In just a few short minutes, the cavalry swept over my defenses, and it was a slaughter. I came so hard, I know my jism would have shot three feet into the air if I didn’t catch it all in my boxers, slobbering it all over my crotch. Oh, shit. I’ll be walking around in gobs of my own sperm. I grabbed the microphone and snapped that we would take a goddamned motor pool Jeep, but a major came on the radio and roared that we were not authorized to do that. “I’ll see what I can do, but you may have to stay there tonight,” he snapped.He was uncircumcised. Like a heathen. The loose skin at the end made his cock look exactly like a big salami hanging from the ceiling in a pizzeria, a fat tube of meat tied with a string at the end, pinching the casing into a tiny flare at the very tip. Ah, well, I had a job, an obligation. I was an Army officer. I had to take the good with the hot, dry, and boring. Maybe if I do a good job at this one, they’ll reward me! A post in Washington, DC! “Hey, that was just a joke. We can’t be naked together. I’m an officer!”—Yeah, yeah, “His mouth” and going down my throat—I grab my own cock. “I think I’ll join you, Sergeant,” and I start stroking away. If we worked in the motor pool in the nude, sooner or later one or both of us would get a hardon—who knows, maybe just from thinking about the R-rated movie at the post theater. What would we do? What would I do if Regex came into the office to ask for an authorization for another wrench, and he had a hardon?I kept myself in shape—ran around the track every morning before showering and shaving—and I hit the post gym several times a week. I take pride in myself. But— Dammit! —since I’m short (five-foot-two), Regex and I looked like “Doofus Man and his pet lieutenant” to any visiting high-ranking officers. And that pissed me off.I would have bought him stick deodorant if I thought he would use it (which I didn’t). Sitting in a furnace that smelled of motor oil, gasoline, and Regex-sweat, my nose felt dirty, like I was shovel-man in the post sewer. I worried constantly that I might get used to it. And never be able to smell anything good again.More long minutes in the darkness. “Sure was a hot one today,” Regex ventured.I shifted in the chair. “If I were naked, I would still be sweaty, and I my bare ass would be glued to the wood of this chair.”Never thought I would turn out like this. Never .Regex chuckled louder. Son of a bitch, it’s hot in here! Outside it had to be180. If a Jeep outside melted into a puddle of steel, I would not have been surprised.I figured the grungy white boxers were back in the drawer, and his vile coveralls hung on the hook in his locker. I felt funny. He’s sitting there again without any underwear . I had put my fatigue shirt back on. Outwardly, we were strack troops.