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Private Benjamin

By: Charles Petersunn



This is a satirical revision of scenes from Goldie Hawn movies, particularly Private Benjamin, a very delightful Goldie Hawn comedy (at least the first half). My second half travels to another movie (and play). It would help to be familiar with these films, but I clearly can't really suggest that you become familiar with them (although perhaps you might want to see one of them afterward). In any case, I revised the scenes in a manner that I hope you will enjoy. The story is a bit long but it can be read in parts.

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When Judy Benjamin was eight years old she confessed her life's desire to her best friend. "All I want," Judy whispered, "is a big house, nice clothes, two closets, a live-in maid, and a professional man for a husband." Today, all of her dreams appeared to be coming true.

At the age of 28 she had finally achieved her goal. She had married Yale Goodman, a very successful lawyer, specializing in prenuptial and estate contracts. She had no idea what that meant but she couldn't be happier.

She hardly seemed to notice that the relationship was not particularly deep. Throughout the wedding reception he was still fielding calls from clients and business partners, promising before each call that it would be the last, that he would focus all of his attention now on their wedding and his bride, but each business call was inevitably followed by another.

Even if she had noticed his failings, however, Judy would not have objected. She understood that if not for his devotion to his career she would not receive the comforts, the pleasures, the security, that she treasured so much, and that he so easily and readily provided.

At one point during the reception, however, he did seem to disappear altogether.

Judy found him in the parking lot, sitting in the back seat of their limousine, again on the phone. She got in beside him.

"Honey, please," she implored, "it's our wedding day."

"Peanut," he replied. "I know, it's just a little business. This is the last one. I promise."

She smiled appreciatively.

He could never resist that smile. Who could? Judy Benjamin was the spitting image of Goldie Hawn, when she was a young adult actress. She was just so darned cute, with her long curly blonde hair, kissable lips, dimpled broad smile, red rouged cheeks, red fingernails and, perhaps most distinctive, her large, round, sparkling, twinkling innocent blue eyes with those long, curved, well-separated lashes. And, she even spoke with such a sweet, innocent, feminine voice. Some would say, actually many would say, that she came across rather goggle-eyed and ditzy, but that was really her special appeal. She was endearingly cute, cuddly, and kissable. No man could deny Judy her happiness. Nor would she deny his.

"Darling," Yale complained, "I have a very bad headache."

"Well, honey, no wonder! You've been on the phone all evening. Let me get you some Tylenol."

"Sweetheart, it's not a Tylenol headache."

She instantly knew what he meant. "Honey," she complained.

"Please," he groaned.

"Honey, please, not here."

"Why?"

"Cause it's my wedding day, and some of our guests are like ten feet away."

"Sweetheart, they're having a good time, they won't notice."

"But I'm in my dress."

"You're dress is fine." He didn't seem to get why it bothered her. For Yale, the fact that she would be in her wedding dress when she gave him a blow job made it all the more pleasing. All fiances want their brides to give them a blow job on their wedding night, but only a few would probably ask for one and none, other than Yale, would ask for one at the reception while she was still in her most special dress.

"Oh, dear," she sighed. This wasn't what she was expecting to do at her wedding reception.

Yale, though, would not be denied. He continued to plead and cajole. "C'mon, honey, please, c'mon."

Judy didn't want to, not really, but then she also didn't really mind. After all, this was how she got a husband like Yale in the first place. She knew that men needed you to do certain things and, besides, she had to admit that a part of her did actually enjoy doing this sort of stuff. But, still, in her wedding dress, at her reception, with relatives potentially walking right by? She asked, "Kiss me first?" He did more than that. He kissed her a number of times. It was a reasonable exchange, particularly on her wedding day. He gave her very sweet, tender, affectionate pecks and kisses on her lips; those cute little girlish "Goldie" lips that would soon kiss him somewhere else. When he was done with her request he returned to his own for a quid pro quo. "Okay?"

"Okay," she said softly, and brought her face down into his lap.

She unzipped his pants and reached inside the fly to extract his cock, which was already quite hard. His actual problem had nothing to do with having a headache. His problem was that he had been getting quite horny throughout the wedding and reception seeing Judy in that white lace, crinoline, wedding dress. He had not been entirely distracted by his business calls, and now he wanted some relief, some satisfaction. She had done this for him many times before, in many different ways and places, but the dress excited him so much that he just couldn't wait until their wedding night. There is perhaps nothing more sexy than a girl in her wedding dress, looking so very virtuous and virginal, slipping your cock into her innocent mouth and, who looked more innocent than Judy Benjamin?

He sighed deeply when she planted a soft, sweet peck on the tip of his cock. Those cute puckered lipsticked lips felt so nice on the head of his dick.

Judy did enjoy making her Yale happy and he did have a very kissable cock. She at first just uncovered the head. It looked so darling peeking out from his briefs. After her first loving, sustained kiss, she gave the swollen plum a series of sweet, lovable pecks, just like he had done for her lips.

She then traced her soft lips around and around the rounded crown, caressing his soft purplish bulb with her wet red lips, at times sneaking her tongue out for a brief tickling lick, giving him little butterfly flicks. She so much liked butterflies. They were so pretty and fragile, so feminine.

She slipped her hand into the small flap of his tight briefs and worked to pull the entire shaft out through the flap. It was a bit of struggle to get it out. "Honey," she complained, "if you wanted me to give you pleasure you should have worn your boxers."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I'll remember next time, kitten."

She knew that he wouldn't. He never did remember, and it was always a struggle to get him out of his briefs. With a bit more effort she pulled it out, and then paused to admire the sight. Yale did have such a nice pole. She found the contrast of the masculine hardness of his shaft with the soft tender head to be so appealing, so provocative. She also liked to breathe in the peaty smell of his masculine dick. He had such a lovely, sexy cock. She was so happy to be marrying him. Who would know that such a rich, successful lawyer would also have such a wonderful cock! She was such a lucky, happy bride.

She stuck out just the tip of her tongue to plant little licks along the curves of his cock head. She flicked and fluttered her tongue all along his smooth skin, getting every little inch and centimeter of the round red bulb glistening and shining with the moisture of her tongue. She even tilted and dropped her head down so that she could flick away at the sensitive underside. She knew Yale really liked that. It would always drive him up a wall and sometimes over the edge.

Yale groaned with satisfaction as he felt his bride's tongue at that most special, sensitive spot. He was twitching and jerking with pleasure as her tongue tortured him with such intense delight.

Judy stretched her mouth wide to take his thick meat entirely inside. She paused, letting him, letting it, anticipate what was about to cum, then closing her lips tightly around the sulcus to capture the engorged bulb in her mouth, which she now more thoroughly bathed and fondled with her tongue.

Yale sighed deeply. Judy was so good with her mouth and tongue. He loved his new bride. She was so sweet, so loving, and so very talented. He reached underneath to snake his right hand down into the top of her wedding dress. He always enjoyed playing with Judy's titties while she sucked him off. Judy did not have the largest breasts in the world. In fact, they were rather on the small side. But, he was not a superficial person, like some men. He was willing to accept her occasional failings, her inadequacies. That was what marriage was all about: accommodation, understanding, and compromise. And, besides, they complemented well her overall diminutive size and girlish face.

She did at least have quite large nipples. Because her breasts were so small Judy would at times not wear a bra, and that would became very evident whenever her perky nipples grew to their maximize size, which they certainly did now with the playful stimulation of Yale's fingers.

She began to slide her mouth up and down the shaft, as if she was humping his cock with her face, fucking him with her lips and tongue. She knew that Yale also liked that. He found it so earthy, so animalistic, so dirty. She knew that he had gotten lots of blow jobs in his life, being so handsome and successful (as well as being such a womanizer), and he once complained that he found that many of the girls just seemed to do it as a service, an obligation. They didn't really seem to enjoy it, nor did they really try to do it the way he liked best. Judy was much different. She would sense what Yale enjoyed best, and if she was confused or uncertain, she just asked. In the end, he got a blow job that seemed to be tailor made.

"That's good, dear, that's good, keep that up." He placed a hand on her head to encourage her to move faster.

Judy though quickly stopped and pulled her face away from his cock. "Honey, my hair!" She didn't mind terribly much sucking him off at her wedding reception, but she wasn't about to do it at the cost of messing up her hair. She did have her limits.

"Oh yeah, right, I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

She gave him a scowl. She wasn't really angry. It's just that he never seemed to remember these things, and he really should know better by now not to mess up her hair while she sucked him off, at least not on her most special wedding day. "Well, okay, but don't forget."

"I won't dear. I won't. Now, c'mon, I'm almost there and we have to get back to the reception."

"Yes, dear," she replied and resumed her sucking with renewed vigor. She bobbed her face rapidly up and down his cock, all the while working on the bulb with her tongue, while holding the shaft with her right hand while she worked her fingers beneath his briefs to tickle his balls with the fingers of her left. He always seemed to object to that, to his balls being tickled, but that was only because he was so terribly ticklish there and she could tell that he really liked it. There was something really very appealing about being tickled and sucked at the same time. Not too many guys would think of that on their own. It was her treat for him, despite his protests to the contrary.

"Honey, stop it, stop that!"

He was now really squirming in the car seat, trying to escape her tickling while at the same time enjoying so much the licking tongue, bobbing lips, and stroking fist.

She felt him squeeze her tit hard. It was perhaps in protest, in retribution, but it was also the signal that he was going to cum. He never would warn her verbally. He liked it to be a surprise, but she had long learned his signs and signals, his tell, and she gave him a double dose of tickle as she felt his cock twitch and jerk in her fist with the first gush of cum.

Yale gasped as he felt his orgasm sweep through him. "Judy, I love you! I love you so much!" It was such an odd conjoining of sensations: his body squirming and twitching with the tickling, coupled with the shuddering of his orgasm. Giggling and paroxysmal rapture both at the same time. What really could be better? His head went back and he sighed with orgiastic pleasure as he felt his cock jerk and spit into his bride's mouth.

Judy sighed with deep pleasure as well as she felt Yale's cock gush its load into her mouth. She did very much enjoy receiving a man's cum in her mouth. It was such a clear, vivid gesture of how much pleasure she had given him, how pleased he was with her, and taking him this way was itself such a concrete demonstration of how much she loved him. Plus, she had to admit, she just so much liked the taste and texture of Yale's cum. It was so thick, so gummy, so salty and viscous, and Yale had so much of it. He just kept squirting and spewing wad after wad after wad.

"Don't spill any," he gasped. It certainly wouldn't look good to have a cum stain on the trousers of his tux. It was, after all, rented, and a very pricey rental at that.

"Donth wthy," Judy slurred, as her mouth continued to fill with his globs, his sticky slop. She didn't need to be reminded. He was the one who forgot things, not her.

She could have swallowed some of it as more continued to spit and spurt, but she liked to get a full mouthful before she swallowed. Plus, she liked to show Yale how much stuff he gave her. It was a point of pride for him, as well as for her. For the both of them.

When he was done she carefully squeezed out any remaining drops that were left behind. She didn't want any leaking seepage as she was getting his penis back into his briefs. She carefully milked it like it was an udder, squeezing out the last final drops of thick milky cream into her mouth, and then carefully slipped his dick back into his briefs, keeping her mouth tightly shut all the time. It was again difficult, as he usually remained hard for awhile after he came. Plus, he never helped with this task. He would just sit back, breathing deeply, enjoying the bliss of the resolution phase of his orgasm. At best he might light up a cigarette or, at worst, a cigar. But he did at least know better than to do that in the limousine.

When his tool was safely tucked away, zipped, buttoned, and belted, she rose back up. By now she had swallowed a bit, but she did still have enough to give him one of her pretty cum smiles. She would smile broadly, showing him her teeth and the thick, sloppy gism that was still lodged in, sticking to, and hanging and dripping off her gums and teeth. He always thought that her smile was so cute and sexy, particularly when it was filled with his cum.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

"C'mon you two!"

A look of panic swept over Judy's eyes as she turned to see Mrs. Waxman through the window. She snapped her mouth tightly shut. Yale rolled the window down. He cheerfully greeted the woman, feeling much better and more sociable now. "Hello, Mrs. Waxman!"

She teasingly replied, "Two little love birds sitting in the car, K, I, S, S, I, N, G!"

"Yes, Mrs. Waxman, you caught us." 

Judy would have preferred that Yale not roll down the window, but she knew they shouldn't ignore Mrs. Waxman. Her husband had been so generous with his wedding present, agreeing to furnish Yale's study in their new home with precisely the mushroom colored fabric that Judy so desperately wanted. He even had the ottoman redone when it was delivered with wheels rather than the upholstered balls that Judy preferred. As he said, "Anything for our little Judy."

"Dear," Mrs. Waxman said, speaking to Judy. "Are you feeling alright, your hair is a little mussed." Judy's hair was never mussed. If it was, then there must be something wrong. "Noth, ith okay, I'mth finth," she lisped and slurred. She had quickly swallowed quite a bit as soon as Yale had rolled down the window, but he had spewed so much there was still quite of bit lodged in various nooks and crannies of her cheeks and gums.

"Excuse my wife, Mrs. Waxman. She has a mouthful."

Judy gave him a big elbow in the ribs. How could he say such a thing?

But, he was not deterred. "We were just having some wedding cake in the limousine. You understand. A private moment for the husband and wife."

Husband and wife, that did sound so very, very good to Judy.

Mrs. Waxman understood. In fact, she realized that three at such a moment was probably a crowd. Still, though, they should realize that they do have some responsibilities at the reception. "Well, you two finish up the cake and then get inside." She turned to Judy. "I think your father is looking for you, Judy. I think he has a very special present."

"Thank you, Mrs. Waxman," Yale replied. "We'll be right in."

"Well, alright then," she said, and strolled off.

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It had been a lovely reception, and her father's present was indeed very generous: the down payment on a very upscale condo. However, tragedy did strike on the wedding night, and Judy found herself alone once again.

It was difficult, really very difficult. She had invested so much time and energy into Yale. She had worked on this one so hard. He had kept putting off getting married, year after year after year. That was in part why it was so terribly wonderful to finally be married. It had been such a long, committed investment, and she could finally cash in, with a very big dividend. Yale was such a great catch. She just didn't think she could start all over again with a new one. Plus, she was so old now. She was 28! How many reasonably desirable, worthwhile, profitable guys would still be available at this point? All that would be left would be losers that nobody had wanted in the first place or that somebody had returned after she got to know him.

It was a disaster, and she knew it. She was actually on her own, with no prospects even in sight. She had never been in this place before.

In fact, she had never not belonged to somebody. Never. Her first boyfriend was in nursery school. Since then she had been either coupled, promised, pinned, lavaliered, intended, betrothed, engaged, and then ultimately married.

If she wasn't going to be married, she had no idea what she was supposed to do with herself. She had no job skills. She never even really had a job. Her parents were so wealthy, and had been so supportive and caring that they had always provided for her when a boyfriend was unable.

She had gone to college, Livingston College, but it was never for the purpose of developing any knowledge, skills, or career. What would she do with a career? She had been a Delta Nu girl, and her only focus at Livingston was finding the right man (see "Fives steps to Delta Nu"). It was in fact there that she had found Yale, and she had feared that she would in fact be the first Delta Nu failure. It took so long to get him to walk down the aisle. All of her Delta Nu sisters were married to handsome, successful, rich, and/or powerful men by the time college was over (in some cases all off the above). But, not Judy Benjamin. And, every time she came back to Livingston for alumni weekend her sisters would ask when she was getting married. She began to dread those reunions, but Yale insisted they go. He so much loved to hang out with his old college buddies. Goodness knows what they did when they finally got away from the wives, and the forever fiancé, Judy.

How could she possibly go back to Livingston now? She would forever be the scar on the Delta Nu ledger.

She was so desperate that she began to call radio psychologists. As she explained to one of them, "Did you happen to see that movie, 'An unmarried woman'?" Well, I didn't get it. I would have been Mrs. Alan Bates so fast that guy wouldn't have known what hit him."

When she hung up to listen to the various responses of the radio audience to her story, she was flooded with a barrage of suggestions. One woman proposed that she would be better off without a man, that she should become a lesbian. Another suggested that she join a new religion. Another argued that she should just grow up, learn a skill, and get a job. None of the proposals were really very constructive. Until, she heard the suggestion that she needed the guidance, the security, and the heathy dose of self-confidence that she would get from a new life as a member of the proudest and the most supportive family in the country: the army.


Private Benjamin



It at first seemed like a ridiculous idea, but he spoke so reassuringly, so confidently. She called back to at least agree to speak to him at the recruiting office the following day and, once she was there, she was convinced. He was right!

She had thought that being in the army would be difficult, demanding, even dangerous. But, apparently it wasn't. He showed her a picture of the Fort Ord army base in Monterey, California. It was gorgeous! There were beautiful sailboats, yachts, condos, and he indicated that every soldier gets his, or her, own private room.

"But, I don't have any skills. Really, nothing at all."

He smiled reassuringly. "That's why the army is the place for you." He handed her a list of staff positions. "There are over three hundred possible jobs in the army, three hundred possible careers, and there's only a few not offered to the ladies: trained killers, assassins, stuff like that."

'Well,' she thought, 'that was hardly a limitation.' She certainly wouldn't be interested in anything as gross as that. She didn't think that she could actually kill somebody. If the army wanted her to do that, well they would have to think twice about it.

He continued. "Now, I'm prepared to offer you 458 dollars a month, and that's tax free." It really wasn't. It's just that the salary wouldn't amount to enough for which taxes would have to be paid. "Plus, we will train you in the job of your choice, give you free meals, housing, health care, with dental, and laundry."

"Laundry?"

"Absolutely."

She hated doing the laundry. Her father had always provided her with a dry cleaning allowance. She also couldn't cook. Daddy also provided a restaurant allowance, along with the stylist, spa, and other allowances. The army sounded pretty darned good.

And, it kept getting better. "Plus, a thirty day paid vacation every year. There is no other job close to it. Certainly none with all of these benefits, and no skills are necessary. Imagine all of that and a private room, boating, sailing. A lady with your college education and background could even land an assignment in Europe."

"Europe? I've never been to Europe. I do need to get away for awhile. I would love to go to Paris."

"No problem, and we promise to get you into the best physical shape you've ever been."

She had put on a couple of pounds since the wedding, and the funeral. She kept saying that she would get back on her diet, once she had gotten over everything, but she hadn't. She really did need to lose some weight. She felt that she did not look at all good in her evening wear. It would be like three years at La Costa. That was a resort and spa in Carlsbad that she and her mother always stayed at for a week or two each year. La Costa was really, really nice.

This was really a no-brainer, and for a girl who was often accused of having no brain, that was saying a lot. "I'll do it!"

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Well, not surprisingly, it turned out to be a bit more difficult than she had expected. In fact, she got off to a really bad start.

It didn't help that she had fallen asleep on the bus taking the new recruits to the base. But, what should they expect? The bus had left at 5AM! Judy rarely got up before 10AM. She had been so tired that she just had to sleep.

Well, the drill sergeant, Sergeant L.C. Ross, was not at all amused. On the contrary, he woke her up by screaming into her face, chasing her so rapidly off the bus that she fell onto the pavement, her heels flying off.

And, he didn't stop there. As she started to get back to her feet he pushed her back down and told her, "Assume the position, girl, on your dick skinners and beat your face!"

She had no idea what he meant. Yale had at times told her to assume the position, but she was certain that this sergeant guy couldn't mean on her elbows and knees, bottom up in the air. Could he? She began to raise up her bottom to him.

He though pointed to the pavement. "Ten push ups, girl, start knocking them out."

Ten push ups? Was he serious? She doubted that she could do one. But, she knew she should at least give it a try. This was probably how they help you lose weight in the army. It was rather taxing, to say the last, if not down right rude. La Costa would not treat you this way. Wait until daddy hears about this!

She brought her bottom back down and tried to do a push-up but instantly found that her loose skirt rose up her legs. There was quite a breeze on the Biloxi base, seated on the Gulf of Mexico, and her skirt was in the perfect position to capture the wind. "Oh my goodness!" she squealed, pulling the skirt back down. She started to get up to assume a position facing the wind, but Sergeant Ross put a boot on her back and yelled, "Did I tell you to get up, soldier?!"

"Well, no sir, but my skirt."

"Are you in proper uniform, soldier?"

"No sir."

"Well, I believe you will now learn the purpose of an army uniform. Give me those ten, soldier!"

She strained to do one, but a breeze again quickly ran up her thighs and lifted her skirt over her bottom, exposing to view her lovely pink t-back. She liked wearing t-backs when she wore lose skirts, as there would be no panty line.

"My panties! Sir, my panties!"

"Do you call these things skivvies, soldier?"

He reached down and hooked a finger in the strap that went up her butt, and then proceeded to pull her bottom up and down, up and down, counting off her push-ups. "Up, down, up, down, up down, that's three soldier. Up, down, up down."

Judy squealed at the incivility, the irreverence, the embarrassment at being picked up by the t-back strap of her panties, having her naked bottom so vividly exposed to the male sergeant, and to the other recruits, male and female. But, at least he was helping her with the push ups. Perhaps she should be grateful for that.

She soon discovered that there were no yachts at this army base, not even any sailboats, and certainly no private rooms. She tried to explain that they must have sent her to the wrong place, but they wouldn't listen. She was cleaning the latrine with her electric tooth brush the very first night.

But, she struggled through, surprisingly so. The deciding factor was when her parents came to get her. They were ashamed of her. They had not told any of their friends that she had actually joined the army. They told them instead that she was in a sanitarium: Bloomingdale's Asylum in White Plains, NY.

Her father attempted to be understanding about her ill-advised decision to join the army."You were never a smart girl."

Judy was shocked. Her father had never said anything like that before. Well, actually, he had, but only indirectly so by assuming so much control over her life.

"You are obviously incapable of making your own decisions. Starting tomorrow I will not let you out of my sight."

She decided to stay. The army did seem like the worst possible thing for her. Her recruiter had grossly misled her. But, the army was in fact the best thing for her. She did need to grow up, to become strong and independent, to become her own self, to carve out her own life.

It wasn't easy, but she did it. In fact, during the Biloxi war games, the crowning moment of basic training, she impressed the base commander, Colonel Clay Thornbush. He could see that this grunt had unusual potential for special operations. He invited her to volunteer to join the Thornbirds, a crack unit, an elite airborne corp, that specialized in paratroop assaults behind enemy lines and the infiltration of enemy units.

He didn't have to ask twice. Judy absolutely loved their uniforms. They had red barrets and matching red silk ascots. Well, at least they looked like silk. It really wasn't much, but it was a lot flashier than the drab army green. The blouse was a sharp grey with grey buttons and epaulets. The slacks were a light brown. It wasn't a lot of color, but just the fact that it had three different colors went a long way. "I volunteer!" Judy squealed, with considerable enthusiasm.

The Thornbird uniform was also much more suitable to and complimentary of Judy's figure, although she did have a tailor make a couple of minor modifications. She had him take in the blouse a bit in the chest. The extra tightness made her breasts look bigger, or at least more noticeable. The blouses of her fellow female cadets did little to compliment their figures. Plus, she also had the inseam of the slacks taken in so that they were more form fitting. Now her thighs and, most importantly, her bottom, were snugly wrapped. She thought her slacks in fact did wonders for her fanny which, besides the prettiness of her face, was probably her best feature.

She gave a final check to the appearance of her titties and bottom in the mirror, and then headed off to her appointment with the colonel. She hoped that he liked her alterations, although she also knew that she probably shouldn't tell him. You really weren't supposed to alter the uniforms. But, goodness, what's wrong with trying to be presentable?

Private Benjamin stood at attention before Captain Thornbush. Judy was very good at standing at attention. She in fact liked doing it. It was an opportunity to jut our her perky breasts. They weren't very large. She knew that, and any opportunity to pronounce their presence proudly was always very much appreciated.

Colonel Thornbush inspected his new recruit for the elite corp. He slowly circled her body, carefully evaluating every inch or, more accurately, every curve of Judy's lovely little figure. "Yes," he said, "I believe you will do nicely, very nicely, soldier."

"Yes sir! Thank you, sir!"

"So, Private Benjamin, you think you have the right stuff for the Thornbirds?" Captain Thornbush asked. He always spoke with considerable force, commanding the attention of anyone and everyone beneath his rank. Judy still didn't understand why army officers always had to sound so mean and angry when they spoke. It wasn't particularly friendly, or polite.

"Yes sir!" she responded, with as much toughness her high, feminine squeak could muster.

"Yes, well, we'll just see, we'll just see."

"Yes sir," she responded, this time a bit more apprehensively. She pursed her lips in typical Judy fashion, revealing her uncertainty, her nervousness.

The colonel stood immediately in front of her, about two feet away. "You know a Thornbird has to be in the best of shape."

"Yes sir, absolutely, sir." She was confident about that. Her recruiter had been correct at least about one thing. Basic training had put her in the best shape of her life.

"Excellent, soldier, now strip off those dress greys and stand for PCI" (that's pre-combat inspection).

"Sir?" Judy's eyes were naturally big and round. It was one of her more distinctive features, giving her this childlike, innocent look. They got even bigger now.

"I need to see for myself. I can't have a recruit who can't cut it."

"But, sir, I'm a girl. I mean, a woman, and you're well, you know, a man, an older man. I mean, not an old man. I didn't mean that." She was stumbling over her words, making her feel even more awkward. "You're not really old at all. In fact, sir, if I say so myself, sir, you look no more than...."

Colonel Thornbush cut her off. "Stow it, private!" He did though understand her concern. He had been a grunt once himself, and was now known for being quite empathic with the concerns of the lowly private. "Soldier, there is no man or woman in the Thornbirds. There is only the soldier, and a soldier of the most elite corp."

She wasn't too sure she bought that.

"Recruit, at some point in combat we may have to transverse a channel, we may have to share a foxhole, we may be trapped together in the closest of company for days, weeks, at a time. There is no room for petty modesty in war."

That was a very valid point. She considered suggesting that he take off his uniform as well. If there was no room for modesty then perhaps he could just as well strip down to his BVDs. However, it really wasn't the place of a private to suggest to a colonel that he take off his clothes. And, besides, she wasn't too sure that him being undressed would make her feel less uncomfortable. On the contrary, it would probably make her feel more self-conscious, particularly if he got a stiffie. Most men did get erections when she stripped. Actually, every man she ever knew got hard when she got undressed. 

"You're not freeballing, are you soldier?"

"No sir!" Judy was, fortunately, not doing that, although she had done so a few times. Freeballing was not wearing underwear in the field or on a long march to prevent monkey butt chafing. Judy though had not been worried about that. She just didn't like pantie lines.

Colonel Thornbush wasn't sure how he felt about that. It would be a uniform violation not to be wearing skivvies, but it might have been a nice wrinkle.

"Alright then, sir," Judy said, quite softly, removing her ascot and beginning to unbutton her blouse. This felt really weird. She was at least alone with him, in his office. Imagine having to do this in front of an entire unit! Most of them probably men, their rifles all coming to attention. Still, her recruiter did say that the army would expose her to new and exciting experiences, and she was indeed about to be exposed.

She stopped after she undid a few buttons. "Must you watch, sir?"

He didn't have to watch her undress. That wasn't really necessary, although it was important to see this recruit perform under pressure. Well, he would at least give her this consideration. He turned away.

"Thank you, sir." Judy though instantly felt silly at having made him turn away. She imagined that must not have been very Thornbird of her. She felt more like a silly girl than an elite paratrooper.

One advantage for Colonel Thornbush in turning his back to Judy was that he could now smile without detection. The sound of the private undressing was actually itself rather erotic. He could hear her arms being slid out of the sleeves. He could hear her carefully folding her blouse, and then he heard the tell-tale sound of the zipper of her slacks. That was a very, very pleasing sound, and then he heard her working the slacks down off her hips. He had seen that they were rather tight. Frankly, surprisingly tight for army slacks, and they were apparently not easy to get down. He did wish he could see that: the pretty Private Benjamin wiggling her hips as she worked her slacks down off her thighs. Well, he could at least imagine the pretty picture it made.

Private Benjamin also carefully folded the slacks, and laid them on his desk, along with her blouse.

"Alright sir, ready, sir," she said quietly, apprehensively.

The colonel turned around, his cock swelling at the delightful sight that greeted him. Private Benjamin was standing before him, bent forward just a bit, trying to protect her modesty, her right arm across her breasts, her left hand hiding her cunnie. It was such an adorably endearing pose, so very modest yet so very sexy. It made her look all the more enticing to see how uncomfortable she was with exposing herself, revealing not only her undies but also how she felt being so undressed before him, so very personal, so intimate, so helplessly exposed.

"Soldier, I will need you to stand erect for inspection," a command presaging his own developing condition.

Judy sigh deeply. She was afraid he'd say that. "Yes, sir," she whispered, and slowly moved her hands, her arms, to her side. And, not only did she have to keep them straight down at her side, she had to stand as straight as possible, her chest thrust out. It was like she was thrusting her chest out from her body, her breasts, to be inspected, which was precisely what she was doing.

Now she wasn't so happy about how standing at attention made her push her chest out, as if she wanted the colonel to notice, to consider them in particular, when in fact she was only doing this so he could inspect her muscle tone and fitness, her biceps and triceps, so she assumed. Was that not in fact the case? It couldn't be anything more than that, could it? Officers often saw their soldiers, their recruits, in their skivvies, and didn't think anything of it. She sure hoped that she wasn't giving him the wrong impression, by poking her titties out like that.

The colonel was noticing a problem: Private Benjamin was again failing to wear regulation skivvies. She was wearing instead a very colorful butterfly mesh thong with little blue forget_me_nots scattered on a honey textured background, with a matching pick-me-up, deep cup brassiere. Yes, these were far from regulation skivvies. "Where is your uniform, soldier?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Judy softly apologized, her face reddening at being caught out of uniform, in more ways than one. "I just really like butterflies. They're my favorite."

"That's alright, soldier," Colonial Thornbush replied. "I like a soldier who is innovative, who thinks in the field." Private Benjamin's taste in uniform would in fact be an asset for the mission he had in mind.

"Really sir?" An inadvertent smile graced her lips. She was so, so relieved. She proudly thrust her chest out once again. "I have many other panties and brassieres, sir. I just think a little color is good, sir, once in awhile. I would be most happy to model them for you, if you wish to consider them, for the unit, I mean." As soon as she said that she realized that it might have been a bit presumptive of her. Still, no officer should be disappointed in a soldier volunteering for additional duty.

"Outstanding suggestion, soldier. Yes, outstanding." Yes, this private really did have what it takes: Ingenuity, initiative, and very, very cute titties. "I believe I would like to inspect some of your additional ideas, your proposals."

His mind though right now was on the state of this private's fitness. That was the matter at hand, and Judy did have a very sexy figure. Yes, her breasts were quite small. They in fact barely filled out her brassiere, which was already on the little girlish size. But, her waist was even proportionately much smaller, and her hips curved out so very well. This was the hour glass figure that defined a woman's body. And, her bottom was as perky as her titties were petite, the v-shaped strip of thong in front just covering only the precise amount that was necessary to keep what little modesty she had. She looked so adorably sexy, standing at attention, her butterfly and forget-me-not titties thrusting out as far as they could, as if they were desperately trying to look so very much bigger, perhaps even masculine, like a soldier should look. Yet, this was one lusciously adorable soldier. He considered having her salute him, but that might be a bit much.

Colonel Thornbush again circled around Private Benjamin, even more slowly this time.

Judy's panties were very sexy from behind, although precisely because there was so very little of them: just the thin strap that circled her waist and virtually disappeared down into the crack of her taut, white bottom. "Touch your toes, private," the colonel commanded.

"Yes sir," Judy responded. It was a direct order, and he did want to see how fit she was. She even hoped that he might have her do some push-ups. She had gotten pretty good at them.

The colonel smiled broadly. The private's bottom rose up so nicely as she bent all the way over, her little derriere becoming rounder and rounder, tighter and tighter, as she assumed her new parade dress position. And, then, coming into view between her thighs, in such an exquisitely appetizing manner, was her colorful little cunnie mound, speckled with little gay butterflies apparently enjoying her sweet feminine nectar.

"Yes, soldier, you are indeed very, very fit and trim."




Private Benjamin



"Thank you, sir," Judy proudly replied, sincerely appreciative of the compliment, particularly from a man so well decorated, so commanding, so powerful. Colonel Thornbush would surely have seen many recruits before, and was unlikely to compliment lightly. Her face did redden a bit, in part because of his compliment, but more so because she could not ignore the fact that she was presenting her pretty pantied bottom to him, and perhaps even her feminine place, in a rather obscene manner. This was not how a soldier usually presented herself to her commanding officer. She hoped he would attribute her flushed face to being so far bent over, her face so close to the floor.

"You can stand at attention, private."

"Yes sir." She was grateful for that. She had been pleased to show him her fitness, the ease with which she could touch her toes, but the more she thought about it the more it did seem so naughty to be doing that with him standing right behind her. Yale would often have her do that, bend over in front of him, but he liked taking her from behind that way. Judy preferred it on her knees. She really liked doing it doggie style, even at times yelping and yipping like a playful puppy for Yale. But, for some reason, Yale liked it with her standing while she bent all the way over. Boys can be silly sometimes.

The colonel moved around to again stand in front of her, facing those sweet girlish titties, and even sweeter, girlish face. "Yes, soldier, you're a lean, mean, fighting machine."

Judy smiled broadly and proudly. That was a compliment she had never received before. It felt real good, really very good. She had done it! She had indeed successfully left the life of the silly ingenue for the danger, the heroics, and the glory of the soldier. She thrust her breasts out as far as they would go. She so wished she had gotten implants. She had begged her father for them when she was younger, but he always kept saying that she could find the right man without them. She had subsequently figured Yale would approve, and would of course offer to cover the cost, but he too discouraged her. He said he liked them small. She felt she should appreciate that, that he loved her just the way she was. But, now, as a soldier, standing before Colonel Thornbush, she knew that larger breasts would surely command more respect, more repute, more honor.

"You know, Private Benjamin. You may even qualify for a very special, advanced, top secret special ops unit."

"Sir? Me?"

"You certainly have the physique for this elite guard, Private Benjamin, although I'm not so sure you will have the stamina, the discipline."

"I'm sure I can, Colonel Thornbush. I can do it sir, if you just give me the chance."

He again moved around behind her. "Can you, will you, maintain your position under fire?"

"Yes sir!" Judy stated boldly, thrusting her boobies out further, although she probably could not really jut them out any farther. She looked like she was trying to thrust them out like cannon barrels, albeit they were no more intimidating than snow balls. But, she knew it was very important to assert with utmost zeal her strength, her resolve, that she could and would indeed maintain her position under fire.

"You will not waver? You will not flinch?"

"No sir!" However, she did wonder what it would really be like, having guns actually shooting at you, other persons actually trying to kill you. She couldn't imagine how scary that would be. Goodness, she always trembled on the firing range, and typically froze on the obstacle course when Captain Lewis was pretending to shoot at them.

"No matter what happens?"

"No sir!" She exclaimed with grossly overstated certainty.

With one smooth, quick motion, the colonel unclasped Judy's brassiere.

"Sir!?" Her large round eyes grew even larger as she felt the cups fall from her breasts, one of the straps slipping down off her shoulder, down her arm. She flinched. What girl wouldn't flinch when her brassiere is suddenly, unexpectedly unfastened, her breasts falling out into view. But, she did maintain her position: she continued to stand at attention. She felt proud of herself. Perhaps she really could maintain her position under fire?

He removed the other strap from her shoulder and her brassiere fell off her arms onto the floor at her feet.

"I detected movement there, soldier."

Yes, she had flinched. She had hoped that he hadn't noticed, but certainly Colonel Thornbush would detect any slight movement. "Yes sir. Sorry sir. It won't happen again. I promise, sir."

"Yes, well, a soldier doesn't necessarily get a second chance, does he."

Judy took a deep breath, her breasts briefly filling up. "No sir, he, um, she doesn't, sir." She had disappointed him, and she knew it.

He moved around to her front. "No, I imagine he doesn't," he said quietly, his eyes falling upon her naked tits.

Private Benjamin kept her eyes looking forward. She knew that a good soldier does not follow the eyes of the commander officer as he is inspecting her. You maintain your position, although it was always difficult, not being able to read his eyes as he inspects your posture, your gun, your uniform, your boobies.

Colonel Thornbush took great pleasure and considerable pride when he inspected his units, and no more than right now, as he gazed upon Private Benjamin's naked titties. He wondered if he would like them to be larger. His mash unit could really improve them. There was something so very appealing, so provocatively arousing, about large, humongous, lusciously full boobs on an elfin body. But, there was also something endearingly charming about little naked titties on a grown woman, particularly one who is so fetchingly cute as Private Benjamin, trying so desperately to look strong, formidable, and powerful with such tiny teeny titties.

Judy took another deep breath, feeling her little boobs rise up.

As did the colonel's unit, his eyes feasting on the young soldier's rising tits. His tongue lightly slid along his lips, a gesture unbecoming a commanding officer, but one that was instinctual for a man gazing upon such sweet delights. They were small, but they were enough for a soft handful, and what more did one really need? Plus, they were so virginally white, so delectably feminine and pure. And, equally appealing, her nipples were so large, so pointy, so erect. They appeared to be standing at attention as well, as two proud soldiers would.

"Let's see if these little soldiers can stand taller." He reached out with both hands and lightly flicked each of them with the tips of his fingers. 

Judy gasped, then cursed herself for again flinching. Her nipples though had little choice but to react. They perked up even stiffer, taller.

"Yes, these are quite the little soldiers," he complimented.

Just a trace of a grin could be seen on the edges of Private Benjamin's lips. Not too many soldiers would get a compliment like that. Judy may look like a fragile, delicate, childlike minx, but right now she felt like a true finely tuned military machine. "Yes sir," Judy responded, and again thrust her breasts, her nipples, far out toward the commander, offering them for further tactical tactile maneuvers.

Colonel Thornbush pinched each one and then released his fingers to admire his handiwork, and this soldier's alertness, her nipples' taut response to his brief assault. He smiled approvingly. This young lady may indeed prove to be an outstanding field warrior. But, still, there were more hurdles, more obstacles, more trials, for her to surmount, to prove her character, her muster. "Yes, well, let's not get ahead of ourselves here, solder."

"No sir," Judy responded, fully recognizing that simply because her nipples were nicely erect was not sufficient evidence that she was Thornbird material. She was though feeling quite ready to receive whatever challenge the colonel might thrust upon her.

Colonel Thornbush reached out again, this time to lightly cup each of the girl's perky round breasts within the palms of his hands, his fingers wrapping around and gently gripping those soft pliable cups, his thumbs caressing the young lady's stiff bullets. These titties were not large, they were in fact quite small, but they did fill his hands and felt so, so nice.

This time Judy did not flinch, although she did take a deep breath, filling her boobies out a bit more. She so hoped that the colonel liked them. She certainly did enjoy his touch. The colonel did know how to handle a soldier's weapons. She could feel herself getting excited, aroused, at the soft, gentle cupping and caressing of this most powerful man. There was indeed something about being with a strong, commanding, masculine man. This colonel could put down, disarm, and even disable Yale with just his little finger. Perhaps it was instinctual, simply a Darwinian twitch of one's genes, one's eggs, for the seed of the largest, greatest, most virile buck in the herd. Or, perhaps it was simply that this would be a man who you knew could and would protect you, defend you, fight for you and for your children. Whatever it was, whatever the reason, she could feel her legs getting a bit weak, her breathing accelerating, her thighs becoming warm, her pussy becoming moist. She so hoped that he didn't notice, fearing that feminine sexual arousal was hardly being soldierly.

Colonel Thornbush did indeed see, and feel, the soldier's reaction. Many young Thornbirds failed at this point. In fact, many had failed prior to this point, reacting with shock, perhaps even offense and outrage, when he unclasped their brassieres. Private Benjamin, however, was clearly no ordinary recruit. She had the potential of becoming an outstanding warrior.

With considerable reluctance he let go of her breasts, instantly feeling a void within his hands, his fingers, still longing to be holding, caressing, and squeezing the soft feminine flesh, but he did admire the fact that her titties did not fall or droop at the release of the support of their commanding officer. These were firm and fit bubbies that stood well at attention on their own.

He moved back around, behind Private Benjamin to once again consider the recruit's barely pantied bottom.

'Oh man she has such a sweet tush,' he thought. Her derriere could hardly be much bigger than his hand. His cock swelled so hard within his uniform slacks.

He squatted down behind her, his eyes just inches from the young lady's round bum, so close that Judy could even feel his breaths on her naked skin.

The colonel reached out, clasped his fingers within the waistband of Judy's panties, and slowly pulled them down. He did not understand why he so much enjoyed a girl's fanny. He wasn't so sure that it was right for a man to take so much pleasure in girls' bottoms. They were not, after all, traditional components of sexuality, were they? Well, right now thoughtful deliberation was not on his mind. His contemplation was more basic, more elemental, more fundamentally pleasurable. Deep reflection over why he liked what he liked he would leave to the mash shrink. He just knew what he liked, and he really liked these butt cheeks.

Judy clenched her cheeks as she felt her panties slipping down off her bottom. It wasn't clear if she was doing so out of embarrassment, or a willful interest to present her derriere in its most complimentary manner. She wondered if perhaps she should bend over at least a bit, to give the colonel the full effect of her perky naked bum. However, she thought it best to stand her ground, to remain at full attention as he had in fact commanded.

The colonel pulled Private Benjamin's panties just down to her knees and then paused to admire how firm her fanny looked. He could see that the muscles were taught and tight. One could most certainly bounce a quarter off this grunt's pillow, although in respect and consideration he would probably just use a dime. He instructed Judy, "Solder, let's keep them right here, shall we?"

"Yes sir," Private Benjamin responded, but wondering how she could in fact keep her panties at her knees, while remaining standing at attention, not using her hands.

The colonel though answered her with his actions. He held her panties in place with his left hand as he gently but firmly patted the insides of her thighs, instructing her to spread her legs wide enough so that she could keep her panties from spilling to the floor.

Soldiers must be ready to stand at attention in many difficult circumstances and contexts. Captain Lewis had one time made Private Benjamin stand at attention all night long in the pouring rain. She had done so, despite the fact that by morning her hair and mascara were a complete mess.

Private Benjamin followed the colonel's lead and parted her legs, even though she knew that she was quite likely opening up to his eyes her most personal, private part.

Colonel Thornbush smiled as the private's private part came into view through those lovely white thighs: her soft feminine slit. He was very pleased. The private was shaven, completely shaven. He respected, and liked, that very much. "Yes, private, I see that you keep yourself well groomed, well polished."

"Sir?"

He reached out with his right hand, reaching in between her thighs, and gently laid the tips of his fingers, from behind, on Judy's soft, smooth mound.

Judy's eyes opened wide. It was a sneak attack from behind! She had not been expecting that. Her gentlemen friends usually approached from the front, at least when they were just going to finger her. But, perhaps she should have expected no less from the colonel, as he was known to be a skilled tactician.

Still, she was able to maintain her wits, her position, while under this new assault. As commanded, she kept her thighs open, giving him the access that he now exploited, the breach that he now penetrated. She squinched her eyes shut, trying to maintain her composure as the colonel explored her softness, her lips, her glistening slit.

The colonel was at least gentle with his touch, not what one might expect from a well-decorated, battle-scarred colonel of an elite fighting unit. In fact, his touch was rather nice, even sensual, and Judy could feel herself naturally responding. She might be standing at attention, but she was not frozen: her feelings, her cunt, were not frigid.

Fortunately for Judy, perhaps, the colonel could not see her face, which revealed a considerable relaxing of the stoic flat demeanor one typically wants from a soldier on guard. Judy even closed her eyes, usually a fatal error while on duty, allowing herself to enjoy the sensually caressing touch of the colonel's fingers on the lips of her cunnie: softly moving up, down, and around, occasionally dipping in with brief reconnoiters, exploring the precise nature of the crevices, contours, and curves of the recruit's cunt before his full mission would be launched.

Private Benjamin even became a bit impatient, wanting him to become more forceful, more aggressive in his incursion, perhaps even truly assault, invade, and penetrate her cunt with one, or two, or even three, of his fingers, but the colonel would not be drawn in, would not be coaxed or seduced into an attack before he was in fact ready.

He shifted to the little hard nub of Judy's clit, pressing the tips of his fingers against her button, pressing his fingers around and around in tight circular motions, at times as well giving her little fluttering flicks and pinches.

Judy could feel her breathing accelerating, her breasts rising and falling. It took considerable concentration not to gasp or moan in pleasure.

But, her arousal was nevertheless evident in other ways. The colonel could see and feel that the private was becoming quite vulnerable to an invasion, as her lips were getting increasingly wet, swollen, and receptive.

Judy even subtly bent her bottom back a bit, letting him know that she was indeed ready and willing to be taken.

Her legs began to feel a bit weak, her mind a bit confused, her knees a bit wobbly, but she held her ground. They do push you to the limits in the army, taking you to your maximal point, your pinnacle, helping you be all that you can be. Judy whimpered as she felt her feminine dew slide down her thigh.

The colonel pulled his fingers away. He could see that this girl had many outstanding attributes. Her panties had remained at her knees despite the pressure, the heat, she was under. She did know how to maintain her position in the line of fire. "You can drop those panties now, soldier."

"Yes sir," Private Benjamin replied, and reaffirmed the more traditional parade stance with her legs and thighs together, her panties falling to her ankles as she did so.

The colonel did not remove her panties from her feet. Somehow they looked rather nice there, gathered around Judy's delicate ankles, accentuating the fact that they had once been protecting the modesty of her cunnie and bum, but they are now down, exposing to view, to an indecent inspection, what was once hidden.

The colonel took from his pocket his pen, a gift to him from one of his units, in appreciation of his courage and leadership. Inscribed on it was the motto of the Fighting Thornbirds: 'My body, my weapon.' "Let's see how fit you are, soldier," the colonel challenged.

"Yes sir!" Private Benjamin exclaimed. It didn't appear that he was going to ask her to do push-ups, but maybe some handstands or cartwheels. She was really good at those, although it might be a bit awkward to do them in the nude.

The colonel slipped his pen in between the cheeks of Private Benjamin's little round butt.

At first Judy wasn't sure what it was, what was intruding into the cheeks of her bottom. She glanced left and right, perplexed. Was it his finger? It seemed a little cold for a finger and hey, what the heck was it doing there anyway?

The colonel explained. "Alright, Benjamin, keep that weapon aimed. I don't want to see it lower one inch."

Judy suppressed a groan. Captain Lewis had one time made her interminably hold her rifle in firing position, seemingly out of spite. Judy eventually just had to drop it. It was so heavy! Well, she was not going to fail this time, not for Colonel Thornbush. She squinched her brow in deep concentration and, more importantly, tightly clenched her butt cheeks. She knew she could do it. She always did have strong fanny muscles, as she really concentrated on them in her workouts.

The pen poked out from her taut cheeks like it was firmly staked into her ass.

The colonel was impressed. He stood back up and stepped back. This soldier knew how to aim a weapon, even from behind. He slowly walked around her, glaring at her menacingly, but she was not to be intimidated. The pen stayed lodged in her butt, poking out from her derriere like the barrel of a tank.

He paused when he was directly in front of the private, observing the arousal from his diddling still within her flushed cheeks, erect nipples, and glistening pussy lips. He stepped up against her, his eyes just inches from hers, his chest pressed against her breasts, her erect nipples.

She continued to look straight forward, concentrating on not letting go of her little rifle as she felt the colonel's many ribbons brushing against a stiff nipple.

The colonel shifted back a bit and reached up to again grasp her nipples, gripping and pinching each stiff nub within his thumbs and forefingers.

Private Benjamin gasped but she held her ground, and his pen. Her nipples were as pointy as the pen in her butt, but still she held on.

He let go of her nipples and reached down with his left hand, his piercing eyes still fixed on hers as he lightly tickled and flickered the nub of her clit.

Judy did reveal a bit of emotion, a little flicker in her large, round, blue eyes, a little fluttering of her long eye lashes, a little whimper escaping from her lips, but yet she held on. She would not leave her post. She would not drop her weapon.




Private Benjamin



He slid a finger farther down, down to the entrance to her inner self, her cunnie, her cunt, and he slipped a finger briefly up inside, into the tight wet clinging canal.

Judy's breasts rose up in defiance and arousal, her face grimacing with her struggle at self-control, her cunnie quivering with arousal as she clenched both his finger and his pen. There would be no shame in dropping her weapon now. The assault was from the front, not from behind, but she would not let the colonel down. She grasped tightly onto his finger with the muscles of her cunnie, her eyes expressing her adamant defiance and resolve, as well as her growing arousal.

The commander removed his finger from her cunt and moved back around behind her, smiling with appreciation and pride at the sight of that pen still sticking straight out. It hadn't seemed to have even dropped a centimeter. "Yes, you are well disciplined, soldier."

"Yes sir," Judy replied. "Thank you sir. Captain Lewis trained us well."

"Yes, yes," he said. "I can certainly see that." He reached out and retrieved his pen, returning it to his pocket.

The colonel then crouched down behind her, reaching out to firmly grasp hold of those soft but taut cheeks to spread them wide open, opening up to the light of his office and his eyes the puckered rose bud of the cute little private. Yes, she looked fit as a fiddle here as well. He studied her anus closely. A good commander does not miss any details.

Judy squinched her eyes shut again. She was not herself particularly enamored with anal sex. But, she would have been willing to try it, for her husband, Yale, if that's what he wanted. And, if her commander ordered her anus into action, she would certainly obey.

And, that was indeed what was on the mind of the colonel. A Thornbird's body is her weapon; her whole body and all of her holes. He softly felt, explored, and caressed her wrinkled brown hole with one finger, as his other hand kept her cheek spread open.

Judy wondered how she should best present her anus to the colonel. Should she squeeze her sphincter a few times, like she was saluting him? Or, should she just keep it perfectly still. The appropriate response was not in the field manual, so she opted to keep it perfectly still.

The colonel, having completed his inspection of the young lady's anus, said, "You never can tell where the enemy might mount an attack, soldier. What hole they might attempt to breach."

"No sir," Private Benjamin responded, a little apprehensive over what that might mean. Would the enemy really attack her there?

The colonel inserted his index finger into his mouth to get it good and wet and then, with no hesitation, no further foreplay, plunged it up into Private Benjamin's butt.

"Oh my goodness!" Judy exclaimed, instinctively lurching her butt away from the intruding finger. But then, as quickly, recovering her composure and resuming her stance, even pushing back against the colonel's finger, trying to make up for her lapse. She cursed herself. He had even given her a warning, yet she still had crumbled under the incursion. She wondered how well she would hold up under a real invasion. Of course, all soldiers do worry whether they will be able to maintain their cool, their composure, their position, while under an intrusive, penetrating assault. And, Judy hadn't actually crumbled. She had just wavered, only for a second or so. She so hoped the colonel saw it that way too.

Colonel Thornbush was a bit disappointed. Perhaps he shouldn't though. Most recruits hadn't done nearly as well as Private Benjamin had done so far into this test of her mettle, her right stuff. He shouldn't really expect her not to falter at least once or twice. Still, it would have been nice to have actually found the perfect warrior.

On the other hand, her asshole did at least feel real nice. She was awfully tight up in there, and she was gripping his finger like she had him in a strangle hold and was trying to choke him to death. There was no doubt that she could wrestle a cock pretty darned well with this sphincter.

Judy tried not to squirm or wiggle as the colonel felt around in her rectum with his thick, foraying finger. It was difficult, as it felt so intrusive, so obtrusive, so impertinent. She knew though that it was a very important test: could she maintain her presence of mind when her defenses were breached and the enemy had penetrated her asshole. She firmly planted her feet and stood her ground, but her bottom did wiggle a little bit, her cheeks flexing, her sphincter clenching. It was just so weird to have a finger stuck up her butt like this, and this was no ordinary finger.

The colonel finally stopped his digging and probing and asked, "Do you keep your weapon clean, soldier?"

"Sir?" She was at first confused by his meaning, but then quickly grasped the intimation. 'Wow,' she thought, 'the Thornbirds is one dedicated, disciplined unit. They even cleaned their rectums?' "Yes sir," she replied, albeit not so confidently. What was she supposed to say? The soldier's weapon should be immaculate, flawless, unsoiled. You don't confess to your commanding officer that the barrel is in fact potentially filled with, well, you know what.

"Well, let's just take a look." The colonel flipped his finger out, making a sharp popping noise like one can do with a finger popping out of the cheek of one's mouth.

Judy felt an urge, an impulse, to apologize, as it felt and sounded like she might have farted, but she actually hadn't. It was the colonel who had induced the immodest noise.

The colonel inspected his finger, and nodded his head. Yes, the girl was a natural. "Very good, soldier, very good."

Private Benjamin beamed with pride. "Thank-you sir!" She couldn't wait to tell Captain Lewis how well she had done. She would be so proud of her, as would daddy.

"Alright then, soldier, for your last trial, keep your feet firmly planted, lean over and place your hands on the edge of my desk."

"Yes sir," Private Benjamin responded. She was relieved to hear that his evaluation, his inspection, was almost over, particularly as she felt that up until this point she had done pretty darned good. There had been a couple of setbacks, a couple of slips, but nobody gets through an obstacle course without at least one or two minor imperfections. She grabbed the edge of the colonel's desk, keeping her feet where they are.

It was a difficult position as the desk was a bit of distance away. And, it did not escape her attention that this new parade position was quite suggestive, to say the least, as her bottom was now well thrust out, as if it was asking for an assault.

The colonel though did help her out. "Here, soldier, that looks a might uncomfortable," although very pleasant to observe. "You can step out of your panties."

"Thank you, sir," Private Benjamin responded. That was awfully considerate of the colonel. She stepped out of her panties, as the colonel had suggested. "And, here," he said, grasping her thighs to have her move her feet up closer to the desk, and then pressing against the back of her knees to get her to bend her legs more, and then pulling on her waist to have her position her bottom as far back as possible, and then spreading her thighs out wider, providing ample space in between her feet and legs.

It was a much more comfortable position, sort of, but also now even much more suggestive, if not openly and explicitly obscene. She was now crouching down a bit, her legs spread out, and thrusting her butt out like a true bitch in heat. This was a parade position that she had not been previously taught. It was a position though that wasn't entirely unknown to her. "Is this correct, sir?"

"Excellent, private," the colonel replied. "Excellent emplacement soldier, outstanding posture. You are now ready for battle."

"Thank you, sir." Private Benjamin smiled in appreciation.

The colonel stepped up behind her, unzipped his slacks, removed his stiff hard cock, and got into attack position. He placed the head of his dick against the young lady's warm, soft slit.

This time Private Benjamin did not flinch. She knew what was positioning itself at her cunnie. She had felt quite a few of them back there before. This was finally an army field exercise with which she was very familiar and well prepared. She even lifted up her bottom a bit higher, making it easier for the colonel to slip his cock up inside.

The colonel had no real difficulty in getting his gun holstered. This girl was tight, but comfortably so, and certainly very helpfully moist and slick. It appears he had indeed successfully softened his target in advance of his assault. Yes, this soldier appeared to be the perfect armament for the Fighting Thornbirds, a living embodiment of their motto, their creed: "My body, my weapon." He shoved his cock deep up into the soldier's slippery tight cunt.

Nor was Private Benjamin disappointed in her colonel's weapon. She could size a man up by his dick, measure his mettle by the feel of his cock in her pussy, and this colonel was indeed quite the man. She wondered what it would be like to swallow his sword. "My goodness, sir," she gasped, "Are all colonel's this large?"

It was perhaps just lame flattery, but even if it was the colonel was pleased with her spunk, her moxie, her pluck. He began to thrust his weapon, his sword, his bludgeon, in and out of her wet cunt.

Judy lurched with each charge, each piercing stab of the colonel's thick, stout, stiff cock, thrusting up deep into her cunt. It's said that size doesn't matter, but at the moment there was nothing negligible or inconsequential about the size of this colonel's cock. Judy had never felt so filled, so packed and stuffed before, and it felt really, really good. She groaned and moaned in bestial lust, meeting his plunging with her own thrusting, matching his charge with equal retort, pounding back against him as much as he gave her, feeling that thick hard cock cramming and choking, goring and gorging her cunt. She pounded her hips back against him with fervent, feverish passion.

The colonel was indeed impressed. He had never mounted a filly as frisky, as spirited, as eager as this one. This was one lustful, lewd, libidinous lass. It was clear that she will be an outstanding Thornbird. He leaned over and reached around beneath her, one hand firmly grasping a soft round tit, the other pinching her stiff clitoral nub.

"Colonel," Judy gasped. She had never felt so thoroughly, wonderfully and truly fucked before, or at least not for quite a long time. And, she was being fucked by a truly powerful man, a warrior, a leader, a Thornbird. "Fuck me, Colonel!" she loudly squealed. "Fuck my cunt so hard!"

And he obeyed the private's order, driving his cock faster and faster, harder and harder into her cunt, slamming his abdomen against her ass, the room filling with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, cock sluicing in and out of a tightly, slippery, sloshing cunt.

"Fuck!" Judy gasped, feeling her orgasm suddenly sweep through her body, her head feeling faint, her entire body twitching and shivering in paroxysm shudders.

"Take my load, soldier," the colonel gasped, "I'm about to release all barrels."

"Please sir," Judy gasped through her trembling, fitful orgasm, "Let me please, could I please." She struggled to find the words, her body, her mind, were so wracked by her climactic waves, "have the honor, the privilege, of receiving it," she let her face fall onto the desk, too weak too hold it up, "your load, on my face" She wondered if she was asking too much. She was, after all, just a private. Perhaps a reward such as that would be reserved for at least a commissioned officer.

"As you wish, soldier," the colonel replied. He did feel it was perhaps presumptive of her. Soldiers do not ask to receive medals. They earn them. Private Benjamin wasn't even yet a Thornbird, but he could see that she was a very special and deserving recruit.

He pulled his cock from her clenching, quivering cunt, wrenching it free in a sloppy, noisy, lewd slush. "Assume the position," he gasped, feeling unable to hold himself back any longer.

Private Benjamin quickly reversed herself, dropped down onto her knees before the colonel, tilted her head back, and looked up at him with those large, innocent blue eyes, fluttering lashes, perky nose, rosy dimpled cheeks, and pouting lips, to say, "I just love the smell of a man's cum in the morning sir. Flood me, sir, with your hot, sticky, manly napalm."

And, so he did, releasing volley after volley of thick, sticky white Thornbird gism. The colonel was fully loaded, and he did not hold back, expelling his entire ordnance in twitching, jerking explosions onto Judy's cheeks, nose, lips, and eyes, thoroughly covering the private's face in a showering steamy manly gruel. Virtually every inch, every centimeter, every nook and cranny, every ridge, curve, and valley, every cute dimple, filled with his thick cream.

When he was done he paused to admire the full extent of his bombardment, his cannonade, his showering salvo of slippery, sloppy semen. Yes, he had done a pretty good job, fully engulfing and immersing the target, but then no less would be expected of Thornbird's commanding officer.

He offered his handkerchief to the young lady as he helped her to her feet. But, Private Benjamin declined. She wanted to further enjoy the pleasure of her commander's expression of trust, honor, and respect, to taste the cum on her lips, to smell the cum dripping from her nose, to feel it sliding down her rosy cheeks.

When she was at her feet she wrapped her arms around him, around his thick barrel chest, and hugged him.

He gently laid a hand on her naked back, another on her little naked bum. Some soldiers do need reassurance. Combat can be difficult.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Judy's mission would be undercover, and she was quite excited about it, as well as considerably apprehensive. She would be operating alone. She would have hoped that she would be accompanied by a more experienced combat veteran, perhaps even Colonel Thornbush, but once she learned the details of her mission it was evident that she would have to go solo, despite the fact that she was a complete virgin when it came to actual combat.

She kept reminding herself that she was now a Thornbird, that she had been carefully selected and thoroughly trained for this mission by Colonel Thornbush himself. As he said, she was "the best of the best of the best." If he did not have full confidence in her skills, her aptitude, her training, and her body, he would not have placed her in harm's way.

Colonel Thornbush had indeed spent a number of additional sessions with Benjamin. There were quite a few holds, tactics, and maneuvers with which Colonel Thornbush felt Benjamin should become fully abreast. If there is one thing about being a soldier, it was drill, drill, drill. And Judy was indeed fully drilled by the end of her training.

When Colonel Thornbush felt that Benjamin was adequately prepared and combat ready, he provided her with the details of her mission, and with a promotion duly fitting such an important responsibility.

Private First Class Benjamin was delighted. She would be going to Paris! Perhaps her army recruiter had not misled her after all.

Her mission was to retrieve a top secret document currently in the possession of a Mr. Bing Russell. Intelligence was reporting that he was about to hand the material over to his Russian contact. There was very little time. Judy would have to act fast, and decisively.

Private First Class Benjamin was perfect for this mission, at least physically, given her uncanny resemblance to the actress, Goldie Hawn. Bing Russell was a reasonably normal man, but he did have one minor peccadillo: he had this unusual interest in, or more like a fixation and preoccupation with, the real Goldie Hawn. His apartment was plastered with posters, pictures, and souvenirs from various movies and television appearances. His most treasured position was one of her Laugh-In miniskirts that he had purchased on eBay. One might doubt that Goldie had actually worn it on the show, but it did come with a certificate of authenticity, and that couldn't be faked, could it? In any case, it went without saying that no other soldier was better suited to gain Bing's trust, infiltrate his apartment, and retrieve the top secret documents, than Private First Class Benjamin.

Judy's resemblance to Goldie was frankly uncanny, with her large, innocent, round, sparkly blue eyes, long fluttering eye lashes, dimpled broad smile, red rouged cheeks, and the very high-pitched feminine voice. She even had down to a tee the elfish giggle. All that was missing was the habit of biting her lower lip whenever she was being flirtatiously and gaily confused, which was most of the time. Judy worked with Colonel Thornbush to perfect that additional endearing mannerism.

Judy was placed in a charming apartment in Paris, right over a bakery. It had a hot plate, running warm and cold water, and all the croissants she could eat. Most importantly, it was right next to the objective of her mission: Mr. Bing Russell. They even had adjoining balconies.

It wouldn't seem difficult for Judy to attract his attention, but she wasn't taking any chances. Besides, she didn't have much time.

On her first evening she came out onto the balcony wearing only a bikini, her body painted with punchy phrases, pithy wordplay, and drawings. There was the Golden Gate Bridge traversing her breasts, "peek-a-boo" was written across her thigh (first part below, second part above the waistband of her bikini), "love it or leave it" across her tummy, "danger, curves ahead" across her left breast, "fly me" across her right breast (along with an airplane), "sports" on her right bicep, and a man in a parachute down her right side.

As her CD played 'Yummy, Yummy, Yummy, I got love in my tummy,' by Ohio Express, Judy was dancing, doing the Swim, the Jerk, the Watusi, the Monkey, the Frug, and the Pony.

Bing was at first drawn by the music or more accurately annoyed. He was going to ask this person to turn it down, if not turn it off, but was instantly mesmerized by the sight. He thought he must be hallucinating. He looked at his watch. He didn't know why he did that. He just wanted to check that he was still alive, that he could still perceive reality accurately.

He didn't say anything. He just watched. It was like he had been transplanted back in time or, perhaps more accurately, was viewing a hologram. Which was less realistic? He didn't know. Yet, either of those weren't real. What was real was that Goldie Hawn, from Laugh-In, was dancing on the balcony of the apartment next door. And, boy, did she look so terribly hot.

He immediately got hard, and slid back a bit, to the side, peeking around from the divider that provided a bit of privacy for the two balconies. He didn't want this very gorgeous girl to notice him as he so thoroughly enjoyed fully noticing her. Her dancing was silly, of course, but that's also what made her all the more endearing, all the more curious and enticing.

Plus, this girl's bikini was considerably more provocative than the ones Goldie had worn on the show, which were themselves rather skimpy. The bottom did not fully cover her bottom, exposing the soft white cups of her lower buttocks, and the beginning of that delightfully enticing fanny crack at the top. Yes, he didn't ever see that on Laugh-In. And, when the girl turned to face him, the top appeared to be even less effective in the traditional purpose of an article of clothing. The cups appeared to be little more than straps. Certainly the straps widened as they traversed each breast, but they did little more than that. Could you even wear this thing on a beach? Actually, in France you certainly could, although you really shouldn't play volleyball or anything like that, and you definitely shouldn't be dancing the Monkey, as the girl's tits kept popping out of the straps, a full white little titty briefly coming into view, jiggling like a little bowl of white creamy jelly. As soon as a titty appeared she would slip the strap back over the nipple but the swinging, bobbling boobies never stayed hidden for long. They just kept popping, wiggling, and peaking out. Bing's dick surged hard in his pants.




Private Benjamin



The front of the bikini was comparably immodest. The bikini was held together in the usual flimsy manner: thin straps tied together in a bow. He was always so tempted to pull the loose end when he was within arm's reach of one of them. And, this girl must be fully shaved as it appeared that only her mound was covered. The fabric was pulled so tightly across her feminine pouch that she was providing the clear, explicit definition of camel toe. Bing's dick strained in his slacks as he ogled her from around the corner.

"Oh! Hello! I'm sorry," Judy said, noticing Mr. Russell watching her. Actually, she had noticed him much sooner than that but knew that it was best to pique his interest. "Was the music too loud?" She stopped dancing, turned off the CD, and only then adjusted the top of her bikini to get one of her mischievous, pesky boobies back under the strap.

"Oh, yes, hello, no," he stammered, feeling a bit flustered in getting caught staring at his neighbor, or more accurately her exposed breast. "No, I mean, the music wasn't too loud." He regained his composure and asked, "What are you doing?" "Exercising, silly," she responded, gaily smiling as she placed her hands on cocked hips, her camel toe begging to be noticed, to be kissed and licked. "What does it look like?"

Well, he supposed it could be called exercising, but it was certainly a rather unique approach. He asked, "Why all the paint?"

"Oh, I don't know, my Uncle Martin always had me do that whenever he visited. He would have all the girls get all painted up and then have a dance contest. I still do it myself, at times, when I'm feeling lonely."

"Lonely?"

"Yea, well," she said, stepping up to and leaning over the ledge that separated the two balconies, her boobies swinging a bit in the straps, flirting with the possibility of once again slipping out. "You know, I just moved here and everything," she said, looking deeply into his eyes, "I don't know anybody at all." She sounded plaintive, pleading.

"Oh, well, that is indeed too bad. Um, well, would you, well, perhaps like to come by and visit? I don't have any plans this evening, at least for awhile. We could have perhaps a glass of wine?"

"Cool!" She gleefully exclaimed, standing back up a straight, a titty again slipping out, the nipple pointing right at his ogling eyes. She didn't even seem to notice. "That would be so groovy!"

Groovy? Is that what she said? She even seemed to speak like Goldie Hawn did, some 40 years ago.

"Well, excellent then," he muttered, tearing his eyes away, not wanting to be so openly rude as to stare at her bare tit. Looking off to the side he said, "Why don't you come on over. Let me pick the place up a bit. I'll open some wine. Do you like red?"

"Oh, hey, I'll bring the wine. I like wine."

"Well, um, sure then, excellent. See you in five, six?"

"Cool! But make it a bit longer. I've got to get the paint off and everything, and, oh my goodness," she exclaimed, acting as if she had just now noticed her indelicate exposure. "I better put on more modest clothing, don't you think?"

He really didn't think that, but it would be rather presumptive to suggest otherwise. "Yea, sure," he replied, and quickly retreated back into his apartment, immediately doing a mad dash throughout to pick up all the loose clothes, half-eaten foods, half-filled glasses, and hide anything that was potentially embarrassing (e.g., his latest issue of Shadowplay). The place was indeed a mess. He was scurrying left and right, realizing that there was no way he would be able to clean the place up in time. The dirty dishes in the sink was a particular problem. He started to hurriedly wash them. He was making good progress but when he realized he would never get all of them done in time he just scooped up the remaining dishes, silverware, and glasses and dropped them into the wastebasket (he could retrieve them later).

Judy similarly made a dash for her shower to wash off the drawings and writing, her heart racing as fast as her hands. She was so terribly excited. She had encountered the enemy and it appears that her initial engagement had been successful. She so wished though that Colonel Thornbush was here, not only to advice her on what to do next but to also admire how much progress she was making so quickly.

Judy was also glad to see that Mr. Russell was a reasonably good looking man. She had, of course, seen pictures of him, but persons in real life do not always look as good as they appear in photographs, and vice versa. He was much older than her, being middle-aged and everything, but he was not an old man and he had his appeal. She carefully chose her next semblance. She had to choose carefully. The target had been baited, but he had not yet been hooked.

Bing re-arranged the stacks of magazines and books on the coffee table, shifting Entertainment Tonight to the bottom and moving The Ecologist to the top. He never actually read The Ecologist. It had just been a birthday present. Amazing how friends buy you subscriptions to magazines they liked rather than ones you would like, although of course if you really liked it, then you probably would already have it. In any case, he felt The Ecologist would be more impressive to a girl than Entertainment Tonight. He fluffed the pillows on the easy chair and couch, cursing himself for not having vacuumed for the last few weeks, and then made a dash for his bathroom and bedroom to put on a clean shirt, along with another layer of deodorant.

He panicked when he saw the nude pictures of Goldie Hawn in his bedroom.

Bing's apartment was a little weird. It contained many pictures and posters of Goldie. There wasn't so many in his living room that one might consider him to be some sort of a freak. It wasn't entirely overdone. There was a picture of her in a short, silver halter top skirt from 'Shampoo,' another in her tight, paisley, hip hugging bell bottoms and halter top from 'Cactus Flower,' and from 'There's a Girl in My Soup,' the tight red, spaghetti strap red evening dress, split up to her thigh, and cut so low that her breasts appeared to be spilling out, which was pretty impressive given how small they were. And, most impressively, all three pictures were personally autographed! There were quite a few more, but none of the rest were autographed. Well, maybe the picture and memorabilia collection was a bit excessive. He wondered if he should take some of them down before the girl arrived.

But the collection definitely went over the top in his bedroom. There was another picture from 'There's a Girl in My Soup;' actually, a poster. In this poster Goldie was in the process of putting on a robe, but at the moment she was entirely naked, and one could see her quite entirely naked bottom. Another poster was a shower scene from 'Best Friends,' which even showed her nipple. And, then, perhaps best of all, there was a poster of her from "Wildcats' in a bathtub, entirely naked, no soap, her little titties all exposed. The shot even went down to her pussy, or at least pretty darned close. She was clearly shaved, but a thigh was covering the best spot. Regrettably, none of these were autographed.

He doubted these additional posters would impress this girl, whoever she was. But, it was unlikely that she would ever get to the bedroom, wasn't it? And, if she did he could deal with it then, telling her that he first wanted to pick up that room as well, get all the old clothes off the floor and things. But, first he should take down some of the pictures and put away some of the memorabilia in the living room. What if she found all of that stuff to be strange? He decided to tone it down a bit and dashed back to the living room, grabbing a framed poster from the wall and stuffing it behind a couch, but he then heard a knock on the door. It was her. It was too late to get rid of all of them.

When he opened the door he was a bit surprised. Her outfit was so quirky. She was wearing paisley hip hugging bell bottoms, with a decorated silk blouse, all covered with very brightly colorful butterflies. It was like she had stepped out of 'Cactus Flower,' although once again the outfit was a bit over the top for the movie. The loss of the bikini was more than compensated by the absence of a brassiere beneath the blouse, along with the fact that he could pretty well see through this blouse. In fact, it was really very difficult not to stare. How do you pretend that you are not noticing naked tits? Aren't you supposed to notice them? Isn't that why women wear see-through blouses? Would they expect you to assume that they wouldn't notice your cock sticking out of your pants? Why the double-standard? Of course, her boobies weren't sticking out of her blouse, but there is really no meaningful difference between a see-through blouse and no blouse at all. It was like you're supposed to pretend she was wearing a blouse, while all the time there was no effective blouse whatsoever as those naked white titties were wiggling before your eyes.

"Um, hello," he said, a little stunned, and stiffening.

Judy smiled, both with friendliness and with pride. She could see that she had chosen her combat dress well, although it did feel a bit awkward to have a strange man ogling her breasts so openly. She reminded herself that she was on a mission, and it was her duty as a Thornbird, and central to her mission, to let this man admire her titties. She thrust them out. "I'm sorry it took so long."

Was it so long? It had seemed so quick to him.

"I took a brief shower. I had to get the body paint off. See?" She turned left and right, as if to show him the absence of the lettering and drawings but more importantly giving him different perspectives on her wiggling breasts beneath her blouse.

Bing looked through the sheer material, staring at those perky lily white boobies, her nipples so stiff and pointy. His cock twitched and swelled in his boxers. He then looked away, feeling rather self-conscious about staring at them so openly.

Judy grinned at his discomfort, as well as at his obvious pleasure at the sight of her breasts. She gaily asked, "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

"Uh, yea, sure, sure," he replied, working hard to keep his eyes focused on her eyes. "C'mon in."

"Cool," she replied, and bounded in, holding two bottles of wine in her hands.

Bing had not at first noticed the wine. "Oh yes," he replied and hurried over to his liquor cabinet. Bing Russell did enjoy fine wine. He would have been quite happy to treat this girl, this once in a lifetime girl, to one of his best vintages. However, he was also receptive to imbibing in something new. He pulled out two of his finer wine glasses. "What did you bring?" He was quite curious as he turned toward her breasts, or actually to her two bottles of wine, which she was holding in front of each breast.

"Boone's Farm," she replied. "I just love Boone's Farm, don't you?"

He replied uncertainly, and without much conviction, "Yea, sure, of course."

"You know they make all sorts of flavors: Apple, Lemonade, Blueberry, Orange, Raspberry, Strawberry, that can come, of course, as a Strawberry Daiquiri, Strawberry Hill, or a Strawberry Margarita, and then, of course, there's" she bit her lower lip and looked up to the right as she appeared to count them off from memory, "Blue Hawaiian, Country Kwencher, Mango Grove, Pina Colada, that's a funny one for a wine, don't you think, and then there's Mountain Berry, Fuzzy Navel, Melon Ball, Sangria, of course."

"Yea, sure, of course," he dully replied.

"And, let's see, I know there's a few more." She thought for awhile, letting the two bottles drift down a bit to reveal her nipples, which had been pushing against the refrigerated wine, and were now sticking out really quite boldly through the blouse in their very erected state.

With the girl apparently being lost in thought, Bing took advantage to feast his eyes on her titties, and the very pointedly erect nips.

"Oh gosh darn it!" She exclaimed, pretending to be terribly frustrated with her lack of memory. She stamped her foot, causing her boobies to again wiggle. "I know there's a few more." She paused a moment, looked down, and then back up again at Bing, smiled gaily, and jumped up and down in glee as she said, "Snow Creek Berry! Snow Creek Berry!"

Her tittles were bobbling like crazy. You really just can't ignore them. They weren't big, but even little ones can wiggle and jiggle pretty darned good.

Judy stopped jumping and again thought deeply, her brow furrowed. She looked up hopefully at Bing. "You must know the rest." He wasn't too sure why he necessarily should know them. Heck, he thought that there was just one flavor, strawberry, although as he thought about it he recalled one that was mentioned in Juno. He didn't watch just Goldie Hawn movies. He was a pretty well-rounded guy. He said, "Sun Peak Peach?"

"Oh my goodness!" She exclaimed. "That's so impressive! You must be terribly, terribly smart."

Well, he wasn't so sure about that. It was frankly just a lucky fluke, but he didn't point that out. "Not really," he modestly replied.

"What's your favorite flavor?"

Oops. He seriously doubted that he would like any of them. He preferred a fine Cabernet Sauvignon. Boone's Farm Mountain Berry would not likely measure up. But, he would frankly drink some Thunderbird or Mad Dog 20/20 with a young Goldie Hawn look-alike, wearing no bra in a see-through blouse. He glanced at those titties, and read the label of one of her bottles in the process. "Blueberry. Blueberry's my favorite."

"Oh my gosh, that's amazing, mine too! And I even have one right here! That's so cool. Here, let me pour you some."

"Sure," he replied, holding out one of the glasses.

"Oh my goodness," she said. "These are pretty fancy glasses. I just use an old fruit jar. Kind of seems appropriate, you know, for blueberries."

'And for really cheap wine,' Bing thought. He was again taking the opportunity of her distraction in pouring the wine to study a perky white boob. It was so impressively round, like a scoop of ice cream, with a little licorice candy sticking out at the top. He really liked licorice.

"And," she added, "just in case you didn't like blueberry I also brought over a raspberry. You really can't go wrong with blueberries and raspberries."

"No, no, I suppose not," he replied, not conveying much actual sincerity, not really looking forward to a second bottle of Boone's Farm.

"My parents always said I'm was an anarchist."

"Anarchist?"

"No, that's not it. Achromaticist? Alchemistic? No, no, anachronistic. That's it! I'm anachronistic."

"An anachronism?"

"Exactly! It's like being in the right place at the wrong time. Or is it wrong place at the right time? I can never get that straight."

Bing was beginning to appreciate that she had a resemblance to Goldie that was more than just physical, at least how she acted in most of her roles. "You know," he said, "we actually haven't introduced ourselves. I'm Bing Russell."

"Oh yes! I'm such a goof-ball." She put her blueberry Boone's Farm down on the coffee table and held out her hand. "Laurie, Laurie Steinhoff, so very pleased to meet you Mr. Bing Russell," giggling at her exaggerated formality.

Bing shook her hand, noticing how soft and small it was. "Um, yea, well, here, why don't you sit down there, on the couch."

"Oh my goodness," Judy exclaimed, as if she noticed all the posters for the first time. "You have pictures of me all over the place! This is so weird! Where did you get pictures of me?" It was quite an odd question, as if she wasn't appreciating that a stranger really shouldn't have pictures of you all over his apartment.

"No, no," Bing replied. "These are actually pictures of a very famous movie star, Goldie Hawn."

"No way!"

"Seriously. Frankly, you're the spitting image of her."

"No fucking way!"

Well, he never heard Goldie speak like that. Had he?

"That's so cool," she added. She put down the blueberry Boone's Farm on the coffee table, ignoring the presence of a coaster, took her wine glass from him, and poured herself a glass of the raspberry. "I'll drink the raspberry, so you can have all of the blueberry."

It was nice, perhaps, to hear that she was intending on drinking a full bottle, but that certainly wasn't his intention. "Here," he said, gesturing to the couch for her to sit down.

As she did so her titties wiggled so delightfully, her smile so seemingly innocent of her provocative appearance. "Oh my," she said, glancing all around the apartment. "You are a big fan of hers, aren't you. Look at all the pictures of me all over the place. Well, not really me, but I guess they do look a lot like me, don't they."

They did indeed, he thought.

"And, hey, like that's so cool! Look at that one. She even has on my bell bottoms!"

If he had known that she would be wearing bell bottoms he would have taken that one down first. But, still, it wasn't like she was troubled about it. And, it was rather eery to see that the girl was indeed wearing bell bottoms very close to those in fact worn by Goldie.

She turned to him as she sipped her wine. "This is like kismet, or something, isn't it."

He didn't know what it was. It was certainly very, very weird, but equally, if not more so, very, very cool, as this girl, and Goldie, might say. He preferred to concentrate on the cool. You don't look a gift Goldie in the mouth. "Well, maybe it is. I'm really quite astounded by the resemblance."

Bing took a sip of his wine, and then grimaced. It was so darned sweet! It was like some cross between soda pop and cheap wine. How very weird, but still not so weird as having Goldie Hawn, from 40 years ago, sitting now on his couch, smiling with that big toothy grin and large round eyes. This girl really was an anachronism. His dick swelled with interest, and he cursed himself for failing to switch to briefs before she arrived.

He turned away to regain his composure. He fumbled around in the cabinet by the couch, looking for a particular scrapbook.

Judy was pretending to sip her wine, wondering where she could pour some of it out. There was no way that a soldier should get drunk on duty, although perhaps a little bit of wine wouldn't hurt, and it might help give her more courage under fire. It was said that General Grant did quite a bit of drinking while leading the Union army, and he did pretty good. She took a few sips.

Bing's hands trembled as he realized how significant this moment really was. After all these years, all those years of devoting himself to the actress, the actress he had only seen in person a few times, she was now in fact sitting right there in his living room, sitting there with those little boobies of hers so openly displayed. It was all that he had dreamed of, or could have hoped for. Actually, much more than he could have ever hoped for, as she looked as she was some 40 years ago, just as he always continued to see her, never changing, never aging, always staying so pretty, so lovely, so delightfully sexy. He found the scrapbook that he had been looking for.

"Here it is," he said, pulling it out from the cabinet, "here it is." He sat down next to her on the couch.

She snuggled up against him, pressing one of her titties into his arm.

He took a deep breath of her perfume, and contemplated the feel of the soft little boob with its stiff, pointy nipple against his arm. He laid the scrapbook on his lap, hiding his increasing arousal. "These are pictures of her from when she was on Laugh-In."

Judy leaned in closer, pressing her breast in tighter. "Oh my gosh, she was really very pretty, wasn't she." "Oh yes, absolutely." He turned to look at her, at her face, her large round eyes. He said softly, "As pretty as you."

Judy turned her face to look into his eyes, which were now just inches from his. "Oh, you're so silly, Bing. She's much prettier than me."