Jarhead on the Loose Ch. 01: Going Joint

When I arrived in Washington DC I was assigned to Company B, Headquarters Battalion, billeted at Henderson Hall in Arlington, Virginia. I was assigned a room in the Batchelor Enlisted Quarters from which I could look out onto part of the National Cemetery, the Pentagon and the Washington Monument. I went through the typical mandatory checking-in process, made slightly atypical by the fact I wasn't really part of the regular Marine Corps anymore. I had been seconded to a joint agency few had ever heard but which had great influence and it, in turn, had sent me to work as part of the Joint Staff. In short order I had been transformed from a Marine with a rifle, body armor, and an obligatorily overweight ruck-sack, part of a well defined and coordinated platoon to an almost orphan in the utmost rear-echelon of rear echelon commands. To say I was feeling somewhat adrift would be an understatement.

I groused about being wrenched from my Marine world and thrust into this mish-mosh of civilians and suspiciously colored other uniforms to my sponsor, another Marine staff non-commissioned officer. He laughed and basically agreed with the main gist of my logic and did his best to cheer me up. As we walked down one of the innumerable corridors of the Puzzle Palace he pointed out that the Pentagon was far from any other duty station at which I had ever served. "Look around you," he said, widely sweeping his hand before him, "really look. Not just at who you see here, but everywhere you go. Man, chicks dig uniforms and a girl who likes uniforms is going to like Marine uniforms most." He glanced at me and I frowned, thinking.

"No light-bulb yet?" He shook his head. "This town is loaded with people who come here to work for a while, people who only come to visit. They all want as much of a Washington DC, the nation's capital, experience as they can get." He grinned. "What's more capital than getting laid by a good looking guy wearing dress blues?"

"Yeah," I grumbled, unwilling to be too easily cheered "but I don't want to blow my money chasing pussy."

He rolled his eyes. "Gunny, Gunny, Gunny. They come with their own money, they don't need yours!" Such are the words of prophecy.

After settling in and learning a bit of the out-lying terrain I found myself assisting a pretty woman with a Spanish accent, an impressive chest and an overheated car. Only meaning to provide a little help getting her back on the road, I applied some duct tape to a split water hose, dropped in a quart of water, followed her to a car repair place and gave her a ride home when it turned out they had to order a replacement hose. She insisted on feeding me and then thanked me in a more intimate way and for the first time I heard a woman cum in Colombian Spanish. Maybe this duty station wasn't going to be so bad.

Henderson Hall was not much more than a cluster of buildings wedged between Fort Meier, home of the Old Guard, the National Cemetery, and the old uninspiring office building housing Headquarters, Marine Corps. One had to hop the fence to the Army base for a good gym workout but we had our own enlisted club and it was fairly popular. Sure, a few retired war-horse Marines would be found at the bar soaking in beer, but for the most part it was like any other E-club I'd been, full of young rowdy jarheads but with a decidedly different mix of women. Not only were Women Marines vastly over represented, many of whom were students of one kind or another so, not being in anyone's chain of command, the whole fraternization hazard seemed to disappear. If that hot looking corporal who happened to be here for the court reporter course wanted to get laid by that wiry staff sergeant who spent his time preparing personnel files for promotion board scrutiny, it wasn't going to cause command problems. Better yet, girls from all of the other armed forces made appearances to check out the grass on our side of the fence.

One of the girls who had sampled said grass and would come back for more was named Judy. She had joined the Air Force to escape the hills of Kentucky and was quite happy with the results of the deal. I knew her from numerous quick conversations as the music blared and people swirled. She was pretty enough in a fresh faced country way and dressed to flatter her steep curves. One of Judy's mannerisms was to suddenly, and for no discernable reason, throw out her chest and loudly proclaim "36C! Whoo-hoo!"

As luck would have it, we were both at the club the night I ran into a familiar very attractive female face. The last time I had seen Monica Jones she couldn't have weighed more than 100 pounds, and stood maybe an inch over five feet tall. She was in her first ever Marine unit and she was as green a Marine as one could meet. How green? At our first meeting as she had reported aboard while I was the battalion officer of the day I had asked, "What's your name, Marine?" before directing her to the Admin shop.

Her stance went from straight and tall, nearly at attention, to a relaxed, hip out-thrust, shoulder slump pose and she looked up at me with big brown eyes while she said, "Monica. What's yours?" I smothered my laughter and proceeded to establish an appropriately professional senior-to-junior rapport by reminding her Marines answer my question with rank and last name. Over time I would see her occasionally and wonder who was tapping that cute, petite ass and munching on her B cup boobs.

This night I glimpsed her face in a group of four women of varying degrees of attractiveness but all of whom were relaxed and comfortable, not gawking as many first-timers do. I made my way over, approaching her blind side. Her companions gave a warning look and she turned to see what had garnered their interest.

"As I live and breathe, Monica Jones," I grinned.

She looked at me with a frown, the same brown eyes set in a more mature but still young face. "It hasn't been Jones for a while," her eyes narrowed, "I know you, don't I?" The question brought a general easing of wariness among her friends. I waved at them in vague greeting and reminded her of our shared command history. With that she turned to address her group, "Oh, he's okay," and then resumed our conversation.

For the next few minutes we played the usual catch-up and I learned she had married one of the men in her section, a common occurrence, was currently stationed in North Carolina and was in town for a short training course. Two of her group had split off, looking for some attention but one remained at her side, doing her best to not act like a self-appointed guardian she had obviously become. My judgment was Monica had done just enough drinking prior to our meeting that her friend suspected her ability to make good choices was a bit impaired.

We were making small talk, discussing people we knew and providing filler on certain events that had taken place during our shared time. I learned I had something of a reputation among junior troops as an amiable hard-ass, switching from making someone laugh to tearing a new ass-hole over some infraction of my Holy Marine Corps rules, but the few women in the command thought I was "doable" if it weren't for the stick up my ass. Yeah, she'd been drinking.

"What about you, Monica? Did you think I was 'doable'?"

She sipped through her straw and took exactly the same stance as years before, hip out, eyes wide. Slowly, she raised her left hand to display her wedding band. I took that for an unspoken "Yes, but..." and laughed.

She smiled cutely and then her attention shifted behind me. I turned to see Judy, of the US Air Force, approaching with a drink, a smile, and towing a mutual acquaintance by his hand Wayne, my BEQ neighbor.

"Hey, John," she said, pulling up, "Whatcha doin'?" Her eyes flicked up and down Monica's slight form while Monica took in the expanse of Judy curves. Except for skin color, there may not have been a greater contrast in the place.

I made introductions, letting Monica handle that for her friend who still had not given her name. Judy didn't spend much time on getting acquainted chat.

"Hey, I'm bored here and I was thinkin' we could git on over to GW's and do some dancin'" GW's was an oddity in the DC area, a country-western bar catering to the urban crowd who thought it was a place where they can get a honky-tonk experience, but authentic enough to bring in a real boot and hat crowd. Behind Judy, Wayne rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders, indicating he didn't really give a shit. I did. Was opportunity knocking? I turned to Monica.

"Sounds like fun, you wanna come?"

Indecision showed on her face. Her guardian angel leaned in with concern on hers.

"Oh, hey, I don't know..." she said.

Judy cleared her throat. I looked back at her and she tilted her head, "I'm driving." She had an F-150 with a short cab. I turned back to Monica who was by that time talking to the angel.

"No, I'll be fine. I know him, it's cool," she was saying.

The guardian glared at me and jabbed me in the chest, "Nothing better happen to her, I don't give a shit rank you wear!" She looked at Monica again, who nodded, and then she stomped off.

Judy sighed. "Ah'm drivin'!" she said again.

I smiled at her, feeling things going my way. "Oh, look at her, she's tiny! We'll all fit, I'm sure."

"What?" Monica said, the messages going over her head.

"Later," I said, putting my hand in the small of her back and easing her toward the door. Judy didn't look happy and Wayne was bemused at the turn of events. Soon enough we were at Judy's truck watching her climb in.

"Wayne you get in, I'll ride shot gun."

"What about me?" Monica inquired.

"You sit on my lap," I announced. Monica's eyebrows rose but she didn't object.

So let it be said, so let it be done. We pulled out of the parking structure with truck tires squealing and it occurred to me I should have checked Judy's state of inebriation before entrusting myself to her driving skills. GWs was in Alexandria, just a few miles away but Judy drove like she needed to make up for lost time. This abruptly changed when, after about the third time she hit a bump hard enough to make us all bounce, I joked that the police officer investigating the smoking ruins of her truck might find my dick embedded inside Monica. I don't think the joke irritated Judy as much as did Monica's laughter. Either way, from that point on our speed and cornering became less manic. That did not, however, stop me from alluding to my possible penetration of Monica's vagina every time we rolled over a mild bump, once again bringing a laugh from the very cute girl with her ass riding on my hard cock. Wayne just shook his head.

GWs was crowded, the dance floor was full, the bar was three deep and not a table was to be found in the place. Hat, boots and platter sized belt buckles were in plentiful supply, setting us apart from the main crowd but not putting us with the confused and grinning gentile yuppies in their city clothes if for no other reason than our Marine hair-cuts.

We got drinks and then I found out that Monica wasn't having a good time. Too many people, too loud, too everything and she didn't two-step. "Neither do I!" I shouted. Oops.

Judy's eyes lit up. "Yer with me! I'll teachya!" she yelled, grabbing me mid-chest by my shirt. Onto the dance floor we went and she positioned me in the appropriate form with space between us and explained the basic movements.

"Ready?" she called into my ear as her body motion reflected the beat of the music. "Let's go!" And we went. I was used to various other dance styles but this time found myself accepting a woman's lead, a new experience. I concentrated on foot motion and keeping my frame, managing not to look down - the mark of a rank beginner.

"Yer doin' good!" Judy said into my ear. We made a couple circuits around the room and then, out of the blue, Judy groaned "Fuck this" and then pulled me in close, mashing her Kentucky hills into my chest and laying her cheek against me. Taken aback by the turn of events, I went with it. We went around a few more times, Judy finding ways to rub against me but never raising her face into a "kiss me" invitation nor pressing her lips against my neck. Hell, maybe that's just how they dance in Kentucky, I thought.

We left the floor and went to find our two non-dancing companions. Monica had downed a couple more drinks and was looking not only a bit unsteady, but unhappy. Wayne was still nursing the beer we had left him with and looking put upon. I could imagine his thoughts; Judy had dragooned him out of the club where he liked to quietly drink his beer and I had left him with a stranger who, as far as he could tell, was my date. In my mind I could hear the wheels coming off.

"I gotta get back," Monica said in confirmation.

"Ya'll wanna go already?" Judy gasped.

Monica nodded, Wayne shrugged. "You okay?" I asked Monica. She didn't meet my eyes, merely mumbled a terse, barely heard "I'm fine."

"Alrighty then," I said, accepting reality. "Let's go."

"What!?" Judy was aghast.

"Come on, Judy," I said, "She's not having fun, let's get her back."

The drive back was manic again, but the cab was filled with an edged tension. Nobody laughed at my jokes and I mentally counted up my mistakes. We dropped Monica at her assigned room and she refused my gallant offer to walk her to her door. Henderson Hall is small place and Wayne and I could easily have walked back to BEQ, but Judy insisted she drive us the few hundred yards. I was a bit surprised when, instead of using one of the outside parking spots she pulled into the underground structure used by residents and slid into an open spot and killed the engine. We both looked at her.

"Guys, ya'll have managed to buzz kill me at only one AM on a Friday night." She shook her head as if in disbelief. "It's too late too start over and now I'm just tired and wanna sleep." She looked up. "Who's got a couch?"

Wayne and I glanced at each other. There was nothing going between Wayne and Judy. Officially she was the girlfriend of one of Wayne's troops which is how they met in the first place. Nor was there anything, other than one titty squishing dance, between Judy and me. Topping it off, though Judy was known to be something of a boisterous beer guzzling partier, she wasn't known as an easy lay. The question looked pretty benign.

Feeling responsible for the collapse of the evening fun, I opened my mouth.

"I do."

She smiled a bit. "Okay then."

Wayne led the way with Judy between us pretty much forcing me to watch her tight jean clad ass undulate up the stairs. I sighed, wishing I was watching Monica's smaller, but still deliciously curved, bottom making the trip.

Wayne let himself into his room without comment. I keyed my room open and waved Judy inside.

"Jeez, you Marines are so che... plain." I knew she was going to say "cheap". Air Force quarters are opulent compared to any of the other services. "At least you don't have to share your room. Tommy," her boyfriend, "has two room mates."

I chuckled. In my days as a junior enlisted man we had open squadbays which, later, we were allowed to position wall-lockers to create small four man cubicles with one small table and chair to share. Everything changes.

Demonstrating her knowledge of the standard BEQ room floor plan she walked directly into the bathroom and closed the door.

I pulled out my extra blanket (green, wool, with US emblazed in center) and cleared off her niche as the toilet sounded.

She came to stand beside me.

"That's for me?"

"Yup," I said, unbuttoning my shirt.

She looked over at my bed.

"Care to swap?"

"Nope," I said with a shake of my head, pulling my shirt tails out of my jeans.

"Oh, come on," she whined.

"No way. Think of it as pay-back." I replied.

"Pay back?" she squeaked. "I think you guys owe me! You killed my Friday night!"

I sat on the edge of my bed and yanked at my shoe laces.

"Judy," I explained, "as much as I enjoy your company -" she pushed out her chest and gave off her signature cry. "yeah, well, it was someone else I had been hoping to entertain up here tonight." I shucked my shoes.

"Are you saying I cock blocked you?" She gaped.

"Let's just say events didn't turn out the way I had hoped."

She didn't reply. She turned to her readied pallet for the night and sat. She didn't look up as I pulled off the rest of my clothes and slid between the sheets. I heard her boots hit the floor and I turned off the light.

"Good night, Judy."

"'Nite" she answered from across the room.

Sleep did not come easy. The events of the night, even as awry as they had gone, had left me charged up. I lay on my back, thinking about the way Monica's ass had felt wriggling on my cock during the drive to GWs and it's complete lack of motion on the return trip. I had let Judy fuck up my night. Thinking back on it, I got a bit steamed. Sure, it was my fault for putting Monica in an uncomfortable place but Judy's antics didn't help. Looking back on it I could see that her subtle hostility was as much to blame for the buzz kill as my one or two mistakes. Yeah, Judy, you did cock block me. I drifted off to sleep feeling angry.

I awoke with an iron hard cock, standing over the dim form of my sleeping guest. I was confused at first. What time was it? How did I get here? I didn't even remember getting out of bed. As my mind cleared and became fully aware of my situation, Judy's voice came up to meet me.

"It's about time."

I lowered myself and she sat up, still clothed. Her arms went around my neck and my mouth found hers. The kiss was full of pent up energy. Maybe she had been asleep, maybe not, but she was ready. Was I her target all night? Who knew, but now, with my frustration seeking release, she had become mine.

I lifted her and carried her to my bed. "Ohhh," she sighed when I pulled open her blouse to expose her bra encased breasts. "Ohhhh!" she moaned when I tugged a cup down to a nipple and fasten my mouth on it. Her flesh was soft and white, firm enough to fall short of pillowy. I tugged at the other cup and both breasts were dimly pale in the darkness. Her aureoles were wide, the nipples small points almost lost within them. Nonetheless, she hugged my face to them as I went from one to the other, kissing and sucking.

Her hand dropped to my boxers, snaking through the gap to grip my rigid cock. She immediately began a milking action, tugging and sliding her hand along my shaft while I bit at the tender places of her chest.

"God, you're so hard!" she marveled. "Wait," she muttered, and pulled back. She began to remove her clothes and I added my helping hands. Blouse, bra, jeans, panties, socks all formed a small heap by my bed. She rolled over onto her back, breasts jostling entrancingly, and let her thighs fall open.

"Now," she whispered, arms open.

Now indeed. At the center of my desire was my frustration. No thoughts of tender love making filled my head. My cock was in charge and it wanted a fuck. My smoldering resentment tempered that desire, transforming it from a simple act of sex into a form of revenge. I wasn't going to just fuck Judy, I was going to make her pay.

I grabbed her hips and pulled her to the center of the bed. Her arms fell to steady her.

"What do you like?" I asked, crawling to lean over her body.

She giggled, like a schoolgirl about to share a secret. I raked the head of my cock up and down her already wet slit, ignoring my body's demand to jam it in.

"I like it in the shower, where I can hold the rail."

"Yeah?" I said, spanking her clit with my glans.

"Yeahhhhh", she groaned, arching her hips, accepting the rapid fire wet slaps. Her hands formed fists, gripping the bedding.