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Semper Fi!

By: Semper Fi!



As I got my face down into her crotch, within inches of her pussy, I could smell her musk. It was a rather pleasant smell - obviously a clean pussy, obviously a person with not much meat in her diet - both as far as food goes and as far as sex goes. I could see that she was quite wet, and when I exhaled on her pussy, I heard her moan softly.

When these shots were done, it was almost noon, so Flynt instructed everybody to take a break, because the afternoon would be spent doing all the simulated intercourse scenes. As Kris, the photographers, and I began wandering away from the plane toward the trailers, the crew hurried in to erect shade canopies over the wings of the Hustler. Some of the scenes would be shot with both Kris and I lying on our backs on the jet-black wings, and Flynt didn't want us getting burned. Kind of him.

At 12:30, shooting started again. "For all the remaining scenes," said Flynt, "both of our models will be completely nude, with the exception of their combat boots. Kris, you've done a great job so far. In fact, I could do a pictorial with what I've got so far. If you don't feel comfortable doing the rest of it, just tell me right now. We'll pay you the agreed amount, and you can go, no hard feelings."

"Oh, no," replied Kris. "I signed up for this, I'm going to finish it. The Air Force is going to see what happens when they try to screw somebody over."

Well, there you go. The rumors my brother told me about must have been true.

The first position they had us do was standard missionary. For the first shots, they had Kris cover her pussy with her hand so that there would be no accidental penetration, and then they had me rest my cock on the slit of her pussy. My cock resting on her pussy looked almost like an enormous hot dog in a bun - maybe a Dodger dog? She was still very wet, and her pussy felt completely smooth against my cock - and that was something I'd NEVER felt before. Even on the most waxed, most shaved of pussies, I had always been able to feel stubble with my sensitive cock.

After a few shots of my cock resting on Kris's slit, the cameramen moved, taking pictures from behind, and then taking pictures from the side, with Kris's legs raised and wrapped around my waist, hiding my cock so as to give the illusion that it was inside of her. After a few more shots like this, I was instructed to reposition his cock underneath Kris's ass so that they could get a few shots from her head that would still look like I was actually fucking her.

She lifted her ass up off the wing so that I could slide in, but as I was sliding under her, the tip of my cock grazed her asshole. As it did so, Kris gasped, "OH my God!" and jumped.

"What? WHAT?!" shouted Flynt. "Did he penetrate?"

"No, no," it's okay, Kris replied. "The head just grazed my ass, that's all."

"Alright," replied Flynt. "Keep going."

Oops. I felt a little embarrassed, but, no harm, no foul! They took a number more shots like that, and then instructed me to pull my cock out from under Kris. She covered her pussy as I did so, and once my cock was completely "extracted", one of the photographers came up to me with a wet wipe.

"I want you to smear this on your cock," she said.

"What?" I was completely confused.

"It'll give you the appearance of having just pulled out of Kris's very wet pussy," she replied.

Well, that made sense. So, I took the wet wipe and got my cock wet. The photographer took a couple more shots, and then I was instructed to lie down on the wing of the B-58. This next set was going to be Kris on top, cowgirl style.

The first few shots were of Kris straddling me, her hand on my cock. Then they took a few shots over her left shoulder, making it look like she was riding me for all she was worth. I wished she was - I was starting to get some serious blue balls here! Then they had her lower herself just behind my balls, and took a few rear shots. Following that, they took a few shots from the front, with my cock resting right in front of Kris's pussy.

Once we were done with the cowgirl shots, Flynt called for a ten minute break for everybody to get some water and for the crew to hose down the wings of the plane. He then announced that the next position would be doggystyle.

For the first few shots, Kris was bent over the back of the wing, looking up at me. I was standing next to her, looking down. Then, they had me move behind Kris and rest my cock in her ass crack. Okay, it looked a lot more like a hot dog in a bun now, except I was starting to think it was more like a bratwurst or a Polish sausage or something. After a few more shots, they had my reposition.

This was the delicate part. I had to get my cock underneath Kris, resting in her slit, without penetrating. Kris reached around again and covered herself, allowing me to get positioned. I crouched down a bit, and slid my cock in right underneath her hand. I slid it all the way down, until it appeared that I was balls deep. The head of my cock was now resting against her stomach. This only took a few seconds, and then I was in place and ready to go.

They did a number of shots with me standing here, from all angles except directly overhead and directly beneath, both of which would've showed that my cock was not actually in her pussy. They had me move back and forth to simulate actual fucking, and as I did so, my cock would rub against Kris's slit. Every time I moved, her eyes would close, and she would moan a little. The motion, the wetness, and the noise weren't helping me at all - I was having to think about my fucking income taxes to keep from blowing my load all over the Mojave Desert!

When we finished the doggystyle shots, I moved back. As I did so, my cock rubbed all the way down the length of Kris's slit, making her moan loudly. She hadn't covered herself with her hand, either, so the head of my cock grazed her pussy, making her moan even more. But there was something really weird - my cock was covered in white goo, almost as if I had just blown all over her.

"What the fuck?" asked Flynt. "Aaron, did you blow your load?"

"No, sir!" I replied in my best Marine voice. "I have no idea what the FUCK that is!"

"Uh," came a weak voice from below, "that was me. Sorry, I cream when I cum - and I came."

Kris looked positively mortified, but Flynt just laughed. "No worries, Kris, it's perfectly natural," he said. "We'll take a ten minute break so that you can compose yourself."

I was given another wet wipe, although this time it was to wipe my cock off. Kris disappeared into her trailer for a moment, and while she was gone, the crew came out with a hose and hosed down the wings of the plane. Then I heard a whir.

"Figured you'd want the wings cool," Flynt said. "You'll be on your back for this next one!"

Then he whirred off again.

When Kris came out of the trailer, Flynt called for silence. "Alright," he called. "This final series will be reverse cowgirl - apparently the most popular position for porn movies. We will follow that with the money shot, courtesy of the Piña Colada 2000XP!"

Huh? "What the heck is that?" I asked. I had no idea what he was talking about.

One of the crew answered. "Normal human cumshots are usually pretty inadequate," he said. "So, we have a stand-in - piña colada mix. It is almost identical in color and consistency to semen, so -" he held up a SuperSoaker "- we fill this baby with it, and then we shoot it all over Kris to make it look like you had a Godzilla-size cumshot."

Ah-ha. Interesting.

Flynt instructed me to lie down on my back on the wing. Once I was lying down, Kris was told to stand next to me, on the ground. We were going to do this one almost exactly like regular cowgirl.

She stood looking at me for a few shots, as if we were talking about this. Then, she straddled me, her back to me. Like the first time, she held my cock, her pussy a few inches above it. They took a few shots from my perspective, with it looking like she was riding me. Then they took some shots of her sitting on my pelvis, with my cock rubbing against her slit.

"Okay, Kris," Flynt called. "Now I want you to straddle him again. VERY CAREFULLY, lower yourself down so that his cock is just barely making contact with your pussy lips."

Kris did so, using the Air Force-developed muscles in her legs to hold herself with just the slightest contact between her labia and my cock head. OH JESUS. MARGARET THATCHER NAKED ON A COLD DAY! A few pictures were taken, and then one of the photographers observed, "Hey, that looks almost like his cock is wearing a pink combat helmet."

With a laugh, Flynt agreed. So, the photographer got in for a few close-ups. "How much longer?" asked Kris. She didn't sound too happy. In fact, she was starting to sound downright cranky - probably not a good thing. As she was holding that pose, Flynt called out further instruction.

"Okay, Kris," he said. "I want to give the readers a little more than they bargained for. Are you comfortable with just the slightest bit of penetration?"

"Whatever," snapped Kris. Oh boy. This was not good. She was getting bitchy.

"Alright, then," replied Flynt. "I need you to do exactly as I tell you. First, from where you are right now, I need you to lower yourself ever so slightly, just so that the head of his cock is barely inside you."

Kris complied and holy fuck it took all my willpower not to just grab her waist and slam her down my entire eleven inches. She probably thought it would be quick, but when she was asked to hold the position, I could see the muscles in her neck tighten. She was definitely not happy. Her leg muscles must've been getting extremely fatigued.

"Okay, Kris," said Flynt after a few photos. "Now, lift yourself up a few inches above his cock."

Kris breathed a small sigh of relief as she did so. Lifting herself up, she was able to push her muscles into a more comfortable position. The now-wet tip of my cock felt cold from the breeze blowing on it, and it actually started to shrink down a little. Oh shit! JENNA JAMESON NAKED AND GETTING HER BRAINS BANGED OUT! That got my cock back up.

Unfortunately, Kris's muscular relief was not to last long. After a few photos of her squatting above my cock, Flynt called out more instructions. "Alright, next. I want you to grab Jonathon's cock, lower yourself down BEHIND it, and rub it against your clit."

This meant that Kris had to lower herself back down, putting even more strain on her fatigued muscles. I started to put a hand up to support her back, but Flynt would have none of it. "Aaron! Get your hand out of the picture!"

Well fuck you, too, buddy. Sheepishly, I took my hand back. I didn't know how much of this Kris was going to take before she snapped, stalked over to Flynt bare ass naked, rolled him out of his wheelchair and stomped on his ass. Apparently, though, Kris had more patience than I gave her credit for, which made sense – after all, after four years of shitty treatment at the hands of sexist pig NCOICs, she must have built up quite a lot of patience.

"Alright, Kris," said Flynt. "One more pose before the money shot – I want you to keep your hand on Aaron's cock, but lift yourself back up to where you were originally – with his cock head touching just the outside of your pussy."

Oh shit. Back to Margaret Thatcher! I was trying to ignore Kris as she moved herself back up. The photographer started shooting again, this time with a telephoto lens for the real close-up pictures. Kris's neck and the back of her head were turning bright red, and I thought she was going to fall over. When the photographer stopped for a moment, she took her hand off of my cock, bent over slightly, and put her hand on my knee for support. The photographer said, "Oh, no sweetie, I need you to stay in pose."

Kris just stared at him. Then, with a sigh of exasperation, she said, "Oh, fuck this."

I half expected her to get up, rip the lens off of the photographer's camera, and beat him with it. But that's not what she did. Oh no, quite the contrary.

With a grunt, she let the muscular tension in her legs go and let her sopping wet pussy drop down over the entire length of my cock. HALLELUJAH! FUCKING-A-YES! THAT'S FUCKING RIGHT, DOGGY!

She started riding me like I was a mechanical bull in a country and western bar. Oh my God, that felt so fantastic. I could tell that her pussy had definitely had its share of sex, but when your cock is as big as mine, just about any pussy feels warm and tight - and hers certainly did!

Then I heard Flynt breathe, "Oh, shit!" That got my attention. Kris ignored him, but all the photographers brought their cameras down and looked over at him.

Looking around, Flynt yelled, "No, no! What the fuck are you doing! Keep going!"

The photographers started shooting film like madmen. Kris was non-stop moaning in ecstasy. If I didn't know better, I would've thought she was possessed - her body was convulsing, moans were escaping from her lips, and her head was bouncing around like a damn bobblehead. I could feel wetness escaping from her pussy and running down my balls as she fucked me harder and harder.

Jesus Christ, this was amazing. So maybe it took way longer than I had expected, but I finally got Kris Warbington - and she was the best lay I had ever had.

She continued riding me for a good five minutes - up and down, up and down, up and down. I couldn't believe how long I was lasting - apparently, thinking about Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day all day had had some effect.

Then, her convulsions got almost uncontrollable. Her pussy started oozing a lot more wetness, and I heard her whimper, "Oh God, I'm cumming..."

And then something I had never seen before happened. A stream of liquid shot out of Kris's pussy and nailed one of the photographers. "Hot diggity damn!" I heard Flynt yell in delight as her pussy continued firing. Holy shit, Kris was a squirter!

She continued riding me, even though she was starting to slow. All of a sudden, though...

"Oh shit!" I yelled. "I'm about to cum!"

Out of nowhere, it had just come bubbling to the surface. I was going to blow at any moment.

"Kris! Off!" Flynt shouted.

Kris weakly rolled off of me, moving as quickly as she could for somebody who had just literally had a screaming orgasm. As she rolled onto her back and lifted her head to look at me, I jumped up, aimed my cock at her, and started jacking off furiously.

When the first stream shot out, the intensity of it shocked even me. A massive rope of cum came flying out of the head of my cock at warp speed and smacked Kris in the forehead, dribbling down onto her nose. The next stream hit her in the chin, and each subsequent one got lower, as I left pools of cum on her tits, her stomach, and her pussy. "Damn," I said to nobody in particular. "That's a whole lot of cum."

Kris reached up to her chin, picked up a dribble of my cum, and licked it off her finger. "Mmm," she said with a weak smile.

"Fuck," I heard in the background. It was the crew member who had explained the Piña Colada 2000XP. "Might as well shoot it into a bottle of vodka, have something to drink!"

Slowly, Kris got up, took a robe offered her by a crew member, and staggered to her trailer, covered in sweat and my cum. I, for one, was quite proud of myself. Nothing like being an amateur porno star to make your day. Taking the robe that I was offered, I too headed for my trailer. After showering, I headed back out to my Explorer. Just as I was about to get in and leave, I heard my voice being called.  

"Aaron!" I heard Kris yell, running across the parking lot as quickly as her well-fucked but now clean body could move. "Aaron!"

I stopped and turned to face her. She stopped in front of me, and looked up at me. Then she kissed me, long and hard. "Thanks!" she said - and then she turned and headed for her own car.

The issue was released in November, just in time for Kris and my 23rd birthdays. It was wrapped in the usual plastic, but this issue's cover was different. It didn't have the "Hustler" logo across it like most do. Instead, it had a picture of Kris in her Hustler pseudo-military uniform, with the Hustler across her chest taking the place of the logo. RED HOT! the cover promised anybody who bought it and read it.

November 2009 became the best-selling issue of Hustler, although it didn't outsell the February issue of Playboy. Unfortunately, it caught the eye of the general staff of the US Air Force, who decided that they should court-martial Kris for bad conduct. The court-martial would be held in San Diego.

During a press conference about a week later, General Goldenne, a Marine Corps four-star who was the current Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, was asked about the court-martial. "That is an internal Air Force affair," he replied. "You would have to ask the Air Force chief of staff about that."

"What about Gunny Le'Garte?" he was asked. "Will he be court-martialed as well?"

General Goldenne stopped and looked at the reporter for a long moment. Then, considering his words, he said, "The United States Marine Corps is a brotherhood with a long history of tradition and honor. We actually protect our own."

I couldn't believe it when I heard about that. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff had personally guaranteed that I would not be court-martialed, due to the tradition of the USMC being an older and much more honorable service than the USAF. Nonetheless, even he could not protect me from being called as a witness in Kris's trial.

The court-martial was held on Friday, January 15th, 2010. On the day of the court-martial, Kris showed up, resplendent in her Class A dress uniform. General Mae Durban, her former commander, was there as Kris's defense lawyer. The prosecution called up admirals and generals, all quoting portions from the Uniform Code of Military Justice about how Kris had violated military regulations left and right and given the Air Force a bad name. This was not looking good for Kris. Then I was called to the witness stand.

When I sat down, I looked up at the admiral who would be questioning me. He looked unbelievably familiar, but I couldn't place him. Where had I seen him before?

"Gunnery Sergeant Aaron Le'Garte, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"

"I do, sir."

"Very well. Is it true that on September 26th, 2009, you and Technical Sergeant Kristina K. Warbington were employed by Hustler Magazine to be photographed in simulated sexual positions?"

"Yes, sir."

"And is it true that on said date, you and Sergeant Warbington did in fact participate in this photographic shoot?"

"Yes, sir."

"And is it true that on said date, you and Sergeant Warbington engaged in sexual intercourse and allowed yourselves to be photographed by said magazine for commercial purposes?"

"Yes, sir."

The admiral stopped for a moment, and then said, "Sergeant Le'Garte, do you believe that you and Sergeant Warbington, in so engaging in sexual intercourse for commercial purposes, engaged in what would be considered bad conduct by a member of the military, and disgraced the name of the United States Uniformed Services?"

Motherfucker, he was setting me up! If I answered yes, I would be walking into my own court-martial, and if I answered no, I would simply look like a horny Marine dipshit. But that's when it hit me. THAT's where I had seen this admiral before!

I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. "No, sir, I do not. At least, sir, not when I compare our actions to the actions of a flag officer who participated in an orgy on Black's Beach, which is City of San Diego property - a clear violation of City of San Diego ordinances on public indecency - had consensual intercourse with multiple partners, including both men and women - a clear violation of the United States Uniformed Services' policies on homosexuality - was photographed by the Los Angeles Times, and yet got away with it with not a single mark on his record."


Semper Fi!



The admiral's face went red and he looked as if he were going to explode. Kris's jaw just about dropped to the floor - and then the courtroom erupted in wild applause. I sat back in my chair, quite pleased with myself. The admiral's case was really and truly fucked now.

"Order!" snapped the Air Force colonel serving as judge. "Order, right now, or I will clear this courtroom."

The courtroom quieted quickly. "Gunnery Sergeant, you will refrain from any further outbursts," the colonel told me. But he didn't tell the court recorder to strike what I had said from the record.

"Still your witness," the colonel said to the admiral, who looked like he was going to boil over.

"No... further... questions... your honor..." the admiral forced out. He stiffly returned to his seat.

After the prosecution wrapped up their now shredded case, General Durban got up to make her final remarks in Kris's defense.

"Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury," General Durban began, "I've known Sergeant Warbington for over four years now. In all the time I've known her, I have found her to be the best non-commissioned officer I've ever had the privilege of commanding. She has never displayed any characteristics of conduct unbecoming an NCO in the United States Air Force, and has been an exemplary platoon leader.

"Furthermore, as you are all probably aware, I am a California bar-registered lawyer, having graduated from the UCLA School of Law in 1981. I have studied the Uniform Code of Military Justice rigorously, along with a team of unbiased experts from the United States Navy, Army, and Marine Corps.

"In our examination of the UCMJ, we have found that Sergeant Warbington is in violation of no regulations. She did not utilize a regulation military uniform for any of these photographs, and this photo shoot was done after she had been dismissed from active duty. All the regulations that were quoted by the general staff were taken out of context and hold no bearing in this situation. I have documented this fully, and copies of my notes are available for the jury.

"Finally, it is my intention at the conclusion of this court-martial to ask the Senate to form a sub-committee to study sexual discrimination in the United States Armed Forces. Despite the best efforts of some, there are many who have gone out of their way to block any efforts for equality in the military. If a man in the US military can participate in an orgy on a public beach that clearly violates military regulations and get away with it," she said with a withering glare at Admiral Red-Face, "and five women get cashiered out of the Air Force for posing for one of the oldest and most respected magazine publications in the country, then there is something wrong with the military.

"Thank you for your time. I would implore you to follow the letter and the spirit of the UCMJ, for if you do, you will find that Sergeant Warbington should be acquitted on all counts."

The jury deliberated for nearly five hours. When they finally returned, Kris looked like she was about to break down. General Durban had given her countless hugs since the conclusion of her statement, and I had been on the phone to every media outlet I could think of, making sure they all knew about what was going on.

As the jury settled into their seats, the foreman, a two-star Army general, rose. The judge asked the prosecution and the defense to rise, and then, "Have you reached a verdict?" he asked.

"We have, your honor," replied the general. "The jury finds the accused, Technical Sergeant Kristina Warbington..."

"Not guilty on all counts."

Kris collapsed into her chair, tears streaming down her face, but a smile almost too big for her head spreading across her face. "Woo-HOO!" I shouted, leaping out of my seat. Orgy Admiral turned and glared at me, and I just gave him the most smart-ass smirk I could muster. General Durban simply sat in her seat, a serene smile on her face. The general staff who had testified against Kris began to file out, disgusted looks on their faces.

The media demanded Kris and General Durban's time as they left the courtroom. After almost an hour, they finally left, leaving the two women alone. "Thank you, General," said Kris. "I can never repay you for this."

"Oh, it's not me you owe," Mae Durban said. "I think it's your friend, Gunny Le'Garte. His testimony single-handedly blew the legitimacy of the prosecution's case out of the water."

I just grinned. What can I say? It's not every day that you get to take down an admiral's reputation.

General Durban smiled, and turned to walk out the door. "Come on, Kris, I'll give you a ride up to Pasadena," I said.

As we climbed into the Explorer, Kris said, "Aaron... thank you."

And then she pulled me to her and kissed me.

It's a good thing my windows are really darkly tinted, because the MPs surely would've arrested us had they walked by and seen us in the back seat of the Explorer. We made love for almost two hours before we finally stopped and started the drive up the 15 back to Pasadena.

After I dropped Kris off, I jumped on the 134 and headed over toward Canoga Park, to my apartment. I was starting a new job with Kaiser Permanente on Monday, so I figured I'd spend the weekend doing as little as possible. But, when I walked in the door, my brother was sitting on my couch, watching the news. "Hey, little brother," he called as I came in the door. "I'm down here looking for a new church, so I figured you wouldn't mind if I stayed with you. Kelli came down with me, but she's over in Glendale, visiting her family."

"That's cool," I replied. "But what do you mean a new church?" "Well, I'm sick of the politics of the Air Force," he replied. "Let's face it, if it hadn't been for your little outburst this afternoon, Kris would've been crucified. I'd much rather deal with the politics of a congregation."

"Wait, how did you know about that?" I asked.

"It's already been on the news," he replied.

And just then, NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams started up.

"Air Force Tech Sergeant Kristina Warbington was acquitted of bad conduct charges in a military court-martial today," said Williams. "Following her appearance in the November 2009 issue of Hustler magazine, several members of the general staff of the United States Armed Forces called for a court-martial against her. However, a devastating verbal attack on the prosecuting attorney, Admiral Tyson O'Reilly, by her 'co-star', retired Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant Aaron Le'Garte, coupled with a masterful defense presented by Air Force Brigadier General Mae Durban outdid the entire lineup of prosecution statements, and the jury found Sergeant Warbington not guilty on all counts.  

"In response to this decision, the President has announced the formation of a Senate committee to investigate sexual discrimination in the military. This committee will be headed by California Senator Barbara Boxer, a leading voice for women's rights within the US Senate."

I switched the television off and looked over at Jason. "Damn skippy," I said. "Damn skippy."

Jason had a thoughtful look on his face. "You know," he said, "as a pastor, I can't necessarily agree with the fact that Kris had sex for the entire world to see, but nonetheless, I'm glad she was acquitted – she didn't deserve that. Of course, I've seen her up close and personal."

Startled, I looked over at him. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Oh yeah," he replied with a laugh. "When Kris turned 18, Kelli and I were on the only 'break' we ever took from our relationship. Convenient, too, because Kris's birthday present to herself was losing her virginity to me. And I must say - she was pretty damn good."

"Still is," I replied. "Or at least, she seemed to be on the wing of that B-58... and then again this afternoon, in the backseat of my Explorer..."

Jason looked up. "You bastard!" he laughed, throwing a couch cushion at me.

In April of 2011, Kris and I got married. My brother officiated, getting a HUGE wink from Kris as she stood in front of him at the altar. She and I have been very happily married for almost five years now. Just like any other couple, our sex life sometimes has low points, but hey, when it does get low, we at least have that old copy of Hustler that we can pull out...