Red Wing

   I was only a minute or two behind her down the gang plank and I
found myself following her out of a lack of anything better to
do. But, I had to admit to myself, it was mostly because of the way she
looked in her dress whites. I'd admired Lieutenant JG Amanda Burchette
ever since we'd left Norfolk, but I'd never done anything about it.
Partly because of inexperience: I'd never had a relationship with
another woman; partly out of ignorance: I didn't know which way she
swung; and partly out of fear: the Navy would throw me out if I wasn't
straight. And we were in different departments on the carrier anyway,
Amanda in communications, me in logistics, so we never really crossed
paths. She was an officer, I was enlisted.

   Something about Amanda had caught my eye from the moment I saw her
and, on the long sea journey, I found myself checking her out from a
discrete distance time and again. To be able to follow behind and just
admire her was a treat. A treat that distracted me from any other
possible attraction on my shore leave.

   Her hair was dark and curly, it fell to her shoulders in a way that
was just inside of regulations. I suspected her superiors gave her a
pass because she was so damn good looking. Against the white of her
uniform, the blackness of her hair was like coal on snow. Her cap only
made it look better. Her body was lithe in the way the Navy's regimen of
exercise demanded, yet her curves were more than generous, turning the
heads of many men as she passed. And her ass, tightly encased in her
uniform skirt, swayed powerfully back and forth in a way that was hard
for me to take my eyes off of.

   "Oh yeah," I thought to myself, "I can tell myself I'm straight all I
want, but I ain't gonna believe me."

   I stopped when she stopped. She bought an apple from a street
vendor, her French fluent, her laugh even at a distance, intoxicating. I
saw her glance back my way and she smiled and waved. I pretended to be
reading Le Monde, even though I could only understand every tenth word.

   When she moved again, I followed, unable to take my eyes off her
rear end, wondering, despite myself, if she was wearing anything
underneath. She walked purposefully, as if she knew where she was going.
She must have made this port on a previous deployment.

   Far away from the dock, in a residential neighborhood, she met up
with another woman. She was obviously waiting for Amanda, leaning 
comfortably against a building. I was following further behind now,
trying to stay out of sight there where there were fewer people. I felt 
a twinge of jealousy as Amanda flung her arms around her friend and they 
kissed on both cheeks. They walked together, up a hill and into a large 
park. I'd notice the park on the map before I left the ship. I told 
myself I had been interested in checking it out, so I followed them in.

   The other woman was wearing jeans and a halter top. Her hair was
dyed deep red and her shoulders and back were tanned bronze. As they
walked together, I noticed that they casually joined hands. I felt my
cheeks burning.

   The park was heavily wooded, and I found myself closing the distance
so I didn't lose them. The path was windy and secluded. In the gathering
privacy, I saw the two women steal kisses from each other was they
walked. They're hips touched frequently, but neither seemed to care. One
pair of hips swayed in a tight white skirt, the other in tight blue
denim.

   At an unexpected point along the path, the local girl pulled Amanda
suddenly off the path, into the woods. I hesitated for a minute and then
moved closer. I couldn't see them, so I moved into the woods beside the 
path, hoping to parallel their course. It only took me a minute of 
carefully threading between the trees to catch sight of them.

   They'd reached a grotto, surrounded by trees, with a wooden bench in
the middle. They stood by the bench, bodies pressed closely together,
kissing. Their hands roamed freely over each others bodies.

   I felt my own nipples hardening at the sight and my sex growing
moist under my skirt.

   I crouched down for a better view, trying hard to keep quiet.

   Amanda and her friend were not quiet. They talked in French, which I
could not understand, but I could understand the meaning. Did lovers
really need to understand each other's language or was there one
reserved just for them?

   I watched the red-haired woman push Amanda down on to the bench. My
breath caught in my throat as I saw the her kneel in front Amanda,
hands on sitting woman's knees. The Lieutenant simply raised her hips 
slightly as her friend pushed the uniform skirt up over her hips, baring 
Amanda's dark haired pussy to her friend's view and mine. I guess she 
hadn't been wearing anything underneath.

   As the redhead hungrily bent her face to Amanda's crotch, my right
hand reached between my legs and began to slowly rub my own pussy under
my skirt. Amanda moans of delight carried easily to my ears and I
struggled to not make any sounds myself. I wished I was either one of
the beautiful woman I was spying on.

   That was when I realized I wasn't alone.

   Turning beet red, my hand flying out from beneath my skirt, I turned
to my right to see another woman also spying on the pair in the grotto.
She had shorts on. They were open and her hand was inside of them as
she knelt and watched. She looked over at me and smiled.

   I did a double take, looking at my neighbor and then at the woman
between Amanda's legs and then back at the woman next to me. They bore
an uncannily resemblance. Both had the same nose, the same facial
structure, the same luscious body.

   She stopped watching and turned to me, pulling her hand out of her
shorts and laying it on my knee. "Ma soeur aime les filles de marine,"
she said. Then she took hold of my right hand and slowly brought it to 
her mouth, licking off my juices. "Je aussi."

   I didn't know what she was saying, but I didn't care. We tumbled to
the ground, our mouths meeting in a kiss.