyhow, I'm standing there gawking at her and she comes over,
wearing this low-cut sweater and no bra, so I can see everything she's
got -- and she's got plenty, lemme tell you -- and a nice smile on this
wide mouth. And she's wearing shades, even though it's like midnight and
in this part of the Village, there aren't too many lights.
And she says, "So, looking for a date, honey?"
All of a sudden, I'm no Seaman-First with 18 months under my belt.
All of a sudden, I'm just a dumb kid from Ohio again, a farm boy, and
the only thing under my belt is a hard-on and I can't make myself say
anything.
"First time in the Big Apple, sugar?" Up closer now, I can see
she's really younger than I thought -- maybe 19 or 20. And there's a
scar on her cheek, from the corner of her mouth up to her ear. She's got
a lot of makeup on, but I can see the scar.
I nodded and she smiled a little different. "Could you use a
friend? I can be real friendly, show you a good time. Where ya from,
cutie?"
"O-o-ohio."
"That's nice -- a country boy." She peers at me in the little
blinking light from the crossing sign and frowns. "Say, you're not a Sea
Scout, are you?"
I don't get mad. Folks are always thinking I'm 15 or 16, 'cause I'm
kind of short and look young. "No ma'am. I'm with the -- "
"That's okay. Listen, honey, time is money. Want to spend some time
together...?"
Well, I tell myself, it's now or never. "S-s-sure. How m-m-much?"
A flash of softness, then business-time again: "For our boys in the
service, forty for a half-and-half, sixty for an hour, a hunnerd for
anything, unusual -- and that includes the back door." She leans closer.
"I hear sailors like going in the back door."
I feel myself blushing. "An hour?"
"And that includes cleanup time. You never done this before, have
you? Okay, sixty. And we don't need a room. I got a van."
I reach in my pocket for my wallet, but her hand is on my wrist.
"Not here, sailor. Get the money in your hand, then shake with the man
in the leather coat. He'll tell you where the van is. See you in five
minutes, farm boy."
She saunters away, long legs flashing brown and bare and silky, her
round, hard ass rolling, reminding me that I was a virgin. Farm boys who
look five years younger than their age don't get much chance at pussy
where I come from, especially if their parents are determined to bring
their boys up righteously. Which mine were. They even said they'd pray
for me when I came home and finally admitted I'd signed up. Prayed for
me like I was fallen already. Never guessed it'd taken almost two years
of razzing from the other guys before I'd finally give in to my baser
urges.
But I had to do something. I hadn't gotten laid in New Zealand and
in Canberra I'd sold my shore leave for eight cartons of Winstons, which
I traded to get other guys to stand watch for me while I caught up on
my sleep. I hadn't even gotten laid at Subic Bay, which I was told was
some kind of record...if I was really straight.
I stood there on the sidewalk on 14th Street near Ninth Avenue,
watching those gams, that ass, disappear around the corner, acting like
the hick I was. Then the man in the leather coat came up and said,
"What's it? Half-and-half? Oh, sheeeeet, you a virgin."
"It shows?"
"Damn, that girl a softy. What's it gonna be, virgin?"
"An hour."
"Kinky, too? And don't bullshit me."
"Just an hour." For effect, I added: "So I won't be rushed." I
looked him right in the eyes, which were about eight inches higher than
mine. He didn't flinch.
I held out my hand to shake, transferred the bills and he said, "My
man! Round the corner, the bakery truck. Ask for some hot buns!" He
laughed at his own cleverness.
Around the corner was a panel truck with FRESH BAKERY in big letter
on its side and back. I had my doubts about this whole thing, now. What
if this was a setup? I'd really lost any vestige of horniness; this
experience was already proving more effective than a cold shower.
I told myself I had to go through with it. I walked up to the
driver's door and tried to see inside. Blackness. I knocked lightly and
heard something click. The door slid back.
"Well, come on, sailor -- the meter's running."
I stepped up and slid the door closed behind me as I scuttled
across the seat. Her hand reached from behind me, through a black
curtain, and found my wrist. "Back here."
I turned and stepped through the curtain. I heard a door slide shut
and then a dim light went on.
The inside of the bakery truck had been turned into a very small
room, complete with a mattress on the floor. The sheet on the mattress
had seen better days. The walls were covered with cheap, industrial
carpeting. There was also an assortment of well-worn throw pillows and
in the corner a tool box was bolted to the wall.
"You want me to play romantic, like a date, honey?"
I shook my head.
"Well, what do you want?" She stood in front of me, hands on the
tight hips, waiting. Without the sunglasses, I could see she wasn't as
old as I'd thought -- maybe 17 or 18.
"I dunno."
She studied my face carefully. "I think I was right. You never had
a girl before, did you?"
"No..."
"Well, let's see -- first..." She took my hand and placed it on her
breast. I squeezed carefully, afraid of hurting her. I'm small, but I've
got strong hands. I watched her face. She nodded. I used both hands
then, fondling her tits. She was braless and her boobs were really firm.
"That's nice, honey." She winked at me and began peeling the tight
sweater off. "Help me with this, will ya?"
I helped until I got distracted by having two big, round firm tits
bobbling right at eye level. As she finishing stripping her sweater, I
couldn't resist leaning forward and kissing her nipples. They began to
swell in the relatively cool air inside the truck.
"That's really nice, baby. Suck 'em."
While I suckled her tits, she skinned out of her little skirt and
peeled down the panties. She had hair down there, but not much. She led
my hand to her cunt and placed my fingers so I could feel it. It seemed
kind of small, but I had no basis for comparison. She was dry, too.
"How do I look, sugar?"
I straightened and grinned, nervous. "You look sexy as hell."
It was true. She did look sexy. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea,
after all. I felt the tightening in my nuts as she went to the tool
chest, opened it and took some things out. When she came back to me and
stood under the little 25 watt bulbs, I could see what they were: a
plant sprayer, some towelettes and paper towels. She had a little condom
package clasped in her teeth. She handed me the towelettes and condom,
then knelt before me and began fumbling with the buttons on my pants.
"No, let's see what this sailor has for my port..."
Looking down at her curly head at crotch level, seeing her firm
tits bobbled slightly as she moved, made me start hardening again.
She pulled down my pants and briefs with one motion and her eyes
got real big.
"Shit."
"Something wrong?"
She shook her head. "It's just that for such a little guy, you've
got some piece of meat there. And it isn't even hard all the way yet."
She gripped my swelling cock and jerked my foreskin up and down
carefully. I groaned. "Nice and clean, too. How big does this thing
get?"
I shrugged. "I dunno. Never measured it."
"Most guys this big know to the quarter inch." She slid her hand
lightly down the shaft and tried to hold the base; her fingers didn't
touch. I was pretty nearly all the way hard. She cupped my balls in her
hand and pushed my cock against the underside of her arm, so my emerging
glans was pressed into the crease of her elbow. "Big balls, too," she
murmured. "And firm." She bent her head and blew softly over my cock. I
was instantly fully hard and throbbing.
She looked up at me. "I'm really the first, huh?"
I nodded.
"And you never, y'know, went with any guys?" My expression must
have answered her because she said, "No, not you. Farm boy. Bible Belt.
Righteous parents. I bet you don't even jerk off."
I felt my face redden. "Well, sometimes I just can't stand it and I
gotta do something or I feel like I'm going to explode..."
Her lips quirked. "Be a big blast, betcha. Well, you've never been
with anyone and you're clean...Listen, honey, I'll be honest with you --
I don't think I can handle this sausage in my cunt. But I can still take
care of you."
A hand job, I thought. Great. Forty bucks for a hand job.
My disappointment must have shown.
She smiled. "You're gonna like this." She put both hands on my cock
and took my glans in her mouth and sucked on it.
"Oh, yeahhhhh..." I groaned.
She stopped and looked up at me. "See? Lay down here." She patted
the mattress. I stepped out of my pants and briefs and sat. She never
took her hand off my cock.
She turned on her knees and lifted my cock up straight, so it was
pointing at my face. "Y'know, you could probably do this all by
yourself."
It took me a moment to understand what she meant, then I flushed.
"That's perverted!"
"But cheaper. Still, I'll be more fun for you!" She pushed me back,
so I was laying flat. She started licking and nibbling all over my dick,
kissing it and slobbering. Her hands kept jerking me and I got as hard
as I ever get. "Fucking thing must be fifteen inches long," she
whispered. Then she started sucking me again. She couldn't get more than
a couple of inches into her mouth, but she made the most of them. Her
tongue moved against my glans and sometimes she crashed me into the back
of her mouth, making a little "Mmmpf!" noise when she did it.
I knew I was ready to cum and so did she, probably by the swellings
and jerkings of my cock. She jerked harder and faster with both hands
and sucked furiously. Suddenly, I felt the cum just pouring out of me. I
heard her gag slightly and then she swallowed noisily. I kept cumming
for a long time, nine or ten big shots. It had been six weeks since the
last time I'd jerked off and I had a lot of jism stored up. She sucked
and swallowed as fast as she could, but thee was too much of it and it
was leaking from her lips around my shaft, making her jerking smoother
and hotter.
I groaned and came with three or four smaller shots before I
stopped. She sucked some more and then knelt back, my cum running down
her face and dripping on her tits. My cock was sagging back to half-mast
when she released it.
"You really came a lot, kid," she said, absently wiping her lips on
the back of her wrist. "Must've been five or six ounces. Never saw one
person come so much all at once." She was eyeing my cock speculatively.
She suddenly scrambled over to the toolbox and returned with a small
toothpaste-size tube. "Maybe like this, with lots of K-Y, I can get you
inside me while you're just half hard." She squeezed a big dollop of
clear gel into her palms and massaged it into her cunt, then did it
again, this time pushing the stuff inside herself. She straddled my hips
and gripped my dick again, resting it against her abdomen. My knob
almost reached her belly button.
I realized what she planned to do and felt my balls filling again.
She got into a crouch over my dick. With one hand, she aimed my prick
while with the other, she held her cunt open. Then she lowered herself
slowly, carefully, onto my half-hard cock.
As soon as I felt my knob being wedged into her pussy lips, as soon
as I felt the heat and softness of her, I knew I was going to have to
cum again soon.
With my glans secure, she put both hands on my cock and began
bobbing her hips down carefully while she stuffed my dick up into her.
Even not fully erected, it was hard for her cunt to take it. But she
persisted and finally got my whole knob inside her quim. I groaned at
the sensation and my dick started swelling again.
She kept rolling her hips and pushing down, working me into her a
half-inch at a time. When she had me about half into her, I put my hands
on her hips and pushed up at her.
She immediately removed my hands and said, "Honey, let me do this.
It's tough enough and -- " My cock twitched inside her. "Oh, shit! I
don't think I can take too much more of this. It feels like I'm going to
split open." She rested her hands on my chest for balance and pushed
down again. Her eyes closed and her face showed the strain as she took
more of my cock -- now it was almost completely hard again -- into her
sweet pussy.
She'd gotten about two thirds of my length into her when I felt
something hard against the head of my cock. She sucked in a breath
sharply and pulled up, then pressed down. Again, I felt that hard thing
against my cock and again she made the noise.
"I -- I just can't handle any more, sugar."
"Th-th-thanks for trying," I managed to groan out.
"So sweet," she mumbled and bobbed up and down on me as fast as she
could -- but given how much my cock had swollen, that wasn't very fast.
There were still a good five or six inches unsheathed, even at her
deepest. When my dick began pre-cum twitching she frowned in discomfort
and slowly pulled herself off me.
She quickly turned and again plunged my throbbing prick into her
mouth. It only took a few seconds of that, combined with her hands
jerking on my slippery shaft, before I was moaning and cumming again.
Since I'd just cum about a little while before, I only fired about
six or seven big spurts before tapering off into a half dozen smaller
ones. It was still too much for her to handle, 'cause it drooled out of
the corers of her stretched mouth and flooded her hands and my groin.
When she finally got the last of it, she released my flagging prick
and sat heavily on her rounded butt, knees spread. I could see her cunt
was still stretched open, even in the dim light.
"You got some extra balls hidden somewhere? Do you always cum so
much?"
"I dunno," I told her. "Usually I just whack off to take the edge
off, you know?" Then, in case she was complaining, I said, "I'm sorry."
She was looking at my sperm-covered cock. Wilted, my dick lay back
flat on my abdomen, the knob reaching almost to my navel. "No, it's
okay. You've got more soft than other guys have when they're hard." On
impulse, it seemed, she bent and kissed the underside of my cock, just
beneath the glans. Instantly, it began swelling again.
"Oh, shit -- again? Already?"
"I'm sorry. It just happens."
"Well, not now. You've only got about ten minutes left and we still
have to get cleaned up and dressed." She handed me a towelette and
opened one for herself, efficiently using a paper towel to mop her cunt
and face and all the other places I had just slimed, then cleaned off
with a towelette. I followed suit, but more clumsily. I watched her
dressing as I pulled my briefs and pants back on, tucking my cock under
my balls, which were already refilling as I watched her firm ass when
she bent for her sweater.
She muttered something.
"Excuse me?"
She turned to me, straightening as she pulled the sweater back on.
"I just said, 'Even Sherry couldn't handle that much meat.'"
"Sherry?"
"This woman I know who's a freak for big cocks. She'd cream her
drawers over yours. I'll give you her number."
I smiled sheepishly. "I really can't afford -- "
She laughed. "Honey, for a dong that big, Sherry doesn't charge.
Hell, she'll pay *you* once she gets a look at that extra leg! Say, how
long are you going to be in port?"
"Another five days. Why?"
She took a small memo pad and a short pen from her handbag. She
wrote something quickly and handed me the paper. "Ask for Mrs. Tell and
tell her Wanda Legs -- that's me -- recommended you. And if you go to
see her, wear some jeans and a shirt. Uniforms turn her off."
She turned off the light and pulled open the door and curtain. We
slithered through the driver's compartment of the bakery truck and stood
on Ninth Avenue.
"Good night, sailor!"
"Wait! How do you know this Mrs. Tell?"
"I used to work for her mother."
"For her mother? As what?"
"A call girl, dummy. She threw me out when I got hooked on crack.
Happy trails!"
Hooked on crack? I shook my head in sorrow as I watched those long,
lithe legs flashing under the tiny skirt. I pushed the paper in my
pocket and headed off in the opposite direction, mulling the
possibilities.
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