Navy Officer’s New Duties



I knew something was wrong right away. A vehicle was stopped on the docks, a 2½-ton truck with a load of fruits and desserts–chocolate éclairs, trays of fudge, hard-to-get fruit like watermelons and cantaloupes, a whole collection of goodies. Men were unloading it and carrying the stuff toward an ocean-going tug moored at the wharf.

That boat was a US Navy unit, but an ocean-going tug (used to retrieve warships from the battle area and tow them back to drydock) had a small crew and certainly didn’t warrant the amount of food being taken aboard–or the exotic selection. On the other hand, swiping Navy supplies, stashing them on the ship, then escaping as the ship sailed out of port to its next assignment was a US Navy tradition probably going back to the days of John Paul Jones and the Bonhomme Richard.

At the other side of the harbor was an aircraft carrier in for resupply. The original destination for the truck’s cargo wasn’t hard to figure out.

I was a proud member of the crew of the USS Cormorant, a nuclear submarine. I felt particularly proud because, by the April 2008 declaration that female officers and sailors could join nuclear sub crews, I was submariner, a lieutenant JG. The Cormorant was in port, refitting from its previous mission, so I was not on duty, just doing my daily PT, jogging around the docks in just a T-shirt and shorts.

But as a US Navy commissioned officer, I had a responsibility to do something about the thieves.

Bad Decision

: It was laundry day, and I had one clean pair of underwear left, so I set out jogging without panties or bra, saving the last clean ones from the sweat so I could wear them for the rest of the day. And now here I am in a law enforcement situation with bouncing tits and probably–I looked down–Yep, nipples sticking out.

I didn’t have a radio, and running back to get my cell phone would take me long enough for them to empty the truck, vamoose, and leave me with an empty complaint. If I wanted to apprehend the crooks, I had to strike while the iron was hot.

Bad Decision

: Criminals aren’t usually hard to bluff, and this wasn’t an armed robbery or a burglary, just simple, against-the-regs sailor-mischief, so I hoped to bluster my way through the situation.

I walked up to the truck and approached the sailor, a female, with the clipboard. “Excuse me, what are you doing here?”

She turned around. “And who might you be?”

“I am Lieutenant Nancy Shea, US Navy!”

It worked: definite attitude change. “Ah, we’re unloading it, Ma’am.”

“Unloading it to where?”

“To, ah, the ship. Supplies for the ship.”

“What ship?”

She decided to come clean. She smiled. “Come on, Lieutenant, we’re just appropriating some rations. It’s not like we’re stealing from the Navy; it’s just redistribution.”

“Tell me your name, sailor!” As I spoke, I became a victim of Bad Decision
: I hadn’t paid enough attention to my environment, especially what was behind me–I wasn’t a cop, after all. A couple of sailors came up behind me, grabbed me, clapped a hand over my mouth, and the next thing I knew, they hustled me into a car.

We drove off, the female sailor behind the wheel, two others holding me captive in the back seat. I looked around at them. More females!

The car sped down the road and turned in at a warehouse, an old Quonset hut. Unpainted, it looked like it was due to be torn down. We got out. “Look, you idiots, I’m a commissioned officer! You’re in a lot of troub–“

–“Shut up! I think it’s about time you learned a lesson, commissioned officer.” She turned to the sailors holding me. “Bring her over there, behind those pallets.”

“Ladies, you are in a lot of trouble. Don’t make it worse.” I was scared, though. I took a deep breath. “Look, you let me go, and I think we can come to an understanding.” The second I said that, I was sorry. I just let them know I’m scared.

One of my guards sneered. “Ain’t gonna be that easy.”

Farm girl. Joined the Navy to get out of the boredom of the wheat fields.

I looked around, hoping to see someone else, sailors, anybody to stop what was happening, but the place was deserted. The leader spoke. “Take her over there. I’ll be right behind you.”

We moved to the huge stacks of wooden pallets and into the darkness behind them. My mind ran 100mph, worried as hell. “What do you want? What are you going to do?”

Seaman Hayseed pinched my nipple. “Looky here, Missy Lieutenant’s got the hot tits for us!”

I yanked my arm out of her grip and slapped her hand away. “My nipples are hard from rubbing on the shirt, not about you perverts!”

“Oh, yeah? Let’s see.” Behind the pallets were a few dusty crates and a dirty tarpaulin on the concrete floor. The four of us stepped onto the tarpaulin, and the leader, who had joined us, stepped up to me and pinched both my nipples. “Ooh, yeah, nice and hard. Okay, strip!”

“Do what?? Gaziantep Evi Olan Escort You can’t be serious!”

“Take your fucking clothes off, Lieutenant! All of `em! Now!” And she pulled out a gun!

Oh, shit. A Navy Colt. Where’d she get that? I wish I had mine!

With the tables very thoroughly turned, her two accomplices released my arms, and she watched as I slowly pulled the T-shirt over my head, trying to delay as long as possible.

She snickered. “No bra, Lieutenant? Not even a sports bra while you’re jogging? There are regulations about that, you know.”

Even though I was scared, I was also embarrassed as hell.

“Nice titties, honey.” One of the accomplices groped one of them, flicking the nipple with her thumb, but I slapped her hand away.

“Stop that!” But I had to admit it–the feeling of danger combined with the physical stimulation gave me a delicious sensation. Nevertheless, I moved back, out of her reach.

“Now the shorts, Lieutenant.”

When I pulled them down, I got the expected gasps: “Damn-o, look at that! Nekkid underneath! You getting’ ready for us, honey?”

“I’ll be ready for you when I see you clapped in irons in the brig, sailor!” Before I could react, one of them stuck her hand between my legs, and talented, well-trained fingers found my slit, quickly sliding up to press my Start-button. I meant to yell, but my voice came out as a gasp: “Stop that!”

“My, my, Lieutenant, you’re so wet it’s like a faucet.”

My face burned hot. I’d never been so humiliated in my life. Meanwhile, the wicked woman had, indeed, turned me on. Her massage of my clitoris, no matter how quick, was done perfectly. My cunt buzzed with growing arousal.

Then I discovered where all this was going. Occupied with the leader and the magic-fingers guard, I didn’t fail to notice the third one had pulled off her own boots, uniform, everything. Oh, shit. Never been raped, but it looks like my first time’s going to be with a woman!

Two of us were naked. The other two took turns holding the gun while they stripped down, too, and I had to fight off one, then two, then all three naked women from fondling me (fighting a growing heat between my legs).

With each new participant, my struggles were more hopeless, and our bare-skin wallowings built a strange, intense wave that swept through me like vodka. A psychedelic situation, really–four naked women struggling and wrestling together, writhing, tits against tits, hips against hips, intertwined legs, God!

Finally the leader pulled loose. The other two held my arms, and she spoke: “Lieutenant Nancy Shea, I think we should get acquainted. I’m Chief Angel Anson.” She snickered. “You can believe that or not, I don’t care. The redhead holding your right arm, the one with her finger in your pussy, is Seaman Clarice Kenny.”

It was true: Seaman Kenny, in a swift, skilled movement, had rammed a finger up my cunt, at the same time thumbing my clit in the most exquisite way, and in spite of the struggles, she had me glowing in a delicious thrill. Finally in control of myself, I gnashed my teeth! “Get your hands off me, you fucking pervert!”

Anson went on: “The able-bodied seaman at your left, the bleached blond, as you can see by her black pussy-hair, is Seaman Helen Hancock.” From her I got a squeeze of the buttock. Hancock’s salute.

Trying to think rationally–if I could keep a cool head, I might be able to figure out an escape–I appraised Chief Anson.

Very beautiful woman, really, especially out of uniform. Not a straight line anywhere on her body. All curves, all gentle transitions to other levels. Contours like a gently rolling sea. But firm. Graceful. In perfect proportion.

Soft blonde hair–I could easily imagine it longer, framing her face in glowing gold. Big blue eyes that somehow didn’t look appropriately criminal.

Full lips. Probably gave her a long list of panting sailors hovering around. Tall and willowy, I figured her at about 5’7″, a little taller than I, and maybe about 120 pounds. I’ll need this information for the Shore Patrol report. No skinny fashion model or husky, hay-pitching pioneer (like Kenny), Anson was a physical woman, a sexual creature who undoubtedly turned a thousand male heads.

I’d seen naked women before, of course, but Anson was something special. And maybe I was hyper because of the nightmare I was in. Maybe because of the arousal I fought as the indecent sailors teased my private parts.

Anson was much more beautiful than her henchmen, possibly the sexiest person I’d ever seen. And this is a thought I don’t need at the moment!

Hancock on my left and Kenny on my right kicked my feet out from under me, and they lowered me onto my back, spread-eagling me on the filthy tarpaulin, helpless. And scared.

Anson knelt between my legs. “You’re beautiful, Nancy.”

“That’s Lieutenant Anson to you, you piece of shit!”

She caressed my thighs, ending with gentle strokes just under my pussy, soft touches that were delicious tickles, and I gritted my teeth. I was growing wetter, I knew it. “Stop that! Stop it, goddamn it!”

But she went on, caressing, massaging, tickling all around my labia. And her very talented solo soon became a trio as Hancock and Kenny each teased and caressed the closest breast. Ohh, it feels so good!

I hated myself for enjoying it, but a glance down told me they had the keys to my gate. My body flushed in the red patches, the signs of female arousal, and I suddenly realized that if this went on much longer, I would–No! Never!

But–dammit!–my heart pounded in my chest as the hands roamed all over my body. Oh, god, yes!–Anson’s fingers finally played with my pussy! In a fever, I forced myself to speak: “No! Stop–please! I–like men–not–“

But I couldn’t finish. Part of me cried for them to stop, to retain my dignity and self-respect; my pussy, though, screamed soundlessly through my body to shut up! And it got worse. Hancock and Kenny turned up the wonderful torture on my breasts. Fingers became lips, tweaks became passionate kisses, and with both women suckling at my nipples, flicking them with their tongues, even–Ohhhh, god!–teasing them with the edges of their teeth, they were driving me to an orgasm!

Desperate, I tried to parry it! Emergency Measures: Pig shit! I’m up to my neck in a deep pit of pig shit! I’m about to puke from the smell! I’m coated with pig-muck!

It worked–the image was so sickening, I saved myself from the humiliation of climaxing in front of the perverts (but damn, I was horny there for a moment!)

But then Satan’s child Anson hit a home-run. She moved her hands away from my pussy, rubbing them up and down the insides of my legs from crotch to knees. Then her tongue, Lucifer’s tongue–a long, slithering, powerful snake that felt two feet long and probably forked–touched my drooling cunt, flicking up and down like a rattlesnake’s. I lost all self-control. Gasping, lurching, begging, my pussy screamed for more, and I yelped out its demands.

But the goddamned tongue was blind! Missed its target! It slithered over my labia, electrocuting me, making me shudder, panting with desperation, but The Tongue ended up above, wriggling meaninglessly through my crotch hair!

The bitch was teasing me, but out of my fucking mind, I reached down and pushed on her head, centering the flame-thrower tongue on my steaming pussy–knowing I just walked into her trap. I had surrendered.

My hands caressed her head–Ohhh, what thrills! Ohmigod! My hands on her head?? I gasped. They released my arms! They’re not holding me anymore! I can struggle away!

But I didn’t.

Anson’s tongue pressed into the seething cauldron that used to be my vagina and started an orgasm no thoughts of pigs could stop. I’d never been so hot. I could smell my own pussy–my own cunt-folds of moist, soft flesh puffed out, fevered, angry, and demanding.

Anson moved in for the kill. Her tongue scorched the inner edges of the swollen flesh, tracing up one lip and down the other. On the in-stroke, she hit the center of my lips; on the out-strokes, she dragged her viper’s tongue against the sides, and I screamed. Out loud. The keening high-C of a climaxing female.

Satan’s daughter saved my clit for last, and–right in the middle of an orgasm already melting me–she made deep, probing jabs, dragging the entire, mile-long length of her velvet-texture tongue over the sensitive nubbin! Ohmigod, Ohmigod! I went insane! An orgasm actually started on top of an orgasm!

I think I passed out. All I knew was that I floated like a jellyfish in a glistening, fiery red atmosphere, shapeless, solid only as the volcano-pussy between my legs. Beyond the definition of pleasure. Ecstasy I would never be able to describe if I ever came back to consciousness.

But I did come to. Gradually I heard lewd moans, grunts, and slurps. I heard myself gasping for air and knew I was still alive.

Unbelievable. The first cumming I ever got from a woman, the first climax I ever got without the straight-line, in-out, male-and-his-bitch seriousness of fucking a guy.

And suddenly I saw from the top of the mountain rather from than the bottom! A man can force me into an orgasm, but these three had pulled me into ecstasy ten times as intense, everything in round, gentle touches, everything in maddening, understated manipulations as light and teasing as breezes through leaves.

All without the ulterior motive of planting his seed. Without the ultimate male victory of impregnating me!

Anson knew what was going on, and with incredible timing, just as my climax began to fade, she lowered her face down to mine and kissed me. Insane, out of my mind, I kissed her back with a horny open mouth.

As that demonic tongue invaded my mouth, I sucked on it–I wish you had a cock I could suck, baby!” Poor me. Still cock-oriented.

Angel pushed against me, wishing to get up. I released my arms from around her and looked around. Hancock and Kenny sat watching us, fingering their own pussies. No manhandling. No “securing my arms.”

Am I no longer a security risk?

Angel stood up–I couldn’t think of her any more as “Anson.” She smiled. “You’re ready now, honey.”

What? There’s more? I was scared again. But I lay there. So far this is the most exciting kidnapping I can imagine.

From behind her in the darkness, Angel brought out–a dildo!

“Hey, wait! You not going to–“

–But she knelt between my legs again, and as she thrust the thing through my sloppy, joy-relaxed pussy, I screamed–but from outrage, not pain. In fact, as she pushed it in further and further, I stopped protesting.

I could manage no serious resistance, and Angel fucked me first with long, easy strokes, then faster and faster until I lurched back and forth, moaning and gasping. No doubt about it, she had me under control, again cumming nearly every minute. “Stop! Please, stop! Can’t stand any more!”

And she pulled it out!

That surprised me, actually. But there was more.

She reached behind her and came back with another dildo, but that one was weird. Two cocks attached at the balls, one a little thinner than the other. She smiled down at me. “A twofer, honey.”

Suddenly I realized what it was for. “No! Get that thing away from me! You’re not going to stick that thing in my aaaaaaa–“

She skewered me like a pitchfork through a side of beef. The big rod thrust back into my greedy, slobbering pussy, and the other pushed into my virgin asshole like a torpedo from the Cormorant. I screamed. It was worse than when Jimmy Joe got my cherry.

I’m roasted on a spit! Two cocks at once!

In a weird sort of multi-tasking, though, my brain shut the screaming pain in my rectum in a separate room, and Damn, that thing in my pussy was just what the doctor ordered.

The pain in my ass couldn’t be kept behind closed doors, though, but instead of screaming, “Take it out, take it out!” I found myself groaning in pain–but glowing at the same time, like two trains on adjacent tracks, one a first-class coach with passengers laid back in pleasure, the other a prison train with savage guards beating the captives. And as Demon-woman kept thrusting the devil’s horns into me, to my panting amazement, the two trains came to a spot where the tracks blended together, and there was a fiery crash!

I went into an orgasm both in my pussy and in my asshole! I didn’t know that was possible! My sex-train roared on, but as a supercharged, maxi-pleasure commuter, a fucking Orgasm Express!

Once she had me securely aboard the Vagina-liner, Devil-Angel started the torture. Skewering me deliciously with the wondrous double-prong, every time I was close to another orgasm, she pulled out the magic wands until the sensation subsided, then she started all over again.

Once more going insane, I heard myself begging her to let me cum again. Begging her to fuck me with those big rubber cocks. Still the torture went on, and my pleadings became hoarser, coarser, and more frenzied. I moaned and whimpered, brushing my arms over my eyes.

Finally, at the literal edge of madness, she pulled out the dual-dick, lowered herself down over me, and kissed me, open-mouthed, tonguing, ravaging me like a jungle animal. My arms and legs automatically wound around her, hugging my lover to me, and just as I prayed, her cunt settled down to mash onto mine, grinding against my clit, and

I died!

The motherfucking hottest orgasm of my young life! Like she had spread gasoline on my raging cunt, a prairie fire swept over me! Starting at my cunt, igniting the estrogen, it turned my whole body into a climaxing torch! I clamped myself against her, squirming in the sweat, rubbing my tits against hers, sparking mini-explosions as our hard nipples snapped past each other!

Everything went red, and I fell back, fucked into a floppy octopus, shapeless, slimy, helpless under her. I don’t know how long we lay together like that. I hoped she had the same ecstasy I did. My climax was so intense, I worried it might be like an overdose, straining my body past its limits.

But I’m sure as hell going to do it again! Suddenly Angel was an asset I could not let go.

She rolled off me, and we lay together, gradually breathing more slowly, cooling in the dusty breeze of the warehouse across our sweaty skin, reveling in the most powerful afterglow I’d ever known.

When I came back to the Land of the Living, Angel hummed a tuneless little song in my ear. It had to be a love song. Damn. I’m in love! I forced my mouth to speak. “God! That was fabulous!”

“Yeah. Thought you’d like it.”

I purred, too. “My ass. . .I never dreamed–“

“They never do.”


“That was wonderful,” I went on, speaking only in groans. “Mind-blowing!” “Can’t lose touch with you.” “Got to see you again!”

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