Story 3 Happiness is a Warm Gun

Happiness is a Warm Gun or Love with a .45

 Adult situation; R rated but not graphic!

My partner and I were on convoy check point duty in Phu Cong, the district capital.  The first convoy had just passed through and we were now free for at least an hour if not longer.  Sergeant Bentengraft was off somewhere and besides he didn’t care what we did as long as he didn’t have to answer for it.  Mark suggested we get some shrimp at this joint just off the ‘strip.’ I was all for that because the club was just a front for Papa San and his Bar Girls to work.  You know what I mean, right?  You buy the girls a couple of Saigon Teas so that you can then retire to one of the many rooms in the back for a more private encounter. And the shrimp wasn’t bad either.

I parked the jeep in front of a tailor shop and we crossed the street to the club. “Hello, MP! You early today.  Girls just come Ben Hoa.” Papa San grinned at us from his table on the side of the room. We grabbed two stools at the front end of the bar where we could keep an eye on the street and our jeep.  Mr. Nguyen, the bartender, served our whiskey and cokes. That seemed to be the signal for the girls. It was as if they materialized from the floor; we were surrounded by six sexy little vixens, all touches, flirts and coos.  T

 

hey  vied for our attention all the while jockeying for a position next to us.  Mark made his choice, but before I could focus on anyone in particular, this little dark eyed darling threw her arms around my neck and buried her tongue in my mouth, which stirred me and produced a chorus of protest from the four other girls.

“My name Kim.  Buy me Saigon Tea!” Her lips brushed my ear and her hand found a comfortable place on my thigh.  I signaled Mr. Nguyen.  Mark and his little cutie had already moved off to a booth.

“What your name?” She hardly waited for the answer. “How come you not see me before?  You here last week.  You no pick me.  Numba ten! MP no like Kim?” She killed the Saigon Tea and pushed it across the bar to Mr. Nguyen for a refill.

Fifteen minutes and a forth Saigon Tea got me in one of the back rooms with Kim.  Room? A cubical with no window. .  The wooden platform that served as a bed was only inches from the doorway, which was covered only with a threadbare curtain.  I stretch out on the platform and watched as Kim shed her clothing.  As she removed her panties she noticed that I was not undressing.

“Choy oy, MP.  Take clothes off.  Kim beaucoup horney.” Laughing, I sat up and stripped, leaving my fatigues in a pile on the floor next to the open doorway.  A short time later, I realized that in that pile of clothes was my .45 and since I was fairly distracted anyone could just reach in under the curtain and take my pistol.  So without stopping my engagement with Kim I reached down and grabbed my .45.  After a moments thought and finding no place else to put it, I laide the pistol beside Kim’s head.

It should be noted that sometimes these transactions with  bar girls were perfunctory, at least on the part of the young ladies.  Prior to the move to the room in the back of the establishment, there is much erotic chatter. “Oh, baby.  I beaucoup horney.” “We make love long time.”  “MP I make you beaucoup happy.” But once the money has changed hands there is a sea change in most of them, becoming almost, “Are you done yet?”  And occasionally chewing gum all the while.

But suddenly Kim found great passion.  She grabbed me around the neck and began thrusting and grinding accompanied with loud moans of ecstasy and shouts of encouragement.  “Oh, MP love me long time.  You so big, I die!”

When all the shouting was done, I gave her a hundred extra P’s as a tip and laughed my way back out to the jeep where Mark was waiting, looking like a satiated Cheshire cat.