This is a fantasy of what might have happened to a young girl at the Tailhook party in Las Vegas in the early 90s. What happened there was pretty awful for the dozens of women involved. But there may have been one who was assaulted and shamed by lots of men but somehow still enjoyed it just a little bit. This is her story.
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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 experience 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. Short, pixie hair 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 disappear 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 know 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, which were plain white. 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 off her legs 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 previous woman's, so they all got a pretty 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 oustide 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 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 ass 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 can do this safely and not take a chance of hurting me. I stopped squirming and start 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 is, how I must make my boyfriends 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. 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 happens to be near them. I couldn't tell, I didn't care.
