Kinky Sex and Pop Tarts

Note: This story has lots of exhibitionism, a bit of light bondage, and a hell of a lot of cheap shots against wannabe literary critics and the anonymous trolls that we all love to hate. I will admit it is not the most original themed story I have ever written but still fun in my opinion. As always, if these things are not your thing, seek life elsewhere. You have been warned.

V2

*****

(Wolfe)

I was at work and happened to be checking my email when it came in. At the time I'd been waiting for confirmation on a purchase I'd just made for my classic 1965 Mustang Fastback. I'd bought it last year and was 95% finished with the paint and restoration. The only things left were adding power steering and changing it to power disc brakes. This had a small effect of reducing the resale value since it would no longer be fully "original" but I didn't care too much.

One, I didn't plan on selling it. Two, even if I did, I considered better steering and being able to stop my car a better trade off. Maybe some purists out there would disagree, but whatever, it was my car so I can do what I want.

Anyway, I opened my iPhone and saw the email.

Literotica: Feedback:

Learn to write.

Great, this was one of those. I scanned the email seeing the words, never served, basic grammar, etc.

I had a full life but I will admit to a guilty pleasure regarding writing for Literotica. I had mild pretentions as an author. So far, I'd been a journalist for more than a decade in the military and my ultimate goal was to write a novel. I liked science fiction and fantasy so I was leaning in that area, but for pure fun I liked to write fantasies. Plus, I found that it helped with my regular writing. Occasionally I would read my older stories and would cringe from the writing that I thought was good at the time.

Like everybody I took from my real-world experience and mixed it with a healthy dose of wishful thinking.

I'd just published a story and it had gotten really good scores and comments. I did it for fun and like most others I tended to ignore anonymous, hateful comments, but every now and again one would get under my skin. I particularly hated anon as they were called and on a personal level, I really hated those that sent feedback that was completely wrong. Especially when they used that feedback to call into question my background.

I tended to write military themed stories and would use ranks like Sgt., Staff Sgt., and other military titles. Most of the negative feedback I received called me out because they believed the word sergeant was capitalized or staff sergeant was written SSgt or numerous other trivial details that they knew because they had served. These always killed me because they were wrong in their assumption. As a military journalist I wrote my stories the way I wrote my articles, using Associated Press stylebook rules. Just because service members think the rules they follow are correct doesn't make it right. Sergeant or ranks are not capitalized unless part of name, number one through ten are written, the rest are numerical except in special circumstances. That one was a particular pet peeve. Most people don't realize there are numerous rules one can follow when writing so when they correct others there is a distinct possibility that they are wrong on many levels. The person may be following a different set of rules.

It didn't bother me when somebody disliked my story, or felt I should have gone in a different direction. I felt that way about numerous stories too. Hell, I've actually listened to certain feedback and I know my writing isn't perfect. Sometimes I've had people write an exact critique about my writing that I felt. Sometimes I wish I'd written differently, or that I rushed it. This was none of those, after my quick scan I could see this was one of those that thought I didn't know this, I didn't know that, etc., etc.

I looked up from my iPhone and sighed, then swiped left and deleted the email. At the same time the door to our office space opened and a female Marine walked through. A quick glance showed a gorgeous Hispanic walking toward our front counter. One of the Marines stood up from his desk to go help her out and I turned to walk back into my office.

I'd walked out to our bullpen to do a quick check on the Marines in the building. I had 50 Marines in two sections underneath me in two different buildings. A combination of writers, photographers, and videographers that needed to be coordinated on assignments and normal military duties. After making sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to be doing, I needed to go check on the qualifications due for my Marines.

I walked back into my office and sat at my computer while running through the an excel roster of current qualifications for swim, rifle, physical fitness tests, and numerous other requirements due.

A knock on the door interrupted me.

I looked up, "What's up?"

Corporal Jackson opened my door, "Hey Guns, that new staff sergeant is here."

A frown crossed my face, she wasn't due for another week. With a shrug I said, "Send her in."

A second later, the beautiful Marine walked through the door. She came to my desk and handed me a dark brown manila folder and snapped to attention.

"Staff Sgt. Brooke Ochoa reporting in."

"At ease," I said as I took the paperwork. "You're a little early aren't you Staff Sgt. Ochoa?"

She nodded, "It's a long story Gunny but I changed my mind on my leave. Decided to save it and get here asap."

"That's fine, you don't need to explain it if you don't want to."

"Thank you."

I gave her another once over now that she was in my office. Inwardly I groaned, she was exactly my type. Tall for a girl, but still a few inches shorter than my own six feet. Long, curly black hair, high cheekbones, liquid blue eyes, and an outstanding body.

Keep it together I thought, as long as she was under me there was no way I could show anything other than professional interest in this girl.

I'd been notified of her coming a month ago so I was familiar with her record. Her file had all outstanding reports from past commanders and she had just picked up so she was a little new to the rank.

"Staff Sgt. Jones left a month ago to his new duty station. I'm putting you in charge of Bravo section. You're the senior Marine and I've heard great things about you."

She gave me a concise nod.

"You're record shows you're not married, that changing?" I asked.

She snorted, "Not in this lifetime."

I raised an eyebrow, "Everything okay?"

"Previous mentioned long story."

I waited to see if she would elaborate but she didn't say anything else so I let it go. It was my job as her leader to know what was going on in her life, but I wasn't going to pry. Unlike civilians, military units were heavily involved in each other's lives. Eventually, we knew everything about each other. She was new and I figured her story would come out sooner or later.

"You got a place yet?"

She nodded yes.

"Well, you know if you need anything just let me know. Your section is in building 452, across the street. Give me a minute and I'll take you over there."

Holding up a hand to halt me, she looked me in the eye, "If you don't mind, I'd like to go on my own. I like to get a feel for everybody before they know who I am."

I nodded, this was a pretty common practice so I didn't think anything of it.

"That's fine, go get settled in and we'll talk tomorrow."

She snapped to attention and then relaxed and turned to leave. I watched her walk away and in a very unprofessional moment noticed her camouflage uniform was tight against her and she had a very nice butt.

*****

The next few weeks went by fairly routine. Ochoa was a hard worker and her team always produced the best results. I treated her in a professional manner and we had meetings together every day.

One day I was in her shop and she asked me to help her clean out a storage room. We'd taken off our uniform tops and were in dark green t-shirts. I tried not to look at her breasts but it was stretched tight and her nipples were poking out. The air conditioner didn't vent to this room so we were both sweating as we cleared out boxes.

She'd balanced on a chair and was pulling boxes down and handing them to me. One box got stuck and she had to give a small tug to loosen it. It gave way quicker than she expected and she overbalanced and fell off the chair. I instinctively reached out to grab her as her arms windmilled.

In the end I caught her as her boobs pressed into my face and the box went flying, throwing papers everywhere. Her arms wrapped around my head and my hands cupped her back as we fell back against the shelf.

She shrieked and one of the corporal's came running, he froze in the doorway.

"What the..."

I suddenly realized my hands weren't on Ochoa's back, but were grabbing her ass.

The corporal's eyebrows rose and he asked, "Do you guys need a minute?"

Embarrassed I quickly pulled my face from her chest and set her down. Idlily I noticed her nipples seemed to be harder.

We straightened up and she laughed.

"You know damn well that wasn't what it looked like," she said.

"Yeah, but it looked really funny. I'd have killed to have a camera ready and got that moment."

"And I'd love making you run until you pass out, which still might happen," I growled.

"Uhhh, I think I hear Cpl. Johnson calling me," he said in an obvious attempt to escape, a second later he ran away.

After he left, I chuckled and shook my head, Ochoa rolled her eyes.

"Leave the poor corporal alone. It was funny."

"I know, I just like messing with him. Sorry about that."

"About what? Catching me before I landed on my ass or copping a feel while doing it?"

"Not funny," I said.

She held her fingers an inch apart, "Little bit."

I shook my head, "I really don't need people even thinking that we're doing anything."

"More's the pity," she mumbled.

"What?"

She shook her head in innocence, "I didn't say nothing."

I stared at her for a minute. I was sure I heard her flirty comment, but she purposely ignored me and went to work collecting all the loose papers. I watched for a few seconds remembering the feel of that tight ass and those heavenly tits. With my face pressed into them I knew they had to be full D size.

Blocking the bad thoughts she gave me, I got back to helping her work.

*****

That weekend I decided to take my motorcycle for a ride. My best friend was a fellow Marine, Gunnery Sgt. Michaels. We both owned multiple bikes and hung out nonstop.

We took our bikes up and down the Pacific Coast Highway during the day and ended up in Los Angeles that night. Deciding to get a hotel and head back in the morning we went and got a good steak dinner. Afterward he suggested we go to a strip bar.

I shook my head, "Seriously? You know that's not my thing."

"Yeah, but I want to and it's my turn to decide what we do. Don't worry, we'll go to a high class one."

We took the bikes to a nearby strip bar and paid the cover charge to get inside. It was pretty full but we managed to find an open table and took a seat. He ordered a beer and I got a Crown and coke to drink. I really wasn't into strip bars but I had to admit, there were some sexy girls in this place. One black haired Latina caught my eye, she was angled from me talking to another girl but I could see most of her body. She was wearing a black garter belt and stockings with a black g-string panty. She had golden dark skin and her upper right thigh had a tattoo of a running wolf. She had sharply defined muscles without being overboard, her legs were long and her ass was tight.

I will admit to having a thing for garters and hot tattooed Latina's so I motioned my hand and her friend looked up. I pointed at her and signaled that I wanted a lap dance.

I got up and walked toward the private rooms at the same time as she turned. We got to the room together and she turned to face me.

Holy shit! Ochoa.

Her eyes went wide as she recognized me and we stared at each other. I'd pulled $100 from my wallet and was holding it up, she looked around and checked to see if anybody noticed us.

Grabbing the bill out of my hand, "Come inside, we'll talk."

I hadn't really planned on getting five dances but I was too stunned to argue. The noise died down to muted background sound as she pushed me onto a plush chair in the center of the room. The dark lighting gave me enough visibility to make out her body. She moved to me and waited for the music to start before she gave me my lap dances.

I wasn't sure what she planned on talking about but it never got to that point. Instead of telling me what she was doing, she danced. Without restraint she teased her body against mine. Halfway through the first dance she took off her top and pressed my face into her tits. I really wanted to ask her questions but the way her soft skin kept sliding against mine I decided they could wait.

She ground her ass, teased her body, and brushed her tits against every inch of me. As she danced, she grabbed my hands and placed them on her ass. Once she was in front of me, she tugged her panties to the side and stretched them out a little. I couldn't see her fully but I caught a glimpse of her racing stripe. Her nipples were small and light brown, hard little nubs that she pressed to my lips and chest, grazing against my body.

I don't remember much but five dances goes by quick when the girl is insanely beautiful. Before I knew it, she was stepping back.

"Believe me Gunny, if I had a choice, I'd dance for you all night, but they count the lap dances I give. Have to cut a portion to the house you know."

I nodded as she guided me out of the room.

I was stunned, so I ordered a shot for me and Michaels. As soon as we got it, I ordered another.

The rest of the night she'd come by my table every 20 minutes or so and stay for the length of a song at least. Michaels didn't know who she was but after tonight I'd tell him. Every time she came by she'd sit in my lap and casually bring a hand to stroke the back of my neck. I usually only had a few drinks when I went out. I got drunk maybe once or twice a year at best, but tonight I made an exception. I did a shot every time she came by.

When she sat in my lap, I studied her. The front of her lingerie was all lace and see through so I could make out her nipples and I would relax my hand on her ass as she sat there. She'd smile and make small talk with Michaels and whatever girl was in his lap. I stayed quiet but I got bolder as the night wore on.

The first few times she left my fingers would graze her ass. The next few I would firmly grasp a cheek or drop my fingers to slide up her slit from behind. Toward the end of the night she bent over me from the front and I cupped a hand over her mound, stroking her pussy through the silk of her panties.

"I've enjoyed tonight," she whispered before she walked away.

My dick was raging hard and I wanted to invite her to our hotel room but Michaels pulled me away before I could form the words. We Ubered back to the room and crashed as soon as we walked in.

In the morning I woke up and groaned. The bare slit of light coming in through the curtains felt like a magnifying glass full of blazing sun.

I struggled to get up and orient myself. It took me the better part of an hour before I was able to stumble to the shower, strip, clean up, and put on new clothes making me feel somewhat human.

At that point I remembered the night before. Another groan came out of me.

Oh dear god. I'd seen Ochoa stripping. Worse, I distinctly remember feeling her up throughout the night.

A small wave of excitement shot through me. I may have been drunk but I was very clear on the memory of that body. Her ass had been tight, those tits, so soft and firm. I even remember the feel of her mound through the satin of her panties.

I brought my hands to cover my face. Oh dear god.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This could end really bad. I mean, yeah, she was stripping, but that didn't mean I had a right to molest her. I wasn't sure how much trouble I could get in but I didn't want to find out.

"Dude," Michaels yelled as he walked through the door of our adjoining rooms.

I raised a hand and made a shushing motion.

He laughed as loud as he yelled, which made me realize he probably hadn't yelled, it was just my hangover.

"Please whisper," I croaked through a dry throat.

He tossed me a bottle of water which I fumblingly caught. I opened it and took a large swallow.

"How you doing?" he whispered.

"Ughhh."

Laughing, "That doesn't surprise me. Last night was epic dude, good to see you lighten up."

I nodded and took another drink.

"And oh my god, that girl that was making bedroom eyes at you all night, she had to be the sexiest girl there."

"What girl?"

Who had been making bedroom eyes at me?

"What girl? The girl that was in your lap all night, that girl."

I gave him a crazy look, "No way."

He snorted, "Whatever man. If I'd let you, she'd have taken you home and you'd be tapping that ass as we speak."

I shook my head, I didn't want to argue so I didn't say anything. A while later we were getting breakfast at a local diner and I was starting to feel better. Michaels went on and on about the girls and how mine was giving me googly eyes all night.

I ignored it and just grunted answers but it made me think. Had I missed something? No, whatever. Michaels always thought girls were into us when he was drinking. That didn't make it true.

It did ease my mind about her possible anger. I reasoned if she'd really been upset, she wouldn't have hung around with us so much.

The rest of the weekend passed without incident and Monday morning I was bright and early to conduct unit physical training. I kept it light, we did a three-mile run and some high intensity exercises. Ochoa was there and we nodded at each other but didn't talk other than to do count-offs or shout out commands.

Afterward I sent everybody to the showers but stopped near her.

"You got a minute?"

She nodded and followed me as I walked toward the pull-up bars to get some privacy from everybody.

"So about this weekend."

She held up a hand, "Do we really have to talk about it?"

That was not the response I expected, "Uhmm, kind of. I mean, I guess, or actually not really if you don't want to."

I was a little confused and it showed.

"Look, are you ordering me to stop?"

"Yeah, about that. I do know girls that have gotten in trouble, but as long as I don't officially know. "

"Do you officially know?" she asked throwing up air quotes when she said officially.

"Look, it isn't like it's a specific order, it falls under conduct unbecoming which is a pretty damn large loophole. I guess if you can forget my lap dances, I can forget you work there."

"I'd appreciate it."

"You know if someone finds out and lets me know I'd have to tell you to stop."

"I know. Which in my opinion is kind of bullshit. It's not illegal and how I earn extra money shouldn't be judged. Especially since conduct unbecoming is pretty damn opinionated if you ask me."

"I agree with you in principle, but trust me, that is a battle most people lose. Just keep it discreet, for both our sakes."

She nodded.

"Do you mind my asking why?"

She shrugged, "Unlike most girls, I'm planning for the future. I've finished my two-year degree and am working on my bachelors. I make more than a thousand a week for two short nights work. I've managed to save most of that over the past six years and with interest I have almost a half mil in stocks and savings."

"Wow, I'm impressed."

"Thank you. When I get out, I want to be prepared. I want to be able to buy a business, or a house, and not have to worry."