From: elf@halcyon.com (Elf Sternberg)
Newsgroups: alt.sex,alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.furry
Subject: Journal Entry 165 / 0293  [ Sarge ]
Date: 21 Feb 1996 13:18:41 GMT
Organization: Pendor, UnLtd.
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Message-ID: <4gf63h$5j5@news1.halcyon.com>
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Elenya, Cerim 18, 0293

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

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

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

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

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

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

    "Shardik?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    "By yourself."

    "Yes, sir."

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

    "Sir?"

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

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

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

    So I spoke up.  "Sir?"

    "Yes?"

    "Can I ask why?"

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

    "Why is that so important to you?"

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

    "Sir?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    "I can do that.  So can you."

    "Then can you kiss me?  On impulse?"

    I had meant that comment as a way of encouraging, of being the 
one giving the hints.  She had other ideas.  With a slight move she 
stood up on her toes and when her muzzle met my lips she suddenly 
pushed against me with so much force I was afraid of a concussion 
when my head hit the wall of the shower, but just as fast her paw 
was at the back of my head, catching me and buffering the impact.

       Her tongue was in my mouth before I could register it 
passing my lips; I recovered my wits just long enough to put my 
mitts around her waist.  We stood there, kissing each other with 
abandon, under the running water of my showerhead.

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

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

    "Should I take it off?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

    "Got a place of your own?"

    "Yeah... little house at Tarnagoth."

    "Can I see it?"

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

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

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

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

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

--
"Journal Entry 165 / 0293  [ Sarge ]"
The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., and Related Tales
are copyright (C) 1989-1995 Elf Mathieu Sternberg.  Redistribution of
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--
Elf Sternberg            FUCK THE CDA!       (Cohen vs. California, 1971)
elf@halcyon.com          Where evolution is outlawed, only outlaws evolve
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