One year ago today, I visited Camp Lejeune for the Independence Day fireworks. I had just graduated high school a year early, was on my annual vacation to my sister’s house for the summer, just started my blog (though it was on Blogger back then) and was just enjoying life in general.
I’d had a few boyfriends over the years, but never anything overly serious. I wore a silver ring to signify my promise of chastity. And though I held a secret crush on former teacher of mine, I had never really been kissed by a girl.
I had no idea the fireworks that would occur in my bedroom as a result would put to shame anything that could be put in the sky.
From the archives, here is what I wrote the next morning:
There’s no better place to see fireworks on the 4th of July than on a military base.
It was a positively sultry summer night here last night. We went to a Marine Corps base not far from here to watch the fireworks display, and it must have been 95 degrees. The Marines seemed to be doing ok in the heat, though. They’re pretty tough.
Not me, though. I was sweating a little. Even in a mini and midriff, I couldn’t quite get comfortable. It was pleasant, though. I carried my sandals and walked barefoot through the field, looking at all the concession stands, the kiddie rides, and of course, the Marines.
And they looked back. A lot.
I like being looked at. So what? They like looking. So what? Get your thong out of a knot. It’s BIOLOGY, duh. Perfectly natural. If I didn’t like being visually appreciated, I’d wear a burkah.
Anyways, I was rather intrigued by one particular Marine. This Marine surprised me with a very thorough look. I returned it happily. So we got to talking, and wound up yacking away for like 15 minutes. We have a lot in common. We wound up exchanging numbers, but I think I’ll let her call me first.
Put a sock in it, prude.
I had a few readers already, and I think a few of them kind of tripped on the word “her”. Well, the Marine called me, and we went on a date. Here’s what I wrote about that.
It was… different. In a good way. Not better than kissing guys, and not worse. Just different.
First you need to know that Corporal Kate is neither a Corporal, nor is her name Kate, but we don’t want to get her in trouble, so that’s my new pet name for her. She likes it, so it’s all good.
So we went out dancing last night. We got a really late start, but that’s ok. We got more than a few looks, and a handful of offers from guys, but nothing out of the ordinary. I don’t think we did anything that could get her in trouble while we were in public.
After a while, we went for a drive on base. Man, is that place big. We talked and we laughed for a few hours. Then we parked and went for a walk. There are really big sidewalks next to the roads, for the formations to march on, and a lot of them run for really long stretches through the woods. Kate and I have a lot in common. We did a lot of laughing, and a lot of flirting.
Anyways, we walked off the sidewalk onto this trail into the woods. It was really dark, and sorta scary, but Kate held my hand while we walked. It’s hard to be too scared when you have a United States Marine holding your hand, y’know? It was a little hard to see, though.
Then things got quiet for a while, and we stopped walking. And then she did it. She reached over and held my cheek and she leaned in real close…
Should I stop here? Just kidding.
It was soft. Not like guys when they try to jam their tongue into your large intestine. Or like when they think that they have to do hundred-mile-an-hour circles around your uvula.
It was tender. Her breath was sweet. It was wet without making me look for a towel to dry off. I liked it a lot. And man, did I feel it all over. All the way down to my toes. I hope I made her feel the same way. I hope we get to practice some more.
Someone on another thread here asked if a thong makes a noise if you drop it in the woods.
Yes, it does.
So does a silver ring.
But nobody really notices.
And I suppose the rest is history. We are of course going to see the fireworks together again tonight. Let’s see how many heads we turn.