- Joined
- Mar 21, 2024
Chapter One...
Being a woman at Naval Base, Diego Garcia, a small island in the Indian Ocean that over time has become an important U.S. military installation, means that finding a man isn't difficult. It was finding privacy that was sometimes hard. Much harder because I'm an enlisted Navy Petty Officer, 2nd Class (E-5) and the man I'm waiting for is an officer. Which is why I'm walking on a section of beach as far as it was possible to get from the buildings of the base.
Yea, I know I have a room in the Female BEQ (Base Enlisted Quarters). Rules about male visitors are lax and when I find another enlisted guy I wanna fuck we can go there. But the key word is ENLISTED... But there is The Rule about enlisted and officers not ‘fraternizing’.
I agree with The Rule. It’s a good Rule! It keeps officers from pressuring lower-ranking females for sex. But I wasn’t being pressured into having mind-blowing sex with Brad. But still, The Rule that enlisted and officers shall not fuck is strictly enforced. Since I obviously couldn’t take an officer into my BEQ, we've been meeting at night on the beach, as far as a horny couple could possibly get from the buildings and lights that dotted the island. The fear of discovery was lessened but we were still risking our careers being on the beach together.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a nympho. I’m just a healthy, attractive girl who likes to fuck. You know, to relieve tension and stress and stuff... Since joining the Navy, I’ve had a lot of tension and stress and stuff. But there are plenty of possible fuckbuddies I could choose from with no one raising a fuss. So, why is Brad my favorite booty call despite the risk to our careers? Three reasons:
Reason One: My God, Brad is a six-three ebony God with muscles and stamina that doesn’t quit.
Reason Two: My God, Brad really knows how to eat pussy.
Reason Three: My God, Brad has a huge cock!
My way of unwinding after a mission usually begins and ends with a bottle of bourbon in one hand and a hard cock in the other. I bring the bourbon and Brad brings the cock. In the months I've been stationed here, Brad has become my regular booty call.
I'd only arrived back on the base this morning. I'd barely stepped off the transport plane before Brad pinged my phone. We didn't talk for long. He was at his duty station and I was surrounded by the team as we went through the minutia of returning gear and handing over hand printed explanations we'd written on the plane during the trip back about why some equipment was missing or dinged up. Brad and I had to talk in guarded phrases, but the intent was clear: we'd meet tonight at our usual secluded section of the beach. I was excited. I'd been away on an assignment for a month: all work, no sex. Going a month without sex was damned near a record for me since the night I'd lost my virginity in high school.
It was just my luck that Chief Stanford was at the duty desk as I dragged my weary, tired ass through the door. She didn't like me. I didn't like her. I only nodded at her as I passed by. I dropped my gear in my room at the BEQ and dropped onto my bunk for a much-deserved nap. Even as I feel asleep, I kept thinking about how good Brad's large cock would fell inside me tonight.
I was already wet from anticipation as I took several sips from the bottle in my hand. It was a cheap brand I'd bought during a layover in India. The label said Real Kantucky Bourbon with Kentucky misspelled. I thought it was more likely paint cleaner with a little food coloring added. It tasted like gasoline and burned like battery acid. The sun had already slipped under the horizon, but the moon was so bright the sun wasn't missed. My moon shadow stretched across the sand. I took another long sip of bourbon from the bottle I held. I felt the burn all the way to my stomach. I looked down the beach just in time to see Brad appear from behind a sand dune. I smiled and pulled the top of my bikini open to flash him my boobs. Brad closed the last fifty yards at a run.
Strong arms crushed me against Brad's muscular chest as we kissed. Hands reached down to grab and massage my ass cheeks. I moved my hips, rubbing my mound against his already hard cock. I enjoyed our foreplay; our kiss and the hands squeezing my ass. Then Brad quickly turned me, pressing my back hard against his chest.
I laughed at Brad's eagerness. The lips and hot breath on the back of my neck, the hands playing with my breasts, the strong fingers squeezing my soft flesh. I didn't pull away, only twisted in his arms enough to make kisses possible. I was content to let Brad have his playtime. My sighs changed to moans when his hand slipped under the material of my bikini bottoms. Fingers gently stroked over my clit and Brad growled in my ear.
"Mmm, you're wet," Brad said. His hand never stopped playing with my pussy as his other hand untied the strings holding my thong together. "You were gone so long I thought you'd been transferred."
"There were... Complications," I said, my breath catching as my thong dropped to the water swirling around my ankles. "There were a lot of paperclips that needed to be counted."
Brad didn't inquire further. He didn't waste time on questions he knew I wouldn't answer. Instead, his fingers pushed further between my thighs and I took a short sideways step to give his fingers more room to play. Fingertips continued exploring, rimming and stretching my pussy before sliding inside me. A long, breathy moan was my only reaction as one, then two fingers began fucking me on the beach.
I leaned backwards against Brad, breathing heavily while loving every movement of the fingers inside me. Pleasure forced everything from my mine. But I had just enough sanity left to remember we were on a beach with water lapping at our toes. We were in plain view of anyone who might be watching. It was dark now, but we were still too exposed in the moonlight. I put my hand on Brad's wrist and pushed his fingers from between my thighs. I scooped up my thong before the tide swept it away. Brad followed as I ran to where I'd spread a blanket between low dunes.
Bikini top and swim trunks were tossed aside as I threw myself against Brad. Our kiss deepened as hands gripped my ass again while my hands wrapped around the long, thick cock pressed against my stomach. I enjoyed our kiss and my ass massage while slow-stroking Brad's cock. However, before long a hand settled on my shoulders and pressed down. Brad grinned down at me.
"You know what I want."
Hell, I knew what he always wanted. He wanted what all men wanted. I sank to my knees on the blanket. The moon had risen higher, casting more light but the dark cock in my hands remained black as coal. I tilted Brad's cock down to mouth level as I leaned in. I'd milked a large amount of pre-cum from his shaft. I ran the tip of my tongue through the slippery secretion, spreading it over the large, bulbous head.
"Oh, shit," Brad breathed in satisfaction as I let more of his cock slip past my lips. Soon I was sucking his cock while my hand played with his heavy ball sack. I pushed his cock upwards out of the way so I could reach his sack with my mouth.
With my nose pressed against so much cock flesh, I breathed in the familiar and distictive musk that all men seem to exude. I teabagged one large ball and then the other, taking each in my mouth to tongue and suck on before straightening my spine to let hard cock slide to the back of my mouth again.
I've had a lot of practice since that first hesitant blowjob I'd given my high school boyfriend. Brad enjoyed that sloppy expertise for a few minutes before his hands closed around the sides of my head. He held me still; my drool dripping unnoticed onto my tits as hips began moving. In moments I'd gone from sucking cock to being mouthfucked. The tempo of the cock sliding over my tongue increased: growing more urgent as Brad neared release. But I hadn't spent the last month thinking about the taste of cum. Sure I wanted cum, just not in my mouth.
I pulled my head away and fell backwards onto my back. I drew up my knees and let them fall open to the blanket. My hairless pussy lips were fully exposed. I twitched my hips and grinned up at Brad.
"See anything you want," I teased.
"I want everything I see," Brad replied, his eyes moving from my large tits to between my legs.
"Then why are you just standing there," I smiled and humped my hips upwards in invitation.
Brad dropped to his knees between my legs and leaned forwards. Hands gripped my thighs and pushed my thighs open wider. I was propped up on my elbows. I watched as Brad's neck bent and a hungry mouth claimed my pussy. I continued to watch between my breasts as hands left my thighs to push under my ass: lifting my hips so Brad could better feast. I closed my eyes while lips, tongue and fingers worked their magic. I relaxed fully onto the blanket as I enjoyed every lick on my clit, every hard suck and every finger movement inside me.
God, it felt so good!
I let Brad eat my pussy for a couple of minutes before pushing his head away. I'd had enough foreplay. I'd been anticipating this meeting all day. I'd been fingerfucked on the beach, sucked cock and had my pussy eaten. Even as good as that had been, I hadn't agreed to meet Brad for that. I told Brad what I wanted as I pulled him to cover me.
"I want your cock," I growled in a low, guttural voice as Brad moved over me.
Lips scented with pussy and wet with my juice met mine as I reached between us to grasp the hard cock that was touching my thigh. I was breathing hard as I rubbed the tip of Brad’s cock over my clit a few times before letting it slide down my slit and... I moaned as the tip slipped just inside my pussy, then cried out softly as I felt the delicious feeling of being penetrated.
My moan changed, becoming low and throaty as I was stretched and filled by Brad's large, black cock. He took his time, slowly pushing deeper inside me. I rose up on my elbows again to watch as inch-by-inch the thick, black cock vanished from sight as it filled me.
“Oh, my God... It feels so good... So good...” I moaned and spread my legs wider. Lips met mine again. With soft pressure Brad pushed me onto my back. His heavy body rested on mine as his cock slowly moved inside me. With every slow thrust more cock filled me, stretched me.
I wrapped my arms around the body atop me. There was the lingering scent of my pussy on the lips kissing me. Brad took his time to kiss my lips and to linger on my sensitive neck. Between kisses I breathed soft words of welcome and how good he was making me feel. His cock, completely wet with my juice now, was sliding easily deep inside me. We began satisfying each other energetically under the stars.
Brad's tongue in my mouth, his cock deep in my pussy... Hot breath on my neck... My tits squeezed and played with... My nipples sucked to aching hardness. And always there was the delicious slide of his thick cock stretching my pussy as it moved deep inside me.
Soon Brad wanted more than slow, sensual loving. I opened my eyes to stare into his as he rose up on stiff arms to thrust into me harder and faster. When his body rose up on locked elbows, I pushed up onto my elbows. Brad's black skin blended with the night sky, but his cock was easy to see against the pale skin of my thighs when I looked.
The sex that followed ran the spectrum from slow and sensual to hard, fast and rough. My cries and Brad's grunts... The meaty sound of flesh colliding with flesh... These combined into an orchestral symphony of hard sex. But I wasn't thinking about the sounds we were making, just the powerful, pounding strokes between my thighs as they moved me up the blanket a little at a time as my slighter, softer body absorbed Brad's hardness.
“Yes! Yes! Do it! More,” I grunted between thrusts. my voice strained and rising in pitch as I felt my orgasm began to approach. “Shit! Oh, my God! Fuck me... Don't come yet! Don't come... Oh, fuck... You're making me come!”
I stopped speaking as Brad dipped his head to kiss me before rising over me again on locked arms. Deep gut muscles began to clench. I began to pant as muscles strained to draw breaths between the pounding strokes of Brad’s cock. Through clenched teeth I made a sound much like a tea kettle on boil. Brad was grunting with the effort of responding to my repeated demands to be fucked harder... Faster... My approaching orgasm built and built until every muscle I had seized up. I was unable to even draw a breath until a tidal wave of pure pleasure shot through me as my body writhed under Brad.
"Oh fuck... Oh fuck... Oh fuck...," I repeated as I screamed out my orgasm in a high-pitched wail.
Through the mind fog of my powerful orgasm, I felt the increasing intensity of Brad's assault between my legs. It lifted my orgasm to the next level while I heard his grunting breaths come faster. My hips started lifting off the blanket, meeting Brad's thrusts with my own until, with a groan he pressed hard between my thighs and started coming with me.
Everything seemed to stop except for the short, hard stabs of Brad’s cock. His hips pushed hard, grinding his groin into my softer labia. Face frozen in an intense expression he pressed forcefully between my thighs as I felt the contractions of his cock The final signal that he was filling me with cum. After a last straining groan Brad collapsed to lay, gasping for breath, atop me.
"Oh, shit...Don’t move... Don’t pull out..." I begged as I wrapped my arms and legs around Brad’s sweaty body. I continued to whisper how good it felt: how good his cock felt inside me. Brad seemed to be in no hurry to move. He seemed to be very content where he was as he continued to cover me. His cock remained inside me as we kissed while catching our breath as our sweaty bodies slid against each other.
“Oh shit, Brad," I panted. My thighs still quivered but I could speak almost normally again. "Fuck! I wouldn't let you out of bed if I could!"
"You say that every time we fuck," Brad's body shook on top of me as he laughed into my neck. After using the blanket to swipe sweat from his forehead, Brad rolled off me. I rolled with him. I moved into the crook of his arm. His large bicep became my pillow as I curled onto my side, one arm and a leg over Brad's body. I felt the wonderful aftermath of my powerful orgasm as I relaxed. My pussy still signaled the well satisfied half-pleasure, half-ache of being fucked long and hard. I felt the trail of wetness as cum oozed out of my pussy and down my thigh to pool on the blanket.
We were content to rest in silence for a few minutes. Brad moved first to sit up beside me. He watched in appreciative silence as I stretched out my stiff thigh muscles. Mmm, it felt so good to stretch out my tall body like a very satisfied cat, though I was filled with a different kind of cream. The familiar languid, boneless contentment of good sex and a wonderful orgasm still enveloped me.
I’m tall and slender with big boobs. Brad’s eyes lingered over every inch of my body as I stretched out stiff muscles. He 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.
Instead of ruining my lungs, I decided to ruin my liver and reached for the bourbon after sitting up. We passed the bottle between us as we sat in easy comradeship and Brad lit a second cigarette. I was approaching what I called my 'silly drunk' state. Where I become stupid and giggle like a little girl. I sound stupid when I giggle.
“Mmm, I think you missed me from how eager you were to drag me to the dunes,” I giggled.
“I don’t think I had to drag you very much,” Brad laughed.
"I missed you, too... At least, I missed this," I replied and ran a finger over his now limp dick. The cock twitched under my touch but it wasn't ready for another round of fucking yet. Instead, we waded out into the light surf far enough to wash off sweat and cum. More kisses and grab-ass silliness ensued as we played under the moon.
Refreshed, we returned to our blanket. I sat facing Brad with my legs folded under me as we passed the bottle again. Brad smoked and ruined his lungs with another cigarette while my willpower was tested to not ask for one. The usual bitch session followed. Brad knew that although I was assigned to Logistics, I didn't really go around counting paperclips. Though he was always curious about what I really did and where I disappeared to, he’d accepted that I wouldn’t talk. So, he did most of the bitching. Particularly about one officer who was 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."
“Oh, I think I can let your disrespect slide just this once, Petty Officer Ellis,” Brad joked.
I wouldn’t have said no to more sex, but Brad had duty in a few hours. An officer in his division had been granted family emergency leave. Until they received a replacement Brad was on an eight-hour-on, eight-hour-off schedule. When putting on his swim trunks, Brad swayed above me and almost toppled over.
“You’re fucking drunk, Lieutenant,” I taunted him.
“And you’re not,” Brad taunted back and laughed. “Stand up, Petty Officer Ellis and let’s see how steady you are!”
“Aye-aye, Sir!” I almost made it to my feet before pitching over to face-plant in the sand. Laughing, I turned onto my back.
"I'm fucking drunk," I yelled to the stars. “We both are!”
"Yea, we are," Brad laughed. “Damn! I’m going to feel like shit in the morning, but I don’t care. Tonight was worth it. Get together tomorrow night?”
“Definitely,” I replied as Brad leaned down for one final kiss and a last grope of my tits before lighting another cigarette and walking down the beach.
I stretched back out on the blanket to stare up at the stars. Gradually my head stopped spinning. I staggered into the light surf again to wash between my thighs a final time. Rinsed of sand and the last traces of cum, I put on my bikini and a terrycloth beach robe. Shaking the blanket as free of sand as I could, I folded it and picked up the almost empty bottle. Beach patrols will turn a blind eye and deaf ears to couples having sex in the dunes but leaving garbage behind was a big no-no!
I guess I should have felt guilty for fucking a married man. But I wasn't. We felt affection for each other but neither of us fucked because of any romantic attachment. He fucked me for his pleasure. I fucked him for the pleasure his large cock gave me. We both got what we wanted without any attachments.
No, what I felt as I walked away sipping the last of the Real Kantucky Bourbon 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.
The gentle sea breeze had dried me by the time I stumbled into the female BEQ. The bourbon bottle was empty now and I felt very relaxed as I tripped over nothing. I gave the carpet a death stare for making me almost prostrate myself over the duty desk. My ‘stress and tension and stuff’ had magically disappeared.
A young woman I didn’t recognize sat behind the desk. An E-3... Probably just arrived today and already stuck with night duty hours. ‘Sucks to be her,’ I thought and waved at her as I weaved a careful path over the traitorous carpet. I dropped the empty bourbon bottle into the metal trash can beside her desk. She winced at the loud CLANG that echoed down the hallway. I mumbled an apology before bumping my way off the walls to my room.
Most BEQ rooms were double occupancy, and the occupants shared a single communal head. I had a single room with a private head. These rooms were reserved for E-7s and above. I was an E-5 and had one. I was resented by the other ladies for my 'preferential treatment'. Rumors of my fucking a senior officer for favors were whispered behind my back when they thought I couldn't hear. My reputation was shot-to-hell, but I had a private room and never stood cleanup duty for the communal toilets and hallways. You take the good with the bad.
Another reason for resentment on the other enlisted personnel part was because I seemed to do nothing. Though I was assigned to the Logistics Office, I did whatever it was I did at the Special Forces HQ and SF never talks. So I pulled no duty on the island that anyone could identify. It irked some people’s strict, regulation bound minds when they couldn't figure out why the fuck I was even on the island.
It certainly bent Chief Stanford’s nose out of position. Chief Stanford had a strict, regulation bound mind and she ran the male and female BEQs like her private fiefdoms She resented that I was assigned to a room that she didn’t think I was entitled to. It really bent her nose out of position when she'd tried to find out why I was entitled to it and a Commander with SEAL insignia on his BDUs had arrived and 'politely' suggested she stop asking questions.
So I slept late, pulled no duty that anyone could point to and disappeared at odd times. My only activities Chief Stanford could identify seemed to be exercising, jogging, shooting and inviting enlisted men into my room for loud, enthusiastic sex. But to be fair to her, that was what I did most of the time.
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 were never 'military enough'. My carpet was never clean enough. My furniture was never dusted enough. I'd have to clean everything again and 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 I kept silent. Pissing off a Chief Petty Officer isn't a good move if you just want a quiet existence in the Navy.
The next morning I took advantage of my ability to sleep late. As long as no one had questions about my AAR (After Action Report) I'd written on the plane before touching down, I had the day off. I woke up very relaxed and only slightly hungover. Nothing that Aspirin and food wouldn't cure. I had let my physical training lapse during the month I'd been away. I pushed through my reluctance and put on my athletic gear.
I went running on the beach and made it to the chow hall just in time before the lunch line closed. I felt so much better after sweating out the last of the alcohol and replacing it with food. As I jogged back to the BEQ, I decided to swim laps in the pool to finish my PT. A long bake in the sun afterwards was just what I deserved.
Which I was doing when a shadow blocked the sun. I opened my eyes and saw a pair of highly polished shoes. Shading my eyes, I found a newly minted ensign standing over me trying hard not to stare at my tits.
“Sir,” I asked.
“Are you Petty Officer Ellis? Senior Chief Morrison said I could find you here.”
Morrison was the senior enlisted man in the SF detachment. The bastard must have pinged my phone's GPS again.
“Yes, Sir. I’m Petty Officer Ellis,” I answered getting to my feet and wrapped a towel around me to ease the Ensign's obvious discomfort as he looked everywhere but at me.
“Petty Officer, why is your phone off.”
Fuck! Duty calls!
“Sir, my phone is on, but it and my ID is in the locker room,” I replied. I continued in a lighter tone. “A bikini doesn’t have pockets.”
“Umm, yes... I, ahh, can see that,” Ensign Marshall said uncomfortably. He really looked uncomfortable when he realized that even barefoot, I was taller than him. The ensign informed me that I needed to report to Commander McCain, the current CO of the SF detachment and left. In the locker room I checked my phone. One missed call. One fucking missed call and Morrison sent an ensign to find me!? That said I'd fucked something up or someone important wanted to see me ASAP.
I showered off suntan lotion in the locker room and changed into my BDUs. When I reported, McCain just handed me a sheaf of papers. When I read the pages in my hand, I wondered if the orders had been sent to the wrong Petty Officer Ellis.
I mean... WTF? With access to Southeast Asia, the Middle East and Eastern Africa, Diego Garcia is home to a regular contingent of SF personnel. My duty tour on Diego Garcia was slated to last a year. 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? Commander McCain only shrugged when I asked that out loud.
"Damned if I know," he answered. "All I know is that I'm to make certain your ass is on the next MAC (Military Airlift Command) flight out. That's at 1700 hours. You need to inform me if there is any reason you cannot follow the orders.”
“No, Sir. There’s no reason but, what the hell, Sir? Fort Hood? That’s an Army base, isn’t it? You really don't have any clue why I’m being shipped to Texas? Did I piss someone off? I thought I was getting along well with the team.”
“Not a clue, Barbie. Thomas is waiting at your cage. Anything you want to keep but can’t carry, he’ll pack up and send it to your parent’s address,” McCain said as he extended his hand for me to shake.
“And no, you didn't piss off anyone. We don’t have time for formalities but I’m giving you straight 4.0s on your evals. I gotta admit I had doubts when you were assigned to us as support, but you performed outstandingly as Overwatch.”
“Thank you for the 4.0s, Sir. Those never hurt when I’m up for promotion.”
“You earned them. Well, you better hustle to make your flight.”
All I needed from my cage were my pistols and my rifle. Thomas promised to send everything I left behind in the cage and my BEQ room to my parent's home address. Weighed down with what I could carry, 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 attached which could have replaced 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 C-17A. My head was pounding from travel fatigue 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 Singapore to the Philippines to Guam to Hawaii had consisted of hours that could only be described as torture. I felt like I was suffering the worst hangover of my life as I collapsed into my seat. My trip so far had consisted of sitting on hard plastic seats while waiting to board the next MAC flight where I sat for more hours on equally uncomfortable webbed seats.
Sheer will power had gotten me to Hawaii without just walking off the plane in Guam to find the nearest BEQ to sleep for a day. 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 36 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. That was a losing battle after almost two days 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 '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.
"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 pack is one of the reasons I can't fly commercial," I answered with a smile as I lifted a long-ish metal case that was heavier than the bookbag.
"And that," he asked, looking at the case in my hand.
"This would make TSA shoot me on sight, Sir," I answered in a light tone and laughed.
"Not normal luggage for someone in Logistics," the captain said, looking at the crossed keys on my shoulder patch.
"I'm not your normal Logistics person, Sir."
"No. You certainly are not," the captain replied in a friendly, admiring tone.
In the MAC office I was praying to Neptune, the Roman God of the Sea, 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 out of line 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 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 slouched 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 less than 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, Petty Officer 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 through. 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, Sir, but the only time I enjoy getting bounced around like this is during great sex." I shouted back, then held onto my seat as the plane dropped out from under me for several gut clenching seconds 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, trudging a crooked course under the weight of my gear through rain and around puddles. 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 Officer Ellis,” a sergeant with Ranger insignia asked uncertainly as I stepped into the MAC office.
“That’s me. Guess the uniform kind’a makes it hard to blend in on an Army base.”
“Just a little, but I was expecting a man. You are definitely not what I was expecting,” Sergeant Richter observed as his eyes traveled over my tall body. Then he paused and really looked at my travel worn uniform and tired, sad puppy dog eyes. “I’m really sorry, Ellis. You look beat but Colonel Brigham sent me to bring you to him ASAP.”
"Not your fault a colonel has his panties twisted in a knot, Richter," 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 heavy bags. I nodded and he looked at the case I was carefully strapping 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."
"Riiiiigggghhht...” Samuels said, drawing out the word with heavy irony. “I'd guess that you've been sent to count paperclips in some interesting places.”
"A few. Wherever there are paperclips that need counting, 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!"
If the colonel was surprised I was a woman, he hid it well. After having me stand at attention while he noted my disreputable uniform and tired appearance, I was told to stand at ease. I assumed a relaxed Parade Rest position.
"Long trip?"
"If by long you mean from the middle of the Indian Ocean to your office on connecting MAC flights in just over 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 laminated map from the credenza behind his desk. 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, ‘It appears to be a map, Sir.’, but Brigham didn’t strike me as a man who appreciated flippancy. Stepping closer to the desk I examined the map and...
"It's a satellite photo of a walled compound and the terrain surrounding it, Sir."
"Yes. Yes," Colonel Brigham 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 this side of the wall and 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 small 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 border between Afghanistan and Tajikistan."
"And you know this how, Petty Officer Ellis?"
"Because I do my research and because I was there a few months ago, Colonel."
Being a woman at Naval Base, Diego Garcia, a small island in the Indian Ocean that over time has become an important U.S. military installation, means that finding a man isn't difficult. It was finding privacy that was sometimes hard. Much harder because I'm an enlisted Navy Petty Officer, 2nd Class (E-5) and the man I'm waiting for is an officer. Which is why I'm walking on a section of beach as far as it was possible to get from the buildings of the base.
Yea, I know I have a room in the Female BEQ (Base Enlisted Quarters). Rules about male visitors are lax and when I find another enlisted guy I wanna fuck we can go there. But the key word is ENLISTED... But there is The Rule about enlisted and officers not ‘fraternizing’.
I agree with The Rule. It’s a good Rule! It keeps officers from pressuring lower-ranking females for sex. But I wasn’t being pressured into having mind-blowing sex with Brad. But still, The Rule that enlisted and officers shall not fuck is strictly enforced. Since I obviously couldn’t take an officer into my BEQ, we've been meeting at night on the beach, as far as a horny couple could possibly get from the buildings and lights that dotted the island. The fear of discovery was lessened but we were still risking our careers being on the beach together.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a nympho. I’m just a healthy, attractive girl who likes to fuck. You know, to relieve tension and stress and stuff... Since joining the Navy, I’ve had a lot of tension and stress and stuff. But there are plenty of possible fuckbuddies I could choose from with no one raising a fuss. So, why is Brad my favorite booty call despite the risk to our careers? Three reasons:
Reason One: My God, Brad is a six-three ebony God with muscles and stamina that doesn’t quit.
Reason Two: My God, Brad really knows how to eat pussy.
Reason Three: My God, Brad has a huge cock!
My way of unwinding after a mission usually begins and ends with a bottle of bourbon in one hand and a hard cock in the other. I bring the bourbon and Brad brings the cock. In the months I've been stationed here, Brad has become my regular booty call.
I'd only arrived back on the base this morning. I'd barely stepped off the transport plane before Brad pinged my phone. We didn't talk for long. He was at his duty station and I was surrounded by the team as we went through the minutia of returning gear and handing over hand printed explanations we'd written on the plane during the trip back about why some equipment was missing or dinged up. Brad and I had to talk in guarded phrases, but the intent was clear: we'd meet tonight at our usual secluded section of the beach. I was excited. I'd been away on an assignment for a month: all work, no sex. Going a month without sex was damned near a record for me since the night I'd lost my virginity in high school.
It was just my luck that Chief Stanford was at the duty desk as I dragged my weary, tired ass through the door. She didn't like me. I didn't like her. I only nodded at her as I passed by. I dropped my gear in my room at the BEQ and dropped onto my bunk for a much-deserved nap. Even as I feel asleep, I kept thinking about how good Brad's large cock would fell inside me tonight.
I was already wet from anticipation as I took several sips from the bottle in my hand. It was a cheap brand I'd bought during a layover in India. The label said Real Kantucky Bourbon with Kentucky misspelled. I thought it was more likely paint cleaner with a little food coloring added. It tasted like gasoline and burned like battery acid. The sun had already slipped under the horizon, but the moon was so bright the sun wasn't missed. My moon shadow stretched across the sand. I took another long sip of bourbon from the bottle I held. I felt the burn all the way to my stomach. I looked down the beach just in time to see Brad appear from behind a sand dune. I smiled and pulled the top of my bikini open to flash him my boobs. Brad closed the last fifty yards at a run.
Strong arms crushed me against Brad's muscular chest as we kissed. Hands reached down to grab and massage my ass cheeks. I moved my hips, rubbing my mound against his already hard cock. I enjoyed our foreplay; our kiss and the hands squeezing my ass. Then Brad quickly turned me, pressing my back hard against his chest.
I laughed at Brad's eagerness. The lips and hot breath on the back of my neck, the hands playing with my breasts, the strong fingers squeezing my soft flesh. I didn't pull away, only twisted in his arms enough to make kisses possible. I was content to let Brad have his playtime. My sighs changed to moans when his hand slipped under the material of my bikini bottoms. Fingers gently stroked over my clit and Brad growled in my ear.
"Mmm, you're wet," Brad said. His hand never stopped playing with my pussy as his other hand untied the strings holding my thong together. "You were gone so long I thought you'd been transferred."
"There were... Complications," I said, my breath catching as my thong dropped to the water swirling around my ankles. "There were a lot of paperclips that needed to be counted."
Brad didn't inquire further. He didn't waste time on questions he knew I wouldn't answer. Instead, his fingers pushed further between my thighs and I took a short sideways step to give his fingers more room to play. Fingertips continued exploring, rimming and stretching my pussy before sliding inside me. A long, breathy moan was my only reaction as one, then two fingers began fucking me on the beach.
I leaned backwards against Brad, breathing heavily while loving every movement of the fingers inside me. Pleasure forced everything from my mine. But I had just enough sanity left to remember we were on a beach with water lapping at our toes. We were in plain view of anyone who might be watching. It was dark now, but we were still too exposed in the moonlight. I put my hand on Brad's wrist and pushed his fingers from between my thighs. I scooped up my thong before the tide swept it away. Brad followed as I ran to where I'd spread a blanket between low dunes.
Bikini top and swim trunks were tossed aside as I threw myself against Brad. Our kiss deepened as hands gripped my ass again while my hands wrapped around the long, thick cock pressed against my stomach. I enjoyed our kiss and my ass massage while slow-stroking Brad's cock. However, before long a hand settled on my shoulders and pressed down. Brad grinned down at me.
"You know what I want."
Hell, I knew what he always wanted. He wanted what all men wanted. I sank to my knees on the blanket. The moon had risen higher, casting more light but the dark cock in my hands remained black as coal. I tilted Brad's cock down to mouth level as I leaned in. I'd milked a large amount of pre-cum from his shaft. I ran the tip of my tongue through the slippery secretion, spreading it over the large, bulbous head.
"Oh, shit," Brad breathed in satisfaction as I let more of his cock slip past my lips. Soon I was sucking his cock while my hand played with his heavy ball sack. I pushed his cock upwards out of the way so I could reach his sack with my mouth.
With my nose pressed against so much cock flesh, I breathed in the familiar and distictive musk that all men seem to exude. I teabagged one large ball and then the other, taking each in my mouth to tongue and suck on before straightening my spine to let hard cock slide to the back of my mouth again.
I've had a lot of practice since that first hesitant blowjob I'd given my high school boyfriend. Brad enjoyed that sloppy expertise for a few minutes before his hands closed around the sides of my head. He held me still; my drool dripping unnoticed onto my tits as hips began moving. In moments I'd gone from sucking cock to being mouthfucked. The tempo of the cock sliding over my tongue increased: growing more urgent as Brad neared release. But I hadn't spent the last month thinking about the taste of cum. Sure I wanted cum, just not in my mouth.
I pulled my head away and fell backwards onto my back. I drew up my knees and let them fall open to the blanket. My hairless pussy lips were fully exposed. I twitched my hips and grinned up at Brad.
"See anything you want," I teased.
"I want everything I see," Brad replied, his eyes moving from my large tits to between my legs.
"Then why are you just standing there," I smiled and humped my hips upwards in invitation.
Brad dropped to his knees between my legs and leaned forwards. Hands gripped my thighs and pushed my thighs open wider. I was propped up on my elbows. I watched as Brad's neck bent and a hungry mouth claimed my pussy. I continued to watch between my breasts as hands left my thighs to push under my ass: lifting my hips so Brad could better feast. I closed my eyes while lips, tongue and fingers worked their magic. I relaxed fully onto the blanket as I enjoyed every lick on my clit, every hard suck and every finger movement inside me.
God, it felt so good!
I let Brad eat my pussy for a couple of minutes before pushing his head away. I'd had enough foreplay. I'd been anticipating this meeting all day. I'd been fingerfucked on the beach, sucked cock and had my pussy eaten. Even as good as that had been, I hadn't agreed to meet Brad for that. I told Brad what I wanted as I pulled him to cover me.
"I want your cock," I growled in a low, guttural voice as Brad moved over me.
Lips scented with pussy and wet with my juice met mine as I reached between us to grasp the hard cock that was touching my thigh. I was breathing hard as I rubbed the tip of Brad’s cock over my clit a few times before letting it slide down my slit and... I moaned as the tip slipped just inside my pussy, then cried out softly as I felt the delicious feeling of being penetrated.
My moan changed, becoming low and throaty as I was stretched and filled by Brad's large, black cock. He took his time, slowly pushing deeper inside me. I rose up on my elbows again to watch as inch-by-inch the thick, black cock vanished from sight as it filled me.
“Oh, my God... It feels so good... So good...” I moaned and spread my legs wider. Lips met mine again. With soft pressure Brad pushed me onto my back. His heavy body rested on mine as his cock slowly moved inside me. With every slow thrust more cock filled me, stretched me.
I wrapped my arms around the body atop me. There was the lingering scent of my pussy on the lips kissing me. Brad took his time to kiss my lips and to linger on my sensitive neck. Between kisses I breathed soft words of welcome and how good he was making me feel. His cock, completely wet with my juice now, was sliding easily deep inside me. We began satisfying each other energetically under the stars.
Brad's tongue in my mouth, his cock deep in my pussy... Hot breath on my neck... My tits squeezed and played with... My nipples sucked to aching hardness. And always there was the delicious slide of his thick cock stretching my pussy as it moved deep inside me.
Soon Brad wanted more than slow, sensual loving. I opened my eyes to stare into his as he rose up on stiff arms to thrust into me harder and faster. When his body rose up on locked elbows, I pushed up onto my elbows. Brad's black skin blended with the night sky, but his cock was easy to see against the pale skin of my thighs when I looked.
The sex that followed ran the spectrum from slow and sensual to hard, fast and rough. My cries and Brad's grunts... The meaty sound of flesh colliding with flesh... These combined into an orchestral symphony of hard sex. But I wasn't thinking about the sounds we were making, just the powerful, pounding strokes between my thighs as they moved me up the blanket a little at a time as my slighter, softer body absorbed Brad's hardness.
“Yes! Yes! Do it! More,” I grunted between thrusts. my voice strained and rising in pitch as I felt my orgasm began to approach. “Shit! Oh, my God! Fuck me... Don't come yet! Don't come... Oh, fuck... You're making me come!”
I stopped speaking as Brad dipped his head to kiss me before rising over me again on locked arms. Deep gut muscles began to clench. I began to pant as muscles strained to draw breaths between the pounding strokes of Brad’s cock. Through clenched teeth I made a sound much like a tea kettle on boil. Brad was grunting with the effort of responding to my repeated demands to be fucked harder... Faster... My approaching orgasm built and built until every muscle I had seized up. I was unable to even draw a breath until a tidal wave of pure pleasure shot through me as my body writhed under Brad.
"Oh fuck... Oh fuck... Oh fuck...," I repeated as I screamed out my orgasm in a high-pitched wail.
Through the mind fog of my powerful orgasm, I felt the increasing intensity of Brad's assault between my legs. It lifted my orgasm to the next level while I heard his grunting breaths come faster. My hips started lifting off the blanket, meeting Brad's thrusts with my own until, with a groan he pressed hard between my thighs and started coming with me.
Everything seemed to stop except for the short, hard stabs of Brad’s cock. His hips pushed hard, grinding his groin into my softer labia. Face frozen in an intense expression he pressed forcefully between my thighs as I felt the contractions of his cock The final signal that he was filling me with cum. After a last straining groan Brad collapsed to lay, gasping for breath, atop me.
"Oh, shit...Don’t move... Don’t pull out..." I begged as I wrapped my arms and legs around Brad’s sweaty body. I continued to whisper how good it felt: how good his cock felt inside me. Brad seemed to be in no hurry to move. He seemed to be very content where he was as he continued to cover me. His cock remained inside me as we kissed while catching our breath as our sweaty bodies slid against each other.
“Oh shit, Brad," I panted. My thighs still quivered but I could speak almost normally again. "Fuck! I wouldn't let you out of bed if I could!"
"You say that every time we fuck," Brad's body shook on top of me as he laughed into my neck. After using the blanket to swipe sweat from his forehead, Brad rolled off me. I rolled with him. I moved into the crook of his arm. His large bicep became my pillow as I curled onto my side, one arm and a leg over Brad's body. I felt the wonderful aftermath of my powerful orgasm as I relaxed. My pussy still signaled the well satisfied half-pleasure, half-ache of being fucked long and hard. I felt the trail of wetness as cum oozed out of my pussy and down my thigh to pool on the blanket.
We were content to rest in silence for a few minutes. Brad moved first to sit up beside me. He watched in appreciative silence as I stretched out my stiff thigh muscles. Mmm, it felt so good to stretch out my tall body like a very satisfied cat, though I was filled with a different kind of cream. The familiar languid, boneless contentment of good sex and a wonderful orgasm still enveloped me.
I’m tall and slender with big boobs. Brad’s eyes lingered over every inch of my body as I stretched out stiff muscles. He 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.
Instead of ruining my lungs, I decided to ruin my liver and reached for the bourbon after sitting up. We passed the bottle between us as we sat in easy comradeship and Brad lit a second cigarette. I was approaching what I called my 'silly drunk' state. Where I become stupid and giggle like a little girl. I sound stupid when I giggle.
“Mmm, I think you missed me from how eager you were to drag me to the dunes,” I giggled.
“I don’t think I had to drag you very much,” Brad laughed.
"I missed you, too... At least, I missed this," I replied and ran a finger over his now limp dick. The cock twitched under my touch but it wasn't ready for another round of fucking yet. Instead, we waded out into the light surf far enough to wash off sweat and cum. More kisses and grab-ass silliness ensued as we played under the moon.
Refreshed, we returned to our blanket. I sat facing Brad with my legs folded under me as we passed the bottle again. Brad smoked and ruined his lungs with another cigarette while my willpower was tested to not ask for one. The usual bitch session followed. Brad knew that although I was assigned to Logistics, I didn't really go around counting paperclips. Though he was always curious about what I really did and where I disappeared to, he’d accepted that I wouldn’t talk. So, he did most of the bitching. Particularly about one officer who was 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."
“Oh, I think I can let your disrespect slide just this once, Petty Officer Ellis,” Brad joked.
I wouldn’t have said no to more sex, but Brad had duty in a few hours. An officer in his division had been granted family emergency leave. Until they received a replacement Brad was on an eight-hour-on, eight-hour-off schedule. When putting on his swim trunks, Brad swayed above me and almost toppled over.
“You’re fucking drunk, Lieutenant,” I taunted him.
“And you’re not,” Brad taunted back and laughed. “Stand up, Petty Officer Ellis and let’s see how steady you are!”
“Aye-aye, Sir!” I almost made it to my feet before pitching over to face-plant in the sand. Laughing, I turned onto my back.
"I'm fucking drunk," I yelled to the stars. “We both are!”
"Yea, we are," Brad laughed. “Damn! I’m going to feel like shit in the morning, but I don’t care. Tonight was worth it. Get together tomorrow night?”
“Definitely,” I replied as Brad leaned down for one final kiss and a last grope of my tits before lighting another cigarette and walking down the beach.
I stretched back out on the blanket to stare up at the stars. Gradually my head stopped spinning. I staggered into the light surf again to wash between my thighs a final time. Rinsed of sand and the last traces of cum, I put on my bikini and a terrycloth beach robe. Shaking the blanket as free of sand as I could, I folded it and picked up the almost empty bottle. Beach patrols will turn a blind eye and deaf ears to couples having sex in the dunes but leaving garbage behind was a big no-no!
I guess I should have felt guilty for fucking a married man. But I wasn't. We felt affection for each other but neither of us fucked because of any romantic attachment. He fucked me for his pleasure. I fucked him for the pleasure his large cock gave me. We both got what we wanted without any attachments.
No, what I felt as I walked away sipping the last of the Real Kantucky Bourbon 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.
The gentle sea breeze had dried me by the time I stumbled into the female BEQ. The bourbon bottle was empty now and I felt very relaxed as I tripped over nothing. I gave the carpet a death stare for making me almost prostrate myself over the duty desk. My ‘stress and tension and stuff’ had magically disappeared.
A young woman I didn’t recognize sat behind the desk. An E-3... Probably just arrived today and already stuck with night duty hours. ‘Sucks to be her,’ I thought and waved at her as I weaved a careful path over the traitorous carpet. I dropped the empty bourbon bottle into the metal trash can beside her desk. She winced at the loud CLANG that echoed down the hallway. I mumbled an apology before bumping my way off the walls to my room.
Most BEQ rooms were double occupancy, and the occupants shared a single communal head. I had a single room with a private head. These rooms were reserved for E-7s and above. I was an E-5 and had one. I was resented by the other ladies for my 'preferential treatment'. Rumors of my fucking a senior officer for favors were whispered behind my back when they thought I couldn't hear. My reputation was shot-to-hell, but I had a private room and never stood cleanup duty for the communal toilets and hallways. You take the good with the bad.
Another reason for resentment on the other enlisted personnel part was because I seemed to do nothing. Though I was assigned to the Logistics Office, I did whatever it was I did at the Special Forces HQ and SF never talks. So I pulled no duty on the island that anyone could identify. It irked some people’s strict, regulation bound minds when they couldn't figure out why the fuck I was even on the island.
It certainly bent Chief Stanford’s nose out of position. Chief Stanford had a strict, regulation bound mind and she ran the male and female BEQs like her private fiefdoms She resented that I was assigned to a room that she didn’t think I was entitled to. It really bent her nose out of position when she'd tried to find out why I was entitled to it and a Commander with SEAL insignia on his BDUs had arrived and 'politely' suggested she stop asking questions.
So I slept late, pulled no duty that anyone could point to and disappeared at odd times. My only activities Chief Stanford could identify seemed to be exercising, jogging, shooting and inviting enlisted men into my room for loud, enthusiastic sex. But to be fair to her, that was what I did most of the time.
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 were never 'military enough'. My carpet was never clean enough. My furniture was never dusted enough. I'd have to clean everything again and 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 I kept silent. Pissing off a Chief Petty Officer isn't a good move if you just want a quiet existence in the Navy.
The next morning I took advantage of my ability to sleep late. As long as no one had questions about my AAR (After Action Report) I'd written on the plane before touching down, I had the day off. I woke up very relaxed and only slightly hungover. Nothing that Aspirin and food wouldn't cure. I had let my physical training lapse during the month I'd been away. I pushed through my reluctance and put on my athletic gear.
I went running on the beach and made it to the chow hall just in time before the lunch line closed. I felt so much better after sweating out the last of the alcohol and replacing it with food. As I jogged back to the BEQ, I decided to swim laps in the pool to finish my PT. A long bake in the sun afterwards was just what I deserved.
Which I was doing when a shadow blocked the sun. I opened my eyes and saw a pair of highly polished shoes. Shading my eyes, I found a newly minted ensign standing over me trying hard not to stare at my tits.
“Sir,” I asked.
“Are you Petty Officer Ellis? Senior Chief Morrison said I could find you here.”
Morrison was the senior enlisted man in the SF detachment. The bastard must have pinged my phone's GPS again.
“Yes, Sir. I’m Petty Officer Ellis,” I answered getting to my feet and wrapped a towel around me to ease the Ensign's obvious discomfort as he looked everywhere but at me.
“Petty Officer, why is your phone off.”
Fuck! Duty calls!
“Sir, my phone is on, but it and my ID is in the locker room,” I replied. I continued in a lighter tone. “A bikini doesn’t have pockets.”
“Umm, yes... I, ahh, can see that,” Ensign Marshall said uncomfortably. He really looked uncomfortable when he realized that even barefoot, I was taller than him. The ensign informed me that I needed to report to Commander McCain, the current CO of the SF detachment and left. In the locker room I checked my phone. One missed call. One fucking missed call and Morrison sent an ensign to find me!? That said I'd fucked something up or someone important wanted to see me ASAP.
I showered off suntan lotion in the locker room and changed into my BDUs. When I reported, McCain just handed me a sheaf of papers. When I read the pages in my hand, I wondered if the orders had been sent to the wrong Petty Officer Ellis.
I mean... WTF? With access to Southeast Asia, the Middle East and Eastern Africa, Diego Garcia is home to a regular contingent of SF personnel. My duty tour on Diego Garcia was slated to last a year. 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? Commander McCain only shrugged when I asked that out loud.
"Damned if I know," he answered. "All I know is that I'm to make certain your ass is on the next MAC (Military Airlift Command) flight out. That's at 1700 hours. You need to inform me if there is any reason you cannot follow the orders.”
“No, Sir. There’s no reason but, what the hell, Sir? Fort Hood? That’s an Army base, isn’t it? You really don't have any clue why I’m being shipped to Texas? Did I piss someone off? I thought I was getting along well with the team.”
“Not a clue, Barbie. Thomas is waiting at your cage. Anything you want to keep but can’t carry, he’ll pack up and send it to your parent’s address,” McCain said as he extended his hand for me to shake.
“And no, you didn't piss off anyone. We don’t have time for formalities but I’m giving you straight 4.0s on your evals. I gotta admit I had doubts when you were assigned to us as support, but you performed outstandingly as Overwatch.”
“Thank you for the 4.0s, Sir. Those never hurt when I’m up for promotion.”
“You earned them. Well, you better hustle to make your flight.”
All I needed from my cage were my pistols and my rifle. Thomas promised to send everything I left behind in the cage and my BEQ room to my parent's home address. Weighed down with what I could carry, 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 attached which could have replaced 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 C-17A. My head was pounding from travel fatigue 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 Singapore to the Philippines to Guam to Hawaii had consisted of hours that could only be described as torture. I felt like I was suffering the worst hangover of my life as I collapsed into my seat. My trip so far had consisted of sitting on hard plastic seats while waiting to board the next MAC flight where I sat for more hours on equally uncomfortable webbed seats.
Sheer will power had gotten me to Hawaii without just walking off the plane in Guam to find the nearest BEQ to sleep for a day. 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 36 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. That was a losing battle after almost two days 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 '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.
"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 pack is one of the reasons I can't fly commercial," I answered with a smile as I lifted a long-ish metal case that was heavier than the bookbag.
"And that," he asked, looking at the case in my hand.
"This would make TSA shoot me on sight, Sir," I answered in a light tone and laughed.
"Not normal luggage for someone in Logistics," the captain said, looking at the crossed keys on my shoulder patch.
"I'm not your normal Logistics person, Sir."
"No. You certainly are not," the captain replied in a friendly, admiring tone.
In the MAC office I was praying to Neptune, the Roman God of the Sea, 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 out of line 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 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 slouched 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 less than 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, Petty Officer 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 through. 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, Sir, but the only time I enjoy getting bounced around like this is during great sex." I shouted back, then held onto my seat as the plane dropped out from under me for several gut clenching seconds 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, trudging a crooked course under the weight of my gear through rain and around puddles. 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 Officer Ellis,” a sergeant with Ranger insignia asked uncertainly as I stepped into the MAC office.
“That’s me. Guess the uniform kind’a makes it hard to blend in on an Army base.”
“Just a little, but I was expecting a man. You are definitely not what I was expecting,” Sergeant Richter observed as his eyes traveled over my tall body. Then he paused and really looked at my travel worn uniform and tired, sad puppy dog eyes. “I’m really sorry, Ellis. You look beat but Colonel Brigham sent me to bring you to him ASAP.”
"Not your fault a colonel has his panties twisted in a knot, Richter," 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 heavy bags. I nodded and he looked at the case I was carefully strapping 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."
"Riiiiigggghhht...” Samuels said, drawing out the word with heavy irony. “I'd guess that you've been sent to count paperclips in some interesting places.”
"A few. Wherever there are paperclips that need counting, 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!"
If the colonel was surprised I was a woman, he hid it well. After having me stand at attention while he noted my disreputable uniform and tired appearance, I was told to stand at ease. I assumed a relaxed Parade Rest position.
"Long trip?"
"If by long you mean from the middle of the Indian Ocean to your office on connecting MAC flights in just over 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 laminated map from the credenza behind his desk. 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, ‘It appears to be a map, Sir.’, but Brigham didn’t strike me as a man who appreciated flippancy. Stepping closer to the desk I examined the map and...
"It's a satellite photo of a walled compound and the terrain surrounding it, Sir."
"Yes. Yes," Colonel Brigham 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 this side of the wall and 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 small 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 border between Afghanistan and Tajikistan."
"And you know this how, Petty Officer Ellis?"
"Because I do my research and because I was there a few months ago, Colonel."
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