tagGroup SexRon's Journal 06

Ron's Journal 06


Author's note: My uncle Ron died recently. While sifting through his files, I found journal folders marked MY STORY, writings about his life. I have edited these accounts and will post them when I can. These stories include bisexuality, incest, interracial and mature and group sex, etc. All sexual activity depicted here involves persons at least 18 years old.

I highly recommend that you read all previous chapters before starting on this piece.

******************** 12: You're In The Army Now -- A New Begining

I reported to the Los Angeles Induction Center in late autumn 1974. A good-size crowd of enlistees was weighed, prodded, poked, inspected, injected, dejected, sorted, sifted, bent, folded, spindled, mutilated, stamped, and then hauled off to LAX airport to be shipped to basic training bases around the country.

I had chatted up a couple friendly girls while being processed. Ellen and Doris were medium-height redheads, both trim and about 20 and not quite beautiful. They looked almost like sisters but were cousins, from Orange County near Disneyland. This was their chance for new lives, too.

Their motivation was similar to mine. They had finished a couple years of junior college but could not afford full-time school, and felt dead-ended. The Army was their gateway to better futures. We chatted about the experiences that had led us to unexpected choices. We got on nicely together.

After the processing and paperwork, I took Ellen and Doris to Chinatown to eat and to talk about our pasts and futures. We continued our chats as we walked past the exotic shops in the twilight.

They invited me to share their room that night. We had a nice loud wet FAREWELL TO CIVILIAN LIFE celebration. No, they didn't go down on each other, just on me. But it was fun anyway.

Sometime after midnight, we were snuggled together in a queen bed, idly rubbing and petting each other. I leaned to suck one of Ellen's nipples, then turned to do the same for Doris. One hand from each side lightly stroked my cock. I reached down to feel two damp pussies.

"Who wants to do what to whom next?" I asked quietly.

"I need to be so fucked that I can hardly walk tomorrow," Doris said.

"Me too," Ellen giggled. "Shouldn't take more than a couple hours."

"Well, kiss each other again, and I'll be hard again in about ten seconds."

As they kissed, I ate each of them to screaming, and I was even harder. Yes, it was a hard, hard night.

We hugged good-bye in the morning. Ellen flew to Washington state, Doris to northern California, and I found myself on a 747 bound for New Jersey.

Since it was late in the year, I was in a short Basic Training cycle, barely seven weeks. I was not being mis-trained to sink-or-swim survive in VietNam so I didn't sweat it. For me, the briefer, the better.

At age 25, I was older than most but not all of the new enlistees. I was not an athletic highschool jock but neither were most of the new grunts. My long lean bicyclist's body served me well through all the physical exertions. At 6'5", I was not quite the tallest guy there either. Snowden was a half-foot taller than I was, and WOW could he run long distances!

We ran in formation to everything. We ran to firing ranges to lie down in snow and shoot M-16s, and we ran to other ranges to play with pistols and grenade launchers and gas masks and claymores. No matter our later specialties, we all trained as infantrymen. Grunt grunt...

We trained from 5 AM to 6 PM, six days a week, and then some. Sleep was broken by more training. We learned to sleep standing up. When awake, we whined like hell, or bragged, or prayed. I meditated on the Tarot, the greater arcanum, the path from ignorance to enlightenment. That helped.

The USA had lost its war in VietNam recently. Losers are not happy guys. I observed that Army morale was low and discipline was lax. Basic training was NOT the kick-ass experience I had expected. And my senior drill sergeant was later busted for extorting bribes from recruits.

I finished Basic just before Christmas, on 21 December. The next Advanced cycle, at the same base, started just after Old Christmas, on 7 January. Most of the newly-minted E2 Privates took two weeks of leave (vacation) to see families. I did not feel a need to. I volunteered for a couple days holiday duty, and was given that whole period on pass, a freebie for me.

What to do? I took the train to New York City. I got a cheap subsidized room near Times Square. I wailed.

The Army had given me a new pair of ugly Goldwater glasses to replace those I had lost before, but they were NOT my look. I stopped at Greenwich Village Optical and got a pair of round wire-rim glasses with Photo-Sun coatings that automatically darkened in bright light. These prescription sunglasses passed military muster, barely. I was happy to not look TOO military.

I bought a Mexican 12-string guitar. I looked up some old friends -- not Clem The Chemist, he was in federal prison now, for brewing designer drugs. But I surprisingly found an old friend too.


I was walking on the outskirts of the West Village, dressed in my best denim civvies under a peacoat. I passed a shop, HEINEKE IMPORTS - ETHNIC CRAFTS, displaying the very distinctive flags of Mexico, Guatemala, Brazil, and California. I did not really pay attention, but some inner voice told me to turn around and look again.

I peered in through the glass. That face looked familiar...

I walked towards a tall blonde woman standing by a desk.

"Excuse me. Hope? Are you Hope Heineke?"

She looked at me blankly, then with a little shock.

"Yes? I'm Hope Heineke. What? Ron? Is it Ron Carson?"

Hope walked towards me slowly and said, "Well, I'm fucked! What the hell are YOU doing here?"

Hope looked in my face, finally stepped up and hugged me. I hugged her happily. She pushed me back.

"Damn, you look good! Is that really you, Ron? I can't wait to tell Faith and Ann!"

Now it was my turn for further surprise.

"What, your sisters are here too?"

"Well, not right now. Ann and Lucia just left for Guatemala and Chiapas to buy goods, and Faith and Bonifacia will be back from Brazil in a few weeks. They left me and Juanita to hold down the shop while they enjoy warm weather and buying sprees. But Nita and I get our own working vacation in central Mexico in a couple months."

Despite our growing up across the street from each other in a Los Angeles suburb, and our brief but intense youthful sexual adventures, I hadn't seen the Heineke sisters for a long time, and I never expected to encounter them again, especially not here.

Hope told me their story. The sisters had gone to Hofstra University in successive years. They all liked New York, and set up an import business, spawned by their Latin American travels. They were doing well.

And they were all committed lesbians, with Latina lovers.

"Ronnie, you were our favorite boy. We sure had fun with you there, whose house was that, Judy? Did you ever find that girl again, who was she, Maria? Yeah, you were a good sex toy. But we all have life partners now. We all share a big loft upstairs. And we're all really really happy. But what about you? Where are you staying? What are you doing? You still have that funny mandolin?"

"I'm a guitarist now. And I'm just poking around the city for a couple weeks. I'm staying at the Soldiers And Sailors Club in midtown."

"The Soldiers And... Ron, are you military now? Wow!"

"Yes ma'am! I've been living a pretty depraved life these last few years. I thought I'd knuckle down, get GI Bill, do something other than wander aimlessly. I just finished Basic training."

I gave Hope a short-short version of my past seven years. Marriage, divorce; Hollyweird, San Francisco, Santa Fe; rambling, music, decisions -- just an overview. She looked at me appraisingly.

"Ron, we have a girl you might get along with. Angelina works half-days here in the shop; the rest of the time, she's studying at NYU. She has a room in our loft. She'll be back this evening. Would you like to come for dinner? Just rattle the front door at six, OK?"

I assured her that wild horses couldn't stop me, yada yada, and I went back to my room uptown to retrieve my new guitar. And a full change of underwear. Just in case.

Today was dark vivacious Juanita's day to cook. She produced a fabulous feast of Pollo Abado and Chiles Rellenos with all the trimmings. Too bad I couldn't marry her.

We adjourned from the long dining table to a cozy nook. Hope and Juanita cuddled on a loveseat; Angelina and I sprawled in beanbag chairs. We all had goblets of red wine.

Unlike the Heineke sisters' lovers, Angelina was a tall pale thin 22-year-old Acadian redhead from New Brunswick, chin-high to me. Her voice was lightly accented and musical.

"So you're the famous little Ronny, eh?" Lina said. Nita giggled. Hope smirked.

"What, me, famous?" I looked around innocently.

"Hey, you think we don't hear all 'bout you from the girls?" Nita smiled. "All 'bout how they measured your big dicky, and those hot-hot-hot sex games, and the stuff you did when you were a little neighbor chico loco? How 'bout the time you saved their butts from that shitty boy, that cabroncito? You kicked his nasty goat ass, right? You were their little hero!"

Oh wow, that was back in sixth grade. A big local bully, Dwight, stood in front of their house and shouted that they were shit-eating catlickers, they were gonna be priest-fucking nuns, crap like that. I heard him and ran across the street to shut him up.

"Well, I didn't actually kick his *ass*. He shoved me down and jumped on me, and my feet sort of got in the way of his nuts. I ruptured him, a complete accident, that's all."

The women howled.

"Our hero!" Hope intoned while pat-patting her heart with both hands.

"Aw shucks, ma'am. I guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do," I drawled modestly.

We poured more wine, chatted. I played and sang, including a couple French-Canadian songs I had learned. The evening flew by. But by 11:00 o'clock, these working women had to wind things down. I was invited to stay on the couch and was given a nice fluffy quilt. Lina looked at me awhile, then closed her door.

I was awakened early by a soft kiss on my forehead. I opened my eyes to peer into Angelina's freckled face. She squatted by the couch, looking at me.

"M'seur Ronaldo, I am going to be rattling pans and making rude noises while I prepare breakfast. I just wanted to warn you. And to thank you for being here last night. You were lots of fun. You're a nice guy. Do you drink coffee, or tea, or what? Would you like a juicy omelet, and pommes duchesse?"

"Mmmm, buenos dias, mi Angelina. I drink gallons of coffee, or even thick milky tea, and I love omelets and potatoes, and you're pretty nice too. Thanks for the sweet wake-up. You are much gentler than I."

I had mentioned my method of awakening slumbering soldiers in the barracks. I would pick up the end of their steel bed frame about a foot or two, and drop it heavily. If that didn't work, I just tipped the bed till they rolled to the floor. No oversleeping allowed.

Lina's jean-wrapped butt wiggled as she walked to the kitchen side of the open loft. She had already tossed more coal into the potbelly stove in the middle of the loft space, its stovepipe rising like a black magic beanstalk. Luscious smells wafted through the warming air. Pajama-clad blonde Hope and dark Nita emerged from their room as pale-red Lina set the table and served.

We did not dawdle over breakfast. Lina did a quick kitchen cleanup, then ran downstairs to prepare the shop for opening. Hope and Nita sat and sipped some more coffee with me, then dressed for work. Hope came to my chair before leaving.

"Ron, you can check out of that Midtown place if you want. Nita and I decided that you can stay here as long as you like -- as long as you're good, anyway," she laughed.

"Why, that's a powerful tempting offer, Miz Hope, ma'am" I drawled, tipping my imaginary Stetson hat, "I'd be mighty obliged for your hospitality."

Hope punched my shoulder.

"Here's a key, pigboy. Put your stuff in this chest here. We'll see you this evening."

Hope kissed my forehead while Nita feigned jealousy.

That evening started much as the previous, but improved. Lina stewed a tender chicken-and-veggie verano with wild rice pilaf. We drank wine. I played and sang.

Nita put on a Cuban record and we all cha-cha-ed around, swapping partners, getting a little sweaty. We were all down to tees and jeans. Some good joke brought us together with arms around each other's shoulders, laughing, Hope and Lina next to me. They all smelled so good!

Eleven o'clock again, and time for bed. The women retired to their rooms. I lay on the couch watching the glow through the high loft windows and the flickering flames in the pot-belly stove front grill.

Lina's door opened. The angel emerged, approached, wearing a thin wrap.

"Ron, you don't have to sleep on the couch if you don't want to. I'd like you to come with me."

We held each other naked in her bed. We kissed softly. We heard groans from Hope and Nita's room. The loft partitions were not soundproofed.

"Ron, make me groan like that."

Lina's freckles extended from her forehead, all across her chest, down to her red bush. I kissed her breasts; her skin flushed; her freckles seemed to glow. I slid down her body. I licked her navel. I nuzzled her bush. I licked her slit. She groaned quietly. A good start, I thought. More licking. More groans. I threatened her clit. I slowly pushed in my fuckfinger and wiggled it. She yelled. I sucked, slurped, circled. She chanted loudly, "ron-ron-ron-ron-ron-ron-RONNN!"

Lina seemed happy. I moved up and kissed her face. She lay back and pulled my groaning cock into her hungry cunt. We started in missionary poses. Soon, she wrapped her legs around me. We fucked slowly at first, then faster, ever-faster, slower again, then faster to our strong climaxes. We were not quiet.

"Hey you two, get a room!" came Hope's voice.

"Too late! Got one already!" Lina yelled back.

I stayed inside Lina, stiffening again eventually, fucking again, but very slowly, almost silently. We eventually slipped apart and slept, wrapped together like old soggy spaghetti drying on the sheets.

Hope woke us the next morning by clattering pans as she cooked blueberry waffles and fluffy scrambled eggs. Coffee flowed. Lina ate quickly, ran downstairs to setup the shop. With refilled coffee cups in our hands, Hope and Nita dragged me over to the couch and plopped me down between them. Hope turned my head to face her.

"Ron, we haven't seen Lina this happy since she started working for us. She was with an abusive asshole in Nova Scotia before she came here. We want her to stay happy. Keep her happy, Ron. If you do *anything* to hurt her, I'll cut your balls off with a rusty knife, ya got that? And don't give me your Yes Ma'am shit."

Juanita turned my head to her face and said, "And when Hope gets through with you, I got a nice sharp machete. You mess with our Angelina, I'm gonna chop you into bifstek machaca, si?" and tweaked my nose.

I stood, put my cup down, turned to them, squatted, reached my hands out, touched their faces.

"You have my word of honor -- I will do nothing to hurt Lina, nor you. On my heart, I promise."

They looked at each other, nodded, stood, pulled me up, brushed me off needlessly.

"Just behave yourself, pigboy. See you this evening," Hope said as they headed downstairs.

I spent the days wandering around the city, visiting galleries and museums, and music and book shops, and endless window-peering. I didn't do much photography. I went back to base on Christmas and New Years days to pull my duty. The rest of my days were in the city, and all my nights were at the loft.

Then the holiday break was over, and I had to return to base for Advanced training. I promised to return to the city every weekend during the training period, and I did.


I had signed up as a communications electronics technician, but the Army decided they instead needed a radioteletype tech, so I became a RATTman. I trained on KSR-33 teletypes, great clunking monsters whose keys required about 50 pounds of finger pressure. I got my speed up to 80 words per minute. My hands and fingers became STRONG. I could break a door lock just by twisting the knob off.

Advanced Individual Training (AIT) was nothing like Basic. We had classroom time, and some limited duty time, but the rest of our days and nights were free. I had not forgotten my earlier radio engineering training. I just breezed through it all.

The best part for me was the heated covered swimming pool just beyond the end of my big brick barracks building. After each day's class, I trudged through the deep snow to the pool, changed into my uniform trunks, and swam in warm water while steam condensed against the big windows. The pool was co-ed. The girls were required to wear one-piece black swimming uniforms. No close encounters were allowed in the pool. Any fraternization occurred elsewhere.

I did not fraternize. I did not need to. (Well, maybe a little, just a few kisses and fondles and feelups and fingerings...) Every Friday night, I was back on the train to New York.

My AIT cycle lasted eight weeks. I was in the loft every Friday and Saturday night. Days, all of us did the city. Nights, we chatted and danced and laughed and loved, except that I had to catch the Sunday night train back to base.

Long blonde Faith and equally-long dark Bonifacia returned from Brazil in late January; dirty-blonde Ann and bubbly little Lucia, very Mayan, got back from Guatemala a week later. Hope and Juanita would leave for Veracruz just after I finished my training. In our time together, I felt like I had been adopted into a big happy sexy family.

Then came my last weekend in New York. I was due to ship out mid-week, destination as yet unknown.

Angelina and I and the three other couples sat around the big dining table eating Chinese take-out; nobody had kitchen duty this day. We tossed out the paper plates and cartons, grabbed wine, and adjourned to comfortable seating. Ann threw yet more coal into the pot-belly stove, fueling it to a cherry-red glow.

Faith, the oldest of us and our honorary den mother, rose and came to me, took my hand, pulled me up, held my head in her hands, then dropped her hands to my shoulders.

"Ron, we've really loved having you here. You've been great. You've been wonderful with Lina. And you've been discrete. You haven't been a pig. You haven't intruded on anyone. You're a gentleman."

"Ron, my sisters and our partners have talked about this. We want to show you how much we appreciate and love you. We want to make love with you. No fucking us any more, we're past that, but we want to love you."

The space heated, and not just from the stove. Boni and Lucia brought out a pile of big soft weavings and spread them on the floor, surrounding the stove. Lina started undressing me, as each couple undressed each other. We soon all stood naked, hand-in-hand, a circle of flesh around a glowing pyre, sweating already.

Faith looked at Lina and asked, "May I?" and Lina nodded.

Faith laid me on my back and straddled my loins and leaned over and kissed me thoroughly. Then she slid down my body and took my cock into her well-remembered mouth. Her partner Boni straddled my head, facing her, and lowered her dark cunt to my tongue. I fed. Faith slurped me gloriously. I came fairly quickly -- no surprise.

Faith swallowed and moved back, and Boni leaned over and took my now half-soft cock between her lips. We 69'd happily, my tongue probing and crossing her pussy and my hands holding her breasts until she moaned loudly on my cock and came juicily on my face. Faith pulled Boni off me, rolled on her back, positioned Boni between her legs, and said, "It's my turn now." Excited Boni eagerly ate her partner.

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