Chapter 49
I was a normalista, in my senior year, and like always, my school marched in the September 7th parade. I loved it. The whole city shut down, the main street packed with people, and between steps in the march, I'd have fun checking out the cute faces on the sidewalks, the curious stares, the phones held up to snap pics. It was great for scoring some numbers, some lingering looks, and if luck was on my side, maybe even a quick makeout if someone was really flirting hard.
And there I was: navy blue pleated skirt, crisp white shirt sticking to my back from the heat, knee-high socks, and a short tie with the school pin. The sun beat down hard, sweat trickling down my back, but we held formation, lined up with a sense of pride. The girls next to me marched in sync, hair tied back tight, faces just lightly made up. I tried to keep it together too, but my eyes wandered.
We were nearing the end of the parade, and when we turned the corner off the main avenue, away from the spotlight, the crowd started thinning out. That's where the real fun happened, in that quieter stretch. It was like backstage after the show. People kicking off shoes, girls swapping WhatsApp numbers quick, teachers loosening up.
And that's exactly when I saw it, turning that corner.
A line of tanks—real tanks, huge, weird, camouflaged, imposing—parked along the side of the street. Soldiers coming and going, some laughing, others just watching. But among them all, one caught my eye.
He was leaning against one of the tanks—it was one of those wheeled ones without a big cannon—arms crossed, uniform fitting snug, beret pulled low on his head, and that lazy gaze like he was just waiting to clock out. He was gorgeous, square jaw, sun-burnished skin, the military life giving him that rugged edge.
When he spotted me, he smirked from the corner of his mouth. A crooked little grin, but polite enough. We knew they couldn't mess around with us, or so I'd heard—they could end up in jail for it!
I kept walking with the girls, but my eyes stuck on him. Then he gave a subtle nod, calling me over. Discreet, but straight-up. Like he was saying: "Come here, just you."
My heart pounded right away. I laughed to myself inside. I glanced around—no one seemed to notice. And that's when that naughty thought hit: Is he really signaling me? Oh God...
"Go on ahead, Tati," I whispered to my friend. "I gotta hit the bathroom at that gas station real quick."
She didn't even question it, just nodded and kept going with the others. Me, I veered off like I knew exactly what I was doing—even though inside, my heart was racing, and the body's heat mixed with that good kind of chill in my gut. My skin, still damp with sweat from the parade, was sweating for a whole different reason now.
I approached him slow but steady. He stayed put, cool as hell, like he knew I'd come. His eyes raked down my legs shamelessly, then slid back up, slow, till they locked on mine. No rush, no shame. He undressed me with his gaze. This guy's a player, I thought, biting the corner of my lip.
"My sister went to that school," he said, flashing a toothpaste-ad smile. He was perched on the tank, or whatever it was, looking so at ease like he'd just come back from some battlefield.
"You called me over here just to tell me that?"
"Nah," he replied simply, eyes not leaving mine. "I thought you were hot. Wanted to chat."
He stood up with a quickness that surprised me and headed to the back of the armored vehicle. Gave me a nod, almost an invite.
"You ever been in one of these?"
"Hell no. You guys never let anyone near your tanks," I shot back, with a challenging smile.
"It's not a tank," he corrected, a bit proud. "It's an armored personnel carrier."
"Wow… fancy name for an old tin can without even a cannon. What’s it for?"
"Hauling troops into ops behind enemy lines," he said, puffing out his chest like he was showing off a holy relic.
"So it's like a war Uber?" I quipped, laughing, teasing him.
He glanced around, a little sheepish, like he knew what he was about to suggest wasn't exactly by the book.
"Wanna get in?"
I arched my eyebrow, amused.
"Better not, you're crazy? Your CO's gonna see, you'll get in deep shit… end up locked up."
"Relax… I'm the commander of this ride," he said, voice low but firm.
"Commander?" I teased. "What are you, a corporal? Since when does a corporal call the shots?"
He smirked with that corner of his mouth that twisted my gut.
"Since no one's watching."
And he held out his hand.
I took it, half without thinking, and climbed up on that metal beast, feeling the sun's heat on the steel, and he guided me firm to the top, like it was something he did every day, like taking me inside a military vehicle was the most normal thing in the world.
"We'll go in here," he said, pointing to a round hatch on top. "It's more fun… this is where the observer sits."
He went down first, nimble, and held out his arms from inside. The hatch looked straight out of a movie, and the heat in there was different—stuffy.
My worry right then? Him eyeing my ass as I climbed down, obviously. But… fuck it. I let him. Maybe I even took my time on purpose.
But fate didn't care about being cute. On the second step, my foot slipped. I lost my balance completely and tumbled in hard—only didn't smash myself because he caught me tight in his arms, slamming me against his body with a solid thud.
"Watch it!" he laughed, mouth right by my ear.
"Ow, how embarrassing…" I whispered, but deep down, my body was on high alert, and not from the scare. It was his scent, the closeness, the way his hand gripped my back and waist firm.
The space was tiny. Low ceiling, smell of grease, old metal. A hot dimness wrapped everything, and my eyes took a sec to adjust. Inside, you could barely move. Thin benches on the sides, hardly any room.
He looked at me with a lopsided grin, saying nothing, but I broke the silence.
"I came here to make you lose the war, soldier," I said, staring right into his eyes, boldness dripping from my voice.
He didn't wait for another signal.
He lunged like he'd gotten some inner command, pure primal instinct—and kissed me. It wasn't a light peck or polite. It was a claiming kiss, gripping, squeezing, taking. His mouth crashed into mine with urgency and challenge. He pinned me against the metal side, and the sharp smack of our backs hitting the wall echoed in that cramped space.
His body was solid, muscled. I felt the rough uniform between us, but even through the fabric, there was no missing his heat, the bulge, the hardness. He held my waist with those big hands, like he was afraid I'd bolt. And me... I didn't want to run.
My whole body shook, not from fear, but excitement. An electric shiver ran from the base of my neck down behind my knees. My lips pushed back, wanting more, parting for his tongue to slide in and explore, hot, determined, like it already knew the way.
The air was thick, stifling, sweat running down my back, trickling between my thighs. I felt my knee socks starting to slip, the tie choking a bit more, and still... every second in that kiss had me surrendering more. No escape, no reason. Just that heat, the iron around us, the smell of oil, and him—strong, intense, irresistible.
My hand slid up his chest on instinct, feeling the hard muscles under the uniform, and he groaned low against my mouth, like that simple touch was fuel on the fire.
The kiss didn't stop, just shifted rhythm. He took me with his mouth and I let myself go, dizzy from the heat and desire. That's when I felt it: his hand sliding firm behind my thigh, up under the pleated skirt, no asking.
"Hey…" I murmured, startled, voice catching between kisses.
But he didn't answer with words. Just looked at me with those dark, hungry eyes, and squeezed my ass hard, making my body arch against his. The touch was rough, sure, like he knew exactly what he wanted—and had no time for second-guessing.
His hand slipped further forward, between my legs, and when his fingers hit my soaked panties, he let out a rough sigh, like he'd been caught off guard.
"Fuck…" he said low, against my neck.
Then he went for it. His fingers yanked the panties aside and touched right on my hot, drenched pussy. No warmup, no sweetness—just raw intensity. Two fingers plunged in at once, crooked, clumsy, brutal. It was uncomfortable and fucking delicious at the same time. The awkward angle, the tight space, the smell of iron and sweat around us… it all made it even crazier.
"Ow…" I let out, between a moan and a laugh, trying to shift my body to the touch.
But he didn't stop. With both hands, he held me and fingered me hungrily. I felt invaded, filled, tamed right there, standing, back pressed to the metal frame. My body rocked on his hand instinctively, seeking the right fit, the perfect spot. And I moaned soft, trying not to make noise, but it was pointless: every wrong thrust lit me up more, gave me over more, made me hornier as hell.
My hands, on reflex, went for him. Touched his chest, slid down the hard abs under the uniform. My fingers shook, but they knew where to go. To the belt, unbuckling it with impatient speed, pulling the zipper slow, feeling the throbbing bulge behind the military pants.
When I slipped my hand inside, he groaned low and buried his fingers deeper in me.
He panted against my ear, fingers still deep inside, like he couldn't decide between keeping at it or just taking me outright. But then he growled in my ear, hoarse, low, like a whispered order that shot through my whole body.
"Suck me… please."
It didn't sound like begging. It sounded like need. Like urgency.
I pulled my hand from his chest and tugged his waistband down with effort. It was tight in there, no room to even kneel right. I squatted as best I could between the benches and the iron wall, feeling my knee scrape metal and my skirt bunch up completely.
His bulge sprang out hard from the dark briefs. A thick, heavy cock, rigid with lust, head already wet and glistening. The skin was tan, the scent strong—a mix of sweat, uniform, pent-up desire. And I'd never been this hungry before.
I gripped the base firm and licked from bottom to top, tasting him, hot and salty, pulsing on my tongue. He groaned loud, hand going straight to my hair, trying to steady himself. I smiled inside.
I took him in slow, letting the head fill my mouth completely, wet warmth wrapping him until I heard it: the muffled groan, the held breath. I started sucking for real, rhythmic, intense, taking him deeper each time, feeling him tense and grip my shoulder to keep from collapsing.
"Fuck… like that and I'm gonna come, shit…" he whispered, body shaking, barely room to move. With every suck, he thrust a bit more, fighting the urge to fuck my mouth hard.
My chin bumped the open zipper of his pants, and the heat inside the vehicle was unbearable. But I was wetter than ever, and it just ramped up my horniness. My mouth slid, saliva dripping, I felt his cock pulsing between my lips, veins throbbing with how close he was.
He could barely hold it.
The second I felt his cock throb harder in my mouth, breath hitching like he was about to blow, he yanked me up urgent. His hands grabbed my arm and shoulder, hauling me with rough tenderness—the kind that makes your body buzz with shock and lust at once.
"Turn around. Now." he ordered through gritted teeth, voice hoarse, almost feral.
I spun without thinking, legs shaky, whole body throbbing. I braced my hands on the cold wall of the APC, feeling the chill metal contrast my hot, damp, goosebumped skin. He yanked my panties brutal, snapping the elastic with a sharp rip. The skirt stayed hiked up, bunched between us, and he lined up no fuss.
His cock slammed in all at once, thick, hard, filling me up forceful. My muffled scream got lost in the stuffy metal—no pain, just shock. It was deep. Urgent. His body slapping mine with wet smacks, no room, no time, just drive.
"Holy shit, you're so tight…" he groaned, pounding into me with an animal rhythm.
With every thrust, my body jolted forward, sandwiched between the iron wall and his hot flesh driving through me from behind. His hands clamped my waist like it was his, hips slamming hard, determined, fucking without break, without mercy, like he wanted to brand the inside of me with his shape.
I wasn't even human anymore.
My knees buckled, orgasm building in waves, and I moaned loud now, no fear of who heard—no one did, just him, and he loved it. He slid a hand down to my clit and rubbed hard, making my body buckle. I ground back against him, wanting more, begging wordless for every thrust, every finger, every drop of sweat pouring off us.
"Come for me," he growled, and my body obeyed in a heartbeat.
I came hard, with long spasms, clinging to the cold iron, feeling my pussy pulse around him, clenching, milking. He groaned, bit my shoulder, and followed right after. Intense. Deep. Dumping everything inside me, bodies glued, chest heaving on my back, both of us shaking.
We stayed there, panting, stuck together, in the middle of the stuffy APC, sweaty, wrecked… and alive.
After that battle, pulling ourselves together, we had to sneak out like guilty rats—fixing clothes, faking composure, trying to hide the sex smell in the air.
No one saw.
Or pretended not to.
And me, skirt all wrinkled and legs wobbly, could only think one thing:
Next September 7th… I'd march again.