Complaint

/ Humoresque /

The nineteen-year-old contract sailor Ivan Zhukov, standing watch in the berthing compartment on New Year's Eve, did not go to sleep. True, three days ago, also while on watch, he had acted differently, for which he had "caught" this repeat watch duty. Now, however, schooled by bitter service experience, he decided not to tempt fate any further and resolved to stay awake. And so as not to be bored while others were having such fun, he waited for the minesweeper's personnel to leave for the club for the New Year's party, opened his special training notebook, armed himself with a pen, and began to write.

— Dear Grandpa Konstantin Makarych. I am writing you this letter, and my heart is

bleeding. I wanted to whisper my misadventures via mobile or drop you an SMS, but I decided to put it in writing: after all, paper is a document. Get it? So here goes. Yesterday I got a dressing-down. The squad leader found pornographic postcards in my locker, well, nothing special, you probably remember, the ones that went missing from your desk, where Nastya Zavorotnyuk is getting fucked by two guys in the head. So, this blockhead, when it comes to frisky sex, called me out at evening roll call and gave me an extra duty watch for immorality. But such punishment isn't listed in any of the regulations, which I pointed out to the petty officer, so he immediately added another duty for arguing with a superior. As if the entire combat readiness of our dear navy would collapse because of such postcards. Fool! And he doesn't see that with the fleet's transition to a new look, there's already nothing left of it, and here some pathetic porn is going to wreck the whole fleet? We've got nothing left to wreck anyway...".

Ivan scratched behind his ear with the tip of his pen, dimly pondering what else to trouble his grandfather with.

— Or another incident. Our boatswain, Midshipman Lyubeznov, once hinted that he expected me in his cabin after lights out, wanting an explanation of how I managed to sink one of the ship's fenders during mooring. I gathered a whole pile of proofs of my innocence in my head and at the appointed time appeared before the eyes of the formidable boatswain. And what do you think? Instead of the expected chewing-out, he says to me quietly, like this:

 — It's all clear with you, Sailor Zhukov. Take off your trousers...

I took them off. I thought he was going to look for his damned fender in them. But he came up behind me, pulled down my underpants, and says:

 — You've got such an appetizing ass, my friend.

I tried to look back, but he, a big ox like that, shoved my head into a pillow lying on the table, spread my buttocks, and then rammed his cock between them so hard I didn't even have time to squeak. I feel his warm hose enter my hole, pause, and then start working like a fuel pump in an engine. I didn't even have time to grasp what was happening at first, when I felt a sweet languor throughout my body and started helping him with counter-movements. My god! What a thrill it is when a hot, mighty cock fucks you in the ass! But I was seized not only by the voluptuous feeling of anal sex, but also by a sense of shame: 'Do I really resemble a woman?' kept spinning in my head. And he worked faster and faster, impaling me harder, until suddenly he dug his nails into my poor buttocks and, grinding his teeth, began to discharge his condensate. And miracle of miracles! At that very moment, I was twisted by an orgasm, and I discharged too. I looked at him with the eyes of a guilty, beaten dog, and he just patted me on the buttock and said:

 — Well done, Zhukov! You correctly understand and steadfastly overcome all the hardships and deprivations of military service. Now you come see me every evening after lights out. We'll have conversations until your contract expires... He's worn me out completely. When I go to the head to sit, I almost cry. The damned homo has completely wrecked my 'hole'."

Ivan scratched behind his ear with his pen again, straining his mind to stun his grandfather with another piece of news.

— Or another incident. I once got ready for shore leave. I think: 'I'll go to the disco at our base sailors' club. Cool girls go there, they come to dance in miniskirts with bare navels and, mind you, just like in your youth, also without panties. Well, sometimes some fool puts on a thong, but that's just to show off that she's 'cool' too, but mostly the girls are sensible, they understand without words what a poor sailor needs from them. In their women's restroom, you can not only fuck some chick doggy-style in public, but also, on occasion, indulge in some weed. Once I was working hard on one ass there, when her girlfriend runs into the restroom and hisses: 'What,' she says, 'have you set up camp on the toilet? It's time to show some decency!' — and immediately pushed her out of the stall, then came up to me, punched me in the stomach so hard that I, with my trousers and underpants down, plopped onto the toilet, and she knelt in front of me, grabbed my 'young fellow' with both hands, stuffed it into her mouth, and gave me such a blowjob that our boatswain with his anal sex is nothing in comparison. He looks like a simpleton next to such a girl. I, of course, didn't disgrace our admiral's family name either. I turned her around when she had already sucked everything out, smearing my whitish 'soap' over her scarlet lips, 'broke' her in half, and drove my 'fool' into her so deep, right up to the balls, that my own head spun. And she laughs and moves her ass in rhythm, saying: 'Keep it up, navy! Wow, how great you fuck me! And who taught you that? Nadka? That bitch! Ooh! Deeper! More! More! Fuck me with all your might! Don't spare my pussy. Let the grass catch fire at her mouth.' And I sniffed and, truly, a burnt smell came from her crotch." Ivan sighed heavily, clearly losing the thread of the narrative due to this lyrical digression, but immediately remembered:

— So here's the thing. I'm standing in formation on the quarterdeck among those being released ashore, full of hopes for a fun evening in the ladies' room, when the combat unit commander, Senior Lieutenant Beregovoy, comes up to me and says through his teeth, like this:

 — And where, pray tell, is your bunk?

 — Where? In the berthing compartment, of course, — I answer briskly, like this.

 — Well then, my friend, show it to me...

We went down with him to the berthing compartment, I led him to the bunk, and he says:

 — This is not the bunk of the brave sailor Zhukov, but a pregnant woman. In short, — sheer pornography...

I, of course, immediately realized that he's an amateur in this matter. How can you talk about a bunk like that? It would be another matter if he lifted the pillow and saw two video cassettes under it. That's where the real porn is. We watched them with the whole compartment last night. Thanks to Zoyka! She shared the experience, one cassette is from their dorm. She studies at the foreign language institute. Of course, she doesn't just study languages, cocks — too. Even I have never seen such cocks in my life, except maybe yours, grandpa, when we were steaming in the sauna. Forgive me for being frank, but as a kid I once peeked at how you fucked our then still very young grandma with it. She scratched up your whole back with her nails then, saying: 'Fuck me like Sidor's goat!' I still can't understand what goat she was talking about?".

Ivan scratched the back of his head, trying to remember something else more substantial, and immediately bent over the notebook again. He loved his grandma very much, and she doted on him. He vaguely remembered when he was seven and started school, grandpa, as always, was away on duty, and his parents were "chilling" in the Canaries, grandma spoiled him to the max. It was very ticklish and devilishly pleasant when once in bed (he slept with grandma), she took his sleepy little pee-pee into her sweet mouth. She tenderly caressed it with her lips, sucking, until he bubbled a thin stream into her mouth. Grandma choked and laughed, calling him a sexual rascal.

— And in conclusion, one last fact. I dreamed that I was fucking the brigade commander's wife. She's a peach of a woman. I once saw her at the House of Officers, in the presidium at a ceremonial meeting. She runs the brigade's wives' council. Well, I started, half-asleep, working with my hand under the blanket, and so hard that the bunk started rocking. And the neighbor below me (out of envy, I think) lifted his legs and gave such a kick that I tumbled down onto the deck. I came to, no woman in sight, only my service buddies snoring around me. That would be all fine, it's just that the drill will finish me off completely. I'm standing in formation once during a drill inspection, and suddenly the brigade commander comes up to me and looks somewhat uncertainly, like a soldier looking for lice. And he says so contemptuously through his teeth, looking at the ship's commander:

 — And what the hell is this that's appeared?

 — Sailor Zhukov! — I reported smartly.

 — Just look at his hat! That's not a sailor's hat, it's a flaccid cock. Remove it!

I, of course, didn't remain in debt, and muttered something like 'I hear from a c-ck,' and immediately got one on the lip. And there, guys just as unfortunate as me fucked me in the ass the whole cell. I don't get it. What is it about him that attracts men so much?!."

Ivan stopped writing, lost in thought. He listened, gathering his thoughts. It was quiet. Only somewhere inside the ship, the fuel pump was rhythmically slurping.

— And there's no decent food here. The meat only goes to the 'old-timers,' and we get butter and slops. From such food, even my cock doesn't stand up anymore. So take me off this damned minesweeper onto your guards cruiser before I waste away completely.

Ivan sighed heavily and carefully wrote: "With that I remain your beloved grandson Ivan Zhukov." Then he took an envelope from his locker, put the letter in, sealed it, and wrote: "To the squadron. Rear Admiral Zhukov." After a moment's thought, he added: "Konstantin Makarych"...

After reading the letter, the grandfather summoned his adjutant:

 — Inform Brigade Commander Petrov not to let my scamp off the ship ashore for a month for complaining about the hardships of military service...