“Ah’ll be blowed!” Tex roared, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes.
“If you like,” Regina replied.
He hadn’t liked. “Truth is all the gook poontang hereabouts has me plumb wore out,” he confessed to Regina. “Ah ain’t rightly got the strength to do justice by no American lady.”
“I feel like a barrel of coals that just arrived in Newcastle,” Regina sighed.
“More like rare diamonds, Ma’am,” Tex told her gallantly. “They’s many a high-rankin’ slope ’d pay high for the priv’lege.”
“Well then—?”
“No Ma’am!” Tex was firm. “You’re a white lady and it wouldn’t be fittin’.”
Why are we in Vietnam? Somewhere in there, Regina suspected, lay the answer. Depressing. She thrust the thought away from her. “As long as I’m here anyway,” she said to Tex, “isn’t there anything you’d like me to do for you?”
Tex thought about it a moment. Then his face broke into a wide grin and he ducked his head shyly. “Maybe we could have us some fun,” he suggested. “If you was willin’.”
“Try me.”
Tex did. He explained to Regina that he was a crack pistol shot. Then he produced a gun and told her what he had in mind. It added up to target practice-—with Regina Blue as the target!
“Now don’t you fret none,” he reassured her. “This here peashooter ain’t real. It's a toy. Looky here, an’ Ah’ll show you how it works.”
The toy gun was a replica of a large Luger. It shot rubber darts about the size and shape of a man’s finger. A suction cup was affixed to the snub nose of each dart.
Tex arranged several pillows atop a large packing case as a comfortable perch for Regina. He seated her so that she could lean back on her hands. He set two smaller crates on the floor about four feet from each other, and placed Regina’s feet on them. Then he stepped back to admire the arrangement. Regina’s breasts jutted straight out, and her pelvic charms were clearly revealed, purplish-red lips and maroon clitty nestling between straining white thighs.
Tex backed off about fifteen feet and surveyed the target. “You got a lipstick, Ma’amP” he asked, squinting .
“In my purse.” Regina pointed.
Tex got the lipstick, walked over to her and knelt. He outlined her knee caps with two bright red circles and colored them in. He then rouged the aureoles of her nipples and the nipples themselves. It tickled, and Regina wriggled as the tips of her breasts grew hard and distended. Tex drew a small red circle around her navel and then a larger circle around that one. Finally he traced an outline around the lips of her vagina, smeared the lipstick on his fingertips and applied it to her clitoris until it stood out bright red. Regina moaned under the manipulation.
Tex again backed off and nodded to himself, satisfied. “Now here's how we score it,” he declared. “A direct hit on the knee is worth ten points. Off the red, lose five points. A miss is zero on all targets. Titties are fifteen points, but only ten for a bazoom if the nip’s missed. Twenty points for the belly button, ten for a tummy hit ’tween the inner an’ outer circle. Twenty for the clitty, twenty for the lips, an’ thirty for a bullseye up the alley. That sound like fair scorin’ to you, Ma’am?”
“Fire away!”
Tex strapped on a holster, low over his hip.
“What’s that for?” Regina wanted to know.
“Gonna shoot on the draw, Ma’am.”
“I never saw a gunslinger use a Luger before,” Regina commented.
“Shucks, Ma’am. Can’t be helped. They don’t manufacture these here dart gismos to look like six-guns or Colts.” Tex stuck the Luger in the holster and drew it a few times. Then he inserted a dart and replaced it. “Ready, Ma’am?” he asked politely.
“Slap leather!”
Tex drew and fired in one swift motion. The suction cup fastened on Regina’s left knee and the long, slender missile quivered there like a misplaced dildo. “Ten points.” Tex reloaded, drew and fired again, and it hit slightly above the right kneecap, half in and half out of the red. “Five points.” Tex scored himself and scowled. “Ah’m a mite rusty,” he confessed. The scowl was replaced by a smile when his next shot scored a direct hit on Regina’s left nipple, the suction cup covering the aureole like a stripper’s pasty. “Fifteen.” But the next one landed in Regina’s cleavage and Tex decided it was a miss even if one edge of the suction cup was touching her breast. He redeemed himself with a bullseye to her belly button. When his last shot strummed her clitoris, Regina gasped with the sudden erotic thrill.
“Seventy.” Tex added up his score. “Ah’ll do better than that with a little practice,” he promised. He strode over to Regina and retrieved the darts. As he pulled the suction cup from her left breast tip, the nipple sprang free with a twang, stiff, vibrating a second or two, grown larger than its mate by the suction, a taut, lipsticked invitation. Tex fingered it a moment while Regina panted. But he withstood temptation. “Back to the O. K. Corral,” he ordered himself.
The second time around he scored eighty, barely missing the vagina and hitting an inch to the right of the navel. The third time he upped it to eighty-five, nicking her clitty again and missing the left nipple. It took several attempts before he finally scored a hundred.
By then Regina was quite frustrated, but not bored. As he fondled her lipsticked nipples while removing the missiles, she writhed openly. When he reached to remove the “bullseye” between her quivering thighs, her hand went to his wrist to prolong the withdrawal and to urge re-impalement. Her legs hooked around his waist, and she held him there, her pulsating honey-pot clutching at the missile until she had attained a measure of satisfaction.
“Thanks,” she breathed, finally releasing him.
“My pleasure, Ma’am.”
“Wouldn’t you like some more of your pleasure?” she inquired.
“Ah aim to have it, Ma’am.” Tex backed off, reloaded, turned around and shot over his shoulder for a ten point score to the left breast. He swung down and shot between his legs for a direct belly-button hit. Using a mirror, he shot backwards from the hip and picked off both knees. But his next shot, prone, on his back, was a miss.
“Damn!” Regina was disappointed.
“Don’t you worry, Ma’am. Jes’ a mite low. Next time’ll score.”
And it did. Tex got better and better at the trick shots as the evening progressed. Pretty soon Regina’s faith in his aim was such that she began to tingle at the core in anticipation before he even shot for the thirty point bullseye. The anticipation was as much for the prolonged withdrawal of the missile as for the thrill of the hit.
“It’s gettin’ late,” Tex said finally. “Maybe we’d best knock off for tonight.”
“All right.” Regina got up and stretched languorously. She shot him a long inviting look.
To no avail. Tex had meant what he said. They slept in separate beds.
Frustration made Regina irritable the next day. She was not in a receptive frame of mind when Tex outlined what he had in mind for that evening. “A contest!” she responded. “Now look, I don’t mind doing anything that gives you your kicks personally, but I never agreed to any gang shag. That’s not my style. It wears a girl out before her time, and, quite frankly, I’m too high-class for that kind of activity.”
“Whoa! My, but you’re a skittish filly. Who said anything about a gang shag? Why Ma’am, Ah respec’ you an’ your scruples too much to suggest any such thing. All you do is jes’ like you did last night. Only Ah want to invite a few friends for competition. Hell, it ain’t no fun lessen they’s someone for a feller to pit hisself against.”
In the end he’d prevailed. Albeit reluctantly, Regina agreed to serve as target for Tex and three carefully selected friends—-“all Texas gentlemen,” as Tex described them. The group gathered in the furnished basement of Tex’s swanky Saigon villa at nine that evening.