Like all women, I went through the stages of experimentation, in codes of conduct, morals, smoking, and drinking, when I was in high school, and as I entered the more formal grown up world of the single girl, on the make. It is no surprise to you, I’m sure, that sex and drinking was something that I liked, and wanted to do, a lot. Of course, I tried to appear to be the perfect lady to my family, business associates, and those upright ladies at church. Smoking, was a stinky habit, so I quit that.
Some said that I was aimless, and just a party girl, in my early twenties. Guess they saw through my good girl charade. Between you and I, on Saturday nights, if I did not have a hot date, Kim DeSota and I would drive to San Diego from El Cajon, where we lived.
We always went to the same place, the “Rusty Tank,” a dance and drinking hole, which was crowded with Marines, and girls, like us, that knew you would get lots of attention there. The man to woman ratio was six to one.
“Bomb, ba, da, da, --- Bomb, ba, da, da.” Music not just heard, but felt, as the strobes flashed, spinning globes ran light streaks along the walls, and deep tanned men, real men, riveted their eyes on us, like wolves.
The first time we went there, it was because we had heard that it was, “A great place to dance, and flirt.” That evening, it was ninety degrees. After a few dances, both Kim’s and my dress showed sweat stains under the arms, and my panties and bra were damp. We were dancing every dance with one of the six Marines that had taken over our table with us.
“Gunny,” as they called him, became possessive of me, and kept me on the dance floor, after a dance, on the far side of the floor. His bulging muscles, and tight buns were displayed under his form fitting satin shirt, and pants.
In a deep voice, he asked; “How tall are you, girl? You can’t weight any more then my duffel bag?”
Raising my head, and trying to stand a little taller in my two and a half inch heels, I said, “I’m five foot, and a half inch tall, and one hundred, and nine pounds.”
“That is enough woman for me,” he softly said as he took my hand and lead me out the side door.
I was suddenly outside. He was leading me to a van parked in the dark rear area of the parking lot.
Thinking that he wanted to go park, kissy face, and maybe feel my tits, I was not disturbed. He opened the side door. Had me climb into the rear, which had a mattress on the floor.
Rolling me to the floor, from my bent over position, he said, “Not everybody wants to fuck, but somebody has to know how!” He was between my legs, and had my panties pushed to one side, in seconds. I felt his cock slide up my sweaty cunt lips, and then it slid , suddenly, deep into me.
That rock hard Marine begin to motor his big gun in and out of me in a way no high school boy had. I could not, “Stand firm, hold your ground,” to his assault. Each thrust into me propelled my little body forward, only to rebound back as his cock was withdrawn. Tits bounced and jiggled on each side of me.
My hands were on his back, then his shoulders, feeling the ripple of the man’s muscles, as his manhood cleaved my womanhood, time and time, again. He completely covered me with his body, so that I had to look out to one side.
When his hand roughly pawed my breast, it triggered my orgasm to wander like a pin ball through my body, until it forced my cunt to clamp his cock, and I shuddered in a sweaty, “Tilt.” Gunny responded to that by firing off six shots of white hot cum, down range, right on target.