Beanie and Spiro's Great Adventure

INTRODUCTION

First off, this here story is expressed in the vernacular, that is it corresponds with the way people talk. Our two protagonists, as you will surely recognize, are not rocket scientists. These are just two dumb highly sexed Texas kids who join the Navy because they are patriotic and get ramrodded right up the ass by the local enlistment officer. The various miss-spellings are dialectic. These great guys are not the sharpest pencils in the pack.

All usual we are dealing only with people who are 18 years old or better. There is no violence or animals injured, just two "Buttheads" butting their heads against the world. Oh yeah, there is a lot of anal fetish stuff and also heterosexual stuffings as well. Good luck and may you read this story to the ass end. Best wishes to all my followers. If you enjoy this saga please favor it and give it a good vote.

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TITLE: BEANIE AND SPIRO'S AND GREAT ADVENTURE, SEXUAL THAT IS!

Subtitle: "WE JOINED THE NAVY TO SEE THE WORLD,

AND WHAT DID WE SEE,

WE SAW GAY SEX

AND OTHER STUFF"

Do you know or do you not know? That is the fucking question mark, Bozo. You may think you know all about your best friends, but do you? Do you truly know what is in the deepest recess of their hearts, their minds, the darkest channels of the cerebellum where synapses fire like the 80 mm cannons on a battleship.

I grew up in a little town on the outskirts of in Palo Duro Canyon in Texas. Of course you never heard of it. Why would ya. So I'll tell ya, this is one of a series of canyons cut out of the Texas Panhandle. We were not far from Amarillo and our little town shared a high school with several other small towns within a 10 mile circle.

My Mom just thought the world of Spiro Agnew. You may remember he was Trick Dickey Nixon's VP who got drummed out of office and replaced by Bob Ford. Not the dirty little coward who shot Jesse James, that was another Ford. This was the one who came from the Ford Motor Car Company, his wheels were round. Anyway, long story shouted, I got stuck with the moniker Spiro J. Thompson.

When did I first meet Beanie? I knew Beanie from the time Miss Rose, our teacher, brought this little red haired freckled faced kid into our second grade classroom and introduced the twenty-seven of us to Bernard Callahan Thelonious, who immediately contradicted the teacher saying, "Just call me Beanie."

He wore his hair in a crew cut back then, and he still does. Aside from his diminutive stature, Beanie was a regular kid, I never noticed anything strange about him. The teacher sat him in the back of the class room next to me where there was an empty desk. All I can say is that he was always fiddling with something; rocks pencils, toys and I think the teacher's bottom desk draw was filled with these contraband artifacts that were seized from him just about every day.

We always played basketball in the morning before the school opened, unless it was raining. Beanie always carried a ball with him when he came to school. He was an amazing accurate. The two of us would play "Four Horses." I have no idea why it was called that, but if your opponent made a shot into the basket, you had to duplicate the shot or earn a "horse." If you got 4 horses you were out, that is you lost. Of course Beanie had a specialty of left handed underhand shots that were amazing and neither I nor the other kid could master them.

As short as he was, I rarely won the competition. In fact he changed the name of the game to "Four Donkeys," just to make fun of me. I didn't mind, we were buddies, and when Remus, the school bully grabbed the ball away from me, it was Beanie who flew through the air like "Mighty Mouse" and tackled him by the neck. "Small but deadly" was what Arthur Delmar called him. Arty was the class president and chronicler of a one page mimeographed sheet called "Canyon Dust" that kept track of our progress or lack thereof.

It seemed Beanie and I were always buds. We had the same teachers throughout grade school and we shared the same interests. We loved football, in the winter we played tag football in the dusty lot at the side of the brick schoolhouse. In the fall it was baseball, I couldn't believe how Beanie could field the ball, it was as if his legs were made of rubber. Just when you'd think the ball was moving too fast he'd fall to the ground and scoop it up in his old yeller glove.

We stayed good friends through high school. Neither of our families were well off. I lived in an old white wooden clapboard house, built in the 1920s. Beanie lived in a similar house, originally painted red. I guessed the peeling paint was the only thing holding the houses together, that and the termites that polka dotted the clapboards.

Beanie had a sister. I was an only child. My Dad was a roofer. Beanies' Mom was a house cleaner, a maid for one of the well to do families over on the North side. If Beanie had a dad, I never met him, nor did he talk about him. I do remember one time when I went over to get Beanie I saw his mom had one of those tall memorial candles lit. The candle's glass container was on a plate.

"Don't ya know," said his mom, "if ya don't put something under them there candles it'll burn a hole right through the table."

"What's it for?" I asked.

"Oh that's for Beanies dad, he died in Iraq when Beanie was just a baby."

When I asked Beanie about it some years later, he said matter of factly,

"That's about as true as the Tooth fairy or Santa Fuck'in Claus. If I had a Dad who was a vet, we'd be getting money every month. We ain't seen the first nickel. Mom just got fucked by a married guy who got killed and we got shit."

"But even so, you are the son of a vet?"

"I ain't got no proof who my father was. Even if you could prove it, illegitimate children don't get even a cunt hair to chew on from Uncle Samshit."

But those of us raised in Texas know a thing about hard luck and a hard life. My Dad fell off a 3rd story roof when I was in my first year of junior high school. He never got up off the ground. As a paraplegic, he was wheelchair bound ever since. Why'd he fall of that roof? Shit, roofers are supposed to know how not to fall off?

Well, I'll tell ya why. He was what we'd call a pocket alcoholic. He always had a small half pint of Dumont's Blackberry Brandy or some alcoholic sweet fruit substitute. Even after his accident he still managed to wheel himself over to O'Malley's liquor store to get refueled before the day started.

My mother had left us a few year earlier, saying

"I can't take it anymore, that drunken pervert ain't gonna put his hands on me again."

I don't rightly know what she was referring to and quite frankly I don't wanna know.

After Mom left us, she hooked up with her high school boyfriend who had just his divorced his wife Irma. Seems Irma was the night manager at Caskal's Log Cabin Motel over on Ottley Street. Besides managing the place, Irma was renting her pussy by the hour. One of the cops, to whom she gave freebee blowjobs as a payoff, let it slip to her husband Dan, one night over at the Crossroad Bar that Irma was a working girl with more than a big heart. Dan knew that description fit her to a tee.

So Dan kicked Irma out of his Mom's home that they'd rented from Mossy Black's family for God knows how many years. Dan's Mom had passed a few years earlier. Irma didn't give no shit, she just moved into one of them little cabins over at the motel. She did so well in the pussy business that eventually she bought the damn motel from Old Man Menzer who was in the first stage of dementia. I remember her saying to some old lady at his funeral,

"Now Old Man Menzer was a man, even when his mind was gone he could still sport a full hard on."

To which, the old lady replied,

"Maybe his heart wouldn't a given out if you hadn't been a fucking him to death."

So Dan Figler, Mom's high school sweetheart, got free of any legal entanglements and went on to divorcing Irma. That was when Mom moved in with Dan. The two of them seemed to get along quite well and Dad would say,

"When I couldn't fuck her anymore, she left me for a bigger dick."

"How do you now he's got a bigger dick?"

"Cause that whore of your mother told me so."

But that dick business wasn't fair. They'd been estranged for years as far as I could tell. Of course Dad had his own take on the failure of their marriage.

"That bitch used to suck Dan Figler off under the football bleachers. I started fucking her when she was a bookkeeper at the roofer place I worked for. If I hadn't a got her pregnant with you I'da never married the little whore. She was the easiest piece of ass I ever got. Three drinks and ya could fuck her upsides down. Why one time she fucked me, her boss and..."

"That's enough Dad," I said, "I really don't want to hear any more."

Anyway, my parents separated but never divorced. Dad and I seemed to manage pretty well. I did the cooking and he got a disability payment so we were ok. Shit, a few cans of beans and franks can keep most anyone alive.

As I've explained, Dad was pretty bitter about the split. Still, both Mom and Dad showed up

for my graduation although they sat one seat apart. The day after we all graduated, a Park Ranger found Dad's wheelchair at the bottom of Caprock Escarpment, a 60 foot drop into the base of the canyon. The sign there says a river channel cut through the sedimentary rock in prehistoric times. That was where the wooden safety rail was broken. Of course Dad was dead stiff.

We had a small funeral for Dad, a closed casket as his head was pretty much fucked up by the fall. Was it suicide? Christ if I know, I prefer to think he was just too drunk to slow down on the down slope to the observation deck. He just blasted through the old wooden fence, which was filled with termite rot.

Once Dad was dead, I figured I'd get the house. But since my parents were still married, Mom inherited the house and next thing I knew she and Dan Figler moved in. I put up with it for a while but the sounds of their lovemaking through the thin walls made me want to vomit. Why? because it was my Mom and I didn't wanta think of her as a sexual being, especially with Dan who was always feeling her up, grabbing her big tits from behind while she was cooking dinner. OK, I admit it, my bad.

I was thinking about taking off, shit, I was too old to be living with my mom and her old flame who wasn't in the least pleased with me smoking his weed.

Beanie and I were just two regular guys. The Bean was kind short, he never got past 5'4"but he was real cute and you might say his face was kinda pretty and he had that tight ass that the olympic swimmers have or is it the figure skaters? I forget. I'd filled out ok, was close to 6 foot and had a nice barrel chest full a hair, a full head of hear and two big feet. You know what that means, don't ya?

We'd gone through high school together and we were still best of friends. Why we'd even lost our virginity together with Lola, the waitress at the Pizza Palace. After graduation we still hung around the restaurant flirting with Lola and making trashy remarks that seemed to get her hot and horny enough to give us a second helping in the back of the place after her boss had gone home. Most of the time we just drank beer till we could hardly walk home. Lola was good about that, once the Boss was gone the drinks were on the house.

Then Beanie got this great idea, "Let's join the Navy!"

It was the beginning of the New Year and we were both as patriotic as hell. We went down to the recruiting office on Main Street where we met Petty Officer Branzini, the head man in charge. He was around 5'10, with buzz cut dyed black hair. Beanie said he had a small rug on top.

"What the fuck is a rug?"

"A wig, a toupee, but don't say nothing."

Branzini wore a snappy white starched outfit with some cool ribbons and medals, he looked like he was headed for the Disneyland Parade in his dress uniform. On closer inspection his pants looked like they had some stains and crumbs from the jelly donuts he had in a greasy paper bag on his desk.

"Wanta jelly donut, guys?" he piped up as we entered the tiny store front.

"They are a fresh as that shop gal's tit over at the donut store. Ha ha, you guys from around here?"

"Born and raised," said Beanie, I nodded.

"Yeah, I usually give a speech at the high school but this year I was to busy to get over there."

"Yeah," said the Bean, "we saw ya last year."

"Ok boys, so what can I do you for?"

"Well Sir..."

"Don't call me Sir, son, call me Chief Petty Officer Branzini."

"Yes Sir, I mean Petty Officer Sir."

I gave Beanie a dirty look.

"Oh sorry Sir, I mean Chief."

About that point some snazzy high school chicks walked in.

"Hello girls," said the Chief.

"Dear beautiful ladies," said the Chief, "we are her in the middle of official US Navy business. Why don't you girls come back in an hour?"

The girls smiled and one of the stuck her finger in her tight blouse popping a button so we got a good look, she wasn't wearing a bra.

"Sure Captain, we will be back," giving us all a wink and out they went.

When they left, Branzini wiped the perspiration that had formed on his forehead and said under his breath,

"Great tits a fire."

But we heard him. Then he started in with his sales pitch,

"You guys like pussy. You know, us Navy guys get all the pussy we want, this uniform is a puss magnet. We even have to keep these,"

and he stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out some different colored condoms he threw on the desk,

"Cause we don't take no chances in the Navy."

We looked up surprised, but didn't say anything. I was still thinking of that gal's bare tit and my cock was moving into second gear.

"Boys, I asked you a question, do you like pussy-or do you like cock?"

"No," we responded.

"No, you don't like pussy or no, you don't like cock?"

We didn't answer...

"Because, Branzini continued, even if you ain't into cock yet, the Navy is the biggest flotilla of gay fuck-offs you ever saw. On board you get cock for breakfast, lunch and dinner and even for a late night snack and when you get shore leave, that's when the bitches won't leave you alone - so guys, either way you got it made in the us N-A-V-Y, "

He spelled it out.

"Well, sir," I answered, "I'm a fan of cock, my own cock and as for pussy, that's all I dream of. In fact after seeing that gal's tit I've got a hard on."

With that, Branzini grabbed me by the crotch.

"Yeah you do," he remarked, holding on a little too long.

"And you bud," he said, "looking at Beanie. You kid, look like you'd rather have a cock in your mouth than a lollipop."

Now that comment surprised me. I'd never figured Beanie for a homo. Was he a homo?

"Well, sir, with all due respect," said the Bean, "I do believer a stiff cock is a thing of godly beauty and I've been known to snag a few pubes on my front teeth at the Pussycat movie house at the 2am flick on a late Saturday night. As for puss, it tastes ok if the Chinese restaurant is closed."

At that comment, we all laughed, I figured Beanie was shining him on with the pubic hairs.

"You guys ever been to the massage parlor across the street?"

We looked at each other without answering.

"If you like slanted twat that tastes like soy sauce you should give it a try. They got a girl there who will sit on your face and jerk you off at the same time. Just tell her Branzini sent ya. That way they don't think you are a cop, ha, ha."

I shut up and Beanie, never one to keep quiet, said,

"Thank you sir. Sound like a good place to play pick up sticks."

"Oh yeah," said Branzini, "and then some"

Branzini turned to me, "Do you do the massage girls, Ensign?"

"Ahh, I don't got a job, so where do I get the money for that shit?"

"Well, Ensign, that's the point, that just why I asked ya. In the US Navy you get a cool thou and a half just for starters and in a year or two you can top two mil a month. That's pussy riding change for you and your friend here, you can be king of the cock walk."

I didn't know what they were talking about so I just grinned and laughed along with the two of them.

"Now," Branzini all of a sudden got seri-assed,

"To enlist, you must be a US citizen or a resident alien."

"You mean like a Martian?"

"Not that kind of alien. I'm talking about a claim jumper, a foriegner, a fucken commie."

"No problem there Chief, I'm as American as Apple pie. My folks came over on the Mayflower."

"What flower," said the Chief, "they were gay?"

I could see this guy was a little lacking in historical knowledge.

"It's ok I'm a citizen since way back."

"And what about you little guy?"

"Well, Chief, long story short, my Dad ate a bullet in Desert Storm and I was born right here in Texas."

"Ok, so both you gophers qualify so far."

"By the way," the chief continued, "you get all the health care you could ever want and if you marry you get the same for your wife, even if she is dripping with syph from the cunt."

Beanie made a face.

"Just kidding" said Branzini.

"And if your wife has a cock?" said Beany.

"Listen mister, we don't need more fagots in the Navy, we got already plenty of them.

Bean recovered quickly, "I said, if your wife likes to cook."

"Lots of wives like cock, that's why other men are always available to service them."

"Cook, not cock."

At this point we realized the Chief was more than a little deaf.

"Oh if your wife cooks your cock you are in big trouble, but don't eat it, they can still sew it back on."

"Ok, good to know," said the Bean, lifting up his eyes to me as if to say this guy is not just deaf but is an idiot.

"You guys graduated?"

"Oh yeah, six months ago."

"Actually 5 months and 15 days," said the Bean.

"Well, you still gotta take the app test, that is the aptitude test."

I looked quizzical.

"Don't worry you take the test here and if you have any problems we'll give you a hand, shit if you fail it I'll give you all the answers."

"Thanks Chief."

"What about getting on a sub," said Beanie.

"Women can't serve as Navy Seals or on submarines, but you are gay, what do you care about a substitute."

"A sub, a submarine, Boss, can we get on one."

"Oh yeah, is that what you are saying? No problemo. I'm a little bit hard of hearing."

"Are their more homos on subs," joked Beanie

"Yes," said Branzini, "but mostly bottoms, so it's easy to get laid underwater. A guy with a hard on a submarine is as sought after as the Holy Grail. Shit, I heard of a cook who mixed viagra into the blue jello just to help keep the party going."

"Do your shipmates use condoms?" said Beanie.

"Not if you want to get pregnant, Dolly," said Branzini,

"Listen guys, let me be honest with you. The Navy is the greatest floating fuck game in the world. You can give or take. Take my advice gentlemen, it's best to forget about pussy while you are on the high sea. When you are on shore leave you are free to catch whatever STDs are out there and Uncle Sami will cure you. But on the high seas, it's catch as catch can and what you can catch is cock. On board you will get fucked any which way you like. I guarantee you Bob."

"Who the fuck is Bob," said the Bean.

"It's just an expression Beanie."

"Ok I got it."

We looked at each other.

"Sounds good, sign us up."

So we signed the enlistment papers and the Chief had us sign our name on top of the test form. He said he'd take care of the rest.

We finished just as the two girls came back. Branzini welcomed them and ushered us out, closing the door and pulling down the shade.

That same week we got letters from the Navy office based in San Diego telling us to report in 18 days. For some reason we thought we were supposed to report to San Diego.