He Struck My Straight Nerve And I Haven't Looked Back

What attracted me to the Navy I don't really know. I signed up in high school and was based in San Diego before being assigned to a ship for my first six months 'cruise'. The one common denominator for me was the 'girls'. Girls everywhere, young, in shape, from everywhere. Fraternizing with other girls was strictly prohibited, but a lot went on. Between the time I joined and the time I was discharged four years later I had tried out every type of girl (except overly aggressive black chicks, they really turned me off).

I went to college on the GI Bill and finished in record time. In college I found another crop of young women who were looking for love and I had several girlfriends. After college, now 28 and degreed, I went to work for a large E and C company, with projects overseas. I had a degree in construction management and I applied over and over until I got an overseas assignment. In Africa. Gays in Africa have to stay very under cover and I kept my feelings to myself, only letting loose when I visited Europe on R&R.

In Europe I met a woman, Belgian, who was a free lance reporter and we got along. We had sex to establish who was on top and who was not and I ended up on the bottom with her. But I liked it, it was a big change for me. She came to see me in Nairobi and I had to tell her to keep her hands to herself, no sharing rooms, nothing. She got mad and cussed them out, typical of European and American gays, everything is about them.

I agreed to go on a four day safari with her. On Safari, out there in the bush, she went for me at camp. I had to push her off. She got mad and stormed off. A man, middle aged walked over and asked if he could help. I said no thank you, he said I needed help. To stick with him, make it look like I was his lover, come and sleep with him in his tent (I could use the floor if I wanted). Make sure that the word got out that I was his lover and she was not in my line of sight.

He didn't keep his word, he climbed on me and put me up on the bed and he had sex with me, completely and thoroughly, stuffing his dick down my throat. Make sure that they saw me close to him, holding his arm. For the rest of the days in camp I was his girlfriend, understood. For the rest of the days he had sex with me, my dirty clothes were in his room. Mouth, ass, vagina, he took it all. I didn't object or stop him, I accommodated him when he got on top. Where he wanted his dick didn't matter as long as it was in me. I didn't fake it, holding onto his arm, or letting him kiss my cheek. I didn't fake it when I kissed with him under the moonlight at the bonfire at night.

My panties came off and stayed off all night. If anyone was close enough they could hear me talking and him telling me to be quiet. I could not get enough. My Belgian girlfriend had enough and she flew out early, and back to Europe never to see her again. I went home with him, as in home in the States. Where I took my place, with and without my panties on. For the fist time in my life I was totally overcome with emotions. Yes, it was sex. But it was also everything else. I walked by him, held his arm, held his hand to cross the street. At 36 I was totally in love for the first time. When I married him I took his name, signed myself as Mrs. Smith.

I look back on those years from when I was 18 and 36 and can't believe that it took finding my man in the bush in Kenya. All those girls, women I made love with, not one tripped my love nerve. He did overnight. And I haven't looked back since.