Chapter 1: Warminster

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Cheating, Slut Wife, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Prostitution, Military, .

Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1: Warminster - Back in a loving relationship with his wife, and a promotion to sergeant, the future is looking good for Des. Then a family bereavement causes shock and awe. Miriam's reaction to it goes way beyond anything that Des could have expected…and all hell breaks loose. At first it seems that Des will weather the storm but once again Mr. John Thomas leads him astray. This time Des plays out of bounds, and although he manages to get his hole in one he must pay a price for breaking the rules.

Warminster Camp is probably my favourite posting in the UK. I'd been there for a couple of months when I was in the Junior Leaders, it's where I do my parachute continuation training to keep my airborne status, and it is also where I did the Warrior APC commander's course. The local villages and towns are friendly and welcoming and the climate is usually temperate, although midwinter on Salisbury Plain can freeze your bollocks off. I'm a city bred boy but I love the countryside around Warminster and the Wiltshire/ Dorset border. Salisbury Plain itself is a magical part of England, with the brooding pile of Stonehenge and the lesser known, but even older, Avebury Rings. Further afield are the Iron Age hill forts of Maiden Castle and Hod Hill. The area is the heart of the ancient kingdom of Wessex, and is the very soul of England.

My previous spells at Warminster had always been associated with good times, but at first it seemed that this would be a different experience. It was a double whammy. I was missing Pippa like crazy, and it took a heap of self-control not to go back to Aldershot to see her before she went off to Durham, and this was coupled with the fact I wasn't accommodated with the battalion and so missed all my mates from Bravo Company, especially my section brothers. Serving in a war zone, even without any fighting, brings a section together as close as brothers. I was now accommodated in the permanent training staff block, and it took a little time to get to know my fellow corporal instructors. In the meantime I felt alone and unloved ... aah.

I was also still in some doubt about Miriam. It was obvious that she had changed from the girl who had sent me off with a flea in my ear three years ago-- we had made love quite successfully on my return from Kuwait-- however I had been there before, and I couldn't face going through the emotional roller coaster of getting close to her again, and then suffering the upset of being rebuffed by her a few months down the line.

That first week end at Warminster I had spent alone, well I did go to a pub for Sunday lunch, but I spent much of the time in unaccustomed introspection, reflecting on my life and of the past three years with Pippa, wondering if I had made a mistake in not leaving the army and taking up with her. Oh yes, and also pondering on the Meaning of Life ... It was that sort of a weekend.

During most of this soul searching time I was sat up on a ridge overlooking the rolling landscape of Wiltshire. The sun dappled trees and flower scented hedgerows, churches with spires like stone needles, towering above neat thatch-roofed cottages set around glinting village duck ponds, all these clichés of 'Merrie England' were spread out before me. Behind me, further up on the Plain, skylarks soared skywards from wind waved, grass covered slopes, their thrilling trilling song sound hanging in the air.

I consider myself a typical Englishman, not one to become all emotional when the National Anthem is played or when the Union Flag is raised, or even when 'Land of Hope and Glory' (which I consider a rabble rousing song) is sung, but sat up on that ridge I realised what a beautiful and magical country was my England.

I recalled the words of the Commandant of the Depot when I first enlisted in the Royal Green Jackets:

'Gentlemen, you have already won first prize in the lottery of life by having the rare good fortune of being born Englishmen. You have won again, as you are now members of the finest regiment in the finest army in the world, bar none.'

Scots, Irish, and Welsh members of the regiment, of which there are a few, probably winced at the Commandant's words but he was absolutely right – to be born English is a gift from God.


The next weekend I went home to Plaistow, on the Friday afternoon. I hadn't rang my mother to say I was coming as it was a spur of the moment thing. One of my fellow corporal instructors was driving to Slough (the poor bugger lived there, but then somebody has to), he gave me a lift, and I caught a train into London from Slough station. My mother was home and there were no 'uncles' in view, so I rang Miriam and asked if she would like to pop round. She was on the doorstep within half an hour with her overnight bag.

That night we made love and she came at least twice, crying out in pleasure each time, and I was pretty chuffed myself. The hiatus with the one eyed purple headed bedroom snake seemed to be at an end and I think that was all due to Miriam. She was eager, she was inventive, she was insatiable ... and she was everything I had ever wanted.

Saturday afternoon we went and watched West Ham playing at Upton Park, and even their defeat (0-2 against Aston Villa, thanks to the biased decisions of a one eyed referee) couldn't dampen the joy I had in my heart. Miriam's odious brother was conspicuous by his absence, I didn't ask where he was and none of the Hodges mentioned his name, in fact they seemed to be as pleased as me that he was missing.

I returned to Warminster Sunday afternoon (met the bloke in Slough and he drove us back) convinced that Miriam and I had resolved our differences, which were at heart sexual, and now we could look forward to a proper married life, given the constraints of service in HM Forces. Life was good; I enjoyed instructing, my military duties were minimal, weekends were free-time, I had a loving wife and it was a glorious spring. If only West Ham had started winning more games my cup would have runneth over.

I was told that I could take three weeks leave at the end of May as there were only a few courses due in that period. From mid-July there would be no leave as we would have 2nd Wessex coming in for APC training and it would be all hands to the pump. Miriam and I decided to spend those weeks in Spain.

I had never visited the country before but I have a fondness for the Spanish. They seem a courteous and reserved people, with a natural dignity, proud but not with the nationalistic bombast that some Latin American countries display. The Spanish have a long history and a proud heritage, and although Spain might not have been the birthplace of the 95th it was where the regiment made its name, and I wanted to visit some of the battlefields where men of the 95th had fought.

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