Anita Blowjob: Bar Hopping with Shaner and Duco.
I need to warn the reader at this point. Up to now, I've attempted to refrain from using vulgarities and profane language to the best of my ability. That just wasn't acceptable during this chapter. In order to get an accurate picture of what really happened, certain language was necessary.
Detachment 2, Company D, 109th Aviation, Nebraska Army National Guard, Lincoln, Nebraska, or more commonly referred to as Det. 2, was a small, dying by attrition, guard unit about l00 plus strong when I first joined them in 1987 upon leaving the active duty Marines.
A recruiter recommended them to me because at that time, they were about 10% former Marines, and mostly Huey crew chiefs from Vietnam. I hadn't thought of getting back into the military, but I'd decided going to school and getting paid for it had to be more fun than getting a real job.
About the same time I joined, a young man by the name of Tim Shaner graduated from Lincoln Southeast High School and joined Det 2. Shaner was a buffs fan. I never quite figured that one out. He was born and raised in Lincoln, Nebraska, never liked the Huskers, and rooted for a team that always sucked and got their asses pummeled by the Big Red on an almost annual basis. He's not the military type poster boy, but currently works as a full-time technician with the Army National Guard in Colorado, where he can properly support his 'buffs'. My wife would have pegged him as a 'pretty boy'. We became friends and started hanging out and bar hopping regularly. I enjoyed Tim for his humor, but mostly because the chicks flocked to him like he was some sort of babe- magnet.
Just a few short years after Tim and I had established this routine, a young man by the name of Ben Leduc graduated from Lincoln East High School and joined Det 2. Ben appeared to be a very timid and sheltered young man, so Tim and I decided there was no better media to corrupt.
The best description of Ben would be a short, stocky, 2nd string wrestler with something to prove. He's one of, if not the most irritating drunks I'm met in my life. He's a combination of the 'Fonz' and the missing link with his '8' head instead of forehead. Real smart, with a degree in electrical engineering, but got there through hard work more than by natural talent. Ben was real impressionable at the beginning, but now follows his own path. He wants to be the leader, but I'm not sure who's going to follow him at this point. Ben's got this leather jacket he likes to wear when we bar hop. Anybody who sees him has images of Happy Days fleeting through their thoughts, which are quickly dismissed. Those who know Ben are quick with the 'Aaayy' and the thumbs up, mimicking Henry Winker in his younger years.
It wasn't written in stone anywhere, but being the Marine, I was looked to each Saturday afternoon of guard drill to come up with a plan that would create an environment in which we would all show up for Sunday's drill with an incredible hangover. I was always successful. Hell, I remember one time in particular that Ben had to wear dress greens to an interview for OCS. He blew chunks so hard the previous night, that he popped a corpuscle in his face and had red pockmarks all over his cheeks and under his eyes. It looked weird because he resembled a red- haired, freckle-faced kid, only with black hair. Warrant Officer (CW4) James Taylor, the shop supervisor, had to dress him, and put on his tie, he was still so tanked up. I'll never forget J.T. yelling at us, "Why do you do this shit to me?" Anyway, back to the story.
We were bar hopping in my previously prescribed sequence, when at the end of the evening, we found ourselves in George's Gyros (pronounced "ye-ros"), just three of us left. Shaner, Duco (Ben), and me. We ordered mass quantities, enough to stem the hunger pangs of three severe drunks, when we spotted two hookers that had laid claim to the establishment.
One of them was almost the most beautiful creature known to man. A strikingly beautiful oriental woman with a huge rack pushing tightly against a furry pink sweater and the shortest black, silk skirt you'd ever wish for. They were probably fake, but men don't care, they just like them big and firm. She was playfully throwing French fries into the air to see if we could catch them in our mouths while giving us quick glimpses to prove easy access to her neatly trimmed landing strip.
The other hooker was at the exact opposite end of the fashion and pleasantries spectrum. She had to be four bills, and she was just a nasty black ho. Upon later reflection, we decided that the two were probably working together. The short black skirt made you horny enough to stick your junk into anything. Even if they weren't working together, they both obviously knew that four-bills was benefiting from the alcohol and the pleasant fantasies conjured up from looking at her counterpart.
Picture this: Duco and Shaner were sitting across from me in a booth, and there was an empty seat (or area in the booth, to be more accurate) on my left, as I'd slid in all the way to the window hoping the pink sweater and black skirt would come sit by me. Guess who took the seat?
She told us her name was Anita, or that might just have been the name we gave her upon later recollection. She pulled my unit out of my right pant leg (without even asking), again with the easy access shorts, with her right hand and started eating my fries with her left. Anyone walking past on the sidewalk could have stopped to watch, but I don't think they did. She was ugly, but I had a huge hard-on from watching the short black skirt and the hand job was satisfactorily relieving the pressure. As drunk as I was, I snaked my left arm around her neck and reached down her shirt to fondle her breasts. I didn't think she'd object. After all, she was eating my French fries. I felt something out- of-place, so to speak, and upon further examination, I found she had a pierced nipple. I said, "Hey guys, check this out." At this time, Ben and Tim became aware that our company was an 'active' participant. At about that same time they watched me pull her V-neck down with my right hand, and pull out her entire pierced nipple breast with my left hand, that was still snaked around her neck.
I can't describe the look on their faces, but the soda started coming out of Ben's nose. It must have been enough to provoke Anita. I didn't realize she was done with my fries until Tim said, "Hey, those are my fries." Anita said in a deep black ho voice, "Shut up, you skinny little white boy, I'll kick your ass." Then she looked at me and in the same tone of voice a mother would coo at her new born, she said, "I hope you have good health insurance, cuz I'm going to fuck you into the hospital." Playing along, I asked her how much for just a blow job, and she replied, "$5." Playing further, I questioned, "How much more for my buddies to watch?" It was at this point that Tim had seen and heard enough. He told Ben to get the keys to my Jeep, and we were out of there. We left about $8 in lamb sandwiches, but I don't think Anita did.
"You can't polish a turd." Kevin Goddard