A NORWEGIAN ARMY PROBLEM.
by Andy McDonald.
I recently read in the paper that the Norwegian Army is having trouble
with its soldiers. Do you like soldiers? Big, hunky, blond,
blue-eyed, country-boy soldiers, with short cropped hair, deep chests
and muscular buns? Sorry, they're not all like that 'cos some are
slight, pretty, blond, blue-eyed, delicate-featured soldiers with
short cropped hair, slight frames and small tight buns. One thing's
sure though, those Nordics all have beautiful bodies and stunning good
looks and they certainly have a lot of time for fun and games in those
long nordic winter nights and don't do too badly in the long sunny days.
The Norwegian Army soldiers' problem is that they are not issued with a
sufficient supply of underwear! Only two pairs each, still I suppose
that's better than one pair between two.
"Whu wants tu puut on dirty briefs after taking a showerr?" asked one
young beauty.
Incidentally this Norwegian Saga reminded me of a similar item of world
news which I read after the Falklands - that in future all our sailors
would have to wear natural fibre underwear. No more nylons, my lads,
it melts. So all that mighty matalot meat would now be bound in barest
briefs of softest cotton and saucy seamens' sex secured in basic boxer
shorts - who knows - perhaps of silk! But that must be good if you
think of all that natural material worn under bell-bottoms soaking up
the sweaty exertions of deck-scrubbing by keen young lads. (Just
checking that I spelt seamen right).
But I digress, my main concern is that of the Norwegians' shortage of
skivvies and are the Quartermaster's issue underwear good enough?
Who decides? Are trials undertaken?
The armed services equipment is, I understand, designed and purchased
by the Procurement people; oh what a picture that conjures up - do they
procure the soldiers too? I began to imagine being sent for by the
Norwegian General:
"Please carry out field trials to establish a specification for briefs
for our privates", he said, "You are to report to the barracks at Bergen
where the 33rd Infantry Regiment has detailed a Section of soldiers to
act as trialists."
So off the barracks in the country well outside Bergen I go and meet
"my" Section; the Corporal is a great giant of a man, thick moustache
and obviously the Master of the men. The nine Privates are all dishy,
a mixture of butch and beauty but all seemed pleasant and cooperative.
As I walked into the barrack room I smelt that sweet, musky, sweaty
smell that so often goes with a lot of males living in a small area;
they looked at me with interest, waiting to see what they were in for.
"The lads have just come in from a session of unarmed combat", explained
the Corporal,"they're all a bit hot and sweaty."
"Yes, well there's not much time been alloted to these trials so we'll
have to get down to the bare facts right away," I replied, "get the
lads lined up so I can have a look at what they've got."
"Right lads, let's have you," ordered Corporal Lars. Oh yes, I
thought, I'd love to have most of you.
They were a well disciplined lot and lined up right away. I walked
down the line, nine beauties, nine pairs of eyes followed me down the
line as I took an appreciative glance over them; then round behind - and
yes, round behinds was the order of the day - nine beautiful bums
outlined by taught, well-worn denim camouflage fatiques.
"Right lads, drop 'em", I ordered, "I have to see how many of
you wear regulation underwear and if not, what you are wearing."
Eight pairs of combat trousers slid down; one young lad, Kjell Olafson
on his name tag, stood there his face crimson and made no move.
"Come on, lad" I said "what's there to be shy about, you're all billeted
in here and surely you've all undressed to go to bed?"
The others sniggered and a few quick glances shot between them. The
Corporal walked up to Kjell and with a few deft movements, undid his
belt, unzipped his flies, dropped his trousers and flipped up his
shirt. Then we could all see why he had been so reluctant - his
narrow waist supportd a pair of satin panties! More glances were
exchanged between the lads as Kjell grabbed up his pants. But he was
not the only one to be embarassed for several of the boys wore garments
which had not seen a laundry for quite a time. No wonder I'd breathed
in that male scent, there were at least two cases where these lusty lads
had creamed their briefs and several others had obviously been through
some moments of sexy thoughts if not more amorous activity as smears of
pre-cum could be seen.
There was another surprise standing next to Kjell, Tor said its label,
who wore no briefs at all and what was more, he was a cheeky bugger
because he made no attempt to hide his growing excitement caused by the
revelation of his neighbour's choice of undergarment.
"Look at the state of you", bellowed the Corporal, then to me "Sorry
about the state of them briefs but they only get issued with two pairs
and the laundry takes two weeks."
Once again I strolled down the line taking notes of what each soldier
wore; regulation khaki boxers, cotton briefs, white Y-fronts, a very
cheeky wet-look bikini in bright red (a cheerful, snub-nosed crew cut
lad this), a posing pouch which was just managing to restrain some
obviously useful equipment and, of course, our friend Tor, the private
with the slowly lengthening private part.
"Shirts and tee-shirts off, lads", I ordered and now revelled in the
sight of the nine slim bodies clad only in their pants, socks and boots
with their trousres concertinared around their ankles.
Round to the back of the line again and I asked them to re-hoist there
trousers which of course meant that they had to bend over; yes, my
research was going to be a pleasure and of great benefit to the
Norwegian armed forces. Upright again and they stood loosely, one or
two legs flexing and one cheeky pair of buns wriggling slightly.
One thing that surprised me was that I noticed that several of the
soldiers had obvious love bites on their necks and I knew that these
were new recruits, not allowed out of camp for their first few weeks of
training; did those glances that I'd seen between them mean what I
thought they meant?
"Alright Corporal, they can fall out now and relax, I'll want to have a
talk to each one of them individually."
They moved off to their beds, laughing and joking amongst themselves and
I saw young Kjell give an embarassed look at Corporal Lars who grinned
back at him in a rather special way.
To be continued unless anyone would like
to have a go at some of the individual
interviews - or what happens after sunset
when the lads talk about their priviledge
at being selected for such personal research!
A NORWEGIAN ARMY PROBLEM.
by Andy McDonald.
I recently read in the paper that the Norwegian Army is having trouble
with its soldiers. Do you like soldiers? Big, hunky, blond,
blue-eyed, country-boy soldiers, with short cropped hair, deep chests
and muscular buns? Sorry, they're not all like that 'cos some are
slight, pretty, blond, blue-eyed, delicate-featured soldiers with
short cropped hair, slight frames and small tight buns. One thing's
sure though, those Nordics all have beautiful bodies and stunning good
looks and they certainly have a lot of time for fun and games in those
long nordic winter nights and don't do too badly in the long sunny days.
The Norwegian Army soldiers' problem is that they are not issued with a
sufficient supply of underwear! Only two pairs each, still I suppose
that's better than one pair between two.
"Whu wants tu puut on dirty briefs after taking a showerr?" asked one
young beauty.
Incidentally this Norwegian Saga reminded me of a similar item of world
news which I read after the Falklands - that in future all our sailors
would have to wear natural fibre underwear. No more nylons, my lads,
it melts. So all that mighty matalot meat would now be bound in barest
briefs of softest cotton and saucy seamens' sex secured in basic boxer
shorts - who knows - perhaps of silk! But that must be good if you
think of all that natural material worn under bell-bottoms soaking up
the sweaty exertions of deck-scrubbing by keen young lads. (Just
checking that I spelt seamen right).
But I digress, my main concern is that of the Norwegians' shortage of
skivvies and are the Quartermaster's issue underwear good enough?
Who decides? Are trials undertaken?
The armed services equipment is, I understand, designed and purchased
by the Procurement people; oh what a picture that conjures up - do they
procure the soldiers too? I began to imagine being sent for by the
Norwegian General:
"Please carry out field trials to establish a specification for briefs
for our privates", he said, "You are to report to the barracks at Bergen
where the 33rd Infantry Regiment has detailed a Section of soldiers to
act as trialists."
So off the barracks in the country well outside Bergen I go and meet
"my" Section; the Corporal is a great giant of a man, thick moustache
and obviously the Master of the men. The nine Privates are all dishy,
a mixture of butch and beauty but all seemed pleasant and cooperative.
As I walked into the barrack room I smelt that sweet, musky, sweaty
smell that so often goes with a lot of males living in a small area;
they looked at me with interest, waiting to see what they were in for.
"The lads have just come in from a session of unarmed combat", explained
the Corporal,"they're all a bit hot and sweaty."
"Yes, well there's not much time been alloted to these trials so we'll
have to get down to the bare facts right away," I replied, "get the
lads lined up so I can have a look at what they've got."
"Right lads, let's have you," ordered Corporal Lars. Oh yes, I
thought, I'd love to have most of you.
They were a well disciplined lot and lined up right away. I walked
down the line, nine beauties, nine pairs of eyes followed me down the
line as I took an appreciative glance over them; then round behind - and
yes, round behinds was the order of the day - nine beautiful bums
outlined by taught, well-worn denim camouflage fatiques.
"Right lads, drop 'em", I ordered, "I have to see how many of
you wear regulation underwear and if not, what you are wearing."
Eight pairs of combat trousers slid down; one young lad, Kjell Olafson
on his name tag, stood there his face crimson and made no move.
"Come on, lad" I said "what's there to be shy about, you're all billeted
in here and surely you've all undressed to go to bed?"
The others sniggered and a few quick glances shot between them. The
Corporal walked up to Kjell and with a few deft movements, undid his
belt, unzipped his flies, dropped his trousers and flipped up his
shirt. Then we could all see why he had been so reluctant - his
narrow waist supportd a pair of satin panties! More glances were
exchanged between the lads as Kjell grabbed up his pants. But he was
not the only one to be embarassed for several of the boys wore garments
which had not seen a laundry for quite a time. No wonder I'd breathed
in that male scent, there were at least two cases where these lusty lads
had creamed their briefs and several others had obviously been through
some moments of sexy thoughts if not more amorous activity as smears of
pre-cum could be seen.
There was another surprise standing next to Kjell, Tor said its label,
who wore no y-fronts at all and what was more, he was a cheeky bugger
because he made no attempt to hide his growing excitement caused by the
revelation of his neighbour's choice of undergarment.
"Look at the state of you", bellowed the Corporal, then to me "Sorry
about the state of them briefs but they only get issued with two pairs
and the laundry takes two weeks."
Once again I strolled down the line taking notes of what each soldier
wore; regulation khaki boxers, cotton briefs, white Y-fronts, a very
cheeky wet-look bikini in bright red (a cheerful, snub-nosed crew cut
lad this), a posing pouch which was just managing to restrain some
obviously useful equipment and, of course, our friend Tor, the private
with the slowly lengthening private part.
"Shirts and tee-shirts off, lads", I ordered and now revelled in the
sight of the nine slim bodies clad only in their pants, socks and boots
with their trousres concertinared around their ankles.
Round to the back of the line again and I asked them to re-hoist there
trousers which of course meant that they had to bend over; yes, my
research was going to be a pleasure and of great benefit to the
Norwegian armed forces. Upright again and they stood loosely, one or
two legs flexing and one cheeky pair of buns wriggling slightly.
One thing that surprised me was that I noticed that several of the
soldiers had obvious love bites on their necks and I knew that these
were new recruits, not allowed out of camp for their first few weeks of
training; did those glances that I'd seen between them mean what I
thought they meant?
"Alright Corporal, they can fall out now and relax, I'll want to have a
talk to each one of them individually."
They moved off to their beds, laughing and joking amongst themselves and
I saw young Kjell give an embarassed look at Corporal Lars who grinned
back at him in a rather special way.
To be continued unless anyone would like
to have a go at some of the individual
interviews - or what happens after sunset
when the lads talk about their priviledge
at being selected for such personal research!