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Military Manoeuvres

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An old story from 15 years ago. Some of the detail might be outdated now!


My agony was a great source of amusement to the men in my squad, but I was beyond caring about them.

It felt as though the world had dropped on my balls and every movement only caused more pain.

Eventually I dragged myself from my bag and went to see the duty boss to report for sick parade.

Lieutenant Cranmer could barely suppress his amusement at my situation.

‘Well, I can’t say I’m surprised that someone couldn’t holster their weapon,’ he sniggered, ‘but I didn’t think it would be you, corporal. Will you be seeing her again any time soon?’

‘If I may complement sir on his wit after I have seen the vet (!).’

‘Yes, alright, but be aware we move out at 09:20hrs so you’ll have to catch us up later. We’ll be in yellow zone until sundown; you’ll be alright with finding us there, yes?’

I hadn’t forgotten that the exercise would carry on without me.

‘Yeah, I was involved with the pre-planning sorties. Where is the MO at the moment?’

Mr Cranmer grinned.

‘Knowing that you’d need them, they all buggered off last night with the senior officers! Breakfast in bed this morning for them, y’know!’

Bollocks seemed to be a suitable retort, under the circumstances!

‘Are there no closer docs around, even on the other side?’

‘There are Yanks down at Badhoffen, you might get to them before they move shortly, or else there is bound to be a quack with one of the Cloggy units at Ringerend who should be able to help you.’

‘That would be the Dutch at Rengherhendt training grounds then,’ I politically corrected him, ‘and yes, they will probably be my best option.’

‘It’s only a name, I’ll never need to say it again. . .’ he grumbled, good naturedly…


I jumped gingerly from the back of a Land Rover, with my rucsac and rifle both conspiring to connect with my groin.

A passing trooper pointed out the hospital to me, hidden by camouflage netting and with a large white flag with a red cross in the centre on a pole planted in front.

Inside I was pointed to a line of chairs almost perfectly imitating a typical doctor’s waiting room and told to wait until called.

The length of hair on those soldiers milling around conformed to me that I was in the presence of a Dutch unit. (The Dutch allow their military to grow their hair and even have an organised union!)

‘You, come.’

I looked up, a door was open and a woman was beckoning to me.

Dragging my bag and rifle inside I was confronted by a neat little blonde, in battledress, holding a clipboard.


She was quite pretty, holding her pen to her lips whilst waiting for my response.

Her hair was down around her ears, she had intensely blue eyes and a small, button-type nose.

‘Corporal Jon Pearse.’


Her combat fatigues seemed nicely tailored to her body, I was impressed.

‘2nd FAOC, 4 Regiment.’

‘FAOC?’ A questioning frown crossed her face.

‘Forward Artillery Observation Company. FAOC.’

‘Oh. What is your problem?’

‘Extreme tenderness of the testicles. I woke up with them this morning. Loudly.’

I mimed pain and cupped my hands around the area concerned.

‘Oh. You have done something?’

A smile was now being hidden behind the pen and clipboard.

‘I have done nothing. There was no indication, erm, no pain when I went to sleep last night, but this morning. . .’ She nodded.

‘You have not been with a woman these two nights past?’

‘Not in the last month, no.’

‘No? Hmm. You have today made water?’

‘Painfully; about one hour ago. And no, nothing unusual except the pain.’

‘Pain, good,’ she noted on her clipboard.

‘Please to get on to the examination table and undress.’

‘Bit nippy, erm cold. The doctor will be along shortly, yes?’

She turned to me with a strange, almost amused look in her eyes.

‘Cor’pral Pearse, I am a doctor! Captain Monika van Houston is my name. I am a reservist, and I work from an accident and emergency department in Rotterdam! You will undress now.’

My embarrassment was only relieved when she stomped out of the room, the door closing loudly behind her.

Gingerly, and with great care, I undressed.

I sat on the examination table, my legs parted to relieve pressure on my balls bahis firmaları but with my hands gathered in my lap, self-consciously.

She returned after a few minutes, now wearing a dark green uniform skirt and a crisp white blouse.

‘I look like a doctor now, yes?’

I couldn’t make out from her tone whether she was angry or just being business-like.

‘Yes. I am very sorry, I didn’t know what badges you wear, you had a clipboard, a red cross armband, and. . .’

I tried to excuse myself.

‘You assumed cor’pral. You saw a woman and decided that I am nurse. No matter. Lay down please.’

She snapped on a set of latex surgical gloves.

I lay down, removing my hands and revealing my genitalia to her gaze.

I tried to pretend that she was not examining me closely, jumping only when she first laid her cold, gloved, hands on me, and groaning when she went a bit too rough.

She slid her hand under my balls.

‘I have the matter in hand, cor’pral.’

She paused. ‘That was a joke.’

‘Oh, right!’ Not impressed.

‘Does this hurt?’

A little prodding.


I held my breath in anticipation.

A bit more prodding.

‘And this?’

I hissed a little.

‘Yes, a bit.’

She tried to find another way to bring tears to my eyes.



In my pain I nearly curled up in a ball, deciding that she was getting her own back for my earlier blunder.

She returned a satisfied grunt. ‘Good.’

Turning to a pile of books on a desk, she first flicked through one, then another.

Finally she came to a decision.


She reached into a cupboard behind me, retrieving a bottle of pills and a bottle of water.

‘Take two now, one an hour before and one an hour after eating, and two before sleeping.’

I accepted two pills and the water bottle, downing the tablets with a quick swig, following her orders. ‘Thank you.’

‘Did you shower this morning?’

‘Erm, no. Last night,’ I admitted.

‘You did wash this morning?’


‘All over? Everywhere?’

‘No, I was in agony!’ Hopefully that was an acceptable excuse.

‘Right. Stay there.’

She went back to the cupboard behind me, then to the draws in her desk, before rummaging through a rucsac on the floor by the door.

‘A good soldier always has his equipment clean and ready in working order. This may tingle.’

She held a spray can up and, with a wicked grin, pointed it at my groin.

‘What the fffARGH!’

The spray was very cold, and it did tingle – I nearly jumped off the examination table from my horizontal position in one swift move.

Maybe that would have impressed the good doctor…

‘Feel better? Should make you feel less tender.’

It didn’t work, I wanted to tell her, but didn’t in case she gave me another dose.

She put one hand on my chest, pushing me down again as the other hand started to roll my balls around.

The anticipated pain didn’t happen; I was utterly astonished.

‘Well, yes! Much better! Why didn’t you do that first?’

A wry smile passed across her face.

‘Where is the fun in that? Does this hurt?’

She gently tugged on each of my testicles.

‘No. Sort of prickly feeling.’

‘No discomfort? Good.’

She took her hand away, sprayed again but thankfully with less shock to my system this time, then held a cotton bud up in front of my face.

‘I have no white glove so this shall have to do.’

I was puzzled.

Then she moved my penis around and I risked a peek down my body.

She was running the bud under the head and across the eye of my penis.

I tried not to respond in the same manner that I had the last time I had played doctor and nurses with a girl (many years ago), but my earlier pulsating pain was now being transformed into a throbbing erection.

‘Looks like it is nearly ready for action! I think you are now very much cleaner,’ she threw the cotton bud expertly into the bin by her desk, ‘but I have one last test for personal hygiene.’

I watched, shocked, as she licked her lips before lowering them on to my hard dick, her tongue tickling and teasing expertly as she swallowed me deeper into her mouth.

It was a strange sensation, the usual feelings of a blow job coupled with the dulled tenderness of my balls and the slight its-not-me impression given by kaçak iddaa the anaesthetic spray.

I tried to hold off, something in the back of my mind telling me that this was not the usual procedure and she might not appreciate a mouthful of my cum, but thankfully she pulled back before it got too much for me.

‘Yes, definitely ready for action, but I think we had better test it in an exercise just like we realistically test our other troops!’

She produced a condom and rolled it gently but expertly down my shaft.

‘Must make sure that all the proper protective clothing is worn.’

She reached under her skirt and pulled down her panties, nearly all of the movement just out of my sight beneath the level of the examination table before climbing on top of me and straddling my thighs.

‘Must make sure you are fit for service.’ She reached up to my neck, placing a finger just under my ear and beneath my jaw bone where she could check my pulse, holding it there for fifteen seconds or so.

‘And now. . .’

With her other hand she held my cock up vertically, lifted herself up and impaled herself on me in one slick movement – so fast that I was unsure if I even saw her snatch, so brief was the window of opportunity.

She grunted as she shifted her position several times until she found one that felt comfortable – although they all felt good to me.

‘Does this hurt?’

‘Erm, no.’

She started to pump me, gently at first, and all the while with that finger on my neck.

‘And how does this feel?’

‘Um, pleasant I think. But don’t stop, please.’

‘It would be a pointless exercise if we stopped halfway through. Unless you can think of a reason for me to pull out of this test, that is.’

‘Erm, I think you’ll find it is me who would need to pull out, and since my unit is always being told we would be right out ahead of the front line and likely to be swallowed by the opposition then I am prepared to surrender to your overwhelming forces!’


She grinned at me, withdrawing her finger from my neck and pressing the hand under her skirt.

This time I was ready and got a glimpse of her cunt swallowing my cock, a dusting of fine blonde hair catching the light just above her lips.

I reached up to her breasts but she knocked my hands away.

‘There is nothing wrong with them!’

‘I wondered if my sense of touch had been diminished by that spray.’

‘Ha, ha. Very good,’ she grinned, ‘but you don’t touch my titties.’

I contented myself with rubbing and massaging the insides of her thighs in time with her thrusting.

‘Is your weapon working, soldier?’


‘And you will be discharging it before this exercise ends, wont you?’

‘Yes! Very shortly in fact!’ I gasped.


She reached around behind her backside and started tickling my balls from beneath.

As I reached my peak her hand went even lower and a finger was pushed into my arse, none too gently, and flexed in time to our mutual pumping.

‘Stand to attention, cor’pral,’ she barked.

‘Yessir! Cumming, sir!’

She pushed another finger in my hole and I filled the condom with my hot jizm.

Still connected at the groin, she flopped down on me and I hoped we could have an après-fuck snog, but instead her finger resumed its place at my neck.

A vaguely familiar aroma told me where it had come from.

She lifted herself from my (now) semi erect penis, lowering her cunt lips to my right thigh for a few glorious seconds, smearing her juices along my leg, before shifting her feet to the floor.

‘I think you are well enough to return to unit, cor’pral.’

She removed the condom from me, holding it up to the light and examining the fluid content.

‘You are a baby-maker, yes? Maybe I call on you in a few years!’

She tied it off and dropped it in the bin, turning back to me with a box of tissues.

I enjoyed her cleaning my genitalia, especially when she ‘tested’ her handiwork with her mouth!

‘Ok cor’pral, you may get dressed.’

‘Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!’

I hadn’t had a chance to move when the door opened and another woman, in her mid thirties and wearing epaulettes denoting Surgeon-Major, entered.

She said something in my direction, her eyes sweeping over my naked body in what I hoped was a profession manner, before talking to the Captain.

‘Ik vertrouw erop dat u zich herinneren kaçak bahis dat u een officier en naar behoren gedraagt.’

I heard the Captain mention my rank, and possibly ‘English’ as well, although the speed with which they spoke made it difficult for me to try and interpret.

The Major turned back to the door but stopped, having second thoughts, and gave me a senior officer type smile.

‘I hope everything is satisfactory, corporal?’

‘Yes sir, ma’am!’

She smiled at my nervousness.

‘This is Major Kirsten Fokker, the commanding officer of this unit.’

The Captain introduced her to me.

I quickly suppressed the need to smile at the thought of my lads being introduced to a Major Fokker!

She nodded to me. ‘Sorry about when I came in; I thought you were one of ours!’

‘That’s ok sir, easy mistake to make! Sorry I didn’t stand up and salute you.’

Both nationalities used the same camouflaged pattern on their uniforms, although the fact that the Dutch were allowed to grow their hair long usually made telling us apart quite easy.

The fact that I was naked never entered my mind…

‘That is good. Well, you’d better get dressed before the good Captain van Houston releases you; most embarrassing otherwise!’

And then she left.

I got dressed as the Captain sorted out her cupboards and drawers.

She handed me the bottle of pills and told me to see my medical officer if the symptoms persisted for more than a few days.

There were a few forms to sign, a usual thing in armies all over the world, everything needed in triplicate.

As I lent on the desk to sign I caught sight of a photo frame facing the doctor-style chair opposite me.

Sort of frame that was present on office desks the world over, but even from the angle I was looking at it from (off to one side, oblique) it was plain that there were two women in civvies in the picture – and the other one was Major Fokker!

She saw that I saw, and picked the frame from the desk, looking at it lovingly.

‘Yes, she is my partner. You have a problem with that?’

I shook my head, well and truly stunned into silence.

‘In the eyes of the army we are married. I know this would not be possible in your army.’

‘Did you tell her about us?’

‘God no! What do you take me for? She would never understand anyway,’ she chuckled, still gazing at the picture.

‘Kirsten left her husband for me; she thinks I am virginal white!’

‘You do this kind of thing a lot, then?’

She suddenly went cold.

‘No. That is not of your concern. You have finished signing so you can go!’

I picked up my gear from beside the door.

‘Thank you for your prompt service. I am very sorry if I have upset you, but I have never met anyone like you, or your partner; certainly not in my army.’

I put my hand out to the door handle when she grabbed my shoulder, pulled me around to face her and slammed her mouth to mine.

With her tongue down my throat I didn’t feel like arguing.

She eventually pulled back.

‘Did that hurt?’

‘No. Was it meant to?’

‘Good. You tried to touch my breasts earlier, but they are for Kirsten, my lover, only.’

She pulled open her unbuttoned blouse and pulled down the cup of her bra to reveal one of her sumptuous breasts to me, its nipple adorned with a gold ring.

I gazed longingly but resisted the urge to get intimate with it.

‘They get very sensitive, and I get, erm, vocal. The kiss was a kind of apology, if you like.’

‘I like. Better put it away in case the Major returns. Could be a bit difficult explaining a dressed patient and you with your tits hanging out!’

She laughed, tucked herself away and then we kissed again.

This time it was me who pulled away.

‘I’d better go. You look after yourself, sir.’

‘Thank you. You are dismissed cor’pral!’


As I trudged down the road, looking for a lift back to my unit, I tried to think what, if anything, I would tell my men.

Major Fokker would raise a laugh from everyone, even the Colonel, but a pair of lesbian, Dutch, army doctors sounded like the start of a joke, and as for getting a fuck off one of them, that was well beyond the realms of belief.

There would be jeers that I had wandered off into some sort of fantasy, or that I was suffering from hallucinations from my treatment; at the very least my authority would be compromised by my being laughed at.


All squaddies claim to have been fucked by their officers, but this one would be best filed away for my autobiography.

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