“Thank you!” I coo. Nick lets out the deepest, sexiest laugh ever, and he asks, “Thank you for what? My cock hasn’t done any favors for you…...yet! “Then what the hell are you waiting for?” I laugh. I pick up his boxers and my panties from beside my feet, and I fling them both far across the room. “We won’t be ending these for hours!” I smile; our eyes locked in lust and perhaps in something more, too, perhaps also the first stirrings of a genuine and mutual love. Nick scoops me up in his. Drills become a chore, rather than a sacred duty. For a missileer, your enemy is not a thermonuclear warhead, but boredom. There is no battlefield upon which one might find honor, no flesh and blood enemy to kill for the Motherland. There is only interminable waiting. Isolated from prying officers, missileers often find themselves with relaxed discipline. And it was through this combination of license and boredom that Lieutenant Stanislav Petrosian snuck a floppy disk into the heart of. More

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