- Joined
- Mar 21, 2024
Chapter One...
Being a woman on Diego Garcia, a small island in the Indian Ocean that over time has become an important U.S. military base, meant that finding a man wasn't difficult. It was finding privacy that was hard. Much harder because I was an enlisted Naval Petty Officer, 2nd Class (E-5) and the man whose mouth and tongue was exploring my pussy was an officer.
My way of unwinding after a mission started and ended with a bottle of bourbon and a cock. In the months I've been stationed here. Brad has become a regular booty call. I brought the bourbon and Brad brought the cock. My God, Brad really knew how to eat my pussy and the size of his cock... Don't get me started!
Tonight, we'd met on our usual secluded section of beach. We were as far away as we could possibly get from the buildings and the lights on the small island. On our blanket, hidden by low sand dunes and the darkness of the night, privacy was the last thing on my mind as I pulled Brad's mouth tighter to my slit and screamed my orgasm into the night.
My eyes were squeezed shut. My hands were clenched in tight fists. My mouth was open as I gasped for breath while my clit was simultaneously licked and sucked on. My stomach muscles were tight, pulling my shoulders up from the blanket. My trembling thighs trapped Brad's head between them as my hips twerked fast, rubbing the wetness of my pussy across Brad's face.
My orgasm receded and returned like waves crashing on a shore. Crests and valleys of pleasure as Brad's mouth sucked harder on my clit while fingerfucking me deep. I was still lost in an orgasmic mind fog when his mouth pulled away and a second later, I felt the tip of a cock slide through my slit. I felt a hand between us, guiding his tip. I moaned as the tip dipped briefly into my pussy then cried out softly as it moved to slide over my overly sensitive clit. I moaned as I felt the delicious feeling of being entered. My moan changed, becoming low and throaty as I was stretched and filled by a large cock slowly pushing deeper and deeper inside me until the hard flesh of Brad's groin ground against the softness of my labia.
I spread my legs wider. I put my hands on Brad's muscular back and breathed soft words of welcome and how good he was making me feel. We began satisfying each other slowly under the stars. I smelled the scent of my pussy on the lips kissing me. Lips moving to linger on my sensitive neck. A heavy body that seemed as light as a warm blanket moving on top of me. Soft, hot breath on my breasts as my nipples were sucked to hardness. My hands pressing his face into my large, soft breast... And always there was the delicious slide of a thick cock stretching my pussy as it moved inside me.
A soft breeze dried our sweat while carrying away the sighs, moans and cries of our sex. But Brad needed more than slow, gentle strokes to cum. I opened my eyes to stare into his as he rose up on stiff arms to thrust into me harder and faster. Black skin blended with the night sky, but his cock was easy to see against the pale skin of my thighs when I looked between my breasts.
Even as Brad fucked me faster, I begged and demanded for him to slam his cock into me harder! Faster! Brad responded, hips moving frantically slamming his large cock into me. Pounding strokes moved me up the blanket a little at a time as my slighter, softer body absorbed his hardness.
'Do it... Do it, do it, do it... Oh, my God! Come in me... Come in me!' Where once I'd screamed in orgasm, all I could manage now were soft squeaks from tense stomach muscles straining to draw breaths between the pounding... The intensity of Brad's assault between my legs increased and stretched in time until, with a groan he pressed hard between my legs. His cock stilled except for the pulsations I felt as, deep inside my pussy, I was filled with cum. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and groaned how good it had all felt, how good his cock felt inside me as he filled me with his cum.
"Fuck... Me....." I groaned as Brad lowered himself to cover me, his cock still inside me, our sweat mingling, "Now I know what they mean about, 'Once you go Black, you don't go back."
"You say that every time we fuck," Brad's body shook on top of me as he laughed into my neck. "I like a little white meat now and then, too."
"And you say that," I sighed in the satisfaction I felt.
We both laughed in easy camaraderie. Brad didn't know that I'd lied when I'd told him he was the first Black man to fuck me. It made him feel special to think he was the first and had seemed to get his engine running hotter. He'd told me that I was his first 'White chick.' Who knows? Maybe he'd lied too. I felt way too good to care right now!
Afterwards, Brad moved off me. Sitting beside me to watch as I stretched stiff thigh muscles. Mmm, it felt so good to stretch out my tall body like a satisfied cat filled with a different kind of cream. I felt the familiar languid, boneless contentment of good sex and a wonderful orgasm settle over me. Brad lit a cigarette, but I refused when offered one. I'd stopped smoking as soon as I started training with SF teams. Thank God, I had! It helped having clean lungs when climbing Afghan mountains or running for extraction helicopters.
I sat up facing Brad and folded my legs under me. We passed the bottle between us while Brad smoked and ruined his lungs with two cigarettes. The usual bitch session followed. I couldn't talk much about my duty. Brad knew that although I was assigned to the Logistic Division, I didn't go around counting the number of toilet paper rolls the base needed. He never asked why I spent so many hours with the SF team pulling their tour. Instead, he did most of the bitching. Particularly about one particular superior officer making his life difficult.
"Yea, fucking officers. Think their shit don't stink, I grumbled then laughed. "Oh wait, should I have asked for permission to speak freely, Lieutenant."
The bourbon burned its way to my stomach and spread its warmth through my body. I wasn't as drunk as I wanted to be yet, but I was well on my way. When Brad flicked the butt away, we skinny dipped and indulged in grab-ass silliness. We hugged and kissed in the warm, gentle surf before I went to my knees and began licking and sucking the taste of sea salt from his soft cock until it began showing signs of life.
When we returned to our secluded blanket, more bourbon was passed between us. Then the bottle disappeared as Brad pushed me onto my back. Lying beside me, I was kissed while his hand moved, molding my tits before sliding down my flat stomach to finger my pussy. But this time my aggressive personality wasn't satisfied with being a passive bottom. Instead, as we kissed, I slowly rose and maneuvered Brad onto his back.
After trailing kisses down his dark stomach, this time I didn't stop sucking until the cock in my mouth was fully hard and ready for me to use. Throwing my leg over Brad's thighs, I grasped his hard shaft in my hand and guided it between the folds of my pussy. Brad rose up onto his elbows to watch as I began using his cock tip as my private, fleshy dildo. Closing my eyes, raising up and lowering myself down... Letting cock dip into my vaginal opening... Circling my clit with the soft bulb... Wetting the shaft with pussy juice as I rubbed my clit along the long length... Leaning over, I slowly trailed my dangling tits across the dark face below me. Smiling and laughing as his mouth tried to capture my nipples. I let him try and sometimes succeed in sucking on my tits for a brief time before I'd pull them away.
Soon my pussy wanted more than my teasing and playing with Brad. I rose up onto my knees. Sand shifted under the blanket as I let my thighs open. My breath caught as I lowered my hips and let the tip slip deeper. I released Brad's thick shaft once the tip was securely inside me. I closed my eyes as I slowly twerked as I impaled myself. I stilled my hips once my pussy had enveloped all of his cock inside it's wet grasp.
"Move some more like that, Babe," Brad said when I leaned over to grab the bourbon bottle. I tipped the bottle to fill Brad's mouth before taking a healthy pull from the neck. Twerking while sipping and sharing with Brad, I finally put the bottle aside. My head was spinning as I rested my hands on Brad's chest for balance as I began to ride cock like I once rode a mechanical bull at a bar in Tulsa. Riding Brad's cock was giving me the same tingle the bull had given me. Instead of Brad fucking me, I was fucking him.
"I'm fucking drunk," I yelled to the stars.
"Yea, we are," Brad laughed.
Brad let me control our mating dance for several minutes before his hands on my hips lifted me from his cock. He twisted and pulled until I was on my hands and knees. I waited patiently, looking over my shoulder to watch him as he stopped just before mounting me to take another drink. Bastard didn't offer me a drink, though! Nah, the bastard set the bottle down and just shoved his cock into me!
While our first sex had started out gentle and soft, our sex this time was rough and animalistic from start to finish. Brad rode me fast and fucked me hard. I was loving every meaty sound of my ass cheeks being smashed into. His large cock was making me want to growl like the animal I was being fucked like. Hands reached to capture my large, swinging tits. Strong fingers pressed deep into my soft flesh until I whimpered in pain. My nipples were pinched and pulled on until they hurt.
Pain and pleasure melded together for several minutes. I was drunk screaming for more of both as my gut muscles began clenching. I was approaching the precipitous crest of another orgasm. My brain started swimming and the world started spinning out of control. The orgasm I'd felt approaching faded in a drunken haze. I lowered my head to the blanket and closed my eyes to stop my eyes from trying to focus on things that were sinning, I mean spinning, out of control.
I felt fingers interlace in my long hair. My head was pulled up and up until my back bent. Brad kept me like that, using my hair to control me like a rider uses a bridle to control a horse. I laughed at a private joke because I'd switched roles. I was the mechanical bull now and Brad was the rider.
Because he'd come only a short time before, Brad lasted longer this time. He continued to ride me until my hair was released suddenly. Hands pulled on my hips, pressing my pussy hard to his groin. Brad moaned as he pushed deep and held himself still as I was filled again with more cum.
This time when I stretched out on our blanket, Brad laid on top of my back while both of us gasped for breath. Our bodies were slick with sweat from fucking in the warm, humid night. We had neither the will nor the energy to move. His cock remained inside me until it softened and slid from my pussy. This time we didn't run into the surf. We drunk staggered to the sea and collapsed. We laugh at how drunk the other was. Rinsed of cum and sweat, we staggered back to our blanket. We collapsed back onto the blanket, gasping and laughing and agreeing that we may have drank just a little too much.
I'm always horny after returning from a mission, but I didn't think more was going to happen tonight. We were drunk and it was late. We both knew that Brad had to be on duty in a few hours. Brad dug out a shallow hole and buried the almost empty bottle.
"Save it for next time," he said seriously as if we'd be able to find this exact spot again. Though we kissed and hugged for a short time, it was more for a feeling of connection than a prelude for more sex.
The gentle sea breeze had dried me enough by now for me to put on my BDUs. I began stumbling alone to the female BEQ (Basic Enlisted Quarters) where my room was. Brad would wait while smoking another cigarette to give me time to disappear before making his way to the BOQ. (Basic Officer Quarters) I walked slowly as my head cleared enough that at least the world around me was no longer spinning.
I turned to wave to Brad before losing sight of him. I didn't feel guilty for fucking a married man. Neither of us fucked out of any romantic attachment. He fucked me for my slender body and beauty and because I was one of the few women on the island. I fucked him because of his large cock. We both got what we wanted. No, what I felt as I walked away wasn't passion but satisfaction from both the sex and that we'd successfully skirted our way around regulations prohibiting officers and enlisted from the activity we'd just participated in. Twice...
The regs were in place for a good reason. It kept officers from using their rank to pressure reluctant enlisted women for sex. Luckily for the men in my life I was rarely reluctant and didn't need to be pressured to have sex. Satisfying my need to relax after a mission with good sex was just what I did. I felt very relaxed as I entered the female BEQ.
My relaxed state of mind was shattered as soon as I opened the door saw the Chief Petty Officer in charge of the female BEQ sitting behind the Duty Desk, frowning in displeasure.
"Hey, Chief," I giggled and waved at her.
"About time you showed up, Ellis... And you're drunk, of course."
Chief Williams didn't like me. She seemed to resent that I was younger than her, taller than her and pretty enough that men turned to give me a second look when I walked by. Another reason for resentment on her part was because I seemed to do nothing. Though I was assigned to the Logistics Office, I pulled no duty on the island that she could identify. It irked her strict, regulation bound mind that she couldn't figure out why the fuck I was even on the island. It really bent her nose out of position when after she'd tried to find out, a Commander with SEAL insignia on his BDUs had 'politely' suggested she stop asking questions.
So I slept late, pulled no duty and disappeared at odd times. My only other activities she could identify seemed to be exercising, jogging, and shooting with whichever Tier One team was on the island. Oh, and inviting enlisted men into my room for loud and enthusiastic sex. She made me pay for my 'wanton behavior' (Her words, not mine.) during her weekly room inspections though. My bed was never made up properly. The corners never 'military enough'. My carpet was never clean enough. My furniture was never dusted enough. I'd have to clean everything again until she'd grudgingly admit my room had passed inspection. Several times I'd been right on the very edge of telling her that loud and enthusiastic sex would improve her mood but antagonizing a Chief Petty Officer isn't a good move if you just want a quiet existence in the Navy.
"Only a little drunk, Chief," I replied as soberly as I could. "I just need to lie down."
"Too fucking bad, Ellis! I was ordered to wait to make sure you received your new orders and to inform you to get your shit together. You're out'a here," she told me with satisfaction as she handed me a sheaf of papers.
When I tried to read the pages in my hand, I lost my balance and had to lean against a bulkhead to steady myself. Finally, the words began to appear. WTF? With quick access to Southeast Asia, the Middle East and Eastern Africa I pulled duty here more often than most. My duty tour on Diego Garcia was slated to last a year this time. I'd been here only eight months and now I was being ordered to make my way ASAP to... Fort Hood? Texas? What the fucking fuck was at Fort Hood?
"You're ordered to be on the next MAC (Military Airlift Command) flight out. That's at 0500. I've been ordered to make certain your drunken ass is on that plane. There's a number to call if you have questions."
I didn't have time to waste asking questions. Fuck! I barely had four hours to sober up enough to pack eight months of collected shit and make my way to the MAC office! I made it just in time to be rushed into the cavernous hold of a C-17A.
**********
Because there are many high-ranking officers regularly needing transportation between Hawaii and San Diego, someone had thoughtfully added a pallet with two rows of seats which could have replace any seat in the Business Section of a Boeing 777. They looked very small and out of place in the forward section of the cavernous cargo hold of the latest model C-17A. My head was pounding as I dragged my weary ass up the ramp to board.
I thought I was in Heaven as I sat in the first comfortable seat since leaving Diego Garcia. Garcia to the Philippines to Guam to Hawaii had consisted of hours that could only be described as torture. I was hungover and sitting on hard plastic seats to board the next MAC flight where I sat for more hours on equally uncomfortable seats. Aspirin, gallons of water and throwing up on every plane I rode in had gotten me to Hawaii. My ass had fallen asleep somewhere between the Philippines and Guam and still hadn't woken up.
My numb ass was the only part of me that wasn't hurting.
Once we lifted off from Hawaii and leveled out of our climb, the background noise inside the cavernous hold of the C-17 became a constant and lulling drone. The noise of the engines and the gentle vibrations of the plane, all of these rocked me to sleep in my first comfortable chair in over 40-hours.
It was the bump and screech of wheels meeting the tarmac and the change in the whine of the engines which woke me up. To my chagrin I woke to find myself slumped against the passenger beside me, my head resting on his shoulder. A fellow traveler in BDUs which sported the collar insignias of a Navy Captain. I straightened up quickly and blushed at seeing the wet spot on his BDUs where I'd drooled.
"Captain, I so sorry! I..."
"Relax, Petty Officer..." He laughed and leaned forwards to read the name plate on my Dress Blues. "...Ellis. Being a pillow for you is the most productive service I've provided to the Navy in months. You looked exhausted when you boarded. Traveled a long way?"
"Yes, Sir. Diego Garcia. Someone apparently wants me in Texas ASAP."
The C-17A came to a stop and after the loadmaster gave us permission to leave our seats, I tried to arrange my Dress Blues to make me look more presentable, but it was a losing battle after over 40-hours of flying military cargo planes. Though I thought the neckerchief looked sporty and the wool never showed wrinkles as much as my Dress Whites, I knew the iconic Dress Blue 'Crackerjacks' were showing all the miles I'd put on them. I settled my duffle bag on my back and was lifting two backpacks to put one on each shoulder when the captain reached over to take one of them. His eyes widened in surprise at the weight and the faint scent of gun oil.
"Why do I believe there's more than clothing in here, Petty Officer Ellis?"
"Because you're very perceptive, Captain. Let's just say that what's in the bag is one of the reasons I can't fly commercial," I answered with a smile as I lifted a long, metal case that was heavier than the bookbag.
"And that," he asked, looking at the case.
"This," I raised the heavy case slightly, laughed and answered in a light tone. "This would make TSA shoot me on sight, Sir,"
In the MAC office I was praying to the Universe that there wouldn't be a flight to Texas until the next day and preferably not for two or three days. I really needed a shower and a long night in a soft bunk. The Captain and I continued to exchange small talk as we made arrangements for the next legs of our respective journeys.
"We're not in the same command, Petty Officer Ellis," the captain said. "Would I be out of line in asking you to have dinner with an old codger like me if we both have layovers here? My treat. No expectations other than the pleasure of not eating alone while having polite conversation."
My appetite had finally returned while I was asleep and I was in need of food.
"Not at all, Sir. As long as we're in civilian clothes and I don't have to say Sir all night," I said, then changed my voice to a softer, breathy tone and slower cadence. "I've always depended upon the kindness of strangers."
"You know your movies," he chuckled.
"In my opinion I don't think the actress got the Southern accent quite right and for some reason most people wrongfully attribute the quote to Mae West. This wasn't hers but she had so many other memorable ones."
"Oh? And do you have a favorite?"
I lounged against the office counter, put my hand on my hip and looked the captain up-and-down with frank and appraising eyes before trying to answer in the cadence and accent of Mae West's nasal, Brooklyn voice.
"Well, when I'm caught between two evils... I generally like to take the one I've never tried."
That caused everyone who caught my performance to laugh. Unfortunately, Air Force Sergeant Peters was still grinning when he handed me a boarding pass for a twin-engine plane due to leave in half-an-hour.
"Sorry, Captain," I said, straightening up and returning to military decorum. "Looks like we're just two ships passing in the night."
"It was a pleasure, Petty Officer Ellis," he replied, extending his hand for me to shake.
"Look me up if you ever need another shoulder as a pillow."
"Fair winds, Sir."
"And following seas, Ellis."
**********
The pilot said I was lucky to have made the flight.
"You might have had to wait another day or two for another plane going to Fort Hood, Ellis," the pilot shouted over his shoulder. "We're headed for the Gulf Coast to be used for search and rescue. We were going to have a layover at Camp Hood anyway."
Luck? 'Yea, bad luck!', I thought as we took off. For most of the trip the DHC-6 Twin Otter twisted, rolled and performed like a rollercoaster in the air currents of the unstable weather front we were flying in. Up-and-down, back-and-forth... I made the crew laugh when the pilot looked over his shoulder, shouting to ask how I was doing.
"I'm not getting airsick yet, but the only time I enjoy getting bounced around like this is during great sex, Sir," I shouted back, holding onto my seat as the plane dropped out from under me before beginning to climb upwards again.
"You're alright, Ellis! I like a sense of humor," he shouted back as everyone laughed.
A few hours later I was back on stable ground stumbling a crooked course under the weight of my gear through rain and puddles as I regained my land legs. My rain gear was, of course! packed on the bottom of my duffle bag. I was looking forward to checking into a hotel and reporting tomorrow but...
"Petty Office Ellis," a Ranger sergeant asked as soon as I entered the MAC office. When I nodded, he looked at the disreputable state of my uniform and my sad, tired puppy-dog eyes and apologized. "I'm sorry, Ellis. I really am, but Colonel Brigham sent me to bring you to him as soon as you landed. I have no idea what's going on but apparently something is time sensitive."
"Not your fault a colonel has his panties twisted in a knot, Samuels," I sighed in resignation as he helped me carry the heavy backpacks to the Humvee parked outside.
"Pistols," he asked, sniffing the fragrance of gun oil and doing easy arm curls with the bags. I nodded and he looked at the case I was carefully strapping in across the backseat where it shouldn't bounce too much. "And a long rifle. There are no female SEALS and you're not Marine Recon... So, what are you, Ellis?"
"I'm in Logistics," I replied, pointing to the crossed keys on my arm patch. "I count paperclips wherever I'm sent."
"I bet you've been sent to count paperclips in some interesting places," Samuels grinned.
"A few. Wherever you need paperclips counted, you'll find me."
Samuels dropped the questions he knew I wouldn't answer. When I got out a short time later in front of a building, he objected when I began unstrapping the case from the backseat.
"You can leave everything in the Humvee, Ellis. I'm to drive you to the female BEQ when your meeting with Colonel Brigham is over."
"I don't like to leave this out of my sight unless it's locked in a secure place."
Minutes later I was leaning the case against the wall of Colonel Brigham's office. Marching to exactly two paces of his desk, I came to attention.
"Petty Officer Ellis reporting as ordered, Sir!"
After having me stand at attention while he noted my disreputable uniform and tired appearance, I was told to stand at ease.
"Long trip?"
"If by long you mean from the middle of the Indian Ocean to your office on connecting MAC flights in two days? Then yes, Sir, it's been a long trip."
"I'd say sorry, but I'd be lying. A naval officer I have a lot of respect for told me that you are the one, the only one, who can help my Rangers on their next deployment," the colonel said as he rose and picked up a rolled up, laminated map from his desk. Unrolling it, he laid it across his desk. "Let's see if he's correct. Can you tell me what this is?"
It was on the tip of my tongue to say, 'I believe it's a map, Sir.' But something told me this wasn't a colonel who appreciated flippancy. I walked closer to the edge of the desk and focused tired eyes on what was obviously a high-resolution photo of a geographical area taken from above. From far above was my guess.
"It's a satellite photo of the area surrounding a walled compound with a large building inside the perimeter of the wall, Sir."
"Yes. Yes," Colonel said impatiently. "Anyone can tell me that, but can you tell me where this compound is?"
When I hesitated...
"Petty Officer Ellis, if I ask you a question you can be assured that I'm cleared to hear your answer."
"Yes, Sir," I replied. I took a breath and began pointing out features. "This is an old site. There used to be a small lake here between the wall and the side of this ridge. Back in the time of Marco Polo it was a stopover on the Silk Road. The lake is gone now. There's still a trickle of water from a pipe hammered into the side of the ridge so instead of a small lake there's a tiny pool of water. Still, it's the only source of water for miles around.
"This compound is in northern Afghanistan and right about here," I traced a line with my finger a few miles north of the compound. "Right about here, is the boundary between Afghanistan and Tajikistan."
"And you know this how, Petty Officer Ellis?"
"Because I've researched the area and because I was there a few months ago, Colonel."
Being a woman on Diego Garcia, a small island in the Indian Ocean that over time has become an important U.S. military base, meant that finding a man wasn't difficult. It was finding privacy that was hard. Much harder because I was an enlisted Naval Petty Officer, 2nd Class (E-5) and the man whose mouth and tongue was exploring my pussy was an officer.
My way of unwinding after a mission started and ended with a bottle of bourbon and a cock. In the months I've been stationed here. Brad has become a regular booty call. I brought the bourbon and Brad brought the cock. My God, Brad really knew how to eat my pussy and the size of his cock... Don't get me started!
Tonight, we'd met on our usual secluded section of beach. We were as far away as we could possibly get from the buildings and the lights on the small island. On our blanket, hidden by low sand dunes and the darkness of the night, privacy was the last thing on my mind as I pulled Brad's mouth tighter to my slit and screamed my orgasm into the night.
My eyes were squeezed shut. My hands were clenched in tight fists. My mouth was open as I gasped for breath while my clit was simultaneously licked and sucked on. My stomach muscles were tight, pulling my shoulders up from the blanket. My trembling thighs trapped Brad's head between them as my hips twerked fast, rubbing the wetness of my pussy across Brad's face.
My orgasm receded and returned like waves crashing on a shore. Crests and valleys of pleasure as Brad's mouth sucked harder on my clit while fingerfucking me deep. I was still lost in an orgasmic mind fog when his mouth pulled away and a second later, I felt the tip of a cock slide through my slit. I felt a hand between us, guiding his tip. I moaned as the tip dipped briefly into my pussy then cried out softly as it moved to slide over my overly sensitive clit. I moaned as I felt the delicious feeling of being entered. My moan changed, becoming low and throaty as I was stretched and filled by a large cock slowly pushing deeper and deeper inside me until the hard flesh of Brad's groin ground against the softness of my labia.
I spread my legs wider. I put my hands on Brad's muscular back and breathed soft words of welcome and how good he was making me feel. We began satisfying each other slowly under the stars. I smelled the scent of my pussy on the lips kissing me. Lips moving to linger on my sensitive neck. A heavy body that seemed as light as a warm blanket moving on top of me. Soft, hot breath on my breasts as my nipples were sucked to hardness. My hands pressing his face into my large, soft breast... And always there was the delicious slide of a thick cock stretching my pussy as it moved inside me.
A soft breeze dried our sweat while carrying away the sighs, moans and cries of our sex. But Brad needed more than slow, gentle strokes to cum. I opened my eyes to stare into his as he rose up on stiff arms to thrust into me harder and faster. Black skin blended with the night sky, but his cock was easy to see against the pale skin of my thighs when I looked between my breasts.
Even as Brad fucked me faster, I begged and demanded for him to slam his cock into me harder! Faster! Brad responded, hips moving frantically slamming his large cock into me. Pounding strokes moved me up the blanket a little at a time as my slighter, softer body absorbed his hardness.
'Do it... Do it, do it, do it... Oh, my God! Come in me... Come in me!' Where once I'd screamed in orgasm, all I could manage now were soft squeaks from tense stomach muscles straining to draw breaths between the pounding... The intensity of Brad's assault between my legs increased and stretched in time until, with a groan he pressed hard between my legs. His cock stilled except for the pulsations I felt as, deep inside my pussy, I was filled with cum. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and groaned how good it had all felt, how good his cock felt inside me as he filled me with his cum.
"Fuck... Me....." I groaned as Brad lowered himself to cover me, his cock still inside me, our sweat mingling, "Now I know what they mean about, 'Once you go Black, you don't go back."
"You say that every time we fuck," Brad's body shook on top of me as he laughed into my neck. "I like a little white meat now and then, too."
"And you say that," I sighed in the satisfaction I felt.
We both laughed in easy camaraderie. Brad didn't know that I'd lied when I'd told him he was the first Black man to fuck me. It made him feel special to think he was the first and had seemed to get his engine running hotter. He'd told me that I was his first 'White chick.' Who knows? Maybe he'd lied too. I felt way too good to care right now!
Afterwards, Brad moved off me. Sitting beside me to watch as I stretched stiff thigh muscles. Mmm, it felt so good to stretch out my tall body like a satisfied cat filled with a different kind of cream. I felt the familiar languid, boneless contentment of good sex and a wonderful orgasm settle over me. Brad lit a cigarette, but I refused when offered one. I'd stopped smoking as soon as I started training with SF teams. Thank God, I had! It helped having clean lungs when climbing Afghan mountains or running for extraction helicopters.
I sat up facing Brad and folded my legs under me. We passed the bottle between us while Brad smoked and ruined his lungs with two cigarettes. The usual bitch session followed. I couldn't talk much about my duty. Brad knew that although I was assigned to the Logistic Division, I didn't go around counting the number of toilet paper rolls the base needed. He never asked why I spent so many hours with the SF team pulling their tour. Instead, he did most of the bitching. Particularly about one particular superior officer making his life difficult.
"Yea, fucking officers. Think their shit don't stink, I grumbled then laughed. "Oh wait, should I have asked for permission to speak freely, Lieutenant."
The bourbon burned its way to my stomach and spread its warmth through my body. I wasn't as drunk as I wanted to be yet, but I was well on my way. When Brad flicked the butt away, we skinny dipped and indulged in grab-ass silliness. We hugged and kissed in the warm, gentle surf before I went to my knees and began licking and sucking the taste of sea salt from his soft cock until it began showing signs of life.
When we returned to our secluded blanket, more bourbon was passed between us. Then the bottle disappeared as Brad pushed me onto my back. Lying beside me, I was kissed while his hand moved, molding my tits before sliding down my flat stomach to finger my pussy. But this time my aggressive personality wasn't satisfied with being a passive bottom. Instead, as we kissed, I slowly rose and maneuvered Brad onto his back.
After trailing kisses down his dark stomach, this time I didn't stop sucking until the cock in my mouth was fully hard and ready for me to use. Throwing my leg over Brad's thighs, I grasped his hard shaft in my hand and guided it between the folds of my pussy. Brad rose up onto his elbows to watch as I began using his cock tip as my private, fleshy dildo. Closing my eyes, raising up and lowering myself down... Letting cock dip into my vaginal opening... Circling my clit with the soft bulb... Wetting the shaft with pussy juice as I rubbed my clit along the long length... Leaning over, I slowly trailed my dangling tits across the dark face below me. Smiling and laughing as his mouth tried to capture my nipples. I let him try and sometimes succeed in sucking on my tits for a brief time before I'd pull them away.
Soon my pussy wanted more than my teasing and playing with Brad. I rose up onto my knees. Sand shifted under the blanket as I let my thighs open. My breath caught as I lowered my hips and let the tip slip deeper. I released Brad's thick shaft once the tip was securely inside me. I closed my eyes as I slowly twerked as I impaled myself. I stilled my hips once my pussy had enveloped all of his cock inside it's wet grasp.
"Move some more like that, Babe," Brad said when I leaned over to grab the bourbon bottle. I tipped the bottle to fill Brad's mouth before taking a healthy pull from the neck. Twerking while sipping and sharing with Brad, I finally put the bottle aside. My head was spinning as I rested my hands on Brad's chest for balance as I began to ride cock like I once rode a mechanical bull at a bar in Tulsa. Riding Brad's cock was giving me the same tingle the bull had given me. Instead of Brad fucking me, I was fucking him.
"I'm fucking drunk," I yelled to the stars.
"Yea, we are," Brad laughed.
Brad let me control our mating dance for several minutes before his hands on my hips lifted me from his cock. He twisted and pulled until I was on my hands and knees. I waited patiently, looking over my shoulder to watch him as he stopped just before mounting me to take another drink. Bastard didn't offer me a drink, though! Nah, the bastard set the bottle down and just shoved his cock into me!
While our first sex had started out gentle and soft, our sex this time was rough and animalistic from start to finish. Brad rode me fast and fucked me hard. I was loving every meaty sound of my ass cheeks being smashed into. His large cock was making me want to growl like the animal I was being fucked like. Hands reached to capture my large, swinging tits. Strong fingers pressed deep into my soft flesh until I whimpered in pain. My nipples were pinched and pulled on until they hurt.
Pain and pleasure melded together for several minutes. I was drunk screaming for more of both as my gut muscles began clenching. I was approaching the precipitous crest of another orgasm. My brain started swimming and the world started spinning out of control. The orgasm I'd felt approaching faded in a drunken haze. I lowered my head to the blanket and closed my eyes to stop my eyes from trying to focus on things that were sinning, I mean spinning, out of control.
I felt fingers interlace in my long hair. My head was pulled up and up until my back bent. Brad kept me like that, using my hair to control me like a rider uses a bridle to control a horse. I laughed at a private joke because I'd switched roles. I was the mechanical bull now and Brad was the rider.
Because he'd come only a short time before, Brad lasted longer this time. He continued to ride me until my hair was released suddenly. Hands pulled on my hips, pressing my pussy hard to his groin. Brad moaned as he pushed deep and held himself still as I was filled again with more cum.
This time when I stretched out on our blanket, Brad laid on top of my back while both of us gasped for breath. Our bodies were slick with sweat from fucking in the warm, humid night. We had neither the will nor the energy to move. His cock remained inside me until it softened and slid from my pussy. This time we didn't run into the surf. We drunk staggered to the sea and collapsed. We laugh at how drunk the other was. Rinsed of cum and sweat, we staggered back to our blanket. We collapsed back onto the blanket, gasping and laughing and agreeing that we may have drank just a little too much.
I'm always horny after returning from a mission, but I didn't think more was going to happen tonight. We were drunk and it was late. We both knew that Brad had to be on duty in a few hours. Brad dug out a shallow hole and buried the almost empty bottle.
"Save it for next time," he said seriously as if we'd be able to find this exact spot again. Though we kissed and hugged for a short time, it was more for a feeling of connection than a prelude for more sex.
The gentle sea breeze had dried me enough by now for me to put on my BDUs. I began stumbling alone to the female BEQ (Basic Enlisted Quarters) where my room was. Brad would wait while smoking another cigarette to give me time to disappear before making his way to the BOQ. (Basic Officer Quarters) I walked slowly as my head cleared enough that at least the world around me was no longer spinning.
I turned to wave to Brad before losing sight of him. I didn't feel guilty for fucking a married man. Neither of us fucked out of any romantic attachment. He fucked me for my slender body and beauty and because I was one of the few women on the island. I fucked him because of his large cock. We both got what we wanted. No, what I felt as I walked away wasn't passion but satisfaction from both the sex and that we'd successfully skirted our way around regulations prohibiting officers and enlisted from the activity we'd just participated in. Twice...
The regs were in place for a good reason. It kept officers from using their rank to pressure reluctant enlisted women for sex. Luckily for the men in my life I was rarely reluctant and didn't need to be pressured to have sex. Satisfying my need to relax after a mission with good sex was just what I did. I felt very relaxed as I entered the female BEQ.
My relaxed state of mind was shattered as soon as I opened the door saw the Chief Petty Officer in charge of the female BEQ sitting behind the Duty Desk, frowning in displeasure.
"Hey, Chief," I giggled and waved at her.
"About time you showed up, Ellis... And you're drunk, of course."
Chief Williams didn't like me. She seemed to resent that I was younger than her, taller than her and pretty enough that men turned to give me a second look when I walked by. Another reason for resentment on her part was because I seemed to do nothing. Though I was assigned to the Logistics Office, I pulled no duty on the island that she could identify. It irked her strict, regulation bound mind that she couldn't figure out why the fuck I was even on the island. It really bent her nose out of position when after she'd tried to find out, a Commander with SEAL insignia on his BDUs had 'politely' suggested she stop asking questions.
So I slept late, pulled no duty and disappeared at odd times. My only other activities she could identify seemed to be exercising, jogging, and shooting with whichever Tier One team was on the island. Oh, and inviting enlisted men into my room for loud and enthusiastic sex. She made me pay for my 'wanton behavior' (Her words, not mine.) during her weekly room inspections though. My bed was never made up properly. The corners never 'military enough'. My carpet was never clean enough. My furniture was never dusted enough. I'd have to clean everything again until she'd grudgingly admit my room had passed inspection. Several times I'd been right on the very edge of telling her that loud and enthusiastic sex would improve her mood but antagonizing a Chief Petty Officer isn't a good move if you just want a quiet existence in the Navy.
"Only a little drunk, Chief," I replied as soberly as I could. "I just need to lie down."
"Too fucking bad, Ellis! I was ordered to wait to make sure you received your new orders and to inform you to get your shit together. You're out'a here," she told me with satisfaction as she handed me a sheaf of papers.
When I tried to read the pages in my hand, I lost my balance and had to lean against a bulkhead to steady myself. Finally, the words began to appear. WTF? With quick access to Southeast Asia, the Middle East and Eastern Africa I pulled duty here more often than most. My duty tour on Diego Garcia was slated to last a year this time. I'd been here only eight months and now I was being ordered to make my way ASAP to... Fort Hood? Texas? What the fucking fuck was at Fort Hood?
"You're ordered to be on the next MAC (Military Airlift Command) flight out. That's at 0500. I've been ordered to make certain your drunken ass is on that plane. There's a number to call if you have questions."
I didn't have time to waste asking questions. Fuck! I barely had four hours to sober up enough to pack eight months of collected shit and make my way to the MAC office! I made it just in time to be rushed into the cavernous hold of a C-17A.
**********
Because there are many high-ranking officers regularly needing transportation between Hawaii and San Diego, someone had thoughtfully added a pallet with two rows of seats which could have replace any seat in the Business Section of a Boeing 777. They looked very small and out of place in the forward section of the cavernous cargo hold of the latest model C-17A. My head was pounding as I dragged my weary ass up the ramp to board.
I thought I was in Heaven as I sat in the first comfortable seat since leaving Diego Garcia. Garcia to the Philippines to Guam to Hawaii had consisted of hours that could only be described as torture. I was hungover and sitting on hard plastic seats to board the next MAC flight where I sat for more hours on equally uncomfortable seats. Aspirin, gallons of water and throwing up on every plane I rode in had gotten me to Hawaii. My ass had fallen asleep somewhere between the Philippines and Guam and still hadn't woken up.
My numb ass was the only part of me that wasn't hurting.
Once we lifted off from Hawaii and leveled out of our climb, the background noise inside the cavernous hold of the C-17 became a constant and lulling drone. The noise of the engines and the gentle vibrations of the plane, all of these rocked me to sleep in my first comfortable chair in over 40-hours.
It was the bump and screech of wheels meeting the tarmac and the change in the whine of the engines which woke me up. To my chagrin I woke to find myself slumped against the passenger beside me, my head resting on his shoulder. A fellow traveler in BDUs which sported the collar insignias of a Navy Captain. I straightened up quickly and blushed at seeing the wet spot on his BDUs where I'd drooled.
"Captain, I so sorry! I..."
"Relax, Petty Officer..." He laughed and leaned forwards to read the name plate on my Dress Blues. "...Ellis. Being a pillow for you is the most productive service I've provided to the Navy in months. You looked exhausted when you boarded. Traveled a long way?"
"Yes, Sir. Diego Garcia. Someone apparently wants me in Texas ASAP."
The C-17A came to a stop and after the loadmaster gave us permission to leave our seats, I tried to arrange my Dress Blues to make me look more presentable, but it was a losing battle after over 40-hours of flying military cargo planes. Though I thought the neckerchief looked sporty and the wool never showed wrinkles as much as my Dress Whites, I knew the iconic Dress Blue 'Crackerjacks' were showing all the miles I'd put on them. I settled my duffle bag on my back and was lifting two backpacks to put one on each shoulder when the captain reached over to take one of them. His eyes widened in surprise at the weight and the faint scent of gun oil.
"Why do I believe there's more than clothing in here, Petty Officer Ellis?"
"Because you're very perceptive, Captain. Let's just say that what's in the bag is one of the reasons I can't fly commercial," I answered with a smile as I lifted a long, metal case that was heavier than the bookbag.
"And that," he asked, looking at the case.
"This," I raised the heavy case slightly, laughed and answered in a light tone. "This would make TSA shoot me on sight, Sir,"
In the MAC office I was praying to the Universe that there wouldn't be a flight to Texas until the next day and preferably not for two or three days. I really needed a shower and a long night in a soft bunk. The Captain and I continued to exchange small talk as we made arrangements for the next legs of our respective journeys.
"We're not in the same command, Petty Officer Ellis," the captain said. "Would I be out of line in asking you to have dinner with an old codger like me if we both have layovers here? My treat. No expectations other than the pleasure of not eating alone while having polite conversation."
My appetite had finally returned while I was asleep and I was in need of food.
"Not at all, Sir. As long as we're in civilian clothes and I don't have to say Sir all night," I said, then changed my voice to a softer, breathy tone and slower cadence. "I've always depended upon the kindness of strangers."
"You know your movies," he chuckled.
"In my opinion I don't think the actress got the Southern accent quite right and for some reason most people wrongfully attribute the quote to Mae West. This wasn't hers but she had so many other memorable ones."
"Oh? And do you have a favorite?"
I lounged against the office counter, put my hand on my hip and looked the captain up-and-down with frank and appraising eyes before trying to answer in the cadence and accent of Mae West's nasal, Brooklyn voice.
"Well, when I'm caught between two evils... I generally like to take the one I've never tried."
That caused everyone who caught my performance to laugh. Unfortunately, Air Force Sergeant Peters was still grinning when he handed me a boarding pass for a twin-engine plane due to leave in half-an-hour.
"Sorry, Captain," I said, straightening up and returning to military decorum. "Looks like we're just two ships passing in the night."
"It was a pleasure, Petty Officer Ellis," he replied, extending his hand for me to shake.
"Look me up if you ever need another shoulder as a pillow."
"Fair winds, Sir."
"And following seas, Ellis."
**********
The pilot said I was lucky to have made the flight.
"You might have had to wait another day or two for another plane going to Fort Hood, Ellis," the pilot shouted over his shoulder. "We're headed for the Gulf Coast to be used for search and rescue. We were going to have a layover at Camp Hood anyway."
Luck? 'Yea, bad luck!', I thought as we took off. For most of the trip the DHC-6 Twin Otter twisted, rolled and performed like a rollercoaster in the air currents of the unstable weather front we were flying in. Up-and-down, back-and-forth... I made the crew laugh when the pilot looked over his shoulder, shouting to ask how I was doing.
"I'm not getting airsick yet, but the only time I enjoy getting bounced around like this is during great sex, Sir," I shouted back, holding onto my seat as the plane dropped out from under me before beginning to climb upwards again.
"You're alright, Ellis! I like a sense of humor," he shouted back as everyone laughed.
A few hours later I was back on stable ground stumbling a crooked course under the weight of my gear through rain and puddles as I regained my land legs. My rain gear was, of course! packed on the bottom of my duffle bag. I was looking forward to checking into a hotel and reporting tomorrow but...
"Petty Office Ellis," a Ranger sergeant asked as soon as I entered the MAC office. When I nodded, he looked at the disreputable state of my uniform and my sad, tired puppy-dog eyes and apologized. "I'm sorry, Ellis. I really am, but Colonel Brigham sent me to bring you to him as soon as you landed. I have no idea what's going on but apparently something is time sensitive."
"Not your fault a colonel has his panties twisted in a knot, Samuels," I sighed in resignation as he helped me carry the heavy backpacks to the Humvee parked outside.
"Pistols," he asked, sniffing the fragrance of gun oil and doing easy arm curls with the bags. I nodded and he looked at the case I was carefully strapping in across the backseat where it shouldn't bounce too much. "And a long rifle. There are no female SEALS and you're not Marine Recon... So, what are you, Ellis?"
"I'm in Logistics," I replied, pointing to the crossed keys on my arm patch. "I count paperclips wherever I'm sent."
"I bet you've been sent to count paperclips in some interesting places," Samuels grinned.
"A few. Wherever you need paperclips counted, you'll find me."
Samuels dropped the questions he knew I wouldn't answer. When I got out a short time later in front of a building, he objected when I began unstrapping the case from the backseat.
"You can leave everything in the Humvee, Ellis. I'm to drive you to the female BEQ when your meeting with Colonel Brigham is over."
"I don't like to leave this out of my sight unless it's locked in a secure place."
Minutes later I was leaning the case against the wall of Colonel Brigham's office. Marching to exactly two paces of his desk, I came to attention.
"Petty Officer Ellis reporting as ordered, Sir!"
After having me stand at attention while he noted my disreputable uniform and tired appearance, I was told to stand at ease.
"Long trip?"
"If by long you mean from the middle of the Indian Ocean to your office on connecting MAC flights in two days? Then yes, Sir, it's been a long trip."
"I'd say sorry, but I'd be lying. A naval officer I have a lot of respect for told me that you are the one, the only one, who can help my Rangers on their next deployment," the colonel said as he rose and picked up a rolled up, laminated map from his desk. Unrolling it, he laid it across his desk. "Let's see if he's correct. Can you tell me what this is?"
It was on the tip of my tongue to say, 'I believe it's a map, Sir.' But something told me this wasn't a colonel who appreciated flippancy. I walked closer to the edge of the desk and focused tired eyes on what was obviously a high-resolution photo of a geographical area taken from above. From far above was my guess.
"It's a satellite photo of the area surrounding a walled compound with a large building inside the perimeter of the wall, Sir."
"Yes. Yes," Colonel said impatiently. "Anyone can tell me that, but can you tell me where this compound is?"
When I hesitated...
"Petty Officer Ellis, if I ask you a question you can be assured that I'm cleared to hear your answer."
"Yes, Sir," I replied. I took a breath and began pointing out features. "This is an old site. There used to be a small lake here between the wall and the side of this ridge. Back in the time of Marco Polo it was a stopover on the Silk Road. The lake is gone now. There's still a trickle of water from a pipe hammered into the side of the ridge so instead of a small lake there's a tiny pool of water. Still, it's the only source of water for miles around.
"This compound is in northern Afghanistan and right about here," I traced a line with my finger a few miles north of the compound. "Right about here, is the boundary between Afghanistan and Tajikistan."
"And you know this how, Petty Officer Ellis?"
"Because I've researched the area and because I was there a few months ago, Colonel."
