Target Acquired

I, Simon Kent (obviously not my real name), can't tell you details without violating my proffer with Air Force JAG Corps, which would land me in the USDB at Fort Leavenworth for at least twenty years, but I "resigned" from the Air Force because of a "Target Acquired" incident that the few people who knew about it said could have started WWIII if we didn't get lucky. Fortunately my "resignation" allowed me to keep my military benefits so I went to graduate school on the military's dime at a well-known prestigious Midwestern University in the U. S. after getting out of the service.

Even before I was a military pilot I had a "Target Acquired" mentality which worked both for and against me when I was growing up. It worked for me when I went to tackle running backs, tight ends, and wide receivers from my outside linebacker position in High School including helping me get into "The Zoo" (the US Air Force Academy for those of you not in the know) where I continued to play outside linebacker. My "Target Acquired" mentality worked against me when I became obsessed with some wild-ass scheme or some unattainable female which would eventually get me into big trouble.

When I started graduate school I was twenty eight years old, although I probably looked a little younger. Unfortunately, I had not learned my lesson from the "Target Acquired" incident that got me drummed out of the Air Force (even though I technically "resigned").

I thought that I was doing well in my first semester of my MBA program; at least through midterms I had two As and a B, giving me a GPA of 3.67 on the MBA grading scale, just above the all-student average of 3.60. Then as I was walking on campus one night -- the campus was contiguous with the undergraduate campus for the University -- I saw two guys harassing a girl. They were big dudes but one of my problems -- in addition to my "Target Acquired" personality -- is that I think that I skipped the "fear gene" when they were passed out when I was born. Maybe that's why I became a fighter pilot.

In any event, the two dudes, who seemed like they were drunk, did not like my intervention and one of them swung at me. I then knew that he was drunk because his swing was more of a flail and I blocked most of it so that only a glancing blow landed on my head. The blow-by-blow is not necessary; just let me summarize it. One dude ended up with a concussion, the other a broken arm. I never would have been able to beat both of them if they weren't drunk, but since they were I prevailed without sustaining too much damage.

When I looked around for the damsel in distress she was gone. Campus security arrived within seconds of me breaking the second dude's arm, however, and arrested me despite my protests. In turns out that the two guys were starters on the football team and campus security particularly looked out for athletes, so I got arrested and they got sent to the local Hospital Emergency Room.

The next morning I bailed out of the municipal jail where the campus cops brought me, filed a complaint with the campus police, and hired an attorney. I don't want to relive the various injustices that I suffered over the next month so I'll just highlight them.

--John Werner, The Dean of Students of the MBA program, booted me out of it;

--A negative story appeared about me in the school newspaper;

--I was called a liar, thug and criminal by the head football coach and the two real thugs that I had immobilized; and

--My tuition was not refunded meaning that if I got into another school I'd end up paying some tuition myself because without a refund I couldn't get through the entire MBA program with government dollars.

Things did get better, however. The students who ran the school radio station, particularly two senior guys and a junior girl, did not like the preferential treatment that football players got (just like I got when I played football at The Zoo) so they interviewed me. When I told my story I begged the woman who had been harassed to come forward to support me, and asked if anyone had video footage of the encounter. They must have replayed my interview a dozen times in the next few days and it worked. Not only did the woman come forward but the manager of a local residence hall came forward with an excellent video (no sound), and a random student came forward with a video with sound that didn't cover the entire encounter but was clear enough to make it known that the woman did not like what was being done to her.

You would think that with that Dean Werner would have let me back into school right away and made any accommodation possible to catch me up to my classmates. Instead he was a complete prick about it. He apparently had some problem with people who had been in the military and made it be known that I should have just called campus security and that I didn't have the character that he wanted in their MBA program.

The criminal attorney I had hired I no longer needed because all charges were dropped, but she was incensed at how I had been treated and introduced me to one of the top civil litigators in her firm named Captain Hurst (that isn't his rank, but his name), Captain Hurst just happened to be an ex-Navy fighter pilot. Pro bono Hurst sued the University and Dean Werner individually, and on a contingency fee basis he sued the head football coach and both of the players I had dealt with.

Apparently Captain Hurst was a well-known bad ass in the area because within four months after the suits were filed they were settled completely in my favor. I was reinstated into the MBA program (although obviously I would have to start over at the beginning of the next year since I had missed the second half of the first semester and enough of the second so that it wouldn't be prudent to try and start during it), not only was my tuition refunded (which I had to pay back to the government) but I was given a full scholarship for the entirety of the MBA program and reimbursed for my housing during my "wasted" year. After Captain Hurst's cut I got $40,000 from the football coach and players and a public apology. The players were also suspended from the team for one season by the Student Court for harassing the woman who I intervened on behalf of and for lying to the Campus Police.

Dean Werner did not himself apologize -- even though the Chancellor of the University did -- and I could tell from his attitude that he would do anything he could in the future to screw me if he got the chance.

**********

Despite the angst that it caused me the situation turned out OK. However, I didn't feel that I had gotten enough payback against Dean Werner. I used my time off of school while the litigation was pending to work out, prepare for my classes when I would be reinstated, start a small (very small) business that I hired five undergraduates to run and work at, and to acquire my next target.

I decided that given my "Target Acquired" personality that the way to get revenge against Dean Werner was to fuck his wife. I came to that conclusion only because being out of school and not working full time I had many hours to devote to investigating possible revenge scenarios, and that is the one that most appealed to me.

My thorough investigation determined that Susan Werner, the Dean's wife, was thirty three years old (ten years younger than he was) and that both he and she had an earlier marriage to others that ended in divorce. Susan was not drop dead gorgeous. However, she was sultry as hell and had a major set of headlights. Although not a lush she was also known to have a drinking problem according to the local PI that I hired (I went all out in my investigation once the target was acquired). She apparently had a favorite bar ("The Sanctuary") that she went to when the Dean was entertaining donors or corporate bigwigs, or when he went out of town. The PI also told me where and usually when she went food shopping and where she worked part-time (on the board of the University's health center since Susan had been a registered nurse).

With my free time waiting for the litigation to be settled and to start my MBA program again, I honed in on the target in a subtle manner.

My first interaction with Susan was at the local supermarket, which had one of the store names that Kroger operates under. She was in the produce aisle knocking on honeydew melons to find a ripe one. In my subtle surveillance (stalking?) I had seen her do this once before so I was ready for her. Nonchalantly I walked up to the display and picked up a melon myself. When I saw her knock on about the third melon I chuckled and said "That's not the way to determine if a honeydew is ripe."

"I beg your pardon," she replied, in a humorous not snarky tone.

"I humbly consider myself an expert on honeydew melons and I have two things to go on that never fail me," I smiled.

"Please enlighten me oh wise one," she chuckled.

"When ripe, the color of the rind is a creamy yellow and is smooth and waxy. If you press on the bottom -- the opposite end from where it's attached to the vine," I said while demonstrating on one I had picked out of the bin, "it should feel slightly soft or at least a little springy. Just like this one," I smiled.

She smiled back. "How do you know that that's the right technique?"

"Would you believe that I grew up on a melon farm in California?" I chuckled.

"No," she replied.

"Smart and intuitive woman," I laughed. "I know because these melons have been one of my favorite foods since I was a kid. Would you like the one in my hand -- which is perfectly ripe -- or for me to help you pick out another one?"

"Help me pick one out," she snickered.

We actually had slight body contact when I helped her find just the right one. When she put it in her shopping cart she asked "What if it turns out to be a bad melon?"

"Then contact me and I'll refund the money you paid me to pick out the right one," I chuckled.

"But I didn't pay you," she grinned.

"Touché," I laughed, put my melon in my cart, and scooted away. After I turned a corner I peeked around the aisle and observed Susan. She had a smile on her face. "First step in acquiring the target a 'GO'" I said to myself.

************

I saw Susan one more time in passing in the Kroger about a week later; we both smiled at each other. I asked "Do you need a refund?"

"No, it was one of the best I've ever had," she grinned.

"I'll bet I could do better," I said with a grin before taking off before she asked me what that double entendre actually meant.

The third time I saw her I knew from the MBA program's website that her husband the Dean would be wining and dining big wigs late into the evening so I got to The Sanctuary early and sat at the bar where I could not be missed if Susan showed up. I only had to wait about a half an hour before she did show.

Subtly looking in the mirror behind the bar I saw her look around, see me, hesitate, and then start to walk over. I was sure that she hadn't seen me looking at her in the mirror. She walked over to me, gently bumped her shoulder into mine, and said "Do they serve honeydews here?"

I pretended to do a double take when I saw her, chuckled, and then said "I don't think that they serve honeydew melons, but I bet they DO serve HONEYS drinks. Can I buy you one?"

I ordered her a Cherry Bitch (I was surprised that The Sanctuary sold them, but I guess since she was a regular they made sure that they had the ingredients for her).

We had a pleasant discussion after introducing each other with fake names. I told her that I was Bill West (not Simon Kent, the alias I'm using in this story), and she told me that she was Cheryl Crosby. Since she gave me a fake name I considered that my chances of nailing her just doubled.

We had a great discussion for the next 90 minutes while she consumed four Cherry Bitches and I consumed four Virgin Marys that she thought were Bloody Marys (I had primed the barkeep ahead of time). We danced on their small dance floor to three fast songs from the jukebox and one slow one. They she said "I have to go Bill; thanks for the drinks."

"Are you sure that you're OK to drive?" I asked.

"Yeah -- but you've had just as much to drink as I did," she responded.

"Actually, no I didn't; I told the barkeep before you came one Bloody Mary and the rest Virgin ones -- did you think that I had five Bloody Marys?"

"Why you little shit," she chuckled.

"Let me take you home," I said. "I'll be a perfect gentleman I swear on my daddy's melon patch," I continued, holding up my hand like a Boy Scout swearing to tell the truth.

"I don't want to let you know where I live -- and how will you get back?"

"I'll drive until about a block away, get out, then call an Uber," I replied.

I think that she was feeling a buzz and I knew from my PI that she had had a DUI about eighteen months ago, so I guess she decided to be cautious and handed me her keys.

We had occasional body contact as I drove her toward her house. She had me stop in a high end residential area only about two miles from the bar and where I knew from the PI was about two blocks from her house, and I got out of her car. When she came around from the passenger's side to the driver's side -- I guess that she didn't want to try to slide over since she had bucket seats -- she thanked me for driving her and she gave me a quick kiss on the lips. Even though I had looked at her eyes most of the night when talking, and not at her headlights, I made a point of a quick look at them and then licked my lips before I looked her in the eye and said "My pleasure; maybe I'll see you there again."

"Maybe," she grinned, and then drove away.

Actually I was kind of surprised that I had enjoyed talking with Susan/Cheryl as much as I had; and when her boobs pressed into me during the slow dance I definitely got aroused. I couldn't wait to acquire this target.

***********

Surprisingly it turned out that target acquisition was about as easy as shooting down a Piper Cub with an F-35. Again from the website I knew that Dean Werner would be out of town on a Friday night only ten days after I had seen Susan at The Sanctuary, so again I was there waiting at the bar. This time when we interacted I was much more flirtatious -- and so was she. We danced to a couple of songs on the juke box and then I said "I want to see if they have 'Our Song.'"

"What's 'Our Song'?" she laughed.

"You'll see," I said. I had already looked at the juke box before she came in and knew that they had Watermelon Sugar by Harry Styles, so I played that. When I started slow dancing with her the first time that Styles said "Watermelon" she fake punched me and said "We met over honeydew melons, not watermelons."

"The best I could do," I chuckled; "a melon is a melon."

There are some pretty hot words to that song and I made a point of smashing her chest into mine and that she could feel my little friend saluting. When the song ended I said "The drinks here are expensive; why don't you come to my apartment and I'll make you anything you want."

Twenty minutes later she was naked on my bed and my face was buried in her pussy while both of my hands were working on the best looking large tits that I had ever seen. After she screamed through two orgasms complements of my mouth, tongue, and fingers, I shinned up her body and buried my impossibly hard cock in one push, despite how tight -- but lubricated -- her cunt was.

With Susan/Cheryl's prominent tits pushing into my chest and her apparent ability to ripple her pussy as I stroked in and out I only lasted for a couple dozen strokes before I was ready to blow. I wanted to prolong the feeling because it was sooo good, but when I tried to slow down and think of anything except erupting she clamped her pussy on me like a vise and I shot a surprising number of wads of cum into her pussy, which started pulsating as soon as I shot the first load.

I was surprised that my ejaculation wasn't premature -- seen came right with me after the second salvo -- and she came really hard.

It was quite a while before I regained complete control of my faculties -- control re-started only after my deflating cock popped out of her pussy. When that happened she shinned up the bed a little until one of her major mammaries was even with my mouth and I instinctively started sucking.

While Susan/Cheryl giggled I do believe that I did a good job of sucking both of her nipples and if I was a nursing baby instead of a horny adult probably would have sucked her dry. Finally she lightly slapped me on the side of the head and said "They're just as good for fucking as they are for sucking, dude."

Since I hadn't had a titty fuck since -- sorry, I can't relate details since I would betray one of my mother's friend's confidences -- I didn't have any boob lube. "Will Vaseline work as a lubricant?" I innocently asked.

"No need; I come prepared," she giggled and she reached over for her purse and pulled a tube of something that had the trademarked name "Boob Lube" on it; I always used the term generically -- I hope that they don't sue me (ha, ha).

Anyway, with Susan/Cheryl's excellent assistance and expertise my recovered male member was soon stroking between her ponderous ta-tas. I was grunting while she seemed to be squealing in pleasure. Her boobs must have had millions of nerve endings in them to apparently bring her as much joy as I was feeling. I also humorously noted that while she was pushing her tits together she was lightly manipulating her own nipples.

When I came with a roar on her chest and chin I do believe that it was one of the best ejaculations of my life, enhanced by her almost simultaneous orgasm. I knew from my long-ago previous titty-fucking equipped partner that a woman could come from a tit fuck alone, but the intensity of Susan/Cheryl's really surprised and gladdened me.

We lay in post-coital bliss for a long time, with my cum smeared on both of our chests before we mutually decided that it was time to wash our bodies off -- not only of the cum but because our vigorous carnal activities had left a sheen of sweat on both of us.

We had a nice leisurely shower filled with mirth. "I really like the way that you fuck," she smiled after giving me a quick peck on the lips.

"I think that I like that about you too," I grinned, "but I'm going to have to have another hundred or so of encounters to be sure."

"Bastard," she laughed, then turned off the water and we dried off.

When we got back into the bedroom Susan/Cheryl said "If you want me to spend the night and have a nice wake-up scuffle we need to change the sheets. I don't suppose a single guy like you has an extra set?"

At that moment I was extremely proud that I was a neat freak, something that I was made fun of many times at The Zoo and in the Air Force, because I actually had three sets of sheets, including another clean set. We changed the sheets together, naked -- I loved watching her bit tits bounce up and down as she moved -- and then got under the covers. I spooned her and moved my hand toward her clit but she slapped it away. "I'm too tired tonight but tomorrow morning I'll ride you like you've never been ridden before."

"Sounds like a plan," I mumbled as I kissed the back of her neck, lightly put a hand on her most exposed tit, and soon I was in dreamland.

I do believe that that night I slept better than I had since the "Target Acquired" incident that essentially got me drummed out of the Air Force.

The next morning we both did our business in the bathroom, including brushing teeth -- because of my clear freak nature I had an extra, new, toothbrush for her -- including sponge baths. Then she was true to her word. After sucking me like she was a human vacuum pump Susan/Cheryl mounted me and went to work. I do believe that it was the best cowgirl ride I'd ever experienced especially since even when I sucked or mauled her tits it didn't seem to slow her down in the slightest.