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The Slut, Marked

By: harrycarton



My thanks to my editor, B4Lurker. The story would never have been as good as it is without his help. After he edited it, I put in some errors, just to see if you'd catch them. -HC

*****************************************

I can't begin this at the beginning. That would hurt too much, right now. Maybe I'll tell you later how this all started.

Maybe I should start with me. I'm a big guy: 6'4" and about 220, and 25 years old. Rob Ortroski by name. I'm a Ranger. Not the Lone type -- you know, with the Hi Yo Silver -- or even the Texas type. I'm the Army type. Right now I'm in an aid station in Northeast Afghanistan, about to go into surgery for removal of a bullet or fragment thereof that is in my leg. A little higher and it would have been my ass, and I'd have to take a boatload of shit about that -- but it wasn't. Sorry that I can't go into more detail about location but we're not even supposed to be here, so if I told you, I'd have to kill you. LOL. But seriously, I can't go into detail.

I got the bullet jumping on the back of a corpsman -- corpswoman, actually -- who was holding an IV bag for a buddy. The bitch of it was that it was one of our bullets. One of the other guys in my unit got the S.O.B. in the so-called-friendly uniform who shot me. He was aiming at the woman trying to keep my buddy alive. I'd just put my gun down to help her with the field dressing. The other Rangers in the unit filled him with about ten rounds, so I'm not dead. I'll have to remember to thank that masked man. (Sorry, Ranger humor.)

That's what we pretty much were fighting for. For the guy standing next to you. Or woman as the case may be. Not a flag, not some asshole politician's magic words, not even for the little woman I'd left at home. We fought for the guy (or gal) next to you.

Then we got evac'd out of North Pakistan to this aid station. Pretty spiffy aid station, I must admit. It had surgeons, and operating theaters, and nurses of the female persuasion. The Army's pretty good these days -- emphasis on pretty.

Of course, that wouldn't matter to me. That is, if that damn ring on my left hand still meant anything. Who knew?

So I just laid in bed partially doped up and clicked the button on my iPad again to review Carolyn's video for maybe the one hundredth time. Damn, but she was a good looking woman. She was 5'9" and had broad shoulders, big firm tits, a narrow waist and a curvy ass. It was a stunningly beautiful package. Her hair was growing during my absence, and it was now down to her waist. God! With that long mop of platinum hair she'd give Lady Godiva a run for her money. She didn't look like anyone I've ever seen. She wasn't a supermodel, that was for sure. Too much tits. And, I suspect, she didn't do enough drugs to qualify. But I digress.

Well, maybe a Victoria's Secret model. You know, voluptuous figure, big boobs. Looks like a zillion dollars in a push-together bra and a silky low cut pair of panties. And when she'd look at you it was pure sex. Sorry, I digress again.

This video was pure porn. In the video, like all the others, she was talking to me. Showing me her tits and her pussy and stroking it, slowly. I could see her pussy getting wet, as she stroked it. Then she reached under herself and fingered her ass. Sometimes, she'd put a dildo in one or the other, telling me what she'd like to be doing with me, or more likely, what she'd like me to be doing to her. How she missed me and it wasn't fair that she was having to miss me for this tour in the sandbox, that had already been extended twice. That it was so hard to wait.

That wasn't the problem. She'd sent me lots of porn videos before. And there was a pattern -- that was the problem. Each video was hotter than the last. Up to a point. Then she'd be mellow. Still porn, but she'd be mellow. Like something -- or somebody -- had taken the edge off.

They were all shot in our bedroom back near Fort Benning, our base in the U.S. And they seemed to be all shot with her laptop camera. So there was nobody I could see in the shots. I'd looked. I got a close up of every reflective surface that I could. Nothing. Nobody to see.

I checked the video she'd sent just prior to this one. She was practically panting with need. She practically melted my iPad. Like the other videos of the 'just before the event' -- whatever the fuck the event was -- it was longer and hotter than the other ones. She panted. She was nearly crazy-frantic. Her pussy was worked over with her hands and a dildo. In and out. It must have melted the rubber. She said she couldn't stand it anymore. Why, she asked, did I have to be away for such a long time? Couldn't I just send her something to let me know I missed her too? Something personal? Like a pic of my prick? Just come back soon and in one piece. Real soon, 'cause she was going nuts.

Instead, I sent what I could. A nice long love letter that wasn't pornographic and didn't really say where I was or what I was doing. I had to keep in mind that every outgoing email would get read by the Army's watchdogs. What was I supposed to do, go ask my Sergeant to take a dick-pic of me for my girl?

I'd contacted some buddies back at the base to keep an eye on her, so I'd know, ya know? They said they knew what to look for, and that she seemed to be a straight arrow: go to work, go to lunch with other girls who worked at the radio station where she worked, go back to work. Sometimes lunch with girls and guys from the station. Pretty much home after that. They also included several comments that she always looked real hot, how I was a lucky bastard, that she seemed to be waiting for me. Blah blah blah. If they could see the change on the videos, they'd know something was up.

She took classes at the local College on Monday and Wednesdays -- she was studying accounting, still, and by now, almost finished. My guys saw her go in to the classroom, watch the doors and follow her home after. Bowling on Tuesdays. Every time one of my spies would check, she was actually bowling. The girls would go out for drinks on Friday, where there was some dancing. My spies would go into the club where they were. The most they ever saw was her dancing with some GI. If the guy started to get roaming hands, she'd slap him and walk away. One of them actually danced with her... he thanked me for that. She was having a good time. She had a pretty sexy, short skirt and a halter top (he went in the summer). He tried to make time with her and even tried to cop a feel. He got slapped in the face for his trouble... he didn't thank me for that. Once a month she'd go to the Touch of Elegance spa and spend half a day there, getting her hair done, a mani-pedi, a steam room and massage. I even got a female spy on my team to go in the steam room with her and check out the masseur; the female spy was the wife of one of my buds.

Yes, he was a male masseur. But Barry was as queer as a three dollar bill. My Mata Hari had gotten a 'full treatment' from him, and gotten nothing but a nice relaxing experience out of it. The guys even checked Barry, but after working all day in the spa, he went home to his boyfriend -- who, by the way, was an MP. Never saw anything even remotely suggestive about Barry, nothing to indicate he played for more than one team.

It was driving me nuts, because I knew that Carolyn was a round-heeled slut when I met her, and I didn't believe she could stay celibate for a week, let alone eighteen months. Maybe it's time I told you that part of the story.

*******************************************

Carolyn Elizabeth Smith-Montrose was one year older than me, when he met. To be fair, I guess she was always one year older than me and still is. She was 20, at the time, so that was about six years back. She was a junior at the University in my home town. It was December and I was on a three-week leave between Basic Training and Ranger School. I was in the top five percent of the Basic group and the Army asked me if I wanted to be better than the best. I said sure. So they gave me three-weeks off before they tried to kill me at Ranger School. Anyway...

I hooked up with an ROTC Frat House on campus and they invited me to a party. One of the guys asked me if I wanted to see something special -- but I'd have to keep my mouth shut about it. Sure, I said.

He led me to a mattress room -- the floor was covered with mattresses and no other furniture. In the center of the room was Carolyn. "Lyn" as I later learned she preferred. She was naked, with her crotch rotating on some guy's pole, and another was in her mouth. Some guy was just pulling out of her poop-chute, which was leaking cum like Angel Falls in Yosemite spewed water. There were four or five guys standing around her with their cocks in varying states of hardness. I guess the ones that were less than hard had just gotten serviced.

My bud motioned me to the side and said softly, "Sorry, but I can't get you in tonight. She won't do it with anybody unless they have a clean bill of health from the doc. Said she didn't want to take any chances. But Christ... just look at her."

I nodded at him. "She's something." I was in lust. I wanted some. Or I wanted all of her. Or I'd take whatever I could get. Fresh out of Basic, I hadn't had any in several weeks. "Think she'd accept my Orders showing that I've been with sixty guys only for the last several weeks? You can't get anything there."

I must have been talking a bit loud, 'cause she heard. She pulled off the blow-job she was giving, and said, "You sure can, soldier boy. Don't tell me you didn't take any showers in Basic. And besides, there are gays and women in the Army these days... No doctors note, no nooky." Then she turned her head towards me and our eyes locked.

Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail -- not real long -- and there was enough light in the room to see her blue-gray eyes. The pupils got bigger. I'd seen enough CSI to know that that was a sign of excitement. I can imagine how my light brown eye pupils were expanding outside my eyeballs. She sure excited me. (Okay, I know that the pupils are the dark spot in the middle of the colored portion, but do you really care?)

Then the guy who got shorted on his blow-job poked into her mouth again and, about the same time, somebody grabbed her pony tail and poked into her ass. She closed her eyes and went back to work. But every once in a while she'd open her eyes, find me still looking at her, and she'd stare at me. Like she didn't want to be here, all of a sudden. Oh all right. That was me wishing she felt like that. In reality, as soon as one cock dropped out of rotation, she'd reach for another to fill the vacancy.

"C'mon, sweetie. You're next." She'd stare at me as she fed a cock into her cunt.

When she slurped another into her mouth, she'd stare at me. "C'mon, sweetie, feed me some cock."

When somebody filled her ass, she'd stare at me. "C'mon, sweetie. Fuck me like you mean it."

When the guy on the bottom took a nibble on her magnificent tits, she seemed to really stare at me.

It got so the guy who brought me to this party, nudged me and said "Do you know her or something?"

"Not yet," I said. "But I'm gonna marry her."

"You don't want to do that, man. She's been doing this every Saturday all semester. It was the Fiji's last year (Another frat house). She wants sex too much to settle down with one guy. Unless you could deal with this..." he gestured at the room "... on a routine basis."

"Not me," I said. And then loud enough to penetrate to her hearing: "When I get married it's got to be one man and one woman. Period."

"That's what I mean," he said. "I couldn't deal with this for my wife. But she sure is great, isn't she?"

"Yes," I mumbled to myself. "She sure is."

I leaned back against the wall as guy after guy fucked at her. I had to take my own cock out of my pants and stroke it. When she looked my way the next time, she saw what I was doing and I swear she got a predatory look in her eye. Maybe that was me wishing that she wanted me. I was standing around the edge of the mattress room with several other guys watching the fun. But she didn't seem to be looking at any of them. Maybe I wasn't just wishing.

Finally they'd all had three or four turns at her and the guys all dropped out. Her head dropped down and she took several lungfuls of air.

She grabbed one of the gym towels handed to her and started to wipe the jism off herself. "That's it for tonight, guys. I need a shower bad," she said as she started for the door. "Hey," she directed this at me, "Can you get me a glass of juice or two?"

I jumped for the door and got there about when she did. "OJ good for you?"

She smiled, and all was just fine in my world. "Yes, OJ will do nicely."

I quick timed it down to the bar and latched on to a decanter of OJ about to be poured into the punch bowl.

"Is this spiked," I asked the nearest Frat boy.

He smiled. "I guess Lyn is done upstairs... No it's not spiked." He pointed to the vodka bottle. "That however, is."

I took the OJ, two plastic glasses and headed back upstairs. "She'll be in the shower -- end of the hall," said Frat boy.

The glass shower enclosure was all steamed up from the hot water she was using. Naturally, it would be a glass enclosed shower. Why would the frat allow a shower room to cover up a naked, wet girl with no way to watch her? She was on the inside with her eyes closed, under the shower.

"That you, OJ man?"

"Yeah." I sat on the toilet and watched.

She stuck a hand out of the shower and took the plastic glass I was offering. It (the glass and the attached hand) slithered back into the enclosure.

There were several towels in a pile on the vanity. I didn't watch them. I watched her hands soaping up and then sluicing the suds off her body. Then she leaned over and stuck that platinum covered head under the water. She started to work some shampoo in it.

"Need some help?" I asked.

She stopped, wiped the glass, and looked at me. "Am I going to have trouble with you? I said no nooky until you get the doc's ok. In writing. I'll trust the Army medics that you don't have AIDS or HIV or anything long term. But as for the rest: no pa-per no poke-her." And she turned her head back under the water again.

I smiled. "You know, you're going to have to quit this gang-bang stuff, cold turkey, right?"

"And why is that?"

"Because I won't let my wife take on a room-full of guys. I won't even let her take one guy on the side."

She laughed. It was a nice laugh, deep and rich, genuine. Her belly shook when she laughed. She put her hands on her knees. "If you knew how many guys have said they want to marry me. It's just the sex talking."

I rapped on the glass. She startled a bit, but then wiped off the steam again and looked at me. "I won't care about your past, or why you're doing this. All I'll care about is if you can keep your jeans on, after the ceremony. I'm serious as a mortar shell coming at you. Could you quit?"

"Yup," she said. "For the right guy, I'd quit in a minute. Haven't found him yet." She turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She was standing on a towel I'd put on the floor. "Frankly, I don't think I'll find him doing gang-bangs either."

She looked like Aphrodite coming out of the ocean. Or whatever that famous painting is. She dried herself off. She was showing herself to me. Yeah, yeah. She just finished gang-banging a whole frat house. I watched. It was different when it was just her and me. Me on the porcelain throne (cover down, thank you), her virtually between my knees drying off. She placed one foot on my knee, to get the towel into her crotch. Of course, I looked. She had a small patch of platinum hair on her puss. It looked like it hadn't been trimmed. Didn't need to be trimmed.

She put the foot down and wrapped a towel around her head, taking the drapes (that matched the carpet) out of sight. That in place, she wiped down a long, very long, flank -- down to her toes.

"Wanna dry my back?" She turned away from me. "So you like what you see, cowboy?"

Of course, I grabbed a towel and began chasing the water spots from her back. And her ass. I just ran the towel over her curves. Long after she was dry, I was still toweling her off.

"So why do you do this?" I asked.

"I just build up tension during the week. And now that it's vacation time, I can indulge myself. It's fun to be wanted. I like the way they all look at me."

"Mm-hmm. I don't like it at all." So saying, I wrapped the towel around her, and tucked it into itself over her breasts. It almost didn't reach.

She started to walk out of the bathroom. "Well maybe someday your vote will count for something," she said with another laugh.

"It will, at that. And after you say 'I do' it will be the vote that counts."

"No, cowboy. Never that. If I get around to 'I do', there will be two votes that count. It's my body, and while the guy I marry will have first claim on it, it'll always be my vote that gets counted, too."

She closed the door. I sat there for a second, then went to follow her. She was in one of the bedrooms smoothing a pair of skin tight jeans over her long, long, very long legs. I came up behind her -- 'til she could feel me breathing on her neck.

"Let me help," I said, and reached down to the waist band of the jeans and pulled up. She was commando -- why waste time with underwear you're going to take off, right? I pulled the jeans 'til she was off the ground. She wiggled her little ass into the jeans. Okay, it's a figure of speech. But it wouldn't sound right if I said, 'She wiggled her bodacious, breathtaking butt into her jeans.'

With a final tug up -- just to make sure the crotch was seated against her pussy -- I wrapped my arms around her from the back. I fed the riveted closure through the button hole, reached for the bottom of the zipper and pulled it up.

All right, I admit I did slide a finger through the open zipper and stroked her light fur.

"There you go. All closed up and ready to taunt the rest of the frat house."

She spun around, still in my arms. "That's the most fun I ever had putting on jeans. Thanks." She kissed my cheek. It was warm and wet and nice. She wriggled free of me, and shrugged into a sweater-like thing. It had a zip up the front and she zipped it all the way to her neck and then down about half way. There it showed her cleavage and her nipples poked at the material making a nice set of high beams. It almost came down to touch her jeans, leaving a strip of perhaps an inch of bare abdomen.

She slipped her arm around mine. "C'mon, cowboy. There's a party down there. Say... do you have a name? Mine's Carolyn, but Lyn to my friends. Wanna be friends?"

I did. Chapter 02

One of the male nurses came into my room and quietly took the iPad from my hands. "Ready to get that bullet out? They're only waiting on you in the operating room," he said.

"Wha..? Oh. Sure. Ready."

He injected something into my IV. "Count backwards from 100, please."

"One hundred... Ninety nine... Ninety........."

...

When I woke up my whole leg was taped to a board or something. Couldn't move it at all. I was almost flat on my back. Is that prone or supine or akimbo? Who knows, or cares. I know it wasn't doggie. I also did know that I was feeling no pain. Still groggy from the drugs. Confused. I looked down at my leg. Good, it was still there. They said there wasn't any danger of me losing the leg, but you never know what they'll do once they get a knife in their hands.

I turned my head and sitting there was the corpsman -- woman -- that I had jumped on. She was a pretty brunette. Well, pretty in an Army sort of way. She had a tight body, muscular, and was wearing battle fatigues -- desert camo pattern of course.


The Slut, Marked



"Morning, hero. You saved my bacon out there," she said in a quiet contralto. "I appreciate it."

"The heroes are the other guys who shot that traitorous S.O.B. They saved both our bacon -- bacons?"

"I know. But thanks for leaping on me and bruising my rib," she laughed. "That bullet you took would have taken out a kidney ... maybe my liver." She reached over and touched my hand. "I'm on R&R for a few days until my ribs are better. You, on the other hand, look to have a million dollar injury."

A million dollar injury was the kind of injury that didn't hit anything critical, but left you injured enough to get out of combat forever. Well, "forever" enough until the Rangers got desperate for any warm body, and we weren't there yet.

"Well shit!" I exclaimed. "I'd rather be back in the unit. Those guys are the best." I thought about what was waiting for me back state-side, and put that thought aside. "How bad is it, anyway? Will I be able to play the cello, doc?"

That was a variation of the old joke. She knew enough to come back with "Depends... could you play before the accident?"

"Rats. You mean I had to know before now?" Then the smile left my face. "Seriously, how bad is it?"

"You'll walk again. Probably be able to do everything again. But when it rains you might have a twinge or two. It might take some time. Do the therapy. If it hurts, remember that you're a Ranger. Once in, never out. There was a lot of tissue damage, but nothing you won't get over. It'll be hard, and I don't mean that will be hard. That will still work. The porn you're always mooning over on your iPad is famous in the unit you know. You know your nickname in the unit is PW -- short for Pussy Whipped."

"Yeah. I know. And I am, too. Proud to admit it." I wasn't going to go into the bad details that were only 'maybes.'

"They'll probably evac you to Germany and then home after a while. Gotta get you healthy enough so that you won't have to explain why you got shot not being here." She laughed. "Hey guy. If I don't see ya, I'll see ya. And thanks again."

"Sure. Keep the guys in one piece."

She left and I was staring at the ceiling. I reached over for my iPad, and clicked it on. The background pic was Lyn's face. It fell, face down on my chest, and I closed my eyes and remembered.

*******************************************

Two days after the gang-bang, I went back to the ROTC frat house in the early afternoon. In about an hour, my buddy came in and saw me.

"What time does Lyn start?" I asked.

"You still hung up on her?" he replied.

"Just what time?"

"Well, she was here last night, too. She hasn't gone three days in a row that I've heard of. You could try her dorm, I guess. She's in Montrose Hall. Same Montrose..." I just looked at him. He explained. "She's Carolyn Smith-Montrose. One of the Montroses. And no, I don't know why she does what she does."

"Who ever knows about women?" was my reply, but I was only making a joke to cover my confusion.

In any case, I wandered down the hill to Montrose Hall. She was in the registry, fourth floor, room 417. I trudged up the steps. She wasn't home. I sat in the hall with my back against her door, pulled the camo hat down over my eyes, and waited.

"Well, aren't you the persistent one?" she said as she stepped over me, sometime later. I had been asleep. It was a trick I picked up almost immediately in Basic: fall asleep anywhere in about three microseconds.

I looked up. Painted on jeans again. Leather bomber jacket over some kind of cream colored blouse. Boots that came up to her knee. The boots had about a three inch heel, and would have made her ass twitch just so, but she wasn't walking right now. Right now, she was straddling my torso, with her door key in the lock.

"I'm going to open the door now, so don't fall backwards and kill yourself," she said.

I felt the door behind me give way. I tightened my abs and just sat there, my head would have just missed her crotch if she came any closer. She didn't. She just stepped to the side and walked into her room. The door closed.

With a sigh, I got up, and knocked on her door.

"Who is it?" came from inside.

"It's me. Rob. Rob Ortroski. You know... the guy who was sitting outside your door waiting for you."

"Oh, hi! So nice of you to stop by. Come on in."

I opened the door and found her putting away the bomber jacket and brushing her hair. I was struck again by her unusual beauty. That and her attitude. Dynamite, pure nitroglycerin, maybe C4, 'cause it sure was packed into some interesting shapes.

She was in the process of getting dressed. Or undressed first, I guess. She shucked her boots and then her blouse and bra. I reached over and looked at it. 38C. "Reducing brassiere" from Victoria's Secret. I tossed it on the bed.

"You don't need that," I said. "They're perfect as is."

"Yeah, that's what everybody says. It's hard enough to have a conversation when I'm talking to a guy and he's talking to my boobs."

"Oh. Sorry about that."

"No, you really don't do it... much. You actually look at me. My eyes and stuff, face."

"That's easy. I'm not going to be marrying just your tits. I'm going to marry you. The fantastic legs, the ass that is out of this world, the mouth that's always wearing just the right shade of 'fuck me' red, the smile that lights up the room. And the eyes. So intense. You know that they change from the light gray that is the color of the sky over the ocean after a storm to a cobalt blue, right? Nice hair too, but I'd rather see it waist length."

"You seem to have cataloged me physically pretty well. I suspect a bunch of guys could do that. So, what's my major? Why am I doing that stuff with all the guys? Do I have any brothers or sisters? What about my parents? You know: the me stuff that isn't just the packaging."

"Jeez, I just met you in a gang-bang and you want me to get all psychological on you? The answer is, I dunno. Maybe you can fill me in after the engagement, but before the wedding. I'm just a dumb GI, on leave, who was thunder struck two nights ago."

"Again with the marrying schtick? What is with that?"

"You're the one who said I was persistent. That is, if you can get over the gang-bang stuff and the Montrose stuff, and just be Mrs. Ortroski."

She put on the sweater with the zipper again. Then started the struggle with her skin tight jeans. "Here be useful." And she stuck her foot at me.

I grabbed the ankle of the pants and pulled. I admit it, I gawked.

"What?" she exclaimed. "You've seen it all before. Nothing has changed."

Well, she was wearing the tiniest electric blue g-string. The color matched her eyes at the moment. She peeled off the g-string and then started to get back into her pants again. Commando, this time.

I stood and circled her waist with my arms. Spun her around so her back was to me and reached down for the waist of the jeans -- like last time.

"Your gang-bang uniform again." I started pulling her pants up. "Who's the lucky guys tonight? I have a doctor's note. You could stay with me and have a one-man party instead." She was now wriggling into her pants, off the ground, suspended in my grip.

"Like last time, huh?" She was referring to my pants-technique, no doubt. This time, however, I slipped my right hand into the still open crotch of the jeans, cupping her pussy. I found her clit, easily.

"No. I have to go," she protested. "Really. It's a... an engagement that I promised a long time ago. Five guys from the basketball team. And they're all black. I wanted to see what that's all about. You know what they say: 'Once you go black...'"

"And," I finished, "'Once you go Ranger you'll never be in danger.'"

"Oh. You gonna be a Ranger, cowboy?" She wriggled out of my grip, and zipped up her pants. She looked at me with her head tilted, like a dog, you know?

"C'mon, Ranger Rob," she said as she took my hand, slung her leather jacket over her other shoulder and headed for the exit. Nobody had to ask me twice.

...

We went to an apartment that was off campus. There they were: the starting five from the basketball team. I'm pretty tall, but these guys were seriously tall. The biggest one said, "What's with him? I thought this was a private party."

Lyn replied, "He's just a guy I brought along in case you guys ran out of steam early." She laughed at this put down of their masculinity. "Seriously, guys. You're going to get me until you can't get it up any more. You need more than that?" And she began to get undressed.

It started with the zipper on her sweater. When her magnificent mammaries came into view, and she began to play with her nipples, the guys saw her point of view. She toed off her running shoes and was pretending to have trouble getting her jeans off. "If you can't get naked before I do, I'm gonna cut one of you off early. Now get to it!" And she laughed again as they started to strip immediately. "Got your all clear from the doc, boys?" Five pieces of paper were presented, as her jeans got 'stuck' on the rounded bumps of her ass.

I stood off to the side watching. I handed her mine too.

"Oooh! Whatever shall I do? I can't seem to get these things off. I think I need some help."

The guys were willing to play along. They hoisted her up, pulled her pants off, revealing her gloriously naked bod. They flipped her over onto her hands and knees and were talking about who was going to get what hole first.

I spoke up. "I just want her mouth tonight, guys. Just once. You can have her wonderful pussy and her tight, tight little ass. I just want her mouth. Not to say you won't get there too, but that's all I want."

She looked at me strangely for a second, then shrugged.

I looked around at the five black cocks on these really tall men, who had very long feet and large hands, and decided that I wasn't really outclassed too much. I was seven and a half inches when not hard and nearly nine hard. One of the guys (the power forward of the team, I'd guessed) was really big. Maybe eleven inches, and big around. It looked like he had one of those liter sized bottles of coke strapped on. The other guys were probably a little smaller than me. One was pretty small: 'only' seven inches in this group would qualify as small.

Mr. Small got first dibs on her ass, and waited while one of the others got on his back. He slithered under Lyn, licking her pussy on the way past, and she settled down on his prick. Mr. Small squirted some KY on her ass and mounted up. Lyn shuddered as each of them began driving into her.

Me? I didn't want anybody's sloppy seconds. I stepped up to her mouth with my nine inches and touched it to her lips. I captured her head with my hands and tilted her face up to meet my eyes. Then I began pushing into her mouth. I could feel when it hit the back of her throat. She closed her eyes for a moment -- I couldn't tell if one of the other guys did something to get her attention, or if it was me -- and then she swallowed my cock head. As it passed into her throat and I kept pushing for another couple of inches, I slid my thumbs across her face and popped her eyes open, peeling back her eyelids. She looked up at me.

Pretty soon, she started grunting and gurgling as the guy finished in her ass and was replaced by Mr. Coke Bottle. She had to strain to take him and lost concentration with her tongue on my cock. By now she had to breathe and was getting red in the face. She started to turn away to eject me from her mouth and throat, but my hands gripped her strongly: my palms on her cheek bones, fingers extending back around her skull. She looked up, somewhat panicked.

I slowly slid back, but never let my cock out of her mouth. She breathed deeply through her nose and after a few moments she began to work on the head that was in her mouth. Just before I was getting to my personal breaking point, I withdrew. My cock was hot and red and pulsing with need. I waved in a substitute from the basketball team. He was ready and started to pump into her mouth at once.

The guy in her pussy was finishing up as was the current ass man. The next guy took her doggie style in the cunt, so she didn't have an anal partner this time. The two of them rocked her back and forth, even sharing a high five along the way. These two seemed to have a special rhythm between them. I'd bet anything that one of them was the point guard and the other was the shooting forward. They seemed so good with the give and go.

I sat for a while, going so far as to raid the fridge for a beer. On the couch watching the guys fucking her, I wondered what she was getting out of it. Every time somebody new mounted up, she turned her head for a second to see if it was me. It never was. I was sitting off to her side and she'd turn my way for a second to see. She even managed to reorient herself so she could see me without turning.

Mr. Small came over and sat on the couch next to me during one of his off times.

"What's your story man?" he asked. "She your lady or somethin'?"

I could tell from Lyn's body language that she was listening carefully now. I mean, she didn't stop fucking or anything and the three fuckers never noticed. But she stopped participating for a few seconds, there.

"Nope. Not mine. This is her party. I'm just spectating."

"Oh. You like watching, huh? You want another turn?"

"No," I said, "I like fucking plenty. And with a girl as hot as she is, I'd love it. I'm just not into sharing much... No offense intended."

"None taken. Oh! My turn again. I'm gonna get her pussy this time."

And he did.

At about one in the morning the guys were all tuckered out. She turned and looked at me. This time her blues were almost gray. And they were shooting firebolts at me.

She grabbed a towel and asked for a shower. I waited until I could hear the water come on and then followed into the bathroom. She peeked around the shower curtain and saw that I was dressed again.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Why are you so angry at me?" I asked.

"You ruined the good time I might have had. You made me feel cheap. Like a slut. Or a whore."

"Whore would have asked for money," I pointed out.

She stumbled out of the shower, all wet. "You fucker! What do you want from me?"

"Right now? Nothing. And I'm not a fucker. Never will be one of the guys either."

"What was with that half assed blow-job that you got at the start?"

"That was to remind you that I'm going to marry you some day, and that you'll have to give up this shit. That wasn't a blow job. It was my mark on you."

"Your mark?!" She was really angry now. "Your fucking mark! Who the hell do you think you are? Bastard!"

I got up, handed her the mouthwash bottle. She pushed it back at me. "I don't use that."

"You should," I said, countering her angry tone with my calmest voice. "You probably have cum between your teeth.

"And as for who I am. I'm the one male on this campus who doesn't treat you like the slut that you're pretending to be. You Carolyn Elizabeth Smith-Montrose. You were named after your father's mother, have your mother's mother name for a middle name, and your mother's maiden name as part of your last name. You have an enormous trust fund -- which I'm not interested in, by the way -- part of which will come to you on your twenty-first birthday with the remainder coming when you turn twenty-five.

"You're majoring in accounting, and planning to get an MBA when you graduate, presumably so you can take over your father's firm. You're an only child.

"You seem to like scrambled eggs for breakfast, though I don't have enough information after only two days. You didn't eat your peas with the meatloaf you had yesterday.

"And from the looks of things, you are a slut."

I'd had a whole day to use the library and the internet. I may be just a twenty year old fresh out of Basic Training, but I'm no dummy.

She was staring at me like I had two heads.

"If you've calmed down," I said reasonably. "You can leave with me. Otherwise you'll have to leave by yourself." I tossed her a towel and went out to sit on the couch with the guys. Chapter 03

Two days later, they were ready to roll my wheelchair onto a military hospital flight back to Germany. I had my duffle bag full of stuff, my discharge papers, dated four weeks in the future, and my iPad. And my Purple Heart and the notice that I would be receiving a Bronze Star for my heroism. I still think the heroes were the guys who shot the S.O.B., not me.

I couldn't even walk yet. That would take the better part of six months to work through the therapy. So I was wheeled onto the plane. They had tie-downs for the chair, and several beds for the guys who hadn't made wheelchair status yet.

The Army hadn't called my next of kin -- in this case, my wife. They didn't want her to know anything about what happened, 'cause we weren't supposed to be in action, let alone in Pak. Even that I had been wounded. I didn't even want to tell her that I'd be coming home. I wanted my homecoming to be a surprise. I could just bet what kind of surprise it would be. I hoped that there wouldn't be any strange cars in the driveway. That I could get her between -- well between whatever the hell she'd been doing.

On the flight back to the U.S., I looked at the happy face of my wife on the iPad. And wondered again what kind of reception I'd get.

*******************************************

She decided to walk home with me after the basketball gang-bang. We walked. After a while we started to talk.

She wanted to know a lot about me. Where had I found out all that stuff about her? Okay, so it wasn't about me. The Internet, I told her. I promised to get her all the addresses where that stuff came from. But really, was she surprised that all the basic info about an heiress was on the scandal sheets?

And then it was about me. Where was I from? Tennessee, I told her. Just down the road from the University. Why was I in the Army? Everybody had to be somewhere while they grew up from a boy to a man.

I didn't, she said. I'm still slutting around like a teenage sex-crazed girl. We came back to the slut issue again. She did it, she claimed, because she didn't know what else to do. And she had to get away from her Daddy.

I thought that was a bit strange. There were thousands of girls on this campus and only a handful of sluts. What did she think the other girls did? Didn't they want to get away from Daddy, too?

We got back to her room. No roommate, it seemed, for a Montrose. She pushed me back against the corner of the wall and the bed. She wanted to neck. I reminded her of the mouthwash.

I would never take sloppy seconds. And I wouldn't put up with her slutting around after we got serious. I told her again. One time with one guy would be one time too many for me. I'd trust her until I couldn't trust her anymore. And if the day ever came that I couldn't trust her, that was it.

She got up from the bed and stormed into the bathroom. I could her her gargle and spit. She took another swig from the bottle, and swished, then gargled and spit again. I heard the toilet flush, the rustle of clothing, and she came out wearing just the electric blue g-string on. Oh she was wearing a U.S. Army green XL t-shirt, too.

"Do I pass muster, general sir?" She stood at a parody of attention, with her breasts sticking out and her ass barely covered by electric blue dental floss.

"Yeah you do," I said and gathered her into my arms.

Her head rested on my chest and we talked and talked some more. I gently fondled her breasts. She said that was one thing wrong with gang-bangs: everybody ignored her boobs.

We fell asleep just like that. Her half naked, sprawled out over my chest. Me leaning on her wall.




The Slut, Marked



I woke with a start, the next morning. She startled awake, too.

"What time is it?" I asked her.

"'bout 9:20. You got somewhere to be?"

"No, but my mother will be worried."

"Weally? My big Wanger Wob has to be woweed about his mommy?"

"Not funny. I'm what she's got. And it's bad enough I went and joined the Army. Now I disappeared... Where's the phone?"

She pointed. I got up and dialed.

"Hi mom. It's me... No, I'm all right... No I didn't get arrested... No I'm not drunk... Well, there's this girl and we were talking all night and I -- we fell asleep... No mom. Asleep, like, as in sleeping. With snoring and stuff... Yes, she snores a bit... 'Cause we were sleeping... Well, I'll ask her... Yes, I'm still in her room. I called as soon as I woke up... Yes I know... wait a minute.

"Lyn, are you free for a command performance... I mean, for coming over to my house this evening?"

"Um. Well, I have an... no. I mean yes. I can be free. I just have to make a phone call."

I knew what that meant. She had scheduled another gang-bang. I got back on the phone call to Mom.

"Yeah, she can make it... Okay. 5:00 is fine... Yes, I'll be home before that... Okay, bye."

Then she got on the phone.

"Hi. It's Carolyn... Well, I'm not going to be able to make it tonight... No, it's not... Not them either... It's not anybody... Listen, I'll make it up to you guys... All right, then how about Saturday. I can come over all day... Sure, ten it is... See ya then... All right, I will."

I listened to the whole thing. I heard her setting up yet another gang-bang. I knew that I still wanted her, but I didn't know if I could stand this. This wasn't just a gang-bang, it was more like a gang-machine-gun-blast.

I grabbed my windbreaker and headed for the door. "I'm going home to change and stuff. I'll see ya back at about 4:30. ... You know," I said, pulling the door shut behind me, "you could have waited to make that phone call until I was gone."

...

At 4:30 I was knocking on her door again. It was opened promptly. She looked good, excellent, superb. I could go on. She wore a red silk (or something like it, but with her money, I'd bet on silk) blouse that had a Chinesey kind of collar (you know, like Mao always wore), a loose schoolgirl-style skirt that was about knee length, and simple heels -- they looked to be about two inches. She set it off with a single strand of pearls and matching earrings. She wore no makeup (or so it seemed to me anyway) and pale caramel rose lipstick (What do I know about colors? I'm a guy. I believe in the eight basic colors of the Windows palette.)

Anyway, she looked great. I took a snapshot (which I still have on my iPad). She looked great. So naturally, I insulted her. I didn't mean to, it just came out.

"Wow. You look great. Really wonderful. I haven't seen you look this good with your clothes on, ever."

I meant it as a compliment.

The smile was wiped off her face as she apparently was reminded of the gang-bangs I'd seen. She said, "Oh. Good. Let's go then. We don't want to be late."

I was wearing a navy blue blazer, chinos and a pale blue dress shirt. (I still have that shirt, six years later. Never did want to give up that link to that first 'date.') Typical semi-formal gear for a GI -- what did I know?

I'd had to undergo the third degree from Mom all morning and afternoon. By now, she knew that Lyn had money. ("Don't you take a penny from that girl. No matter what. You'll make your own way. It'll poison things if you do. Mark my words.") Although I didn't tell her how much money. She'd have been floored.

Mom also knew that I met her at a fraternity party. That she seemed to be somewhat promiscuous. Mom said, "So what. She's a college girl. She wants to have fun." I didn't go into details about how extreme a definition of 'fun' Carolyn had.

She knew that I had just met her a few days ago. ("And you already had a sleep-over!") Most importantly, I had never brought any woman, girl, or female of any description home for Mom to meet. She asked me if I was serious about her. I said I could be, but I was a one-woman man, and I didn't know if she could settle down. Plus, I pointed out, I was going in the Rangers, so I wasn't sure it'd be right for me to ask it of anybody. ("You'll know if it's right. If it's right, it's right. Don't let the Rangers scare you from finding out.")

We had a nice roasted chicken for dinner, and I won't bore you with the details. After dinner Mom got out the scrapbooks. She had been waiting for ever to embarrass me with baby pictures and growing up pictures. Me naked in a bathtub. Me on my first bike. Me and Dad with a red wagon. He had died of a stroke when I was only eleven. That was a sad time, said Mom. An ultra scrawny me in a swim suit. Me in a cub scout uniform. Et cetera.

I stayed in the room and didn't begrudge her a moment of showing off how nice her Robbie had turned out. It was a Mom moment. I smiled at her doing all of it. I thought for a moment what Lyn's scrapbook would be like. Pictures of her winning prizes in horse jumping shows, no doubt.

I excused myself at some point to use the loo, and paused to eavesdrop before coming back.

Mom was saying, "You know, he's never brought a girl -- a woman, home before. He's been on plenty of dates, you know. So he must think you're something special. You seem to be a nice girl -- excuse me, a woman. Everybody seems to be so young from my point of view."

"That's all right. I'm more girl than woman, I think," said Carolyn.

"Well okay then. Maybe you're not ready to settle down with one guy just yet. But maybe you are. I just don't want to see my Robbie get hurt. Please, don't take him as just another plaything. If you hurt him, I'll hurt you. I swear I will."

That was enough of that! I made some noise in the hallway and interrupted that little pow-wow.

Mom was pushing fifty now. Wonder what she'd do with the situation I expected to find at home. Sigh.

...

I dropped Carolyn off at her dorm, and intentionally didn't see her the next day. I did call and thank her for being so nice when we were at Mom's house, and all. We talked for nearly an hour. But I didn't see her at all.

I went over to the same frat house at nine the next day. This was supposed to be Lyn's "all day-er" at the frat house, scheduled for ten a.m. I grabbed Will, my bud at the frat, and asked him to do me a favor. Just something special I wanted to do as they kicked things off today.

He seemed to be surprised that I even knew about it, but when I asked for it and explained, he agreed. It seemed that he was the 'contact' for this and was in charge of arranging things.

When Lyn got there, I was out of sight in another room. She was shown into the mattress room, after disrobing of course, and she was ready. There were ten guys in the room. Will said they had a brief surprise for her. They handed her a blindfold, and put her down on the floor, in her usual doggie-fuck position. That's when I came in.

I didn't even strip, just unzipped and got behind her. With my feet planted alongside her hips, I pushed into her cunt. Sorry, but that's what it was. If she was going to pull a train, it wasn't a pussy, or her sex, or any other damn euphemism. It was a cunt.

I pushed in with one long, slow push. When I was all the way in, I could feel the spongy button that was her cervix. Still seated, I reached forward and pinched her nipples gently. And then I pulled out.

But I didn't move. I just slid my dick up a couple of inches and gave her a long slow push into her ass. She fucked back at me, it might have been surprise or it might have been enjoyment. I reached around her hips and rubbed her clitty a bit and gave it a little pinch too.

"Oooh," she moaned. "I'm liking this surprise."

Then I pulled out again, and started to walk around to her head.

"Let me guess," she said with a laugh. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue.

She must have smelled her own scent, 'cause I watched her nostrils flare. I slid my ass-flavored dick onto her tongue. Then into her mouth. When I hit the back of her throat, my hands held her head like I had before, and kept pushing. When I was deep in her throat and pulling her head even further towards me, she knew.

She knew. And she didn't like it. She scrabbled up and threw off her mask. She looked at me with upturned eyes. I had cut off her airflow, like last time, but it was only a brief second.

I pulled out of her mouth again and took a step back. That caused her to lose her balance briefly, and I took the opportunity to zip up. "Have fun, Lyn," I said as I walked to the door.

"No you don't your bastard!" she shouted at my back, as she scrambled to her feet.

Have you ever seen that painting of Saint Somebody-or-other being attacked by a naked woman -- a siren or something? No? Well, check your art book. It's there. I was walking down the hall toward the stairs and she was one step behind me, pummeling my back with her fists.

"What are you doing here? Motherfucker! You don't get to..."

Then I was headed down the steps, so her blows were landing on my shoulders and my head. I turned to face her and took a shot to my left eye before I got control of her arms.

"Calm down. I didn't do anything that you weren't going to give to the frat guys. Why are you so upset?"

"I... it was... you weren't supposed to be here," she said. At least she wasn't trying to beat me up any more. Then she whispered, "It's not going to be fun anymore. It's just mechanical... just sex."

I looked at her. "I'm sorry if I ruined your play time. I won't do that any more. Now go up and have a good time." I turned her around and swatted her bottom. I admit it was a little harder than I intended. There was a handprint on her pale ass.

I turned myself around, so I didn't have to watch her go up to the gang-bang room again. As I plodded to the frat house door I said to myself, "Goodbye, Lyn." I thought I'd never see her again.

That's not the way it turned out, of course. This next bit I got from Mom, the day after.

At about 7:00 p.m. Lyn showed up at Mom's house. She asked to see me. I wasn't there, as it turned out. I'd given Mom a story about going out with an Army buddy. I didn't have any, yet. Cripes, I was just out of Basic. I just went to a titty bar and got plastered. I also got some nice lap dances, but they didn't even get me hard.

I was pissed. Both in the British meaning (drunk) and in the American meaning (angry).

Anyway, as Mom told me later, Lynn asked for me. When I wasn't there, she asked to come in. She said she'd done something really stupid. Actually, she said, she'd continued to do stupid things. I knew about it -- them. She wanted to quit doing it, but she didn't know if she could.

My Mom asked her if it was sex or drugs.

"Oh, no! Never drugs. I hate them. My mother got on pills and alcohol. Drugs can kill ya, even if you try to be careful," Carolyn said. "But. Sex can be a drug if you do it enough." She couldn't meet my mother's eye, when she said it.

"Oh," said my Mom. "I suppose it can be. I don't have much knowledge about that. I guess the question is: what do you want to do about it?"

"I... I guess that... I want to quit doing it. I've found somebody I like and... Well Rob told me I'd have to stop... well... you know... He said I had to stop slutting around."

"Oh my. He said that, huh." My Mom said that she told the story about my Uncle Frank.

"Rob's Uncle Frank. He was my husband's brother. He worked in the coal mines -- east Tennessee."

Lyn nodded, wondering what this had to do with anything.

"He smoked three packs of Lucky Strikes a day. Unfiltered. He worked in the mines and his wife was sure that between the mine and the Luckys he'd get lung cancer. He never did, though.

"Anyway, he retired at 50; thirty years he put in. Got a big send off from the boys at the union. That day he went out and bought himself the finest Mustang convertible, biggest engine, fancy leather seats, wood paneled dashboard, plush carpeting ... the works. He'd always wanted one, so he took some of his retirement money and just bought it. He was planning on having it forever.

"On the way back from the dealer, he lit up a Lucky. And while he was driving, a hot ash from his cigarette dropped on the carpet of his Mustang. Well, he pulled right over, and stomped it and there was no fire or anything, but there was this small burn mark. Nobody'd ever have noticed it. But Frank knew it was there.

"While he was pulled over, he threw out his pack of Luckys -- right out the window -- emptied his ashtray, wiped it out with his handkerchief and threw them all away too. He never smoked again. He went from three packs a day to zero, in one second flat.

"What I'm trying to tell you is, if you really want to do something, you can do it -- if the reward is enough."

"That's quite a story," Lyn said. "Is any of it true?" she asked with a smile.

Mom got out the scrapbook, flipped a few pages, and showed Lyn a picture of Frank's baby-blue Mustang. "Nice looking car," said Mom. "The right guy is worth a whole lot more than a car."

They were both quiet for a while.

"Does Rob have a ring or something? He didn't go to college, so maybe a High School graduation ring? He doesn't wear one," Lyn finally said.

"Yes he does. I bet it's still on his dresser. Why?"

"Do you think I could have it? At least until he can get me a permanent one?"

"Well... don't you think that Rob should be the one giving you a ring, not me?" said Mom. She certainly didn't want to commit me to anything.

"It'll be ... it'll be a symbol, I guess. Of something that's more important than a car. We can leave it on the coffee table, until he gets home. I won't take it, I promise, 'til he's here."

"He might be a while, you know. He's out gallivanting."

"Gallivanting," Lyn smiled. "That's a nice word. I hope he doesn't bring some girl home to gallivant with. He might you know. Or he might gallivant at her place. He was kinda upset with me."

"A girl's more important than a car, too," was all my mother said.

...

So that's how it came to be that I came home at 11:30 that night to find Carolyn Elizabeth Smith-Montrose and my Mom talking in the parlor. That's what my Mom called it: the parlor. Lyn was sitting on the couch and Mom was sitting in her favorite recliner. The coffee table was between them. Not actually between them, but it was like the third leg of a triangle. And sitting on it was my old High School ring. I hadn't seen that old thing in years.

I was surprised to see Carolyn here. "Uh... Hi, I guess. What are you doing here?"

"I came... to say, 'Okay.' I guess," she replied.

"Well, it's late and I'm no spring chicken. I'm going to bed. Good night, gallivanters," said Mom.

"Gallivanters? What's going on? And Okay to what?" I was confused.

Lyn smiled. "She was just guessing that you were out gallivanting. Somewhere... with maybe a gallivantress."

I thought for a moment. I wasn't thinking real clearly cause I'd had maybe a wee bit to drink. "Uhm. No gallivantress."

She nodded. "And I was agreeing to your terms."

"Terms?"

"Yeah. No more slutting around if we got serious. So, 'Okay,' I guess."

"Ah." I gave the matter some thought with my non-dead brain cells. "Not good enough. No, 'Okay I guess.' Either okay or not okay. No guessing."

"Shit. You're hard to be with."

"No I'm not. I'm a simple guy. I want to be with you. I'm not guessing. Do you want to be with me?"

"What about the Army, the Rangers, all that stuff?"

"Mom said that if it's right, it's right. She also told me not to let the Rangers get in the way of finding out if it's right."

"Smart woman, your Mom," said Carolyn Elizabeth Smith-Montrose.

She pointed to the class ring on the table. "It's going to be hard for me. I'd like to have something tangible to hold on to. Can I borrow this old ring of yours? I tried it on, and I already know it fits on my left thumb. In a few weeks, we should know if we can replace it with something ... more permanent, or I'll hand it back and we'll call the experiment a failure."

"Sure." And she slipped it on her thumb with a smile.

Lyn looked up at me through her pale lashes. "Can I stay the night?" Then: "And before you ask, nothing happened at the frat house. You're just going to have to trust me on that. But I swear to you, nothing. Not one guy."

"Okay. I trust you. Like I said I would. But..."

"I remember," she interrupted. "You can trust me on this. Why would I start a relationship with such an easily provable event? And I remember... no second chances. One and done."

"Yep."

"Yep what? Yep you remember that too? Or Yep I can stay?"

"Yep. Let me show you my Star Wars action figures. They are up in my room."

Before I entered the hallway, I could swear I saw my mother's bedroom door close and her light turn off. Chapter 04

I shifted in the wheelchair, trying to get more comfortable. It was a direct flight from Germany to Fort Benning, Georgia, where the 75th Rangers were headquartered. I was going to muster out from there, 'cause that's where my residence was. It was still a long flight though, and my ass was sore.

In the time I'd been in Germany, I'd learned to hobble about on crutches, and I started my therapy with the Mistress of Pain, Captain Marjorie Fletcher. She was the original 'No Pain, No Gain' gal. She was going to be handing me off to some other therapist in the VA hospital system. It would all depend on where we settled to live.

I wondered if there was still a 'we.'

*******************************************

December 17th. That was the day that Rob Ostroski and Carolyn (blah blah blah) Montrose became a 'we.'

She'd gone to my room and stripped down to the electric blue g-string. Then she proceeded to strip me down to my nothing.

"Your call, Wanger Wob. What do you want first? You're eventually going to get it all. We just need to start with what you want," she smiled that smile.

"Me? I just want to... I dunno... hold you and know that I've beaten out all those other guys." I gathered her into my arms, and reclined on the bed.

"So that's what I am? A trophy you've won and they've all lost?" she sounded light hearted, but I could tell she wasn't exactly pleased.

"No. Yes. I don't know. This is all new to me. You are here. You didn't... you know... have an encounter with all those guys. You're not gonna do that anymore. You're mine. Can I revel in that fact for a moment? You are fantastically beautiful. You are here. I can touch you. And you'll respond to me."

It started to rain and the occasional passing car cast distorted shadows on the wall.

"I just want to do... I dunno... what the others didn't."

I pulled her up a bit and began to suckle on a nipple. She wrapped her arms around my head and moaned. "Oh yes, sweetie. Yesssss."

I kept swapping from nipple to nipple. She was responsive and had obviously sensitive nipples. I kissed my way from nipple to armpit. She squirmed. Not ticklish, but still writhing in my grip. Then I worked my way down to her navel. I was kissing her all over. "Has anyone ever given you a tongue bath? That might be fun."

"It might, but not tonight. Tonight I'm gonna fuck you," said the lady of my dreams.

My tongue found her belly button. She had an innie. Then I let my tongue follow my fingers lower. Eventually it came to her pussy. Yes, tonight I'd call it by it's polite name: her pussy. Maybe it would someday be my pussy.

I lapped at her labia. Long, slow strokes from asshole to her clit. Well, almost to her clit. When I got close, I ended the stroke and dipped down to start another. It was hard to do, 'cause my fingers were constantly stroking at the 'innie' that was hiding behind her labia. She had medium-long outer labia and just the hint of her inner labia peeking out. I doubt that any of her gang-bang buddies ever took the time to notice.




The Slut, Marked



She noticed that I was noticing, though. Her hands wanted to tangle in my hair, but there wasn't enough of it (thanks to the Army). She settled on pulling on my head. She wanted me to find her clitty and was jumping and rotating her pelvis toward that end. Finally, I relented and began to soft lick the little man in the boat. Not so little as you might think, by the way.

She moaned again, and redoubled her pelvic thrusting, trying to wipe her clit on my tongue. I inserted two fingers in her velvet cave (Finally! I've come up with the right metaphor.) and began to search for her g-spot. As highly sexed as she was it had to be there. Palm up, I bent two fingers inside her and began a soft and gentle search.

I found it, as she announced to the whole neighborhood with a moaning scream. God knows what my mother thought was happening. On second thought, who the fuck cared what Mom thought. I'll bet she knew.

Lyn began to buck and clench her pussy muscles. That heavens for Dr. Kegel's discovery and the women who took care to learn how to use those muscles. More precisely, thank heavens that this woman learned. She clamped down on my hand and rode my mouth and fingers through a long, long orgasm.

Just as she was coming down, I sucked hard on her clit, began thrashing it violently with my tongue and then scratched at her g-spot again. She screamed again, wrapped her legs around my upper torso and arched off the bed, her only point of contact was the back of her head.

She eventually collapsed from the exertion but I could still feel the after shocks of her cum. Urged by her hands, I brought my face up to hers. She was crying, sobbing into my chest.

"I never knew it could be like that. You wonderful man, my widdle Wanger Wob. Where did you learn to do that?"

My fingers were still inside her. I added a third. "Want some more?" I asked as I began to pump in and out.

"No. No more. I might die," she mumbled, breathing so softly that she barely moved the hair on my chest. "Oh God. Thank you, sweetie."

I didn't much like the "sweetie" name. That's what she called all the gang-bangers. It was generic and conveyed some personal attention, that I think was lacking. 'Thanks, sweetie, for sticking it in my ass.' 'Thanks, sweetie, for poking my cunt.' 'There you go, sweetie, I hope you enjoyed the bj.' I tried to not get offended, she didn't mean it that way; she didn't have any other way of saying it, just then. I didn't think she'd gotten anything like what I'd just delivered before.

I looked at the clock on the nightstand nearby. 1:45. We'd been in here about two hours, and I'd managed to touch her in ways that the thousand and one fuckers hadn't. I pulled the sheet to cover us, folded my arms around her and had the best sleep of my life.

...

Question: What is the absolute best way to wake up? You know the answer: a highly erotic wet dream that when you wake up turns out to be true. This morning it was a blow-job delivered by a platinum-haired hottie. She was bundled down between my legs, the sheet was thrown to the side and her blue-grey eyes were smiling up at my face. She was sucking softly and alternating licks along the underside of my prick.

When she saw me waking up, she slowly grabbed my two hands and placed them on her head. As soon as she felt me tighten my hold, she pressed deeper on my pole. It hit the back of her throat and then passed into her throat. She continued to look at me. She was giving me the opportunity to place my mark on her again, as I had at the basketball gang-bang. And as I had at the aborted frat party gang-bang.

Not today. Today, I gave her a dozen short thrusts into her throat and then exploded my orgasm into her tummy. She didn't even try to do anything but accept my thrusting. Her eyes were watering when I pulled her head back up and finished shooting a half dozen more jets of my cum into her mouth. She swallowed everything, except a small bit of leakage on the side of her mouth. When I got soft, she scooped that up with her finger and then sucked that in too.

"Anyway you want it, Wanger Wob. If you want to mark me every morning, I'll do it. But you gotta fuck me like you did last night. That was un-fucking-believable, sweetie."

I flinched at the 'sweetie.' She noticed. "What?"

"That 'sweetie.' That's the name you used when you talked to all the guys who..."

"OhMyGod!" she interrupted. Her eyes got big as saucers. "I'm so sorry." She began to kiss her way up my body. "It was a reflex. [kiss] You wiped me out [kiss] with the sex last night [she was up to my neck now] and I didn't even think. I'm sorry. From now on I won't call you anything but My Lord and Master of the Bed. Or something like that. Okay?"

I laughed.

She said, "Is a kiss okay?" I think she was referring to the mouthwash thing.

"My own cum from your mouth? After a bj like you just laid on me? Yeah, Goddess, it's fine." I pulled her up and kissed her.

We eventually broke camp and made it to the kitchen for lunch.

My Mom was there. "Oh good!" she said. "I was just getting ready to pay the ransom." We all smiled. "I take it you decided to give her the ring, among other things."

Lyn held up her left hand with the ring on her thumb.

"You know that in some circles, wearing a ring on your thumb means that you're his sex slave." I couldn't believe this was coming from my mother! "What? You don't think the Internet was invented for just you, did you?"

Lyn said, "Sex slave? I think I could live with that, my Lord."

That began our pre-honeymoon period. We fucked and sucked and did everything but swing from the overhead lights. We just about chased my mother out of her own home, but she was happy -- very happy -- that I'd seemingly found what I was looking for. At the end of 2.14 weeks, though, it was time for me to report to Fort Benning, for Ranger school. And then who knew what.

I knew what I wanted though. I offered to swap my class ring for an engagement ring. She wanted them both. The engagement ring for what the future might hold, and the 'slave ring' -- as she called it -- to remind her of her promise. She thought her father would have a fit, though. She was marrying way below her station, she thought he'd say. A soldier at that. And she wouldn't be going to school at the U any more, 'cause she'd be following me to Benning.

That was news to me. She said she'd just buy a house (remember she had all this money!) in the off base housing and I could come and visit. Often. I was concerned. She was still a slut, in training to be a one man woman. Concerned didn't begin to express how worried I was. Benning was full of horny GIs.

She reminded me that she was still highly sexed and it was my duty to see to the comfort of my slave. And incidentally, see that she was too tired to stray.

Okay!

Interestingly, her father didn't object too strongly. He asked me to come into his office to discuss things "man to man," on our last day before I had to report.

"Call me Martin," said Mr. Montrose. He was a distinguished gentleman of about 55. He was in, what was probably, his leisure suit. Not a 'leisure suit,' like with nylon pants and a tunic with a Hawaiian design, from the 70s. It was not a formal suit, it was his suit that he wore in casual settings. Actually it wasn't a suit at all, more of a formal sport coat. Anyway, he looked stuffy to me, but then, I'm a hick in Ranger school and he's a Captain of Industry (capital CI).

"Sure, Martin. I'm Rob." We'd already done the handshake thing earlier.

"About my daughter. And you." INCOMING! Wait for it. "Are you sure about this?"

I thought that honesty would be best here. "I'm sure. I'm very sure. She says she's sure, but what do I know about how women think?"

He laughed. "Good answer, my boy! ... My daughter is a bit of a wild child. Sexually, I mean. I've had men watching her since she started at the University. I kept hoping she'd settle down, but she never did. Until she met you. You seem to have swept her off her feet. And that's a good thing."

Wow. Cancel the incoming! It turns out this was friendly artillery fire, shooting at the bad guys.

"What will you do," he continued, "when, or I should say if, she strays? Sees another man while you're on assignment overseas, for example."

"I know about her sexual habits. Or at least the most recent of them. We've discussed the matter. How did I put it? One time with one guy was once too many. I'd trust her until I had a reason not to. And if I lost that reason to trust, she was out.

"Sorry, but I don't intend to share her affections, or her body -- if you'll excuse the vulgarity -- with anybody, ever."

"Good!" he said, surprising the hell out of me. "Just what she needs. And I hope for a long and successful marriage. I just worry, like all dads do, I suppose."

"I honestly didn't expect to hear this particular attitude coming from you," I said.

"I don't believe in pulling punches. Oh. If you plan on being the sort who'd ever cheat on her, I'll..."

"Let me guess," I interrupted with a smile. "You'll destroy me, castrate me, have men beat me to a pulp, et cetera. Right?"

"Yes, quite."

"Good. We are on the same page."

...

So, she came to Fort Benning as my fiancée. I went off-base as often as I could and we fucked our brains out for the entire time of my leave. That's when I started wondering what she was going to do when I got sent overseas. She was still as highly sexed as before, and I was worried. I could tell she was too, but she was still on the straight and narrow, and planned to continue to be so.

We got married when I graduated from Ranger school and got assigned -- as almost all Rangers do -- to the 75th Rangers.

We were both in hog heaven. I got home almost every weekend and we were like bunnies. We got toys, we did anal, of course. She was no anal virgin, remember. I got dynamite blowjobs. She got eaten 'til she passed out. At no time was there any mention of the past, of her sluttiness, of her thousand and one gang-bang buddies.

It was like I had married the Goddess of Sex -- in fact, that was how I often referred to her -- and the Goddess was true to me.

Then my unit got assigned to the Sandbox. Afghanistan. It was supposed to be only for six months. Lyn swallowed hard and said she could make it. She'd find a way. I hoped that the way wouldn't involve any of her old habits. There were a lot of horny guys around Fort Benning who'd be glad to solve her problem for her.

Then my tour got extended for another six months. She was fine, she said. Missed me a lot, but she'd be ready for me when I got back. I didn't like the sound of that. How could a ultra-highly sexed woman be fine without regular injections. Like asking a Maserati if it would be okay to drive through rush hour traffic all the time.

Then my tour got extended for another year. I was getting pissed at the Army, just like all the other guys, but what could I do? I soldiered on. Lyn was getting more and more anxious. She started getting sending these high, getting higher, even higher then oh so mellow emails.

About half way through the tour I got my million dollar injury and so here we are. I felt like I was sneaking into my own house. Chapter 05

Then the plane landed in Georgia. I felt hollow inside. Nobody knew I was coming home, shot up, 'cause I wanted to surprise the little woman. Surprise! Whoopee! It was a Saturday night by the time I got a drop off at the house.

Well, at least there were no strange cars in the driveway. The van pulled up and my assigned corporal helped me get to the front door. He discretely backed off as I pushed the doorbell with my cane. The duffel bag was on the porch nearby.

The door opened. She was wearing my super-faded blue dress shirt. Nothing else, apparently. I say apparently, because I couldn't see too much. She didn't have on any shoes and was barefoot, the buttons were mostly undone and I could tell she didn't have on a bra. I couldn't be sure about the panties though, but I made a bet with myself that she wasn't wearing any.

"Hi, Rob," she was calm, not bouncing around like the videos you see of other wives greeting coming-home soldiers. What did that mean? "I was hoping it was you. One of your buddies in the unit sent me an email saying that you'd be home soon. I've been waiting." Then to the corporal just out of sight. "I can take it from here."

She bent over to pick up the duffel and I could see I'd have won my bet about no panties. The corporal didn't get a view, from the angle when she bent. She tossed the duffle back into the house and came around behind me to push the wheelchair in.

"I didn't expect to see you in a wheelchair. What happened?" she said as she pushed me into the living room.

I started to explain. She cut me off with a thousand megawatt kiss, without touching me anywhere else. My leg was still mostly straight out in front of me.

"Oh, I'm so glad to see you. Are you hurt anywhere except your leg?" And she resumed kissing me. Gently, gingerly but with lots of emotion and tongue.

"No. Nowhere else. And it doesn't really hurt anymore, it's just stiff. Bothers me to stand on it for a long time. I have to go to therapy at the VA. I'm out of the Rangers, Lyn. Permanently. We'll have to get a van to drive me around for a while. But, I'm home."

"God that's great! I mean, not your injury. That's terrible, but you're home! ... How come you're not excited at seeing me, or being home or ..."

"No, no... I am excited at seeing you. See this bulge in my pants? That's not a handgun I've got in my pocket. It's just that... I mean... I trust you."

"There's a 'but' in that sentence, isn't there?"

"Yeah, I guess there is. I mean it's been nearly eighteen months since we've been together..."

She looked at me. That same old look with her head tilted sideways, like a confused dog.

"Okay. Come with me." She got behind me and wheeled me in to the room with the TV, her bedroom. Or perhaps our bedroom.

"This isn't exactly how I'd planned to do this but..." From behind me she grasped my right hand and <snick> she cuffed me to the wheel. "I hope you're comfy there, because you're not moving until we're done. Could take a while."

"What the hell, Carolyn? What are you...?"

"Really, Rob. It'll be easier to do this my way."

I pulled on the cuff: no give. "So help me, Carolyn..."

"You'll have a choice when I'm done. Okay? I promise. And I wish you'd call me Lyn."

I glared at her. This better be good.

*******************************************

"I know and you know that you married a slut," she began. "It started with one guy and then another guy, and then a couple of guys at a time. By the time you met me it was a bunch of guys almost every night. And then bam along comes the guy who is worth giving up all that sex for: you."

"I know all this," I said.

"Please... let me tell this in my own way. It'll be faster in the end.

"That guy is you. Not 'was' you... 'is' you. The sex with that one guy blew away all the sex I'd ever had in my life. By a mile. But the sex wasn't why I went with him. I really liked him at first. He was nice. He had a nice mother. He was honest. He took an interest in me. I mean the real me, not the slut me. His Mom gave me some good advice, too.

"So I put this ring on my thumb." She showed it to me. It was still in the same place. Her wedding ring was still in place too. "And I made a commitment to try. And then an extraordinary thing happened. I fell in love with Wanger Wob." She was sitting across the room from me, one leg tucked up under herself. It showed her pussy and I stared.

It had been a long time for me too.

She stopped and pulled a light blanket across her crotch. "Don't get distracted here. It's important!"

"So we got married and I gave up my plans at the University, for graduate school, for running my dad's business and moved to Fort Benning to be with this guy. I was in like, in lust and in love all with the same guy. Then he got shipped off to never-never land.

"Being a highly sexed individual -- and that's an understatement -- I didn't know what to do. I figured a day of reckoning would have to come sometime or the other. I talked to your Mom, and I talked to my Daddy. So I started to gather evidence to dispute the unspoken, but absolutely false charges of infidelity. What would I need? How could I prove that nothing was happening?

"You know those videos I sent you?" I nodded. "Well that's nothing." See threw open the sliding doors to the cabinet beneath the TV. There were hundreds of CDs there.

"You know I go bowling once a week, yes? Well I recorded every single night, all two or three hours me bowling. I even took the camera into the ladies room or when I went to buy a beer. Every second is documented. That's these CDs here. Every night.

"But, of course, two or three hours wouldn't get me off the charge. So I put cameras everywhere in this house. Everything I ever do here is recorded. It's got a time stamp. There's hundreds, thousands of CDs here to show that. You can see them too, anytime.

"There's lots of them with me playing with myself in there, so you might enjoy that. I couldn't take the stress of doing nothing all the time. Some of them are pretty hot, I'll admit. Like the ones with me with a double headed dildo in my ass and my pussy, flogging myself to exhaustion. But I digress. Most are pretty boring. Me cooking, or cleaning or studying.

"I go to school two nights a week. I video'd every second of every class I took. You can see them too. It's mostly boring stuff, but ... it's there."

"I know, Lyn, I had..."

She interrupted. "I know about you and your Ranger buds. They thought they were so clever. But it's hard to conceal a hard-assed guy with a skin tight hair cut on a college campus." She giggled and adjusted the blanket that covered her. I think she was jilling off on her own foot while she was talking to me.

"We went out for drinks and dancing -- the girls and me. It was the same as bowling. I video'd every single minute. Dancing on the floor. When I went to the powder room, I took a camera with me. Nothing is left out. By the way, did I dance with a couple of your spies?"

"Probably. The ones who tried real hard to get you to say yes."

"Uh-huh. And they were the ones with the octopus hands, I'll bet. They got slapped like all the other guys who tried.

"That leaves the spa. And that's where I might get in trouble. But I swear it was all on the up-and-up.

"I had the masseur play with my pussy and my boobs every month. There. That's it." I sat up and started to say something. "But don't decide to hate me until you've heard it all, please.

"He did nothing else, I swear. I have only a couple of videos of that, 'cause he wasn't comfortable. But I told him I'd need to prove I wasn't doing anything else."

She popped in a video in the CD player. "I paid him an extra hundred a month to diddle me." The CD started and she was getting a regular massage, forty long minutes of massage -- her legs, her back, her arms... and all the time her girly parts covered by a towel. She was naked but that's normal, right?

She was on her stomach and suddenly he's pulled off the towel covering her ass and slides a hand under her. She begins to hump up and down. I recognized those moves from Lyn. He was rubbing her clit. And she was responding. Then he slipped an anal dildo -- one with that's shaped like a conical triangle; it gets bigger and bigger, then a sudden narrow part just above the handle. He started to slip it into her ass. She was humping up to meet it. When it slipped all the way in, it's like it got sucked in completely, so that narrow part near the handle was just at the sphincter. He gave it a little push to get it seated, and I can see that Lyn in the video was getting off on it.




The Slut, Marked



I look at real life Lyn and she's getting off on watching it, too.

He turned the handle so it's parallel to her crack and he had her flip over. He had another dildo, which he showed the camera. It's blue and has little bunny ears. It vibrated when he turned it on. He slid it into her pussy and nestled the bunny ears up around her clit. He even brought the camera over so I got a good view.

Then he taped the whole thing in place, the ass plug, the bunny eared clit tickler dildo with surgical tape. He was real careful not to tape over her mound, 'cause she was still natural and unshaved there. Once there was a big 'X' over her cunt and ass, he turned it on to high vibrate. She started to vibrate on the table, getting obviously excited.

He took her legs, one at a time and strapped them to her forearm. So her legs were basically pointing at the ceiling, and she couldn't move. Maybe she could, but apparently she didn't want to.

Then he calmly walked up to her head and reached forward to massage her tits. Positioned as he was, he could have slipped his cock into her mouth and that would have been the whole package, but he didn't.

I was getting a hard on. This was a XXX rated porn tape.

I watched her go for about forty minutes and she had several good orgasms.

He never did anything else. Just rubbed her sensitive tits, while she was strapped in a position that showed her whole crotch, and the dildos were doing their thing. Rubbing the nipples, then twisting them, then pinching them.

It went on and on and she came and came. Lots of times. You could hear her moaning and calling out my name and almost screaming when she came. I looked over at the real girl watching the tape and I realized that she had cum also. When the battery on the pussy/clit tingler ran out, I guess things were over. He unstrapped her, untied her, removed the dildos, packing them into a United Airlines travel bag and then the CD stopped. I looked over and there was the United Airlines travel bag, sitting on the floor.

"There are about a half dozen tapes all like that. That's all that went on there, I swear. Barry is as ..."

"As queer as a three dollar bill. I know," I interrupted her.

"You know about Barry? How'd your guys get in the room?"

"We didn't. But we checked out your masseur. His boyfriend is an MP."

"Oh. Okay," she said.

"And that was not diddling your pussy. That was a full on porno scene."

She walked past me toward the bed, and dropped a handcuff key on my lap.

"Okay. That's all of it. That's what I did on my extended summer vacation. If you want to check out the other videos, you can. I'll wait right here, like this, until you're ready." She stripped off the blue dress shirt and lay back on the bed. Her legs were bent at the knee and her feet flat on the bed, leaving a gaping, and wet pussy winking at me.

"I can see that you have three choices," she continued. "1. Believe all of it, and come and fuck me 'til my eyes roll back into my head. 2. Try and get a divorce, so I'll be free to fuck every GI on this base. I'll fight it, by the way, since I love you beyond all reason. Or 3. Kill me now, 'cause I don't want to go on living without you.

"I vote for #1, by the way."

"Get up Carolyn Elizabeth Smith-Montrose Ostroski."

"No, I wanna stay nekkid, right here."

"Somebody is going to have to help me get undressed, so I can fuck you to death. I don't know if that's option 1 or option 3."

She got up in a flash and was helping me with my clothing. I could stand but was unsteady. The therapists said the longer I could stand the better off I'd be.

She kept me steady on my feet by holding on to my hardest appendage. She decided that letting me mark her like I did in the old days was a good idea.

She got on the bed as I stood alongside watching. She turned around and scooted back till her head was hanging down over the side. Lyn looked up at me with those blue-grays.

"Do you know how much I've waited and wanted for you to place your mark on me again?" she said. Little rich girl Carolyn reached out and pulled my cock to her lips. "Slide it in, baby. Choke me with your horsecock."

Who could say no to an invitation like that?

I slid in -- one long, very slow push. She was looking up at me, never closing her eyes. Her face slid out of sight as I entered her mouth. I didn't slow down or speed up. It was agony for me, 'cause I wanted to pump her mouth and throat for all I was worth. But this was something special. It had to be slow.

I held her head between my large paws, and pushed. I enjoyed her tongue on me as I entered her mouth. The tongue, on top this time due to the inverted position, was wonderful. Dancing and twirling around the head, then the shaft. I didn't pause at the back of her mouth, the top of her throat, and kept pushing past the gag point.

I watched as the head appeared as an extended bump became obvious in her slender throat, now stretched as she threw her head back. I could feel her moan, deep in her throat, and it made my cock vibrate.

Her lips were climbing on my pole, urging me to go deeper, and deeper I went. An involuntary shudder went through her as she gasped for air, but I held her head still and gave a final push.

She brought her hands up to her throat and stroked my cockhead through the skin of her neck. I could feel it and I closed my eyes for a moment to savor the delicious gift she was giving me. She replaced her fingers on her throat with her palm, and I could feel the warmth. She swallowed, the muscles of her throat contracted around me, once, twice, three times... and heaven itself touched my cock.

Then I could feel that she was becoming more panicked at the lack of air. I shifted my good leg back a bit so I could see her eyes. She got a scared look, but didn't flinch away. "Whatever you say," was the message I read in her eyes. I held her head in place and kept my cock blocking her throat for another moment. She began to arch up and then her body thrashed briefly.

Finally, I pulled out quickly, and she took a large gasp of air.

"Oooooh god," she panted, taking another gulp of oxygen. "You've destroyed me." Her eyes caught mine again, looking past the cockshaft that was resting on her face. "I'm a slave to you in bed. Your sex slave. Forever." She showed me the ring on her left thumb, a slave ring it seemed.

She paused, obviously thinking. "Mark me again, Lord," she said.

And she slid to the floor, got on her knees and gobbled my cock into her mouth, waiting for it. I'm pussy-whipped all right. I couldn't deny her.

She throated me over and over again, that night. In between times, she fucked me, begged me to put it in her ass, and, being the pussy whipped guy that I am, I played with her tits, and ate from the bounty that was her cunt.

In the morning, she did it again. She even dipped down below my balls and was rimming me when she said, "By the way, [lick] since you're out of work [slurp] Daddy said if you decided to keep me, [she plunged her tongue into my ass] it showed good judgment and leadership skills, [lick lick] that you'd obviously inspired a sense of loyalty in an unruly slut and he'd like to talk to you about managing his company someday. He's only 55 you know, so you've got time to figure out how to do it.

"This was all Daddy's idea, you know. [she licked up my cock to the head] Well, the videos anyway. [lick suck] He said if I wanted to keep you, I'd have to be able to prove that I deserved you. [she showed me the pleasure of her throat again]

"But this time, may I be on my knees before you, my Lord? That way I can look up into your eyes as you take what is yours."

Like I said, I'm pussy whipped. I guess she got her way again. I stood as she kneeled. Her sky blues met my chocolate browns. I could see forever in them.

And then she let me slowly fill her throat and accepted my mark yet again.