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 Archive name: tailhook.txt (m+f, exh, oral, nc)
 Authors name: screwloose2@my-dejanews.com
 Story title : Tailhook in Vegas, What Really Happened

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 This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 1999.
 Please do not remove the author information or make
 any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-
 commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of
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 Tailhook in Vegas (M+/F, exh, oral, nc)
 by screwloose2@my-dejanews.com


 What you've heard and read about the Tailhook Scandal
 is pretty raunchy, but you can't really get the
 impression of how drunk and crazy and sex-crazed those
 parties were.  I was at the last one, and I was more
 than just fondled and groped.  A lot more.  My experi-
 ence was erotic and enjoyable in the end, but I was
 pretty much forced into it in the beginning, so some
 people would argue that it was harassment, but I'm not
 interested in making an issue of it.

 I was only an ensign at the time, not long out of
 school. I'm an average woman with a good figure, light
 hair that I bleach out a little, certainly no sexpot.
 Being in the military, I was naturally in very good
 shape, and guys find that very attractive.  A short,
 pixie haircut helps, too.

 I knew only a few of the pilots there, but I wandered
 around, drinking and dancing as everyone was.  I had
 a lot to drink, and I can't say that I was really in
 control.

 A lot of things were going on in various rooms on the
 floor. There were only a couple dozen military women
 there.  There were lots more hookers, it seemed.

 Just to be on the safe side, I stayed in rooms with
 the doors open, where people were just drinking,
 partying, dancing.  There were bedrooms off some of
 the suites where some of the hookers seemed to disap-
 pear with a lot of guys.  I assume that real orgies
 were going on in there, and I avoided those like the
 plague.

 Eventually, I ran into two guys I knew well from
 training. We greeted each other like old friends,
 especially given that we were all pretty well oiled.
 We went around the party looking for action, looking
 for trouble, mainly looking for more beer.

 We tramped around like the three musketeers, both of
 them with their arms around me, down the hall to a
 suite they described as "leg inspection."  This is
 where the now-infamous leg-shaving incidents occurred.
 Well, what happened to me went a little further.

 We came into this room three abreast.  I saw another
 woman sitting in a chair surrounded by guys. Two of
 them were in fact shaving her calves with shaving
 cream and razors.  It wasn't exactly innocent,
 particularly as her skirt was pulled up rather high
 and they were holding her legs fairly far apart.
 Everyone in the room could see right up her skirt to
 the crotch of her panties.

 Well, if I am going to be in that position soon, I
 thought, mine will show light blue.  And they're very
 small bikinis to boot.

 Their hands were all over her legs, including above
 her knees to her thighs much of the time, and it was
 clear that she was uncomfortable with it.  Also, two
 pilots standing by her side were sort of holding her.

 It was clear that they were restraining her, but not
 hard.  They were also now and then feeling her breasts,
 and she wasn't comfortable with that, either.  But she
 was a little drunk and all of them were a little drunk.
 And so was I, and so were Tommy and Ted, my buddies.
 So we just wandered over to the bar to get another
 round, and I guess we thought I was just waiting my
 turn as the center of attention.  We all just assumed
 that I'd be next.

 When the guys finished with the other woman's legs,
 they dried her off with towels.  Of course, they dried
 her legs right up to the tops of her thighs, even
 though they weren't wet up that far.  She squirmed a
 little when they reached under her skirt, and I think
 they groped her crotch while they were about it.  She
 got up, a little wobbly, aided by her two companions,
 and headed off to the applause of all.

 Then it was my turn.  I downed my drink for courage.
 Tommy and Ted led me over to the chair.  I sat down,
 as demurely as I could.

 The two shavers took my legs gently and took my shoes
 off. In concert, they reached up my skirt to take my
 pantyhose off.  That caused a few hoots in the
 audience.  My skirt was a lot shorter than the pre-
 vious woman's, so they all got apretty good beaver
 shot when the guys reached up to my waist to grab the
 stockings, and they applauded it.

 They proceeded to shave me much as they had done to
 her. Yes, they were holding my legs far apart so that
 the entire room was looking into my crotch.  Yes,
 there was a fair amount of reaching up my thighs and
 even a few palms on the crotch.  I won't say that I
 struggled mightily against this fondling.  Tommy and
 Ted were holding my hands and my shoulders, and
 occasionally they reached down to cup my breasts, too.

 I was a little drunk and I was showing off. No, I was
 pretty drunk, and, well, not being a sexpot as I said,
 I was sort of enjoying being the center of attention
 of all these hunky guys.  They were a little drunk,
 and they were having a good time feeling me up and
 showing me off.

 I thought they were about done when one of the shavers
 announced to the crowd that "This junior officer has
 some, uh, hair visible outside her skivvies, and, even
 though it's very short hair, we'll have to shave that
 too."  Jesus!  Did I hear that right?  Now wait a
 minute, that's going too far! I tried to get up, but
 they were all holding me down, including my two so
 called friends. The crowd was going wild at the idea,
 all hooting and hollering and clapping.  The guys took
 that as a sign of approval, a command from the
 audience, and went ahead with their plan.  The four of
 them held me tight as they carried me over to the sofa.
 I struggled a lot, but it didn't help much; a couple
 more guys came over to help hold my arms and legs.

 They set me down on the sofa on top of a sheet.  The
 two shavers reached up my skirt to grab the waistband
 of my panties.  I was struggling a lot and yelling at
 them by that time, but my squirming around only helped
 them by lifting my butt off the sofa, and that made it
 easier for them to take my panties down my legs.

 Two guys held my shoulders and arms, and Tommy and Ted
 were still holding my hands.  Two more guys came over
 from the bar with a drink, which they poured down my
 throat.  It was some sweet fruit punch drink, but, I'm
 sure, very alcoholic.

 Suddenly the two guys who were holding my legs pulled
 my ankles apart way out to the side.  The crowd went
 wild, howling and chanting "Bee-ver!  BEE-VER!"  God,
 my sex was being held wide open for all of them to
 look at, thirty guys staring into my privates, open
 wider than in any gynecologist's stirrups.  I was
 casting a split beaver shot at them all and I couldn't
 stop it because my legs were forced open.  I was
 mortified, I started crying for them to let me go.

 Scissors came out to trim the long hair of my bush
 while a couple guys held down my hips so I couldn't
 move at all. Then I felt the shaving cream cold and
 wet on my crotch. They told me to stop struggling so
 they could do this safely and not take a chance of
 hurting me.  I stopped squirming and started crying
 again, even through the alcoholic haze.

 The one with the razor shaved my mound very gently,
 carefully.  When he got down to the labia, the other
 guy held the skin taut to help the razor slide easily.
 They were constantly commenting on how beautiful my
 cunt was, how I must make my boyfriends very happy
 with a delicious cunt like that.

 God, their hands were in my pussy all the time, and
 all these other men were looking right into my pink
 hole.

 In spite of myself, I was dripping.  Tommy and Ted
 were kneading my breasts and pinching my nipples
 constantly to heighten my tension and to get me to
 enjoy this and stop struggling.  Or maybe they were
 just taking their own pleasure in my body, feeling up
 any female who happened to be near them.  I couldn't
 tell, I didn't care.

 Eventually they finished cutting off every hair to
 their satisfaction.  They rinsed off the whole area
 and toweled it down.  I thought they were finished.
 I hoped they were finished.  They blew on my crotch
 to dry it off completely.  One of them patted it
 gently, said that he hoped that they hadn't hurt me
 and that I looked great shaved.  Then he decided he'd
 kiss it.

 To give you an idea what this must have looked like,
 my legs were being held up above my shoulders.  He
 planted a kiss playfully on my now-naked mound.  I
 jumped at the touch.  He looked up at me intently.
 I could see only his eyes staring at me from between
 my legs; the rest of his face was hidden behind my
 mound.  Then I understood his intention.  I was wide-
 eyed with horror at the idea, he couldn't be serious.
 But the whole room was howling with laughter and
 taunts for him to go ahead.  "Eat her!  Eat her!"

 He looked down intently right into my stretched-open
 cunt, and lowered his mouth to my clit.  The room was
 suddenly very quiet.  Ohmigod, it's hot and electric,
 his tongue scraped over my slit.  The entire area was
 super-sensitive, from being newly naked, from being
 cold, from being exposed.  His mouth was erotic and
 electric. 

 I pushed my hips up into his mouth, and the crowd
 roared its approval.  He locked his lips around my
 clit and sucked it into his mouth, flicking it with
 his tongue.  God it was wonderful.  I nearly fainted
 from the flood of sensation.  (My juices are flowing
 right now, and I'm terribly turned on remembering the
 feelings so I can write this.  My hands have been
 wandering to my crotch as I write. Perhaps you can
 catch a whiff of me on the paper.)

 Tommy held my face in his hands and kissed me, long
 and deep.  As the man at my crotch sucked and pulled
 at my clit, I moaned my pleasure into Tommy's mouth.

 Suddenly I felt more, something going inside me.  He
 was pushing his finger into my vagina and stroking it
 in and out in time with the sucking, like he was
 fucking me with his finger while his mouth was sucking
 on my clit.  I had never had so much sensation from
 actually being screwed.  That's usually either sliding
 in the hole or scraping the clit, but not often both
 at the same time.

 Then I couldn't believe it but I was actually on the
 verge of coming, and then I did, I screamed out, I
 was loving it. How could I do this in front of an
 audience?  Enjoying sex is usually such a private
 thing.

 Shaver One stopped, got up, leaned down to kiss me on
 the mouth, and Shaver Two took his place.  When he
 started to lick away, I continued coming with him, in
 one long orgasm.

 Then Ted left his place at my breast and stood in
 front of me.  "I kneel at the altar of your delicious
 cunt, Katie," he said.  "I've wanted to taste your
 pussy since the day we met."  I pushed my crotch up
 at him, as much as I could, to indicate that he should
 go ahead.

 He opened my sex with his thumbs, applied his kiss to
 my inner lips, then to my clit.  This went on for
 minutes.  I was bucking up to him, pushing my crotch
 into his mouth, but I couldn't come again so soon.

 Tommy took his place, and while he was chewing on my
 labia, I felt something hard come into me.  Well, it
 was a bottle from the bar, an empty with a long neck.
 He had to position his head sideways to make room for
 the bottle, and he could barely reach my clit with his
 tongue while he pumped the bottle in and out of me.

 Then someone else replaced him, and it's a blur after
 that. I guess another four or five guys ate me out
 that night. They didn't have to hold my legs open
 after the first couple.  I held them up myself and
 wiggled my pussy in their faces.  And they pushed
 fingers and bottles and other things into me, and,
 when it didn't hurt, I loved the feeling of being
 filled.

 I fell asleep on the sofa for a while.  When I woke,
 I was still nearly fully dressed, except for my under-
 wear.  And now except for my pubic hair, too.  The
 crowd had found another woman to play with, and had
 forgotten about me.  I wonder what happened to her.

 T&T helped me find my shoes and we stumbled out into
 the hall to find another bar.  I never did find my
 stockings or panties.  They were probably taken as
 trophies by some horny sailors.

 I think I was pretty lucky that I didn't get gang-
 banged by twenty guys while I was passed out.  At
 least I don't *think* I did.  My pussy was red and
 sore for two days, but that could have been just
 beard burn.  That, and maybe whatever alcohol was
 left in the bottles.  Jesus, the bottles.  I almost
 forgot about them.  I pray that there are no pictures.

 Well, if the whole crew did fuck me, at least they
 had enough respect for a fellow officer to clean me
 up afterwards.  And I assume that the hookers did a
 brisk business that night.

 A while later, a friend of mine came running out of
 one room very disheveled, her uniform blouse unbut-
 toned, her skirt crooked and pushed up, no shoes. She
 was crying and out of control.  I helped her to the
 bathroom.  She wanted me to stay with her.  She told
 me about the "gauntlet" in that room I had seen her
 stumbling out of.  I managed to avoid that one.

 She had to go between two lines of men, all close
 together.  Some would hold her so she couldn't move
 quickly while others felt her up anywhere they wanted
 to: her breasts, her ass, even up under her skirt into
 her crotch. Some of them held her arms and legs so
 she couldn't even avoid the groping deep in her crotch.

 Halfway down the line, the several guys holding her
 legs pulled up her skirt and removed her pantyhose
 completely, and after that the groping in her crotch
 got more serious, to where some of the men actually
 wiggled their fingers inside her panties, for Christ's
 sake.

 She said she was lucky to get out of there without
 being raped.  Complete strangers reaching into your
 underwear, wow, that's going a bit too far.  (Ha ha.)

 I sympathized with her in the bathroom, and I didn't
 tell her that there were much worse -- or much better
 -- things that could have happened to her that night.

 The way I look at it, if you can't take the heat, you
 better get into the kitchen and stop trying to play
 with the big boy's.

                              Ms. K. M.
                              USN (ret'd)

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
 This story was written as an adult fantasy.  The author
 does not condone the described behavior in real life in
 anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of
 the scenarios in this story;  should seriously consider
 seeking professional help.
 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
 Kristen's collection - Directory 9