Timmy was a conservative Airman. He served three years of his four year Air Force hitch in the Philippines. He spent his free time in the first bar that you see as you exit the base bus in the town of Balibago outside of Clark AFB. (The eruption of Mount Pinatubo killed the base) You could almost hit the main gate with a beer bottle. He never got to MacArthur Highway or Angeles City. After a period of perfect attendance and 100 percent loyalty to the bar, his picture appeared on the wall of honor. This was not the type that fighter pilots had at the Happy Bottom Flying Club, dusted daily by Pancho Barnes.
Timmy drank San Miguel beer from his reserved seat. The bargirls sent out and got him what he wanted to eat. The barber came to him and did his scissor cut. When the last call pussy bell went off Tim was content to screw the living shit out of any girl who didn't get her bar fine paid. He just took them where they slept in the back room on bamboo beds. Timmy still has bamboo burns on his knee caps. If by lucky chance there were several girls trying to sleep. Timmy was the kind of guy that fucked them all.
Mamma-san took a nap one day, he fucked her too. Every time she talked about it she got to laughing and called Timmy, "You, number ten GI." She would enhance her story with betel juice spittle all over the place.
"Timmy gave me number one fucky/fucky. He, my number one customer, fucks in back room. Always cleans up big mess. I fuck his father in big war, act just like Timmy. Paid with chocolate bar." It was her favorite story. She was probably in her 70"s or 80's and hadn't been laid in twenty years. She thought she was too old to sell her sex. She was right; Timmy didn't give her anything except a 1964 silver dime.
The money that Timmy did give to the girls wasn't his. He didn't even pay for his beer. He was a bought man. His roommate at the base was scared to come into town and get some PI pussy. His technique was to give Timmy money and Timmy would use the money and get all drunk and sexed up. When he returned to the base on the last bus, except week ends of course, he woke up his roomy and told him wild and "Wet for Roomy" stories. His roommate was always polite and whacked off in the dark under his sheets. Timmy acted like he wasn't hearing anything. Or seeing anything. His roommate had the top bunk and Timmy talked him through his loneness.
Tim was honest; he never made up a story.
Besides his pussy income as a professional story teller. Timmy's only talent was that he could write mirror image backwards. Timmy's Air Force job was to schedule flights for pilots. (dispatcher) He could walk up on the back side of Plexiglas and write down down all the flight information. The pilots read it from the front counter side.
After his four year enlistment Timmy got out of the Air Force. He did it with style. He had this teeth worked on and told the military dentists to replace them with Gold. He was the first person that figured out mercury poisoning was caused by dentists. He came out with 14 gold teeth paid for by the US military. The military dentists loved Timmy, they would practice on him. Timmy let them have their way with his mouth, as long as the session ended in gold. It broke Tim's heart when he found out that his teeth were a bonded gold alloy.
Timmy returned with his GI footlocker. He could proudly open it and point out that he had a new ink pen for every day of service and never returned one. Over twelve hundred black U.S. Military ink pens were retired with Timmy.
His final and convincing blow against the military was the last day of his enlistment he stayed on base until 11:00 and ate Midnight chow. He walked right up to the cook and said. "This is my last meal in the Air Force. I want an omelet and four eggs over medium. An, I'm going to take the next hot toast out of the toaster." If you messed with Tim he got his revenge.
Timmy arrived home, got drunk at the local berg, "Wagon Wheel." Banged, his high school sweet heart who informed Timmy she had waited in celibacy for him. Timmy proudly informed her that the Philippines was Pleasure Island but that he had never paid a hooker for any sex. He had saved all his money and was giving it to her.
Timmy filed the paper work to work for the Ohio State Highway Patrol. Timmy was doomed for failure. They told him they would hire him as a dispatcher based on his air force experience. He had pulled out his piece of Plexiglas and a grease pencil and showed them his back-wards writing skills.
To be a State Trooper you had to be six foot tall. Timmy was six foot tall in high school. Something horrible had happened. He showed them his expired military ID; it stated that he was six foot tall. The nurse that came and did the physical stated, "All men lie about two things and height is one of them. Do you want to show me the other."
Tim really wanted to whip it out in the interview. He was sporting a two inch larger dick, from his experience in the Philippines. The penis is a muscle and it got bigger through a proper exercise regiment. Timmy had paid the price he was two inches shorter and gained it on his whizzer.
His girl friend had also noticed, "Damn Timmy you got a lot more hanging out from my hand. You're almost as big as my old boy friend Denny."
Timmy didn't like her talking about Denny. He usually would show her some mirror image writing and draw little hearts and arrows to change the subject.
Timmy went to the family doctor, Doc. Ralston and requested information on how to get taller. Doc. Ralston gave him a supply of muscle relaxers and suggested that he hang weights from his feet while sleeping. Also to hang upside down several times a day to counter balance the compression of gravity. Gravity can squeeze you as much as one inch by the end of the day.
Timmy built a contraption of ropes, pulley's and weights from the end of his steel framed single bed. He had them hooked to boots he laced himself into every night. He slept with the pull of weights on his heavy boots. He had thirty days before he could test again.
