Sex in the Navy

"Are their more homos on subs," joked Beanie.

"Yes," said Branzini, "but mostly bottoms, so it's easy to get laid underwater. A guy with a hard-on a submarine is as sought after as the Holy Grail. Shit, I heard of a cook who mixed viagra into the blue jello just to help keep the party going."

"Do your shipmates use condoms?" said Beanie.

"Not if you want to get pregnant, Dolly," said Branzini,

"Listen, guys, let me be honest with you. The Navy is the greatest floating fuck game in the world. You can give or take. Take my advice, gentlemen, it's best to forget about pussy while you are on the high sea. When you are on shore leave, you are free to catch whatever STDs are out there. Uncle Sami will cure you. But on the high seas, it's catch as catch can and what you can catch is cock. Onboard, you will get fucked every which way you like. I guarantee you, Bob."

"Who the fuck is Bob," said the Bean.

"It's just an expression Beanie."

"Ok, I got it."

We looked at each other.

"Sounds good, sign us up."

"Totally," said Beanie.

We signed all the enlistment papers. The Chief had us sign our name on top of the test form. He said he'd take care of filling it out.

When we finished, two girls came back. Branzini welcomed them and ushered us out, closing the door and pulling down the shade.

That same week we got letters from the Navy office based in San Diego telling us to report in 18 days. Naturally, we thought we were supposed to report to San Diego.

We took a bus from Texas west across the country to the port of San Diego. Jeez, we 'd ended up in the wrong place. It seems we didn't turn the paper over to see where we should have been.

Whatever, we had a few beers and spent the night at the Motel 6. What a dive. I liked the motel because you could see a lot of sexy whores parading outside. I got so horny watching the whores that I could hardly sleep on my stomach, so in the interests of a good night's sleep I took a tube of the lotion, you find that stuff in motels and enjoyed a good hard pull on the key to eternity, that is, a good wank. Beanie disappeared for a few hours, he said he visited a gym, but his gait seemed a bit more wide-legged than usual.

We reported to the local recruiter who turned over the notice and told us we should have gone to Boot Camp at the Great Lakes Naval Training Center in Illinois. He informed us that it was a 7-9 week program to prepares guys to serve in the Fleet. That is where the raw recruit learns "Navy customs, etiquette, mental and physical fitness while emphasizing the discipline required for success." But, the booklet said. It left out a whole bunch of things. Besides, "Honor, Courage and Commitment," it left out any mention of gay sex, although that certainly requires an extra bit of commitment if you ain't gay. If what turns you on is pink pussy and there ain't none on board, you gotta make do. As Ralph Cramden says, that might be a "revoltin development?"

The recruiting station gave us vouchers for the long bus trip north. We boarded the bus and were greeted by a large black female driver, tits as big as watermelons.

"My name is Lucille Williams, I am yo driver." She looked at the two of us and handed Beanie and me a large empty plastic cups, with them thin plastic lids.

"Yeah, mam, what's this for?"

"Honey child, when this trip is over, I gotta clean the bus. That there cup is for you to use, in case you gotta pee before we arrive at a station. Do not, I repeat, do not pee in the back of the bus. You got it?"

"Yes, Mam," said Beanie, "I don't reckon I'll hafta pee in it, but I might jerk off. That does make a stinky mess after a few days."

"You got that right, so just use the cup."

"Yes, Mam," said the Bean.

Meanwhile, Illinois was over 2000 miles northeast. I guess they call it that because did I get sick on the bus for the first few hours, maybe cause the exhaust was ducting into our seats air conditioner.

The Greyhound bus slowed at every railroad crossing and took about two days to get to the Great Lakes Area. New passengers boarded. We were treated to some nasty meals at the terminal's greasy spoons.

In a way, it was like being on a boat ride with a big busty bus driver captaining the flotilla. You might have thought she was looking out for you, but you weren't sure. You got on the bus a few minutes before take-off because you weren't confident the big boobed driver would wait for you.

About halfway to our destination, a short fat girl, Lucy, got on the bus. She made a beeline to the seat across from me. This girl had tattoos up and down her arms. Several started at her ankles and worked there way up, probably right to her pussy.

I left Beanie to fend for himself. I started chatting her up. Pretty soon, I'd moved over to sit next to her. Rena was about 20 years old. She had dark stringy hair, two mushy tits in a cheap bra, and those bloomer panties that are just disgusting.

I could feel that one tit was bigger than the other. Yeah, I got to first base pretty quick. All us guys are pussy hunters. Since she was the only candy store on that bus, I decided to do business with her and grab her by her lemon drop.

Unfortunately, Lucy was a motor mouth. Just would not shut up. All she could talk about, while I was checking out her sagging tits, was her ex who had cheated on her. Isn't cheating what guys do? What did she expect and what she was doing with me?

But, like the song says, "look on the bright side." Lucy was really friendly, with a cute southern accent. Fuck it, she was letting me do just about anything to her. It was so dark I couldn't even see her face. Who cares if she wasn't beautiful? Lucy's moaning, the vibrations of the bus tires, the whole sordid act gave me an erection that liked to bust my jean zipper. I managed to get a finger inside her short shorts, which wasn't easy as she filled them out real tight. When I finally gave up on the side entry, she unzipped her shorts, and I got a handful of damp pubic hair so coarse it felt like sandpaper.

Just a little diddle did her, and she orgasmed like a wild hyena. I had to stuff my shirt in her mouth to calm her down. Then there was a brief moment of silence before she started in again, talking about this ex. Fortunately, this was a girl who could do two things at once. Lucy kept talking as she unzipped my jeans and carefully maneuvered my swollen cock and balls past the dangerous zipper and right into her warm mouth.

As Lucy bent over me, I held onto her bare breast. Somehow I'd managed to unhook that stupid bra. I was enjoying a repay blow job. You gotta admit, she was into payback, a fair shooter, but I was the shooter, and she pulled my trigger. As I came, Lucy swallowed it all. That cut the talking for a few moments as she struggled to wolf it all down.

I handed her a half a can of beer to finish off the swallowing act, and she drained it like a champ, then crushed it and threw under the seat. What would the bus driver lady say when she saw that trash?

Just before we got to our destination, Lucy got off in some small hick town on the outskirts of Chicago. She kissed me on the cheek and gave me her Facebook page and a firm cock squeeze as she was leaving. I gave her hug, grabbed her tits for one last time, and slid my hand inside along her shorts to feel her warm ass cheeks. Then Lucy was gone. I guess we both knew we'd never see each other again, although we acted like we were lovers for life.

As the bus pulled out, I realized I should have asked Lucy to do me the favor of blowing my buddy, isn't that what friends are for? But Beanie had disappeared. I walked to the back of the bus. What the fuck, I found the Bean in close connection with an older guy. I left them alone, but it looked like someone's elbow was moving back and forth, each one jerking off the other. I guess Beanie was practicing up for the Navy.

Another hour passed. The bus pulled into the Harrison Street Greyhound Bus Station in West Chicago. I didn't mention it before, but for most of the trip, Beanie must have been jerking off into that cup. I had never realized Bennie was so highly sexed. By the time we arrived at our destination, the cup was full of cum and capped with a thin plastic lid.

We gathered up our stuff and moved to the front of the bus. Beanie paused and handed the cup to the female bus driver, saying, "I didn't want to leave without giving you a reminder of how exciting this trip was."

She must have understood, the lid was leaking cum. She scowled and said,

"Sonny, you have to make the best of it. A bus trip is like a hurricane, you either ride with it or against it."

"Yeah, whatever," said Beanie, always the wise-ass, "think of the life force in this cup as the cream in your coffee."

We climbed down the bus stairs into the cold Illinois air and headed

over to the station's cafe to get a cup of wake up java. We met a few recruits from New Jersey, they sure talked funny, right through their noses. They offered us a lift. We all got into their old station wagon and headed out to Boot Camp. The car was kinda crowded. The guy next to me put his arm around my shoulder, but good manners kept me from say'n anything.

He whispered in my ear, "You ain't positive, are ya?"

"I'm positive I'd like ya to take your hand off my cock."

"Sorry," he said, "no problemo. I guess the little guy (referring to Beanie) would get jealous."

"Yeah, he thinks he owns my dick." I was learning how to play along.

"When he's not around, I'll give ya a great blow job."

"I'll bet you can." Then I noticed he was a bit plump in his pants leg.

"Do you like to take it in the ass," I teased.

"Oh, you know I do, sweetheart."

Meanwhile, something was going on in the back seat with Beanie and two other guys. I was sorry I'd thrown away my cup. But I didn't say anything.

My new found lover turned to look back and said,

"You know, honey, what is good for the goose is good for the gander."

I had no idea what he was talking about, but his hand was back on my dick and damned if I wasn't getting hard. As he started to unzip my jeans, I whispered,

"Later we will do everything, I feel funny doing it in the car with all these guys watching."

"I understand," he offered. He took a really long time before he withdrew his wet hand.

The guys who gave us the ride, and then some, drove us all the way to the Great Lakes Recruit Training Command just north of Chicago. Everyone called it "Boot Camp."

Once we arrived, it was a blast. We mixed with a bunch of cool guys from all over. The first few days, we spent our time waiting in lines, getting name tags, and answering crazy questions. I guess waiting teaches patience to the enlisted men. At nights we went drinking, but we were required to be back in our bunks at a fixed hour.

Beanie managed to fit his needs into the program. He would go to the bathroom to jerk off at least once or twice a day. I noticed a tall black sailor, a Willie Williamson, who excused himself at the same time. Out of concern for my buddy, I followed them into the bathroom. When I poked my head in, there was Beanie, trousers down, bare-assed, spread-eagled against the Barack wall. Willie was ramrodding him from behind. At the same time, Beanie was managing to wank off with his right hand. Seeing my bud was ok, I was content. It just wasn't my thing.

On Tuesday, we all got on a medical line where the Doc plays with your ball to make sure you ain't got no hernia, whatever that is. I'm guess'n it's some disease you pick up from too much jerk-in off. I didn't understand why the Doc had'ta jam his fingernail into my nuts. Man, that hurt. Then there was this sexy nurse who makes you open your mouth so she can examine your teeth. If any are loose or they send you over to the dentists where they fix you up right quick.

The next day we go down another line where some good looking nurses tell you to stick out your arm and wham. They stick ya with what they call an "inoculation." That shit hurts for a few days. Some guys even got sick from it, but I was ok. Still, my arm was so sore, I had to use the other hand to get some sleep. We also had to line up to set up a bank account to receive our pay.

The real fun begins when you meet your Drill Instructor, very seri-assed persons. You address him as "Petty Officer." Calling him "Sir" is like giving him the finger, they go crazy on ya. But if you play along, they ain't too bad.

Sometimes he'd pinch my ass to check if my uniform was tight enough. Once he made me drop my drawers to pull up my underpants when they saw a wrinkle underneath, he sure spent a long time pull-in. It was all about us looking sharp. He'd march us around like a bunch of marionettes. That was fun. I never did understand what marching had to do with being in the Navy.

Around that time, we got our first paycheck. The government doesn't give cash, they send money to your bank account. If you screwed up and lose the account number, there ain't no way to get paid. No pay means no booze, and no whore fucking 'cause the whores congregate in the bars around enlisted men on payday. The straight guys go for the girls, but there are gay and tranny prostitutes for those who want them. If all the women get taken, at least you have an option.

The night I got paid, I met a really nice girl in the "Hard Times" bar. She reminded me of Wanda. She was a big black girl with those braided ropes of hair. We danced a few times. I liked the feel of her big tits against my chest. She said,

"Let's take a walk on the wild side so I can smoke a cigarette."

She sure was sophisticated, as soon as we walked outside, the lady reached into my pants and started playing with my cock. I realized the dreams I had about Wanda, my fantasy cheerleader, was on its way to being accomplished.

"Honey, I know a place."

I followed her behind a boathouse where she laid down on the thick-cut grass. She began rubbing my package through my pants. I was expecting to get a blow job.

"What is your name, Darling?" I asked her. Oh my, she smelled so good.

"You can call me Billie or whatever you like." Then she started licking the inside of my ear.

"Can I call you, Wanda?" I whispered as I started sucking her jugs.

I knew this night was going to end with me making love to her. I reached up under her short tight skirt to finger her pussy when something significantly substantial caught my attention.

"Would you rather I fucked you?" said Billie.

Oh my God, was Billie a tranny? I had her stiff cock in my hand, or was I mistaken. Wanda didn't have a cock, maybe it was just a big clit."

Sometimes knowledge ain't what you want to find under a mini skirt. It was a little too late to stop. I sure didn't want to insult this beauty.

"No, sweetheart," I said, "I'm not ready to be on the receiving end."

So sweet Billie rolled over, handed me a condom, and readied herself.

"Honey, this ain't gonna fit."

She reached out and grabbed my raw cock.

"Oh my, you do have a big one."

"So do you, darling."

"Yes, my clit is big, but it's a sweet pussy."

"So what should I do, my love?"

"Well, if the glove don't fit, you must not quit," she remarked. Wow, I thought, the girl was a poet.

So I proceeded to fit my erection inside the young woman's pussy. She seemed quite pleased with the experience and kept saying,

"Oh my God, you are raping me, I'm a virgin."

"Should I stop."

"Oh no, don't stop, just keep raping me."

I gotta say, wherever she put my wang, it sure felt like a pussy. Maybe she was one of those hermaphrodites with a cock and a pussy. It was too dark to tell, but I sure needed a good fuck. Ok, I came kinda fast. I was really horny. When we finished, Billie asked me if I could lend her a hundred. Of course, I could, I just ponied it up. I felt right about our time together. I assumed after our encounter, we were now going steady.

"We should have a song," I said.

"Sure, babe, you are my steady man. Our song is 'Lola.'"

I didn't know how that went. But if Billie liked that, it was alright with me. My dick was still leaking, so she bent over and sucked it clean. Billie gave me a wet napkin like they give you in a seafood restaurant to wipe yo hands. It worked really nice to wipe my cock. I was still dripping cum drops onto the sidewalk.

"Just take your time honey, we don't want you to get your pants all wet."

She was such a nice girl, I guess she just had a big clit. Some big girls do. In any event, she was special and unique. I was already thinking of getting a red heart tattoo with her name inside. Maybe a nude mermaid with a big clit. I'd hafta look in the tat books at the store where them artists is.

With your pay in your pocket, you begin to feel like a sailor. Now we started three real tough weeks of training. You are probably thinking, is when they really do. They also have swimming lessons for the sinkers. A lot of good that is going to do when a shark is chasing your pecker out in the Pacific, but for love of country and cunt, you do whatcha gotta do.

I always thought the Statue of Liberty was kinda sexy. That pointed punk hair doo she's got going for her and that long dress really turns me on. At any minute, she's gonna lift it up to show you her sweet puss. She's holding that light so you can find her ass in the dark. It just gets my old pecker firm, but that cause I'm so patriotic. I'm sure she's got a pistol hidden under that dress just to stress how important the 2nd amendment is for all of us. God bless her. I'll bet she's got a big clit.

Around this time in Boot Camp, you gotta sit and listen to some suited straight shooter who addresses the group with some mumbo jumbo about rape and sexual harassment, like talking about it after the fact or the fuck is going to matter. I didn't pay much attention to that. It seems sailors just love fucking around.

That same day they gave us the rough fitting of our sailor outfit. They issue you a dress uniform that looks like it would fit a guy three times your size, but then they send you to a little wood-frame building, more like a hut, where a few gay tailors adjust the uniform so your nuts show. I don't know why you gotta get measured in the nude, but ya learn real quick not to argue with them. For some reason they wanted to get Beanie's outfit just right, I'm thinking because he is a bit short. They took Beanie in the backroom to be measured, but he didn't complain. I think they stuck him with a pin a few times cause I heard him shout,

"Don't stick me so fast," or was it, "Don't dick me so fast."

When he rejoined the group, he was carrying a plastic cup. I guess they liked him. A few days later, we got our duds back. They sure looked sharp. A little tight around the crotch for my taste. Beanie had to go back a few extra times till they could get it right.

There are a bunch of written tests to see if you've learned all the shit they've taught in the last few weeks. I wasn't sure about some of the stuff, but since everyone was cheating, I did too, sometimes you gotta do things for your country that isn't precisely right.

As you've seen in the movies, to learn stuff, you get yelled at a lot. But you do learn some useful stuff, like how to use a lifesaver. Ya gotta throw 'em near the guy in the water but don't hit him in the head. I liked the fire extinguisher exercise, I knocked a lot of flies out of the air practicing with that, what a gas. Then the team training period when you are taught that if a sailor dies, you've still got a drag the bugger's body back to the boat, I mean shit. I didn't understand that, if he dead, whatcha gonna do with him? Is he gonna row the boat?

They also teach you a few knots you probably learned in the cub scouts, like the square and the slip knot, that some knucklehead kept calling it the "lip knot." Beanie seemed familiar with that stuff. He called them BSM knots. They taught us how to put a bandaid on a cut finger after first dousing it with iodine. That was a tough, that stuff burns. And all the time in between, they are busting your ass. Some of the fat guys who started with us quit about this time, I'm think-in of the guy in the station wagon. Beanie and me are made of more potent stuff. We carried on with the sit-ups, push-ups, and all the other exercises, even when the instructor tied Beanie up to a bunk and locked the door so we couldn't see him escape. Beanie fooled everyone, he got his clothes off and got free of the knots.