Mutiny Release

Then he was gone. I lay back in the bed, thinking of what we had first done. I’d never had a man’s fist inside me before. I can’t say I cared for it. Dinwiddie was always looking for something exciting and new to do, though. Could I possibly deflect him to some other, less painful and challenging activity? I closed my eyes to think, and as I mulled possibilities, I took my cock in hand and was stroking myself.

I heard the clearing of a throat and looked up. He was gone, back out of the door to the corridor, almost as soon as I had looked up. But I’d seen who it was—Lieutenant Smythe, Lord Dinwiddie’s adjutant, who would be going out in support of the Lord to India. I’d met him at dinner the previous evening. He was young, not more than a couple of years older than I was, and a gorgeous hunk, a beauty that was accentuated by the military uniform he wore. He wore it again this morning at breakfast, and his gaze at me had been direct, understanding. Understanding it all. And, I like to think, interested. His uniform was tight fitting. I could see that he dressed on the right and that he observed the fashion of using a dressing ring to hold his cock in place in his tight trousers. He was hung. He also met the proverbial tall, dark, and handsome criteria—and was muscular. He could probably break a man’s back with the strength of his thighs in a wrestling scissor’s maneuver.

I’d only gotten a fleeting look at him at the door to Dinwiddie’s bedchamber, but I’d seen the all-white-teeth smile and the flash of his mysteriously gray eyes—gray eyes with gold flecks in them. I’d noticed them in the candlelight at dinner and had nearly fallen helplessly into them.

It wasn’t his fault he’d come to the door. He had full access to Lord Dinwiddie in keeping with his duties. He couldn’t have helped seeing me naked, on the bed, cock in hand.