I first met Ava when she arrived on base with some research technology shit-gadget. It was supposed to improve night vision or surveillance or some kind of communication between this and that. By the time I was to use the thing, it had been busted and determined to be a dud of a military device.
As we saw her off base, the guys and I ragged her about it. But, to my surprise, this 100-pound fireball ragged us back without a second thought. She definitely grew up with big brothers and those brothers didn’t hold back on their little sister. She could take the rub and rub us back harder. I bet she knew how to throw a one-two combination.
“So your little device didn’t last a day in the Army, eh,” I prodded while she and I and a group of the boys drank at the bar.
“I think the Army has a lot of boys who only know how to play with toys—Tonka trucks and G.I. Joe’s. And those are advanced systems to them. Never a special toy. Parents wouldn’t waste their hard-earned money.”
“I’ve touched plenty of ‘special’ things and they’ve always loved it.” I gave my buddy a high-five for the comeback.
She wasn’t impressed. She gave me a dull look. “The men you touched didn’t like you either? Because I know girls wouldn’t, for sure.”
The guys cheered her on instead of me.
“All the women,” I answered with force.
“Then you went out with liars. Probably told you that because they felt sorry for a baby-faced boy without skills when they expected to be handled by a man.”
She grabbed her mug and chugged down the rest of the beer. Then she wiped her upper lip. It was more proof of a life with brothers.
I called the bartender for two beers—one for her and one for me. Me being rubbed out, the night cooled down.
A few days later, on a bright day, Ava reappeared on base in a white blouse with long lantern sleeves. What got me was her black pencil skirt that stretched to her knees. I could not take my eyes off the gleaming top-to-bottom zipper on the back of the skirt. I had this desire to unzip it slowly and see what was underneath.
I walked up to her in my fatigues and brown boots.
“You look nice. Big meetings today?”
She stiffened at hearing my voice. She turned to me.
The large white buttons on the blouse were buttoned conservatively. She was not here to play techie with the boys. It was for a meeting with the top brass. Maybe a rundown on how and why her device had flopped.
“I asked for feedback on the surveillance and communication aspects. They want to give it to me.”
“The feedback, I assume.”
She gave that same deadpan smirk. “I’ll let them give me more than you ever will.”
“I know, because the dressed-up binoculars broke before I had a chance to try them on.” I shrugged as if disappointed.
She wagged her finger. “I didn’t plan to let you hold them, as inept as you are. I hear the Army wouldn’t give you more than a broken Old West rifle that shoots BBs. Same with those girls you were bragging about because of your ‘BBs.’”
I huffed. This lady was sharp and struck hard.
“You need a good talking-to at the bar tonight. I’m going to respect you on base while I’m in uniform. Out there though, you will face the real me.”
I slapped a salute to my forehead and about-faced on my heels.
That night, she walked into Boondocks in the same outfit. That skirt and its zipper recharged my gumption to drink and tease and toy.
I put my back to her to see if she expected me to approach her instead.
“Another one here, boss,” I called to the bartender.
Who knew! Ava settled on the barstool beside me. “You know there’s a karaoke machine over there,” she said. “You might want to sing to me. It may make me nicer. You know the song, you lost that loving feeling. A good song.”
“Ava,” I huffed her name and shook my head, “the Navy jokers sing that shit-song. This is the Army, girlie. You don’t want to know what we sing.”
“Probably don’t want to hear an Army guy sing either. Yo, bartender,” she shouted above the commotion of the busy bar, “bourbon on the rocks. And—” She eyed me up and down—”a lite beer for my friend here.”
I glanced at her. Innately, as a man cannot control, my eyes slid down her shiny long brown hair, along her back to the blouse tucked into that skirt to the curvature of her round ass, poking out as she leaned both elbows on the bar. And then there was the zipper.
I took my own, tall glass of amber beer that I myself had ordered. I gave her a nod before a long drink.
“So did you get any good feedback about your toy—useful feedback?” I asked.
“Plenty.”
The bartender trickled some Woodford Reserve over a round ice cube in an old fashion glass. He then put a thin pilsner glass of see-through beer in front of me.
Ava took a sip of hers.
“I’m going home tonight with some new ideas for my ‘toy,’ as you call it.” She looked at me, as she covered a sly grin by the glass. “Should be a good evening.”
I leaned my elbow on the bar.
“I’d like to know what I missed by not playing with your toy.” I again sipped my real beer and held the mug. The condensation whetted and cooled my hand.
She sipped her bourbon. Her gentle, manicured fingers slid a coaster over. She set down her short glass.
“You missed a lot. You wouldn’t be the same … man.” She then flashed her dark eyes. “But I have more ideas to develop too. They need some research. Now that I think if it, I could use some help. I’m looking for a lab rat.”
I grinned—too quickly. “I might just be the lab rat you need.”
“You aren’t smart enough to be a lab rat.” She tugged the fabric of my polo shirt. “You are ratty though.”
“Is that right? Hmm.” I took another drink of my beer.
“I need smarts, and the ability to work long and hard without complaining.”
“I’m not one to complain.”
“We’d be working with secrets. Lab rats don’t speak. Other rats can’t keep their mouths closed.” She raised her eyebrows, conveying a secret order.
“My lips are sealed. Except when they need to be open.” I wiped the condensation off my hands onto my jeans.
“First, I need a rat who can drink beer fast. I’m ready to go.” She finished her Woodford in a single, hard drink.
I wasn’t going to let her show me up. I finished my amber beer in a big swig. Then I downed the see-through beer in a long drink.
I set down the thin glass. “Ready as a rat’ll ever be.”
She grabbed my hand. It wasn’t in a sensual way but like a girl grabbing her friend’s hand to lead her somewhere.
I gladly let her drag me through the bar. Beer and bourbon, a man and a woman, equals a hot night—no doubt.
On the way out, I apologized to two guys that I bumped into as she pulled me. I shrugged and pointed at the little Ava. The guys noticed my situation. Thankfully, they offered me broad grins and the pussy salute—two open fingers against the forehead.
Her place wasn’t far away, so, in a moment, I stood in her living room of the extended stay apartment.
“It’s a temporary place while I’m at the base,” she said as if apologizing for the hotel atmosphere of rough, generic furniture and average artwork on the wall.
I watched her saunter to the compact kitchen.
“Tell me about these ideas you need a lab rat for. I don’t see anything big tech here.”
“I hope to find something.” She pulled open the refrigerator door. I knew she didn’t have anything to get from the refrigerator but only wanted to give me another opportunity to stare.
I couldn’t help but grin. My jeans began to tighten on my front.
She talked while looking into the fridge. Hearing her first words, I sat on the arm of the couch, bored and somewhat disappointed.
“If I can connect the STN to the UNCII, I can aid in advancing surveillance data transfer. This executes a new means of SETA Programmatic support.”
She closed the door. She held two bottles of water. She flipped one to me across the kitchen.
She twisted off the cap of her bottle with a few snaps of the breaking plastic.
“DEVCOM provides a ton of information that can stand up a whole new …” Her voice trailed off.
She must have recognized my confusion and disinterest. She pursed her lips. She sipped her drink for a moment and then said, “Not the lab rat I had hoped for.”
“I figured it would be more hands-on lab work.” I snapped open my bottle of water. “You know, seeing and checking and attempting things. Researching.”
She walked to me at the couch. “I’m confused. What were you thinking of researching?”
I pulled her to me, squeezing her waist like a hungry python. Her voice creaked in surprise and her body tensed. But she smiled.
My hands went to the zipper at the back of her skirt.
“Researching zippers,” I said, “It’s how everything’s connected and, to build something new, we need to take down the old—”
“To see what’s underneath.”
“Yep, open up the hood. That’s what a dumb G.I. Joe can understand.”
“About his Tonka truck.” The words fumbled off her lips.
She led my hands to the pull tab. “Let’s find out.”
I was pumped with built-up excitement, so I focused on lowering it slowly.
The white blouse loosened. She let it loose of the skirt. Her belly was thin like the rest of her. Then I found violet bikini panties. Two thin strings covering a secret.
The satin fabric would have covered much of her cute booty in the morning. This many hours later, a lot of the fabric had crept into hiding.
Despite the zipper going lower, she kept the skirt from falling. She intended to make me bow. She knew what she was doing, and she was doing it well. Military tech was not her only expertise.
As my nose brushed against her belly, the skirt fell. It was left on the floor like a crumbled baby blanket.
I kissed above her oval navel and moved two inches higher. There was a scent of whipped vanilla and cashmere.
Before I could take another breath though, she tugged me upright by my ears.
When I stood, she sat on the couch. She couldn’t control a sinister grin.
Her hands unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my pants, and unzipped my fly.
“Oh my!” she said in surprise. She barely controlled a giggle. “I was not expecting these.”
She shuffled my pants to my knees but never broke her stare at my underwear.
“Mens string bikini. Wow.” She ran her fingers along the two thin strings that were struggling to keep my own long secret. She let the strings slap back against my body.
“They look good on you. Few men could pull this off.” She patted my thighs.
She dragged the very tips of her petite fingers along the V of the fabric. She moved terrorizingly slow.
Finally, her palm cupped my balls and lifted them gently. Next, she drew her fingernail down the length of my cock.
The head of my cock appeared over the elastic band of my underwear.
“Peeking over the fence,” she said pleasantly.
She touched the tip, like she was patting a young boy who was begging to be her friend.
The tip of her finger circled the head of my dick, like she had deciding that she would be a close friend. But she pulled away her hand.
“How much is a blowjob worth?” she asked.
“How much?” My mind wasn’t working right or was extremely slow to understand or answer the question.
“Yeah, what would you do for it?” She spoke with a soft, drawn-out voice. It was a voice that collapsed and swept logic from my mind.
But as I attempted to comprehend the question, she undid the big, white buttons on the loose blouse. Soon her bra, cupping a pair of tits that suited her form, came into view. I had to swallow. I felt the gulp and a stretch of my neck.
She shed the blouse.
“I get some first.” She almost whispered the words. “Then you’ll get some.”
She led me to the bedroom.
I dove for her. Her bra came off. Her sharp, pink nipples were set precisely on oval areolas. They felt so good in my mouth. My tongue slid across those bits of flesh. Flicking them and dragging my tongue roughly over them. Her arms were opened as wide as the edges of the bed. She gave my mouth and me free rein, no places barred.
“Good boy, yes, good. Right there.” She cooed out the words.
But she yipped at each nibble.
“Gentle now,” she said with a wobbly voice. “Love on them.”
I pressed the two breasts together, so my mouth could jump between the pair easily.
Her hands ruffled my hair, as she encouraged me on.
Before long and like before, her hands found my ears. She tugged me higher up her body.
“Gentle now, girl,” I urged.
“Shut up.” She might as well as spit out the words.
But when I am near pussy, I can be called whatever.
Hovering over her, I pulled aside the tiny bit of fabric of her panties, as well as mine. Both of our secrets were exposed as we wanted.
“I need this. You’re the toy I’ve wanted. Fuck me,” she said not opening her eyes.
I pushed myself deep inside the slippery, wet pussy. She grunted when I drove in. Her lips curled and her face tightened. She looked angry. But the look faded as I pushed and pulled, back and forth.
Her hands grabbed onto my elbows when I went deeply into her. Her grip was a tight like she was shooting down a roller-coaster track.
Then she murmured unintelligibly. It reminded me of a saint’s sacred prayer spoken in the night when no one was around.
Her curled face reappeared. Then her teeth clenched, tightening the muscles in her lean face. She huffed quickly through that stern face.
“Yes, yes,” she whispered in an exhausted voice.
Then her eyes opened. There was a brightness in them, a happiness, an angelic delight.
“Come on now, hard, fast.” She urged me on.
It didn’t take long, having known what I already had done to her. That tiny, pointed drop inside of me grew into a tsunami. I rammed hard and fast.
I pulled out in time to shoot several cords onto her belly. The first landed on her left breast. The others were lower on her stomach.
I remained steadfast and unmoving for a moment. I then collapsed—spent—beside her. We both were coming down from self-induced highs.
Unexpectedly, she cleaned off and then curled up next to me. Tired, we fell asleep.
I awoke to rustling under the white sheets. It took me a moment to understand where I was. I feared last night had been a dream. A wet dream.
Then there was a warmth and slurping on my cock. It was not a dream.
I grabbed her head, covered in the white sheet, and bobbed her up and down. A few minutes later, her tongue and its swirls revived that pointed feeling and its growth. The blowjob worked as needed. There was an explosion into her mouth.
She appeared from under the sheet looking like a red-faced, innocent nun.
She told me through her fattened lips and smeared mouth that I deserved it.
“You were so good. I owed you—big.”
I laid back and stared at the ceiling.
Soon she left base for her real research lab. I hoped she might be developing a new toy that needs to be tried and tested. She never returned though.
Yet I will always remember her toys and how much she loved mine.
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