Being a military commander in a training cadre had its perks. My next assignment was in a Support Command unit at a military base in Texas. I was assigned responsibilities as an Operations Staff Officer in a rather large combat support battalion. We had engineers, mobile service stations, medical units, supply units, payroll processing and military police units, all a part of our broad and over-reaching scope of operations to take care of the soldier.

While combat units, by tradition, are still male dominated and somewhat restricted to males only, combat support units are a mixture of both males and females. One of my very first assignments was to overhaul how we conducted field operations, insuring continuity in our mission, while at the same time not compromising it.

I sat down in my private office and looked around. I had a silver-grey-colored, government issued metal desk, two grey chairs, a grey metal filing cabinet, a grey-colored conference room table and a ratty old grey, government issued Naugahide couch. A photo of the President was hanging on the wall; it was the first item sent into the grey-colored metal trashcan.

I called in a staff sergeant and told him I would need to re-decorate.

“With what?” he asked. “This is what the U.S. Army provides, sir. It’s all that we have.”

I knew better, but wasn’t going to argue with him.

“I need a laptop,” I told him.

“Sir, yes sir, we will requisition one for you,” he replied. “It’ll take about six weeks.”

“Six weeks?” I responded. Six weeks wasn’t going to cut it. I had work to do. I did not like what I was hearing.

“Yes sir,” the staff sergeant replied. “This isn't Afghanistan. This is the U.S. Things move slower here.”

I had to take a break. Staff work was definitely going to take some getting used to. I was on my way out the door when I heard a voice, an all-too-familiar voice. It was Private Lisa Lovejoy, only she was no longer a Private, but a Private First Class.

I had experienced the pleasure of helping PFC Lovejoy work through some personal conflicts in basic training. I stepped over to the cubicle from which the familiar voice came and looked around the corner.

Almost immediately, PFC Lovejoy stood at attention, while the desk Sergeant looked at her like she was crazy.

“At ease," I remarked. I looked at the desk sergeant, who looked back at me.

“Can I help you sir?” he asked.

“Well, yes,” I replied. “First of all, you can start by showing some respect to my rank.”

The desk sergeant seemed totally clueless.

“If this PFC can stand up and render respect,” I began, “I expect that you, as a seasoned non-commissioned officer, should be able to do the same.”

The sergeant stood at attention.

I told him to stand at ease. 

I looked at PFC Lovejoy. It had been several months since I had seen her in basic training. How fortuitous could this possibly be? 

“How was your AIT?” I inquired. “AIT” is the Army acronym for advanced individualized training in a military specialty.

“It was good, sir,” PFC Lovejoy responded.

I inquired as to which unit she was being assigned.

“Headquarters Company, sir” she replied.

I looked at the desk sergeant.

“Can you assign her to G-3 Operations?” I asked.

He looked at the manning roster on his desk.

“No sir,” he replied. "There are not any openings for a PFC.”

I looked at the manning roster. “It says there is an opening for an E-3 Corporal as a G-3 clerk,” I remarked.

“Sir, PFC Lovejoy is a Private First Class,” the desk sergeant responded.

“Well, I am promoting her,” I replied.

The desk sergeant looked at me. “Sir, I don’t think you can do that. She doesn't have enough time in grade as a Private First Class. And she has to pass a promotion board.”

I glared at the desk sergeant.

“Sergeant,” I responded, “I understand the promotion procedures, but I have it within my authority to promote a lower grade soldier any time I choose to do so. I happen to know this is an above average soldier and she has the skill-sets and training I need as clerk. I have an opening for a clerk. Now, either you can assign her to my office, or I can demote your ass and you can do the work.”

“Sir, yes sir,” he responded.

He wrote her name on to the G-3 manning roster.

Looking up at me, he asked, “Is there anything else, sir?”

“Yes, soldier,” I replied. “I said she had been promoted. You wrote down PFC Lovejoy. She is now a Corporal.”

The desk sergeant scratched through the “PFC” designation and wrote “CPL”.

I looked at my new clerk.

“Corporal,” I remarked, “congratulations on your new assignment… and your promotion.”

She popped to attention and rendered a hand salute.

“Step over to my office,” I ordered. “I have a few things for us to discuss.”

I looked at the desk sergeant, who was not very pleased to have had his authority usurped. “That will be all,” I remarked. He sat down behind his desk.

I retreated to my sparsely decorated office with Corporal Lovejoy following me. I closed the door behind us.

“Take a seat,” I instructed.

I leaned on the front edge of my desk, my arms folded across my chest.

“Look,” I began, “what happened back at basic, I just want to apologize.”

Corporal Lovejoy smiled.

“That was basic,” she responded, her hands clasped and fingers interlocked and dutifully placed in her lap. “This is the real Army.”

“You don’t have to take this assignment."

Corporal Lovejoy stood and took a step in front of me, stopping about an arm’s distance from me. “If I didn’t want it, I would have said so. You have done so much for me, and I would love to show you my appreciation.”

As she spoke, she unbuttoned her BDU blouse. Testosterone, be gone. Corporal Lovejoy placed her hand on my right shoulder, bit down on her lower lip, and smiled. “Sir,” she remarked in almost a whisper, “anything you want, I will get it for you.”

I stepped over to my office door and made sure it was locked.

By the time I turned around, Corporal Lovejoy had stripped out of her BDU blouse. I could see her nipples poking through her bra and the fabric of her green Army t-shirt. I silently stepped in front of her as she leaned on the front edge of my Army-issued grey desk, her hands flat on the surface behind her.

I slipped my hand under her t-shirt and up to her chest, lightly squeezing her boobs through her brassiere. She lowered her head and took in a deep breath and then forcefully exhaled. I was rock hard.

She unfastened the belt of her trousers. It was like we were back in basic training, all over again. I unbuttoned the buttons of her BDU trousers, allowing them to slip down to rest on her boots. She was again 'commando', not wearing any underwear.

“Do you always go commando?" I asked.

“Yes, sir,” she replied. “I hate underwear.”

I slipped a lone finger into her steaming hot vagina and she twitched and gasped, her mouth open. I slipped another finger into her open mouth and she lightly bit down as I fingered her pussy. I took a step back and unfastened my BDU trousers. I pulled them and my boxers down as she felt for my cock.

I was more than ready.

I had her spin around and put her hands flat on my desk. Bending her forward, I positioned the head of my cock for entry into her vagina from behind. Because she was so wet, I had no trouble entering her.

She moaned softly as I entered her love box, my one hand on my cock and the other arm wrapped around her waist. It was like déjà vu. 

It didn’t take long until she was shivering in ecstasy, her hands balled up into fists as I shot my load deep inside of her. I unloaded with so much pressure that the sticky white cum streamed down her thighs and onto her BDU trousers.

I kissed the nape of her neck and she cooed softly. She turned, and our tongues met in a small battle for control. The girl could kiss like no other girl I had ever kissed.

Finally, after a few minutes of pure ecstasy, I readjusted my BDU trousers as she did the same.

“I think I will have to become your sex slave,” she said, refastening her belt buckle and adjusting her battle dress uniform.

I smiled. “It’s your call,” I replied. “No pressure.”

I took a seat in my chair behind the desk as she sat on the edge of the desk, facing me, her feet dangling a few inches from the office floor.

“Whatever you need, sir,” she replied. “I will make sure you are well taken care of.”

“All I need now...” I started to reply, before being cut off.

“I’m already working on it,” Corporal Lovejoy responded. I loved the way she could read my mind.