Tailhook in Vegas
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 experi-
ence 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 disap-
pear 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 pre-
vious woman's, so they all got apretty 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 wide-
eyed 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 under-
wear. 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 unbut-
toned, 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.
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