Sir, Yes Sir!

First it was like a ten acre buffet of magnificent military men, and I was terrified to look any of them in the eye for fear they'd know what I was thinking. My hormones raged; my fetish for guys in uniform kept me up all night long. I mean from every angle you could literally smell all that bottled-up, raring to go male energy. I longed for the bulky drill Sergeant to step on my naked ass while I licked the pee stained toilets clean in the barracks; oh, I would have given anything if the skinny private who slept next to me decided to climb onto my back in the middle of the night, gag my mouth with his dirty socks and fuck me senseless. I lay awake every night that first summer in the army imagining how I'd figure out a way to submit to as many hairy-legged army boys as possible---just the ones willing to take on my unofficial report to active duty (and, of course, those willing to punish me for disobeying orders). I was finally getting excited about military essentials for the first time since I'd enlisted.
So I calculated the best way I could get my twenty–one year old blond ass close to the men I thought might be interested in punishing me (without actually receiving a dishonorable discharge; you don't openly fuck around in the barracks), and decided to start frequenting a local country-western bar called Apple Jacks that was located about a half mile from the base. I'd overheard there were usually a few guys from the base there on weekends looking for pussy. I knew what I wanted to do wasn't going to happen if I sat around the barracks with my thumb up my ass. I was ready to explode by then. I'd have settled for sucking off the smallest army cock on the base as long as it popped out of a pair of fatigues and the guy was willing to slap me around a little.