Thursday, July 6, 2017

A Yard of Penis...

I must have been about nineteen at the time.  My first overseas military assignment, living in the dorms.  It was Mid-Day Break.  For those of you that have worked rotating shifts, you know the agony.  For those that haven't, I'll explain.

In the military, one of the shift models we worked to cover 24 hour, 365 day a year jobs was to have rotating shifts.  Your flight would cover an hour hour period from say, 1400 to 2200 (Swing), the next flight would work 2200 to 0600 (Mid), another flight from 0600 to 1400 (Days) and that would leave the fourth flight on break.  If you rotated this cycle every four shifts, what it meant was you got a 24 hour period off between each rotation.  That period when you got off at 0600 on your last mid before going back to work the following morning at 0600 was called mid-day break and it was a killer.

People would come up with all sorts of strategies as to how to adjust your internal clock.  Some people would go home, sleep for a few hours, then get up and just be tired all day, then get back in bed and sleep at night.  Another strategy was to "hang".  Basically, stay up the entire day until your body couldn't take it anymore, then pass out with hopes of sleeping through the night until it was time to get up and go to your 0600 shift.

Because we were in the military and always looked for an opportunity to party, on this particular Mid-Day break, we arranged to have a big cook-out in the pavilion area of our dorm. The grill was going, burgers were cooking, cases of beer, bottles of Jack Daniels and Jim Beam were in abundance and the party was on.  Things were going fine until the standard daily overcast drizzle of rain turned into an unexpected downpour.

It was decided the party would move to the third floor day room (a large TV room with couches and chairs for people to hang out).  All the booze was brought upstairs, a few brave souls continued running the grill as best they could and bring up burgers as they were ready.

Meanwhile, the party continued and one of the dorm residents brought out a real Yard of Ale.  Not the novelty one that holds a few beers, but the big one that requires the assistance of another to hold it.  If you aren't familiar, check this out.

As one of the guys who was outside helping to run burgers from the grill up to the party, I ended up getting soaked.  Since we were now going to be inside, I ran into my dorm room, pulled off my wet jeans and shirt and just threw on a pair of running shorts and a new t-shirt.  These running shorts were the kind with the liner, so a skipped the step of putting n underwear.  You can see where this is going, I'm sure.

As the party went on, people were taking turns drinking from this yard of ale.  The person drinking would stand on a coffee table, the yard would be filled and then they would drink for the crowd of people to watch.  Great spectator sport.

When it was my turn, I got up on the coffee table, the yard was filled and the moment I had the container hoisted to my lips, one of my buddies who assumed I had underwear on, decided to grab my shorts and yank them down.  Yep, there I was with both hands holding up this full yard of beer, feeling my shorts drop and my shriveled, flaccid, exposed penis was left hanging for fifty of my closest co-workers to observe until I could pound the beer and hand the glass yard off to someone on order to reach down and pull up my shorts.

Of course it was only fifteen or twenty seconds, but that was enough for anyone who had not seen my dick in our gang-style open showers to see it.  My buddy apologized profusely, saying he had no way of knowing I wasn't wearing underwear.  It was all in good fun and it wasn't like they nicknamed me, "Tiny McPrickerson" or anything mean like that.

I was thinking about this the other day and I realized that in today's military, this little prank would have been considered some sort of sexual assault.  Then again, this sort of party created to help people adjust to the changing body clock would probably be frowned upon as the military promoting binge drinking.  Times have changed, my friends.


bdenied said...

Oh yeah I remember these parties so well. Sounds like the ones we had when I was serving but alas a different branch but we worked the same shifts as you did but started one hour later....

JFBreak said...

It is nice to know someone else in sex-blogland knows the rotating shifts I speak of. Thanks for the comment and thank you for your service!