Jane Doe - pre-mission stretch
Rookie Log – Day 12
I think she knows.
Not just that I look—everyone does—but that I’m fucking obsessed. The way Jane moves, the way her thighs press tight together when she crouches, that fat, bouncing ass barely contained in whatever excuse for gear she throws on… it’s all I can think about. She doesn’t walk, she struts, like she knows my dick’s following her before my boots can.
We got paired on recon today. Five hours of hell. Tight hallways, shared cover, her breathing in my ear every time we swept a corner. She kept bumping into me like it was nothing, hips grinding just enough to make me bite my lip and pretend I wasn’t losing it.
She knows. I saw the smirk.
Skipped dinner. Rushed back to my bunk. Couldn’t take it. Dropped pants, spit in my hand, and went to town like I’d die if I didn’t get off. Imagined her crawling into my lap, teasing me while keeping that bored look on her face, like my desperate hard-on was just background noise to her routine.
Thought of her bent over the briefing table, stockings ripped, tail flicking. Thought of her pinning me down, riding me slow just to hear me whimper.
I came fast. Too fast. All over the inside of my pants. Warm, sticky mess soaking through my boxers while I kept stroking like I could squeeze out another drop.
Didn’t even clean up. Just laid there, twitching and breathless, praying I don’t get assigned to her again tomorrow.
Praying I do.