Oh Captain My Captain

I've c** all over the idea that Captain D*** Stiffy has developed a really big ego over time. Why? Because he's developed this seemingly unquenchable need for constant stroking, repeated petting and seemingly non-stop milking to o*****...almost to the point where it seems almost more like an addiction, but I took an oath to never speak my mind or say anything of the sort to The Captain.

Talk about classic textbook denial...Captain D*** Stiffy is in denial in order to somehow rationalize and justify his insatiable desire to be masturbated by me, and I'm in denial simply to cope with the constant pressure of the demand placed on me to "vigorously and purposefully" carry out the duty of jerking him off...24/7...365.

So much attention does The Captain require, that an arguably questionable "fraudulent-through-favors" standing Executive Order-Prestige Level was created, rubber stamped, pushed through The System and hastily approved. This standing order calls for "the execution of a full shaft work-out regimen", up to and including the complete preparation of The Captain to e********. This is accomplished by stroking and rubbing the entire length of the c***, from the top of the head to the bottom of the shaft and back up to the top of the head again increasingly quickly, until it's rendered "telephone pole stiff" and starts "twitching and quivering while The Captain is shivering".

Isn't it ironic how poetic the words sound when commands like this are created by The System?

I am then ordered to initiate firmly milking it by jerking on the lower ridge of the increasingly sensitive head until it turns a darker purple and becomes shiny and swollen...all the while tugging and pulling The Captain's sack o' b**** away from the pole-stiff c*** to the gradual point of a knee-buckling and mind-blowing ejaculatory release.

Because of my years of practical field experience leading up to this, combined with the resulting honed expertise, this special dossier has been assigned to me, and I have taken a sworn oath of duty to "honor, defend and uphold" this initiative and treat it as my sole "prime directive" for the foreseeable future.

Whenever I start questioning my mission and wonder if I'm doing the right thing, I think about and remember all the scalding hot c** swimming in and around those engorged, low-hangin' b**** that has to be milked out almost every day. It's something Capt. D*** Stiffy and I have come to accept as our mutual roles in this singular duty because, well, besides it being such a thankless yet erotically appealing job, it feels SO f*****' good to throw my spread legs apart wide in the air and bent at the knees, with the Captain's head being pushed down, pointing toward the floor, and extracting as much of that hot load built up in Captain D*** Stiffy's throbbing achy b**** through the board-stiff shaft as possible. That's the "great reward" of this seemingly mundane daily chore...watching that load of c** burst out of the swollen purple head of that really stiff c***.

In the end, it feels good to be making that big of a difference in someone's life.

Well, I have to stop here and go now because The Captain is calling on me for yet another complete "treatment", so there is indeed no rest for the weary. More than likely, it'll end being another really long night satisfying Captain D*** Stiffy's needs.

It's my duty,,,and my pleasure.

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