This part, part 09 completes my reminiscences, of my sexual journey during my first overseas deployment with the UK armed forces.
This part, part 9 completes my reminiscences, of my sexual journey during my first overseas deployment with the UK armed forces.
As with the earlier parts of my story, it is NOT beginning to end dirty, perverted sex. So, if that is what you are expecting, it is not for you, you do not have to read it. Feel free to leave now, no hard feelings!
And I do not profess to be a literary genius; so, if my writing style and grammar offend you, you know where the ‘close’ button is.
Part 9 – Lumpy Jumper
They say, “When one door closes, another door opens.” I was not a great believer in that theory, but, for once, for me at least, that would be true. I just had to wait a few more weeks until…well read on.
It was spring 1976. The Cypriot weather was starting to ramp up nicely, with the promise of fine, dry, sunny, and hot weather through until the next autumn, at least. The previous month my twentieth birthday had come and gone, and I had come to terms with the end to my brief, but torrid relationship with ‘Pad Brat’ Sally, who was currently swanning around the Middle East on her gap year adventures. And good luck to her.
I was not going out of my way to actively seek a new partner at that point in time but would certainly not balk at the chance should an opportunity arise. That opportunity came sooner than expected, out of the blue at work during one day shift.
At the time, I had my head buried in an equipment cabinet, performing a scheduled maintenance task, when I heard the shift supervisor, a sergeant, call my name. “Titus, I’d like to introduce you to our new shift member, Max’s replacement.” Max was the shift ‘old guy’ and would complete his deployment at the end of the current shift cycle, and fly home for disembarkation leave, before taking up his next post. In fact, we were having his leaving piss up during our days off, in five days time.
Crawling out from under the cab, I turned to to face Sarge and immediately did a double take. Firstly, the new tech stood beside him was a ‘Lumpy Jumper.’ Secondly, I recognised her. Searching my brain, I pulled her name out of the fog. She was another Julie.
It should need no explanation, but ‘Lumpy Jumper’ was a generic term. It is used by some branches of the UK forces, to describe a female serviceman…sorry, servicewoman! Something to do with the fact that most of them had distinct ‘lumps’ in their uniform pullovers. Not in every single case it has to be said, there were notable exceptions, but Julie definitely fell into the first category.
I knew Julie from my training base, where she had been one of the few female engineering trainees within our specialty. She had started her course just a couple of months before I passed out. I quickly did the maths in my head, deciding that she should have finished her stage one training about six months ago. I was not far off. It turned out she had indeed completed the previous September, but had been on a short UK tour, before being drafted overseas, to the signals intelligence unit I was serving with.
I had not had a great deal of contact with Julie back in training, but she obviously recognised me too, and seemed quite pleased when she saw a familiar face. She was quite a lithesome girl, slim and graceful, but as already suggested, with prominent breasts under her uniform shirt (it was getting too warm by now to actually need to be wearing that jumper.) Her fair hair was tied and pinned up in the regulation bun at the back of her head, but if I recalled correctly, when let down, it would cascade past her shoulders. She was wearing gold studs in her pierced ears, and the small amount of makeup permitted on duty, the light eye liner accentuating her piercing blue eyes, which already had me captivated. I was in love again, or more likely it was lust.
Sarge carried on speaking, but it didn’t sink in what he was saying to me. He rolled his eyes at me, knowing exactly where my mind was, and repeated himself. As, after Max left, I would be the most experienced shift member (I was about halfway through my tour by then), I had been chosen to act has Julie’s mentor. To show her the ropes, how we did things, what resources we had, where things were kept, etc. I was well chuffed, not only because it was recognition that I was regarded as a valued member of the section, but also because it would give me a legitimate reason to hang out with her, in work at least.
Sarge suggested we started with a tour of our various facilities (we had kit spread out over multiple locations on the SBA.) That is what I would have liked to have done anyway, but I had effectively just been given permission to leave my assigned tasks and go ‘walkabout’ with Julie. Before I could do that though, I needed to finish the job I had started. As Sarge left, I excused myself to Julie and dived back into the equipment cabinet.
Within seconds, I caught a waft of perfume and glanced back to see Julie had knelt beside me to watch what I was doing, she was itching to get started. I was extremely pleased to explain exactly what I was doing and why. She showed a keen interest and asked lots of relevant questions. At risk of sounding patronising, it showed she knew her stuff and was likely to be a valuable member of the team. I asked if she would like to have a go at finishing off the task and bringing the system back online. She jumped at the opportunity, so I moved aside to let her in. She took my place, kneeling head down in the cabinet, affording me a wonderful view of her very shapely arse, filling out her tight uniform trousers. She really was the whole package.
Julie completed the task, with minimal intervention from me, diligently performed a tool check, to ensure we had left nothing in the kit, and ran up the system. A quick functional check showed all was working perfectly, and it was time to start our tour. It was mid-morning, so the first venue was naturally the canteen, for a brew. I bought us both a coffee and a slice of cake and we grabbed a seat at an empty table to consume them.
ÑAs we ate and drank, we chatted freely. She was easy to talk to. I did not feel as reticent with her as I usually did when meeting new women. Perhaps because we already had a lot of common ground. I asked for news from the training school, not much had changed, except there were more women going through now than ever. A good thing in my view, and not just from a pervy viewpoint.
Next, I asked what I was keen to know. What was the female accommodation like. Not too bad she said, currently she was sharing a four-man (four-woman actually) room with three others. But, as she was a slightly higher rank than them (as engineers, we passed out of training straight to OR3 level), she was high on the list for a single room, when one became available. She said she had heard our block, and rooms were a bit grim. They were, but it was slowly getting better. They were still well above their designed occupancy level, but at least now I had a single level bed (the bunks had gone) and a lockable wardrobe for my kit, after living out of my kit bag for months.
Break over, we resumed our tour (well, started it properly really). I showed Julie around the main site equipment and control rooms, before signing out a Land-Rover and starting a drive around the remote installations. We paused for lunch halfway through, then resumed our outing. I explained to her that the SOP was that she would shadow me for at least a month, before being signed off as a ‘competent person,’ at which point she would be cleared to work unsupervised. Though in truth, for electrical safety reasons, we nearly always worked in pairs. I secretly hoped that provided we got on, and it was looking good so far, we could partner on a more permanent basis.
We, I more correctly, managed to drag things out until just before teatime. We returned to base, I handed in the vehicle keys and completed the paperwork to record our mileage and fuel state, and we reported back to Sarge. The shift did not finish until 20:00, but we were dismissed to the cookhouse for our meal. As we were leaving, Sarge called to Julie and told her, as a once only gesture, if she still had personal admin to do, she could stand down from the rest of the shift to complete it. She admitted she still had unpacking and domestic tasks to complete, so she would take the offered opportunity, thank you. After our meal, I left Julie at the gate to the female accommodation. Before we parted, she reached out and put her hand on my forearm, for “three Mississippi’s” (you need to be a TBBT fan to appreciate that one!) and thanked me for making her first day so enjoyable. I replied that I had very much enjoyed it too, which was an understatement. Saying I would see her at work the next day, which would in fact be the first night shift of our current shift cycle, I went back to work to finish the shift.
It was a bit of a baptism of fire for Julie that first night. We had a major outage on one of the systems, needing extensive diagnosis and remedial action. Julie proved her worth straight away. She needed no encouragement to get in there with the rest of us; in fact, being the one to identify the issue and suggest the solution in the end. This earned her the respect of the rest of the crew from day one, well night one. It was full on, and there was no time for chatter or social interaction. By shift change the next morning we were all glad to see an end to it. As a group, we grunts shared a breakfast in the cookhouse, before we went our separate ways, to our individual beds.
The following night was also quite busy. We were playing catch up on the scheduled work that got postponed the night before, plus that night’s tasks. But it was not as intense. Some of the jobs detailed for Julie and I were at one of the remote sites. I knew already that I did not need to be looking over Julie’s shoulder all the time, so we split the work between us, to get it finished more quickly. As we worked, we chatted.
At one point I asked her about her previous post. Where she was and what it was like. She was reluctant to talk about it, but I sensed an issue and pushed her a bit on the subject. She finally opened and told me how much she had hated it there. Her senior, and most of the ‘lads’ had treated her like shit. No better than a tea girl and a skivvy. They would not trust her with any technical work. Why? “Because I haven’t got a cock!” As she put it.
I fucking hate that attitude. Throughout my service I worked under, over and alongside females (mind out of the gutter, I am being serious here). There were women I would, literally, have followed into battle, and men I would not have given the time of day; and vice versa. It matters not a fuck what genitals you have, only that you can do your job, are a team player and you have your buddies’ backs; as they should have yours.
She started to tear up a little and continued; She had applied for overseas as soon as possible to get out of there. The posting came just in time, as she was on the verge of going for a discharge, even considered getting pregnant if necessary (an automatic medical discharge in those days.)
She was really upset now and I felt like a total shit for forcing her to go back to her dark time. I wanted to tell her that would not happen here. That the talk about town confirmed that she was already regarded as ‘one of the lads.’ Part of the team and woe betide any fucker that messed with one of us. I held out my hands, palms up, just intending for her to hold them, at arms length while I tried to comfort her. Tactical error.
Julie misinterpreted my gesture, thinking I was inviting her to hug. She moved forward into my open arms and enveloped me with hers and started to sob. I was totally floored for a moment. What the fuck did I do now?
The only real option was to accept the hug. I carefully placed my hands on her back, freezing them in place, terrified to move them, lest it be interpreted as taking advantage of her. I remained silent, allowing her to vent her emotions in her own time and way.
There was absolutely no sexual intent to her embrace, but I could not help but notice the feel of her body against me, the smell of her perfume and the touch of her hands behind me. I prayed I would not get an erection as she squeezed me tightly to her body and had to use every bit of will power I had to try not to do so; unsuccessfully I have to add.
After a few minutes, her sobs decreased to soft snivelling, then finally stopped. I felt her arms loosen their grip on me and I also let mine fall back to my sides, relieved and disappointed in equal measure, that she had not felt my arousal.
She stepped away and turned from me, composing herself, wiping her eyes with her hands and shirt sleeves. When she faced me again, I could see her distress had turned to utter embarrassment.
She cringed and apologised “…for being a wuss.” Begged me not to “…tell the blokes’ what a girl I am.” I assured her I had absolutely had no intention of doing so. Nobody would hear about it from me, it was just between us, and I had already forgotten about it. I reiterated that she was one of us now, and we looked after our own, period!
Her relief was clear. She noticed the wet patch on my shoulder, where her tears had fallen. She reached out and rubbed it with her hand, trying in vain to dry it (one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three…). Then, she leaned forward and, for just the briefest part of a second, placed her lips on my forehead, in a kiss. “Thank you, Titus,” she said and went to gather her tools.
I too collected my stuff, signed the maintenance log, grabbed the vehicle keys, and headed for the door. We had to leave right now, before I did or said anything utterly, utterly stupid. My word was my bond, I never told anyone what happened that night, until now.
Mercifully, the third and last shift of the cycle was much more sedate. Once the routine tasks were completed, the cleaning done and the paperwork filed, it was into the boredom of overnight watch-keeping. Monitoring systems to ensure things were performing as planned. Hoping nothing would fail to disturb the peace, yet perversely secretly wishing for some activity to break the tedium.
We had a small crew room adjacent to control, with comfortable (?) chairs and brewing tackle, where we could relax a little. If things stayed quiet, we would often have marathon card games (Find the Lady, or colloquially ‘Hunt the Cunt’ was most popular,) backgammon contests or vicious Risk campaigns. There was a quick flurry of activity at midnight (well 2am for us actually, as for work purposes we followed Zulu time (GMT/UTC), so the different installations around the world were synchronised in time) as we transitioned the systems to a new day’s settings. Things then usually went quiet; people would often doze in the crew room until dawn came. It was my turn to man the control room until morning. To my surprise, Julie said she would keep me company in the watch office, so she could learn the routine.
I sat at the control desk and offered Julie the one ‘comfy’ armchair, which she gratefully accepted. We were alone for the first time that night, and Julie once again apologised for the previous night, but also said that she felt much better for getting things off her chest. That was all that really mattered, I told her. Time to forget the past and enjoy her time in Cyprus. I secretly hoped that I would feature large in that enjoyment, though held out little hope of that being the case, at that point.
We talked a bit of shop as I prepared job sheets for the next day, and then chatted in general as we just chilled. Soon, the conversation dried up and when I turned to face Julie, I saw she had fallen fast asleep in the chair. I kept quiet and let her sleep. A bit pervy maybe, but I just sat watching her slumbering. A cute smile on her face. A wayward tendril of hair had escaped from its grips, tickling her cheek making her twitch. Her full breasts rising and falling under her shirt. My thoughts were definitely drifting away from the professional. I was smitten and developing feelings for this woman. I had no idea at that point if she felt anything for me.
Morning broke, people started to stir and make a brew. I gently teased Julie awake and handed her a cup of coffee, to kick start the day. She was a bit embarrassed that she had zonked out on me, but I assured her it was not a problem. Coffees drunk, we cleared up for shift change, and when relieved, headed for breakfast. The other shift members did not join us that day for some reason, so we ate alone. I suddenly had a weird thought, were they ‘giving us space?’ We would see.
As we finished our scran, I asked Julie if she was going to attend Max’s leaving piss up the following night. She said she had not planned to. She had not actually been invited, and besides, she would not know anyone there. “That’s bollocks,” I said. Firstly, it is open invite to all unit members and their families, so I am formally inviting you now on Max’s behalf; and secondly, you will know me and the rest of the shift members, at least. I suggested I would accompany her to the venue (only the unit social club), we would meet up with the others there. I would make any necessary introductions, then she could do her own thing; stick with us or go her own way, as she pleased. “Who knows,” I said lightly, “you may meet the man of your dreams and hook up with him there.” She blushed deeply, but smiled at me and replied, “Okay, it’s a date.” What? Just an expression, surely? But my heart missed a beat at the prospects.
As arranged, I met Julie at the ‘Lady Garden Gate’ (our name for the entryway into the grounds of the female accommodation, innuendo intended). I was seeing her out of uniform and in civies for the first time since training. She looked stunning. She was wearing a loose fitting, long sleeved, white blouse, with pale blue vertical pinstripes breaking the plainness. It was open just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage, but nothing excessive or slutty. The blouse was tucked into cream coloured, tailored slacks, a thin belt showcasing her slender waist and shapely hips. Canvas court shoes and a small shoulder bag completed the ensemble. Her hair was down, but tied back in what, these days is called a messy ponytail. She wore just enough makeup to compliment her natural beauty, nice! (One of my pet turn offs is excessive slap, especially on already pretty girls. It is just not necessary!) I gave her a “Wow, you look nice, you’ll be fighting them off with a stick.” She blushed again but thanked me for the compliment and we set off for the short walk to the club. You idiot Titus…You have got to stop giving her the impression you want to hook her up with someone else and start championing yourself.
We arrived at the club door and could see there was already a fair crowd inside. Julie paused and took several deep breaths. I did not have her pegged as a nervous type but let her do things in her own time. A few moments later, she stood up straight and proud, grasped my hand, I assumed just for a bit of extra support, and into the lions den we strode together. I am not sure what she expected to happen, but miraculously, she did not wither and die, nor did she burst into flames, though inevitably she turned a few heads with her fantastic looks. I felt her relax a bit, but she made no effort to remove her hand from mine, much to my delight.
I led her to the bar, where the duty barman warmly welcomed her, by name, a nice personal touch, which she appreciated. He asked what her poison was. She said she had heard about Brandy Sours and how good they were. “An excellent choice, Madame.,” quipped ‘Mine Host.’ I wasn’t a fan myself, so stuck to my bottle of Keo.
We did the rounds and I introduced her to a few people, who exchanged pleasantries, welcomed her to the unit and asked all the normal first meet questions; where, when, who, what, how, etc., she responded, timidly at first, then with increasing confidence, though I noted she stayed close by my side throughout. She was really pleased when the CO, who had already had an arrival interview with Julie, made a point of coming over and greeting her. She grabbed my hand again as he spoke with her, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by The Big Boss.
When I sensed she’d had enough of meet and greet, I manoeuvred her toward the table where the team had saved a couple of seats for us. We joined in with the banter and bollocks. Enjoyed the curry supper Max had provided. Jeered and booed as Max received his leaving plaque and tankard from the CO and gave his speech, which was basically ‘I’ve finished my deployment, I’m going home, you can all fuck off’, in a good humoured way; and we drank.
After supper had been cleared away, the resident DJ started playing his tunes. Julie was obviously in demand as a dance partner and willingly got up and bopped with our shift mates, but politely declined most other invites, except the CO, the lecherous old bastard. It had already come up in our previous conversations that I hated disco dancing, and although she glanced in my direction several times, she did not press me. Until it was nearly closing time, and the music turned slow.
Before anyone else could try and collar her, Julie grabbed my hand and dragged me through to the dance floor. I do not mind slow dancing and happily went with her. It was normal for the smoochy songs to fill the floor and tonight was no exception, so we had no choice than to get really close. For the first couple of records, we danced a bit brother-sister like. But come the third, Julie moved in closer, linked her hands behind my neck and rested her head on my shoulder. I grasped her tighter, hands in the small of her back.
We danced like this for several more numbers, until it was time to wrap the evening up. DJ finished the night with his regular sign off tune, Jeff Beck’s Hi Ho Silver Lining, which as always got the building shaking as everyone, even me, stomped and sang along. I saw Julie was really letting loose. When it was over, we were on a bit of a high and laughed and hugged our way back to the table where, the bar now being closed, the team were preparing to leave. So, we grabbed our few possessions and joined them.
We headed back towards the accommodation area as a group. Most of the lads were well pissed, and Julie was also quite merry, but compos mentis. Without a moment’s hesitation, she held me in that, both hands on my biceps, head on my shoulder way. It dawned on me that she had been with me all evening, apart from those odd dances with the guys. And reflecting back, she had been very touchy-feely throughout; a hand in mine, a touch of my arm, even a hand on my thigh as we laughed together at some wisecrack. I decided it was time to test the waters a bit and reached down and wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her into me. There was no objection, in fact, she snuggled in closer to me. All positive outcomes, right?
As we reached the male quarters, the lads peeled off to go in. I carried on, to escort Julie home to girl-country. This prompted a series of jeers and lewd comments to be thrown at us. Julie gave them the finger and told them, they could slag us all they liked, but that their only option was to ‘play with themselves.’ Notably, she did not loosen her hold on me during this.
When we reached the gate, she turned to face me, and her hands linked behind my neck again. Staring me square in the eye, she thanked me for persuading her to go tonight, for taking her, and for supporting her all evening. She said she had not really wanted to go to something like that, so soon after her arrival, but had had a wonderful time. It was no lie when I said the pleasure had been all mine.
After a couple of seconds silence, as we looked into each others’ eyes, we almost simultaneously leaned in for the kiss. I hugged her closer to me and for a few minutes, we just enjoyed the contact and the feel and taste of each others’ mouths. I could feel my cock stirring down below but resisted the temptation to press it against her. I didn’t know for sure where we were going next, but I didn’t want to fuck up my chances by trying to rush her into something she didn’t want, or wasn’t ready for.
We still had one more full day and night off before our next shift cycle, so I asked if she would like to go with me down to Limassol the next day. Thankfully, she jumped at the idea. We had a second, and even more passionate kiss. This time I know for a fact she felt my stiff cock against her, as she moved in and gave gave it a little rub with her leg, causing me a sharp intake of breath. Before things could get out of hand, we parted and headed for our separate beds. Actually, I stripped and headed for the showers. My hard on needed attention before I would be able to sleep that night and my ejaculate soon joined the warm water in the shower tray, as I imagined what could be if the current progress continued. And yes, I did clean the shower out after me!
There was a service provided bus from the garrison complex to town early each afternoon, with a return trip each evening, for those that wanted it. We met at the pickup point, and rode the bus into town, where it dropped off on the sea front. I took Julie to the main tourist area, on and around St Andrew’s Street. The street itself was a typical long, narrow Mediterranean shopping street, packed with shops and cafes (sadly it is quite deserted these days, as focus has shifted to the Marina Mall, further up the seafront).
At the far end of the street is a beautiful Greek Orthodox church. We were lucky, it was open, and an elderly priest was more than willing to show us round. Really, I am sure he just wanted to perv on Julie. It was a warm spring day, and she was wearing tight flared jeans and an equally tight white t-shirt and a light linen jacket, all of which showed off her succulent figure to perfection. I could not blame the old guy for ogling her body; I had had more than one good ogle at it myself. He finished the tour, by giving us a small glass of Commandaria, a sweet sickly dessert wine used in church services in Cyprus. We in turn gave him a generous tip.
We mooched back up the street, browsing the shops. Julie was quite taken with some of the clothing shops, where you could get shirts, slacks, dresses, even leather coats and jackets, made to measure, at ridiculously low prices. She did not buy anything that day but meant it when she told the proprietors she would return and place some orders. We all did, it was too good a deal not too, especially just before tourex. She did buy a bottle of Cyprus brandy from the Village Wine Shop; she had liked the Brandy Sours she had had the previous night and wanted to try to make her own. The owner invited her to try a sample of Zivania, a potent Cypriot spirit, with the potency of rocket fuel. I warned her what to expect, but nothing can really prepare you for it. She knocked the shot back and predictably ended up choking and watery eyed. I could not help laughing, which earned me a hard slap.
Finished with the shops, we headed for a kebab house to eat. If you have not experienced a Cyprus Kebab, it consists of about eight or nine courses of different barbecued meats, with salads, bread, and dips, with plenty of red wine. It was Turkish Cypriot cuisine really, but fortunately this traditional meal had not been abandoned in the south of the island, post division. Julie tried valiantly to eat the whole thing but had to pass on the last two courses (lambs’ liver, then chicken as I recall). Me, being the glutton I am, I finished both mine and hers too.
Full to overflowing, we discussed what to do next. It was too early to go ‘home,’ or for the nightclubs, though we both agreed with work the next day, which going clubbing was not a good plan anyway. So we just headed back for the seafront, picked a pavement café, ordered coffees, and just sat and chatted, and watched the world go by.
There was a big cruise ship in the bay and many of the passengers were ashore for the evening, and doing the same as us. One middle aged couple took the table next to ours, heard us speaking English, and struck up a conversation, asking if we too were from the ship. When they learned why we were there, they remarked how lucky we were to have such a long ‘holiday’ in the sun. In many ways they were right. We did work long and hard, and our living conditions were not exactly five-star luxury, but the days between were pretty fucking amazing. Yes, we were indeed very lucky.
About 10pm, we decided to call it a day, bid our new ‘friends’ farewell, and grabbed a taxi home. We did kiss, cuddle and caress a bit in the back, there was an unspoken agreement we were at that stage now, at least. But it was nothing like as full on as a previous cab ride, I have recounted in an earlier part of my tale. We had walked hand in hand, or arms around each other all day, so it just seemed natural to up the anti a little when the chance arose.
When we got back, I walked Julie to the gate. We drifted together again, in a passionate embrace, kissing with abandon. I could feel her breasts pushing against my chest, through our thin t-shirts. They felt wonderful and I was starting to get really turned on. This whole thing with Julie had happened so quickly and unexpectedly, that my head was still spinning from it. To put it bluntly, she was the ‘hottest’ girl, no woman, I had ever had any sort of physical contact with, and I needed to know this was real. The only sure way to know that, was to ask her outright. It was risky, but I took the plunge. I said something like “Julie, what is this. Is this a relationship? Are we an item now? Is this ongoing?
Julie rolled her eyes at me, like only a woman can when she wants to tell you, “You are a stupid, stupid man!” She said nothing, but grabbed my hand, unlatched the gate, and started to pull me in. This was hallowed ground. No man shall enter. I balked for a moment, but she told me it was okay, she knew a place we could be together, in private.
In the grounds of the women’s block, stood an old Twynam Hut. It looked quite dilapidated from the outside but apparently had been refurbished internally, to provide temporary housing during the Cyprus Emergency nearly two years ago. It was closed up again now, used just for storing spare furniture.
From an unseen hiding place, Julie produced a key and opened one of the rooms. It was dark inside, and we obviously could not put a light on, but just enough illumination bled in from the outside to enable us to see what we were doing. It was indeed a storeroom, but a good-sized area had been cleared, in which stood a pair of the single iron bedsteads we use, pushed together against the wall, complete with the hideous green rubber covered mattresses with which we were issued. A large rug covered the cold, concrete floor beside the beds. How the fuck this place had not been discovered by the authorities and shut down I did not know, but I wasn’t going to complain, or say a word to anyone about it.
Julie found a blanket from somewhere and draped it over the mattresses, sat on the open edge of the beds and beckoned me to join her, by patting the bed next to me. Finally, she answered my question, “I’ll show you what this is.,” she said, grabbed my face with her palms and rammed her tongue into my mouth, which was wide open in shock. We enfolded each other in our arms, crushing our bodies together, kissing as if the world were about to end.
Almost immediately, we started pulling at each others clothing, and in a flash, we were both dressed in only our underwear. Her lingerie was not exactly service issue (or what I imagined service issue would look like, if it were actually issued?) Her matching bra and knickers were, as far as I could tell in the dim light, wispy peach-coloured affairs. What ever their designer had in mind, concealing the female body beneath them was not one of the considerations. Even in the darkened room, her delicious, hard nippled breasts were clearly visible through the gossamer material. And down below, her fine, fair pubic bush was equally on display. She glanced down at herself, then realising they were a useless cover to hide her modesty, she shrugged and reached behind her back, unclamped the bra and dropped it to the rug; quickly followed by her panties.
I had been holding my breath as Julie undressed. That breath now escaped in a sigh of absolute delight at the sight of her naked body. It is no exaggeration to say she was the most perfect example of womanhood I had ever seen and probably remains so to this day (sorry Mrs Duxass!) Her form was slim, firm, smooth and flawless. Her tits defied gravity. They were large, but without a hint of sag. Her slim smooth legs, which I had not seen bared before as she had always worn long trousers, were just sensational, and at their junction, that blonde bombshell. I had not seen her backside yet but just knew that would be perfect too.
My cock was by then so rampant, the confines of my Y-fronts was causing me pain; so why keep them on. I mirrored Julie’s actions and dropped them to the rug, allowing my straining appendage to spring to attention, in salute to her. Of course, I did not look even one percent as perfect as she, but she did not laugh, which is always a good start. I was punching well above my own weight here.
We lunged at each other, smashing our naked bodies together. This, without a doubt was going to be fast and furious. Julie reached down and grasped my dick firmly and stroked my foreskin up and down rapidly. I felt between her thighs, which she opened for me by moving her feet apart and squatting slightly. I groaned with lust as I felt her soaking wet sex. So wet I was able to penetrate her vagina with my fingers immediately. She gasped “Oh my god, I have been ready all day. Quickly, please, quickly.” And I had been happy just to sit in a café, making small talk with tourists!
I turned her round and gently lowered her, so she lay back across the width of the two joined beds, her lower legs hanging over the edge. She parted her knees, giving me an uninterrupted view of her pink inner lips, hooded clitoris, and vaginal opening. It was calling me in. I was very conflicted. If I entered her with my penis right now, I would cum straight away, for sure. But I did not want to keep her waiting. So, penetrate her I did, with my tongue, as deeply as I possibly could. Julie screamed, very loudly at that first contact, but frankly, I did not care who, if anybody, heard. Unless of course it was the MPs or the ‘Girl Boss Officer’ who apparently sometimes randomly visited their quarters.
Julie allowed me to lick, suck and nibble on her lady parts for several minutes, firmly pulling my face into her with her hands on the back of my head, writhing and groaning in pleasure. When she was almost there, she pushed my head clear and declared “Enough, get it in me, now” I said I needed to get a Durex from my wallet (see, I had learned my lesson since Part 3). “No..Pill” she grunted back, and dragged me up until my cock was on a level with her vulva, grabbed my hardness and guided me in.
She was tight, so tight, but also so wet that I slid all the way into her without stopping. She screamed again as I entered her, then crossed her ankles on the backs of my thighs, as I started to slowly stroke in and out. She was still teetering on the edge from the cunnilingus, so it only took a few more minutes of penis in vagina penetration to finish the job. With more screaming and groaning, she climaxed intensely. I was only seconds behind her, and so, so grateful I had managed to hold back to get her there too. It had been touch and go mind!
Spent for the moment, we moved to lie next to each other down the length of the beds. There were no pillows, so I rolled my jeans to rest my head on, while Julie lay hers on my chest. I drew part of the blanket over us as best as I could to ward off the night chill, on our cooling, sweaty bodies.
“Wow, which was frantic,” I said, “when we started that fast, I was worried I would be finished before you even got started.” A quick kiss and a purr of satisfaction told me she had done okay. (Why is it us blokes need that constant validation?). She admitted she did not normally orgasm that easily, but that she had been so horny all day, it was never going to take her long tonight. It seemed fate had just worked for both of us. Long may it continue.
I just had to ask, I had been dying to know since we entered that building. How, after barely a week on the island, did she know about that place and how to get in. She smirked at me, chuckled, and explained.
“You see, you blokes think it is only yourselves that think about and want to have sex. That is not the case. I knew after that second night shift; you were a keeper. And after the way you comforted me when I was so upset, that I would fuck you. Especially after I felt your hard cock pressing against me like that as I hugged you (oh, she had felt that after all then!).
“But I did not know where I could do it. So, I simply asked my roommates, where do you go with your blokes, when you want to get some. They told me about a few locations and showed me this place and where to find the key. Basically, if the key is in its hide, the room is free, and it is yours, otherwise, fuck off somewhere else.” I could not wait to know what the other locations were.
We went again later that night. The first time had been a balls out furious fuck. Second time round it was slow, sensuous lovemaking. She did indeed take much longer to orgasm that next time, but so did I, and boy was it incredible fun getting us both there. We must both have drifted off and slept for three or four hours. Fortunately, we woke as dawn was breaking. Hurriedly we sorted our shit out, locked up, returned the key to its hide and sneaked away, mercifully undetected.
I tried my best to creep into the room I shared with my shift mates unnoticed, but most of the occupants were either awake or actually up getting ready for work. The bastards gave a rousing round of applause as I walked in. Dirty minded fuckers! I do not know what they thought an innocent like me would have been doing, while out all night with a hot woman. But they thought right, I am sure. It is impossible to have secrets when you live in such close quarters.
I grabbed a quick shave and shower, and dressed, fortunately I had prepped my uniform the previous day. I hit the cookhouse for breakfast and several reviving mugs of coffee. Julie joined us at the table, prompting a flurry of ribald comments from the lads. She gave me daggers look, assuming I would ’kissed and told.’ Later though, I assured her I had said nothing, they had drawn their own conclusions. She told me not to worry, our closeness was bound to attract comment. She then confessed she had had to admit to her own roommates that she had been “seriously well fucked last night!” her words not mine. I postured pretentiously at that endorsement of my sexual prowess, earning me a playful slap. I was happy with myself though. It was the first time I had had full on sex, without at least a couple of preliminary ‘make out’ dates to feel the way first, as it were. It seems it had worked for both of us though.
That next shift cycle was very routine, no major dramas. We had agreed that we would act as professionally as possible on duty. No PDAs. But that did not stop us from stealing the odd kiss or caress when we found ourselves alone. After the day shifts, we’d spend an hour or so together, at the NAAFI café, or the unit bar, before going to our separate beds, frustrated and alone.
It was by then late April and for our first day off after nights, a sleeping day by rights, the weather was forecast to be warm, dry and sunny. We decided it looked good enough to hit the beach. We agreed to snatch a few hours kip and head out after lunch. It was actually more like 2pm by the time we started the fairly long, but pleasant walk to the shore. However, as was frequently the case, before we had gone too far, a passing MT vehicle stopped and offered us a lift, dropping us off at the top of the short beach road.
The beach, being part of the garrison complex, was restricted to military personnel, MoD civilians and their families. As such it never really got too busy. And that early in the year was even quieter than normal. Just a couple of small groups of lads fooling around with a football, drinking beer from the beach bar, and a few families, with the kids enjoying splashing in the sea and doing kid things in the sand.
We found a fairly secluded spot in front of the low dunes that protects the beach and ‘pitched camp’, laying out the blankets and towels we had bought with us. Straight away, Julie stripped off the light cotton sun dress she had on, to reveal a plain, figure hugging, black one-piece swimsuit. Once again, I marvelled at her voluptuous body. The thin, tight suit material somewhat flattened her breasts but could not hide her prominent nipples or the subtle valley of her sex below. As she folded her dress and bent to place it in her beach bag, the suit stretched over her backside, sending shivers through my body and blood to my genitals.
Barely giving me time to strip to my own bathing trunks, Julie grabbed my hand, dragging me to the sea. She was desperate for her first dip in the Mediterranean. The water had not had chance to warm up to its summer highs, but by comparison to UK seaside temperatures, it would have been positively balmy. After a few moments huffing and puffing on the fringes, she took the plunge and dived into deeper water and set off at a sleek and rapid crawl, out to sea. I followed suit but could not match her speed and fell further and further behind.
She headed straight for a floating diving raft, tethered about 100-yards or so from the shore, reaching it way ahead of me, and hauled herself out of the water. By the time I arrived, breathless and knackered, she was lay flat on her back on the canvas flat top, one knee raised seductively, soaking up the warm sun. I had to swim round the raft, to find the ladder, to enable me to join her. New fact about Julie, she had been a member of her county swimming team at school and was hoping to join the Near East Tri-services squad, when they held trials later that year. Never underestimate the power of a woman!
I lay down on my side, facing her, recovering and enjoying her closeness. My position screened her from the shore, and after several minutes drinking in her sleek, damp body, I could not resist reaching out and caressing her closest breast through her swimsuit. Her nipples were already erect from the cool(ish) water but hardened further to be come like marbles at my touch. Julie’s eyes were closed against the sun, but she opened one for a moment and peered at me, but said or did nothing to stop me, so emboldened I carried on.
I continued to massage her tits for a few minutes, then gently ran my hand down, over her ironing board flat stomach, to the junction of her thighs, to trace the line of her vulval lips. Julie emitted a low groan and pulled aside the gusset of her suit to give me full access to her clitoris, which I circled gently with my forefinger. Almost imperceptibly, her left hand sought out and found my rigid cock through my trunks. I followed her example and pulled down the front freeing myself to her direct contact.
We were both very conscious of the fact that, although we were quite a distance from them, there were people, including children, on the beach. Our movements had to be minimal and slow, but to be honest, that made the touch all the more enticing. A couple of times, as we slowly masturbated each other, I glanced over my shoulder to the beach. Nobody was taking any notice of the couple sunbathing on the raft (well, actually a couple of the blokes could have been looking in our direction, and if so, probably knew exactly what we were doing, but fuck them; not literally you understand!)
Now, I may not be the most accomplished lover in the world. Maybe not even a ‘good’ one, but one thing is for certain. My ‘shoe spit shine’ clit rubbing technique has not failed me yet. Careful not to apply too much direct pressure to Julie’s love bud, I continued my gentle clitoral stimulation, occasionally diverting to tug on her labia and barely, just barely entering her vagina. At the same time, with just a subtle back and forth motion with her wrist, she continued to wank my cock.
My persistence paid dividends. I felt Julie’s body twitching and could see she was fighting to maintain her silence (you may have guessed, she is a bit of a screamer). Neither of us was going to stop now, until we had finished the job, properly. Then with a loud but, for her restrained, growl, Julie orgasmed first. Her hips lifted from the deck, without conscious effort and she bucked them against my hand, to intensify and prolong her pleasure. I continued to stroke her, until she could stand it no longer and grabbed my wrist to call a halt.
As she came, her hand had momentarily gone motionless on my cock. But as she calmed down, she restarted her clandestine tossing. I had been right on the brink before and very quickly she got me back there, and beyond. My own orgasm broke, and I ejaculated. My spunk gushing from my twitching penis and landing squarely on Julie’s thigh and swimsuit covered mound. I too had to bite my lip to stifle the shout that was determined to escape my mouth.
After the final spurt had escaped me. I flopped to my back next to Julie, just savouring the moment. Another incredible step in our fledgling relationship. We lay together, but in our own private world, for about ten minutes, when she sat up and said she needed to apply some sunscreen, she could feel herself burning. We both rose, dived back into the water and swam for the shore, at a much more sedate pace I am pleased to say.
As we emerged from the sea and headed up the beach, I half prepared myself for an onslaught of jeers from the semi-inebriated blokes or to be yelled at by incensed parents. Nobody turned a hair in our direction, and we got back to our spot unmolested. After drying off, Julie handed me her Ambre Solaire to spread on her back, arms, and legs. I have to confess, more than a little ended up places it did not really need to be. But her tits and bum cheeks would certainly not get burnt.
We just did beach things for the rest of the afternoon. Lounged in the sun, Julie read her book, and we walked the tideline to see what treasure had been washed up; nothing of interest as it happens. We had certainly missed tea in the cookhouse, so I went to the beach bar and got us both a Keo and a kebab sandwich, a large pita bread filled with barbecued pork cubes and cabbage salad. They are delicious and very filling, a meal in themselves.
Soon, we were alone on the beach and the sun was drifting towards the distant horizon. I suggested to Julie that it might be time to pack up and head back to camp. If we had to walk all the way, the twisty roads could be a bit dodgy in the dark. There were no pavements or even shoulder in some places. But she insisted she wanted to stay and watch the sunset and see the bay in the dark. Not wanting to piss her off, I went with the flow.
In due course, the sun slipped into the sea, and dusk turned to darkness. We sat silent for a while longer as she admired the moon, reflecting from the calm surface of the sea, and the stars as they started to show their faces in the sky. I had to admit, it was a pretty awesome sight, that I’d never bothered to take in before. As we sat, hand in hand, I watched Julie taking in the night vista before us, I realised, for the first time, I was falling head over heels in love with her.
Her curiosity satisfied, Julie said okay, now it was time to make a move. We slipped our clothes back on, gathered our belongings and set off heading, I assumed, back to barracks.
As we exited the beach though, instead of heading straight up the road, Julie pulled me off, to the left. I looked quizzically at her, and she laughed aloud and explained to me – “You remember, the other night I said the girls told me of several places they went to shag. Well, we are going to another one.” I could not believe this was happening. I had been sure we were done, sex wise at least, for the day. But it seemed otherwise. I was also a bit pissed with myself that I had been here nearly eighteen months, yet in just a few weeks, Julie had a far better knowledge of the garrison sex scene than I would ever have. We men think we are the players, but the women have us beat hands down, at least in this instance.
The place she was leading me to was in a grove of spindly trees, just behind the dunes, where a couple of dozen tents were semi-permanently pitched, widely spaced, on the flat sandy grass between the trees. Some were standard military 12 x 12s, others were a mixture of civilian ridge and frame tents, of assorted sizes. The civvy ones were all privately owned, and used by resident families, as beach retreats on weekends and days off, mainly in the summer. The twelves were owned by the garrison and were available, at a ridiculously cheap rent, for visiting parents/wives/girlfriends, who could not afford, or did not want to use the tourist hotels.
It turns out that “The Girls” had one on a permanent retainer. They each chipped in a few pounds each month for the rent, and used it as a bolt hole, for beach parties, sleep outs or, well to put it bluntly, shagging. Apart from us, the site was deserted that night and we made a beeline for the ‘girl tent’ (the fact that they would never have considered renting one to a group of men crossed my mind, so much for inequality!)
The tent was closed up when we got there, so we unzipped the flaps and entered. It was dark inside, but in the gloom, I could make out half a dozen green safari beds, a couple of bedside lockers, of the type we had in the blocks, a bigger table, and a few chairs. On the table stood a paraffin hurricane lamp, which we lit, providing a dull, but adequate illumination. By the flickering light, I could see that the tent had a floor of interlocking wooden sheets (they are used for exactly that purpose in extended field deployments), upon which were scattered a few carpet squares. The floor and rugs were a little sandy, only to be expected in that location, but otherwise the place looked quite cosy.
Julie placed her beach bag on the table, and to my surprise, produced her bottle of Keo Brandy and some Cokes. Rummaging in one of the lockers, she found a couple of mugs and poured us both a generous splash of the spirit, topped off with the coke.
“What do you think of my place?” she quipped. I was beginning to feel quite inadequate; she really was showing me up. I think she felt my angst and told me “Don’t worry, if you have tits and a fanny, you can get away with murder.” That made me laugh.
We sat and sipped our drinks; they were warm where they makings had been in the sun most of the day but were just what was needed. We chatted for a while, planning what to do for our remaining days off, talked more about our pasts and plans for the future, generally getting to know each other even more, beyond our thirst for sex.
As always, conversation eventually lulled and Julie rose and fished the blankets and towels from both of our bags. She said the safari beds were going to be useless for what she had in mind (gulp), so gathered together a few of the rugs and laid out the blankets and towels on them, to make a relatively soft platform for us. There were pillows on the beds, horrible piss-proof rubberised ones, like the mattresses in the Twynham, but they gave something to rest our heads on.
Our ‘bed’ made, Julie excused herself and went outside for several minutes, I assume to relieve herself. I was still sat at the table when she returned, so she came over, stood in front of me, and slowly and seductively peeled her dress off over her head, and threw it onto one of the beds. Once again, she stood before me in her skintight swimsuit. In the faint lamplight, I could see her nipples were already poking out, drawing my attention straight to her Lycra covered tits.
I reached out and pulled her towards me, and kissed the cloth between her breasts, before moving my mouth, to each pouting nipple in turn, biting gently through the material. Julie reached down and pulled my T-shirt over my head. Two can play at that game, so reaching to her shoulders, I peeled the straps of her swimsuit off and down her arms, taking the top of the suit with them, down to her waist. My mouth went back to its twin targets, licking and sucking at her teats, drawing a loud growl from her; no one was going to hear us here, so have at it girl!
Reaching out her hand, Julie pulled me up, out of the chair, over to the floor bed, and made me lay down, on my back on it. Then, kneeling beside me, she unfastened my shorts, and in one motion pulled them and my bathing trunks off, tossing them away to join her dress. She moved up to straddle my thighs, and leaned forward to kiss my mouth, her incredibly firm breasts, with their turgid tips, piercing into my chest. As she kissed me, I felt as if she was sucking the very breath out of me. She chewed my tongue and licked the back of my teeth, as if they were her own. Her tongue was long and agile and could work wonders. And very soon she would prove that, in spades.
She broke off from my mouth and slowly, very slowly started to kiss her way down my neck and upper body. After brief diversions to take in and tease each of my nipples, she continued southwards, pausing again at my navel, making me squirm and giggle like a girl, when she screwed her tongue into it. That was one of my moves, and I hoped to get her back later. Ever onwards, she reached the top of my pubic hair. Then, driving me mad with frustration, she bypassed my engorged genitals, and kissed and licked her way down the inside of one thigh, to the knee, then back up the other.
As she returned to my groin, a hand parted my legs, lifted my balls up and without warning, I felt her tongue licking up and down my perineum. I had never had that done to me before, and the new sensation drove me wild. As she licked, kissed and sucked at the root of my cock, beneath my testicles, for the briefest of moments the tip of her tongue circled my anus, I thought I was going to cum on the spot, but managed to hold the feeling off, just.
Leaving the area beneath, Julie sucked first one, then the other, testicle in to her mouth, each time drawing her lips back over them as she pulled out, ejecting them with an audible pop. Finally, her mouth reached my penis, licking up its full length to its flabby uncut tip. Then, fully retracting my foreskin, across my frenulum. I could stand the teasing no longer, I grasped the back of her head and encouraged, not forced, her to take me properly into her mouth. She got the message, pursed her lips, and used my cock to penetrate them, as if it were entering a tight vagina. I’m on record as saying a mouth can never equal the feeling of a pussy; on that occasion I made an exception to that rule.
Although I am not that big, Julie wrapped several fingers around the base of my cock, to limit how much of me went into her mouth. Then, without further stalling, started to bob her head up and down, sucking hard on me on each upstroke, I love that! All the teasing had got me highly aroused and after only 5-10 minutes, I could feel my climax approaching and warned her I was about to pop. She acknowledged me but carried right on with her head motion.
As I always try to do, to maximise my orgasm, I held back until I no longer had any control left at all. I tried to pull Julie clear, but she would not budge, so I had no choice but to explode in her mouth. The intensity of my climax made both my vision and my hearing fade away temporarily, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, fit to burst. To this day, I have no idea if she ‘spat or swallowed’ that night. I assume the latter, as when I regained my senses she was back, kissing my mouth again, giving me a taste of the residue of my own semen. Why not, she was willing to do so, why should not I.
It is not often I am able to stay hard enough for vaginal penetration, straight after ejaculation, especially as that was my second orgasm within a few hours. But Julie was so incredibly sexy, I stayed erect just at the sight of her, not even fully naked body. She soon changed that though, as she stood and peeled off her swimsuit completely. As she stood astride me for a moment, I had an uninterrupted view of her vulva from below, straight into her gaping vaginal opening. Knowing that I would soon be impaled, balls deep in there, made me, if possible, even harder.
Julie, true to form, did not hang back. Did not waste an opportunity. Kneeling back down, astride my hips, facing me, she fed my throbbing penis straight into herself. I had not touched her sex, not even once, since we arrived in the tent, but she was literally dripping wet with anticipation. All the time we were together, I never once did not feel the urge to cum the second I entered her, such was the effect she had on me. But fortunately, it was only a passing feeling this time. I was satiated for the moment from her earlier hand job, and knew I could control myself almost indefinitely and make this all about her. I told her “Use me, go wild!”
She took me at my word. Without pausing, she gritted her teeth and started to hump my cock for all she was worth, while I just ‘laid back and thought of England.’ It is not that it was not good for me. It was in fact, as always, incredible. But I did not care about me right then. As she pounded away, Julie was grunting and squealing like a stuck pig. Despite the ferocity of her thrusts, her perfect breasts barely moved, so firm were they. As white, smooth, and hard as fine marble.
Julie stopped moving all of a sudden, which concerned me a lot, but it was just to adjust her position. I do not know what it is called, but she ended up, still impaled on me with her hands behind her back on my legs, and her feet flat on the floor in front of her, like a crab. This position had, three major advantages. Firstly, the view it gave me, of my penis sliding in and out of her was absolutely amazing. Secondly, it freed my hips to meet her thrusts, so we slammed together, hard. And finally, it gave me free access to rub her clitoris to supplement our pelvic motion.
I do not think I have ever heard anyone so vocal during sex. Most porn films I have seen, and that is a lot, were silent movies compared to Julie that night, and most of them are faked; I sincerely hoped this was not faked too. Her noises were animalistic and were building to a final crescendo. She came with a primal scream, loud enough to wake the dead. Her convulsions lasted a good 20-30 seconds, and she gushed, soaking us both in the process. She collapsed back onto me, putting quite a strain on my penis, which bent down, but remained inside her.
We were both panting from the exertion, and sweating profusely. The contentment on Julie’s face was an absolute picture, and I would guess I looked pretty smug myself. After a short recovery period, she said “You didn’t cum?” a question, not a statement. I shook my head, no. “Could you?” She asked, me: “I think so.,” her: “Have at it then.”
I eased her off of me and got her to lie on her back on the bedding. Climbing between her parted legs, I slipped my cock straight back in. It was pure animal rutting on my part now. I started slowly, allowing Julie to match to my tempo, then built it up until I could go no faster. In truth, I could honestly have called it a night before this, but after telling her I could get there, I did not want to retract. Thankfully, just a couple of minutes later, I felt my spunk rising and ejaculated into her, for the final time that night.
We were absolutely spent. There was no question of us going anywhere that night, but we might as well be as comfortable as possible. I dragged two of the safari beds together, grabbed the rubberised pillows and the blankets. The floor had been fine for sex but was not going to be that hot for sleeping. We went to bed, cocooned ourselves in the blankets and settled down. We were close enough to be able to hold each other tightly until we dropped off. As my eyes started to droop a thought occurred to me. As I stated at the end of Part 8, I had nearly told Sally she was the best sex I had ever had. Well sorry girl, you just got totally eclipsed. Julie now wore that crown, and to be honest, would do for the rest of my life. I do not know if she actually heard me utter those immortal words “I love you, Julie,” as she succumbed to slumber.
We woke, still entangled, around dawn. The lamp had long since burned out, so it was still quite dark in the tent. I realised we had been disturbed by the sound of a vehicle approaching. It was probably an MP patrol. Technically we were not doing anything wrong, but it would be awkward to have to explain ourselves to the monkeys if they found us there. There was no need to worry though, it was just a slow drive by, and from the outside, no one could really tell the tent was occupied.
We rose, snuck out to the bushes for a pee, Julie doing so still naked, I’m sure just to tease me, as she deliberately paraded in front of me as she exited, then returned. We dressed, squared away the tent and started out for home. Once again, we were offered and accepted a ride, shortly after hitting the main road. We got back in time to take a much-needed breakfast, before parting at the Lady Garden Gate, with arrangements to meet later.
I realise I am waffling on now, so will draw things to a close. Julie and I were a definite ‘item’ now and everyone fully accepted us as a couple. With luck, we had a long time together ahead of us, the remainder of that year and most of the following one, before life would once again rear its ugly head. Mostly we worked the same shift together, thanks Sarge, but now and again had to move to others, to cover leaves, sickness, etc. That could cause finding time to be together difficult, due to opposing shift patterns. Julie also got that promised single room, which presented a whole new set of opportunities, and challenges. Suffice to say, we were never caught.
We took UK leave together during which she met my family, and I hers. Both seemed more than happy with our relationship, though frankly it was their problem, not ours, if they did not approve. We made plenty of use of the Twynham and the tent, though we never, ever, hit the heights of that first night under canvas again. Do not misunderstand me, our sex was always good, if not great. I still found it hard to believe a woman as stunning and switched on as Julie would have anything to do with me, but I was just eternally grateful that fate threw us together as it did.
Right on schedule, the elephant in the room started trumpeting loudly. As my tour of duty wound to its conclusion, I received the customary 90-day warning to move notice. As I had hoped, I had been picked for the Advanced Engineering Training (AET) course, another year back at the school, with guaranteed promotion when (if) I completed the training. The time had come to decide about our future together.
Framing it as just a special treat, I booked us a room at one of the ‘posh’ beachfront hotels for a weekend of ‘relaxation and fun.’ And that first night we had plenty of ‘fun’ in the luxury of a soft king size bed. A rare opportunity to express the love we had by then both declared for each other in comfort.
The next night, I told Julie I could not be bothered to walk out to find food, let us eat here. She balked a bit as it was really expensive, but I insisted it would be my treat, to celebrate my forthcoming advancement. The Maitre De nearly blew it, when he said loudly, “Your table is ready for you, Sir.” (it was of course all pre-booked). Julie either did not, or chose not to notice, as we were led to a secluded corner table. We had a wonderful meal, with a good bottle of wine, which I needed to calm my nerves.
To end the meal, I ordered coffee and cognac, and dived in. I will not bore you with details, but as I am certain you have worked out, I proposed marriage to Julie. My proposal was met with silence. She drained her Brandy, reached across to me, took my hand, and said, “Let’s go up to the room.” This did not bode well. As we left, the MD looked quizzically at me and I gave him that palm down shake of the hand, not sure yet, but keep that champagne on ice for me.
We were silent in the lift and until we reached the room. When we entered Julie went straight to the bathroom, leaving me to sit nervously on the edge of the bed, for what seemed like a lifetime. She finally came out, sat next to me, took both of my hands in hers, and started to speak.
She told me she had her suspicions there was more to this weekend than I had let on. I had been off, no not off, different, since I had received my posting notice. She had thought it was our final hurrah. Breakup sex before I was going to dump her, so I could return to the UK as, a ‘Free man.’ But my proposal had taken her by surprise. She went on.
“Titus, I love you dearly, God knows I do. Look, I am not saying no to marrying you, I am saying not yet! Like you, I have ambitions to attend AET, get at least three stripes and hopefully then, take a commission.” (For the record, she was indeed later commissioned. I never followed through on that idea, content to stay a SNCO and end up as a Warrant Officer.) She continued “We are both still young and have a lot to accomplish before we settle down and start a family, we have plenty of time for that. I am just not ready to be ‘wife of…’ not yet. I hope you understand.”
I was gutted, and on the verge of tears, but yes, I did understand. As was normal, she was the more levelheaded and pragmatic of the two of us. She was organised, decisive and resourceful. She would make a bloody good officer and did. She realised I needed a little alone time and did not try to stop me as I went outside, onto the balcony.
As I sat listening to the small Mediterranean waves, breaking on the beach, I chewed over my options. My mind kept grasping at straws. I could not get some of her words, like ‘not yet, settle down later, start a family’ out of my head. She had not turned me down flatly and, as far as I knew, she was still in there waiting for me. I loved her and did not want to throw away even a remote possibility of spending the rest of my life with her. This time I would not rush into dumping the girl, just because things did not go exactly as I wanted them to. I had learned that lesson.
After about an hour, with perfect timing as I made my decision, I heard the door to the balcony door open, and Julie came out, stood behind me and hugged me. I told her it was okay, we should just forget tonight ever happened, carry on as we were and let what was going to happen, happen. She agreed, but added, “Trust me, you will know when it is time to ask me again to get the answer you want. But let us not forget tonight completely, let us have something to remember.” With that, she took my hand, led me to bed and fucked my brains out.
We did carry on. There was a noticeable change in the dynamic between us, but we worked through it. When the day finally arrived that August, Julie came to the air head with me, to see me off. We had agreed not to make any firm plans about our next steps, until I was properly settled onto my course, but I already had it in mind to fly back, at my own expense, for the Christmas break to see her again.
When the final boarding call was made, Julie burst into floods of tears, bringing me to the brink of weeping myself. I could see her still crying, as I turned for the final time at the gate. I felt fucking awful. For her. For me.
As the RAF VC-10 taking me back to to the UK (a definite upgrade over the C130 Hercules that originally took me out to Cyprus) banked over Akrotiri Bay, turning North towards ‘Blighty’, a shiver rippled through my body. A disjointed voice told me, “You’ll never see her again!” The voice was not wrong.
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