The week after Pat extracted her pound of flesh (literally) from Angel (See Pat The Barmaid - Round Two) we were out at sea when the Captain got on the 1MC (announcing system) to inform the crew that we'd shortly be heading up to the Philly Shipyard to have some experimental equipment installed. He also said that we'd be up there for about 10 weeks. He was informing us so that we could plan accordingly.
When we finally tied up at the Norfolk Destroyer-Submarine (Des-Sub) Piers I went to the bar to inform Pat. In the period before we headed up to Philly Pat fucked me silly. She was back to her old ways; we fucked, we didn't make love.
On the way North the Chief and 1st Class got us together to lay out our work schedule in the yards. My job was to chip the paint off the 40 mm gun director tub just aft of the no. 2 stack and repaint it. I hated that damn thing. It stood about 20 feet off the deck and was almost even with the watch cap on no. 2 stack. At general quarters you got to eat, breath, and chew all of the junk spewing out of the stack and for the next 2 or 3 days food, coffee, and even cigarettes would taste like stack gas.
At least we'd be cold iron (boilers not lit off) so I wouldn't have to breath those damn fumes.
After we arrived and got settled in the yard it was time to go to work. I rigged a Bosun's chair, secured the airline for my pneumatic scaler and chipping hammer got into the chair, pulled myself up to the director tub top and started to remove the old haze gray paint. I stayed up there in that chair all day except for lunch. At knock off ships work I lowered myself to the deck and tried to stand but my groin exploded in pain to the point I let out a yell as my feet touched the deck.
There were two other Fire Control Strikers in the vicinity, each working on other gun directors. They rushed over and after a short discussion one held me up while the other pulled the chair off of me. Together they supported me as we headed for Sick Bay.
In Sick Bay Doc told me to pull my dungarees and skivvy shorts down. We were going to get up close and personal again as Doc had already seen more of me then is right and proper for two people not married and especially when they are both of the same sex (See Pat The Barmaid - Round Two). Doc put a finger against my scrotum and pushed up. The pain exploding in my groin was horrible.
Doc said that he couldn't be sure, but it was possible that I had a hernia. He was going to have me taken to the Naval Hospital for examination. At the hospital it turned out I didn't have a hernia but I did have a badly pulled groin muscle that was going to require some bed rest. While the doctor was examining me he got real interested in my ass. After playing with it (I assumed) for a bit he informed me that I had a cyst on my tail bone that needed to be removed immediately.
The operation and recovery took over two months so I'd been re-assigned to another destroyer in Norfolk (that was apparently the law at the time). I rode the train to Norfolk and checked aboard my new home to be informed that it was deploying to join the US 6th Fleet in the Med the following week. In the mean time I wasn't going to be assigned to a duty section because the watch bill was being reorganized for the deployment.
Jesus you're alright! Heading for the Med and no duty for the next week, Yahoo!
To you out there who haven't served, that didn't mean I didn't have to work. I still had to put in a normal work day, just no duty nights.
Pat made sure that I returned to the ship freshly fucked each morning.
Finally the morning dawned for us to get underway, and the ships in my Destroyer Squadron backed out from the piers, formed up in a single column, headed out to sea, and ultimately through the Straits of Gibraltar into the Med to join the US 6th. Fleet. The story of that 6 month deployment would make a story in itself, but not here.
Two items of note for me: The first was that the ship had requested a billet for me to attend Fire Control "A" (Basic Training) School and it had been approved. I was finally going to get some much needed education. The second item was that I sat down in the Mess Decks to take the Navy-fleet-wide examination for 3rd Class Fire Control Technician. Life was good.
I would have about three days in Norfolk before I checked off of the ship and headed up to school at the Naval Training Command at Great Lakes, Illinois.
On arrival in Norfolk I caught the first days duty as I'd been the last one aboard and I'd had 5 days of no duty before we deployed. I had no gripe with that.
As soon as the ship cleared Customs Inspection Liberty Call went down and the Quarterdeck swarmed with every sailor who had liberty as they tried to desert the ship like a bunch of rats with wet feet. The dependents who'd shown up to welcome their husbands and lovers home were in the mean time surging towards the brow and they all met in one glorious traffic jam.
There was so much kissing, hugging, and dry humping the Vice Squad would have had a field day if they were allowed on Navy Property.
About two hours into the four hour watch the phone on the Quarterdeck rang, so I answered as was proper and heard a familiar voice welcoming me back. When I explained to my little Tasmanian Devil I had the first days duty she seemed genuinely disappointed. I informed her that I would have liberty tomorrow right after Quarters at 8:00 am.
She said she was taking the day off and suggested we have breakfast at the restaurant we normally met at when the Krazy Kat closed at night. Sounded like a plan to me. I didn't tell her about school or the 3rd Class exam.
We met as we'd agreed to and I treated her to breakfast as my wallet was pretty well stuffed. After breakfast she took my hand looked me in the eye, leered, and said, "Now that my stomach is stuffed it's time to get my pussy the same way."
Standing up she grabbed her purse and a cotton shopping bag I hadn't paid much attention to before, but now I heard the distinct clink of glass. I raised my eyebrow in query as she grinned and opened it to show me a couple of bottles of vodka and a six pack of 7-Up. My turn to grin as I swatted her ass in appreciation.
After paying the bill we exited the restaurant, crossed the street, and boarded a bus to who knew where. After a few miles Pat pulled the chord to signal a stop and we shortly left the bus for another of her hideouts. How in the hell did she do it?
As soon as we entered and got comfortable Pat made us a couple of stiff Vodka-7's. We sat on the sofa enjoying the drinks, smoking cigarettes, and getting generally caught up. I didn't mention school or the 3rd class exam.
Pat and I were both too horny to go down memory lane for too long. We raced to the bedroom, stripped, and spent a glorious short time fucking and sucking.
After coming down Pat climbed out of bed to make more drinks, making sure her delicious ass wiggled in a most provocative way as she exited and soon re-entered the bedroom with two drinks in her hands.
We sat on the bed with legs crossed and sipped and played, played and sipped, until I felt my peter starting to lurch back to the land of the living. I wonder if the sight of those heavy pendulous breasts laying on her thighs and pointing to her pussy like a pair of blunt-pointed arrows had anything to do with it?
Pat told me to drink up, swallowed her drink with one gulp, and attacked!
Pushing me flat on my back she sucked my peter down her throat in one gulp. She worked on it until she'd gotten the desired results, slid up my body and mounted me in one quick movement.
Pat wasn't going to take any prisoners this time. Her pussy was sopping wet. Within 30 seconds the screaming started, and within a minute the cursing and swearing. She was demanding that I blister her ass, whip, squeeze and mangle her tits, and to bite the damn nipples off. The whole time her pussy was attacking my peter like a jack hammer on a merry-go-round. I didn't think until then that an ass could swing in so many different directions at the same time.
The whole while I was keeping an eye on those hands to make God damn sure she didn't slash me again when she climaxed, and suddenly climax she did.
Her body stiffened in an old familiar refrain as her pussy tried to strangle my peter. That was my cue. Pat was multi-orgasmic so it was now my turn. I poured the coals to it and did my own jack hammering.
There are some women who orgasm when they feel the cum splash inside them. Jean was one and Pat was another. When I exploded deep inside Pat she began round two of her orgasms. So far so good, she hadn't scratched me yet.
Pat finally fell down on top of me still breathing and moaning in mini-climaxes. She eventually fell off of to cuddle up after first making sure that I had a play toy handy by plopping her uppermost breast on my chest.
As we lay there Pat asked if I wanted her to take the next day off.
Everyone of you swinging dicks out there have been through what follows, so you know exactly where this went.
I told Pat I was going to have to stay on the ship the next day to pack my seabag and check off the ship. The temperature dropped 10 degrees!
Her query as to where I was going and my reply that I was going to Great Lakes for FT "A" School, dropped the temperature another 10 Degrees.
Her next query as to how long I'd be gone and my reply that it would probably be about 6 Months caused ice cycles to form on the overhead and she pulled her breast off my chest. She was putting my play toys away and I was cut off!
Realizing the party was over and nothing would resurrect it I dressed and left.
Two days later I headed for Great Lakes and my schooling. All went well until I turned 21. After that my grades dropped like a rock. I was still making passing grades but they weren't what they should have been. When I looked at the final grade on my diploma I made a vow to myself that that would never happen again. I would always be in the top 10%. It never did and I never again finished lower then no. 2 in any class I took.
Somewhere around the last 6 weeks of school the results of the fleet-wide exam were published and I would soon be an FTG3 (Fire Control Technician (Guns) 3rd Class (enlisted pay grade E-4).
In what was then an unusual move the Navy immediately promoted all 3rd and 2nd Class Petty Officers instead of in November as was usual. The catch was that our pay would not go up until November. What it meant was that I would be Petty Officer of the Watch and stand Shore Patrol all at no expense to Uncle Sam. More responsibility at no cost.
I could have worn my 3rd Class "Crow" the last several weeks of school, but I couldn't bring myself to do it with my grades being what they were. I did have several of my uniforms altered but I continued to wear my Seaman stripes and designated strikers insignia which was another bone of contention with the school powers-that-be.
Normally a sailor goes through Boot Camp, goes to a basic (A) school, and upon graduation receives an emblem (Striker's Badge) which he sews above his Seaman or Fireman Apprentice stripes (Apprentice s wear two slash marks on the upper left sleeve). I was a Seaman (3 slash marks) and in addition I was already a designated striker, not rare, just unusual. When I'd checked into school I'd been ordered to remove my strikers badge until I told them to check my service record and they choked when they read the sentence in it that that said that the BIG Powers-To-Be had approved the recommendation that I be made a designated striker with the appropriate Naval Enlisted Classification Code (FT 1100 if you want to know). There wasn't a God damn thing the school could do about it.
I also had a hash mark sewed on (a longer slash mark on the lower part of the left sleeve). Strictly speaking I was a couple of months shy of the full four years that that hash mark indicated, but I was damned if I was going to go to the expense of having the arm redone two months later.
Following graduation I donned my uniform with the Fire Control "Crow" and headed out to the strip outside the gates and celebrated. I now sported my Crow (actually an eagle with spread wings, below it a chevron, and sandwiched in between the insignia of my skill group) To those who haven't been there I will tell you that regardless of our rate and rating we wore our badges of distinction with honor. We would fight to defend that badge and have probably done so.
Perhaps the following will put it into perspective:
I am in the greatest rating in the US Navy! I am on the greatest ship in the US Navy! I am in the best squadron in the US Navy! I am in the greatest Navy in the world! I am in the greatest Navy, of the greatest country in the world! I am an American! I will protect my buddies and defend all of the forgoing with my life!
If you doubt this consider Operations Desert Storm and Iraqi Freedom. You sat in your living room and watched the US Marines and various Army units advance, You watched them march across Iraq. You've watched them die in terrorist explosions.
I'm sure you wondered how they were able to keep going.
If you really want to know, re-read the above and learn!
Arriving back in Norfolk I had a week of nothing to do as my orders to report back to my ship also included a weeks leave in them, so I was foot loose and fancy free.
I went to the ships bar . . .
I have to make a request of you old Easy Main Commandos because I'm tired of calling it the ships bar.
The bus used to drop us off downtown across from a hotel. Just up the street from the bus stop was a White Tower burger joint and just around the corner several bars. Can anyone put a name to them?
I had a couple beers but no action as my ship was at sea, so I headed up to Easy Main and the Insane Pussy. I walked in and several of the bar maids gave me a wave and welcome home grin.
Suddenly I felt a familiar fur ball leap on my back and hug the hell out of me. Pat dropped off of me, spun me around, and proceeded to cover me with hugs and kisses. I guess I was forgiven.
Releasing me, she stepped back to look at me, saw my 3rd Class crow and hash mark for the first time, and went absolutely nuts with joy. She was hugging and slurping me all at the same time.
Having a week to kill Pat made damn sure that I spent my time well by fucking me almost into unconsciousness. She left me a shell of a sailor by the end of the week.
Several months went by and things had settled into a routine except I didn't get over to the Insane Pussy very often and it seemed that Pat was getting pretty cool in her attitude towards me.
I got a message one afternoon that Pat wanted to see me that night so I hit the bar about 10:00 and as I walked in, stopped to take in a sight I wasn't prepared for. Pat was in a booth with her back to me and next to her was a sailor running a fathom of tongue down her throat. She had set me up for this. I knew the sailor in question and I didn't like him one bit.
I rushed over to the booth intending to take him down. I brought a hay-maker up from the deck. Problem was he must have seen it coming because he moved his head and I missed. What I didn't miss was a steel pipe (Naval term: a stanchion) that helped to support the roof.
I'd just bought a Navy ring from one of those junk jewelers that exist in every military town. I'd put 170 pounds behind that punch and I hit that pipe head on with my ring and fist. You don't know what pain is until you try that.
My whole body exploded in pain. My hand and arm were totally useless as that sailor got up and proceeded to do a real number on me. There wasn't a thing I could do about it but try to protect whatever could be protected. Finally I was able to get clear of him and out of the door and harms way.
My hand was already swelling as I got on the bus to get back to the ship and Doc's ministrations. Doc patched me up and wrapped my hand and forearm, but not until he'd soaked my hand in ice water to reduce the swelling and poured enough oil on my ring finger to finally get that damned ring off.
Because of the fact that I'd been dinged up in a fight I should have been placed on report and gone to see The Man, but if you looked at my medical record you'd read that on that night I'd fallen off a ladder and the load I'd been carrying smashed my hand.
I LOVE Navy Corpsman!
It was about 10 days before Doc was able to give me a clean bill of health. It was 10 days of my planning pay-backs.
On the evening of my revenge a buddy that wasn't known in the Krazy Kat and I headed into town. We had a couple of beers at the ships bar and he took off for the Krazy Kat. After about an hour the phone on the bar rang and the bartender shortly handed it to me. It was my friend informing me that Pat and her new boyfriend were swapping slobber and exactly where they were sitting. Wonder of wonders their backs were to the door.
I hit the door at a dead gallop, flipped my glasses off on the dead run and grabbing my intended target by his jumper collar I pulled that SOB clean out of the booth.
Not giving him any slack I spun him around, grabbing his ass, and headed back towards the door. He was totally helpless as I had him bent over with his collar in one hand and his trousers firmly held in the other.
By now I was at full speed as I used his head to open the door. To say that stunned him is putting it mildly, but I wasn't finished with him. Just outside the door there was a steel handrail the city had installed to prevent jay-walking. I kept going until his gut hit the railing and I let go. He spun completely over the rail and hit the sidewalk on his head and shoulder. This ruined bruin's ass belonged to me and I wasn't even going to get my hands dirty.
I kicked him in the nuts a couple of times to get his attention and as he doubled up I wailed on his kneecaps with my shoes.
To you who ain't been there, if you want to end a fight in quick time nail your opponents kneecap or shin hard enough and the fight is over. They will lay on the ground screaming for mother to come and make it well, guaranteed.
I placed a few more kicks about his head and body and stepped back to see where we were going next and also to check to make sure the Shore Patrol weren't in the vicinity. I was clean. He started to get up but he was bent over in pain as he hobbled towards the bar. I pointed out that if he ever went through that door again to consider what he'd just experienced as love taps. He told me his hat was in there so I opened the door and hollered for someone to toss me his hat. When I had it in hand I threw it into the middle of the street hoping a car would run over it.
Revenge, Part one accomplished.
If I knew Pat, revenge part two was just around the corner.
I walked back into the bar, picked up my glasses, thanking the Lord I hadn't broken them, and put them back on.
Pat did just exactly what I'd counted on; she ran up to me, threw her arms around me, and proceeded to slobber kisses on me. To the victor go the spoils (at least in her mind).
The fact that her new stud had just had the shit kicked out of him didn't faze her.
Setting the hook I ordered a beer and bought a house drink for Pat.
When the drinks were finished she took off her apron, told the bartender she was checking out, and yanked me out the door. Studly was nowhere in sight.
We caught a bus to head for her next fuck shack. Since Pat hadn't known that I was coming (no pun), guess who she was planning to take home that night.
Pat and I stripped as soon as we hit the bedroom. She got on the bed, heisted her ass in the air, and wiggling it, told me to fuck her.
By now I was in a cold fury. I wasn't going to make any pretense or effort to bring her pleasure. This was a revenge fuck pure and simple. I spit in my hand wet my peter and jammed it in as deep and hard as I could. She was dry and it must have hurt but she didn't complain.
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