B.J. Jones the Story of My Life. Book 2
Chapter 85

Copyright© 2018 by jballs

Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 85 - The continuing story of B.J. Jones and her family. The fight against terrorism and building her unique family goes on. The characters, plot and action are continued from Book 1

Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including ft/ft   Consensual   Lesbian   Fiction  

Wednesday morning Andy and I reviewed the latest communiqués from the General and Tiam. Things were heating up with all kinds of plans under discussion. The General was being a general. He was suggesting specific areas in France, Germany and England that he wanted suicide bombers placed for better political impact.

After saying goodbye to the girls and boys, the next stop was Morton Field. Many of the men were already there with their gear. I got there just as the customs agent was setting up a table to stamp the passports of the men and ladies.

It did not take long to stamp the seventy five passports but the 200 was going to be a mess. The 747 was 15 minutes out when I finished.

The fifteen minutes gave me time to hunt down my gear. Andy had taken all my gear along with all the girls’ gear to have the Velcro sown on the upper arm. Andy said since we all were in the field or had the potential to be in the field, our gear should be marked.

It was in the traditional big duffel bag. I put it on the top of the baggage cart. They were keeping the Morton group in a separate storage bay for easier unloading and sorting. That gave me three bags to control, one with the gear, my go bag with four days of camo, panties and socks and my portable office.

Andy’s group had found several seamstresses who brought their industrial sewing machines to the new offices and had all of the men’s uniforms altered over the week. The Velcro was put where the new unit and rank system was to be attached. The ranks were to be painted on helmets and safety gear.

On the shirt was the only permanently attached name and rank. It was on the right front - over the pocket - the same as the military used. My gear was camo but all of the security people were issued brown as it was not as hot as black uniforms. In the sun black uniforms cooked you - good in cold weather, not so much in hot.

All the other parts were also sewn to Velcro so they could be changed as needed.

There were six from customs who went up the stairs into the 747 with Lorrie and me. They started down the aisle first, stamping passports as they went and we followed. Thirty minutes later we were done and the seventy five from Morton were finding seats. All the gear had been stowed in the baggage compartments, including mine along with Malinda’s, Hanna’s and their camera men.

There were the final hugs and passionate kisses for my mates at the bottom of the stairs; all of them had shown up even after the goodbye at home and pecks on the cheeks for two little boys who were pouting because they could not go.

Ten minutes after that I walked up the stairs with a handful of notes from Eric and Dick James that had arrived by special messenger for the final time.

After we leveled off at 40000 feet I walked through the plane talking with men I had never seen before. They seemed like a good group of men, none seemed like I needed to worry about turning my back on them. My first impression was that Andy had chosen well.

After four hours of making the trip through the plane, speaking with everyone, I finally settled into my seat and read the notes Eric and Dick James had sent. There was nothing in them that I had not know about yesterday.

We were flying back in time; it was 1400 in Paris when we took off, it would be 2000 when we landed. Louis was going to have buses pick us up on the tarmac and carry us to the barracks a mile and a half from the runway.

I leaned my seat back and went to sleep. I doubted there would much sleep after we arrived. If there was, it would be a short night.

I was awakened by the landing gear going down and a few minutes later the screech of the tires contacting the runway.

There were ten buses carrying us back and forth to the empty section of the humongous barracks. France - as all European countries - had been downsizing their military for decades saving the money to pay for social programs. This barracks was half empty. The airmen occupying the other half had spent the last three days cleaning it. It smelled of disinfectant and chlorine and the windows were opened to air it out. It was a good thing France was having an Indian summer like Maryland or this place would be cold.

The bunks were not made but there were clean sheets, blankets, pillow case, a towel and a face cloth stacked on the mattress. We had to make our own bunks - not a big deal, five minutes max.

 
There is more of this chapter...
The source of this story is Storiesonline

To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account (Why register?)

Get No-Registration Temporary Access*

* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.

Close
 

WARNING! ADULT CONTENT...

Storiesonline is for adult entertainment only. By accessing this site you declare that you are of legal age and that you agree with our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.