textfiles/sex/EROTICA/S/sarge.txt

Cerim 20, 0293

	I closed my eyes and sighed.  I had had to wait until ten in the 
dark for this, but finally I had the entire showerhall to myself.  I 
sighed as the water coursed over my fur and the heat sank into my 
skin.  Sixteen weeks of sheer pain and suffering were over, and come 
the first light of dawn I would no longer be 'a recruit' and could go 
right in PAS school; first thing, though, was to wash those weeks 
away.

	Not that I thought that would ever happen, really.  Boot camp 
had left its indelible mark upon me.  Yesterday I had done ten (TEN!) 
chin-ups; when I had first come into camp I had been unable to do 
even one.  Both of my tentacles were completely muscled.  As I 
caressed my fur and ran one mitten down the length of the other ten I 
could feel the muscles underneath, like steel bands wrapped around 
bone.  And I liked the way I looked, now, with my thighs firm and my 
shoulders broadened.  I wondered what Mom would say.

	I grabbed the bottle of soap and began stroking it into the fur 
at my shoulders the way I always started.  The heat and water from 
the shower were seductive, and I realized just how tired I was.  
Worse yet, I realized, dawn was less than five hours away and if I'd 
just waited that five hours I could have gone home and taken a shower 
by myself back at home.  I've got to admit, though, I did take 
perverse pleasure in finally having the barrack's echoing showerstall 
all to my selfish little self.

	I worked my way down, being very functional as I did so.  My 
nipples, however, tend to vary in their sensitivities with my cycles, 
and today they were particularly sensitive, making me painfully aware  
that I hadn't masturbated (or had sex with someone, for that matter) 
in the past hundred days or so.

	I caressed my breasts slowly, lifting them slightly from 
underneath, relieving myself if only for a moment of constantly 
fighting centripetal acceleration to keep them up, and stroked the 
undersides gently as I did so.  It felt so good that I just sighed 
and sagged back against the cool tiles of the shower.

	I slid my mitts down further, towards my hips and crotch, and as 
I did so I slowed down; I wanted this self-pleasuring to last as long 
as it could; the way I felt I knew the moment I touched my clit I was 
going to come.

	"Shardik?"

	Dammit!  Damn damn damn damn damn damn damn...  I sighed and 
took my hands away from their intended destination, stepping back 
into the flow of water to rinse off what little soap I had managed to 
distribute.  "Here, sir."  What is she doing up so late?

	"At ease, Shardik.  Where are you?  I can't see a thing through 
all this steam."

	I smiled; I was also behind the curving privacy barricades of 
brick-red tile so that she couldn't have seen me anyway.  "I 
appreciate the heat, sir.  I'm back here, behind the left shield."

	Sergeant K'Perea appeared through the thick steam, two identical 
curls of vapor forming behind her.  She always appeared to be moving 
at double-time; I don't think I'd ever see her take a 'leisurely' 
walk.  

	I've had a crush on Perry since I first met her; don't ask me 
why, she is most certainly not my type.  But I've been told it's 
common for someone to become attached to their Drill Sergeant, and 
Perry is that.  A Felinzi built beyond all measure of specifications, 
Perry is the definition of 'bulk.'  I've only ever seen her arms 
bare, and those are thick, muscled branches that no amount of fur 
could ever obscure.  Her body is broad to the point of being a wall; 
her legs, even through the combat uniform, are obviously huge and 
strong.  She can run for hours without getting tired.

	On the other hand, she has an incredibly attractive fur pattern.  
Solid black, except for a white spot right above her nose, and then 
from between her eyes to almost the top of her head is another 
needle-shaped shaft of white.  Her hands are also white, extending up 
into the wrist, but the left one has some black streaks that create a 
white patch in the shape of a trefoil.  Her whiskers, too, are white, 
and incredibly long; the result, I've heard, of her brother cutting 
them off when she was three.  They grew back with a vengeance.

	She seemed to smile as she watched me appraise her, then said 
"What keeps you up so late?"

	Didn't I just wonder that about her?  "Taking a shower, sir."

	"By yourself."

	"Yes, sir."

	She sighed.  "I came looking for you, Shardik, because as I 
filled out my final review of you and the rest of your class, I 
realized I require a statement from you, on the record."

	"Sir?"

	She looked thoughtful for a moment.  "Let me preface this.  You 
listed your family name as Shardik, and Shardik himself calls you his 
daughter.  Very well.  For the record, P'raine Shardik, have I ever, 
in any way, over the past four months treated you with anything less 
than fairness and professionalism?"

	I almost laughed; that was the second time this day someone had 
asked me that question, and Dad had asked it much earlier on, when I 
had been allowed a call home.  "For the record, sir, you have been 
nothing but fair, professional, and even-handed with me.  You have 
never shown me undue privilege or harshness."

	"Thank you."  She was quiet for along time, and so was I, as if 
I was waiting for something she was unsure how to express.

	So I spoke up.  "Sir?"

	"Yes?"

	"Can I ask why?"

	"Both Joshua and I agreed that my behavior during your 
assignment here seemed nothing less than exemplary, which surprised 
even me.  I wanted to make sure that you got the same opinion I did, 
and that neither I nor Josh would found ourselves surprised by 
statements you make later."

	"Why is that so important to you?"

	"Because I like to think I can maintain my professional edge, 
even when I've been smitten."  She smiled awkwardly.

	"Sir?"

	Her fur was matting down from the steam alone, and her uniform 
must 
have been getting soaked.  "Let's just say that I haven't had a good 
self-destructive urge in a long time, but I find myself fascinated by 
you.  I shouldn't have an interest in you, a recruit, but I do.  At 
first I wanted to know why someone from your family would become a PA 
Scout, but the more I watched you the more I realized that you, by 
yourself, fascinated me."  That was a long speech for her.

	I blinked, thinking for a moment.  The only coherent thing I 
could think to say was, "That's a fair thing to admit."

	"I should have my role as training officer reassessed for even 
thinking, much less admitting to, my infatuation."

	I blinked again.  'Fascination.'  'Infatuation.'  Perry was the 
last woman on the Ring I would have ever thought to hear those words 
from, but they were the exact same words I would have used to 
describe my feelings towards her.  Of course, in my case it may just 
have been Stockholm Syndrome, maybe not.  All I knew was that now 
that her authority over me was over, I still craved her affection.

	"Sir... I've been told it's not unusual for a recruit to fall 
for their drill instructor, but the other way around?"

	She wiped the beads of water that were collecting above her 
violet, slitted eyes.  There was a small tug on one corner of her 
muzzle, a half-smile brewing.  "Call it an impulse."

	I decided it was time for an impulse of my own.  I leaned over 
and said, "Can I call you Perry if you call me Rainy?"

	"I can do that.  So can you."

	"Then can you kiss me?  On impulse?"

	I had meant that comment as a way of encouraging, of being the 
one giving the hints.  She had other ideas.  With a slight move she 
stood up on her toes and when her muzzle met my lips she suddenly 
pushed against me with so much force I was afraid of a concussion 
when my head hit the wall of the shower, but just as fast her paw was 
at the back of my head, catching me and buffering the impact.
	   Her tongue was in my mouth before I could register it passing 
my lips; I recovered my wits just long enough to put my mitts around 
her waist.  We stood there, kissing each other with abandon, under 
the running water of my showerhead.

	She backed off, the look on her face between guilt and fear.  
"Did I just..."

	"Uh-huh," I replied.  "And you got your uniform soaked."

	"Should I take it off?"

	I nodded.  I think I bounced my head a little too rapidly, 
because she laughed as she stripped off her clothing.

	I had often wondered what the rest of her looked like.  As she 
shucked her shirt and pants and threw them aside (they landed with a 
wet >plop<, soaked completely through), I watched her hard and 
muscular body reveal itself.  There was so little fat on her body 
that her breasts seemed to be vanishing against her ribcage.

	Too much of my mother struck me then, because I know that's not 
healthy.  I worried that if she were ever in extended combat, she 
would run out of body sugars fast and faint.

	There was something about all this that I found unappealing, 
because it seemed so, well, unfeminine, but on the other hand the 
amount of obvious effort she put into getting her body into its 
current shape earned her my complete respect, and that, for some 
weird reason, turned me on.  I found my hands roaming over her chest, 
playing with her nipples, feeling her hard abdominals, as she pitched 
free the last of her clothing.

	She turned and smiled, pushing me up against the tiles again 
before kneeling before me, parting my cunt with her paws and sliding 
her muzzle deep between my lips.

	Gods! she was fast, and her speed made me hot, her tongue 
digging deep into me, really deep-- she had a long tongue, sliding up 
deep enough into me that she could stroke the roof of my vagina with 
it, and have enough left over to press against my clit.  Or was that 
her muzzle?   I couldn't tell, and I didn't care.  The water ran down 
my fur in little rivulets, and it was all I could do to just stay 
standing as her tongue pushed further against my cunt, my mittens 
wrapped around her head and holding onto her ears as she ate me.  
Sometimes she would pull back, just enough to get me to whimper and 
beg, and then she would thrust again, sometimes pressing her tongue 
against my asshole, which is a really sensitive spot for me.

	"Oh, Perry..." I whispered.  I doubt if she heard me.  All I 
know is that she was just so good at it, her paws around my hips and 
kneading my butt in that hot shower, full of steam.  "Oh, yes," I 
remember saying louder, then arching my back as my body tensed and I 
*came*, shouting loud enough I was sure I woke up my fellow 
barrackmates.

	Perry stood up and held me to her, a small chuckle coming from 
her.  "That was sweet," she said.

	"Thank you," I gasped, leaning my head against her shoulder.  As 
I did so, I slowly lowered myself down until we had switched 
positions.  Now I was the one staring at her cunny, and I leaned in 
to kiss her gently.  She gave a high-pitched "ooh!" as I did so, and 
reached down to hold herself open.  I knelt back in the shower and 
watched as she tugged on her own labia, holding her lips apart and 
exposing her beautifully white clitoris to me.  I leaned in and began 
licking on her gently, and her whole body went into convulsions.

	I wrapped my tens around her thighs and played with her ass and 
her hole from that side, but every time I licked her clitoris she 
would give a little "Yip!" of pleasure and shake so violently I had 
to follow along with the motions to keep up with her.  She was coming 
with every 'yip,' I suddenly realized.  Almost every little stroke of 
my tongue across her clit made her come, and I wrapped my 
now-muscular tens around her thighs and dug in, determined to make 
this little encounter well worth our while.  She struggled, sometimes 
holding my head tight between her legs, sometimes trying to push me 
away (but not too forcefully) and I felt like I was melding to her, 
our bodies becoming one in our pleasure.

	Finally she gasped, "Stop it, please!" and I backed away again, 
looking up at her, blinking against the soft spray of water bouncing 
off of her matted fur.

	"You're good at that," she hissed, sitting down slowly and 
joining me on the floor of the shower, just a little off the side 
from the stream of water.

	"Thanks."  I stared at her hard and heavy body as she sagged 
against the wall.  Just the idea of sleeping next to her excited 
me... and now I was going to get the chance.

	She cocked her head a little to the side and said, "So, what are 
you doing tomorrow?"

	"Good question," I responded.  "I had meant to go home and visit 
my parents."

	"Got a place of your own?"

	"Yeah... little house at Tarnagoth."

	"Can I see it?"

	I smiled.  Dad always said "All good things come to she who 
waits... and waits... and waits."  "You can at dawn.  You have 
leave?"

	"No assignments for three months.  And I know you have to wait 
for an opening at your school of choice.  I assume you still went 
with PAS?"

	I nodded.  She pouted; I thought that was cute.  "That school 
has openings all the time.  Still, let me cook you dinner tomorrow?"

	"It's a deal!" I replied, leaning over to kiss her.  "You are 
one daring woman."

	"I'll take that as a compliment," she replied, smiling.

--
"Sarge"
The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al. 
are copyright (c) 1989-1994 Elf Mathieu Sternberg.  Distribute freely 
via electronic media.  This copyright permits individual users to 
make single hardcopies for their own use.  The Journal Entries may 
not be sold or otherwise distributed for profit.