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When people say the South offers great hospitality, I found out it's not your typical "South", like Georgia or Tennessee. I'm talking about MY South, as in Southern California. I have a dear friend in the Marine Corps, stationed at our local base down here in San Clemente (you boys reading this should know). One Friday night, I drove down there to surprise him. Sadly, he was out on maneuvers and wouldn't return for another 3 hours. Well, I sat in the duty hut and waited, while another Marine sat watch. And "watch" is what he did. He watched my every move, as we chatted. He was a young pup, only 19 and from some small town in Pennsylvania. Hot as a firecracker, but without the bang. I was going to change that right quick. In his BDUs and boots, he was yummy. I stretched my arms over my head and he noticed my large 40D breasts swell immediately. He got up and offered me a soda. I accepted. As he walked behind me to fetch it from the machine, I stretched again, this time, my hands brush the crotch of his pants, and he couldn't help but jump a little. He said, "Excuse me ma'am". I said, "'Ma'am' is what you call your mama, not me". He apologized and got the soda. He handed it to me, and I asked him to sit beside me on the couch, so we could watch TV. He looked around, as if to ask permission from some Sergeant that was never present.

It being already 11pm, and a Friday, 90% of the barracks was deserted anyway, with all the guys away on liberty for the weekend. So, sat down he did. We chatted some more, and I leaned forward to put my empty can on the table. I crossed my legs over to reach, and faked a stumble. He ...

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