Let me preface by saying I can't think of many places worse than Gulfport to come of age. In 1990 it was a depressed coastal town without the casino boats it now has. Unfortunately for me, I was on the brink of 18, just out of boot camp, finally hitting puberty, and being influenced by a gaggle of tattooed and loose, tabacco chewing women. Add to that the fact that the ratio of men to women in Gulfport was about 20:1 and you have a recipe for youthful indiscretion.
Back then, all the lower-ranking women were berthed in one big quansent (sp?) hut on the east end of the base. The men, in turn, were housed a couple of miles away in their own row of huts. The rationale was that if they stuck the women out further, the men would be deterred from making the trek to visit. What they didn't count on was the old meet-in-the-middle game. So, the men would go to the store, pick up some booze, and meet the women in the woods that spanned the two miles between barracks. The MP's chose not to disturb this practice and sometimes joined the parties when off duty - or on...
Enter the then-innocent Glib Gal. I tagged along to the parties in the woods and quickly became enamoured with Bill Kinderknecht - a rough and tumble bad boy from Oregon with crystal blue eyes. I can't remember what I saw in him - he was short, smoked, and had fooled around with half the women on the base. I don't even think he was a very nice guy. Still, he was my first real makes-me-blush-crush and on my final night in Gulfport, before taking leave to go home and then be shipped overseas, I went to the party in the woods with a mission: I was going to make out with Bill that night. All the girls in the barracks were informed and a strategy was developed. I was given tons of advice from my hicky-marked bunkmates who were proud of me for going on such a noble mission.
We went to the party and I began drinking heavily, to build up the courage for my conquest. Of course, Bill had been informed that I was interested and as a result, had that cocksure confidence that allowed him to ignore me, but not enough for me to lose interest. Finally, as couples began to pair off, or singles stumbled home, Bill approached and invited me into the woods. Of course, I followed. He grabbed a half-empty bottle of Wild Turkey, found a spot, laid his rain coat down, and pulled me to the ground. We made small talk, swilled more cheap bourbon, and finally kissed. I remember feeling quite dizzy and his hands everywhere. I started to panic, thinking I had gotten in over my head. Things were moving quickly and then I remembered what the girls had told me - if you don't want to do "it", just offer a blow job. They had even kindly given instruction on how to give a blow job. So I somehow informed Bill I was a virgin but would be more than happy to provide that service. His response was that of any red-blooded man - he dropped trou and presented.
Problem was that I had imbibed a bit too much and seen him urinate recently. All I could think was how disgusting it was and that he should at least wipe it off. I looked at it for a while, unsure what to do, then he complained, so, remembering my trusty shipmates' advice, I wiped the tip with my sleeve and reluctantly started bobbing. He had his hand on the back of my head and was guiding my movement. It hadn't been long but I was getting more and more nauseous and on the brink of vomiting. I tried to pull my head back but couldn't. Then, without warning, he came. The thing was that the girls had failed to tell me about ejcaulation and I was so naive I thought he was pissing in my mouth and promptly spat it out and vomited all over him. Needless to say, Bill was not happy. He was upset that I puked on him and his coat and uniform so he grabbed my raincoat and took off. Problem was that he was drunk, disoriented, and lost. I watched him stumble off in the wrong direction then I headed home. Upon arrival at the barracks I was grilled and then laughed at and we all decided it was quite funny and appropriate because he was a jerk. Thank god for down-to-earth women who can put things in perspective or I'd have been scarred for life and probably never attempted a blow job again. They informed me that this sort of thing is par for the course and, unfortunately, a rite of passage for young women.
As for Bill, he got lost in the woods and didn't make it home until daybreak - reportedly smelling of my puke and wearing a too-small raincoat. I left the next day and never heard from him, or got my raincoat back.
I Googled his name today and found this blurb from the August 6, 2005 court report of the Curry Coastal Pilot in Oregon:
William Daniel Kinderknecht, 35, of Portland, was found on Aug. 2 to be in violation of his probation. He was ordered to serve 28 days in jail.
Looks like he's still contributing to society...
2 comments:
There's still a chance for the rest of us who are not in jail!
Note that he was only sentenced to 28 days...
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