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From: Spangles Muldoon <spanglesmuldoon@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Rambeau
Date: Mon, 21 Jul 2003 10:10:03 -0400
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Copyright (C) 1999,   Spangles Muldoon.  ALL Rights
Reserved

This story may not be reproduced in any form for
profit, or on another website 
without the written permission of the author.  The
author may be contacted 
by writing mrdouble@mrdouble.com or
mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.

Original posting date: 
Tuesday AM, April 13, 1999

A Resident Author story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: rambeau.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com
 





Rambeau
	By Spangles Muldoon
	spanglesmuldoon@yahoo.com



	I guess I was naive, but at the time it seemed like a
good way to make some extra money for very little
work. Looking back on it now, joining the  Air
National Guard was a dumbshit idea. Sure, it wasn't
too bad doing drill  weekends, and for that matter,
summer camp was not all that bad either. I actually
sort of  enjoyed it. I was working in the Guard as an
aircraft mechanic, and because of licenses,  ratings,
and experience in the civilian world, I had a dual
specialty code, one for  fixed wing, and one for
helicopter.   
	
	I didn't realize that it was a dumbshit idea until my
unit was  called up to go to the other side of the
planet to some little third-world country that  none
of us had ever even heard of. Our mission, of course,
was to save the American way of  life, although for
the life of me, I didn't understand how us being there
would do  that.  
	
	I didn't realize how serious this was until they
issued  weapons and ammo to us prior to departure. The
"grunts" were given M-16's, and the  technicians (me
included) were issued sidearms. They figured it was
too hard to work  on an  aircraft with an M- 16
strapped to your back. They were right, but it was no
picnic to do  it while wearing a sidearm, either.

	I still figured I would be okay when I got there. I
figured  that since I was dual qualified, and was one
of the older, more experienced guys in the  group, I
would surely be put in a back area maintenance base
where my experience  could be best utilized. Murphy
was with me, of course, so I was put in a front area 
doing line maintenance on helicopters. The good side
was that we were told that  this was only a police
action, and that we would only be there 60 to 90 days.
Yeah,  right. You know about how accurate that turned
out to be, too. 
	
	The base (and I use the term very loosely....) was a
clearing in the middle of a large forest. There was
about a hundred and fifty yards of clear area between
the helicopter pads and the edge of the woods, even
less than that is some places.  The area had been
bulldozed out of the forest by the Army Corps of
Engineers, and they had laid down some WW-II surplus
metal portable runway material to make helipads. Line
shacks were nothing more than portable buildings. We
had all the neccesities, which was one of the reasons
that the Air Guard is a better choice than the others.
We always had hot meals available, and always had a
clean, dry place to sleep. The other services could
never say that.

	We got shot at quite a bit, but fortunately the enemy
weren't very good shots. I patched bullet holes in the
helicopters almost every day, some picked up in
flight, and some done by snipers while the aircraft
was on the pad. I had the sidearm with me all the
time, but I didn't feel real good about it. It wasn't
much good against a sniper with a rifle and a scope in
a tree 150 yards away.

	I saw the enemy a few times when they were captured
and flown into the base. They were a ragtag bunch,
most of them very young, and all of them obviously
untrained or poorly trained at best. Theirs was an
equal opportunity army, and was made up of women and
girls as well as men and boys. My first direct contact
with them came about as sort of fluke. It had rained
hard all night the night before. The helipads were
hard surface, but the rest of the ground was wet and
pretty soft. By afternoon, the sun had dried the top
layer of dirt, but the dry part was only a crust less
than an inch thick. Underneath, it was still muddy and
soft.

	It was about two in the afternoon. I was on the ramp
preflighting a helicopter for a mission. In the
distance, I heard another helicopter coming in. I quit
what I was doing and went to the next helipad, waiting
to marshall him in. About the time I saw him over the
top of the trees, I heard the engine surge, followed
by a couple of rapid compressor stalls. More work for
me, I thought. As I watched him come in, I knew his
approach angle was all wrong. He didn't have enough
power or altitude to make the pad, and it was obvious
he was going to land well short. He went into
auto-rotation, and set the helicopter down about ten
yards from the edge of the forest. As soon as I saw
him flare, I started out to the aircraft with fire
extinguisher in hand.
He brought it in safely, and as soon as he got it shut
down, I talked to the pilot a little. I made a quick
diagnosis of the problem based on the information he
gave me. I figured I had about two or three hours of
work to do to get the aircraft back up again.

	I knew I would not be able to move the aircraft to
the pad. It would have to be fixed where it was. It
couldn't fly out until it was fixed, and the ground
was too soft to drive a tug on. It was certainly too
soft to support the helicopter on ground handling
wheels. Yep. It had to be fixed where it sat. I walked
back to the base with the Pilot, and started getting
the tools and parts together. It took me two trips to
haul all the tools and parts to the aircraft, since I
had no help. Pilots are notorious for that. They think
once they get it on the ground and walk away, they're
finished. Just as well. Pilot's don't generally make
good maintenance helpers.

	When I got to the aircraft the second time, I noticed
that I now had bullet holes in the aircraft. None in a
critical area, but they had not been there before.
Shit. A sniper was all I needed. Fortunately, I was
working on the side of the aircraft away from the
forest. That gave me a little bit of protection, but I
still didn't feel real good about it. I worked fast,
because I really didn't want to be there when it got
dark.
	
	I had been working for a while when I had to get down
to get some parts. I got the survival knife out of the
helicopter, and was using it to open parts boxes. I
saw movement at the edge of the forest with my
peripheral vision. One thing I knew for certain was
that dead lasted a very long time, and I was not at
all interested in that kind of long term relationship.
I heard a shot, and almost at the same instant
plexiglass shattered as the bullet went through the
cabin window, through the helicopter, and out the
other side, whizzing close enough to my head that I
could feel the breeze as it went by. I dropped to the
ground and laid there. The helicopter was between me
and the forest, but that didn't offer much protection.
Since I was lying on the ground, all I had to hide
behind was the skid gear. I did my absolute best to
hide my entire body behind the tubes.

	I guess the sniper thought I was dead, because as I
lay on the ground looking under the aircraft towards
the forest, I saw a figure coming out of the woods and
walking toward the aircraft. I wasn't really in the
right position to see clearly, and I wasn't about to
move for fear that the sniper's aim might be better up
close, but from what little I could see, the sniper
was on the small side, short, and with a slight build.
The sniper was wearing standard camouflage fatigues, a
fatigue cap, and jungle boots. U.S. surplus, no doubt.
I really couldn't tell any more than that because I
was relying on my peripheral vision only, although I
did have the impression that there was a rifle slung
over the sniper's shoulder.

	The sniper came around the front of the helicopter
and walked directly up to where I was lying, coming up
to me from behind. I felt a couple of quick, light
kicks in the kidneys, not enough to hurt, but enough
to make the sniper think I was dead when I didn't
react. What a dumb ass. I saw the third kick coming
with my peripheral vision, and when the sniper was off
balance on one foot, I rolled over and grabbed the
sniper's ankle in one quick motion. With a flip of my
wrist, the sniper was on the ground. 

	I rolled on top into a pin position before the sniper
even knew what had happened. The sniper's rifle was
pinned underneath both of us, and since the sniper was
so much smaller than me, there was no chance the
sniper could get hold of it. I forgot all about my
sidearm, but I still had the survival knife in my
hand. I placed it to the sniper's throat. All
strugling stopped at that point. It was also at that
point when I noticed that the sniper was a female.

	I knocked the cap off her head to get a better look.
Her hair was tied up in a knot on top of her head, and
had been hidden by her cap. She looked young, maybe
thirteen or fourteen, but it was hard to tell. Surely
she was older than that, but she really didn't look
it. Maybe she wasn't. I had seen guys that age come
into the base as prisoners. She had very soft
features, made softer by the small amount of baby fat
she had on her. Under different circumstances, she
would have been cute. Her hair was brunette, and her
eyes were a vivid green.

	I changed positions from a full body pin to a
position of straddling her, sitting on her pelvis with
my legs folded under me on each side of her. I got the
rifle out from under her, removed the clip and ejected
the cartridge from the chamber, then tossed the rifle
under the helicopter. For my own safety, I had to
search her for more weapons. Under the circumstances,
I knew it would be a thorough search. 

	I ran my hands down both her sides and across her
chest, spending just a little extra time searching her
chest. Her tits were very small, maybe the size of
half-lemons. She didn't have a bra on, nor did she
have any reason to wear one. I changed positions and
ran my hands further down her body, searching her
through her clothes. She had a very slight hint of
curve at her waist. Her thighs were firm and muscular,
sort of like a dancer. They were very thin, leaving a
wide space between them where they met her pelvis. She
could wear cordouroy without making any noise at all.
	
	I needed to be as sure as I could that she had no
other weapons, after all, she had been shooting at me.
I decided that a more detailed search was needed. I
started to unbutton her fatigue shirt, and she began
to protest. I didn't understand her language, but her
tone was pretty definite. She tried to get her hands
in position to stop me from unbuttoning her shirt, but
she was just too small to do much good.  I kept
unbuttoning, until the entire front of her shirt was
undone. I pulled her shirt tail out of her pants, and
opened her shirt wide.

	Her tits were exactly as I had imagined them. Very
small, very pointy, and very firm. She was less than
happy with the fact that I spent some time playing
with them. My dick was hard as a rock. I moved off
her, and this time she tried to make a break for it.
She wasn't fast enough or strong enough, and I had her
pinned again almost instantly. She was talking again,
but all I could tell from her tone was that she was
pissed. It was then that I knew I was going to fuck
her. If she was big enough to shoot at me, she was big
enough to get screwed by me.

	I moved one hand to her belt and tried to unfasten
it. It was a standard U.S. military web belt with a
Sam Browne type buckle, and there was no way in hell I
could get it loose with one hand. I slipped the knife
blade under the belt and sliced it in two. I was not
in the mood for formalities.

	The button and zipper came open easily. She was still
fighting against me, but she didn't have enough
strength to have any effect. I changed positions again
so that I could get her pants down. I knew that I
could not get them completely off her without taking
off her jungle boots, so I had to be content with
getting them bunched down around her calves. 
	
	She was wearing  standard G.I. issue olive drab boxer
shorts, which for some reason struck me as funny.
Still, it was very easy to get them down to where her
fatigue pants were. It was only then that I looked at
her pussy for the first time. She had almost no hair
at all, and what little there was was very fine. I
know this may sound strange, but she had a really
pretty little pussy. She had small, pouty, perfectly
formed pussy lips splayed out on each side of her hole
like petals on a flower. She tried to close her legs
to deny me access, but there was just no way. I had
managed to get one of my knees between hers, and she
couldn't block me. I put one of my hands between her
legs, feeling for her hole. She was talking a lot in a
very angry tone, but I paid no attention to her. I
could imagaine what she was saying, but I really
didn't care.

	I worked my finger between her pussy lips and was
both pleased and surprised to find that she was wet.
Not tremendously wet, but wet enough. She knew what
was going to happen, and she started fighting against
me even harder, but it was to no avail. She was
pinned. I managed to get my finger inside her up to
the first knuckle, and thought I felt a hymen.
Unbelievable. My dick twitched in anticipation.

	I moved my hand to my own pants and unzipped them,
taking out my dick and balls. I moved both my knees
between hers, and forced her legs as far apart as her
pants would allow. I then dropped on top of her,
pinning her to the ground even more effectively than I
had before. I reached between us and guided my dick to
her pussy, placing the head at her entrance. She was
still talking angrily and struggling, but I think she
knew it was a fait accompli. There was nothing she
could do to stop it from happening.

	I moved my hips, slipping the head of my dick into
her. She was amazingly tight. I withdrew, and slipped
back into her, going deeper this time.  This time, I
went deep enough to feel an obstruction.  I pulled out
again and made a couple of slow, easy strokes against
her hymen, not wanting to hurt her. Then it came to
me. Shit. This girl had tried to fuckin KILL me, and
here I was worried about hurting her? Bullshit. I
pulled almost completely out of her, and rammed my
dick into her full force, with all the power I could
muster. I busted through her cherry like that bullet
had busted through the plexiglass. My dick rammed full
length in to her, not stopping until my balls bounced
against her ass. She let out a muffled scream as her
cherry gave way, and tears began to develop in her
eyes. She was biting her lower lip so hard that I
thought she would make it bleed.
	I pulled almost completely out of her, then rammed my
dick home again. I did it again, harder and faster,
and gained speed with each stroke. I gave not a
solitary thought to her pleasure, concentrating
instead on mine. My balls were already heavy with
sperm, and I knew I would be sending my seed into her
very quickly. I lifted my upper body off of her and
continued to pound into her. I was able to look down
and watch my dick disappear into her, then reappear
almost like magic. I was fucking her so hard that she
actually scooted a little bit on the ground every time
I bottomed out inside her.
	I made a real effort to hold back my climax, because
I knew from experience that the longer I held back,
the larger and more powerful my orgasm would be when
it happened. As it always does, though, the time comes
when holding back is impossible. I bottomed my dick
deep inside her, and my first shot of sperm rocketed
into her. I paused for a split second, then continued
to pound into her. Each time my balls hit her ass,
another shot of sperm blasted inside her. I kept it up
for longer than I thought possible, sending more sperm
into her than I thought was possible for me. I
completely drained my balls into her, pumping every
last drop of sperm I had deep into her.
	She had obviously felt me shooting inside her, and
she continued to talk, louder and faster now, but I
didn't understand her language, nor did I really care
what she was saying. My dick softened and slipped out
of her, and I got up on my knees and refastened my
clothes. I stood, and she tried to get up, but it was
impossible for her to manage it with her pants and
shorts down around her legs. She pulled them up and
jumped up, only then pausing to fasten them. She
looked at me with a hatred that I haven't seen before
or since. She looked at her rifle lying under the
helicopter, then back at me. I as glad I had unloaded
it. I think she would have made a try for it and would
have killed me on the spot if she could. She stood
there, waiting for what was to come next. I hadn't
thought far enough ahead to know what I was going to
do next.
	If I took her in, she would be interogated by a
translator, and I would be in deep shit if they
believed her. She was full to overflowing with my
sperm, so it would only take a simple test to find out
if what she told them was true. I could have shot her
on the spot and been done with it, after all, she was
the enemy, and that is what I was there for. I also
considered letting her go, but that was not a good
idea either. If I did that , she would be back in a
tree sniping at some other G.I. tomorrow.
	I was still running the options through my mind when
she dropped and rolled, grabbed her rifle, jumped back
on her feet, and took off running at top speed. I
pulled my side arm and pointed it at her as she ran. I
considered pulling the trigger, then thought better of
it. Enemy or not, I just couldn't bring myself to do
it. She paused at the tree line and looked back at me,
and even at that distance the hatred in her eyes was
evident. She turned and ran into the woods, still
holding her rifle.

---FINI---
	

	
arm, e

























    *---(:>     Double for Nothing!!  Tricks for
Free!!!     <:)---*


                               www.mrdouble.com


                             California Girls.....


                         *---(:>   Mr Double   <:)---*





=====
Spangles Muldoon
A Mr. Double Resident Author

__________________________________
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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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