Perverts 'R' Us

The Battleship Grey Diner

By Grade School Nurse ( M+/F+, voy, enem )

January 29, 2007

Newport News, Virginia

Dearest Heddy and Karl,

You are very much missed. Are you regretting it not coming down this season and how can you stand the Minnesota winter? We are freezing our rear ends off here. It's 38, but feels at least 10 degrees colder.

I finally have time to put down in writing what I've been more than hinting of at your beseeching over our visits. I didn't want to spoil it with half-correct remembrances and have been reading over my diaries for those years and actually getting all hot and bothered, just going over them. Our almost weekly visits to the old diner were so passion-seared that I feel justified in attaching the title to this letter 'cause of the vast stores of clit and pecker scum expended by all the regulars, which could indeed sink a battleship.

Dr. Charles Butts was a strikingly handsome light-black Jamaican, the spitting image of Denzel Washington, in fact, who had been a corpsman in Norfolk in the after war years. He was reportedly given a medical (psychiatric) discharge, upgraded from "undesirable" for moral turpitude, which should really have been for stupidity because his regular "posterior medical services" to the wives and girlfriends of officers and sailors of USS ____ got to be too much a matter of public notice.

He was the prototype "Ass Man" so commonly found in the Navy at that time and seemed to have few interests in life outside the narrow confines of his commandeered "examining room" at the base and his bare-bones, per diem apartment in Virginia Beach. He had to have protection from up above, 'cause he never seemed to be on call and treated wives and girlfriends exclusively.

He had strange personal traits too, such as: he rarely spoke above a whisper, but always with obvious authority, was compulsively immaculate and constantly washing his hands and polishing his round, steel-rimmed glasses, and never smiled unless he was looking at a woman's or girl's big ass sashaying down the street, or with her panties hauled down to half-mast in his office, and her husband or boyfriend attending to his beck and call with orders like "Uh-huh, hold her down there now and arch her ahss up a little bit higher, mon" or "Now get your face down underneath there and sniff that nice moist pussy, mon"

After his discharge, he seemed to disappear from the face of the earth and no one heard any more about him 'til one night at the Officers Club one of Gerry's buddies said he knew a sailor who heard he was spotted having dinner in the Allied Officers Club in Naples, Italy. He was with his wife, a gorgeous Italian woman with a face and ass on her like Sophia Loren and tits like Anita Ekberg, and they were having dinner. He had to abscond from Naples after they discovered bare-ass Polaroids of his wife had been circulated all over the base.

About a year later, word got around that he had a house in Baltimore. Gerry and some of his buddies checked it out. Actually it was a nifty abandoned art-deco diner way out on E. Baltimore, near Haussner's that he had bought at a city-sponsored auction of repossessed properties. He had it picked up and moved in from the highway and hidden behind an 8' high wooden wall, which he painted a light battleship grey, his favorite color.

The whole house was the same shade of battleship grey. To get in, you had to ring a bell at a door in the wall. Then you walked up some moldering steps and up a long cobblestone path to the front door, which was shaped like a gangway. He had porthole windows cut in the walls and the whole interior was rigged out like a ship. The wide front of the house was the living area, with a double-tiered bunk area on the left in the rear and a galley kitchen and bar in the opposite NW corner. In the middle of the back wall was another gangway door that led to a long, dimly-lit hallway, with porthole windows that ended at the triple-locked door to the "doctor's" examination room.

It was a glorious last Sunday, the 25th of May in 1958. Gerry had been told by another Lt. Commander buddy of his that a corpsman had been up for a court martial for being AWOL for a week at the "ass house" in Baltimore. He and a JAG friend of his visited the kid in the brig and picked his brain. They were very incredulous at first of what he told them, but Gerry determined to find out for himself at the earliest opportunity.

We rang the bell at the wall on E. Baltimore about 1300 bells. Clayton, a handsome, pale, freckle-faced, red-haired sailor who looked to be about 18 peeked through the little speakeasy window and asked in a heavy, W. Virginia hillbilly drawl, "Yup. And just who are you, may I ask?"

Gerry gave the password, "Friends of Fanny."

He said, "They all say they're friends of Fanny. We been havin' problems 'round here lately." He grinned as he studied me lustfully and said, "She your girlfriend?"

I said, "Wife."

"Wife? ... Tell her to turn around."

Gerry nodded and I turned around real slow like and made sure my derriere was jutted out and precisely framed in the middle of his view through the window.

"Whew!" He wiped the sweat from his brow with a dingy handkerchief that looked caked with dried jism.

He threw the deadbolt on the inside of the door and held it open as we passed in. Once inside, he locked it behind us and said, "Let her go on up first. This I gotta' see."

I pinched the slack of my already skin-tight pink satin dress forward at my thighs and splayed my stiletto heels in an almost bowlegged motion and let my 40" ass cheeks revolve all the way up the walk as I looked coyly around and saw the gob's big blue eyes searing a laser beam dead center at the southern end of the cleavage as he stuttered, "L-L-Lord, h-have m-mercy."

We entered through the door with a lozenge-shaped, pier glass window that had a pleated battleship-grey curtain behind it and looked around the room before passing through the front of the house and down the long hallway to the addition. The front room was exclusively a light battleship grey, with square curtains hanging at the sides of the portholes. They were oddly out of harmony with the whole nautical atmosphere: big red roses and Valentine hearts on a white background frilled at the edges and ran on rods that were pulled closed at night.

There were about nine or ten straight-back chairs set against the wall on either side of the passageway and four couples, the guys sitting below the windows where the light was just bright enough to permit them studying the Big Butt magazines on low tables next to the chairs. The couples were: a trooper from A. P. Hill and his cute, chubby girlfriend, a marine from Quantico and a stunning hooker twice his age, with an ass on her that made you wonder if the chair was going to collapse, a local black pharmacist and his pretty large-bottomed twin granddaughters in pigtails, and a Chief from Norfolk who seemed to know Clayton with his considerably younger, big-assed wife.

I noticed that some of the chairs had big, plush, red, heart-shaped cushions on them, which was where the females were sitting. Clayton knocked at the door at the end of the hall and we stood there waiting. After a while, the door opened and a very imposing Denzel Washington look-alike in a long white doctor's coat appeared.

He surveyed the room and, spotting the CPL and his girlfriend, walked over to them and gave the soldier a withering stare, saying, "You get your skinny ahss off that pillow, mon! ... I don't want these gals getting sore ahsses off of hard seats. ... I don't give a good goddahmn what your skinny ahss feels like. ... A woman's or a girl's big tender ahss has got to be comfortable when she comes in here."

The soldier scooted over to the next chair real quick.

Dr. Butts asked Gerry in a barely audible whisper, "Your wife?"

"Yeah."

"Tell her to turn around."

Gerry did. I could feel the heat from the doctor's breath and imagine his eyes searching my big, round, high-set derriere like a mine sweeper. He moaned, "O-Ohhhh, Lord 'a mercy! Get a load of that ... uh huh, g-get a load of that ahss, mon! W-Where did you find that fine ahss, mon? That ahss needs attention, mon! Attention. That's exactly what it needs, mon! Attention."

Minutes later I was lying face down with a thermometer in my mouth on a white sheet-covered table, with a pillow under my head and another bigger one under my tummy. Several huge circular pier glass mirrors were screwed to the walls of the room. I was looking over my shoulder.

Dr. Butts gave Gerry a wink and a clearly-heard whispered order, "Lower her pahnties, mon. ... Right straight down to half-mahst ... O-Ohhhh, tee hee hee! ... That's it, mon! ... Tee hee hee! ... O-Ohhhh, sweetheart, you're getting all red in the face! ... Lower, them nice and slow, mon! ... O-Ohhhh, but your big bare ahss cheeks are white as cream. ... Red face and white hinder, eh, sweetheart? ... O-Ohhhh, Lord a' mercy, it's bee-u-tee-ful, mon! ... Your wife has a superb ahss, mon!"

Gerry had grabbed hold of the waistband of my panties and as Dr. Butts pushed down on my waist, jutting my ass higher, I turned my head to the right and saw Clayton sitting in a chair behind a 6' high screen. He was peeking around the edge of the screen with a big grin on his face and winking at me and I could tell he was jacking off.

The panties came down slowly, popping out inch by inch, exposing the firm, fat, white hemispheres of my naked derriere while I kept looking behind me or to the side. I saw three madmen, each one grinning from ear to ear, craning their necks, blinking and rubbing their eyes or uttering half-whispered exclamations like, Clayton: "W-Whew! ... L-Lookit it! ... W-Whew! ... L-Lookit it! ... L-Lookit the b-big f-fuckin' b-bare n-nekit ass on her! ... Lookit it! ... L-Lookit it!"

Gerry: "Embarrassed, sweetheart? ... Tee hee hee! ... Tee hee hee! ... I think we better call it em-bare-assed instead, don'tcha think? ... Aw, ain't it a shame? A great big cryin' shame? ... Havin' your nice big beautiful ass bared for these mean mean men to see? ... I'd say it was a great big cryin' shame, right?"

I could count five separate views of my big bare ass, or "ahss" as Dr. Butts called it, in the mirrors. The effect was dizzying in its weirdness as I watched the men, their heads spinning around to get every different view. Dr. Butts gently pulled the thermometer from my mouth and, glancing at it, tossed it over onto a table. Then he fell to slowly fondling and caressing my bare buttocks: delicately rubbing them with the palms of his hands, softly pinching the crest of each chubby cheek, prying with the edges of his pinkies all up and down in between the deep cleavage. Then he lowered his head and delicately rubbed his face over each cheek, sniffing in between and staring and softly kissing my firm, chubby, naked rump cheeks. Finally he nodded to Clayton.

Clayton came out from behind the screen and ran over with a blue glass of alcohol holding several thermometers. Dr. Butts, the thumb and forefinger of his left hand delicately parting my arse cheeks at the bottom of the cleft, took one with his right hand and nodded again to Clayton, who picked up a gob of Vaseline from the jar he was holding and delicately anointed my immaculate pink asshole.

I looked behind and see his moist, staring eyes blinking and he was frothing at the mouth and, after three or four finger-fucks, he was spurting at the crotch and hollering, A-A-Argggghhhh! ... O-Ohhhhhhhh! ... " A-A-Argggghhhh! ... O-Ohhhhhhhh! ... A-A-Argggghhhh! ... O-Ohhhhhhhh!"

Dr. Butts was laughing like a madman as Clayton slowly pulled his finger out of my asshole. He elbowed Clayton aside and slowly inserted the thermometer and started fucking me with that. He pushed it delicately in, halfway to the hilt and let it stick out there for some minutes before drawing it out and holding it up to the light. He grinned a big, toothy grin to Gerry, winked and said, "Your wife has a lovely big ahss, Mr. Gerry. And it is hot!"

Clayton had gotten himself fairly under control and cleaned up by now and was holding a battleship grey chipped tray covered with a white linen cloth. On the tray was a large flask of steaming water with a cake of grayish soap melting at the bottom and a beautiful 1935 model art deco red rubber, bulb enema syringe, standing on its smooth disc butt end, its black hard rubber nozzle pointing straight upward. Dr. Butts looked at Gerry and, pointing to the syringe, said, "They be needing it, mon. The big ahssed ladies they be needing it bad, mon. ... Now watch."

He picked up the syringe and dipped it into the steaming water as he slowly pressed his thumb on the smooth flat disc butt end, slowly filling the bulb, which made a high-pitched gurgling sound. He cupped the hot bulb in his palms, shifting it from one to the other until it cooled off. His eyes almost crossing with excitement, his speech slurred, he winked lewdly at me and, pointing at the syringe, half whispered, "Gentlemen, her lover. ... Let me show you how Mr. Pump loves the lady with the big bare ahss. ... O-Ohhhhhh, she be needing it, Mr. Gerry. ... Mercy me, how she be needing it. ... Ohhhhhh, she be needing it, Clayton. ... Remember now what I said, husband. ... Twice a day minimum."

He nodded to Clayton, who started rubbing his face in my big bare ass, kissing it passionately. After much encouragement and applause from Gerry and the doctor, Clayton stood off. Dr. Butts sighed with pleasure and, delicately parting my chubby smooth white ass cheeks at the "south poles", slowly inserted the nozzle of the syringe to the hilt and pressed the smooth disc butt end. The warm, stinging water squirted into my anus. On a cue from the doctor, Clayton lifted me up by the thighs and Gerry squeezed underneath me over the edge of the table. Clayton set my moist quivering cunt precisely over his mouth as he darted his hot tongue in and out and around until the clit juice exploded into it as Dr. Butts slowly pulled the nozzle out to refilled the bulb.

More next time.

Love, and to Karl,

Helena & Gerry