0 comments/ 50232 views/ 13 favorites Navy Officer's New Duties By: Coxswain I knew something was wrong right away. A vehicle was stopped on the docks, a 2½-ton truck with a load of fruits and desserts--chocolate éclairs, trays of fudge, hard-to-get fruit like watermelons and cantaloupes, a whole collection of goodies. Men were unloading it and carrying the stuff toward an ocean-going tug moored at the wharf. That boat was a US Navy unit, but an ocean-going tug (used to retrieve warships from the battle area and tow them back to drydock) had a small crew and certainly didn't warrant the amount of food being taken aboard--or the exotic selection. On the other hand, swiping Navy supplies, stashing them on the ship, then escaping as the ship sailed out of port to its next assignment was a US Navy tradition probably going back to the days of John Paul Jones and the Bonhomme Richard. At the other side of the harbor was an aircraft carrier in for resupply. The original destination for the truck's cargo wasn't hard to figure out. I was a proud member of the crew of the USS Cormorant, a nuclear submarine. I felt particularly proud because, by the April 2008 declaration that female officers and sailors could join nuclear sub crews, I was submariner, a lieutenant JG. The Cormorant was in port, refitting from its previous mission, so I was not on duty, just doing my daily PT, jogging around the docks in just a T-shirt and shorts. But as a US Navy commissioned officer, I had a responsibility to do something about the thieves. Bad Decision #1: It was laundry day, and I had one clean pair of underwear left, so I set out jogging without panties or bra, saving the last clean ones from the sweat so I could wear them for the rest of the day. And now here I am in a law enforcement situation with bouncing tits and probably--I looked down--Yep, nipples sticking out. I didn't have a radio, and running back to get my cell phone would take me long enough for them to empty the truck, vamoose, and leave me with an empty complaint. If I wanted to apprehend the crooks, I had to strike while the iron was hot. Bad Decision #2: Criminals aren't usually hard to bluff, and this wasn't an armed robbery or a burglary, just simple, against-the-regs sailor-mischief, so I hoped to bluster my way through the situation. I walked up to the truck and approached the sailor, a female, with the clipboard. "Excuse me, what are you doing here?" She turned around. "And who might you be?" "I am Lieutenant Nancy Shea, US Navy!" It worked: definite attitude change. "Ah, we're unloading it, Ma'am." "Unloading it to where?" "To, ah, the ship. Supplies for the ship." "What ship?" She decided to come clean. She smiled. "Come on, Lieutenant, we're just appropriating some rations. It's not like we're stealing from the Navy; it's just redistribution." "Tell me your name, sailor!" As I spoke, I became a victim of Bad Decision #3: I hadn't paid enough attention to my environment, especially what was behind me--I wasn't a cop, after all. A couple of sailors came up behind me, grabbed me, clapped a hand over my mouth, and the next thing I knew, they hustled me into a car. We drove off, the female sailor behind the wheel, two others holding me captive in the back seat. I looked around at them. More females! The car sped down the road and turned in at a warehouse, an old Quonset hut. Unpainted, it looked like it was due to be torn down. We got out. "Look, you idiots, I'm a commissioned officer! You're in a lot of troub--" --"Shut up! I think it's about time you learned a lesson, commissioned officer." She turned to the sailors holding me. "Bring her over there, behind those pallets." "Ladies, you are in a lot of trouble. Don't make it worse." I was scared, though. I took a deep breath. "Look, you let me go, and I think we can come to an understanding." The second I said that, I was sorry. I just let them know I'm scared. One of my guards sneered. "Ain't gonna be that easy." Farm girl. Joined the Navy to get out of the boredom of the wheat fields. I looked around, hoping to see someone else, sailors, anybody to stop what was happening, but the place was deserted. The leader spoke. "Take her over there. I'll be right behind you." We moved to the huge stacks of wooden pallets and into the darkness behind them. My mind ran 100mph, worried as hell. "What do you want? What are you going to do?" Seaman Hayseed pinched my nipple. "Looky here, Missy Lieutenant's got the hot tits for us!" I yanked my arm out of her grip and slapped her hand away. "My nipples are hard from rubbing on the shirt, not about you perverts!" "Oh, yeah? Let's see." Behind the pallets were a few dusty crates and a dirty tarpaulin on the concrete floor. The four of us stepped onto the tarpaulin, and the leader, who had joined us, stepped up to me and pinched both my nipples. "Ooh, yeah, nice and hard. Okay, strip!" "Do what?? You can't be serious!" "Take your fucking clothes off, Lieutenant! All of `em! Now!" And she pulled out a gun! Oh, shit. A Navy Colt. Where'd she get that? I wish I had mine! With the tables very thoroughly turned, her two accomplices released my arms, and she watched as I slowly pulled the T-shirt over my head, trying to delay as long as possible. She snickered. "No bra, Lieutenant? Not even a sports bra while you're jogging? There are regulations about that, you know." Even though I was scared, I was also embarrassed as hell. "Nice titties, honey." One of the accomplices groped one of them, flicking the nipple with her thumb, but I slapped her hand away. "Stop that!" But I had to admit it--the feeling of danger combined with the physical stimulation gave me a delicious sensation. Nevertheless, I moved back, out of her reach. "Now the shorts, Lieutenant." When I pulled them down, I got the expected gasps: "Damn-o, look at that! Nekkid underneath! You getting' ready for us, honey?" "I'll be ready for you when I see you clapped in irons in the brig, sailor!" Before I could react, one of them stuck her hand between my legs, and talented, well-trained fingers found my slit, quickly sliding up to press my Start-button. I meant to yell, but my voice came out as a gasp: "Stop that!" "My, my, Lieutenant, you're so wet it's like a faucet." My face burned hot. I'd never been so humiliated in my life. Meanwhile, the wicked woman had, indeed, turned me on. Her massage of my clitoris, no matter how quick, was done perfectly. My cunt buzzed with growing arousal. Then I discovered where all this was going. Occupied with the leader and the magic-fingers guard, I didn't fail to notice the third one had pulled off her own boots, uniform, everything. Oh, shit. Never been raped, but it looks like my first time's going to be with a woman! Two of us were naked. The other two took turns holding the gun while they stripped down, too, and I had to fight off one, then two, then all three naked women from fondling me (fighting a growing heat between my legs). With each new participant, my struggles were more hopeless, and our bare-skin wallowings built a strange, intense wave that swept through me like vodka. A psychedelic situation, really--four naked women struggling and wrestling together, writhing, tits against tits, hips against hips, intertwined legs, God! Finally the leader pulled loose. The other two held my arms, and she spoke: "Lieutenant Nancy Shea, I think we should get acquainted. I'm Chief Angel Anson." She snickered. "You can believe that or not, I don't care. The redhead holding your right arm, the one with her finger in your pussy, is Seaman Clarice Kenny." It was true: Seaman Kenny, in a swift, skilled movement, had rammed a finger up my cunt, at the same time thumbing my clit in the most exquisite way, and in spite of the struggles, she had me glowing in a delicious thrill. Finally in control of myself, I gnashed my teeth! "Get your hands off me, you fucking pervert!" Anson went on: "The able-bodied seaman at your left, the bleached blond, as you can see by her black pussy-hair, is Seaman Helen Hancock." From her I got a squeeze of the buttock. Hancock's salute. Trying to think rationally--if I could keep a cool head, I might be able to figure out an escape--I appraised Chief Anson. Very beautiful woman, really, especially out of uniform. Not a straight line anywhere on her body. All curves, all gentle transitions to other levels. Contours like a gently rolling sea. But firm. Graceful. In perfect proportion. Soft blonde hair--I could easily imagine it longer, framing her face in glowing gold. Big blue eyes that somehow didn't look appropriately criminal. Full lips. Probably gave her a long list of panting sailors hovering around. Tall and willowy, I figured her at about 5'7", a little taller than I, and maybe about 120 pounds. I'll need this information for the Shore Patrol report. No skinny fashion model or husky, hay-pitching pioneer (like Kenny), Anson was a physical woman, a sexual creature who undoubtedly turned a thousand male heads. I'd seen naked women before, of course, but Anson was something special. And maybe I was hyper because of the nightmare I was in. Maybe because of the arousal I fought as the indecent sailors teased my private parts. Anson was much more beautiful than her henchmen, possibly the sexiest person I'd ever seen. And this is a thought I don't need at the moment! Hancock on my left and Kenny on my right kicked my feet out from under me, and they lowered me onto my back, spread-eagling me on the filthy tarpaulin, helpless. And scared. Anson knelt between my legs. "You're beautiful, Nancy." "That's Lieutenant Anson to you, you piece of shit!" She caressed my thighs, ending with gentle strokes just under my pussy, soft touches that were delicious tickles, and I gritted my teeth. I was growing wetter, I knew it. "Stop that! Stop it, goddamn it!" But she went on, caressing, massaging, tickling all around my labia. And her very talented solo soon became a trio as Hancock and Kenny each teased and caressed the closest breast. Ohh, it feels so good! I hated myself for enjoying it, but a glance down told me they had the keys to my gate. My body flushed in the red patches, the signs of female arousal, and I suddenly realized that if this went on much longer, I would--No! Never! But--dammit!--my heart pounded in my chest as the hands roamed all over my body. Oh, god, yes!--Anson's fingers finally played with my pussy! In a fever, I forced myself to speak: "No! Stop--please! I--like men--not--" But I couldn't finish. Part of me cried for them to stop, to retain my dignity and self-respect; my pussy, though, screamed soundlessly through my body to shut up! And it got worse. Hancock and Kenny turned up the wonderful torture on my breasts. Fingers became lips, tweaks became passionate kisses, and with both women suckling at my nipples, flicking them with their tongues, even--Ohhhh, god!--teasing them with the edges of their teeth, they were driving me to an orgasm! Desperate, I tried to parry it! Emergency Measures: Pig shit! I'm up to my neck in a deep pit of pig shit! I'm about to puke from the smell! I'm coated with pig-muck! It worked--the image was so sickening, I saved myself from the humiliation of climaxing in front of the perverts (but damn, I was horny there for a moment!) But then Satan's child Anson hit a home-run. She moved her hands away from my pussy, rubbing them up and down the insides of my legs from crotch to knees. Then her tongue, Lucifer's tongue--a long, slithering, powerful snake that felt two feet long and probably forked--touched my drooling cunt, flicking up and down like a rattlesnake's. I lost all self-control. Gasping, lurching, begging, my pussy screamed for more, and I yelped out its demands. But the goddamned tongue was blind! Missed its target! It slithered over my labia, electrocuting me, making me shudder, panting with desperation, but The Tongue ended up above, wriggling meaninglessly through my crotch hair! The bitch was teasing me, but out of my fucking mind, I reached down and pushed on her head, centering the flame-thrower tongue on my steaming pussy--knowing I just walked into her trap. I had surrendered. My hands caressed her head--Ohhh, what thrills! Ohmigod! My hands on her head?? I gasped. They released my arms! They're not holding me anymore! I can struggle away! But I didn't. Anson's tongue pressed into the seething cauldron that used to be my vagina and started an orgasm no thoughts of pigs could stop. I'd never been so hot. I could smell my own pussy--my own cunt-folds of moist, soft flesh puffed out, fevered, angry, and demanding. Anson moved in for the kill. Her tongue scorched the inner edges of the swollen flesh, tracing up one lip and down the other. On the in-stroke, she hit the center of my lips; on the out-strokes, she dragged her viper's tongue against the sides, and I screamed. Out loud. The keening high-C of a climaxing female. Satan's daughter saved my clit for last, and--right in the middle of an orgasm already melting me--she made deep, probing jabs, dragging the entire, mile-long length of her velvet-texture tongue over the sensitive nubbin! Ohmigod, Ohmigod! I went insane! An orgasm actually started on top of an orgasm! I think I passed out. All I knew was that I floated like a jellyfish in a glistening, fiery red atmosphere, shapeless, solid only as the volcano-pussy between my legs. Beyond the definition of pleasure. Ecstasy I would never be able to describe if I ever came back to consciousness. But I did come to. Gradually I heard lewd moans, grunts, and slurps. I heard myself gasping for air and knew I was still alive. Unbelievable. The first cumming I ever got from a woman, the first climax I ever got without the straight-line, in-out, male-and-his-bitch seriousness of fucking a guy. And suddenly I saw from the top of the mountain rather from than the bottom! A man can force me into an orgasm, but these three had pulled me into ecstasy ten times as intense, everything in round, gentle touches, everything in maddening, understated manipulations as light and teasing as breezes through leaves. All without the ulterior motive of planting his seed. Without the ultimate male victory of impregnating me! Anson knew what was going on, and with incredible timing, just as my climax began to fade, she lowered her face down to mine and kissed me. Insane, out of my mind, I kissed her back with a horny open mouth. As that demonic tongue invaded my mouth, I sucked on it--I wish you had a cock I could suck, baby!" Poor me. Still cock-oriented. Angel pushed against me, wishing to get up. I released my arms from around her and looked around. Hancock and Kenny sat watching us, fingering their own pussies. No manhandling. No "securing my arms." Am I no longer a security risk? Angel stood up--I couldn't think of her any more as "Anson." She smiled. "You're ready now, honey." What? There's more? I was scared again. But I lay there. So far this is the most exciting kidnapping I can imagine. From behind her in the darkness, Angel brought out--a dildo! "Hey, wait! You not going to--" --But she knelt between my legs again, and as she thrust the thing through my sloppy, joy-relaxed pussy, I screamed--but from outrage, not pain. In fact, as she pushed it in further and further, I stopped protesting. I could manage no serious resistance, and Angel fucked me first with long, easy strokes, then faster and faster until I lurched back and forth, moaning and gasping. No doubt about it, she had me under control, again cumming nearly every minute. "Stop! Please, stop! Can't stand any more!" And she pulled it out! That surprised me, actually. But there was more. She reached behind her and came back with another dildo, but that one was weird. Two cocks attached at the balls, one a little thinner than the other. She smiled down at me. "A twofer, honey." Suddenly I realized what it was for. "No! Get that thing away from me! You're not going to stick that thing in my aaaaaaa--" She skewered me like a pitchfork through a side of beef. The big rod thrust back into my greedy, slobbering pussy, and the other pushed into my virgin asshole like a torpedo from the Cormorant. I screamed. It was worse than when Jimmy Joe got my cherry. I'm roasted on a spit! Two cocks at once! In a weird sort of multi-tasking, though, my brain shut the screaming pain in my rectum in a separate room, and Damn, that thing in my pussy was just what the doctor ordered. The pain in my ass couldn't be kept behind closed doors, though, but instead of screaming, "Take it out, take it out!" I found myself groaning in pain--but glowing at the same time, like two trains on adjacent tracks, one a first-class coach with passengers laid back in pleasure, the other a prison train with savage guards beating the captives. And as Demon-woman kept thrusting the devil's horns into me, to my panting amazement, the two trains came to a spot where the tracks blended together, and there was a fiery crash! I went into an orgasm both in my pussy and in my asshole! I didn't know that was possible! My sex-train roared on, but as a supercharged, maxi-pleasure commuter, a fucking Orgasm Express! Once she had me securely aboard the Vagina-liner, Devil-Angel started the torture. Skewering me deliciously with the wondrous double-prong, every time I was close to another orgasm, she pulled out the magic wands until the sensation subsided, then she started all over again. Once more going insane, I heard myself begging her to let me cum again. Begging her to fuck me with those big rubber cocks. Still the torture went on, and my pleadings became hoarser, coarser, and more frenzied. I moaned and whimpered, brushing my arms over my eyes. Finally, at the literal edge of madness, she pulled out the dual-dick, lowered herself down over me, and kissed me, open-mouthed, tonguing, ravaging me like a jungle animal. My arms and legs automatically wound around her, hugging my lover to me, and just as I prayed, her cunt settled down to mash onto mine, grinding against my clit, and I died! The motherfucking hottest orgasm of my young life! Like she had spread gasoline on my raging cunt, a prairie fire swept over me! Starting at my cunt, igniting the estrogen, it turned my whole body into a climaxing torch! I clamped myself against her, squirming in the sweat, rubbing my tits against hers, sparking mini-explosions as our hard nipples snapped past each other! Everything went red, and I fell back, fucked into a floppy octopus, shapeless, slimy, helpless under her. I don't know how long we lay together like that. I hoped she had the same ecstasy I did. My climax was so intense, I worried it might be like an overdose, straining my body past its limits. But I'm sure as hell going to do it again! Suddenly Angel was an asset I could not let go. She rolled off me, and we lay together, gradually breathing more slowly, cooling in the dusty breeze of the warehouse across our sweaty skin, reveling in the most powerful afterglow I'd ever known. When I came back to the Land of the Living, Angel hummed a tuneless little song in my ear. It had to be a love song. Damn. I'm in love! I forced my mouth to speak. "God! That was fabulous!" "Yeah. Thought you'd like it." I purred, too. "My ass. . .I never dreamed--" "They never do." They? "That was wonderful," I went on, speaking only in groans. "Mind-blowing!" "Can't lose touch with you." "Got to see you again!" Navy Officer's New Duties She smiled, her voice like a caress: "One more step to go." What? What more could there possibly be?? She rose up, backed away, and knelt beside me. "Got to get back to duty"--she paused, her voice softening--"Want to give me your telephone number?" "Yeah! God, yeah! I gave her my cell-phone number, and she wrote it on a slip of paper she took from her uniform pants. Then she sat on a box and got dressed. I looked around--Kenny and Hancock were already back in uniform. I lay there, my pussy still purring, my body too relaxed to think of continuing the jog. Angel knelt by me again, squeezed my breast, and kissed me, a gentle kiss, a loving kiss. "I'll be in touch, Nancy." "Angel, please call me!" With that, they got up, hopped in the car, and drove away. Sore and exhausted, I crawled to my feet, pulled on my filthy, dust-covered T-shirt and shorts, and made my way back to the Bachelor Officers' Quarters. After a good, stiff shot of rum, I took a shower, put on my last clean set of underwear and my uniform, and straightened up considerably (but still sore). God, am I lucky the Cormorant is in port! Still later, at the BOQ mess, a friend asked me why I walked so gingerly. All I could do was wink. Will I ever see her again? In fact, I got a call from Angel only two nights later. I was just about to hit the sack when my cell-phone rang. "Hi, Nancy, this is Angel. How you feeling? Recovered?" Instantly warm inside just from the sound of her voice, my voice was a purr. "I'll never recover from what you do to me." "Want to meet me?" "Yeah, oh, yeah." Bad Decision #4: I changed into civilian clothes, went out to my car, and at 9:00 p.m., I drove off the base to rendezvous with a woman I already knew to be a crook. She told me to meet her at a roadhouse called the The Double-Shot. Scary place. Flickering neon sign on the roof--D uble-S ot. Motorcycles parked out front. Some pickup trucks. The building itself looked like a log cabin wannabe. Rough-bark walls, small windows (blacked out), and a shake-shingle roof. It was a large building, though, larger than the bar/lounge inside. Must have extra storerooms. Inside, it looked like every Dew Drop Inn along every highway in the country. Long wooden bar, neon beer company signs all over the place. Pool table off to the side. Worn wood floor. Kitchen behind the bar. I could smell the hot grease. Angel--My god--wore jeans and a leather jacket and looked like a slut from a motorcycle gang. The things off-duty sailors get into! She moved close and gave me a kiss. In public. Glad I'm not in uniform. She then led me to a "private dining area" toward the back of the place. Private dining area? I don't like the look of this. The restaurant's private areas, though, turned out to be merely private rooms with upholstered vinyl couches conducive to "sitting beside each other" with tables in front. When Angel and I entered ours, we moved into an embrace and showered each other with wet kisses. She lit my torch, and her hand reached down and pulled up my skirt, I forked my legs for her, shortening the journey of those magic fingers. Yes! The famous warm sensations washed over me again like waves from my favorite beach, and I shyly looked into her eyes. "I love what you do to me, Angel." Then I closed my eyes as she did her magic. Soon I was limp in her arms as her fingers turned my little spotnub into a brilliant spotlight. Purring along on the happiest ride in Adultland, I vaguely heard Angel's voice: "You love me, Nancy?" Bad Decision #5: I didn't realize I was on a chess board nor how much I was in her power. All I knew was that she could take me out of the world. I murmured something. "Yes," I think. Then the little bee spread the pollen on me. "I'm really in a jam. Could you do me a gigantic favor?" With Angel's finger stimulating my pussy to constant ecstasy, like sliding down a banister of feathers, her wicked thumb turning my clit into a steak sizzling on a barbecue, she whispered, "My brother is here. His wife has denied him sex for months, and the poor man has a terrible case of blue-balls!" I blinked. So what? But I said nothing. "Nancy, do you love me?" She bent down to kiss me, again making me lust-drunk. When she let me up for air, "Yes, oh yes!" "I'll never ask this again, but please, please, please would you let Gino have sex with you?" What?? Her hand at my pussy keeping me in orbit, I couldn't think clearly, and after another steamy kiss, I heard myself sigh, "oh, okay." She rose up, the Fingers were gone, and she left the room. Damn, now what? What in hell have I done? Who is Gino? Where do I meet him? The door opened, and in walked Quasimodo. A cave man. Hairy. Greasy. Maybe 40, possibly 50. I was not happy. "Hi, there, Tiger, I hear you're hot for me!" Ape grunts. Drank a few, too. I could light his breath with a match. "You the highest bidder for ol' Torpedo?" He chuckled. "You hold on, honey, while I pull down my Fruit of the Looms." "Ol' Torpedo" turned out to be a hot dog swinging beneath a big, overhanging belly--like a tassel dangling from an overstuffed pillow. I saw something I wished I hadn't--his underwear wasn't clean: the crotch full of skid-marks. Oh, god, no! I was a little sick. How in hell did I get into this?? "Here, honey, get me warmed up." He moved over to where I sat on the couch lifting his crotch toward my face. It was soft. Icky. Oh, shit, he can't even get it up by himself. Like picking up dog shit from the floor, I reached out and grasped it. Like picking up a squid tentacle. "G'wan, baby, suck it." Oh, shit. As I bent down to it, the foreskin pulled back. Gaa. Yellowish-white, cheesy chunks of filth clung to it--I gagged. Is there nothing about the man that isn't vile?? Desperate, I stroked it, and it swelled. That's enough! I'm not sucking that thing; it'd be like vomiting in reverse! I lay back on the couch, "Oh! Do it now! I'm so hot! Take me now!" I will get even with Angel for this! And something else: Gino didn't look a bit like Angel. He crawled onto the couch, groped and squeezed my tits, and lifted my skirt. "C'mon, you horny babe, let's fuck." Not much for public relations, either. I had come panty-less, the better to get into it with Angel, which by coincidence also made me easier for Gino. To my surprise, though, he pushed me to the side, off the couch, and lay back on it himself. "C'mon, honey, mount up here and burn yourself at the stake!" Oh, god. Angel, you will eat my pussy for 12 hours for this! I straddled the big pig, like climbing onto a soft, rubber barrel, and I lowered myself onto ol' Torpedo without problem (or much effect, either). Hey, ol' Torpedo was a cheap-meat frank, a hot dog at best. No "stretch" of the imagination. Gino was a typical guy. Lazy. I had to do most of the action. I leaned forward onto him (so he could fondle my tits, he thought) but actually for a little traction, and I began the lunges. I groaned. I'll have to fake this one if he wants to see me come. I just prayed I could get him off as soon as possible. About the time I settled into a regular rhythm, pinching his nipples back, hoping to turn him on, someone came into the room behind us, and before I knew it, somebody was leaning against my back! Angel? Nope. Somebody swiped my ass with something slimy, then something else, big and blunt, pressed against my asshole! Oh, no! But Gino had his arms around me, and I couldn't escape. In seconds, screeching with pain, I "entertained another guest." As I sagged onto Gino, aching all over, I was at least grateful that whoever it was did his own fucking. Sweaty bastard--I could feel my back slimy from his sweat and apparently hairy all over, the gorilla gave me dirty little tickles all the way down to my buttocks. But at least his thrusts were energetic, and shoved back and forth by them, I also pivoted on ol' Torpedo, and--praise heaven--Gino's face screwed up and his eyes clenched shut. "There you got it, baby!" Please, please don't expect me to climax for you! A few seconds later, the Mystery Guest got his gun, and to give him his due, at least I felt his organ swell a little (it hurt a little more). When both super-heroes were finished, one backed off, and I pulled back from the second. Both men stood up, pulling up their pants. Apparently Gino was the master of ceremonies: "Thanks, baby, that was great. Keep hanging around, and maybe you'll get some more." Then both men left! Never did learn Mystery Man's name. Never heard his voice! I sat back on the couch What a pile of shit! A bicycle over rough ground was a sexier ride! Almost immediately, Angel came back into the room, taking me into her arms, "Thank you, Nancy, thank you, thank you, thank you!" "Hey! Two men came in here and got me!" She went for my ignition switch, but I pulled back, "Hey, who were they"-- --but Angel knew my body better than I did. Her finger reached the dashboard between my legs, and zap, she hit my Start button, and as only she could do, she had me zooming down the runway and up into the air. My voice becoming sighs, I gasped, "Angel, who were they? And two of them!" The Fingers From Hell made me putty in her hand, so she spoke directly (I wasn't going anywhere): "The place is called 'The Double-Shot.' A double-fuck is the house specialty." "The house?" She bent down and kissed me. "Nancy, baby, you are really a slut, aren't you?" Fuck-drunk as only she could make me, I murmured, "Yeah!" "Hot for me, aren't you?" "Yeahhh" Again turning my labia into curtains of shimmering ecstasy, her voice in my ear was the sound of the Demon: "I need you to help me, Nancy. You were great with Gino and Arch"--she kissed me again while I digested that, and her tongue in my mouth prevented me from thinking straight--"and we have other men who come here with"--she paused--"needs." A vague fear formed in the back of my mind, but I was so close to an orgasm, floating on the hellishly teasing fingers of Angel, I couldn't really focus on it. "We need you, Nancy. I need you." Her fingers had me writhing in rapture, her voice a whisper in my year, her warm breath giving me goose-bumps. "When you're in port, Nancy, we need you to help us..." What? "...We need you to help us take care of these men's needs." Whaaaaat?? But at that moment, Angel's fingers catapulted me into the stratosphere, burning me up in an orgasm made hotter by the outrage seething in one corner of my brain. As I lay back on the couch, trembling, shuddering in ecstasy, Angel mounted me! She was naked--somehow stripped her clothes off while fingering me into putty, clever girl--and she got on me in that terrible full-body press. As we connected, key parts locked together, the feel of her snatch against my sizzling clam and--Oh god!--her clit against mine, she shot me to the moon! The fiery outrage of whoring for her snuffed out in a tidal wave of boiling estrogen, a climax even hotter than when she got me in the Quonset hut. I knew only one thing: Angel was the best fuckette in the world! I didn't exactly pass out, but I was a non-functioning piece of female flesh for a long time. When I could finally focus my eyes, Angel was dressed again, looking down at me. "That's all for tonight, Nancy. We have business every night, though. When you want to see me again, come back." Slowly, pitifully slowly, sense and good judgment came back to me. Oh. My. God. A whore. I had just been a whore. And I agreed to it. I crawled to my feet, straightened my skirt, and went out the back door of the roadhouse. On my way I passed stacks of fruit cases, desserts, trays of fudge, all stamped with US Navy serial numbers. Fuck, this just keeps getting better. They're not sailors! Just thieves! All that stuff was not going to any ocean-going tug! Those "sailors" were just thieves in sailor suits! Hauling the stuff down to some Chevy Silverados parked nearby. Finding my way back to the parking lot. I staggered into my car and drove back to the base blinded by tears of rage. And grief. What a stupid bitch you are! My first thought was to drive straight to the Shore Patrol office--but no matter who got caught, at least one would be crucified, and that would be me. Angel wasn't stupid. Doubtless there were surveillance cameras in that "private dining area." For every watermelon the Navy recovered, there would be a snapshot of me fucking two hairy old men or smiling whorishly under the influence of another woman. I drove back to the BOQ. I couldn't sleep that night, of course. By morning I had made one 50-caliber resolution: I will never have anything to do with that bitch again!! And I didn't. For months. But even though I had an occasional date with a young officer, sometimes even letting him accomplish his mission, I realized I had been graduated to a higher world. To me, the grunting, miscellaneous friction of a gross-looking, warty little cock was the bologna of sex. I had experienced the sirloin! Most nights in my apartment, I fingered myself to some feeble relief, but I didn't have the Mistress's Hand. More trouble sleeping. The USS Cormorant saved me. We shipped out for a three-month underwater cruise, and I was safe from the terrible whispers in the back of my mind. But it was agony. Worse than in port. If men lived only to satisfy their balls, I understood what they must go through. More trouble sleeping. And like the horny sailors who ran down the gangplank once we were back in port, sprinting into the arms of their lovers, it took all my self-control to walk calmly off the boat and out to where my car was parked. On the drive to my apartment, I was actually crying. "What am I going to do? What am I going to do??" I sat in my apartment, desperate, restless, watching the gathering thunderclouds in my brain, knowing the storm was coming! I couldn't sit down, I paced back and forth! It was coming! I knew it was coming! Finally I screamed to myself--out loud! "You stupid bitch! You can't do this! You can't! You can't!" But I could not stop myself. Like an automaton, my hands dropped to the buttons of my uniform. Helpless, I watched myself get naked. Breathing harder, I saw my hands pull on a tight T-shirt--no bra. And a mini-skirt--no panties. Fighting the fever, I staggered to my kitchen, clumsily grabbed a glass, grabbed the Jim Beam--poured drink--splashing--can't control--God, I'm going crazy! The liquor--splashed most of it on my tits--Hard titties! Pointy already!--finally calmed me down--a little-- Staggered out to--car--must reach car!! I drove straight over the Double-Shot. Lucky I didn't get a speeding ticket.