Private Benjamin

He slowly shook his head and said quite emphatically, yet softly, "No, no, she isn't." He hadn't imagined ever saying that, that someone would be prettier than Goldie, yet at the moment he felt quite sincere about it, although he could be somewhat biased by the fact that his Goldie Hawn was actually sitting right there, next to him, letting him see her in real life, feel her in real life, smell her in real life. This was so much better than imagining it, as he had done so for so many nights by himself.

Judy looked back at the scrapbook, took a big sip of wine, and said, "Yea, well, I think my boobies are bigger than hers."

Bing was rather shocked at this girl's, at Laurie's, open reference to her breasts. His face flushed with self-conscious embarrassment as he glanced at the breasts of Goldie in his scrapbook, and the breasts of Goldie, Laurie, sitting next to him. Actually, he really couldn't tell any difference. He was quite torn. To say that Laurie's were larger would seem disrespectful of all that he had treasured and valued for so many years, and precisely when she was right there in the room with him, yet to say that Laurie's were smaller would seem quite a rather poor way to treat a guest, one with whom he hoped for more than just a drink of cheap wine. "It's hard to tell, actually."

Judy furrowed her brow, feigning a playful annoyance and skepticism. She moved back from him and thrust out her breasts. "No way! Look at them. Look closely. Mine are clearly bigger."

Actually, there really wasn't much of any difference. Colonel Thornbush had taken very careful measurements to be certain. He was very exacting when it came to details. As he said, battles were often lost by the smallest of details. Judy had volunteered to have hers altered, if it would help her mission (she was so hoping he would say yes) but he hadn't felt it was necessary.

Bing's cock was thrusting up against the back of the scrapbook as he carefully studied Laurie's thrusting boobs. He was rather flummoxed at this girl's apparent disregard for presenting her body, as if there was really nothing terribly wrong or inappropriate about showing off your essentially naked titties to some guy, and a stranger at that. But, he could hardly complain. He reached for his glass of blueberry wine and swallowed down a deep gulp, never taking his eyes away from those thrusting boobs. Once his dry mouth and lips had been sufficiently moistened, and his courage restored, he said, "Yea, yea, I think yours are bigger."

"Well, of course, silly man." Judy then waved her shoulders to and fro, wiggling her boobs back and forth. "And, more importantly, mine are real. They even jiggle."

He took another gulp of wine. It was actually beginning to taste pretty good. He wondered how he would be able to hide his erection once the book was removed from his lap.

Judy did acknowledge, though, "But, you can't really tell for sure. Maybe hers have a better shape. Do you have any secret naked pictures of her, you know, like hidden away in a deep dark secret place?" She knew she was taking a big chance, but there was so little time he had to be bold. She had to go on the offensive, to attack, and perhaps the best way to find the enemy's secret safe was to simply ask about it.

He surprisingly took his eyes away from her breasts, to look into her eyes. His eyes expressed his surprise, his shock at such a question. Hers expressed simply an innocent, empty curiosity. He knew he was about to take a big chance, a big risk, one that could ruin everything, and one that was probably not even necessary. "Well, yea, yes, actually, I do," he admitted, reluctantly.

"You do?!" Judy smiled broadly, realizing that she was on the verge of success. This had been so easy! Being a soldier in combat can be pretty difficult and dangerous, but so far this hadn't been so difficult at all.

"Well, yea, I guess." He still wasn't sure he wanted to admit this. The last and only time he had shown someone his naked Goldie Hawn pictures was when he and a friend had been out drinking. Bing rarely drank to excess, as it invariably led to poor decisions and loose lips, and he did have quite a few delicate secrets, not the least of which was his special secret Goldie Hawn collection. In any case, his friend did not react well to it. He was in fact rather shocked by them. It really wasn't so much that he had the pictures. It was just that they were blown up to poster size, framed, and hung gloriously in his bedroom. There really was something wrong about that, at least for a grown man.

"Well then," Judy exclaimed, "let's see them! Get them out."

"Well, actually," Bing reluctantly explained, "They're in the bedroom."

"No problem!" Judy exclaimed, bolting up from the couch. "Where's the bedroom? I want to see them." She grabbed his hand and pulled him from the couch.

Bing led the girl by the hand to his bedroom, keeping the photo album clutched tightly against the front of his pants. It was a bit awkward of a way to walk, but perhaps she wouldn't notice.

Judy stopped short just before they entered his bedroom. "You're not just saying this to lure me into your boudoir, are you?"

"What?"

"Once I get in there, are you going to suggest we sit on your bed and get more comfortable?" "Oh goodness, no, I promise."

"That's too bad," she teasingly replied and strolled passed him into his bedroom, pulling him in after her.

"Oh my goodness!" She exclaimed as soon as she saw the posters and prints of Goldie from 'Best Friends', 'There's a Girl in My Soup,' and others. "You really are a big fan."

Bing had let go of her hand as soon as she had crossed the threshold into his bedroom, remaining himself at the entrance. He didn't want to stand close to any one of his pictures, as if by doing so he claims even more ownership, like an artist standing by his painting. "Yea, I guess I am."

This was a bit awkward, for Judy as well. She said quietly, "It's like you have naked pictures of me." And, besides, she now realized that he had not been leading her to his safe, to the place where he stored special secret documents. He had just led her into his bedroom.

His mouth went dry. He hadn't actually thought about it that way, that Laurie would see herself in these pictures, but now that she mentioned it, it was probably a bit odd. "I suppose it is," he quietly admitted. He felt that his cock would go down with the nervousness, the anxiety, of showing her his collection, but instead it only swelled further as he realized that he had "Goldie Hawn" in his bedroom, surrounded by posters and prints of her naked body.

Private First Class Benjamin realized that she would have to bring out some heavier, more powerful weapons. "You know, Mr. Russell," she suggested, a playful gleam in her eye, "I could pose for you, and you would then have lots and lots of really good pictures."

Bing's dick strained against his boxers and slacks, his legs trembled, his heart raced, and his mind was overwhelmed with various images of potential poses: Goldie with her legs spread wide open? He didn't have a full frontal nude picture. Well, he did have some fake ones, using Photoshop. These he kept safely locked away, as some of them were really quite obscene and he didn't want any guest accidentally stumbling over them, or perhaps even some guest snooping around. He knew that guests did often do that. He certainly did: checking out what pills were in the medicine cabinet, looking into the drawers of the bedside tables.

Imagine adding to his collection pictures of a real Goldie Hawn; well, at least someone who was the spitting image, and one who was still very, very young and cute. Plus, as Laurie suggested, he could pose her in any way he wished. These would certainly be much more real than Photoshop fakes, and much better. He could have her pose with her legs pulled back over head, or bent over with her bottom and her cunt both facing the camera, and maybe even spreading the lips of her cunt open. What fan would not relish the opportunity of his most admired, most desired sexual fantasy actually posing for him, in as lewd and raunchy manner as he sought fit. And, perhaps he could even be in some of the pictures! But, she couldn't be suggesting something like that, could she? "Well, sure, if you like," he replied, grossly understating his enthusiasm. He didn't want to appear too eager.

"Yea, you wish! Golly, Mr. Russell, you're like as old as my father!" She put her hands on her hips in a rather scolding manner. "I'm not going to do something like that!"

'Hey,' he thought, 'it wasn't me who made the suggestion,' but he didn't say anything. He was frankly embarrassed at how far his fantasies had gone. "Sorry, you're right, I didn't really mean it."

She strolled past him to return to the living room. "Well, you'll have to give me something pretty darned good if I'll do something like that."

'What?' he thought. It was just a matter of the price? He didn't have a lot of money, but he would be willing to pay what was necessary to get some participatory pictures like that. He followed her back into the living room.

She turned to face him.

His eyes avoided any suggestion that he was noticing her jiggling titties.

She said, "I will do one thing."

Actually, pretty much anything would be pretty darned good. "What's that?"

"Do you have any scripts from any of her movies?"

"Well, sure, pretty much most of them." Some of them were even autographed.

"Let's act out one of the scenes from a movie. That would be kind of cool."

Actually, that would be nice, really nice. "Well, sure. Which one do you want to do?"

"I don't know. I don't know any of them. What do you have?"

He pulled a stack from a file drawer and started reading off the names: "Cactus Flower, Shampoo, Overboard, Banger Sisters, Death Becomes Her."

None of them were piquing Benjamin's interest. Actually, she knew pretty much all of them, having been thoroughly debriefed by the mission coordinators.

"First Wives Club, Protocol, Swing Shift, Butterflies are Free."

"Oh! What's that movie?! Butterflies are Free! What's that about?"

"Well, it's actually about a young couple that slowly grow close together." "I just love butterflies. See? I'm even wearing some now. See?" She directed his attention to her blouse, thrusting out her wiggly puppies.

He once again glanced at her breasts. Yes, there were quite a few colorful butterflies flying all around those two little snowy hills. He tore his eyes away, fumbled around for the script in his cabinet, and handed it to her.

She leafed through it, considering the dialogue, the various scenes. "Tell me more about it. I'm not real good at reading like plays or anything. This isn't like some sort of Shakespeare type thing, is it?"

"No, no. It's really quite lovely. He's this blind lawyer and she's this free spirited hippie."

"Groovy! Really? Just like me!"

"Well, I guess that's right." It was really quite true.

"Let's do a scene from it."

Actually, he realized, this could really be great fun, doing a scene with Goldie Hawn. Not quite as much fun as having her pose for him, and certainly much less than having actual sex, but it would still be pretty darned good. "Well, sure, if you wish."

"Oh, I do so much! But, you know, it looks to me like I'll have to put on a brassiere."

That was disappointing, but he could hardly dispute the point.

"I don't usually wear brassieres, you know. They're so confining. Don't you think?"

"Well," he smiled, "we could try a scene without the brassiere."

"Now that wouldn't be right, silly. You're just saying that so you can look at my boobies some more, aren't you." She smiled at him teasingly.

His face reddened. She was absolutely correct, but it wasn't an easy thing to admit out loud. "No, no. I just want my guest to be as comfortable as possible."

"You don't have to be embarrassed. I don't mind." She turned away and headed to the front door. "I'll be right back. I'm going to see if I have any good outfits for her character," and she scampered from the apartment, her bell bottomed bottom swaying as she went.

As soon as she left Bing dashed to his bedroom to change his clothes as well. More specifically, he had to replace the loose boxers with tighter briefs. In fact, as soon as he removed his slacks and boxers, he made his way to the bathroom and applied a cold wet washcloth to the root, or actually the trunk, of his embarrassment.

Once he became under better self-control he also put on a tight jock-strap along with the briefs, a pair he rarely wore because they were now much too small. He felt better protected as he put on his slacks.

There was a knock at the door. He smiled with anticipation as he made his way.

But his jaw dropped again when he saw Laurie standing in the hallway, waiting to come in.

She had certainly put on a brassiere, but little else. She was standing there, barefoot, blouse-less, skirt-less, wearing only a pair of matching white brassiere and panties.

"Get in here! What are you doing?!"

Judy giggled. She had taken a bit of a chance traversing the open terrain from her door to his dressed only in her undies. She had indeed been quite nervous coming out into the hall to scamper over to Bing's apartment, wearing only a brassiere and panties. In the movie version (and Broadway play) of Butterflies are Free, the apartments were connected by an adjoining door, and Jill Tanner didn't have to go out into the hallway in such a state of undress (not that she would have minded). But, isn't that what a soldier is supposed to do? It was her responsibility as a Thornbird to venture out into unknown and dangerous territory, to go where others would fear to tread. At some point during a battle someone must assert himself, or herself, and take a chance.

"Do you like my costume? It's just like in the movie. Most of my undies are a bit more sexy than these, but these were the closest I had to those she wore."

Bing could see that they were in fact a very close match to the movie. Laurie's panties and brassiere were plain white, but they were nevertheless still very sexy, although any undies on this petite minx would be terribly sexy.

The cups of the brassiere were rather plain. They were somewhat diaphanous, not really sheer, but if you looked closely you could see a bit of areola and nipple.

The panties were a very small bikini, with a thin lacy waistband and a little bow in the front. They were adorably cute and indeed awfully sexy as they clung to her curves so well, particularly around her cunnie mound.

Judy had such a delightfully girlish figure, with a very narrow waist and fully feminine hips. It was very clear that her panties hid a most delectable morsel of delicious delight, as the cotton was pulled and stretched tight over this most lovely mound, even revealing a very evident camel toe.

Bing could not imagine Goldie Hawn actually wearing these on stage. Well, actually, he had imagined that many times, all the while playing with himself in the audience. He had watched Butterflies are Free quite a few times, even halting the movie to contemplate Goldie's panties. They had also been pulled tight over her mound in the movie, but he never felt he could see a camel toe. He wondered if Goldie had been especially padded there, to avoid any such indiscretion. Still, when Goldie crawled onto the bed to retrieve a brush, she presented to the camera, to the audience, a raised bottom shot, her feminine pouch was most clearly tightly outlined. It was a moment to remember for such a long time. He even had a picture of that moment by his bed, on his side table. Just the thought of that scene brought back an erection.

Judy turned around so that he could see, and admire, her stage costume from behind, her behind. The panties were very low on her hips. So low in fact that a bit of the crack of her bottom was peeking out, as well as the bottom cups of her white bottom cheeks. If Goldie had been wearing these panties, Bing felt that half the audience would have been jerking off (i.e., all of the boyfriends and husbands dragged to the play by their girlfriends and wives). Judy even bent over, providing to Bing the reality of that memorable shot of Goldie on the bed. Her panties pulled so tightly against her cunnie that the slit was very clearly outlined. He had never seen a reverse camel toe before.

His cock lurched in its confining tight briefs and jockey strap. If she stayed in that position too long he could easily cum in them, even without touching himself.

"Do you like them?"

On the one hand, he was so glad that he had put on the jock strap and briefs. But, there was also a cost in all of that tight, clinging constriction: his swelling cock felt very uncomfortable with so little room to grow and stretch. "Yes, well," he said, stepping back into the apartment, not wanting to take his eyes off of her, but feeling a strong need to take another big gulp of Boone's Farm. "Um, yes, it's a very good rendition. Of the costume, I mean, of the costume. Yes, um, very realistic."

Judy was so glad that Bing appreciated them. She waved her bottom back and forth as she teased, "But, you're not in your costume, silly. You have to get down to your undies too!"

"What?"

"Well, if we're going to do the scene, you have to be in costume too, don't you?"

It was a very good point. "Yes, well, um, I'm not so sure."

"Don't be silly. It won't matter. Remember, you're blind." The character he would play, Harold Krentz, was blind.

For a brief moment Bing almost thought that made sense. "But, I'm not really blind."

"Yea, I know, silly, but you pretend you are. It's acting!"

Actually, none of this illogic applied, as his concern would be that she wasn't blind, either her character or her reality. "No, I don't think." "Oh don't be such a fuddy duddy." She strode up to him, his eyes fixed on the little wigging jello mounds within her brassiere. "Here, let me help you," she said, and proceeded to undo his belt.

"Whoa!" Bing exclaimed. This was potentially embarrassing on multiple layers. Not only would this girl notice his erection, but he was wearing perhaps the least sexiest of his underwear. How many women find a guy with a jock strap sexy? Well, maybe a lot do, if that's all the guy is wearing, and he's all muscular and sweaty from working out, but Bing Russell was none of those things, plus he was wearing a jockey strap that was too small for him. "Let me at least change. I really wasn't expecting this."

Judy, however, was now a well-trained, highly skilled Thornbird, and before Bing could protest further he found his slacks down at his ankles. "Oh, no, no, no!" She exclaimed, stepping back to evaluate his apparel. "This will not do. This isn't at all like he wore in the movie."

It really wasn't that far off. It was unlikely that anyone would ever really notice that in the movie Harold wore boxers whereas in this far off-Broadway adaptation he was wearing skimpy briefs. Well, actually, maybe they would, as they did look rather silly, particularly as you could see the straps of his jock strap poking out the top. Plus, he did appear to have a bit of a bulge, although his cock had wilted a bit with all the anxiety.

Judy stepped up to him. "Off they come!" Demonstrating again that she was a true Thornbird, Private First Class Benjamin slipped her fingers into the waistband of Bing's briefs and jockstrap and slid them smoothly down his thighs to his ankles.

His half-erect cock popped into view and Bing quickly covered himself with both his hands. "Hey! No fooling! Cut that out!"

Judy just giggled. She had gotten a pretty good glimpse before he had managed to hide it. She didn't know why he was so embarrassed. She thought it was kind of cute. "Well, get dressed then, silly."