Lubricia’s back with another reader letter!
Hello, lovers! I’m Lubricia Cosmoline, your hoe-stess of “After Dark.” As a long-time aficionado of everything that goes “bang,” I seek to offer a platform for all of your most intimate, personal experiences in the world of guns and hunting. I’ve seen it all—a .50 BMG can’t go too far for me! So sit back, unholster, and get ready for today’s letter…I call it “How to Keep a Gun Happy.”
Dear Lubricia Cosmoline,
I never thought it would happen to me, but the day I arrived at Boot Camp, I knew that I had found my role in life! As a nubile, buxom 18-year-old Latina with flashing black eyes and a butt that won’t quit, the military was a natural choice for me. When I stepped off that bus, my natural yet perky C-cups trembled with excitement: Were all of the things I’d heard about Marine life for young (yet perfectly legal) women true? Would I learn all the forbidden secrets that my overly-strict upbringing had denied me about the proper care and maintenance of a…you know, thingy? And when were the group showers?
That’s when I met her, Lubricia: My Drill. She was quite a sight, all 6 feet of her packed into skintight khaki (none of it with insignia and also she was wearing a lot of red lipstick, but just go with it) and her red hair coiled in a severe bun. All the other recruits and I were lined up outside the Armory. I had a moment to wonder why we hadn’t stopped to get our ACUs yet, but nobody else seemed to mind that we were all in our purty pink panties. My nipples and I stood at strict attention as Drill addressed us.
“All right, Recruits,” she shouted over the tootling Muzak playing in the background, her voice abruptly dropping into a bored drawl as somebody turned the volume down. “It’s time to be issued your duty weapons! You silly dames know the difference between a rifle and a gun, don’t you?”
“Ma’am, Yes Ma’am!” we called in unison, but honestly I didn’t. Darn that strict Catholic upbringing!
“Well, they’re both for shooting, and they’re both for fun!” she continued. “Double-time into the armory, ladies!”
We didn’t need to hear any more, so we left-right-left-righted like crazy. (We also walked briskly.)
There, standing behind a table, was another 6-foot Amazon of a woman, blonde this time, dandling her impressive cleavage over a giant wooden crate full of Cosmoline. “Look at the size of that,” I murmured.
HEY. IT WAS JUST A LITTLE PUPPY FAT, I’D JUST HAD A BAD BREAKUP you know, whatever. Go on. -Lubricia
The Valkyrie drove both gloved hands into the Cosmoline wrist-deep, feeling around in the fragrant goo until she drew forth the biggest gun I’d ever seen. “Your M-16, Recruit,” she said, presenting it to me. I took it into my wondering hands. A thingy of my very own!
“You will give your rifle a boy’s name,” purred Drill, strutting up and down the line of us as we stood at attention in our matching lace lingerie. “You will practice with your rifle! You will eat with your rifle! You will sleep with your rifle!”
“And how,” I thought.
“And you will keep your rifle clean and lubed at all times!”
I perked up even more, if that’s possible, cheeks reddening as I imagined just what Drill must have in mind.
She stopped her prowl right in front of me. Fixing me with her steely yet seductive gaze, she said, “Because a clean gun is a happy gun! So, what does that mean, Boot?” she growled.
“It means that we should clean it off every time we use it, right?” I ventured, “Ma’am?”
“Oh, I like you,” she hissed. “You can come over to my house and hang out with me and my sister later…we share everything! But you forgot something, didn’t you, Private?”
Not wanting to offend her with direct eye contact, I fixed my gaze on her voluptuous cleavage instead, eye-level to me. “No, Ma’am,” I quavered.
“A wet gun is a happy gun!” she barked, sexily. “And do you know what that means, Boot?”
“That…that we should keep it lubricated at all times to avoid rusting and malfunctions?” I whispered.
“YOU DIDN’T CALL ME MA’AM!” she snarled. “Now you’re going to have to do something to yourself using a part of myself, so hop to it…Private!”
And that, Lubricia, was when I knew I’d found my calling in life! And from that very day, I can promise you, I’ve never forgotten how to keep RoM16eo happy…