the consummate soldier.

I am the consummate Soldier.

I keep my boots laced tight, my uniform just right, and I am more than fit to fight. I report for duty earlier than required and I have no problem staying late. My integrity is impeccable, and my commitment to taking care of the Soldiers in my platoon has never been questioned.

I am the consummate Soldier.

My desk at work features pictures of family and places I’ve been. I have a few tokens from various deployments and a collection of coins from higher-ranking servicemembers I’ve served under or had the pleasure of meeting. There are no signs of a significant other. There are no religious symbols to betray my beliefs. There are no inappropriate jokes stashed away on my computer’s hard drive, nor are there any witty comic strips taped to the surfaces of my immediate area.

I am the consummate Soldier.

When my duty day is done. I mount my bike and set off toward Military Town, USA. When I arrive home, I turn on the hallway light, and take care to unlace my boots and remove each one. I re-lace them and place each one beside the other; the toes flush with the wall and neatly aligned with the other shoes in the hallway.

The house is dark, yet I make my way toward my living room, undoing first my belt and then the buttons on my trousers. The sound of music echoes softly from my bedroom, yet I do not react with surprise. I know I am not alone.

Before I can get my pants properly undone, I feel hands slide over mine from behind. The hands grasp my pants and underwear at the waist and begin to pull slowly downward. I step out of first one leg and then the other, and wait patiently as I hear the pants being folded neatly behind me and placed on a chair to my left.

The hands once again reach from behind, this time grasping the zipper to my blouse and undoing it. My blouse is removed and folded in the same fashion as my pants and also placed on the chair. Then follows my t-shirt. Finally, I feel the hands run over my back’s bare skin, up to my shoulders, and down my arms. Our fingers intertwine, and I am embraced. I feel the gentle inhale, exhale of breathing. This skin fits better than any other.

A gentle nudge leads me to my bedroom. Once we arrive beside my bed, I turn around. Having freshly shed skins too tight to contain all of who we are; we face one another. Boldly. Unapologetically. Without words and without breaking eye contact, you kneel down in front of me. I step first one leg and then the other into the harness. You stand up and secure the harness to my thighs and to my hips, then reach for lubrication. You kiss me intently as you lubricate the shaft of my dildo. The palm of your other hand teases my nipple, sending chills throughout my body.

We cannot be contained in uniforms or rigid codes of conduct. We cannot be explained in regulations and field manuals. We can only explode beyond the bonds of fear of loss of career. We share everything from canteens to muffled screams. We come home each evening to shed this prison skin in exchange for brief moments of freedom and chaos.

We are the consummate Soldiers.

You push me back and we both fall onto the bed. You lower yourself onto my dildo and begin to set a steady rhythm. I watch you closely as you bring yourself to a quick rise. Your skin begins to glow slightly with sweat. Your eyes are squeezed shut. Your hair begins to fall from its neat bun. Your breasts sway with the rhythm of your body and your chest begins to heave deep sighs as you approach heights only we can reach. I grab your waist with my hands, roll us over so that I am on top, and continue along the same rhythm, only this time I am free to slow it and quicken it as I please.

You begin to whimper. Your legs wrapping themselves tightly around my waist. Your fingernails scratching patterns into my back. You begin to buck wildly beneath me. I wrap my arms tightly around your waist and bury my face into your neck. I push in deeply once more, causing you to inhale sharply. As we lie there, locked in a tight embrace, I begin to trail kisses along your shoulders. I can feel your body start to calm and your shivers subside to the quiet, stable breathing that comes before deep sleep.

I roll over onto my side and pull you closely to my body. We fall asleep locked in tight embrace. Without a single word, we’ve both spoken volumes.

Hours later, I am jarred awake by the sound of you moving about my bedroom. I lift my head and watch you pull your uniform on in the dark. I roll over onto my back, amused by the power hidden in your slight frame. After you’ve buttoned your trousers and zipped your blouse, you turn to me. Our eyes meet and we hold one another’s gaze before speaking.

“I’ll see you at formation tomorrow morning.” You say, in a voice just slightly above a whisper. “I need you there thirty minutes early to help set-up for the PT test.”

“Yes ma’am.” I say, heat overtaking my body as our gaze darkens to one that says more than goodnight.

You bend to place kisses on the inside of my foot, your fingers working a trail up my calf, toward my thighs. I close my eyes, knowing this little revolt we’ve staged is only just beginning.

We are consummate Soldiers.

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