Semper Fi

To The Reader: Some scientists postulate that more than one universe exists. In fact, there are those who believe that there may be an infinite number of parallel universes that exist side-by-side. This would mean that an infinite number of you exist, in multiple different universes. This theory is so popular that a movie was actually made about it - 2001's

The One

, starring Jet Li.

This story is written based upon the idea that more than one universe exists. While that wild photo shoot was occurring in Palm Desert in

The Wild Blue Yonder

, who knows what could've been going on in another one of the universes. This story contains many similarities to

The Wild Blue Yonder

; however, it is more than just a re-write - it is definitely a story that stands on its own.

Furthermore, with the exception of Hugh Hefner and Larry Flynt, all characters and occurrences in this story are entirely fictional. This story is not designed to be a true portrayal of military policy; however, the author has tried to make this story as true to the military as possible.

*

In December of 2008, Hugh Hefner, publisher of Playboy, approached the Secretary of Defense with a proposal. Hefner wanted to do a Playboy featuring the Women of the Military. However, he knew that were military women to appear nude in Playboy during their enlistment period, it could jeopardize their standing within the Armed Forces. For all his foibles, Hefner has always been known as a man who would go out of his way to make sure that his Playboy models were well taken care of and that nothing he did would be harmful to their careers.

After a great deal of negotiating with the Defense Department and the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Hefner got the go-ahead to do his issue, provided that none of the women were dressed in actual military uniforms at any point during the shoot, and that no military equipment was visible in any of the pictures. In addition, of the individual service secretaries, only the Secretary of the Air Force was willing to go along with the plan. Nonetheless, eager to do his issue, Hefner readily agreed.

When Hefner did the issue, he not only tastefully portrayed the Air Force, but he portrayed the diversity of the Air Force. In February 2009, Warrant Officer Amy Carson (African-American), Sergeant Michelle Tran (Asian), Tech Sergeant Kris Warbington (Caucasian), Lieutenant Nicole Kenna (Navajo), and Airman Rachel Gomez (Hispanic) appeared in Hefner's "Women of the Air Force" issue. It was the best selling issue of Playboy of all time, and provided unprecedented publicity for the United States Armed Forces. Recruiters nationwide reported a 56% increase in 18-25 year old male walk-ins between February and May of 2009. By the end of June 2009, the US Armed Forces stood at a place where they could've easily handled two major regional conflicts simultaneously – almost entirely thanks to Hugh Hefner publishing twenty-five pages of tastefully done nude photographs of women in the US Air Force.

My name is Gunnery Sergeant Aaron Le'Garte, United States Marine Corps (retired). I grew up with Kris Warbington, going to elementary and high school with her. However, when we graduated, we went our separate ways, with her going to Ft. Dyess in Texas for Basic, and me heading to Marine Corps Recruiting Depot San Diego. It had been a few years since I had seen her, but I most definitely saw her when she appeared in that February 2009 issue of Playboy!

Several copies of the issue were readily available at Camp Lejeune. In fact, I heard rumors that the commanding general even had one. We thought it was strange when the five women all received honorable discharges on exactly the same day - June 1, 2009 - but we figured, at least they didn't get court-martialed or anything of that nature.

Around that time, my older brother Jason, the chaplain at Beale Air Force Base in Sacramento, called me up and let me know about a bit of a stink that was going on out in northern California. Apparently, Kris had been assigned to Beale, and when she was discharged, the commander at Beale, a General Mae Durban, had kicked up such a stink over it being a cover-up and an excuse to get the Playboy five out of the Air Force that she had nearly jeopardized her own career. But it went away quickly, as do so many scandals in the military (trust me when I say that the Abu Ghraib scandal was a very rare exception to the rule!).

One day in July, I was called to my commanding officer's office. I knocked before entering, as is protocol, and when I was given permission to enter, I went in, saluted, and said, "Gunnery Sergeant Le'Garte, reporting as ordered, sir!"

That was when I noticed a very familiar looking old man sitting next to the general. I couldn't place him, but I could swear I'd seen him before. I quickly recognized him, though, when General Cunningham introduced him as Hugh Hefner, publisher of Playboy and Playgirl magazines.

After the general gave me permission to sit, Mr. Hefner started to ask me some questions. "I understand you're coming up on the end of your contract pretty soon here, Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, how would you like to make some extra money and get some national exposure?"

I should've guessed something was up when General Cunningham smirked at that remark, but I didn't think twice. "I'd like that, sir."

"Well, then, Sergeant, I would like to do an issue of Playgirl that features a member of the military - kind of the counterpart to the Playboy Air Force issue. The base doctor recommended you, but I figured I should come check out the potential model for myself."

"Uh... I see, sir," I replied.

What the fuck?!

"So," Hefner continued, "what I would like you to is stand up and strip."

When I hesitated, General Cunningham leaned across his desk and said, "Do it, Sergeant."

Well, there it was. Order from a flag officer. "Yes sir."

In under a minute, I was stark naked in the general's office. Hefner began looking me over and taking notes.

Now, I must say, I'm quite proud of my physique. I stand 6'3" tall, and I weigh in at 190 pounds - most of it muscle. I have a good amount of definition in all my muscle areas - torso, abdomen, arms, and legs. My tan is fairly even - although some of it was out of a bottle. But the thing I'm most proud of - my cock. When limp, it hangs about seven inches long, and when it's erect, it gets up to about eleven inches long and is nearly as big around as my wrist. I've gotten stares in the showers since I was about thirteen, and I've never had any problem getting a girl into bed.

Obviously Mr. Hefner approved, because after I got dressed, he said, "Well, you'll definitely do. You'll be getting a call to let you know when and where the shoot is."

The shoot was done in late July, right before the end of my contract, but the pictures were released in the September issue - distributed on August 15

th

, one week after the end of my contract.

It was the best selling issue of Playgirl ever - fuck yeah! - and it caused a spike in female enlistment in the armed forces. Boy were they going to be disappointed when they got to boot camp and had Don Knotts as their drill sergeant (believe it or not, he used to be a Marine drill sergeant - reportedly once the most feared drill sergeant on Parris Island!).

Shortly after the release of the September Playgirl, I received a phone call. The caller? Larry Flynt, the Sultan of Smut himself. He thought that the Air Force Playboy and my Playgirl were pure genius - and wanted to royally one-up Hefner.

The idea was that I would appear in a simulated sex shoot with one of the Playboy five, but he wasn't sure which one yet. Now, for the uninitiated, simulated sex involves what looks very much like sex but actually has no penetration by genitals or fingers, nor is there any mouth-to-genital contact. He set the shoot for September 26

th

in Palm Desert, California. I would have moved back to L.A. by that time, so I readily agreed.

So, very early on the morning of September 25

th

, I left Canoga Park (L.A. suburb, also known as the SoCal Porn Capital) for Palm Desert. On the way there, though, something very strange happened. As I was passing through Redlands, a Ford Explorer that looked identical to mine pulled in front of me. Then I noticed something even more strange - it had my Explorer's license plate! Now, I knew that that was impossible, because I was

driving

my Explorer. What the hell was going on?!

I tried to pull up next to the other Explorer to identify the driver, but it matched me move for move - almost as if the driver knew exactly what I was going to do. This continued for about ten miles, and then the driver took the Yucaipa Blvd. exit. Then, something really strange happened. As the Explorer rolled to a stop at the stoplight, it just seemed to fade out of existence. Now, I couldn't tell if it was just the early morning light playing tricks on my eyes, but I was certain I had just seen the impossible. However, I was going seventy-five miles per hour down Interstate 10, and it wasn't as if I could just turn my head to look back. So, I continued toward Palm Desert and tried to forget about it.

About forty minutes later, I arrived at the site for the shoot. I was still a little disturbed by what had just happened, but I did my best to put it out of my mind. As I stepped out of my Explorer, I heard an electric whir. Turning, I saw Larry Flynt rolling up in his wheelchair.

"Sergeant Le'Garte," he said in his nasally voice. "So glad you could make it. You're running a little late, though, so if you'll follow Miguel here, he'll take you to your trailer for makeup and costume."

Miguel was a flamboyantly gay Hispanic man of about 25. As he played with my hair and applied the necessary makeup for the photo shoot, he started talking about all kinds of random stuff. After about ten minutes, though, he said something that really broke into my comfort zone.

"Yeah," he said, "I really loved your Playgirl issue. You've got a great cock!"

"Uh..."

How the fuck was I supposed to respond to that?

"Thanks, I guess..."

Awkward silence fell and remained there for the next fifteen minutes, as he finished up. As he was finishing, I heard what sounded like a semi pulling in. Standing up, I opened the door and looked out.

Yep. It was a semi. But it had a cargo unlike any I had seen before. This trailer was carrying a huge aircraft - it looked like retired Air Force, except for the fact that it was painted black and said "HUSTLER" in bright silver letters up the tail. "Holy shit," I said. "That's a huge fucking plane."

"Aaron," Miguel called, "you still need to change into your costume."

I turned around. Miguel was holding what looked, honest to God, like a real military uniform. There was a pair of desert cammie pants, a gray physical fitness t-shirt that said "Hustler" on it, and a pair of freshly polished black combat boots. I crossed the room to him and took the uniform. "Thanks," I said.

I turned my back to him and started to take off my t-shirt. Then I realized something.

Turning around, I saw him staring at me with a huge shit-eating grin on his face. "Uh, could I get a little privacy here?" I asked. I was a little uncomfortable with this!

"Oh, yes, my apologies," he stammered, turning red. He almost tripped as he exited the trailer.

Alone, I took my time getting dressed, pulling the PT shirt as tight as it would go and tucking it in, and making sure the cuffs of the pants were tucked into the tops of the boots, flaring them out properly. Checking myself out in the full-length mirror, I executed a crisp about-face and marched out of the trailer.

As I exited into the bright desert sunlight, I heard a voice from the next trailer over say, "Holy shit, it's a B-58 Hustler!"

So that's what the plane was. But more than that, the voice sounded familiar. Really, really familiar. Like, I went to school with that voice for thirteen years familiar.

Turning slowly to my left, one look confirmed it. Kris Warbington was my co-star for this morning. "You have got to be fucking kidding me," I muttered under my breath. All through high school, Kris was pretty much the only girl I had ever gone after who I had failed to get. And she was a MASSIVE tease, too. Having been my friend for so long, she knew exactly how to turn my crank and knew exactly where to stop to leave me unbelievably frustrated. And this was just going to make it even worse. I was going to have to pretend to have sex with her, but I wasn't going to actually get to fuck her? What kind of bullshit was that?!

She looked fantastic, though. Her hair was shorter than it had been in high school, bobbed at the shoulders - probably from being in the Air Force. Her 36C chest and her unbelievable ass just seemed all the more accentuated from four years of military training. She was wearing a shirt much like mine, except it was cut baby-tee style, and was ridiculously tight across her chest. She was also wearing a pair of forest-cammie pants, except that they had been cut off so short that part of her ass cheeks were exposed. Combat boots like mine finished the ensemble.

As I was standing there staring at her, she turned, and saw me. "Oh my God!" she yelled. "Aaron! Is that you?!"

"Hi Kris," I said with a bit of a wave.

Dammit. Thank you very fucking much, Larry Flynt.

Speak of the devil. Flynt came rolling up at that moment, as Kris and I approached each other. "Do you two already know each other?" he asked, with a puzzled look on his face.

Do we already know each other

. I was more than willing to bet that this bastard had intentionally set this up this way. But, I played along. "Elementary school, middle school, high school," I replied. "We've known each other for way too long."

A big shit-eating grin broke out on Flynt's face. "Then you shouldn't have any problems with each other. Let's go to work!"

Fuck.

Or rather, NOT. God damn Larry Flynt's black soul to hell.

At that point, Flynt called for silence. He announced that he'd be directing the photo shoot personally – something unprecedented. Apparently, he wanted to personally one-up Hefner on this one.

At 8:15 AM, the shoot got started. It started with Kris by herself, still clothed. The first few shots were of her sitting on the edge of the wing of the B-58. After that, they had her recline on the wing, with one leg up and bent at the knee. They did a few shots, alternating between her left and right legs. The final shots they did with her fully clothed were of her on her hands and knees, facing away from the camera, and looking back over her shoulder.

After that, she was instructed to remove her t-shirt. She did this, revealing a blue, white, and black winter-camouflage pattern string bikini top underneath. She was then instructed to pull her shorts up as far as she could and roll them waistband down to her pubic line. When she did this, a good third of her ass cheeks were revealed. My cock was starting to wake up. I could feel it starting to harden, and it wasn't supposed to be hard yet, so I started thinking about other things. The line from the first Austin Powers movie, "Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day!" started playing through my head. EWWW. That was enough.

After a few shots of just her dressed like this, I was told to enter the shoot. After a few "intro" shots, I was instructed to kiss Kris. Didn't have to ask me twice. Flynt had us do a few shots kissing, and then he instructed Kris to remove her shorts.

When Kris removed her shorts, she revealed a very skimpy thong that matched her top. Call Flynt a smut master, but at least he pays attention to detail and does his best to make costumes fit in. After a few more shots of me and Kris kissing, with Kris's shorts dangling from my left hand, I was instructed to remove my shirt. Kris then moved to kissing my chest for a few shots, followed by a few shots of me fondling Kris's breasts. Oh damn. Those are some nice funbags.

Kris was then instructed to remove her bikini top. As she did so, her 36C breasts spilled out. And damn, what breasts they were. I mean, yeah, I'd seen them in Playboy, but they were just all the more incredible in person. They appeared to be almost identical, and were just as tan as the rest of her body, which meant she'd been doing a bit of nude tanning since the Air Force gave her her walking papers. My cock started getting hard again.

For the first few shots of the next set, Flynt had me move behind Kris and cover her breasts with my hands. Apparently, he didn't want his "readers" getting TOO excited just yet. He then had Kris turn her head and look up at me. After a few shots like this, he had me reveal Kris's breasts. Damn, just when I starting to have fun.

But, then, I was instructed to squeeze her left breast with his left hand and place my right hand inside her bikini bottom. Okay! As I slid my right hand into her bikini, I felt nothing but absolutely smooth skin down there.

Damn, she put a lot of work into that

, I thought. My middle finger brushed her protruding clitoris, and she gasped a little.

Hmmm

, I thought.

Take advantage

?

Yes indeed. Just barely enough for it to even be considered motion, and so little that nobody else would notice, I started to rub Kris's clit. I saw her cheeks begin to flush and saw little tiny drops of perspiration start to roll down the back of her neck. And then Flynt called for a new position - apparently, he had enough shots in this one.

As I withdrew my hand from Kris's bikini bottom, she looked supremely disappointed. As she turned to face me, Flynt directed me to kiss and fondle Kris's tits for a few shots. Well, once again, I didn't have to be asked twice. I went right to work, twirling Kris's nipples with my tongue and sucking on her tits almost like a little baby. I could tell this got an immediate reaction, as I heard her gasp, and then heard Flynt say with a laugh, "Cool it, Aaron, we don't want Kris cumming quite this early!"

So I backed down a bit, and once his photographers got their shots, Kris was instructed to kneel, put her hand on the now very obvious bulge in my crotch, and kiss my washboard abs. When she touched my cock, it jumped a little, but then calmed down. Flynt's photographers got a few shots of that, and then I was instructed to remove my pants.

When I pulled down my pants and my now eleven inch long, angry, erect cock came into view, Kris's eyes went as wide as dinner plates. "Ho-ly SHIT," she whispered.

I looked down at her with a smartass grin, as if to say, "See what you were missing all those years?" She just gave me a look back, as if to say, "Shut your fucking mouth."

Kris was told to take hold of my cock, and make it look like she was giving me a handjob. Flynt took a few shots like that, and then told her to act like she was giving me a blowjob. This time, nine different cameras took close to a hundred shots – some from the front, with my cock positioned right in front of her mouth as if she was about to suck it in, some from behind her, some from behind me, with only part of her head visible, and some from just over the edge of the B-58's wing, catching only from her nose up, making it look as if she truly was giving me a blowjob. All the movement of her hands on my cock was making it a little difficult to concentrate, so I just closed my eyes and tried to think of something else.

Once the blowjob shots were done, Kris was instructed to sit on the edge of the B-58's wing and lay back. Once she had done so, I was told to pull her thong aside, revealing her pussy, and start act as if I was licking her pussy. This time, only four cameras were involved – one was behind my head. There was a camera on either side of us, and when they were taking pictures, Kris was instructed to lift her legs up so that my head would be hidden. The fourth camera was above and behind Kris, and it caught only from her waist up. For those pictures, she was instructed to close her eyes and pretend as if she were in ecstasy.