Fresh from New Year Leave, we paraded outside the block. All of our gear packed in neat piles. A rota was in place, some went to the armoury and some had gone to the cookhouse. It was a fresh cold January morning. 2 Bedford 4 tonners parked to one side. The tailboards dropped and the rear canvas flap, thrown back over the top. No seats down the centre. It was going to be a 4 hour journey, so the switched on among us had undone our bed rolls and taken out our sleeping bags.
Equipment was passed up and a wall of bergans and webbing was formed down the centre. We had a few large tents, for the admin side of life. Bit of cooking equipment and boxed rations.
"20 to each truck. Make sure you are in the 4 tonner with your gear!" Bellowed one of the Corporals.
We were in 10 man sections, for our latest attempt at playing the Infantry game. On camp, we worked in the garages on our detachments. This was one of those "You are paid as a soldier, first and foremost! Stop whinging - just get on with it. This is your bread and butter!" As motivational talks went. It was rudimentary but it served its purpose.
Thankfully, I was in the same section as the best mate. My wing man on a Saturday night, the bloke who I had gone through training with. It so happened we finished up in a 2 man room together. Him with his Meteors poster, me with my The Cure. Our section went to the left hand side and the other section filed along on the other.
"Put your roll down there!" I suggested. Chris had unrolled his 58 webbing sleeping bag. "We can sit on this as well. Undo yours and we can cover ourselves with it like a quilt." "Good idea Batman!" A 4 tonner doing 50 or 60 miles per hour. Early January. The potential for grimness - it was high.
We were all comfortable. the tailboard locked in place and the tailflap fastened down. We started to roll out of camp. We had the usual banter, giving the driver grief as we were all jettisoned forward. Air brakes going off as though it was an emergency stop. Eventually, people drifted off. Walkmans appeared, woolly hats were pulled over the eyes. As any good soldier will tell you. If you have the opportunity to sleep or eat. Do it, you do not know when you will get the opportunity again.
As I was contemplating whether it was time for sleep or a bit of chocolate. I felt the mates hand sliding up my leg. I looked to both sides, we were in among a crowd of sleepy heads. Hidden underneath a sleeping bag. I slid down a bit, giving a better angle. I had undone my smock, so undid the belt of my trousers. With the finger dexterity of an accomplished burgular. Chris undid the button on my trousers. Sliding the zip down. His hand searching for the access in my military long johns. His hand found me, holding my semi like he was going from 3rd to 4th. Sliding down my length, cupping my balls and gently caressing the inside of my inner thigh.
"You know something Chris? I love it when we get out into the fresh air. Get to runaround like silly buggers!"
"So do I Greg, so do I!" As he slowly started to rise and fall with my hard cock. "So do I..."
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