RB-111 Mission Orgasm
Mission Orgasm
Ram Books
RB-111
Martin Levy
$3.95
Mission Orgasm
Ram Books
RB-111
Martin Levy
$3.95
Excerpt:
Reaching his tent Jack pulled off his helmet, laying his rifle carefully down by his cot. A quick shower to get some of the salt brine off his skin and the sweat off his back and crotch. Then he’d come back here and beat off quietly, listening all the time for his roomie. Maybe that nursie gave up early and sent him packing. That’d be a first for a Navy nurse, though, Jack thought, pulling off his sweat-stained green t-shirt, then sitting down on the edge of his cot and pulling off his boots. They were known for their fucking stamina-kind of like a battle cruiser in the fray. Shoving his pants down past his ankles Jack reached down and rubbed his hard dick through his jock. He’d keep it on until he reached the showers. It’d stick out like some Goddamned flagpole if he took his supporter off. Muttering again he wrapped a large white towel around his waspish waist, slipped on his sandals, then stood up and pushed the flap open of his tent.
“Hardly anyone around,” Jack commented out loud, gripping his small bar of Ivory in one hand. The commanding officer was out on a tour of the posts again. It was something for him to do, Jack thought as he reached the large shower tent and slipped in. All of them were trying to find some purpose on this rock while they baked alive under the glaring equatorial sun.
Someone was in there! Damn. If he yanked off his jock now it’d be a dead giveaway that something was up-his dick, that’s what. It was Corporal Bob Dixon, a lanky dark-haired kid from Texarkana who was about as naive as they came. Jack had smiled at his ridiculous comments whenever he overheard them. Now he was sitting alone on a long green bench, struggling with his boots. Only Dixon would come in here wearing boots and his jockey shorts.
“Yes, sir! Good afternoon sir,” Dixon almost shouted, jumping up at attention.
“At ease, Dixon. We’re in the Goddamned showers, I wouldn’t expect you to stand up in the shitter either. Take it easy, get wet.”
“Yes, sir. Sure is hot out there—hotter ’n a whore in Dallas without money.”
Jack raised his eyebrows, nodding in assent. He looked up at Dixon as he passed and the corporal was staring right back at him, strands of his short-cut hair straying rakishly in his eyes. He had an open, boyish smile that made Jack want to take that fucker and… Forget it, Jack told himself, passing by the handsome young farmboy with a grin. “It’ll cool off in the night.”
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