I ran a finger up his shaft, enjoying the moment and envisioning what I wanted to achieve. My finger traced the web of veins up and down again, over the curve of one ball, onto the other. I cupped them together and pulled slightly, then trailed my fingers slowly up again. “Yes, love, that feels so good.” He groaned, tightening his butt muscles to push his cock against my hand more firmly. “Starting to wake up?" I teased him flirtatiously. “We’ve got all afternoon. There’s no rush.” I continued to stroke him lightly, enjoying the feel of his growing arousal. “Mmmm. Don’t stop. You know how I love that.” “But it’s making you wet, love. We can’t have that. It’ll mess with my chocolate.” Now his eyes were wide open, his normal humour gleaming in them. “There’s only one thing for it then, you’ll have to lick me clean first.” Ever an opportunist, he wasn’t going to give up an opportunity. But then, nor was I. “Well, for art,” I teased back as I carefully leaned across his body an all. And of course, the second my plane landed in Atlanta, it started raining. Having packed for Louisiana, I was prepared with an umbrella in my luggage. I ventured forth to get another rental and hit the road for Columbus on the Georgia-Alabama border. I-85 to I-185 and about an hour and change later and I was trying to talk my way on to Ft. Benning. The gate guards were impressed with neither my press pass nor the story I concocted about a profile of Rangers home from the wars. I wound up in the chief of security's office. He must have liked my bullshit, unlike his men, because he let me go with an escort. A young woman of about twenty-four, short brown hair, brown eyes, and tanned skin got in my rental Buick with me. Her name was Giovanna and she looked like one. Her folks were probably still struggling with Italian accents, if I read her right. She gave me directions to the 3rd Ranger Battalion's headquarters building. Once there, I tried to finagle my way into simply getting.
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