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Rest & Relaxation

By: flutterbykiss64



Chapter 11: Rest And Relaxation

The hotel spa seemed unusually quite for a Thursday afternoon. It Appeared he was the only one there. That was a welcomed surprise. He was tired, needed rejuvenation as the week had been long, and the constant travel had worn on him. He removed his clothes and stored them in the locker. Reaching into his gym bag, he removed his favorite pair of baggy cotton workout shorts, his shower thongs and a towel. Slipping the shorts on, he tied the drawstring loosely, slipped on the shower thongs, threw the towel over his shoulder and headed toward the sauna. Opening the door, he quickly stepped inside closing the wooden door behind him. He was somewhat surprised at the fact the sauna was already over 180 degrees. He threw some water on the hot cools and was immediately rewarded with the soothing steam. He moved to the top bench and leaned back to enjoy. 

He didn't really hear the door open, but rather sensed the quick Temperature change when she entered. Wrapped in a soft terry cloth towel, she smiled and said hello. She was tall, with nice features, great eyes, and warm smile. Removing the towel, she moved gracefully up to the second level bench. She was wearing a black thong and small bikini top that hardly covered the nipples of her rounded breasts. He felt his penis stir when she bent over in front of him to position her towel on the bench. Perfect cheeks he thought to himself. He suppressed a smile and the associated wicked thought. She lay on her back, head to the wall, feet toward him. She lowered One leg to the bottom bench. Her eyes were closed. Her breasts gently moved With each breath. His view was grand and he could not stop watching. The Thong was very thin and he thought he could make out the soft lips of her labia sneaking out the side. She must be totally shaved he thought. That so turned him on as he had always wanted to make love to a woman who shaved her pussy. He felt his member begin to grow toward a full erection. He welcomed the looseness of his shorts. 

He was watching the little rivulets of sweat forms over her body and slide across her soft white skin when he noticed she was looking at him. She slowly sat up, smiled, held out her hand and said, "Hi!" 

"Hi", he said looking at her closely. She turned, reached down and picked up the ladle. "Should we make it a little hotter?" she asked, scooping up the scented water and pouring it on the hot stones before he could answer. As she stepped back to the second level bench, she stumbled and fell into his lap. Her buttock landing on his swollen penis. Reflectively, he reached to steady her. His arm surrounded and held her as he caught her body. "I am so sorry" she purred looking over her shoulder at him, "Did I hurt you?" 

He knew she could feel the hardness of his cock. He felt himself being embarrassed. "No, I am fine." 

She wiggled and pressed her firm ass over his cock. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am fine, just a little embarrassed."

"About this?" she questioned. Suddenly he felt her hand cupping his ball sac, her fingers kneading his testicles. She leaned back and they kissed. Mouths open, their tongues sought each other like soft swords. He sucked her tongue and he could feel her moan deep in her throat. She moved her ass over his swollen cock with a rhythm that built both their passions. Her hand continued to massage his balls. 

After removing her bikini top, his huge hands found her lovely firm breasts. Cupping and squeezing them, he felt the nipples grow and harden. Continually kissing her, hard and deep, he began gently rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. He heard her inhale and felt her grind her ass against his rock-hard member. She squeezed his balls hard causing him to moan aloud. 

Quickly she stepped back, reached down, and began pulling his shorts off. His erect cock sprung forward as it was freed from his shorts. She dropped to her knees and took him into her warm mouth. He felt her soft lips encase the mushroom shaped head of his cock as her hot tongue probed the little hole in the end of his cock, tasting his precum. Leaning back, he felt her move his cock deeper into her throat until face pressed deeply into his shinny black pubic hair. Her tongue swirled around the shaft of his manhood as her lips pressed firmly against the base. He wanted to explode and fill her mouth with his cum, but he knew that would happen much later. 

Sensing his closeness, she stopped sucking his cock, stood up and removed her thong. He was right, she was totally shaved. He slides down to the second level bench and pulled her to him. Her vagina moved against his face. He laid his head back, grabbed her ass with both hands and pulled her into his face. His tongue quickly spread the soft lips and entered her canal. She places her left leg on the third level bench, opening herself more to his oral explorations. Her sweat juices ran over his tongue and down his throat. And his cock grew harder. Taking her swollen clit between his teeth, he began to rub it with his tongue and suck on it like a tiny cock. Her hands encircled his head and tried to push his face up into her. She exploded and he could feel her love juice splash against his face. He drank of her. Her cum was like the nectar of the GODS! 

She wanted him inside her. Sitting on his swollen member was easy. Her pussy was awash with her cum and his hard cock slide in easily. She loved the way a man's cock felt when it first entered her. The way the head just pushed aside the labia and moved well within her, stretching the walls of her taught pussy. The ridge of his penis head rubbing and pulling her clit as he moved inside her. He loved the feel of her pussy muscles closing over his cock, attempting to milk the cum from his balls. They each kissed deeply, their tongues fucking the mouth of the other person. This was raw animal passion taking over here. 

Grabbing her, they moved to the floor. Again, he buried his face in her drench pussy and pleasured her with his talented tongue. Suddenly he threw her legs over his shoulders, moved forward and slammed his hard cock into her hot pussy hole. Taking long and deliberate strokes, he pounded himself into her. His cum filled balls slapping against the inner thighs. She began to scream with each down stroke. Suddenly, she lost control, and began to shake violently. He felt her hot cum splash against his cock and run down his shaft and over his balls. She kissed him deeply and bit his lip. 

He felt his own cum building in his balls. At the right moment, he pulled his cock out of her and laid it on her shaven vagina just as he came. He watched as his ejaculate exploded from his cock and onto her belly and vagina. She reached down and began stroking his spent cock. A second load of cum shot onto her hand and up her arm. He felt her slide beneath him and take his cock into her mouth. She began to suck the remaining cum from his cock. She loved the taste of her cum and his cum mixed. 

The sound of his alarm clock startled him. Sitting up, he tried to orientated himself. He noted that his balls were sore and the head of his cock felt like someone tried to leave the world's most giant hickey on the head. He thought he was in his room. Looking around it appeared that nothing had happened. Yet, he had this wonderful taste in his mouth and his cock and balls were spent. "Damn, did I dream this?" He thought out loud. "Dream what" She responded as she emerged from the bathroom. MMMMMmmmmm, they thought a whole day together. 

THE END FOR NOW

Rest and Relaxation



As you walked into the skin care clinic, I was just finishing up with a lady who had come in for a manicure. There you stood, looking a little stressed but rested. My co-worker was at the reception desk checking your appointment. I took the opportunity to glance over your healthy build. 

"Nice body. He keeps fit. Nice smile. Those jeans fits nice around that ass too," I thought to myself. I guess I lingered a little longer on the ass than I realized because when I looked back up he was smiling at me. Feeling embarrassed, and a little physically flustered, I turned to the equipment I had to clean up.

"Lori, you have a 2:30 appointment for a full body massage. He just checked in. You lucky Bitch!" She winked at me and walked away. 

"Could HE be my massage appointment? No way!" I thought. My nipples hardened and suddenly felt sensitive as they brushed against my work shirt. "Wonderful! He's hot and I am in nursing scrubs! If I'm lucky, he'll be gay and not care."

I quickly prepped the massage bench and brought the heated towels and turned on the warmer for the oil. I quickly checked my hands for any possible abrasions that might feel uncomfortable for him and prepped the sheets. When I turned around, there you stood. You had hung your jacket up in the lobby and now I could see the fine outline of your broad chest beneath the tight t-shirt. Licking my lips, I then smile back. "Hi. My name is Lori. You must be Bob? I have provided you with some warm towels. I will step outside for about five minutes at which time, you can undress and lay down on your tummy with a towel across your middle. Do you have a history of any injuries I should be aware of before I begin the massage? Any disorders of the muscles or nerves?"

As you replied to all of the questions, I could feel your eyes burning into mine or was it my eyes drowning in yours? I had to get out of here now before I became tongue-tied and flustered. I quickly left you behind the curtain and rushed to the prep room to breathe again and let my heart rate slow. "Come on Lori!" I chastised myself. You are not a school girl! You are a professional! Keep your cool! He is just another customer. Try to tell yourself that all men are assholes. That will help you distance yourself."

I returned to the bench to find you stretched out in nothing but the towel. WOW! "This will be a true pleasure to do." 

I place a small puddle of warm oil in my hand and created some friction to spread it out evenly and began at the calf muscles. The effleurage movements upward and back down formed a rhythm quickly. I could feel the strength, energy, and tension powered in the legs now gliding beneath my fingers. My fingertips formed circular patterns firmly exploring every detailed part of your firm form as I could feel the tensions begin to melt away beneath my touch. 

Moving upward to the thighs, I reapplied fresh oil and began again, gliding up toward the buttocks I had seen earlier beneath those jeans, which now hid so delectable under the white towel. The thighs were like a power house. I thought of what those legs may have done and what they could do and I felt my breathing become a bit shallower again. I did not know if this massage was affecting you or me more. The rhythm continued. Connection formed between us as the contact became two people as one. As my fingers slid upward and inward to the inner thigh, I could feel something else at my finger tips and slyly brushed against them as I came up again and back out. I repeated this pattern a few more times before remembering where I was and the security cameras in the clinic. I felt you shift slightly as my fingers retraced that pattern a second time and you turned your face toward me with a smile.

Each time I leaned into my work, I noticed I was leaning closer to you each time. It was like an artist becoming a part of their work. There was a connection beyond the physical and it felt very good. Next, came the buttocks. As I lifted the towel to begin on the buttocks, a lump caught in my throat. It wasn't just my hands I wanted on that ass. I bit my upper lip and inhaled quickly as the firm cheeks flexed a little and my breath caught. As my hands began to glide over the left cheek, I felt a warmth engulf my whole body. Circling the outer edge of the gluteus maximus and then the upper hamstring, I realized I still had not breathed in a while and suddenly released my breath in one full rush which escaped more like a sigh. I tried to rush through that area fairly quickly so as not to get caught up. I still had a full body to do and I had a clock to stick to. Moving up along the handsome back, I took even more pleasure in the feel of the rippling smooth flow of the body beneath my hands. I wanted to please you as a massage customer so you would come back again. I put all of my efforts into this massage and when it came time to hold the towel out for you to turn over, I saw the results of my work. The towel was a little too low to hide what had happened while I was massaging you and I couldn't help but glance at the tip as it so obviously showed above the towel. I moved the towel upward to try to hide it respectfully and I glanced toward your face to see a very broad smile and couldn't help but to smile back. 

I began with your hands. Gently massaging each strong, well worked finger, then to the palms. I wondered what it would feel like to have those hands touch me and I felt a tingling lower down. I wanted those hands. Moving along the arms, I felt the strength in them and longed to feel them around me. I grasped each arm closely to my side and felt your hand touch my back and your fingers graze my uniform. It sent a jolt through my whole body. Once the arms were finished, I began with the abdomen and hips. My hands gliding under the towel, brazenly touched the sides of your cock and I felt it pulsate suddenly as I did gentle circles around the abdominal cavity and down the sides along the hips and back inward again to the centre. As I made my way outward again, I glided upward to the chest. Standing directly behind you now, I leaned forward to massage that beautiful broad expanse of flat muscle, gliding under my palms. Slowly working my way toward the nipples where my fingers circled lightly around them to brush them teasingly. You flexed your pectorals beneath my fingers and I bent lower to feel the contact with the whole of my palm and didn't realise how close my nipples came to your lips. You moved your nose slightly to make contact with one stiff nipple that poked blatantly through the work shirt. I straightened back up and came around to your right side to face you. My hands began to glide back downward toward your hips and pelvis. My fingers began to slide beneath the towel and your hand came up behind my back to pull me down upon you. My chest crushed into yours as your hand moved upward behind my head to pull my lips to yours.

DING DING DING DING DING (time is up)

"Lori, your next appointment is here for the lip waxing!"

(SIGH)

* * * * *

Life has been pretty good for Bob. Stretching to release the tensions in the shoulders and upper arms, he could feel the increased mobility in the muscles as a result of the earlier massage. His thoughts kept reflecting back to the skillful touch of the young woman's hands earlier today. He had never known he had tension in so many interesting spots. There was only one area left that required tension release now and this was the reason for the walk. Being mid-fall now, the beach was fairly empty in the evenings. The rhythmic rushing of waves along the shoreline created a beautiful contrast of calm and power all in one. 

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Bob continued to skim his gaze along the beach when he noticed another occupant further down the shoreline. He could tell it was a female and she was walking towards him. He hoped she would keep walking and simply allow him this fantasy escape for the evening. He cast his eyes downward onto the sand, pretending to be searching for something when she came closer to hm. 

"Hello again. How is your back, now?" the woman politely inquired in a voice that suddenly shot an electric sensation through his loins. 

Lori couldn't read the expression on Bob's face fast enough before the sudden shift in position sent his neck muscles back to the strained movement she had witnessed earlier prior to the appointment that brought her much closer to this man than she was now. His reaction, to her attempt at nonchalantness, almost seemed defensive, as he took a step back to assess the reality of this siren standing before him. Her voice wrapped pleasantly around his senses. Trying to recover quickly to erase the quizzical look on this lady's face, he replied tersely, "Much better, thanks. It helped me relax after a week of travelling." Subconsciously, Bob reached behind his neck flexing the biceps that Lori had been longing to hold again. Or is it more like longing to be held by?

"Are you still tense? I wouldn't like to think that my work was unsatisfying. Let me check your shoulders," she muttered. Any excuse to touch him again. 'This is purely professional. Nothing more,' she tried to convince herself. She licked her lower lip in anticipation of his response, hoping he didn't suddenly try to lay charges on her for molesting him on a public beach.

'Am I imagining this?' Bob thought to himself. 'Could it be possible that this woman is here again, in front of me, offering another chance to ride this wave?' he asked himself. Would he be able to walk away from this a second time? Bob couldn't let an opportunity to feel the pleasure again slip by. "I had a stressful afternoon." 

"Let me try to relax you a bit, if you have the time." Lori smiled again, dropping her bag on the sand between them and asked Bob to lower his jacket a little. Lori walked around behind him to reach up toward his broad shoulders. 'Gawd, this man is beautiful,' she thought. "I apologise for not having the lubricants with me. It can create some friction on the skin. It won't be the ideal rub, but I can try. If you were able to lie down, I could be more attentive to the areas in need." Lori blushed profusely suddenly, realizing what her statement sounded like. 'Was that a Freudian slip!'

Bob suddenly grabbed her hand with his and stopped her from any further administrations As he turned abruptly to face her, she could see the same intensity in those blue eyes she had seen earlier, at the clinic. Her legs suddenly felt week and her body flushed. As she opened her mouth to speak again, his lips claimed hers in a kiss that shot current through her very core.

Bob remembered exactly where the massage had ended and the same current of passion that was felt then, returned the moment she touched his shoulders. He had to try to control himself or this woman could charge him for assault. He had to get the kiss that almost was earlier at the clinic. He saw the desire in her eyes for a brief moment when the appointment had come to a close. He had to finish what had almost happened. As he turned toward her to place what was intended to be a simple kiss, became a hunger as their lips met. Instead of releasing the tension in himself, it only grew. Lori did not resist him. Her body fit so beautifully in his arms as they reached around her waist to pull her to him. Her body trembled as it came toward him and he could feel the heat of her as her hips brushed against him. 

Lori could feel something between them shift as her hips touched his. When he brought her closer to him, the same hunger she felt for him in her workplace consumed her. This was exactly what she had been fantasizing about all day. She would drop everything for him right now, if he asked her to, but they were in an open area to full public view. 

Bob suddenly broke away long enough to voice her thoughts back to her. "This is too open an area. We could find another place to go to, or I could take you here, right now," he whispered to her. "The choice is yours." 

Lori bit her lower lip trying to think clearly as her senses reeled chaotically. She recalled a spot back at the other end of the beach that she often escaped to for meditation. "Come with me," she whispered to him as she took his hand in hers. The spot was a patch of maple and birch trees. A space just perfect for an intimate tryst was all they needed. The ground was soft and mossy. The waves could be heard in the distance and the seagulls, harmonized with songbirds to create a paradise for them both. They quickly removed the outer clothing. Lori was in a tank top and a thong, and Bob was in his jeans but opened. He laid her down upon a nest of the disheveled apparel and sweaters. Hungrily, Bob lay beside her. "It is my turn to see you without clothing," he said huskily. He held her cheek in his palm as he traced kisses along her neck. Lori's fingers were in Bob's hair as she arched against his body. He held her breasts in his hands, feeling her erect nipples through the soft fabric of her tank top. Kissing along the edge of the top, he nudged the edge of the tank just down over the right nipple. Clasping it hungrily in his mouth, he flicked his tongue around the nipple as she arched against him. Lori let out a whimper as she pressed his head firmly against her breast. He was driving her wild. His hands slid further downward to slide under the tank top and pull it over her head. 

Bob arched over Lori, drinking in the sight of her beautiful, firm breasts. .He followed another trail of kisses down her soft abdominal muscles to the edge of the G-string she was wearing. His strong hands explored her body, taking claim of her as his lips continued downward. Lori opened her legs. Bob's hands slid along her shapely thighs, and down to her calves as they slid beneath her knees and gracefully lifted her legs high in the air. Her legs rested on his strong back now and her fingers were in his hair. Bob could feel the heat emanating from the very core of her body. Her scent drew him hungrily to the focus of his desire. He had to taste her. His hand came along her abdomen and inward between her thighs to pull the damp fabric aside and there before him was the treasure. It glistened with dew as his lips softly kissed her. She arched against him. His fingers separated her beautiful lips to expose the diamond he had to have. He reached out to her with the tip of his tongue and the connection was instant. Lori was reeling in the pleasure of his administrations. Her hands grasped his head and firmly held him to her as he brought her to the most beautiful climax she had ever had. 

Lori pulled him up over her to feel his body against her. As the passion continued in the wild kisses, she reached below and slid her hand inside of his jeans. She could feel his erect cock as she gently grasped it to feel the strength and power of it within her hand. Her fingers lovingly wrapped around him and pushed his jeans down with the other hand. Bob quickly removed his jeans and underwear to reveal a magnificent sight. Lori had to have it. She had to taste it. This is exactly what she wanted to do during the massage earlier and now she wouldn't hold back. She climbed on top of Bob and sat just above the tip of him as she slid her vaginal lips externally along his cock pressing it against his muscular abs. Her hands rested on his chest as her fingers teased patterns around his nipples. She leaned forward crushing her breasts against him as she continued to slide downward. She massaged his body as her tongue traced circles and patterns along his abs. Lori took his cock and guided it between her breasts, kissing the tip pf it as it appeared between them. After repeating this pattern a few times, Lori, finally had to satisfy her own hunger and took all of him between her lips. She could taste some of her own juices on his cock as she hungrily devoured him.

Bob pressed her head against him, enjoying the excitement of her lips and tongue dancing around his shaft. However, if she kept this up, it would end too soon. He prided himself on his stamina and endurance, but this sweet encounter would not last if he didn't change soon. Seeing her lovingly take him in her mouth as she did, was arousing him too quickly. He wanted her badly. As their eyes locked in passion, he pulled her up to him. This kiss was bruising, hungry, all devouring. They were ready.

Bob took her into his arms and rolled both of them on their sides. He held her body to his, as if she was a natural part of himself. While one arm held her body to him, his other hand took his cock and positioned himself at the sweet spot. As Lori raised her leg to wrap around him, her vaginal lips opened to receive him. His cock was so hard and she was already tight. Her juices soaked him as he glided into her. Slowly the rhythm grew. Firmly he held her to him as he thrust deeply into her. Never getting enough, he began get more aggressive. 

Bob rolled onto his back and Lori sat up to ride this bronco. She wanted some control in this. As she elevated herself right to the tip of his shaft, she rotated slightly around the tip and then fell fully on top of him. She rode her bucking bronco with wild abandon. As she felt another climax coming on, Bob could feel her tightening around him and slowed down to let her enjoy it.

They rolled over and she stood up on her hands and knees. Now, it was his turn. He began to speed up, ramming her with all of the force of a thoroughbred horse. Lori pushed her ass against him loving his strong hands on her hips The firmness of his cock ramming into her as he did, was ecstasy. Bob could feel his arousal peaking. He was going to explode. With only a few more thrusts, he let out a growl and filled her with his seed. He had never felt this excited before and it seemed like it would never end. Finally, they both collapsed onto the soft bed of clothing. As they began to return to a peaceful state of bliss, they could hear the waves steadily lapping along the beach. As their eyes locked a smile grew between them. As their foreheads touched gently, Lori whispered to him "I hope I relieved all of the tension this time."



Rest and Relaxation Ch. 01



We'd been ordered to The Rung Sat Special Zone for an operation, the conclusion of which proved to be special indeed. I had just turned 21 and was assigned as a gunner aboard a 50-foot river assault/patrol boat in Viet Nam . . . essentially, a motor yacht with guns. 

After four days of assaults, ambushes, firefights, and re-supply escort runs we were granted 24-hours of down-time in the city of Vung Tau before heading back to our base near Saigon. Vung Tau was, at the time, a designated "in-country" R&R destination. Officers and enlisted men from all over III and IV Corps, the southern areas of Viet Nam, were granted up to a week of rest and relaxation among the beaches and parks, restaurants and bars, opium dens and brothels of this "resort" town on the South China Sea. 

There was also a large U.S. military hospital in Vung Tau, which meant, of course, women; more specifically, American women, Army and Navy nurses, Red Cross volunteers, and female journalists. All of these lovely ladies were, by law, off limits to the likes of enlisted pukes such as me. 

However, when you're young, combat-tested, and have your own armed-to-the-teeth-motor yacht; when you are allowed, indeed often ordered to carry side arms and combat knives about town; when you are also allowed to keep your hair at an almost fashionable length, grow a mustache . . . a full beard being just a tad beyond your years . . . and have a deep, rich tan gained from almost four months of fighting, fornicating and finagling in the relentless tropical sun, you think yourself one bad-ass-son-of-a-bitch. 

I found myself, along with Marty, the boat's other gunner, midmorning of our post-operation R&R, on watch aboard our newly provisioned, re-armed, and swabbed-down vessel, which we'd christened "Stoned Pony" a few weeks back during an evening of beer drinking and weed with the only diversion nearby being a bucket of white paint and a stencil kit. 

We were docked hard by the north entrance to "Beach Alpha" as this stretch of the waterfront area was called, and the three other guys of the boat's five-man crew were ashore, doubtless pursuing the mundane, not to mention landlocked sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll to which we were ordinarily accustomed. 

Marty and I were lounging, shirtless, in cut-off camo's and flip-flops, with beer and cigarettes close by, at the stern of the boat between the .50-caliber machine guns mounted at each stern quarter. I was trying to read an old edition of Stars And Stripes and becoming dizzy from ogling the inconceivable number of round-eye women, all shapes and sizes, styles and colors, each alluring and enticing, that paraded, as if for our personal perusal, up and down the boardwalk fronting the beach. 

Marty, ordinarily taciturn, couldn't help himself and kept up a running commentary on the myriad attractions of the ladies, many of whom were clad in fetching, usually skimpy beachwear, with a number of the girls accompanied by older officers doubtless harboring lecherous intentions. 

In a moment of distraction, while Marty leaned over the cooler to grab another beer and I became semi-engrossed in yet another week-old box-score from a world that I was no longer part of, we were disconcerted by a loud female voice calling out, "Hey, guys? What kind of boat is that?"

Marty and I both turned to see two gorgeous creatures, a raven-haired beauty and a stunning redhead, each in their mid-twenties, leaning on the walkway railing some thirty yards off our stern and looking over toward . . . us. Both wore a pair of ass-fitting cut-off jeans, with the dark-haired girl in a paisley halter top and the redhead in a tight, white, V-neck tee shirt. The raven haired doll, very fit and sun-browned, carried a towel and a small beach bag slung over her shoulder. It appeared to be she who'd hailed us as she smiled and gave a small, shy wave.

Ordinarily, I'm not the most forward nor the wittiest of guys. Inspiration and opportunity are, however, not totally alien to me. "Madam," I called out with a jaunty salute, "this is the official Vung Tau Harbor tour boat. Tours given every day at . . ." I consulted my pocket watch ". . . eleven twenty-three hours. Y'all have about a minute and a half before the next one departs."

Both women laughed, but I could hear Marty behind me muttering. "Jesus Christ! Don't screw this up."

The dark woman replied "Doesn't look like you have many customers," and Marty groaned.

"Got one young, brave, sorta handsome, and definitely unbalanced American Naval-type here," I said throwing an arm around the deeply scowling Marty. "But he paid for the dee-luxe tour," I went on. "That's the one where you get to shoot the guns and yap on the radio and steer the boat and toot the whistle. It also comes with all the beer you can drink." I paused, looked to the muttering Marty and shouted, "This brave, young, sorta handsome American Naval-type gentleman has just informed me that he'd be honored to pay for two additional dee-luxe cruises if you fine ladies are interested."

Marty angrily shrugged off my arm to the cheerful laughter of the girls. "Why, thank you, sir," the redhead replied glancing toward her companion, then at an abruptly sweating Marty. "We'd be dee-lighted to accept your offer."

To the frowns and clearly audible imprecations of a trio of khaki-clad officers nearby, amid the enthusiastic backslapping and "Right on, bro" from Marty, and in time with my breathless chant of: "Thank you God, thank you God, thank you God", the women, curvaceous, young, enticing, alluring, and just plain hot, sauntered over to the gangway, down to the dock, and stood before the short plank between the pier and the boat. Marty and I were tripping over each other to reach the plank, to escort these visions of loveliness aboard the Stoned Pony.

I gratefully helped the raven-tressed goddess step onto the boat. "I'm Jimmy," I said to her. "Welcome aboard. I'll be your guide on this dee-luxe tour."

"Hi, Jimmy," she replied, "I'm Kerri. Thanks for, um, holding the tour for us."

"I'm Shauna," the redhead introduced herself as Marty helped her on board. "Thanks for, um, paying," she said with the proverbial knowing smile.

"Like he said," Marty mumbled, "welcome aboard."

We escorted Kerri and Shauna to the stern and settled them semi-comfortably on a couple of ammo boxes next to the starboard .50-caliber stinger.

"If you ladies would care for a pre-cruise cocktail, we have a notable selection of fine beer and, like, soda pop," I said indicating the cooler. "Plus, there's a magnificently aged . . . and I do mean aged . . . processed cheese and a few crackers in that box of C rations next to the cooler."

Kerri leaned forward, her breasts bulging over the colorful halter. "I'd love a beer," she said, smiling, "but I think I'll pass on the cheese and crackers."

Looking with frank, 21-year-old appreciation at the plainly visible tan line of Kerri's tits, I felt what had been a semi-erection burst into full bloom. I wanted to rip that halter-top away from those magnificent orbs and pump my hardness between them . . . and that was just for starters. I turned to get some beers, but not before noticing Kerri's eyes caress the bulge now most apparent in my suddenly constricting cut-offs.

Marty, similarly aroused, already had an arm around Shauna's petite waist. I noted his hand inching its way toward her incredible ass.

Grabbing four beers, I opened and handed them around with the announcement that we ought to get the show on the road. "Would you care to accompany me to the bridge," I asked Kerri. "Besides toot the whistle and all that other stuff, dee-luxe tour passengers also get to help start the engines." I stood in front of her, legs slightly apart allowing her eyes to devour the tented front of my camos. 

"I'd love to," Kerri responded with a small grin. As we rose to go forward, Shauna and Marty also stood, and Marty's hand found its target while he tried to distract her by explaining the hand-cranked 40-millimeter grenade launcher attached to the stern rail.

I maneuvered Kerri toward the bow to the pint-sized hatchway leading into the pilothouse. Cautioning her to watch her head, I ducked through the minute opening leading into the small space surrounding the armored bridge compartment where I had set up, some weeks previously, a folding bunk complete with mosquito netting, a fan, two Navy-issue camouflage quilts, and a small reading light. This was where I slept during extended operations. It was also where I imagined myself atop, or beneath, the enticing creature hunched just outside the hatchway, nipples barely covered by her top, which seemed considerably looser than before. 

As she stepped over the hatch combing, I reached out to steady her and found my hand, of its own accord, brushing one of those perfect tits. I discovered that her nipples were rock hard and I began to fondle her as we crouched in the tiny hatchway. With a small shiver, she thrust her breasts toward me, inviting more. Resisting, again, the urge to unleash those awesome boobs, I helped Kerri through the hatchway, into the pilothouse. 

We moved to the helm and Kerri put her hand on my erection, began to massage my throbbing pole. She asked softly, "Is that part of the dee-luxe tour, too?" I was afraid I'd cream my drawers before we even got underway.

"Oh, yeah," I moaned. "All inclusive." Reluctantly, I moved to the controls and began setting the throttles. "See those buttons there?" I said, coming to my senses. "You push those, I'll work the throttles, and we'll get this beast underway."

"I know what beast I'd like to get underway," Kerri said giving my cock another squeeze.

It was with a superhuman effort that I once more resisted the urge to take this erotic beauty right where we stood; just plough her against the bulkhead, rip her cut-offs apart, drop my pants, and ram my massive erection deep into her moist and willing pussy. Instead, though, I merely gasped, "Easy, darlin'; one beast at a time."

When the engines exploded to life, Kerri let out a peal of delighted laughter. I smiled over at her and hollered at Marty to take in the lines.

After a moment, Marty walked past the armored windscreen, opened earlier to catch the faint breeze. He was followed by the stunning Shauna who had doffed her tee-shirt to reveal a faded yellow bikini top. Her lightly freckled cleavage jiggled sensuously as she walked, and I really wasn't sure how much longer I could control myself. I tried to focus on conning the boat, and as soon as I saw Marty signal that all lines were in, I eased the Stoned Pony from her berth. 

As we approached the wooden minesweepers tied up at the end of the Navy piers, Kerri impetuously heaved her breasts out of the paisley halter-top, unzipped my camo's, unchained my cock from my issue-green boxers and . . . that did it. I came in great, looping gouts of cream all over the wheel, the throttle base, the instrument panel, Kerri's cut-off jeans, and finally, my own feet.

Thus we passed the last minesweeper at the pier as I stood, trembling and huffing, cock dangling and dripping from my cut-offs, in a puddle of my own juices.

"It's been awhile, darlin'." I looked with an embarrassed smile toward Kerri and was startled to see her rubbing her own crotch, moaning and shuddering, breasts swinging enchantingly to the meager sway of the boat.

"God," Kerri panted. "I can't believe how much your shooting cock turned me on." She groaned then, and collapsed against the bulkhead. After a moment, she gasped, "I've never seen a man ejaculate like that. My God, it was awesome. I didn't know that there was so much . . . or that it was so powerful. 

Immediately, I began to regain my erection. "Right now, darlin'," I said, "I just want to think about ejaculating in you." I had a sudden inspiration, "Have you ever fired a machine gun before?"

She looked at me, her dark eyes flashing, face flushed and shiny with post-orgasmic pleasure. "Are you talking about one of those big guns out there?" She pointed to the turret mounted 20-millimeter cannon at the bow.

"Well, maybe you can try that, too. That's a twenty mike-mike," I explained. "The fifties back there," I jerked my thumb toward the stern, "are more what I had in mind, though."

She gave me a dubious glance and said, "I'm not really a gun person. Wouldn't you get in trouble shooting guns around here?"

Waving vaguely out at the bustling bay where fishing boats, cargo craft, water taxis, and other gunboats plied to and fro, I replied, "Obviously we can't shoot 'em exactly here. But we can go out into the ocean, light off a few rounds. All part of the dee-lux tour."

Kerri called out to her friend, "Hey, Shauna? You want to shoot the guns?" We heard an enthusiastic "Hell, yeah," from back aft. Kerri laughed, and I admired, yet again, her bounteous bosom. "Okay, let's go shoot the guns," she said.

Yelling to all and sundry to hang on, I slammed the throttles forward; the Stoned Pony bellowed and began to sprint.

Some moments later, Shauna, now topless herself, pink nipples and tiny belly button nearly bringing me to my knees, sauntered back to the bow followed by a flushed and perspiring Marty. Kerri, spotting the two gunfire-support destroyers loitering at the entrance to Vung Tau Bay rushed, breasts swinging freely, cutoffs speckled with my cum, out to join her friend. I throttled back halfway, and we cruised sedately past the destroyers, with Kerri and Shauna, bare nipples proud and erect, waving enthusiastically next to Marty, who stood between them wearing a satisfied smirk. 

The decks of the two cans were suddenly packed with cheering and whistling sailors, while both warships cut loose with horns and sirens and bells. We were all most happy to provide the crews with a little extraordinary entertainment on what was, for them, an otherwise ordinary morning. 

Once past the still-appreciative destroyers, we headed into the South China Sea and I turned north along the tropical coast, looking for a secluded spot to do a little shooting . . . in my case, a little more shooting. I called out to Marty to charge the .50s and invited both Kerri and Shauna back to the wheelhouse. When they entered, I asked Kerri to take the wheel, which she did with only a little hesitation. I doffed my sperm encrusted cutoffs and boxers, threw them in a corner of the space, and re-took the helm. 

I had, by now, regained a respectable erection, thus Kerri, apparently inspired by my nakedness, stepped out of her shorts, stripped off the pink bikini bottom beneath, and stood regally displaying her trimmed and bountiful sex.

Shauna gazed at her friend and panted, "My God, Kerri, you're beautiful." Before my amazed eyes, the gorgeous redhead quickly doffed her own clothes to begin fondling and caressing a passionately responsive Kerri.

*

Stay tuned. In the next episode, Marty, Shauna, Kerri, and I shoot the guns, toot the whistle, and experience a short, terrifying encounter with Victor Charlie.  



Rest and Relaxation Ch. 02



In the summer of 1969, the Summer of Love, I was a 21 year old gunner aboard a river assault/patrol boat in Viet Nam. My crewmates and I had just completed a four day combat operation near the designated "in-country R&R" city of Vung Tau, and had a 24- hour period of downtime amid more round-eye women than I'd seen in nearly four months. 

I, along with the boat's other gunner, Marty, had been accosted by a pair of vivacious American women, Kerri and Shauna. They were ladies of awesome beauty, who were more than happy to accept our offer of a cruise aboard our 50-foot gunboat. The girls were not only gorgeous but sex-starved and very aware of their charms. 

Within moments of our departure from the dock, our boat, the Stoned Pony, became the venue for a veritable orgy of erotic pleasure. As we pick up the story here, we had, all but Marty, doffed our clothing (such as it was), and Shauna had discovered a latent bi-sexuality that Kerri was more than happy to accommodate.

* * *

The two women began rubbing their pussies, one against the other, as they suckled and licked each other's nipples. They moaned, gasped, and grappled erotically, while I tried to navigate the boat and avoid another premature ejaculation.

Marty entered the wheelhouse and stood in awed appreciation at the spectacle of the two goddesses engaged in lesbian pleasure. He took a look at me, noted my unsheathed erection, and decided to join us in our nakedness. When he'd struggled out of his shorts, he immediately began masturbating enthusiastically, occasionally running his cock over Shauna's gyrating ass. Suddenly, with a loud groan, Marty exploded his load over both women. Shauna went quickly to her knees, replaced Marty's chugging hands with her own, and then abruptly wrapped her mouth around the disgorging member to savor the last of his discharge. 

Kerri turned to me, still massaging her low-slung pussy. I stepped off the low platform set before the wheel while she climbed onto it, thus bringing her dewy hole to exactly the right height. I braced her against the wheel, grabbed her hips and shoved my cock deep into her willing mound. Our lips locked together, our breath coming in husky chuffs, we humped madly, the boat slewing drunkenly to our passion. Within moments, we both shuddered and yelled in unified, glorious climax. 

Marty, in the meantime, had rammed one fist up Shauna's pussy while the other groped her awesome tits. He licked her protuberant nipples as she moaned and fondled his returning manhood. Gently she grasped his balls, slid her hand around his shaft and pulled the foreskin over the glistening head, then slowly back down to bunch it against his groin; up over the helmet, down against his sack, another gentle squeeze of his balls, then back up the growing shaft. God, it was erotic. 

It was also about then that I saw the perfect spot to shoot the guns. I was abruptly consumed with the thought of the two nude women standing with legs apart, firing the .50-caliber machine guns, M16's, grenade launchers, any number of the powerful weapons of war that we carried on board.

I wrenched the boat to port, and charged into the small indentation in the coastline. Making sure we had plenty of maneuvering room, I pulled back on the throttles, tied off the wheel with enough port rudder that we'd circle safely inside the small cove, and announced, "Okay people, drop your cocks and grab your socks; it's show-time."

With reluctant groans and a final thrust, Marty and Shauna broke off their sensuous foreplay, while rapture kindled between them. In my anticipation of beholding naked girls with guns, I ignored their bliss and prattled on. "Tell you what, Kerri," I said indicating a red button on the instrument panel. "Give the horn three honks, see if anybody's around. You never know, there might be a few jarheads messing around the jungle here. They get kinda pissed when they start taking friendly fire; besides, tootin' the whistle's part of the tour."

Kerri laughed and gave out three long, loud blasts from the boat's twin electric horns. Birds twittered and flew, a few monkeys scuttled up and down trees at the water's edge, but no grunts showed up to warn us off.

Unclothed, aglow with sweat and cum, lust and anticipation, we trooped out of the pilothouse as I mentally thumbed my nose toward the small lounge I had made of the fold-up rack just outside the coxswain's station. This simple boudoir was now a Puritanical relic in a sea of debauchery. At the stern, Marty and I, by now recharged with the stamina and animal lust of youth, checked the .50s and asked which of the ladies wanted to shoot first.

Shauna stepped up to the port gun, her bronze pubes glistening, and her nipples jutting nearly an inch. Marty indicated the butterfly trigger, and said, "Grab the handles, pick out a target on shore, sight in, use your thumbs to push down on the trigger, and fire away."

Hunched over the machine gun, ass displayed alluringly to all of us, her legs spread in anticipation of the shock and recoil, Shauna swiveled the gun over he stern, spotted a huge evergreen that stood well above the surrounding coconut palms, and opened fire with a long, rippling fusillade. 

"Short bursts, cutie," Marty cautioned her as he reached to caress her breasts hanging udder-like over the trigger. "Six, eight rounds at a time."

Shauna opened up again, this time taking Marty's advice. We could see the tracers arcing straight and true into the middle of the towering tree. As she fired, she began to buck, and swivel her pelvis. She completed her orgasm as the tree began to split in the middle where her rounds shredded the trunk. Pussy juice squirted over the gun mount and smoke eddied off the glowing barrel. "Oh God, that was good," she gasped collapsing onto one of the ammo boxes and spreading her pussy lips with one hand, cooling her hot box. The gun barrel hissed and popped as it cooled down as well.

Marty sat beside the panting redhead to run his hands between her slick thighs, while Kerri and I moved to the starboard machine gun. I showed Kerri the basics of aiming and shooting, and she leaned over the breech of the weapon while we waited for a worthy target to present itself. I took advantage of the moment to ease my cock, rock hard again, between the crack of her ass. 

We both straightened when an abandoned sampan, derelict and listing against the shore, came in front of the .50. Kerri, heeding Marty's advice to use short bursts, fired on the sampan, and I shoved my member deep into her gaping pussy-lips from behind. The sampan disintegrated before her gun as Kerri kept firing and I fired into her wildly pumping mound. 

When the last rounds smoked from Kerri's weapon, as well as my own, we sagged to the deck, littered with empty shell casings, still sizzling and smoking. We were all as spent as the hot casings, as empty as the ready ammo boxes. Parched and exhausted, we gasped to breathe the humid, tropical air. 

After some moments, I staggered to the cooler, kicking shell casings hither and yon, where I gathered four beers, handing one each to the two women who lounged in the shade beneath the tarp over the engine compartment. Their breasts were slick with sweat, and their pussies glistened with post-coital moisture. Appreciating once more how luscious, how attractive the two women really were, and after thanking the gods of sex again, I collapsed next to Marty on one of the ammo boxes and passed him a beer. The girls whispered and smiled seductively toward us.

I noticed my crewmate gazing at Shauna with an expression I could only interpret as, well, adoration. "You like her, don't you?" I said to him after a minute or two of silence.

"Yeah, I do," he replied quietly. "Both those gals are nurses; both of 'em are officers, too. Shauna's a j.g. and Kerri's a lieutenant."

"Yeah, I sorta figured that. They sure fuck like enlisted, though, huh?"

"Don't say it like that, okay?" Marty shifted uncomfortably on the box.

I shrugged and simply stared off toward the steaming jungle while the boat still puttered in a precise circle around the cove. I was too tired to point out the difficulties that Marty was doubtless aware of in falling for an officer, especially one as drop-dead gorgeous as Shauna. 

Kerri rose and approached me. "Hey, Jimmy? Shauna's asked if you and I would give her and Marty some time alone together. Maybe we should drive the boat in a straight line for awhile."

We went forward and I found myself resurrected at the thought that this finely put-together young lady and I would, once again, be by ourselves in the sweltering steel pilothouse. I freed the wheel, nudged the throttles, and with the nude goddess standing at my shoulder, tits nudging my back, headed the Stoned Pony out of the small bay and northward again.

As I conned the boat, I glanced occasionally at the near unearthly beauty next to me. I noted the fine sheen of sweat dappling the tops of her magnificent breasts, the beads of moisture that glistened, dew-like, amid her ebony pubic hair, the hint of pink labia nestled within her love nest. It's no wonder, I thought to myself, that I can bust a nut every time I touch her. 

I pictured Marty and Shauna at the stern, Marty with his flaccid member dangling languidly between his pale thighs, Shauna with her fine cinnamon-hued pubes allowing one to appreciate her sculpted pussy lips and peek-a-boo labia, her pronounced and well-wrought clitoris, her small, welcoming tunnel. 

Knowing that Kerri and I were a one-shot deal, a pleasant interlude in a most unpleasant time and place, I began to envy Marty, despite the feeling that he was doomed to pursue the unattainable in the lovely Shauna. I sighed as I checked our position, while Kerri, perhaps pondering, as I was, the vicissitudes of love and war, leaned her awesome boobs into my arm and ran her fingers through my sweat-slick hair.

We cruised northward, passing sampans loaded with fish, rice, pigs, and people; huge cargo vessels steaming madly for the relative safety of Vung Tau harbor or seaward out of the range of enemy gunfire. We saw, as well, the occasional South Vietnamese Navy gunboat bobbing lazily as far off the coast as conscience permitted from the possibility of engagement with Victor Charles -- Charlie, as we called our designated enemy. I could feel my energy returning and realized that I could use another beer, maybe a can of C-ration franks and beans.

I began to give Kerri the short course in boat handling, fondling her breasts only a little. I didn't want either of us becoming too distracted in these unfamiliar waters. Finding her reasonably proficient, I took another look at her statuesque profile, boobs proudly outthrust, finely sculpted hips tapering to form her superb ass, and was painfully aware that I would seldom, if ever, encounter such a lovely creature again. I pulled my gaze reluctantly away and headed aft. 

Making as much noise as possible so that I wouldn't surprise Shauna and Marty, I hoped to disturb them for as short a time as I could. I needn't have worried. The pair stood in unclothed perfection at the stern rail, laughing and chatting, arms around each other, beers in their free hands, obviously enjoying each other's company. The aft deck had been cleared of empty .50-caliber casings and threw off a fierce heat in the midday sun. 

"Chow time," I said in greeting.

Both came over to help me root through the boxes of C- and K-rations, but they remained far more interested in each other than in lunch.

Returning to the wheelhouse with a few cans of C-rats, I asked Kerri if she wanted me to take the wheel. We were approaching a short, rocky promontory jutting from the coast and I wasn't sure how far into the sea those rocks extended, wanted to give them a wide margin. Kerri affirmed that she was quite happy conning the boat so I handed her a beer, instructed her to keep well to starboard of the promontory, and asked if she wanted some franks and beans out of a can. At the slight shake of her head, I began to run my hands up and down her nude back, reveling in the silken feel of her soft, nearly flawless flesh.

A whoosh of streaking brightness passed just in front of the wheelhouse, followed by the pop-pop-pop of AK fire and the hammering of rounds off the armored bridge bulkhead. Kerri and Shauna screamed in unison and I heard Marty bellow, "Jesus Christ! Incoming!"

I was momentarily shocked into immobility at the notion that Charlie would so callously disrupt our idyllic cruise -- an idyll that I had never envisioned in my wildest sexual fantasies. The sight of Marty clambering into the 20-millimeter gun turret mounted just atop the bridge housing, his member swinging wildly and his notably hirsute balls dangling over my head finally jerked me into action. 

"Floor this thing," I yelled to Kerri. "Get us the hell outta here."

Kerri stood rigidly before the wheel, immobilized by fright. Her face had paled and she had begun to shiver. I noticed a thin stream of urine jet from between her thighs as green tracers screamed and thudded into the bulkhead around us. Darting crazily about the bridge, I slammed the armored windscreens shut, grabbed Kerri on each side of her head, and using a desperate strength, forced her eyes to mine. "I've gotta get to the forward gun turret," I spoke as calmly as I could. "You can drive this bitch. You've gotta get us outta here."

She blinked at me, held her water, and nodded. She reached for the throttles and I turned to head for the forward 20-millimeter gun mount. As I ducked through the pilothouse hatch, I heard the roar, felt the surge of the throttled up engines. I also felt the boat dip to port, meaning that instead of turning to starboard, away from the bullets and the RPG's, Kerri had, instead, turned toward shore, into the teeth of the hostile fire. Jumping into the gun mount, I remembered the empty ready ammo boxes at the stern .50's, the rocks that I'd wanted to avoid, and thought: We're fuckin' dead!

I charged my gun, heard Marty cut loose with a deafening burst topside, and furiously cranked my weapon to port. Pressing the trigger, I was, as always, stunned at the noise and concussion of the heavy machine gun. But our rounds, all red and white tracers, explosives, and incendiaries, tore into the shoreline, immediately suppressing the enemy fire.

By now, Kerri had reversed her turn, missed the rocks, and we were rapidly distancing ourselves from the ambush. My gun, unable to traverse farther aft, was out of action, but I was amazed to hear the deliberate booming of one of the .50s at the stern. Apparently Shauna was as courageous as she was beautiful. 

Scrambling from my useless gun mount, I threw Kerri a quick thumbs-up and ran aft, the noise and concussion of Marty's 20-millimeter cannon pounding my ears and balls the whole way. Shauna, legs wide apart, labia protruding between her ass cheeks, boobs dangling over the breech, hunched behind the portside .50, firing at the receding shoreline. Somehow, she had located the reserve .50-caliber ammo, loaded and charged the gun, had even remembered to use short bursts. 

One last, futile RPG splashed harmlessly into the ocean well astern of us, and the firefight ended as abruptly as it had begun. Shauna continued to pour rounds, now falling short, toward the enemy position until I heard the click of the empty breech.

She stood a moment behind the smoking gun, and then collapsed, weeping, to the deck. I moved to comfort her, to praise her, but suddenly, Marty was at her side, and the two were locked in a fierce and silent embrace.

I quietly turned away and returned to the pilothouse. Kerri stood stolidly at the helm, throttles still firewalled, pounding all of us along at nearly 24 knots. Wordlessly, I caressed her smooth shoulder, deliberately ignoring her nakedness. She briefly brushed my fingers with one hand and continued to stare out the windscreen. I gathered our clothes, stepped into my cut-off camo's, opened the armored panels, and gently urged her from the steering platform. She took her clothes with a grateful smile, and began to dress as I throttled back and turned southward toward home, keeping well out to sea when we passed the smoldering ambush area.

Finished dressing, Kerri gathered the rest of the clothes scattered around the pilothouse and started toward the hatch.

"Hey darlin'?" I said. "I'm not the brightest guy in the world, but I think Marty and Shauna are in love."

"I know," Kerri replied, her eyes shining. "Lucky them." She hunched over and stepped through the hatch.

Less than a minute later, she was back. "They're making love on that cover thing in back. I just left their things and came back here." She put a hesitant hand on my arm. "I want to apologize for freezing up earlier. And then -- oh, God! -- I drove us right toward them, right into their guns."

"You did fine, Kerri," I replied. "All we've got is a few more dents and holes in the bulkheads. I sorta panicked myself in my first firefight. Most everybody does." I caressed her back, and we stood together, silent. 

"Shouldn't you radio in to Vung Tau about the battle, Jimmy? Maybe tell them . . ." Kerri began.

"I b'lieve we ought to keep that business back there our little secret for now, darlin'," I interrupted her. "Me and Marty'll figure out what to do later on."

We cruised that way, Kerri and I silent once more, almost brooding, past the gunfire support ships, through the harbor, below the radio towers atop Monkey Mountain, while at the stern, Shauna and Marty were falling deeper in love. As I turned the Stoned Pony to approach our berth, Kerri gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze, and said simply, "Thanks for the tour."

"Tell all your friends," I replied quietly.

Marty and Shauna, clothed now, flushed with love and making love, wandered to the bow. They stood placidly holding hands, Shauna's head resting comfortably on Marty's wide, tanned shoulder. As I maneuvered the somewhat battered, un-swabbed, and ammo-less Stoned Pony against the pier, Marty tenderly took Shauna's arm from his waist, and with a look of near-infinite regret, moved to tie us to the dock. Shauna followed him longingly with her eyes until the boat was secure, her man once more at her side.



Rest and Relaxation Ch. 03



As we rejoin the story, my ASPB, the Stoned Pony, was holed and a bit battered, awash with cum and pussy-juice, grimed with salt and gun-smoke, low on ammunition and altogether unfit for further operations. To top it off, my crewmate, Marty, and one of the two nurses we had invited along for an impromptu cruise were hopelessly in love. 

* * *

I noticed them just as Kerri was thanking me for the "tour". The three others of the crew who had gone ashore that morning were lined up along the boardwalk above the pier waiting for us. With them was Lt. Janvrin, the patrol officer commanding our two-boat detachment. Doubtless, all were wondering where the hell we'd been; were especially wondering about the lovely redhead gazing toward Marty who was busy coiling and setting lines, preparing to tie up.

I sighed; so much for slipping quietly into our berth, cleaning, repairing and re-arming the boat, chugging a few more beers and swapping war stories.

"Those guys up there," I muttered to Kerri, nodding toward the boardwalk where the four men leaned on the railing, chatting and laughing among themselves, all the while eying the luscious Shauna. "That's the rest of the crew, plus the CO of our section. I s'pose we're ass-deep in some shit now." 

Kerri, the gorgeous Navy nurse who, with the equally attractive Shauna, had first accosted us a seeming lifetime ago, put her hand on my shoulder in a brief caress. "What do you think will happen?" she asked running her hand down my bare arm.

I shrugged, getting just a little worried. "Don't know," I replied. "But they can't send me to Viet Nam, anyhow." 

There were, however, other things that could be done, including a general court martial for . . . what? Banging an officer? Unauthorized and inappropriate use of government property? Careless endangerment of lovely, naked women? Unapproved firing of weapons by said naked women in a restricted-fire zone? Failure to fill out and submit, in triplicate, the chits allowing a nude and delectable redhead to cum all over a United States Navy gun mount? The possibilities were endless. 

I looked at Kerri. "I suppose I oughtta start calling you sir . . . I mean ma'am, ma'am."

"You don't ever have to call me 'ma'am', Jimmy. We were lovers, for Chrissake." She offered a most enticing pout.

"Lovers?" I responded. "Uh, uh." I pointed toward the couple on the bow. "Those are lovers; we were just a passionate, um, interlude."

Kerri gave my shoulder another light caress, turned to stare out the open windscreen.

On the bow, Marty had finished tying our biffed up boat to the pier and rejoined his stunning Shauna in blissful oblivion. Each was plainly enraptured with the other, which wasn't supposed to happen. 

What was supposed to happen . . . what did happen, as far as I was concerned, was that we met a couple broads, took 'em out on the boat, had a few beers, got laid, shot the guns, got into and out of an ambush, wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, and a good time was had by all. 

For Marty and Shauna, though, something a bit beyond that had occurred. And I, the gun-totin', sun-tanned, lettin'-my-hair-grow, can't-get-a-beard-going-just-yet, bad-assed-son-of-a-bitch river rat, was so god-damned envious.

Apparently, however, it was time for all of us to pay the piper. 

"Hey, Demarest, whatcha got there?" That would be Salty Morton, Motor Machinist's Mate First Class and the Stoned Pony's duly appointed boat captain, yelling down to Marty who smiled and raised his hand briefly in reply. 

"Hey, guys," he said pleasantly. He then addressed our frowning C.O. "Howdy, Lieutenant. Hope you're well on this fine day." 

Lt. Janvrin ignored the cheery greeting. "Demarest, I sure as shit hope Axelsson's driving that boat," he stated, none too quietly. At Marty's short nod toward the pilothouse, he raised his voice a few more decibels. "Axelsson! Shut down and get your sorry ass on deck. I want to know what the hell you people did to that poor, defenseless vessel." 

"On my way, sir," I called out as I switched off the engines and looked at Kerry. "Well, darlin', seems the shit's about to hit the proverbial fan."

"Wonder if it'll help if I offer these as exhibit A at your court martial." Kerri smiled as she lifted her bodacious breasts from their halter. 

I just couldn't help it; I was getting a hard-on again. 

"Demarest, you stay where you are," Lt. Janvrin yelled some more. "Young lady," he continued, looking to Shauna. "Would you be military or civilian?"

"Sir, I'm Lieutenant j.g. Shauna O'Meara," Shauna replied and rattled off her service number as if she was a prisoner of war instead of the hottest little Irish lass it had ever been my pleasure to encounter. "And whom," she went on, "do I have the pleasure of addressing, sir?"

Lt. Janvrin seemed as smitten with Shauna as any young, red-blooded, male earthling would have to be. "I'm Lieutenant Robert Janvrin, ma'am, and if you don't mind, would you please explain why you're aboard that boat?"

Shauna looked at Marty, hugged him briefly, and called back up toward my C.O. "Sir, I've fallen in love with Gunner's Mate Third Class Demarest. We're currently in the process of determining exactly what the hell we're gonna do about that." 

A sudden hush came over the considerable number of nurses, officers, sailors, Marines and Vietnamese civilians that had gathered above the dock, curious about all the yelling going on. 

Kerri and I, knowing a fortuitous moment when we saw it, scrambled from the pilothouse onto the bow, where Kerri ran up to Shauna and Marty, wrapped her arms around both, and began screaming. "I knew it," she cried. "God, Shauna, I'm so happy for you." Suddenly both women were sobbing, clasped in a tight embrace.

After a moment, both Shauna and Kerri embraced Marty, who seemed about to start bawling himself. Meanwhile, I, from my spot near the pilothouse hatchway, and the crew, from their perch on the boardwalk above, simply stared and thought: You lucky bastard.  

Marty and Shauna impetuously came together in a long, passionate kiss while Kerri, still crying, clung to both as a shipwrecked sailor clings to the last bit of flotsam. 

Abruptly, Kerri, Shauna, and Marty rushed over to me, and I found myself engulfed in tears and hugs. Man, it was a mess . . . but a good mess. 

Lt. Janvrin, in the spirit of the moment, shouted out, "Axelsson! Demarest! What in the fiddler's fuck have you people been doing? And who's that other woman?"

"Kind of a long story, sir," I replied, my fickle wittiness having abruptly deserted me. "But the young lady is Lieutenant Kerri . . . um . . ."

"Cavalieri, Lieutenant." Kerri, somewhat composed at last, had stepped to the Stoned Pony's port side. "I'm Lieutenant Kerribeth Cavalieri. I'm a Navy nurse, stationed at the military hospital here, along with Lt. j.g. O'Meara."

I could only think: Kerribeth? Her first name's Kerribeth?

"Both you men . . . and ladies . . . stand fast." Lt. Janvrin was hollering again. Though abruptly confronted with two of the most attractive creatures many of us had ever had the good fortune to encounter, he quickly regained his military bearings and began walking toward the gangway leading down to the docks. 

The rest of the Stoned Pony's crew followed closely behind the pissed-off patrol officer, chuckling and joking, each obviously scheming and plotting their own opportunity to enchant and impress our new friends. It has forever been my contention, as well, that Lt. Janvrin was, with his overbearing and misguided demeanor, also attempting to insinuate himself into the hearts of both nurses. 

"Lieutenant," a voice called out from the far end of the boardwalk. 

She was tall and walked with the no-nonsense stride favored by captains of industry, and naval officers with the rank of commander and above. 

She was also a platinum blond goddess of bountiful bosom, waspish waist, luscious legs, perfect posterior and visionary visage. She was uniformed in a creased and immaculate tropical white blouse mounting the triple-striped shoulder boards of a full commander. The oak-leaf insignia of the Navy Nurse Corps was embroidered in gold outboard of the stripes. All of this, meanwhile, was complemented by the stodgy blue skirt mandated by military convention. 

She wore, too, black brogans that, though designed to be functional rather than fashionable, only enhanced this Amazon's perfect calves and alluring ankles. Topping it all off, a blue cap of indeterminate shape was cocked jauntily over her forehead, flashing the silver insignia of her rank. 

Somehow this blond bombshell . . . I simply can't think of a better description . . . turned a conventionally sexless uniform into an ensemble that would shame a Hollywood starlet on Oscar night. This was a woman for whom wars were fought, worlds were conquered, and wet dreams were created. 

Lt. Janvrin stopped dead, jaw agape. 

The rest of the crew had also halted in awed and not altogether innocent comprehension of this vision of erotica.

Alas, to confound matters even further, the platinum Venus was accompanied by an older gentleman in Bermuda shorts, polo shirt, and flip-flops. All of us river rats knew Admiral Elmo Zumwalt, commander of U.S. naval forces in Viet Nam . . . COMNAVVN. Few, however, had ever seen any admiral, let alone this particular admiral, dressed in resort attire. As usual, a group of khaki- and camouflage-clad staff officers trailed this convoluted pairing of Aphrodite and authority, each trying, and failing miserably, to keep their government-owned eyes off the amazing ass swaying directly before them . . . and I don't mean the admiral's.

Needless to say, Admiral Zumwalt was far down the list of recognition factors overwhelming our stunned senses, until Kerri suddenly shouted out, "Attention on deck!" Naval training and tradition kicked in to bring all of us, except for the commander, her companion, and his entourage to a rigid attention.

A man held in some regard by the enlisted sailors in Viet Nam for his tolerance and evenhandedness in matters concerning justice and moral in the lower ranks, Admiral Zumwalt quickly shuffled his arms in a gesture of dismissal and called out, "As you were, people." 

He seemed tolerant of the fact that every man in the immediate vicinity had mentally unbuttoned the commander's blouse, unleashed her ivory breasts from the blue-black, lace-encrusted half-bra, and had begun suckling and teething one or the other of those light brown, erect nipples, savoring their slightly rough tips, tasting the female musk, admiring the compact aureoles. All were slavering uncontrollably at the sight of those delicately veined orbs and eagerly anticipating the inviting nether region nestled beneath their throbbing members.

Or, at least I was. 

I'm also pretty sure that Admiral Zumwalt was well aware that he was second-in-command of this particular action.

"Good afternoon, sirs . . . I mean ma'am . . . ah, and sir," Lt. Janvrin stammered. He must have been no farther along than the rest of us, in his appreciation of the commander's charms, for I was sure he had started to say "mammary", but I might be wrong. 

He had also, being the only man of the crew covered, that is, wearing the camouflage beret alleged to be the unofficial distinction of the Mobile Riverine Force crews, saluted his two superiors and held the salute in trembling apprehension of what he'd rather have been doing with that hand. 

"I'm Commander Lundgren," the gorgeous officer announced as she strode up to the overwhelmed lieutenant. "Lt. Cavalieri and Lt j.g. O'Meara are under my command. And for God's sake, you were told to stand easy. Drop the salute, okay? 

The red-faced lieutenant quickly lowered his arm. "Sorry ma'am."

"Now what, exactly, is this commotion all about?"

"Well, ma'am, ah, I'm not quite sure what's going down here, myself. Yet."

At that moment, despite my apprehension that Marty and I might be in a bit more trouble than I had first thought, I loathed Lt. Janvrin for the simple reason that he stood some fifty feet closer than I was to yet another beautiful woman. 

In any case, by now, I had slid the plain blue skirt down her sun-bronzed thighs and had begun kissing her bared belly, admiring the light, nearly imperceptible golden fuzz that climbed from the top of her black silk panties toward her deep and perfectly round navel. Doubtless, many other males in the vicinity had gotten much farther along than that, but I wanted to savor sheer perfection, to bask awhile in blatant sensuality.

I also recall wondering, in some remote nook or cranny of my overheated brain, how the hell anyone at the hospital could focus on the wounded, the sick, and the malingering with that enchantress a constant diversion. Then again, maybe she was a major factor in the recovery process. 

I started when Kerri, a quite attractive and nubile young thing in her own right, suddenly shouted, "Commander Lundgren, this is all my fault." She glanced toward Marty and Shauna, still entwined and paying far more attention to each other than to the imbroglio in which we all were currently enmeshed. "Though I'm not exactly sure if 'fault' is, like, the right word," she continued. "Anyhow, ma'am, Lt. j.g. O'Meara and I were walking along the boardwalk up there, intending to hit the beach for a little R and R after . . . well, you know, ma'am . . . and I saw this interesting boat docked here," she indicated the entire boat basin with an adorable little wave. "So I thought I'd ask that sailor . . ." another wave, to my mind considerably less adorable, toward me . . . "what type of boat it was."

I admired and respected Kerri, thought her one of the most gorgeous women on the face of the planet, but I really wished she hadn't implicated just me. After all, Marty and Shauna were in this, too . . . whether they yet realized it or not.

Kerri went on, "The sailor alleged that this boat was the, um, official Vung Tau Harbor tour boat . . ." At this, both the inconceivably beautiful commander and the estimable admiral chuckled, while Ollie Jackson, the Stoned Pony's lone black crewman, hollered, "Oh, that's good, y'all."

I wanted to quietly slither into the bay and swim home. Reluctantly, I abandoned my imaginings regarding the charms sequestered beneath the commander's lacy, blue/black underwear to focus on impending doom.

"Of course, ma'am, we didn't really believe that," Kerri went on doggedly, "but we . . . or at least I was genuinely curious about this boat; what its mission was. Also, ma'am, both these guys are kinda cute, so . . ."

I edged closer to the side of the boat as the entire crowd began laughing.

Even Marty and Shauna were smiling as they glanced at me, each other, Kerri, the blond temptress above, and back to each other. Clearly, they were inseparable.

"So, anyhow, ma'am," Kerri continued, "we decided to go along with what was obviously a joke, and accepted what we interpreted as their invitation to come aboard."

"And what went on after you boarded the vessel, Lieutenant?" The goddess spoke in dulcet tones, while my over-exerted brain careened between erotic imaginings of this muse's boundless sexual charms, and significantly less enjoyable mental images of life in the LBJ . . . the Long Binh Jail, the daunting in-country military prison for enlisted personnel. 

I also wondered, for some strange reason, if "McHale's Navy" was still on TV back in the World.

* * *

Next: We discover true heroism . . . and I feel like a total ass. 



Rest and Relaxation Ch. 04



We had tied up to the naval docks in Vung Tau unprepared for a confrontation with what had to be the sexiest woman in Southeast Asia, Kerri and Shauna's commanding officer, one Commander Lundgren, Navy Nurse Corps. 

We also didn't expect the commander to be accompanied by Admiral Elmo Zumwalt, who commanded all U.S. Naval Forces in Viet Nam, COMNAVVN. 

Further complicating matters was the fact that my crewmate, Marty, and the simmering Irish beauty, Lt. j.g. Shauna O'Meara had, improbably, fallen deeply in love.

Meanwhile, the bewitching Commander Lundgren was demanding of Kerri an explanation regarding the recent goings-on aboard the Stoned Pony, our battered but valiant river assault boat.

* * *

Lt. Kerribeth Cavalieri stood tall and answered Cdr. Lundgren's query. "Ma'am, we sailed approximately eleven clicks up the north coast above Vung Tau Harbor; made love exactly four times; test-fired two of the weapons; briefly engaged hostile forces, and returned to base. Oh, and Lt. j.g. O'Meara and Gunner's Mate Third Demarest are, if you'll notice ma'am, in love."

About as succinct a de-briefing as I'd ever heard. I noticed also, that mention of the unreported firefight was deftly concealed amid more prosaic events.

The commander stood with hands on heavenly hips and considered Kerri's statement. "Lt. Cavalieri, I should reprimand both you and Lt. j.g. O'Meara for conduct unbecoming and God knows what else. When I told you both to chase some devils, I didn't think you'd actually catch any."

Kerri, bronzed arms at her sides, merely lifted her sculpted chin defiantly. God, but she was lovely. I glanced at Commander Lundgren, contrasted my imaginings of this blond goddess naked beneath me with the indelible memory of Kerri standing in unadorned perfection at the wheel of the Stoned Pony. My brain continued to bounce crazily between sexual fantasy and erotic memory.

Commander Lundgren, in the meantime, had turned to Admiral Zumwalt for a whispered conference. As she presented her stunning profile, I became even more aroused at the mental vision I'd constructed of the commander's vulva mounding between her bronzed thighs, her labia, pink and glistening with pre-coital moisture, lurking seductively among her golden curls. Her clitoris, protruding in carnal regency from the spun pubes, reminded me of a tiny penis, and was throbbing . . . yes, throbbing . . . in expectation of fulfillment by my swollen member. 

I was subtly trying to conceal said swollen member, as were most men standing in the vicinity, when Commander Lundgren turned back to us and called out, "You will, Lieutenant," a glance at Lt. Janvrin, "along with your two crewmen and my nurses, return to my office with Admiral Zumwalt and me. This situation can, I'm sure, be resolved with as little collateral damage as possible." 

I believe this was the first time that I ever heard the term "collateral damage". 

In a magnificent gesture to military correctness, Lt. Janvrin, with a curt "Aye, aye, ma'am" jacked his eyes from the commander's imposing bosom and glared toward us. "Axelsson, Demarest, secure the boat . . . no! Belay that! Each of you find a shirt, put it on and get topside."

He addressed the three other crewmen. "Looks like you gents have the pleasure of cleaning up after those two . . . sailors," he growled.

Commander Lundgren, officially designated, at least by me, the Sexiest Woman in Southeast Asia, called down in a considerably less strident voice, "Kerri, Shauna, I expect both of you showered, in proper uniform, and in my office, a-sap."

Personally, I liked the commander's way of putting the request far better than Lt. Janvrin's, but I hustled back into the deckhouse for my chambray shirt, grabbing one for Marty, as well. I rushed back out on deck to see Marty and Shauna once more interlocked; lips together, Shauna groping for Marty's cock. 

I quickly grabbed her hand and patted Marty on the shoulder. "Hey, man," I murmured. "Let's get underway." I glanced to his beloved. "Ma'am, I'm really sorry about . . ." 

She put a soft hand to my cheek, a touch I shall feel for the rest of my life, and raised the other to her lips.

"Demarest! Axelsson!" Lt. Janvrin bellowed. "Expedite!" 

Shauna's green eyes flashed to the lieutenant, standing arms akimbo on the gangway, and momentarily I pitied the man. I really did.

I shoved the extra shirt at Marty, grabbed the waist band of his camo cut-offs, forcibly led him away from the woman who would one day be his wife.

I couldn't look at the other guys in the crew till Salty suddenly whacked my shoulder. "You guys for damn sure hit the freakin' jackpot," he said with a wink. Each of the others gave us a surreptitious thumbs-up as we passed, with Ollie Jackson blowing Marty a sardonic kiss and then slapping him lightly on the back.

Needless to say, the lieutenant wasn't happy with this display of camaraderie. "Belay the grab-ass and turn to!" he barked. 

At the top of the gangway, I found myself face to face with Commander Lundgren. Her startlingly blue eyes, though undeniably lovely, were also among the kindest and most intelligent that I'd ever encountered. 

"While I can't condone your behavior," she said quietly to Marty and me, "I do understand." She looked to Marty and asked simply, "Are you and Shauna, um, Lt. j.g. O'Meara, really as smitten as you seem to be?"

Marty held the commander's gaze and replied in a fervent voice, "Ma'am, I swear to God I'd die for that woman."

The impossibly beautiful commander was silent, judging the worth of this hulking Midwesterner. At last she responded. "Assuming Lt. j.g. O'Meara tells me pretty much the same thing when I ask her, I'll do everything I can to see that, while you're both in-country, you and she are together as much as possible. Is that fair?" 

Marty nodded once and replied, "I appreciate that, ma'am." 

I snuck a look toward the boat; Shauna, arms rigid, fists clenched, was glaring at us; hadn't moved since Marty and I had so precipitously departed.

Commander Lundgren's gorgeous eyes remained on Marty as she said, "Admiral, do you think you could pull a few strings, perhaps get Gunner's Mate Third Demarest transferred to a billet in Vung Tau?"

I had totally forgotten the existence of Admiral Zumwalt, who seemed to materialize from nowhere and stood just abaft the commander. "I think we can oblige you, Sheila," the Admiral responded quietly. "I'm well aware of what your nurses have been through these past couple of days." 

The admiral paused to glance toward the less-than-spiffy Stoned Pony. "I also know what these boys deal with over here, and it's no piece of cake, either." He looked steadily at me. "It was your squadron that tried to evacuate those Viet kids in the middle of the assault near Dong Tam, um, last month, wasn't it? Were you men involved with that?"

Abruptly aware that the Admiral was looking at me, I was again forced to abandon unbidden thoughts of the commander's fabulous pussy opening to admit my stupendously engorged cock. Yet, having no idea what he'd just asked, I was forever indebted to Marty who answered, "Yes sir. Our boat was the one ordered to go in and get that family. I wish we'd'a been able to get to 'em quicker, but we were taking some pretty heavy fire, sir; did the best we could."

"I know, son," Admiral Zumwalt sighed. "It was just one of those unfortunate things. This is one seriously shitty war."

"Sir, there's a bunch of us wondering if we're wasting our time over here." Marty blurted this just as I had resumed tonguing Commander Lundgren's left tit, beginning a slow, oh so sensuous, grind; in, then nearly out of, then back in that tight and so alluring vagina. I could feel her blond maidenhair entangled in my own pubic thatch when an image of the LBJ once again intruded on my thoughts. I was, after all, among the first to wonder aloud a couple months back if we, collectively, were indeed wasting our time, not to mention our lives, in Viet Nam.

"Belay that, Guns," the admiral replied brusquely. His eyes took on a sadness, though, that caused Commander Lundgren to put a gentle hand on his arm. "I hear what you're saying," he continued, "but this isn't the time or place." Noticing Lt. Janvrin returning from a cursory inspection of the Stoned Pony, he ordered "Let's shove off." 

We must have made a most intriguing and incongruous group. The breathtakingly attractive Commander Lundgren, side by side with COMNAVVN, in flip-flops, polo shirt, and shorts, no less, followed by an apoplectic Lt. Janvrin. 

The Lieutenant was in turn followed by a gaggle of staff officers surrounding, and instinctively ignoring, the somewhat bedraggled Marty and me. 

On the walk over to the hospital, I harangued Marty, or at least harangued him as much as was possible in a whisper. "'The hell were you thinking, man. We're deep enough in shit without you pissing off a freakin' admiral, 'specially that admiral." 

Marty ignored me, of course; would only turn every couple of steps to glance back toward the boat dock, toward Shauna. Funny, though; I was doing the same thing. 

We both saw the two lovelies walking in the opposite direction, apparently headed toward their quarters. Kerri's beach bag swung enticingly at her ass. I noticed that Shauna also kept glancing up toward us. But that didn't interest me near as much as the fact that Kerri did too.

Within minutes, Marty and I, along with Lt. Janvrin, Admiral Zumwalt, and Commander Lundgren were ensconced in the commander's small office, thanking God for air conditioning and waiting for Lt. Cavallieri and Lt. j.g. O'Meara to join us.

Commander Lundgren and Admiral Zumwalt had taken the only two seats in the cramped space and, with Lt Janvrin leaning between them, were once again conferring in a low murmur. The lieutenant appeared even angrier, occasionally shaking his brutally shaved head while mouthing watered-down oaths. 

Marty and I sat uncomfortably on the bare cement deck, the whirring rattle of the air conditioning unit preventing us from hearing any of what was being said. Probably just as well. 

I was, by now, beginning to comprehend just how much of an idiot I had been; having sex with an officer, no matter how willing she seemed; taking a commissioned United States naval vessel out for a two-and-a-half hour joy ride; lighting off several hundred .50-caliber rounds into what could very well have been a restricted fire zone. 

Then there was the firefight that had put the two women in unconscionable danger. Had one or both of them been wounded or killed, I'd have had to live with that for the rest of my life . . . the bulk of which would most assuredly be not in the LBJ, but within the looming walls of the Portsmouth Naval Prison back in the World, the U.S. 

Hell, Marty or I could have been killed, too. Altogether, our little cruise had been a very stupid thing to do; unforgettable, yes, but definitely stupid. 

I did have some hope, however, that the commander . . . and the admiral . . . might, indeed, limit the "collateral damage" resulting from this little incident.

Despite my proximity to Cdr. Lundgren, I pondered more and more the lovely Kerri, her glistening body, her perfect tits, luscious ass, and form-fitting pussy, all given freely to me. I began, despite our dilemma, to get another hard-on, to wonder, once more, if I'd ever encounter such an opportunity, such beauty, again. 

The muttered conference among the officers had ended and once more I beheld the commander's amazingly blue eyes. I noticed then the sadness in those eyes, the burden of seeing people at their most vulnerable: frightened, wounded, broken, sick, distraught. I knew that no matter how many firefights, assaults, and shattered boats I'd been through, no matter how heroic I thought myself, I couldn't hold a candle to this woman, to any of the doctors and nurses here, all of them dedicated to saving lives rather than taking them. 

Yet, while it's true that those eyes shamed me, they also gave me hope.

"Before Lt. Cavalieri and Lt. j.g. O'Meara get here," the commander began, "I want you men to realize how fortunate you are, and why my nurses behaved as they did." 

She folded her hands on the plain metal, military-issue desk and went on. "Until the day before yesterday, Lt. Cavalieri, Lt. j.g. O'Meara, and another nurse, Lt. j.g. Brenda Kasper were all very close. All three nurses worked in triage, same-same emergency room. 

"Having been exposed to wounded and dying men yourselves, at least occasionally, you can imagine what these women experience on a daily basis; dust-offs and ambulances arriving daily with wounded soldiers, Marines, and sailors; even many of the enemy wounded who've been captured or who've surrendered. It would, plainly speaking, make you sick." She closed her eyes briefly, while I recalled my thoughts of a moment ago.

"After a major operation or battle, like the one you men were just engaged in," she continued, "things are especially bad. The wounds, the sounds, the smells, the chaos . . . the death," her eyes hardened. "It's madness. Utter horror." Commander Lundgren shot a look toward the Admiral, who sat next to her, frowning slightly.

"As I mentioned," the Commander sighed, "the three nurses were nearly inseparable, having experienced all this together for over four months now . . . in the case of Lt. j.g. Kasper, closer to eight months. All three nurses shared the same quarters in a Quonset hut just the other side of the boat docks, sandbagged to the hilt, but nonetheless not an especially safe area during the occasional mortar attacks we endure. Furthermore, because we're chronically short-staffed, all three have had a grand total of eight days off since arriving in-country. But they're dedicated officers; all my women are. And among the finest nurses it's been my honor to command." She paused, closed her eyes.

"In any case," she said then, "the day before yesterday, Lt j.g. Kasper was found dead of an overdose of Phenobarbital. There was no suicide note." The Commander glanced toward Marty. "Her body, I might add, was discovered by Lt. j.g. O'Meara." 

My friend slumped forward, cradled is head on his knees, muttered "Jesus, Jesus."

The Commander, eyes cast to the gunmetal desktop, went on. "One of the reasons I believe she took her own life is that, quite simply, she'd had enough, had seen too much death, too many shattered young men, too much of the horror. It just overwhelmed her. Maybe she was just too sensitive for this duty, I don't know . . . though I should have." 

Commander Lundgren stopped again, wiped at her eyes. "Another reason we think Lt j.g. Kasper took her own life is that her fiancé was killed in an automobile crash nearly a month ago." She paused, looked up at Marty and me, said "We were all trying to convince her that she had to get home, had to get out of this madness. Both Kerri and Shauna spent the past three weeks supporting her, grieving with her, pleading with her to go home, pleading with me to send her home. But Brenda refused to leave, said she wanted to work her way through her grief. I finally stepped in, far too late I'm ashamed to say, and ordered her home. She was supposed to leave yesterday."

After another swipe at her eyes, the Commander soldiered on, "Immediately after Brenda Kasper's body was discovered, nine helos . . . nine of them, all full of wounded boys . . . were brought in from the Rung Sat operation. Obviously, we needed everyone we could get in triage. Shauna and Kerri, all of us, have been working non-stop until early this morning, treating these men. More than a few died, but most will make it; we already have several on their way to Japan and Okinawa. But Kerri, and especially Shauna, have been traumatized, with no time for or means of dealing with their loss." 

The commander paused to take a deep breath fascinating all of us with her swelling bosom. "I don't want them ending up like Brenda Kasper," she said with a hard look around the office. "Lt j.g. Kasper is certainly not the first to break under this strain, nor do I doubt she'll be the last. But I intend to see that she be the first and last under my watch."

Commander Lundgren's eyes were glistening. I thought her indescribably beautiful to begin with, but she had taken on an unearthly loveliness at that moment that I can never forget. 

"Tomorrow," she said quietly, "Lt. j.g. Kasper's remains are to be flown back to the U.S. She deserves a place in Arlington National Cemetery, but she won't get it. Her family has been told only that, and I quote, 'The Department of the Navy regrets to inform you that on 27 July, 1969, Lt. j.g. Brenda N. Kasper died of wounds resulting from hostile action in the IV Corps area of operations, Republic of South Viet Nam.'" 

Marty sat silently next to me. I suppose his thoughts were the same as mine had been: we didn't deserve to breathe the same air as the women we had so callously used that day. 

The commander continued, "Originally, I had thought to send both Kerri and Shauna to accompany Brenda's remains to her hometown. However, because she took her own life, Lt. j.g. Kasper is not authorized an escort back to the States. She will simply be flown back home, her remains to be claimed by her family. As I said, she deserves more, but not even Admiral Zumwalt can buck Defense Department policy." She again glanced at the admiral, who continued to frown.

"Assuming only one or two medevacs," the commander went on, "Lt. Cavalieri, Lt. j.g. O'Meara, and I intend to go down to the sorry excuse we have for an airport here to see Brenda off, to honor her as an officer, as a nurse, and as a friend. It's only a fraction of what this woman has earned, and that's what makes all this even worse." 

At that point, I began to comprehend why those officers at the dock had been so dismayed at the impetuosity of the two nurses in joining Marty and me aboard the Stoned Pony. I wondered if we'd sullied those women, and perhaps ourselves, beyond redemption. It also became apparent that Marty and I had originally represented a diversion, plain and simple. I was unsure whether to feel honored or humiliated. 

Yet Marty and Shauna had found each other, had experienced the legendary love at first sight, were inextricably bound by the experience of that day.

Hell, I didn't know what to think, except where did all this leave gun-totin', fed-up-to-the-eyeballs, still-got-nine-more-months-of-this-shit me?

* * *

In the next episode, Marty and I learn our fate . . . and is Commander Lundgren, the Sexiest Woman in Southeast Asia, falling for me? 



Rest and Relaxation Ch. 05



Having had the time of our lives, not to mention our way, with two pretty . . . make that drop-dead gorgeous U.S. Navy nurses, Marty and I were now confronted with the consequences of our actions.

After hearing from the ethereally attractive Commander Lundgren, at the moment, my personal choice as the Sexiest Woman in Southeast Asia, of the horror, chaos, and despair that the triage nurses in-country encountered every day, and learning, as well, of the suicide of Kerri and Shauna's good friend, I had begun to feel like a depraved fool. 

* * *

Suddenly, Lt. Janvrin, who'd stood impassively through Commander Lundgren's sobering tale, went off.

"You people got in some shit while you were out on your little escapade," he ranted. "You want to explain that?" 

Without waiting for an answer, he began spewing accusations and invective that accused Marty and me of everything from misuse of government property to dereliction of duty.

"And how 'bout having sex with a couple of officers?" The lieutenant was rolling now. 

He then proceeded to level charges ranging from lewd and lascivious behavior to doing it doggie style, anal penetration to gang rape. He was, it seemed, out for our gonads.

When he paused to take a breath, a flushed Commander Lundgren responded with her opinion that, first of all, the lieutenant ought to tone down his descriptive phrasing, and secondly, that the women had merely chosen a particularly misguided way of relieving nearly unbearable stress. "Might it be, Lieutenant," she concluded, "that the ladies took advantage of your men, rather than the other way around?" 

"Sir," Marty interjected heatedly. "My mamma didn't raise no rapist. It was all one girl to one guy out there. If Axelsson had touched Shauna, I'd have shot him myself."

I gave Marty a nasty look, but kept quiet because it was true, and I wouldn't blame him. I did wonder, however, if I would have done the same if he'd approached Kerri.

Admiral Zumwalt weighed in, stating that to his knowledge very few victims fell in love with their rapists, that he saw no evidence Marty or I had forced ourselves on the two nurses. 

Undeterred, Lt. Janvrin suggested further violations of the UCMJ . . . the Universal Code of Military Justice, the embodiment of military law . . . which, if proven, could very well land Marty and me in prison. In particular, he demanded an inquiry into our failure to report the short but intense firefight. 

The admiral agreed that the charge of dereliction of duty ought to be recognized and dealt with.

With that, inspiration belatedly struck and I volunteered the information that we had a combat map on the boat; that I could, with reasonable certainty, point out on the map exactly where we had taken fire.

The admiral immediately leaped to his feet and rushed to the hatch . . . God forbid you called an ordinary office door a "door" in the old Navy. He asked for some commander named Howell, apparently one of his entourage, demanding the artillery spotting map of the Vung Tau region, which was quickly produced. He returned to the desk and unfolded the map, whereupon Marty and I shortly agreed on the location of the ambush. 

"Lieutenant, come with me." Admiral Zumwalt said imperiously. "We're gonna get some gunships and grunts over there. I'll dispatch one of the gunfire support destroyers that way, too." He hesitated, turned to look sternly at us. "Do either of you know if there were any V.C. casualties?"

Both Marty and I responded "No, sir." 

"Sir," I elaborated. "Our return fire most definitely suppressed Charlie's will to continue the engagement. I believe we put some serious hurt on their, um, behinds, but, with the ladies aboard, it seemed prudent to just di-di the hell outta there, sir. Also, as the senior watch stander, it was my intention to report the engagement to the duty officer at the docks as soon as we got back. But the Lieutenant was right there, along with the rest of the crew, and, well, things got a little complicated, sir."

"Right." The admiral withered me with a fierce look. "I suppose the thought of using your comms to call in air and ground support never entered your mind?"

"Well, sir . . ." I began, eyes averted.

"Ah, never mind. Let's go, Lieutenant." The admiral looked toward Commander Lundgren. "Commander, I'm leaving the disposition of this matter in your hands." A glance toward Marty and me, "You men are officially before the mast," meaning we were to stand by for sentencing and punishment. Abruptly, he and Lt. Janvrin were gone, though not without a this-ain't-done-yet glare from the lieutenant on his way out.

Seemingly apropos of nothing, the commander asked me, "Axelsson, what's your rating?" 

"Bos'n's Mate, Third Class, ma'am," I replied, startled by the question.

"And what do you have to say about your conduct with my two nurses?"

Apparently, I was going to be the bad guy in this whole scenario, but I was determined to be honest, even though it might cost me my rate, my next twenty liberty passes, and/or my freedom. "Ma'am, there's no doubt that rules were broken, procedures ignored, government property misused, hostile attacks unreported, and officers, um, bedded. As for most of those perceived offences, ma'am, I have no excuse. As for the last one, the only thing I can tell you is that we were a bunch of ordinary people enjoying life for a little while. Demarest has it right, ma'am, nobody forced themselves on anyone, we were all willing accomplices."

"I see," she responded. "So what are your feelings for Lt. Cavalieri?"

Once again I responded truthfully. "Ma'am, I have the utmost respect and admiration for the lieutenant. I will obviously retain a certain affection for her, like, for the rest of my life. And I hope, ma'am, that the lieutenant feels the same way about me."

The commander's next statement: "I don't suppose either of you men used a prophylactic," struck me like a slap to the ear. What if one or both of the women became pregnant? Marty, on the other hand, seemed pleased at the thought. 

At that moment, a timid knock interrupted our tête-à-tête. 

"Enter," the commander called out. Kerri and Shauna, clad in nurse's whites, complete with white caps topped in navy blue piping, name tags, white ripple-soled shoes, lieutenant's bars . . . twin silver bars for Kerri, a single silver bar for Shauna . . . pinned precisely to one collar point, oak leaf pin designating the medical corps affixed to the other, quickly entered the room. 

Working uniforms notwithstanding, I was amazed, once again, at how attractive both women truly were. Like their commanding officer, each turned an essentially shapeless uniform into a playground of suggestive curves and deliciously rounded forms.

Both nurses had put her hair in a severe bun, and were tight-lipped and business-like as they approached the commander's desk. Of course, both Marty and I came to attention when the nurses entered, though again, I couldn't help but compare Kerri's innocently insidious eroticism with Commander Lundgren's barely concealed sexuality. 

"Lieutenant Cavalieri and Lieutenant, junior-grade O'Meara reporting as ordered, ma'am," Kerri announced loudly.

"Everyone stand easy," the commander responded. Shauna immediately went to perch sedately next to Marty, while Kerri showed me a small, sensuous grin, and took her position at the opposite bulkhead.

I couldn't help flashing back to Kerri and Shauna's naked perfection, their sweat-sheened breasts, erect nipples, proud pussies, and sensuous asses. I recalled Shauna's lightly freckled cleavage, Kerri's delightfully voluptuous hips, the way each displayed her sex and her desire, the lust and eventual fulfillment all of us experienced and enjoyed. 

Again, I envied Marty and, despite the circumstances, blessed fate for these moments in company with three of the finest looking women to be found, not only in the Orient, but quite possibly on the face of the earth.

The commander began. "I'm not going to demand an explanation from you ladies as to your actions today. While I can't say that you've made me proud, I will tell you that I understand. I've informed these men about the extenuating circumstances you women have found yourselves in these past couple of days. There is, of course, no doubt that many of your actions today were not in keeping with the UCMJ or with naval regulations, but I'm willing to overlook your behavior, for the most part, because what's done is done. God help either of you ladies, though, if you become pregnant."

Marty and Shauna gave each other a little hug, while Kerri looked at me with an inscrutable smile. 

"Anyhow," Commander Lundgren continued. "Kerri. Shauna. As you both know, it's going to be a very trying day tomorrow when we say goodbye to Brenda." Both nurses gazed stoically at their commanding officer as she went on. "However, I believe that you women and these young men have encountered something special in each other . . . I know that you and Gunner's Mate Demarest have, Shauna. While you two," a glance at Kerri and me, "are seemingly companionable and respectful of each other. Therefore, I'm ordering you men," a stern look toward Marty, then me, "to accompany Lt. Cavalieri and Lt. j.g. O'Meara to the airstrip tomorrow when we send Lt. j.g. Kasper home. I expect you both to provide whatever aid, comfort, and support these ladies need. After that, I'll see what I can do to minimize any further repercussions for your actions."

I don't know about Marty, Shauna or Kerri, but I was stunned . . . and relieved.

The commander's voice lashed out at us then, "I do not, however, expect any of you people to ever behave like this again. I will tolerate no more dereliction of duty, no more flaunting of regulations, no more misuse of government property, no more acting like a pack of oversexed college freshmen. You are all members of the United States Navy and from now on, each and every one of you will comport yourselves as such. Am I clear?"

We all responded in perfect unison, "Yes, ma'am."

"Lt. Cavalieri, Lt. j.g. O'Meara," Commander Lundgren said with considerably less vehemence. "I want you to take Gunner's Mate Demarest over to the supply Quonset, where he will requisition a set of enlisted dress whites, including white hat and dress shoes, in order that he look presentable tomorrow. Then you will escort him to his boat, where he will gather a clean set of camos and some skivvies. From there, you will accompany Demarest to the medical BEQ where he will shower and shave, dress in said clean camos, and stow his dress whites in one of the temporary lockers. After you've carried out this assignment, stand by for further orders. Oh, and get over to the BX, purchase whatever campaign ribbons Demarest has earned, as well as his rating patches. I assume," she said with an ironic smile, "that someone among you can sew. Questions?"

"Just one thing, ma'am," I replied with some hesitation. "Our boat is supposed to be heading back to Nha Be tomorrow. Obviously, ma'am, we're expected to be aboard when it does."

"You may have noticed that Admiral Zumwalt and I are somewhat friendly," the commander said tightlipped. "Efforts will be made to retain your vessel in this command for the duration," "And, by the way, Axelsson, you will remain here for the moment. We'll see to your accommodations and uniforms directly."

She glanced at Marty and the two nurses. "Lieutenants, Gunner's Mate Demarest, you're dismissed." 

Kerri and Shauna chorused "By your leave, ma'am," saluted Commander Lundgren, and, with Marty in tow, headed out of the office. As Shauna passed in front of me, she stopped suddenly, stood on tiptoes, put her arms around my neck, and kissed me full on the lips. "Thanks," she whispered, those Irish-green eyes all soft and grateful. "Just . . . thanks." She smiled a smile that, again, nearly dropped me where I stood, grabbed Marty's hand, and they all but skipped into the passageway.

Kerri leaned in just before shutting the hatch to mutter a quick "Thank you, ma'am," to her C.O., and to give me an encouraging smile.

From such small gestures, I knew that the four of us were destined to remain close.

I stood silently before the platinum-blond commander as she scrutinized me with a curious smile. She nodded toward the empty chair kitty-corner to her desk. "Take a seat."

I did as she ordered, wondering, as the designated bad guy in the proceedings, what especial punishment was to be meted out.

"What's your first name, Boats?" she asked pleasantly.

Ordinarily I despise when people call me "Boats", the common appellation for those enlisted personnel rated as Boatswain's Mates. The lifers may have thought the title distinctive, but I had no intentions of making the Navy a career and personally thought the moniker demeaning. However, considering the source of the question, an uncommonly beautiful woman and the officer who essentially held my future in her sculpted hands, I held my tongue and simply replied, "Jimmy . . . James, ma'am."

"How old are you, Jimmy?" 

"Twenty-one, ma'am."

"Hometown?"

"I was born and raised just outside Concord, New Hampshire, ma'am." I wondered where this was leading.

"I'd appreciate it," this Amazon goddess said then, "if you'd call me Sheila."

"Yes, ma'am, um, Sheila," I said warily. I hadn't noticed in all the excitement that Commander Lundgren . . . Sheila . . . wore no wedding band. I was becoming increasingly unnerved at this conversation. 

"You find me attractive, don't you, Jimmy?" she asked then, and my danger radar went to full gain. I wondered if she could read minds, knew that I'd mentally ravished her in several militarily inappropriate and personally inventive ways.

With a straight face, I replied, "You are, Sheila, one of the most attractive women I've ever encountered. And I'm sure you're very aware of that fact."

Her eyes, so invitingly, impossibly blue, so kind, gentle, thoughtful, and sad, widened slightly and she laughed . . . much to my relief. "Oh yes," she chuckled, "I'm well aware that every man on this base wants to bed me; perhaps more than a few women, as well."

I kept silent.

"As Lt. Cavalieri put it," she went on, "both you and Demarest are 'kinda cute', but you're a bit above the common enlisted anchor-clanker. Have you some college behind you?"

"One semester at Dartmouth; liberal arts."

"And how did you end up a gunner on a river assault boat?"

"My folks wanted me to concentrate on math and engineering; I wanted to get into journalism. That ended the free ride. My next school was the Naval Recruit Training Center at Great Lakes."

"You were ordered here right out of Great Lakes?"

"No, ma . . . um, Sheila, I did two and a half years on a carrier, the Kitty Hawk, in a deck division. Made the mistake of requesting Yeoman school with the intention of getting into journalism the hard way; ended up with orders to 'Nam. Typical military bullsh . . . thinking." 

Commander Lundgren, my personal choice as the sexiest woman in Southeast Asia, sat silently staring at me. 

Suddenly this impossibly gorgeous creature began unbuttoning her blouse. "Would you fuck me, Jimmy?" she asked.

"Ma'am?" was all I could think to say.

"Please. It's Sheila. Yes or no, Jimmy. Would you fuck me? Because I find you a fascinating young man." She had unbuttoned far enough that I could plainly see her white brassier . . . so much for blue/black lace. 

Yet, despite the deliciously creamy and delightfully precipitous cleavage peeking between the buttons of her blouse, I felt something nag my conscience. "Sheila, I'd be honored to, um, make love to you, but . . ."

"But?"

"Well, frankly, I've decided that I'd like to pursue matters with Kerri, um, Lt. Cavalieri; maybe find out if she'd be interested in a relationship." I truly had no idea I was going to say that until it came out of my mouth.

The commander sat back in her chair. "You, of course, know," she said, "that in addition to the fact that she's an officer and committed to her nursing career, Lt. Cavalieri is a very beautiful young woman, doubtless attractive to men of far loftier means and prospects than a brown water sailor, even one with a semester at Dartmouth to his credit." 

"It seems to me, Sheila," I responded, "that Marty and Shauna will have to overcome those same obstacles. As would you and I, if . . . things were different."

"I'll concede that Demarest and Lt. j.g. O'Meara have defied the odds . . . for the moment." The commander smiled again. My God but she was gorgeous, would have made a better-than-decent living as a model or an actress, as would, come to think of it, Kerri and Shauna. She was also devious, I felt like I was taking some sort of exam.

"Sheila," I responded, "Like you and your nurses, Marty and I are living each day out here 'for the moment'. I'll take things with Kerri moment by moment for as long as I can, and if I can convince her that I'm worth her interest, even if it's only for a couple of months, hell, even if it's only for a week, it'll be the best damn week of my life."

"I'm sure it would, Jimmy," the commander replied. "And, who knows, maybe Kerri feels the same way about you."

It was my turn to smile.

"I'm going to call Supply," Commander Lundgren said then. "I'll instruct them to have Kerri, Shauna and Demarest wait for you there. Go get your whites and camos; then grab a shower and a shave. Inform the lieutenants that I expect you all back in my office at," she glanced at the chronometer hanging over the hatchway, "seventeen-thirty hours."

With a quick "By your leave, ma'am," I started for the hatch, but paused when the commander said suddenly, "It's my opinion, Boats, that both Kerri and you could do worse."

Again ignoring her damned "Boats" thing, I looked once more into those incredible blue eyes and replied, "I agree, ma'am."

* * *

In the conclusion, fates are sealed.



Rest and Relaxation Ch. 06



It appeared that Marty, Shauna, Kerri and I had gotten away, at least momentarily, with Grand Theft, Assault Boat.

I met the two gorgeous nurses and Marty at the Supply Quonset where Marty and I drew a set of dress whites, black dress shoes, black kerchief, and white hat apiece. Loaded up, we began walking back toward the piers to grab some clean camos from the boat.

Marty and Shauna walked ahead laughing and chatting like a couple of, well, young lovers. Kerri, like me, seemed content to just follow along, to enjoy their happiness. As we turned toward the boardwalk above the boat dock, amid passing officers, nurses, shore-bound boat crews, and Vietnamese base workers, I felt Kerri's soft touch on my shoulder and turned to look at her.

"I'm so glad today happened," Kerri said, and grinned. "That was pretty good, 'The Official Vung Tau Harbor Tour Boat'."

"Well, I had to say something to get you ladies aboard, ma'am . . ." I started to reply.

Kerri stopped, put both hands on her hips. "I told you not to call me 'ma'am'. Do you have any feelings for me at all, Jimmy . . . besides the fact that I'm a good lay?" she said heatedly.

Surprised, I replied, "Ma' . . . Kerri, you're an officer, I'm . . ." I paused then, comprehending her words. "Are you saying that you, um, like me?"

She melted me with her smoldering brown eyes. "You dumb squid; I'm saying that I'm falling in love with you."

It was that simple.

Though, over the years, Marty has attempted, with some justification, to dispute the title, I became, on that day, at that moment, the luckiest river rat in the world.

Just like in the movies, we moved for a spontaneous kiss then heard the hooting and hollering from the pier. Marty and Shauna had reached the dock, stood next to the Stoned Pony. Both were bantering with the others of the crew, Marty showing off his new uniform and Shauna, arm around Marty's waist, laughing at Ollie Jackson's pretended offence that she preferred whitey tiny over black power. The crew of our sister boat had also wandered over to quickly make Marty's Irish beauty the center of their universe.

"Looks like a freakin' circus down there." I said, unsure what Kerri might make of it. "Guess they've accepted Shauna as just one of the, um, girls, though; nobody's standing at a rigid attention."

"Yeah," she said. "And it looks like your gung-ho Lt. Janvrin isn't around, either. He'd have you all piping us aboard, with side boys and white gloves. Guess he caught Shauna's look." 

She giggled lightly when I said, "You saw that look, too?"

"Yep," she replied. "I thought she was going to grab one of those guns in back and open fire on him." She gave me a quick peck on the cheek "C'mon, I want to meet the rest of your crew."

I was, I knew then, in love with one of the finest ladies in the entire Eastern Hemisphere. I prayed to God that this would take, that I could spend the rest of my life with this woman. Remembering the commander's earlier words, I found myself looking forward to fathering Kerri's children, was determined to make myself worthy of her love. "Think you can stand being romantically involved with enlisted vomit like me?" I asked this only half in jest as we walked rapidly along the boardwalk toward the gangway.

"It'll be hard on both of us," she said, giving me a speculative look, "but I think we're both smart enough and tough enough . . . and love each other enough to find a way to make this work. Same thing for Shauna and Marty." She grinned wider, showing perfect teeth and a teasing tongue. "Besides, I adore your pecker, and it just happens to be attached to the rest of you."

In moments we were aboard the Stoned Pony with both women demanding to be treated as just a couple of river rats, which, during our recent voyage, they had, for better or worse, become. Thus, the four of us were inundated with much ribald commentary and make-believe bravado, though not before Shauna had taken one look at the way Kerri and I now fitted together and abruptly embraced each of us. I guess women just recognize love quicker than guys do, but I know I hadn't received so many hugs in one day since I was in diapers. 

Marty and I each hurried to dredge a set of reasonably clean camouflage uniforms, boots, skivvies, shaving kits, and floppy jungle hats from various nooks and crannies on the boat. We bundled them, along with the dress uniforms, into a sizeable rucksack that Salty Morton and I had kumshawed from a cute little mama-san for two Cokes and my Kabar bos'n's knife -- a pretty juicy story in its own right. We'd assigned the rucksack as the property of the entire crew, but this was the first time any of us had actually used it. 

I hefted the weighty pack, and we rejoined the others out on deck to find a couple of icy beers waiting and Freddie Mikowski, Machinist's Mate Seaman and the Stoned Pony's ching -- her chief engineer, regaling those gathered around regarding his intentions when he got back to the World. 

"Gonna get me the fattest, blondest, most round-eye woman I can find, gonna get a case of Southern Comfort, gonna get myself the best hotel room in San Francisco, and I ain't comin' outta there till the woman's half dead and I'm all the way outta liquor." 

Though Kerri and Shauna smiled, nobody else commented. All of us, even, I found out later, the nurses, had more or less the same idea when we got back to the World; sex, booze, drugs, sleep, and then more of the same; whatever it took to forget this time and place. 

"Hey, Jimmy," Kerri asked. "How long do you have left over here?"

I paused a moment. I knew nearly to the hour how much longer I had to endure the jungle, the rivers, the terror, and the bullshit until I could fly the hell away from Viet Nam. But Kerri changed everything about my plans when I got back to the World. "Two hundred fifty six and a wake-up," I replied. "How 'bout you, darlin'?"

Amid the howls and jeers of "Ooooh, darlin'" and "You pussy-whipped bastard, Axelsson" I heard her reply: "A hundred seventy two and a wake-up; I'm a few months ahead of you."

"Gonna be hard to beat the time we had today," I told her to more jeers and leers.

She moved closer, put her arms around me, her lips to my ear. "The best is yet to come," she murmured with the tiniest tickle from her tongue.

Again with the stiff willie.

Telling the rest of the Stoned Pony's crew that we'd see them later, the four of us headed over to the Base Exchange to purchase the various campaign ribbons, chevrons, and rating patches to which Marty and I were entitled. Obviously, we received plenty of looks -- curious from the Vietnamese, dirty from the officers, and envious from the enlisted men, as we cruised the cramped aisles. We had time to check out all the latest stereo equipment and cameras, as well as those few record albums deemed appropriate for our government-sponsored ears.

At seventeen-twenty-six hours precisely, with Marty and I showered, shaved, and appropriately dressed, the four of us reported back to Commander Lundgren's office. 

Upon entering, we saw a captain, uniformed in khaki, complete with Annapolis ring and the gold wings of a naval aviator, sitting beside the commander's desk. We immediately came to attention against the office bulkhead. I didn't place the captain at first, eventually remembered him as a member of Admiral Zumwalt's staff.

"All of you stand easy," the platinum blond commander said in a brisk tone. "This is Captain Reimer. He has orders that originate directly from Admiral Zumwalt."

The ol' danger radar was raised again. It wasn't every day that an admiral sent such a lofty emissary to deliver specific orders for enlisted scum such as myself.

"Ladies, gentlemen," the captain said. "First off, I'm authorized to tell you that we captured three suspected Viet Cong at the co-ordinates where you reported that your boat took fire this afternoon. Intel indicates that at least two, maybe three VC were killed by your return fire. Also, seems like five or six were wounded, including the three that were captured, only one of which, I might add, is expected to live. 

"Additionally, a number of weapons were also captured, along with some ammunition and other equipment. Indications are that you were taken under fire by a VC mortar team, whose intentions to lob a few rounds into this base and the town of Vung Tau, possibly tonight, were disrupted by your actions." The captain looked at us and shrugged. "Why these people felt it necessary to open fire on your boat, though, is still a mystery." 

"In any case, the prisoners also mentioned that a number of VC infiltrators were among the casualties. These infiltrators, we've been told, were sappers with orders to plant explosives in and around certain military installations here on base, possibly as a diversion or retaliation for the Rung Sat ops. We believe that those plans have been abandoned, since the prisoners' claim that their buddies have decided to get out of Dodge."

The captain pondered us for a moment. "Altogether, you people did quite a bit of damage for . . . what . . . a five, ten minute firefight? Not bad at all. The admiral asked me to tell you 'Well done.'"

Now the guillotine drops, I thought with some trepidation.

I needn't have worried. We were indeed ordered to accompany Kerri and Shauna to the departure ceremony honoring their friend's remains, to give the women what comfort and support we could. At the conclusion of the ceremony, Marty and I were to report back aboard the Stoned Pony, while the nurses would resume their work at the hospital.

The captain also informed us that we were all freed from official duties for the rest of the day, that liberty passes for Marty and me had been, or shortly would be delivered to the duty officer's shack on the Navy Pier.

When he'd finished delivering his instructions from the Admiral, the captain looked around at all of us. "Any questions?" 

I had several, but asked only one: "Sir, what about our orders to return to Nha Be tomorrow?"

"Presently, both boats of DET Bravo are, like you men, released from command of RivRon 15 and assigned TDY to COMNAVVN. Both are effectively under my command for the duration. As of approximately ten-hundred hours on the day after tomorrow, both will revert back to squadron command and will be released to return to the coastal operating base in Nha Be. Anything else?"

"No sir," I replied, knowing that the two boat crews would forgive us messing up the Stoned Pony for an extra day of liberty in Vung Tau. 

I also realized that, earlier camaraderie notwithstanding, all were madly jealous of Marty and me; would pointedly cruise both the base and the streets of town for their own shot at lust and love. 

Chances were, though, that a few minutes with one of the local whores would have to suffice, a fact that pretty much everyone learned to live with from their first day in-country. 

Marty and I had been a one-in-a-million, maybe a two-in-two-million shot. We had each "hit the freakin' jackpot," to quote the immortal Salty.

Commander Lundgren abruptly gave Kerri and me an appraising look. "Axelsson, may I assume that you and Lt. Cavalieri have become a bit more than just companionable?"

I answered for both of us. "That's affirmative, ma'am, and . . . well . . . thanks." I looked at Marty, Shauna and Kerri. "Speaking for all of us, I appreciate everything that you've done, ma'am. I promise you won't regret it." 

Commander Lundgren, now my personal selection as the Second-Sexiest Woman in Southeast Asia, merely gave us a contented smile and replied, "Bearing in mind my earlier admonitions, I trust you all to use your better judgment in passing the time until your boats depart for Nha Be." 

We all stood grinning like simpletons, while I could visualize Marty trying to figure out the word "admonitions".

"Lt. Cavalieri," the captain said then, "I'm assigning you the task of ensuring that these orders are carried out."

"Aye, aye, sir," Kerri gave the captain a small nod.

At that moment, Commander Lundgren and Captain Reimer exchanged a look that I could only interpret as lust. They're screwing each other, I thought with an inward smile, and more power to both of them. 

"That's it, people. You're dismissed," the captain said abruptly.

Needless to say, Kerri and Shauna knew of a nook here and a cranny there where we could have some privacy. At last, I found myself alone with my love in a single spacious compartment reserved for wounded or ill senior officers, which, fortunately, seemed to be in laudably short supply this day.

"Finally, just the two of us," Kerri said, locking the hatch and turning to me with an inviting smile.

"Hey, Kerri?" I replied humbly. "I don't want to be a bummer, but what you've been through . . ."

Reminiscent of Shauna when I had to drag Marty away from her on the boat earlier, Kerri put both hands to my lips and whispered a soft, "Shhh. Not tonight."

Silently, I took this picture of loveliness into my arms and kissed her with more than just a little passion. 

We remained clasped together like that for some moments, neither willing to let the other go. Finally, Kerri spoke into the crook of my neck. "I think I fell for you the second I saw you on the boat, just sitting there reading the paper; so tanned and relaxed, and just so, well, cute. And then the way you handled yourself today . . ." She pulled back only a little to ask, "Why did it take you so long to figure out that I was falling in love with you?"

"Darlin'," I replied. "I just couldn't imagine that a woman as beautiful and as classy as you are could possibly be interested in a lowly bos'n's mate, 'specially a freakin' child." 

She began to protest, "I'm, what, maybe four years older . . ." 

I held up a hand to stop her. "Thing is, Kerri, we river rats tend to think of ourselves as some bad-assed sons of bitches. But speaking for myself, I'm just a dumb, scared kid who wants out of the Navy, back in the World, going to school and writing my brains out. All I've got to do is stay in one piece for the next two hundred fifty six days . . . and the wakeup." 

In a sudden fit of anxiety, I looked down at her. "By the way, how many guys have you got waiting for you back home?" 

In response, she put her hands to each side of my head and kissed me deeply.

"I probably don't need to tell you," she said slowly, "that I've been approached by more than my share of guys who want to go to bed with me, but -- and I swear to Christ this is true, you're the first man I've really wanted to make love with in, like, forever."

"Well," I said huskily as she began to unzip my pants . . . again. "I'm truly honored and humbled, darlin', but I do find it hard to believe that a woman as attractive as you are hasn't bowed to temptation, so to speak, in . . . how long?"

"Way too long; since just after high school graduation, believe it or not," she replied quietly. "My so-called boyfriend -- big, good-looking guy, decent student, great athlete, headed to Boston College on a hockey scholarship -- was, I found out, screwing just about anything that walked, and . . . geeze, who woulda' thought . . . came down with the clap just before he left for BC."

She sighed deeply, and went on as I hugged her closer. "He didn't even have the guts to tell me about it; I'm sure he would've been just fine with fucking me, clap and all. But my father's a doctor. He'd heard about the whole thing, even called me on the phone where I was working to warn me. Dad would have cheerfully shot the bastard if I hadn't gotten there first and nearly killed him myself with a baseball bat. At that point, I had decided that men were pretty much a pile of useless shit, flipped a coin to decide between a convent and the military . . ."

She suddenly smiled up at me, my hardness gripped in one hand, the other still over my shoulder, her eyes glistening. "But now you've come into my life, and I wish you'd undress me so we can make love properly, on a real bed."

Knowing a direct order when I heard it, I slowly began undoing the buttons at the front of her uniform, once more stunned at my good fortune in meeting this uncommon beauty. 

I slipped her unbuttoned nursing whites from those delectable shoulders, down to her hips, while she stood in her sparkling white Navy-issue brassier, languidly working my member and softly murmuring those legendary sweet nothings.

After a gentle and lingering kiss, while we explored and feasted with our tongues, I unhooked her bra and took my sweet time lifting it from her flawless breasts. Her dark nipples pulsed and hardened as I bent to kiss first one, then the other. 

Meanwhile, this awesome beauty reached up with her free hand to unpin her cap, to let her coal-dark hair tumble to those finely wrought shoulders. A lock drifted over her eye, giving this woman, my woman, a child-like adorableness that I've treasured for lo these many years.

As I tenderly brushed aside the stray strands, Kerri put her hand to the buttons at my chest and began her own chores. We soon stood shirtless, intertwined, beginning to sway with our own soundless rhythm.

I swept my darling up then, and carried her to the bed, a cast-iron construction with clean, white sheets and a real pillow. I'll tell you what, she was heavier than she looked, but I was, after all, one gun-totin', mustache-growin', sun-bronzed, almost-long-haired, bad-assed river rat who had a reputation to maintain. I just prayed that I wouldn't drop this precious cargo on the floor.

I didn't.

She lay on the bed, dusky and erotic in the fading light, against the sparkling sheets. I couldn't take my eyes off her as I sat at the edge of the bed to begin slipping her uniform down those irresistible thighs. As I worked, Kerri was busy undoing my canvas belt, getting to that pesky button at the top of the long-ago-unzipped fly.

We succeeded at the same time in freeing the nursing whites from her magnificent legs, and undoing that always recalcitrant button. I was becoming lightheaded with desire.

I bent to untie my jungle boots and slip them from my bare feet, all the while picturing the nubile beauty that lay beside me wearing nothing but a pair of filmy, definitely non-military sky-blue panties. 

I stood and, in what had to be one of my more coordinated moves, smoothly slid my camos to the floor. I stepped out of them easily and, wearing only drab, olive-green skivvies, joined my love on our blissfully yielding bed.

After a further long and sensuous kiss, we moved together to remove those last items of clothing that held our need at tortuous bay.

Kerri's sex, inviting, daintily trimmed, and already moist was once again revealed, this time for my more leisurely perusal. She re-grasped my manhood, began gently pulsing and kneading. I was aching with my lust, with my love for this girl. 

I put a hand to Kerri's perfectly formed mound, let it lay for a moment; started caressing the flesh of her willing lips. This was far better, I decided, than the rutting and grunting of our first intimacy. Hell, I was in a whole other world than I had been just that morning.

At a gentle urging from the goddess at my side, I moved to cover her body with my own, entering her clasping softness as the saints must enter heaven. We were one entity, far removed from the world, devoted to one another.

THE END 

* * *

Note: This story, though very loosely based on actual events, is a work of fiction. Needless to say, all characters, with the exception of Admiral Elmo Zumwalt, are imaginary.