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By screwloose2@my-dejanews.com

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. A short, pixie haircut 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 knew 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.
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 her off 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 outside 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 so called 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 butt 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 could do this safely and not take a chance of hurting me. I stopped squirming and started 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 was, how I must make my boyfriends very 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 hole.
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 happened to be near them. I couldn't tell, I didn't care.
Eventually they finished cutting off every hair to their satisfaction. They rinsed off the whole area and toweled it down. I thought they were finished. I hoped they were finished. They blew on my crotch to dry it off completely. One of them patted it gently, said that he hoped that they hadn't hurt me and that I looked great shaved. Then he decided he'd kiss it.
To give you an idea what this must have looked like, my legs were being held up above my shoulders. He planted a kiss playfully on my now-naked mound. I jumped at the touch. He looked up at me intently. I could see only his eyes staring at me from between my legs; the rest of his face was hidden behind my mound. Then I understood his intention. I was wideeyed with horror at the idea, he couldn't be serious. But the whole room was howling with laughter and taunts for him to go ahead. "Eat her! Eat her!"
He looked down intently right into my stretched-open cunt, and lowered his mouth to my clit. The room was suddenly very quiet. Ohmigod, it's hot and electric, his tongue scraped over my slit. The entire area was super-sensitive, from being newly naked, from being cold, from being exposed. His mouth was erotic and electric.
I pushed my hips up into his mouth, and the crowd roared its approval. He locked his lips around my clit and sucked it into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. God it was wonderful. I nearly fainted from the flood of sensation. (My juices are flowing right now, and I'm terribly turned on remembering the feelings so I can write this. My hands have been wandering to my crotch as I write. Perhaps you can catch a whiff of me on the paper.)
Tommy held my face in his hands and kissed me, long and deep. As the man at my crotch sucked and pulled at my clit, I moaned my pleasure into Tommy's mouth.
Suddenly I felt more, something going inside me. He was pushing his finger into my vagina and stroking it in and out in time with the sucking, like he was fucking me with his finger while his mouth was sucking on my clit. I had never had so much sensation from actually being screwed. That's usually either sliding in the hole or scraping the clit, but not often both at the same time.
Then I couldn't believe it but I was actually on the verge of coming, and then I did, I screamed out, I was loving it. How could I do this in front of an audience? Enjoying sex is usually such a private thing.
Shaver One stopped, got up, leaned down to kiss me on the mouth, and Shaver Two took his place. When he started to lick away, I continued coming with him, in one long orgasm.
Then Ted left his place at my breast and stood in front of me. "I kneel at the altar of your delicious cunt, Katie," he said. "I've wanted to taste your pussy since the day we met." I pushed my crotch up at him, as much as I could, to indicate that he should go ahead.
He opened my sex with his thumbs, applied his kiss to my inner lips, then to my clit. This went on for minutes. I was bucking up to him, pushing my crotch into his mouth, but I couldn't come again so soon.
Tommy took his place, and while he was chewing on my labia, I felt something hard come into me. Well, it was a bottle from the bar, an empty with a long neck. He had to position his head sideways to make room for the bottle, and he could barely reach my clit with his tongue while he pumped the bottle in and out of me.
Then someone else replaced him, and it's a blur after that. I guess another four or five guys ate me out that night. They didn't have to hold my legs open after the first couple. I held them up myself and wiggled my pussy in their faces. And they pushed fingers and bottles and other things into me, and, when it didn't hurt, I loved the feeling of being filled.
I fell asleep on the sofa for a while. When I woke, I was still nearly fully dressed, except for my underwear. And now except for my pubic hair, too. The crowd had found another woman to play with, and had forgotten about me. I wonder what happened to her.
T&T helped me find my shoes and we stumbled out into the hall to find another bar. I never did find my stockings or panties. They were probably taken as trophies by some horny sailors.
I think I was pretty lucky that I didn't get gang-banged by twenty guys while I was passed out. At least I don't *think* I did. My pussy was red and sore for two days, but that could have been just beard burn. That, and maybe whatever alcohol was left in the bottles. Jesus, the bottles. I almost forgot about them. I pray that there are no pictures.
Well, if the whole crew did fuck me, at least they had enough respect for a fellow officer to clean me up afterwards. And I assume that the hookers did a brisk business that night.
A while later, a friend of mine came running out of one room very disheveled, her uniform blouse unbuttoned, her skirt crooked and pushed up, no shoes. She was crying and out of control. I helped her to the bathroom. She wanted me to stay with her. She told me about the "gauntlet" in that room I had seen her stumbling out of. I managed to avoid that one.
She had to go between two lines of men, all close together. Some would hold her so she couldn't move quickly while others felt her up anywhere they wanted to: her breasts, her ass, even up under her skirt into her crotch. Some of them held her arms and legs so she couldn't even avoid the groping deep in her crotch.
Halfway down the line, the several guys holding her legs pulled up her skirt and removed her pantyhose completely, and after that the groping in her crotch got more serious, to where some of the men actually wiggled their fingers inside her panties, for Christ's sake.
She said she was lucky to get out of there without being raped. Complete strangers reaching into your underwear, wow, that's going a bit too far. (Ha ha.)
I sympathized with her in the bathroom, and I didn't tell her that there were much worse -or much better -things that could have happened to her that night.
The way I look at it, if you can't take the heat, you better get into the kitchen and stop trying to play with the big boy's.
Ms. K. M. USN (ret'd)