P.I. 69 Viking Lads Saga Ch. 01byBaba8©
You, "Number One" in the PI
I stepped through the lighted arch way entrance into the Bugs Bunny open air upstairs night club. They kept it well lighted to temporarily blind you as you stepped in. I didn't need to squint to protect my eyesight; I was blind-ass drunk.
I picked out a nesting area that didn't have any movement around it. It turned out to be an empty table with four chairs. I signaled the mama-san in each of the corners, to send me over their number one girl. They knew what I liked. (Not really.) I actually like large hirsute females that could handle a set of oars in a Viking longboat then screw all night. But this was the Philippines in 1969 and I was a Viking lad land bound doing the best I could.
I was also a young and dumb American, used to begging for my pussy ration. The PI was pussy heaven. It was everywhere. My normal day was to work 12 hours fixing airplanes. Then hit the bars with the "mosquito ranch." The "mosquito ranch" was a 1954 Chevy with one door that worked and one window that rolled up. I bought the mosquito ranch drunk. When I sold it, the buyer brought it back two days later when he sobered up. It burnt as much oil as gas. I was killing a lot of mosquito in my travels but the ones in my back seat were breeding and living off my buddies that I picked up at the gate to Clarke Air Base every morning. The mosquito's never bit me, we had a deal, and I kept them in food. The door that worked was mine. Every one had to dive through the windows at the gate for the feeding session.
I peeped out the mama-son selectees as they made their move. They knew I liked the biggest girls they had. The problem was they didn't have any. They were all about five foot tall, long dark hair. Filipino women and Thai's are the most beautiful women on our planet. Japanese women got short flat legs, and titties that look like a fried egg taking a ride on their chest. Koreans look like nipper's with large square heads. This is a general rule. The best way to tell is to check out their fried rice. PI fried rice has eggs in it and green peas. Thai fried rice has a half circle of cucumber slices on the outside edge of the plate this is offset patterned with green onions.
I was enjoying my stay in the PI; it didn't even bother me that the women didn't have a single hair on their snapper. They had a nice saddled pelvic bone structure area. The Japanese women have a high pelvic bone, rough riding. I developed a painful case of bone bruise while attempting to bang everything on the Island. If I would have been smarter I would have known to ride-em bareback like a cowboy.
I had arrived late at the bugs bunny. The mosquito ranch had a bad habit of stopping in front of every bar outside of the main gate. The pickings were not FAS (fine and select). I was left with the cauled out girls.
No sweat, I was a fixer of Aircraft. When the going got tough and the air force needed some nasty evil job contracted out they send me and my partners in. We follow the advice in our Tech. Rep's manual. Rule number seven; when a woman doesn't meet your standards -- lower your standards. Rule number eight: when in doubt about Venereal diseases eat their snapper first. If your teeth start falling out in three days get to the Doctor, before your dick falls off.
I told two of them to sit down and stay rested. One of them was in for a long hard night, was my promise. I grabbed the best looking one and said. "Can you do that?" I thought I was looking really good on the dance floor. I had a friend that saw me that night; he said I had a slinky babe making good moves all around me. I was swaying slowly and the only thing I had moving was my eyes.
My theory was to dance and get sweaty with one of them. This would probably give her an excuse not to screw my brains out all night. So I would be a smart guy and take one of the other well rested ones home for the all night fucking fest. I really loved my lifestyle.
I don't remember leaving, didn't know where I'd been. I woke up with a bad taste in my mouth. The root portion of my tongue was hyper extended and in pain. I hand wiggled the acorn that becomes the mighty oak. I was hoping to find a blue ribbon tried around it signifying I'd won first place in a dickhead contest. It was sore and stuck to my fingers.
I always eat Campbell's bean soup when I have a bad hangover. It comes back up just like it went down. The wife had some warmed up for my breakfast.
I showered off the sticky drunk stuff. Drank coffee, ate bean soup. I decided to get a hair cut. It would help me feel better, plus the added attraction the wife kept asking me what was wrong. I couldn't talk in my normal loud voice. I was squeaking out whispers around my swollen tongue.
My bride informed me, "The only way you are getting a hair cut is if I go with you. The last time you were gone for three days."
"You are right, that's why I need to go, I never got a haircut."
Bride says, "Okay here's the deal, take off you shirt and shoes and give me all your money."
I never argue with women, they are always right. After chucking a few clothes plus shoes I stood in front of her with a pair of Levi cut-offs and my shaded glasses. I pulled out both my front pocket elephant ears and poked my wiggling trunk finger out my zipper.
"Feed the elephant, baby"
She threw me two peso's and said, "I guess you're safe, leave the mosquito ranch here. Do you think you came make it past the one bar before the barber shop?"
"Hell yeah, the bar hookers can smell money. They will know that I'm as broke as a broke dick mongrel dog."
I wandered down the dirt road towards the side gate two blocks away. I made the turn and spotted the barber shop. The hookers were having a slow day at the small bar next to the barber shop. They all knew me. The barber shop had the special hair cut and head massage for ten peso's. You could tell when someone was getting the special. They closed the curtains. This was a signal to the hookers. If you were a regular customer, your regular would come over from the bar's back door to their back door. She would suck your toes until you couldn't take it any more and popped her some money for a blowjob. She would duck under the barber cloth. Fallen hair would shake its way to the floor.
The regulars came running up to me. They didn't seem happy.
"You number one in PI."
"Why you no number one me."
"Why you number one my friend and not me."
For the un-informed reader. "Number one" is the highest complement or highest level that can be attained in any area. "Number ten" is the worse.
If you went in a whore house, the girls all had numbers. If you selected number one she was the best and cost you the most. It's a good system. It appeared that I was the "number one" guy in the small world next to the side gate in Clarke AB, PI.
I told the girls I'm not "number one" I'm number ten broke. They all yelled at the same time.
"Mama-san, she buy." "She want you to "number one" her."
I waved to mama-san. Don't ever think that mama-sans are old fat and ugly with black teeth from chewing the betel nut. Some are only about thirty five. If they don't smile you don't notice their teeth are black. I was safe. In the Rep's manual rule number three; never kiss a hooker, she might kiss back. Mama-san waved me over, baiting me with a cold beer. One of the young girls brought me over the first of many beers.
Mama-san wouldn't let me buy a beer. She kept asking me to "number one" her. I managed to extract the information that I had spent last night with the sister of one of her girls and the word had already spread. I was the number one fuck in the PI. I wouldn't need to ever pay for pussy again.
I decided to test out the number one fucker in PI free pussy.
"Mama-san, I'm leaving everything up to you." "I'll "number one" you or whoever you pick out for this honor."
Mama-san smiled and said, "You "number one" my daughter." "She is number one girl here." You go in back and get ready she comes to you."
I grabbed a fresh beer and pushed the beaded curtain to the side. The back of the bar had a concrete floor, several bamboo low slung cots and a small cooking area with several woks resting. I didn't need to wait long.
The number one daughter was "number one" in all area's she was beautiful. She smelled beautiful.
"My mother says that you are number one in the PI."
"It's true." I said, "Your mother would not lie to you."
"I have never been with an American."
"Come to me." As she stood in front of me I moved my hands all over her. My hands were a mirror image of caressment. I started with her arms. Then moved mind with each of her fingers. I placed her hands on my love handles. It was the only part of my body that wasn't erectile and hard.
I continued my hand fest up to her head. I bent down and ran my tongue over the FAS fine and select hair on her ears. I was sure that her ears would be sensitive since they were protected by her long dark hair. This was difficult to do since my tongue started to throb as soon as I extended it.
I moved my hand to her sarong knot. I still didn't know what I had done to earn the ranking of number one in the PI. I couldn't remember anything. The bug's bunny trail faded into an alcoholic black-out. I can promise the gentle reader I'm number one in the PI in popping sarong knots.
A flick of the wrist and her sarong dropped like a bad habit. (Excuse me-I had to do it) I dropped her on top of her sarong. I kicked my cut-off's in the corner and got to fucking.
I was actively scooting her around on the concrete floor. She was wrapped around me screaming and yelling. She screamed because I was abrading her ass skin on the concrete. This technique keeps their ass moving. I thought she liked it. I was yelling and acting like a Viking in a brigandage event. Then it was over. I couldn't move. My meaty bleeding knees were stuck to the floor. I was proud of myself I was a perfect gentleman the entire time. I can prove it; my elbows are still scarred from this number one adventure.
Mama-san came in yelling. "I watch, why you no "number one" her?"
"I thought I did. She was acting like she liked it."
The daughter said, "You no "number one" you "number dumb"."
"Why you fuck on floor, where cats and rats play." Why you no fuck on number one bamboo?"
I said, "Should I have let you on top?"
She said, "Look at your knees number one dumb."
That was the last time I was called number one. When I stepped into the bar area, Mama-san had a bar tab worked up.
"You number ten GI; you pay this bar tab payday. No more free beer or pussy for you." "My daughter has already spit you out of her."
I wandered past the barber shop to the next bar. I was smiling and armed with the information that I could set up a bar tab for beer and pussy.
The hookers greeted me with. "You number one fuckee-fuck in the PI."
"You got that right."
Author's note: in the next segment of the PI 69 Saga I found out what I did to earn the title, "Number one in the PI."