Z-Rated (Chocolate Flava 3)

“Sir. Yes, sir.”

I looked to my left, and with a quick nod of his head, Sarg gave me the okay to leave my air traffic post and let him land the plane safely. I hadn’t been in control of my position, or my nasty mind, anyway.

“Oh, God, I need to get laid!”

“Excuse me, Officer Sanders?”

Oh, God, may the heavens strike me down if I said that out loud. I turned in my seat to stand and Sarg looked as though he wanted to fall to the floor in laughter. But this wasn’t funny, and I had about thirty seconds to replace my lustful thoughts with my game face.

“Sir?”

I stood, my five-foot, four-inch frame straight as an arrow, looked him directly in the eyes, and then saluted. But his eyes were on my breasts. Then they traveled upward and landed on the mole that graced my upper lip. He licked his lips. He was such a freak’n pervert!

“You’re going on detail training, starting tomorrow.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but then closed it, knowing I had no excuse for the way I had been conducting business.

I had become a total mess.

Sooner or later Sarg was going to snitch on my comings and goings and, evidently, I had been right or else I wouldn’t be standing here getting papers handed to me about where I would report in the morning.

“You will report to the landing strip classroom at zero five hundred, and if I hear you were late, it’s your ass, young lady.”

It was my ass he watched as I returned to my seat.

Right before I sat down, I heard his “Uhm, uhm, uhm.”

CHAPTER 2

I dared not try and go to my usual hangout when I got off. Nope, couldn’t risk the Captain spotting me at the NCO club. So, I headed back to the barracks with a bottle of white wine and a porn flick featuring two dudes and a girl.

I reached under my queen-sized, down-covered bed, opened up my box of toys and, with my body freshly bathed and oiled, the mood in my room set, I imagined I was the girl.

I used Terry’s face for the guy who was stroking me from behind, and yes, the man who had his dick in my mouth was Captain.

In my mind, it was a very satisfying, perverted scene, and reminded me of the time I went down on Captain, my first day here. Couldn’t help it; he was fine as hell and he kept making passes at me. I tried avoiding him that day, but he kept following me around the base.

First, he appeared at my lineup. I was checking in, waiting for my room assignment, and I was more than pissed that my room wasn’t ready. Of course, the Air Force had a great reason for the imposition. Hell, I had basically shown up out of nowhere. But I was tired from the flight, and was ready to pull off my clothes and take a long nap. Captain offered me his office sofa.

I’d accepted his offer, lay down, and began to dream about giving Terry head.

Then, I felt his hands on me.

I woke up to real hands and a real dick in my mouth. The only part that had been a dream was Terry’s handsome face. Captain had skillfully managed to get me to do to him what I promised myself I wouldn’t do anymore.

But, since I had started, I finished him off.

Later, after the deed was done, I explained right to the Captain’s smooth, caramel face that it wouldn’t happen again. It was difficult, partly because Captain’s dick was perfect, his body firm and tight. His six-foot, five-inch frame of delicious caramel latte was one I would have gladly introduced myself to without hesitation. But first I had to get Terry out of my system, my mind, and yes, my heart.

Captain wasn’t kind with his words to me and told me that I was to watch my step around base; that he would be watching me.

CHAPTER 3

I woke to the sound of my alarm clock. I forced myself to look over at my nightstand and there they were, the bold numbers telling me that I was only thirty minutes away from losing my job, or worse, being court-martialed.

I pushed the toys out of my way, threw the remote at the TV, probably breaking something in the process, and quickly jumped into my fatigues. There was no time for a shower and, while tossing out everything in my dresser drawer from socks to head scarves, I realized I hadn’t washed clothes in almost two weeks. I thought about rummaging through my dirty clothes hamper for underwear, but the heat and stank panties wasn’t going to happen. I stepped out into the August summer only having washed my face and brushed my teeth.

“Oh, well, it’ll have to do.”