It’s wrong of me to look at my squadmates the way I do.
I should be the soldier they expect me to be. But I can’t help it. Their hardened, sweat-slicked bodies make me throb with need. I want to drop to my knees and service them.
I want their big weapons to fire their white-hot loads inside me. I want to be passed around and filled by every last one of them. But if they knew the truth, I’d be finished. Discharged.
So I keep it buried deep. No one can ever know the filthy things I crave.
