In Free-Fall

Please note, all the names are fake because I didn't want to put anybody in a bad position, and this, this is a story of that ageless concept.

*

It was a beautiful drop. We were no Golden Knights, so as rank amateurs we felt pretty proud at having managed to put together a six-man star. Actually, five men and one woman, but that woman might just as well have been another man. I looked up as the UH-I we'd managed to secure for the day, flew overhead with another load of jumpers. It was a good thing that we were military because as civilians we'd never have been able to afford this kind of ride. Anyway, back to our star -- we'd closed it in under forty seconds, leaving us a whole ten seconds to fly it, break apart and dump parachutes to land safely. We were by no means National Competition quality, I mean, we still had to cut it down by twenty seconds to even be considered as a competitive team, but -- Damn, it felt good!

On the walk back to the assembly area, I collected Joyce and Spiller and we gabbed about how we'd come in and what we each thought we should be doing to close faster, and cut our times down. Closer to the assembly area, I spotted a few new parachutes, the popular model was the Para-Commander. Squares, the ram-airs were just beginning to gain a recognition and I noticed that one of the new parachutes was a Square. I dropped my Para-Commander, my "PC," in a clear spot, stripped off my jumpsuit and walked over to have a look at, and maybe, try to borrow it for a quick drop. I'd never jumped with one and I really wanted to try it out.

My eyes were too full of parachute to notice the good-looking chubby brunette seated on the parachute harness. The equipment, as it turned out, belonged to a good friend of mine named William Jackson. Jackson had more money than brains, I used to say. His parents back home in Biloxi owned a real estate business and whatever he wanted they got for him. He and I talked parachutes, characteristics and performance of the ram-air compared to the Para-Commander. Because he was a friend, I mentioned that I'd like to try and fly it, one of these days. He hinted that he might let me use it next weekend since he was having some surgery on his knee the Friday before. I told him that I'd certainly love the opportunity. I finally noticed the pretty lady sitting on his parachute harness maintaining back pressure for him to properly pack the parachute.

The brunette was very good-looking and my type of woman. She had a nice-sized rack, somewhere in the larger 40's and probably double-D's, beautifully rounded side and wide-hipped and black, probably Jackson's girlfriend, I thought. I smiled at her and said hi, she smiled and said hi back. Jackson looked around and told her to tighten it back a little more. She pushed her heels into the ground and pushed back, adding pressure to the lines. He looked at me and back at her and said for me to keep my hands to myself whenever I was around his sister. I chuckled and stood, I had "the Duty" that night and had to report in by 1700 which was about an hour away.

"Hello, Jackson's sister," I smiled at her again, "my name is Martìn Garcìa, but I'll let you call me Marti."

"Gina," she smiled as Jackson shook his head, "short for Regina Jackson."

"Well, Miss Gina," I smiled, "are you staying with your brother?" I shoved my arms into the sleeves of the shirt I'd been carrying, "breaking starch" as I talked and adjusted the SDNCO brassard on my sleeve.

"Yes," she smiled up at me, "yes I am," she kept smiling and looking up at me sideways, "are you always so "on" with people?" she suddenly asked.

"Okay, Gina," Jackson spoke up, "I'm done here, get off so I can stow the lines."

"Yes, SIR," she laughed at him, "yes, I am," she answered me.

I reached down and helped her up onto her feet. She was very pretty, she was short and, like I said my style of woman, short and adorably plumpish, not fat, far from it, just small and nicely rounded. "Good," I grinned holding my ground and standing less than a hand's width from her heavy tits.

"Answer her, Garcìa," Jackson called without turning, "are you always so "on," huh?" he threw the bagged parachute into the back-pack.

"I'll answer for him," Jackson grinned cruelly, hoping to destroy my chances with his sister, "in one word, yes. When it comes to women, he's always "on," so watch him carefully."

"May I call you?" I ignored Jackson, "I've got the "dirty duty" tonight, but I'm off after my night's duty and I'd like to call and see if we can't go have lunch or something."

"Hmm," she teased, "what do you say William, should I talk to this man?" she continued to smile, so I knew what the answer was going to be regardless of what "William" said. I smiled right back at her as I pulled my beret on my head.

"No!" he called vehemently, "not just no, but HELL NO!" he quickly slipped the locking pins home and stowed the pilot chute that was the rip-cord, something that was beginning to gain favor with skydivers, "that goddamn sneaky pete'll have your drawers hanging from his belt before you even realize he's trying to get what's in 'em!"

"Okay," she smiled, "call me around ten-ish, I like shrimp, okay?"

"I don't know why I even bother," Jackson muttered turning away.

I gave her the three-fingered boy scout salute.

"Are you really a Green Beret?"

"Special Forces," I responded automatically, "Green Berets are head-gear, and yes, I'm a certified, card-carrying Special Forces trooper, and I can even show you my Special Forces coin."

"Okay, Mr. Card--Carrying Special Forces trooper," Jackson stood up, towering over me, "enough's enough, don't you have to leave about now?"

"Tomorrow," Gina laughed, "okay?"

"Absolutely," I grinned and checked my watch. I had fifteen minutes to make my fifteen minute briefing before assuming the responsibility for the battalion.

Jackson stood there glowering fiercely. I thumped him in the belly and turned to walk to my car, smiling at Gina as I did.

"Yowp!" Jackson grunted, bending a little.

I could hear Gina, "aw, William, I'm old enough to take care of myself," and she giggled.

The duty was pretty routine, I issued travel orders to several soldiers departing on leaves, supervised the clean -up crew, fellow soldiers performing penance under Article 15's, made my entries in the log, and was chewing out a pissed-off junior NCO who didn't believe that he had to physically handle a mop on the cleanup crew because he "was an NCO." I was informing him, in rather crude terms, the error in his line of thinking, that he was on punishment cleanup duty which meant that he had no rank in this situation. I was in the middle of my tirade and just hitting my stride when Jackson's voice sounded behind me.

"At ease, Sergeant," he bawled out in his deep bass voice, "we have a lady on the post."

"To your duty," I interrupted myself. The buck sergeant gave me a dirty look, but he was a professional and took his mop.

"Sergeant Jackson," I roared, turning to him, fully prepared to lay in on him as well, but there was Gina looking wide-eyed at me. She did have a lovely pair of hazel eyes. Suddenly she smiled, dazzling me with it's brilliance.

"Isn't what you told him a physical impossibility," she began to laugh as she recalled what I'd been suggesting to the young sergeant.

I didn't even blink, "he's a professional, and if I require it of him, he'll get it done," at that Jackson roared in laughter, Gina joined him, and I soon joined in, seeing the absurdity of my last statement.

She walked up to me and slipped an arm around my waist, wiping the tears of laughter off her face with the other. Jackson's laughter stopped as soon as he saw my arm drape around her shoulders.

"Oh, go do your paperwork," she waved him off, "I'll wait for you right here with Marti while you do it, you don't need my distractions,"

"I don't know why I even bother," Jackson muttered as he strode away.

I stepped into the Battalion Commander's office and borrowed his well cushioned office chair, and set it beside mine. She thanked me and I told her that she was very welcome. I quickly made the required notations in the duty log and picked up the phone, entered the Brigade net, and waited to report to the Brigade Duty Officer.

"Third Battalion, Negative SitRep," I stated when my turn came, listening to him say, "roger, roger, Third Battalion Negative SitRep, over."

"Third Battalion, off the net, out," I hung up.

"Ooh, military talk," she grinned.

"Absolutely," I smiled at her, "nothing but military talk on a military installation," she laughed again.

"I've got to make an inspection round of the building," I stood up after making the required notations, "walk with me?" I held out a hand to her.

"Ooh, yes," she smiled suspecting what I felt like doing, were I given half a chance.

I usually started in the basement and worked my way up, get a view of the "lake" by the Rod and Gun Club, but I thought it over and started the tour upstairs. I checked the various areas that a good fire-watch was required to check, checking the various coffee pots to make sure they were unplugged, no classified documents were out in the open, and the clean-up crews were doing their jobs properly. I kept up a steady conversation, finding out a lot more about her than she probably wanted to say. She was 26 had a 12 year old girl and a 10 year old boy. It had taken her to the age of 17 before she "learned her lesson." The girl's name was Natasha and the boy's name was Joshua. It kind of surprised me that she had a 12 year old, she must have been around 14 when she had her. It didn't stop anything, I figured that at least she knew what was what and wouldn't be surprised by "things." So we went on. I checked the areas the cleaning crew had finished, that way once they were done, all I'd have to check were the downstairs areas.

My last check on our impromptu tour was in the basement, making sure that the electric switching for the furnace and air conditioning were functional. There was also a stack of mattresses down there, along with bedding and cots. In case of necessity or national or natural emergencies, the staff had something to sleep on.

Gina prodded the mattresses as I looked over the switches and inspected the rest of the basement. I switched off the flashlight, an L shaped military light, as I turned. She lay back on the stacked mattresses, her sandals off and a knee bent as she lay there. Her skirt had slid down the upraised knee, showing what looked like a pair of black panties underneath.

"Ya done foolin' around, soulja boy," she asked in a husky voice.

"Yeah," I grinned running my eyes appreciatively over her curvaceous body.

She smiled sexily up at me as I stepped up to her.

"Gimme a taste, honey doll," she murmured, "tomorrow I'm gonna fuck your brains out, but tonight just gimme a taste," she opened her legs and I realized that she wasn't wearing any panties, just her black bush.

"Just a taste?" I echoed excitedly unbuttoning my fatigue trousers and letting my suddenly stiff cock out into the open air.

"Ooh," she whispered, "nice. Just put it right her," she patted her pussy, "gimme a taste," and she pulled me by the hips, guiding me where she wanted it.

I didn't want to lie down, so I pulled her hips around so she lay crosswise on the mattresses and lifted her heavy thighs up, laying her heels on my shoulders.

"Ss-ss-ss, ooh, yas, baby," she whispered.

I was stiff and so hard that I hurt. Without hesitation, and wondering how long Jackson upstairs, would be, I thrust my cock between her dusky pussy lips.

"Wha-ha-ooh," she cried out, "oh, baby, yes, sir, that feels goo-ood," she sighed and reached down to caress my arms.

She felt a little loose, but she was soft and warm inside, and besides, most sex is in the mind, anyway. I slowly built up the tempo as I pounded into her. She cried out then grunted as she came for the first time. I was in a rush, I thought I heard a chair scraping upstairs and footsteps. She came again, wailing softly in her pleasure. I slammed into her harder and harder until I finally unloaded my cum-load in her pussy.

"Aaa-agg-gg-ghh-hh," she groaned trying to keep her voice down, "oh, God, that was good," she whimpered, and suddenly cocked her ear, I had heard it too, "oh, God he's coming downstairs, isn't he?"

I hurriedly pulled up my drawers and fatigue trousers, buckled my belt and threw my pistol belt back around my waist. Gina was fumbling around, still a little dazed from her several orgasms, trying to find her panties. I spotted the red pair of bikinis on the floor beside the mattresses and hurriedly handed them to her. She stared at them dopily, turning them over and over in her hands, trying to figure out which way was up, still under the influence of those short intense cums. Her pussy was oozing my cum so I grabbed the panties and shoved them up her sodden pussy, using a couple of fingers to tamp them in and pulled her to her feet. My fingers up her pussy must have done the trick, because she flinched with the thrill and stood up. She gave me a quick tongue as I pulled her to the stairs and had her grab the back of my pistol belt as I started up the stairs.

". . . so we have to make sure that all the switches are on, or else the air con . . ." I looked up, "Sergeant Jackson!' I acted surprised, "I was just finishing up an impromptu tour of the place with your sister."

He glared at us suspiciously for a few seconds, staring from one to the other then back again. We tried to look as innocent as cherubs, but we must have been giving off warm vibes.

"Hmph!" he turned and walked back upstairs, "I don't know why I even bother," he mumbled.

"Where was I," I looked back and grinned, winking at her.

She giggled, walking with her thighs tight together, "you were saying about all the switches being on for something," she smiled and let go of the pistol belt, instead she ran her hand down my ass and slipped it between my legs to caress my cock.

"Yes," I hopped a little, "air conditioning, heating and some other crap," I reached down and grabbed her fingers between my legs. She giggled and we grab-assed a little on the way up. She asked for the bathroom and I showed her to The Commandant's bathroom and went back to make my entries in my Duty NCO Log. She came out walking a little straighter a few minutes later. I stood and walked toward her, hearing Jackson's thumping boot steps.

"Don't forget, call me in the morning," she called as he grabbed her hand and yanked her out with him. She smiled and touched my hand, passing me her cum soaked panties as she hopped to keep from being yanked off her feet. His nose was pretty good, so chances were that he had smelled the unmistakable odor of sex on both of us.

"Will do," I waved. She waved back as Jackson jerked the car into gear.

I snuck a sniff and shoved the panties in my pocket. The rest of the night went by a little faster, I had enjoyed our little tryst, in spite of having to rush, and I was looking forward to getting off in the morning. Yeah, getting off and getting off a couple more times. I grinned to myself.

The cleaning crew finally got to the Duty Office at about the same time I needed to call in to the Brigade Duty Officer with my Negative SitRep and stepped out of the room to let them clean in peace. I threw open the side door and found the young buck sergeant standing there with a cigarette in his hand.

"Is your tour done, sergeant," I stared at him.

"Ah, well, sarge, I ah . . . "

"Smoke your cigarette and report back to me, I'll write you a clean bill for your First Sergeant," I turned back to go in.

"Uh, Sarge," he stopped me.

"Yes?"

"Thanks, I appreciate that, Sarge."

I stopped at the door and looked back at him, "was that you that tossed the milk on that dumb-ass lieutenant?"

"Um, yeah, sure was," he half-grinned.

"Damn pussy," I frowned at him, "should'a slugged him instead," I strode back into the Duty Office.

I wrote up the Disposition Form for the Sergeant Jeffrey Owens and set it aside, pulled out the latest James Bond book I had started and sat back reading the same line over and over, remembering Gina's soft, hot pussy. Damn, it was good.

Around 0400 I called in my last report to Brigade and the young Sergeant Owens stepped up with the cleaning crew. He asked if there was any other instructions. I told him that as far as I was concerned, they were done. Just clean up your gear and put it away and they could go take a nap in the coffee room until 0600. They all smiled and said "thanks, Sarge" and ambled out. Sergeant Owens turned as well, but I called him back.

"Sergeant," I handed him the Disposition Form, "now, I'm just talking, okay?" he nodded, "but had it been me and that jack-ass lieutenant had pulled that stunt on me, I would have hit him so hard, it would have taken him several days to wake up, you know what I mean?" he nodded again and started to say something, I fended him off with a hand, "I'm still just talking. Now I'm a combat soldier, Sergeant Owens, I'm not some piss-ant that stands there and waits for a boot to come crushing it's little world into oblivion. I have my pride as a combat soldier and no one will step on it. I would have taken the punishment for taking him down, but I guarantee you he would have never pulled that shit again," I waved him away, not wanting to listen to anymore of his whining.

At 0530 I walked into the break room and told them to go, it was close enough to 0600 and breakfast was being served now. There was no hesitation. Sergeant Owens looked at me, cocked a thumb up and smiled.

"I am a combat soldier, Sarge," and he strode out of there with his shoulders squared back and his head held high.

"Fucking leg!" I snorted under my breath shaking my head.

I closed out my log as the Battalion XO walked in with the Sergeant Major. I saluted the XO and turned in my paperwork to the Sergeant Major.

"Everything go okay?" Sergeant Major asked.

"Eminently," I grinned thinking of Gina last night and looking forward to Gina this afternoon.

He gave me an odd look, shook his head and told me to "get the fuck" out of there and go get some sleep.

He didn't have to tell me twice, I grabbed my reading material and notepad and walked out whistling "A Happy Tune." I swung by my Company Orderly Room and reported to First Sergeant. He released me from duty for the day and I made my way home, a small apartment in Silver City by Raeford.

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I had showered and cleaned up, laying back in my skivvis figuring on a nap until 0930 or so then getting on the phone to Jackson's quarters.

Jackson's wife was tight with the pennies, so she had them in on-post quarters to save money, never mind that his folks kept them in the "style to which he'd become accustomed." She was putting every penny she could get into a savings account. I guess she was putting back for a "rainy day" when and if Jackson wasn't around. He had drawn the line when it came to his skydiving activities. She kept her nose out of his sports and he let her have his paychecks to put away.

Anyway as I said, I was relaxing in my skivvies and had the morning news on when the phone rang. I groaned, usually when it rang this soon after a duty night meant bad news. I sat up and sighed figuring I'd have to get back into my fatigues and head back on post. Instead, I heard a soft breathy female voice.

"Hi, Marti," it sounded like Melanie, but not quite, Melanie's voice was a little more husky, besides she'd gone to visit her folks in Tennessee.

"I enjoyed last night," Gina's sensuous voice caressed my ears as I grinned, "I just wanted to thank you, it was goo-oo-ood."