"Serendipity" is simply finding what you're looking for under your very nose. Although there are times when your face needs to be forced into what you've been seeking. This is no more true than in my discovery of Pam.
My name is Stan and I'm a Marine. I stand just over six-feet-tall, about one-eighty, and lean-and-mean fighting-machine (what else would you expect of a leatherneck). Even though I am only twenty-three, I feel that I have lived a life and a half since I joined the Corps right after high school and served two tours in Iraq. It was in a hostile environment that I quickly began to wonder what was I doing and what the hell was missing from my life.
This came to a head during my last deployment that ended abruptly when my patrol got caught in a roadside explosion. As soon as we exited our damaged vehicle, we were instantly engaged in a fire fight in which hot rounds and rocket-propelled-grenades were flying all over the place. As we desperately fought to tactically withdraw, I took the rear-guard post providing suppressing fire for my retreating buddies. Others said that I acted heroically, but to be honest, it was all a blur with me being scared shitless, firing a quickly as I could, and desperately fighting for my life and those of my squad mates.
Suddenly there was an explosion and my body armor took several hits from something strong enough to knock me flat on my back and hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. However, it was the shrapnel that caught the edge of my armor and upper shoulder that caused me to be medic-evacuated from the war zone. Ultimately, I ended up being shipped stateside for treatment, rehab, and light duty. I was stunned when the powers-that-be pinned me with the Purple Heart for my wounds, awarded me the Bronze Star for heroic actions that I couldn't even remember, and promoted me to the rank of corporal.
However, the Corps can't stand to see Marines (especially true for those decorated junior NCOs) who can still walk and talk, lying around even if they were recovering. So, while undergoing shoulder rehab, I was given a choice of doing hospital duties (pushing around patients, cleaning up, and other shitty details that needed to be done) or being a part-time recruiter at an enlistment center close to the rehab facility. Hmmm...what is a marine to do...hmmm?
When my Mom who lives across the country found out about my assignment and where it was, she was elated. It seems that Uncle Jim and Aunt Naomi lived near the recruiting center which was part of the town's major shopping mall. Before I could say anything, she had called them, and they really wanted me to stay with them. According to Mom, only Pam (my Uncle's and Aunt's eighteen-year-old high school daughter) was at home. As a start, I could stay in Chip's (their son who was my age but away at college) room or in their guest cottage. They made it quite clear to me (through my mom) that they would not take "no" for an answer.
You've got to understand that my "uncle and aunt" weren't actual relatives, but, rather close family friends. Uncle Jim and my dad were foxhole buddies during the Corps operations in Grenada, and my mom and Naomi were best girlfriends who double dated their future spouses. My Uncle Jim thought he was a horny marine on leave chasing a pretty girl -- that is until Aunt Naomi ambushed and captured him, taking complete charge of his life.
Although our two families live on opposite sides of the country, we managed to get together on vacations and during visits. When my dad passed away, my Uncle and Aunt made the trip with Chip and Pam to pay their condolences. While I was a tad upset at the presumption of my mom, living with family friends was a lot better than living in the barracks. My superiors saw the potential value to a Corps of a real-life Marine (and a hero according to them) living in the community and associating with the primary recruiting population, male high school seniors.
My Uncle Jim was a bear of a man -- big, muscular, loud, and friendly -- who hugged me to him when I showed up at his doorstep and made me immediately welcomed. Aunt Naomi, on the other hand, was slender, graceful, and attractive with subtle discerning eye who made no bones about my welcome. After sizing me up (I felt like I was undergoing a drill sergeant's inspection), she immediately directed my Uncle to take my footlocker and duffle bag upstairs to Chip's room while I carried my suitcase due to my shoulder wound. Once there, Aunt Naomi went about (despite my protests) automatically unpacking my gear, setting up my uniforms and locker as she had done for her husband for so many years.
My Aunt, Uncle, and I were catching up on old times and what had happened to me when in came Pam, and I felt like I had taken an AK-47 round right in the center of my body armor. Let me explain. The Pam I recalled was Chip's five-years-younger sister who was a scrawny tomboy with dirty blond in pigtails, mouth full of braces, and freckles. Bossy and a royal pain in the ass, Pam was forever tagging along with Chip and me, invading our boys-only sanctums, and endlessly taunting me with derogatory nicknames. What I didn't know at the time was that Pam had a crush on me and resulted in her girlish irritating behavior toward me. For some strange reason, I had expected her to be the same.
However, the Pam who stood in the bedroom doorway had definitely grown into one hell of a luscious young woman. Her long slender but athletic legs, full hips, firm buns and narrow waist were amply displayed in form-fitting cheerleader uniform. Her full breasts were eye-catching but paled when compared to her sensuous face with bright blue eyes, a cute nose, and delicious lips. Fortunately, my utter surprise was quickly overlooked when Pam squealed "Doofus-head!" (her favorite nickname for me). It was only then that I knew for sure that this mouthwateringly attractive woman before me was really the Pam that I had known.
Throwing her arms around my neck, Pam smashed her outstanding tits into my chest, her youthful body molding sensuously to mine. Before I could say anything, Pam's lips pressed hotly against mine, her tongue worming its way between my surprised lips. To say that Pam took my breath away would have been a gross understatement. My little storm trooper was fixing bayonet and preparing for an all-out counteroffensive.
But before I could respond, Aunt Naomi barked an uncharacteristic "Pam! Behave yourself, young lady!" Pam slowly withdrew but not before a playful peck on my lips while untangling her arms from my neck. That distracted her shocked parents from her hips that subtly but enticingly brush against the bulge in my pants.
While Uncle Jim was clearly stunned by his daughter's unseemly behavior and my utter embarrassment, Aunt Naomi took in what had happened. With a stern look first at Pam, then at me (that had me standing at attention), my aunt finally looked back to her daughter who suddenly realized that she had crossed some unspoken line. Pam coyly retreated behind me, her arms encircling my waist as she pulled me between herself and her mother. Judging from my squirming Uncle, there was a silent battle of wills between two women who were cut from the same cloth and I was the battleground. Then with a slow shake of her head, Aunt Naomi's deep sigh of resignation seem to be the signal for all of us to breathe as the tension slowly dissipated from the room.
"I think," Aunt Naomi said slowly and thoughtfully, "that this weekend we better work on clearing out the guest cottage. Stan -- you will have all meals with us and you'll have your own key to our house which is always open to you at all hours. However, although your duties at the recruiting station are light, you're still recuperating from your injuries and from combat.
"As I remember and can personally attest to," Aunt Naomi paused to look at Uncle Jim, "Marines returning from war unwind by finding some female 'companionship'...and...for this..." Aunt Naomi paused as she stared directly Pam who was peeking around me, "You'll need 'privacy'...which is what the cottage will provide.
"I'm sure that working in the mall recruiting station and given Pam's group of friends, you should have no problems attracting young women...handsome Marines seldom do. Stan...do you have any problems with this?" Since I had no say what so ever, I just simply shook my head and murmured that it wasn't a problem. Aunt Naomi then turned to Pam and said in a tone that contained an underlying message not intended for male ears, "Do you understand me, Pam?
To her credit, Pam now moved in front of me and leaning back against me, returned her mother's look. Uncle Jim and I tensed in anticipation of another silently waged battle of wills. Then with an inscrutable smile gracing her sweet lips, Pam sweetly purred, "I'm sure Stan will find the female companionship that he needs...of that I have no doubts what so ever..." At this point, Uncle Jim and I were trying to figure out how we could beat a hasty retreat.
I had to admit that my Aunt knew what she was talking about. The cottage gave me the much needed space that I didn't realized I craved after the close enlisted quarters of the Corps and combat. But it was close enough to unwind with my Uncle about what happened "in-country" and enjoy good old family food and warmth from my Aunt. However, if my Aunt thought that having me living in the cottage would deter her willful daughter, she was sadly mistaken. Pam made it a point of personally calling me for meals, checking in on me after work, and eventually spending time with me and away from her parents in my cottage.
While she didn't throw herself at me like she did at our reunion, Pam did remind me of just how much she had grown and the lack of a woman in my life. To begin with, her casual outfits that she wore around the house left very little to the imagination. Her thin tops were either noticeably stretched or readily revealing her bodacious boobs and never failed to rouse my trouser snake whenever she leaned over or decided to torment me by going braless. Then there were those short shorts of Pam which made her shapely legs look incredibly long and her buns incredibly tight. But it was the inevitable crotch-shot when she sat cross-legged that drove me crazy. God, I couldn't believe how many cold showers and long runs I took after one of Pam's visits.
