Marsha, Marsha, Marsha

Marsha, Marsha, Marsha

Just a quick, fun little story... I had a couple versions of this rattling around in my mind and decided to go with this one. I know some of the critics will probably go bananas with the direction of the story, but I decided to have a bit of fun with it. Enjoy, and as always, thank you for your comments and feedback.

The drill instructor stood in front of his platoon for the last time on a warm September day in San Diego.

"Platoon! Dis...MISSED," he commanded.

The fifty recruits took a single step backwards and responded, "Sir, platoon dismissed! Aye, aye, sir!"

With an about face and a collective shout of "Oorah," the formation split up and headed off the parade ground for the last time. Most congregated around the drill instructor, shaking his hand before heading out to either find family members or a bus to the airport.

I was no different than the rest. After shaking the staff sergeant's hand, I grabbed my seabag and made my way to the bus heading for the airport.

My name is George Michaels, but on that day in 1974, I was Lance Corporal George Michaels, United States Marine Corps, and all I wanted to do was get back to Texas and my fiance, Marsha Esposito.

It had been a long and grueling six months but I had finally graduated recruit training, had earned the right to wear the Eagle, Globe and Anchor, and was looking forward to the next chapter of my life, which included marrying the girl of my dreams.

You're probably wondering why it took six months, since boot camp is normally about 12 weeks long. That's easy. On the day we finished first phase, my appendix ruptured and I ended up in surgery, followed by several weeks of recovery. Normally, the doctors said, I could have been back on my feet in a few weeks, but I ended up getting an infection that required antibiotics and extra care.

Naturally, training for my original platoon continued and I was held back until the doctors declared me fit for duty. By the time I recovered enough to continue my training without causing any further damage, nearly three extra months had been added to my time at MCRD, San Diego. Yeah, I'm "Hollywood Marine."

Finally, I was assigned to a new platoon and finished the grueling course, graduating as the top recruit. In addition to getting a set of dress blues, something Marines normally had to buy out of their own pocket in those days, I also received a promotion to Lance Corporal and was given the honor of carrying the platoon guidon.

Marsha and I wrote each other as often as we could, and she would frequently send me pictures, although the pictures stopped coming a month or two ago. Some of the photos, however, made their way to what we called the "hog board."

That was a cork board set up in the squad bay where recruits could post photos of their wives or girlfriends, some of which were pretty provocative. Nudes were strictly forbidden, however. Before graduation, the recruits would hold a contest to pick the best photo.

Many of the pictures Marsha sent showed her wearing a short dress or a bathing suit, but some showed a bit more of her flesh. In one picture, she wore only a bath towel which just happened to show off the side of one very shapely leg to a point well above her waist. To top that off, the towel barely covered her crotch. It wasn't pornographic, but it was clear she wore nothing under it. That picture won the contest, making me proud to be engaged to such a sexy girl. I found myself wondering, however, who took that picture, since it wasn't exactly something I could see her brother or father would take and cell phones with cameras and selfie-sticks didn't exist back in the 1970s.

It was also much more skin than she had ever exposed to me. From the very beginning, she made it clear that she was a "good Catholic girl" and would never fully expose herself to her betrothed until her wedding night. Which, of course, meant that we had never had sex. In fact, all we had ever done is kiss. She wouldn't even let me touch her breasts. That would all change on our wedding night, she promised.

None of this surprised me, though. Marsha and I first met in the fifth grade and while she was often flirty, she never came across as "loose" or "easy." In fact, the only way I could describe her at the time was "chaste." So I naturally believed on the day I graduated that she was still a virgin.

This would be a good time to introduce you to my long-time school buddy, Rick Epstein. We had known each other for at least a year before I met Marsha. We did practically everything together -- fish, camp out, even had sleep-overs at each other's homes. As we grew older, though, I noticed that he always seemed to want whatever I had, only he had to "one-up" me if he could. If I got a new fishing pole, he would get a fishing pole with a better or bigger reel, for example.

In high school, he would often try to horn in on Marsha, even though he knew we were what the kids today would call an "item." Marsha would simply wave him off with a smile and walk away.

On the day I left for boot camp, he saw me off at the airport, telling me he would "keep an eye" out for Marsha. I had no reason to distrust her, so I simply shook his hand and said, "thanks."

The airplane finally landed at the small airport near our town and since it was pretty late in the evening, my parents took me back home so I could get a decent night's sleep. The first thing I did was call Marsha.

"I've got a surprise for you," she said, giggling as she so often did.

"I can't wait to see it," I told her. "I'll be over right after I visit the old school."

We ended the call, having spoken sweet nothings to each other for over an hour.

The next day, I wanted to show off two things -- my dress blues and my soon-to-be wife. I put on my uniform, hopped in my pickup and headed to my old high school. After meeting my former principal and some of my teachers, I headed over to Marsha's house.

Marsha opened the door before I even had a chance to knock.

"Surprise!" she exclaimed. "You're going to be a daddy!"

"What?" I asked, shocked by what she said. I instantly noticed that she was starting to show and her breasts were much bigger than I remembered. She was definitely pregnant -- but it wasn't by me. After all, I had been gone for nearly six months and we had never had sex, at HER insistence.

"Are you out of your mind?" I asked. "You DO realize that we've never had sex. Hell, I've never even SEEN you naked. So how in the hell can I be a daddy?"

"Well, we're going to be married. And since I'm the mother, that would make you the daddy," she said.

"WHAT? You really don't expect me to fall for that crap, do you?" I yelled. "Tell me, and I want the truth. Who is the father?"

"You are, I told you," she said. "Once we're married, you'll become the daddy."

My mind was reeling. Surely she wasn't that stupid. I asked her.

"Are you really that stupid, Marsha? We've never done anything but you expect me to raise a child that someone else gave you?"

"Well..." she began.

"Marsha, Marsha, Marsha," I said, mimicking the line from "The Brady Bunch." Remember, the show first aired in 1969 and new episodes had aired until March, 1974.

I took a deep breath and counted to ten. I loved Marsha but I was way beyond pissed. I needed to know the truth.

"Tell me the truth, Marsha. Did you and Rick have sex while I was gone?" I asked. She sat down and looked away, almost as if she was afraid to answer me.

"Well, only a few times," she finally said. "But it was only because I love you and missed you. It really didn't mean anything."

"How many times?" I asked.

"I don't know, maybe 15 or 20 times," she said.

"So, you fucked Rick 15 or 20 times, let him get you pregnant and now you tell me it was because you love me?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said, tears in her eyes.

"And now you're telling me that it's really my child because we're supposed to get married?"

"Yeah," Marsha said.

I shook my head in disbelief. By now her father and brother had come into the front room.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Esposito, but I can't go through with this wedding," I said. He didn't look too happy.

"Marsha says it's your child, so I really think you should do the right thing," he said.

My God, I thought, is everyone in this family stupid?

"Mr. Esposito, you do realize that Marsha and I have never, ever had sex? Hell, I've never even seen her naked. AND, she just admitted that she had actually screwed Rick Epstein 15 to 20 times," I said.

"Is that right," he asked his daughter.

"Yes, daddy," she told him, bawling. He looked at her like something the family dog left in the yard.

"Goddammit," he said. "You're just as stupid as your mother." He looked at me with genuine sorrow in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, son. I had no idea my daughter inherited her mother's stupidity. Are you sure you can't work through this?"

"No, Mr. E, I can't," I said. "If she can't remain faithful to me while I'm in boot camp, there's no way she'd stay faithful to me if I had to go to war. And I'm sure as hell not going to raise someone else's child. There's no doubt we'd only end up divorced."

"But daddy," Marsha said, "Rick and I only had sex, we never made love." Her brother, Frank, literally laughed out loud.

"Give it up, Marsha," he said. "I caught you literally fucking his brains out right here in the front room. Along with two of his friends. I even got some Polaroids. You can see everything," he said to me, "even sperm coming out of her pussy and ass. You wouldn't believe how much there was." He looked at me. "You wanna see them?"

Something dawned on me.

"Frank, did you take that picture of Marsha in the towel that she sent me?" I asked.

"Oh yeah. That was fun. She just got finished masturbating naked out by the pool. Check it out," he said, grabbing a thick photo album out of a bookcase along a wall. He opened it up and showed me the pictures leading up to the one with her towel.

There she was, completely naked by their pool, her legs spread wide and her fingers inside her pussy. There was a series of Polaroids that ended with one of her squirting like a hose.

"She really gets into it," Frank said. "You remember that day, don't you Dad?" he asked, looking at his red-faced father. "That was the day she gave you a naked lapdance on the picnic table and let you cum inside her." Frank looked back at me.

"She can be a real slut," he said. "I've got lots and lots of pictures, too. Here's one of her fucking two black guys at the same time," he said, opening another book, showing me a picture of Marsha with her legs spread wide, taking a large black man between her legs with another black cock in her mouth.

"Please, Frank, don't use that language in front of your sister," his father said.

"But that's what she was doing, dad," he said. "She even tried to suck my cock while Rick and one of his friends was fucking her."

"What?" his father said. "Marsha, did you really try to suck your brother's cock while screwing two other guys?"

"Well, yes, daddy," she said. "I only had two cocks inside me and I needed one in my mouth. It wouldn't be the first time I sucked Frank off. You know that. Besides, he always loved me doing it before."

"Yeah, but you normally suck my cock after we go to bed at night," Frank said. "You always said you wanted to have me by myself when we did it."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The Espositos always came across as straight-laced. What kind of insanity went on in this house, I wondered.

"Marsha," I asked. "How many different guys have you had sex with since I asked you to marry me?"

"I don't know. Maybe seven or eight," she said. Frank laughed again.

"Maybe seven or eight hundred," he said sarcastically. "Don't forget, I have pictures," he added, indicating the multiple photo albums in the bookcase.

"But it was only sex. I didn't love any of them. I only love you and I'm saving myself for you, promise," she said.

"And you actually sucked your little brother's cock as well?" I asked.

"Of course," she said. "I love fucking and sucking his big cock. I've been doing it ever since he turned 18. His cum is so yummy I can't get enough of it. I also took his virginity on his birthday. Dad took pictures of it. They're in one of our family albums. Do you want to see them?"

"No, thanks," I told her. "Tell me, did you ever use a condom with any of the guys you fucked?"

"Whats a 'condum?'" she asked, saying the word slowly.

This was just too much stupidity for me. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My girl was nothing but a round-heeled cock-sucking cum slut who would take anyone and everyone, including her own brother and father. And all three of them were proud of it. I couldn't believe she had actually been able to hide this from me for so long. I had to get out of this madhouse.

"I gotta get out of here," I said. "Marsha, the wedding is off. There's no way we can get married. Not after this. Hell, you don't even know who the father of your baby really is. I'm strictly a one-woman man and I expect my wife to be a one-man woman. Goodbye," I said, turning to leave.

Marsha jumped to her feet, crying.

"Please don't leave me," she said. "I didn't love them. Only you."

"No, Marsha, you have no concept of love. Lust maybe, but not love. For all I know, you've fucked half the county, including your own brother, all the while denying me everything and making me believe you were this chaste little girl," I said.

"That's not true," she said. "I haven't fucked half the county. I know for a fact there's 150,000 people living in the county and I haven't fucked 75,000 guys. Not even close."

"Well, good for you, Marsha," I said. "But it's too late for us. I gotta go. Have a good life, seriously. Bye."

I turned and left, not looking back.

I drove home, changed into blue jeans and a Marine Corps t-shirt and headed out to get something to drink. I ended up at the Dew Drop Inn and sucked down a beer, going over the day's events. I noticed someone standing next to me and turned to see who it was.

"Leah," I said. "Good to see you. Can I buy you drink?" Leah was another long-time friend. I had known her since elementary school and we had been good friends ever since. She had warned me about Marsha when we first got engaged, but I dismissed her warning, thinking she was just jealous.

"Did you see her yet?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said. "How could I have been so stupid? You knew all along, didn't you?"

"Hell, everyone knew. Everyone except you, that is," she said. I guess love really is blind. "So, is the wedding off?"

"It's off," I said. "There's no way I can get involved with that bunch."

"So, what do you want to do?" she asked. I looked long and hard at her. Leah didn't have the sultry look Marsha did, but her red hair and flashing green eyes captivated me as they always did.

"Are you hungry?" I asked. She smiled.

"As a matter of fact, I am," she said. "I could also go for something to eat," she added, taking my hand and leading me out of the bar.

Do I really need to tell you what happened? As you can imagine, Marsha was history, but then there was Leah, and she made my 10-day leave something I'll never forget.

Not that she would let me forget, that is. We just celebrated our 44^th anniversary and she's still hungry...